#open florist near me

[funkyflowers12]

5 Funky Vases For Your Home

A funky vases is an essential part of any floral arrangement, and a simple, pretty one can make all the difference in your decor. Whether you're looking to fill your home with fresh blooms or you want to add a decorative touch, there are plenty of funky vases available to help you achieve the look you've been dreaming about.

The rustic vase trend is a classic and timeless style that works well for many decorating styles and flower types, so it's an easy pick for most homes. As Gabrielle Union shows, it can look best with a few natural elements like moss, branches, and twigs to complement the rustic vibe.

There are a few ways to make this design your own, including painting it and adding some sand or a marble finish for a more rustic look. You can also add a decorative piece to the front of it, such as a ruffle, a ribbon, or a floral print to really make it pop.

DIY Paper Mosaic Vases

This DIY project is a great way to spruce up a plain glass jar and give it a beautiful paper mosaic pattern without spending too much money on supplies. All you need are some squares of paper (the same kind you use for scrap-booking, art or papercraft projects) and a good quality glue.

Once the whole surface is covered, let it dry for at least twenty minutes and then varnish carefully, ensuring that all parts are firmly glued down. A second or third coat of varnish can be applied if you'd like a high gloss finish.

These are great for displaying flowers, stationary or trinkets and make lovely, home-made gifts. They're also a great addition to any child's bedroom or playroom.

Fruits and greenery are another easy, inexpensive way to fill your vases open florist near me. They're a nice change from traditional florals and will add a touch of color and flavor to any space. You can find these types of flowers at most grocery stores and even your local farmers' market, so it's an easy and frugal way to add some life to your decor.

Split peas are a perfect floral choice for spring and summer. They add a bright pop of color to any room and look particularly great in a white or yellow vase with a splash of greenery to make the whole thing pop!

Rock salt terrariums are another great idea for vase decoration. They're an inexpensive and easy way to create a natural-looking garden, especially for a Fourth of July party or patriotic theme!

Dyeing cheap rock salt can make it look like gemstones around your candles, which is a gorgeous way to decorate any home! They're also a fun project for kids to do with their friends.

Wood half spheres are another great way to decorate a glass jar! They're easy to cut and paint to a color of your choosing, but they can be stained or painted to match the rest of your décor as well. To know more information visit at www.funkyflowers.com.au.

[astraystayyh]

nights with hyunjin <3

little fluffy hyunjin fic inspired by the fact he sends good night msgs on bubble at the latest hours. lowercase intended.

2 am

"where do you see yourself in twenty years?" you whisper, buried under the thick white covers with Hyunjin. You can't see his face, but your nose brushes against his and his warm hand is on your back, keeping you close.

"where will you be in twenty years?" he replies instantly and you feel your cheeks heat up at his words.

"hyune, just answer the question," you whine after a few silent beats and he giggles slightly, "i am. doesn't matter where I'll be, as long as you're there."

you draw in a deep breath, suddenly feeling as if his words were keeping you at his mercy, completely unarmed. "you mean it?" you ask, grabbing onto his arm tightly.

"i do," he reassures, bopping his nose softly against yours, "you are my present and future, angel."

3 am

"what are you drawing?" you ask as you enter hyunjin's art studio, two cups of chamomile tea in your hands. you place them down and stand behind hyunjin, who leans his back onto your chest, melting into your touch. you wrap your arms around his shoulders in response, softly kissing the top of his hair. he smells like your shampoo.

"a house," he replies. his left hand wraps around your thigh, grazing up and down the exposed skin. "our house, i hope," he adds quietly and you feel your heart skip a beat.

"ours?"

"mm. wanna buy you a house. with a little garden and a view of the beach."

"i'll plant lots and lots of flowers for us there." you smile, admiring the pastel colors blending seamlessly in his painting.

"just make sure they won't die," he teases and you fake a gasp, "are you underestimating my gardening capabilities?"

hyunjin blindly grabs your arm, spinning you around so you'd sit on his lap.

"nonsense, you are my little florist," he grins cheekily and you touch his cheeks softly.

"these are cute," you tell him, referencing to his now apparent dimples. little pools for you to drown in.

"you are cuter."

"I'm still not over your flowers comment."

"I will kiss you for every flower you plant."

"that's a lot of kisses."

"i know," he smiles at you, his eyes turning into moon crescents. yours.

5 am

"can't believe she still likes him," hyunjin huffs loudly and you laugh, your hand softly threading through his hair.

"it's just a show baby."

"i know but listen," he stands up from between your legs, eyes wide looking into yours, "he just told her he doesn't find her beautiful. who says that to their lover?"

"he's stupid, she's clearly out of his league and he's threatened by that."

"right!" he claps in agreement, "she deserves better."

"she does," you giggle as he lays down again, face now buried in your chest.

"you do know i find you the most beautiful person in the world?" he whispers and your eyes soften at him.

"you tell me."

"but do you know it?"

"i do."

"good, because if you didn't then I'm a horrible boyfriend too," he shudders and you giggle at the horrified look on his face.

"you aren't, my love."

later on that night, while you are brushing your teeth, hyunjin pops his head into the bathroom. "baby," he calls out and you hum in reply.

"you are beautiful," he says and you raise an eyebrow in question at him, mouth full of toothpaste.

"just making sure you don't forget it."

4 am

"I'm getting sleepy," you say quietly. it was nearing four am and hyunjin has been playing with your hair for what felt like an eternity. braiding small sections of it, only to open them once again.

"me too."

"let's try to sleep."

"don't want to," he mumbles against your hair and you chuckle. "why?"

"if we go to sleep then it will be morning really soon which means i have to leave you."

his words make your heart clench in your chest. nights with hyunjin were your favorite parts of your existence. there was no pressure, no expectations on the both of you. you could just be two humans in love, under the kind gaze of the moon.

"okay, baby. what do you want to do?"

"i just want to look at you," he says quietly and you nod, getting away from his hold. you lay your head on your pillow and he does the same, this way you're both facing each other.

you feel yourself relax completely under hyunjin's gaze, because it's filled with love. for you. his pointer finger traces over your features, delicately, as if he was grazing a porcelain vase. and you let him. his touch is so soft it makes something warm stir within your stomach. it wasn't untamed butterflies, fluttering their wings to escape. it was something comfortable and safe, finding its home within you.

"you are so pretty," he whispers and you smile softly at his words.

"so are you." your right hand rises gently to rest on top of his cheek, and you swipe your thumb slowly across it. hyunjin's eyes flutter closed at the contact and you feel a wave of fondness flood within you.

you'd do anything to preserve this serene look on his face.

"try to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up." you finally say.

"you promise me?"

"i promise."

[mistydeyes]

opposite occupations

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: all the 141 boys have different plans while on leave, each having their own idea of how to spend the time. but when they run into a lovely civilian, they realize that all the long hours, deployments, and trainings worth it.

pairing: 141 x civvie!fem!Reader

warnings: swearing, all fluff :)

a/n: I love me a good little meet cute

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

price - florist

Everyone knew that the minute Price went home, he would be making the trek to his favorite cigar shop. It had been one he frequented for years, the familiar sign welcoming him home. Most shops on the street stayed the same. He liked the constancy, the familiarity.

As he rounded the street corner, he noticed a new shop had filled the unoccupied next door. The pale pink awning and rose-tinted glass were a new sight to see. "Sentiments of Carnations" he read as he walked past. He could see through the window that the shop had not yet been opened, noting the smell of fresh paint and empty displays. He wondered what grandma had put their retirement money into this florist shop.

He continued, opening the cigar shops store and smelling the musk of smoke and tobacco. "Ah John, I have your regulars set aside," the old shop owner said with a smile. "Back again for long?" he asked upon his return with a dark oak box. "Just waiting for another phone call from his majesty," he joked and slid over the usual bank notes. "I'll be seeing you," Price said as he opened the door and exited with the familiar chime of the bell.

As he embraced the warmth of the summer England weather, he pulled out one of his fresh purchases, excellently wrapped and balanced. He flipped open his lighter from his pocket and sat down to have his first smoke at home. He closed his eyes and savored the notes of espresso and hickory. As he sat in his small nirvana, he heard the florist's doors open.

He turned as he saw you, a flower behind your ear and a pink apron that perfectly matched the outside of the shop. You were not the grandma he had expected and instead were beautiful, the sun catching your lovely features. You had placed an antique table outside, along with a bucket of a colorful array of flowers adorned with a handwritten tag. You hung a small sign on the table that read, "Take one for a friend, family member, or loved one." You smiled at yourself, proud of the little display. You turned your head and noticed the mature man enjoying his smoke only a meter away from you. You picked out a scarlet carnation and walked over to the man, handing it to him.

"Here, you go," you said as his calloused fingers held the flower delicately. "A flower to brighten someone's day," you said with a smile. "Thank you, although I am not a man for flowers," he replied and extinguished his cigar. "Well, flowers can be for a variety of reasons, a friendly gesture, a gift for someone you fancy, or even something to brighten up your flat."

You ended with a sweet smile and he could feel himself melt on the spot. Something about the floral aroma emanating from the flower behind your ear along with your soft voice and pleasantries added to his current state of nirvana. You were so radiant in this light and he appreciated the kind gesture, especially upon his return home.

"No one to give a romantic gesture to, but thank you," he replied. "Well if that ever changes, my shop opens later this week! The shop's number is on the tag" you said before giving him a small wave and wink. He could hear the shop's door close as you began to set up your display and paint a mural on one of the walls. As he twisted the carnation in his hand, he knew he would be adding your shop to his routine becoming your most frequent customer.

soap - tattoo artist

Soap looked at his phone, making sure he was in the right place. His favorite tattoo shop near his Scottish home had closed and he was taking a recommendation from Ghost.

"She's got an attitude but her work is amazing," Ghost had said before Soap's deployment. He couldn't deny the craftsmanship of her work on Ghost's arm. He marveled at the attention to detail as Ghost proudly shoved off his ornate sleeve.

Soap had an appointment for today, previously approving of the artist's rendition of his vision. A black-and-white thistle, a charm his mother had said. It was commonly known to keep its owner away from danger and bad acquaintances. Something Soap needed on the battlefield.

He pushed the maroon door open, admiring the many gold frames with what he assumed were some of the artists' work. He let out a light chuckle as he noticed a framed sketch of Ghost's sleeve. He was just about to snap a picture when a voice called out, "Hey Mohawk, this isn't a museum."

He turned around to see a woman, a gorgeous one at that. You were wearing a tank top that showed off a collage of various tattoos in different styles. You had been taking a break and relaxed, sitting behind a desk, feet propped up.

"Actually, lass, I'm here with an appointment," he said, walking over to you. "Name's John MacTavish." he finished with a cheeky smile.

"Ah MacTavish, one of Riley's military boys I'm guessing. How's that masterpiece of mine doing?" you joked, Soap didn't know what to say. Were you and Ghost a thing?

You laughed at his pause, "My tattoo, Mohawk. There's no way I'd be shagging his Halloween-looking-arse." Soap appreciated the heads up about your attitude and knew this was gonna be a fun session.

"Looks gorgeous, Sweetheart. Just like yourself," he poked back and you let out a loud laugh, almost doubling over. "Don't flatter yourself, you can go make yourself comfortable in my station over there. Looks like you're only getting a bicep tat, so I better not see your shirtless arse back there."

Soap made his way to where you motioned, sitting down in the black velvet chair. You came in a few minutes later with your sketch and supplies. You closed the scarlet curtains behind you before walking over to prep his arm.

As you sat in relative silence, Soap asked, "So what do the tattoos mean, Lass?" You finished your prep work and were working on the correct tattoo placement. "Travels from around the world. I took it upon myself to get a tattoo in every new country."

With that, you offered him a mirror so he could approve of the sketch and placement. The tattoo rested on his right bicep and he made sure to look at it at every angle and made sure to flex for your enjoyment.

"Alright, muscle man, this should only take a few hours as long as you don't pass out on me," you said and began to tattoo your next masterpiece. During the next two hours, you made conversation about the tattoos meaning, his life in Scotland, and you even shared more intimate details about your travels.

The hours flew by like minutes to Soap as you let him know you were finished. He admired the detailed flower and you handed him some care instructions with some cream. "And your buddy paid for you ahead of time, so you're all set, Mohawk" you replied and Soap got off of the chair.

"See you around, my world-class woman," he joked as he exited the door. You slightly cringed, wondering if writing your number on the tube of aftercare cream was a good idea or not.

gaz - primary school teacher

Gaz looked at himself in his flat's mirror. He brushed a hand over his freshly cut hair and evened out his dress shirt. "Just a favor for a friend," he said to himself as he walked to catch the next tram. Two days ago, an old colleague during his days working with the metro police force had reached out to him. They called in a favor, "Kyle c'mon it's just a couple of primary students, all you need to do is give a little talk about stranger danger." Knowing he had nothing else better to do, Gaz agreed.

As he signaled the tram to stop, Gaz looked at the brown brick building reminding him of his younger days. Gaz walked in, checking in with the receptionist who directed him to the classroom where he'd be giving his talk. He was early, the school had not yet opened but he was asked to have the presentation at the beginning of class before the children's lessons. He admired the walls filled with the artwork of the students, silly attempts at drawing their families. He finally reached your classroom, noting the smiling sunflower on your opened door. He knocked softly and he saw you lift your head to greet him. If he had known you would be so beautiful, he would have not needed his friend's encouragement.

"Ah you must be Sgt. Garrick," you said, beginning to get up from your desk to greet him. You smoothed out your skirt and placed your glasses down. "It's just Kyle," he said and returned your friendly smile and warm handshake.

"Well Kyle, the children should be arriving in a few minutes. I'll get them settled and introduce you for your small talk today," you said with a grateful nod. You motioned for him to sit at your desk as you stood at your door to greet your excited second-year students. Gaz played on his phone and smiled as he heard you return the children's happy good mornings with a similar high-energy one. The students began to file in, placing their bags in their cubbies, and sitting with their friends. You heard small whispers from the children, wondering what you were doing at their teacher's desk. He let out a chuckle when he heard one boy whisper, "Is that Miss Y/N's husband? He's sitting in her chair."

Finally, with all the children in their seats, you walked to the front of the classroom and greeted your students warmly. "Good morning everyone, today we have a very special guest with us. This is our friend, Kyle, and he's here today to tell you all a little something before we start our lessons."

Kyle knew this was his cue, he rose from your desk and swapped places with you at the front of the room. "Hi everyone, today I'm going to teach you smart kids about something called 'Stranger Danger'." The children oohed in response as Kyle waved his hands in a fake menacing manner. You smiled as he was a natural. The children were attentive, writing down the information as he spoke and working together with their classmates to fill out the worksheet answers. Kyle ended his talk and asked if anyone had any questions. One child raised her hand and Kyle called on her. "Is Miss Y/N a stranger? I'm confused."

"I'm your teacher, Amelia. Teachers that you know aren't strangers," you responded and Kyle nodded in agreement. Another kid raised their hand and asked, "But you aren't Kyle's teacher, so you're a stranger to him."

Before either one of you could respond, his friend boasted, "It's because they're married, your Mum and Dad aren't strangers to each other." Both you and Kyle shared a look and he saw the soft blush rise to your face. "Ah we're just friends," he said and saved you the embarrassment.

Little did Kyle know, his email would chime that night with a thankful message from you along with your number at the bottom asking him to breakfast that weekend.

ghost - veterinarian

Unlike most people, Ghost loved the quiet ambiance of London's rainfall. The streets were empty and peaceful as people were cozying up in their homes with a blanket. Enjoying the evening air and cold, he walked with an umbrella in one hand and a warm cup in the other. His boots resounded on the cobblestone street as he sipped his Earl Grey tea. His chest was warm from the bold citrus and bergamot liquid. This was, in his opinion, an ideal leave well spent.

The rhythmic rain fell and his walking was interrupted by a soft mewing. Simon hurried down the street to find the source of the noise. In front of a grocer's, he noticed a small cardboard box being drenched by the unrelenting rain. He placed his cup down and gently lifted the box. Underneath was a small grey cat, cuddled into a ball to experience some semblance of warmth. Simon placed his umbrella to shield the box and lifted the tiny meowing animal into his hands.

As he cradled the cat to his chest, he heard a click of heeled boots behind him. He turned his now-drenched head to notice you walking up with a bright orange umbrella adorned with cat paws. "Excuse me, Sir, but is he yours?" you asked gesturing to the ball of grey that laid meowing in his arms. "Uh he's not, I found this little fella underneath this box here."

"Ah a Good Samaritan, I see. Well, I own the veterinarian shop down the way, I can take him off your hands if you'd like and make sure this little lad gets the care he needs," you said and offered a hand to hold the kitten. You noticed his slight hesitation and said, "If you'd like, I'll give you my card so you can take the little one home when he's all better."

"That would be nice," he smiled underneath his black face mask. Simon loved animals, never being permitted to have one as a child. As you held the kitten in your arm, you handed him your umbrella. He initially tried to refuse but you insisted saying, "You're soaked, I'll be alright." You ended with a small giggle which made Ghost warmer than his now cold cup of tea.

"The least I can do is walk you back to your shop," he replied a little too quickly. He instantly realized the surprising force he had said that with and followed up with, "You know, just so you and Earl Grey can make it there in this weather.

"Earl Grey, I like that. That's my favorite order, especially on days like this." Simon moved slightly behind you, holding the umbrella to shield the three of you on your walk. The air was filled with the familiar scent of rain and the notes of your floral perfume. "I'm Dr. L/N by the way, but most people just call me, Y/N," you said as you continued on your way. "I'm Simon, a pleasure to meet you doc."

Three weeks later Simon's house was filled with all the necessities for a new cat father. As he grabbed his coat, he pulled out a water-stained business card with the vet's office address and your number written on the back. He smiled to himself as he traced his fingers over the small handwriting saying, "To Earl Grey's owner, fancy a cup of tea with me?"

[chahnniesroom]

from this day forward

pairing: hwang hyunjin x female reader

summary: hyunjin and you have a tradition of trying to surprise each other with little things. he's a bad liar, but you love him all the same.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff

a/n: a reader on ao3 requested hyune fluff!

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

Ever since you started dating, Hyunjin and you have had a tradition of trying to surprise each other with little things, whether it be a small gift, food or drink delivery, or even an unexpected visit. 

It’s fun and planning out what you’re going to do next helps to distract you whenever Hyunjin is overseas for schedules or touring. Your favourite part is that even after a couple years, Hyunjin never seemed to be able to anticipate what you were going to do next. On the other hand, Hyunjin was bad at lying and you had gotten fairly good at reading his tells, although you didn’t have to fake your delight whenever you received something.

Sometimes, things don’t quite work out, like when you had found out that Hyunjin had an evening off and decided to drop by the dorms on your way home from work. You had knocked on the door, arms laden with takeout, just to find out from a bewildered Changbin that Hyunjin had gone over to your place and was attempting to cook you dinner.

Today, you had spotted a florist that had recently opened near your workplace and slowed your pace to admire all the flowers being displayed. You’re drawn to the carefully made arrangements and selection of potted plants, but it’s one particular bouquet that catches your eye and makes you stop in your tracks. You know instantly that you want to buy it.

It’s small and simple, but features the birth month flowers for both you and Hyunjin. The combination is unusual, but you think they complement each other perfectly.

You’ve always liked flowers, but it’s Hyunjin’s fascination with them that led you to have more of an interest in the different meanings that they could hold. 

You text Chan, who confirms that he’s available to let you into the dorms and that Hyunjin is in his room.

When you make it to the door and Chan greets you, his eyebrows lift at the flowers you’re holding.

“Are these for me? Aw, Y/n, you didn’t have to,” he teases, reaching out to grab them before redirecting to pull the door closed. He laughs when you pretend to ignore him and remove your shoes. “Hyunjinnie is still in his room, I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”

You knock on Hyunjin’s door, suddenly feeling nervous for some reason.

“Just a minute, hyung,” he calls out, sounding distracted.

You frown, but he clearly doesn’t know that it’s you, so you knock again.

“Hyunjin?”

“Y/n!?” he says, sounding panicked. “UH DON’T COME IN! I’M BUSY”

“Jinnie, what’s going on?” you ask, starting to get concerned.

“Nothing is happening!! I just- I don’t want to see you right now!” he says frantically.

You step away from the door, feeling a bit hurt. Although he usually likes it, maybe you shouldn’t have tried to surprise him today. Right when you’re about to walk away, you hear a slap, as if Hyunjin is face palming, and then a loud clatter.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Y/n! I want to see you, of course I do! But not right now! Please go away for a little while!!” There’s rustling in the background and the sound of the balcony door, sliding open and closed a couple times.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes! Just- give me another minute please!”

“Hey,” Hyunjin says. He’s leaning against the wall and his voice is deceptively calm, at odds with his dishevelled appearance.

You can’t help but giggle at the splotches of paint that are all over his skin although it’s obvious that he just changed into clean clothes. You had suspected that he might be painting when you heard the balcony door open, Hyunjin only uses that area to store his paintings, but this confirms it.

“What? Why are you laughing?” he asks petulantly, dropping the cool act.

“I’m not!” you deny, even as you continue to laugh.

“You are! Tell me what’s so funny,” he insists.

“It’s nothing,” you say. “You’re just so cute.”

“Oh,” Hyunjin says. He looks away, but is clearly pleased based on the way that he presses his lips together to prevent himself from smiling.

“Come here.” You beckon him closer and he gladly steps into your space. “You’re very cute and did you know that you have something here-” 

You reach out and use your thumb to touch a dot of purple that sits high on his cheekbone. 

“-and here-” 

You poke a smear of green that runs across his nose.

“-and here.”

You run your hand through his hair, fingers catching slightly on a few of the strands that have dried together in a blue streak.

“You know, you don’t need an excuse to touch me,” Hyunjin says, eyes crinkling into a smile as he pulls you even closer and wraps his arms around your body.

“Hyunjin…”

“What?”

“You know you actually do have paint everywhere, right? It wasn’t an excuse.”

Hyunjin’s smile dissolves and is replaced with a look of horror when he looks down and sees evidence of his earlier activities. 

“It’s not paint!”

“It’s not? Then what is it?” you tease.

“It’s- it’s- I got tattoos!”

“You, a professional idol, got tattoos on your face,” you say, amused.

“Yes,” he nods his head vigorously.

“Of… paint smudges?”

“Uh yeahhh,” he says slowly.

“Why?” You can see that Hyunjin’s brain is working at maximum capacity, trying to think of a way to explain. It’s funny, but you don’t want him to suffer for too long. “It’s okay, you can tell me that you’re painting. I won’t ask you what it is or who it’s for,” you say and you watch as Hyunjin slumps in relief.

“So what brings you here?” he asks.

“Hmm, do I need a reason? Is it not enough that I want to see you?” you respond playfully.

“Well when you put it that way…"

“But I do have a reason, I got you something!" You pull out the bouquet from where you’ve placed it behind the couch.

“Oh,” he says in wonder, voice soft. He reaches out to brush the petals of the flowers. “It’s us.”

“There’s a new florist close to work,” you explain, passing over the bouquet. “I couldn’t not buy it.”

“Thank you, Y/n. I love it!” He links your fingers together so that he can tug you in the direction of the kitchen. “We need to put it in some water, I think that I have a vase somewhere.”

“They’re pretty, right?” you ask as Hyunjin opens and closes various cupboards.

“They are, but not as pretty as you!”

“Hyunjin!” you gasp. “That was so cheesy!”

“What?” Hyunjin plucks one of the loose petals from the bouquet’s wrapping and drops it on top of your head. “These are beautiful, but you’ll always be my favourite flower.”

—

Almost a week later, you wake up to a text from Hyunjin.

[3:20 am - received]

hiii 

my petal~

can you come over later?

i want to see youuuuu

[7:03 am - sent]

why were you awake so late if you didn’t have a schedule ㅠㅠㅠㅠ

but yes i’m free this evening!

i want to see you toooo

[9:22 am - received]

i couldn’t sleep

was thinking of you

[9:23 am - sent]

stoppp 

you’re going to make me cry at work ㅠㅠㅠ

[9:23 am - received]

sorry, but it’s true~~

anyway, i won’t bother you while you work

can’t wait to see you <3

Work seems to drag along and you’re relieved when you’re finally allowed to leave the office. When you get to the dorms, Hyunjin is already waiting for you, leaning with the top of his head peeking out of the doorway.

“You’re here!” he says, pulling you out of the hallway. Once inside, he helps strip you of your coat and shoes, handing you the pair of slippers that you usually use.

“What’s the rush?”

“I want to show you something.”

“Oh?” You glance over Hyunjin’s shoulder but can’t see anything out of the ordinary in the living room. “Where is it?”

“It’s in my room, but it’s a surprise. You have to close your eyes.” You follow his instructions, jumping slightly when Hyunjin’s hands come over your face. When he speaks again, he’s close enough that his lips brush your ear. “Just in case, I don’t want you to look.”

As the two of you are shuffling towards his room, you hear the shutter sound of someone taking a picture.

“Hannie,” Hyunjin complains. “Why are you taking pictures of us?”

“You guys are so cute together! Don’t worry, I’ll send it to you later,” Jisung says.

Hyunjin groans and continues leading you into his room, but you’re sure that if you had been able to see him, he’d be fighting back a smile.

When you reach his room, he leaves you standing for a second, before coming back to hold your hand.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now,” he says, sounding nervous.

You look up and gasp.

He’s painted a scene that’s from one of your favourite dramas where the characters are embracing in the snow. Although the facial features of the individuals are in Hyunjin’s distinctly abstract art style, with some modifications to their heights and hair styles. 

Instead of snowflakes, flower petals swirl around the couple, ones that match the bouquet you had gifted him a few days ago. In addition, peonies border the painting. They’re one of your favourite flowers, both for their beauty and the way that they represent hope and a future of happiness and good fortune. 

Speechless, you reach out and touch the painting, almost startled when your fingers brush against the rough canvas instead of silky smooth petals.

“It’s us,” you say, echoing Hyunjin’s reaction to your recent gift to him.

“You’re crying,” he says, concerned. “Is it too much?”

“Hyunjin-” you say, barely able to see him through the tears that blur your vision. You reach out and he meets you halfway. “Baby, it’s perfect. I love it and I love you.”

“I’m glad,” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “I love you too, my petal.”

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

[cal-flakes]

what if rafe and reader made a pact when they were younger that if they weren't in a relationship by the time they were a certain age then they would date each other... then it's getting closer to when they're both that age and rafe starts scaring away any guys that approach her so that he can date her instead

╰┈➤ “it’s always been you”

warnings: swearing, light smut. slight obx3 spoiler.

summary: two childhood bestfriends finally confront their feelings for one another.

time flies when you’re having fun, or something like that. it was a sunny day in kildare, inciting her to stay hidden inside all day, away from the scorching heat.

she sat behind the cash register, occasionally sipping at her iced coffee from the cafe next door. it was a quiet day in the florists, nothing to worry about, it was early hours on a monday.

scrolling mindlessly through instagram, suddenly the bell above the door sounded, breaking her concentration.

putting on a professional smile, she looked up from the small desk, expecting a customer. she was pleasantly surprised when she met eyes with her childhood bestfriend.

it had been a while, the last few years he’d spent working his ass off with his late fathers development company, causing him to have little time for his beloved y/n.

“rafe!” she beamed, leaping up to round the cash register. he greeted her with open arms as she engulfed him in a tight squeeze, just about knocking the air out of his lungs.

“woah- you miss me or something?” he joked, returning the warm hug. swatting at his chest playfully, she pulled away to look at him. “i haven’t seen you in forever, you’ve been too busy!”

“i’m never too busy to see you flower” there it was. the nickname that made her heart jump out of chest, the nickname that made her feel so warm and fuzzy inside she could hardly describe it with mere words.

blushing, she sat back down on the little stool, facing him. “well, it seems you must be, rafael” she giggled, mocking him for the name he absolutely hates.

honestly, if it wasn’t coming from her, you could guarantee he’d be beaten whomever to a pulp right about now.

“shh. anyways, i was wondering if you wanted to grab some dinner with me later, after you’ve locked up and everything?” he muttered hopefully, his eyes flitting between her and the flowers scattered around the shop.

she frowned slightly, mentally cursing herself for having already made plans. “shit, i can’t tonight, i’ve already told josh i’d meet him after i close the shop” she sighed, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth anxiously.

a flicker of sadness washed over rafe’s face, to quick for her to catch, but she felt the mood change immediately.

“who’s josh?” he questioned, his lips almost threatening a scowl. “oh, josh is just someone I met the other day, he came in looking for flowers, left with my number. you know, the usual..” she sighed, the memories of numerous failed situationships crossing her mind.

“huh..” he scoffed, the protective setting in his brain switching on in full effect.

he’d always been protective of her, some may say even overbearingly protective, but she didn’t mind. she knew he meant well, but what she didn’t know, was that there had always been another reason for scaring away any boy that came near her.

“oh shush, he’s sweet. nothing like the last few, you don’t have to worry” she laughed, observing the frown that had settled over his face. “and don’t go scaring him off either!” she scolded, pointing a finger at him accusingly.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about y/n..” rafe smirked, chuckling at her. “yeah whatever, i’m serious, i want this to go well rafe”

nodding, he felt a light tug in his chest as she spoke, somewhat disappointed about her new situation. if he didn’t know better, he’d be worried about it, but he wasn’t, y/n just had bad luck when it came to men.

quickly bidding each other goodbye, and making yet another promise to see eachother again soon, he left the shop, leaving y/n in deep thought about her choices.

-

it was only a couple weeks later when the ringtone of his phone sounded around his car. his brows raised as he read the name, flower. sighing, he swiped his thumb along the screen, holding the phone up to his ear.

“y/n, are you okay?” he asked, nervous for the answer. “r-rafe, are you busy?” her whimpering voice echoed through the phone while a pang of hurt spread through his chest.

“where are you” he barked, alarm bells ringing in his head as soon as she spoke. “i-im at my apartment..” quickly turning the key in the ignition, he put the car into gear. “i’m on my way, won’t be long m’kay”

satisfied with her agreement, rafe set off in the range rover, luckily not far from her house already.

screeching to a halt, he jumped out of the vehicle, practically running up the stairs of her apartment building before letting himself in.

his eyes widened as he found her in a heap on the living room floor. “flower? what happened?”

“h-he was seeing another girl..” she cried, sniffles erupting from her. “who?”

“josh!” she snapped, craning her head to stare at him in irritation. “oh shit..” he muttered.

squatting down beside her, he wrapped two strong arms around her before hoisting her up from the floor. “what are you doing?” she whispered, flailing for a second before relaxing in his tight grip. “well, if you want to feel better, you certainly can’t do it on the floor y/n..”

lying down on the couch, he placed her between his legs, allowing her to get comfortable, just like they used to when they were younger.

shuffling around, she finally settled, resting her head on his stomach. “so what happened y/n?”

“i had a gut feeling he was being shady, so i followed him after he left my apartment, and he was meeting another girl at the island club..” she whimpered, leaning into his touch and he combed his fingers through her hair.

“i just don’t understand why i can’t find someone who loves me, just me!” she exclaimed as hot tears ran down her cheeks. biting his tongue, rafe listened intently as she ranted to him, allowing her to feel comfortable enough to do so.

he struggled as she went on about being unloveable, not good enough, all sorts of unkind things. his tongue poked into his cheek as he sighed in frustration. to him, none of these things were true at all.

“i know someone who loves you, just you..” he mumbled, looking down at her flushed face in awe. craning her neck, she frowned at him. “what did you say?”

“i didn’t say anything..” her frown only got bigger. “liar! what did you say!” she giggled, turning to rest on her knees. “nothing at all” he smirked, amused by her determination.

“you, rafael cameron are a liar, tell me what you said!” she shrieked, a hearty laugh escaping her lips as she moved to straddle him.

“you must be hearing things flower, i didn’t say a word!” he joked, fidgeting with her fingers as she glared at him. “pink promise me right now, that you didn’t say anything!”

bowing his head, he turned away from her invasive stare. “you really want to know what i said?” he groaned, ready to jump off the deep end. “yes” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“i said, i know someone who loves you, and only you..” he smiled sheepishly, concentrated on gaging her reaction. “oh yeah? who’s that?”

sighing, he swept a palm across his forehead in frustration. “you’ve never been dumb y/n, figure it out…”

after a few minutes, rafe got impatient with her lack of common sense, watching as she gesticulated furiously, lecturing him on make jokes about such a thing when she’s feeling so awful.

“you really are something else huh..” he chuckled, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “what?” she snapped.

sighing, he reached up quickly, cupping her cheeks before pulling her down to meet his lips.

their lips met one another’s with such passion as well as confusion, but y/n wasn’t stopping. her hands quickly found the back of his neck as she pulled him in closer.

pulling away slightly, he trailed wet kisses along her neck and jaw, eliciting quiet whines from her mouth. “you have no idea…how long i’ve waited for this..” he groaned breathlessly, swiftly moving to discard his clothes. mimicking his actions, she stared at him almost in disbelief. “you and me both” she smiled, lipstick and mascara now smeared along her cheeks.

hastily undoing her bra, he pushed her back down onto the couch gently before lowering himself to the floor infront of her. he pressed soft kisses to her inner thighs, while she mewled beneath his tight grip on her hips.

“gotta get rid of these flower..” he whispered, leaving a tentative kiss on her clothed clit.

[laterosal]

♤ Your Flower | Seishiro Nagi x Reader

▽ featuring: seishiro nagi x reader … no repost on any platforms © laterosal 2024 … what started off as an unfamiliar bouquet of flowers to love blossoming in the winter … word count: 1.9k

📌 AO3 | one-shot

His first visit to the flower shop startled the florist: “Give me the least annoying one,” then marveling over a pet cactus for company. Of course, you didn’t mind customers requesting a plant company with the description of the least annoying one—although you did think that walking into a flower shop full of delicate and bright flowers just for that request was odd.

You could remember his light hair and tall stature stepping into the flower shop, his eyes half lidded as if exhaustion had hit him early in the day. You could not forget his soothing voice, the way he mumbled his request as you blinked in confusion.

Early one morning, you walked into the flower shop and opened the blinds of the windows, basking in the sunlight for a second. You spun the closed blackboard sign to the opposite side, the bolded letters written in chalk of “We’re Open!” slightly smudged. As you stood near the counter, peering over in the buckets of flowers to see some wilted leaves. You frowned, before carefully getting to work to restore the beauty of the white roses.

Minutes passed as you finally finished your work of tending to the white flower, before moving to several other flowers around the shop that needed some care. Then, a quiet jingle from the door rang as a customer stepped into the flower shop. The ambrosial fragrance of the colorful flowers blasted towards the customer’s way, before you cheerily welcomed them in.

“Welcome! Is there anything I can help with?” Still preoccupied with your work, you carefully cut the flower’s stem.

“Is there a bouquet of flowers I can give to someone?” You swiveled around, familiar with the quiet voice. He wore a hoodie with the word “Mendokusai,” his hair disheveled.

“Oh—Welcome back! How’s your cactus?” you asked as you scurried over to the counter, flipping open your notebook to scribble the silver-haired boy’s request. Although you have had many customers over the last few weeks, you could never forget him. He stood out radiantly in your memory, like the beauty of pure innocence that blinded you. You stared into his gray eyes intently as they sparkled slightly.

“Choki? Fine, I guess.. At least Choki’s not a hassle to deal with…” he muttered to himself as you tried leaning forward to hear him.

“Huh? Choki? Okay.” You paused slightly, wondering if that was his cactus’ name. “What’s up for today?” You grinned at him, ready to write the customer’s request on your trusty notebook.

“Flowers for… someone.”

“Hm. Okay. What’s your relationship with them? Or is this a certain occasion for getting a bouquet of flowers? Or do you want a flower to keep you company? Although you may think it’s a hassle, I can assure you it’s definitely worth it. Or do you have a favorite flower yourself?”

“... favorite flower for someone… confess…” He murmured.

“Like my opinion for getting a flower to confess to someone?” You looked surprised at his question.

He shook his head, pointing at you as he lazily corrected: “My favorite flower is y— Your favorite flower to receive from someone if they confess to you.”

“Ooh. Uh. That’s difficult to say, really. I—”

“Make that a bouquet. Please.” He gazed at you gently as you nodded at his request. Those very eyes entranced you, as if a simple refusal would dim the light in his eyes.

“Consider it done, then. Give me a few minutes for preparation.” You hurried over to the buckets of flowers, staring at the white roses you had trimmed earlier. Slowly assembling the bouquet of flowers consisting of the light-colored daisies and white roses, you removed the leaves and trimmed the stems with sharp scissors all while wearing thick gloves. Although having accidentally cut your skin on your arm, you ignored the sting from the cut made from the scissors and carefully adjusted the shape of the bouquet of flowers, wrapping the beauty in wrapping paper and twine.

“Here it is!” You presented the bouquet to him with both hands as you printed a receipt for him after he pushed the paper money onto the counter. “Have a good day!”

He stared at the flowers and ran his fingers through the petal, before lifting his eyes toward you. Then noticing a cut on your arm, he put the bouquet of flowers down and instinctively reached for your arm.

“Cut.” He reached from his backpack a small bandage, peeling off the paper and covering the wounded area. You stared in amazement at how such a person—a stranger—could captivate you with his actions and his eyes.

“Oh. Thank you.” You gently pushed his hand away, smiling smally at him. Moments like these made your heart flutter, his gentle hands against your skin. He picked up the bouquet of flowers and cradled it, retreating to the outside with a lingering bell jingle from within the shop.

You leaned against the counter touching the bandage on your arm. The sparkle in his eyes and calming voice made you wonder whether he was this gentle towards others, or whether it was just to you.

Though you would have to admit that the pure white flowers were not your favorite, you wondered to yourself why the delicate blankness of the beauty was handpicked by you, given to this stranger.

Your favorite flower to receive from someone if they confess to you.

You had much preferred a lush bouquet of fresh red roses, the ones displayed by the window of the flower shop. Yet seeing his mesmerizing, gentle eyes and soft hair, he reminded you of a pure entity, hence these light-colored flowers.

The week after his visit and the following one, he would pop in and request for the same bouquet of flowers. Near the end of his visit, you would see him open his mouth, hesitate, before retreating to the exit. You did believe that whomever was receiving these bouquets of flowers was a lucky person, although feeling your heart throbbing as you realized that he was taken. He seemed impossible to reach, like an angel from faraway lands. Every second your mind wandered to him, you simply frowned, further slashing boundaries between your customer and you.

As his early morning stops at the beginning of every week became a routine, you often prepared the bouquets beforehand with extra care, perfecting the bouquet every time he slowly walked in, sliding the money on the counter, before reaching for the bouquet gently. One day, he never showed up.

And then the next.

And the next.

For multiple weeks, you kept the bouquet of fresh flowers by your side, before the week ended and the once bright flowers wilted.

Perhaps he had broken up with the person he bought flowers for. Perhaps something had happened to him.

You weren’t sure of the situation, although despite him never returning for the next few months, you continued to assemble the bouquet of daisies and white roses, hoping for him to return one day. For you to hope to see him, one last time, before he disappeared and never able to reach again.

Even in early autumn when the white roses bloomed best, he never returned. Week after week with no connection, you laid the flowers in front of you on the counter, having no desire to continue reassembling the bouquet of flowers, for foolish hope for him to return no more.

Winter rolled around, with heavy snowfall every morning you woke up. You hurried to work by foot, hoping that you were able to open on time. Although you were only a few minutes late while running in the snow, you found a familiar figure in front of the flower shop. His scarf covered his face as his ears were flushed from the cold, his hands in his hoodie with the word “Mendokusai” in small print. You paused, before moving towards him to speak.

“Oh-hey. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” You chuckled to yourself as you unlocked the door, turning on the lights to the flower shop. The lights flickered slightly, before brightly showering the flower shop with illuminating golden light. “Your usual?” You could barely breathe, seeing him near you, his aura slowly lulling you.

“Yes.” The boy, around your age, nodded slightly as he slipped his hands out of his pocket, thin gloves perfectly fitted on his hands. “Please.” You gazed at him, the words tumbling out of his mouth sounding desperate than ever.

You reached for the flowers in the buckets, memorizing the routine of assembling this bouquet for him. Then quickly wrapped around the bouquet was paper and twine, before you left it on the counter for him to pick up gently.

“May I ask why you haven’t stopped by for some time?” you carefully asked, stopping him by the door.

“... was hoping you asked.” he mumbled. “‘s nothing much. Soccer.” He shrugged, pulling his scarf loosely.

“I see. Have a good day, yeah?” you whispered to him as he turned to leave the flower shop, the ringing of the bell echoing in your mind. Leave, but please come back. He was the reason your heart ached, the reason you could barely breathe when he was around you. You longed to see him again, rather than leaving for a long time, not knowing what had happened to him. You did not just want him to leave your life as quick as he came into your life—

“... too.”

“Hm?”

He paused, before turning his head to face you.

“Have you been making these bouquets even after I didn’t return?”

His question took you by surprise, although you gave him a vague answer with: “Not really.”

“Sorry.”

You frowned and walked around the counter, closing the gap between you two.

“What are you apologizing for?” You tip-toed to attempt to look into his eyes at the same level, although his tall stature made it challenging.

“It took you a lot less time to make the bouquet. Like you knew exactly where the flowers were placed.” he whispered.

You froze—Was he always this observational?

“I—Yeah. I do.” you admitted to him, his gray eyes sparkling at you. “Who did you give those bouquets to?”

You waited for his response, bracing for a curt reply that would drive a knife into your heart. From the moment you had met him, he captured your attention and heart, even if he had someone else he loved.

“I never gave them to anyone.”

“What?”

“They were— They were meant… to be for you.”

You choked back a cry and hesitated to answer. He had kept the bouquets to himself, the very flowers you had handpicked that reminded you of him. The flowers that you had deemed to be the ones you wished to receive if one had ever confessed to you.

“Were you waiting for me this whole time?”

“Yes.” You buried your head into your hands as he reached his hand forward and caressed your hands gently.

“You waited for a long time, then.”

“I miss you.” Your muffled words were barely heard by the person whose name was never even revealed to you. “Even if I didn’t know you all that well.”

He gently grabbed your hands, placing the bouquet of flowers on yours, whispering his name in your ears, followed by words that made your heart race.

“My name is Seishiro Nagi. … Of all the flowers here I would pick, it would be you.”

[cathedral-of-sinners]

On Display

(Originally) Kinktober Day 12 - Exhibitionism/Voyeurism + Dottore

Genre: Smut (MDNI)

CW: sub!reader, gn!reader (no pronouns/specific genitalia mentioned), aphrodisiacs (consensual), masturbation, names (little pet, dear, darling, sweet thing), I may have written the kink wrong whoops-! (Also this feels horrible I’m sorry 😭)

a/n: the idea of how exactly to write this slammed into me like a truck and for that I’m grateful. I’m not grateful, however, for it taking eight months to do so…. sigh, better late than never I suppose

"What does that vial do?" Such a dangerous question you pose, especially in a place like the second harbinger’s lab; you knew this, but curiosity had gotten the better of you.

In your defense, it really was such a pretty purple colour, and it had the gentlest glow surrounding it. Had you not known better you'd think it was one of those new lamps the people in Fontaine had recently created.

When Dottore casted a quick glance over his shoulder a sinister smile was quick to replace the thin line his lips made. He stood with a florist you’re sure was unintentionally, watching as he walked right past your seat and over to the fragile container, lifting it with an enticing swirl.

“Would you like to find out?”

— —

You can’t complain with where your agreement led you. The strangely coloured liquid went down smooth, didn’t taste half bad and the effects were near immediate. Now you lay flat on the cold observation table in the doctor’s lab, hand between your legs as you try to satisfy the growing heat burning in the pit of your stomach.

It isn’t difficult to tell that the doctor is enjoying himself. While he remains fully clothed, sat languid in his chair, he gets a whole show put on specially for him. What makes it better - and what makes a shiver run through your body - is the knowledge that behind that mask of his are sharp red eyes pinning you to your spot, keenly observing. With the visible tent of his trousers and the way he shifts just a little every time you moan his name, you just know this won’t stay an observational experiment for long.

At least, you really hope so. The strain of your muscles are beginning to become too much to bear. “Oh, don’t stop now little pet.” The voice of Dottore echos from across the room, “the faces you’re making are quite… amusing.”

Your pants and pained whines mix in with your reply, “‘m trying ‘ttore! Ah-!” Just as you’re about to give in the doctor himself is right beside you, hand replacing your own. The change of pace shocks you, leg twitching and back arching. It’s not long until you start to babble about being close to cumming.

“Good, good, go on then.” And you do, you spill all over the table, yourself and Dottore.

But it’s not enough. The affects are still present and already you’re starting to grind into his hand again. Without a word, Dottore flips you around onto your hands and knees, lowering half of the table. You’re dizzy for a moment, still coming down from your high when something cold prods at your hole.

“C-Cold!! Dottore-!”

“Hush,” he quiets, continuing to rub the cool gel along your opening. By time he’s done a warm tingling emerges and you’re begging for him to touch you again. He does gladly, but this time not with his hand, the tip of his cock tapping at your entrance instead.

“You want to be satisfied, do you?” He asks, borderline mocking how needy you are for him. He just wants you to voice it.

“Dottore-”

“Say. It.”

“I need you! Okay!? I need you to fuck mE-!” Midway through you’re cut off by the intrusion of his cock, your body jolting forward. Anything you could’ve said after melts into a moan as Il Dottore, the second of the Fatui Harbingers, fucks you like an animal. He fucks you until you cum again, and again, and again; until the affects of the aphrodisiac wears off and then some. Until the only sounds in the room are your moans, skin slapping and the squelches from your hole.

Dottore fucks you until you’re telling him no more, that you can’t go on any longer.

“Ah, ah, ah, I know you can last long enough to give me one more. Besides, you’d hate to cut off our guest’s fun, wouldn’t you?” Guest? Your eyes scan around the room as best they can among the sex haze.

At first you think he’s bluffing, pulling your leg, but then your eyes catch a pair of gold ones across the room. “P-pantalone…?” However, you’re met with silence from the man, just a smile that has a touch too much of something dark and lustful.

Dottore never let up his pace from behind, continuing to pound into you, pushing you impossibly more against the metal examination table. “Surprised are we? I’m curious to know how you didn’t see him this whole time.” His words edge you on more, coiling the knot in your stomach tighter.

You didn’t dare admit this, but there have been times where you’ve fantasized about the ninth taking you alongside your lover. Jerking them off together, one in each hand; blowing one of them while taking the other from behind; you name it, you probably thought it. You can only guess that Dottore caught on to your dark desires.

Nimble fingers circle around you to continue playing with your body from the front, the man behind you leaning his weight against your back as he whispers in your ear. “Are you going to entertain him dear? Cum right in front of him, now aware of his presence. I know it turns you on, you’ve been clenching me harder ever since.”

“F-fuckin’ tease…” you manage to say, shutting your eyes as your pleasure continues to build. At least now you can’t see the captivated eyes of Pantalone (you can feel them though, just as piercing as your lover’s).

“Tsk, such a filth mouth. Perhaps I should punish you.”

“I don’t believe that will be necessary,” the ninth finally speaks up, taking slow steps towards your form. One quick glance down and you can spot just how hard he is through his pants. Your gaze is torn away by a gloved hand, forcing you to look through a pair of glasses and into the golden glow of his eyes.

“You’ve been so good haven’t you, sweet thing. I see no reason not to reward you with your desired release.” His gaze moves behind you to Dottore. The two men have a conversation only they could understand - the verdict? Finish this little session on a high note.

Dottore shifts his posture and stars fill your vision, his cock hitting deeper than it did before. It’s not long until you cum for the last time, slumping against the surface below you. The doctor pulls out and seconds later finishes along your back.

Lethargy settles in fast and the weight of something warm and heavy on your back only coaxes you further into the temptation of sleep. It’s a losing battle after the entertainment you just exerted.

As the last of your consciousness fades, you’re barely able to catch the parting words of The Regrator. “How I would’ve loved to have your mouth around my cock. Hm, shame, perhaps some other time. Rest up dear, and thank you for the show.”

Tag list: @stygianoir || @rain-soaked-sun || @londonstylesxx

(send an ask, dm or comment if you’d like to be added!!)

[wildemaven]

bloom : two | joel miller

-> pairing: joel miller x florist f!reader

-> wc: 4024

-> content warning: lots if fluff and mutual pining, ellie being ellie (terrifying at times), talks of divorce and failed relationships, mention of food, reader is a single mom (adoption) and has zero physical descriptions

-> a/n: excited to share this! everyone is meeting and things are happening. big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for being a gem and listening to me stress over this and reading through this and correcting all my mistakes— she’s truly the best!

one / series masterlist / playlist

Sarah keeps asking questions. 

She always has, ever since the day she could form coherent sentences. Always wanting to know more, seeking out more information to feel informed and ready for her next move. 

So it comes as no surprise that she’s asked him the same question about five different times in the span of 24 hours.

“So, where are we going again?” Sarah’s question floats through the cab in between munching on the tart green grapes she brought along to snack on. 

“That flower shop. That one you always comment on when we drive by— Wilder Floral. I got your flowers from them.” Joel glances over to where Sarah is sitting in the passenger seat. 

“Hmm. Oh yes, the place you haven’t been able to stop raving about for the last week. Remind me why we are getting flowers?” Popping another grape into her mouth. 

“For Nana. Why you askin’ so many questions? I already told ya all of this.”

“Just tryin’ to get a better understanding as to why we’re goin’ to buy Nana flowers. Her birthday isn’t for another 6 months, and there’s no occasion that would require flowers that I know of.”

“Why you goin’ so hard in your ole man? Can’t I buy my mom flowers, just because.”

“Never said you couldn’t. Just askin’ that’s all.” Her exposed hands in front of her show no ill intent was intended. 

“Alright, ‘nough interrogating me. We’re here— hey, let’s keep all this talk about me not shuttin’ up about this place here in the truck, ‘kay?” Joel says as he pulls his truck up alongside the curb in front of the floral shop. 

“Sure, Dad.” She says before hopping out onto the sidewalk and closing the door behind her. 

The bell rings as he pushes the door open, allowing Sarah to walk in, following right behind her. The shop hasn’t changed much in a week's time. There’s new arrangements in the case, some similar to ones he looked over last week, some different. There’s buckets of flowers of all shapes and shades lining the ground near the workbench— trimmings scattered across the top must mean they’re being prepped for use in new arrangements. 

Joel continues to scan the space, in hopes to land on a familiar face who has overwhelmed his every thought for the better part of the last week. 

“Look what the cat dragged back in.” A voice pulls his attention to the side of the entrance, a spot he hadn’t looked over yet. 

“Ellie. It’s good to see you too.” Joel gruffs, shoving his hands in his pockets, wanting to feel less exposed to her cynicism. 

“Couldn’t stay away long, could ya?” Ellie snarks, leaning into the broom handle she has in her grip. 

“Um, guess not. This is Sarah, my daughter I was tellin’ ya bout last week.” Joel gestures to where Sarah is standing next to him. 

“Hey, aren’t you the girl that plays guitar at school?” Sarah asks, thinking she knew she had recognized Ellie from somewhere, then placed her as the girl who sits on the brick wall at lunch with her acoustic guitar, singing an array of classic ballads. 

“Uh, yeah. I didn’t think anyone ever really paid attention though.” Ellie seems to have shrunk down a little, a twinge of self consciousness washing over her. 

“I thought you looked familiar! Dad, this is the girl I was telling you about the other week, the girl who was singing The Sun Always Shines on T.V.” Sarah reminds Joel. “My dad has been singing that song to me since I was a baby.”

“No shit?” Ellie looks at Joel briefly, studying him, as if trying to imagine how he’d look and sound. 

“Yeah, you’re really good. I always stop and listen when you play.” 

Joel watches how Ellie absorbs the information, the slight grin that she tries to hide as she looks at the pile of dust and flower clippings she had been sweeping before they had walked in.

“Thanks.” Ellie huffs out, the compliment unexpected since no one at school ever seems to notice her playing, she doesn’t mind, but she’s grateful there’s at least one person enjoying when she does. 

“Small world. Anyway, we were in the neighborhood and wanted to get some flowers and thought we’d stop in to get some for her Nana.” Joel breaks the silence, pulling Sarah in front of him, his hands on her shoulders to keep a barrier between him and Ellie’s sharp words. Sarah gives her a meek smile and wave. 

“Makes sense, seeing as how we’re a flower shop.” A burst of air snaps from the gum Ellie is gnawing at, her sarcasm fully intact and back in action, her brows shooting up at the obvious reasoning for Joel and Sarah’s visit for flowers. 

“Is your mom around by chance?” He asks, peeking in the direction of the doorway that leads to the back room.

His hold on Sarah’s shoulders tightens slightly when she tries to wiggle herself away from his grip, hoping she could free herself from the awkwardness that’s started to simmer. 

“Well, seeing as how she owns the place, what do you think old man?” And she’s back, Ellie’s brutal response has Joel speechless. Sarah ducks her head to hide her snickering at her dad being called an ‘old man.’

“Ellie!” Your voice booms through the shop, catching the tailend of what Ellie had said to Joel. 

Joel turns to see you frozen in place. You look mortified by Ellie’s bluntness, your grip tight around the buckle of florals you have in your arms. 

“What?” Ellie rolls her eyes as she looks over to you. 

“Knock it off! Don’t be rude— especially to the customers.” You say as you make your way to your workbench, your calculated steps indicating the contents of the bucket are heavier than they look. 

“But it’s not just any customer, it’s Mister I’m sliding into third base Joel.” Ellie snarks, looking at Joel with the biggest shit-eating grin he’s ever seen. “Besides, I’m just kidding! Geez— no need to get your undies twisted.”

Sarah pretends to take in the store, avoiding the back and forth taking place around her, biting back the laughter that’s been building in her chest. 

Joel takes this as his cue to leave Sarah with Ellie, deciding she’s far less likely to be hit with a barrage of sarcastic remarks based on how well Ellie took her compliment about her singing and guitar playing. 

“Here let me help you with that.” Joel says as he jogs over towards you, his arms reaching out for the bucket ready to take on the load himself. 

“Oh! You don’t have to do that—“ You start to tell him, but he’s already grabbing the bucket from you, placing it alongside the other ones you already carried out prior to their arrival. “Thank you!”

“Don’t mention it.” The way you’re looking at him has his heart rate ticking up a few beats, feeling fidgety as he tightens his hands into a fist then releases, trying to release the nervous energy that is flowing through him. “How’s the finger doin’? No other  injuries I hope.”

“No other injuries and the finger healed up nicely. Thanks to a wonderful stranger coming to my rescue.” You hold up the finger in question. No bandage. No sign of where the rose thorn had embedded itself into your skin. “It was probably the kiss— you know, that made it better and all.”

Joel reaches out, his hand wrapping gently around your wrist, needing to inspect the injury site for himself. He places your hand in his, his thumb tracking up your exposed palm and the length of your finger, smoothing over the area he had the privilege to be up close and personal with a week ago. He likes the way your skin feels under his touch, silk like and warm, even with how much you work with them. He has to rein in his fiery thoughts, wanting to know how every inch of you would feel. 

“Always does the trick.” His voice teeters on a nice balance of gentle and rough. 

Joel looks up from where he’s still holding you. Your eyes already fixed on him, beaming and bright, giving your smile a run for its money. He’s not quite sure what convinces him to do it for a second time, but finds he doesn’t really care either when he places a kiss on the pulse point of your wrist. He  lets his lips linger for a moment, catching the brief gasp you let out and the way he can feel your pulse quicken as the milliseconds tick on.

“I-I didn’t think I’d see you so soon. A very welcomed surprise to my busy week.” Your voice soothes something within him, seeping into his heart and filling the cracks he struggled to keep from breaking entirely. 

“Sarah and I were in the area and thought we’d stop in again— as promised. Need to get some flowers for Nana— my mom, her grandma.” 

“Well, I appreciate you stopping in. What’s the occasion?” You ask as Joel gently releases your hand, you pull your clippers from your well worn canvas apron, placing them next to your other tools. 

“Uhh, no real reason. Just ‘cause.” But what he really wants to say is ‘Just ‘cause I needed to see you again, and this seemed like the best way to do it.’

He’s not sure what it is, but he felt it the last time he was here too. This blooming effervescent attraction to you. Infatuated by your mere presence in such a short time. He usually runs in the opposite direction when feelings and commitment start to unveil themselves, but something about you has him running straight for the things that scare him the most— wanting to know if you feel it too.

When Joel thinks back on his dating history, post divorce, he can’t remember a time where he actively went out of his way to see someone. It could have been because there hasn’t really been anyone serious since he and Sarah’s mom divorced. There've been a lot of blind dates set up by friends and his brother Tommy, none of them making it to a second date or really establishing themselves as relationships. He’s met a few women that he thought had potential for a future with, one he had even considered proposing to after a year of dating, but it ended when she decided marriage and a kid wasn’t something she saw in her life at that moment. Joel put dating on the back burner, focused on getting his construction company off the ground and Sarah being his main priority as far as he was concerned. 

Then Joel walked into your shop last week, and everything he thought he would never have or deserve was gone. And now he finds himself searching for any reason to walk through that front door of your little flower shop, just so he can see the way your face lights up. 

“That’s so sweet of you! I’m sure she’ll love Just Cause flowers— everyone always does. I have these new arrangements I just put together if you want to give her one of these??” Pointing to the several arrangements in glass vases that you had been working on all morning. “These protea are my favorite to work with. Their petals are kind of velvety and they’re perfect long after the rest of the arrangement has expired, she can dry them and have them forever. They are kind of cool flowers too, they’re adapted to survive wildfires because their stem contains buds that will produce new growth after fires. And they’re one of the oldest living flowers on the planet, so that makes them double cool.” 

Joel studies you as you continue to share random floral facts with him, adjusting and readjusting the arrangement in front of you. Each flower placed with intention, pausing from time to time to take a slight step back, your head tilting to the side as you look over everything as a whole, then back to arranging and rearranging. 

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to ramble like that.” You say as you look to where Joel is leaning one hip into your workbench, as he hangs on every word you're saying. 

“No, don't be sorry. I like it.”

There’s an ease that flows nicely between you. Joel wants to pick your brain, find out what makes you happy, the things that make you sad— all the things in between. He wants to talk to you for hours on end, or not talk at all and just listen— to anything and everything you have to say. 

“Like what?” 

“Listenin’ to you talk. I like it— a lot actually. And the little facts too. Shows how much you love what you do to learn special details like that. You could be tellin’ me about how mushrooms could start a zombie apocalypse, and I’d find it interesting— terrifying, but interesting.” Joel hopes you can hear that he genuinely means it.  

“Well, I won’t tell you how that possibility is more likely to happen than you think based on the research that’s been done over the years.” You both laugh at how ridiculous sounding a mushroom zombie apocalypse would be. 

“They seem to be getting along nicely.” Your chin pointing over to where Ellie and Sarah are giggling to themselves at the front part of the shop. 

“Sarah’s a pretty easy goin’ kid. Gets along with pretty much everyone she meets, even Ellie it seems.” Joel looks over his shoulder at the girls. 

You both share bits about each of them. Their differences, similarities and all the fun little quirks they’ve both had since they were babies. 

Joel asks about Ellie’s singing, and you tell him how she taught herself by checking out books at the library to help her master the chords and beginner songs. Joel tells you how he used to play growing up and that he doesn’t play as much as he would like to now, but sometimes Sarah can twist his arm enough to dust off his guitar and strum out a few songs at the end of barbecues or random summer evenings. 

He tells you about Sarah’s latest soccer game, how she’s an all-star player and usually helps carry the team to victory throughout the season. You tell him how Ellie had been on the track team briefly, she was a sprinter, but was kicked off the team for punching a runner from another school because she had elbowed Ellie during the 400m race, causing her to trip and lose. 

An hour passed before you both don’t realize you’ve been caught up talking about your kids. 

*

“She’s like head over heels in love with your dad. She literally jumps when the front door dings, hoping it’s him again. It’s gross.” Ellie tells Sarah, looking over to where you and Joel are, completely wrapped up in a moment together. 

“Hmm. We stopped in to get my Nana flowers.“ Sarah repeats what Joel had told Ellie earlier. 

“Your dad mentioned that when you came in.” 

“Yeah, well she’s been on vacation for a month and won’t be back for another month. So I don’t think we are here just getting my Nana flowers.” Sarah takes a glance over now to see you and Joel laughing. “I think it’s safe to say my dad is just as head over heels for your mom, too.” 

*

“Well, we’ll get outta your hair. Promised Sarah we’d stop on our way home at The Picnic, get some lunch and ice cream.” Hating that he can’t stay, knowing that he can’t hog all your time— but maybe one day.

“Oh I’ve always wanted to go there. I’ve heard so many great things about all their food trucks. Ellie and I will have to check it out sometime. She’s on a Chef Boyardee kick right now, as one would be when they’re a preteen. Would be nice to mix it up for her though.”

If it wasn’t too forward with it only being his second time meeting you, Joel would ask if you and Ellie wanted to join them. He would even chance the gutsiness and ask you out, spend the evening getting to know you better until both your stomachs and hearts were full. Ellie’s words hit him, “she needs to be wined and dined before you even think about kissing her.”

“Nothin’ wrong with some canned ravioli— lived on that shit in college. But yeah, you both would enjoy it. Definitely take her.” He decides gutsiness isn’t winning today, or it’s his fear of being on the receiving end of Ellie’s wrath that has him wanting to do it the right way, just not today. 

“I hope Nana loves these. And feels special getting just ‘cause flowers.” You hand Joel the ceramic container filled with different shades of pinks and greens in varying heights, shapes and textures. 

“I’m sure she’ll love ‘em no doubt. How much do I owe you?” He gives the flowers a look over, not in an analyzing manner, but admiring the way you manage to take these flowers and effortlessly pair them all together and create something special. 

“You’re in luck! I’m running a special today!.” 

“A special?” Joel is frozen in confusion. 

“Yes! Free to customers that go by the name of Joel.” You say sweetly, he catches the way you bite at your bottom lip after you say his name. 

“‘N what are you gonna do when another Joel walks in wantin’ some of your pretty flowers?” 

“Well, there’s limits of course. And it’s only valid for one Joel.” You wink at him, prompting his stomach to flip and knot up. He needs to ask you out!

“No, I can’t let you do that again. Let me pay this time, please.” He insists, setting the arrangement down on the counter he pulls his wallet from his back pocket, flipping through the large bills stashed inside. “How much?” 

“Joel— my shop, my rules. There’s no arguing— just take the flowers.” 

“Hi! I’m Sarah. Thank you so much for the flowers, my dad and I haven’t been able to stop talking about them. I have been bugging my dad to bring me here, it’s so pretty.” Sarah tells you as she stands next to Joel, arms crossed over the counter. 

“You are so welcome. So glad you’re enjoying them.” Even with this brief interaction, you decided Sarah is one of the sweetest teenagers you’ve ever met— Ellie wouldn’t even take offense if you told her such, she would most likely shrug and agree. 

“Hey, Dad. Are you almost ready to go? I’m starting to get hungry.” Sarah asks, turning to look up at him. 

“Right— sorry, babygirl. We got caught up talkin’ and now I’m tryin’ to convince her to let me pay, but she’s insistin’ we just take the flowers.” 

“Sounds like you shouldn’t argue with her. Just say thank you and take the flowers.” Sarah grabs the arrangement and snags Joel’s keys that are dangling from the front pocket of his jeans then starts to head for the door. “I’ll meet you in the truck dad. It was nice meeting you!”

You wave goodbye to her and watch as she stops on her way out to tell Ellie bye, telling her she’ll see her around at school, the bell dings and the door slowly closes as she walks out. She settles herself into Joel’s truck, its engine roaring to life soon after, signaling Joel to say his farewells and head finally head out. 

“I guess I’ll see you around then.” Joel slowly walks backwards, prolonging his departure from you. 

“I’ll see you around Joel. Hopefully sooner than later.” You wave to him then you’re straight back into work mode, moving buckets of flowers to be cleaned and prepped for your next round of arrangements. 

Joel’s hand settles on the door, but releases it and turns back to where Ellie is finishing up her sweeping through the shop, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before he interrupts her. 

“If you take a picture it’ll last longer. Although, might be a little weird with you bein’ an old man and all.” Ellie is quick on her feet. Joel hopes that’s the last of her intimidation tactics. 

“Hey, umm— don’t say anything to your mom ‘bout this, but sometime this week why don’t you take her out to eat somewhere. Give her a break from cookin’ and what not.” He holds a double folded $100 bill between his middle and pointer finger, encouraging Ellie to take it from him. 

“This feels like some sort of thing my mom should've warned me about. We’re not a charity case, we don’t need your money.” She continues sweeping, grabbing leaves and a few days worth of dust bunnies that have collected under display tables. 

“It’s not— I don’t think you’re a charity case. I just— I wanted to— umm.” Joel releases a deep sigh. He’s flustered, stumbling over his words trying to figure out what he is wanting to say. 

“You wanted to ask my mom out, but you’re too much of a chickenshit. So you’re conning me into taking her out instead. Thinking that maybe I’ll soften up to you a bit.” 

“Yeah, pretty much all of that.” Joel huffs out a laugh, shaking his head at how easily she was able to read him. 

“I’ll tell ya what— I’ll take her somewhere, but I keep half.” Ellie bargains with him, making sure she still has the upper hand.

“Half?” 

“Kids gotta make a livin’ somehow.”

Joel thinks it over, actually contemplates the pros and cons of being worked over by Ellie. Each positive gained him an in with Ellie, not really a guarantee, but he’s hopeful that maybe she would consider downgrading her verbal assaults a notch or two. The only negative Joel  can come up with is… Ellie keeps the money and he has to come at this from a different angle, one he’s not really sure about yet. 

“Okay, okay. You keep half, but take her somewhere nice-nice.” He holds the bill again out to her, she snatches it quickly and shoves it in her back pocket. 

“Yeah, yeah old man. Under one condition. Next time you come in here acting like you’re buying flowers just so you can see her— you ask her out yourself. None of this middle man BS.” 

“You gotta deal, kid.” He holds his hand out to her, and they shake on it. A truce cementing the fact that he agrees to not being a chickenshit— something he’s not sure he’s ever been called before. “Maybe go easy on the old man part a bit.”

“See ya around ol— Joel.”

“See ya later, Ellie.” 

*

The driver door slams shut as Joel settles into the seat. The cold air already flowing through the cab, Sarah singing along to The Clash with the flowers secure in her lap. Joel fastens his seatbelt and shifts the truck into drive, his thumb drumming along to the beat as he drives away. 

“So, you got a crush on the cute flower lady?” Sarah asks, her infectious smile extending from ear to ear. 

“What? I— what makes you think that?” He looks over to her, his brows slightly raised at her suggesting he likes you— he does, he just didn’t realize it would be two teenagers picking up on it. . 

“For starters, Nana’s been on vacation for a month, and she won’t be back for a while. But also the way you look at her, it’s so obvious.” She plays with the petals of the flowers, waiting for Joel’s response. 

“Anyone ever told ya you’re a smart kid?” He shakes his head and laughs. 

“Yeah, you do all the time Dad. So, are you gonna ask her out?” 

“I’m afraid if I don’t, Ellie’s gonna have a hit-man out for me.” He’s joking, but also not. “Yeah, I’m gonna ask her out.”

[heartfullofleeches]

Hey did you ever end up posting that yandere plants one with the bee reader and I missied it?? Was looking forward to that one

(I have not. A drable for you, chief)

The queen has requested another harvest.

What impeccable timing.

Climbing from rubble and frayed vines, vegetation and ash falls from your hair and shoulders. Extra care is put into your wings as you brush them off for the flight ahead. Held by a loose spine, you blow the decades of dust off your new find - kicking spray particles into the air. Through water eyes you read the books cover - fuzzy tension building at the base of your nose.

It's another picture book.

They're going to love this one-

"Ahh... Achoo!... 'Cuse me."

Apologizing to the thin air around you, you unhook the fine straps of your satchel and toss the book inside. You turn your gaze to the hole in the ceiling as your wings flutter, feet kick-starting your ascent as you rise. The mellowed glow of the fog casted sun greets you first as you exit; a jungle of greenery and constructs waiting the earth below and as far as the eye could see. You climb up onto the ledge of the building and leap off into a nose dive for the ground - wings swooping into mobility before your body hits the trees. Flying lose did have its risks, but nothing beats the floral air in your hair when heading home - reminding you of those counting on your return.

Scouting the known galaxy for resources, your crew landed on this planet in a time you no longer recall accurately. Overtaken by plants of all variety, it seemed like the perfect harvest - until it wasn't. As unaccounted cargo, you were sparred the horrors they faced at the hands of the planet's few remaining natives. Asleep during the bloodbath you woke crowd by the new inhabitants of this land - sentient creatures grown from rich soil and crimes against anatomy.

Their creators feared what they had created and went to war destroying what they had birthed with their own hands - wiped out in the end by their superior strengths and numbers. Despite this carnage, they were a peaceful race and tried to rescue your crew, but failed. Finding your journals tucked into your sleeping arms they enlisted your aid as a florist in the upkeep of what remains of their home in exchange for their pollen and a roof over your head.

Base in sight, you speed through the thick fog in your descent to its open doors. A planetarium with an open ceiling has come your home in this time. You missed your comfy bed, but a hammock under the stars surrounded by those you now held dear was just as nice. You enter the building, breath fleeing as your snatched from behind. Not a step through the door and you're suspended in the air at the waist by hanging vines.

"And just where have you been, my sneaky little pest?"

Thorn-like claws grace your cheek, curving up to the crown of your head where they cautiously prod at your sensitive antennae. Amused, they chitter in delight as you struggle in your blinds - most likely held by another member of the collective. Beyond the palms of their woven hands, this one was covered near entirely in stained prickles. Violet petals spiked from the upper half of their hair and draped over their mocking grin

"You know you aren't allowed to leave without a guide. What ever would we do if our heart was taken by those savages, hm? I think a punishment is in order, don't you?"

"Seems so if they can't obey simple rules. With that lovely picture on knot tying they brought us the other day, I'm sure we can get up to lots of fun before the others figure out where we are."

Lowered closer to the floor, strong arms embrace you from behind and lead your head against their chest. Small, hanging buds sprouted up the lengths of their arms mark their class - their reddish yellow hue staking their typing. Cooing ever so cloyingly sweet in your ear, it rubs the humanoid half of its face against your cheek.

"You were scheduled to start the day with us. Don't you love us anymore? We may not be as approachable at the others, but we adore you all the same."

You swallow hard, trapped between a wall and thorns. "Thistle.... Honeysuckle.. but I can never find you two."

"But we're always watching. Can't let you get into trouble. Or pick a favorite. If you accept us as your guards for the rest of the week maybe we'll let you go. If not...."

The vines tighten around your hips - released almost instantly as they're snipped by an unseen party. You stumble forward, caught and picked up by another pair of arms.

"What have I told you two about picking on them? One more time and I'm sending you both to the greenhouse.... Are you alright, darling?"

Bright as the golden sun, their petals almost blind you as you look up. The leader, and the first floral creature you met - Marigold was your sworn protector even from those with you in their care. A strict, yet understanding calm to the storm life in the compound was. As they set you down, Thistle scoffs.

"Always the spotlight stealer. Would you keep it down before the others realized they've returned?"

It's a bit too late for that.

"Y/n? Y/n back?!"

"Oh, I was so worried I fear I may start wilting!"

"Y/n, Y/n! We have a ripe patch of peaches for you!"

From the shadows of the trees and handmade structures comes the entire horde. They push through each other getting to you and overwork your brain with their chatter. Over a dozen bodies crowded around your lone figure. Through the sea, the shortest of them swims through the crowd and manages their way up to you - head centered at your navel. Head cocked, they seem to be staring to your lips.

"Cuckoo? Is everything alright?"

They smile. Grabbing your shirt, you're bent forward into an open mouth kiss. All the commotion ceases immediately as a wave of surprises washes over them all. Patting the walls of your cheeks their segmented tongue, Cuckoo only pulls away when they're torn from you. Lifting the smaller flower by its shoulders, Thistle clenches their teeth tight.

"What on earth was that?"

The question was genuine. None of them were fully traversed in the act of kissing beyond brief tellings in the books you brought to learn more about the planet left behind for them. Agriculture and construction were common reads, but if they got lucky you'd find old story books, comics and novels. Cuckoo holds up a page from one of those very stories - the couple displayed entangled in a heat of passion with lips locked. Heads staring over their shoulder snap in your direction. You'd used the direction to scramble away and travel further into their lair.

"I wanna try..."

Even Marigold couldn't save you now. Taking advantage of your gift of flight, you dart into the air aiming for the second floor where your bedroom stood.

"I would love to help you all, but I need to get started on my letter for my queen. She has requested more pollen, and I wasn't able to get one out in the last run. As soon as it's out of the way, I can come back and we can - Ah!"

Fashioning a lasso from their vines, you're dragged down into the frenzy with no escape in the near future. As is your life with the horde.

-

A queen sits alone on her throne. Letter opener gripped in her palm, she stabs it though her throne as the words describing your escapade slash through her heart. Stomping the battered floor, her veil of submission cracks.

"This has gone on for too long. My garden is in shambles and so will this kingdom until their return."

The servant at her feet keeps their voice low. "My queen... Their service there is doing quite the opposite. Our reserves are at maximum capacity and with the treaty there's no need for war and needless casualties. I know of your bond and I am sorry for your lost."

Like an arrow, the queen's dagger rips through the air and anchors in the wall behind the servant. Golden blood beads in a line across their cheek. Unbridled rage and disgust seeps from her icy glare like poison. She refuses to look directly in their eye, staring off at the shoulders behind them.

"Get. This. Traitor- OUT. RIP THEIR WINGS AND LEAVE THEM FOR DEAD. if they aren't on my wall by dawn, I will take yours as payment."

Eyes wide, the servant lunges for her robes as the guards take their arms. "My lady, please! You cannot do this! I was trying to make things better! Y/n will never forgive you!"

She spits.

"And cut out their tongue."

Screams echoing down the halls, the queen curls up in her throne - clutching the pillow you kept every night and the flower you sent in your distress. Her sweet idiot of a bumblebee. Why did you have to run off? Sure she was stressed, but with her prized florist and sweet little bumblebee she could've conquered the universe. Someday you'll be in her arms and garden again - laughing the night and dawn away.

Someday

[huramuna]

a maid's folly - chapter 6.

dark aemond x maid ofc minor aemond x floris baratheon work is 18+, minors do not interact, lest ye be smited.

previous | next

summary: a new maid from the Vale arrives at the Red Keep during a tumultuous time and becomes ensnared in the One-Eyed prince's web.

word count: 3.7k

girl.... it took a bit to get here but i hope its worth it - please let me know what you think

warnings: smut (details below cut), power imbalance, religious guilt, dark Aemond, canon typical misogyny, canon typical violence, Aemond being a touch starved weirdo, possessiveness, jealousy, this is going to be ANGSTY

oh to be in love - kate bush • mary on a cross - ghost

chapter specific warnings: violence, blood, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, virginity loss, biting

The next few weeks were good ones for Rosemary– the best ones since her mother passed. She fell into a quick companionship with Helaena, accepting her oddities as fun quirks, rather than bits of madness that everyone else seemed to discount them as.

Helaena was smarter than people gave her credit for. She was witty with a great sense of humor, often poking fun at courtiers and other denizens of the castle. She had a lot of inside knowledge on the gossip and going-ons of the Keep, as people weren't afraid to speak openly while she was in earshot, citing her as daft and not paying attention.

Rosemary and Helaena sat shoulder to shoulder on the settee near the window. It was open, a crisp breeze tousling their hair. 

The princess had promoted Rosemary to her handmaiden, thus upgrading her wardrobe significantly. They matched now, as Rosemary wore light blue dresses, her hair down in a braid. Helaena usually leaned towards cooler colors, like flushed blues and light purples. 

“I've heard that Floris is pitching a fit over the flowers chosen for the wedding,” Helaena chattered, pricking a needle into the fabric stretched over an embroidery hoop-- she was working on a depiction of a blue carpenter bee, “Mother told me she cried when the florist brought in white tulips instead of yellow.”

Rosemary snorted a small giggle, her hands tangled in Helaena's hair, defting the tresses into intricate braids, “And how has your brother taken all of this?”

Helaena was privy to Aemond and Rosemary's 'situation', whatever it may be– it was ill-defined at the moment. The corners of her eyes crinkled into a grin, “He is running Vhagar ragged with how much he flies her. Mother said that when Floris began to weep, he slipped out of the hall and was gone for four hours.”

“Yes, that sounds about right.” the maid hummed. 

The weeks with Helaena had also proven fruitful for Aemond and Rosemary’s interactions– they were still few and far between, with Aemond expressing more restraint than he had before, but he visited Helaena’s chambers more often, citing brotherly love as his reasoning for his frequent social calls.

He entered that day as usual, his arms behind his back. His eye zeroed in on Rosemary, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly. She wasn’t wearing her formless maid’s dresses any longer, as Helaena had her tailored for a few higher end pieces for her. They hugged her curves in the right places with a sweeping décolletage, exposing just the hinting swell of her chest, the light blue complimenting her complexion.

He had been visiting more lately, but the past few days had been taken up with frivolous wedding planning, and half a dozen flights on Vhagar. 

“Brother, you’re staring.” Helaena murmured.

He became all too aware of his surroundings, his mouth slightly dry and his clothes all too tight. It took him a moment to regain his stoic self, “I am merely trying to see what you’re embroidering, dear sister,” he walked forward, nodding his head to Rosemary, “My lady.” he mustered a greeting.

“Your grace,” she hummed in response, tying off Helaena’s braids with a small leather cord, “Would you like for me to braid yours as well?” she said it ever so innocently, but she was goading him. They were in each other’s proximity more often than not lately, with Rosemary often watching him spar in the courtyard from the spectator’s eaves They had developed a back and forth banter— he tested her limits with his witty remarks, and she teased him endlessly until she was all but sure that he would need to relieve himself later. It was a fun game, their little verbal spars, but Rosemary wondered when it would become reality. A man could only be teased so long. 

Aemond cleared his throat, “That won’t be necessary,” he glanced at her for a moment, his pupil blown wide. She knew she had him, hook, line and sinker. 

“Rosemary, weren’t you going to go to the market today?” Helaena redirected the conversation, “I know you had a few things to pick up.” 

The maid perked up, “Oh, yes— hm, I should get started now so mayhaps I’ll make it home before dark,” she squeezed Helaena’s shoulder affectionately, the princess leaning into her touch, “I will see you this evening, my lady,” she got up, smoothing out her dress, curtsying before Aemond, “My prince.” 

“Hm.” he grunted, letting her walk past him. 

She made a quick stop to her room, donning a cape jacket, her hands tying a ribboned, wide-brimmed sun hat to her head. Looping a bag around her shoulder, she set out to the corridors. 

Rosemary walked with purpose, reciting her list, “Lavender oil, honey cakes, lilac and blue thread, rock salt, goat’s milk…” she had her head down, navigating the halls absentmindedly. She brushed shoulders with someone, caught off guard by an anguished gasp. 

Stopping, she looked to see who she bumped, “My apologies,” Rosemary murmured, seeing that it was… Floris Baratheon. She recognized her from passing through Maegor’s Holdfast going to and from Helaena’s chambers, “My lady.” 

Floris scoffed, “Yes, well, watch where you are going,” she looked Rosemary up and down, a flicker of something akin to recognition passing through her eye, “Ah, you’re the princess’ handmaiden, are you not?” 

“Yes, my lady.” 

“I see,” she clicked her tongue, seemingly mulling over something in her head, “Where are you heading in such a hurry, then?”

“I have to pick up a few things from the markets, my lady— I wish to get back before it gets dark.” 

Floris blinked slowly, her hands coming together, “Ah. The markets,” she repeated, “Enjoy your errands.” 

Rosemary curtsied hurriedly, walking away. She had already wasted enough time dawdling. 

The trip down to the market square was fairly uneventful— she managed to get lost once or thrice, still unfamiliar with the layout of the city; she had only visited through it once before arriving at the Keep. 

She haggled with her fair share of merchants and most definitely overpaid for most things. It was a wonder that she managed to somehow haggle up the price. 

The last thing she retrieved was the goat’s milk— it wasn’t to be drinken, but to be added to her and Helaena’s baths. Rosemary had fond memories of her mother drawing her a hot bath and pouring flower oils and goat or sheep’s milk into it, along with the chipped pieces of rock salt. It left her feeling soft and fresh and she wished to experience it once again. 

The sun was beginning to set over the horizon. Helaena warned Rosemary to not be in King’s Landing at night and to always come back before the sun set. 

Rosemary gnawed at her bottom lip as she tried to retrace her steps. She could see the Red Keep up on the hill, but when she tried to navigate there, she ended up being cut off by dead ends, empty alleys, and paths looming with unsavory characters. 

She felt the bubble of panic rising in her chest, her thumb nail sinking into the soft of her palm. Her lip began to bleed from her incessant biting upon it in her anxiety driven state. 

Turning down another alley, she was met with a dead end again. Tears pricked at her eyes, feeling frustrated and helpless— how idiotic could she be to get lost? She could see the Keep but couldn’t reach it. 

Moving to retreat from the alley, she saw a hooded figure at the end of it, awaiting her. Her heart instantly jumped into her stomach and she froze. The dying light of the sun glinted off of something in its hand— a weapon. 

The tears came in full force now as she dropped her bag, backing up further against the wall. The figure descended upon her, brandishing a knife. It was a man, stocky and older. His breath smelled of decay and rot— he was hissing at her, like some kind of animal. 

Rosemary put her arms up to shield against the first swing, she had seen Aemond do something similar in his training sessions with Ser Criston– of course, he was a seasoned swordsman and usually swathed off an attack with a weapon, so this method was nowhere near as effective as he made it look— it ripped through the fabric of her dress, slicing against her arms. She whimpered in pain but shoved forward against him, knocking him off his balance. He kept up his garbled hissing, as if he was trying to say something. 

“Take my bag— the money is in there, just l-leave me be!” Rosemary cried, kicking the bag towards him. 

The man couldn’t look less interested as he regained his footing, coming in again for the second time. This attempt was fruitful as he knocked Rosemary to the ground— he was on top of her, slicing wildly, his mouth agape. He had no tongue. She tried to keep her arms up to stop him from hitting anything vital, the blade cutting through her skin like ribbons. She cried in pain, kicking and screaming, her blood trickling down onto her face, her dress.

Her life flashed before her eyes— her mother, Jeyne, Helaena, the children— Aemond. 

Suddenly, the man was dead weight against her and the dangerous edge of a sword poked through the front of his skull, mere inches from Rosemary’s face. 

It all felt like a haze, a blur. Was she already dead? She felt so cold, the rivulets of blood flowing across her skin feeling like shards of ice. Her vision closed and blackened around her. 

The weight of the man was kicked off of her and then she was scooped up— she was no longer cold, but warm. She was warm, like in a goat’s milk and lavender oil bath, the steamy water enveloping her like a second skin. She had to be dead, surely. 

“Rosemary,” a voice, familiar, murmured, “Stay awake. Fucking hell, I shouldn’t of let you go alone.” 

She glanced up, her vision still muddied and red— her own blood had dripped into her eyes, stinging. But she realized who was holding her, the flash of a single violet eye burning through her. Aemond.

“Ae… mond,” she whispered. 

“Don’t speak,” he grunted, “Just… stay awake, okay?” 

She didn’t know how long it was until the air around her turned from the flowing outdoor air, to a dank and almost tepid air. It was dark now, flashes of torches dancing in her eyes. 

Then she was set down— on something soft. It smelled like sandalwood and smoke. A bed. Aemond’s bed. 

He sat next to her, bandaging her arms, “You did good putting your arms up,” he said, wrapping the soft, spongy cloth material taut around the worst of her wounds, “Where did you learn that?”

Rosemary blinked, “… been watching you spar… recently,” she responded softly, “I might’ve… picked up a thing or two.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. It made her chest feel aflutter. “Hm,” he mused, “I never saw you there but once.”

“I was hiding… didn’t wish to distract you.” 

Aemond snorted then, rolling his eye, “Chin up,” his hand softly lifted up her head as he wiped a damp, lukewarm cloth over her face, cleansing the blood from her skin. 

“How did you know?”

He made a small noise of discontentment, “You were bound to find yourself in trouble. I saw you overpay for all of your items today, far above market price,” he looked away for a moment, “I can’t say I expected this to happen. But it… was good I was there, I suppose.” the cloth eased over her eyes, helping her sight come back into focus. 

She blinked profusely a few times, tears gathering at her waterline– not just from the irritation, but emotion. “... I don’t know what to say…”

Aemond put the cloth aside, “Usually, this is where one says ‘thank you’,” he chided, citing her taunt at him from a few weeks earlier, “How is the pain?”

Twisting her arms, she sucked in a breath of pain, “... hurts.” 

“It will for a while and will likely scar. But, better a scar than your life,” he hummed, his hand flexing and relaxing absentmindedly, “I’ll bring you a salve for them so they won’t mar your skin as terribly.” his hand reached for hers, turning her palm up. He was gentle, his skin warm.

“... thank you,” she murmured, closing his hand between both of hers, wincing at bit at the movement. “I don’t understand… he didn’t want my money or items– he was actively trying to kill me. To just kill me.”

Aemond looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, his mouth wrought into a thin line, “King’s Landing is a dangerous place– the Red Keep even more so. I… will try to figure out what it was– mayhaps a purposeful attack.”

“Purposeful? Why would anyone want to kill me?” 

“You are the princess’ handmaiden– you have eyes and ears into a lot of affairs in the Keep and perhaps you overheard something you shouldn’t have,” he let go of her hands for a moment, but not before rasping his thumb over her knuckles. He then began to pace. “Have you heard anything odd lately? Some conversation you shouldn’t have been privy to?”

Rosemary only now just saw how distraught Aemond looked– his hair was down completely, the leather tie used to pull it back to the nape of his neck gone, likely broken off. His hands were stained with blood, her blood, and the blood of her would-be killer. He looked a bit flushed, pacing back and forth like a caged animal, his footfalls heavy and filled with emotion– not like his usual silent, detached movements. 

“Aemond,” she murmured. He didn’t stop his pacing, muttering to himself, “Aemond. Aemond!” she raised her voice slightly, causing his head to snap towards her. “Please– we can worry about it all later, just… come here.”

He looked perplexed by her tone and loudness, but walked over anyway.

 In turn, she reached over and took an extra dampened cloth, holding out her hand, “Let me help.” she asked.

He sat down next to her on the bed, the mattress dipping under him. He bobbed his knee incessantly as Rosemary took his hands and washed them of the grime and blood. His jaw was clenched, his muscles taut as if he wanted to spring into action or mayhaps run out of the room.

“Relax,” she grumbled, “I should be the one nervous, not you.”

“I am nervous– you… you were almost killed. I was almost too late, Rosemary,” he spoke, his voice breaking from its usual even tone into something soft and more raw, “What the fuck would we have done if you were… slaughtered by some ingrate? Helaena and the children– they would be heartbroken,” he took in a sharp breath, “... I would be… devastated as well.”

Rosemary stowed away the cloth, her hands not once leaving his. Slowly and cautiously, she intertwined their fingers. It was an intimate gesture, something soft and soothing. She could feel her heart catch in her throat, her ears burning. “Well, you weren’t too late, were you?” she whispered, her voice almost silent. She glanced up at him, those big brown eyes of hers piercing a hole right through him, right into his soul. 

Untangling one hand from hers, his hand came beneath her chin, tilting it upward. “I might’ve burned this whole fucking city down if I was,” he murmured, leaning forward. They were so close, their lips ghosting over one another.

She felt the heat rise in her stomach, feelings jittering around against her ribcage like some of Helaena’s butterflies. Her eyes flicked to his lips, then back to his eye– she inhaled as she leaned in– and in turn, he did as well.

Their lips met– it was soft but intense all at once, the butterflies in her chest breaking free in a cacophony of emotion. It was chaste at first, their lips melding together like two puzzle pieces– before her lips parted slightly and she tilted forward more, her free hand coming up to his chest, but wavering. “C-can I touch you?” she asked, her words pressed against his mouth.

“Please– please touch me,” he practically pleaded, “I’ve waited so long.” 

Her hand slid up his chest slowly, her brow knitting in discomfort as her wounds pressed against the bandages. 

He took note of this, placing her hands on his hips and a likely more comfortable position for her. 

She hummed contentedly as she leaned farther into him, her lips parting once more to accommodate his tongue slipping into her mouth. She needed more of him, pressing as close as she could. She wanted to crawl inside of his ribcage and live there. It was something of comfort.

“Lay down,” he said, breaking their intimate closeness for just a moment, earning a disappointed whimper from her. “I need to taste you.”

Rosemary swallowed heavily, nodding slowly. “I’ve– I’ve never… done this before,” she breathed, “I’m still a maiden.” she scooted back to lay on the soft pillows, looking down. Her dress was a torn mess.

“All the reason to go slow, little lamb,” he responded in turn, edging up the skirt of her dress, “Tell me to stop if you need to.”

Biting her lip, she nodded. The feather light touch of his hand on her leg made her shiver, a coil of warm settling in her core. 

His hands, calloused and rough as they were, felt like smooth silk as they glided up her leg, bunching up her dress at her stomach. His fingers traced the stretch marks on her hips and thighs as if to commit them to memory. Aemond’s fingers hooked under her undergarments and slid them off– a wet strip of arousal prominently painted down the center of them. Grinning, he stowed them away in his pocket, “Hmm,” he hummed, using both hands to part her legs as if it were some great feat, like mounting a dragon or swinging a sword for the first time. “Beautiful.”

Rosemary felt her face go red as she looked down at him, his head between her legs. “Please.” she murmured, almost too quiet to hear.

She didn’t need to beg, not this time at least– he fulfilled her wish, licking a strip from the bottom of her parted folds up to her aching pearl, causing her to whimper. He was slow at first, eeking out every little sound he could out of her before beginning to feast, his tongue ringing circles around her sensitive bud, his hands gripping her thighs like he was a man staved, and she was his last meal before death.

Rosemary clutched the sheets, wanting to snap her legs close, but his strong grip kept them open– thank the Gods for that– the warmed coil inside of her slowly eking into a smolder. ‘A-Aemond, ah–” her first orgasm ripped through her like a bolt of lightning, her toes curling. Her legs wrapped around him as she clenched around nothing, whimpering his name like it was a prayer.

“That’s it,” he purred, “Bleating like a lamb for me– so soft, like I knew you’d be.”

She panted heavily, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her death grip on his head weakened slightly, allowing him to slip from between her legs for just a moment. 

“Let's get this dress off, hm? I want to see all of you.”

“If you undress, too– I won’t be the only one naked,” she grumbled.

He happily obliged, stripping his doublet and trousers and kicking them away, all too eager to get her out of her dress. His fingers deftly undid the buttons, slipping it off of her. A hand palmed one of her heavy breasts, rubbing a nipple between his fore and middle finger. 

“Eyepatch,” she mewled between tiny moans, “Take it off.”

He was a bit more hesitant here– his thumb hooking under the strap. Pausing for a moment, he looked to Rosemary once more. 

She was disheveled, her face flushed red, her hair coming out of her braid and flowing behind her in pale blonde tresses. Her eyes were half-lidded, lips parted ever so slightly. She wanted him, she wanted all of him– it was evident.

Foregoing any more doubt, he discarded the eyepatch, revealing his sapphire implant. 

Her half lidded eyes grew into large saucers, her breath hitching in her throat. Rosemary didn’t say anything else, giving a hum of contentment before pulling him back onto the bed for another kiss. 

“Beautiful,” she cooed between kisses.

It was enough to make Aemond blush– hiding his bashfulness by slipping his tongue back into her mouth, palming his cock in his fist. He swiped the head against her folds, gathering the slick and slowly sliding it in. 

“Gods above,” he grit his teeth, “Fucking tight.” his lips pressed against her neck, he buried himself to the hilt in her, waiting for her approval.

“F-full,” she whimpered, needing a moment to adjust to his size and the overall new sensation, before she nodded for him to proceed.

He moved slowly again, starting at a measured, deliberate pace, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. 

Soon enough, she relaxed into his rocking motions, beginning to enjoy it. His pace increased as he left red marks on her neck, sucking and bruising the delicate skin there. He wanted to be gentle– but he was still a dragon, and dragons were wholly possessive. 

The room was filled with the sounds of her soft whimpering moans and his grunts– the symphony of skin slapping against skin. 

Aemond clenched, feeling the tell-tale sensation that he was close, “F-fuck,” he groaned against her skin, teeth biting into her now, “My lamb– my pretty lamb– you should be my fucking wife. You’re mine, mine, m– fuck–” he stilled his movements as he spilled inside of her, his fingers gripping her hips like soft putty. 

She clenched around him, feeling the warmth of his exertions spread through her. Sweat beaded at her forehead and chest as her hummingbird heart slowed down finally. 

He didn’t pull out yet– rather, he wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest, laying on his back now.

“Stay with me tonight– please. I wish to wake up next to you, if only this once.” he murmured, holding her close against his chest in his all encompassing hold.

“Of course, my dragon.”

taglist: @watercolorskyy @queen--kenobi @heartb8k2 @violetiss3lfish @toodlesxcuddles

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

PRINCE OF POISON

《Dick Grayson Nightshade Au x Reader HEADCANONS》

Civilian Dick Grayson, a circus boy who lost his parents and was taken in by Poison Ivy. Becoming.. Deadly Nightshade.

In this Au: I can definitely see Nightshade Dick using his more flirtatious side. Mostly learning from Poison Ivy.

He too can kiss people and make them do his bidding! 

His appearance is very beautiful, often being seen as a fairy-prince type of style. A crown of thorns adoring his head,

Often given the nickname Prince of Poison as a joke by the Sirens of Gotham. Which he uses the nickname with pride. 

Leaning into a more gentleman vilian.

Civilian Dick living that cottage-core lifestyle, graduated with top marks in chemistry and environmental studies.

A sweet florist with his own little cute shop, often crafting each flower in a garden hidden away under the shop.

Customers love the shop, but it's often empty due to odd hours, people never really telling when it's open or not.

Yandere Nightshade Dick would try to manipulate his darling with spores and pheromones to mess with their hormones. Often thinking their in love, that they are the obsessive one. Unless they have bad allergies and could die from the pollen, which he can't do. He doesn't wanna kill them.

-

Yandere Mini Fic At Bottom.

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"Ya know.. I've never actually thought about your shops name." You said loosely, smiling at the few white tulips sitting by the cashier counter.

"Whatcha mean?" Richard, or Dick, (He would beg you to call him his nickname. Which you didn't think you were close enough for.) (He tolerates it, not wanting to seem pushy, so his perfect image wouldn't wilt in your eyes.)

" "Eden." Just like that garden in the Bible right?"

"Yeah, I love the pun, besides, I pay tribute for a close family member of mine."

"That's sweet of you," you hum, glancing at the clock near the door.

"Adam and Eve right? I think?" You say sparingly, listening to Dick hum in agreement.

Unaware of the flowers becoming droopy by your lack of attention.

Some astray viens even creeping up from beyond the counter. Wanting YOU.

Richard, who notices this, grabs his spray bottle, which was filled with water, he quickly sprays them back to their place. But one stem doesn't get the memo, crafting something in its branches.

Dick panics, trying to pull it back. 

"There goes my lunch break." You state sadly, more focused on the time than the crystal clear windows that would show what was happening behind you.

A soft tap takes away your attention, staring at a wide eyed Richard Grayson, who was halfway leaning over the counter. Holding a bright red, juicy apple.

"H-here, I packed extra?" He said a little less smoothly than he wanted.

You, who notices his behavior, stares at the apple skeptically.

"You didn't poison it right? Cause I don't know any prince charming to wake me." You said dryly.

Richard smiles sweetly, his eyes closed. Hidden away so you wouldn't see his rage.

"Trust me, I didn't, I don't wanna kill my favorite customer."

"I haven't bought anything from here. You drag me in hear with your flowery words.." You say plainly.

"My soon to be- Favorite customer," The florist stretches out his hand once more. 

You, cautiously, take the apple. "Thanks, Richard." You wave goodbye, walking out of the shop. Taking a small bite on your way out.

"No problem.. My Eve."

-

[Should I make a bat boys villian series?? Anyway thank you for reading! Let me know what yall think!]

[More Prince of Poison!]

[freesia-writes]

Ch 42: Dancing

Master List ~~ Previous Chapter ~~ WC: 2.4k

FANART by @perfectlywingedart and @raevulsix and @the-little-moment 😍

Realizing that the scents and sounds of the Farmer’s Market had become a familiar, welcome experience, Hunter wove his way through the crowds as his eyes flitted from stand to stand. He was looking for something specific, but was beginning to panic that this was the one week a certain vendor might not have attended. Lyra usually visited the Market each week, but he’d asked her to avoid this one, insisting that she trust him and not ask questions when she started to poke at his mischievous secrecy. She’d relented, however, on the condition that he explain himself over dinner that night, and he’d agreed with a smug grin. It was all coming together perfectly. 

Ah, there it was. Displaced from the typical stall near a fountain, he found the florist, where exotic plants and blooms of every color wafted their delicate fragrance through the air. It was mercifully empty, giving him ample space to inspect every single flower to try to find the perfect bunch. After a few minutes, the owner approached from behind the table, a knowing smile on her elderly face. 

“Trouble choosing, dear?” Her voice was laced with such warmth that he immediately felt his tumult begin to quiet, a mildly bemused expression betraying the accuracy of her assessment. 

“Yeah,” he admitted, gesturing to the numerous choices. “Nice spread you’ve got.”

“Tell me about her,” the woman invited, shuffling around to stand by his side, gazing at the wall of blooms before them.

“She’s…” he faltered, mind racing with so many things that he didn’t even know where to begin. A tiny touch on his forearm pulled his attention from the swirling cloud of possible descriptions in his mind, and he looked down at the florist. 

“I know that look,” she giggled, a twinkle in her eye. She tapped the side of her nose and gave him an affectionate wink, then turned to her bouquets. “How big are we thinking?” 

“Eh…” He was baffled, wanting to convey so much with a simple gift and yet aware of the fact that Lyra was not really a “big” sort of person… something he loved about her. “Not big, but…”

“Beautiful in its simplicity?”

“Exactly.” An unsuccessful attempt to hide his surprise at the woman’s uncanny knack for precision brought another delighted chuckle to her lips, and she turned to the table behind them, crooked fingers wiggling over the tops of the assortment as she searched. They landed on a textured brown pot that held a plant with long leaves that arched gracefully around some thick stems. Hanging from each stalk were some brightly-colored buds shaped like hearts, each one having a delicate design that made them look as though they were painted. They were small yet mesmerizing with their elegant curves, and the way they were tucked in among the foliage gave them an endearing sense of playfulness. 

“They might seem cheesy at first,” the woman explained, holding up the pot and turning it slowly. “But they open up more when they bloom and are adorably unique. Trust me… They bring a smile every time.”

Hunter wasn’t sure, but as he scanned the rest of the table, he didn’t see any other options that stood out, and the woman’s guess was probably far more reliable than his own, so he gave her a nod and was on his way. He’d made it a few steps toward the road when an intimidating figure stepped into his way, and his grip tightened around the plant as he recognized the parasite from Lyra’s office. 

“Hey, skullface,” Mullet Hanker began, running a hand through his neatly-styled hair. “Couple things for you…” 

No reply came from the clone, who was already calculating a series of blows, some of which included the flowerpot and others without. 

“Alright,” Hanker continued, unfazed. “First of all, cute.” He nodded at the flowerpot with a condescending smirk. “Second of all, I was a little too drunk at the Festival this year, so tell Vetana she doesn’t have to be all scared anymore. I’m still gonna need those admissions reports though.”

Hunter narrowed his eyes, chin lowering as he regarded the man with venomous intensity. “If you ever bother her again, you’re not gonna like what happens.”

“Hmm.” Hanker’s voice dropped while his back straightened, and there was no trace of remorse in his unmoving stare. “I’m sure it feels good to say that, short stack… But uh… I’m not someone who likes being told what to do, you see?” He shifted positions, pulling up the waistband of his pants a little and casting a seemingly casual glance around the area before leaning in for one last barb. “So… don’t waste your time threatening me.” 

He sniffed, turning and strolling away as though he hadn’t a care in the world. Hunter stared after him, pursing his lips thoughtfully before continuing on the path out of town. 

* * * 

Fun Fact: @raevulsix was the first friend to EVER draw fanart for me (an undercover casino scene from Tech and Vel), and it's been so fun to see her style evolve over the last year and a half! Hunter's face is SO SOFT in this one, I'm deceased! 🥹

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“Hi,” Lyra said warmly as she opened her door, a wide grin on her face as she saw Hunter hiding something behind his back. He’d spent the rest of the day preparing for his plans that night, and now that it was dinnertime, he felt jittery with anticipation. “Whatcha got there?”

“You’ll see,” he grinned, producing nothing but a large sackcloth carefully tented around whatever was beneath it. 

“What about the ‘no secrets’ rule?” she teased, squinting suspiciously at him as they made their way to the back of the cottage. 

“It’s not a secret, it’s a surprise. Completely different.”

“Getting by on a technicality, hmm? Alright…” She slipped her arms around his waist, brushing the backs of her fingers across his cheek before turning her head and enveloping him in a hug. When she released him and stepped back, he noticed her appearance. Even more so than the other night, she’d dressed up as best she could. Her long brown hair fell in soft waves behind a deep teal dress with flutter sleeves. On her upper arm was a delicate design of small chains that wove in an intricate pattern around her bicep, and she was proudly sporting the sea glass necklace he’d made for her. Her features were enhanced with makeup, something he hadn’t yet seen aside from the heavy disguise she’d worn to Keytoll, and she brought a hand to her cheek self-consciously as she noticed his study of her face. 

“That’s new,” he commented, a fond smile on his face. “It looks–”

“Like Pa’lowick paint, I know,” she deflected, brushing her eyebrows into place. He laughed.

“No, it’s… fancy.”

“Well you said to be fancy,” she answered with a grin. 

“Indeed I did.”

“You look pretty handsome yourself,” she effused, taking in the smooth red shirt he was wearing, a contrast to the usual earth tones and textures he gravitated toward. “Pants are a little tighter than usual.”

“Yeah,” he groaned, looking down with his own flicker of embarrassment. “I thought they were–”

“A nice treat,” she finished, beaming at the snort it earned from him. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he purred, deeply content. She gave him a playful salute, then began clearing the last few things from her table. 

“So… What’s the plan?”

A half hour later found the two of them meandering through the restaurants in the center of town, Hunter’s fingers entwined with hers as he led the way. They rounded a corner, one of the local eateries coming into view, but it was completely dark inside, front doors closed and locked. A chain hung between two poles at the base of a flight of stairs that led up the side of the building, and he deftly freed it from one of the posts, inviting her up the steps before replacing it once they were past. 

“Breaking and entering isn’t usually my style,” she murmured uncertainly.

“I didn’t break anything,” he smirked, taking her hand again as they climbed. The stairs made a sharp turn around the corner of the stucco structure then emerged at the top, which was a flat rooftop garden illuminated by string lights. A small fountain tinkled peacefully in the corner, tucked amid lush vines and bushes, yet the center of the space was noticeably empty. 

Lyra shot him an inquisitive look, but he maintained his calm exterior and led her to the center, releasing her hand momentarily to take a few steps away, where he reached between the foliage and pressed a button. Soft music began to play, an old tune he knew she loved, and her eyebrows arched together as she recognized the nostalgic melody. He slowly walked back to her, holding out his hand, and she took it immediately. He pulled her in close, arranging them into a dance position, but she suddenly broke loose. 

“Hunter…” she said in trepidation. “I don’t know how to dance.” 

“It’s nothing special,” he said quietly, inviting her in again. “Just an excuse for me to hug you for a really long time… while shuffling in a circle so you can enjoy the scenery.”

She chuckled, coming back into his embrace, and tentatively began to follow his gentle sway, unable to resist a smile. Her favorite person, her favorite song, a beautiful place… It was heaven. 

.

The texture! The lights! The sweet tenderness! @perfectlywingedcrusade is a freaking wizard!

.

“I saw you dancing with Luciana,” she murmured, catching him off guard with such an abrupt change of topic. She lifted her head slightly to regard him honestly. “I’ll never be able to dance like that.” Her admission felt hurtful to him somehow, and he ached for her to see herself as he did. 

“I don’t want you to,” he reassured, shifting his arm more snugly around her waist and leaning his forehead against hers. “This is all I want.”

She sighed, assuaged for the time being, and closed her eyes at the intimacy of his closeness. Emotions that he couldn’t begin to name filled his chest, and he stroked the back of her hand with a thumb, taking a deep breath in an attempt to quiet the deep yearning that was growing every second. They turned slowly, a light breeze nudging Lyra closer against him. When the song faded to quiet, she opened her eyes and found his, an adoring smile on her face.

Hunter released her hand, cupping her cheek and brushing the rough pad of his thumb along its curve. It was soft, like her. Gentle, like her. Inviting, like her. She lifted her chin the tiniest bit, enamored with the tenderness in his eyes. He licked his lips, inhaling quietly. When he spoke, his voice was husky and quiet.

“I love you.”

She was delightfully surprised and yet not surprised at all, her smile widening as her eyes glistened with joy. She opened her mouth to respond, hesitating for a beat, but he couldn’t wait a moment longer. 

Hunter closed the distance between their faces in a split second, pressing his lips to hers. A sharp inhale through her nose sent a jolt of tension through him, but as she melted against him, he relaxed into the euphoric moment that he’d wanted for so long. Her lips were unbelievably soft, her body surrendered against his, and waves of utter bliss cascaded from his head to his toes. Slipping his hand a little farther around her neck to cradle the back of her head, he pulled away for a breath before bringing his mouth to hers again. Her heart was pounding, mimicking his own, and yet beneath the onslaught of elation and desire, there was a singular, calm tranquility that rose to the surface. His soul had found its home.

He lingered there, regretfully taking a step back only when his mind had slowed its reeling enough for him to have some sense of clarity and he noticed that she had gradually begun to sink lower and lower as though her knees were giving out. A chortle escaped his lips as he steadied her with the arm around her waist, pulling her close against his chest. She slowly opened her eyes, barely able to restrain her exuberant glee. He brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek with worshipful adoration, and after a few seconds, she spoke. 

“I told you I’d need to be sitting down for that,” she whispered blissfully, and he laughed freely. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, nuzzling against the side of her face before placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. She shivered, basking in his unrestrained affection. 

“Second of all…” She tightened her arms around him. “I love you, Hunter. So much.” Her eyes met his with clear admiration, stirring and soothing at the same time. Now it was she who lifted her hand, allowing his arms to rest at her waist, and stroked a few strands of hair away from his face, caressing down the side as he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. There was a sense of surrender that he never wanted to let go of, a supreme happiness he’d never imagined he could have. She cupped his face with both hands, leaning in to kiss him on the lips again, and he felt as though his heart could burst. 

He never wanted it to end.

“But…” she mumbled, finally tearing herself away and regarding him with a rummy sort of satisfaction. The single word struck him to the core, chilling the radiant warmth he’d been radiating. “We still need to eat dinner.”

He laughed, flushing with fondness at her ridiculous, adorable self, and still found himself rendered speechless by the supreme happiness he felt. 

“Let’s grab a pizza,” Lyra suggested, silly with glee.

“I love you so much,” he chuckled, taking her hand to enjoy one of the many evenings he hoped to share with her.

.

And the SWEETEST moment captured by @the-little-moment, haha, with such tenderness and beauty and heartwarming awe.

Cheesy but perfect: La Vie En Rose by Louis Armstrong ( lyrics ) (youtube.com)

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[jazzthatonewriterchick]

The Florist & the Baker (Florist!Nanami x Fem!Black!Baker!Reader 18+ One Shot) 

Pairing: Kento Nanami x Black!Fem!Reader (Meet Cute/Slow Burn)

Synopsis: In which you get a storyline straight out of a meet-cute romcom when Nanami, the quiet and stoic yet handsome florist who only comes into your bakery for coffee, asks you out on a date. 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Non-Curse AU; Friends to Lovers; Slow Burn; Meet Cute; Cheesy, Fluffy Romance; Soft Dom!Nanami; Romantic; Public Sex; First Date Sex; 69ing; Nanami is an Eater; Big Dick; Facefucking; Missionary + Doggystyle; Cumshot; Creampie; Aftercare

Writer's Note: Nanami is WHIPPED in this one shot man. Like WHEN WILL THIS BE ME??? I’ve been having a brain rot over the concept of florist!Nanamj lately. It’s such a cute trend & I had to write some fluffy, Hallmark romance shit for it 😩 This one is also inspired by Nanami x Tiana (the Disney princess). It’s such a random ship but it’s so CUTE!! Go check them out!! -Jazz

********

It was a cool, rainy March morning when you met him for the first time. 

Your bakery, best known for its pastries and catering, always opens at 9 AM on weekdays to serve the sleepy-eyed crowd hurrying off to work or classes in the morning. You thought that day was no different. At the time, you were the only one working that morning when the bell above the door rang. 

So you turned around in your work uniform of sneakers and an apron over a warm sweater and jeans. “Good morning!” you chirped in your usual bright tone of voice. “Welcome to…”

The rest of your rehearsed sentence fell short when the man stopped to rub his boots against the rug near the door and take the wet hat off of his head. 

He was tall and extremely handsome like he just stepped out of a GQ Magazine to personally greet you. Under his hat laid a face card that could envy millions of men: a sharp jaw and cheekbones; a blonde undercut that somehow made him look older; brown eyes that twinged with annoyance before he looked at you, his expression softening somewhat. You had never seen a man so fine. 

He put up a finger and pressed the Bluetooth earpiece in his left ear that you didn’t notice. “Pardon?” he asked, scowling at you. “Sorry, I was on the phone. Could you repeat that please?” 

And his voice! It was so deep and soothing. You could listen to him read a storybook or your bakery menu in that voice. Usually, you don’t thirst after customers, but you could admire them in secret, right?

Realizing that he’s waiting for an answer, you pretend to cough to stall yourself and act like you weren’t checking out the guy in the expensive wool coat standing behind the counter.  

“U-Uh, I was just welcoming you to Sweet Treats,” you quickly reply. “Can I interest you in our seasonal line of cookies and beverages for the spring?” You nod at the menu sitting at the end of the counter among a glass display of flower-shaped cookies. “I recommend the lavender latte if you want something refreshing.” 

The man’s face twitched a bit, his brows narrowing at the menu. “Um, no thank you. I don’t do too many sweets, especially in the morning.” He cleared his throat, his eyes skidding from yours for a moment as if he was too anxious to look at you. 

“Can’t argue with that,” you giggled. “How can I help you today, sir?” The man looked up at the menu overhead before choosing a medium-sized latte and the breakfast sandwich on a croissant with egg white and pepperjack cheese, hold the bacon. “Excellent choice, sir!” you commented. “Our breakfast croissant is one of our most popular choices. That’ll be $11.09, please.” 

He slipped his wallet out and you watched curiously as he took a gold card out. American Express. ‘Oh, he must have money,’ you thought, oozing with attraction for him instantly. 

You took the card and thanked him before swiping it. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a card that looks like this before,” you chuckled. “It’s so heavy yet lightweight at the same time!” You read his name on the card: Nanami Kento. 

“Well, when you’re working the demanding job I do and own your own apartment, you need a card like that,” he wryly joked. “Everything I buy with it I pay it at the end of every month.” 

“I’ve never heard of such a card!” you said in awe. “If you don’t mind me asking, what is it that you do, sir?” The man gave you a funny look as if you just asked him if he was pregnant. “Um…I’m a florist,” he answered. “Sorry, I’m just not used to people asking me what I do. Conversation is scarce out there.” 

You hummed in agreement, handing him back his card. “I completely agree, but sometimes, it’s nice to just talk to someone.” He reached out to take the card, his fingers brushing yours as he did. His fingers are long and calloused. Maybe he played piano? The idea made your stomach flip excitedly for some reason. 

You coaxed him to have a seat and wait while you got his order together, brewing the coffee before getting his premade sandwich out of the kitchen fridge to toast.

As you did so, you heard him on the phone again, sounding irritated and frustrated with his coworker on the other line. So you did something to cheer him up: without him looking, you snuck a daisy-shaped sugar cookie into his to-go bag and then called his name from the desk. “Nanami!” you called, smiling at him. 

His head shot toward you and he got up, walking ever so elegantly toward you in his red bottom shoes. He took the bag from you, thanking you. “Sorry, but I don’t remember telling you my name,” he said. Fear struck you at first, thinking you offended him, but then you see a playful glint in his eye. 

“That’s because you didn’t,” you giggled sheepishly. “I forgot to ask, so I may have peeked at your Amex card. Please come again, sir.”

Nanami’s orgasmic eyes looked into yours for a moment, his handsome face making it so hard to concentrate. “Nanami,” he corrected you. “Thank you, Ms. L/N.”

As he turned around to leave with his breakfast, you pulled a face, wondering how he knew your name…and then you remembered your name tag and squeezed your thighs together. “Come again soon!” you called as he walked out into the rain, putting his hat back on his head. 

The rest of the day was filled with thoughts of Nanami. While unbeknownst to you, Nanami’s head swam with tortuous images of the pretty baker with the beautiful skin, gorgeous smile, warm personality, and hip-hugging jeans as he ate his daisy-shaped cookie, shivering in delight at the taste. 

Since that day, he has come in often. Sometimes in the morning, sometimes on his lunch break, but he always orders a coffee and you always sneak something sweet as a pick-me-up in his bag. Sometimes he leaves and sometimes he sits to sip on his coffee, only chomping down on your pick-me-up once he leaves. 

One day, a month later on a beautiful April day, he comes in during a lunch break when you and Yuki and Mai, your coworkers and friends, are taking care of the lunch rush crowd while Todo, Megumi, and Yuji work in the kitchen. 

Yuki ogles him as he walks in, extremely obvious and not trying to hide it from behind the counter. “Damn, he’s fine,” she whispers. “Who the fuck is that?” Mai walks past her with a tray of eclairs to replace beneath the glass displays. “Y/N’s very loyal customer,” she giggles. “He’s been in here almost every day to see her.” 

You are busy washing glasses when you see Nanami and you give him a nod and a smile, acknowledging his presence. He nods back, patiently waiting while you set up. “Really?!” Yuki gasps, gaping at you. “Y/N, how come you never told me you have a boyfriend now?” 

The kitchen doors open, signaling the arrival of one of the boys. “Who’s got a boyfriend?” Yuji curiously asks. “Here’s the fresh batch of peach cobblers you needed, Y/N.” You look down at the delicious pastries. “Thank you, Yuji, and no, I don’t have a boyfriend. He just comes in here often because he enjoys the coffee and ambiance!” 

You glare at Yuki who gives you a knowing look, her lips pursed. “Mmm, I bet it’s the ambiance, alright,” she purrs, bumping her hip with yours as she walks by to tend to the coffee machine. 

Then Nanami comes walking up while the girls giggle among themselves. You quickly straighten up and smile at the blonde. “Nanami, it’s good to see you again! What can I get you today?” 

The stoic blonde gives you another nod of acknowledgment, his coat open today to reveal his suit and tie. “You as well, Ms. L/N,” he says in his smooth-like-butter voice. “Just the usual, please. I have a meeting so I have to hurry back.” He checks his watch, looking quite pensive. 

“Sure thing,” you say and begin to fix up his pastry while you give Yuki his drink order. While you do s, Mai walks past you, her apron replaced with a gorgeous red top and jeans, and gives you a kiss on the cheek. “Headin’ out for the lunch date, hon? Just be careful, okay?”

The black-haired beauty turns and smiles at you. “Gotchu!” she calls. But then she pauses for a moment and smiles at Nanami. “Nice to meet you. I’m Mai, Y/N’s friend.” 

You could choke her as you watch Nanami’s ears turn red. With a giggle and a wink your way, she goes skipping out the door into the wonderful spring air. You sigh, busying yourself with heating up his sandwich. Nanami stands by the counter, the silence filled with the whistle of the latte maker and the hum of the microwave. 

He suddenly clears his throat, earning your attention. “Nice day for a date, I suppose,” he awkwardly says. He’s trying hard to make conversation. You giggle to yourself at his adorable awkwardness. “Agreed, but my date will probably be with my dog later. It’ll be beautiful weather for a walk.” 

The ding of the bell above the door rings, signaling the arrival of another customer. You look at Yuki and give her a wink, hurrying to finish making Nanami’s drink while she takes care of the customer. “So there are no suitable bachelors lined up for you right now?”

Nanami curiously asks. You blink at him, shocked by the question. Quickly, he tries to backtrack. “I apologize if that’s too personal.” 

“No, you’re fine!” you hurriedly reply. “At least you’re not asking me what time I get off…which yes, that has happened before many times.” But if Nanami were to ask you this, you can’t say you’d say no. “Dating just isn’t in the cards for me right now with running a business and all.” 

Nanami nods, watching your hands move as you maneuver the foam machine for the top of the latte. “What about you?” you quip, smiling at him. “I’m sure a guy as handsome as you has a girl on his arm.”

You expect Nanami to laugh at this, but he doesn’t. Instead, his frown deepens and you feel like offing yourself. “I-I’m sorry,” you gasp. “That was so inappropriate to say.” 

“Don’t apologize,” he interrupts you. “That’s very sweet of you.” A light, pink blush lightly coats his cheeks, making your heart flutter. “And no dating for me either, I’m afraid. My life is just too busy and demanding for such.”

He pauses as if thinking and his eyes flick down to your hands. “But if anyone deserves a nice date in such nice weather, I’m sure everyone in here would agree that it’s you.” 

You stop and stare at him for a moment, shocked by his sweet words and game. You damn near burn his sandwich from spacing out because of his words, so much so that Yuki has to turn off the microwave because you don’t hear it beeping. You don’t know why Nanami’s compliment stuns you so much. It’s just a compliment! 

And then you realize it’s because of how genuine it is. You can tell he means it. You can’t deny the way it affects you as you finish his order. Your hands shake as you wrap up his sandwich and secretly place a sun-shaped sugar cookie into his to-go bag.

You give him a smile that you hope doesn’t wobble as you pass him his order. “Have a nice day, Nanami,” you softly say. 

He takes the coffee and bag, his hands lightly brushing against yours. You feel something explode within you from even the slightest touch of your fingers. You search his face, wondering if he felt it too. “Kento,” he corrects you. “You as well, Ms. L/N.”

You nearly melt beneath his gaze. “Y/N,” you correct him. 

He gives you a small smile before heading off to work, taking the intoxicating scent of his cologne and your head with him. Yuki is the one who brings you back down to earth, carrying two iced coffees. “Oooh, that was sexy to watch,” she giggles. “Y/N, your man is such a man.” 

“He’s not my man,” you grumble, glaring at her. “Quiet and take the drinks to my customers, please.” She just laughs, skipping away while you attempt to gather yourself. 

Yuki’s joke unfortunately sticks: “Your man is here, Y/N.” This is what your coworkers began telling you and teasing you with once Nanami started showing up more frequently. He sometimes shows up on his lunch, chatting with people on the phone about orders from his florist shop, but it’s mostly in the mornings on the way to work. 

And every single time, you hope that he asks you out. But he never does. But even so, you look forward to seeing him again. So when Yuki, your fellow coworker, and co-baker says it again–“Your man is here again, Y/N”–you turn towards her and react like she just told you that there is a hundred-dollar bill under your shoe or like you’ve got a great ass. The blonde woman smirks from the side counter where she is fixing the pastry displays, not even looking up when the bell above the front door rings. 

It is a beautiful day in May, blue skies and sunshine with a pleasant 70-degree breeze. You were happy to start your day this morning because of the weather, but now, it just got even better. Nanami has ditched his coat for a simple yet sexy blue button-down, his zany tie, and slacks. 

He looks much better than you in your flour-dusted apron after baking bread before the store opened this morning. “Hi, Kento!” you chirp. “Oh, is this a friend of yours?”

Behind him, he not only carries his briefcase but also an equally handsome, tall man with snow-white hair, blue eyes, and a kind of swagger you know has people’s undies dropping for him. The opposite of Nanami, it appears. Nanami looks like he dreaded you asking. “Unfortunately,” he sighs. 

The white-haired stranger moves beside Nanami and puts a hand out for a shake. “Hello, miss,” he greets. “Gojo Satoru, pleased to meet you. I’m a longtime friend of Kento’s. We go waaaaay back.” You look at Nanami who looks like he wants to die. “Nice to meet you,” you laugh, shaking Gojo’s hand. 

Gojo gives you another Colgate smile. “Kenny has told me so much about you, you know,” he teasingly says, earning a death stare from Nanami. “Oops, shouldn’t have said that! Here, Ken, you take it from here. That cobbler has my name on it.” He strides over to the glass display of pastries and baked goods, leaving you both alone. 

Nanami gives you an apologetic look but you giggle it off. “So how’s it going today? Can I get you anything?” You mentally prepare to get his usual order ready, but he shakes his head and fixes his tie, looking nervous for some reason. “Uh…it’s going well and no, I’m in a hurry, but…I wanted to give you these.” 

He then slowly takes his arm from behind his back and reveals a bouquet of the most beautiful and bright red, yellow, and pink tulips you’ve ever seen wrapped in paper. For you.

“Oh!” you gasp, placing a hand on your heart. “Oh.” He hands them to you over the counter, much to the prying eyes of your friends and other customers in the bakery. 

“They’re from my shop,” he explains despite you not even asking. “I wasn’t aware what color you liked, but I figured bright ones couldn’t hurt.”

He gives you a sheepish, nervous smile which is quite a sight from such a stoic and calm man. You gently stroke one of the tulips’ soft petals and inhale the sweet perfume of them. You can’t remember the last time a man surprised you with anything, let alone flowers. 

You are touched and absolutely floored for him. “I love them, Kento,” you whisper. “Thank you.” You give him a smile which he crookedly returns. “You’re welcome…and I also wanted to ask you something.” 

“Okay,” you say because what the fuck else can you say? He leans over the counter, giving you a whiff of his cologne. It has you thinking about him doing very naughty things with you over the counter. “I know you said before that your life makes dating hard and whatnot, and I’ll completely understand if you say no, but…my friend recently mentioned to me that I shouldn’t let good things pass me by, so…” 

His eyes shift to Gojo who is sipping on a lavender iced latte and giving him a thumbs up, not even trying to act like he isn’t listening. The florist turns back to you, his cheeks pink. “I was wondering if maybe you’d like to have dinner with me one day?” It’s meant to be a statement, but it comes out as a question. 

You stand there stunned for a moment, your brain moving slowly. You’ve been waiting for so long for him to ask you out and now he is! Nanami takes your silence for a no and visibly withers. “Forget what I said,” he sighs. “Please. That was so stupid of me. I’m so–” 

“Nanami, I’d love to,” you quickly reply, breaking out into a huge, dumb smile that hurts your cheeks. “Is Friday night okay? I get off at 7 PM.” The florist looks shocked and then his face softens with relief and happiness. “Friday at 7 sounds perfect.” 

Your stomach flutters with butterflies as you stare at him, clutching his flowers close to your chest. “Did ya ask her yet, Nanami?!” Gojo shouts from the other side of the room. 

Nanami sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, I have to go take him out back and shoot him. Is it okay if I call the bakery?” You giggle at his joke but then give him a crooked smile, staring at him beneath your lashes. “It would….but I think having my number would be better, don’t you?” 

The florist stares at you, shaken by the flirty little line you threw. But it works! You end up getting Nanami’s number instead and putting a little flower next to his contact.

Just so he doesn’t waste your or your staff’s time, Nanami orders an iced latte and gives you a bashful smile when you take it from him. “I’ll see you Friday then.” You nod and watch him leave with Gojo. Mai comes up behind you along with Yuki, both girls having watched everything go down from behind you. “Smooth, Y/N,” Mai whispers. “Very smooth.” 

For the rest of the week, you anticipate Friday night for your date with Nanami. You plan your outfit according to the weather, shave your legs and kitty beforehand, and smile at your tulips every morning when you wake up, reminded every morning of what is to come. But then you get a cold. Spring is good for most things, but immunity? Fuck no. 

You go in on Friday morning anyway, snotting, sneezing, and your voice scratchy. Yuki and Mai scold you two hours into your shift, snatching your apron from you. “For God’s sake, Y/N, just go home!” Mai snaps. You sound awful! We can handle the bakery without you for a few days until you get better.”

Yuki nods, helping you get into your jacket and passing you an extra box of tissues for the road. “And no sucking faces with the hot blonde man till you get rid of this cold.” 

So you go home and immediately hit Nanami up while lounging on your couch in your sweats and slippers, your nose stinging from blowing it so much and your throat congested. This is the first time you’re calling him and you feel nervous. Your heart pounds with every ring from the other line, but when he finally picks up, you just about melt. 

“Hello?” He asks, his deep, silky voice filling your ear. “Hi, Nanami, it’s me,” you say, cringing at your sick voice. “I’m so sorry to do this, but you think we can take a rain check on that date? I’m sick.” 

“Of course,” he says, sounding concerned. “Just remember to eat and rest up, okay? I recommend lots of herbal tea too.” You feel your heart burst at his advice and worry for you. “You would recommend that,” you giggle, crossing your ankles on the couch. “Any ones I can use for medicine?” 

Nanami is happy to tell you. “I don’t think you’d need it, but honeysuckle flowers work for coughs and sore throats.” You nod and lay your head back against the couch, listening to him, falling in love with his voice. “Tell me more,” you whisper. “I-If you’re not busy.” 

His light chuckle makes you throb between your legs. For the next twenty minutes before he’s forced to leave due to his duties, he tells you all about plants and flowers which somehow leads to you talking about your favorite things to do, hobbies, foods, etc.

When you finally hang up for the day, all you want is to talk to him again, so you hurry to get better. Nanami checks on you every single day which only makes your attraction to him grow. 

When you return back to work a week later, finally free of your cold, you’re welcomed with big hugs and a gift package complete with a coffee mug, fuzzy socks, tea bags, chocolates, and a gift card to your favorite store. “It was my idea!” Todo proudly says. 

“Mine too, you big bitch!” Yuji snaps. 

“I bought the gift card since these two were broke,” Megumi says. 

You laugh at the boys, hugging each of them. “That’s so sweet, guys,” you coo, hugging the gift package close to you. You begin to walk to the back to set your things down in the employee lounge, but you stop. There, on the counter, sits a bouquet of beautiful, vibrant azalea flowers. 

You walk up to the flowers, your heart skipping a beat. “Did you guys get these too?” you ask, pointing at the gorgeous flowers. Yuki shakes her head, much to your relief and joy. “No, these were delivered this morning. There was no ID; just a tag that said ‘The Greenhouse on the Hill’.”

Nanami’s flower shop. 

You break into the biggest smile you have ever made. That afternoon when you return home with your gorgeous flowers, you set them on the kitchen counter and hit Nanami up, already anticipating the sound of his silky, sexy voice.

Four rings go by before he actually answers. “Yes?” he asks, sounding somewhat irked. Your stomach drops at his shortness. “Hi, Nanami…is this a bad time?” 

“Shit,” he sighs apologetically. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t even look at your contact. The shop has been so busy with Mother’s Day coming up and all of these fucking spring weddings, excuse me language.” 

“I get it,” you giggle, leaning against the counter. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you cuss though.” And it’s fucking hot. “I got your flowers today. Thank you.” 

“I’m just glad they came on time,” he says, relieved. “I was so sure they’d get there later in the week…and you’re welcome. I was hoping it’d make up for us missing our date.” 

You gently fiddle with one of the flower petals, biting your bottom lip. “I also wanted to call you about that,” you shyly begin. “Since we didn’t go on our date and I’m still building up my immune system since my cold, why don’t I invite you over to my shop and I can cook you something?” 

Nanami is quiet for a moment and you begin to think that you may have suggested something dumb. “You haven’t been to my shop yet,” he states.

Not waiting for an answer, he continues: “Instead of me coming there, why don’t you come here and I can cook you dinner? As you said, it’d be better to stay away from other people since you’re building your immune system back up and…” He stops abruptly. “Sorry,” he chuckles sheepishly. “I’m rambling.” 

“It’s okay,” you giggle despite him blushing on the other line. You are just as bashful, feeling warm all over at the thought of Nanami cooking for you and visiting his shop. “I like that idea, Nanami. I’m good with this Friday night if that works for you.” 

“Perfect,” he sighs. “I’ll pick you up at the bakery at 7.” You hang up and giddily fix yourself some wine, unwinding after a day of business. 

As the week goes on, you wait impatiently for Friday to make its appearance. When it finally does, you hurriedly change in the bathroom at work, do your makeup, and slip into a sundress that makes your skin pop, flats, and a jacket for the pleasant May air. When you step out, Mai and Yuki gape at you. 

“Oooh, you look so good, Y/N!” Yuki exclaims. “Blondie ain’t gonna know what hit him! He’ll be dying to eat you instead of–” 

“Hush!” you bark. “This is our first date, Yuki. I don’t do that on the first date.” You turn away to apply some more lipgloss to your lips, making your lips look extra plump and appetizing. 

“Ugh, not that shit!” Mai huffs, giving you a sharp look. “If you two like each other and are attracted to one another, who cares?! You should see the way he looks at you, Y/N! It’s like he’d bend you over the counter and fuck you if we weren’t here.” She gives your ass a squeeze in your sundress. 

“I’m shutting this convo down now,” you firmly say, batting her hand away. “Nanami and I like each other, yes, but we’re taking it slow. I wanna get to know him until we–” 

A knock on the door cuts you off and you turn, finding Nanami standing there. The girls laugh among each other as you race to the door. “Both of you, shut up!” you hiss before opening the door. Your date looks absolutely fuck worthy in a black polo shirt, tan slacks, and dress shoes. Very casual yet still sexy. “Hi, Nanami!” you chirp. “M’ready now.” 

“Have fun, you two!” Yuki shouts once you fetch your work bag. “Y/N, be home before dark, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

You ignore her and leave with Nanami, stepping out into the warm air. Nanami looks adoringly at you under the street lamps. “You look really nice,” he shyly says. You let the compliment wash over you, flattered. “It’s only a short walk from here,” he says. “Just follow me.” 

Greenhouse on the Hill really is a short walk from your bakery. You can’t believe you’ve never seen him around before with how close your places of business are. It is a quaint little white store with planted flowers blooming along its windows and along the steps you walk up with Nanami. In the back is a greenhouse to which he leads you to. He takes a ring of keys out and unlocks the door before flicking on the light. 

Your eyes widen at the dozens of flowers, plants, and herbs surrounding the large glass greenhouse. You step into the warm, toasty greenhouse, smiling from ear to ear. “Wow, Nanami!” you gasp in awe. “This is beautiful! You planted all of these yourself?” 

The florist closes the door and steps beside you, trying to hide his prideful smile. ”From scratch. I can give you a tour if you want.” He offers you his elbow and you waste no time taking it, his cologne making you dizzy. “Please,” you reply, soft and breathless from him being so close. 

For the next twenty minutes, Nanami introduces you to his many flowers and plants, telling you which ones are meant for which holidays and occasions; what colors go best with certain bouquets; what flowers match certain personalities, etc. You try to listen and learn, but you’re so wrapped up in how sexy his voice is that you find yourself thinking of other things. 

When he finally realizes how long he’s been talking for and blushes as bright as the roses you stop in front of. “Sorry,” he sighs. “I’m rambling again.” You shake your head, gently stroking his arm. “Don’t be sorry. I like listening to you speak. You’re so passionate about this and it’s obviously something you love.” 

Nanami’s gaze shifts and the way he looks at you now feels intimate and tender. It fills you with tingles all the way down to your toes. “What?” You exhale. He looks as if he wants to say something, but he decides not to. “Nothing,” he says. “We should eat before the food wastes. I have wine too.” 

He has you wait while he goes back to the shop and comes back minutes later with a blanket that he lays on the floor and a picnic basket. Inside lies two wine glasses, a chilled wine bottle, rice balls, homemade salad, and for dessert, one of your famous crème brûlées from your bakery. “I came in early before you got there,” Nanami explains as you gape down at the cake. “I wanted to surprise you.” 

You swear you could kiss him. 

The dinner is straight out of a Disney movie. The food is delicious, the wine is refreshing and loosens you both up, and the conversation is even better. You and Nanami sit next to each other on the blanket, shoes off and completely at ease. You chat about your likes and dislikes; your favorite movies and most embarrassing moments. You find that Nanami is very funny is an unintentional way and whenever you joke, you find yourself falling in love with his laugh. 

By the time you get to dessert, half of the wine is gone and you’re ready to jump him every time he dips his spoon into the sweet French dessert and wraps his lips around it to slurp up the treat. Once he finishes, he sits back and exhales, full. “Wow,” he sighs. “That has to be the best creme brûlée I have ever had. You have quite the gift, Y/N.” 

You make a noise between a grunt and a laugh, modest and shy from such a compliment. “You don’t think so?” he asks, looking honestly hurt by the idea. “You should. You make people happy with what you make them, even if it’s just a simple coffee. You put such love into your business and it shows. Your personality makes it even better. I would bet people keep coming back for that…such as me.” 

His eyes are tender and genuine, his smile even more so. You finally cannot fight off the effects of him or the wine anymore and move in closer to him. He watches you, not moving a muscle as you strip off your jacket to reveal the spaghetti straps and your bare shoulders underneath. “Kento,” you softly say. “I really want you to kiss me.” 

The florist scoots closer to you until your knees are touching. “And I really want to kiss you,” he replies. His eyes flicker to your mouth, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he gulps.

“So do it,” you whisper, barely speaking; just exhaling. And then, finally, his lips find yours. 

His kiss is just as magical, careful, and sweet as he is. He lets you take most of the lead, his hands settling respectfully on your waist. But you want more. Need more. So you make it known by placing a hand on his cheek and deepening the kiss, leading to a full-on passionate, heated makeout session that has your head spinning and toes curling. 

Nanami’s lips leave yours to plant feverish kisses on your neck and throat. You tilt your head back, welcoming the kisses and embracing him as you do. He does the same to you, your smaller body encased in his bigger, more muscular one. It feels good—so good that you can quickly feel your panties becoming uncomfortably wet. “Kento,” you whine. 

He gets the message and kisses up to your ear. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do,” he whispers. “I won’t go any further than you want me to. Just tell me what you want, sweetheart.” His teeth lightly nibble at your ear, drawing a soft whine out of you. 

“I want you,” you moan. “I want you to fuck me right here.” He pulls away, shocked at the dirty request coming out of you. You place a hand on his thigh, squeezing it gently. “Please,” you add, batting your lashes at him. 

Nanami places a hand on your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your bottom lip. “How can I refuse a thing as pretty as you?” He asks himself. You nearly suck him off right there and then. 

Minutes later after agonizing foreplay, your spell works on Nanami and you find yourself out of your clothes and only in your panties with the handsome florist on top of you. His soft lips are attached to your nipples, sucking gently yet eagerly at the hardened, brown peaks while you moan and writhe beneath his touch.

His hands idly play with your sides while yours are sunk in his scalp. “Mmm, Nanami,” you moan, your fingers in his blonde hair. “That feels so good. I should’ve known a florist would be so good with his hands, but his mouth too?” 

Nanami loves how you sound moaning his name. You can tell by the hard-on you feel pressing against your inner thigh protruding from his slacks. He removes his lips from your nipple, greedy eyes staring up into yours. “You haven’t seen how good I can be yet,” he growls into your ear. “But only if that’s what you want.” 

You already know what he wants and you can’t express him how much you want more with your words. You hope your body––your hard nipples, labored breath, and wet pussy pressing against his thigh––say what you can’t. 

“Is that what you want?” you softly ask. The blonde shocks you by taking your hand and boldly placing it on his hard dick. You softly gasp at how big he feels in your hand, the shaft thick and pulsing in your palm. “What do you think?” He whispers, obvious, molten lust in his eyes. 

That is all you need to hear. Immediately, you grab him and kiss him passionately, emitting porn-worthy moans from his lips that travel into yours. I want your clothes off too,” you softly exhale, earning an agreeable groan from the blonde. Your hands yank and snatch at his clothes, helping him out of his shirt and pants. You work together to strip him, laughing as you do and sharing heated kisses. 

Nanami is truly a sight to behold naked. He is a beefcake but he isn’t a gym rat. His arms are big and toned, perfect for wrapping you up in. His pectorals are juicy and squeezeable, sinewy with a sexy cluster of blonde chest hair that matches his toned lower stomach that you want to lick and kiss. You do so, kissing up his luscious physique while he gives you encouraging moans and sighs like a touch-starved man. 

His lower half is just as impressive: a firm ass, toned thighs and legs that could crush some skulls, and a V-line that traces down to the promised land. You ogle at his hard cock print in his briefs, your hand moving to grab it. Nanami’s bottom lip catches between his teeth, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your warm hand on his shaft. 

“I want somethin’ else to,” you whisper. He raises a questionable brow. “Can we 69?” You suggest, running one hand up his chest while the other palms his dick. The florist opens his eyes and gives you a shocked look like you suggested you do some crazy BDSM shit on the first date. 

Before you can take a breath, Nanami is lying down on his back and gripping your hips to force you on top of him. You squeal with laughter, delighted by his eagerness and his strength. “I’ll take that as a yes!” You laugh as you place your hands on his chest and situate yourself. 

You look back at him, finding his lustful eyes peering up at you from behind. “I’m not much of a man of words as I’m sure you know, darling,” he says. “I’m better with actions.” He then pulls your panties to the side and proceeds to slurp you up like you’re the first meal he’s had all day. 

“Oh, Kento, fuck!” You moan, unable to hold anything back. You grind your ass back into him as his lips and tongue dance across your clit and sodden wet pussy, taking his time getting to know you. “I thought you said you wanted to 69,” he murmurs, his voice slightly muffled by your cunt. 

His cock switches impatiently in his briefs and you giggle.  “Yes, sir,” you hum, already working to push his briefs down his waist. His cock pops out from its trap and gently slaps against his stomach, hard, thick, and veiny. You could stare at it all night, but all you want to do now is touch and taste it. So you wrap your hands around his shaft and stroke, pump, slurp, and spit to your heart’s content. 

Nanami grinds his hips up into your touch as you pump him in time with your mouth, enveloping him with your lips and tongue. You encourage him to do so, moaning out tiny “mmm-hmm”s while you eagerly bob your head, sending vibrations throughout his shaft that travel up his body. “Shit, darling,” he gasps. “That feels fuckin’ amazing.” 

Hearing him be so vulgar makes you gush into his mouth, excited by this calm man losing his shit for you. You don’t blame him. Seeing your pretty nails and brown skin contrast with his complexion while your fingers stretch around his cock shiny with your spit is doing things to you too. “Yeah?” You coo. “You like fuckin’ my throat, baby boy?” 

You put it on him once again, gagging all over his dick much to his enjoyment. “God!” he gasps, his toes curling and his hands gripping your ass. “That’s just not fair.”

He lets his actions elaborate on that instead of his words, going back to slurping down your pussy and distracting you from your work. Feeling your body shake and shudder makes him chuckle, proud of his skills. 

After a couple of minutes of enjoying this position, Nanami gladly spending time between your soft thighs and you giving him as much neck as he can take, you finally can’t take anymore of it. You throw in the towel and look back at him, mouth coated in spit. “I need you, Kento,” you whine. “I need you to fuck me please!” 

You feel his cock twitch at your plea. He doesn’t hesitant to remove himself from your pussy, instead giving you all of his attention. “How do you want it, darling?” he asks. “I’ll give it to you however you want.” 

You choose to be on your back first. Nanami obliges and helps you off of him to lay on the blanket. You wrap your arms around him, kissing him as he hikes your legs up around his waist. And gently, gently, places himself inside of you. The tiny act of his head sliding inside of you is enough to emit a gasp from the both of you. His eyes meet yours, concern in them. 

Though it is a stretch after not being with anyone for a while, it feels good and you let him know by grinding your hips up into him. His handsome face screws up like he’s in pain, his lips parting on a silent moan. “More,” you whisper. “Give me more, Kento.” 

How can he possibly deny you? Placing his hands on either side of you, he leans down onto his elbows and begins to slowly rock his hips into you, driving his cock into you inch by inch. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as you take him, watching you react to his thick cock filling you up. “Look at me,” he demands. “Look at me while I fuck you.” 

You do so, forcing yourself to keep your eyes on him despite the blinding pleasure you feel when he really begins to fuck you. He grips your hips to bring you closer to him as he drives himself into you, plunging his cock in and out, in and out. Moans and gasps leave your lips, your nails digging into his shoulders and your heels pressed into his ass. 

The more he fucks you, the more your pussy gushes for him. He must feel what you’re feeling too because his hips begin to stutter and his cock grows harder inside of you. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he huffs, his last threads of self-control leaving him. “But I can’t help but want to fuck you harder. You look too goddamn perfect bouncing on my cock like this.” 

The use of those lewd, filthy words coming from calm, cool and collected Nanami nearly has you gushing. “Do it then,” you urge. “Be rough with me, Kento. It’s okay.” You smile up at him, cupping his handsome face in your hands. “I trust you.” 

That’s enough to break him. Pressing a fierce kiss to your lips, he looks you dead in the eyes and slowly, agonizingly rolls his hips down into yours. “Tell me how you want it,” he growls against your lips. “Tell me how you want me to take this pussy.” 

You tell him just that and he gently pulls out of you before helping you onto your wobbly hands and knees. “Face down, baby,” he orders, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “I want you exactly like this.” You do as he desires, pressing your face against the blanket while your ass is tooted up in the air. 

Nanami doesn’t hesitant to slide home inside you once more and grips your hips as he begins to nail your shit…and I mean, nail it. The man hits that spot again and again, sending you careening into bliss over and over again, your pussy gushing and shuddering around his merciless, thick cock. 

“God, Kento, yes!” You whine. “Yes, give it to me just like that! Fuck yes, yes, yes!” Your moans mix with his, bouncing off of the greenhouse walls and creating a symphony of pleasure that only the flowers and plants are privy to. 

“You like it like this, darling?” He pants from behind you. “You like gettin’ fucked just like this?” You nod wordlessly into the blanket, your hands gripping the fabric while he uses your ass as leverage to pull himself forward again and again, pistoning himself inside you. You’ve never been fucked like this before: so eagerly and greedily. He needs this just as much as you do. 

The fact that he wants you just as much as you want him just about makes you break. You can feel that knot in your core about to snap, your pussy shuddering and fluttering around his pistoning cock. “N-Nanami,” you whimper. “Baby, I’m gonna cum soon. Y-You’ve gotta slow down!” 

“Why?” Nanami pants. “Why slow down when I’m about to make such a pretty pussy cum all over me?” He does slow down enough to lean down to whisper in your ear. “I want you close to him,” he coos, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear. “I want to feel you when you cum.” 

You smile, delirious with the pleasure but coherent enough to want the same thing. He pulls you flush against him, his front against your back, and begins to fuck you from behind again. His moans and grunts fill your ear while yours bounce off the walls the more intensely he fucks you, one hand on your breast and the other on your ass. “Play with that clit,” he demands. “I want you to cum with me.” 

You whimper and whine as you do as he says, your fingers frantically rubbing your clit in time with his pounding. It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to rise along with his. Your mouth falls open and you toss your head back, thrown into the throes of pleasure. “Kento!” You moan. “Fuck, I’m cumming!” 

“Me too,” he grunts, gripping you as close to him as you possibly can be. “Cum with me, darling! Give it to me!”

The desperate grunt he lets out as his own end nears throws you over the edge. You loop an arm back around his neck to pull him closer as you finally cum all over his cock. His own orgasm is triggered and he cums right after you, his body tensing as his orgasm zips through him. 

Moans of your release mingle in the air as you both climax, but then are silenced as you share a heated, passionate kiss with tongues included. Your pussy spasms against his cock, twitching and gripping him tightly until your orgasm finally fades, leaving you with a satisfied, beaming grin on your face. 

Once your high fades, Nanami pulls out of you with a soft moan, releases you, and slowly lays beside you on the blanket. You cradle one another, arms and legs loosely tangled with one another as you stare up at the glass greenhouse ceiling. You look up at Nanami, your eyes drinking in his body coated in sweat and the afterglow. 

You just had sex with a man on the first date. You find yourself not regretting it at all. Nanami, catching you looking at him, turns to you and gives you a crooked smile. 

“What a way to end a first date,” he breathlessly chuckles. 

You take his hand in yours and press a kiss to his knuckles. “And start many more,” you add, smiling up at him. The smile he gives you is one that makes you so happy that you met him and he presses a soft kiss to your hand as well. “Definitely.” 

THE END. 

[crushpunky]

when rafe gave kook!reader the night she dreamed of (midsummers part three)

As they finally pulled into the parking lot to the country club, the numerous guests that littered the patio whipped their heads at the blaring Taylor Swift song pumping from big, bad Rafe Cameron’s car. Once he had parked, Rafe ran out and around the car before Reader could even think to open her own door. Taking her hand, Rafe led Reader out the car and towards the twinkling lights and elegantly dressed party goers.

“There you are!” Reader and Rafe turned at the voice, seeing Sarah jogging towards them, Topper trailing behind her. Sarah gave Reader a quick hug and peck on the cheek while Topper shook Rafe’s hand.

“God, I don’t think I could have another person ask me about college without stabbing them with a cocktail fork.” Sarah said with a laugh. Topper smiled and draped his arms over her shoulders, Sarah’s back straightened, but she didn’t move away from his touch.

“At least they aren’t asking you about when you’re gonna get married yet.” Rafe said with a laugh, mirroring Topper and draping his arm over Reader’s shoulders. She felt herself melt into him and elbowed him lightly in the ribs.

“She’s got a year or two still.” Reader added which caused Sarah to roll her eyes.

“Well, I say we’ve still got a while left to party.” Topper said with a sly grin, opening his suit jacket to reveal a small baggie of white powder. Reader could feel Rafe’s grip on her tighten and glanced up at him. His jaw was tense as he took in a sharp inhale.

“Cut that shit out, Top.” Rafe said tersely. Sarah and Topper both looked at Rafe with shock.

“Jeezus man, lighten up.” Topper scoffed, tucking the baggie back into his suit. Reader glanced between the two boys, Topper unable to even acknowledge Rafe’s stern gaze.

“Since when are you anti-coke?” Sarah said.

“Cut it out, Sar.” Rafe sighed, closing his eyes tightly.

“You’re the one who’s always—”

“Leave it, Sarah, Jesus!” Reader snapped before she could stop herself. Sarah’s eyes widened in shock as she and Topper looked between themselves to make sure they were hearing this right.

“You don’t need to—” Topper took a step forward, placing himself between Reader and Sarah before Rose came storming across the patio.

“Oh my god I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Rose panted, grabbing Sarah and Rafe’s arms. “Your father’s ceremony is about to begin.”

Rose pulled the two siblings behind her, both of which pulled their respective dates along. Reader allowed Rafe’s arm to fall from her shoulders and slipped her hand into his, squeezing his lightly.

“You alright, boy?” Reader whispered. Rafe nodded quickly.

“Thank you.” Rafe whispered, squeezing her hand back as they entered into a private room off the patio. Near a set of double doors, Ward paced while Wheezy sat in a chair on her phone.

“There you are!” Ward said, plastering a smile on as he approached the two couples. Reader tried her best to mirror his smile despite her very, very strong dislike of Rafe’s father. After years of being friends with Rafe, she had seen the way he treated his children, specifically, the terrible way he treated his only son.

“Sarah, you look beautiful as always,” Ward said before turning towards Reader, “and you’re absolutely glowing, young lady.”

“Oh, well it’s easy when you’ve got as great of a date as your son, hmm?” Reader said, looking up at Rafe. Rafe was already looking down at her, grinning at her antics.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure.” Ward scoffed sarcastically, turning without even muttering a word to his son.

“Did you like your flowers?” Wheezy asked, standing as the Camerons began to line up to make their grand entrance.

“They were beautiful, Wheez.” Reader grinned. “Have you ever considered being a florist?”

Wheezy laughed, but Reader could see her cheeks blush at the compliment. Reader sensed by her reaction, and Rose and Ward completely ignoring the youngest Cameron, that she wasn’t given compliments too often. She felt Rafe squeeze her hand lightly before the set of doors opened, revealing the Camerons to the large crowd of people.

As they paraded out onto the patio, the guests applauded and raised their glasses to them. It felt so strange, all of this attention and adoration for Ward, when even the Camerons knew he was utterly undeserving of the community's affection.

“Thank you, thank you!” Ward said as the audience began to quiet down, launching into a speech about “family, community, and giving back”.

“What a bunch of bullshit.” Reader whispered to Rafe, who tried his best to stifle a laugh as his father continued speaking. Reader could also hear Wheezy’s small giggle from behind her.

“Once again, thank you for this honor and thank you to this wonderful community!” Ward said, finally wrapping up his speech before turning to Rose and kissing her gingerly. The audience cheered, causing Topper to kiss Sarah, which only caused them to cheer louder. Reader glanced at Rafe, who was already looking at her. She could feel everyone's eyes on the two of them, anticipating the two of them to repeat the actions of the other two couples. Rafe’s expression was unreadable, his eyes drifting to look down at her—

“Rafe, come here. I have someone I want you to meet.” Ward said with a grasp of Rafe’s shoulder, ripping him away from the moment.

“Dad, I was—” Rafe began but was cut off by a stern look from Ward. Rafe looked over to Reader apologetically, but she just shook her head and motioned for him to follow his father and not worry about her.

As Rafe turned to follow his father, a drink was handed to Reader. She turned to thank whomever had handed her the glass but was instead surprised to see JJ Maybank dressed in a suit, haphazardly balancing a tray of champagne flutes.

“JJ? What are you doing here?” Reader said incredulously.

“Working. Why else would I be at one of these kook get-togethers, princess?” JJ said, flashing a cheeky grin which caused Reader to roll her eyes. While Reader certainly didn’t hate pogues (not nearly as much as Rafe at least), she tended to stick to hanging out with kooks out of convenience. Like Sarah, she had been friends with Kiara when the two were younger and, like Sarah, they had had a falling out. It had happened when Kiara insisted she pick between her and Rafe, claiming she couldn’t be friends with a “traitor” and her. She had picked Rafe.

“I guess I’m just surprised to see you… not causing any trouble.” Reader said over her glass.

“Oh believe me, I’m causing plenty of trouble.” JJ chuckled, taking a sip from one of the drinks on his tray before resting the tray on a nearby table. He pulled at his bowtie before stuffing it in his back pocket, popping his collar with a groan.

“Where’s your guard dog, hmm?” JJ said, peering around the party.

“Rafe?” Reader laughed.

“Yeah. I’ve got a talk to him about some stuff, y’know? Some guy stuff, wouldn’t want you to get involved.” JJ continued with a shrug.

“Seems like you’re the only one getting me involved.” Reader scoffed, leaning against a nearby balcony. JJ moved to stand next to her, leaning on one arm to face Reader.

“You know, as far as kooks go, I’d say you’re pretty hot.” JJ said, causing Reader to choke on her champagne and look at him in shock.

“You’re unbelievable, did you know that?” Reader said. JJ just laughed, running a hand through his hair. She couldn’t deny that he was a good looking guy, and sure he was funny, but she had heard horror stories about girls caught up with JJ. Plus she was sure Rafe would strangle him if he saw him talking to Reader like this.

“Hey, I’m just trying to help a lonely lady out,” JJ held his arms up in mock surrender. “Since your date abandoned you and all. Wouldn’t want you to get hounded by all these rich assholes.”

“Oh wow, my hero.” Reader said with a faux laugh.

“What can I say, I’m a very heroic guy.” JJ shrugged, inching his arm closer to Reader’s on the balcony.

“Hey, girl.” Reader turned her head away from JJ to see Rafe coming over to the two of them. Reader and JJ both straightened, each taking about five steps apart as Rafe came between them and slung an arm over Reader’s shoulder.

“Hey Rafe,” JJ greeted him with an exaggerated grin, “I was just telling your girl here that I needed to talk to you.”

Rafe chuckled, his arm snaking down to rest upon Reader’s waist and pulling her flush against his side. Reader could feel the tension between the two boys, nervously waiting for one of them to take a step to the other one and erupt in a fist fight.

“Not tonight, Maybank.” Rafe said shortly. “I’ve got more important things to do than deal with your pogue shit.”

“What like doing coke with all your douchebag friends? Beating up on pogues?” JJ smirked, straightening his back in an attempt to bridge the difference in height between the boys.

“I said not tonight, Maybank.” Rafe gritted his teeth. Reader could feel how badly Rafe was holding back, the tensing of his muscles and biting of his tongue.

“Why? You scared I’m gonna embarrass you in front of your girlfriend? Cause from how we were talking earlier—”

Rafe interrupted him, quickly seizing him by the back of his neck and pushing him towards another waiter nearby. Reader jumped forward, grabbing Rafe’s free hand and pulling him back towards her.

“Rafe, please don’t—” Reader began to beg, tugging his arm. Sans the misunderstanding on the way there, everything was going perfectly. There had been no fights, no drugs, no… typical Rafe party activities. He had promised, and thus far he had held onto that. She wasn’t about to let him throw it away on some stupid pogue, let alone JJ.

“Hey, Jonas?” Rafe said to the other waiter. “Get this guy out of here. Drunk pogue bothering the paying customers.”

“My apologies, Mr. Cameron.” The other waiter grimaced before harshly grabbing JJ by the arm and scurrying away in fear. Rafe flashed JJ a quick smirk before turning back to Reader.

“He didn’t touch you, did he?” Rafe knelt down to Reader’s eye level, soothing his hands over her bare arms. Reader shook her head quickly which allowed Rafe to exhale. He had tried his absolute hardest not to immediately beat the shit out of JJ for talking to you or even looking at you like that, but if the pogue had touched you…

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to stop him.” Rafe said, running a hand through his hair before straightening.

“It’s fine,” Reader shrugged. “At least I got a drink out of it.”

They stood in silence for a moment, both of them soaking in the scenery and mulling over the events that had just transpired.

“Do you—”

“Should we get—”

They both chuckled.

“You go first.” Reader said.

“I was just going to ask if you wanted to dance.” Rafe said.

“And see those moves you’ve been bragging so much about? Of course.” Reader giggled. Rafe grinned, offering her his hand before leading her out into the crowd of people dancing. Slowly, they got into the rhythm of the music and Reader draped her hands around Rafe’s neck. She felt him inch his hands towards her, looking at her for a moment before she nodded and he placed them gently on her waist. They swayed together, moving around the couple-littered dance floor with ease.

“You really aren’t too bad of a dancer, Cameron.” Reader commented after a few minutes of dancing.

“Told you.” Rafe said with a grin and a light squeeze to her hip. Reader blushed at the action, burying her head between them before pulling herself closer to him.

The two continued dancing for what felt like hours, chatting, laughing, and occasionally stumbling into another couple. Before they knew it, they were the last people on the dance floor. The sun had set long ago, the only light illuminating the dance floor the strings of fairy lights hung around the patio.

“Thank you, Rafe.” Reader said softly, brushing her thumb along the back of Rafe’s neck. The low lighting cast shadows along Rafe’s face, highlighting his features in a beautiful glow. Had his cheekbones always been so high? 

“For what?” Rafe whispered with a grin.

“For tonight.” Reader responded.

“It really was my pleasure.” Rafe grinned. “A night dancing with such a beautiful girl, what more could a guy ask for?”

Reader laughed and rolled her eyes at his comment. Rafe could feel his heart swell as he watched her, the way her shoulders shook when she giggled and her hair fell around her flushed cheeks. She was perfect like this, so close to him and so… perfectly her.

“Rafe?” Reader said, interrupting his train of thought. He flicked his eyes back to hers. She looked up at him like he had handed her the world on a golden platter. Nobody had ever done that before. Like he was someone special.

Before he could stop himself he moved his hands to her cheeks and gently pressed his lips to hers. Reader was surprised for a moment by the gesture, but quickly sunk into the kiss. She had thought a million times about what it would feel like to kiss his perfect, pink lips. What it would feel like to be held like this… it was better than she could’ve ever imagined.

Once he pulled away, his eyes scanned quickly over her face. Without a word, Reader rested her cheek against Rafe’s chest, hearing the steady thrum of his heart. He had done it, gone through with what he promised: he had given her the night she deserved. The night she had always wanted.

And, perhaps a bit selfishly, the night he always had wanted.

[novathevibe]

I don't get jealous. After all, I'm Gotham's sweetheart, the only ethical CEO I know, AND the Dark Knight. I don't have TIME to be jealous. Still, as I walk into the cafe that my husband promised to meet me at, an unfamiliar gnawing grows in my stomach. Clark Kent - the love of my life, the man I entrusted my kids to if something happened to me, the one I bottom for - is smiling at someone near the back, whispering with him in a way that feels too flirty for my liking.

I know he's not cheating. Mrs Kent raised him better than that, and he hasn't shown any signs that someone as keen-eyed as me would miss... But what if he is? The man that MY Clark is speaking to is relatively small, has fluffy brown hair, and large round glasses. His entire appearance is rather cutesy, the opposite of me. Does Clark find that attractive? Then, right as I'm about to approach, Clark grabs a napkin, writes something down, and hands it to the twink with a blush.

Did he just give him his number?

The gnawing feeling inside me only grows, but thankfully by the time Clark sees me at our usual table, it's been long enough for me to play it off.

"Good morning, my love." He says with his usual Smallville charm, but along with the usual fluttering heart is a sort of nausea.

"Good morning, handsome."

We eat for a while, then get into the car and return home, the queasy feeling never subsiding. He's cheating. He wouldn't. But what if he is?

As the car pulls up, I open my mouth, but hesitate. What if he's not and me accusing him destroys our relationship? I can talk to him about it tonight...

He 'helps' me out of the car and up the stairs, pausing at the door of Wayne Manor before kissing me deeply and opening the door, eyes locked on mine. "Happy anniversary." He says, gesturing inside.

The entryway is entirely decked out with flowers. Not only roses, but anything with petals. My mouth opens and closes a few times before I look back up a him. "You said you didn't want us to do anything big this year, just have coffee." Which was rather suspicious, now that I think back on it.

"Because you always out do me. This time I could show you just how much I love you." He leads me inside by my hand to the theater room we have family movie nights at, the room decked out in flowers and candles, with a picnic in the middle. "It was a pain to coordinate this with the florist, but before you got to the cafe, I was told that everything was ready."

Any remnants of jealousy turn into guilt. The twink was setting this up. "I..." Tears prick my eyes but I blink them away. I'm Batman for fucks sake... I don't cry. "I saw you with him and I thought that..."

Clark's face immediately morphs into sadness before it's overtaken by a gentle smile. "I would never cheat on you. I have eyes for only you, and if I ever even hug someone for too long, you can use Kryptonite on me."

"And the number on the napkin?"

"In case something went wrong and I had to keep you out of the house even longer." Guiding me to the picnic, he picks up a bottle of wine and gives us both a glass, then presses play. It's...

Us. It's a skillfully crafted montage of all of our moments, both as our civilian and superhero selves. He went through all of this trouble... "I love you. I'm so sorry I thought that. I know you're not that kind of person, and I've never been happier to be wrong."

"To ten years." Clark says, offering his wine glass.

"To ten years." I echo, clinking my own against his.

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐅𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬

The reveal of Bucky and Steve’s plans for the day took you by surprise, but you would only let shock and awe hold you for so long in its clutches. A job needed doing, and for damn sure were you going to do it with a flourish.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𖠺 Tattoo Artist!CW!Bucky Barnes x Florist!F!Reader x Tattoo Artist!Nomad!Steve Rogers

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 𖠺 1.5k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𖠺 Fluff

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 𖠺 Sam is a good bro, Nat is a good bro, and they are all fucking adorable.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 𖠺 @rookthorne's Merry Buckmas — Masterlist

𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐧𝐤 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“You want me to do what?” you asked, blindsided by the request so much so you couldn’t even fully comprehend it. “Sorry—say that again, please?”

Bucky and Steve glanced at one another, then they looked back at you, and you could just see the silent communication between them — the way their eyes lit up, and the way their lips turned upwards into beaming smiles. 

They were both wearing tight, long-sleeved V-neck shirts, with the sleeves rolled up to their elbows, to show off the artistry over their forearms and hands – Bucky wore black, Steve wore navy blue. 

Steve cleared his throat and quietly offered, “We want you to decorate the shop for Christmas.” Beside him, Bucky spun a set of keys on his index finger. “Do you want to, Petal? We just thought that–”

“I do!” you rushed, holding your hands out to slow Steve’s spiel down. “I just– This is your baby; your shop is your love; all of your hard work has gone into it and you want me to decorate it for Christmas?”

“Yeah, we do,” Bucky said with a shrug of his shoulder. “You’re one of us now, doll. We all love you—no one more than us two—but they already wholeheartedly agreed, and we all want your expert opinion.”

You spluttered and baulked at them, opening and closing your mouth like a fish out of water. Happiness was slowly building in your stomach; elation, similar to the lightness of a helium balloon, and you couldn’t believe your luck. 

It would have been a lie if you didn’t admit to daydreaming about decorating their shop. First it was with flowers, but as time wore on and the festive season neared, it was all you could think of — Christmas trees on the smaller scale of size would look beautiful in the corners, and simple but elegant, monochrome decorations would complement it perfectly.

“Are you sure, boys?” you asked for the umpteenth time. “I mean, I won’t be upset if you changed–”

“Yeah, we’re sure,” Steve soothed, chuckling lightly. “In fact, Sam is lending us his truck to go pick out the decorations.”

“His truck,” you repeated, shocked. “I won’t be getting that much!”

“You will when you realise where we’re goin’,” Bucky sang, and he walked to the front door, grabbing his leather jacket off of the coat rack. “So, c’mon, let’s go.”

Steve put his hand on your lower back and encouraged you forward with a light push. “You’ll love it, darlin’.”

You spared one final glance around the shop — the one day you were closed to the public and the one day that both Steve and Bucky had their books closed for appointments, and they had planned an excursion. It sure beat paperwork, you thought, grabbing your coat from behind the counter. 

The door swung shut behind you, and you locked it with a loud click before following Bucky to Sam’s parked truck. It was parked by the entrance of Quartet’s Tattoo, right next to Natasha’s blood red Corvette, and you knew the two of them would be watching over Bucky and Steve’s shop.

Steve opened the back door to the cab and you slid into the back seat, not before kissing him on the cheek as thanks. The chassis creaked as both Bucky and James hopped into the front; Steve on the passenger side, and Bucky behind the wheel. 

It spluttered to life when Bucky turned the ignition, and the deep rumble of the engine purred when Bucky put it in gear — the further he drove, the more your apprehension mounted. Where were they taking you? What were they planning? 

Something must have shown on your face, because you suddenly heard a voice cut through the fog of worry in your mind. “Don’t look so worried, sweetheart,” Steve said quietly, looking at you from over his shoulders. “It’ll be fun—I promise.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, turning the wheel to take a right turn. “Trust us, doll. You are goin’ to flip your shit when we get there.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, placing your hands in your lap.

The drive was only a short one, filled with the radio playing quietly and the occasional snipe from Steve about Bucky’s driving, when you looked up from your hands and out of the windshield. Your mouth opened on a sharp gasp at the sight of one of your favourite garden centres. “You–!”

“Us,” Bucky chuckled, and he turned the truck into a free parking space. “We thought you’d be in heaven here, and ‘tis the season,” he continued, turning off the engine. “Just please don’t pass out on us–”

He was cut off by the sound of your door slamming. 

In your excitement, you could not wait to barrel through those doors and look at all of what they had to offer — plants and fir trees to your heart’s content, and not to mention, the beautiful flowers on offer. The snow crunched under your shoes as you darted to wait by the hood of the truck.

Steve walked up to you, shaking his head fondly while you bounced on the balls of your feet. “Sweetheart, don’t pass out on us or you’ll give Buck an aneurysm.”

“I won’t, I won’t,” you chanted, clapping your hands. “I just– How did you think of this?” A surprised squeak escaped your lips as you were embraced and pulled into a warm, strong chest.

Bucky’s laughter rumbled through your body while he held you close. “‘Cause we pay attention, you cutie,” he said into your temple, squeezing you tight. “We’re goin’ to get a couple a’trees, and we learned that this place does sell some decorations.” 

“Oh, can we do black, silver, and gold?” you quickly asked, looking at both Steve and Bucky with wide eyes. “It’ll suit your shop and set off the reds and blacks and browns and–”

“Yes, yes,” Steve interrupted, his voice fond. “We can do whatever you want, darlin’. Now, c’mon, we don’t have all day.”

The inside of the garden centre was astoundingly green and festive — lights of all colours shone down on the leaves and branches of ferns and flowers. Above, the overhead bright, white lights marked the way between aisles and tables of potted plants and seeds. 

You glanced around, mouth agape and unable to take it all in, when you found to the right of the entry, a sprawling, miniature Christmas tree farm had been set up. Fern branches and differing heights gave the illusion of a forest, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight. The leaves looked healthy and bright with life — perfect to hang ornaments from. 

“How many trees are we getting?”

From the corner of your eyes, you saw Steve look to Bucky, who shrugged. “How about three?” Bucky offered. “That way we can have one behind the desk; one down the hall; then one in the waitin’ area, in that corner where we keep the magazines and shit.” 

“Sounds perfect to me,” Steve chimed in with a smile. “Three it is.”

With the game plan in mind of three trees, you took a deep breath, and decided the first step in the game plan was ornaments. You grabbed both Bucky and Steve’s hands to pull them along behind you, straight towards the display of Santa figurines and the like. They followed behind cheerily, taking in all of the greenery with bright, curious eyes. 

“Ha! Look,” Bucky exclaimed, pointing towards a Santa figurine on a red Harley Davidson; tattoos covered the arms and hands of the jolly, smiling Santa. A Santa hat was perched atop his head, over the top of a black helmet. “It’s me!”

“We are getting that,” you laughed, grabbing the figurine from the shelf and continuing on. 

For hours, you browsed up and down the decoration aisles and stands, filling up the cart that Bucky had run to grab when he saw the sheer volume of your choices. Still, it was not enough to contain all of what you had picked. 

After a declaration that, “This is more than enough, sweetheart,” you pushed the cart towards the till counters with Bucky and Steve trailing behind, their arms full to bursting with ornaments, figurines, and lights. 

“And you said you wouldn’t get this damned much,” Bucky huffed, carefully placing down his burden. 

Steve grunted with faux effort as he lugged his own curations onto the counter. “I agree. Damn, Petal—remind me to never let you loose in here again.”

You pouted. “This was your fault, you decided it was a good idea.”

After paying for all of the decorations and all three trees, and at their insistence, you waited patiently in the middle of the backseat of the truck while they lifted and hauled the trees onto the back tray. The back gate slammed shut, and then you had the numerous bags from your haul shoved on either side of you.

The truck’s suspension groaned from the added weight of the two of them when they jumped into the front seats, and you sat happily between the mountains of Christmas prizes, unable to wipe the smile from your face. 

“Well, that was an adventure,” Steve said, and then he and Bucky turned around in their seats to look at you. 

They both burst into laughter at the smile on your face. 

“You look so fuckin’ adorable, baby,” Bucky cooed, and Steve winked. The truck roared to life and Bucky grabbed the wheel. “Let’s get you back, so you can get started.”

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁