#white label jackets vendor | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

13thbaronzemo · 4 years ago

Text

THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES: PART 3

Baron Helmut Zemo/F!Reader

Rated E (Explicit)

You are the Sokovian custodian of Castle Zemo, which now belongs to the dissolved nation’s neighbors, and the baron himself has ordered you to come on vacation with him in Ibiza.

Disclaimer: This is the continuation of a fanfic written before FatWS: Ep4 aired and set up after his separation from the protagonists and while on the run from the law.

'Castle Zemo has been here since before you arrived and it will still be here when you return,' Ms. Helena assured you. Unlike yourself, the castle didn't go missing for five years. After five years of mourning, you had been the first person she witnessed return from the ether. As far as she was concerned, you were the only ghost to ever haunt those halls. She saw, through your empty eyes, how impermanent life is. They were the same eyes she saw the first time you stepped foot into the barony after losing your whole world along with your hometown of Novi Grad.

'You can't waste your youth between these old walls,' she sighed. You realized, taking a look at your back at your life, that she was right. You've been displaced in time, both mourning and being mourned, and chose to become one with history instead of living in the present. 'Now, go! Get some fresh air, dance, get some sun, fall in love, get your heart broken! Live!' Ms. Helena, ready to return from retirement just so you could take a vacation, sent you home to pack your bags. 'Just remember to send me a postcard.'

You'd almost forgotten all about it, excited and exhausted as you were after the flight, but a rack full of them reminded you of your promise. Ibiza Airport offered tourists a taste of the island right after they stepped off the plane, so there were gift shops filled with mementos of times you had yet to live. You spent your own money in one of them. You were saving up the euros he slipped under your door and that you hadn't already use to pay for the car, train, and plane that got you here in the first place.

Not feeling ready to step outside into the world and the setting Mediterranean sun just yet, you took a seat in a little coffee shop that overlooked the bus stop and wrote to Mrs. Helena.

After you finished your drink, paid for it, and tipped the waitress, you took another peek at the envelope and the absurd amount of money still left inside. He gave you more banknotes than information about his whereabouts. You understood why he couldn't, being a wanted man and all, but you wished you knew as much about him as he seemed to know about you. All you could be sure of was that he wanted you here, in Ibiza, where he would be for the next 10 days. And while you had dreamed about him greeting for you here at Arrivals, with a flower bouquet and a sun-kissed face, as you sleept on the plane, you knew better than to hope. After all, it was the possibility of getting lost among all the tourists visiting the island that gave you the nerve to travel here. But, if you were to be honest with yourself, the smaller possibility of being accosted by him for the third time was what made you take time off from work.

As you boarded the bus that would take you to your cheap - well, cheap for the likes of a baron - hotel, you took one last lingering look at the Arrivals entrance.

The sun was sinking into the sea when you got off the bus, so you stood there and stared. You’ve never seen the sea and it seemed like a lifetime since you’ve felt the sun on your skin. The sea breeze must’ve frozen you in place because a family of five knocked you over and walked all over you. The father apologized for childrens' crimes in a language you recognized as Italian. You reassured him that you were fine in a mix of English and Spanish, the two languages you’ve been speaking to the airport staff and vendors since you landed. After shaking off the embarrassment and dusting off your jean shorts, you started moving again, dragging the small and swiveling trolley behind you. You had packed every piece of summer clothing you owned and there was still room left. That’s where you put the magnets and Mrs. Helena’s postcard.

Inside the hotel lobby, you could get stomped on if you were to stop and stare at another shiny thing again. It was crowded, but that is exactly what you wanted, wasn’t it? To go unnoticed? When the Italian father waved at you, hoarding his children into the elevator, you knew that you had already made an impression.

“How may I help-”

“Here’s my ID” you interrupted the receptionist. “I made a reservation via phone in that name just yesterday.”

You knew you were being rude, but you needed to get out of those clothes you’ve been sweating in since you left home. The last thing you wanted was to waste time spelling out your name.

“Of course,” she smiled. It was the same smile you’d put on during visiting hours. It was gone the moment she took a gander at your ID. “Excuse me.” She grabbed the phone off the desk and turned her back to you. Now, that was rude. Your Catalan wasn’t as good as your Spanish, but you did overhear the words ‘girl’ and ‘here’. “I'm sorry, Miss. There seems to be a problem with your reservation, but don’t worry, we'll sort it out soon.” Then, handing you back the ID card, she turned towards the sitting area and invited you to take a seat.

You swallowed a groan and put on your customer service smile before thanking her. After all, whatever mix-up may have occurred, it couldn’t have been her fault. Hell, it might’ve been your fault. It was closing in on a week since you had a good night’s sleep. On the bright side, you had some time to stare at everything shiny while you waited. You’ve never been to a place that glowed as brightly as Ibiza. Everything from the sun, to the sea at dawn, to the light fixtures in the hotel lobby, everything that glittered was gold.

When you looked back at the receptionist’s desk, you saw her looking back, but she wasn’t the only one. A man, no older than yourself, followed her line of sight and found you. From his black suit and hat and his white gloves and shirt, you could see that he was a chauffeur. What you couldn’t see was what he handed over to the receptionist. Stepping towards you, a smile spread across his face. As for yourself, you shrunk back into your seat.

“Good evening, Miss,” he spoke, his English spiced by a Spanish accent. “I’ve been sent to collect your luggage.”

“By whom?” You asked as if you haven’t already pieced the disparate pieces of the puzzle together.

“By his lordship,” he whispered before grabbing your bags. “He is waiting for you in the car. Follow me, please.”

Looking back at the receptionist one last time, you pulled the purse off his arm and slid it onto your shoulder. “I can carry this myself, thank you.”

“Apologies, Miss,” he bowed his head and followed you out the front door.

“Which car?” You asked once the both of you were outside.

“Follow me,” he whispered and walked ahead of you. When he walked out of the parking lot, you wondered if you should’ve believed a total stranger in the first place, but then he said: “The limousine.”

Sure enough, on the other side of the street, there was a black car and its shadow: a limousine.

“Just a moment, Miss,” he rolled your trolley suitcase to the trunk.

You slowly approached the side of it, the blackened windows preventing your eye from penetrating inside. Before you even reached the passenger door, it popped open. Taking a step back, you forced your spooked heart to settle. When the chauffeur finally made it back beside you, you were too startled to say anything about the seemingly faulty door.

“Forgive me, milord,” he bowed, backing away from the now fully opened door that was obscuring who he was talking to. “I shouldn’t have kept the young miss waiting. Please,” he waved you closer to the car.

As you approached it apprehensively, you heard a voice you had come to terms with never hearing again: “Good evening, my dear,” he removed a pair of purple sunglasses as he beckoned you inside with the same dark and deep eyes you were ready to miss for the rest of your life.

The interior was almost as bright as the lobby you left, white like marble and illuminated by a golden glow. One side had an entire cream couch just for the two of you while the other had a bar filled with crystal glassware and bottles bearing labels you don’t recognize. Yet it was him that you were most blinded by Baron Helmut Zemo. He wore a jacket that seemed the summer version of his fur coat and the button-up underneath was the same royal purple as his forsaken mask. As you took his hand and a seat next to him, you saw that the sun had managed to kiss his face, if only a little. Then, while you were lost in his eyes, he brought you back by bringing the back of your hand to his lips:

“How was your flight?”

“How did you-”

“How did I know you came here via plane? I didn’t, but it is the most popular way,” he smirked. “I did, however, know that you have a room here. Well, had.”

“I didn’t even get to…” you started, as he stroked your knuckles with his thumb, little circles to calm you down. “And the receptionist, she…”

“You’ll forgive her for not spoiling the surprise, won’t you?” Then, seemingly out of the salty Mediterranean air, he brought before you a bouquet of red roses. “Welcome to Ibiza.”

The drive to his villa was spent sipping the champagne he popped in his fingers and spilled all over his hand, giggles bubbling out of you as he offered you a crystal flute. With your heavy head on his shoulder and his arm around yours, you listened to his voice rather than his words. He talked about the sun that had just been swallowed by the sea, about how it gave life to everything on the island.

"Ibiza also has a nightlife, as I'm sure you've heard," he spoke into your scalp while his nose was in your hair. "I could tell you all about it, but I'd you live it for yourself. Tonight."

You were content floating in the foam inside your flute, getting drunk on his cologne and falling asleep to the soothing sound of his voice. "Is this a dream? Am I dreaming right now?"

"No, my dear," he rose from his seat when the ride was over. "And I have to wake you up now. We've arrived."

The night had already taken over the island by the time you got out of the limousine, but the horizon was as bright as ever. Stars, ships, and city lights which way you turned your head. And, when he led you inside, your eyes hurt from the brilliance of the interior. Everything was light and soft, nothing like the dark and chilly castle. There was life within these walls, potted plants, and music in the air.

"The bedrooms are on the second floor." He offered you his arm to take as he lifted your trolley in the other. "You can freshen up while I prepare something for you to eat. Are you hungry?"

"No, I had something to eat on the flight."

"A light snack then," he decided.

There were two bedrooms and two bathrooms on the second floor. He made it clear that you can choose to sleep in your bed instead of insisting on sharing one with him. You walked into the room that had his smell lingering in the air and, under his hungry eyes, into his trap. But you didn't mind being his prey. You even expected him to bite down on the fading teeth marks he left under your right ear. But he backed away while handing you your luggage.

After a shower that soothed your very soul, it was time for a change of clothes. You only had one dress that you hoped was fancy enough for a baron. It wasn't made out of any expensive material, but it did compliment your curves. As you walked down the stairs in your heels, you hoped you wouldn't embarrass yourself and fall like you did the last time.

As if summoned by the sound of your clicking shoes, he appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "A vision," he bellowed, eyes wide and arms spread wider. "You are a vision, my dear."

"I bet you say that to all the girls you bring back here," you blushed.

"No vision as lovely has ever stepped foot in this villa, I assure you," he offered you his arm to take again as he guided you to the kitchen.

"Or is that what you say to them?" You jabbed his side, hoping the joke would land. "Thank you for flattering me, but can you be brutally honest and tell me if this dress fits the occasion or not?"

"While it's a perfect fit, it is far too elegant for a nightclub," he sat you down on a stool before the bouquet of roses he'd placed in a glass vase and served you a china cup of cherry blossom tea. "If you'd like, we can go shopping for something more appropriate tomorrow. My treat."

He didn't let you protest, or dig up the envelope of banknotes from your purse. Instead, he insisted on keeping your mouth busy by feeding you himself because you two had a long night ahead.'

Between cheeses and grapes, he treated you to Turkish delights. The pleasure he took in watching you eat from his hand emboldened you enough to wipe the white powder off of the tip of his fingers using your tongue. The hunger in his eyes only grew when he slowly slipped one of them between your lips and you sucked it in. If it were up to you, the two of you'd be rushing upstairs into your shared bedroom and not come out until the sun does. However, when his phone started vibrating on the tabletop, both of you jumped.

"The chauffeur is here," he cleared his voice as he checked his phone. "Come, my dear." The baron had to clean your mess and his, the powder and your lipstick, with a tissue, before he could help you off the stool.

Before your mind could catch up with you, before you could ask why he sent the chauffeur away when he knew the two of you would be needing him tonight, you were already in the driveway admiring a purple convertible. It was a jewel on the road, the city lights and the night sky reflecting off of its polish finish, and you got to 'feel the sea breeze,' as the baron had ordered you to.

"Let your hair down and enjoy the wind whipping through it," he whispered. "The night is ours."

The night had barely begun to take over, yet you already felt like you conquered it. When you arrived in the island's paradise, the nightclub known as Eden, you knew that you made it to the top of the world. The guard let you pass as soon as they spotted you on the baron's arm and a second one guided you to the much less crowded and far more quiet VIP area. The speakers hummed through the walls that were drenched in blue and red lights and the dance floor was covered with bodies coming together in communion. It was a nightly ritual you can't remember the last time you participated in, but you recall it never attending one of this magnitude.

"Luciano," the baron called out over the beat.

"Baron," a man, dressed in black that seemed to blend into the shadows stood up from the table the bodyguard had led you to. "You're looking as alive as you sounded on the phone," he coughed in Spanish, putting out his cigarette to shake the baron's hand. "I can't say the same for myself." He was tall, taller than your Lord, and the darkness the strobe lights couldn't illuminate added his shadow to the height.

He chose to ignore your Spanish greeting as if you were just another in a long line of girls that had been brought before him. But that didn't stop the baron from introducing you as an 'hermosa visión'. The compliment made you smile just as wide the second time. And, after you were invited to sit across from this Luciano, he made a remark that you barely registered, distracted as you were by the sound of your Lord ordering drinks in Catalan.

"You're Sokovian like my Heidi, yes?"

You shook your head and said in Spanish: "Excuse me?"

"Heidi!"

A woman, sitting by herself on a black velvet stool, twisted her torso before turning off her phone. You were surprised to have missed her because, as soon as she stood up, she stood out with her dress as white as her skin and as bright as her blond hair.

"Good evening," the baron bowed his head slightly as she stepped closer to the couch.

"Heidi, this is the baron I told you about," Luciano gestured grandly towards your side of the couch.

"Baron Helmut Zemo?" She blinked, stars in her eyes the color of the strobe lights. "We thought you were dead or locked up or-" she stuttered in Sokovian as she sat down and leaned over the glass table.

"What is my silly girl saying, Baron? I could never learn the language."

"Papi," she spun around to face him. "You didn't tell me it was Baron Zemo we were hosting tonight."

"I wanted to surprise you, baby," he tucked her long blond hair behind her ear. "I know how much you've missed speaking in your mother tongue. Look, he even brought you a play mate."

When you were pointed out, you pushed your hair out of your face and waved. When he saw your stilted movements and your strained smile, the baron brought your shaking hand to his lips. He knew you had been placed in an awkward position, but he calmed you with a few circles drawn with his thumb on the back of your hand. He then made the introduction himself, releasing your hand so that you can shake Heidi's. Her smile was sincere, so yours grew at the sight of it.

"Why don't you girls go onto the dance floor?" Luciano leaned back. "The baron and I have business to discuss."

"Come on," Heidi dragged you up by the hand that was still in hers. "Business bores me."

"What was that, baby?"

"I said you're boring, Papi," she answered a laughing Luciano in Spanish.

As for yourself, you looked back at the baron who reassured you by squeezing your other hand: "I'll be right here, my dear. Now, go! Have fun! That's an order!"

You tried obeying his order, you did, but it took Heidi dragging you to the bar and buying the two of you drinks to relax your muscles and settle your nerves. She was brazen, sure. But she was also sweet. The smile that stretched her face also lit it up. She was another shiny thing you were drawn to on this island and she just so happened to be Sokovian. Three drinks in, she was already teaching you Catalan and a couple of her signature dance moves. You talked about Castle Zemo and the tourists who had thought you all the other languages. Soon enough you were grinding against each in the flurry of giggles. The music was just as addicting as the alcohol and it made you even more uninhibited. When she asked about the baron's performance in the bedroom, you answered so fast, your head started spinning. The best you've ever had. You asked about her relationship with Luciano and she wasn't ashamed to admit to her sugar baby status.

"Ladies, mind if I cut in?"

As if he could hear his name being whispered across the crowded dance floor and over the thrumming beat, the baron appeared beside you.

“Milord,” you blinked up at him, a sobering sight for drunk eyes.

“Hello, milord,” she wrapped her arms around you, not ready to let him have you back just yet. “Do you dance as well as you fuck?”

“Heidi,” you gasped, but soon you dissolved into giggles. You even wrapped your arms around her middle. “Stop it!”

“I’m afraid I’m not nearly as good of a dancer,” he smirked, seemingly unshaken by her slurred words. “Heidi, Luciano has asked to see you in what I believed he called his private booth. He tried calling you, but-”

“He wants to play,” she whispered in your ear. “I have to go, but I’ll see you soon, okay?” Then she kissed you on each cheek, each of them as sloppy and glossy. “Milord,” she attempted to make a curtsy but would’ve fallen over if you hadn’t caught her and sent her on her way.

In a sea of sweaty party people, you could only see him. The alcohol made everything glow brighter, including your baron. Like a moth who doesn’t know any better, you knocked your chest against his in an attempt to get closer.

“Are you having fun, my dear?” He steadied you with his hands, sliding them down your spine and stopping at the small of your back.

“Yes,” you smoothed his shoulder pads with your palms, enjoying the sensation of the fabric against your fingers. “But I thought you brought me here to dance.”

“For where I was standing, I could see the two of you were dancing,” he chuckled. “Were my eyes deceiving me?”

“You’re the one I wanted to dance with,” you slurred, emboldened by the liquor flowing freely through your veins. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you dragged him down and dipped your tongue into the shell of his ear. “Heidi’s pretty and all, but she’s not you.”

“My Lady,” he hissed, holding you so close he might’ve crushed you if he applied force. “What do you think you’re doing?”

With the beat of the music under your feet and his rumbling chest against your breasts, you swayed to the music in your heart. Your breaths were in each other’s ears, your lips against the shell of his and his under your lobe, in the same spot he left his stamp the last time the two of you were entangled.

“My Lord, what are you doing? You’ve barely touched me,” you gasped, grinding against him when you felt his teeth tease your sensitive skin. “You’ve barely spent time with me,” you moaned, moving your hands up and down his arms and feeling his muscles flex beneath your fingertips. “Why bring me here at all?”

“You needed this,” he grunted, his groin growing between your bodies. “You’ve been living among dead things for too long. You needed to be among the living again.” After licking the wound his teeth reopened, his mouth moved from underneath your ear to murmur: “And you needed me.” The hands slid down the small of your back to cup your ass cheeks and press your pelvis up against his. “You need me right now, don’t you?”

“I do,” you sighed, sinking your nails into his shoulders for stability. “I need you.” He had shoved his knee between your legs and your body compiled: you were now rubbing your bare cunt against his clothed thigh. If he hadn’t figured out that you left the villa pantyless yet, he knew now. “You ruined me for every other man.”

His hands smoothed your dress again, but this time they climbed up your spine. When they arrived at the back of your head, one got tangled in your hair while the other went right through. Yanking your head back, he exposed your throat to his teeth and your eyes to his hunger. The baron was starving.

While nobody else around you could hear it over the music, he must’ve tasted your moans under the teeth he was dragging up your throat. When his mouth made it to your chin, he chuckled: “What a spoiled little girl you are! Haven’t I given you enough? What is it that you want now? Me? Right here, right now?” Nipping the thin skin under your chin, he continued. “You could wrap those legs around me and I could slip my cock right into your sopping cunt. Yes, I know you’re not wearing any panties.” Releasing his grip on your air, he cupped your cheeks to keep your eyes on him instead. “Or do you want to be fucked in a bathroom stall like the dirty little girl you are?”

“Please,” you begged him, but you couldn’t even begin to articulate. Your body, hot and loose because of the liquor, was more coherent. Your thighs tightened around his own and your spine arched like a bow. “Oh, please.”

The baron bunched up your skirt in between your bodies with one hand while the other wound up around your throat, still tender from his teeth. “Please who?” He pressed you for an answer as he pressed his thumb against your slick and swollen clitoris.

“Please, m-milord,” you whined. “The bathroom. Take me to the bathroom.”

The walk to the men’s bathroom was a blur, but you didn’t need your eyes to find your destination. The baron’s hand was secure on your side, guiding you through the gaggle of dancers and hiding you from prying eyes. The bathroom was more light with more blue than red and the stall was more spacious than what you were used to. You initially imagined you must be out in the open, my when he turned the handle, it made a clicking noise, the sound of secrecy.

When he turned towards you, his eyes were wild in the blue neon lights and his hands were claws as he cornered you to capture your tender thighs. “You dirty girl,” he chuckled, as dark as his blown-out eyes. Then, as he lifted your feet off the tile floor and drove you up the wall of the stall, he snarled: “You couldn’t wait until we were back at the villa, could you? You had to have my cock right here, right now, didn’t you?”

You tried to get a hold of the tile wall, but failed and sunk your nails into his scalp instead. “Milord,” you called to him as you were climbing to the ceiling without your consent. “Milord, I’m gonna fall.”

Your Lord sat you atop of his shoulders, one thigh on each side of his face. “I won’t allow it,” he growled before his head disappeared under your skirt. “I’ve waited long enough for you to come to me, and I’m not letting you go now.”

He was right: you weren’t falling, you were flying. The swirling of his tongue around your cunt’s engorged numb was making your head spin and his five o'clock shadow scratching your inner thighs were stimulating every sinus. And you were sure that every ear inside the men’s bathroom could hear, but you didn’t stop yourself from screaming out for him.

When he slowed down his assault on your cunt, it was only to speak to it. “I missed this. I missed the sweet noises you make. I missed my sweet girl,” he licked up your labia, taking his time to taste it. “And I missed my sweet pussy.”

“Oh, God,” you called to the ceiling and the skies.

“No, not God,” he spat between your folds before sliding a finger between them. “I’m no God. No god is making you feel this way.” He pushed the protruding digit deeper before pulling it out again. “It’s a man.” Then, he pushed and pulled at a punishing pace, his mouth circling your clitoris again. “It’s me. Now, come on my tongue. Come on, come on my tongue like the dirty girl that you are.”

Baron Zemo had given out an order and you, his loyal servant, obeyed. Squeezing your thighs down on the sides of his head, you rode his face to the finish. You pulled at his hair and pushed his head down all at the same time. Everything was too much, but never enough. It was a sobering experience that made the alcohol in your veins dissipate. Still, as he slid you down the wall of the stall, you were drunk on the dopamine released by your orgasm.

“Just as obedient as I remember you to be. And twice as sweet,” he licked his lips as he whipped your face with his thumbs tenderly. His face shone with your juices, his chin being especially shiny. “Would you like a taste?”

You nodded, not feeling prepared to practice speaking just yet. He held up your head with a hand at the back of your throat while he brought the finger that burrowed inside you up to your bottom lip. You tasted the tip at first under his spreading smirk, but as soon as you took him in, he parted his lips and started panting. And his breathing got louder the more of him you sucked inside. When you took all of him, the entire finger up to the knuckle, and began bobbing your head, he gritted his teeth and groaned.

“Do you still want my cock, dirty girl?”

Pulling back from his finger with a pop, you bit your bottom lip. “Yes, milord.”

“Would you bow before me to get to it?”

“Yes, milord,” you smiled stupidly, drunk on the dopamine.

By the time he took himself out of his trousers, you were on your knees saying your pleas. You missed the taste of him as much as he claimed to miss your cunt. You stuck out your tongue and tasted his precum that was already pouring out. When the tip met with your mouth, you locked your lips around it and moaned. This caused him to call to the ceiling:

He grunted, grabbing you by the hair and yanking you off of him. “I want to paint those pretty little lips myself.”

You moaned aloud at that, eyes glazed over and mind muddled him. His touch, taste, and smell were taking over you again and all you could do was beg him for more, more, more. “Please, please, please,” you breathed as he slid his hand up and down his shaft and snarled, his teeth bared. “Please, please, please.”

He growled and the grip in your hair tightened. “That’s a good girl,” he managed to get out before spilling in your open mouth. “That’s my good girl.”

Once the steam started, he couldn’t stop himself. If you could’ve, you wouldn’t have stopped him either. The tangy taste of him transported you back to the first time he pushed you down into this position. He had a mask on then, but now his face was wearing his emotions. He was in pain, the pleasurable kind. His eyebrows were knitted together and his hair was falling on his forehead. While you were the one serving him, the one swallowing his come and cleaning his cock with your tongue, you felt powerful. And, as he called you his baroness and said you never looked more beautiful than you did in that moment, you knew that you would never feel this powerful again.

“Occupied,” he slammed the door in another man’s nose.

A voice swore in English from the other side. “What, man? The whole damn bathroom?”

Yes, the whole bathroom. Baron Zemo was standing at the entrance to the men’s bathroom to keep out men as you freshened up. You were starting to sober up, splashing water across your face to whip away your runny make-up.

“You remain a vision, my dear,” he held out his arm when you were done.

“Now I'm sure that’s what you say to all the girls,” you said, too satiated and exhausted to even think about the implications of your statement.

“There’s nothing more beautiful in this world than a woman in the afterglow,” he whispered, a wide smirk shadowing his lips before he swung the door open. “It’s all yours, my friend.”

“I almost pissed myself, man! Not cool!”

You smothered your laughter into his shoulder while he walked you back to the VIP lounge. “You think they noticed how long we’ve been gone?” You squeezed his arm with both hands. Your flushed and bare face must’ve been enough to give away the game anyway, so you didn’t know why you bothered to hide from Heidi.

“They’ve been gone for just as long,” he winked. “He called her into his booth, remember?”

The reunion with your Sokovian sister revealed that she at some point also had to remove her make-up. She invited you to sit next to her and immediately asked about the intimate details. You amused her but refused to drink any more alcohol. You asked for water instead.

While the two of you were swooning over the sex you just had, the men in question had yet to sit down. They had their backs turned to you and their glasses full. However, they never got to finish their drinks.

“Baby, it’s time to say goodbye to your new friend.” He didn’t even look at you as he said all this, focusing his narrow gaze on the other man instead. “The baron was just leaving.”

Heidi’s pitch was higher when she spoke Spanish, so she almost squeaked out: “Papi, make him stay.”

“I’m afraid it’s getting late,” the baron began apologizing. “It’s been a long day and we’re still suffering from jet lag.” He looked at you. That was your cue.

“Yes,” you yawned. “I’m sorry, Heidi. You know how far away Sokovia used to be, right?”

“Well, if you have to go, then you have to promise you’ll be back tomorrow. Papi, make him promise to bring her back tomorrow.”

Her Papi took one look at his baby’s pleading eyes, then another at the baron’s poker face, then sighed. “Very well. Baron, we’ll finish our talk tomorrow night.”

While Luciano looked more than eager to escort you out himself, he had to wait for Heidi to hug you tightly as she typed her number into your phone. She only let you go after kissing you good night.

“I didn’t even have to lie,” you yawed as he draped his suit jacket over your shoulders. “I so, so sleepy.”

“Which one wore you out, the flight or I?”

“Both,” you tucked your head under his chin.

Either the sea breeze had turned into a chill, or your tired body was cooling down. Whichever one it was, the chauffeur covered the convertible at the baron’s demand. It was either his warm chest that put you to sleep or the purring engine. Whichever one it was, you woke up to Baron Zemo caring you up the stairs like a groom would his bride.

“Hush now, my dear,” he shushed you. “Get some sleep. We have a full day ahead of us.”

#Baron Zemo #Baron Zemo x Reader #Helmut Zemo #Helmut Zemo x Reader #TFatWS

29 notes · View notes

zach-the-fox · 5 years ago

Text

Furiends Episode 1: A New Beginning

“Just sign your name and we will take care of the rest,” says a deer with glasses to an orange fox, male in body build, with brown eyes. The fox takes the pen and writes along the dotted lines next to the “x”. Upon finishing, the fox hands back the pen as the deer takes the clipboard of the discharge forms. “Zach the Fox. All right, you’re all set, Mr. Fox. Is anyone coming to pick you up?”

The fox sighs as his ears droop. “I wish there was…”

“Nobody at all? Well, I’m sorry to hear. Hope you have a wonderful day.”

“I doubt that I will…” The fox heads off. “Everybody hates me… Nobody wants me…” Just as he heads out the door, he is stopped by a voice.

“Mister! Hey, Mister!” The orange fox’s ears stick up before he turns around to see a beige warthog approach him. Eyelashes and long, chocolate hair, messy on top but flowing in the back nicely straight with curves at the end, shows her gender to be female. Her eyes are protected by grey glasses as she dons an orange shirt underneath a black jacket and blue jeans. She stops in front of the fox, appearing to be half his size, then raises her hoof up with a blue bandana. Her brown eyes glare at the fox as she keeps the bandana suspending. “You left this in the hospital room. I was afraid you might’ve forgotten it.”

The fox keeps his frown on. “Keep it… I don’t want it anymore… It just reminds me of the life I dreamed of having… I can’t stand the pain of remembering all that…”

“Why does this blue bandana trouble you?”

“It was given to me by an orphanage patron, who thought I was special… Special enough to be labeled and picked at, as well as a symbol for being flawed.”

“So, it’s yours, then.”

“You can have it,” he tells her. “I insist.”

“I’d rather not have something that truly belongs to someone else. Besides, it would be better if you wore it, because it shows who you are.” She holds the bandana higher to him. “Here. Wear it.”

“If it’ll make you happy…” The fox takes the bandana from her hoof and proceeds to tie it around his neck. He makes sure the triangular part is big and points down toward his belly. “Happy now?”

“You don’t seem happy yourself,” she reflects. “Is this about Team Rescuers pushing you away? Or is it about everybody seeing you as the flawed fox of Heroto?” The fox looks away with his ears drooping. “Listen, I know how you feel.” The warthog takes a step closer. “It’s never good to be picked on or singled out because of a disorder or even from being a product of an inappropriate relationship or just be bad at something. I understand how you feel. My stepfather’s a big jerk, yet my mom and I struggle to put up with him.”

“Yeah, well at least you’ve got a family… I’ve had it hard my whole life… I have no family… no friends… No one… Unloved… Hated…”

“I’ll be your friend if you’d like.” The fox’s ears straighten immediately as he pivots his head to her quickly. “I really don’t mind. In fact, I could introduce you to some other friends of mine.” The warthog grabs the fox’s paw. “Come!” Being forced to follow her, the fox catches up as she pulls him away.

***

Walking along a grey-tiled foundation are three animals. One is a rottweiler, dressed with a white t-shirt underneath a steel-blue, opened vest, dark blue pants, and green sneakers. The dog is skinny in build to show a feminine gender. Beside her on her left is a blue jay with nothing but long, Persian-blue hair and black glasses, female in build as well. On the rottweiler’s right, a neon-blue wolf, male in figure with rainbow hair, walks alongside her. The three chat amongst themselves as they amble the right side of a long corridor, lined with stores.

“Did you really need that plushie?” the rottweiler asks, looking at the wolf.

“I couldn’t resist!” the wolf tells her. “He was just so cute!” He snuggles the little stuffed animal. “I didn’t want anyone else but me to have him. I love him!”

“If you love him so much, why don’t you kiss him?” utters the blue jay. She snickers.

The wolf looks at her with a mean glare. “Don’t start with me.”

“Hey guys!” The three animals turn to their front and see the warthog approach them.

“Well, look who it is!” the dog says. Her mouth bends into a small smile. “Glad you came. Was starting to think you weren’t going to make it.”

“I got held up at my appointment,” the warthog tells her. “Then, I met this fox here.” She turns to her guest behind her, letting go of his paw. “He was in the same hospital room as I, but he forgot his bandana, so I returned it to him.”

As the dog looks up at the fox, her smile reflects into a frown. “Hey, wait a minute.” She points at the fox. “You’re that fox whose been hanging around Team Rescuers, aren’t you?”

The blue wolf scans the fox up and down. “Yep, it’s the flawed fox of Heroto. However, I don’t see his friends anywhere.”

“Where are your hero friends?” asks the blue jay. “Aren’t they around?” The fox backs away a couple of steps, ears drooping with a frown.

“What’s wrong with you?” the dog asks. “Can’t you talk? Why are you backing away?”

“You’re not helping,” the warthog utters in defense. She faces the fox. “Don’t mind them. They’re not used to you.” She looks back at the other three. “Besides, he isn’t even with Team Rescuers anymore. They abandoned him a while back.”

“Oh yeah!” The rainbow-haired wolf spurts. “They booted him from the team…”

“Yeah, everybody knows that,” the fox tells him. “I always wanted to save people because I didn’t want anyone to end up like me… I was influenced by Captain Red Mask, telling me that caring and helping those is a great honor… I also wanted to prove that I wasn’t a … I failed… Not because I stopped trying, but I never got support because everyone thought I was a flawed fox; all because I’m the product of an inappropriate relationship and my disorder. That’s all everyone sees in me… Being a hero is all just a dream now…”

“Damn,” goes the blue jay. “That’s dark…”

“Nobody wants me… Nobody loves me… They all confirm that I fail because of my faults… I’m nothing! Nobody…” Tears develop in his eyes. “Why doesn’t anyone appreciate me…?”

“Hey listen,” the dog begins, taking one step forward to him and putting a paw on his shoulder. “I’m sorry about all that. I didn’t understand how rough you had it. It’s not an easy feeling to have your dreams crushed like that, and to have people view you for little things…” The fox’s ears raise but remain drooped. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you hang out with us?”

The fox’s ears straighten as he picks his head up. His tears ceasing. “R-really? Y-you wouldn’t mind at all? What if I mess something up?”

“Don’t worry about that,” the warthog assures him. “They’re fine with everything.”

The fox looks down at the warthog, sighs, then back up at the three animals. “Well, if you insist. Sure, I’d love to hang out…”

The blue jay steps up, grabs his paw with her wing, then shakes it roughly. “It’s such a pleasure to have you with us, Flawed Fox!”

“Zach,” the fox tells her, holding onto her wing as she shakes his arm. “I’m Zach… You’re hurting me…”

The blue jay takes back her wing. “Oops, sorry.” She chuckles awkwardly. “I’m Navy.” She points to the dog. “This is Sally, and the blue wolf’s Niji.” Niji waves and says “hello”, while Sally gives him a slight smile.

“And I’m Emmy,” the warthog butts in. “We’re happy to have you with us, Zach.”

“Um, cool,” Zach says. “So, what are we doing?”

“Not sure,” replies Sally. “We were just walking around the mall before Emmy brought you along. And we also stopped at one store so Niji could get a doll…”

Niji hugs the toy against his chest, then he spots a vendor with a long menu of frozen treats. “Hey, I’m kind of in the mood for some ice cream. Can we get some?”

“Oh!” shouts Navy. “I want some ice cream, too!”

“Calm down, “children”,” Sally orders. “Don’t rush me… Jeez.” She leads everyone to the line of the vendor. “Everyone know what they’re having?” Emmy, Niji, and Navy all give her a “yes” in response. “Okay.” The dog then faces Zach. “Zach, how about you?”

“I, um…” Zach rubs his arm. “I have no money. I just won’t have any.”

“It’s all right,” Navy tells him. “I’ll pay for yours.”

Zach looks to the bird. “You don’t have to… It’s fine.”

“I want to. Don’t worry. What flavor do you want?”

“Strawberry, I guess…” The five animals are next in line at the counter. As soon as they place their orders, the vendor gets to work on the requests. The ice cream person churns out the flavors the gang had called for, accepting the money laid out on the counter. The group takes their cups of frozen treats and amble away from the vendor, sitting around an iron-wielded table about ten meters away. They dig their plastic spoons into the colored, soft mountains and begin shoveling them into their mouths.

“So, Zach,” Sally begins. “Can you tell us a little bit about yourself? I know the whole town knows who you are with the whole “flawed fox” thing, but I think it’s best if we learned about you in your own words. Unless, you don’t feel like sharing.”

“No,” Zach responds. “It’s okay.” He takes a deep breath in, starting with his story. “When I was born, I was immediately put up for adoption. My parents, David and Delilah, are infamous for their inappropriate relationship, but I’m sure you all know, right?” The other four all nod their heads. “So, the orphanage is where I grew up and spent my whole life. I never made a single friend or got adopted because of that relationship and the diagnosis of my disorder. Everyone saw me as different and were afraid. I was constantly picked on and bullied by the other kids, being told how much of a burden I am.”

“Harsh, dude,” Niji comments. “Did you tell the adults?”

“They didn’t do much to solve my issues. I was kept away from everyone and put in rooms alone. Everything was horrible until I met Team Rescuers. I would hang around with them and fight alongside them against Capital Corp of Buscity. For once in my life, I was happy. That was short-lived, however. They talked negatively about me on how poor of a job I would do. I asked them if I could learn from them… They neglected my request to prove I was more of a flawed fox than a fantastic fox…”

“So, it wasn’t your fault,” Sally claims. “It was theirs… They neglected and refused to train you…”

“It gets worse… I tried to learn on my own, but I wasn’t good enough… You guys know what happens next; the end of Zach the super fox…”

“Hard,” says Emmy. “But, you still talked to them, didn’t you?”

Zach shakes his head. “They wanted nothing to do with me. For the next three years, I focused on looking for a lover and struggled to find friends… Time ran out for me, though… I was evicted from the orphanage…”

“Oh jeez, Zach,” Sally utters. “I didn’t know you had it harder than I thought… What are your intentions now? What do you plan to do now that you’re on your own?”

Zach’s ears flop down again. “I… I don’t know… I never really anticipated it… I was just released from the hospital, yet I have nowhere to go… I have no family, no friends, nobody to care about… Team Rescuers has stripped me of the only dream I had and pushed me away… I don’t know what to do…”

“You’ll figure things out.” Emmy places a hoof on his paw. “You have us to be your friends now.” The others agree. “Think of it as starting a new life. We’ve got you.”

“Thanks, Emmy. Thank you all. I appreciate it… I don’t know where to go, though… Maybe I could find shelter in an alleyway and build myself a home…”

“No,” Sally tells him. “You don’t have to do that. You can stay with me. My mother and I have plenty of room.”

Zach’s ears straighten as he looks to her. “R-really? You would take me in?” Sally nods. “You and your mother wouldn’t mind at all?”

“I’d have to explain your situation to her. But other than that, she and I will be willing to let you stay. We have a room for guests that used to belong to my sister’s, but once I’ve cleared everything to my mother, it will be yours.”

“Thank you very much, Sally. I appreciate your kindness and generosity. If there’s anything I can do to repay you, let me know.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“I insist, though.”

“Okay, okay,” Emmy spurts out. “How about we focus on finishing our ice cream?”

“I want to hit the Kidsney store next!” Niji swivels his paw around quickly, shoveling as much of his ice cream in his mouth as he can.

“Don’t eat so fast, Niji!” Sally commands. “Or else you’ll get a-”

“Gah!” Niji holds his head as his eyes clench. “Oh!”

Navy chuckles. “Brain freeze!”

“That’ll teach you to eat slower next time,” utters Emmy. The group continues to eat their frozen desserts at their own pace.

A new beginning indeed! Here is the start of the revamped series of Furiends! Staring: @zach-the-fox @emmy-the-absolute-goof @sally-the-pack-leader @rainbow-strike @pink-unicorn-boi / @pink-unicorn-blood

3 notes · View notes

allhailkingrooker51 · 6 years ago

Text

So, there’s this guy...

that y’all may know that I’m freakin’ madly in love with. He goes by the name Michael Rooker. 😜 I finally got to meet him. Here’s my story...*Law & Order noise*

Fandemic Houston Day 1 - September 14, 2018

My alarm went off at 7:30 a.m. I was already awake though. I had hardly slept at all. I had hardly slept the last two months for that matter as September 14th got closer. I couldn’t remember ever being this excited for anything in my entire life. This was going to be the best weekend ever.

I jumped out of bed, got ready, and packed the car, mostly with Rooker memorabilia. I hadn’t officially decided what all I wanted him to autograph yet so I brought a little of everything – some of my Rooker Funkos, all my Yondu, Merle, and Chick Gandil trading cards, and my all-time favorite Rooker picture printed out as an 8X10. I mapped out the directions to the NRG Center on my phone and swung by to pick up my best friend who I’ve known since kindergarten. After a little detour to Chick-fil-a to get some breakfast, we were on our way to Fandemic Houston.

My friend doesn’t know much about Rooker. As far as his movies, she had only seen Vol. 1 and Vol. 2. I had sent her various Rooker videos on YouTube, though, for her to watch as “homework” like the Into the Night doc with James Gunn and the Inside of You podcast with Michael Rosenbaum. The whole way down to Houston, I told her as many Rooker stories as I could think of. She had a lot of catching up to do before she met the greatest person on this planet.

Things were going great. We were making good time on the road. My friend seemed entertained with the Doug Loves Movies podcast with the cast of Super, including Rooker and the Gunn Bros., that I was forcing her to listen to. Then things suddenly changed.

I had been having bad feelings about this trip even months before. Meeting Michael Rooker would be my biggest dream come true, but every time I paid for something for Fandemic, whether it was the hotel or Rooker VIPs or Sean Gunn's autograph, I was just waiting for the ball to drop and I wouldn’t be able to go. I never really get to do anything fun ever, and in the back of my mind, something was going to go wrong. Something always does. And something did.

We were cruising down interstate about an hour outside of Houston. It began to rain. No big deal. I turned on the windshield wipers, and we continued laughing with the podcast on the radio. Then I noticed the passenger side windshield wiper was doing this little fish-tailing action every time it went across the windshield. I had just had new windshield wipers installed two days earlier, but I hadn’t had to use them yet, and I thought, “You know, that doesn’t look right.”

Then I noticed the one in front of me started to do the same thing. Just as I opened my mouth to tell my friend there's something wrong with the windshield wipers, the rain started coming down like a monsoon and both wipers flew off my car with an almost comical synchronized whoosh.

Well, fuck.

Somehow, by the grace of God, I was able to cross over two lanes of busy interstate to the shoulder without causing a 15-car pileup. Once the mini panic attack of trying to safely get to the side of the road subsided and after I dropped a plethora of choice curse words, I turned on my hazards and began to think. What the hell are we gonna do?

It was raining fucking cats and dogs, and I couldn’t see shit. Think! Plan B. Plan B. Wait, what was plan B? I wasn’t expecting this. We didn’t even have a plan B.

Should we just wait out the rain for a bit? Maybe it would stop soon. But I had already checked the weather earlier, and it was supposed to rain all day.

This can’t be happening. The greatest day of my life and I’m stranded on the interstate in a deluge with no windshield wipers three and a half hours away from home. And to top it all off, I have a pre-purchased Sean Gunn/Rooker photo op in a few hours that I couldn’t miss. This was not good.

We sat there for a few minutes hoping the rain would subside enough for me to at least get us off the highway. We started googling the nearest auto parts store while we waited. There was one less than a mile away.

Vehicles were flying past me in a blur, and the fear of someone plowing into the back of my car took over. I knew we had to get off the interstate as soon as possible. Luckily an exit was about 50 feet away, and I had to try for it. With the rain letting up just a tad, and with my friend looking out the passenger side window and guiding me along the edge of the asphalt, I managed to creep off the interstate shoulder going about three miles per hour onto the service road. I could still barely see, but I felt a little more relieved being off the interstate.

The rain kept coming. My view through the windshield looked the exact same as when I don’t have my contacts in. Everything was blurry as shit. I continued my snail-like pace, my eyes concentrating simultaneously on the taillights of the cars ahead of me and the fuzzy, white dashes of the lane to my near left.

I crept through the next red light and made a left. Not far down the road, there it was. We had made it. I had never been so happy to see an Autozone in my entire fucking life. We went inside, explained what had happened, bought two new windshield wipers, this time properly installed, and once again we were on our way.

It stopped raining about 20 minutes later.

Looking back now, the whole situation was funny as hell.

Despite our little automotive dilemma, we still got to the NRG Center 15 minutes before Fandemic started. I parked the car, turned off the ignition, and checked in with my Rooker Hooker friends online to let them know I made it. Then I sat frozen in my seat.

“I don’t think I can do this,” I told my friend. My nerves were getting the best of me. She assured me that I could, in fact, do this. I had to do this. I’m so glad she went with me. I knew she wouldn’t let me back out of anything. I made sure I had my things, took a deep breath and forced myself to get out of the car.

We made it inside the convention center, and a woman in a red Fandemic shirt directed us to the VIP ticket window. (Every staff member we came across at Fandemic was absolutely awesome, by the way. Even the C.E.O. was greeting every guest with a handshake and a hello as you entered through security.)

I went up to the window and handed over my paper tickets to exchange for our Rooker VIP badges. While the worker scanned the tickets, I looked behind her to the table along the back wall. It was covered from one end to the other with plastic bins. Each bin was labeled by name and full of red VIP lanyards for each corresponding celebrity – Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Norman Reedus, Bruce Campbell, Tom Welling, etc.

The lady finished scanning my tickets and turned to get our VIP badges from the bins. Only there wasn’t a bin for Rooker. She couldn’t find them. I started to panic a little inside. I mean it’s obvious I bought them. I had the paper tickets as proof. They were in her hand for Pete’s sake. She looked down at the paper again and walked the length of the table for the second time. Still no luck. I really started to worry. Of course, my initial thought is the ball is dropping again. First my windshield wipers, and now this.

I couldn't hear what she was saying behind the window, but her mouth was moving as I watched her hand my paper over to another worker. This worker checked the paper, and they both walked over towards the middle of the table. There laying between two bins was a little Ziploc bag with Rooker’s name on it with maybe four or five VIP badges in it. I turned to my friend, who had been out of eyesight of what just happened, stuck out my bottom lip and said, “Awww, my poor baby. He only has a Ziploc bag of VIPs, and we have two of ‘em.” I don’t know why, but it made me love him even more.

After a bag check and a wanding from security, we finally made it onto the convention floor. I was one giant walking ball of nerves as we went through those doors. I was in the same room as Michael Rooker! On one hand, I couldn’t wait to see him. On the other, I was afraid I was gonna faint and fall out on the floor right in front of all the Deadpools and Negans and Harley Quinns.

We decided to bypass the vendors and headed straight to the autograph booths. Granted we were still a little early, so none of the celebs had made it to their tables yet. Rooker’s booth was already filling up. There were about 20 people or so already waiting. My friend asked if I wanted to go ahead and get in line. I couldn’t. My feet wouldn’t move. I wasn’t ready. I had to see him first. From afar. Then maybe I’d get the courage to go talk to him.

The whole time things were going down, I was checking in with my Rooker friends online, giving them play-by-plays of what was happening and taking their encouragement to heart. I was gonna need it all.

My friend and I decided to walk around a little more and found ourselves standing near the back row of the autograph tables. That’s when I saw celebs start to trickle through the curtain in the corner and head to their booths.

Every time those red and black curtains moved, my heart stopped thinking it would be him. Sean Gunn and Chris Sullivan came out together. There went Sean Patrick Flanery. And then Bruce Campbell. I knew Rooker couldn’t be far behind.

Minutes later, the curtains moved once more, and there he was. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as he walked the floor in front of me. He wore his black leather jacket and blue sunglasses, a white v-neck t-shirt, his newest Penman hat and a giant smile on his face. Somehow, I managed to stop my hands from shaking to take a few pics before he disappeared into his booth, his boisterous voice loud as he greeted his awaiting fans.

After my heart rate returned to a somewhat normal rhythm, we walked around towards the front of his booth. We looked on from a distance as I stood there silently building up my confidence to go get in his line. I told my online Rooker friends that I wasn’t sure I could do this. They again told me I could. I loved him too much not to, they said. And they were right.

I knew I needed to go get in line, but I just couldn’t take that first step. But I had to do it. I had come too far, and I had too many cool things to show him rather than stand there and stare at him like a creeper. I had to jump off that cliff. Take that plunge. Just like ripping a Band-Aid off with the sweetest reward waiting for me right after.

One of the Fandemic workers near his booth was walking around with an inflatable pickle. He told her he wanted to sign it. He autographed the pickle, and as she walked away, he yelled out to her, “Don’t touch it for a little while. It’s still wet!” He knew exactly what he was doing, too. He laughed and then did that little shit-eating grin while biting his tongue. Y’all know which one I’m talking about. Watching him laughing and joking around with everyone started to put my mind at ease. This is Rooker we’re talking about. I’m gonna be fine. So, I did it. I put my big kid pants on and got in line.

The line was moving fairly quickly, but I made sure to sneak some more pics while I waited. I still couldn’t believe this was all real. Seeing him right there, mere feet away from me. Hearing that raspy voice in person. It was almost too much.

When I got about eight people away, I pulled out his headshots from my bag. I have several of Rooker’s old original headshots and resumes, and I couldn’t wait to see what his reaction was.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I was still a nervous wreck. A million things raced through my brain. What if I can’t talk when I get up there? What if he doesn’t like me? What if he thinks I’m weird? Even worse, what if he thinks I’m a batshit crazy stalker ‘cause I have his old headshots?

Then the weirdest thing happened. The closer I got to him, the less nervous I became. By the time I made it in front of him at that table, it was like I was about to say “hey” to an old friend. All the butterflies had flown away.

One of his helpers had already taken the headshot from me that I wanted Rooker to autograph to keep the line running smoothly. He handed it to Rooker and said, “Ohh, this is an oldie.”

Rooker greeted us as he took the headshot and he was like “Whoaaa” and smiled really big as I showed him the others. He got a kick out of them! He grabbed the oldest headshot, which was his first one, his hair super curly, and called over Sean Gunn and Chris Sullivan, who immediately left their tables to see what was going on. They both promptly busted out laughing when Rooker showed them. They cracked some jokes together and then Rooker said, “That was my first headshot, this is my last.” He walked over to me and showed me a pic of himself wearing no hat with his hair a FREAKIN’ mess on what I believe was Sean’s phone maybe, which in turn made him laugh even harder.

He walked back over to Sean and Sully, where Sully had since pulled up his own old headshot on his phone. Rooker busted out laughing again, and they compared their curly hair and then showed all the people in line their “white men afros” as Rooker put it.

The whole time I felt like I was in a dream watching this all take place. I mean I figured Rooker would think it was pretty cool seeing his old headshots and resumes, but I never thought it would have caused all this.

He came back over to me and thanked me for bringing the headshots and picked up a blue marker to sign the one I had picked out for his autograph.

Up until then, had that been the end of our interaction, I would have walked away from his table completely ecstatic. At that moment, I could have officially died happy. But it wasn’t over yet.

As he was signing the headshot, I told him that I had something to show him and to pick an arm. He looked a little perplexed and said, “Ummmm...your left.”

I sheepishly lifted up my shirt sleeve to show him my portrait tattoo of one of his Skillset magazine pictures. He said, “OMG.....you know what that’s from, right?” I kind of laughed and said, “Well, yeah.” He said, “That’s from my Skillset!” Then, I lifted up my right shirt sleeve to reveal my other Rooker portrait tattoo, this one a bald, serious-faced shot. He glanced at it really quick and said, “Oh yeah, Thanos, very cool.”

I laughed and said, “It’s not Thanos, it’s you!” I had to catch myself before I affectionately called him a dork at the end of that sentence. He said, “What?! Lemme see it again!” I lifted my sleeve, and he said again that it looks like Thanos, totally fucking with me. I said, “It’s not Thanos! Why would I have Thanos? You’re way hotter than Thanos!” He chuckled and said “Well, yeah, I’m hotter than Thanos! Fine, it’s a sexy Thanos.”

He then walked around his table, grabbed my shoulders, spun me around, yanked my shirt sleeve back up and proceeded to ask the crowd, very loudly I might add, if my tattoo looked like “Sexy Thanos” all the while laughing his ass off. Of course, the crowd agreed with him.

I didn’t even have time to think about being embarrassed. The next I thing knew, he turned back to me, smiled a huge Rooker smile, said I was awesome and reached out and caressed my face. I about passed out.

Rooker went back around his table to the headshots and started talking about his resumes stapled to the back. We talked for a couple of minutes trying to figure out the timeline of the headshots vs. the resumes vs. the talent agency he was with at the time.

The whole time he talked, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. The way he smiled and chomped his gum, his eyes behind his blue sunglasses, his curls thick under his hat, his sexy voice, his chest hair poking out of the collar of his shirt. He is absolutely hypnotic. I was in heaven, y’all.

He grabbed the curly-haired headshot, smiled and said, “You know what? Just ‘cause you’re you, I’m gonna sign this one, too. It’s a 2-for-1 Rooker deal.” I, of course, was over the moon.

He signed it with the same blue marker and gave me a fist bump. I told him thank you and that I would see him tomorrow and that I had something even cooler for him to sign. He said, “Alright!”

I walked away on Cloud 9. Michael Rooker touched my face! I was freaking out. I couldn’t have asked for a better first meeting with Rooker.

A little while later, we were standing in line for the Rooker/Sean Gunn photo op when I realized that in the headshot/tattoo craziness earlier, I had forgotten to give Rooker the t-shirt I had brought as a gift for him. I wasn’t mad at myself, though. That just meant I got to go see him again.

When it came time for the photo op, Rooker came strutting over from his booth, grinning while biting his tongue in his teeth again. The whole weekend I never saw the man without a smile on his face.

For those of you who've never been to a comic con before, the photo ops go by fast. Like insanely fast. They shuffle you quickly into the booth, you stand next to the celeb, the photographer snaps the picture, and then you're shuffled back out just as fast as you came in.

Now don’t take this the wrong way. I'm not knocking the process by any means. It's completely understandable. There are literally hundreds of fans of many fandoms that they’re trying to accommodate. But just because it goes fast, doesn’t mean you won’t have a memorable experience.

The Gunn/Rooker photo op was my very first one of the weekend. When I got behind the curtain, Rooker immediately grabbed my arm, and pulled me between Sean and himself with a hearty “Get over here, woman!” I put my arms around them both, the photo was snapped, Rooker smiled really big and said “Thank you, sweetheart” as I walked away, him keeping his hand on my back ‘til I was out of his arm's reach.

The whole thing couldn’t have lasted for more than 45 seconds or so. But I didn’t care. Sean’s arm had been around my shoulder! I had touched the Rooker leather jacket! Rooker called me “sweetheart"! He touched my back! I was close enough to smell his minty-gum fresh breath! The Rooker legend that he smells of mint and leather is true! I couldn’t wait to do more ops with him.

After the photo ops, we headed over to the concession stand. We hadn’t gotten a chance to eat lunch, and we were starving. We got a little something to tide us over until dinner and went and sat down at a table in the little VIP reserved section. Not five minutes later, my phone went off with my Merle Dixon notification sound. It was an Instagram alert. ROOKER WAS LIVE!

I’ve seen a lot of Rooker Instagram live videos from cons before, but to see one in the making? No way I was gonna miss this! We jumped up, grabbed our stuff, and were off on the hunt for him. With the help of the Rooker Hookers directing me where to go, it didn’t take long to find him.

For nearly 30 minutes, we followed him from a distance watching him visit vendor booths, stop to play in the Batmobile and interact with fans, ending with a giant selfie back at his booth.

After the excitement of him Instagramming live died down and his line cleared a little, I decided to go give him his t-shirt. The lady taking the money at his booth, who was super freakin’ nice by the way and who would come to know us quite well by the end of the weekend, greeted us again with a smile.

I walked up to him at his table and said, “I'm back, Rooker!" He said, “Hey, Sexy!” Rooker called me sexy. I mean I'm totally not, but.. anyways. I only hoped my face wasn't as red as it felt. I said, “I forgot to give you this earlier,” and I handed him his shirt. I told him where I was from as he unfolded the shirt and spread it out on the table. One of my favorite things about Rooker is that he supports first responders and the armed forces. Without going into too many details, I gave him a fire department shirt from my hometown, where he's filmed a couple of things and has visited even when not filming. He said he loved my hometown and I explained to him that my stepdad is a police officer, and he had actually met Rooker years before on the set of one of his tv projects. I told him that my mom is a 911 dispatcher for the fire department where the shirt was from and that I had tried to get him a police department shirt, too, but I couldn’t get one in time.

He said he loved the shirt and we talked a couple more minutes and he told me to tell my parents thank you for all that they do. Then he said, “You know what? You get a selfie!” He came around his booth, stood right next to me, and held his shirt out while my friend snapped some pics. Again, I was over the moon. I had already gotten an extra autograph earlier, and now Rooker was breaking his rule about “No selfies" at his table. He then shook my hand and said thank you again and I told him I'd see him tomorrow. You couldn’t wipe the smile off my face.

Like Rooker's old headshots, I also had one of Sean Gunn and Jeffrey Dean Morgan. I had planned on getting Sean's autograph on Saturday, but since Rooker’s headshots had gone over so well earlier, I decided to go ahead and show Sean's to him then. After running back out to the car to get his headshot, we were off to see Seanie.

There wasn’t anyone at his table when we got back so I went right up to him with no hesitation, which was strange for me. I hadn’t talked to Sean yet, and I figured I would be extremely nervous. But just like Rooker, I was completely calm around Sean. They all really do treat you like old friends.

When I handed Sean the headshot, he got all excited, too. Sully came over to look at it and busted out laughing and cracked some jokes about Sean's shirt. Sean then hollered over at Rooker and held it up so Rooker could see. Rooker said, “OMG! You got one, too?!” Sean talked to me a little about his resume, too, and then asked if he could take a picture of it with his phone. Of course, I was like “Absolutely!” After he got his picture of his headshot, he came around the table and took some selfies with me. I then pulled out my phone and showed him my dog dressed as James Gunn from Halloween last year. I asked him if remembered Gunn sharing the picture, but he didn’t. I showed him my other dog dressed as Kraglin, too. He loved it! Especially his little mohawk.

We talked some more, and he kept saying how cool his headshot was and asked if I wanted him to sign it. He ended up signing it “To my friend, *my name*, I ❤️this! Sean Gunn”. Sean was an absolute sweetheart and I love him and I hope I get to see him again someday!

Chris Sullivan’s table was next. I hadn’t really budgeted in anything for Sully, but he was only charging 30$ for a selfie, and I thought “Hey, you only live once.” I’m so glad I did. Sully was a complete teddy bear! He was so sweet! And talllll!

We walked over, and I apologized for not having a headshot for him to sign. He laughed and showed us his headshot on his phone again. Then he realized he hadn’t introduced himself and stuck out his hand and said, “Hi, I’m Chris.” I shook his hand and told him my name, and then my friend did the same. My friend and I have the same name only with different spellings. Once introductions were made, Sully spent the next few minutes hilariously trying to figure out the correct spelling of my name. He never did get it right. I haven’t really seen a lot of Sully's roles, but he gained a lifelong fan that day.

After meeting Sean and Sully, we decided to call it a day. I couldn’t wait to see what day two had in store.

Fandemic Houston Day 2 – September 15, 2018

Just like the morning before, I was already awake when my alarm went off. I had a reeeeally cool thing to show Rooker, and the anticipation was damn near killing me.

We had to get to the convention center fairly early that morning. Rooker's panel was at 11:30 a.m., and I was hoping to get to visit him before his panel started. When we got to his booth, however, he wasn't scheduled to be at his table until after his panel. So, we just walked around a little until it was time to go upstairs to the panel room.

With our Rooker VIPs, we got really good seats at his panel. We were close to the stage, even though I knew he wouldn't be up there long.

While we waited for his panel to start, I was in a bit of a panic. If you’ve ever seen or been to a con panel, you know that usually the Q&A session is done by fans lining up at a microphone to ask their questions to the celebs on stage. If you’ve ever seen or been to a Rooker panel, you know he doesn’t play by those rules. He comes to you, whether you have a question or not! I was sitting on the end of the aisle, a prime position for Rooker to stop and talk to me during the Q&A. And I had no idea what I would ask him if he did.

I checked in with the Rooker Hookers online and asked them for any help they could give me to come up with a good question. It wasn't that I was nervous to ask Rooker a question, it was just I didn’t want to ask him one in front of all these people. If I was prepared, I wouldn’t be as embarrassed.

The Rooker Hookers all had really good suggestions, but some of them involving Rooker removing various articles of clothing, propositions more suited for an “after-dark" kind of Q&A. I love those guys. That's another one of my favorite things about Rooker. Being a part of his fandom has brought me together with people literally all over the world via Tumblr and Facebook. And everyone I’ve met has been awesome. And a special shout out to the Rooker Hookers for making me laugh over and over again, understanding my complete and utter Rooker obsession, for accepting me for who I am and being there for me even when we’re not talking about Rooker. I’m proud to call them my friends.

Rooker's panel was awesome as I knew it would be. He talked a lot about Henry and Merle. He ran around the audience answering questions about Yondu and Mallrats and flexed his biceps and even sang a little. My favorite, though, were his stories of what he was like as a kid and growing up in Chicago. At the end of his panel, he broke the rules once again and threw Hershey Kisses out to the audience after the powers that be told him not to throw anything. They shoulda known Rooker plays by his own rules. He is a livewire and an endless fireball of energy. He’s an absolute riot, and I'm so thankful I got to witness him in action at a panel.

When the panel was over and once we made it back through the security checkpoint, we headed back to Rooker's booth. I was so freaking excited to show him what I was holding in my hands.

His helper said hello and hole-punched my VIP lanyard for another autograph. I walked up to Rooker and said, “I'm back, Rooker, look what I got.” I sat down his screen worn Bud Melks orange coveralls from The Belko Experiment on the table. He said, “Oh, honey, let me sign those for you.” He didn’t realize they were his. I said, “These are the ones you wore in the movie.”

“These are the ones I wore in the movie?” He seemed genuinely surprised. I told him yep and showed him the little nametag on the inside collar that read “Bud 2”. He said, “Omg, that’s so cool, where did you get these?” I explained to him where I got them and that it also came with his t-shirt, jeans, and boots, too. He asked if I wanted him to sign them. I did, but it would be even better if I got him to put them on.

“Yeah, if you want to. Orrrr, you could cosplay as Bud today,” I joked.

He chuckled. “I could cosplay as Bud today? Ommgg. Yeah, I could. Or you could cosplay as Bud.”

I shook my head no and grinned. “Nooo, I don’t cosplay,” I replied. (I’m waaay too shy and self-conscious to cosplay.)

He leaned back on his stool, threw his head back and laughed. Rooker's laugh is one of my favorite things on this planet. And making him laugh was one of the greatest feelings in the world.

About that time, Sean's helper came over and took a picture of Rooker holding the coveralls up. She thought they were really cool, too. Rooker asked her, “Where's, Sean? He's gotta see these.” But Sean was still in the green room.

The coveralls have a huge rip on the backside so of course I had to know why. I was kidding around with Rooker and asked him, “What did you to ‘em?” He said, “Let's see,” as he unfolded them.

When he found the rip, he said, “Oh, oh, I squatted, and they ripped. Yeah, I squatted down, and they ripped. Like, when I was squatting down doing the door, they ripped. My whole bottom ripped out. And I was like, ‘Thank God the camera was on my face ‘cause if it was on my ass end my underwears would be showing.” We all burst into laughter.

We chatted a little bit more and he asked me again if I wanted him to sign them. I told him, “If you want to, yeah.”

“Where do you want me to put it? I’m gonna sign ‘em for you. You don’t have to pay, ok?”

I told him that I had already paid, though. He said, ”Oh, it was part of your VIP?” We then decided the best place for him to sign the coveralls was on the front pocket. He signed his name and said, “Bud, right?” I told him yes it was Bud, and he wrote Bud under his signature. Then he asked his helper to hand him the 8X10 of Bud he had available for autographs.

“Do we have one? Gimme that photo of Belko. I’m gonna give her a photo with this. This totally deserves a photo with this."

He took the photo and started signing his name.

“Here, all yours, baby. Here, I'm gonna put it like this.” He signed the pocket on Bud's coveralls in the picture the same exact way he signed the coveralls. He then held the picture next to the coveralls and said, “There, looks just like it." He busted out laughing and said, “That's for you. Thank you, honey. Oh my goodness.” He threw his hand up for a high-five. I thanked him and high-fived him back.

Trust me, I was elated for the handshakes and high-fives so far. (His hands are so soft by the way). But I was itching to get a hug. I didn’t know how many more chances I would get so I decided to just go for it. “Can I get a hug, Rooker? I gotta get a famous Rooker hug.” He hollered, “Get over here woman! Get over here! Give me a big hug, love.”

I walked behind his table and gave him a big hug and told him I'd see him later. He grabbed my hand as I walked away and said, “You're awesome, honey!” He didn’t let go of my hand as I told him that he makes me forget things and that I had another present for him but I had forgotten it in my car. He laughed and then he caught my friend recording the whole thing on her phone. He grinned and said, “Heyyyy, no video…” Busted. But he didn’t care.

After leaving Rooker, we had just enough time to scarf down some lunch and then head to Sean and Sully’s panel. When the panel started, the doors opened and there they were waiting on the other side. They had stolen a golf cart and hilariously failed at trying to drive it into the room for their grand entrance. So, Sully simply threw the golf cart in reverse, they both said “byyyyye” and he drove back down the hallway. A few seconds later they both came back in the room, Sully at a sprint which carried him around the entire audience and Sean walking slowly behind to the stage, announcing he was too old to run. Sully ended his dash with a Rooker-esque roll onto the stage, stood up and took a bow.

Their panel was amazing, too. They were both so, so funny. They talked a lot about Guardians and even threw in the story about Rooker mooning Dave and Pom on set, which led Sully into a comical conversation about mooning in general. They made me laugh so freakin’ hard. If you ever get the chance, definitely go to their panels. You won’t be disappointed.

We had planned on going to the Smallville panel a little later, but the line getting in the room was insane. I used to watch Smallville back in the day, but I had no idea how huge the fandom still is. It was pretty impressive. Because of the crowd, we decided to skip the panel and go see Rooker again.

We ran out to the car to get Rooker’s gift and then headed to his booth. I also made sure to bring the Belko coveralls again so Rooker could show Sean. I guess everyone was at the Smallville panel because the con floor was pretty empty. I was kind of glad. Hopefully, that meant I’d get to talk to Rooker for a good bit of time.

When we got there, his helper laughed and said, “You’re back, again? And with another gift?” I smiled and said yes. She joked, “You gotta stop buying him shit. He’s doing alright, you know.” I joked back, “I know, but I love him.” She understood though. I mean how can you not love Rooker?

About that time the fan talking with Rooker walked away, and I stepped up to him at the table. His helper announced to him, “She's back with another gift. She's like your sugar mama.” Rooker grinned that sexy Rooker grin and said, “Hey, Sugar Mama!” I joked, “Yeah, I’ll be your sugar mama. What you want? Anything? You need some more coffee? I’ll go get you some coffee.” He busted out laughing, and I handed him his gift.

I had gotten him a blue shot glass made from a 30mm shell casing that had been shot from an A-10 Warthog plane. I had it engraved with Michael “Yondu” Rooker on the side. I’m pretty sure he loved it! I had left it in the clear packaging, and he immediately ripped it open and lowered his glasses so he could read it better. I...saw...his...eyes...y’all. In person. Not hidden behind sunglasses. Don’t laugh. It was a very big moment for me.

He leaned over towards me on the table on his elbows and kept saying how cool the shot glass was and how he couldn’t wait to drink some whiskey out of it. He asked me how much whiskey I thought it would hold. I laughed and said I have no idea.

We talked some more and he thanked me and came around the table to give me another hug, this time trying to include my friend. She sort of backed away trying to give me all the glory of Rooker’s hug, but he pulled her in anyway. It was somewhat of an awkward, sideways hug, but I didn’t care. A Rooker hug is a Rooker hug! His arm ended up kind of across my neck right under my chin so I reached up and grabbed his arm as I hugged him. I...touched...his...bicep. It was..um..very nice.

When he pulled away from me, Sully walked over holding up an 8X10 of what I believe was of himself that someone had written on and showed it to Rooker. When Rooker read it he about fell on the floor laughing. He said, “Now, now, that’s nothing to be ashamed of!” He snatched the picture out of Sully’s hand and laid it on Sean’s table and began writing on it, too, laughing the whole time. Rooker’s helper asked if we had seen what was written on it. I had been trying not to be nosy, so I hadn’t. We told her no, and she said, “It said ‘When is the right time to talk to your doctor about erectile dysfunction.” My friend and I started laughing.

I turned back to Sean’s table, and Rooker was still writing on the picture saying, “There’s nothing wrong with erectile dysfunction!” Sean and I made eye contact and busted out laughing. Rooker then turned and walked back towards me with a huge grin, looked me right in the eye, and said, “There’s nothing wrong with a little erectile dysfunction...well, I mean there is something wrong with it, but...” He trailed off into a mischievous giggle. Y’all, I had never laughed so hard in my life.

When he realized I was holding the Belko coveralls, he immediately took them from me and whirled around to show Sean. “Sean, look what she has!” Sean came around his table and said, “Whoaaa, are those the real ones?” Rooker told him yes and explained how I got them and then held them up to show Sean the big rip in the back which made Sean laugh. Sean thought they were really neat, too.

Rooker came back over to me and was folding the coveralls up and said, “These are really beautiful. You know, not a lot of these exist. Thank you for bringing them to show me.” I told him they were my prized possession (which is the truth... they really are the coolest thing I own). He said, “C’mere, baby, you get a double hug!” He gave me another huge hug, this one a little longer than the first, and a little bit of my hair got caught in his scruff as I pulled away. I’m sure he didn’t even notice, but I certainly did. That scruff...

We walked back over to his table so I could get my bag. I had made a little drawstring bag specifically to wear at Fandemic to haul stuff around in. It says “I’m lost. If found, please return to Michael Rooker”. I showed it to him and he laughed really hard and gave me a high-five and said, “I love it! You’re so great.” We then said our goodbyes for the moment and off I went again.

That afternoon I had my Dixon Bros. photo op. While we were waiting in line, Rooker came over to the Photo Ops area and saw a family with a little baby boy in a stroller nearby. He made a beeline straight to the baby. The little boy pointed up to the ceiling and blabbered away at Rooker. Rooker looked up to the ceiling, too, and said, “OoooOooh,” and acted surprised at whatever imaginary thing the baby was pointing at. Rooker then baby-talked to him for a minute and tickled the little boy’s tummy before he left to go behind the curtain. Y’all, it was the sweetest thing I’ve ever witnessed.

When it came time for photos, as soon as I got behind the curtain, Rooker said, “Get over here, baby,” and again grabbed my arm and pulled me in between him and Norman Reedus. When I went to put my arms around them, my arm got caught on the bottom of Rooker's jacket, and I accidentally lifted it up about a third up his back. I heard him make this little chuckling sound as I fumbled to free my arm from underneath his jacket, my hand unintentionally rubbing his back. I’m not sure he knew what I was going for because the next thing I knew, he started rubbing my back. For the entire time. Even after the photo was taken and I was walking away, his hand was still rubbing on my back. Let me tell you, a Rooker backrub is everything you would imagine it to be, but at that moment, I was just a tad embarrassed. And my face in the photo pretty much showed it. But, oh well. If that was the only way I was ever going to get a Rooker backrub then it was worth it.

After the Dixon Bros. photo op, I went to go see Michael Rosenbaum who was super nice, too. I paid for a selfie, and he said, “Ohh, lemme take it!” I handed my phone over to him for what I thought would be just one picture. He wouldn’t stop taking pictures of us though, and one picture turned into a comical mini-photo shoot. Each time I thought it would be the last picture he would take so my facial expression changes to a higher state of silliness with each one. They’re hilarious, but let’s just say very few people have seen those pictures.

Day two was drawing to a close, and I decided that I might go see Rooker one more time before we left. We walked over to his booth which was empty at the moment. He was standing there eating chocolate covered pretzels and watching an artist drawing portraits of Harry Potter characters across the way. Anyone that knows Rooker knew what he was about to do next.

Rooker left so fast from his booth that he dropped a pretzel on the ground. He went directly over to the artist and asked him to play Santana over his speaker, jokingly rushing him along when the artist couldn’t find a Santana song quick enough. Rooker then grabbed a colored pencil and began to draw on the picture the artist had been working on.

Rooker messed around with the artist a couple more minutes before he returned to his booth. He took the time to take a few pictures with some fans that had gathered around, joked with the little kids, and danced to the songs the artist was still playing before he finally left for the day. I didn’t get to talk to him again, but just watching him dancing was enough for me.

When we were headed back to the car that afternoon, I told my friend, “I can’t remember ever being this happy before. Seriously, these last two days have been the best days of my life.” I’m like a lot of people in that I struggle with depression and anxiety and self-image and the feeling that I’ll never be good enough. But with Rooker, he makes all that disappear. I don’t think he’ll ever realize how much he means to me and how important he is in my life.

Fandemic Houston Day 3 – September 16, 2018

I had been awake since 4 a.m. on day three. I couldn’t wait to see Rooker, but I couldn’t stop thinking that this was going to be my last day with him. I didn’t want the weekend to end.

I spent the early morning hours before my alarm rang making a detailed schedule and an even more detailed script in my head of all the things I wanted to say to him before the con closed at 4 p.m. I still had my two solo photo ops with him, too, and one last gift to give him. More importantly, I wanted to make sure I got the chance to tell him thank you and goodbye before I left. And I had to fit it all in between getting my Jeffrey Dean Morgan autograph and photo op.

It was about 10:15 a.m. when we got to the NRG center that morning. I was hoping I'd get to talk to Rooker first thing. I had one last picture for him to sign, which had something to do with a special request for our photo op. He wasn’t at his booth when we finally got inside, though, so I decided to get in Jeffrey Dean’s line to get his autograph about 10:30 a.m.

A fairly big crowd had already gathered for Jeffrey Dean. But my Rooker photo ops weren’t until 1 p.m. and my Jeffrey Dean op was at 2:10 p.m. I figured I would have plenty of time to see Rooker before our photo ops.

We were again standing in the perfect spot to watch all the celebs come out from behind the curtain. A little after 11 a.m. they all started to trickle out. And, y’all, when Rooker finally walked out? Dayuuumm, daddy. He wasn’t sporting his usual leather jacket paired with a black or navy or white v-neck t-shirt look. He wore a black button-up shirt with the collar unbuttoned low and looked sexy...as…hell. I mean the man always looks sexy as hell, but...well, y’all know what I mean. I immediately checked in with the Rooker Hookers and told them Rooker’s wardrobe choice for the day. Again, don’t laugh. I just get excited when he switches things up.

We were still waiting in Jeffrey Dean's line when they made a huge announcement around 11:30 a.m. Norman Reedus had to leave the con early. All the Walking Dead photo ops had to be bumped up. I started to panic a little.

My Jeffrey Dean photo stayed at 2:10 p.m., but Rooker and Norman were supposed to have Dixon Bros. photo ops at 3:25 p.m. The con closed at 4 p.m. so I figured Rooker would probably be leaving right after. But I had to tell Rooker goodbye before we left. I just had to. Now I was afraid with all the photo ops being bumped around I wouldn’t get to.

Noon came and Jeffrey Dean's line had hardly moved. He had only been out at his table for maybe 45 minutes or so and now his time would be even more limited because the photo ops had to be moved up. His line was so long that they ended up bumping the people who had pre-purchased an autograph up in line. That included me. Whew. We had gotten closer but were still so far away. The minutes were counting down until my Rooker photo ops. I was a nervous wreck. If I stayed in Jeffrey Dean's line, I would be cutting it reaaaally close.

I left my friend in line and went to explain my situation to one of the Fandemic workers nearby. I told him I had Rooker photo ops at 1 p.m. and if I didn’t make it up to Jeffrey Dean would I be able to get a refund for his autograph. I didn’t want to get a refund. I love Jeffrey Dean and had been looking forward to meeting him and getting his autograph. But I couldn’t miss my Rooker photo ops. That was completely out of the question. The worker looked at his watch and told me that I would make it, but if it got too close, he would move me up in line. That made me feel a little better.

I got back in line, but I couldn’t stop checking my phone for the time. I really needed to show Rooker the picture I wanted him to autograph before our photo ops. The minutes were ticking away and the line was barely moving. Finally, about 12:30 p.m., I left my friend again in line and went to go see Rooker.

I went over to Rooker's table and paid his helper for another autograph. She asked if I wanted to pick out a picture, but I told her I already had one. She said, “Ooh, can I see?” I showed her and told her it was my all-time favorite picture of Rooker, and I was hoping I could get him to do the same pose for our photo op. She loved it and told me that he had done a similar pose the day before. Aaah, there was a chance.

I walked up to Rooker holding the picture against me so he couldn’t see it right away. I asked him, “Will you sign one more thing for me? I was also wondering if you’d reenact it for our photo op today.” He just grinned and said, “It depends. Lemme see it.” At that moment, I was so glad there wasn’t anyone else around. I had no idea what his reaction would be.

I told him it was my all-time favorite picture of him and handed it over. He instantly busted out laughing when he saw what it was. In the picture Rooker has his shirt lifted, one hand pointing to his nipple and a ginormous smile on his face. He asked me where I even got it. I told him I found it on the internet. I reminded him about one of the Rooker Hookers meeting him and having him sign his naked ass from Mallrats. He laughed and said he remembered that. “I’m just carrying on the tradition of having you sign off the wall pictures,” I said.

He told me that he doesn’t normally sign pictures like that, but for me, he would. While he signed it, I told him that I had two photo ops with him and that they couldn’t be the same and asked him again if he would do that same pose for one of them. He laughed and said no. Then he took off his glasses completely to look at the picture more closely. I...saw...his...eyes again for a long time. He was trying to remember where the picture was taken and what the hell he was doing. He said the glasses he was wearing were his old ones and that he didn’t have them anymore and the shirt he had on was his old Harley Davidson shirt. I was too embarrassed to tell him I knew the picture was taken at James Gunn’s old house. I was afraid yet again that he would think I was a batshit crazy stalker.

We talked about the picture a little more and then he looked up at me laughing and said, “You dork.” Rooker called me dork. Out of all the things he called me that weekend “dork” was definitely my favorite. I begged him one more time to do that pose for our photo. He just laughed and shook his head and said, “No.” again. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to talk to him very much longer because I had to hurry to get back in line for Jeffrey Dean so I told Rooker I’d see him later.

My friend hadn’t made it very far when I joined her back in line. By then it was pushing 12:40 p.m. I was starting to get nervous again. I only had 20 minutes left until Rooker photos, and the line was...moving...so...slow.

About 12:55 p.m., there were only three people ahead of me in line. Jeffrey Dean was right there. Surely I would make it in time. He finished visiting with the fan he was talking to, and I heard him tell one of his handlers that he needed to take a break. Uh oh. Panic mode. I went up to his other handler and explained that I had Rooker photo ops at 1:00 p.m. which was in three minutes. She said, “Ok, no problem.” She went up to Jeffrey Dean and told him my dilemma. I felt horrible cutting in line, but I got to meet him real quick before he went on his break.

He gave me a huge hug when I went up to him. (Jeffrey Dean gives amazing hugs by the way and is one of the nicest human beings I’ve ever met. Annnnd even sexier...as...hell in person). I handed him the headshot I had of him and he said, “Oh, fuuuuck, this is awesome!” I said, “You were a baby. Lookit you.” He said, “I was a baby!” He then turned it over to look at his resume, and was like “Whooa, this is a loooong time ago! You know awhile back when everyone was sharing their first headshots for “Headshot Day” on Instagram and shit, I didn’t have one. I shoulda called you.” That would be the dream I thought. I snickered and said, “Uh, yeaaah, you totally could have called me!” He laughed and we talked some more about his headshot. Then he asked me if I wanted him to sign it to me or just with his name. I told him that he could put my name if he wanted and he personalized his autograph for me. I told him “thank you” and he said, “Oh, you’re very welcome and it’s nice to meet you.” He gave me another huge, extra-tight hug, and said, “Tell Rooker I said ‘hey’,” as I told him bye. Gahhh, I’m still gushing over Jeffrey Dean, too!

After I left Jeffrey Dean, we booked it over to the photo op line. We were a few minutes late, but luckily Rooker hadn’t made it over there yet so the photo ops hadn’t actually started. A few minutes later Rooker came over and went behind the curtain. He was holding some sort of arrow thingy? With a bullet on the end? I still have no idea what it was.

When I got behind the curtain for our photos, Rooker pulled me to him and I put my arm around his lower back right above his waist. His shirt was so silky, and I could feel his lil’ love handles. Swoon. He put his arm over my shoulder and kind of threw his head back with a smug look on his face for the first photo. The Rooker Hookers say it was his “Yeah, this is my Sugar Mama” pose. I’m not sure if that’s what he was going for, but I like that idea.

After the photographer took the first photo, Rooker went to tell me thank you like he had done the previous days. I told him though that I had two photo ops. (I had told my friend that if she would go with me to Fandemic I would buy all the tickets, and she didn’t want to take any pictures so I used the photo op that came with her VIP ticket). He said, “Oh, you have two?” I shook my head yes and replied, “What are we gonna do, Rooker? They can’t be the same.” He looked at me, thinking for a second, and then grabbed my necklace. I have a necklace with a little silver bullet on it (or I did...it broke like two weeks after Fandemic.) He held the bullet in his fingers and said, “You show off your bullet, I’ll show mine,” meaning the little arrow thingy he was holding. So, I held up the bullet on my necklace and he held out the arrow thing for the second picture. I personally never would have thought up that pose, but it made him laugh and that’s all that mattered to me. And I got another short bonus Rooker backrub as we said goodbye.

A little while later, I had my photo op with Jeffrey Dean. He gave me a big hug for our picture. I’m horrible at taking pictures, but that one actually turned out the best out of all the ops I had that weekend.

After Jeffrey Dean, it was pretty much time to go. As much as I didn’t want to, it was time to go see Rooker for the last time and tell him goodbye.

Rooker had an 8X10 of Sean as Kraglin and was drawing various funny things all over Sean’s face while casually talking to a fan who I’m assuming had met him before when we got to his table. I wasn’t trying to be nosy I promise, but I could hear a little of what they were talking about. At one point, the guy mentioned Rooker’s hair and how much he had grown it out. He asked him if it was for a specific reason, like for a movie or something. Rooker told the guy that his granddaughter had actually asked him to grow his hair out so he would have long, pretty hair like her. My heart = melted. He then said that it wasn’t working. It was making him worse. You’re wrong, Rooker. Seriously, I don’t think you can get any more perfect.

While Rooker was still diligently drawing on Sean’s picture and talking to the fan, another guy walked up and asked his handler if Rooker was in Cliffhanger. The handler said yes. The guy said, “Oh man, I knew it! I can still hear your voice! Like when your lady fell in the beginning.” Without even looking up, Rooker said, “That fuckin’ bitch! I knew what she was doing up there with Stallone!” and then laughed.

When it was my turn, I went up to him and asked, “Are you sick of me yet?” He said, “Noooo.” I told him I had one last thing to give him, and it was kind of a dumb one, but all my friends told me I had to give it to him. I said, “Do you remember when James called you Winnie the Pooh in that one post?” He said, “Yeah.” I plopped down a little stuffed Pooh Bear in front of him on the table. Pooh was dressed in black and white prison stripes with a ball and chain on his leg. The patch on his shirt said “Prisoner of Love". Rooker laughed and said, “Aww, this is for me?” I told him yes, and that I knew it was kinda stupid and I don't normally go around giving grown men stuffed animals. “You're actually the only grown man I've ever given a stuffed animal to,” I said to him. He laughed again, and said, “Well, I actually love stuffed animals.”

He immediately took the tag off of Pooh's ear and then held him up towards one of his helpers and the couple of people in line at the end of the table and made Pooh “growl" at them. He then turned to the handler standing right next to him, shoved the little bear right in the guy’s face and made Pooh wave and said, “Fuck you, bitch!” in a goofy, high-pitched voice.

He made himself laugh, that silent kind of Rooker laugh where his head is thrown back and his mouth is wide open, his whole face lit up, and came around his table to give me a hug. Then....it happened. The single greatest moment of my life.

With his smile never fading, he grabbed my face in his hands and kissed me on the cheek, an added “mwah” for sound effect.

Time froze. I could feel his fingers in my hair. His scruff rough against my face. I couldn’t believe what was happening. My brain ceased to function properly, and I went into survival mode, struggling to simply form words.

As soon as it happened, my brain took that script that I had made up in my mind early that morning, ripped it up into a thousand little pieces, tossed them in the air, and screamed, “Haha, time to improv, bitch!” I could no longer remember a single thing that I had wanted to talk to him about.

I was stunned. I was in a daze. For the first time that entire weekend I was speechless.

My friend chimed in very quickly to save me. “You should show him your dogs!” As he still stood next to me, he said, “Oh, you have dogs?!” He sounded way more excited than I would have thought he’d be to see my dogs. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. But Rooker had broken my brain. I was in auto-pilot mode, and I was forgetting a major detail.

It wasn’t until I hit the home button to turn my phone on that I remembered one of Rooker’s Skillset photos is my lock screen and a picture of him laughing on the set of Brother’s Keeper is my home screen. OMG!!!

I freaked out a little and playfully pushed him away. “Oh, don’t look at my phone, Rooker! You’re on it!” It was too late. He had already seen it. He backed away laughing and said, “Oooh, girl, you makin’ me look sexxxy!” I’m sure my face was red as a tomato at that moment.

My Instagram account was the quickest way to get to pictures of my dogs, so I pulled up the app. Rooker was so close to me. We were standing shoulder to shoulder, our arms were touching, him looking at my phone the entire time. It didn’t occur to me until much later that I know he saw everything on my Instagram: my IG name which is basically the same as my Tumblr, my icon which is him, my description that says I’m obsessed with him, the memes I’ve made of him.

I opened up the picture of my dog as James Gunn. Rooker pulled down his sunglasses to look. He didn’t remember Gunn sharing that picture either last Halloween, but he did say Bruce was a beautiful dog. Then I showed him the “Rooker vs. Rooker: Grumpface Edition” meme I had made of Rooker and my dog. I pointed to my dog and said, “That’s Rooker.” He turned and looked right at me. A few seconds after we made eye contact, he busted out laughing. It was my favorite kind of Rooker laugh, the Rooker laugh where he’s trying so hard not to laugh and is grinning but holding his mouth closed until he can’t take it anymore and just lets it go. Rooker loved my dog. He said, “Omg!”, gave me a fist bump, then grabbed my phone, walked over to his handler and shoved my phone in his face to show him.

When Rooker handed me my phone back, he hugged me again and then held up his hands for a double high-five. I high-fived him, but this time he didn’t let my hands go. He let our hands fall down together, our fingers interlocked. He kept them that way the whole time I talked to him. I never wanted that moment to end.

I then told him that we had to get back on the road to Louisiana, and I just wanted to tell him goodbye before we left. I said, “Thank you, Rooker. For everything. For putting up with me all weekend. This has seriously been the best three days of my life.” He held out his arms and said, “Awww, c’mere, baby.” He hugged me again, and I laid my head against his chest. It was the longest and the tightest hug he had given me so far, and I made sure to pay attention to every little detail: the cool, silky feel of his shirt on my face, the smell of mint, the way his back felt under my hands. I could have stayed there forever. When we finally let go, he said, “Thank you for coming to see me. Y’all drive safe,” and we said goodbye.

And with that, I walked away. It was over. Our “see you tomorrows" had become our final goodbye. It was all so bittersweet leaving through those convention doors for the last time. Over three days, Rooker had high-fived me, fist bumped me, called me pet names, held my hands, hugged and kissed me. I had made him laugh more than once. He had made me melt 100 times over. I know I was lucky to have had such an amazing experience with him, and I couldn’t have been happier. But knowing that there wasn’t going to be a tomorrow with him made me terribly…sad.

I had spent almost a year saving for Fandemic. It wasn’t cheap, but I had done a lot of photo ops and gotten a lot of autographs and had the time of my life. I had justified spending so much money by telling myself that this was more than likely a once-in-a-lifetime thing, and I’d probably never get to see Rooker again. After that weekend, I knew I couldn’t let that happen. I've already started saving for my next con. That man means the world to me, and I don’t know where or when (hopefully sometime really soon), but I have to go see him again.

So that’s it. For the ones that made it this far, that's the story of my little Fandemic adventure, my getting “Rookered" for the very first time, the best three days of my life. Michael Rooker is the most humble, nicest, most generous, funniest, silliest, best hugs in the world givin’, sweetest person I’ve ever met. He’s charming as hell, not to mention the sexiest man alive. There’s a reason he’s my favorite person on earth. There are not enough words to describe how much I love that man, and I truly hope everyone gets to meet him someday.

The end.

And, p.s., my new windshield wipers are still going strong 😜.

#michael rooker #rooker #fandemic houston #fandemic #I got rookered

41 notes · View notes

dclreturn · 3 years ago

Text

Day 7 - Friday, October 22, 2021 - Nassau

Chilling out...

Like most, we intended to remain on the ship. It was the only morning docking truly woke me (before 8am) as it seemed to take forever. There is a bit of an inlet to the Nassau dock and there ended up being at least 3 other ships all at our same dock location.

FYI this is the only day the weather was less than ideal. About an hour before our departure from Nassau, the sky opened and let loose. We watched - from our dry verandah - guests, mostly on the other ships, getting drenched on their way back to the ships. (This is why I ALWAYS advise bringing raingear!) You can see here Nassau is purposefully and significantly increasing their dock space. This area is 3 ships worth of width from land. Good for them in trying to increase tourism. However, most Disney Cruisers don’t leave the ship at this port.

Not hungry Kara prompted us to a 9:30am breakfast in Cabanas. We ran into our Server, Tony, in a white jacket & tie, which means something very different! We learned he is training and awaiting a promotion as soon as a position opens (possibly on the Wish) and that one of our first and favorite servers, Plamen, from many cruises ago, helped him progress up in this career. A small world indeed!

At noon we played Disney Cruise Line trivia. We didn’t win this time, as I didn’t study and they asked harder questions. (Now I have a study guide for January.)

Still having mini golf on the list, we handled the fun 9 holes when it opened at 1pm. I believe I won 26 to 29.

The dog collar is in honor of Sir Kona, Kara’s Mini Double Doodle, who was sadly at home.

Next at 2pm we finally saw Shang-Chi and The Legend of the Ten Rings. It was something we’d planned to do on the cruise, as we felt safer seeing it here than “on land”.

While we endured having to wear masks the entire time, the “3 seats between each party” was nice. Too bad they don’t have our AMC recliners. This was actually tough to put in our week, as it was showing at either 11:45pm or during our dinner. It was also showing far fewer times than Black Widow, which we thought was odd since Shang-Chi was the more recent release.

Afterward we got ready for dinner and headed to Guest Services to add to the standard gratuities. Dinner was back in Enchanted Garden and another menu we weren’t excited about.

For appetizers Kara got the shrimp & jambalaya rice, while I tried raw salmon (for the first time ever!) with a bit of honey mustard sauce. It needed a lot more sauce! (It reminded me of Chick-Fil-A sauce! LOL!) It was good, but by the end it reminded me a bit of bologna, weird I know.

For our Mains we both got the Grilled Turbot over mashed potatoes, which seemed like a weird combo. The couple next to us remarked about our cookies from last night too, so they got a takeaway batch as well. We got to learn about NeiNei’s upbringing & home in South Africa and career choices with the cruise line.

I prompted again to get the cookie vendor. It seems Tony went to the lower deck freezer to take a photo of the label and then AirDropped it to me! Then Hasan offered to have more cookies delivered to our stateroom. I almost stupidly declined. Almost.

Next was the now nightly stop at Sweet on You, where Kara got Mixed Berry gelato (that she proclaimed was better than Palo - gasp!)...

...and I got a 50th Birthday Mickey cupcake that was chocolate cake with Chocolate mousse (which was dry). It was tough to both get out of the box and to eat with a tiny wooden spoon.

Kara wanted to go to 7:45pm TV Quotes, which I didn’t understand. (I thought we were going to the 7:30pm TV Tunes trivia.) We did just a respectable job here and will always remember the Welsh host offer a clue of, “Mar-cea, Mar-cea, Mar-cea” in her Brady Bunch attempt!

And because you rarely get the shot of an empty hallway (& we took plenty more like this)!

We decided to go ahead and see Disney’s Believe tonight (night 1 of 2), knowing how crazy busy tomorrow will be. Original Disney productions are unique to the cruises, so even if this isn’t our favorite (& we forgot about recycling the genie from Aladdin), we’re still glad we went.

We haven’t mentioned our nightly towel animals. Tonight was a new one for us and definitely our fave: Ms. Giraffe!

Disclaimer: Gayle is a travel agent with Authorized Disney Travel Planner agency - Off to Neverland Travel. Contact her today for a no-obligation quote!

Next up: Our first Double Dip; it’s back to Castaway Cay!

#dclreturn

0 notes

yehet-me-up · 7 years ago

Text

Don’t Call It a Love Song

Pairing: Kim Minseok (Xiumin) x Reader (female)

Rating: (M) for swearing and explicit sex

Word Count: 16,808

Summary: It’s been two years since you opened the bookstore across from KMS Music. Two long years of falling in love with its sexy and sarcastic owner, never imagining that he might feel the same. You’ve always preferred fiction over reality; books and stories just seemed to be inexplicably better, and safer, than real life. But when an unexpected present is delivered on your store’s two year anniversary, you think you might have found the one person who can tempt you to leave the fantasy world and chase something real.

Part one of the Exodus Mall series! (Can be read independently, but you’ll get some extra backstory if you read the other parts first!)

February 4th, 1995

It’s a cold and rainy day. You’re driving around, desperately searching for a music store. You wonder if you’ve brought on the downpour with your own torrential mood.

“On Bended Knee” by Boyz II Men starts playing on the radio, for what feels like the thousandth time that day. Their beautiful voices are normally a guilty pleasure for you, but today, in all your fury, they feel mocking instead.

You don’t want sweet. You want angry, you want pissed off; something to match the swirling emotions inside of you. You jam your hand against the power button and suddenly the only sound in the car is your sniffling. Disgusted, you grab a tissue from your purse and dab your eyes, new tears welling in your frustration.

You can’t take it any more, working with that pig, that asshole. Seven long years you’ve worked for Dalton Books and for it’s owner Jason Dalton.

You started working there the day you turned eighteen, saving every penny you could. Long night and weekend shifts to put yourself through college. Thanks to a combination of scholarships and that job you managed to graduate debt free three years ago. Since then you’d been relentlessly building your savings in hopes of one day achieving your dream of opening your own business.

For years you’d been applying for promotions at the bookstore, anything to make more money so that you could make your dream a reality sooner. And for years Jason Dalton has been passing you over for whatever girl he’s currently interested in sleeping with, after you made it abundantly clear you weren’t going to take him up on that offer.

You dreaded having to look for another job, so close to reaching your savings goal. But just this morning you learned that instead of promoting you to the open supervisor position he’d given the job to Megan, who’d been there a whopping three months. Unbelievable. Everyone loved you; the regular customers, the whole staff – senior and new, the vendors. You worked your ass off and always showed up with a fantastic attitude.

Everyone knew you deserved to be promoted, but as it’s a family owned store there’s no one to go to; no HR, no higher manager to complain to. So you sucked it up and worked your shift and then drove off in search of some music to drown your sorrows.

A single story mall up ahead on the right catches your eye. A neon sign, purple with white lettering and a lightning bolt symbol in the center, shines from the closest store. KMS Music it reads and you merge into the turn lane abruptly, thanking the universe that there was no one next to you.

You pull into the mall, admiring it’s modern black and chrome exterior, and easily find a spot out front. You sling your purse across your shoulder, adjust your denim skirt and flip down your mirror. Mascara is running down your cheeks in two black streaks. You groan and clean it up with another tissue, wetting it on your tongue. Finally presentable, you get out of the car and slam the door.

You stride across the lot and pull open the door, stepping inside onto a deep purple carpet. “Money” by Pink Floyd is playing from the speakers on the wall. You sigh in relief, no sweet pop music for you today.

The store is spacious, orderly. Rows and rows of sleek black wood racks hold CDs, records, and posters. Colorful picture discs hang down from the ceiling, creating a bright mosaic that draws your eye.

Remembering your purpose, you look around the store, trying to find the best category that might hold what you need.

“Can I help you find something?” a man says from the counter to your right, his hands paused in sorting through receipts.

Inwardly you curse your luck. Of course you run into the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen on a day you look like a complete wreck. Messy black hair, piercing dark eyes, vintage Led Zeppelin shirt, tight jeans tucked into faded Doc Martens.

He’s leaning against the counter like some off-duty rock God. When you realize you’ve been staring at him for several seconds you blush and look down. Gathering yourself together you look back up to where he’s still regarding you with a raised eyebrow, waiting.

“Yes, actually,” you start, your voice thick from all the crying. You clear your throat and carry on. “I’m having a totally awful day. What do you have in the way of angry rock? The louder the better.”

His eyes widen and his gaze roams down your body, taking in your conservative denim skirt, soft green sweater, and twin braids. You glance at the customer currently paying at the register, a tall man with a sky high red mohawk and studded leather jacket; it’s safe to assume that you’re not the type of customer he usually sees.

He gives you a smirk and sets down his receipts, sauntering toward you. “Right this way,” he says, walking over to the CD racks labeled “Rock & Roll.”

He leans against the nearest rack on one hip, tilting his head as he starts naming off bands. A lightning bolt tattoo, a matching design to the one on the store’s sign, peeks out from behind his ear as he leans forward. “If you’re looking for straight up angry rock we’ve got some AC/DC, Black Sabbath, Metallica, Nine Inch Nails, Twisted Sister. Any of this sounding appealing?”

You draw your lip in with your teeth, considering. None of those sound quite right, but you’re not able to articulate exactly what you’re looking for.

“Or, I have an idea. How about some angry girl rock? Hole �� Miss World,” he says, handing you the CD. “Or maybe some Garbage?” His agile fingers flip through the racks, pulling out another CD and placing it in your hands.

“Hmm, no, wait. I’ve got it.” He takes the other two from your hands and puts them back, walking down and selecting another CD. “Alanis Morissette – Jagged Little Pill.”

He slides out the case and walks over to a listening station. With precision he unwraps the case and pops the disc in the machine. He takes the headphones off the rack and hands them to you. You slip them over your ears and the world is instantly muffled. He leans in, hitting the play button and then the skip button to queue up the second song.

The instant the chorus kicks in to “You Oughta Know” you decide that he’s right, this is exactly what you need.

Throughout the song he remains close, watching you gently bob your head along to the music, his intense eyes never leaving your face. The song finishes and you slide the headphones down to rest on your neck.

“It’s perfect, I’ll take it,” you say, giving him a grin and a thumbs up.

His face breaks into a satisfied smile in return, showing his gums, making him look years younger. Maybe the rock God has a soft side, you think.

“Fantastic,” he says, ejecting the disc as you put the headphones back on the stand.

He walks you to the register and starts ringing you up. You can’t help but observe every detail of him, separated by only a narrow counter. The sharpness of his jaw. The outline of his chest through the faded shirt. His easy, effortless air of confidence.

You’ve been working for your dreams for so long you can’t even remember the last time you were seriously attracted to someone. College maybe? Those six months you spent with Zach junior year? God, has it really been that long? you wonder.

“I hope you have a better day,” he says gently, handing you the CD and your receipt, a sympathetic look in his eyes.

“Thanks, I think I will now,” you reply, taking your purchase and slipping it into your purse. He nods to you as you step away from the counter, breaking the spell his presence cast over you.

Rather than heading back to your car you turn the other way, wandering out into the mall.

It must have been here this whole time, only a ten minute drive or so from your apartment, but you’ve never been in before. The walls are a crisp white color, the floors an off-white marble tile. Potted plants, tables, and groups of dark leather chairs provide seating areas every few feet.

Walking toward the center of the mall you see what looks like an antiques store next to the music store. Its windows are packed with an assortment of goods stacked precariously; an organized chaos of books, clothing, and smaller decorative furniture. The sign above reads Guardians est. 1994.

Next to that is a busy Starbucks, a line of customers trailing out into the mall as they wait to grab their caffeine fix. The far end holds a large department store, bustling with foot traffic. Across the way you see a narrow jewelry shop with some dazzling diamond and emerald pieces on display. Next to that is a chocolate shop called Sinful, its windows filled with an assortment of what indeed looks like sinful amounts of chocolate.

A loud laugh to the right draws your attention to the large, bustling food court. A crowded pizza parlor in the center has a “Grand Opening” banner hung above its menu board. Some smaller restaurants are scattered around the rest of the space. It’s just about dinner time and the tables are almost full of couples and families talking as they eat.

Between the food court and where you stand are a handful of other stores. A computer repair shop, a clothing store from a chain you recognize, and an entrance to a sleek looking exercise studio. The block letters on its doors read KOKO. At the far end of the mall, through the open food court, you can see the large neon sign of a movie theater, rows of marquees out front list off the current movies and showtimes.

Finally your observation turns to the store directly across from you. The gate is drawn shut and the lights are off, but you can still see faintly through the large glass windows. A “For Sale” sign is pinned to the gate, listing the contact number for the mall real estate agent.

Stepping the rest of the way to the store you lift your hand against the glass to block out the glare from the lights, peering into the windows. Rows and rows of dark wood bookshelves line the outside ring. A low, wide counter stretches to the right. Display tables are centered around the middle of the store, looking sad and empty of merchandise.

If you’re honest with yourself, a bookstore has always been your dream, ever since you first read The Hobbit as a child. As the only daughter of two teachers you’d never had a shortage of fictional friends to keep you company. It had killed your parents that they couldn’t afford to help you out with college, but they made sure you never lacked for books on your birthdays and at Christmas.

The store is calling to you in a way you can’t describe. A tingling feeling deep in your bones that this is where you’re meant to be. You have no idea how to go about buying it, whether or not you have enough money, or how on earth you’re going to manage to hire and lead a staff at the age of twenty-five. But you’ve always been practical and able to figure things out.

You’re normally one to be cautious, to consider all the options thoroughly before making a decision. But today something feels right, something is calling you to take action, now.

You pull out a receipt and a pen from your purse, write down the phone number, and head back to your car full of purpose. The Exodus Mall, you think excitedly, it might just be the perfect place for you. Passing through KMS Music you sadly don’t see any sign of the good looking man who helped you out before.

You pull out the Alanis Morissette CD as soon as you get into the car and happily rock out on your drive home.

May 7th, 1995

The second time he sees you is an unseasonably warm evening. He looks up from his paperwork and it’s ten on the dot, closing time. Pulling out his keys he does a quick lap of the store to make sure there’s no customers around.

Satisfied it’s just him and his assistant manager, Alec, he goes to lock the front doors. He pivots and moves to close the gate, bobbing his head to the strains of Jimi Hendrix playing over the speakers.

He reaches for the gate to the mall to pull it closed, but his attention is drawn across the way by light and sound coming from the previously vacant bookstore. The gate is still closed, but the store is full of activity. Several people are milling around, unpacking boxes; its once empty shelves now partially filled up with neat rows of books.

The upbeat opening bars of “Dancing Queen” by ABBA start coming from inside and the employees give cheers of approval. When you stand up from crouching down to start the CD on the player behind the counter, he recognizes you immediately.

He smiles to himself, thinking all over again how cute you look with your hair in long twin braids. You notice him staring and give him a small wave, quickly turning away as you’re called over by one of your employees. He stays there for a beat, thinking that of all the people in the world he’d have expected to buy the old Cheshire Bookshop, you’re definitely a pleasant surprise.

Finally he slides the gate closed and locks it, looking up once again to watch you move about the store, speaking to another woman as you gesture to the shelves with wide arms. He observes your side profile as you discuss whatever plans you’re making, remembering how he’d been drawn to you when you stormed into his store months ago.

You’d looked so upset and defeated, he could tell you’d been crying, but you seemed so passionately determined as well. As the manager he doesn’t usually volunteer to help customers, preferring to exist behind the scenes. He chooses the stock, runs the logistics, and hires excellent employees to handle the customers.

But for some reason he felt compelled to head off Alec and help you himself. It was completely worth it, watching you bite your lip as you considered his selection. Being on the receiving end of your smile as you listened to one of his favorite songs. Feeling satisfied that he’d chosen something that pleased you.

“There a problem, boss?” he hears Alec ask from behind him.

“No. Just checking out our new neighbors,” he says, inclining his head toward the bookstore.

“Oh, nice. I’m glad someone finally bought that place. It’s about time we got some new blood around here,” Alec says and wanders back to closing down the register.

“Yeah,” Minseok says to himself. He shakes his head, smiling, and slides his keys into his pocket. He gives one last look across the mall at you before turning back to all the closing duties that await him.

May 20, 1995

After months of preparation, you’re finally ready to open Greyhame Books for the first time. You’d decided to name it after one of your all time favorite literary characters. You were so nervous in your meeting with the mall real estate manager, wearing your only nice dress; your bank statements and business plan neatly printed out in a folder.

Luckily the woman you met with, Jill, was a fellow book lover who’d been crushed when the couple that owned the bookstore had decided to retire after their lease ended last Thanksgiving. Your fantastic credit score, sensible attitude, and consistent employment for the past seven years convinced her to take a chance on you. You had just enough money to squeak out a deposit and dashed over to the bank immediately after your meeting to get the money order and to work out a business loan.

The fierce satisfaction you’d felt when you turned in your two weeks notice at Dalton Books later that day had been short lived. Soon it was overshadowed by an overwhelming sense of fear as you looked at your miles-long to do list.

It was a wobbly start, but eventually you were able to find your footing. Luckily one of your friends from the bookstore had quit a couple of months ago, fed up with Jason, and was still looking for work. Melanie was a few years older than you, smart as all get out and the energy and enthusiasm of a high schooler.

Together you navigated hiring an additional six employees, contacting publishing houses to set up merchandise orders, and working with contractors to give the store a face lift. Blessedly, all of the original fixtures were still in great shape and there were no major repairs to do.

Now the day is finally here.

As the minutes count down to nine o’clock you and Mel run around making sure everything looks perfect. When the clock hits nine you nervously unlock the gate to the mall. You take a quick look around the store and feel a surge of pride at what you’ve built and go over to the CD player behind the counter to turn on the radio.

“This Is How We Do It” by Montel Jordan is just starting when you turn the dial to your favorite station. You smile to yourself, it’s one of your favorite songs, and decide to take it as a good omen.

Moments later a mom comes in with a napping child in a stroller. You greet her and she smiles in response, heading for the mystery section. She’s shortly followed by a group of older women who head for the fiction section, discussing what to choose next for their book club. An older gentleman with a cane gives you a gruff ‘hello’ and walks over to peruse the racks of newspapers.

You breathe a sigh of relief, your worst fear – that no one would come – is already alleviated. The ladies in fiction call over Melanie, asking for some suggestions and she gives you an excited grin as she walks over. You smile widely back at her, turning to the entrance as a new person walks in.

Your eyes go wide when you realize it’s the incredibly good looking man from the music store next door. Today his hair is dyed an electric blue, tousled up in messy waves. You’re struck all over again by how attractive he is as his intense eyes meet yours.

“Hi!” you say, wincing at how enthusiastic you sound.

He laughs. “Hey, how’s it going? I figured I should officially introduce myself. I’m Minseok and I own KMS Music,” he says and sticks out his hand.

You shake his hand. “Nice to meet you,” you say, and give him your name in return.

“So, has anyone checked out yet?” he asks, pulling out his wallet.

You laugh and check your watch. “In the two minutes we’ve been open? Not yet. Why?”

“Perfect,” he says with a smirk. ‘I’ll happily be your first customer.’

He looks around at the nearby display table and grabs the first book he sees. He sets it on the counter and you both laugh when you see the title – The Bridges of Madison County by Robert James Walker, the inspiration for the upcoming romance movie starring Meryl Streep.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure you don’t want to choose something else?”

“No, I’m sticking with my choice. Who knows, it might be my new favorite book,” he says ironically and you laugh as you ring him up.

You stick the receipt in the book and hand it back to him. “Thank you for being my first official customer, I really appreciate it,” you say sincerely, meeting his eyes.

He takes the book under his arm. “Any time. I’m just over there if you need anything,” he says and gives you a nod as he walks back through the mall.

It’s a steady, but successful day and when you finally get home you flop onto your bed. You fall asleep almost immediately, filled to the brim with happiness.

August 9, 1995

Minseok wanders up and down the racks of CDs, straightening things he’s already straightened twice before. It’s a warm summer evening, an hour before closing, and the mall is practically deserted.

He turns to walk back to the register and he instinctively looks over at your store. Without meaning to, he’s begun to feel quite protective, wanting to make sure things are going well for you. He’s only owned KMS Music for two years, but it still makes him feel like a grizzled business veteran in comparison to you.

When he surreptitiously peeks over into your store he sees you at the counter, one hand cradling your head while the other anxiously sorts through a massive stack of paperwork. You look like you’re on the verge of tearing your hair out.

He’s taken three steps toward you before he catches himself. He shakes his head, wondering what he was thinking. He runs a hand through his hair, the messy strands falling into disarray once again.

Just be cool, casual. Ask her if she needs help, he tells himself. Looking around the store he confirms that nothing needs his attention. Alec is at the counter, stickering boxes of new merchandise that came in this morning.

“Hey Alec, watch the store for a bit, I’m stepping out,” he says, jerking his thumb toward the mall. Alec gives him a dramatic thumbs up and goes back to pricing, his head bobbing along to the music.

Minseok walks the distance to your store, praying he’s not going to be just another interruption to you. Your assistant manager Melanie is helping a customer choose a mystery novel and another employee who’s name he doesn’t know is organizing some journals against a display wall. He walks over to the counter and leans against it, placing both hands on the smooth surface.

“How’s it going?” he asks, resting his elbows on the counter and regarding you.

You look up at him with a small smile, tilting your head in your hand and sighing dramatically. “Oh, fine. It’s just – I thought I had such a good accounting system set up. But I can’t get anything to add up and I cannot for the life of me figure out how to sort it out.”

“Want some help? I can’t say I’m an accounting genius, but we’ve got a pretty good system going at the store and I’d be happy to take a look,” he offers, hoping he doesn’t come off as too enthusiastic.

“Really? I don’t want to keep you from anything, but that would be amazing. Even just a second set of eyes would be fantastic,” you say, looking relieved.

“Totally. We’re pretty slow tonight so I’ve got all the time in the world,” he says, shrugging.

“Thank you, Minseok, I’d really appreciate it,” you say and turn to Mel, who’s now shelving some new releases nearby. “Hey, Mel. We’re going to attempt to tackle this paperwork debacle. You mind keeping an eye on things?”

“You got it boss!” she calls and you smile.

It’s obvious the two of you get along well. He’s happy that you’ve got a good crew around you, impressed with everyone he’s met the few times he’s come in. Picking up the pile of receipts and paperwork you nod your head back to the office and Minseok follows you.

He stops abruptly. “Hang on, if we’re digging into a pile of numbers we’re going to need some reinforcements,” he says and holds up a finger. “I’ll be right back.”

You nod and he walks back to the music store, heading straight for his office. He snags his trusty boombox and walks back through the store. He stops by Alec on his way out.

“I might be a while over there, if I’m not back by ten are you good to close up?” he asks.

“Sure thing,” Alec says, snapping and giving Minseok two finger guns.

Minseok laughs, walking back into the mall. Alec might be a bit eccentric, but for all of his quirks he trusts him completely. Entering your store, he walks behind the counter, following the direction you’d gone.

He walks down the short hallway and finds you in the office at the end. There is indeed a pile of paperwork on the desk. Several large, neatly organized piles. You’re sitting behind the desk, hands spread out, looking ready to go into battle.

Minseok rolls up the sleeves on his shirt as he sits down across from you. He sets up the boombox on the desk and hits play. “We Are The Champions” by Queen starts and you look up and give him a genuine smile.

“All right, what are we working with here?” he asks, rubbing his hands together.

At 10:15 Mel comes in to hand you the keys and the daily cash and paperwork from the registers, saying she locked up. She wishes you both luck with the ‘money crapstorm’ and leaves for the evening.

It takes two hours to sort everything out. Two hours of Minseok’s questions and your answers. Two hours of you surreptitiously sneaking looks at him. Your mouth practically waters every time you take in his chest, visible over the delicious V of his shirt; every time his arms flex as he flips through papers.

After two hours you’ve finally got it all sorted out. A few small mistakes had been the culprit. A batch of accounts payable receipts that got mixed in with the accounts receivable, a stack of vendor invoices had been stuck in a personnel file, and a week’s worth of paychecks that didn’t get properly accounted for.

He helps you bundle everything up and finally at 11:25 you shut the light off and head out. You unlock the gate and you both step into the mall. After you lock the gate behind you and turn to see that KMS music is dark.

You open your mouth to ask about how his store got closed, but he beats you to it. “Don’t worry, Alec has his own set of keys to close things up when I’m not here,” he says with a wry smile.

You can’t believe how much time and effort the gave up to help you sort this out. Full of gratitude, you lean forward and give him a quick hug. Your arms wrap around his strong back and you lean your chin briefly against his shoulder.

He lets out a breath in surprise at your enthusiastic movement. One of his arms comes around your back, holding you close for a moment before you both pull back.

“Thanks again, Minseok. I really appreciate it,” you say, blushing, trying to look anywhere but at his face.

“Don’t mention it, I’m happy to help,” he says. You walk in companionable silence to your cars and after he makes sure you’re safely inside, he walks over to his own, giving you a quick wave.

December 24, 1995

Christmas Eve, five in the afternoon. You quickly finish up the paperwork, delighted that the mall closes early tonight, excited about spending the day with your family tomorrow. You’ve been so busy with the store it feels like ages since you’ve had a proper catch up with them.

You let Mel go an hour earlier, so she could make the train to her boyfriend’s parents for the holiday. Walking a lazy lap around the store to make sure it’s empty of customers, you jingle your keys in time to the beat of “Waterloo,” your favorite guilty pleasure song.

Satisfied no one’s in the store, you lock up and start the closing paperwork. It was a packed day, everyone doing some last minute shopping before the holiday. You finish up as quickly as you can and head back to the office to put everything in the safe. After turning off the lights as you go, you step up to the counter to quickly turn off the stereo before heading back through the gate.

You head out the south entrance by the department store, wondering if it’ll still snowing like it was this morning. Out in the cold air you wrap your coat around you and cross your arms, trying to keep in any warmth.

Flurries of snow are falling around you and you squeal to yourself with excitement. It usually snows a bit in the winter, but it almost never sticks. Today must be your lucky day because there’s a solid three or four inches on the ground. You take a few steps out onto the sidewalk and spin around, watching the flakes fall onto your palms.

You close your eyes, laughing in delight. You’re so lost in your amusement that you don’t see Minseok until it’s too late.

You back into him and in the tangle of limbs you both go down onto the thankfully softened sidewalk. He ends up on top of you, looking at you from above, his hands splayed on either side of your head to hold himself up.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you all right?” you ask, voice high with anxiety. He brushes the hair out of your face with a hand, smiling down at you.

“I’m fine. Though I have to say it’s been a while since anyone swept me off my feet,” he says and you both start laughing.

After a few moments the laughter dies out, but you both remain where you are. Your awareness is drawn to his hard body pressed against yours; you can feel his heat even through the layers of clothing between you. The urge to arch up into him, to remove any space that exists, rises in you.

His dark eyes bore into yours, holding you in place. He leans down, an almost imperceptible movement, and your lips part in anticipation. Suddenly he blinks and pulls back, shaking himself, muttering an apology. He stands up fluidly and holds out his hands for yours.

In one swift movement you’re on your feet again, and though nothing has changed in the scene before you. It feels like your whole world has shifted on its axis. He brushes the snow off of himself and you copy the movement, wiping off the flakes attached to your coat and jeans.

“Have a great Christmas,” he says, his voice lower than it was just moments ago, before turning and walking away.

“You too,” you say.

Several moments pass before the cold seeps into your skin and you finally remember where you are. Christmas Eve, heading home. Right. You bite your lip as you scurry to your car, unable to tear your mind away from what almost happened.

February 13th, 1996

Sighing, you lean your head back and roll your neck, trying to ease the tension. Another busy Saturday at the mall, the rain driving everyone indoors yet again. It’s the first time you’ve had a spare second to step into the office to grab a drink of water and take a breather. When Mel walked in to start her closing shift you were so grateful you could have kissed her.

Your stomach growls loudly, reminding you that you haven’t eaten since oh, maybe eight this morning. You look down at your watch and realize it’s now two o’clock.

You grab your wallet from your purse and head out for the food court, checking to make sure that Mel and the staff have things flowing well before catching her attention and mouthing, ‘getting food, be back,’ at her. She nods at you and pouts, rubbing her stomach. You laugh and give her a thumbs up.

When you step into the mall you see that KMS Music is even more slammed than you are. You seem to remember that a huge hip hop album was due to come out today and the crowd in KMS does seem to include more than the usual punk and classic rock enthusiasts Minseok seems to attract.

You take a few steps into the store and look around, standing on your tiptoes. Minseok and Alec are at the registers along with one of his newer hires Samantha. Some other employees are working the lines, making sure everyone has what they need to check out quickly. It doesn’t look like it’s going to slow down anytime.

Backing carefully out of the store you head to the food court toward Barada Pizza, your favorite. Now that the lunch rush is over you’re to the front of the line quickly. One of the co-owners Chanyeol is at the register and he gives you his signature grin.

“Bookworm! How’s it going? Crazy Saturday, huh?” His cheerful voice and his silly nicknames for everyone never fail to put you in a good mood.

“Doing great today Channie, how are you and Soo doing?” you ask. You can see Kyungsoo in the back, working his ass off like usual, moving pizzas around in the large stone fire over in the back, his face pink from the oven’s heat.

“Same old, same old, you know how it is. What can I get for you? The usual two slices of the veggie special?” he asks and you marvel again at how he always remembers your order.

“Actually I’m picking up a whole one for the store, we’re pretty slammed today and Mel’s pretending she’s dying of hunger,” you say and bite your lip, knowing that what you’re going to ask next might set off gossip. “And while I’m here, Minseok’s store is crazy today. What kind of pizza does he usually get?”

Chanyeol gives you an appraising look before his sweet face breaks into a grin. “My boy’s a purist, just plain cheese.”

“Perfect, I’ll take three large cheeses please,” you say, looking anywhere but at Chanyeol’s knowing stare. You always figured that he’s more perceptive than he lets on and wonder if he’s picked up on how you feel about his close friend.

“All right, bookworm. Three large cheeses coming right up,” he says, his voice absent of teasing for once.

Ten minutes later you’re carrying the piping hot boxes back through the mall. You swing by the bookstore and drop one off in the break room, letting everyone know that lunch has arrived. You dodge Mel’s curious expression as she watches you walk back out into the mall toward KMS music.

The crowd is still going strong, only slightly smaller than it was twenty minutes ago. Normally crowds freak you out, but after almost a year of running your own store you’re much more confident. You hold the pizzas above your head to avoid bumping into anyone and begin making your way through the mass of people.

Finally you break through at the register and emerge near the gap in the counter that leads toward the back hallway. Alec’s register is closest to you and he lets out a dramatic gasp when he sees you.

“Bless my heart, are those for us?” he asks, licking his lips. You smile and nod. “Hey, Minseok, where can we put these?” he calls over to his boss.

Minseok looks up from the customer he’s helping and he does a double take, his jaw dropping slightly as he realizes what he’s seeing. He hands his customer her receipt and holds up a hand to the next customer, saying someone will be with her in a moment. He snakes his way along the register toward you, calling to one of his other employees, Devon you think his name is, to take his place at the register.

“Are you an angel? This is incredible, follow me,” he says, taking the top pizza from you and leading you along the hallway.

He makes a quick right turn into a sparse but lived-in break room. He sets the pizza on an old circular dining table and then takes the one from your hands and puts it on top.

“Thank you so much,” he says, turning to you. “It’s been like this since we opened at nine and we’re all absolutely starving. What do I owe you?” he says, reaching back for his wallet.

You quickly wave him off. “No, this is my treat,” you insist, putting your hands on your hips. He gives you a sardonic expression and you know he’s not going to take no for an answer.

You throw your hands up and start backing out of the room, an amused grin lighting your face. He follows you down the hall and you both re-enter the store maintaining eye contact. His expression becomes serious and he reaches out a hand to quickly touch your elbow.

“Thank you, I meant it,” he says, dark eyes holding yours.

You nod and step back out into the crowd, reluctantly breaking from his scrutiny as you turn to leave. You hear him switch places with Alec, taking his spot at the register so the eccentric young man can go eat first. As you head back to the bookstore you add his dedication to his employees to your mental list of reasons that you’re horribly, achingly in love with him.

April 27th, 1996

Melanie looks up from ringing up a customer. The time is 12pm on the dot and like clockwork you come out from finishing paperwork in the office, check with her that she’s good to cover lunch, and head toward the music store.

Every Monday since “the day of the pizza” you’ve wandered into the music store with feigned casualness. And every Monday at noon, like clockwork, she watches Minseok find a reason to be shelving near you, drawing you into conversation.

Sometimes just for a few minutes, sometimes for the entire hour. Those days you rush back into the store and grab a granola bar before going back to work, a megawatt smile on your face.

When she glances up a few minutes later, there you are. Standing by a rack of CDs, not paying them any attention, talking animatedly while he listens intently. She chuckles to herself and goes back to work.

Maybe one day you’ll both realize how you feel about each other, she thinks, hoping she’s there to witness it.

She and Alec have a bet going about how long it will take one of you to admit your feelings. She bets that you’ll be the first to confess, but he has money on Minseok breaking first. Alec thinks it will be sometime this summer, while she just hopes it’s sometime this decade.

July 14th, 1996

Today he’s joking with a customer when you walk in, a regular that you recognize. A tall man with a brightly colored Mohawk and a leather jacked with studded shoulders. Minseok throws his head back, laughing. It’s a high, throaty sound you love. You wander up and down the aisles, hands in your pockets, trying to feel out what you’re in the mood for today.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he asks, suddenly appearing next to you.

“Good, the usual Monday, you?”

He shrugs and tilts his hand back and forth in a ‘so-so’ gesture and you laugh and nod in agreement.

“I’m looking for something new today. Trying to branch out from my usual ABBA,” you say. “Got any suggestions?”

He laughs and stares at you from under his lashes. “You know I have thousands of suggestions. You’ll have to narrow it down a bit for me.”

“Surprise me,” you say playfully. “Dealer’s choice, anything you want. I trust your taste.”

He raises his eyebrows at the praise. He rubs his hands together. “Ooh, a challenge. All right, let me see,” he says, his sharp eyes running up and down the racks.

“Here, try this. It’s a little funky, a little rock, very chill. Check it out, let me know what you think,” he says and hands you the CD. There’s a pink cloud of smoke on the cover, leading to what looks like a subway station. The Velvet Underground – Loaded.

You take the disc and move to walk to the register. “Looks interesting, I’ll take it.”

His hand darts out to lightly grab your wrist. “No way, it’s on the house. I’ll only make you pay for it if you say you don’t like it,” he says in his usual acerbic tone.

“All right, fine. But only if I can lend you one of my favorite books in return,” you say and poke a finger to his chest.

“Deal,” he says. For you he’d read the Encyclopedia Britannica, or the phone book, he thinks.

You give him a sweet smile and walk back to the bookstore, studiously reading the track list on the back of the disc. He shakes his head to himself, marveling at how much he likes it when you listen to his favorite songs. How much he looks forward to these Mondays with you.

He can practically hear his friend Chanyeol’s voice in his head, calling him a wuss for not just sucking it up and asking you out. But he’s content to have you in his life in any way, not wanting to risk what he has now.

September 30th, 1996

He sits across from you in the food court, watching; his eyes constantly leaving the pages of the book you lent him, drawn to you instead. It’s not that the book isn’t interesting, it’s just that he finds he's always paying attention to you these days, attuned to your frequency every time you get near.

Three tables separate him from you, but it might as well be a hundred since you look like you’re in another world all to yourself. Reading a book, resting your cheek in one hand while you flip pages with the other. Your lunch lies untouched next to you, ignored as your eyes hungrily scan the page.

He wishes it was his hands on your face, thinking he'd never be able to stop if he started touching you. He imagines running his hands through your hair, tracing his fingers along your jaw and down your neck. Maybe his touch would earn him a blush, a sight he's only seen twice, but both times almost brought him to his knees.

"Hey man, you ready to go?" Chanyeol's loud voice asks from above, startling him.

He quickly looks away, hoping you won't catch him watching. "Yeah, lets go,” he says, gathering up his stuff and heading toward the pub in the food court after Chanyeol.

He can't resist a look back, just a quick turn of the head. You're still enamored with your book, a pleased smile now adorning your face. Something you read must have made you happy. He feels his mouth turn up in response. Just knowing that something gives you such pleasure makes him feel like everything’s right with his world.

January 11th, 1997

You’re straightening displays in the window while you wait for your friend to meet you for lunch. You spot Minseok coming down the mall from the food court. His hair is slicked back up into a retro style, a long silver earring in one ear, his favorite tight leather jacket hugging his body.

You bite down on your lip, studiously focusing on your task to avoid staring too long. He makes you painfully aware of how long it’s been since anyone but your cat Chewey shared your bed.

You blush to yourself. Friends of yours claim that the nineties is the second coming of the sixties. A new wave of free love; empowered women who aren’t waiting on a man to choose them, happy and free in their sexual independence. But you’re very aware that while you’re thrilled for them, it’s just not your style. They call you old fashioned and jokingly tell you you’ll be waiting for eternity if you’re looking for someone like Mr. Darcy.

It’s not that you want some Regency hero to ride up on a horse and save you, you’re doing just fine by yourself, thank you very much. It’s just that every time your friends try to set you up with someone your mind wanders back to a certain man instead and they just don’t seem to measure up.

“So, have you told him you’re in love with him yet?” a cheerful voice teases in your ear.

You jolt in surprise and turn around to face your friend. She’s standing there grinning at you while you frantically look around to make sure no one heard her. You give her a disapproving frown and grab her hand, pulling her toward the food court. Once you’re far away from your store you release her and turn on her with your best angry face.

“What if someone had heard you?” you demand, fighting a smile, knowing that you won’t really be able to stay mad at her for long.

She twines her arm in yours and pulls you toward the tiny vegan restaurant in the food court. “Welllll if he’d heard, you it might have forced you to do something about it. Babe, this is the nineties, you can just ask him out. He seems like the type to respect a strong, forward woman,” she teases, pulling on your arm to shake you out of your terrified expression.

“Ha ha. Can you imagine me having the guts to ask him out? Have you even seen him? What would Mick Jagger want with… with Pollyana? No, I think Mark Twain said it best, ‘it is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool that to open it and remove all doubt.’”

She gives you a playful shove as you get in line for food. “Oh, come on, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Umm, hello. We work right next to each other. If it went bad I would feel so awkward I’d have to move to Alaska to escape. No, thank you. I’ll happily exist in my fantasy world where the men are nice and safe and best of all, fictional.’

You sigh and resist the urge to look back at the music store, just in case. ‘Anyways, enough about me and my desolate love life, how are you? How’s the job search going - are you still temping?” you ask, desperate to move the conversation away from your pointless longing for Minseok.

“God, don’t remind me. I’m on my fourth assignment this month alone. I don’t know how much longer I can take it,” she says, pouting.

“You know, I heard Sinful’s looking to take on someone to help out for a while with Valentine’s Day coming up. It might not last too long, but the hours are solid and Yixing’s a friend. I could put in a good word for you if you want?”

“Really? That would be fantastic! Anything to get a few solid weeks of paychecks under my belt. I’d appreciate it so much,” she says and squeezes your arm in gratitude.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ you say. ‘It’s what friends are for.’ Finally the line moves and you and your friend step up to order.

January 13th, 1997

“For the love of everything holy, dude. Will you just ask her out already?” Chanyeol says, exasperated, leaning over the counter while Minseok totals receipts. “You’re killing me here.”

Minseok sneaks a look across the mall to where you are bagging up the money at the register, sticking the bag under your arm as you gather up your paperwork. He shakes his head and gives Chanyeol a rueful smile.

“No way, she’s totally out of my reach. What would she want with a punk like me?” Chanyeol holds up a hand and opens his mouth to object, but Minseok cuts him off. “And before you say anything, that wasn’t a sleight against myself. She’s just… she’s all Jane Austen and I’m Boo freaking Radley. As you so delight in pointing out, I’m a cranky hermit who’s incapable of normal human interaction.’

He watches you brush your hair behind your ears and he knows you’re running through your closing checklist in your head. ‘She deserves the world, and I’m nowhere near romantic or thoughtful enough to give it to her,” he says emphatically.

“All right, I’ll leave it alone. For now. But I still think you’re underestimating yourself and how good you could be together,” Chanyeol says, throwing his hands up and going back to reading his comic book.

You step out into the mall and slide the gate closed, locking it into place. Chanyeol sees you approaching and gives you a big wave. “Bookworm! How’s it going? You’re coming to Baekhyun’s party tonight right?” he asks, drawing you in for an affectionate one-armed hug.

Minseok narrows his eyes at Chanyeol over the top of your head and pointedly looks at his hand around your back. Chanyeol gives him a teasing look, but still releases you a second later.

“Yeah, absolutely. I’m on my way there now. You’re both coming right?” you ask, directing the question to Chanyeol but focusing your attention on Minseok.

“Oh for sure, I’m just waiting on my boy Min here to hurry the hell up so we can get a move on,” he says, spinning his hands to indicate speeding things up.

“Awesome! Well, I’ll see you both there,” you say brightly and head toward the parking lot.

Chanyeol gives Minseok a knowing look but doesn’t say anything.

A few minutes later Minseok’s finally closed the gate and put away the money. Chanyeol hits the lights and they exit through the front doors out into the parking lot. They both turn at the sound of your frustrated groan. Your car hood is up and you’re staring at it with a look of dismay.

Chanyeol smacks Minseok on the shoulders and points. “Me thinks there’s a lady in need of your services,” he says with a grin.

Minseok turns to Chanyeol, trying to grab his arm, but he dances out of the way. “Sorry amigo, I’ve got a party to get to. And you’ve got a date with destiny,” he says, giving his friend a wry grin.

Minseok sighs and starts off in your direction. Crossing the parking lot he tugs on his jacket, straightening it out. He rubs his hands on the sides of his jeans, willing himself to appear more together around you than he is and hoping you can’t see how unnerved you make him.

He can’t help but think how cute you look, lips pouted, hands on your hips, your head cocked to the side as you study the mystery that is your car engine.

“What seems to be the problem?” he asks, sticking his hands in his pocket in an attempt at casualness.

You whip your head up and smile when you realize who it is. “Minseok, oh thank goodness. I’ve tried starting it a billion times, but it just keeps making this grinding noise.” You let out a sigh. “I know how to change the tires and the oil, but this is way beyond my limited knowledge.”

He steps as close as he dares, moving next to you to peek into the hood, illuminated by the streetlight above you. He peers inside, taking in all the wires and pipes.

He lets out a laugh. “Well, unfortunately I don’t know anything about cars. But I can give you a ride to Baekhyun’s party and then drop you off at home tonight. In the morning I’d be happy to pick you up and you can call my friend Jim from the store. He’s a mechanic and he’d be happy to drive over and take a look at it tomorrow,” he says looking hopeful.

You reach over and touch his arm. “That would be perfect, thank you.” You close the hood and go around to your passenger seat to grab your purse and jacket, locking the car. “Lead the way.”

He opens the door for you when you reach his car and you slide into the dark leather seat with a word of thanks. He tries and fails to stop his mind from imagining that this is the beginning of a date.

But still, he hopes. That someday he’ll get to sit close to you at a restaurant, his hand finding your thigh under the table. That he’ll get to hold your beautiful face in his hands and kiss you goodnight. That he’ll get to ask you all the questions he’s been dying to know the answers to, discovering all the little details of your life that are still a mystery to him.

“Everything okay?” you ask, looking up at him with a curious expression.

Shit, he thinks. He nods and gently closes the door. He gives himself a shake as he walks around to the driver’s side. You can do this, he tells himself.

He slides in and closes the door. Moving to start the car he notices you’ve got your hands full with his large CD case, curiously flipping through and analyzing his collection. This could be any night, you two together, about to head out on the town, carefully selecting the evening’s soundtrack. He doesn’t let himself acknowledge how much he desperately wishes it were true.

When you notice him watching you give him a sly grin. “It’s like seeing the man behind the curtain. What does Minseok, renowned music expert, listen to in his personal life?” you say, obviously enjoying yourself.

Handing him the case, eyes bright, you ask, “will you show me what your favorite is?”

He sighs and leans over, flipping a few sleeves until he finds what he’s looking for. He notices your intake of breath at his closeness and swallows around the lump that’s risen in his throat. He slips out a CD and switches it for the one in the player. The CD starts and he skips to the sixth song.

The drums start and you tilt your head as you try to place the song. Then a smooth, beautiful voice starts singing, accompanied by a jazzy guitar. Your mouth parts in surprise. You’d expected the classics; Rolling Stones, Queen, Nirvana maybe. Anything but this sensual, soulful song. The sound wraps around you in the enclosed car. As the singer hits a high note you close your eyes in appreciation.

He feels like his heart is trying to leap out of his chest. You look so beautiful, your face a mask of pleasure as the strains of his favorite song wash over you. Your full lips and profile highlighted in the swath of light coming into the car from the streetlight.

He takes full advantage of your closed eyes to drink in your face. He told Chanyeol he wasn’t romantic, but somehow you’ve twisted your way into his heart. He wishes he had the words to express how you make him feel, he’d write you song after song if he could.

The song gently tapers out and you open your eyes to meet his. The next song starts but neither of you are paying it any attention.

“Who is this?” you ask in a voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to break the spell cast by the song.

“Marvin Gaye. Trouble Man,” he answers, ducking his head. “Probably not what you were expecting?” he asks, looking back to you, a fierce desire to know how you see him.

You giggle and shake your head. “Definitely not what I was expecting. But I like it. I feel like I’ve gotten to see a side of you I wasn’t expecting,” you say softly.

“Rock will always have my heart, but Marvin speaks to my soul. No pun intended,” he says with a lopsided smile.

You open your mouth to say something but a car starts across from you, sending light flooding around you. It’s Kyungsoo from Barada. He gives you and Minseok a quick wave and then turns his head to start backing out.

“Well, we should probably get going. God knows if I leave Chanyeol in charge of the music it’s going to be Oingo Boingo on repeat all night,” he says and turns to back out of the space, anxious to leave so he doesn’t do anything dangerous with you so near.

Like pull you close to finally learn what you taste like.

Minseok walks out from the kitchen holding two cups of beer and stops short. The man who owns the chocolate shop, Yixing he thinks is his name, is talking to you now, holding a cup in one hand and leaning in to speak to you over the noise. You're smiling and nodding, and he feels like his blood has gone ice cold.

"What's wrong with you?" Alec asks, suddenly appearing next to him, already tipsy. He follows Minseok's gaze to where you and Yixing are talking. He laughs, a high sound, and smacks Minseok on the back. "Dude, you are so oblivious."

Minseok turns to regard Alec, wondering if his unspoken fear has come true and you are seeing someone else without him realizing it. "What, are they together or something?" He asks, feigning disinterest.

Alec laughs again and shakes his head. "No. Jesus, you really don't know? Okay my man, when you go back over there just watch her face, all right? Trust me," he says in a patronizing manner that would bother Minseok if he wasn't completely focused on you.

He starts walking over, moving around groups of people talking, not paying them any attention. When he breaks through the mass of people he approaches you and Yixing. You turn your head to look at him. It's like the sun has come out, he thinks. The bright pleasure on your face when you meet his gaze, your mouth turning up at the corners; a smile just for him.

A second, two, you watch him, and then you look down. A blush blooms on your cheeks and you bite your lip, quickly glancing back at him before returning your attention to Yixing. He stops himself from sighing in relief. Could Alec be right? he wonders. Do you somehow feel the same way?

When he comes up to you he hands you the cup, giving you a warm smile. You take the cup and wave a hand at Yixing. "Minseok, do you know Yixing? He owns Sinful and I think I've convinced him to hire my friend for the Valentine’s rush," you say with a pleased smile, voice giddy with excitement.

Yixing reaches out a hand. “Good to meet you, I love your store. You’ve got a great selection,” he says to Minseok. He shakes Yixing’s hand, nodding in thanks.

“Just tell your friend to swing by any time I’m open with her resume. I’d be happy to meet with her. Sounds like she’d be perfect,” he says to you before nodding his head in parting and heading back into the party.

Minseok joins you in leaning against the wall and starts regaling you with the story of his latest run in with a crazy regular of his - a teenager who always tries to make off with a CD under his arm. You easily slip into a flow with him, discussing your businesses, the patrons of the mall, the books and movies you trade back and forth.

Some time later the opening beats of “Dead Man’s Party” start playing and Minseok groans. He looks over to the CD player in the corner and of course finds Chanyeol closing the Oingo Boingo case. It doesn’t matter that it’s either way too early or far too late in the year for the song, Chanyeol loves it anyways. The couples dancing in the center of the living room aren’t even phased by the change in vibe and start shaking their heads in time to the funky beat.

Chanyeol grabs a girl nearby and drags her onto the dance floor. She and Baekhyun are always laughing and joking together at the theater whenever you and your friend stop in to see a movie on the weekends. You’ve gotten to know them pretty well through various run-ins around the mall in the past few months.

Her head tips back with laughter as Chanyeol spins her around in an uncoordinated mess. Minseok rolls his eyes, but watches them with a content smile.

Looking around the party, you realize how many people you actually know here.

Yixing is in a discussion with Junmyeon, the owner of Guardians, nearby. Both gesturing emphatically as they argue their points. Alec and Sam from KMS are doing a shot of some awful looking green liquid with some of the staff from Barada while Kyungsoo looks on skeptically, drinking a soda.

Baekhyun comes charging onto the dance floor, dragging another girl with him. You can’t remember her name but you’re pretty sure she recently started working at the clothing store adjacent to your bookshop.

She cracks up at Baekhyun’s dramatic and awful dance moves, bending over, holding her stomach she’s laughing so hard. You smile suddenly, thinking that you couldn’t have asked for a better group of people to know.

You’re not usually the type to dance in public, but your good mood is demanding that you get in on the action. Setting down your cup you hold your hand out to Minseok.

“If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em?” you ask and raise an eyebrow at him.

He sighs like it’s a huge burden but then gives you a sardonic smile, sets down his drink, and grabs your hand. It’s firm warmth wraps around your hand as he leads you into the fray. He finds a spot in the middle of the crowd and you stumble into him as Chanyeol comes spinning past with his partner, bumping into you.

His arm wraps around your waist to steady you and you give him a smile in thanks. You realize abruptly how close you are. It would be nothing really, to lean forward and press your lips to his. You pull yourself back to a more appropriate distance, mentally shaking yourself out of the thought.

The next song starts up and soon you and Minseok are twisting and shaking along with the beats.

He looks so much less intimidating this way, his wavy hair going off in all directions. His expression is joyful and open as he dances wildly to make you smile. Chanyeol makes another lap around and sees his friend on the dance floor.

He gives a loud whoop and thumps Minseok on the back, yelling, “that’s my boy!” as he twirls his partner.

After the album finishes Minseok rushes over to the CD player to start something else before Chanyeol can put Dead Man’s Party on for a second time. A minute later everyone cheers as the opening beats to “No Diggity” start playing.

Minseok meets your bewildered expression and gives you a wry smile. You laugh, knowing how much he loves to surprise you with music you aren’t expecting.

He makes his way back through the crowd to you. His gaze turns intent, tilting his head down to watch you through his lashes, sending a wave of heat to your core. He pulls off his leather jacket and sets it on a couch. In his dark jeans and tight black shirt he looks good enough to eat. You involuntarily swallow and look down quickly to pull an invisible speck of dust off your black dress.

When you look back up he’s in front of you, holding out a hand. You put your hand back into his, your other arm finding his shoulder as his hand slips around your waist.

He steps close to you and you both start moving in time to the smooth beats. Being this intimate with him might very well kill you, you think. You look anywhere but in his eyes, desperately trying to avoid the fierce desires battling inside you; not sure which is stronger, the need to speak the words in your heart or to beg him to put those glorious lips of his anywhere on your body.

You shake your head with amusement. What is this party doing to you? The heat from his nearness, the smell of his subtle cologne, the sensual music. After a few songs you start to feel like you’re drowning, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. You slip a step, feeling unexpectedly lightheaded.

He pulls you back to scan your face, brushing your hair out of your eyes to take in your flushed cheeks. “Want to get some air?” he asks, raising his voice over the music.

You nod and lean against him as he leads you through the crowd to a room with two leather chairs in front of a television, filled with video game systems.

He gently helps you into one of the chairs, sitting in the other and scooting close, keeping his arm securely around your back. You rest your elbows on your thighs, holding your forehead in your hands while you take deep breaths.

“Sorry, I don’t know what’s happening. I’m not drunk – I think I might be getting sick though,” you say and groan.

“No need to apologize, can you wait here for a moment? I’ll go get our stuff and I can take you home,” he says and rises to stand.

You grab his hand and squeeze, drawing his attention back to you. “Thank you,” you tell him earnestly.

He squeezes your hand back with a smile and goes through the hallway to retrieve your coats and bag.

Minseok comes back quickly and helps you into your coat, walking you back through the party with his arm firmly around your back. You stop to say goodbye to Baekhyun and Chanyeol who both give you sympathetic waves and tell you they hope you feel better soon.

The drive home is quiet. You give Minseok your address and he leaves the music off so you can rest for a bit, curled up against the side of his car while he drives. He pulls up to your house and hesitates, seeing that you’ve fallen asleep. Time stretches out as he wonders what to do.

He wants to drive straight to the hospital to make sure you’re okay, but he logically knows it’s probably one of those twenty-four hour bugs that come and go all the time as a side effect of working with the public.

Eventually he puts the car in park and gets out, walking over to your side. He eases the door open and props you up with his hands, one cupping your head and one on your arm to stop you from rolling. You open your eyes blearily at him.

“Do you think you can walk inside or would you like me to carry you?” he asks, holding you gently.

You blink a few times and seem to come back to yourself. “I can walk I think,” you say, your voice thin and scratchy.

With his help you get up the steps and inside the house, dropping your purse on the couch and shrugging out of your coat.

“I’ll be all right, I’m just going to go straight to bed and get some sleep. Thanks so much for your help Minseok,” you say with a weak smile.

He hesitates, wanting to make sure you’re okay. But he tears himself away before he does something really impulsive, like demand to spend the night so he can check on you. He pulls out a crumpled receipt from his pocket and walks over to your dining table to grab a pen.

He writes down his name and number and leaves the paper for you. “There’s my number, don’t hesitate to call if you need anything, okay? Still want me to drive you to work tomorrow or do you think you’ll be too sick?”

“No, no. I have a good immune system. A little sleep and a few big cups of orange juice in the morning and I should be good to go. Promise. How does eight forty sound?”

“I’ll be here,” he says and walks over to the door.

He looks back and you give him a sleepy wave as you shut the door. He watches through the top narrow window as you head down the hall. He gently shuts the screen door and heads back to his car, feeling like he left part of him behind.

January 14th, 1997

The morning dawns clear and bright. He’s already been up since six in the morning, unable to sleep most of the night; torn between worrying about you and trying not to remember how good you felt in his arms.

Finally at 8:22 he can’t take waiting anymore and heads out to his car. Of course he gets there too early, it only takes six minutes to get from his place to yours. He circles the block aimlessly for ten more minutes to kill time before finally parking out front of your apartment. He practically sprints up the steps to your door, pausing to calm his breathing before knocking.

Several moments pass before you finally open the door. He takes in your disheveled appearance. Hair unbound around your shoulders, dressed in an oversized sweatshirt and pajama pants, carrying a handful of tissues.

You lean against the door frame, your nose red. “You know, everyone always complains about how easy it is to get sick working in a mall and here I thought I was immune to it,” you say, pouting.

He smiles sympathetically at you, that overwhelming desire to take care of you rising again.

“Just give me a few minutes to pull myself together?” you ask, eyes closing involuntarily as you try and stand up on your own without the support of the door.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he says, rushing forward to steady you. “Can anyone cover for you today? I don’t think you should try to work.”

You wrinkle your brow as you try to think through the fog in your mind. “Um, well Mel could probably come in early and I just finished training Nathan on closing duties,” you say through your sniffling.

“Perfect, why don’t you give them a call?” he asks, stepping into the apartment and shutting the door against the cold weather.

He walks you over to your couch and gently helps you sit down. The phone is lying on the side table and he hands it to you. A few minutes later everything is sorted out and you drop the phone onto the couch with a sigh of relief. Glancing up you find Minseok staring at you with an intent look on his face.

“Okay, how about this. Why don’t you take a hot shower while I run out to get some supplies? What symptoms are you having?” he asks, scanning your face and body.

“Hmm, let’s see. My whole body just feels achy and weak. I’ve got a fever, I think. I can’t really tell with all the congestion going on,” you reply with a pout.

“Got it. I’ll be back in about half an hour, okay?” he says.

You want to object, to tell him that he doesn’t have to worry about you. But you’re too tired and sick, and you honestly can’t remember the last time you let someone take care of you, so you just nod at him and manage a small smile. He heads out and you drag your aching body into the bathroom and start the shower.

When he comes back, twenty nine minutes later, he’s carrying four shopping bags. You’re laying down on the couch, bundled up in your pajamas with a towel wrapped around your head. He comes over to kneel down at the coffee table and starts unpacking the bags.

“I wasn’t sure what you had, so I kind of bought everything,” he says pulling more and more things out.

Ibuprofen, cold medicine, cough drops, throat spray. More packs of tissues. Several different colors of Gatorade. A large to-go container of what smells like chicken noodle soup. A couple cans of ginger ale. And selection of VHS tapes from Blockbuster.

“Do you want to eat something?”

You nod weakly in response. He digs around in the bags until he finds a spoon. He pops the lid off of the soup and slides it over to you before twisting the cap off of a yellow Gatorade and setting it next to the soup. He comes and sits beside you on the couch, holding the towel out of your face while you eat and drink.

The soup is delicious and warms you up straight away, the Gatorade gives you a burst of energy. When you’re finished he waves a hand to the array of medicine in front of you.

“So, first off - have you taken any medicine today? And if not, what’s the biggest pain point at the moment?” he asks, his hand gently rubbing your back.

“I took some Tylenol, but that was last night, I haven’t had anything today. The worst of it is the congestion, and this awful sinus headache that won’t go away,” you say, rubbing your temples.

“Got it. Let me grab you some water to take this with,” he says, grabbing the bottle of bottle of cold medicine and unscrewing the cap.

He stands up and walks into your small, bright kitchen. He finds the glasses on his second try and brings you a tall glass of water to take the pills with. Once you swallow them he rejoins you on the couch, shaking out a fluffy blanket and putting it over you.

“There’s something my mother used to do when I got sick that felt like it helped. Do you mind if I try it?” he asks.

You nod weakly and he eases your head into his lap so you’re laying down, gently taking the towel off your hair and setting it on the back of the couch. You feel incredibly warm and safe, resting on his thigh.

His strong hands start rubbing your temples and you sigh at how good it feels. He eases his way through your hair, rubbing your scalp, slowly making his way to your neck. The combination of the medicine and his gentle massage eases the pain and you can feel yourself falling asleep.

You curl up against him, moving your head to get more comfortable. In your impaired state you don’t think before you speak. “Would you sing to me?” you ask dreamily, your voice sounding far away.

He sighs and you hear him quietly mutter, ‘only for you,’ to himself.

“What would you like to hear?”

“Mm, anything you want. I love your voice,” you say.

He thinks for a moment and then starts humming. “Well, it’s a marvelous night for a moondance. With the stars up above in your eyes,” he sings quietly. You smile as his gentle voice lulls you off to sleep, singing one of your favorite songs off of an album he’s shared with you.

When you wake up the sky outside has gone dark. You turn your head up and see that Minseok has fallen asleep against the side of your couch, your head resting on his hip. You don’t feel all the way better, but the headache has subsided and you’re able to breathe fully again. And, most incredibly, you were having a lovely dream where he was singing to you.

You giggle to yourself. Like he would ever sing to you; he’s told you he absolutely hates singing and always refuses to come to karaoke when you invite him along with you and your friend. He wakes up at your quiet laughter, blinking his eyes as he processes where he is.

“Sorry I woke you,” you whisper, leaning up off him and settling into the back of the couch.

He rolls his neck, rubbing his face in his hands. “No problem at all. Wow, what time is it? Sorry, I guess I fell asleep too,” he says and smiles sheepishly at you.

“Goodness, don’t worry about it. You deserve it after everything you did for me. Seriously, Minseok this is amazing. Thank you so much,” you say, moved by how sweet and kind he is.

You stand up and turn on the light next to the couch. Walking gingerly over to the over to read the digital clock, you are shocked to see how late it is. “It’s six twenty. Wow, we really slept the day away huh?”

He opens his mouth to speak but a loud grumbling sound from his stomach cuts him off. “If you don’t have any plans, how about I order us a pizza and we watch one of the movies you brought?” you offer.

“That sounds perfect,” he says, pleasure lighting his features.

You spend the night watching Clerks and splitting a large pizza, half plain cheese, half veggie. When he finally leaves around nine at night you’re feeling much better already. He insists on leaving all the medicine ‘just in case’ and arranges to pick up tomorrow morning for work.

You fall asleep in bed with a satisfied grin on your face, filled with gratitude at the fact you have someone as amazing as Minseok in your life.

May 20, 1997

Finally taking a break from the busy sale day celebrating your second anniversary, you’re seated in your desk chair, feeling rebellious with your feet propped up on the desk. It pays to be the boss, you think with a smirk.

You look over at a soft knock on the door. Mel enters, holding a package wrapped in colorful purple paper, a simple white bow on the top.

“What’s that?” you inquire.

“It just came for you,” she practically squeals, joy coming out of her every pore.

“Okay… and? Is it a delivery?”

“Nope. And you’ll never guess who just brought it over,” she teases, holding the package above her head and bouncing up and down with excitement.

“I’m not guessing, just give it to me,” you say with a laugh, holding your hand out.

“Okay fine, I’ll tell you. But can I watch you open it?” she pleads, putting the package on the desk and holding her hands out in front of her in prayer. Her over-the-top excitement makes you laugh.

“All right, all right. Fine!” you say and she claps happily.

“It was Minseok,” she says, raising her eyebrows meaningfully.

Your breath catches. The past few months you’ve been desperately fighting off your growing feelings for him. That day he’d taken care of you had seriously done things to your heart and it had been hard to keep up your Monday conversations without fantasizing about him as a permanent fixture in your home and your life.

You unravel the white ribbon and peel off the paper carefully. You go slowly, partially to annoy the heck out of Mel, mostly because surprise is such a rare element in your life and you want to prolong the delicious moment of curiosity as long as possible.

You pull the paper away to uncover a small stack of CDs, still in their protective packaging. You gasp, one hand reaching for your chest without realizing it, as if preemptively trying to protect your reckless heart for reading too much into the gift.

Jagged Little Pill - Alanis Morissette, the first CD you ever bought from him.

ABBA Gold, the CD you play over and over at closing time, distracting yourself from late night paperwork.

News of the World - Queen, the CD he played when you spent that long night sorting through the paperwork debacle.

Loaded – The Velvet Underground, one of his favorites that he suggested to you.

Dead Man’s Party – Oingo Boingo, the CD you’d danced to at Baekhyun’s party.

Another Level – Blackstreet. You blush remembering how he’d looked at you as he walked through the crowd, his eyes full of something you’d wildly hoped was desire.

Trouble Man – Marvin Gaye. He’d said that album held his soul and for such a badass punk it seemed so incongruous, but when you looked back and saw his eyes, endless and deep like they’d experienced a hundred lifetimes, you knew he was even more than you’d imagined him to be.

The last three CDs stump you.

This Is How We Do It - Montel Jordan. You ponder for a moment and then remember; that first morning you opened. It was playing on the radio while he made your first purchase ever, you’d taken it to be a good omen.

Van Morrison – Moondance. You purse your lips and think back. Yes, it was one of the dozens of CDs he’d lent you and yes, it was one of your favorites, but you couldn’t figure out why he was including it.

Nearly giving yourself whiplash, you sit back suddenly, hand flying up to cover your mouth. Coming to you as if from a long forgotten memory, you hear his soft voice singing the title song to you. The darkness of the room and the fog from your sick state had made you think it was a dream.

What if it was real? you wonder, heart skipping a beat at the thought.

The last one is Dark Side of the Moon, Pink Floyd. You tilt your head in confusion, flipping the CD over to the back and scanning the track list. With a rush it comes back to you. That cold, rainy night in February, more than two years ago; walking into his store, searching for angry music.

The first time you met him “Money” had been playing over the speakers. You can’t believe you remember that after all these years.

If he remembered that too, if he was giving you these, maybe he’d been paying as close attention to you as you were to him all these long months. You shake your head, trying to rip out that silly hope before it grows roots in your mind. No, he’s just good at knowing his customers, his friends. He’s just naturally observant, you tell yourself.

Flipping through the cases again a piece of paper slips out between two of the CDs and falls to the desk. It’s a faded receipt. You can just read the name of your bookstore and the date and time. May 20th, 1995 9:04 am. The Bridges of Madison County. You gasp. You can’t believe he’s kept it this long. There’s two lines of words scrawled on the bottom of the receipt in his hurried, messy writing. Just two lines, but they completely undo you.

Happy second anniversary. I’ll always be there for you. Any time.

You stand up suddenly, moving to the door, only to stop two steps later. What’s your plan? Go over and confess your undying love for him? Mel steps over to you, turning you towards her, unable to wait any longer.

“Don’t leave me hanging babe. I know they’re from Minseok, but what do they mean? Why do you look like you’re about to pass out? And is it a good thing or a bad thing?” she rambles, eyes darting over your face like the answers are written on your flushed skin.

You force yourself to walk back to your desk and sit down, setting the pile of CDs in front of you. Propping your elbows up on the desk, you interlace your fingers in front of your mouth, thinking.

You breathe out a big sigh. “It might just be a thoughtful gift from a friend. Or it might mean… everything. These albums are so personal to me, to him,” you say softly. “To us.”

You put your head in your hands, gripping your hair tightly to stop yourself from sprinting across that short twenty feet and into his arms to bare your heart to him.

It’s Schrödinger’s love story, one path where you do the brave thing and another where you chicken out and don’t act on it, remaining in this limbo forever.

But you can’t sit here forever, staring at the CDs, wondering. You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts that by the time you finally look up from the stack on your desk Mel is gone and the door is gently pulled to.

A line from one of your favorite childhood books whispers through your mind. Courage, dear heart, you think and smile to yourself, your mind made up.

“Screw it, I’ve got to know,” you say to yourself and push back in your chair, standing abruptly.

You scurry down the hall back into the store. You find Mel at the registers ringing up a small line of people, patiently waiting with their merchandise. You distantly acknowledge the line of people, pleased that the sale went well, confirming once more that this was the right path for you. But a larger part of you is carried along on a wave of purpose.

You dash by Mel and she looks up. Seeing your excited face, your nervous grin, she instantly knows where you’re going. She gives you a thumbs up and calls out “Good luck!” as you rush past.

It’s only twenty feet but the distance feels enormous, your mind swirling with the possibilities. You stop in the middle of the mall. What if he turns you away, embarrassed at how much you read into the gift and your friendship? What if he’s already in a relationship and he’s just such a private person he’s never mentioned it?

What if, what if, what if.

Another voice rises up in your mind, demanding the others be quiet. After a lifetime spent reading and quietly observing others you’re ready to do something brave. Something else brave, you remind yourself, turning to look at the bookstore with pride. You can do this, you tell yourself.

Taking a deep breath, you stand up straighter, prepared for anything, filled to the brim with love and hope. You resume your walk across the tiled floor and into the music store, the soft strains of a Beatles song playing overhead, reminding you that all you need is love.

Turning toward the counter you see Alec lazily flipping through a magazine. You hurry over and put your hands on the counter, causing Alec to turn and look at you.

He regards you thoughtfully before giving you a lopsided smile, shaking his head. “Lordy, you two are so alike, it’s hilarious,” he mutters. “If you’re looking for Minseok he just left, he went that way,” he says pointing out the front doors to the parking lot.

“Go get him, girlie,” he says and chuckles to himself.

Too nervous to even speak you just nod furiously several times before your body carries you toward the doors. You put your arms out in front of you to push the door open as you rush forward at full speed. Stumbling outside, you gasp in the cool air and frantically scan the parking lot for his figure.

There, up ahead, just unlocking his car. You’d recognize his leather jacket anywhere. You dart into the street, dodging an oncoming car that honks angrily at you. You wave a hand in apology behind you as you sprint forward. His name rises in your throat.

“Minseok!” you call, and he turns around in your direction.

His surprised expression quickly turns worried as he takes in your flushed cheeks and fast pace. You rush up to him and he catches you in his arms, holding onto your elbows to steady you.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, eyes concerned.

You breathe deeply a few times to calm your frantic heart. “Everything. Nothing. I mean - I got your present,” you say, watching him closely.

He ducks his head and gives you a shy smile, so unlike his usual confidence. “Oh, right. Well, it’s a big day. Most businesses don’t make it two years and yet here you are, still kicking ass. I wanted to do something to commemorate that,” he says.

You could just leave it at that, you think. Tell him thank you for the support and the friendship and the sweet gift and go back inside. But your newfound courage won’t let you cop out now.

“Minseok… did you sing for me?” you ask, voice urgent and full of feeling.

He doesn’t need you to clarify what day you mean. He blushes and looks off to the side, nodding once, twice. He looks back to meet your eyes and nods once more, slowly.

You bring your hands up to his cheeks, joyful tears filling your eyes, and lean in to swiftly press a kiss to his lips. You linger there for a moment before pulling back. His hands come to rest on your hips, his expression shocked.

You rush to explain before you lose your nerve. “Thank you, Minseok. Thank you for helping me out so many times. Thank you for the sweet gift. Thank you for taking care of me when I was sick. I know that what I just did and what I’m about to say might change everything, but I want you to know that I’ll always be your friend if that’s all you want.” You inhale sharply, steadying yourself.

“But I have to tell you, I think – I think I’ve been in love with you for a while now, and I’ve never said anything since I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. I don’t know if you feel the same way, but I had to tell you, even if it’s just this once. I love you, Minseok,” you say, finishing in a rush. “I love you,” you repeat softly.

You take a deep breath and let it out, dropping your hands to his arms, waiting for his reaction.

A triumphant looks comes across his face and he winds an arm around your back. His other hand slides up to cup your face. “Thank God,” he says, his voice thick with feeling.

He pulls you flush up against him and kisses you fully, slowly moving his lips along yours. You move your hands up into his hair, finally, finally getting to see what it feels like. His hands grip your hips, holding you close as he runs his tongue along your bottom lip. You both moan as his tongue slips in to stroke yours.

The reality of him is better than any fantasy you could ever have come up with, you think in a haze.

“Ha! I knew it! You owe me fifty bucks!” someone yells from the direction of the mall.

You and Minseok break apart to see Mel and Alec standing there. Mel is doing a happy dance and Alec is reaching into his wallet with a disgruntled sigh.

“Did you bet on us?” you call out to her, laughing in disbelief. Minseok laughs next to you, the sound vibrating through his chest against yours.

“Yes, but don’t worry, I won!” Mel calls back, poking Alec in the chest before dragging him back inside, brandishing the bill in triumph.

You look back at Minseok, confused. “I guess we were only good at hiding our feelings from each other,” he laughs.

“Wait, how long have you liked me?” you ask, breaking into a grin at the realization that he actually feels the same way. “Holy shit, you like me?”

He tilts his head back and cracks up, both at hearing you swear for the first time and out of sheer joy that you return his feelings. He brushes your hair back and holds his hand to cup your face.

“I don’t just like you. I love you too,” he says in a low voice just for you. He leans in to give you another lingering kiss. “And as for the when, I’d have to say it was probably that Christmas Eve you ran into me that I realized it.”

You drop your jaw. “No way. That’s when it hit me too. I can’t believe it’s taken us this long to get here,” you say, blushing.

“But the important thing is, we’re here, together,” he says and you grin, looking back into his eyes. “Want to get out of here?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

You nod. “Let me just grab my stuff,” you say, grabbing his hand. “Come with me?”

It’s a loaded question, walking inside hand in hand would let everyone know how you feel about each other. You’re not sure if he wants to be so open with it yet, and you want to let him decide without pressure from you.

“Any time, baby,” he says easily, squeezing your hand and pulling you back toward the mall.

June 20, 1997

He waited two years for you; more than that if he’s counting the time since you first met, which of course you both do. He has something special planned for this weekend - well the “weekend” you share, Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Two days, just the two of you in his apartment. He doesn’t plan on either of you leaving the bedroom the entire time.

The two of you have kept it mostly PDA-free at the mall, but today you’re doing things to his willpower - wearing his leather jacket over a slim fitting purple cotton dress, your hair in his favorite braids. The combination of sweet and sexy is driving him wild every time he catches a glimpse of you in breaks between customers.

He loves it when you borrow his things, loves seeing little pieces of himself taking up space in your world. It’s only fair since you’ve already invaded his life and his heart completely. A polaroid of you now lives in his wallet. It’s from a late brunch you had together last week. Your hair in a messy bun, throwing up two peace signs, giving him a wide grin.

He keeps an ABBA CD in his car for when you’ve had a stressful day and need cheering up. He imagines Chanyeol endlessly laughing if he saw the candles Minseok bought for the dining table for last Tuesday night when you cooked dinner together. But he couldn’t care less. Besides, he’s already dreaming of making you his forever, officially.

On his lunch break yesterday, while you were tied up with a delivery issue, he snuck over to Simpson & Sons Jewelers and nonchalantly looked at rings. Just a quick glance between the necklaces and earrings, wondering to himself what style you might like.

He’s waited more than two years, and it still amuses him that you’d felt the same way about each other almost the entire time. He’s in no rush, but now that you’re his, he’s playing for keeps.

He looks up from shelving a new shipment of LPs to see you standing up on your tip toes to grab a book for a customer. Your dress rides up dangerously and he groans softly to himself, feeling all his blood rush to his cock. He glances down at his watch - 12:01pm. Perfect, he thinks and carries the box of LPs back to the counter.

Alec is training Sam on ordering, arguing back and forth about every step. They pause their bickering and look up as Minseok approaches.

“I’m heading out for lunch Alec, you guys all right here?” he asks, knowing Alec will be patiently waiting for his turn right at one o’clock.

“Right-o boss, we’re all set here,” he says and Sam gives him a dry look. Minseok chuckles to himself as he walks over to your store, happy that he found someone who’s more than a match for the unique challenge that is Alec.

Mel’s ringing up the customer you were helping and she gives him a wave when he walks in. He nods in return and scans the store for you. He finally spots you tidying up displays around the back. As he approaches you he grins, savoring the feeling that you’re finally his as much as he’s always been yours.

He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. You yelp in surprise, whipping your head around to see who it is. Laughing when you realize it’s him you spin in his arms and give him a discreet kiss, eyes shining with joy.

He pulls you close for a longer kiss, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin at your lower back. “Mm, what’s gotten into you today?” you ask in a low voice.

“Hmm, you’re tormenting me with that dress today, and I think I have to do something about it,” he whispers in your ear.

You raise your eyebrows in question and he pulls you through the store to the back hallway. The second you’re past the counter his hand slides down to cup your ass through the fabric of your dress. You giggle and glance behind you to make sure no one’s watching.

The two of you slip into the office and he kicks the door shut behind him as soon as he’s through, locking it with one hand.

He leans back against the door and pulls you flush up against him, claiming your lips instantly. You slide your hands along his waist and up to his sculpted chest, relishing in the fact that you’re now able to touch his amazing body whenever you want. You lick his lower lip, sliding your tongue inside when he opens for you.

His hands find your ass and he rocks his hips into yours, mimicking the back and forth movement of his tongue. You moan into his mouth; a high, breathy sound as you feel yourself rapidly getting wet in response to his touch.

His fingers drop to the hem of your dress, caressing their way up to slide under the edge of your panties. You pull back, meeting his eyes that are dark with desire.

“Here? Minseok, I-” you start to say. One of his hands moves down and begins stroking your aching clit, drawing a whine from your throat. Your eyes close and you grip his shoulders to stay upright.

“I’m game if you are,” he says, and when you open your eyes he’s giving you a challenging look.

You think about objecting, but his hand dips lower and he sinks a finger inside of you. You lean closer and rest your forehead against his shoulder, breathing rapidly. “Oh, fuck it. Please, I need you,” you whimper as he slips a second finger into you.

“I thought you’d never ask, honey,” he says roughly and slides your panties down your legs in a fluid motion.

You walk backward to your desk, watching him hungrily through your lashes, kicking your panties off. You lean back on the desk, spreading your legs wide for him. He unbuckles his belt in a rush, then reaches into his back pocket for a condom, tearing the wrapper.

He settles himself between your legs and you laugh. “Prepared, were you?”

“Around you? Always,” he says, pulling out his dick and rolling the condom on.

His hands grip your hips, tilting you off the edge of the desk and easing the tip inside of you. You let out a loud moan and clap your hand to your mouth, wincing at how loud you were. He chuckles darkly and grins at you, delighting in how eagerly you respond to him.

You wrap your legs around his waist and lean back onto an elbow, keeping one hand on your mouth to stifle any noise. He thrusts into you, sheathing himself in one motion, biting his lip to contain his groan of pleasure.

He pulls back and slams into you again, setting a rapid pace that has your eyes rolling back. You rock your hips into his, meeting him thrust for thrust. You bite down on your finger, already close to finding your release, amazed at how quickly he can affect your body. His eyes widen when he sees you bite down.

“Fuck, that’s so hot. I’m already so close. The things you do to me,” he says with a grin in-between breaths, shaking his head in amusement.

One of his arms comes around your back to keep you upright as the other comes around to resume his attention to your clit. Your vision goes white as you reach your climax, a strangled moan leaving your mouth. He slams into you, drawing out your orgasm, before releasing himself inside of you.

You reach up to hold onto his shoulders, resting your head against his chest as you both catch your breath. His head comes to rest on top of yours, holding you close. Once you’ve calmed down you lean back to look at him, giggling as you take in his messed up appearance, knowing that you must be in a similar state.

He grins down at you, tilting to kiss you gently on the lips. “I think we’re going to have to do this more often,” he says with a raise of his brow.

“Any time, baby. Any time,” you say happily.

#exo au #exodus mall #xiumin fanfic #minseok fanfic #xiumin x reader #minseok x reader #exo fanfic #exo smut #exo fluff #exo #xiumin #minseok #xiumin fluff #xiumin smut #minseok fluff #minseok smut #exo imagine

1K notes · View notes

motherofthebridedresses · 4 years ago

Text

who doesn’t want to support the fur industry @%^&*online formal dresses

While we don't suggest brides to start their gown shopping too early, we don't mean for you to shop at the last minute either. Not every bride will fit into a sample gown and if you need alterations for the gown to fit you like a glove, you'll have to factor in the time needed for the alterations to be done. But if you're genuinely on a tight schedule, do set aside some extra cash in your budget because most boutiques will require you to pay more if you need your gown to be rushed out in time. We also baked our childhood into cakes. Ya Kun Kaya Toast's Set F was a peanut butter toast set that Darren and I ate for a good three months sometime in 2016 cocktail formal dresses. Every morning we would just go to the same Ya Kun outlet until the auntie knew our orders by heart. One day, I told him we should make this into a cake. And he did. These flavours made our bakery ours, and we wanted our wedding to be so much of these stories as well!

Shaotong and Abel, both in Investment Banking operations, have known each other since primary school. Social media reconnected them three years ago, and the couple celebrated their third anniversary by DIY-ing their intimate Faber Peak wedding on 11 December 2016. Dressed in Dang Bridal, Shaotong and Abel celebrated with a garden ceremony and a small and cosy dinner at Spuds and Aprons with less than 50 guests, so that they could spend quality time appreciating their closest family and friends. 1 / Here's a great alternative for the thrifter & vintage lover who doesn't want to support the fur industry online formal dresses. It's a faux fur jacket [most likely produced to resemble beaver, because of the color] and designed to look like a coat from the '60s. By the looks of the lining and the zippers, it was most likely produced in the '80s although there is no brand label on the inside to give further insight. Following in the footsteps of Mad Men, there's no doubt the show will be popular ' as will those oh-so-coveted Pan Am logo travel bags. Hold onto those hand straps, cause you'll want to sport one whether it's vintage or reproduced in what I predict will be a Pan Am fashion line coming to a mainstream store near you [Mad Men for Banana Republic velvet prom dresses, anyone?]

Melissa wore a lace wedding dress with a sweeping train from Frieda Brides, paired with footcuffs from Anna Campbell Bridal and a delicate headpiece from Maggie Wu Studio. To complete Melissa's indie, bohemian look, Iheartblooms gave her natural and ethereal makeup and a casual updo colored flower girl dress. James wore a blue suit from jsweddenladress20107 Assemble to complement the free-spirited, casual vibe of the shoot. It's no secret that wedding planning is stressful for couples. Figuring out your guest list, meeting with vendors, and juggling numerous little details in your head can get incredibly tiring'for both body and mind white wedding dress origin. Before you crack under the pressure, why not take a well-deserved break and refresh yourselves with a day (or five) at the spa? You May Also Like: Find beautiful white dresses for girls&black bridesmaid ... evening dresses for weddings – eveninggownscheaponline your thing have to be exceptional much like your current ... The areas are lined by offices belonging to IT companies and ... apparel by using luxury adornment appears to be like ...

#online formal dresses

0 notes

mindthump · 7 years ago

Photo

50 Work-From-Home Jobs Paying as Much or a Lot More Than the Average American Salary http://ift.tt/2Ded3G7

There was a time when working from home was a pipe dream. Thanks to technology like Slack, there’s been a surge of legit jobs you can do from home.

Whether that’s working remotely for a company or starting your own business there’s no shortage of work-at-home opportunities. Here are 50 work from home jobs that most make above the average American salary.

1. Affiliate Marketer

For those unfamiliar with affiliate marketing, it’s simply referral marketing where you earn a commission. Let’s say that you have a website and refer a book on Amazon. When the visitor clicks the affiliate link and buys the books, Amazon will pay you a percentage of the sale.

People love affiliate marketing because you can start earning money passively with little start-up costs.

Related: 5 Ways to Ensure Remote Employees Feel Part of the Team

2. Animator

Are you an artistic and creative individual who is able to create animation and visual effects for television, movies, video games, and other types of media? Then you can work at home as freelance animator. I’ve seen animators make between $25 to $106 an hour on sites like Upwork.

3. Baker/Caterer/Chef

If you have a knack for baking or cooking, then turn your passion into a side business. From your own kitchen you could start a catering or personal chef business. If you’re a baker, you could sell you goods to friends, neighbors, online, or at local farmer’s markets.

4. Blogger

Blogging is inexpensive and easy to start. It could be as simple as you just writing about your favorite music or food. Eventually, this hobby can start generating some money for you.

Just keep in mind that you need to pay patient when it comes to cashing-in on your blog. If this is something you want to pursue, check out this guide from the person who taught me six-figure blogging. Zac took me from earning nothing blogging to a solid six figures in 18 months.

5. Bookkeeper

Believe it or not, you don’t have to be a CPA to start bookkeeping. Just sign-up for a bookkeeping course at a community college or even online, such as this course from the Accounting Coach. Once completed you can start making a start earning. The median salary is $34,000. There are some stay at home bookkeepers I've talked with making upwards of $70,000.

6. Child Caregiver

I’m sure that you have more than enough friends, family, and neighbors who could use someone to watch their children. Whether if it’s just for a couple of hours or for the entire day, running a childcare business from your home can be lucrative. Just make sure that you obtain the correct licences and permits.

7. Clinical Research Coordinator

As noted in Business Insider, this is where you, "Assist in the management of daily clinical trials operations; provide oversight of all organization, clinical, site, and vendor activities; and manage trial master files." You can make over $48,000 and you don't need a bachelor's degree.

Related: Bashing the Stereotypes: What You Need to Know About Gen Z

8. Consulting

If you have experience and knowledge in a specific area, then share it with others. For example, if you’re an accountant or lawyer, then you can provide advice to small businesses for a pretty penny. You could also consult businesses on how to use a new software program or how to become more environmentally-friendly.

My company has this consulting guide to get started.

9. Customer Service Rep

Do you possess excellent communication skills? Do you also have a landline and reliable internet? Then you can earn between $8-$15 per hour as a customer service rep.

10. Data Entry

Inputting data for businesses isn’t the most of exciting of jobs. However, you don’t need any previous experience and you can start at $10 per hour.

11. Direct Salesperson

This will require a little investment upfront, but you’ll receive all the tools and resources to get started. However, you’ll receive 20 percent to 35 percent of sales in commissions. And, you can find a direct sales opportunity to match your passion since there are companies that sell jewelry, coffee, wine, pet products, or gardening supplies.

12. Ecommerce Store Owner

There are five types of eCommerce business models; dropshipping, wholesaling, manufacturing, white-labeling, and subscription. And, thanks to sites like Shopify, Magento, or WooCommerce, you can quickly launch your own ecommerce store.

13. Editing and Proofreading

Companies like Book in a Box pay $20 per hour to editors, book jacket designers, and proofreaders.

14. Event Planner

Whether if it’s planning a wedding, birthday party, or corporate event, people are looking for organized individuals to do most of the event planning for them.

Related: Learn the 4 Principles That Helped This Virtual Company Become One of the Best Cultures in America

15. Film and Post Instructional Videos

Are you really good at something? Then create a YouTube account and start filming yourself instructing others your unique skills. To start earning some cash, enroll in YouTube’s partner program so that you can make $1 to $2 per 1,000 hits.

16. Grant Writer

Universities, hospitals, and nonprofits are organizations that need to apply for grant money. Since these can be difficult to write, they turn to talented grant writers. As a grant writer you can make between $40,300 to $67,000 per year..

17. Graphic Designer

Businesses are in need of someone to design their logo, website, or visual ads. If you have a degree or certification in this area, you can make a comfortable salary or $45,000 annually. This is starting, the better you get, the more clients will refer other clients over to you. Here is a killer guide I put together on how to build a website that should help you get started.

18. Handmade Crafter

Do you make handmade products like jewelry or furniture? If so, set up an Etsy shop and start selling your handmade crafts online.

19. Instructor

Do you know how to play a musical instrument? Can you get people in shape? Whatever your knowledge or experience, people will pay you to share that information with them. Even if you don’t want people coming into your home, you could always start an online instructional program.

20. Internet Security Specialist

As an internet security specialist, you monitor networks for security threats and implement security standards. You may als install data protection systems as well. Given the attention that online security has been receiving, this job is expected to grow steadily over the next several years.

Related: How to Stay Motivated Working From Home

21. Online Juror

When attorneys prepare for a trial they often seek feedback on their case. Depending on the mock jury site, you can make between $5 to $150 for your opinion.

22. Online Teacher

Are you a teacher that’s looking for a more flexible schedule? Then consider teaching via Skype or in a pre-recorded session through organizations like K12 (K12.com) and Connections Academy (ConnectionsAcademy.com).

23. Patent or Intellectual Property Lawyer

Applying for a patent or protecting intellectual property are both areas where expert advice is needed. As such, if this is your area of the law, you can make between $112 per hour to $121 per hour.

24. Peer-to-Peer Lender

Thanks to sites like Lending Club and Prosper, you can easily lend money to a business or individual. As an investor, you make money on the paid interest of the note.

25. Pet Groomer

Do love being around animals? Are you also patient enough to clean and style pets? If so, this is a perfect home-based business.

Related: The Biggest Do's and Don'ts of Video Conferencing

26. Photographer/Videographer

Even though everyone has a camera on their phone these days, there’s still a need for these types of professionals like for events like weddings. You can also sell your images on sites like Foap.com.

27. Product Reviewer

This may sound too good to be true, but you can actually make a decent living just by reviewing the products that you use daily. In fact, you can earn between $20,000 to $95,000.

28. Programmer

Learning a programming language, such as Ruby, can make around $61 per hour. Not too shabby. If you’re interested, here’s a handy programmer guide to get you on your way.

29. Realtor

While you can run a reality business from your home, as long as you have your state’s real estate license, you still have to show potential buyers the home. And, don’t forget that you also have to prepare the home for showing too. However, thanks to technology, you can become a virtual realtor where you can show a property without having to physically be there.

30. Renter

Do you have an extra bedroom? How about a car you don’t drive everyday? Are there household items laying around collecting dust? If so, rent them out to people who could use them. I personally made over $50k renting out my basement in 2017.

31. Repairer

If you have a knack for fixing things, like bicycles, cars, or computers, then launch your own repair business. It probably doesn’t cost more than a little marketing to get started since you probably already have the tools and resources.

Related: 3 Ways to Keep Employees Productive at Home

32. Short Tasks

A short task is a job or assignment that can be completed quickly. Examples include writing a review, taking a survey, or watching a video. They may not pay much, but it’s a fast and easy way to make money from home. Here’s a list of short task sites you should check out if interested.

33. Social Media Manager

There are a lot of organizations who need someone to manage their social media accounts. Some organizations may even want you to completely develop a social media strategy for them.

34. Stylist

If you love fashion, and want to work from home, then you can become an online stylist. According to the Penny Hoarder, you can make $15 per hour.

35. Survey Taker

This won’t make you a millionaire. But you can get paid between $1 to $50 for taking an opinion poll, answering questions about shopping habits or reviewing a product. You’re usually paid by check, PayPal, or points that can be redeemed for gift cards.

36. Tax Preparer

Even though this is a seasonal gig, you can make a salary of over $30,000. Don’t forget to register with the IRS before you start this home-based business.

37. Become an Expert

Nowadays people are going online to find someone that is an expert at things they are struggling with. A growing trend is hiring an expert vs hiring a large company to come in and help them fix problems. A great resource that I've found is Catalant.

I've been able to hire some of the worlds leading experts from this site. Average hourly is from around $15 all the way up to $280/hr making this a great option if you're looking to help others with your knowledge.

Related: How This Mom Grew Multiple 6-Figure Businesses From Home

38. Telephone Nurse

If you’re a registered nurse, then you could work for health insurers or health management companies like Humana, Aetna and UnitedHealth Group. They actually hire nurses remotely to handle case management, treatment authorization, and patient education.

39. Transcriber/Transcriptionist

This job is essentially you just listening to audio files and then typing out what you are, such as a lecture or doctor's medical dictation. It’s an entry-level gig that can pay up to $25 per hour.

40. Translator

Are you fluent in another language? Start earning a living off of these skill by translating documents or being an interpreter.

41. Travel Agent

Despite the fact that there are numerous travel sites that make planning a trip a breeze, it can still be time-consuming. What’s more, there may be certain travel conditions that you are not aware of. That’s why there’s still a need for travel agent to scour the web for the best deals, share advice, or plan your itinerary.

42. Virtual Assistant

If you’re organized and can handle office duties like replying to emails, calendar management, entering data, and assisting with social media, then this job is perfect for you. And you can make between $10-$15 per hour.

Related: 4 Reasons Not to Be a Stiff About Employees Working From Home

43. Virtual Public Relation Rep

For small-to-mid sized businesses, they don’t have the budget for a dedicated CMO or VP of Marketing or even a public relations firm. But, they may have the funds to hire a virtual PR to take care of duties like promoting a business or managing a crisis.

44. Virtual Recruiter

This is pretty much the same position as an in-house recruiter - expect you get to work wherever you want. The other major difference is that you search the web to find the right employee for the right position. You’re also responsible for screening the applicant and being a part of the interviewing and negotiation process. There are even recruiters being paid upward of $125/hr for building resume templates.

45. Virtual Tutor

If you have extensive knowledge in a specific area, then you could earn between $12 to $35 per hour by tutoring students either over-the-phone or Skype.

46. Voice Acting

If you have a golden voice, you can make somewhere between $56 to $72 per hour.

47. Web Developer

Depending on the specific job, as well as your expertise, you could bring-in between $55,000 – $175,000 per year to build websites from scratch.

Related: The Legal Implications of Expecting Employees to Work After Hours

48. Web Search Evaluator

In order to deliver the most accurate search results, search engines pay individuals to analyze search results. You don’t have to have much experience and you can haul-in $12-$15 per hour.

49. Website Tester

Businesses want to make sure that their websites are intuitive and easy to navigate. As such, they’ll assign instructions for people to follow to check out their site. Each test usually takes around 15 to 20 minutes. In return, you’ll be paid $10 to $15 per test.

50. Writing Gigs

Businesses of all sizes need written content, like blog posts, website copy, or eBook. As a result, there are thousands of writing gigs available that pay anywhere between $10 to $100 per hour.

Related: 50 Work-From-Home Jobs Paying as Much or a Lot More Than the Average American Salary Is a Coworking Space Worth the Cost if You're Already Working From Home? 5 Ways to Work Remotely Without Being Overlooked

#IFTTT #Feedly #hmmm #business #good to know

2 notes · View notes

diddlesanddoodles · 7 years ago

Text

Salty Lemonade

Authors notes: Trying really hard to get more chapters of this story out. Still working on Dumpling, but I was finally granted the drive to work on this and I dove for it. Y’know how that goes. Hope y’all enjoy and feel welcomed to comment or ask any questions about this world or the characters.

Read Ch 1 here!

Ch 2: In A Familiar Fashion.

“How’re you doing, Squeaks?” Bastian’s face peeked down at her briefly as they strolled the length of the avenue. Or rather, Bastian walked and Astrid was carried. His long legs and towering height made it an absolute assurance that had she wished to walk under he own power, she was far too much at a disadvantage for it to be any way close to possible. Or practical.

And in any case, she had no shoes.

“M’okay...” She replied, huddling closer to the thicker plush material of her owner’s coat. It was a dusty brown windbreaker with a few sewn on badges. It seemed a barely adequate jacket for the temperature, though. Most of the other giants she saw wore longer, thicker coats. But it did not seem to bother nor even register to Bastian. The Feirgian smiled, the large arms around her tightening minutely in a gesture of assurance, and the he continued along the pavement.

Astrid had been to a big city before. Her home town was just thirty miles away from the largest city in the state, so she was not unaccustomed to the aspects indicative of big cities. Things such as the large crowds, tall buildings, and overall lack of space. However, it was not to be compared to experiencing the same things but on a scale several times as big. And the Feirgian city of Raudenstein was very big.

And cold.

There were giants everywhere, speaking a language she did not understand, and wearing clothes that , while appearing quite normal in their general shape, were different just enough so as to remind her that she was no longer home. The city smells were foreign and odd as well, a stale sort of smell mixed with gasoline and frying foods originating from the plethora of stalls lining the avenue. One of which caught Bastian’s attention and the giant took on a sudden burst of speed, slipping between people, and within moments Astrid found herself staring through acrylic glass at piles of fried foods. Some were on sticks, others were in small piles and topped with brightly colored sauces and herbs and weird crunchy brown bits. There was a collection of bubbling vats behind the vendor and stacks of paper containers, ready to be filled with foodstuffs for future patrons. She recognized none of the food, but the smells wafting from it all was intoxicating and the warmth radiating from the fryers was more than welcome.

Bastian was enthusiastically babbling at the vendor and pointing at various types of food for sale. Having only eaten one of the crumbly biscuit things that seemed to be the staple food for humans in this world, Astrid joined her new owner at longingly staring at the steaming goodies.

“Ah! Advest das Kichtein?” Astrid looked up to see the vendor craning his neck over the bulk of his cart and wares to glimpse at her, the dark tuffs of hair upon his lips twitching up as he smiled.

“Ja’, vet kit,” Bastian replied. The arm around her shifted and he gripped her around her middle, lifting her up and towards the vendor as though to show her off. Astrid gripped Bastian’s fingers, very much distressed at the height and the very hot oil not far from her dangling feet.

She whined, staring at the vat.

“Tsk, dirtaus forgeir mon kechtein?” The vendor cooed at her and greasy fingers pinched her face playfully. Looking to Bastian, he said, “Paumpa ker rect? Ver Kit?”

“Ah, Jan! Vank saden!” Bastian replied with alacrity. Astrid was gratefully pulled back down from the towering heights, and away from bubbling oil, to be secured once more in the crook of Bastian’s arm. His free hand held several coined the size of car hubcaps and handed them to the vendor who returned with his part of the exchange consisting of a paper tray with a stack of the fried round balls topped with bright green sauce and sprinkled liberally with shining, translucent yellow shards. Nestled beside the fried balls was a single lumpy yellow disk not larger than the coins used to pay for them.

“What a good luck charm you turned out to be, eh?” Bastian asked, walking briskly down the rows of food carts to a small grouping of chairs and tables. He claimed one, placing the tray of food and Astrid onto the metal, and therefore very cold, table top before slipping into the chair.

“Huh?” she asked.

“He gave me a discount and even threw in a free paumpa for you. All ‘cause you’re cute,” he said and plucked up the round disk. He observed it for a moment and then eyed Astrid, looking suddenly unsure. “Are humans allowed to eat paumpa?”

“I don’t know what it is,” Astrid replied. “But I don’t think I’m not supposed to. What it is?”

“It’s pancake stuffed with sweet lemon jelly. Kind of a little kid’s food, but I guess that’s fine since yer a kid and all. Here,” he said, pulling the small pancake apart into a more Astrid manageable size. She could see the bright yellow filling. It was not unlike the lemon paczkis her grandfather adored and would bring around for their Mardi Gras party and complain that everyone was too excited about the king cake.

When Astrid took a bite, smearing a good portion of jelly onto her chin in the process, she was struck with the familiar taste of her grandpa’s beloved paczkis. Despite the pancake being completely the wrong texture, she could not help but feel a pang in her chest. Instead of giving into the downward pull of emotions, she stuffed another bite into her mouth in an almost vindictive manner. Above her, Bastian laughed.

“I guess that answers that!” He said, flashing his bright disarming smile, before turning his attention to his own snack and popping one of the fried balls into his mouth.

………………………………………

“What about that one?” Astrid asked from her spot on the counter, pointing to the neon green coat on a display wrack a few feet away. Bastian glanced to where she had pointed, momentarily abandoning his searching for the correct size from a large bin of straps and laughed.

“Well, that would cover the high visible requirement. Good luck getting lost wearing that!”

“What? Green’s a good color,” she protested, feeling mocked. “I like green.”

Bastian left the bin and walked over to the display, taking the tiny sleeve of the human sized garmet and studying it. “I dunno, kiddo. That’s a whole lot of green. Hoping to message satellites?”

Among the things given to Bastian when he picked Astrid up was a list of required supplies and suggestions on where to get them. One thing being a high visibility harness. As they munched on their snacks, Bastian studied the list and announced to her that they would be stopping at Cairo’s.

“They have a whole pet section,” he said, more to himself than Astrid before popping the last fried ball into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. In any case, she was not able to answer him as she had stuffed her face with more paumpa. The filling was perhaps a bit more tart than she was use to, but not by much. “They’ll have everything.”

Upon glancing her way, Bastian blinked and choked on a laugh. “You’re all over jelly, kiddo.”

Astrid swallowed and touched her chin, feeling the goopey jelly clinging to her face. She looked up Bastian, blushing a little at how much of a mess she had made. “May I have a napkin, please?”

“Here,” he chuckled, pulling out a handkerchief from within his coat. Astrid held still while he cleaned the jelly from her face and hand.

One requirement on the list was a city ordinance requiring all pets in public to be wearing both a harness, lead, and ID tag. So once the food had been demolished and all sticky parties were ‘un-stickified’, off to Cairo’s they went.

The building was merely a block or so away from the food vendors and it was a large square building made of white alabaster. The name of the establishment written in gold set against an ebony stone marquee. It stood out in stark contrast to the other shops nearby that seemed older and much more homley.

Almost as soon as they entered, another giant approached them. Wearing a sharply tailored suit with straight lapels, a single button securing the coat near the bottom, crisp white collar, and pinned to his chest was a silver bar with his name. Upon his face he wore a displeased frown that he tried to force into placis neautrality, but the sour twist of his mouth betrayed him.

“Kier dast comffrent mon heis?” he said,

“Ja’,” Bastian answered jovially. “Vast kit ver weurkshum.”

The sour faced giant’s gaze jerked down to Astrid and narrowed his brow. She gripped Bastian’s sleeve, looking away from him. No giant had ever shown here a bit of anger and it was very unsettling to feel hate in the eyes of a being so big and know it was directed at you.

“Vorbottin,” the man quipped snootily and made a general shooing motion at them. But Bastian made no move to obey the command and remained where he was, eyeing the man in shock.

“Vorbottin? Deu ka?” Bastian demanded.

“Deu jetz. Erch vast mon kit an schlush an...”

“Bastian!” Both Feirgians stopped as another giant appeared behind them. Like the first, this giant wore a straight label suit and shinning name tag. However, rather than silver, this giant’s name tag was gold. He was younger than the silver pinned giant, closer to what Astrid thought Bastian would be.

“Ah? Luka!” Bastian beamed, freeing one arm and holding it out to shakes hands with the new giant. “Vank gruen.”

“Mier vank gruen!”

Astrid couldn’t keep track of the conversation very well once the giant Luka had appeared. But what she could gather was that he and Bastian knew each other and seemed quite amiable with one another while sour faced Ferigian was looking more queasy than sour at the moment and was babbling something that might have been an apology. Or excuse. Luka did not seemed pleased with him in the least. Sour face then pointed to Astrid in a hostile and accusatory fashion, as though to say ‘but sir, look here’.

Luka looked at her and with a high pitched sound that Astrid could only describe as a ‘squee’, reached out to pet her head. There was a moment where she wanted to duck away, having had enough of random people patting her head for one day, but stayed still. She reminded herself that she was a pet now. And pets were petted. So she ignored the weight of that thought and the sad pull in her chest. At least this giant wasn’t scowling at her.

“Are we in trouble?” Astrid asked Bastian timidly.

“Nah,” Bastian replied. “Luka’s not gonna bust me for looking shabby in his shop, are ya Luk’? Buddy old pal a’ mine?”

“Oh yeah,” replied Luka regarding Bastian with a sly smile, seamlessly switching to English. “For that jacket? Absolutely. But I won’t throw you out of the store for it. Geez, Baz. It looks just like the one you wore in secondary school.”

“It is the one I wore in secondary school.” Bastian grinned knowingly.

“It is not.” Luka replied flatly.

“It is.”

Luka mumbled something, shaking his head. “Well, clearly Cyrus didn’t choose you for your fashion sense.”

“Thank the stars for that!” Bastian said and then shrugged. “No, I’m just endlessly charming.”

“Mm-hm. Charming,” Luka replied sardonically. “Well then, what brings you in today?”

“Need some supplies for the little squeaker here,” he replied as he tilted his head towards Astrid. “They come with a whole shopping list and I know how excited you get about those.”

“Well, come on, let’s get you and...what’s its name?”

“This is Astrid. And she’s a girl.”

“Astrid. Wonderful. Let’s get you set up then huh?”

The pet section of the department store was...a weird experience. All the clothes were so much smaller than the displays they were placed upon, looking more like doll clothes. Wholly out of place, they perfectly summarized the surreal and disconnected way that Astrid felt regarding most of her experiences thus far.

She was left on one of the large display tables, laden with human sized winter coats, while Luka pointed out the various things on the list and started a pile for Bastian. Most of the items were in boxes and bags with writing she did could not read, but a few things she could recognize. Such as the round plush pillow like bed and blankets that looked like hand towels in the hands of the Ferigians.

There was one box that Luka handed to Bastian saying, “This one is the one you want. Best on the market. Completely hands off. Doesn’t need cleaning or nothing. Top of the line.”

“Probably top of my budget too, huh?”

“Laziness has a price tag, Baz. No need for your human to suffer because you’re too lazy to clean its box.”

“Hey now! I just got her and I’m already being accused of neglect?”

“Not with this you won’t be.”

Bastian sighed, grabbing the box and adding it to the pile. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a bit too good at this?”

“All the time,” Luka grinned. “And that’s all the things on your list save for the harness and lead. The harnesses are over in a bin there and the leads are beside them. An adjustable one would probably be best.”

“What about the ID tag?”

“You’ll get that after she’s registered with the city.”

“Oh, okay.”

“And then some clothes,” Luka added thoughtfully looking away from the pet supplies to the clothes. “She might be a bit small for our stock sizes, but we might have some things.”

Bastian looked puzzled. “What’s wrong with clothes she came with?”

Luka leveled an unimpressed stare at Bastian. “You’re kidding.”

Bastian, lost and confused, just shrugged.

“What happens when you need to launder them? What’re they gonna change into in the meantime?”

“Uh...”

“You didn’t even think about washing it did you?”

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m just...”

Luka patted Bastian’s shoulder as though he were a student in desperate need of direction and then steered him back to the clothes and Astrid. “Let me handle things from here, Baz. Go find her a harness that fits. I’ll be back.”

Astrid had to admit that she felt excited about wearing real clothes again. Not that the black flannel pajama getup was uncomfortable, but she’d been wearing it for nearly a week and it was getting itchy. Maybe she would be able to convince them she needed shoes too.

That was when she saw the green coat. It was a long lime green pea coat and it didn’t look too big, she thought. Luka returned not long after carrying an assortment of clothes, a wide white board, and a long yellow measuring tape.

“Let’s try these on for size,” he said and proceeded to take Astrid measurements. Her height, her waist size, leg length, arm length. He was muttering as he did not. “You’re such a tiny thing. Well, lets see if any of these will work.”

Luka began to pull a few articles of clothing out of his collection, piecing tops and bottoms together, and Astrid was suddenly struck with a thought. How was she gonna try on the clothes without a place to change? They didn’t want her to do it out in the open did they? She felt her face flush with mortification. Remembering when Faro has taken her and Tommy’s clothes, she felt a dread that it was entirely possible that they expected her to do just that.

“Um...” she tried, but found her voice lacking. “I...uh...”

“Hm?” Luka asked. “Did you say something?”

“I just...do I have to...uh...” Astrid could not seem to find the proper order to her words and her face felt hot. Luka studied her for a moment before a spark of understanding struck him.

“Are you worried about changing?”

She nodded meekly, rubbing her arms and unable to make eye contact.

“Aw,” Luka smiled in a warm pitying way and petted her on the head. “No worries kechtein. I’ve got you covered. Literally.”

He reach down and pulled out the broad white board and pulled one of the sides. The flat piece opened up onto a sort of pop up box with a small doorway cut out. Just big enough for a human to stand comfortably in and presumably try on clothes. The walls were frosted plastic so as to allow light through. Under Luka’s direction, Astrid tried on various clothes. They were all made of the same kind of material, a soft sort of jersey knit. Luka explained that sort of material was best for kid’s clothes, both human and Feirgian, as it was stretchy and more durable.

Most of the clothes however, turned out to be too small.

“Baz, you need to feed this thing more. She’s too small,” Luka laughed when Astrid stepped out of the changing room in a shirt that was almost a dress and pants that she had to hold up.

“She ate half a paumpa all by herself,” replied Bastian, trying to keep his own laughter down.

“Are paumpa’s safe for humans to eat?” Luka asked.

“Well, she’s not dead yet.”

“I hope that phrase doesn’t constitute your entire philosophy of pet ownership...”

Bastian shrugged. “Well, I’ve never owned a human before so...yeah. Kind of.”

Luka looked at Astrid. “I’m so sorry this idiot picked you.”

Astrid couldn’t help but smile, shifting her grip on the pants. “I think he’s nice.”

“Let me know how you feel after he forgets to feed you for a week,” he replied dryly and then sighed. “Well, there’s a few pieces here that’ll do for you in the meantime. Not as much variety as I had hoped, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Your employee made it very clear vagabonds were not permitted in your fancy store,” Bastian teased, pointing to the not insignificant stack of items behind him.

“You’re not a vagabond. You’re just a bum.”

“A bum whose spending a handsome stack of cash in your store.”

“My favorite kind of bum.”

As the two of them good naturally bickered, Astrid looked to the green coat. It was flashy and fun and she could not help but to stare at it longingly. Bastian had noticed the way she stared at it, glancing over in its direction as Luka fussed over the clothes and he could not help the smile it brought to his face.

“Hey Luk’,” he said and pointed to the coat. “What about that? Think it’d fit her?”

“Hm?” Luka looked at the coat and tilted his head. “Well... Korshe tends to run small. Let’s see.”

Astrid stared at her owner, her eyes lighting up. “I can try it on?”

“Sure, what’s the harm?” he replied before adding, “Says the idiot before seeing the price tag.”

In her excitement to finally try the coat on, Astrid released her hold on the pants and no sooner had she slipped her arms into the coat did they fall into a pile on the floor. Which resulted in both Luka and Bastian laughing. Oddly enough, Astrid did not care all that much. The top were wore was very long, more like a dress than a shirt. And the coat…

...was glorious. It had a soft flannel lining, a denim exterior, and hard brass buttons. And it swung open in a very pleasing way when she twirled. And it was only a bit big on her. She pulled the coat closed, doing up the buttons. The hem rested just shy of her knee caps with a few inches of the shirt showing beneath.

“I would not have picked that color,” Luka admitted, sounding pleased. “But it does look good. Not many people can pull of that color.”

“You like it, Squeaks?” Bastian asked.

With a wide, excited grin, Astrid nodded. “It’s monster green!”

“I guess that makes you a monster then, huh?” Bastian asked. “A very small, very squeaky, and very expensive monster.”

“Oh,” Astrid said, disappointed. Looking over the large pile of supplies and then at the coat, she met Bastian’s confused expression meekly. “It’s probably not on sale, huh?”

Bastian laughed at that.

“Nothing here is ever on sale, kiddo. I think Luka here would die first,” he said and tilting his head, he regarded the small anxious human curiously. “Why would you worry about that? All that before was just a joke, y’know?”

“No, I mean...when Mom bought me clothes,” Astrid explained. “They’d have to be on sale or we couldn’t get it because it was too expensive. Unless we were at the thrift store or something.”

Luka was staring at her oddly and after a moment, turned to Bastian and asked in an incredulous voice, “Baz. Is she wild?”

“Hm? Yeah. Why?”

“But she’s so well behaved!”

“Were you expecting her to bite?” Luka did not answer right away and before he could formulate a coherent reply, Bastian chuckled and slapped him on the shoulder. “Luk’, not all wild humans are...well, wild! We’ve been speaking English this entrie time!”

“I just thought you were being quirky,” Luka said. “We spoke English all the time in secondary.”

“We don’t bite,” Astrid protested and then paused, recalling that in fact Tommy had bitten Faro when they first met. “Well, only if we’re really scared. Or if someone’s trying to hurt us.”

“Well, all I know is the human exhibit at the zoo is covered with plenty of warnings not to try and touch them because they can and will bite.”

Astrid wanted to protest the accusation, to add in what Jarden had told her about zoos. They were not nice places, that many humans there were miserable, and she was sure that if she ever ended up in one, she would not last long. It held the mythical place in her mind normally occupied with places such as Hell and Narnia. Horror and fantasy in equal measure.

“But I don’t bite,” Astrid assured Luka. “That’d be rude. Especially because you’re nice.”

Luka’s surprise, and perhaps a little fear, faltered and was gone. Replaced then with a warm kind of amusement and in a clear demonstration of trust that surprised Astrid, he reached out and petted her head without any hesitation. “Well, I’m sure most wild humans are perfectly pleasant. So long as you’re nice to them.”

“Who wouldn’t want to bite rude people?” Bastian added.

“Just you Baz. Just you.”

Astrid, despite herself, giggled.

#G/T #giant #tiny #human #astrid #bastian #human pets #Luka #gt story

6 notes · View notes