#goingknowherewastaken

“I can help with that. Would you like a custom bunch, a vase, or there are pre-made bouquets that you can choose from,” you offer.

“I may get a pre-made one for today.”

You nod and lead him back to the glass-front cooler where you keep the already made arrangements, some of them made just this morning. “This is what we have for right now. Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“I just want it to be special, can you recommend something?” The man looks at you for your opinion, and he brushes a piece of blond hair from his forehead.

“Well, roses are usually safe. Or if you want something different, this one is pretty special,” you say, pointing out a particular arrangement. It’s beautiful, anemones and blue ranunculus interspersed with Alister roses and sprigs of greenery. He smiles brightly at the colorful flowers.

“These are beautiful! I’ll take them.”

“Alright, I’ll get these and check you out. Come with me,” you nod toward the counter in the back where the register sits, already grabbing the flowers from the cooler and heading in that direction. You pull some brown paper from a roll on the wall and wrap the bouquet neatly, tying red twine across the stems when you were done and ringing the man up. When he’s done paying, you give a large smile to the attractive man. “All done here, I hope you enjoy them…” you trail off, hoping to get his name.

“FDR. It’s nice to meet you…Y/N.” He trails off, looking to your name tag. “Thank you for the flowers, she’s gonna love them,” he smiles, looking down at the arrangement sitting on the counter.

Your face falls at the realization, but you cover it quickly with a smile. Of course a man as handsome as him isn’t single. You pick up the flowers, handing them to him. “Have a nice day,” you wave before getting back to work.

For weeks, almost like clockwork, FDR would come into the shop on late Saturday afternoons and buy a bouquet, leaving with a flirty comment and a parting wink, so you’re not expecting it when the man shows up on a Friday. You’ve just removed yourself from the storage room with a new shipment of flowers, your hands full of bright sunflowers when you see him. He’s making his way to the back of the store, to the cash register stand.

“FDR,” you say with slight confusion in your tone. He turns around at the mention of his name and smiles when he sees you, his bright blue eyes lighting up. “Y/N, hey!”

“You’re a little early,” you say lightly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. You didn’t know that the man you have a slight crush on would be in today, so you’re just wearing jeans and a tank top with your hair up in a messy bun. FDR thinks you look good though, running an appreciative eye down your figure as you’re distracted, sitting down the container of flowers you were previously holding.

“Yeah, I am. I am here to pick out a bouquet but I have to go into work tomorrow, so I thought I’d come in today and have them delivered. As long as that’s okay,” he trails off. You nod, perhaps a little too quickly, and that is confirmation enough for him. “I really wanna do something special this time. Do you think you’re up for helping me put together an arrangement?”

“Of course,” you exclaim, and FDR chuckles at the way your whole face lights up at all the possibilities. “Where would you like to start?”

“I wanted something a little different, maybe something I haven’t gotten. I was looking at those last time I was here.” FDR points to the corner filled with peonies, the large blooms having caught his eye before. The two of you walk over, where FDR cups one of the peach blooms softly in one hand.

“You like these? I just got this batch in yesterday.”

“They’re gorgeous,” FDR says and you get to work. He tells you that he has something big in mind, so you pick out some blooms on the larger side.

With the peach peonies in your work bucket, you make rounds around the shop picking out complimentary blossoms, the container full of orange, white, and bright pink roses respectively, baby’s breath, begonias, and small tufts of yarrow.

You bring FDR to a workstation and he sits down the bucket that he had insisted on carrying as it was filled up. You take a break, grabbing two cold water bottles from the fridge and handing one to him. You sit on a bench for a few minutes, looking around.

“You know I opened this shop almost two years ago,” you say in reminiscence, distracted by the memory of receiving your first customer.

FDR turns his head to look at you from where he’s sitting beside you. “Really? I didn’t know you owned this place,” he hums.

“Yep,” you say, popping the p. “My mom loves flowers. Our house was surrounded by them growing up and I would always look up the names so I could remember them later. I guess that stuck with me, flowers are my passion now. I like making people happy too, seeing a smile on someone’s face as they receive a bouquet, that’s why I make my own deliveries sometimes.”

FDR watches as you talk and look back, the smile on your face coming easily to you as his own lips stretch into a matching grin. The overwhelming urge to kiss you comes to him, and not since the first time he’s met you. As soon as he saw the enthusiasm that you approach your work with, FDR was hooked and knew that he wanted to know more about you. Thinking back on it, Franklin Foster is so happy that his old florist moved away.

His attention is drawn back to you when the sound of your laugh reaches his ears, fingers snapping in front of his nose. It’s a sound that he hasn’t heard nearly enough, and the corners of his mouth turn up instantly.

“You still with me,” you ask through giggles.

“Always,” he chuckles.

“Let’s get to work, you goof.” You sit down your water bottle and turn to the table, looking through the bucket of flowers and deciding on a game plan. “You said you wanted them in a vase, right?” He agrees and you help him pick one out from the shelf along the wall before getting to work.

Two sets of hands work quicker than one, and soon enough you’re finishing up, wrapping a pretty pink ribbon around the vase to be delivered tomorrow. You try to get the bow just right, absolutely /not/ trying to stall. When you’re done, FDR will leave and you’ll be left alone with your work and a skipping heartbeat just like many times before. As you’re adjusting one of the rose blossoms, making sure that it’s turned right, you feel more than see someone coming up behind you.

“Perfect,” a low voice murmurs next to your ear and you smile. Lifting your head from examining the arrangement, you turn your head to meet your gaze with FDR, a soft expression in his eyes.

You smile and giggle softly, looking back at the vase. “Yes, well, I can’t take all the credit. You did help.”

“Right, the flowers,” he clears his throat, “yeah, they look amazing.” A crease forms between your brows as you try to figure out what he means by that, but he’s talking before you can think too much about it. “Can these be here at seven o’clock tomorrow night,” he asks, handing you a slip of paper with an address written on it.

“Yeah, of course,” you say, and your voice comes out less than enthused, so you put on your customer service smile to try and make up for it. FDR looks at you with scrutiny, recognizing the look on your face.

“You don’t have to do that, put on a fake expression. You can be you around me, I hope you know that, Y/N.”

Your eyebrows draw upwards in surprise that he noticed, but you soothe your face back down to normal. You clear your throat and speak, your voice coming out quieter than you expected. “Thank you, FDR. You too,” and you mean it, a small smile lifting your mouth. He leaves not long after that, promising to speak to you soon.

The next day you’re going through some papers in your office when one of your delivery people Alexus sticks her head in the open doorway. “Hey boss, I’m about to head out for my evening run. Is this everything,” she asks, gesturing to the line of flowers waiting to be loaded into the van. You look over them, nodding your head and then stopping when your eyes land on the peony bouquet that you and FDR put together the night before.

“Yeah Lex, I’ll take this one though. Let me help you load these up.” You help Alexus with the flowers and make sure the vase is secure in the car before checking yourself over. You may not even see FDR, but your minimal makeup, casual white and black striped dress, and flats look passable with your hair down in waves. It’s better to be prepared, right? You check the address slip that’s attached to a vase and get ready to head to the house outside of town.

When you pull up to the address, you think that it’s not what you were expecting. The farmhouse and the surrounding land is beautiful, but you were surprised by the number of vehicles parked outside. There must be an event going on inside, you think to yourself.

You pick the vase up and carry it carefully to the front door lest it break, and make sure to pocket the address and billing information so the person on the receiving end doesn’t see it. There’s a card attached that you hadn’t seen before, FDR must have written it while you weren’t paying attention. You ring the doorbell by the front door and hear the chimes sound throughout the large house. While you wait, your curiosity gets the better of you and you peek down at the card that reads

Happy birthday Nana, you’re a Saint for putting up with me for all these years.

You barely have time to process this new information when the door opens in front of you and you bring your lips into a shy smile. You come to face an elderly woman, her white hair tucked back into an elegant updo, a dress and heels adding to the air of sophistication. She looks to you and her red lips pull into a bright grin when she spots the flowers in your hands.

“Oh my, such lovely flowers,” she says excitedly in a British accent. “Are these from my Franklin?”

“Franklin,” you mutter confusedly, tilting your head, and before you can open your mouth again to ask who that is, you hear your name being called and you turn around.

“Y/N! I didn’t know you would be here,” FDR says as he walks closer to you, having just arrived.

“I told you that I make deliveries sometimes,” you say sheepishly, shrugging a shoulder.

You glance uneasily back to the front door that’s still open and FDR smacks himself on the forehead, walking over and embracing the woman, who is still standing there.

“Nana, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is my Nana. This woman raised me, and I can’t thank her enough.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, and I’m guessing these are for you,” you say with a genuine smile this time.

Nana accepts the flowers readily and pulls them up to her face to smell, taking the time to appreciate their beauty.

“Thank you for bringing these,” FDR puts a hand on your back and leans a little closer to you as Nana is otherwise occupied, though she doesn’t miss the exchange.

“Of course,” you reply, suddenly bashful.

“We are having a little celebration out back, would you like to stay for the party? You can keep Franklin company,” Nana speaks up.

FDR groans inwardly at her meddling, but he still smiles when you look to him for reassurance. “That sounds nice.”

The two of you follow Nana inside, your shoulders brushing as she leads you through the impressive house to a fenced-in area of the backyard.

“Look what this sweet girl brought me,” she announces to anyone listening and you hear back a few praises on the arrangement.

“Thank you, Nana, but FDR helped me,” you didn’t want to take all the credit for the flowers.

“Oh please, all I did was point out one flower. You matched the rest and put them together beautifully,” he replies affectionately. You bite your lip at the compliment.

After a few minutes of chatting between the two of you, you are interrupted by a loud voice nearby speaking in a British accent. “Look who finally showed up,” is heard before a shorter man comes over to FDR and wraps him in a warm, albeit rough hug.

“Collins had me come in today, I told you that yesterday.”

“Yes, well, you failed to mention that you would be bringing a date to Nana’s birthday.” The man turns to you, putting out a hand for you to shake and you do. You can’t help but notice that FDR doesn’t correct him about you being his date. “My name is Tuck, I’m his brother,” he says with a thumb pointed towards your companion.

“Y/N, it’s nice to meet you, Tuck. So I’m guessing you could tell me a bunch of embarrassing stories about Franklin,” you say, putting a teasing emphasis on his real name. FDR groans, and is that a blush painting his cheeks? You giggle at this.

“You have no idea, love. There was this one time, in Bangladesh-” Tuck starts but is cut off by FDR interrupting him.

“Let’s not do this right now, Tuck. Another topic please, any other topic?” You smirk at how flustered this confident charmer has become.

Tuck laughs before turning the conversation. “So how did you meet Frank?”

You tilt your head to look up at him with a smile, thinking to the first time you met him. “I’m a florist, I own a flower shop in town. FDR came in one day, clueless about what to buy, so I helped him. He’s come in every Saturday since. I actually brought an arrangement here today.”

“Oh you’re the cute florist he’s always going on about. It was getting annoying, but I can’t say I blame him.”

You hear a strangled sort of noise and look beside you to where it seems to have come from. “You okay,” you question, concerned but still amused.

“I’m fine.”

Tuck leaves after this, going off to sit with his wife and son, leaving you to your own devices, promising to tell you all of Franklin’s terrible and funny stories. You plan to take him up on it.

FDR walks with you over to an empty table that’s been set up, and you sit down, him following. He looks at you, a shy smile on his face. “I’m sorry about my family. They can be a little much, at times.” FDR shakes his head affectionately.

You laugh, looking over at him with a smile. “I like them, they’re fun.”

He shrugs, watching a little boy run by with a bucket over his head. A laugh escapes his lips at the boy’s antics. “Yeah, sometimes.”

After a little while, dinner is served and you sit with FDR, chatting about your lives, learning more about each other. “So Nana raised you?”

“Yeah, yeah she did. What that woman must have went through, I was a bit of a troublemaker growing up.”

“I don’t know, I think you grew up pretty well,” you say with a faux thoughtful smile, teasing. FDR rolls his eyes good-naturedly and you giggle. “No, but really. It’s great of you to get her flowers every week, that’s so sweet. Not many people do that lately. I make my living off of people trying to make up for mistakes, and the occasional wedding. But not you.” You duck your head as you realize that you’ve been talking for too long. You shrug, “I don’t know, I think you’re pretty special.”

FDR reaches a hand out to touch your cheek, his thumb running over your cheekbone, and as you lift your head up, your eyes are met with his brilliant blue ones.

“I think you’re pretty special, too.” You feel your cheeks flush and lean into his touch, looking up at him from under your eyelashes. “I don’t know if I’m reading this wrong, but… can I see you sometime, outside of Wild Blooms?”

You can’t help but giggle, nodding your head happily. “Of course you can.”

“Good,” FDR nods. “How about dinner tomorrow night, I’ll pick you up at your place?” The hopeful look in his eyes makes you melt inside, and suddenly you can’t wait for tomorrow night.

Feeling brave, you lean forward quickly and confidently, placing your lips on his cheek and lingering before pulling away slowly. The goofy grin that takes over FDR’s face makes your expression match, his happiness infectious.

From across the yard, Nana stands with Tuck, watching the two of you with fondness. “I think Y/N is good for him,” Nana observes.

“Yeah, she is,” Tuck nods, and then laughs. “Now we’ve just got to break it to her what he does for a living.”

Permanent Tags: @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @mad-girl-without-a-box @cd1242 @space-helen @izzy10718

Chris Pine Character Tags: @musikat18 @auduna-druitt @garnet-redtailedhero @bookcaseninja

McKirk

☼♦ Fleeting Stars || chapter(s): one-fifteen || randomlittleimp, @randomlittleimp || inspired by one of my McKirk-Tober fics ♥

☼ Ink Composition || chapter(s): seven, || boneswrites || Soulmate!AU

☼ A bird may love a fish, but where would they live? || Xyriath || Wing!AU, Mer!AU

☼ Wings || tresa_cho || Wing!AU

☼ Dualitas || averzierlia ||Wing!AU

☼ lay your weary head || Thingbe 

☼ Tie Me To Earth || shopfront || Wing!AU

☼ Starfleet Academy for Gifted Youngsters || Ael || Platonic, series, X-Men!AU 

♦ Halloween Hijinks || @captainsbabysitter-blog || Halloween Fic

♦ Scorch My Soul || Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight || @thevalesofanduin || Suspense/Spooky!AU 

♦ Darlin’ You’ll be alright || pinkamout1588 

♦ Nightmares || Part One, Part Two || @pinkamour1588 

♦ The One He Forgot || @auduna-druitt    

♦ On Bartenders and Escort Cards || captainsbabysitter-blog || Vampire!AU 

♦ Fangs and Kisses || captainsbabysitter-blog || Vampire!AU || nsfw

♦ Happily Wedded Chaos || pinkamour1588 

♦ A Very McCoy Christmas || auduna-druitt 

♦ Ice Skating || auduna-druitt 

♦ Timezones || auduna-druitt 

♦ “I just want to cuddle.” || pinkamour1588

♦ Teach Me || pinkamour1588 

Leonard McCoy 

♦ Imagine: Getting Stuck in the Mirror!Verse || @youre-on-a-starship || Reader Insert || Mirror!Verse || nsfw

♦ Five Minute Ficlet || @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse || Reader Insert || Mirror!Verse || nsfw

♦ Imagine: In Dreams || star-trekkin-across-theuniverse || Reader Insert || Mirror!Verse || nsfw

♦ Soulmates || star-trekkin-across-theuniverse || Reader Insert || Mirror!Verse   

♦ No Fun || @mybullshitsensesaretingling || Reader Insert

♦ Some Wounds Take Longer To Heal… || @galaxycharmed || Reader Insert

♦ Imagine: Sexy Halloween || star-trekkin-across-theuniverse || Reader Insert 

♦ Bite Me || @annathewitch || Reader Insert || Vampire!AU

♦ And How You’ll Scream || @outside-the-government || Reader Insert

♦ Self-Service || @trade-baby-blues || Reader Insert || nsfw

♦ Late || @kaitymccoy123 || Reader Insert || Soulmate!AU

Other

♦ When The Day Met The Night || @blueoftheenterprise || Spock x Reader 

♦ Aesthetically Pleasing || blueoftheenterprise || Spock x Reader 

Jim Kirk 

♦ Three Things || @imamotherfuckingstar-lord || Reader Insert

♦ Unexpected Changes || captainsbabsitter-blog || Vampire!AU 

I also want to give a huge thank you to all of the writers here for taking the time to give us these wonderful works! Writing is such a peculiar experience so I thank you for sharing these with us :)

*note: Some of these will show up on future lists due to it being a series/mulit-chaptered or a re-read. Also you are more than welcome to tag me in things if you so wish :) 

My past reading lists