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vaishaliiiii · 10 months

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“Battling Pneumonia: Unveiling the Stealthy Invader of the Lungs”

I. Introduction to Pneumonia

The severe respiratory disease pneumonia is becoming a major global health issue. It comprises a number of kinds, including community-acquired, hospital-acquired, and aspiration pneumonia, which are all characterized by inflammation of lung tissue. Pneumonia, which is typically brought on by bacteria, viruses, and fungus, is more dangerous for the elderly, those with impaired immune systems, and people who have ongoing medical disorders. Its pathophysiology involves infection-driven inflammation, alveolar consolidation, and impaired gas exchange, and it causes symptoms including fever and coughing as well as serious respiratory distress. Timely diagnosis through chest X-rays, blood tests, and culture examinations is crucial. Antibiotics, supportive care, and preventive measures including vaccination and good hygiene are all necessary for effective therapy. It is essential to comprehend the complexity of pneumonia in order to lessen its impact and protect respiratory health.

II. Different Types of Pneumonia

A. Community-Acquired Pneumonia (CAP)

Community-Acquired Pneumonia (CAP), an acute lung infection, strikes individuals outside healthcare settings. Typically caused by bacteria like Streptococcus pneumoniae or viruses like influenza, CAP’s symptoms encompass fever, cough, and difficulty breathing. Diagnosed via chest X-rays and clinical assessments, early detection is vital. Treatment usually involves antibiotics and rest, tailored to the causative agent. While most CAP cases resolve with proper care, severe instances may require hospitalization. In order to lessen the effects of CAP, preventive steps like immunizations, excellent cleanliness, and avoiding close contact with sick people are essential. Promoting CAP awareness helps with early detection, effective care, and preserving the respiratory health of the population.

B. Hospital-Acquired Pneumonia (HAP)

Hospital-Acquired Pneumonia (HAP), a nosocomial infection, afflicts patients after 48 hours of hospitalization. Frequently caused by bacteria such as Klebsiella or Pseudomonas, HAP results from weakened immunity, invasive procedures, or ventilator use. Fever, purulent sputum, and respiratory discomfort are symptoms. Imaging and culture-based rapid diagnosis are crucial. Targeted antibiotics and supportive care are used throughout treatment. Preventive methods emphasize the need of decreasing HAP’s impact in healthcare settings by incorporating infection control techniques, good hand hygiene, and minimizing invasive procedures.

C. Ventilator-Associated Pneumonia (VAP)

Ventilator-Associated Pneumonia (VAP) emerges in ventilated patients, primarily bacterial in origin due to contaminated equipment and weakened immunity. Fever, deteriorated lung function, and purulent discharges are all symptoms. In order to lessen the effects of VAP and protect ventilator-dependent people from respiratory problems, quick diagnosis, tailored medicines, and preventive measures including strict cleanliness are essential.

D. Aspiration Pneumonia E. Atypical Pneumonia

Aspiration Pneumonia results from inhaling foreign substances into the lungs, often due to impaired swallowing or altered consciousness. It causes inflammation and localized infection. Atypical Pneumonia, caused by bacteria like Mycoplasma or viruses like Legionella, presents with milder symptoms compared to typical bacterial pneumonia. Clinical assessment, imaging, and occasionally specialized testing are used in the diagnosis process. Treating Aspiration Pneumonia requires addressing underlying causes and antibiotics, while Atypical Pneumonia may need specific antimicrobial agents. In order to avoid problems and provide the best possible respiratory recovery, early identification and effective care are essential.

III. Causes and Risk Factors

Numerous infectious organisms, including bacteria, viruses, and fungi, can cause pneumonia. Streptococcus pneumoniae and Haemophilus influenzae are common bacterial offenders, and viruses like the flu and respiratory syncytial virus also play a role. Risk factors include age, with extremes being more vulnerable, and conditions such as chronic lung diseases and immunodeficiency. Smoking weakens lung defenses, making you more vulnerable. Hospital-acquired and ventilator-associated pneumonia is more likely to occur when using a ventilator and being hospitalized. Aspiration pneumonia can be brought on by the aspiration of foreign material into the lungs, which frequently results from poor swallowing or altered awareness. Effective prevention and focused treatment techniques benefit from an understanding of these causes and dangers.

IV. Pathophysiology of Pneumonia

A. Infection and Inflammation

Pneumonia initiates with infectious agents invading the lungs, triggering inflammation. Immune reactions brought on by bacterial or viral colonization irritate lung tissue and induce fluid buildup. Inflammation impairs gas exchange, disrupting oxygen supply to the bloodstream.This chain reaction might cause serious respiratory discomfort if left unchecked. Effective treatment of pneumonia depends on identifying and controlling inflammation brought on by infections.

B. Alveolar Consolidation

Alveolar consolidation is a hallmark of pneumonia, where air-filled sacs in the lungs (alveoli) become filled with fluid, pus, and cellular debris due to infection and inflammation. This buildup prevents the exchange of oxygen and carbon dioxide, impairing lung function and reducing the amount of oxygen reaching the bloodstream. Alveolar consolidation must be identified and treated in order to restore normal lung airflow and avoid pneumonia-related consequences.

C. Complications

Impaired gas exchange is a critical consequence of pneumonia. Inflamed lung tissues and alveolar consolidation disrupt the normal transfer of oxygen from the air into the bloodstream and carbon dioxide out of the bloodstream into the air.Hypoxemia and respiratory failure may result from this. Pneumonia can lead to pulmonary abscesses, sepsis, and long-term lung damage. In order to reduce these dangers and guarantee proper gas exchange, prompt intervention is essential.

V. Clinical Presentation

Pneumonia’s clinical presentation varies but often includes fever, productive cough with discolored or bloody mucus, chest pain, and difficulty breathing. Rapid breathing, increased heart rate, and fatigue are common. Physical examination might reveal crackling sounds in the lungs and low oxygen levels. Elderly individuals may present with subtle symptoms. The diagnosis is supported by diagnostic procedures such blood cultures, sputum analyses, and chest X-rays. The prompt identification of these symptoms, coupled with a comprehensive clinical evaluation, directs the most appropriate course of action, assisting in the prevention of complications and ensuring that pneumonia patients recover as fully as possible.

VI. Treatment and Management

Treatment for pneumonia is addressing the underlying cause, frequently by employing medicines that target the particular pathogenic agent. Rest, hydration, and painkillers are all parts of supportive care. In extreme situations, hospitalization may be required for oxygen therapy and intravenous antibiotics. Ventilator support may be required in critical instances. The prevention of problems through prompt action and close observation is another component of management techniques. The most important preventive approach is vaccination against prevalent causal agents. Changes in behavior, such quitting smoking, improve respiratory health. To promote a successful recovery and reduce the negative effects of pneumonia on patients’ general wellbeing, tailored therapy that is informed by the severity of symptoms and risk factors is essential.

VII. Prevention

Pneumonia can be prevented in a variety of ways. The significance of vaccination is crucial since it protects against bacterial and viral diseases including influenza and Streptococcus pneumoniae. Transmission risks can be decreased by practicing excellent hygiene, which includes frequent handwashing and avoiding close contact with sick people. Smoking must be stopped since it impairs lung defenses. Adequate nutrition and staying hydrated support a healthy immune system. Strict infection control procedures and appropriate equipment sterilization in healthcare environments reduce the incidence of hospital acquired pneumonia. People can dramatically lower their risk of developing pneumonia and improve overall respiratory health by putting a priority on vaccination, hygiene, healthy practices, and infection control.

VIII. Complications and Prognosis

A variety of conditions, such as respiratory failure, sepsis, and lung abscesses, are included under the consequences of pneumonia. Elderly individuals and those with underlying health conditions are at higher risk. Prolonged recovery and impaired lung function can persist even after treatment. Early and effective therapy greatly enhances prognosis and lessens the possibility of serious consequences. However, pneumonia can result in long-term lung damage and higher fatality rates in severe cases, particularly if it is not properly treated. To reduce complications and improve the prognosis for those who have pneumonia, it is essential to monitor patients for signs of worsening, guarantee complete antibiotic courses, and provide proper supportive care.

IX. Research and Advances

A. Emerging Therapies: Emerging therapies for pneumonia include targeted antimicrobials, personalized treatment based on pathogen sequencing, and immunomodulatory agents. These developments seek to improve therapeutic effectiveness, lower medication resistance, and lessen side effects. Further study has the potential to advance pneumonia management and enhance patient outcomes.

B. Drug Resistance: Drug resistance in pneumonia is a growing concern. Antibiotic overuse and abuse results in bacterial resistance, which reduces the efficacy of treatment. Multidrug-resistant strains, like MRSA and MDR-Pseudomonas, pose challenges. In order to combat changing infections and maintain effective treatment options, combating resistance necessitates prudent antibiotic usage, infection control procedures, and the development of new therapeutic techniques.

C. Vaccination Development: Vaccination development against pneumonia pathogens is ongoing. Infection rates have decreased as a result of vaccines that target Streptococcus pneumoniae and other germs. Influenza and pneumococcal vaccinations are recommended to prevent viral and bacterial pneumonia. In order to treat pneumonia, research is constantly improving currently available vaccinations and creating new ones.

In addition to that Qme Healthcare System Software plays a pivotal role in research and development within the healthcare industry. It provides thorough tools for data collection, management, and analysis, making it easier to track patient data, treatment results, and medical trends in an effective manner. Its capabilities can be used by researchers to find trends, evaluate the success of interventions, and advance evidence-based medicine. Qme Healthcare System Software also makes it possible for researchers, physicians, and administrators to work together, streamlining communication and quickening the research process. By combining artificial intelligence and advanced analytics, it promotes innovation in healthcare research and development, advances medical knowledge, and helps with predictive modeling.

X. Conclusion

In conclusion, pneumonia continues to be a major worldwide health issue that necessitates prompt diagnosis, individualized treatment, and preventative measures. The Qme Healthcare System Software becomes a crucial tool as we work to lessen its effects. Qme Healthcare System Software improves our comprehension of the intricacies of pneumonia by enabling simplified data administration, strong analytics, and collaborative research, opening the door for creative therapies. Its role in encouraging interdisciplinary collaboration and expanding evidence-based procedures highlights its commitment to bettering patient outcomes, ultimately paving the way for a more promising future in the fight against pneumonia and other respiratory disorders.

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ningningsplushie · 3 years

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New Suit

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Word count: 2316

Genre: light angst, fluff, idol Yoongi, unintentional asshole Yoongi, steamy ;)

Summary: Yoongi LOVES coming to your shop for all his fashion needs. Coming in for a new fitting due to him ripping his previous suit from his muscles, you and him get to talking.

Warnings: coarse language, does a makeout session count as a warning??? Mean (but unintentional) Yoongi, implied smut

“No, NO, absolutely not! Min Yoongi, get your ass out of my shop right this minute.”

This was the third time this month that Yoongi came into Y/N’s tailor shop to request a brand new suit. What this man did with his suit jackets and shirts, she didn’t know, neither did she want to, but what she did want was him out of the door.

“That’s not how you treat a customer, now is it?” he jeered, resting his elbow on the counter.

Yoongi was notorious in Y/N’s shop. Always requesting a new fitting, a new pair of trousers or jacket, even going as far as asking for handmade embellishments. Her shop was a humble thing before he traipsed his way inside just a year ago but had quickly turned into a successful business due to his position in BTS.

Y/N scoffs. “You’re not even a customer at this point. You’re more of a-a-I DON’T EVEN KNOW BUT PLEASE GIVE ME A BREAK!” She bursts, pulling at both ends of the tape measure in frustration.

He tsks, focusing on her eyes as he asks, “Why are you so bent up over me coming here? I’m bringing you money and new customers, aren’t I?”

That part was definitely true. Ever since he stepped foot in the shop, her business was better than ever. Y/N owed it to Yoongi for everything taking off. If it weren’t for him, she probably would have had to close the place down.

She sighs, shoulders slumping in defeat. “You’re right, Yoongi. I’m really sorry. New jacket and shirt for today?”

Yoongi hums in satisfaction, playing around with the rings on his fingers. “You know me so well.” He praised, offering her his signature gummy smile.

“Do I need to take your measurements again?”

He tilts his head side to side in mock consideration, mouth set in a frown of concentration. “I think it’s better if you do. I’ve been hitting the gym a lot more.”

Y/N crosses her arms, glaring at Yoongi. “Is that supposed to impress me?”

“Does it not?”

“No.” Immediately shooting away his chances at flirting.

He waves his hand around, swatting at nothing but the air. “Either way, it’s the truth. My back muscles kept ripping everything you made me.”

“I- Jesus Christ, Yoongi. How many times have you hit the gym this month?”

He shrugs his shoulders, absentmindedly looking around the place. “Enough.”

“Just please, step on the podium so we can get this over with.” She spits back.

“With pleasure.”

He steps on the podium and Y/N begins her work of measuring everything from his shoulders, arms, chest, sleeve length, and so on.

She has her tape measure wrapped around his waist and it’s eerily silent. Normally Yoongi would try to crack jokes or make polite conversation but for some odd reason, it wasn’t happening today.

“Is this for another award show?” She asks, fingers cinching the tape even tighter.

“Yeah, as always.” He uttered, gaze focused on Y/N as she doesn’t pay attention to him.

“You think you guys are going to win?”

“I mean...I don’t want to get cocky or anything but whatever Min Yoongi wants, Min Yoongi gets.”

Y/N chuckles. “It’s nice to know your job is keeping you humble.”

“Hey, it was a joke. Of course I hope we win. We all put our blood, sweat, and tears into this album. We worked really hard and we don’t want it to go unnoticed.”

Y/N didn’t want to admit it to him but ever since she met Yoongi, she’s been keeping up with the band. Watching award and comeback shows, listening to their newest releases, and following any press releases. She knew the boys, especially Yoongi, busted their asses off to get them where they are now.

“I know you did. And don’t worry, you’ll be sweeping all the awards. Especially as best producer.”

“Is this the Y/N being sweet? To me? Who would have thought?”

“Don’t get too cozy, Yoongi. This won’t be a regular occurrence,” she retorts back, wrapping the tape measure around his biceps.

“What a shame,” he murmurs, admiring Y/N’s delicate hands around his arm.

An awkward silence fills the room once more, only the sound of fabrics ruffling around and Y/N scribbling the rapper’s measurements in the notepad.

“Yoongi, can I ask you something?”

He licks his lips, head tilting to the side, and looks at Y/N through his eyelashes. “Depends. Are you asking me out?” Cuz I-”

“It’s definitely not that,” she huffs, cutting him off. “Not when you can have any girl in the world.”

Yoongi looks down at his shoes. “Any, but apparently not you,” he utters under his breath.

He supposed Y/N’s statement was true enough. There was an onslaught of men and women trying to get close with the rapper but in his eyes, only Y/N existed.

“Anyways,” she continues, not hearing whispered confession. “If I’m not mistaken, you’re a millionaire or whatever. Why don’t you just have your own wardrobe filled with suits and outfits for events?”

Y/N finishes with measuring Yoongi and takes a step back, putting the tape measure over her shoulders. With this question, he smirks and inches closer to Y/N, placing one hand in his pocket. “You’re a tailor, why don’t you just have a collection of my own suits for me?”

Y/N tenses up, eyes roving over Yoongi’s face for any hint of a joke. She gently pushes him by the shoulder, wanting to create space between each other. “Listen here, Min Yoongi, and listen good. I am not your personal tailor. You can’t show up here every week for a new order because you’re too incompitent to take care of your clothing and expect me to comply with a smile. Your orders are not my main concern, not when I have so many other customers.”

Yoongi regretted the words the second they left his mouth. He was trying so hard to be that sly and charming type but in Y/N’s presence, his words jumble up and he says the exact opposite of what he means to say. He didn’t mean to play Y/N out like his personal seamstress but there certainly was a reason why he came to her shop for every one of his fashion needs. It was odd, really, but every time he wore something she had made, she could feel the care and detail that was put into it and it made him feel like it was especially for him. Wearing clothing from another designer felt wrong.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry, I-”

She puts her hand up, interjecting him. “Save it, Yoongi. I’m done with your business for now. Your suit will be done in a week. Have a nice day.”

Yoongi pushes his hair from his forehead back, nodding his head and walking towards the exit, not saying anything more in fear of upsetting her further.

A week later

It’s a week after Yoongi’s idiotic slip-up in Y/N’s store and to say that he was nervous to face her, would be an understatement. He wanted to apologize and make it up to her, for all the times he thought he was being funny or slick but was a complete dick in reality. He hesitantly walks into the shop, a large box in hand, the chime of the bells sounding more like a cacophony of jeers.

Normally, he’d find Y/N in the main room altering a few of her creations or taking the measurements of new customers, but as of now, she’s nowhere to be found.

“Y-Y/N!” He stutters, peering through the different doorways, trying to find her.

“Just a minute!” She yells back from her workroom.

A few long minutes pass by and she leaves her workroom, thinking it was another customer and not Yoongi. “Hello, what can I do for y-oh. It’s you. Hi Yoongi. I’ll get your suit for you.”

She leaves once more and Yoongi debates on just dropping the box and running out the door, afraid that he’d fuck up even more.

“Here Yoongi, I changed it up a little bit since you’ve been wearing black for a while now. I hope it’s to your liking.”

Not only did she make him a new button-up and jacket, but she even went the extra mile and made a new pair of trousers, a tie, and a pocket hanky. He looked at the suit through the clear bag, offering a tight-lipped smile. “I love it. Your talent never fails to amaze me. But please, don’t be so formal.”

“I’m sorry but we’re nothing more than customers and sellers. It’s strictly professional.”

With a dejected look spread across his face, he attempts to reach for Y/N’s hand but she pulls back, placing the suit on a counter. “You can’t mean that.”

“I do mean it. You’re taking me and my work for granted and you keep asking me to pump out designs. I’m exhausted, Yoongi.”

He nods, ruffling his hair and tightening his grasp on the box. “If you really feel that way then please, hear me out first and if your choice doesn’t change, then that’s fine.”

“Alright,” she says softly, “I’m listening.”

Yoongi places the box on the counter, next to the bagged suit. “I come to your shop because I like seeing you. I like wearing the clothing you make for me, just for me and the details you put into it because I know that you pay attention to me even if you don’t want to admit it. I like the way you scold me and I like the way you get shy whenever I say something stupid. What I don’t like was overworking you and forcing you to neglect other orders. It was so selfish of me because I just can't get enough of you. I want to walk in here everyday and ask for the most stupid things like a new tie or pair of socks. But I won’t, because I know you don’t like that.”

Y/N’s eyes go wide and her mouth forms an ‘o’ shape but Yoongi proceeds with his declaration. “I’m so sorry for hurting you, that wasn’t my intention. I was...I was just trying to flirt with you but I got nervous and messed everything up.”

“Why would you want to flirt with me?” she asks, jutting her bottom lip out.

“Are you that oblivious!? Because I like you for fuck’s sakes! You make me-you make me wanna-”

Yoongi pulls Y/N both of her arms towards him and smashes his lips onto hers. Y/N at first tenses up at the contact, shocked by his response, which makes Yoongi want to pull away from her, scared that he messed things up between them even more. Just as he’s about to disconnect his lips from hers, Y/N melts into the kiss, arms no longer frigid along her sides, but now finding their way into his mint green locks. Adrenaline courses through Yoongi’s body, giving him the confidence to deepen the kiss.

Yoongi could only focus on her. How her lips felt, how she tasted, how her hands gripped his hair and the back of the neck. He could feel her knees begin to buckle and he mumbles into her lips, “jump.” She does so and Yoongi hooks his arms under her thighs. To him, nothing and no one else existed. Time seemed to stop yet zoom past all at once, he wasn’t so certain, but what he did know was that he would stay glued to Y/N for the rest of his life if he could. Y/N begins to draw back and utters a small, “Yoongi, we can’t.”

He continues leaving sloppy kisses on her jaw and neck, mumbling into her skin, “Can’t what?”

“This. I can’t be with you. What are people going to say? They won’t like that you're with...a seamstress.”

Yoongi’s lips disconnect from Y/N and he looks at her, both of their lips plump from making out. “They’re gonna say a whole lot. But guess what? I don’t give a shit. They’re not the ones kissing you,” A kiss to the left side of her mouth. “They’re not the ones craving you,” another kiss to the right side of her mouth. “And they’re certainly not the ones who are going to date you.” He plants another kiss on the center of her mouth.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to regret it.” Y/N counters, unsure of his confession.

“Y/N, I’ve never been so sure about a person in my whole life. If people want to talk, we’ll let them talk because we won’t be listening. I’ll be too busy with you.” He smirks, letting go of Y/N’s thighs. “So what do you say?” He slides the box towards Y/N, opening the lid for her, revealing a gorgeous dress of tulle and silk.

“I know you love fashion more than anything so I had this dress made just for you. It doesn’t beat any of your clothing but I hope you still like it. I also hope you’ll wear this on our first date?” He draws up the tone of the last statement, closing his eyes in fear of being rejected.

“Yoongi, I absolutely love it. Thank you so much.” He begins to loosen his shoulders, reopening his eyes. Y/N snakes her hand up to his chest, pausing when she reaches his shoulder and leans in towards his ear, whispering, “I’d love to go out with you, Min Yoongi.”

He reattaches his lips with hers yet again, causing her to gasp in surprise. “Maybe if I’m lucky, it’ll end up on the floor at the end of the night.”

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semixfenz · 1 month

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Maximizing Curtain Potential with Timely Alterations

The ancient proverb "a stitch in time saves nine" is particularly true when it comes to changing the curtains since quick alterations may significantly impact the result. This essay explores the craft of altering curtains, from figuring out whether adjustments are necessary to produce a polished final result. From hemming to obtaining the appropriate length, adjusting breadth for best covering, and including ornamental features, this complete book provides useful insights into the timing and techniques required for perfectly made curtains.

BX Tailor and Alterations: Your Solution for Curtain Alteration and Repair

Buying ready-made curtains might make it difficult to find the proper fit for your windows. They can be overly long, somewhat short, or extremely broad, resulting in frequent bunching and an unpleasant look. The answer to this typical problem is to have the curtains tailored to match your decor. However, finding a reputable firm to do these changes may be as difficult as locating well-fitting curtains—unless you turn to BX Tailor and Alterations.

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Adjust the length: The most popular change requested by our consumers, our professional seamstresses quickly tailor your curtains to the correct length.

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Customization: Enhance your store-bought curtains with unique trimmings or bespoke tie-backs for a personalized look that complements your decor.

Curtain Lining: BX Tailor and Alterations's skill and ability may help you improve the light-blocking or insulating properties of your curtains by adding lining.

Curtain Repairs: A curtain tailor near me provides full repair services for both new and old curtains, restoring them to their former brilliance.

Enhancing Your Interior Using BX Tailor and Alterations

Our Curtain Tailor understands the important value curtains play in home design and decorating. Curtains primarily decorate your room, determining its style and atmosphere. As a result, having curtains that don't fit correctly is similar to wearing clothes that are too big or too tiny. To address this worry, Curtain Alteration Borehamwood provides a wide choice of curtain adjustment and repair services that can quickly and economically change your ill-fitting window treatments into the center point of your interior décor scheme.

Do not settle with curtains that no longer fit. Entrust them to BX Tailor and Alterations, where we specialize in making your idea a reality.

Say Goodbye to Ill-Fitting Curtains with B X Tailor and Alterations.

Previously, if your curtains were either bunching up on the floor owing to excessive length or closely clutching the curtain rod due to their width or if you needed more lining fitted, your options were typically restricted. However, with B X Tailor and Alterations by your side, you won't have to put up with ill-fitting curtains anymore. Our knowledgeable and efficient staff members use cutting-edge processes and materials to ensure that you receive immaculate results. Furthermore, we provide competitive pricing and quick response times to ensure your pleasure.

#B X Tailor and Alterations

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forehead-enthusiast · 5 years

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Viscaria

Pairing: Crown Prince!Jeno x Reader

Genre: fluuuuuuuuuffffff (my friend described it as cavity inducing sweetness), royalty!au, somewhat a cinderella!au tbh

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: The prince is throwing a ball, and even commoners like you and Jeno are invited.

A/N: sorry this wasn’t up sooner!! even though its a bit late, i hope you’ll give this a read thank you!! also look up ‘viscaria flower meaning’ if you want

"Have you heard about the ball the prince is throwing?"

Only from every other customer that'd strolled into your store today with their clothes to be mended and gossip to be shared. Still, you could humor your most frequent visitor.

"Oh do tell, Jeno."

The boy leaning across your counter beamed, his handsome features scrunching boyishly. He'd made a habit of dropping by, always with some small request he'd use as an excuse to chat. You never minded, happy for any company, but especially his. He'd energetically tell you about whatever was buzzing about the village, and small stories about his everyday life- that is, when he didn't giggle too much to recount them properly. He’d tell you about his work as a gardener, tending to flowers and befriending ladybugs.

Jeno was not a gardener.

It was the only lie he'd told you. Even that pained him, but it was necessary in order to avoid a commotion every time he snuck away from the castle and his princely duties. Whenever he grew too overwhelmed, too bored, too frustrated, he'd shed his usual clothes and replace them with ones he borrowed from the castle's actual gardener, and head straight for you.

He'd first stumbled into your store without meaning to, dodging a few castle guards coincidentally walking by. Once he'd gathered his bearings, though, and looked around, he knew he'd have to come back again. He'd seen sprawling gardens, majestic paintings, buildings made of gleaming marble, and yet had never seen anything as beautiful as your little store. Vivid scraps of fabric and thread littered the floor, like a patchwork made of other people's lives, with little bits of their memories strewn about. Streaks of light speckled the floor from a window made hazy from dust. Pins and buttons glittered in the blurred sunlight, more dazzling than any jewel. It was breathtaking.

And then he saw you.

Jeno had never believed in love at first sight, or in angels, but you changed both of those beliefs in an instant. He watched as you dusted off your hands and swept your hair back with your palms, your brow furrowed as you focused on your work. He didn't speak a word, too captivated to risk breaking this moment.

"Oh, hello! I'm sorry, I didn't see you. How can I help you?"

"...What?"

You looked at him questioningly. "How can I help you? What do you need repaired?" Your gaze fell upon a large tear in his cloak. "Oh, I see." He looked around, then followed your eyes to the same rip, and realized it must've happened just before.

"A-ah, yes. That."

"Well, I can fix something like that quickly, if you don’t mind waiting a few minutes."

He nodded eagerly at the chance to spend even a second longer with you, and wondered how much clothing he could intentionally tear in the future before you’d realize his true motives.

Now, many months and many visits later, Jeno was perched in your store yet again, eyes alight at the prospect of a ball.

"So it's said to be held at the end of this month, and everyone in the kingdom is invited!"

"Oh, how exciting for them!"

He practically wilted at your response. "Them? What about you?" It's not as though he'd planned this whole thing just to have a chance to dance with you or anything. It's not as though he'd imagined holding you in his arms as you swayed to the dreamlike music in his head countless times.

You laughed. "Jeno, please. What would I do at a ball? Besides, I think they'd take one look at me, all covered in grease and rags and turn me away before I even got inside."

"Well, first of all, you would dance." With me, he yelled internally. "And there'd be delicious food and wonderful music. And even if you just wore what you're wearing now, you'd still look b-beautiful."

You blushed to hear those words from his lips.

"Well, I- thanks." A kind of pink pause hung softly in the air. "B-but still," you composed yourself, "I wouldn't feel comfortable around all the fancily dressed people. I'd just want to curl up and hide."

"So if you had a fancy dress, you'd go?"

"Yeah, sure," you replied casually, expecting this to be the end of the conversation.

"Then I'll get you one!"

"...Does the gardening business pay that much better than I suspected?"

Jeno wracked his brain for an excuse that would soothe your suspicious expression.

"M-my sis-" You already knew he had no siblings. "My mo-" That just seemed weird for some reason. "My, um, my aunt! Has a dress. That she could lend you. Definitely. And if it doesn't fit, you can just tailor it yourself! She won't mind at all, I promise. It'll be perfect!"

You struggled to find an excuse, but despite all his stuttering, it didn't seem like a bad plan. Plus, he was clearly dying for you to go. You wondered if he was just desperate to go himself, and needed another commoner to make him feel at ease, and hesitated to reject his offer.

"You should go, I'll-" his voice caught in his throat as he tried to think of a way to be honest without, you know, giving away his whole identity. "I'll meet you there."

"Jeno…" Not entirely persuaded, you turned to protest, only to look into his expectant eyes and relent. "Fine, I'll go. But if I end up looking awful or spilling something on the royal family, that's on you."

He grinned. "No problem!"

Jeno paced the castle corridors, thinking up ideas for the dress he'd give you. It didn't actually exist, after all. He'd thought up a plan- ask the royal tailor to whip up a dress, slip him a few extra coins for his silence, and sneak it out to you. It felt a bit odd to order anything from a tailor other than you. However, that feeling was greatly overpowered by the fact that he got to choose a dress for you. He didn't know much about clothing, yet infinite ideas filled his head when he pondered about what would bring out your beautiful eyes, what would look nice on your skin tone, what you would like, most of all.

He used every ounce of brain power he had, rainbows of fabrics swimming around within his mind. Eventually, he spat out a haphazard combination of all his ideas to the dressmaker, and just hoped for the best. He flushed when the tailor chuckled at his request, and sighed with relief when the man promised to keep it a secret.

Now all Jeno had to do was wait.

It wasn't as easy as it sounded. He wanted desperately for it to be done, to bring it to you, to know for certain you'd be at the ball. He tried to busy himself with the organization of the event, but could never prevent his mind from wandering to you.

Finally, what felt like decades later, he visited the dressmaker again, anxious with anticipation. With a glint in his eye, the tailor unveiled his creation, and watched with satisfaction as Jeno's eyes widened.

"Y/n! It's been awhile! I brought my…" What had he said again? Oh, right! "My aunt's dress!"

You looked at the bag he held out eagerly, and hesitated to take it. "She's really lending it to me? And letting me alter it if I need to?" You took it gingerly from Jeno, and marveled at the weight of the parcel. "How can she afford things like this?"

"She's, uh… in crippling debt."

"That's terrible!"

"Um, yep! It's so bad. I actually can't stay, but I'll see you at the ball!"

Jeno hurried out the door, with last minute preparations for the ball to complete. Or, as you assumed, incredibly urgent gardening duties.

You felt rather remiss he had to leave so quickly. Of course, you were happy to have the dress and a ball in your future, but you treasured his little chats far more. He seemed busier and busier these days. You missed the idle time you shared with him, and flushed as you wondered when he'd become such an important part in your life.

The morning of the ball arrived. Despite your original reluctance to go, your heart pounded as you washed yourself and combed through your hair. You weren't exactly an expert in the appearance field, but you did your best to make yourself look as high class as you could, and were fairly proud of the results. You slipped into the dress, more luxurious against your skin than anything you'd ever experienced. It luckily hung long enough to cover your shoes, which were simply your own, and desperately outclassed and unfit for a ball. The dress, much more suitable for the occasion, hadn't needed many alterations, but with a little hemming here and there, it truly looked like it was made for you. Which it was, but you never would’ve guessed that.

You looked at your reflection in your dusty mirror, and felt your breath hitch in your throat. Your eyes fell to take in the beauty of the dress directly.

It was a masterpiece. It was like a watercolor painting, with a myriad of colors layered upon one another. The skirt was covered in lace and embroidery of small pink and purple flowers, like a whimsical meadow draping over your legs. You wondered what kind of flowers they were. The fabric was light and airy, and seemed to float on the wind at every movement you made. Words simply couldn't do it justice.

Jeno's aunt had marvelous taste.

You hurried towards the palace, careful not to let your skirt drag on the ground. As you reached the steps, you felt that same reluctance you once had about attending return. The building before you could've fit countless of your stores within it, and its magnificence intimidated you. This wasn’t somewhere that you ever imagined welcoming you. You closed your eyes, and thought of how Jeno's eyes sparkled when you agreed to go. You walked up the steps, your old shoes taking you towards him.

Jeno waited for you inside, licking his lips nervously. What was he even so nervous for? You said you'd come, and he knew you wouldn't go back on your word. Still, it was killing him to sit around and smile at everyone except you. He'd danced with a few others, politely making small talk, all the while wondering what you were doing. His eyes flicked towards the entrance every few seconds, and he was always disappointed when you weren't there.

And then suddenly, without warning, you were.

Jeno’s heart stopped.

He forgot how to breathe when he saw you. He’d seen the dress before, he’d seen you often enough to recall your every detail, and yet, he couldn’t fathom how stunning you were in it. You seemed almost iridescent in the light of the chandeliers- every inch of you glowed as you stepped in. He stared at you unblinkingly, desperate to burn the image of you into his mind. The way the opalescent petals cascaded down on you, the way your hair curved around your cheekbones, the way your star-filled eyes flicked around the room, the way he knew they were looking for him- everything about you made him fall in love all over again.

He knew eyes were following him as he approached you slowly, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Your eyes lit up as they found him, and you hurried over to him. In your carelessness, your heel caught on the bottom of your skirt, and you cursed yourself as you toppled forward. You scrunched your eyes shut and waited for the pain of falling to come, but it didn’t. You cautiously looked up as you recognized the feeling of smooth fabric against your cheek.

Jeno was beaming above you, still a little awestruck. His hold on your shoulders was more tentative than usual. It almost felt as if the whole room was looking at you two together, although you couldn’t imagine why, and you flushed.

“H-hi, Jeno.”

“Hi.”

He helped you straighten up, and you laughed awkwardly, annoyed that you’d embarrassed yourself already. Jeno didn’t seem bothered, and you envied his easygoing nature.

Once you’d gathered your bearings, you took in the ballroom around you. It was truly stunning. You’d never seen anything like it in your life. Everything seemed to sparkle- a far cry from your dust-covered store. Melodies flowed sweetly into your ears. It was as wonderful as Jeno insisted it would be; you couldn’t deny it. Your gaze circled back to Jeno’s smile, the most breathtaking sight in the room, and fell onto his outstretched hands.

“What is it?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Did you forget that you’re meant to dance at these? Or… wait, do you not want to? ‘Cause if that’s the case I won’t make you! I shouldn’t have asked, I-”

Jeno’s mouth clamped shut as you took his hands with a laugh.

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to.”

Jeno shoulders relaxed happily, and he led you onto the dance floor. Your skirt just grazed the marble tiles every time he spun you, as if it were dancing too. You wondered where a gardener learned to dance so well. He guided you with unexpected confidence, graceful as a swan gliding across a glossy sheet of water. Your heart had always had a habit of racing around Jeno, but looking at his elegant self now, and feeling his hands firmly holding you, you wondered if you might die from the way it quickened.

The song finished, but Jeno didn’t let go.

His hand pressed against the small of your back, pulling you tighter against his chest.

“Just… a little longer. Please.”

The feeling of your body against his, the rhythm of the music still pounding in his chest, the way your breath tickled his jaw- it was more intoxicating than all of the fantasies that had persuaded him to throw this ball in the first place. He wished the clock would stop ticking, and allow him to just live in this moment for eternity.

He finally let you go, a reluctant smile on his face. You wondered if he’d felt your racing heartbeat through your bodice, and tried not to show how breathlessly enamored with him you were.

With the natural grace you still weren’t used to, he led you outside to a nearby terrace, and grinned as he saw you take in the view from the balcony with wonder.

“Jeno, isn't it just the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?”

His eyes followed the moonlight melting on the curve of your nape, the outline of your shoulders.

“...Yes.”

You turned around to see him sitting on a marble bench, watching you blissfully. Lifting your skirt carefully, you hurried over and plopped down next to him. The layers of your gown rippled into a hypnotic melange of hues, and you found yourself admiring it for the thousandth time.

“Thank you for getting me here, Jeno. For the dress, the dance, the persuading,” You laughed, remembering his persistence. “For everything.”

Jeno gazed at you as you dreamily looked off into the distance, and wondered what he should confess first, his feelings or his title.

“Y/n, I… I want to tell you something.” He still hadn’t decided what when the words fell from his lips. Your eyes slid over to him, your head following suit, and you inched closer to him, waiting for him to continue.

“Y/n, I… I’m… I don’t know how to say this, but…” Words like “royalty” or “prince” caught in his throat, and he hesitated, averting his eyes.

“I think I know what you’re trying to say, Jeno, I… feel the same way.”

He stiffened.

“You- you what- wait, that’s not- I was going to- I do, but-”

“Your highness.”

You looked around in confusion until you saw the royal attendant standing a little ways back. He didn’t seem confused, but you certainly were.

“Prince Jeno, the king requests your presence.”

Your eyes widened, and your heart dropped. You stood up, at a loss for words as the pieces began to fall into place. You looked at Jeno’s face for confirmation and got it.

“Y/n, wait!”

“Your highness-”

“Not now!”

Jeno struggled to force his way past the attendant as you ran off. You didn’t know what to think- all you knew was that you wanted to go. To leave, and return to your store and see the gardener you were in love with waiting for you. To forget what you heard, to forget the guilty look in his eyes, to forget the way his hands fit in the angles of your body.

You raced down the steps with all the haste you’d avoided throughout the night, removing your shabby heels the second they caught on the hem of your dress. You left them behind, too desperate to escape all the beauty of the palace. Your carriage raced off at your demand, just as Jeno reached the top of the staircase. He watched as your carriage was lost in the swarm of others just like it, and sighed with frustration, sitting down right where he stood. He huffed, trying to catch his breath.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a pair of slippers laying on their side a few stairs down. They were dull against the polished steps of the castle, and he walked slowly towards them. He picked them up gingerly, and pictured you walking barefoot down the dusty cobblestone road back to your house. He took it with him as he trudged back inside.

“Jeno, your behavior last night was frankly unacceptable.”

Jeno only half listened to his father’s scolding, too depressed to do much of anything.

“Dancing with some unknown girl, leaving with her, and to top it all off, dashing through the ball yelling like some madman? What on earth were you thinking? Were you even thinking at all? Of course you weren’t.”

“...Uh-huh.”

“And that girl, why, she was out of line too, causing that disturbance. I was overjoyed you took the initiative to hold a ball, but why did you bother if you were just going to spend time with one girl?”

“Because she’s the only one that matters.”

The king looked taken aback by Jeno’s answer. His gaze softened as he looked at his son, always so full of energy, slumped over with sadness.

“What happened?”

“She didn’t… she didn’t know. About me, about you, she thought- she thought I was a gardener.”

The king chuckled at the idea, although discovering you were just a peasant wasn’t exactly ideal.

“I love her. I think she loves me too. Loved me, maybe. She found out and-” He buried his face in his hands as he recalled your betrayed expression. “She ran and I ran and she didn’t turn back and she just looked so hurt and I’ve ruined everything. God, I love her so much. I love her.”

“Are you going to go see her?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. She probably doesn’t even want to see my face ever again. I don’t want to just… make things even worse.”

“Knowing you, you probably will.” Jeno finally looked up to see his father grinning, before his features hardened into a serious expression. “But as the future king, you are forbidden from cowardice. You cannot lead people if you yourself are lost, and that is far more inexcusable than running through a ball.”

Jeno’s jaw dropped. He wasn’t exactly expected to be encouraged, even in this stern manner.

“What do I even do? She knows I’m not a gardener now, but she doesn’t know the ‘prince-’”

“Don’t go as a fake gardener, or a guilty prince, just- drop the roles. Go and be honest. Work from there.”

“...Thanks, dad.”

Jeno’s father waved him off nonchalantly and sighed as he left, wondering if he might’ve just lost his heir. So be it, either way. There wasn’t any point, any justice to keeping around his son as just a shell of himself, forever longing for something. He wondered what you were like. He hoped he’d get to meet you some time, and smiled to himself. Not to the him that was a king, but the him that was just a father to one foolish son.

Jeno ran down the streets he knew well, clutching what you’d left behind in his hands. He’d only wrapped a cloak around himself, and knew he must be getting recognized by at least a few villagers, but couldn’t worry about anything but you. He burst through the familiar door.

“Y/n!”

“Je… Your highness.”

There you were, your eyes red and shoulders stiff. You hadn’t managed to sleep. You were half expecting he’d come, but prepared for the future where you’d never see him again. Yet, now he was here, gasping for air in your entryway.

“Do you need something?”

Your thoughts spilled out of you, as inappropriate to say to a prince as they were.

“Was it fun? To mess around with a peasant and play pretend? To make me believe even for a second that you, that someone like you would ever care about someone like me? Was it funny to see me get my hopes up, to see them completely dashed, was it funny?”

Jeno didn’t answer, absolutely speechless, and you fought the urge to cry even more.

“Is there something I can do for you, or what?”

Jeno’s heart slowed, and he felt a lump in his throat grow as he looked into your eyes. He took a few deep breaths. Cowardice was not an option. Cowardice, hesitation, that had led him into this crisis in the first place.

“Um, yes. I have these shoes, you see…”

He held up the slippers you’d abandoned, and you reached for them, embarrassed to see them in the hands of royalty. He pulled back just in time, and you only managed to grab air. He smiled, his heart still shaken.

“They belong to a friend of mine. Well, friend is kind of an understatement. They belong to the person who means more to me than anything. They, they belong to the person that I’m in love with, you see,” he gulped, unable to meet your eyes as he spoke, “And I might have screwed up everything with that person, which is, well, it’s devastating to be honest, but I still love them more than they could ever know and I always will, and, and, and, I don’t know what else to say except how much I love them, and how much I love you and-”

“Please stop talking.”

Jeno looked up to see streaks of tears on your cheeks, ever so slightly smearing the remnants of last night’s cosmetics.

“...I’m sorry I lied to you. i’m so sorry. I liked just being Jeno with you. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I’m in love with Jeno.”

“W-what?”

“I said I’m in love with Jeno. But you, you’re not Jeno, you’re a prince and one day you’ll be a king and I��ll still be here, sewing up tears and hemming pants and wishing Jeno was here.”

“I’m still me, y/n.”

“I know that, but…”

“I’m Jeno. And I am a prince but if you don’t like that, I can be whatever you want! I don’t care, being a prince means nothing to me. I can be a gardener for real, or I could be a tailor with you, but you’ll have to teach me how to sew. I could be a- a- a butcher, or a cobbler or a baker or anything, I can be anything you want me to be.”

You smiled despite yourself, and tried to keep your voice from quivering.

“...I just want you to be mine, Jeno.”

Your slippers fell from his hands onto the floor as he embraced you. You wrapped your arms around him too, still uncertain about most everything except your feelings for him. The warmth of his hands on you was familiar, unchanged. You breathed in his scent, the one you knew by heart. It was your best friend in your arms, the one you knew all too well and were hopelessly in love with.

“I’m yours.”

His thumb slid under your chin, lifting it slightly so he could press his lips to yours. He held you tightly, the way he had when you spun beneath chandeliers, and you could hear those melodies in your mind as you memorized the shape of his lips. He tasted almost floral, and his breath in your lungs was sweet like dew on petals and fresh air after rainfall. Your hands glided up his arms, then to his shoulders, up his neck, until they touched his windswept hair, still messy from when he’d been running. It was messier now, with your fingers woven into it, and softer than you’d imagined in the times when your mind would drift off.

It was hard to think much as he kissed you, about his hair or anything else for that matter. His lips pressed eagerly against your cheeks, your nose, and you found yourself giggling at the ticklish sensation. He smiled too, his lips returning to yours, and you leaned into his kiss. “I really do love you,” He murmured quietly, as if unaware he was speaking at all. His whispered confessions melted into your skin wherever he kissed you, covering your body in promises of love.

“I love you too.”

Jeno looked at your breathless smile, hugged you tighter, and lifted you off the ground to spin you around with ease. Scraps of fabric were swept into the air, fluttering around in feathers of all colors, falling slowly through the hazy sunshine. He set you down gently, ever so slightly dizzy.

It was a far cry from a ballroom, your cramped little store. Dusty sunlight instead of glowing chandeliers, and no gorgeous gowns or elegant music to be found. Still, Jeno’s arms were around you, and you swayed to the sounds of each other’s blissful sighs.

His hand didn't leave yours as you sat down on the patchwork floor, and you flushed when he squeezed tighter.

"Y-you don't have to hold on so tightly."

"Of course I do." He threw you a sly sidelong smile. "Can't have you running away again."

"I won't!"

"Yeah," he breathed as he leaned against you shoulder, "I know."

1K notes · View notes

j77m · 8 months

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bxbridaltailor · 2 months

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#custom-made prom dresses

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bxtailoralteration · 3 months

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1soos · 4 years

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Wasting Time: Part Deux

type: slice of life, best friends to lovers, eventual smut

pairing: namjoon x reader

warnings/things to look for: there’s a moment where something homophobic could happen, but doesn’t. drug and alcohol use, cursing, eventual sex, movie and music references, other than that this is some real soft

length: 5.3k

summary: Namjoon is your best friend and that comes with a lot of perks and privileges.

a/n: it’s been the hottest minute, but here’s part 2. I do not have it in me to angst this up. Read part one here if you wanna.

Namjoon was gone when you woke up; the spare blanket he’d used in the night folded thoughtfully over the back of the couch. He’d cleared away the chicken containers and the beer bottles and moved the weed to the middle of the coffee table. His delicate care and thoughtfulness sits heavy in your chest, making you feel weird and wishing like hell that it didn’t.

You scoop your piece off the table and take a hit while you make your coffee. You don’t work at the boutique until noon and you aren’t scheduled for the park today, so you decide on a chill morning scrolling through memes on insta. You get stuck on a Raimi Spiderman thread, scrolling endlessly through screenshots of The Goth Dance Moment (^TM) when Lisa throws open the apartment door, the long strap of her purse getting caught on the handle. “I have been fucking for the past 7 hours. I need coffee.”

“Nice,” you say, genuinely impressed and point to the percolator.

Lisa throws her miniscule ‘going out’ purse (really the length of the handle is not proportionate to the actual size of the bag and the ridiculousness of it amuses you) to the floor and whispers, “bless,” as she downs half a cup in one go. She tops herself off and lowers herself gently into the chair across from you.

You sit in silence, every once in a while, turning your phone in her direction when you come across particularly relevant Baby Yoda memes. The moment is broken when Lisa groans dramatically and asks you if she’s on the schedule at the boutique like she’s suddenly remembering that she works there.

You tell her to pull up the spreadsheet that your boss sends to you a week in advance (truly the most organized woman you know) and Lisa tells you, “no.”

Instead of having it turn into A Thing, you open the schedule on your phone. You scan quickly for Lisa’s name color coded in bright blue. “You go in at 5,” you tell her. Kind of disappointed, but not surprised that Sunmi scheduled you in different time slots. Something about not having two crackhead, meme lords in one shift.

“Ugh, fuck. Okay, so I’m going to be dead until at least 4:45. Do not attempt to revive me or I will kill you.”

“That’s a lot of negative death imagery you’re using there.”

“I said what I said."

And like that, she disappears into her room and you’re left overthinking every tiny noise you make until you leave the apartment.

…

One of the things you love about working at the boutique is trying on the clothes. You do a dramatic turn in front of the tri-fold mirror and strike a pose while the extremely see-through, sparkly, tulle skirt shifts around you.

Your co-worker, Bambam, stands behind you, switching between gassing you up and, “wow that skirt does nothing for you. Take it off; I’m gonna try it on.”

“Rude.” You work the elastic of the waistband down over your hips, careful to avoid taking your leggings off with it, and throw the skirt at his head. The fabric muffling the curses he shoots your way. The bell above the shop door chimes, announcing the presence of a potential customer so you leave Bambam to figure his own way out of the mess of tulle.

You put on your best ‘I work in retail and get paid on commission’ smile. “Good afternoon! Welcome to Siren’s! Please let me know if there’s anything I can help you find.” The woman smiles good naturedly back at you and says she’s just looking. She already has some shopping bags loaded up her arms, so you’re feeling pretty good about a sale and place yourself equidistant between her and the cash register while eyeing Bambam over in the corner still struggling with the skirt.

The bell goes off again, to your surprise as there is hardly ever more than one person in at a time.

“Joon?” His presence shocks you and for a moment, you forget about last night. The smile that jumps out is too real; genuine joy filling you up and spilling out. He looks slightly stunned himself.

“What are you up to?” he asks, and you look around at the over-priced clothes all around you and then back to him a little confused.

“Working?”

He blushes and your chest hurts. “Ah, I mean, do you have plans for lunch? Um, I think we need to talk.”

Your stomach feels like its going to fall out of your ass and your thoughts spin around and take off like Road Runner.

Beep beep, bitch.

He wants to tell you how weird last night was. There is this horrible feeling that persists; that he knows how you feel and now he’s uncomfortable. He’s probably going to tell you that he doesn’t see you That Way and that you should just continue being friends. Which is fine; you can take that and so could your friendship. Besides, you haven’t really had the time to examine your feelings for him past the fact that he’s your best friend whom you also might want to kiss right now (and constantly) because he’s being awkward and it’s unfortunately adorable. And that you’re scared, kind of. Whatever is going on between you feels major; like, life altering. You feel a duty to yourself and Namjoon to handle the situation with care, so yeah, you think that talking would probably be good.

You smile again at him, more weighted this time and softly say, “okay.”

Caught in your own feelings, you don’t notice Bambam gliding over to you both.

“Knew it would look better on me.” The fabric flutters beautifully around him though he stopped walking several moments before and you have to admit that it does give him the ethereal look that you were hoping to achieve. You nod, conceding the point.

You subtly try to will him away, but his eyes focus on Namjoon. You can see the moment that Bam recognizes him. Bam doesn’t really run in the same group as Namjoon, but there are a few mutual friends and enough shared drunken moments for him to say hi.

“Woah, Namjoon! What’s up, man? I haven’t seen you since Jackson’s.” Bam wiggles his eyes, dramatically suggestive, making you wonder exactly what happened at Jackson’s.

Namjoon’s eyes go wide and he responds quickly. “Nothing much. Just working. You?”

Bam shrugs and gestures around the boutique. Your eyes follow his hands and you notice that the customer is looking at the skirt that Bambam has on and you really do hope it’s because she wants to buy it. “Did I overhear that you’re going to take this one,”—he points at you and you give an annoyed ‘hey’— “to lunch?”

“Trying to anyway.”

“I forgot about Bam,”—“rude!”—"I don’t want to leave him to work alone.” Bambam once again looks around the almost empty store and then back with an incredulous look at you and a pitying one at Namjoon.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” the woman says, but doesn’t actually look very sorry at all. The way she’s eyeing Bambam looks like she’s about to say some shit about the skirt. Your eyes find Bam’s, but he looks ready to do battle. Your adrenaline kicks up a notch and you prepare to throw this expensive looking woman out on her ass if she tries to pull any bullshit. “I noticed you wearing this skirt.” You stop breathing and Bambam goes very still. You fist your hand into the back of his shirt to let him know you’re there, barely registering that Namjoon has placed his hand in the middle of your back in much the same manner. “And I just wanted to say, it looks so good on you! You have a really interesting look. Do you model?”

The collective anxiety that the three of you felt leeches away almost at once. You sag back against Namjoon and he rubs your back. Bambam lights up and tells the woman, “I’ve walked a few runways.” Liar. The most he’d done was a photo shoot for one of those coupon books that goes in the middle of the Sunday paper.

The woman smiles. “Well, if you’d like to walk a few more,” she trails off and hands Bam her card. He raises his eyebrows at the name written there. “Do you have some time right now to talk?”

“Yes!” You interject. “He does. He was just about to go on break.” The woman and Bambam look pleased and as they head out the door, Bam turns, eyes wide and sparkling, and mouths ‘thank you.’

The door chimes shut behind them and you sigh, leaning even further onto Namjoon for a moment, your body giving in to the comfort it wants before your brain reminds you that you shouldn’t be taking advantage. You step away from him and immediately feel colder.

You cough awkwardly and immediately cringe. “Sorry about lunch.”

He smiles down at you and tells you not to worry about it. “I’ve got a plan b. Be right back.”

He drags his hand down your arm as a parting gesture and you try really hard to suppress the shiver that the small act sends through you.

…

While Namjoon is gone, your only customers are two women. One model tall and the other almost a head shorter, holding hands and smiling at each other.

After giving your standard “Welcome to Siren’s” speech, they tell you that their looking for party clothes, you take them to the rack with sparkly dresses and tailored pants and ask them to let you know if they need anything before giving them space.

They go through the rack; the tall woman, seeming to have more fun looking at the clothes than the other who had her clothes picked out in under 5 minutes, balks at the price of a bright sequined number that she had been considering. The other woman places her hand at the small of her back. You can only just hear her ask in a low voice, “do you like it?”

The woman takes a long look at the dress, running her fingers across the sequins. After a moment of consideration, she nods, and the shorter woman takes the dress from her and puts it over her arm where the clothes she’s chosen for herself lay.

They come up to you at the counter and the short woman smiles at you, “just these, thank you.”

You ring up the clothes and give the total. The tall woman looks embarrassed while the other pays with a matte black credit card.

You hand over the bag and tell them to have a good rest of their day and to come back anytime; giving them a genuine smile that most patrons do not get from you.

As they exit, the taller woman says, “I’ll pay you back.”

The other shrugs and says, “okay,” and taps her finger to her pouted lips.

“That’s not what I meant,” she grouses, but the woman pouts harder and taps her lips again. There is an audible sigh and the tall woman leans down and presses a short, sweet kiss into the other’s lips.

They leave and the bell above the door doesn’t ring again until it’s Namjoon that’s coming through it. His dimples pop out as he drops the bag of food onto the counter. The smell hits you and you already know that he’s gone to the Indian restaurant down the street.

“Please tell me that there’s aloo gobi in here,” you say, even as you’re digging through the knotted bag and the excess of napkins that cover the takeout boxes. “Yes!” you exclaim when you open the top container and find the curry dish inside. There’s a brief moment where you wonder if it’s too hot outside to eat something so heavy, but you forget to care, placing your face directly into the Styrofoam container. “You really know me,” you intone dramatically through a comforting mouth full of potatoes and cauliflower.

He huffs, “yeah, I do,” through his own mouthful of what looks like vindaloo.

“What do I owe you?” and even as you ask, your mind supplies a pouty Namjoon asking cutely for a kiss and you flush, eyes almost watering with how much your body craves that contact.

He waves his hand that holds the fork around, brushing away your question, “I was the one who asked. You don’t owe me anything.”

Your brain must short circuit because the words that come out of your mouth cannot be stopped, “But what if I want to owe you something?”

“Are you really about to fight me over, like, eight dollars?”

You stare intently at your food, separating the cauliflower from the potatoes rather than answer.

“Hey,” he says, trying to get your attention. You look up and his eyebrows are scrunched, and lips pursed, an overall confused Namjoon. So fucking cute, lord help you. He looks like his brain is working overtime, but he keeps his mouth shut until he’s chosen what he wants to say. Completely the opposite of you and a quality of his that you usually admire, you really should take a page or two out of his book, but right now you’re on tender hooks waiting for what comes next.

He un-scrunches and looks at you, “What exactly do you want to owe me?”

“I don’t know,” you skirt.

“Hmm.” He stares at you like he’s trying to decipher your soul. It’s…intense.

He looks so serious; it’s intimidating and so much of you doesn’t want to give away your feelings even though you’ve already hyped yourself up to do just that. And no matter how much you want to shut down and deflect, you owe it to yourself and to him to be honest.

You set down your fork and swallow your food. “Okay, so please keep in mind that you’re my best friend in the entire world and you matter more to me than my own feelings.” He straightens up and opens his mouth to say something, but you put up your hand to stop him. “I don’t think I’ll be able to do this if I don’t get it all out in one go.” He nods tightly. “I guess I’ll start with the obvious,” you take a deep breath and looks down at your hands knotting and twisting together in a physical manifestation of your anxiety, “I like you. Not in a platonic way. I like you like I’ve had to stop myself from wanting to kiss you at least 3 times in the last hour. I like you like I want to hold your hand and tell you you’re cute when you’re being cute; like I want you to sleep in bed next to me and not on the couch when you stay over. I like you so much that I’ve been trying really hard not to notice it, but I think that last night changed something between us and I think that you noticed too and that’s why you wanted to have lunch with me today.

If that’s not the reason and you wanted to talk to me about something else and you don’t like me the way I like you, I will be really fucking embarrassed, but that’s okay. I can deal with my own feelings, okay?” You stop because you don’t think you can say anymore without accidentally making yourself cry.

“My turn?” he asks after a few moments of silence. You nod and brace yourself. “You said that you wanted to kiss me?” You nod again, daring to look up at him, wanting to see his face even if it might break you. He considers your confirmation. “Something did change last night. I think, that for me, it was the hope that you saw me as something more than a buddy to kick around with because I more than like you.” And then, it’s the way that he breathes out your name that makes a tear slip out and down your cheek. He says it with so much care that you can feel it.

Food forgotten, you move around the counter and into his space, wrapping your arms around his middle and squeezing tightly. “I more than like you,” you say with your face smushed into the warmth of his chest.

His hands come up to frame your face and guides you to look up at him. “When did you want to kiss me?” he asks, and you let out a wet laugh.

“Right now.” You tap your lips and pout and he laughs too, but he leans down and presses his lips to yours. Your eyes close after a moment; he’s too close for you to see properly anyway. It a sweet first kiss, mouths opening just a little, testing boundaries that have been in place for so long that it feels strange to be kissing him.

You’re kissing Namjoon.

You confessed and he likes you back and now you’re kissing and it’s weird, but nice and you feel like you’re going to explode you’re so happy.

You go up on your tiptoes to press more firmly into him and he presses his hands into the small of your back, helping you arch yourself closer. You can feel the difference between your bodies, the plush give of yours to the hard planes of his and all you can think is, “Does this mean I can see your tattoos?” you say against his mouth, words coming out slurred as your lips catch against his, and tug on his shirt so he gets your meaning.

“Baby,” he warns with a smile, and you close your eyes at the pet name, but it makes you remember that, while the store may be empty currently, you are still in public and actually on the clock. “You can look at whatever you like for as long as you like.”

You hide your face in his neck and wonder if he can feel your smile against his skin. You drop a kiss there, at his collar bone because now you can. “I’m really happy. You make me happy.”

He taps your shoulder to get you to look at him. He kisses you softly, barely anything at all and it makes you unsteady. “Always.” The implication of forever makes you want to fall apart in his arms; you want him to make you feel the weight of his forever which is kind of embarrassing. You note that Namjoon Kim makes you disgustingly sentimental.

“Shut up,” you mumble, face red.

“Cute.”

You smack his side until his grip loosens and you’re really looking at each other. “You need to go before I get in trouble.”

He pouts and it’s just so fucking adorable. It’s emotional terrorism is what it is. “Is this how it’s going to be?”

You take your pointer finger and push his lower lip in toward his teeth. “Yeah, I wasn’t allowed to kiss you before, so.”

He smiles and your finger hits his teeth before he grabs that hand and manipulates it into holding his. “You were always allowed; you just didn’t know it.”

You let out an undignified screech and he laughs. “You gotta go, for real.”

He concedes, but not without stealing another kiss. “I’ll see you tonight? I don’t want to wait until tomorrow. I think we still need to talk about some things.”

“Your place?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he agrees as he backs his way through the doors, eyes on you, smiling like an idiot, but you know you are too, the bell chiming as he exits.

…

Bam makes it back before the end of your shift, coming in with a big shit-eating grin on his face. He’s landed an actual modeling gig for an actual brand that you’ve actually heard of and you couldn’t be happier for him.

You part ways at the end of your shift, trading the guard with Lisa and Chung-ha. Lisa slips you some fresh Star Wars prequel memes and you drop that there’s some Indian food up for grabs in the communal fridge.

You don’t say anything about Namjoon. The knowledge your talk brought this afternoon sits so warm and comfortable in your chest you feel like you’re glowing, and you need to keep that cheesy ass sentimental shit to yourself. You can’t stop yourself from wondering about the reactions from your friend group, though. You would think that they’d mostly be positive considering how many times you’d been asked if the two of you were secretly dating.

Damn. Hindsight really is 20/20.

Heading over to his place is different than usual; your stomach full of nervous butterflies. Which is gross and wonderful at the same time. The fact that you could get used to kissing him and being with him the way you want to is so absurd and fantastic that just the thought of being next to him carries you all the way to his apartment.

Even knocking on his door borders bizarre. He opens the door and seeing his face opens you up.

The amount of smiling both of you have done today is obscene—it really is destroying your Bad Bitch persona— but you can’t stop your mouth from turning up, cheeks pushing your eyes almost closed. The good news is Namjoon looks just about the same as he ushers you into the same apartment you’ve visited a million times before.

Once you stop smiling, the anxiety that follows you into new situations starts to pool out from your stomach. You clench your hands together and squeeze, knowing what you want to do with them, but not sure if you should.

“Hi,” he says, stirring the quiet. He reaches his hand out to you, fingers spread in invitation. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and link your fingers with his. It feels weird, but good to squeeze his hand instead of your own.

He leads you over to the couch. He sits first and then you, making sure that there’s a respectable amount of space between you.

Both of you are facing forward, only chancing glances at each other every so often. The awkward silence between you stretches until you can’t take it anymore; feeling like it’s your fault, or rather your duty, to fill the silence.

“So,” you say and trail off. A strong start. “You said we should talk, and I think that’s a good idea.”

He nods but doesn’t add anything.

“It’s kind of strange, right? We’re transitioning from one thing that we’ve been for a really long time, into another, so it’s weird?” He uses his other hand to play with your intwined fingers while you speak, and it distracts you from your nerves. “It feels like it’s happening really fast and like I got so comfortable with the idea of us being more than best friends so quickly and that’s the weird part?” You kind of hate that everything is coming out like a question. You want to say things with certainty, but, fuck, if it wasn’t difficult.

“I think it would help me to know what you’re thinking about all of this,” you finish.

Your hands jostle between you as he shifts his body to look at you. His eyes like magnets, pulling you to mirror his posture; leg tucked under you and fully facing each other.

“It’s weird, but I like it.” It’s your turn to nod, communicating that you feel the same and want him to continue. “I think it’s something that I’ve spent more time thinking about than you. I was fine with how things were, but I’d hoped that we could be more for a while.”

You held his gaze for as long as you could before staring down at both of your hands. Yours almost completely dwarfed by his; long, inked, and beautiful. You think about yesterday, when you were high and tracing his tattoos and how you had no idea that less than 24 hours later you would be holding his hand without needing an excuse.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He asks as you bring his hand up to your lips.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t- “you stop because you were going to say that you didn’t know he felt this way, but you’re not sure if that’s true and that just makes you feel worse. You start again. “I’m sorry that I didn’t do anything about it. I’m not sure that I didn’t know that you had feelings, you know? And I’m even more sorry that I ignored the way I feel about you for so long. And I’m scared, but I can’t ignore this,” you shake your tangled hands between you. “I’m sorry you had to wait for me.”

He kisses the corner of your mouth quickly, smiling as he draws back. “I have to apologize for doing the same thing then. I didn’t know your feelings for sure and we’ve always been really close, so it was hard. I had to convince myself that every touch and smile and moment that we got too close was just how we were as friends. But I’m not sure that I didn’t know that you had feelings, either. I think we’re both afraid of the same thing. That things will change; that we’ll be different with each other and we won’t work.

I can’t say that won’t happen because nothing is certain, but I know you and I know us. I think we’ll be okay.”

“God, I really like you.”

Namjoon laughs happily and somehow over the next few moments manhandles you onto his lap. Your arms come naturally around his shoulders just as his go around your waist.

The kiss that comes next feels more reckless than the mini make-out session in Siren’s. You know from the moment he teases your mouth open and slides his tongue in to taste you that you’re his. Every swipe of his tongue feels like a brand making you melt into him.

You break the searing kiss to scoot forward in his lap, pressing yourself against him hip to chest. You wiggle and wish that you could help the gasp that escapes you when you feel him. He’s not even fully hard and you already know that he’s going to be a lot for you to handle. The thought of him inside you, stretching you to your limit, filling you up like you deserve, makes you shy.

You tuck your face into the curve of his neck to hide your rising blush and the want in your eyes.

“Talk to me, baby. What’s going through that head of yours?” He asks, mouth pressed to the top of your head.

You groan and move your hips to try and make it clear what’s going through your head, so you don’t have to say it out loud. The feeling of your underwear moving uncomfortably against your slick folds sending another round of blood to your already heated cheeks. You’re so worked up already and it’s embarrassing. Which seems to be the fucking theme of your life right now. But his hands on your hips tighten, stopping all movement.

You whine and try to move, but his grip is strong. Flitting thoughts of him holding you down with the same strength in his tattooed arms are enough to make you try again for any friction.

And again, he stops you.

“Hey,” he whispers. “I need you to talk to me.”

You lean back and see the tension on his face, the softness that’s usually there, sharpened and dark. A look that you’re not familiar with. You’re struck by how fast this is going. How quickly you went from oblivious to this moment, dry humping your best friend (your boyfriend?).

You feel needy, the unbridled want coursing through you and the ocean in your panties is evidence enough of that but is it too soon to make this jump from platonic to…decidedly not platonic?

Namjoon waits in silence for you to speak. Always handling you with care.

You frame his face with your hands, rubbing the apples of his cheeks with your thumbs. “I’m scared that if we talk about what we’re about to do, we’ll realize that we’re going too fast.”

“Are we?” he asks with real concern, pushing you further down his hips, away from his heat.

“I don’t know,” you say, pouting. For fuck’s sake. You don’t want to have to dissect every move you two make. It doesn’t feel wrong, just weird. “I know that I want you, but if it’s too soon, I can wait until it’s not so odd.” And as much as you don’t want to, you know that you will because, “You’re worth waiting for, Joonie.”

He hugs you and it’s nice. It feels comfortable; not sexually charged, but beautiful. You can feel yourself calming down, the moment of intense need fading into something softer.

“I do want you. I’ve wanted you for a long time. I just- I feel like this is a big step and maybe we should think about it.”

You sigh and kiss him quickly twice before hoping off his lap. “Okay, do you want to watch a movie?”

He smiles and agrees easily.

You shift in your seat and remember the slick between your thighs. “Pick a movie while I change?”

“Sure. Any requests?”

“Not Leon,” he scoffs, and you feel the familiarity of your dynamic. You slip into his room and rifle through his drawers for a pair of sweatpants and band t-shirt before going to his bathroom to clean yourself up.

When you emerge, clean and comfy, the main menu for Howl’s Moving Castle is pulled up on the TV. Namjoon is lying across the couch on his side with enough space for you to be little spoon. You feel giddy at his choice of movie, your favorite, and his choice of position. Even though sex is not on the table tonight, you feel the thoughtful intimacy in his deliberateness.

“Hey baby,” he says when he notices you watching him. You marvel at how quickly he fell into calling you the pet name and how quickly you’ve taken to hearing it. Maybe you should pick one for him, too.

You press play and the subtitle button until you see brackets down at the bottom explaining that title music is playing. It’s how Joon likes to watch movies and you’ve watched enough movies with him at this point to prefer it as well.

He pats the empty space in front of him and you go, pushing yourself against him in a different way that still had your heart soaring. You put your head on his bicep and he cages you in, wrapping one arm around your shoulders and the other around your middle so there’s no danger of you falling off. You shove your legs back to tangle with his and settle in.

Neither one of you says anything until Namjoon says, “that’s my girl,” in synch with Howl and you shiver. You had never been quiet about your crush on Howl or about how hot you found those words.

You turn your head slightly and glare at him. “Are you trying to seduce me with the greatest movie of all time?”

He honest to god smirks and says, “I’ve always wanted to say it to you. And now you are my girl, so I’m not not going to say it.”

“Oh.” He watches you fidget and turn pink.

“Cute,” he says, kisses your burning cheek.

masterlist

a/n: Kim Namjoon cured my two year long writer’s block.

#kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon fic #bangtan bookclub #namjoon fluff #namjoon smut #friends to lovers #bts fic #bts fluff #bts smut

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