#I was staring at the bouquet of baby’s breath on the counter and thought it would make a good title

[pink-tk-a-latte]

PYPYPYPY! (That is how I shall summon thee. Like a cat's PSPSPSPSP- HEHEHE-)

If you feel inspired by my prompt, can I please request lee! Sigma and ler! Dazai? (Tone, romantic but not established relationship (YET LMAO-). I really don't have a coherent plot idea, I just woke up to the thought of Dazai *geeeently* fluttering his digits against Sigma's ears, sides, etc, being extra soft as Sigma desperately tries to crawl away, only to get pulled back into Dazai's lap (He loves it, he just refuses to LET himself love it XD). Sigma bby needs some softness after the last 3 years of his life tbh... And Atsushi is now experienced enough to predict Dazai's tickle attacks so his new victim is Sigma XD.

Have an awesome dayyy~!

-🫧 Anon~!

So I’m a cat girl now? (PYPYPYPY is hilarious from now on I will respond only to that) /j

ANYWAY THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REQUEST!!! You’ve been such a pal bubble anon!! Genuinely I’m so sorry for how long this took :((( I’ll blame it on end of school year busyness but I’ve also just been generally waffling (I have no reference for how long it should take to finish a request… uhhhhhh…)

Warning for,,, a spattering of tildes (there’s like three)? I know it’s cringe but I think they’re fun~~~~~ lmaooo

Regardless!!! On with the Sigzai!!!!!

Sfw tickle fic!!!!!!! Pre-Relationship Sigzai 💜🤎

Gypsophila, Baby’s Breath

In his mind, Sigma felt weightless. As if he and gravity had become estranged, acquaintances who’d fallen out of touch over time. As if he were drifting, floating, falling through the sky.

But then there were clowns with sharp teeth and dove wings, and strange, pale men offering their hands, and sands and seas of red and orange, and pages, and elevators, and flooding ballrooms with classical music—

And he was riding a giraffe, for some reason?

Then Sigma awoke, gasping as though he'd been ripped from a freezing ocean, to a warm and fluttering breeze blown against the back of his neck. He slapped a hand against his nape, a shabby attempt to hide his reaction.

“Wakey wakey, sleeping beauty!”

Sigma whipped his head around, still achey and foggy as he tried to remember who he was and where he was and what universe this was supposed to be.

A dream? Sigma twisted his face and rubbed his bleary eyes. It felt so real.

Granted, he had no idea why he would think that.

“Come back to reality yet?” He thought he recognized that voice. It was bright and entirely unserious and brought a sinking sensation to his stomach. “It’s rare to see Sigma sleeping on the job~!”

“Huh?” Sigma surveyed his surroundings. The lights were off, the room lit solely by the tangerine rays stretching from the windows. He glanced down at his desk.

His desk. At the ADA. His not-quite-yet home, only because he had nowhere else to go for now.

He looked up. Dazai was leaning over him, eyes a soft and welcoming brown in the rusty sunlight.

The rusty sunlight…

How long was I asleep for!?

Dazai laughed in his frothy-bubbly way. “Don’t worry, you were only out for an hour or so. It was almost the end of the day already.” Pulling up a chair, he scooted beside Sigma. “Although I’m impressed you lasted that long! You were practically falling asleep at the wheel the whole day!”

I was? Abashedly, Sigma frowned and rubbed his forehead. He eyed Dazai from the corner of his vision. “How did you—?”

“—Know what you were going to ask?” Now, Dazai was leaning his chin on his hand and staring up at him. The tender, charmed amusement those coffee brown eyes fixed him with was too intense to stare at directly, like a solar eclipse. “It’s because you’re easy to read, Sig-ma.”

“Wh- You- I am not!” Sigma huffed. “I can’t help that I’m no superhuman.”

Suddenly quiet, Dazai hummed and smiled, brown eyes closer to black now that they were out of the light. “Is that so?” He reached for the long locks of purple and white that weaved around Sigma’s shoulders. “But you treat yourself like a work machine!” He twirled his hair around his fingers.

Sigma had noticed that — Dazai was always reaching to touch, whether it be patting Atsushi or Kyouka on the head, leaning on Yosano’s shoulder, stealing Kunikida’s glasses or Ranpo’s hat, or pinching Sigma’s cheeks (???). He was simply tactile, as though he did it without purpose or logic.

The accused work machine crossed his arms. “I like work, though.”

Dazai made a comically disgusted face, then smoothed his expression back into untouchable levity. “You’re strange.”

Sighing, Sigma ran a hand through his hair, peeved to find it frizzing in all directions. He adjusted the strands that clung to his cheeks and tangled in his earrings, tucking them behind his ear.

Dazai’s fingers followed immediately, curious toward his adornments. Feather-light, they brushed against the back of his ear.

Sigma’s disproportionate flinch did not go unnoticed.

He grabbed Dazai’s wrist. “Hey— Hands to yourself.” He couldn’t help how his tone wavered.

“Aww, but why?” he whined. “Your earrings are so shiny. I just want to see~ them, Sigma.”

Really, Sigma didn’t mind being touched, but the memory of Dazai’s fingers skirting the shell of his ear sent a crack of hot lightning down his skeleton.

Sigma nibbled on the dry skin of his lip. “I just don’t want you to pull them out or something…” His gaze trailed up.

When Sigma met Dazai’s eyes, his stomach dropped at their impish glint.

He should’ve known he’d been caught the moment he woke up.

“Your reactions are always so curious.” Dazai grinned, and then his arms were around Sigma’s waist.

"Wait!" While Sigma yelped, Dazai pulled him out of the chair and into his lap, skittering blunt nails into his sides. "WAIHAIhahait! StahaHAP!"

Dazai was being so darn soft, digits just barely making an imprint in his skin, that Sigma was embarrassed by how loud he was. It was more of the surprise than anything, but the gentleness and the premonition of it felt like colorful beams of energy erupting from his brain.

"Shh shh." Dazai's chin rested on Sigma's fluffy head. "Just relax. Don't fight it." Said hushly, as though he were speaking to a rowdy critter.

“Whahahat do you mehehehEAN?” He shoved at Dazai’s shoulders, gripping restlessly at the other rolly chair for succor, but it insisted only on rolling away.

Cheek squished against Sigma’s elbow, Dazai babbled placatingly, “Just that I think you would like this if you calmed down!” He wrapped one arm around the desperate man to secure him in his lap, then flurried his fingers in between his shoulder and neck. Sigma squealed and curled into himself, drive to escape lost.

It was as though all his thinking had floated away in a toasty bubble of mirth. All notions of his duties, his past, the wants of other people, erased and overpowered by touch in the guarded swaths of his skin.

“DAhahahazai! Ehehehieek!” Sigma rocked side to side uselessly. “NoHOhot thehehere!”

“It’s such a fun spot though!” Dazai sang. “You’re just so perfectly shaped for grabbing, hm?”

Sigma shook his head, hair swirling around his figure. “WHAhahahat the heheHE—!?” His face was euphorically warm, even at the affronting statement.

He felt moisture bead on his lashes from the force with which he lidded his eyes. Somehow, he’d turned to face Dazai, burying his face in his collar. Sigma noticed that Dazai’s skin was as acutely hot as he felt.

Easy access permitted, Dazai blew on his ear, then laughed at how Sigma bristled and shrieked. Sigma cursed him through loopy, frantic giggles; even so, Dazai put in the effort to look offended.

“It really hurts me that you still push me away!” He sniffled theatrically. “After the secrets and promises we shared? Don’t you trust me?”

Ridiculously, Sigma felt just a tad guilty. “IhihI dohoho, buhut- !”

“Aww, that’s nice of you.” Dazai leaned in close to his neck. Sigma felt those lips curl into a smile… and shivered. “Probably a mistake, though.”

Scritches at the spot beneath his ear and pinches at his hip fried his nerves until Sigma lost his mind. Such clement touches, such violent sensations. Confusion only made him more frantic: Did he want to run from the feeling, or melt into it?

Questions for another time. Right now he just wanted a break.

“OhohokAHAY! Thahahat’s ehehenough!” Sigma pushed weakly against Dazai’s shoulders.

“Fine, fine.” Dazai stopped shortly after, taking Sigma into his arms as all the tension evaporated from his limbs. He settled Sigma back in his own chair without separating. Though he flinched at the contact, Sigma stayed.

As Sigma wheezed and puffed, Dazai’s nose dug into his shoulder. “See? I’m only human too.” He trailed off. Then, cheekily, “I’m mere prey to my desire for you~!”

Sigma sighed and patted Dazai’s cheek, ignoring the flare of heat in his own. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that you were beyond human.” His mouth quirked oddly. “You told me yourself there’s no such thing.”

Dazai chuckled. “I don’t know, you’re pretty extraordinary.”

The pats turned into a (fond) slap.

“Ow!” He lifted his head and nursed his cheek. Sigma knew that pout was fake. “Mean, mean, mean! And I was just about to ask if you had fun.”

“What?” Sigma did not like how often he was becoming flushed.

That irritatingly brilliant mind waggled his eyebrow. “It’s nice, isn’t it? For a fleeting minute, you don’t have to think about anything. It’s bliss.”

Sigma played with his sleeve. “I… guess.” The admission made him warm all over again.

Dazai clapped and cheered and Sigma hit him again. There was a gasp from the man he was leaning against. “Oh, speaking of! Chuuya was asking how you were. He wanted to make sure you were taking it easy.”

Ah, well that was nice of him. Sigma grunted, still slumped against Dazai’s chest. “And here you are, holding me at work overtime.”

"Then let’s start heading back, shall we?" Dazai slid from his seat and halfway knelt on one knee, offering his hand (the same hand that a moment ago had been— nevermind). Sigma shook his head in exasperation but took it anyway.

Through the door and into the hallway, Dazai pulled Sigma by the hand, wrapped firmly but tenderly around his fingers. He met his eye with a smug, reminiscent look. "You know, this place is like a ballroom..."

"I swear, if you start dancing again, I’m leaving you here,” said Sigma, staring down the idea forming in Dazai's head.

"But our lives aren't in danger this time!" Unheeding, Dazai had flourished his free hand, ready to tango.

Against all odds, Sigma’s brow relaxed. He was right. There was no imminent doom in this moment, just the ADA's halls leading to nothing but stairs and an elevator that wasn't rigged (not that he was inclined to use it). Just Dazai, his warm, satiny, playful hands, and his invitation.

With a breath, Sigma loosened his shoulders. He let Dazai pull him into twirl, then a wrap, then a dip, and they began their dance once again.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

Baby’s breath symbolism: Purity, innocence, everlasting love and devotion, and new beginnings.

[strangersmunsons]

Eddie, My Love! eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series Day 1 Prompt: Flowers 💐 ~ 1,000 words Eddie surprises you with a bouquet of flowers.

You sigh as you trudge to the front door, stomping the excess snow off of your boots before entering the house. After a long, cold day, all you really want is to curl up on the couch with a cup of hot tea. 

All your outerwear is stripped off and hung, melted snow dripping little puddles on the hardwood floor. You quickly change into a pair of comfier clothes, seat yourself in the living room, and flick the TV on.

You’ve made it halfway through one episode of mind-numbing television when the front door pushes open again.

Eddie’s here.

You’re still getting used to that. There used to be someone, then for a long time there wasn’t anyone, and then Eddie came into your life, which meant that someone was…here, again.

He looks handsome, as he always does, when he comes in and finds you. He’s all warm, dimpled smile and puppy eyes, and the bit of scruff he neglected to shave off gives you a delightful scratch when he leans down and kisses you hello.

One hand is carrying a crinkly plastic bag, which he holds firmly behind his back, while the other hand softly cups your cheek. 

“Hey,” he says quietly, rubbing his nose lightly against yours.  

“Hi,” you whisper back, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Did you stay warm today?”

“I did. Had my hand warmers and everything,” he reassures you. 

You give him a little squeeze. “Good.”

He kisses your cheek. “By the way, I have something for you,” he says slyly, straightening back up. 

You blink, confused. “Oh?”

He pulls the bag out from behind his back, holding whatever the object is from its bottom. Then he bunches the plastic down around his fist, so you can get a clear look at what’s inside.

Eddie is holding a bouquet of flowers. 

It’s a mix of large and small blooms, ranging in color from white to pale pink to deep maroon. Some are roses, and you guess at the others. You think the small ones might be baby's breath, and the larger ones, dahlias, perhaps? You’re not sure. Whatever they are, they’re beautiful.

You simply stare at the fragrant blossoms, lips slightly parted.

“Sweetheart?” Eddie asks gently. “You good?”

“Yes,” you manage, an awestruck smile slowly unfurling across your face. “Those are for me?”

Eddie laughs kindly. “Of course they are,” he teases. “You see anyone else in here?”

A wave of unexpected emotion washes over you, and a lump rises in your throat. You rub at your temple with a shaky hand, embarrassed by your own intense reaction.

“No one I’ve been with has ever gotten me flowers before,” you admit.

Eddie visibly softens. “Well, I don’t know how that could be, but I’m honored to be the first.” He removes the grocery bag entirely and lets it drift to the floor, handing you the bouquet. “Thought it’d be appropriate for today.”

“Appropriate,” you murmur, sniffing delicately at a silky rose, eyes shining with happiness. “What do you mean?”

“Uhh…have you looked at the calendar today?”

Something in his voice snaps you out of your reverie, and you drag your gaze away from your pretty flowers to his amused expression. 

He cocks his head to the side. “It’s the 14th, baby.”

It takes a second, but it finally dawns on you. Your heart lurches.

“Oh my God,” you mumble. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t even realize —”

Eddie cuts you off with a wave of his hand. “That’s okay. We don’t have to make a big deal out of it. I’ve been meanin’ to get you flowers at some point, anyway.”

His smile tells you that everything is okay. You decide to believe it.

You hold the bouquet delicately, handling it as though it were priceless. Eddie follows you into the kitchen, where you pull your only vase out from its place beneath the sink. You blow a speck of dust off the glass rim, and fill it with water.

Then, after carefully peeling the cellophane away from the bundle, you lay the flowers aside on the counter. 

“You have to cut the stems at an angle, so they absorb the water better,” you explain to Eddie as you rifle around the junk drawer for your kitchen shears.

Eddie watches your ministrations with tender affection. “Oh, yeah? How does that work?”

You pause your movements. “I don’t know, actually,” you confess. “That’s just what my mom taught me.”

You proceed with cutting away the excess stems, and move the flowers into the vase, trying to arrange them exactly as they were when Eddie presented them to you. When they look right, you place them in the center of your kitchen table.

“There.”

Eddie stands back and admires your handiwork. You step in front of him and move in close, so that your middles are nearly touching.

“Thank you, Eddie. They’re really beautiful.”

Your eyes are wide, desperate for him to understand the gravity of the gesture, and how very much it means to you. 

But he knows. He always knows.

He closes the space and pulls you in tight, wrapping his arms around you, so that his hands settle at the small of your back, fingers laced together so as to keep you there forever.

“Do you really like them? ‘Cause when I was at the store, I had a way bigger one at first. It was all huge red and pink flowers. And then a lady in the checkout line told me I should pick a different one, since carnations are apparently tacky.”

You press your face against his chest. “That’s silly. I’d like your carnations too, Eddie.”

“‘They’re filler flowers,’ is what she said.”

You chuckle at his disgruntled tone, and the sound muffled is against his t-shirt. “Nevermind her. And to answer your question, yes, I really like them. I love them.”

Eddie notches a finger under your chin and tilts your head upwards. “I love you,” he tells you for the first time, and presses a sweet kiss to your lips.

thank you for reading!! xoxo Valentine's Day Special Masterlist

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Could you possibly do a fluffy Rhys x reader where reader has always been kinda independent and has never really experienced someone wanting to help take care of them and spoil them until Rhys came along?

Let me take care of you.

Rhysand x f!Reader.

Warnings; swearing.

Masterlist.

I hope this is how you imagined this!

Growing up as the middle child of your family you had no choice but do anything alone. Your father was always spending time with your older sister, caring for her and making sure that she had everything she wished for. Your mother on the other hand was always babying your younger sister. When you were eight years old you learned how to make snacks when you got hungry, how to make your bed and how to wash your clothes. You always played with your older sister's damaged toys and wore her old clothes since your parents never bothered to buy new ones for you. It wasn’t that they didn’t have the money, when your younger sister was born your mother filled her room with several toys and clothes. As you grew up you started working at a bookstore and after a while you managed to save enough money to move to your own place. Your parents never tried to get in touch with you and even though it hurt, you continued your life like they never existed.

One evening as you were closing the bookstore a handsome male approached you. He was dressed casually but you could still see how elegant he was even in his loose clothes. “Excuse me do you know where the store owner is?” his deep voice sent shivers down your spine. You looked at him and almost gasped when you noticed his violet eyes. The High Lord.

“Uhm probably at his house.” You replied.

“Oh, did he say something about a book? He told me to come today to pick it up.” He spoke.

“No he didn’t mention it.” You started unlocking again “Come in maybe he left it somewhere.”

He nodded and followed you inside. “Thank you for doing this.”

“No problem” you smiled and checked the counter and the drawers.

“What’s the title of the book?” you shouted from under the counter.

“Beasts of Prythian” he answered, and your breath hitched.

“No its not here. Maybe he forgot?” you said softly “I can write it down and ask him again tomorrow.” “Oh okay. Thank you” he smiled and as you stared at his sharp face and those violet eyes that shined under the light of the stars the bond snapped.

That was how you met your mate, the High Lord of the Night Court -Rhysand.

He came the next day and asked you on a date and now a year later you are packing your things to move in his house.

You glanced at your apartment for one last time thinking about the life you are leaving behind and how much Rhysand changed it.

On your first date he appeared at your door with a bouquet of red roses making your heart skip a beat. No one had ever gifted you something and you had to use most of your power to hold back the tears of happiness.

“This is for me?” you had asked softly.

“Well I’m not planning to take someone else on a date and even though I’m amazing I don’t usually buy myself flowers” he had rolled his eyes with a playful smirk.

“You arrogant High Lord” you had snorted.

He took you to a nice restaurant and when the waitress guided you to the table, he pulled a chair back and waited for you to sit. You hadn’t realized that he was waiting for you, so you pulled the chair across him and sat down. He stared at you, and you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Oh you pulled the chair for me?” you had asked him.

“Its okay” he had replied with a tight smile.

“I can get up and come sit there if you want.” You mumbled scared that you offended him. “No no its fine I’ll just sit here.”

That night he escorted you back home and left.

Your thoughts kept running to the times he did something like that.

When he came to your house with a bottle of wine, and you spent the night cooking and talking. He kept insisting to help you make dinner and afterwards he made the dessert alone, making your heart swell as he offered you a plate with a feline smile.

When he found out you were having nightmares and asked Madja to make a tea that would help you sleep peacefully. You had looked at him like he had grown a second head when he gave it to you.

When he bought you a gown for solstice after he invited you to meet his family. You had offered to repay him, but he shook his head.

“Let me spoil you my love” he had said, and tears streamed down your face.

The next day you used your savings to buy him a nice quill.

“So you will think about me when you work.” You had said and he chuckled.

“I always think about you.”

Rhysand practically gave you everything you wanted, if you stared at an item for more than five seconds the next day he would come to your house and give it to you.

At some point you felt so bad, like you were using him, so you stopped looking at the store windows. Even then Rhysand would get you the most amazing stuff.

“I saw it and I immediately thought of you.”

“Oh come on this screams y/n”

“I dreamed of you in this, you will look amazing. I can’t imagine another female wearing it.”

“This was made for you”.

And always you would furrow your eyebrows.

“Rhys you’re spending all your money on me. I don’t need more clothes or at this point anything.”

“Let me take care of you.”

You gave up and bought a second closet because your old one was full.

It wasn’t only the things he bought you though. Rhysand could always understand your mood. If you were happy, he would immediately take you to Rita’s or for a stroll in the city. Sometimes he would even arrange game nights with his family.

If you were sad though he would make you dinner and spend the day cuddling you, and telling you that everything is going to be alright.

One day one of your coworkers was being rude to you. You had decided to ignore him until your shift ended and then put him in his place. Rhysand came to pick you up and overheard you coworker saying. “Being the High Lord’s whore doesn’t make you better than us.” You had opened your mouth to tell him off when he knelt in pain, holding his head with both his hands and crying. Rhys strolled in with his hands in his pocket and a cold expression.

“Say that again” he had growled.

Your coworker couldn’t speak.

“Rhys its okay I can handle this” you had said.

“No!” he snarled “say that again”.

When he didn’t reply Rhysand crushed his memories and pulled you out of the store.

“I don’t need you to fight my battles Rhys. I’ve been doing it my whole life.” You had screamed.

“This means nothing. It’s finally time for someone else to take care of you. Your parents may have been useless but I’m not! You’re my fucking Queen.” He had screamed back, his dark power trembling the whole city.

That night you cried in his arms, letting all the trauma out and accepting the new life he was offering you.

“Ready?” your mate asked as he hugged you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I think so.” You sighed and stared at the open door of your apartment from the outside.

“Let’s go then.” He said and closed your door. You smiled thinking how fitting it was for him to close the door of your past life.

“I love you” you softly said.

“I love you too.” He replied and grabbed your bags.

Hope you enjoyed this!

[strawb3rrystar]

Hi, I was wondering if you could do an Alastor x Reader where Reader receives a peculiar bouquet from an anonymous sender, but she realizes too late that the flowers are hemlock, lily, foxglove, interspersed with baby's breath, and bleeding hearts. Which are all poisons. Before she could do anything, she was knocked out?

Rose of death.

Pairing: Alastor x Fem! Flower Overlord! Reader

Warnings: Non consensual drugging, implied torture

Word count: 503

✰Masterlist

You thought today would be just a normal day, until a strange bouquet was delivered to your doorstep. At first you thought it had been delivered to the wrong address, but the card attached had your name on it. From anonymous.

How peculiar, huh? Yet you brushed it off and walked off into the kitchen after shutting the door. You grabbed a nice vase from the top of the shelf, where it usually sat collecting dust. Filling it generously with water, you take work on cutting the ends of the stems. They were a lovely bundle of flowers, unlike your average bouquet. Whoever sent you these really knew their stuff.

You carefully set them in the vase admiring their beauty. You always loved flowers, even when you were alive. During your years alive, you owned a small flower shop, which you loved and cared for deeply. You stared at the bouquet, taking in its scent. Ah.. was that hemlock?

Wait... hemlock? Your eyes widen as you stare more intensely at the bouquet. It only took you a second to identify the flowers in front of you. Lily, foxglove, interspersed with baby's breath, and bleeding hearts.

"Fuck." You curse, knocking the vase to the ground. All of those flowers were poisons. How could you be so careless? You were a fucking Overlord for Satan's sake! Lightheadedness starts to take over as you cling onto the edge of your counter. Shit, the door!

Your head whips to the door as you forgot to lock it. You try to take a step forward but your body feels like it's underwater. In a flash you're laying on the ground, your vision going fuzzy. All you could make out was a red figure walking towards. But everything was red in this fucking place, it could literally be anything. Your eyes feel heavy as you slip into unconsciousness. The darkness overcomes you and it suffocates your lungs, barely able to keep a breath in.

When you awake, you find yourself strapped to a table. Your body felt weak and sore. Like you had been tossed down fifty flights of stares. A bright light suddenly surrounds you and you hiss in pain. When your eyes adjust you're met with a toothy grin and psychopathic eyes. The Radio Demon. His name felt like mercury on your tongue. But what could he possibly want with you? You open your mouth to speak, but Alastor's tentacle is faster, covering your mouth completely. "Save your voice for the broadcast, my dear."

That's when you really started freaking out. You begin the thrash around, but a jolt of pain courses through your body. A wince leaves your lips as you halt. "You can struggle all you want when were live."

Alastor brushes some hair out of your face then turns to his set up. He fiddles with a few buttons and knobs before turning back to you. His grin spreading. "Trust me, the only thing you're going to be doing from now on is screaming."

Star's notes -> Would it surprise you if I said this is my first Alastor fic?

(Thank you @cartoonykat for requesting!) (Requests are open!)

Taglist -> @alexandria-fandom @corruptcoder @perfectlycraftychaos @stressedbleach @ghostdoodlen

@roboticsuccubus83 @marenelili @mollzaj @sunshines-bright @t0uchst4rv3d

@saints-wrapped-in-plastic @sweetadonisbutbetter @little-miss-chaoss @sunr1s3-strab3rr1 @naathanuwu

@ghxstiess @sugarplumz100 @hazbinhappy @facelessfionna | Join the taglist

[munsonluhvr]

LOVE'S TUG OF WAR (DAY #5 LOVE LETTER EVENT)

contents: steddie x reader; sfw! It's the first Valentine's Day you're spending with Eddie and Steve - too bad it doesn't go as planned. word count - 1.5k

notes: aaand now, the love letter event has come to a close. thank you all so much for interacting with the fics; i hope you all enjoyed them. a lot of *love* went into writing them. i hope you all had a lovely valentine's day and that you feel the love that is in the air and surrounding you.

love letter event masterlist

It had been going so well; who would have thought Valentine’s day, the day of appreciating the ones you love the most, would be so complicated?  You sigh, taking the pan out of the oven, looking at the hard, black circles, which are supposed to be cookies, that sit on the metal pan staring back at you. You had asked your mother for your grandmother’s infamous chocolate cookie recipe, but for the last 3 times you’ve made, then remade, the cookies, they come out the same – inedible. 

Frustration bubbles inside of you, the clock ticking loudly in the back of your mind – the boy’s would be over soon. Your back aches, the heat seeping out from the oven making beads of sweat form in your hairline. Abruptly, you dump the black crusted cookies into the sink, you’re too discouraged to aim for the trashcan, and you begin to gather the ingredients to make another batch – again. 

You use the measuring cup to measure out the flour, determined to follow the recipe exactly. It had to work this time. You had put so much thought, so much effort, into making sure that your first Valentine’s with Eddie and Steve goes perfectly. Now everything is crumbling little by little. Because the cookies have taken so long to make, you’re behind on dinner. The boys will have to wait a little while until dinner is ready. 

After you put all the ingredients together, closing the oven door with a little prayer, you begin to prepare – chicken piccata, which Steve requested because it’s his favorite. The time goes by so quickly, the time crunch beginning to weigh heavily on your shoulders. You had wanted dinner to be ready when they arrived, you wanted your apron off, your baby pink dress on display. You wanted tonight to go smoothly, to be able for the three of you to relax, have fun, and enjoy each other’s company. Just as you glance over your shoulder to check on the cookies, the small timer you had set rings. 

Swiftly, you put your oven mitts on, opening the oven with hope, only to be met with a small puff of black smoke. You groan loudly, tears beginning to spill from your eyes. Disgruntled, you pick the cookie sheet up, tossing the entire cooking utensil into the sink. Bending at the waist, you rest your elbows on the counter, burying your face into your hands. You whimper, feeling as if your Valentine’s celebration is ruined. Next to you, you hear your front door open. 

“Woah, what happened in here?” Eddie’s voice says, looking around your jointed kitchen and living room at the smoke that tints the air. The bouquet of roses that he had bought at the grocery store crinkles in his arms as he turns around to secure your front door shut. 

You sniff, looking up at Eddie through the divider that separates the living room and kitchen. Tears roll down your cheeks, your eyes already puffy. “Nothing is going to plan.” 

“Oh, darling,” Eddie says, dropping his belongings on the hardwood kitchen table. You hadn’t even been able to put the special pink and red stripped tablecloth you had bought yet. Eddie makes his way over to you, pulling you into an embrace immediately. You rest your head against Eddie’s chest, the smell of menthol cigarettes and his cologne filling your nose. His hand strokes your hair, the feeling is so soothing and comforting. After a minute, Eddie pulls away, letting the pad of his thumb brush away the tears that flow down your cheeks. You calm down, taking a few jagged breaths. 

“What’s not going to plan?” Eddie asks, his eyes full of concern, though he can guess it’s something regarding the food since there’s a heavy smoke that sits in the air. You whimper again, feeling tears starting all over again. “I was making cookies, my grandma’s cookies, because you and Steve loved them so much and they’re burning up and I don’t know why! I haven’t even started on dinner and you two are probably so hungry and I’ve failed at hosting our very first Valentine’s dinner-“ you ramble without taking a breath. Eddie interrupts you by cupping your face with both of his hands, causing you to focus on him. “Y/n, breathe. You haven’t ruined anything.” 

Just then, Steve enters through the front door, perplexed by the smoke that hands in the door. Before he mentions his confusion, Steve hears you whimper, a cry caught in your throat. Steve steps further into the living room, seeing you and Eddie stand close to each other in the kitchen. Very clearly Steve can see you’re upset, Eddie is attempting to calm you. “What’d you do to her this time, Munson?” Steve says jokingly. 

“Not now, Steve; we’re having a crisis.” Eddie says flatly, turning his attention back to you. Steve frowns, making his way into the small kitchen. As Steve gets closer, he sees your red-rimmed eyes, streaks of tears marking your face. Steve coos, bringing you into his chest now. Gently, he presses a kiss to your temple. “What’s wrong?” Steve asks, looking between you and Eddie.

Eddie jumps in before you begin to ramble; he doesn’t want anything to cause you to get stressed again. “Y/n was trying to make cookies and they aren’t coming out right and dinner isn’t ready, which is causing her some stress.” 

Steve shrugs, beginning to rub circles in your back. “That’s no problem, we can finish making dinner together; you shouldn’t have been doing all the cooking alone anyway.” 

You sniff, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. Without the tears in your eyes, you can see how handsome Eddie and Steve look, both in button up shirts, so abnormal for Eddie; but you feel lucky for the amount of grace, patience, and sensitivity Eddie and Steve lend to you, and to each other. “Really?” 

Steve and Eddie both laugh, exchanging looks. They both look at you with admiration, knowing how much you wanted to have tonight be great, to be able to sit down together and share a meal. It was hard to get the three of you all in one place, someone was always busy with work or with school. Steve and Eddie both knew how much pressure you had put on yourself to be the one that brings all three of you together, but they had responsibility too. They were just as committed to showing up as you were, they could take their own portion of stress to put together this Valentine’s dinner. 

“Really, baby.” Steve says, stroking your hair as Eddie did just shortly before. Eddie watches Steve be gentle with you, the demonstration warming his heart. “Steve, why don’t you try to make the cookies, y/n deserves a break. She and I can make the chicken.” Eddie says, beginning to clear the cluttered and flour covered counter. Your kitchen is small, defiantly not made for three people to cook in it at once, but you all manage, your sides bumping into each other often. 

You all begin to work on your tasks, Steve re-gathering all the cookie ingredients, mixing them all together like a pro. Eddie is gentle with you, feeling so empathetic when he hears you sniff the remaining tears away. Steve and Eddie banter across the kitchen with each other, making jokes in attempt to cheer you up and make you laugh. It works, especially when Steve scoops flour into his hand, tossing it in yours and Eddie’s direction. 

“Ah,” Steve says, bending over the oven, squinting at the dials. “Y/n, I figured out your issue. The temperature was on 500 degrees, not 350 like the recipe. That’s probably why they all came out looking like coal.” 

You can’t help but laugh, hard. Giggles escape your mouth at a rapid pace, eventually you bend over clutching your stomach. Eddie begins to laugh too. “It must have been left on high from when you broiled dinner last week.” He says between laughs. Watching you and Eddie laugh makes Steve laugh; he comes over, slinging his cookie batter splattered arms around you and Eddie, bringing you into a small huddle. You stand in the middle, still laughing, as Eddie and Steve stand around you, pulling you into their loving embraces. 

Steve walks around the table, lighting small tealight candles to illuminate the dimmed room. You stand back, your hands clasped, as you watch Steve do so, Eddie in the kitchen pulling dinner out of the oven while he hums happily. The room smells heavenly, the smell of severely burned chocolate chip cookies dissipating a short while ago. When the food is ready to be served, you sit for dinner, your new pink and red stripped cloth adorning the table, the red roses Eddie brought sitting proudly in the middle of the table in a vase. Steve sits to your right, Eddie to your left. You smile at them, your heart swelling with appreciation. You’re so thankful that Steve and Eddie turned what you thought was a Valentine’s dinner into a group effort, a rare bonding experience. 

You extend your hands out, Eddie and Steve’s hands placing themselves into yours. Across the table you see Steve and Eddie entangle their free hands together. “I’m so thankful - I love you both immensely.” 

Eddie and Steve smile at you, then each other. At the same time, Eddie and Steve speak. “I love you both too.” 

[spidervee]

in which tangerine apologizes—and you’re determined to find out why 🍊 18+ only; fem!reader; shower smut; kinda subby!tan?

There’s an obscenely large bouquet of roses sat atop the little table in the breakfast nook when you get home. Red petals gleam in the flickering yellow light of the candles Tangerine has left lit across the counter and, because you can hear the shower running from down the hall, you pretend to be angry, imagining yourself scolding him for potentially burning down the flat.

Truth told, you don’t give a shite about the candles. It’s the roses you’re focused on, at least two dozen of them, dotted with tiny spurts of baby’s breath and a satin black ribbon looped artfully around their tall vase.

Tangerine. That fucker.

In a moment, you’re outside the bathroom, picking at the lock with a dull kitchen knife until it gives and you open the door to a cloud of steam and warmth. Tangerine peers around the shower curtain—citrus-patterned on your insistence, though he’d argued it was a bit too on the nose—blue eyes wide until he realizes it’s you.

His face relaxes into an easy grin and he pulls the curtain open a bit more. You’d make a comment about him flooding the bloody room if you weren’t so distracted by his body, all sharp lean lines, rivulets of water running over muscles, his hair sticking to his forehead in a way that’s almost too boyish for such a seasoned killer and a pithy twat.

And, of course, the roses. They’re equally distracting. Of course.

“Care to join me, love?” Tangerine’s voice breaks through the fog of your thoughts. You blink at him, at his lopsided smirk and his perfect body, riddled as it is with tattoos and scars.

“What did you do?”

“The fuck you on about?”

You stare at him for a long moment, hard and appraising, trying to suss out if he’s being sincere. His lip twitches slightly, so gently you’d not have noticed if you didn’t know all his tells.

“The roses,” you continue, unbuttoning your trousers and kicking them down your legs, “What did you do that needs apologizing, Tan?”

There’s still water dripping out of the shower from where the curtain hangs open. Tangerine shrugs, muttering something under his breath that you can’t quite make out as you pull your jumper over your head, leaving you in lacy undergarments that he takes in appreciatively.

“Do I need to clean up your mess?” you ask, hooking your fingers into your panties and giving them a little tug down your hips.

Tangerine licks his lips. “No, nothing like that, sparrow.” He continues to watch as you make a show of stepping out of your underwear and unclipping your bra, allowing the straps to fall down your arms. You hold it there in place, covering your breasts, until Tangerine lets a low and breathy curse escape his lips.

“What’re they for then, dear heart?” You pull your hands away, letting your bra fall to the floor. Tangerine, you can see, has taken his cock into his hand, giving it a few languid strokes.

“I broke your fuckin’ mug,” he grunts, eyes fluttering closed as you step into the shower with him, closing the curtain behind you.

Your eyes grow wide. “Not the…”

“Yeah, that fuckin’ one.”

The mug he’s talking about is irreplaceable—stolen, of course, but that’s beside the point. With a sigh you sink to your knees, hot water hitting your back as you press your forehead against Tangerine’s thigh, brush his hand away from his cock so you can wrap your fingers around his length.

“The roses were a good start,” you grin up at him affectionately press a kiss to his tip, “But I don’t think you’re quite sorry enough yet, you bastard.”

[moonlit-ivy-writes]

VALENTINE

I love the light in your eyes and the dark in your heart
You love our permanent chase and the bite of our bark
We know we're classic together like Egyptian gold
We love us

“I’m sorry baby I’m not going to be there...” Jeans voice was soft through the phone, he always delivers bad news in a whisper…

“What do you mean? You’re not coming up for the week? What-what about Valentine’s Day?” You were in shock that your boyfriend wasn’t going to be able to take a break from work for a holiday with you, he’s been gone for nearly 6 months.

“I know- I know it sucks, but I should be able to get free time the following week, or- uh, no maybe sometime in March. Sweet heart I’m really sorry but I have to go now. I’ll call you when I get home okay? I love you.” He hung up the phone before you could even say it back.

You fell into your bed and screamed your frustration into your pillow.

Bzzbzzbzz

A bunch of texts spamming your phone made you look up for a minute, expecting to see texts from your boyfriend. Instead, they were just a bunch of memes from Eren.

You sent back a frowny emoji, watching him type for a while and the bubble disappeared. Eren decided to FaceTime you instead.

“Wow, what happened to you,” he must of been referring to the black streak marks of mascara smudged down your cheeks. You rub your face, trying to remove the black gunk. “What’s wrong?”

“Jeanie isn’t visiting this week and I was looking forward to spending my first Valentine’s Day with a boyfriend.” You sighed.

Eren rolled his eyes, he never cared for your boyfriend. Always thought he was stuck up, and bragged about his job too much. “Well don’t worry about it YN, If you want we can rent that slasher fic Mikasa recommended and I could possibly get Armin too…”

You sighed dramatically, “I know it’s cliche, but i was looking forward to roses and chocolates.” Even though a night surrounded by your best friends does sound comforting.

“Well, no movie then, I’ll take you out.” You looked to stunned to speak so he reiterated as “just friends” but it cut a bit inside to say that out loud. Eren has always liked you, and has done a pretty good job at hiding his feelings. Although he did kiss you once at a party, the next morning you didn’t even remember. “Cheer up, i dont like it when your sad.” He gave you a cheeky grin and hung up the call.

+++

Fresh out of a hot shower you paced your bedroom in your underwear, what do you wear on a valentines date with your best friend. You looked at the dress you had saved for Jean, no way, you thought. Opting for a typical outfit of yours instead.

“Hey i let myself in if you...what are you wearing.” Eren stood in the door. He was all dressed up.

You turned around from your vanity, your hair still wet. Framing pieces stuck to the side of your face, shit… is he early or are you running late. Eren stepped forward, raising his hand and tucking your hair behind your ear. A small tingle sparked in your stomach, but you were probably just hungry. “What? Is this not nice?” You pouted a bit kinda hurt from the reaction he had.

“I said i was taking you out out, were not going to the library...” He eyed you up and down, before spotting the dress hanging on your closet door behind you. “What’s that?” He pointed.

“Oh, that’s what I was going to wear...”

“Put it on, I’ll wait for you in the living room… oh and hurry Ive got an eventful afternoon planned.” He left your room before you could even fight him on wearing the dress. You stared at it for a few minutes and shrugged to yourself. Someone might as well see you in this. After rushing through getting ready you snapped a pic, contemplating even sending it to Jean, why did you suddenly feel a bit guilty…

+++

Eren waited impatiently outside your bedroom, he had brought flowers for you, and decided to place them in a vase on your kitchen counter. He nervously arranged the roses. Fidgeting with the tiny baby’s breath that accented the bouquet.

“Oh Eren those are beautiful, you didnt have to-“ you startled him a bit and you held back a laugh.

His cheeks heated up once he caught sight of your dress, discreetly, he scanned over your outfit, starting from the black paten leather heals with a cute dainty strap at the ankle. Cautiously gazing up your beautiful bare legs, to mid thigh where this cruel red satin dress ended. Quickly he focused onto your face, hoping you didn’t catch him gawking.

Your make up was subtle, though the red lip was nothing but. He noticed the black choker on your neck, and lost his breath. He looked for words to describe how beautiful, no, gorgeous, no stunning. “You look-“ he starred at you, “wow..” he shook his head, embarrassing himself. You just giggled and stuck your nose into the roses. A little note laid in between some petals.

To my valentine with love.

Eren.

By now all of your dejection about your boyfriend not being here was gone, you were far too excited to see what Eren had in store for you.

Sitting in his passenger seat, you let him take you wherever he had planned. Turns out the plan was the beach. You two strolled down the dock. Other couples were out having fun, playing fair games and sharing funnel cakes. Seeing couples enjoying each other made you remember you weren’t here with Jean… You looked over at Eren who must have just noticed the disappointment on your face. Shoving cotton candy into your mouth as an attempt to keep those pesky boyfriend thoughts from filling your head and ruining his scheme. His true intentions… showing you how you should be treated, and being here for you when that stupid prick wouldn’t even bother to. “Come on YN,” he grabbed your hand and led you to the best date of your life.

+++

Watching the people on the beach at the top of the ferris wheel you held on tightly to the stuffed octopus Eren had won for you earlier in the evening. You leaned your head on his shoulder, and smiled to yourself,“I’m having fun Eren, thank you.” Your hand fell to your side, and softly grazed against his. You two hold hands all of the time, but for some reason, the slightest touch made you get goosebumps. You pulled your hand away and shyly held the plushy up to your face.

“Hey anything for you YN, I love you.” Eren says he loves you from time to time,but this time ….hearing it made your heart jump. “Are you hungry? I’d hate to end your fun but our reservation is in an hour, we should get going after this.”

“Reservation? I thought we’d just have chili dogs at the stand down there,” He laughed like you said a joke, you just stared at him dazed and confused.

“Don’t look so dumbfounded,” He pinched your cheek, “the dates not over, I’m gonna take you somewhere nice.”

Date…

Of course it was a “date” but when you accepted Eren’s invitation initially you didn’t completely view it as a romantic word, more so a platonic date… but now… things are starting to feel a bit too … complicated. You left the beach full of thoughts and feelings swirling through your head.

+++

“Eren!?” You gasped, pulling up to the valet of one of the finest restaurants in your city. “Eren we can’t eat here…”

“Why not, you think I don’t have the money?” he teased you and you tried to combat his reasonings, but just like the beginning of the day he was gone before you could argue with him. Dropping his keys into the hand of a stranger and walking over to your side, opening the door for you. His chivalrous behavior made you question who you really were on a date with today. This is a side of Eren you had never seen before and you were starting to fall for it.

A hostess guided the both of you to a table that was tucked behind a privacy wall and with full view of the city scape. With a now setting sun disappearing behind buildings. You glanced at Eren who wasn’t even enjoying this outstanding view with you. He eyes caught yours and a heat radiated through your chest. Fluttering butterflies in your stomach conveniently covered the vacant feeling of guilt that sat in your belly. No, you’re just hungry… yeah that’s it.

Jean not even crossing your mind once, the two of you laughed together about old memories over steak and wine. You immersed yourself in his charm, even if you were constantly catching yourself from falling for your best friend. He’s was just being a good friend, you thought. Don’t over think things.

“Would you care for dessert this evening?”

“Yes-“

“No,” Eren cut you off and you gave him a death glare. “I have something else planned for dessert, thank you for the great meal.” Watching him use his natural charm on the waitress brought you back to reality. He was just being nice and comforting his pathetic friend. The guilt was back on, how could you even entertain whatever silly fantasy you had convinced yourself was happening. This date was definitely all in your head.

+++

Eren saved a favorite of yours for last. Fro yo.

You two would meet up here every Saturday to gossip and complain about each others lives. Well not so much anymore, since you started seeing Jean. Eren stood inline to get you your favorite flavor as you waited in a corner booth for him, checking the notifications on your phone. To your surprise you had no notifs from Jean. A bitter taste not even fro yo could recover coated your mouth. Not even a ‘Happy Vday’ text. Did he seriously forget?

“Remember when that old lady slipped and fell and she spilled her cherry berry all over herself.” Eren came back with yogurt in hand. Tears stung your waterline. Almost dropping the cups, he quickly sat next to you.

“What’s wrong YN?”

“I just realized I’m having the best date of my life and it’s not even with my own boyfriend,” you let out a genuine chuckle. Laughing at your own pathetic relationship.

“You have such an ugly laugh,” Eren sucked on his spoon.

“No i dont, shut up,” you playfully pushed his shoulder, but he moved closer to you.

“I mean it, its cute.” He took a spoon full of pink delicious yogurt and pressed it to your nose, leaving melted fro yo on the tip. You scrunched your face up, and tried to wipe it into his shoulder.

“Hey! Hey! This is my nicest jacket you’re gonna ruin it” He pulled back, but you refused to let him get away with his crimes. Playfully pushing him but in his haste to get away from you, he lost balance. Grabbing onto your arm for support he managed to pull you closer to him. Your nose, still pink, now centimeters from his face. Eren spontaneously licked the yogurt off of your face.

Time froze colder than the freaking yogurt. It felt like you were buffering a response. You honestly didn’t know how to respond to that, verbally…but your body decided to respond for you.

Closing the gap between you quickly and kissing him. You didnt know what overcame your morality in that moment but it felt good. Your heart now beating out of your chest.

“Uh-Er,” you tried to make any excuse as to why you kissed him, but sadly couldn’t come up with anything other than. “Sorry-“

“Don’t be sorry, YN,” his hand firmly gripped your waist and pulled you back in to kiss you again.

+++

You zone out one hand on the doorknob the other holding your house key. “Is it weird that I feel weird about inviting you inside.” You laughed. “You practically live at my house.”

“You know i think this time, it’s just different,” his words not matching the intense feeling that flooded into your core. “I don’t have to come in, I had a really good time YN, I-“ he caught himself before he said anything. Not wanting to say it and then have you regret everything in the morning, just to get hurt. Nothing would hurt more than that. So he chose not to say it.

“I love you Eren,” shocked by what you so effortlessly said, you examined his reaction. Trying not to misinterpret his expression. His face lit up, as if he had never heard you say it before, not like this, this time he knew you felt it the way he did.

It don't matter, be combative or be sweet cherry pie
It don't matter just as long as I get all you tonight

At that moment, Eren took a risk, kissing you this time with a hint of lust. Patiently, he waited for your cue deepening the kiss and slightly moaning in his mouth. That was it. He knew he had you. His efforts of today paying off by the sweet aftertaste of fro yo on your lips.

You blindly unlock your front door, Eren hungrily placing kisses over your neck and shoulder. You led him back into your living room, kicking off your heals while still managing to tug and pull his bottom lip in between your teeth. Guiding him all the way to your bedroom. Where this date originated from just hours ago.

So deep, your DNA's being messed with my touch
Can’t beat us
So real, fueling the fire until we combust
Can’t touch us

Eren fell to his knees the moment your dress slipped off your body and onto the floor, he peppered kisses up your thigh, worshipping your body. Chills fell down your spine as the warmth of his breath closed in on your inner thighs. He dug his face in your sex, pulling the lace fabric that was in his way to the side. Kissing softly at your exposed skin. His fingers snuck behind you, feeling your curves, before hooking and pulling off your panties entirely. He looked up at you, grinning, before diving back into your flesh. Kissing and sucking gently on your skin.

His tongue dipped between your folds, his fingers moved from your thighs, now spreading you further open for him to devour your pussy. You gasped and moaned, finding balance with a fist full of his hair, making it a disheveled mess. You found yourself grinding instinctively on his tongue, chasing the growing pleasure in your core. Fuck.

The guilt that you let take a backseat behind your lust made the high of your orgasm sinfully better.

You watch him lick you up, through fluttering lashes. You’re now coming fully undone for him. Eren smiles, growing cocky. If he can get you coming just with his tongue, he can have you screaming for him at the end of the night. He stood up ,“You taste fucking amazing YN,” Ushering you to the bed, you laid back putting on a beautiful display for him, spreading your legs proudly. Inviting him back in, he leaned down devouring you once more. Sucking gently on the bundle of sensitive nerves earning sounds of praise from you.

He took care of your pussy so well, being mindful of what you liked and didn’t. Paying attention to your moans, you got louder and more breathy when his tongue dipped inside your entrance. You found yourself coming again for him, singing his name instead of Jeans. A newfound guilty pleasure erupted from your core along with a flow of juices. You gasped never have experienced a climax like this before. Eren relished in your wetness, soaking in your arousal.

“Can you do that again for me Valentine?” He sounded so eager, it made your knees weak. Blush painted your cheeks, he was quick to pull you back into his mouth. Fleeting feelings of embarrassment and guilt floated away. Your body listening to his pleas, unraveling waves of pleasure onto his tongue again and again.

Valentine

Part two mayhaps, It’s bedtime - Ivy

[topgun-imagines]

Show Her How It’s Done

Requested: yes

Summary: Slider takes you on a proper first date.

Word count: 0.9k

Note: 2k celebration!

Warnings: none.

Pairings: Ron ‘Slider’ Kerner x fem!reader

Slider heaved out a sigh as he pulled the towel against the back of his neck. Tonight was supposed to be his first date with you, and to say he was nervous would be an understatement. “You’ll be fine,” Ice clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re just thinking about it too much,” The blond collected the rest of his belongings before walking out of the locker room. One last comment was tossed over his shoulder as he left. “Show her how it’s done, Sli.”

Thirty minutes later Slider was standing on your front porch, nervously glancing around the pristine space. A number of flower pots lined the white railing, all growing perfectly despite the California heat. Suddenly, he could hear rustling on the other side of the door. He sucked in a deep breath and straightened up just as you pulled the blue door open.

The breath was knocked out of his lungs as he took in the sight in front of him. You were wearing a flimsy black tank top and a pair of denim jeans. It was a simple outfit but on you, Slider thought that it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

When he heard your quiet giggle, his eyes immediately snapped up to yours as he began sputtering. The weight of the flowers in his hand suddenly seemed heavier than before. He cleared his throat. “These are for you.” He murmured, passing you the small bouquet of lilacs and white baby’s breath. Your heart swelled at the gesture.

Slider waited patiently as you returned inside to put the flowers in a vase. His hands were clasped in front of him and he was staring at the flag hanging from the corner of your porch when you returned.

There was a nervous smile on his face as you locked up. When you turned back to him, his eyes were immediately drawn to the large smile on your face. He stretched a hand out to you. Your fingers intertwined with his as you began walking away from your house.

When Slider had first asked you out, he had assured you that he would plan the perfect date. Meaning that you had no idea where you were going. “So,” you started, glancing up at the tall RIO. “You gonna tell me where we’re going?” There was a light and airy tone to your voice, almost seeming to pull the weight off of his shoulders in seconds.

He glanced down to find your eyes fixed on him. A small smile overcame his face as he turned his eyes back to the sidewalk in front of him. “You’ll just have to wait and find out.” He teased as the two of you stopped at the cross walk.

After walking for a few minutes, Slider finally stopped the two of you across the road from a small, brightly coloured building. There was a large sign beside the door advertising the best ice cream in Miramar. Slider felt a wave of pride surge through him at the sight of your broad smile.

The two of you crossed the street carefully. Slider held open the door for you once you reached the quaint shop. You thanked him quietly, a pleasured sigh falling from you lips at the feeling of the cool air as you stepped into the shop. There was one couple in front of you, which gave you enough time to decide on what you were having.

A large chalk board hung behind the counter, colourfully displaying all the options that were available. “What are you gonna get?” You questioned as you debated between mint chip and cherry garcia. Slider hummed quietly before he made his choice.

“I think I’ll get pistachio and raspberry.” He decided a few seconds later.

Once the other couple had their ice cream, Slider stepped up, ready to order for the both of you. After a few more seconds of debate, you settled on mint chip.

As the two of you stepped aside to wait for your cones, Slider’s hand settled on your lower back, gently rubbing the skin through the thin fabric of your shirt. You leaned against his side as you listened to the waves crash against the shore only a few meters from the ice cream shop.

A few moments later, the older woman behind the counter called Slider’s name. You followed after him as he grabbed the cones from her. You thanked him quietly as he passed you yours. Almost out of instinct, your hand slipped into Slider’s as the two of you exited the shop. The older woman had a knowing smile on her face as the door closed softly behind you.

Slider led you behind the shop. There was a bench built up against it and looking out over the ocean. He gently pulled you down beside him. A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you ate your ice cream. The RIO had his hand resting on your knee, thumb gently stroking over your exposed skin.

“Thank you for this.” You spoke quietly, as not to disturb the peace that had settled over the two of you. Your head fell against his shoulder.

The hand that was on your knee moved to wind around your shoulders, pulling you closer into his side. “I’m glad you had fun.” He spoke just as quiet. Any doubts from earlier were quickly forgotten as the two of you watched the sun sparkle off of the deep blue water.

A/n: Thank you all for reading! I enjoyed writing this one so much. Requests are open.

Tagging: @alexxavicry @chaoticcassidy @saturnsbabe69 @bbooks-and-teas

Join my taglist!

[eoieopda]

Hello lovely lady :) I’m here to pretty please request a JK drabble because I miss him terribly and if you have the time because I very much am in love with your writing 🥹🥹 Tattoo artist JK who gets a crazy stupid adult crush on a customer who comes to him to do a very meaningful tattoo for her and they spend all night eating and talking afterwards and it’s all giggly and cute because he will find any reason to touch her 😭😭 and now I’m going to jump off a cliff bc I miss him so much LOL

sorry for the wait, sweet bean!

cw: mention of needles, general reference to trauma (not described); description of a bad tattoo i've seen in real life; reader gets one of my actual tattoos because fuck it, we ball.

Jeon Jungkook considered himself an artist. This wasn't based on his literal job title, but on the immeasurable time and effort he spent studying, practicing, and working as an apprentice. On the sheer number of oranges that went off to rot in dumpsters with shakily tattooed skin.

For years, he placed permanent art on the bodies of strangers for tips only — if clients bothered with the courtesy, that is. Little designs off the flash sheet, last-minute friendship tattoos for university students who'd fall out of touch upon graduating. It was grueling work, but it was worth it.

When he finished his apprenticeship and was promoted to resident artist, Jungkook figured that he'd spend his days seriously — on serious shit that took hours to design and even longer to translate onto a living, breathing, squirming canvas. That was the hope, anyway.

In reality, Jungkook had spent the entirety of his day doing unspeakably stupid shit. He'd just finished tattooing "Seoul" in hiragana for a tourist who didn't seem to know which side of the Strait he was on — and then you walked in.

You shouldn't have been the only person he'd seen all day that already had tattoos, but you were. You clearly knew how this was supposed to go; and Jungkook almost started floating when the crushing weight of his exasperation finally fell off his shoulders.

Finally.

He didn't mean to audibly sigh with relief when you stepped up to the counter. He did, though, and he was well past the point of giving a shit if that should have embarrassed him.

"Rough day?" You tilted your head to the side when you asked and you looked genuinely concerned, even with that tiny, sideways smile.

Jungkook was torn. Yours was a face worth staring at, but the gallery spreading over both of your exposed arms was one he wanted to get lost in. He knew more than anyone how fucking it weird it was when strangers gave themselves permission to run their hands over his skin — but he might finally understand the urge.

Swallowing down that intrusive desire, Jungkook gripped his Red Bull can even tighter in his left hand — twenty ounces, reserved exclusively for the most severe instances of brain rot — and balled his right hand into a fist. He rapped his knuckles against the countertop and shot you a grin, "Nah, it's golden."

Jungkook had been right about two things. The first was that you weren't a fainter, a flincher, or a cry-baby.

If he hadn't stolen so many glances at you throughout the session; and if your quiet laughter wasn't the pacemaker preventing his swooning heart from stopping; he might've thought that you were meditating. Sleeping, even, or hit with a freeze ray. You were still, entirely unfazed like you weren't being stabbed thousands of times per second with a bouquet of needles.

Jungkook was also dead-on that this day, despite its frustrating start, was golden. Better yet, it didn't end when your session did. When he'd blurted out an invitation to dinner, you said yes.

Sitting down across the table from him with your forearm dutifully covered in cling-wrap, you shot him an adorably sheepish smile. "Could you, um —?" You gestured to the perilla leaves on your plate with the chopsticks in your non-dominant hand. "I'm not as dexterous as I was two hours ago."

"I'm on it, boss."

He didn't have time to cringe over that statement or the wink that accompanied it because your knuckles brushed his when you slid your plate to him and — Are you a child? Why are you blushing? For fuck's sake, get a grip, Jeon.

You sipped your beer as you watched him; and it had Jungkook fumbling as if he was using chopsticks for the first time in his life and not the thousandth. Thankfully, instead of laughing at him, you asked, "So, what's the dumbest tattoo you've had to do for someone?"

"Cartoon corn-on-the-cob," Jungkook responded without hesitation. The memory was burned into his brain, a tattoo in its own right. "But that alone isn't the worst part, and neither is the fact that its face looked like it was moaning with a pat of butter sliding down its front."

You groaned, but you were grinning, "Jesus. Do I even want to know the worst part?"

"Butter me up, daddy."

Automatically, you raised your freshly-tattooed arm and slapped your hand over your mouth to keep your drink inside it. You winced at the sting on your skin and, no doubt, the burn in your chest as you coughed, "Come again?"

Jungkook slid your plate back over to you with pursed lips. Then, he took a deep breath. "That was the script they wanted to go with it," He sighed, "I spent a decade of my life on my craft and that is what I do with it."

"I'm sure the linework on the horny corn was beautiful, though." Your eyes sparkled when your tone softened. The sight of you stopped him from laughing at the words you chose.

He gestured down to the vintage floor lamp he'd etched in fine black ink on your forearm. "Looks better when the person I'm tattooing sits still," He smiled, "And you can correct me if I'm wrong, but I think you put thought into that, rather than thirst. Otherwise, I will have follow-up questions about whatever kink that might be."

Ugh, that giggle.

"Have you heard of ghost lights before?" You asked between bites of your kimchi.

When Jungkook shook his head, you cleared your throat to explain. "When you close up a theater after a show, you have to put a lamp on the stage. It's primarily a safety thing — keeps people from falling over set pieces or into the orchestra pit — but it helps out with ghosts, too."

Jungkook shifted in his chair and leaned in a little closer to more clearly hear what came next. He was riveted, and there was no hiding it.

"There are a couple of different superstitions about why it's done, but the one I grew up with was that it keeps ghosts from messing with your props and technical equipment while you're gone."

You quieted before you tacked on the amendment, corner of your mouth momentarily twitching up into a sad smile, "Figured this tattoo might help me ward off some of my own."

Your hand was close enough to his on the table that he could've pretended it was an accident. He didn't, though. The microscopic movement until his little finger touched yours was intentional; and he wanted you to know it.

Not daring to move that hand away, Jungkook grabbed his drink with the other and raised it. He waited for you to raise yours, too, before cheering, "To ghosts that mind their own fucking business!"

[juletheghoul]

Bravo, Dieter.

Authors note: I'm just as surprised to be here as you are. We're starting the year off with a bang, writing for a character I've only ever done half a drabble of lol, hopefully you enjoy what I came up with. As always, thank you @wheresarizona for beta-ing and letting me exorcise my demons through you. Shoutout to @frannyzooey for her unending support, and to my literal wife @foli-vora for screaming reassurances at me (affectionately) Love y'all!

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: a sprinkle of angst (Dieter is a dummy- no specifics, I left whatever dumb comment he said up to your interpretation), 18+ no minors, piv sex, dirty talk, feelings? let me know if I missed any!

Masterlist

-----

There were twelve of them, twelve absolutely perfect roses wrapped up in expensive-looking brown paper, and they made you sigh. There was only one person who could have sent them. 

Goddamn it, Dieter.

There was a card tucked between the blood-red blooms, three little words.

“Text me back.♥️”

Your blood boiled, fizzled, and cracked under the strength of your annoyance, and without giving it much thought, you marched right over to the garbage can and shoved everything in, vowing silently to put it out of your mind. 

Three days passed before the second, bigger bouquet arrived at your door—more roses, bigger and somehow more lush than the first bouquet. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. Please talk to me. ♥️♥️♥️”

They went into the trash with a roll of your eyes, ignoring the slight flicker of guilt at the waste of such beautiful flowers. Still, the memory of his words came back into the forefront of your mind, compounding the sentiment that they had no place amongst your things. 

Two days later, another gorgeous arrangement sat on your kitchen counter, this time an array of different colours and textures; a work of art. 

“Nothing in this world feels like you. Let’s kiss.♥️”

Your eyes close, and you can feel him, feel the way his mouth moved against yours, how he’d kiss you until you dripped for him. How sweetly his tongue moved against yours, against your nipple, between your legs. The flowers were on the receiving end of the daggers in your eyes for him, but they stayed on the counter. 

The fourth bouquet was the epitome of excess. 

It was massive, almost too heavy, and it was only with sheer determination that you managed to heave it onto the counter. A storm of white blooms contained within a surprisingly tasteful black vessel. Orchids, roses–peonies that were almost fluffy, a baby’s breath halo. 

“I miss how wet your pussy gets for me.♥️” 

A gasp. A widening of your eyes and more memories of the times he pulled you apart in your bedroom, in his. 

Your fingers fly across the keys on your phone. 

[you] Dieter, enough. 

[D] I knew that last note would get you.

[you] Stop sending me fucking flowers.

[D] Forgive me. I miss you, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.

You chewed on your lip, anger burning white hot in your gut that he managed to get you speaking to him once again. It was in you to turn off your phone and head out, grab a drink with some friends, or indulge in some retail therapy, but you didn’t. You wouldn’t. Truth was, you missed him too, missed whatever arrangement you’d both somehow found yourselves in after one too many flirty comments, one too many lonely nights. 

[you] it seemed like you did. You really hurt my feelings, and I don’t want to deal with it if that’s how it’s going to be. 

You stared at your phone, wondering whether you truly preferred cutting all ties. 

[D] I know, I really am sorry–let me come over. We can talk about it, and I can apologize in person. 

You hesitated, knowing full well what would happen if you let him in. 

[you] just to talk…? 

[D] Yes, just to talk…be there in 20 mins?

[you] Fine. 

[D] see you soon xo

You rushed to your bathroom, ignoring the excitement and arousal burning in your belly as you jumped into the shower. 

All too soon, there’s a knock at the door, and it’s almost irritating how fast you move to answer it.

“Hi, babe.” He’s leaning against the doorframe with a cheeky little smile, and you long to smack it off his face; he must see it because the smile vanishes and is replaced with a boyish frown. 

A cat caught with the canary. 

“Don’t ‘babe’ me, Dieter.” You move to let him in, and the smell of his body wash makes you salivate.

You ignore it.

“Look, I know it was a stupid thing to say. I don’t even know why I said it. I didn’t mean it at all—can we please just forget it happened?” His voice is velvet, his shoulders are so broad, and it’s not lost on you that he’s wearing a baggy pair of sweats with an even baggier sweatshirt. The outline of his cock a calculated taunt.

You cross your arms and turn away. 

“It was mean. So fucking mean, and it made me feel horrible.” Your voice comes out smaller than you mean it to, a true glimpse into how hurt you were. You feel his broadness behind you. 

“I know, it was so stupid, I’m stupid sometimes—I regretted it as I was saying it. I didn’t mean it at all.” His big hands skate across your shoulders, slowly turning you to face him. “Can you forgive me?” He’s staring at your mouth, and you almost pant. He’s so close, he smells so fucking good, and every molecule of your being screams at you to just give in. 

He senses it.

His hands slide down your sides, grabbing onto your hips softly as he pulls you ever closer. His head dips, and he plants a soft kiss on your neck. The sigh you let out fills the dwindling space between you, involuntary. Just like the way your head moves almost imperceptibly to the side to give him more access, he doesn’t disappoint.

“Forgive me?” He kisses your jaw, moving up towards your ear. “I missed you so much.” He bites your earlobe while his hands move to grab at your ass. “Did you miss me?” He moves to the other side, repeating the same circuit before he looks you in the eye.

Your slightly parted lips and glazed-over expression are all the confirmation he needs to know he’s been forgiven. 

He presses his lips to yours softly, so soft it almost tickles, and he swallows the small whimper it pulls out from your throat. 

He presses himself closer still, the wall of his chest pressed up against you tight. His kiss turns from something soft to all-consuming, something breathless.

“I thought-“ he moves to kiss your neck again. “-you only came to talk.” Your hands move without your permission, fingers threading through the wild locks of his hair. 

“We did talk.” His tongue is in your mouth now, and it tastes like the gum he always chews, minty and sweet. “I wanna kiss now.” He devours you again as his hand creeps up your shirt, and now the cup of your bra is being pulled down. His tongue moves against yours while his fingers pluck at your nipple.

You moan, and it spurs him on, his cock hard against your hip, and suddenly you're herded towards the bedroom, only stopping every so often en route for him to press you against a wall or door. His hands are always moving, always grabbing and palming. 

You land in your bed with a soft gasp, but he doesn’t let you land alone; he’s right there with you. The look of triumph shining out through his dark eyes, lidded with the same passion that presses against your core when he slots his hips in the cradle of your thighs. A soft hum from him, a panted breath from you, and the whisper of skin moving against the now-rumpled sheets of your bed are the soundtrack to your reunion. 

He pulls away, and you chase his mouth, any anger left overtaken by lust. He laughs low, not unkindly, moving to kneel between your legs as you stretch out before him. His eyes follow the movement of your body, plotting how he’ll devour you.

He smiles as he divests you of your layers, unwrapping you like a present, and as they come off, your arousal burns brighter, pools at your opening like a spring just for him. 

“Admit it-you missed me.” He’s almost breathless, his fingers curl around the waistband of your panties. 

“Obviously.” You grit out the word, raising your hips to help him, and he lets out a bark of laughter. “I don’t need your smugness, mister.” You reach up to pull his shirt up and off, and he lets you. The broadness of his shoulders, and the golden skin on display, almost makes you sigh.

“I like that you missed me-“ he lifts your leg by your knee and the flash of his rings catches your eye before he places a soft kiss on your calf. “-makes me hard as a fucking rock.” He wasn’t lying; you could see the proof of it tenting the front of his sweats.

“Show me how much you like it.” You match his tone, reaching up to run your fingers down his belly, through the little patch of hair, and further down until you tease at his waistband.

“Pull me out.” His words send a thrill through you, and you rush to comply, relishing the look on his face when you finally wrap your hand around the heft of him. His low moan goes straight to your cunt when you rub your thumb through the pearl of his own arousal, giving him a quick stroke before he pulls his sweats down and off. 

His cock bobs in front, resting against your wet center when he gets back into position, hot and heavy, and by the way your heart is pounding, he can surely feel it even there-all for him. He spreads your legs open and up, bending them at the knees and holding them tight to your chest with his big hands on your shins. 

“God, you’re so fucking wet. I bet I could just slip right in, wouldn’t even need my hands.” He rocks himself back and forth slowly, coating himself in your liquid heat, his eyes glued to your cunt. You writhe, whining with frustration. He lets out a tsk, drunk on his ability to get you into this state. One of his hands moves, and then his thumb is circling your perky little clit, dizzying circles, while his cock rests just at the mouth of your pussy, the thickness of him opening you up like a flower. He leans forward slightly, letting his spit drip down where his thumb is, and it’s like you're drowning in him. 

Your hands pluck at your nipples as the circling of his thumb pushes you closer and closer towards nirvana.

“God, yes, play with your tits.” He swirls his thumb faster, the glide of it just right—and then you’re floating, gifting him with a filthy moan as your cunt clenches, all but pulling him inside. He doesn’t wait until your orgasm passes; he feeds himself into your fluttering entrance, and his earlier musing was correct-he slides right in. 

“Fuck.” His voice is low, the bravado gone, lost in the proverbial sauce as he coats himself in you. He speeds up quickly, unable—or unwilling to pace himself. His eyes are glazed over when he looks up at you, a gorgeous flush creeping up his chest, lighting up his cheeks and his ears. His panting breath, the wet sounds of your joining, and your gasping moans all come together to make the song that always plays whenever he’s with you. 

“I’m gonna fucking come-“ he sounds wrecked, and he is- his hips snapping faster now, the wet clutch of your cunt casts its spell on him, and within a handful of thrusts, he’s groaning, his hand leaves your shin and moves to hold himself as he comes. The first spurt of it is inside, but he pulls out and finishes on the lips of your sex, and you know this is his favourite part. 

“Oh fuckkk, there it is-“ He groans out the words, and his voice is somehow more vulgar than the act, mesmerized by the sight of your pussy covered in his come. “God, I fucking missed that.” He hisses, enduring the discomfort of overstimulation just to rub himself in his own mess. 

“I missed it too.” You’re sated, basking in the afterglow, loving the mess just as much as he does. He smiles up at you, and you ignore the way your heart pounds for him.

“I know you did.” He’s not cocky when he says it, and it makes ignoring the pounding harder than it should. His fingers collect some of his fluids and push it back in, as deep as his thick fingers can get, before popping them into his mouth, pulling an involuntary moan. “Give me a few, and then I’ll fuck you on your knees how you like.” He leans forward to lay between your legs, kissing his way up from your sternum to plant one of those toe-curling kisses on your mouth once more.

“What a gentleman.” You wrap your arms and legs around him, relishing his dimpled smile. 

“You should know-“ he frowns now, eyes darting, and you know what he’s thinking, wondering if maybe there’s a pounding he’s ignoring. 

“You’re forgiven, Dieter, it’s okay. Just stop sending me flowers.” You run your fingers through his hair; nothing else needs to be said on the matter, and for the rest of the night-there isn’t.

--------------------

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[ennoshitas-princess]

That Flower in the Field

Chikara Ennoshita x fem! reader

Warning: some angst at first, moving on to more fluff later

Synopsis: You are a florist in a flower shop and Enno visits to get flowers for his mom and has turned into a regular

Word Count: 1,509

This is held post time skip and manga spoilers aren't included. I will include an OC that belongs to me.

The bell sang as the door opened by your favorite customer. He became a regular that by now you knew some things about him. Like, how his hairstyle is always neat, his dark sleepy eyes that you love to stare at, where he worked, that he had an interesting hobby in directing, how he played volleyball in high school.

You sat on your stool with the bouquet of colorful flora ready to hand to him, only to see him enter with a little boy holding his hand.

Your little heart shattered into quadrillion pieces. Of course he would have a beautiful wife and a child. He indeed is charming in his own way. He also had a good paying job. You felt so dumb for falling head over heels with this man.

“Hello Ennoshita-kun, here to pick up these flowers?” You smile sadly.

“Oh, yes. I need them for tonight. Today is a very special day and they are needed.” He smiled softly at you, cheeks dusting pink.

Your e/c eyes started to water. You found it hard to breathe and the back of your throat started to tighten up. Your blood started to boil in jealousy. Whoever the woman is, she must be very happy.

“I see.” You try to comprehend what just happened.

“Hey, you are the florist that my brother talks about. He says that-”

The little boy was interrupted by his brother's hand covering his lips.

“That is enough that came out of your little mouth. I am so sorry about him.” He bowed.

“It's fine.” You smile a little.

So, the little boy is Ennoshita-kun’s brother. You thought.

He picked up the sweet scented flowers from the counter gently.

“Oh, by the way. I wanted to invite you to a party. That’s if you are possibly free tonight?” He rubbed the back of his head.

Your face lit up at the invitation, but you hid how awful you felt if you showed up. His wife could end up saying. She might think you are a girl trying to hit on her husband. You wanted to decline.

“Sure, I would love to come!” You cheerfully open your mouth without a clue what you were saying.

“Great! I will come and get you from the flower shop at six.” He waved at you, holding his little brother's tiny hand.

The bell rang as you were in your train of thoughts. What should I wear?

Meanwhile, Ennoshita got bombed with a TON of questions from his tiny brother.

“Why didn't you ask her out?” His voice whispered.

“Huh?”

“You like her, don't you?” He looked up at Ennoshita’s dark eyes.

“No!” He blushed.

“She knows about mommy's birthday, right?”

“I hope so.” Was all that came out of Ennoshita’s lips.

○◐❀❀❀❀❀❀◑○

“Oooh, this is exciting! He finally asked you out.” The blonde girl shreaked.

“Emiko, he didn't ask me out. He only invited me to a party, nothing else. We are only friends.”

You rummaged in the bag your best friend brought you with clothes for the party.

You found a pretty breath of spring dress in there, plus a pair of tan colored flats to wear along with the light green dress.

“But, you like him.” She frowned.

“Well, he doesn't. He got a bouquet of flowers from my shop, and let's just say he said they were for a special occasion, which is today.” You look at her warm brown eyes.

“Come on, y/n. Let's be optimistic about the situation. I am pretty sure he doesn't have a wife.” She placed her soft hands on your shoulders.

“I wish I could.” You look down at the tiles of the flower shop.

○◐❀❀❀❀❀❀◑○

“Do I look good?” Ennoshita frantically asked as he looked at himself up and down in the mirror.

“Sweetheart, I am pretty sure you do look great! You have already asked me and your baby brother twenty hundred times.”

“I know, I know. I just want to look great tonight. I mean I want to impress her and she is quite a charm just with casual clothing on.” He kept staring at himself.

“Dear, I am sure you will impress her. You two seem pretty in love with each other.”

His mother sat down in a soft chair with a lace texture. The cushions are a delicate lavender color.

She was sitting up nice and straight, head held up high.

Her pearl necklace was a charm to all the men out there, but Ennoshita’s father was the chosen one since they were very young, before they entered high school.

“I hope she does love me back.” He looked down at the wooden floor.

○◐❀❀❀❀❀❀◑○

The nice cool breeze blew right through his neatly placed hair, but not messing it up. The setting sun kissed his skin delicately as he walked towards the little shop filled with the most gorgeous scented flowers ever.

He opened the little red door to be welcomed in by the little chime of the golden bell.

“L/n-san, I am here.” He walked in quietly.You rush out of the back to see him in a white cardigan. A light sage colored polo matching his eyes wonderfully. Khakis make him look simply charming. Oh, why did you fall for this married man?

“You look like a prince.”

You held your mouth agape, mesmerized by his way of charming people without even trying. Well, you were the only one in this world.

“Really? Thanks, I guess. Ready to go?” He reached for your hand.

“Yes, I am.” You move your hand quickly away from his.

You didn't want to let his wife know you were some side chick of his or something of the sort.

○◐❀❀❀❀❀❀◑○

The two of you made it to a nice outside reception. The place is decorated with floral decorations with all the colors of the spectrum. The trees swayed in the wind, making emerald leaves come falling to the green blanket on the ground.

“Oh, Ennoshita-kun, this place is lovely! I bet your wife is in love with this party as much as she is with you.” You clasped your hands together.

“Huh? L/n-san, I don't have a wife at all.” His face flushed a tiny hue.

“Wait, you don't have a wife?”

Your face scrunched up in confusion. He would always have a ring on his ring finger with some initials carved into it. He had pictures of a woman in his wallet. You didn't know what else to think.

“Then, who is in the pictures in-”

“Those are of my mom and dad when they were around our age.” He showed them to you.

“Then, what about the ring you-”

“This is my dad's ring and he gave it to me as a gift for my fifteenth birthday.” He took it off.

“But, the flowers must be for-”

“I don't have a girlfriend either. These flowers are for my mom because it's my mother's birthday.” He extended the flowers out.

Your face turned a bright magenta on the spot. You had no words left in your brain. This whole time your blood boiled over a woman that never existed.

“I have one question still on my mind.” You step closer to him.

“Oh, umm yeah. What is it?” He looked away from you.

“Why would you invite me to your mom's birthday party?” You twist your foot around on the green blanket beneath your feet.

“Well, you are a very close friend of mine, so I decided-”

“Oh dear, stop with the lying already. You are indeed in love with the beautiful lady that stands right in front of you. Just stop and confess to her.” Ennoshita's mother walked into the scene.

“Mom! I- well- I…. Umm…. I don't want to make your birthday party all about me.” He looked at her.

“Come on, Chikara! I have been waiting for this moment. Make it as another birthday present for me.” She fixed her son's hair.

Ennoshita gave her a look that he gave at his mother's request.

He knelt down on one knee and held your warm hands into his. Your cheeks flushed a rosy tint before he could say a word.

“L/n-san, since I entered the flower shop to pick up a bouquet for my mother, you were the most beautiful flower in that whole garden. Your eyes gleamed like twinkling diamonds in the night sky. Your hair perfectly framed your face as I kept looking at you, examining every little detail. What I am trying to say is…” He looked down, cheeks as a crimson rose. “Ln-san, will you go out with me?”

Everything in that moment stopped or turned completely white out of the picture. Only you and Ennoshita are in the spotlight and everyone is a side character just like in the movies you watched in high school.

“Oh, Ennoshita-kun. I- yes!”

You jumped into a tight hug, almost making him collapse on the grass.

This marked the last time you doubted his love towards you.

Hello guys!! Another Ennoshita x reader here bc I love him so much!!! Hope you enjoyed this one as much as the other Ennoshita x reader! Hope you are having/had/have a great day!!

If you loved this one check out this one below

↪↪↪↪Bakery treats

Love y'all

______________________________________________

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ennoshitas-princess

Please DO NOT repost on any other platform!!

Reblogs are acceptable

[asnowfern]

Something Sweet and Floral

Summary: Elain meets the most chaotic florist while picking up flowers for Feyre's pre-wedding photoshoot. Modern Florist AU.

for @elainweekofficial Day 5: Blooming Buds (But I really just wanted to write an Elucien Modern Florist AU)

Read on AO3

Elain looked up from the GPS on her phone as the traffic light beeps, signaling her to cross the junction. Glancing down at the map, she turned around the corner where the florist which she was meant to pick up Feyre's pre-wedding photoshoot flowers should be. Her eyes lit up when she saw the bright sign "Flowers from Exile" and pushed the glass door open, chiming the little bell attached at the top.

"Hello? I am here to pick up an order for-" the words died at Elain's lips. 

The store was in chaos - stalks of roses, baby breaths, different varieties of leaves and coloured wrapping papers were strewn all over the floor. It was as if a hurricane had swept through the place. In the middle of the chaos sat a redheaded couple arguing fiercely. 

"No! You start with the core flowers in the middle and build the bouquet around it." the lady growled, "We have been at this for an hour! How do you not know this after running this place for two years?" 

The guy visibly bristled, "The arrangement was for you to manage the front-end operations so we, as I quote, do not fuck up your flowers ." 

Having decided she had listened enough, Elain lightly cleared her throat to draw their attention. The pair stared at her with wide eyes for one comically long moment. 

The female was the first to recover, "Hi, welcome! Sorry about the mess, two of our staff decided to go on a two week-long trip of self enlightenment to discover themselves together and left us with minimal help with no notice." she paused, realising she was going off tangent and cleared her throat, "Anyway, how may I help you?"

Elain gave a polite smile, "I'm here to pick up an order for Feyre Archeron?" 

The shopkeeper's eyes lit up in recognition, "Yes, the midnight blue hydrangea and white rose mix!" she looked to the back of the shop and gave an apologetic look, "I just need to do some final touches. Would you mind just waiting a couple of minutes?" 

At Elain's reassurance, the redheaded lady disappeared behind the counter, leaving her co-worker in the middle of the sea of floral debris. The male heaved a sigh as he made to pick up the mess, stalks of flowers still in his hand still grumbling under his breath. Elain hid a smile.

"It's all about the grip on the core flowers and tying them together as you go" Elain piped up. The guy looked up with a bemused look on his face.

"If I may," Elain added before picking up a couple of stray roses and swiftly arranged them into a tightly knitted heart. She snapped a rubber band over the stems and continued, "Layering the flowers doesn't just mean circling on more and more flowers." 

She picked a stalk of baby's breath and weaved it through and around the roses. She toyed with the budding bouquet, adding more baby's breath and Caspia, sharing her train of thought as she went along. Elain flashed the guy an encouraging smile and handed over the semi-completed bouquet.

"Sorry for the wait," The lady came back to the front of the store holding a large but beautiful bouquet. She immediately zeroed in on the flowers in her colleague's hand and whistled, "Wow, did you do that? It's gorgeous."

Elain blushed at the compliment as she took the bouquet, "Oh, it's nothing. Your bouquets are stunning!" 

The florist brightened at the compliment, "That's great to hear! But seriously, are you by any chance free to work part-time for the next two weeks?" she asked, only half jokingly. 

Elain looked up from the bouquet in surprise, "Really?" 

The florist pondered for a moment before taking the half completed bouquet and handed it back to Elain, "Finish it." 

Elain reached for the flowers and gave it an appraising look. With a well-practiced ease, she untied the rubber band and adjusted the structure slightly. She soon passed back the finished product - a rustic, countryside rose bouquet complemented by Caspia and cotton flowers, and finished with eucalyptus leaves.

"You've done this before." the florist commented as she thumbed through the bouquet.

"I ran a small online service during my undergrad days but I stopped after graduation when work got hectic" Elain admitted, "But I'm currently on a study break for my post grad studies." 

The lady grinned and stuck out her hand, "Well, if you would have us for the next two weeks, I'm Vassa and grumpy pants over there is Lucien. Your temporary visa to the band of exiles has been approved. Welcome onboard." 

Elain returned the grin as she shook on it.

***

Elain adjusted her lilac blouse and dark pants before entering the store. Lucien's email stated nothing about a dress code but smart casual was always the way to go. 

"Good morning" she greeted Vassa as she entered and placed a small box on the counter, "I brought double chocolate muffins." 

"Ooooh, is that from the bakery down by ninth avenue?" Vassa asked, peeking into the box. "Buying favour with sweet treats, I see. I like the way you think, Archeron." 

Elain beamed in return. Vassa took her through the store's operations as she munched through a muffin. Elain quickly learnt that the store was mainly run by Vassa, Lucien and another of their partner, Jurian. Jurian and Lucien managed the back-end operations from logistics to accounts and social media engagement, leaving Vassa focused on designing and crafting beautiful flower arrangements.

It was well into the afternoon as Elain peered into the iPad to start on her next creation, a cheerful sunflower table piece. After ascertaining her abilities to recreate the bouquet designs, Vassa had passed the ropes to Elain to finish up the orders while she worked on the design of the floral arches they had been commissioned for. 

Lucien stepped out from the back office with a camera, declaring "I need new behind the scenes content for our social media platforms.".

Vassa shook her head from behind an exceedingly complicated archway, "It's going to take me quite a while with this." she paused, "Unless Elain doesn't mind?"

Elain looked up from her work counter, "What do I need to do?" 

"Just pretend he doesn't exist," Vassa reassured, her attention back to sticking more flowers into the archway, "The clips are mostly little snippets of us arranging the flowers. We wouldn’t include your face for privacy."

Elain nodded, uncertain but in agreement. She returned to her table piece, her movements now a little stiff and stilted. 

Lucien's expression turned thoughtful as Elain started on a new bouquet and suggested, "Why don't you walk me through your process."

Elain pondered for a moment and stared at the stalks of roses and rose sprays, "The starting point is to know the centerpiece of the arrangement." Her hands moved along to gather the mentioned flora. 

Lucien nodded in encouragement while he surreptitiously started the camera rolling. He kept the conversation going, peppering Elain with leading questions that had her relaxing back into her work.

"How did you get into flowers?" he asked as Elain carefully smoothed and folded the wrapping paper around the flowers.

"I always loved gardening. Using the spare flowers lying around to decorate the house seemed natural," she responded before sporting a wry smile, "I may have then gone down a spiral of endless how-to YouTube videos on floral arrangements." 

"Looking at your bouquets, I'd say that's time well-spent." Lucien said, hiding a smirk when Elain blushed. "Well, I think I got all I needed for the page. I'll send you a link to review the clips before we upload them." 

***

"You'll be ok running the storefront by yourself? Lucien will be able to deal with anyone problematic but feel free to contact me at any point." Vassa said apologetically as she loaded the final frame of the arches into the van. 

"We'll be fine," Elain assured, waving her off, "You just stay focused on the event." 

Elain let Vassa fret while they did a final check. Eventually, she huffed and all but pushed her into the front of the van where Jurian already had the engine running, giving the duo a final wave as they drove off. 

Lucien was loading a fresh shipment of flowers when she entered the shop, his arm muscles flexing and stretching the rolled up sleeves deliciously. Elain allowed herself one moment to appreciate the sight, her gaze settling on the back of his fitted pants which did nothing to hide that tight ass. There was no denying the attraction she felt towards her manager, the man was gorgeous. 

"It's just the both of us today, huh?" she remarked in what she hoped was a light unaffected tone.

"Yep." he replied, his lips popping the 'p', "I'll work from the counter instead of the office today."

Elain had the words to persuade him otherwise poised and ready but found herself flashing him a smile instead, "It'll be fun." 

Apart from a demanding customer's refusal to accept that their bouquet could not be delivered together with the pie from a cafe down the street, the day went by without a hitch. Elain had soon found herself deep in thought as she figured out how to close up as slow as humanly possible. 

"Would you like to grab dinner?" A distant voice sounded.

"Elain?" There was that voice again.

A hand waved over her face, snapping her out of her stupor. 

"Wha-?"

Lucien gave a bemused smile, "Would you like to grab dinner?" 

"S-sure" she stuttered, lifting her palms to relieve some of the warmth gathering in her face. "Where to?"

"Fancy a pie?" he asked, eyes twinkling in mischief. Elain laughed in agreement.

***

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." A leering voice sneered. 

Elain hid a cringe and quickly schooled her expression and surveyed the guy next to her coolly. His drunkenness obvious from the flushed expression and putrid breath. Elain turned stiffly back to the display of pie selection, ignoring him. 

“Hey, I’m talking to you.” he snapped, his hand reaching to grab her arm. Elain instantly recoiled, her back hitting a firm chest.  

“Everything alright?” 

Elain internally sighed in relief at the familiar masculine voice. She scooted closer to Lucien, her body pressed against his body and said in a honey sweet voice, “Fine, babe.” 

Elain felt a strong arm circled around her waist, the grip light but firm. The muscle in Lucien’s jaw feathered as he took in the drunken man. 

“Do we have a problem?” he asked coolly, his chin tilted up as he leveled a threatening glare at the guy. 

“No.” the drunk finally spat out, throwing out a swear at them before turning to leave.

“You ok?” Lucien murmured into her ear, the gentle voice raising goosebumps down her spine, his arm still firmly closed around her waist. 

“I’m fine,” she gave a reassuring smile before commenting brightly, “More importantly, I have decided on a pie.” 

Lucien looked torn for a moment before a chuckle finally won out, “So have I.” 

As it happens, the pies were delicious. 

“Maybe you guys should consider partnering with them.” Elain later suggested when they were on the road, Lucien giving her a lift home. “You could package it as the perfect pick-me-up gift.” 

“The pies?” Lucien’s expression turned contemplative, “That is actually a really good idea.” 

“Actually?” she drawled, “Should I be insulted?”

 Lucien sputtered as he raised his hands, “It was a compliment!” 

Elain grinned, “I know. I was just messing with you.” 

“No wonder you get along so well with Vassa.” he grumbled as he pulled over at the roadside outside her apartment. She flashed a cheeky smile as she got off, thanking him for the ride. It was only after she entered her flat that she collapsed on the couch, raising her hands to close over her racing heart, willing it to settle. 

Her phone chimed as she was getting into bed. It was the link to the footage Lucien had edited for their Instagram page. Elain scrolled through the clips, admiring the editing. He had even managed to salvage the shots from the first bouquet, editing it in a stop motion-like style. 

Her phone dinged again.

The last couple of photographs are not intended for posting. I just thought they were too lovely to delete. - Lucien

Elain scrolled to the end in curiousity, gasping when she saw the photos. They were all pictures of her smiling and laughing. Through his lens, Elain never felt prettier. She clicked “save” to download before she set her phone down and drifted to wonderland, dreaming about large warm hands and russet eyes.  

***

“I should fire my staff and hire you instead.” Vassa sighed as she watched Elain pack up the little belongings she had accumulated over the past 2 weeks. 

“My school term resumes tomorrow.” Elain reminded her, giving her tote bag one last lookover. 

“Pshhh. Who needs a MBA when you can have unlimited flowers.” Vassa huffed. 

Elain gave her an unimpressed look, “Didn’t the three of you meet during your MBA programme?” 

Vassa turned to look away and said loftily, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  

Elain hummed distractedly in response as she stared at the closed door of the office, acutely aware of the male sitting inside. Vassa followed her gaze and the edges of her mouth curled upwards, “But I guess it’s not flowers that would keep you around.” 

Elain flushed and muttered, “I don’t think he’s interested.” 

Vassa snorted loudly, asking after a long moment, “You can’t possibly think that.”  

Elain started to respond when her phone rang from an unknown number. Frowning, she stepped out of the shop. It turned out to be one of the vendors for Feyre’s wedding, calling to confirm the tasting schedule they had scheduled later in the day. Elain turned to return only to bump into a familiar chest. 

“Elain! I thought you’ve left.” Lucien called out, continuing when she simply blinked up at him, “You know, we are engaged to do the floral decoration for the Velarian wedding next month.”

She frowned, giving him a befuddled look, “Yes?” 

“The couple had extended the invitation for us to stay for the reception.” 

“O-kay?” 

“Would you like to be my date for the wedding?” he finished, and placed a bouquet and a box into her hands. 

Elain whipped her head up in surprise before asking incredulously, “Are you asking me to be your plus one for my sister’s wedding?” 

“Yes.” Lucien replied smoothly, “Yes, I am. Coupled with our latest offering - the Elain set.” 

Confused, Elain looked into the box - it was the blackberry pie she had the other evening. Her mouth widened into a smile, “The Elain set?” 

“It’s a pick-me-up package. Designed to cheer up anyone’s day” he added, pulling her in close, “Just as all Elains do.”     

“Is that right?” she asked breathily, staring deep into russet eyes, “What if I would like the Lucien package instead?” 

“That was supposed to be a later offering.” he teased, “But I guess you could have it now too.” And with that, he leaned in to capture her lips in a searing kiss.

End

[bananapapers]

Lover Dearest

Nahoya Kawata x GN Reader

WARNINGS: literally none, very slight angst like very very very slight, fluff, sweetness, like tooth rotting fluff, reader and Nahoya r so in love I'm sick. Nahoya grown is such a sweet boy. Not beta’d we die like men, no physical describers (i think), no pronoun use

Summary: When his sadness hits, what better to do than surprise your loving boyfriend with flowers - which are named after him.

w/c:1k

A/N: Aster flowers are a symbol of love, baby’s breath means everlasting love, and white carnations mean innocence and pure/sweet love :)  (i love flower language)

Its 5am. I need sleep. this is from my last ask :)

Nahoya didn't often do things for himself you realized. Though you did adore the fact that Nahoya despite his abrasive personality he is very much a selfless person, you wished he would just do something for himself for once. 

Which is how you got here. At a flower shop. Your beloved had seemed down the last few weeks, and regardless of your semi-regular reminders that you're there for him as well, he didn't really open up to you. Nothing past a simple “I know precious, but I'm really just fine.” You, of course, understand that there are definitely some things he doesn't like talking about often, like his violent past or the less savory parts of his mind, but you think sometimes he doesn't realize that he isn't alone. 

Browsing through flowers you kept thinking about how these ones needed to be special. Something meaningful. Being versed in the old plant language was useful, but really only when the person receiving the flowers knows what they mean.. And bless your pretty boy's soul, he does not understand it at all. While you could give him a pretty bouquet of aster, baby’s breath, and white carnations, that is not special enough for your liking right now. And only you would understand what the meaning was..

While staring at the roses and tulips, you thought back to when you did a research paper on native plants in Japan. You got a sudden idea and grinned to yourself, thinking about how perfect your newly brewed plan is. All you had to do was talk to the clerk about something very special and then your plan will be in motion.

When you got home, you immediately started setting up your little surprise for ‘Hoya, placing the small pot full of the pretty greenery that you had picked up and then filling up a vase for the smaller bouquet of baby's breath and lavender that you had also gotten. Setting everything up on the counter of your shared apartment kitchen  so when Hoya came home from the ramen shop he would see them immediately. You had also managed to get a bag of his favorite chocolates that you know he's been craving for awhile and set them up in between the pot and the vase. 

Stepping back you looked at your work and nodded in approval. The potted plant had waxy leaves and pretty pale pink flowers that grow in clusters similar to hydrangeas. The flowers were simple but they were shaped like stars, which made you smile and cheekily think ‘cause he’s a Rockstar.’ 

After admiring your surprise you went to go change in your shared bedroom, throwing on one of his old hoodies and a pair of comfortable lounge shorts. Faintly, the sound of a key turning the lock on the front door can be heard, then the door opening, “Precious? I’m home!” your lover's voice calls out. You could hear him pause, then you decide to head out of the bedroom.

The sight you were greeted with was heartwarming. Your 5 '7 beloved was standing in the doorway, a bag of groceries fallen out of his hands as he stared at the flowers and chocolates in front of him. He had small crocodile tears starting to form in his eyes, which made you slightly worry.

“Do you not like them..?”, you asked quietly, inching closer to him.

“You got me flowers…?” His sweet voice croaked out, his breath caught in his throat. He liked it. 

You smiled then nodded, going over to move the bag of groceries onto the other counter, then giving him a reassuring hug, wrapping your arms around his frame and squeezing gently, one hand rubbing his back ever so slightly.  

“Mhm, got them for you baby, thought you deserved something nice. Been working yourself to the bone lately,” you said gently, studying his face for any other sort of reaction. A small smile took over his features and he looked genuinely happy for the first time in weeks. “You got me flowers..” he repeated, more a statement than his previous sentence, simply affirming it in his mind. He wrapped his arms around your frame and laughed softly, burying his nose into the crown of your hair. “You got me flowers!” he said one last time, full of joy and slight laughter, it warmed your belly seeing him this happy.

“Yup!” you giggled out, returning his affection, “and there's something special about these ones,” you said gesturing towards the potted plant. 

“What's special about them, pretty?” he said gently, smiling at you with a loving look lingering in his eyes. You turned and smiled at him, “They’re named after you, Hoya..”

He furrowed his brow and tilted his head at you, “What do you mean they’re named after me baby?” His tone was confused but soft. He always refused to use anything but a kind voice with his pretty baby. You smiled, “This is a Hoya Carnosa, it's a native to japan and its named after you. At Least to me it is, haven't I always told you that you were my pretty flower?” your smile turned teasing then you laughed, “thought they would look nice on the front counter of the shop.. A little plant named after the owner?” you suggested, smiling towards him. 

His face went through a range of emotions, love, joy, then something unreadable to you. He was looking at you like you were his sun, his moon, and all his stars. Staring at you like you were the only thing in existence, “I love you so much, pretty baby..” he said while collecting you into a hug, one of his hands coming up to the back of your hand, caressing gently like you were fragile and he might break you. 

“Truly, this made all the bad stuff go away, please never change or leave me..” he said into your shoulder, his tone was not remorseful but more gently broken. He wasn't upset or anything, just thankful. That was the only way you could describe it, he was thankful he had you.

“Never. I love you too, Hoya.”

“Thank you”

[lala1267]

Don't forget me (Part 4)

Summary: kiss and make up

Warnings: mentions of SH, throwing up, alcoholism.

Notes: it's kinda shit since I wrote this at 3 in the morning the other day.

Elvis and his buddies drove around in a black car with tinted windows. The car was going at a dangerously high speed. But Elvis needed to find Rosie, his Rosie. They drove down every street, road, and highway. Elvis's breath quickened as his heart pounded against his ribcage. He regretted every bad thing that he ever did to Rosie. He let the fame get to him. He rolled down the tinted window as he scanned the moonlit alleyways. His eyes settled on a small figure. He squinted his eyes as he waved his hand at Jerry as a way of telling him to stop the car. He quickly opened the door and rushed over to the mysterious mistress. She was passed out. Her hair was messy, and her mascara smudged. An empty bottle of liqour rested on the coble floor beside her. Elvis bent down to her level. He examined her before gradually cupping her face. He moved her head so that he could see if it really was..

"Rosie!"

He exclaimed. Fear coursed through his body as tears rolled down his cheeks. He had never seen her in such a bad state. She looked dead. He dragged her motionless body into his arms. He picked her up bridal style. His hot breath hit her cold, pale face that was lit by the moonlight. A few tears dropped onto her form Elvis's eyes. Elvis scurried back over to the car and placed her in the backseat with the boys. Sonny Red held her so that her unconscious body wouldn't move around. The boys eyes widened as they saw her.

"Is she d-dead?"

Jerry asked as he bagan to drive.

"I don't know what happened to her, j-just go to the hospital."

Elvis said with a muffled voice as he held his head in his hands. He felt guilty, he felt that this was his fault.

Within no time, they had already got her in a hospital bed, and the doctors were examining her. Elvis sat in the waiting room patiently with the Memphis Mafia. His leg bounced up, and down as he bit his nails. He stared at the clock as the minutes passed. Finally, a nurse approached him. She bent down to speak to him since he was seated.

"She passed out due to an excessive amount of alcohol in her system. We are going to have to keep her overnight just in case anything comes up. But you are free to stay here with her if you like."

Elvis quickly nodded as he stood up and rushed over to the room. She lay on the hospital bed like a sleeping beauty. Her long black hair spralled out over the fluffy pillow as her rosy cheeks made her look slightly more...alive. her long black eyelashes and her perfect pink lips enhanced her soft appearance. She had a face like an angel, but she was cursed with the worst memories. Elvis slowly walked towards her. Tears filled his eyes and dropped to the floor. He bent over the hospital bed to place dozens of kisses on her soft skin. His hand played with her hair as he whispered the word 'sorry' at least a hundred times.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I never thought that t-this would happen."

He whispered with his shaky breath into her ear. He sat himself down on the chair beside the bed. He watched her in silence as a million thoughts rushed through his head. He covered his mouth with his trembling hand as he cried in silence. His whimpering slowly faded as he fell asleep. Only the sound of the hospital equipment beeping was left.

He woke up and instantly went to check on Rosie, who was still asleep. He placed a kiss on her forehead before he walked over to the telephone that hung on the wall. He dialled a number and twisted the spiralled cord around his finger as he patiently waited.

"Hiya Jerry, could ya get lots of bouquets of flowers and lots of gifts and decorations. Bring them into Rosies hospital room. Make sure to get her expensive gifts, though. Use the money that I left on the kitchen counter."

He said before placing the phone back on its stand. He slumped over in the chair as he patiently waited.

______________________________________

Rosie slowly opened her eyes. She looked around at the blurred room that was covered in red and pink. She furrowed her brows in confusion. She blinked a few times before her vision was finally restored. She saw dozens of bouquets of pretty flowers and hundreds of bags of designer gifts. She looked around to see the word "sorry" in big letters. She shifted her eyes to Elvis, who stood in the corner of the room, watching her reaction. Her heart turned cold as she grunted and hid herself under the covers. Elvis rushed over to her and pulled the covers off her.

"Hey, baby, why ya running from me?".

"Go away."

She said through her teeth as she shot him down with her menacing eyes.

"Look, I'm ever so sorry. I swear to God that I will never let you down again, I swear, Rosie."

Rosie's face softened as she looked at his watery eyes. He brought his hands to her face. She felt a wave of sadness wash over her. She needed affection and love, Elvis's affection and love. She quickly wrapped her arms around him before sobbing into his chest as she pulled onto his t-shirt. She felt lost without him, and she was overwhelmed with emotions. She pulled away to look up at him.

"T-thank you so m-much."

She said as her voice shaked. Elvis smiled sweetly, and so did she. He held onto her hand before helping her step out of the bed. Her bare feet touched the cold floor. She struggled to gain her balance, but with Elvis's hands to keep her steady, she was fine. He led her over to the gifts. She sat on the floor with Elvis next to her. Elvis looked at her hospital dress.

"Nice outfit."

He said sarcastically.

"Oh shut up."

Rosie said as she rolled her eyes and laughed. Elvis handed her a gift bag. She opened it carefully and pulled out a shiny necklace with the name 'Rosie' moulded into it. It was studded with real diamonds that shimmered in the light. Rosie's jaw dropped as she examined the expensive item that was basically foreign to her. Elvis giggled at her reaction.

"Elvis, this is too expensive."

She whispered yelled.

"No, it's not, I'm Elvis Presley."

He said rather arrogantly. Rosie laughed at his ego before she continued to open the gifts.

A few days later

Rosie sat in Elvis's lap as him and The Memphis Mafia discussed business. Her long hair got tangled in Elvis's long fingers as one of his hands held onto her hip. She laughed as Jerry cracked a joke or when Elvis tickled her belly. Elvis looked at her with lust in his eyes. He loved that she was so cute and pure, but she wasn't innocent or naive. She was exposed to a dark world of cigarettes and blades at a young age. Ever since Elvis saw her mutilated thighs, he would be extremely protective. He would always be around her so that she wouldn't lay her hands on any sharp objects that she could butcher herself with. He hadn't talked to her about it since he didn't want to make her uncomfortable. Ever since that day she wore tights or trousers. She wouldn't dare to wear a bikini.

Elvis continued to admire her side profile. The way her nose was perfectly straight and her lips were full, and plump made a tingle rise in him. He pulled his fingers out of her black velvet hair. He rested his hands on her thigh, gently moving it up and down. Rosie gasped quietly as she froze like ice. She gulped as she swallowed the salty tears at the back of her throat. She quickly pushed his hand off as she plastered a pathetic smile on her face. Elvis suddenly realised what he had done. He moved closer to her ear.

"I'm sorry honey."

He whispered as his puppy eyes gave an apologetic look. She looked at him as all of the memories came flooding back. She felt a sudden wave of nausea come over her. A spicy feeling lurked in the back of her throat slowly creeping up to her mouth. She turned away from him before gagging. She instantly covered her mouth with her hand in hopes of stopping her insides from pouring out of her mouth. She stood up.

"Will yall excuse me."

She said before rushing out of the room. She ran to the downstairs bathroom and opened the door before slamming it shut. She grasped onto her long hair to keep it in place as she hunched over the toilet. Before she could blink, gallons of puke escaped her mouth. The men that sat in the room had concerned faces as they heard the sounds of gagging and splashing.

"What the fu-"

Elvis said quietly before getting up from the cream coloured sofa. He rushed over to the door, nocking loudly.

"Are ya ok in there?"

He inquired.

No response, only the sound of her coughing.

"Rosie, talk to me."

He said as he attempted to twist the golden door knob.

"I-im ok."

She said quietly as she cleaned herself and the toilet up. She washed her face thoroughly with cold water. Elvis sighed before she opened the door. He looked down at her as she looked up. Her skin was pale, and her eyes were bloodshot. She looked half dead. He instantly brought her into a hug.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Rosie. I didn't mean to touch your thigh."

He whispered as her face was buried in his chest.

"It's ok."

See managed to muffle out. He held her as if she were a baby. From that day, he made it his life mission to keep her safe, no matter the circumstances.

She wasn't depressed or anything like that. She just couldn't escape her sick memories. She felt guilty that she had left her mother with her phsyco father, for all Rosie knew she could be dead.

[underragingwaves]

Rating: Teen & Up Audiences Word count: 2.1k Warnings: none, though if you dislike modern AUs (or flower shop AUs) this is not the best fic for you Written for: day six of the @vikingsevents Vernal Equinox event, which featured the picture prompt that I used in the above banner. A bit later than I'd hoped, but couldn't force the muse into trying this new pairing (Ubbe/Thora) before it felt right!

She’s quite aware that she’s staring. Or, well, pausing her fingers between the congratulations and get well soon cards as the man ducks his head and enters the space behind the counter. Thora thinks it might constitute as staring, what she’s doing, eyeing this man up and down like that, but she’s never been good at hiding her interest.

“Can I help you?”

She shifts from foot to foot. “Depends,” she hedges, trying to stare at the balloons on the congratulations card rather than at his long braid that swings back and forth while he walks. She’s acutely aware that she’s failing this attempt to not stare at the man in front of her rather spectacularly. Draws a deep breath and squares her shoulders. “I really want a cactus or something. Some big ugly fuck-off pointy thing, you know?”

To his credit, his eyebrows barely lift in surprise at that description. “Right,” he hums. The corners of his too-blue eyes crinkle just a little while his voice deepens on the next question. “You want a card to go with that?”

“Sure”– she picks the most juvenile balloon-having one and tosses it onto the counter –“I’ll take this one.”

“Might be tricky to attach that to a cactus,” he admits, not quite touching the card but definitely registering its perky congratulatory presence by the way his mouth quirks up into half a smile. “Especially one of those, what was it, big and ugly fuck-off pointy ones?”

“Do you have any alternatives that go with the message congratulations on being the most insufferable and miserable bastard I have ever met?”

“You don’t want a cactus for that.”

“I don’t?” One of her brows arches at the immediacy of his response. It’s as if this request is something commonplace to him, judging from the way he smiles and the assured manner of his motions. “I thought it’d be appropr–”

“Some people love cacti. Or succulents, for that matter. Message like that, you’re going to want a bouquet. Something with tricky flowers. Something that looks pretty enough.”

“I don’t want pretty,” argues Thora.

“Oh, you do”– he chuckles, moving out from behind the counter and picking his way through the crowded space that’s filled with plants of all kinds –“if you want the message to sink in. Coming?”

“How am I,” she groans, tiptoeing after him and trying not to focus on the relaxed line of his very broad shoulders, “going to let that sink in? I want this asshole to be miserable about it, not put that bouquet in his scummily large apartment or that asinine white space of a corporate office and forget about the message...”

“Been to both, have you?”

“Not by choice,” she hisses.

“Ah. You know, Ivar is one of those people who like cacti.”

That makes her stop dead.

“Excuse me?”

“My baby brother. The one you’re mad at.”

She actually, damn her pride, takes a step or two back at that. Can see the family resemblance now if she squints at those bright blue eyes a little too long, though the eyes of the man before her now look infinitely softer and kinder than Ivar Lothbrok’s eyes ever did. Thora huffs out a breath. Hugs herself as the man almost seems to make himself look smaller in the space they share.

“How’d you know?” she whispers.

The man shrugs. “Town like this? Either they’re mad at Ivar, or they’re mad at Finehair.” A pause. Deliberate. Weighing. “And Finehair doesn’t keep white office spaces.”

“And you… are still…”

“Going to help you pick those flowers?” he asks, already reaching for flowers she doesn’t know the name of and deftly plucking ferns out of hitherto unseen places. “I think he deserves to be congratulated, don’t you? These flowers will be fine.” His grin, fleeting, is almost shark-like. “Some might be prickly. Skin irritants, even”– he chuckles, undeterred by such things thanks to the dark gloves he wears –“and they start to reek after a few days. He’s got a business trip coming up. When he gets back…”

“… his whole space will smell like garbage?”

Ivar’s older brother’s got the audacity to wink at her. “Are you on board?”

She finds herself grinning back. “Oh yeah.”

-----------------------------------------------

Next time she’s in Aslaug’s Florals, she actually knows enough about him to be able to greet him by name.

Ubbe looks up at the sound of her greeting long enough to nod at her before he turns back to the book in front of him. Neat rows of black, written text and numbers seem to pop off the white of the pages while his pen hovers over the next line. A small frown creases his brow as he carefully crosses a number out, then writes another close to the margin.

“Bookkeeping?”

“Fucking tax season,” he grunts.

“Filed mine last week,” she says, shivering at the memory. “Don’t trust a bookie to be able to make heads or tails of the ink orders, so I spend a weekend just pouring over the numbers myself. Hassle.”

“Yeah. You an artist?”

“Tattoos,” she explains, letting her sleeves roll back a little to reveal the intricate braided designs on her wrists. “Got my own shop down on Hedeby Road. Hole in the wall, really, but it’s good like that. Not a family business like yours, though.”

He leans back in his seat. “You’ve been asking around, huh.”

“Imagine my surprise”– she hums –“when nothing blew back on me. When all I got in the mail was an unsigned card addressed to the anonymous benefactor that said Ivar hasn’t slept in his own place for at least a week.” Thora puts both her hands on the counter. Leans over it long enough to catch the smell of ink and herbs. “It could make a girl wonder what happened between an older and a younger brother, as I’m sure you’d agree…”

His gaze shutters. “Learn anything interesting?”

“Loads.” She shrugs. “Not my business, though. I’m here for another bouquet.”

“I’m technically closed for business.”

“I know,” she says, nodding at the sign on the window and at the unlocked door that allowed her entry anyway, “but this is a slight emergency. Not every day your best friend finally leaves her asshole of a husband and shacks up with a woman instead.” She grins. “I was thinking an it’s a girl!-card for her?”

“Gunnhild likes snapdragons.”

“And orchids, but those won’t hold in a vase.”

“Björn hates cornflowers,” he hums thoughtfully, setting his pen down on the counter. “I might just send him those with a condolences card attached.”

Thora sniggers as his smile becomes almost conspiratorial. “You’re not so bad, Ubbe Lothbrok,” she decides, flushing slightly as his gaze fixates on her. “Wanna help me pick some flowers?”

He nods. “Might as well, tattoo girl.”

“It’s Thora,” she informs him as he rises to his feet. “You should probably call me that, given that we know all the same people.” She tries not to chew on her lip while he keeps staring at her. Fails miserably, if the warmth in her cheeks and slight sting of her lip is anything to go by. “Do you think Ingrid will like the flowers, too?”

“If she doesn’t, it’s no skin off my back. Doing this for Gunny. She’s good folk.”

“Yeah,” agrees Thora quietly, “yeah, she is.”

She decides she definitely likes Ubbe when he quietly goes to work on Gunnhild’s flowers. He is not one of the bragging types that have filled her life so far, though the plants and flowers he keeps are rumoured to be among the best in all of Norway. There’s something of a gentle touch to his fingers as he snips away a branch there, plucks a flowering stem out of its water, arranges the bouquet in such a way that even the few included roses do not cause any harm to one’s fingers.

On occasion, he will murmur something about a plant or herb as he works on it. Will greet it, even, with a soft touch that belies the spider’s web of tattoos and scars that litters his lower arms. Thora finds herself following the lines – the stuttering, halting, unclean lines as much as the fresher-looking sharp edges – and colors in a warm flush when she suddenly finds him looking back at her.

She’s certain he almost says something. Almost calls her out on the fact that her gaze was creeping down to that little patch of skin right above his waistband that seemed shaded in a blue color.

Thora doesn’t know if it’s a good thing that he keeps silent instead.

-----------------------------------------------

She’s gone back to his shop twice. Once for a get well soon-bouquet for Amma, who’d been nursing her pride and a broken cheekbone after making Hvitserk teach her boxing, which had made Ubbe laugh out loud for the first time she’d met him because that girl can’t keep anything alive. He’d made her a bouquet anyway, all sprigs of rosemary and thyme, and told her to spend her money on better things next time. She’d smacked his arm and told him Amma is better things, flower-killer or not, and he had smiled like she’d just entrusted him with a secret.

The next time, as it turned out, had been her just needing an art reference because someone had come in demanding a patchwork of flowers on their arm. It had been the time she’d been in Ubbe’s shop the longest, chugging down coffee after coffee while sketching out numerous flowers and leaves, listening in on his easy but brief conversations with customers and finally hiding out in the cramped room behind the counter while Ivar had stomped around the shop long enough to be a nuisance.

It’s always been her going to see him. It has never been him coming to see her.

Until now.

“Flowers?” she asks, holding the bouquet aloft as she squints against the sun, mesmerized by the way the yellow of the flowers interplays with the blues of the sky. There’s a tattoo in that, if she tries to make it work, but she doubts these are meant for such a purpose. “To what do I owe this… dubious pleasure?”

“You cannot call it dubious,” he points out, “just because you buy people flowers for weird occasions.”

“They weren’t that weird.”

Ubbe’s hum is so carefully noncommittal that she almost screams to hear it. He’s good at this – keeping his voice level, keeping his face a careful and most inscrutable neutral – to the point where she can hardly tell what he’s thinking about any of it at all. Thora supposes one would need to be, with a baby brother like Ivar who chips away at every visible flaw and a brother like Hvitserk who is all raw feeling on the inside.

It doesn’t make conversations with Ubbe easier to navigate.

“What’s the occasion?”

“There’s a card,” he says.

Thora lowers the bouquet. Squints at the thinking of you!-message perched atop a sunflower. “Thinking of me?” she repeats, flicking it open to see if its inside makes more sense than its outside. “Why would you think of me, I’m right here and… Oh. Oh!”

Coffee for two? is the carefully scrawled message, followed by the same x with which Amma always signs off her texts to her many flirts. Amma had once claimed she’d learned that from the best – a man she hadn’t dated, by her own admission, but one she respected – and Thora…

“You’re asking me out?” she hedges, torn between hope and disbelief. “As… as friends? O-or..?”

“I’m hoping more,” he says, ducking his head as a new sort of smile flickers at the corner of his mouth. Something softer, more private, more real than anything she’s seen from him before. “If you want to.”

Thora looks at her bouquet. Studies him over the tops of yellow and white flowers she’s yet to learn the names of. She can’t help the grin that is answer enough already, though she nods for emphasis as well.

“Coffee,” she says, “and then… a kiss?”

“Proper order of things.”

She whistles, low and daring, as her gaze unwillingly flickers down to his lips. “Right.”

“If I kiss you now,” he murmurs, voice softening to a near-purr, “we’ll never get that coffee…”

Thora’s head tilts. “We could… get that coffee some other time?”

His hand is warm against her cheek. There are specks of light in his eyes that dim as soon as his nose brushes against hers. “Some other time,” he agrees, and kisses her.

[nightingaleflow]

The Day Nezumi Got Angry

Fandom: Naruto Rating: Teen Pairing: Rock Lee x Nezumi Chisaki (OC) Requested Enabled by: @wind-becomes-lightning <3 Word Count: 2k Warnings: Canon-typical violence, misogyny/a dude who doesn't understand the word "no", mild angst, allusion to past trauma, a lot of crying (happy ending), mild language.

A/N: This is an idea that's been brewing in my head for a while. Nezumi's generally a very sweet character, so I wanted to see a situation in which she got angry. Then Nisi encouraged me to write a story after we discussed grumpy!Nezumi yesterday. And now, here we are.

Enjoy! <3

~

Nezumi smiled with relief as she hung up her medic coat in her locker. It had been a grueling day at the hospital, with a deluge of people coming in for minor injuries and ailments. It felt like she’d been there for 100 hours rather than 12. But now she was done, and it would be three days before she had to return. Even more importantly, she could now go home and get ready for her date with Lee.

She smiled, her cheeks turning a light pink as she thought of him. No matter how long or tough her days could be, Lee had a way of melting her stress away the moment he pulled her into his arms. And he wasn’t scheduled for any missions, so she had three whole days to spend with him. She planned on not wasting a second.

She exited the locker room and waved to the attendants at the front desk. “See you on Thursday!” she said.

“Oh, Nezumi,” one of them, Ema, said. “Someone left these for you.”

Nezumi paused, frowning. “Left what?”

In answer, Ema set a bouquet of flowers on the desk. There was a cluster of red tulips at the center, accented by baby's breath and greenery, all wrapped up in a red ribbon.

Nezumi stared at the flowers for a few moments, then shook her head. “I don’t want them. You can keep them up here though. They’ll look nice on the desk.”

Ema looked surprised. “What if they’re from your boyfriend?”

“They’re not,” Nezumi replied. She shrugged, then headed for the door. “Have a good night!”

She trotted home, the mysterious bouquet leaving her mind as soon as she walked through her door. She ran through her prep routine, showering quickly and changing into the knee-length pink halter dress she’d hung up before work. She was putting the finishing touches on her hair when she heard someone knock. Smiling, she quickly threw her silver mouse necklace around her neck, then went to the door.

Lee was waiting on the other side, a bright smile on his face. He looked sharp tonight, having traded his jumpsuit for black pants and a green button up shirt under a green jacket. The top button was deliberately left undone, allowing Nezumi a glimpse of his collarbone underneath.

He immediately offered her a bouquet of his own. This one was familiar, a pink lotus surrounded by tiny violets - their flowers - tied with a green ribbon. Nezumi accepted it, then threw herself into his arms, nuzzling into his chest as he embraced her.

He kissed the top of her head. “Long day?”

“Mmhmm,” Nezumi replied.

“Perhaps I can help make it better?”

Nezumi tilted her head up and gazed at him. “You already are.”

Lee chuckled, then lifted her chin with a finger and kissed her. Nezumi sighed against his lips, vaguely wondering if they really needed to go to the restaurant when this felt so nice.

Alas, a moment later, Lee pulled back from her. “We do need to get going, my love,” he said. “Shall we continue this later?”

“Absolutely,” Nezumi said. “Let me just throw these in a vase real quick.”

Once the flowers were sitting proudly in a vase on her counter, Lee took her arm, protectively tucking it into his own. He led her to their favorite casual curry restaurant, playfully challenging her to see who could eat the most bowls. Nezumi just as playfully declined the challenge, kissing him on the cheek before he could protest.

She loved how such a simple gesture could still make him blush. She loved it even more when he did it back.

After dinner, they set out to the park. It was a beautiful autumn evening, with all of the leaves now a rich red color. The setting sun bathed the trees in orange light, making them appear as if they were glowing. A cool breeze whispered through the trees, and Nezumi shivered, pulling closer to Lee. Without a word, Lee pulled his jacket off and wrapped it around Nezumi’s shoulders. She smiled up at him. “Thank you, Rock.”

“Of course, my love,” Lee said. He then paused as they passed a public restroom. “I need to use the bathroom. Will you be all right for a moment?”

“Of course.”

Nezumi sat down on a bench as Lee disappeared inside. She pulled the jacket closer around her, closing her eyes as his lingering warmth eased the chill in her bones.

“Ah, Miss Chisaki!”

Her eyes shot open at being addressed by an unfamiliar voice. She turned to see a young man standing nearby. His messy blond hair fell partially over his violet eyes. He wore a tan vest over a chainmail undershirt, and black pants that tucked into black boots. His hands fidgeted in front of him as he smiled nervously at her.

Nezumi felt the familiar pang of nerves at being addressed by a stranger in public, her tongue already tying itself in knots.

“I’m sorry,” Nezumi managed, mentally cursing herself as she stumbled over her words. “Do I know you?”

“I’m Kayo Tashiro,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “You treated me yesterday at the hospital.”

Nezumi frowned, thinking back through her patients yesterday. Sure enough, she did remember him coming in. “You were the one with the laceration to your forearm, yes?” she asked.

Kayo nodded, showing her his arm. “My arm’s as good as new thanks to you,” he said, his smile growing wider.

Nezumi smiled. “No need to thank me, I was just doing my job.”

“Maybe so, but it still means a lot to me,” Kayo replied. His smile then grew sheepish. “So…did you like the flowers?”

Nezumi’s smile froze as she remembered the cluster of tulips from that afternoon.

“I see. Those were from you?”

Kayo nodded, then bowed low to Nezumi. “Miss Chisaki, you are so wonderful and amazing. Will you go out with me?”

Nezumi’s stomach turned. “I’m sorry, Kayo, but no, I’m not interested,” she said, standing and preparing to move away.

Kayo’s smile vanished as he straightened. “What?” he asked. “But why? I’m a good man, and I’ll treat you right. I…I love you!”

Nezumi’s face contorted in disgust. “I said no. Now please leave me alone.”

Kayo moved in front of her, his arms crossed. “Is it because of that Rock Lee guy?”

Nezumi stilled.

“I saw you two out and about,” Kayo scoffed. “Honestly, I don’t know why you’re wasting your time on someone like him. You’re a beautiful woman, you deserve so much better.”

Somehow, Nezumi kept her voice measured as she asked, “And what do you mean, someone like him?”

“An ugly freak with disgusting eyebrows and no talent as a ninja, or in anything else for that matter.”

Nezumi’s fist, glowing with blue chakra, collided with Kayo’s cheek, the sound echoing through the clearing. It was followed by a loud crack as he hit a tree, snapping the trunk in half. He sat up looking dazed, a dark bruise spreading across his face.

“How dare you?” Nezumi hissed, her fists balled by her hips as she followed him across the path.

Kayo just responded with a whimper, his eyes wide as he watched her approach.

“You say you love me, but you not only disrespect me by disregarding my choices, you have the nerve to insult the person that I love?” Nezumi hauled him up by his collar. “Go to hell, you asshole.”

She hurled him over her shoulder, and he flew twenty meters through the air before landing in a heap. He immediately scrambled to his feet and fled, not looking back as he vanished down the path.

Nezumi watched him flee, her arms folded as she seethed. Once she was satisfied that he was gone, she took a deep breath and turned.

Then she saw Lee silently watching her.

Her inner fire went out in an instant. “Rock…” she started. “I…”

The next thing she knew, Lee pulled her into a tight hug.

She stiffened, then sank into his arms, resting her head on his chest. Her chest tightened, and she sniffled as she tried to reign her emotions back in.

He pulled back and studied her with a worried gaze. “Are you all right, Nezumi?”

She hesitated for a moment before silently shaking her head.

Lee pulled her back to him, gently massaging her back and nuzzling into her hair. “Do you want to go home?”

“I…” Nezumi swallowed. “I don’t know.”

“Then come, let us find someplace where we can talk.”

Nezumi nodded and let Lee lead her into the trees. They found a clearing a few meters in, a ring of trees granting them privacy. Lee sat on the forest floor with his back against one of the trees, then guided Nezumi until she sat nestled on his lap, her legs draped over his and her head pillowed against his shoulder.

“Is this ok?” Lee asked, tenderly stroking her arm.

Nezumi nodded. “That guy was a patient from the other day,” she started. “For some reason, he decided I was the love of his life after I treated him.”

She didn’t miss the way Lee’s grip on her tightened.

“I’m sorry,” she said, burying her face in his shirt as tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

“Whatever for?” Lee asked, pulling back to look at her.

“If I had paid a little more attention, I could have stopped this ahead of time instead of letting it escalate to this,” she replied, waving a hand in the direction of the broken tree.

Lee caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “You have done nothing wrong,” he said. “His actions were his own. Nothing you did warrants any blame.”

Nezumi just nuzzled further into his chest. “Thank you.”

Lee pressed another kiss into her hair. Then Nezumi felt something drip onto her scalp. When she looked up, she saw tears running down Lee’s face.

“Are you ok?” she asked.

Lee shut his eyes. “It is nothing,” he said. “I do not wish to burden you with any further problems.”

“Rock,” she chided. “Please. You know I’d rather know.”

Lee swallowed. “But you are the one in need of comfort right now. I can wait.”

“There’s no reason why we can’t comfort each other.”

Lee sighed. “Ok,” he said. “I…must thank you as well, Nezumi.”

“For what?” she asked, looking up at him.

“I…heard the things that he said about me,” Lee said, his voice growing quiet. “It is nothing I have not heard before…but this is the first time someone has stood up for me.”

“Rock…”

More tears dripped down his face. “So, thank you, Nezumi. It means so much to me that you would do that.”

Nezumi reached up and gently wiped his tears away before kissing his cheek. “Of course I’ll stand up for you,” she whispered. “You’re the love of my life. I’ll do whatever I have to do to make sure you’re happy.”

Lee barely managed to choke out “I love you so much” before pulling her into a desperate kiss.

Nezumi laid her hands on either side of his face, holding him steady as she kissed him back. She shifted in his lap, turning over so she was straddling his thighs. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and peppered him with the sweetest kisses she could muster, feeling warm as he sighed against her lips.

They resurfaced a minute later, foreheads pressed together as they caught their breath. Lee stroked Nezumi’s cheek with his thumb, his adoring expression mirrored by hers.

“Did you want to continue our date?” Lee asked, repeating his question from before.

Nezumi nodded. “Yes. I refuse to let that asshole ruin any more of our evening together.”

Lee smiled. He kissed her one more time, then carefully untangled himself from her and stood up. Once Nezumi was on her feet as well, they strolled back to the path arm in arm, leaves swirling around them as they walked toward the sunset.

~

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