#I was staring at the bouquet of baby’s breath on the counter and thought it would make a good title
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PYPYPYPY! (That is how I shall summon thee. Like a cat's PSPSPSPSP- HEHEHE-)
If you feel inspired by my prompt, can I please request lee! Sigma and ler! Dazai? (Tone, romantic but not established relationship (YET LMAO-). I really don't have a coherent plot idea, I just woke up to the thought of Dazai *geeeently* fluttering his digits against Sigma's ears, sides, etc, being extra soft as Sigma desperately tries to crawl away, only to get pulled back into Dazai's lap (He loves it, he just refuses to LET himself love it XD). Sigma bby needs some softness after the last 3 years of his life tbh... And Atsushi is now experienced enough to predict Dazai's tickle attacks so his new victim is Sigma XD.
Have an awesome dayyy~!
-🫧 Anon~!
So I’m a cat girl now? (PYPYPYPY is hilarious from now on I will respond only to that) /j
ANYWAY THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REQUEST!!! You’ve been such a pal bubble anon!! Genuinely I’m so sorry for how long this took :((( I’ll blame it on end of school year busyness but I’ve also just been generally waffling (I have no reference for how long it should take to finish a request… uhhhhhh…)
Warning for,,, a spattering of tildes (there’s like three)? I know it’s cringe but I think they’re fun~~~~~ lmaooo
Regardless!!! On with the Sigzai!!!!!
Sfw tickle fic!!!!!!! Pre-Relationship Sigzai 💜🤎
Gypsophila, Baby’s Breath
In his mind, Sigma felt weightless. As if he and gravity had become estranged, acquaintances who’d fallen out of touch over time. As if he were drifting, floating, falling through the sky.
But then there were clowns with sharp teeth and dove wings, and strange, pale men offering their hands, and sands and seas of red and orange, and pages, and elevators, and flooding ballrooms with classical music—
And he was riding a giraffe, for some reason?
Then Sigma awoke, gasping as though he'd been ripped from a freezing ocean, to a warm and fluttering breeze blown against the back of his neck. He slapped a hand against his nape, a shabby attempt to hide his reaction.
“Wakey wakey, sleeping beauty!”
Sigma whipped his head around, still achey and foggy as he tried to remember who he was and where he was and what universe this was supposed to be.
A dream? Sigma twisted his face and rubbed his bleary eyes. It felt so real.
Granted, he had no idea why he would think that.
“Come back to reality yet?” He thought he recognized that voice. It was bright and entirely unserious and brought a sinking sensation to his stomach. “It’s rare to see Sigma sleeping on the job~!”
“Huh?” Sigma surveyed his surroundings. The lights were off, the room lit solely by the tangerine rays stretching from the windows. He glanced down at his desk.
His desk. At the ADA. His not-quite-yet home, only because he had nowhere else to go for now.
He looked up. Dazai was leaning over him, eyes a soft and welcoming brown in the rusty sunlight.
The rusty sunlight…
How long was I asleep for!?
Dazai laughed in his frothy-bubbly way. “Don’t worry, you were only out for an hour or so. It was almost the end of the day already.” Pulling up a chair, he scooted beside Sigma. “Although I’m impressed you lasted that long! You were practically falling asleep at the wheel the whole day!”
I was? Abashedly, Sigma frowned and rubbed his forehead. He eyed Dazai from the corner of his vision. “How did you—?”
“—Know what you were going to ask?” Now, Dazai was leaning his chin on his hand and staring up at him. The tender, charmed amusement those coffee brown eyes fixed him with was too intense to stare at directly, like a solar eclipse. “It’s because you’re easy to read, Sig-ma.”
“Wh- You- I am not!” Sigma huffed. “I can’t help that I’m no superhuman.”
Suddenly quiet, Dazai hummed and smiled, brown eyes closer to black now that they were out of the light. “Is that so?” He reached for the long locks of purple and white that weaved around Sigma’s shoulders. “But you treat yourself like a work machine!” He twirled his hair around his fingers.
Sigma had noticed that — Dazai was always reaching to touch, whether it be patting Atsushi or Kyouka on the head, leaning on Yosano’s shoulder, stealing Kunikida’s glasses or Ranpo’s hat, or pinching Sigma’s cheeks (???). He was simply tactile, as though he did it without purpose or logic.
The accused work machine crossed his arms. “I like work, though.”
Dazai made a comically disgusted face, then smoothed his expression back into untouchable levity. “You’re strange.”
Sighing, Sigma ran a hand through his hair, peeved to find it frizzing in all directions. He adjusted the strands that clung to his cheeks and tangled in his earrings, tucking them behind his ear.
Dazai’s fingers followed immediately, curious toward his adornments. Feather-light, they brushed against the back of his ear.
Sigma’s disproportionate flinch did not go unnoticed.
He grabbed Dazai’s wrist. “Hey— Hands to yourself.” He couldn’t help how his tone wavered.
“Aww, but why?” he whined. “Your earrings are so shiny. I just want to see~ them, Sigma.”
Really, Sigma didn’t mind being touched, but the memory of Dazai’s fingers skirting the shell of his ear sent a crack of hot lightning down his skeleton.
Sigma nibbled on the dry skin of his lip. “I just don’t want you to pull them out or something…” His gaze trailed up.
When Sigma met Dazai’s eyes, his stomach dropped at their impish glint.
He should’ve known he’d been caught the moment he woke up.
“Your reactions are always so curious.” Dazai grinned, and then his arms were around Sigma’s waist.
"Wait!" While Sigma yelped, Dazai pulled him out of the chair and into his lap, skittering blunt nails into his sides. "WAIHAIhahait! StahaHAP!"
Dazai was being so darn soft, digits just barely making an imprint in his skin, that Sigma was embarrassed by how loud he was. It was more of the surprise than anything, but the gentleness and the premonition of it felt like colorful beams of energy erupting from his brain.
"Shh shh." Dazai's chin rested on Sigma's fluffy head. "Just relax. Don't fight it." Said hushly, as though he were speaking to a rowdy critter.
“Whahahat do you mehehehEAN?” He shoved at Dazai’s shoulders, gripping restlessly at the other rolly chair for succor, but it insisted only on rolling away.
Cheek squished against Sigma’s elbow, Dazai babbled placatingly, “Just that I think you would like this if you calmed down!” He wrapped one arm around the desperate man to secure him in his lap, then flurried his fingers in between his shoulder and neck. Sigma squealed and curled into himself, drive to escape lost.
It was as though all his thinking had floated away in a toasty bubble of mirth. All notions of his duties, his past, the wants of other people, erased and overpowered by touch in the guarded swaths of his skin.
“DAhahahazai! Ehehehieek!” Sigma rocked side to side uselessly. “NoHOhot thehehere!”
“It’s such a fun spot though!” Dazai sang. “You’re just so perfectly shaped for grabbing, hm?”
Sigma shook his head, hair swirling around his figure. “WHAhahahat the heheHE—!?” His face was euphorically warm, even at the affronting statement.
He felt moisture bead on his lashes from the force with which he lidded his eyes. Somehow, he’d turned to face Dazai, burying his face in his collar. Sigma noticed that Dazai’s skin was as acutely hot as he felt.
Easy access permitted, Dazai blew on his ear, then laughed at how Sigma bristled and shrieked. Sigma cursed him through loopy, frantic giggles; even so, Dazai put in the effort to look offended.
“It really hurts me that you still push me away!” He sniffled theatrically. “After the secrets and promises we shared? Don’t you trust me?”
Ridiculously, Sigma felt just a tad guilty. “IhihI dohoho, buhut- !”
“Aww, that’s nice of you.” Dazai leaned in close to his neck. Sigma felt those lips curl into a smile… and shivered. “Probably a mistake, though.”
Scritches at the spot beneath his ear and pinches at his hip fried his nerves until Sigma lost his mind. Such clement touches, such violent sensations. Confusion only made him more frantic: Did he want to run from the feeling, or melt into it?
Questions for another time. Right now he just wanted a break.
“OhohokAHAY! Thahahat’s ehehenough!” Sigma pushed weakly against Dazai’s shoulders.
“Fine, fine.” Dazai stopped shortly after, taking Sigma into his arms as all the tension evaporated from his limbs. He settled Sigma back in his own chair without separating. Though he flinched at the contact, Sigma stayed.
As Sigma wheezed and puffed, Dazai’s nose dug into his shoulder. “See? I’m only human too.” He trailed off. Then, cheekily, “I’m mere prey to my desire for you~!”
Sigma sighed and patted Dazai’s cheek, ignoring the flare of heat in his own. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that you were beyond human.” His mouth quirked oddly. “You told me yourself there’s no such thing.”
Dazai chuckled. “I don’t know, you’re pretty extraordinary.”
The pats turned into a (fond) slap.
“Ow!” He lifted his head and nursed his cheek. Sigma knew that pout was fake. “Mean, mean, mean! And I was just about to ask if you had fun.”
“What?” Sigma did not like how often he was becoming flushed.
That irritatingly brilliant mind waggled his eyebrow. “It’s nice, isn’t it? For a fleeting minute, you don’t have to think about anything. It’s bliss.”
Sigma played with his sleeve. “I… guess.” The admission made him warm all over again.
Dazai clapped and cheered and Sigma hit him again. There was a gasp from the man he was leaning against. “Oh, speaking of! Chuuya was asking how you were. He wanted to make sure you were taking it easy.”
Ah, well that was nice of him. Sigma grunted, still slumped against Dazai’s chest. “And here you are, holding me at work overtime.”
"Then let’s start heading back, shall we?" Dazai slid from his seat and halfway knelt on one knee, offering his hand (the same hand that a moment ago had been— nevermind). Sigma shook his head in exasperation but took it anyway.
Through the door and into the hallway, Dazai pulled Sigma by the hand, wrapped firmly but tenderly around his fingers. He met his eye with a smug, reminiscent look. "You know, this place is like a ballroom..."
"I swear, if you start dancing again, I’m leaving you here,” said Sigma, staring down the idea forming in Dazai's head.
"But our lives aren't in danger this time!" Unheeding, Dazai had flourished his free hand, ready to tango.
Against all odds, Sigma’s brow relaxed. He was right. There was no imminent doom in this moment, just the ADA's halls leading to nothing but stairs and an elevator that wasn't rigged (not that he was inclined to use it). Just Dazai, his warm, satiny, playful hands, and his invitation.
With a breath, Sigma loosened his shoulders. He let Dazai pull him into twirl, then a wrap, then a dip, and they began their dance once again.
༝ ˚ 。⋆ 𓇼 ⋆。 ˚ ༝
Baby’s breath symbolism: Purity, innocence, everlasting love and devotion, and new beginnings.
#I was staring at the bouquet of baby’s breath on the counter and thought it would make a good title#py is turning pink#lee!sigma#ler!dazai#sigzai#bsd tickle#bungou stray dogs#bsd#ler!dazai osamu#tickle#tickle fic#thank you for the request!! please come again!!!!#I hope it was to your satisfaction#I don’t!!!! know what I’m doing!!!!!!!#(farmboy wesley voice) as you wish 💌
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Idiot
Dabi x fem!Reader
Synopsis: During a stormy night, (Y/n)’s peaceful flower shop becomes a refuge for Dabi, the infamous villain, who arrives injured and desperate. Despite her fear, she aids him, uncovering a fragile vulnerability beneath his hardened exterior.
The rain drummed incessantly against the windows of Flourish & Frond, a quaint flower shop tucked into a quiet corner of the loud city. Inside, the air was warm and fragrant, filled with the scent of blooming roses and freshly watered soil. Shelves lined the walls, each bursting with vibrant colors—sunflowers, lilies, and delicate baby’s breath carefully arranged in vases and baskets.
(Y/n) worked quietly behind the counter, her hands deftly weaving together a bouquet of peonies and lavender. The steady rhythm of her movements was soothing, a distraction from the storm raging outside
Her life revolved around this little shop. It wasn’t just a job to her—it was her haven, the place where her Quirk found purpose. (Y/n)’s ability, “Verdant Touch,” allowed her to heal and nurture plant life with a mere touch. Wilting petals could bloom anew under her fingers, and dying roots could flourish again. It was a small, gentle Quirk, one she had always cherished despite its limitations.
Growing up, (Y/n) had dreamed of being a hero, like so many others her age. But as the years went on, she realized that her Quirk wasn’t suited for battle or saving lives in the traditional sense. Instead, she found solace in using her gift to bring beauty into the world.
Running the flower shop gave her a sense of peace and purpose. Her customers often left with smiles, their hands full of her lovingly crafted bouquets. It was a simple life, but it was hers—a small sanctuary in a city that often felt chaotic and overwhelming.
The bell above the door jingled softly, signaling a customer had entered the shop. (Y/n) glanced up with a practiced smile, “Sorry, we’re clo—” she began, but her words froze as her eyes landed on the figure who had just entered.
He was tall, his black coat soaked from the rain, his dark hair plastered to his forehead. Smoke curled faintly from the edges of his figure, and his turquoise eyes glowed like eerie embers against the dim light. Patchwork scars stitched across his pale face and neck, a grotesque yet strangely compelling sight. He was unmistakable.
Dabi.
The infamous villain stood in her shop, a figure who had graced countless wanted posters and news broadcasts. Her blood ran cold as her mind scrambled to process the situation. What was he doing here? Why her shop?
Dabi’s grip on the door handle was tight, his knuckles pale against the dark metal. His broad shoulders rose and fell with labored breaths, and his body sagged slightly as he leaned into the shop’s frame for support. The faint sound of dripping caught (Y/n)’s attention, her gaze lowering to the floor. A small, dark puddle began to form at his feet, blood mingling with the rainwater dripping from his coat.
“Lock the door,” he rasped, his voice low and uneven, as though each word cost him effort.
(Y/n) didn’t move. Her practiced smile had vanished, replaced by a wide-eyed stare as her heart thudded painfully in her chest. This couldn’t be real. Villains didn’t just walk into flower shops—certainly not him.
“I said, lock the damn door,” Dabi repeated, more forceful this time. He lifted his head just enough to meet her eyes, the fiery glow of his turquoise gaze sharp and unwavering.
(Y/n) jolted at his harsh tone, her heart hammering in her chest. Without thinking, she moved quickly, her hands trembling as she brushed past him to lock the door. The small bell jingled softly with her movement, and the click of the lock sounded far louder than it should have.
Her fingers fumbled as she turned the shop's "Open" sign to "Closed" and tugged the blinds down over the front windows, her movements hurried but cautious. The thought of being so close to him sent shivers up her spine, and every fiber of her being screamed for her to run.
When she finished, she turned back to him, her wide eyes locking onto his form. She kept her distance, retreating step by careful step until she stood several feet away. “What do you want?” she whispered, her voice trembling as she stared at the infamous villain bleeding on her shop floor.
The sound of rain continued to hammer against the windows, a dull, persistent reminder of the world outside as the tension in the room thickened. Dabi stood at the threshold of the shop, his form towering but clearly weakened. His breath was ragged, each exhale laced with pain. The blood staining his side was an unmistakable sign of how badly he was hurt, and as he took a half-step toward her, he stumbled. A pained hiss escaped his lips as he gripped the counter to steady himself, his legs shaking.
(Y/n) froze. She wanted to move, to do something, but her mind struggled to form coherent thoughts. Villains weren’t supposed to look like this. They weren’t supposed to be hurting. But here he was, and the reality of the situation hit her harder than any force. Dabi, the notorious villain, was standing in front of her—injured, bleeding, and desperately in need of help.
His turquoise eyes, glowing faintly in the dim light, locked onto hers. “I need help,” he rasped, his voice rough, dripping with frustration and pain. “Now.”
(Y/n) blinked, her throat tight. Was he serious? Was he really asking her, of all people, to help him? Her mind raced, fear still holding her body captive. But then, as he staggered another step, she saw it—the strain in his movements, the way he winced with every breath, the weight of the pain that clearly had him on the edge.
"You... you’re asking me?" Her voice cracked, a mix of disbelief and fear coloring her words. "You’re Dabi. Why would you—"
“Don’t make me say it again,” Dabi cut her off, his tone sharper than before, but beneath it, there was something far more vulnerable—almost pleading. He took another shaky step forward, his body trembling with the effort, before he gritted his teeth and collapsed against the counter, the sound of his knees hitting the floor muffled by the quiet of the shop. “I’m not asking you for sympathy. I’m asking you for help. Now.”
The sight of him, vulnerable and grimacing in pain, broke something in (Y/n). Her instincts, still torn by the need to protect herself, warred against the natural compassion she felt. He was a villain, yes—dangerous, feared, and reviled by many. But there was something in the way he looked at her now, something raw and desperate, that shifted her perception.
Her hands were shaking as she slowly took a step toward him. “What happened to you?” she asked, her voice a whisper, soft but filled with concern.
Dabi leaned heavily on the counter, his body bent forward slightly as he let out a pained exhale. “Heroes.” He spat the word out like venom, but his face twisted in something far more human—exhaustion, frustration, and an edge of vulnerability he rarely showed. “One of them got lucky. Blade Quirk. Got me in the side.”
(Y/n) felt a tremor run through her as she absorbed his words. The sight of his blood dripping steadily onto the floor was enough to jolt her into action, her fear momentarily eclipsed by her instincts. Whatever else he was, he was injured—and badly. The humanity of the situation broke through the haze of her panic.
“You need to lie down,” she said, her voice steadier now, though still tinged with apprehension. She gestured toward the small seating area in the corner of the shop, where a cushioned bench was tucked against the wall.
Dabi gave her a sharp look, his lips curling into a faint sneer. “Lie down? You think I’ve got time for that?”
(Y/n) stiffened, the edge of his tone making her nerves spike again. But she forced herself to hold her ground, squaring her shoulders even as her heart raced. “If you don’t, you’ll bleed out,” she replied, her tone firm despite the quiver in her hands. “And you didn’t come here just to die on my floor.”
Dabi’s glare faltered for a moment, his expression hard to read as he studied her. Then, with a low growl of frustration, he pushed himself away from the counter. His legs wobbled under his weight, and he barely managed a few steps before his knees threatened to buckle again.
“Damn it,” he hissed through clenched teeth, his hand clutching his side.
Without thinking, (Y/n) darted forward to steady him, her hands gripping his arm and shoulder. His skin was warm—too warm, like he was radiating heat from an internal fire. She ignored the way her breath caught in her throat at the contact and focused on guiding him toward the bench.
“Careful,” she murmured, her tone softer now, coaxing him like she might soothe a skittish animal.
Dabi didn’t reply, his jaw clenched tight as he leaned on her for support. By the time they reached the bench, his breathing was shallow and labored, his face pale despite the angry scars marring his skin. He collapsed onto the cushions with a heavy exhale, his body slumping forward slightly as he rested his forearms on his knees.
(Y/n) hovered for a moment, unsure of what to do next. The first-aid kit sat on the counter, and she moved quickly to grab it, her mind racing. Her hands worked on autopilot, gathering supplies and preparing for what she needed to do.
When she returned, she knelt in front of him, her eyes flickering to his face before focusing on the wound. “Let me see,” she said softly, reaching for his coat.
Dabi didn’t move at first, his turquoise gaze heavy on her. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he leaned back slightly, allowing her to peel the sodden fabric away from his side.
The sight of the wound made her stomach twist. A deep gash cut across his torso, the edges of the injury raw and angry. Blood soaked his shirt and streaked his pale skin, dripping steadily onto the bench and pooling on the floor.
(Y/n) swallowed hard, forcing herself to focus. “This is bad,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. She grabbed a clean cloth and pressed it against the wound, applying firm pressure to staunch the bleeding.
Dabi hissed, his body tensing under her touch. “You don’t say,” he bit out, his tone sharp with pain.
(Y/n) glanced up at him, her expression softening despite herself. “I need you to stay still,” she said gently. “This is going to hurt.”
Dabi let out a low chuckle, though it lacked any real humor. “Hurts already,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing as he watched her work.
Y/n) worked methodically, her hands steady despite the tension in the air. The sound of the rain against the windows seemed louder in the thick silence that had settled between them, broken only by Dabi’s occasional grunts of pain and the soft rustling of her movements.
She dipped a cloth in antiseptic and pressed it against the edges of the wound, cleaning away the blood and grime. Her touch was firm but careful, her eyes focused entirely on the task in front of her. The sharp, acrid scent of the antiseptic mingled with the floral aroma of the shop, creating a strange contrast.
Dabi’s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding audibly as she worked. “Couldn’t pick a quieter day for this?” he muttered, his voice strained but holding a faint edge of sarcasm.
(Y/n) glanced up briefly, meeting his glowing eyes. “You’re the one who walked into my shop,” she replied, her voice soft but pointed. “If you’re looking for sympathy, you won’t find it here.”
A flicker of amusement crossed his scarred features, though it quickly dissolved as another wave of pain pulled a hiss from his lips. “Fair enough,” he said, leaning back slightly to give her more room to work. His gaze lingered on her, watching the way her brow furrowed in concentration. “You’re not half bad at this,” he added, his tone lighter, though the tension in his body betrayed his discomfort.
(Y/n) didn’t respond immediately, her focus remaining on the gash across his side. She grabbed a fresh bandage and began to wrap it carefully around his torso, the fabric stretching taut over his lean, scarred frame. “This isn’t exactly how I imagined spending my evening,” she murmured eventually, tying the bandage securely in place. “But I guess I’ve always been good with my hands.”
Dabi smirked faintly at her comment, though it quickly faltered as he shifted and a fresh wave of pain rippled through him. He let out a low groan, his hand instinctively moving to his side.
“Don’t touch it,” (Y/n) said firmly, her hand gently pushing his away. Her fingers brushed against his for a brief moment, and she felt the heat radiating off his skin. It wasn’t just the feverish warmth of an injured man—it was something deeper, more dangerous, like a fire simmering just beneath the surface.
“You’re lucky,” she said softly, breaking the silence. “The cut missed anything vital. But you need stitches, and I don’t exactly have a surgical kit lying around.”
Dabi’s gaze flicked to hers, the intensity of his stare making her pause. “It's fine,” he said. “I’ll handle the rest.”
(Y/n) hesitated, her hands stilling for a moment. “You can’t just—”
“I’ve been through worse,” he interrupted, his tone firm despite the exhaustion in his voice. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had to… improvise.”
(Y/n) frowned but didn’t argue. Instead, she focused on securing the bandages as tightly as she could without causing him more pain. “There,” she murmured after a moment, sitting back on her heels to survey her work. “It’s not perfect, but it should hold.”
Dabi leaned back against the wall, his head tilting slightly as he closed his eyes. For a moment, he looked almost peaceful, despite the tension still evident in his body. “Not bad,” he muttered, the faintest hint of approval in his voice.
(Y/n) stood slowly, her knees stiff from kneeling for so long. Her eyes flickered to the trail of blood smeared across the floor, leading from the door to where Dabi now sat. She sighed quietly, shaking her head as she stepped toward the counter, grabbing a fresh cloth and a bucket she kept tucked away for spills.
“Stay put,” she said over her shoulder, her voice steady but firm. “I’ll clean this up.”
Dabi didn’t respond immediately, his head resting against the wall, his eyes closed once again. His breathing was still labored, but it had evened out slightly, no longer the ragged gasps she’d heard when he first arrived. The sight of him like this—quiet, vulnerable—was a jarring contrast to the infamous image of the villain she’d seen in headlines and various posters.
The crimson streaks were stubborn, but (Y/n)’s hands were practiced and efficient. She focused on the task, using it as a way to steady her nerves and distract herself from the surreal situation.
When she finished, she rinsed the cloth in the bucket, the water staining red as the blood washed away. She stood and glanced at Dabi, who hadn’t moved, his head still tilted back against the wall. His eyes were closed, but she could see the subtle tension in his jaw, the faint tremor in his hands where they rested against his thighs.
“Do you want something to drink?” she asked, her voice breaking the quiet.
His eyes opened slowly, the glowing turquoise irises locking onto her with a sharpness that made her heart skip. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stared at her with that unreadable expression. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
(Y/n) turned toward the back of the shop, her steps quiet on the wooden floor. The kitchenette she’d installed for long days at work was modest—a kettle, a small fridge, and a few cabinets stocked with tea and instant coffee. She filled the kettle with water, her movements deliberate as she tried to calm the whirlwind of thoughts racing through her mind.
What was she doing? She was helping Dabi, one of the most wanted villains in the country. The logical part of her screamed at the absurdity of the situation, begged her to find a way out. But another part—a quieter, stubborn part—refused to turn him away, refused to let someone bleed out on her floor, no matter who they were.
The kettle whistled softly, pulling her from her thoughts. She poured the hot water into a mug, adding a bag of chamomile tea. It wasn’t much, but it was soothing—something she imagined he could use, though she wasn’t sure if he’d appreciate the gesture.
When she returned, Dabi’s eyes tracked her every move, his gaze heavy and calculating. She set the mug down on the small table beside him, careful to keep her movements slow and unthreatening.
“It’s tea,” she said simply, stepping back to give him space. “Chamomile. It’ll help you relax.”
Dabi’s gaze shifted to the mug, his scarred fingers reaching for it after a moment of hesitation. He lifted it to his lips, taking a small sip. The heat seemed to surprise him, and a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he lowered the mug.
“Didn’t peg you for the tea type of girl,” he muttered, his voice quieter than before, though the faint edge of sarcasm remained.
(Y/n) crossed her arms, leaning against the counter as she watched him. “And I didn’t peg you for the ‘stumble into a flower shop, almost bleeding out’ type of guy,” she replied evenly.
His smirk widened slightly, though it was fleeting. “Touché.”
The room fell into a tentative silence, the rain outside still tapping against the windows. (Y/n) found her gaze drifting back to him, her mind swimming with unasked questions. Why had he come here, of all places? Was it random, or had he chosen her shop for a reason? And what would happen when he left?
Dabi set the mug down on the table, his movements deliberate but slow, as if every action cost him effort. “You didn’t have to help me,” he said suddenly, his voice low but clear. His eyes flicked to hers, their intensity catching her off guard. “You could’ve turned me away. Called someone.”
(Y/n) met his gaze, her expression unreadable. “I know,” she said softly, her voice steady.
His eyes narrowed slightly, as though trying to decipher her intentions. “Why?” he asked, the question sharp and direct.
She hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly against the counter’s edge. “Because,” she began, choosing her words carefully, “I couldn’t just let you like that. No matter who you are.”
Dabi leaned back against the wall, his lips pressing into a thin line as he studied her. For a moment, the tension between them was palpable, the air heavy with unspoken words. Then, he let out a low, almost amused chuckle, shaking his head slightly.
“You’re a strange one, flower girl,” he muttered, his voice carrying a faint hint of admiration despite the weariness in his tone.
(Y/n) let out a soft sigh, her gaze briefly shifting to the window where the rain continued to fall in sheets. The storm outside had only grown worse since Dabi’s arrival, the wind howling against the glass, rattling the panes with an intensity that mirrored the tension still thick in the air between them.
"You can stay the night—just for tonight, though,” she added quickly, almost as if to remind herself. “You need to rest, and the storm isn’t letting up anytime soon. I’m not going to throw you back out into that.”
Dabi’s gaze softened, the faintest flicker of surprise crossing his features. He studied her for a long moment, as if trying to figure out if there was some ulterior motive to her offer. "You’re... letting me stay here? Even though you know who I am?"
Her eyes flickered away from him briefly “You’re hurt. And despite everything—what you’ve done, what you stand for—no one deserves to die alone in the rain. Not like this.”
There was a long pause as Dabi processed her words. His gaze softened ever so slightly, though it was still filled with a certain wariness, a suspicion that he didn’t fully trust her kindness.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he sighed, letting his head fall back against the wall with a slight thud. “You’re making a mistake,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “You don’t know me.”
“I don’t need to,” (Y/n) replied gently, moving to adjust the blankets on the small bench in the corner. “I know you’re hurt. And right now, that’s all that matters.” She turned back to him then, her eyes meeting his with a quiet resolve. “But you’ll have to leave tomorrow. I can’t keep you here any longer than that.”
Dabi’s lips twitched, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And what if I don’t? What if I decide to stick around longer?” His tone was light, teasing almost, but (Y/n) could see the weariness behind it.
“You won’t,” she said simply, her gaze steady as she met his challenge.
Dabi let out a soft chuckle, but it was devoid of the usual venom he carried with him. There was something almost defeated in it. He shifted uncomfortably on the bench, the bandages she’d wrapped around his side still tight, though he winced slightly as he adjusted his position. “You really do have a thing for doing the opposite of what people expect.”
She didn’t respond right away, just moved to place a pillow behind him to support his back as he slouched against the wall, then straightened up to her full height. Her hands lingered on the edge of the bench for a moment, and she gave him a final, pointed look. “Get some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll deal with whatever happens after that.”
Dabi didn’t argue. His eyes closed slowly, exhaustion evident in the way his shoulders slumped even further. For a moment, he almost seemed like just a man—a man in pain, who needed rest.
Days turned into weeks, and after that fateful night, Dabi never truly left her thoughts. He kept his word about leaving the morning after the storm passed, but that didn’t mark the end of his presence in her life. Every evening, as the sun began to set and the city buzzed with its evening rush, the doorbell of Flourish & Frond would chime, signaling Dabi’s arrival. He’d walk through the door at precisely the same time every evening, just as (Y/n) was preparing to close up for the day.
At first, the sight of him always made her heart skip a beat—fear mixed with disbelief that he was there, in her shop, again. His visits felt like a shadow hanging over her, his reputation enough to make her worry about being discovered. But despite the lingering fear, she couldn’t deny the subtle shift in their interactions.
Dabi was different. He wasn’t the cold, menacing figure she’d seen on wanted posters. The man who entered her shop now seemed… more human. He no longer dragged himself in, barely able to keep his balance, but instead appeared more composed, more normal like. Still, (Y/n) couldn’t shake the worry every time he came through that door. What if someone saw him? What if he attracted too much attention?
But as the weeks passed, Dabi grew more comfortable in her space, and the tension between them shifted. He no longer just came for brief visits; he’d linger, sitting on the cushioned bench in the corner as she finished closing up the shop. He would ask her about her day, joke about the ridiculous things she had to deal with—customers who insisted on buying flowers for their "exes" or the old woman who tried to convince her that lavender was the cure for all ailments. It was these little moments that made (Y/n) start to see him differently. There was something disarming about his sarcastic humor, his dry wit that reminded her that he, too, once had a life outside of the villainous reputation that followed him.
It was on one of these late evenings, when the shop was quiet and the rain tapped softly against the windows, that Dabi showed up again, his coat dripping with the remnants of the storm outside. He pushed open the door with his usual nonchalance, shaking off the rain before stepping inside. The bell jingled lightly above his head as (Y/n) glanced up from wiping down the counter, her heart giving its usual nervous thud.
“Back again?” she asked with a raised eyebrow, her tone playful but laced with that same apprehension that always came with his arrival.
Dabi grinned, though it was more tired than usual. “What can I say? I’m addicted to your… healing skills. The tea helps too, I guess.”
Her lips quirked at the corners. “Healing skills, huh? I’m not sure I’d call it healing.”
“Oh, trust me,” Dabi shot back, “if you saw the state I was in before you worked your magic, you’d call it a damn miracle.”
(Y/n) rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her chest was undeniable. He had started teasing her more in the past few weeks, and it always made her feel strangely at ease, despite the fact that she knew she was still walking a fine line with him. He was a villain, after all.
The silence between them settled comfortably, the sound of the rain masking any further tension as she finished tidying up. Dabi settled into his usual spot on the bench, his gaze following her as she moved around the shop.
“You really don’t have to stick around here every night, you know,” she said after a pause, her voice quieter now, as she grabbed a cloth to clean up a vase that had tipped over earlier in the day.
Dabi’s eyes narrowed slightly, his smirk softening. “You say that like you don’t like the company. What’s the matter? Scared someone might see me here?”
“I’m always scared someone might see you here.” She shot him a pointed look, and Dabi chuckled darkly.
“I’m not that obvious, am I?” he teased, his gaze flicking toward the street outside.
(Y/n) didn’t respond right away, her fingers gripping the cloth a little tighter. She wasn’t sure what exactly had happened over the past weeks, but there was no denying that a strange bond had formed between them—one that she wasn’t entirely sure how to navigate. On one hand, there was her growing concern for his well-being, and on the other, the reminder that she was harboring an infamous villain in her shop.
But as much as her mind tried to warn her, something about Dabi felt different now. He’d stopped pushing her boundaries, and his visits, while still making her heart race with fear, had become… almost comforting. His teasing remarks, the subtle way he checked in on her—asking if she’d eaten, if she was getting enough sleep, making sure she was staying safe—had grown from a casual interest to something more genuine. There were moments, too, when the walls around him dropped, and she could see the weariness in his eyes—the kind of exhaustion that went deeper than just physical pain. And in those moments, she would offer him a quiet cup of tea, and he would accept it without comment, just a fleeting look of gratitude before he retreated behind that familiar, sarcastic demeanor
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the first droplets started falling, Dabi walked in, his usual grin missing from his lips. (Y/n) caught his eye and couldn’t help herself.
“You’re late tonight,” she teased, her smile playful. But the words faltered when she noticed him.
Dabi stood in the doorway, rain dripping from his hair, darker than the storm itself. His usual teasing grin was absent, replaced by a weariness that weighed heavy on his sharp features. His turquoise eyes—normally alight with mischief—were dim, shadows pooling in their depths.
“I…” His voice was rough, almost hoarse, as he stepped inside and shut the door. For a moment, he seemed unsteady, catching himself on the doorframe before making his way to his usual bench. “I just felt like… I needed to be here.”
(Y/n) blinked, her hands stilling over the vase she was cleaning. The words hung in the air, heavy and raw.
He sank onto the bench with a tired sigh, leaning back as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. His gaze found hers, and for once, there was no sarcasm, no barriers—just an unguarded vulnerability that made her chest tighten.
“Are you okay?” she asked softly, abandoning the vase and stepping closer.
Dabi ran a hand through his damp hair, letting out a mirthless chuckle. “Define ‘okay,’ sunshine.”
The nickname was there, but the usual smirk wasn’t, and that made it all the more disarming.
She hesitated before pulling up a stool to sit across from him, her hands clasped in her lap. “What happened?”
He didn’t answer right away, his gaze dropping to the floor. For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t respond at all. But then he spoke, his voice quieter than she’d ever heard it.
Dabi didn’t answer right away, his gaze dropping to the floor. For a moment, (Y/n) thought he wouldn’t respond at all. But then he sighed, his shoulders sagging even further, and he finally looked up at her.
“You’re an idiot, you know that?” he said, his voice low but steady, carrying an edge of frustration.
(Y/n) blinked, taken aback. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he said, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees as he ran a hand down his face. “You’re an idiot for letting me come here whenever I feel like it. For not throwing me out the first time I walked through that door. For not letting me bleed out”
Her lips parted in surprise, but she couldn’t form a response before he continued, his voice growing sharper.
“You’re an idiot for enjoying my company, my jokes, for looking at me like I’m not a complete mess. Like I’m not some twisted, broken thing that you should stay as far away from as possible.”
He looks up at her intensely "You knew from the beginning who I was, and yet you foolishly helped me".
Her chest tightened, the weight of his words settling over her like a storm she hadn’t seen coming. She opened her mouth to speak, to protest, but before she could find the words, he let out a soft, bitter laugh—a sound so unguarded it made her heart ache.
“But you know what?” he murmured, his voice breaking the quiet like a confession he could no longer hold back. His eyes lifted to meet hers, and in them, she saw something raw—something so achingly human that it stole her breath. “I’m an even bigger idiot. Because I can’t stop thinking about you., even for a second”
The words hung between them, heavy and vulnerable. Her heart raced, each beat echoing louder in her chest as she stared at him, unable to look away.
“I don’t know when it started,” he continued, his voice soft and almost hesitant, as if saying it aloud made him feel exposed. “Maybe it was that first night, the way you looked at me—like I was someone deserving your help. Like I was… more than these scars.”
He swallowed hard, his gaze faltering as his hands clenched into fists. “Even when I said something sharp or stupid. You didn’t flinch, didn’t look at me like I was a monster, you just… saw through it. Through me.”
His voice wavered, the words growing quieter, heavier. “And now, I can’t stop coming back. Even when I know I shouldn't. Even when I know it’s selfish, that I’m selfish. Because being here—with you—it’s the only place where it doesn’t feel like the world is closing in on me. Like I can actually breathe for a little while.”
Her breath hitched, and she reached for him without thinking, her fingers brushing his arm in a gentle gesture that seemed to anchor him. He closed his eyes at the contact, a barely audible sigh escaping him as his fists unclenched.
“I need this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I need you. More than I want to. More than I should.” His head dropped, his damp hair falling into his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to meet her gaze again. “And it terrifies me. Because if I lose this—if I lose you—”
Dabi’s words broke off, a tremor in his voice betraying the storm raging inside him. Before she could fully process what he had said, he moved. His hand shot out, firm but trembling, finding her waist and pulling her closer in a single, desperate motion.
The contact sent a jolt through her, her breath catching as she found herself pressed against him. His other arm wrapped around her back, holding her tightly, as if she might vanish if he let go. She could feel the tension in his body, the way he clung to her like she was the only thing keeping him grounded.
“Dabi…” she whispered, her voice shaking with a mix of surprise and something deeper—something that mirrored the ache in his own heart.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his face buried against her shoulder. His breath was warm against her neck, and she could feel the faint tremor in his chest as he held her. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess. For not being able to stay away. For needing you more than I should.”
Her hands hovered in the air for a moment, unsure of what to do, before finally settling on his shoulders. She held him gently, her fingers brushing against the damp fabric of his coat as she tried to steady her own racing heart.
“You don’t have to apologize,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the chaos of emotions swirling within her. “Not for this.”
He pulled back just enough to look at her, his turquoise eyes meeting hers, filled with a vulnerability she had never seen before. His grip on her waist loosened slightly, but his hands stayed there, as if to reassure himself that she was still within reach.
“I never thought…” she began, her voice faltering as she searched for the right words. “I never thought you felt this way. That you…”
“Felt like you’re the only thing keeping me from falling apart?” he finished for her, a humorless smile tugging at his lips. His thumb brushed against her side absentmindedly, a small, soothing motion that sent shivers down her spine. “Because you are, (Y/n). You’re the only one who sees me—not just the scars, not just the villain. Me. And I don’t know how to stop wanting that. How to stop wanting you.”
Her breath hitched at his words, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it.
“You don’t have to stop,” she whispered, her fingers curling slightly against his coat. “Because I feel it too. I thought I was the only one, but… I feel it too, Dabi.”
For a moment, his expression was unreadable, his eyes searching hers as if trying to make sense of her words. Then, slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased, replaced by something softer—something almost hopeful.
“Say it again,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, his hands tightening ever so slightly around her waist.
She smiled, a soft, nervous laugh escaping her lips. “I feel it too.”
“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “But I’m too selfish to let you go.”
Her hands moved to cup his face, her thumbs brushing against the rough skin of his cheeks. “Then don’t,” she said softly, her voice steady. “Don’t let me go.”
Dabi’s breath caught at her words, the sincerity in her voice unraveling something tightly wound inside him. For a moment, he simply stared at her, as if committing every detail of her face to memory—the softness in her (e/c) eyes, the way her lips curved in a nervous but hopeful smile.
Slowly, he shifted, his hands still steady at her waist as he stood, drawing her up with him. He towered over her now, his presence overwhelming yet oddly comforting. The space between them was almost nonexistent, their breaths mingling as the world outside the shop faded into nothingness.
His gaze flickered to her lips, hesitating for just a second. “Are you sure?” he murmured, his voice low, almost uncertain.
Her heart swelled at the vulnerability in his tone, and she nodded, her hands still cradling his face. “I’m sure.”
That was all the reassurance he needed.
Dabi leaned in slowly, deliberately, his turquoise eyes locked on hers until the very last moment. When his lips met hers, it was gentle, almost cautious, as if he were afraid she might break beneath his touch.
The kiss was soft at first, a delicate brush of lips that sent a wave of warmth through her. But as her fingers tangled in his hair and she leaned into him, his hesitance melted away. The kiss deepened, his hands pulling her closer as if he couldn’t bear to let even an inch of space remain between them.
There was a desperation to the way he held her, a quiet intensity that spoke of how much he’d been holding back. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a confession, a promise, and a plea all at once.
When they finally broke apart, their breaths came in unsteady gasps, their foreheads resting together. Dabi’s hands lingered at her waist, his thumbs brushing against her sides as if reassuring himself that she was still there.
“See?” she whispered, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “That wasn’t so selfish, was it?”
He let out a shaky laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at her. “It’s selfish as hell,” he murmured, his voice rough but laced with a tenderness that made her heart ache. “But I’m not sorry. Not even a little.”
She laughed too, the sound light and free, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Dabi felt a flicker of something he hadn’t dared to hope for—peace.
Masterlist
#my hero academia#dabi#mha dabi#touya todoroki#dabi x fem!reader#todoroki touya#bnha dabi#bnha#bnha x reader#dabi todoroki#mha#mha x reader#oneshot
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Could you possibly do a fluffy Rhys x reader where reader has always been kinda independent and has never really experienced someone wanting to help take care of them and spoil them until Rhys came along?
Let me take care of you.
Rhysand x f!Reader.
Warnings; swearing.
Masterlist.
I hope this is how you imagined this!
Growing up as the middle child of your family you had no choice but do anything alone. Your father was always spending time with your older sister, caring for her and making sure that she had everything she wished for. Your mother on the other hand was always babying your younger sister. When you were eight years old you learned how to make snacks when you got hungry, how to make your bed and how to wash your clothes. You always played with your older sister's damaged toys and wore her old clothes since your parents never bothered to buy new ones for you. It wasn’t that they didn’t have the money, when your younger sister was born your mother filled her room with several toys and clothes. As you grew up you started working at a bookstore and after a while you managed to save enough money to move to your own place. Your parents never tried to get in touch with you and even though it hurt, you continued your life like they never existed.
One evening as you were closing the bookstore a handsome male approached you. He was dressed casually but you could still see how elegant he was even in his loose clothes. “Excuse me do you know where the store owner is?” his deep voice sent shivers down your spine. You looked at him and almost gasped when you noticed his violet eyes. The High Lord.
“Uhm probably at his house.” You replied.
“Oh, did he say something about a book? He told me to come today to pick it up.” He spoke.
“No he didn’t mention it.” You started unlocking again “Come in maybe he left it somewhere.”
He nodded and followed you inside. “Thank you for doing this.”
“No problem” you smiled and checked the counter and the drawers.
“What’s the title of the book?” you shouted from under the counter.
“Beasts of Prythian” he answered, and your breath hitched.
“No its not here. Maybe he forgot?” you said softly “I can write it down and ask him again tomorrow.” “Oh okay. Thank you” he smiled and as you stared at his sharp face and those violet eyes that shined under the light of the stars the bond snapped.
That was how you met your mate, the High Lord of the Night Court -Rhysand.
He came the next day and asked you on a date and now a year later you are packing your things to move in his house.
You glanced at your apartment for one last time thinking about the life you are leaving behind and how much Rhysand changed it.
On your first date he appeared at your door with a bouquet of red roses making your heart skip a beat. No one had ever gifted you something and you had to use most of your power to hold back the tears of happiness.
“This is for me?” you had asked softly.
“Well I’m not planning to take someone else on a date and even though I’m amazing I don’t usually buy myself flowers” he had rolled his eyes with a playful smirk.
“You arrogant High Lord” you had snorted.
He took you to a nice restaurant and when the waitress guided you to the table, he pulled a chair back and waited for you to sit. You hadn’t realized that he was waiting for you, so you pulled the chair across him and sat down. He stared at you, and you furrowed your eyebrows.
“Oh you pulled the chair for me?” you had asked him.
“Its okay” he had replied with a tight smile.
“I can get up and come sit there if you want.” You mumbled scared that you offended him. “No no its fine I’ll just sit here.”
That night he escorted you back home and left.
Your thoughts kept running to the times he did something like that.
When he came to your house with a bottle of wine, and you spent the night cooking and talking. He kept insisting to help you make dinner and afterwards he made the dessert alone, making your heart swell as he offered you a plate with a feline smile.
When he found out you were having nightmares and asked Madja to make a tea that would help you sleep peacefully. You had looked at him like he had grown a second head when he gave it to you.
When he bought you a gown for solstice after he invited you to meet his family. You had offered to repay him, but he shook his head.
“Let me spoil you my love” he had said, and tears streamed down your face.
The next day you used your savings to buy him a nice quill.
“So you will think about me when you work.” You had said and he chuckled.
“I always think about you.”
Rhysand practically gave you everything you wanted, if you stared at an item for more than five seconds the next day he would come to your house and give it to you.
At some point you felt so bad, like you were using him, so you stopped looking at the store windows. Even then Rhysand would get you the most amazing stuff.
“I saw it and I immediately thought of you.”
“Oh come on this screams y/n”
“I dreamed of you in this, you will look amazing. I can’t imagine another female wearing it.”
“This was made for you”.
And always you would furrow your eyebrows.
“Rhys you’re spending all your money on me. I don’t need more clothes or at this point anything.”
“Let me take care of you.”
You gave up and bought a second closet because your old one was full.
It wasn’t only the things he bought you though. Rhysand could always understand your mood. If you were happy, he would immediately take you to Rita’s or for a stroll in the city. Sometimes he would even arrange game nights with his family.
If you were sad though he would make you dinner and spend the day cuddling you, and telling you that everything is going to be alright.
One day one of your coworkers was being rude to you. You had decided to ignore him until your shift ended and then put him in his place. Rhysand came to pick you up and overheard you coworker saying. “Being the High Lord’s whore doesn’t make you better than us.” You had opened your mouth to tell him off when he knelt in pain, holding his head with both his hands and crying. Rhys strolled in with his hands in his pocket and a cold expression.
“Say that again” he had growled.
Your coworker couldn’t speak.
“Rhys its okay I can handle this” you had said.
“No!” he snarled “say that again”.
When he didn’t reply Rhysand crushed his memories and pulled you out of the store.
“I don’t need you to fight my battles Rhys. I’ve been doing it my whole life.” You had screamed.
“This means nothing. It’s finally time for someone else to take care of you. Your parents may have been useless but I’m not! You’re my fucking Queen.” He had screamed back, his dark power trembling the whole city.
That night you cried in his arms, letting all the trauma out and accepting the new life he was offering you.
“Ready?” your mate asked as he hugged you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I think so.” You sighed and stared at the open door of your apartment from the outside.
“Let’s go then.” He said and closed your door. You smiled thinking how fitting it was for him to close the door of your past life.
“I love you” you softly said.
“I love you too.” He replied and grabbed your bags.
Hope you enjoyed this!
#acotar#acotar series#rhysand#a court of thorns and roses#acotar fanfiction#rhysand x reader#rhys x reader#high lord rhysand#rhys acotar#rhysand x y/n#night court#the night court#velaris#city of starlight#acowar#acomaf#acosf#a court of mist and fury#a court of silver flames#a court of wings and ruin
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Show Her How It’s Done
Requested: yes
Summary: Slider takes you on a proper first date.
Word count: 0.9k
Note: 2k celebration!
Warnings: none.
Pairings: Ron ���Slider’ Kerner x fem!reader
Slider heaved out a sigh as he pulled the towel against the back of his neck. Tonight was supposed to be his first date with you, and to say he was nervous would be an understatement. “You’ll be fine,” Ice clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re just thinking about it too much,” The blond collected the rest of his belongings before walking out of the locker room. One last comment was tossed over his shoulder as he left. “Show her how it’s done, Sli.”
Thirty minutes later Slider was standing on your front porch, nervously glancing around the pristine space. A number of flower pots lined the white railing, all growing perfectly despite the California heat. Suddenly, he could hear rustling on the other side of the door. He sucked in a deep breath and straightened up just as you pulled the blue door open.
The breath was knocked out of his lungs as he took in the sight in front of him. You were wearing a flimsy black tank top and a pair of denim jeans. It was a simple outfit but on you, Slider thought that it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
When he heard your quiet giggle, his eyes immediately snapped up to yours as he began sputtering. The weight of the flowers in his hand suddenly seemed heavier than before. He cleared his throat. “These are for you.” He murmured, passing you the small bouquet of lilacs and white baby’s breath. Your heart swelled at the gesture.
Slider waited patiently as you returned inside to put the flowers in a vase. His hands were clasped in front of him and he was staring at the flag hanging from the corner of your porch when you returned.
There was a nervous smile on his face as you locked up. When you turned back to him, his eyes were immediately drawn to the large smile on your face. He stretched a hand out to you. Your fingers intertwined with his as you began walking away from your house.
When Slider had first asked you out, he had assured you that he would plan the perfect date. Meaning that you had no idea where you were going. “So,” you started, glancing up at the tall RIO. “You gonna tell me where we’re going?” There was a light and airy tone to your voice, almost seeming to pull the weight off of his shoulders in seconds.
He glanced down to find your eyes fixed on him. A small smile overcame his face as he turned his eyes back to the sidewalk in front of him. “You’ll just have to wait and find out.” He teased as the two of you stopped at the cross walk.
After walking for a few minutes, Slider finally stopped the two of you across the road from a small, brightly coloured building. There was a large sign beside the door advertising the best ice cream in Miramar. Slider felt a wave of pride surge through him at the sight of your broad smile.
The two of you crossed the street carefully. Slider held open the door for you once you reached the quaint shop. You thanked him quietly, a pleasured sigh falling from you lips at the feeling of the cool air as you stepped into the shop. There was one couple in front of you, which gave you enough time to decide on what you were having.
A large chalk board hung behind the counter, colourfully displaying all the options that were available. “What are you gonna get?” You questioned as you debated between mint chip and cherry garcia. Slider hummed quietly before he made his choice.
“I think I’ll get pistachio and raspberry.” He decided a few seconds later.
Once the other couple had their ice cream, Slider stepped up, ready to order for the both of you. After a few more seconds of debate, you settled on mint chip.
As the two of you stepped aside to wait for your cones, Slider’s hand settled on your lower back, gently rubbing the skin through the thin fabric of your shirt. You leaned against his side as you listened to the waves crash against the shore only a few meters from the ice cream shop.
A few moments later, the older woman behind the counter called Slider’s name. You followed after him as he grabbed the cones from her. You thanked him quietly as he passed you yours. Almost out of instinct, your hand slipped into Slider’s as the two of you exited the shop. The older woman had a knowing smile on her face as the door closed softly behind you.
Slider led you behind the shop. There was a bench built up against it and looking out over the ocean. He gently pulled you down beside him. A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you ate your ice cream. The RIO had his hand resting on your knee, thumb gently stroking over your exposed skin.
“Thank you for this.” You spoke quietly, as not to disturb the peace that had settled over the two of you. Your head fell against his shoulder.
The hand that was on your knee moved to wind around your shoulders, pulling you closer into his side. “I’m glad you had fun.” He spoke just as quiet. Any doubts from earlier were quickly forgotten as the two of you watched the sun sparkle off of the deep blue water.
A/n: Thank you all for reading! I enjoyed writing this one so much. Requests are open.
Tagging: @alexxavicry @chaoticcassidy @saturnsbabe69 @bbooks-and-teas
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LOVE'S TUG OF WAR (DAY #5 LOVE LETTER EVENT)
contents: steddie x reader; sfw! It's the first Valentine's Day you're spending with Eddie and Steve - too bad it doesn't go as planned. word count - 1.5k
notes: aaand now, the love letter event has come to a close. thank you all so much for interacting with the fics; i hope you all enjoyed them. a lot of *love* went into writing them. i hope you all had a lovely valentine's day and that you feel the love that is in the air and surrounding you.
love letter event masterlist
It had been going so well; who would have thought Valentine’s day, the day of appreciating the ones you love the most, would be so complicated? You sigh, taking the pan out of the oven, looking at the hard, black circles, which are supposed to be cookies, that sit on the metal pan staring back at you. You had asked your mother for your grandmother’s infamous chocolate cookie recipe, but for the last 3 times you’ve made, then remade, the cookies, they come out the same – inedible.
Frustration bubbles inside of you, the clock ticking loudly in the back of your mind – the boy’s would be over soon. Your back aches, the heat seeping out from the oven making beads of sweat form in your hairline. Abruptly, you dump the black crusted cookies into the sink, you’re too discouraged to aim for the trashcan, and you begin to gather the ingredients to make another batch – again.
You use the measuring cup to measure out the flour, determined to follow the recipe exactly. It had to work this time. You had put so much thought, so much effort, into making sure that your first Valentine’s with Eddie and Steve goes perfectly. Now everything is crumbling little by little. Because the cookies have taken so long to make, you’re behind on dinner. The boys will have to wait a little while until dinner is ready.
After you put all the ingredients together, closing the oven door with a little prayer, you begin to prepare – chicken piccata, which Steve requested because it’s his favorite. The time goes by so quickly, the time crunch beginning to weigh heavily on your shoulders. You had wanted dinner to be ready when they arrived, you wanted your apron off, your baby pink dress on display. You wanted tonight to go smoothly, to be able for the three of you to relax, have fun, and enjoy each other’s company. Just as you glance over your shoulder to check on the cookies, the small timer you had set rings.
Swiftly, you put your oven mitts on, opening the oven with hope, only to be met with a small puff of black smoke. You groan loudly, tears beginning to spill from your eyes. Disgruntled, you pick the cookie sheet up, tossing the entire cooking utensil into the sink. Bending at the waist, you rest your elbows on the counter, burying your face into your hands. You whimper, feeling as if your Valentine’s celebration is ruined. Next to you, you hear your front door open.
“Woah, what happened in here?” Eddie’s voice says, looking around your jointed kitchen and living room at the smoke that tints the air. The bouquet of roses that he had bought at the grocery store crinkles in his arms as he turns around to secure your front door shut.
You sniff, looking up at Eddie through the divider that separates the living room and kitchen. Tears roll down your cheeks, your eyes already puffy. “Nothing is going to plan.”
“Oh, darling,” Eddie says, dropping his belongings on the hardwood kitchen table. You hadn’t even been able to put the special pink and red stripped tablecloth you had bought yet. Eddie makes his way over to you, pulling you into an embrace immediately. You rest your head against Eddie’s chest, the smell of menthol cigarettes and his cologne filling your nose. His hand strokes your hair, the feeling is so soothing and comforting. After a minute, Eddie pulls away, letting the pad of his thumb brush away the tears that flow down your cheeks. You calm down, taking a few jagged breaths.
“What’s not going to plan?” Eddie asks, his eyes full of concern, though he can guess it’s something regarding the food since there’s a heavy smoke that sits in the air. You whimper again, feeling tears starting all over again. “I was making cookies, my grandma’s cookies, because you and Steve loved them so much and they’re burning up and I don’t know why! I haven’t even started on dinner and you two are probably so hungry and I’ve failed at hosting our very first Valentine’s dinner-“ you ramble without taking a breath. Eddie interrupts you by cupping your face with both of his hands, causing you to focus on him. “Y/n, breathe. You haven’t ruined anything.”
Just then, Steve enters through the front door, perplexed by the smoke that hands in the door. Before he mentions his confusion, Steve hears you whimper, a cry caught in your throat. Steve steps further into the living room, seeing you and Eddie stand close to each other in the kitchen. Very clearly Steve can see you’re upset, Eddie is attempting to calm you. “What’d you do to her this time, Munson?” Steve says jokingly.
“Not now, Steve; we’re having a crisis.” Eddie says flatly, turning his attention back to you. Steve frowns, making his way into the small kitchen. As Steve gets closer, he sees your red-rimmed eyes, streaks of tears marking your face. Steve coos, bringing you into his chest now. Gently, he presses a kiss to your temple. “What’s wrong?” Steve asks, looking between you and Eddie.
Eddie jumps in before you begin to ramble; he doesn’t want anything to cause you to get stressed again. “Y/n was trying to make cookies and they aren’t coming out right and dinner isn’t ready, which is causing her some stress.”
Steve shrugs, beginning to rub circles in your back. “That’s no problem, we can finish making dinner together; you shouldn’t have been doing all the cooking alone anyway.”
You sniff, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. Without the tears in your eyes, you can see how handsome Eddie and Steve look, both in button up shirts, so abnormal for Eddie; but you feel lucky for the amount of grace, patience, and sensitivity Eddie and Steve lend to you, and to each other. “Really?”
Steve and Eddie both laugh, exchanging looks. They both look at you with admiration, knowing how much you wanted to have tonight be great, to be able to sit down together and share a meal. It was hard to get the three of you all in one place, someone was always busy with work or with school. Steve and Eddie both knew how much pressure you had put on yourself to be the one that brings all three of you together, but they had responsibility too. They were just as committed to showing up as you were, they could take their own portion of stress to put together this Valentine’s dinner.
“Really, baby.” Steve says, stroking your hair as Eddie did just shortly before. Eddie watches Steve be gentle with you, the demonstration warming his heart. “Steve, why don’t you try to make the cookies, y/n deserves a break. She and I can make the chicken.” Eddie says, beginning to clear the cluttered and flour covered counter. Your kitchen is small, defiantly not made for three people to cook in it at once, but you all manage, your sides bumping into each other often.
You all begin to work on your tasks, Steve re-gathering all the cookie ingredients, mixing them all together like a pro. Eddie is gentle with you, feeling so empathetic when he hears you sniff the remaining tears away. Steve and Eddie banter across the kitchen with each other, making jokes in attempt to cheer you up and make you laugh. It works, especially when Steve scoops flour into his hand, tossing it in yours and Eddie’s direction.
“Ah,” Steve says, bending over the oven, squinting at the dials. “Y/n, I figured out your issue. The temperature was on 500 degrees, not 350 like the recipe. That’s probably why they all came out looking like coal.”
You can’t help but laugh, hard. Giggles escape your mouth at a rapid pace, eventually you bend over clutching your stomach. Eddie begins to laugh too. “It must have been left on high from when you broiled dinner last week.” He says between laughs. Watching you and Eddie laugh makes Steve laugh; he comes over, slinging his cookie batter splattered arms around you and Eddie, bringing you into a small huddle. You stand in the middle, still laughing, as Eddie and Steve stand around you, pulling you into their loving embraces.
Steve walks around the table, lighting small tealight candles to illuminate the dimmed room. You stand back, your hands clasped, as you watch Steve do so, Eddie in the kitchen pulling dinner out of the oven while he hums happily. The room smells heavenly, the smell of severely burned chocolate chip cookies dissipating a short while ago. When the food is ready to be served, you sit for dinner, your new pink and red stripped cloth adorning the table, the red roses Eddie brought sitting proudly in the middle of the table in a vase. Steve sits to your right, Eddie to your left. You smile at them, your heart swelling with appreciation. You’re so thankful that Steve and Eddie turned what you thought was a Valentine’s dinner into a group effort, a rare bonding experience.
You extend your hands out, Eddie and Steve’s hands placing themselves into yours. Across the table you see Steve and Eddie entangle their free hands together. “I’m so thankful - I love you both immensely.”
Eddie and Steve smile at you, then each other. At the same time, Eddie and Steve speak. “I love you both too.”
#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things x reader#stranger things x you#steddie x y/n#steddie x you#steddie x reader#steddie stranger things#steddie
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VALENTINE
I love the light in your eyes and the dark in your heart
You love our permanent chase and the bite of our bark
We know we're classic together like Egyptian gold
We love us
“I’m sorry baby I’m not going to be there...” Jeans voice was soft through the phone, he always delivers bad news in a whisper…
“What do you mean? You’re not coming up for the week? What-what about Valentine’s Day?” You were in shock that your boyfriend wasn’t going to be able to take a break from work for a holiday with you, he’s been gone for nearly 6 months.
“I know- I know it sucks, but I should be able to get free time the following week, or- uh, no maybe sometime in March. Sweet heart I’m really sorry but I have to go now. I’ll call you when I get home okay? I love you.” He hung up the phone before you could even say it back.
You fell into your bed and screamed your frustration into your pillow.
Bzzbzzbzz
A bunch of texts spamming your phone made you look up for a minute, expecting to see texts from your boyfriend. Instead, they were just a bunch of memes from Eren.
You sent back a frowny emoji, watching him type for a while and the bubble disappeared. Eren decided to FaceTime you instead.
“Wow, what happened to you,” he must of been referring to the black streak marks of mascara smudged down your cheeks. You rub your face, trying to remove the black gunk. “What’s wrong?”
“Jeanie isn’t visiting this week and I was looking forward to spending my first Valentine’s Day with a boyfriend.” You sighed.
Eren rolled his eyes, he never cared for your boyfriend. Always thought he was stuck up, and bragged about his job too much. “Well don’t worry about it YN, If you want we can rent that slasher fic Mikasa recommended and I could possibly get Armin too…”
You sighed dramatically, “I know it’s cliche, but i was looking forward to roses and chocolates.” Even though a night surrounded by your best friends does sound comforting.
“Well, no movie then, I’ll take you out.” You looked to stunned to speak so he reiterated as “just friends” but it cut a bit inside to say that out loud. Eren has always liked you, and has done a pretty good job at hiding his feelings. Although he did kiss you once at a party, the next morning you didn’t even remember. “Cheer up, i dont like it when your sad.” He gave you a cheeky grin and hung up the call.
+++
Fresh out of a hot shower you paced your bedroom in your underwear, what do you wear on a valentines date with your best friend. You looked at the dress you had saved for Jean, no way, you thought. Opting for a typical outfit of yours instead.
“Hey i let myself in if you...what are you wearing.” Eren stood in the door. He was all dressed up.
You turned around from your vanity, your hair still wet. Framing pieces stuck to the side of your face, shit… is he early or are you running late. Eren stepped forward, raising his hand and tucking your hair behind your ear. A small tingle sparked in your stomach, but you were probably just hungry. “What? Is this not nice?” You pouted a bit kinda hurt from the reaction he had.
“I said i was taking you out out, were not going to the library...” He eyed you up and down, before spotting the dress hanging on your closet door behind you. “What’s that?” He pointed.
“Oh, that’s what I was going to wear...”
“Put it on, I’ll wait for you in the living room… oh and hurry Ive got an eventful afternoon planned.” He left your room before you could even fight him on wearing the dress. You stared at it for a few minutes and shrugged to yourself. Someone might as well see you in this. After rushing through getting ready you snapped a pic, contemplating even sending it to Jean, why did you suddenly feel a bit guilty…
+++
Eren waited impatiently outside your bedroom, he had brought flowers for you, and decided to place them in a vase on your kitchen counter. He nervously arranged the roses. Fidgeting with the tiny baby’s breath that accented the bouquet.
“Oh Eren those are beautiful, you didnt have to-“ you startled him a bit and you held back a laugh.
His cheeks heated up once he caught sight of your dress, discreetly, he scanned over your outfit, starting from the black paten leather heals with a cute dainty strap at the ankle. Cautiously gazing up your beautiful bare legs, to mid thigh where this cruel red satin dress ended. Quickly he focused onto your face, hoping you didn’t catch him gawking.
Your make up was subtle, though the red lip was nothing but. He noticed the black choker on your neck, and lost his breath. He looked for words to describe how beautiful, no, gorgeous, no stunning. “You look-“ he starred at you, “wow..” he shook his head, embarrassing himself. You just giggled and stuck your nose into the roses. A little note laid in between some petals.
To my valentine with love.
Eren.
By now all of your dejection about your boyfriend not being here was gone, you were far too excited to see what Eren had in store for you.
Sitting in his passenger seat, you let him take you wherever he had planned. Turns out the plan was the beach. You two strolled down the dock. Other couples were out having fun, playing fair games and sharing funnel cakes. Seeing couples enjoying each other made you remember you weren’t here with Jean… You looked over at Eren who must have just noticed the disappointment on your face. Shoving cotton candy into your mouth as an attempt to keep those pesky boyfriend thoughts from filling your head and ruining his scheme. His true intentions… showing you how you should be treated, and being here for you when that stupid prick wouldn’t even bother to. “Come on YN,” he grabbed your hand and led you to the best date of your life.
+++
Watching the people on the beach at the top of the ferris wheel you held on tightly to the stuffed octopus Eren had won for you earlier in the evening. You leaned your head on his shoulder, and smiled to yourself,“I’m having fun Eren, thank you.” Your hand fell to your side, and softly grazed against his. You two hold hands all of the time, but for some reason, the slightest touch made you get goosebumps. You pulled your hand away and shyly held the plushy up to your face.
“Hey anything for you YN, I love you.” Eren says he loves you from time to time,but this time ….hearing it made your heart jump. “Are you hungry? I’d hate to end your fun but our reservation is in an hour, we should get going after this.”
“Reservation? I thought we’d just have chili dogs at the stand down there,” He laughed like you said a joke, you just stared at him dazed and confused.
“Don’t look so dumbfounded,” He pinched your cheek, “the dates not over, I’m gonna take you somewhere nice.”
Date…
Of course it was a “date” but when you accepted Eren’s invitation initially you didn’t completely view it as a romantic word, more so a platonic date… but now… things are starting to feel a bit too … complicated. You left the beach full of thoughts and feelings swirling through your head.
+++
“Eren!?” You gasped, pulling up to the valet of one of the finest restaurants in your city. “Eren we can’t eat here…”
“Why not, you think I don’t have the money?” he teased you and you tried to combat his reasonings, but just like the beginning of the day he was gone before you could argue with him. Dropping his keys into the hand of a stranger and walking over to your side, opening the door for you. His chivalrous behavior made you question who you really were on a date with today. This is a side of Eren you had never seen before and you were starting to fall for it.
A hostess guided the both of you to a table that was tucked behind a privacy wall and with full view of the city scape. With a now setting sun disappearing behind buildings. You glanced at Eren who wasn’t even enjoying this outstanding view with you. He eyes caught yours and a heat radiated through your chest. Fluttering butterflies in your stomach conveniently covered the vacant feeling of guilt that sat in your belly. No, you’re just hungry… yeah that’s it.
Jean not even crossing your mind once, the two of you laughed together about old memories over steak and wine. You immersed yourself in his charm, even if you were constantly catching yourself from falling for your best friend. He’s was just being a good friend, you thought. Don’t over think things.
“Would you care for dessert this evening?”
“Yes-“
“No,” Eren cut you off and you gave him a death glare. “I have something else planned for dessert, thank you for the great meal.” Watching him use his natural charm on the waitress brought you back to reality. He was just being nice and comforting his pathetic friend. The guilt was back on, how could you even entertain whatever silly fantasy you had convinced yourself was happening. This date was definitely all in your head.
+++
Eren saved a favorite of yours for last. Fro yo.
You two would meet up here every Saturday to gossip and complain about each others lives. Well not so much anymore, since you started seeing Jean. Eren stood inline to get you your favorite flavor as you waited in a corner booth for him, checking the notifications on your phone. To your surprise you had no notifs from Jean. A bitter taste not even fro yo could recover coated your mouth. Not even a ‘Happy Vday’ text. Did he seriously forget?
“Remember when that old lady slipped and fell and she spilled her cherry berry all over herself.” Eren came back with yogurt in hand. Tears stung your waterline. Almost dropping the cups, he quickly sat next to you.
“What’s wrong YN?”
“I just realized I’m having the best date of my life and it’s not even with my own boyfriend,” you let out a genuine chuckle. Laughing at your own pathetic relationship.
“You have such an ugly laugh,” Eren sucked on his spoon.
“No i dont, shut up,” you playfully pushed his shoulder, but he moved closer to you.
“I mean it, its cute.” He took a spoon full of pink delicious yogurt and pressed it to your nose, leaving melted fro yo on the tip. You scrunched your face up, and tried to wipe it into his shoulder.
“Hey! Hey! This is my nicest jacket you’re gonna ruin it” He pulled back, but you refused to let him get away with his crimes. Playfully pushing him but in his haste to get away from you, he lost balance. Grabbing onto your arm for support he managed to pull you closer to him. Your nose, still pink, now centimeters from his face. Eren spontaneously licked the yogurt off of your face.
Time froze colder than the freaking yogurt. It felt like you were buffering a response. You honestly didn’t know how to respond to that, verbally…but your body decided to respond for you.
Closing the gap between you quickly and kissing him. You didnt know what overcame your morality in that moment but it felt good. Your heart now beating out of your chest.
“Uh-Er,” you tried to make any excuse as to why you kissed him, but sadly couldn’t come up with anything other than. “Sorry-“
“Don’t be sorry, YN,” his hand firmly gripped your waist and pulled you back in to kiss you again.
+++
You zone out one hand on the doorknob the other holding your house key. “Is it weird that I feel weird about inviting you inside.” You laughed. “You practically live at my house.”
“You know i think this time, it’s just different,” his words not matching the intense feeling that flooded into your core. “I don’t have to come in, I had a really good time YN, I-“ he caught himself before he said anything. Not wanting to say it and then have you regret everything in the morning, just to get hurt. Nothing would hurt more than that. So he chose not to say it.
“I love you Eren,” shocked by what you so effortlessly said, you examined his reaction. Trying not to misinterpret his expression. His face lit up, as if he had never heard you say it before, not like this, this time he knew you felt it the way he did.
It don't matter, be combative or be sweet cherry pie
It don't matter just as long as I get all you tonight
At that moment, Eren took a risk, kissing you this time with a hint of lust. Patiently, he waited for your cue deepening the kiss and slightly moaning in his mouth. That was it. He knew he had you. His efforts of today paying off by the sweet aftertaste of fro yo on your lips.
You blindly unlock your front door, Eren hungrily placing kisses over your neck and shoulder. You led him back into your living room, kicking off your heals while still managing to tug and pull his bottom lip in between your teeth. Guiding him all the way to your bedroom. Where this date originated from just hours ago.
So deep, your DNA's being messed with my touch
Can’t beat us
So real, fueling the fire until we combust
Can’t touch us
Eren fell to his knees the moment your dress slipped off your body and onto the floor, he peppered kisses up your thigh, worshipping your body. Chills fell down your spine as the warmth of his breath closed in on your inner thighs. He dug his face in your sex, pulling the lace fabric that was in his way to the side. Kissing softly at your exposed skin. His fingers snuck behind you, feeling your curves, before hooking and pulling off your panties entirely. He looked up at you, grinning, before diving back into your flesh. Kissing and sucking gently on your skin.
His tongue dipped between your folds, his fingers moved from your thighs, now spreading you further open for him to devour your pussy. You gasped and moaned, finding balance with a fist full of his hair, making it a disheveled mess. You found yourself grinding instinctively on his tongue, chasing the growing pleasure in your core. Fuck.
The guilt that you let take a backseat behind your lust made the high of your orgasm sinfully better.
You watch him lick you up, through fluttering lashes. You’re now coming fully undone for him. Eren smiles, growing cocky. If he can get you coming just with his tongue, he can have you screaming for him at the end of the night. He stood up ,“You taste fucking amazing YN,” Ushering you to the bed, you laid back putting on a beautiful display for him, spreading your legs proudly. Inviting him back in, he leaned down devouring you once more. Sucking gently on the bundle of sensitive nerves earning sounds of praise from you.
He took care of your pussy so well, being mindful of what you liked and didn’t. Paying attention to your moans, you got louder and more breathy when his tongue dipped inside your entrance. You found yourself coming again for him, singing his name instead of Jeans. A newfound guilty pleasure erupted from your core along with a flow of juices. You gasped never have experienced a climax like this before. Eren relished in your wetness, soaking in your arousal.
“Can you do that again for me Valentine?” He sounded so eager, it made your knees weak. Blush painted your cheeks, he was quick to pull you back into his mouth. Fleeting feelings of embarrassment and guilt floated away. Your body listening to his pleas, unraveling waves of pleasure onto his tongue again and again.
Valentine
Part two mayhaps, It’s bedtime - Ivy
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That Flower in the Field
Chikara Ennoshita x fem! reader
Warning: some angst at first, moving on to more fluff later
Synopsis: You are a florist in a flower shop and Enno visits to get flowers for his mom and has turned into a regular
Word Count: 1,509
This is held post time skip and manga spoilers aren't included. I will include an OC that belongs to me.
The bell sang as the door opened by your favorite customer. He became a regular that by now you knew some things about him. Like, how his hairstyle is always neat, his dark sleepy eyes that you love to stare at, where he worked, that he had an interesting hobby in directing, how he played volleyball in high school.
You sat on your stool with the bouquet of colorful flora ready to hand to him, only to see him enter with a little boy holding his hand.
Your little heart shattered into quadrillion pieces. Of course he would have a beautiful wife and a child. He indeed is charming in his own way. He also had a good paying job. You felt so dumb for falling head over heels with this man.
“Hello Ennoshita-kun, here to pick up these flowers?” You smile sadly.
“Oh, yes. I need them for tonight. Today is a very special day and they are needed.” He smiled softly at you, cheeks dusting pink.
Your e/c eyes started to water. You found it hard to breathe and the back of your throat started to tighten up. Your blood started to boil in jealousy. Whoever the woman is, she must be very happy.
“I see.” You try to comprehend what just happened.
“Hey, you are the florist that my brother talks about. He says that-”
The little boy was interrupted by his brother's hand covering his lips.
“That is enough that came out of your little mouth. I am so sorry about him.” He bowed.
“It's fine.” You smile a little.
So, the little boy is Ennoshita-kun’s brother. You thought.
He picked up the sweet scented flowers from the counter gently.
“Oh, by the way. I wanted to invite you to a party. That’s if you are possibly free tonight?” He rubbed the back of his head.
Your face lit up at the invitation, but you hid how awful you felt if you showed up. His wife could end up saying. She might think you are a girl trying to hit on her husband. You wanted to decline.
“Sure, I would love to come!” You cheerfully open your mouth without a clue what you were saying.
“Great! I will come and get you from the flower shop at six.” He waved at you, holding his little brother's tiny hand.
The bell rang as you were in your train of thoughts. What should I wear?
Meanwhile, Ennoshita got bombed with a TON of questions from his tiny brother.
“Why didn't you ask her out?” His voice whispered.
“Huh?”
“You like her, don't you?” He looked up at Ennoshita’s dark eyes.
“No!” He blushed.
“She knows about mommy's birthday, right?”
“I hope so.” Was all that came out of Ennoshita’s lips.
○◐❀❀❀❀❀❀◑○
“Oooh, this is exciting! He finally asked you out.” The blonde girl shreaked.
“Emiko, he didn't ask me out. He only invited me to a party, nothing else. We are only friends.”
You rummaged in the bag your best friend brought you with clothes for the party.
You found a pretty breath of spring dress in there, plus a pair of tan colored flats to wear along with the light green dress.
“But, you like him.” She frowned.
“Well, he doesn't. He got a bouquet of flowers from my shop, and let's just say he said they were for a special occasion, which is today.” You look at her warm brown eyes.
“Come on, y/n. Let's be optimistic about the situation. I am pretty sure he doesn't have a wife.” She placed her soft hands on your shoulders.
“I wish I could.” You look down at the tiles of the flower shop.
○◐❀❀❀❀❀❀◑○
“Do I look good?” Ennoshita frantically asked as he looked at himself up and down in the mirror.
“Sweetheart, I am pretty sure you do look great! You have already asked me and your baby brother twenty hundred times.”
“I know, I know. I just want to look great tonight. I mean I want to impress her and she is quite a charm just with casual clothing on.” He kept staring at himself.
“Dear, I am sure you will impress her. You two seem pretty in love with each other.”
His mother sat down in a soft chair with a lace texture. The cushions are a delicate lavender color.
She was sitting up nice and straight, head held up high.
Her pearl necklace was a charm to all the men out there, but Ennoshita’s father was the chosen one since they were very young, before they entered high school.
“I hope she does love me back.” He looked down at the wooden floor.
○◐❀❀❀❀❀❀◑○
The nice cool breeze blew right through his neatly placed hair, but not messing it up. The setting sun kissed his skin delicately as he walked towards the little shop filled with the most gorgeous scented flowers ever.
He opened the little red door to be welcomed in by the little chime of the golden bell.
“L/n-san, I am here.” He walked in quietly.You rush out of the back to see him in a white cardigan. A light sage colored polo matching his eyes wonderfully. Khakis make him look simply charming. Oh, why did you fall for this married man?
“You look like a prince.”
You held your mouth agape, mesmerized by his way of charming people without even trying. Well, you were the only one in this world.
“Really? Thanks, I guess. Ready to go?” He reached for your hand.
“Yes, I am.” You move your hand quickly away from his.
You didn't want to let his wife know you were some side chick of his or something of the sort.
○◐❀❀❀❀❀❀◑○
The two of you made it to a nice outside reception. The place is decorated with floral decorations with all the colors of the spectrum. The trees swayed in the wind, making emerald leaves come falling to the green blanket on the ground.
“Oh, Ennoshita-kun, this place is lovely! I bet your wife is in love with this party as much as she is with you.” You clasped your hands together.
“Huh? L/n-san, I don't have a wife at all.” His face flushed a tiny hue.
“Wait, you don't have a wife?”
Your face scrunched up in confusion. He would always have a ring on his ring finger with some initials carved into it. He had pictures of a woman in his wallet. You didn't know what else to think.
“Then, who is in the pictures in-”
“Those are of my mom and dad when they were around our age.” He showed them to you.
“Then, what about the ring you-”
“This is my dad's ring and he gave it to me as a gift for my fifteenth birthday.” He took it off.
“But, the flowers must be for-”
“I don't have a girlfriend either. These flowers are for my mom because it's my mother's birthday.” He extended the flowers out.
Your face turned a bright magenta on the spot. You had no words left in your brain. This whole time your blood boiled over a woman that never existed.
“I have one question still on my mind.” You step closer to him.
“Oh, umm yeah. What is it?” He looked away from you.
“Why would you invite me to your mom's birthday party?” You twist your foot around on the green blanket beneath your feet.
“Well, you are a very close friend of mine, so I decided-”
“Oh dear, stop with the lying already. You are indeed in love with the beautiful lady that stands right in front of you. Just stop and confess to her.” Ennoshita's mother walked into the scene.
“Mom! I- well- I…. Umm…. I don't want to make your birthday party all about me.” He looked at her.
“Come on, Chikara! I have been waiting for this moment. Make it as another birthday present for me.” She fixed her son's hair.
Ennoshita gave her a look that he gave at his mother's request.
He knelt down on one knee and held your warm hands into his. Your cheeks flushed a rosy tint before he could say a word.
“L/n-san, since I entered the flower shop to pick up a bouquet for my mother, you were the most beautiful flower in that whole garden. Your eyes gleamed like twinkling diamonds in the night sky. Your hair perfectly framed your face as I kept looking at you, examining every little detail. What I am trying to say is…” He looked down, cheeks as a crimson rose. “Ln-san, will you go out with me?”
Everything in that moment stopped or turned completely white out of the picture. Only you and Ennoshita are in the spotlight and everyone is a side character just like in the movies you watched in high school.
“Oh, Ennoshita-kun. I- yes!”
You jumped into a tight hug, almost making him collapse on the grass.
This marked the last time you doubted his love towards you.
Hello guys!! Another Ennoshita x reader here bc I love him so much!!! Hope you enjoyed this one as much as the other Ennoshita x reader! Hope you are having/had/have a great day!!
If you loved this one check out this one below
↪↪↪↪Bakery treats
Love y'all
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Something Sweet and Floral
Summary: Elain meets the most chaotic florist while picking up flowers for Feyre's pre-wedding photoshoot. Modern Florist AU.
for @elainweekofficial Day 5: Blooming Buds (But I really just wanted to write an Elucien Modern Florist AU)
Read on AO3
Elain looked up from the GPS on her phone as the traffic light beeps, signaling her to cross the junction. Glancing down at the map, she turned around the corner where the florist which she was meant to pick up Feyre's pre-wedding photoshoot flowers should be. Her eyes lit up when she saw the bright sign "Flowers from Exile" and pushed the glass door open, chiming the little bell attached at the top.
"Hello? I am here to pick up an order for-" the words died at Elain's lips.
The store was in chaos - stalks of roses, baby breaths, different varieties of leaves and coloured wrapping papers were strewn all over the floor. It was as if a hurricane had swept through the place. In the middle of the chaos sat a redheaded couple arguing fiercely.
"No! You start with the core flowers in the middle and build the bouquet around it." the lady growled, "We have been at this for an hour! How do you not know this after running this place for two years?"
The guy visibly bristled, "The arrangement was for you to manage the front-end operations so we, as I quote, do not fuck up your flowers ."
Having decided she had listened enough, Elain lightly cleared her throat to draw their attention. The pair stared at her with wide eyes for one comically long moment.
The female was the first to recover, "Hi, welcome! Sorry about the mess, two of our staff decided to go on a two week-long trip of self enlightenment to discover themselves together and left us with minimal help with no notice." she paused, realising she was going off tangent and cleared her throat, "Anyway, how may I help you?"
Elain gave a polite smile, "I'm here to pick up an order for Feyre Archeron?"
The shopkeeper's eyes lit up in recognition, "Yes, the midnight blue hydrangea and white rose mix!" she looked to the back of the shop and gave an apologetic look, "I just need to do some final touches. Would you mind just waiting a couple of minutes?"
At Elain's reassurance, the redheaded lady disappeared behind the counter, leaving her co-worker in the middle of the sea of floral debris. The male heaved a sigh as he made to pick up the mess, stalks of flowers still in his hand still grumbling under his breath. Elain hid a smile.
"It's all about the grip on the core flowers and tying them together as you go" Elain piped up. The guy looked up with a bemused look on his face.
"If I may," Elain added before picking up a couple of stray roses and swiftly arranged them into a tightly knitted heart. She snapped a rubber band over the stems and continued, "Layering the flowers doesn't just mean circling on more and more flowers."
She picked a stalk of baby's breath and weaved it through and around the roses. She toyed with the budding bouquet, adding more baby's breath and Caspia, sharing her train of thought as she went along. Elain flashed the guy an encouraging smile and handed over the semi-completed bouquet.
"Sorry for the wait," The lady came back to the front of the store holding a large but beautiful bouquet. She immediately zeroed in on the flowers in her colleague's hand and whistled, "Wow, did you do that? It's gorgeous."
Elain blushed at the compliment as she took the bouquet, "Oh, it's nothing. Your bouquets are stunning!"
The florist brightened at the compliment, "That's great to hear! But seriously, are you by any chance free to work part-time for the next two weeks?" she asked, only half jokingly.
Elain looked up from the bouquet in surprise, "Really?"
The florist pondered for a moment before taking the half completed bouquet and handed it back to Elain, "Finish it."
Elain reached for the flowers and gave it an appraising look. With a well-practiced ease, she untied the rubber band and adjusted the structure slightly. She soon passed back the finished product - a rustic, countryside rose bouquet complemented by Caspia and cotton flowers, and finished with eucalyptus leaves.
"You've done this before." the florist commented as she thumbed through the bouquet.
"I ran a small online service during my undergrad days but I stopped after graduation when work got hectic" Elain admitted, "But I'm currently on a study break for my post grad studies."
The lady grinned and stuck out her hand, "Well, if you would have us for the next two weeks, I'm Vassa and grumpy pants over there is Lucien. Your temporary visa to the band of exiles has been approved. Welcome onboard."
Elain returned the grin as she shook on it.
***
Elain adjusted her lilac blouse and dark pants before entering the store. Lucien's email stated nothing about a dress code but smart casual was always the way to go.
"Good morning" she greeted Vassa as she entered and placed a small box on the counter, "I brought double chocolate muffins."
"Ooooh, is that from the bakery down by ninth avenue?" Vassa asked, peeking into the box. "Buying favour with sweet treats, I see. I like the way you think, Archeron."
Elain beamed in return. Vassa took her through the store's operations as she munched through a muffin. Elain quickly learnt that the store was mainly run by Vassa, Lucien and another of their partner, Jurian. Jurian and Lucien managed the back-end operations from logistics to accounts and social media engagement, leaving Vassa focused on designing and crafting beautiful flower arrangements.
It was well into the afternoon as Elain peered into the iPad to start on her next creation, a cheerful sunflower table piece. After ascertaining her abilities to recreate the bouquet designs, Vassa had passed the ropes to Elain to finish up the orders while she worked on the design of the floral arches they had been commissioned for.
Lucien stepped out from the back office with a camera, declaring "I need new behind the scenes content for our social media platforms.".
Vassa shook her head from behind an exceedingly complicated archway, "It's going to take me quite a while with this." she paused, "Unless Elain doesn't mind?"
Elain looked up from her work counter, "What do I need to do?"
"Just pretend he doesn't exist," Vassa reassured, her attention back to sticking more flowers into the archway, "The clips are mostly little snippets of us arranging the flowers. We wouldn’t include your face for privacy."
Elain nodded, uncertain but in agreement. She returned to her table piece, her movements now a little stiff and stilted.
Lucien's expression turned thoughtful as Elain started on a new bouquet and suggested, "Why don't you walk me through your process."
Elain pondered for a moment and stared at the stalks of roses and rose sprays, "The starting point is to know the centerpiece of the arrangement." Her hands moved along to gather the mentioned flora.
Lucien nodded in encouragement while he surreptitiously started the camera rolling. He kept the conversation going, peppering Elain with leading questions that had her relaxing back into her work.
"How did you get into flowers?" he asked as Elain carefully smoothed and folded the wrapping paper around the flowers.
"I always loved gardening. Using the spare flowers lying around to decorate the house seemed natural," she responded before sporting a wry smile, "I may have then gone down a spiral of endless how-to YouTube videos on floral arrangements."
"Looking at your bouquets, I'd say that's time well-spent." Lucien said, hiding a smirk when Elain blushed. "Well, I think I got all I needed for the page. I'll send you a link to review the clips before we upload them."
***
"You'll be ok running the storefront by yourself? Lucien will be able to deal with anyone problematic but feel free to contact me at any point." Vassa said apologetically as she loaded the final frame of the arches into the van.
"We'll be fine," Elain assured, waving her off, "You just stay focused on the event."
Elain let Vassa fret while they did a final check. Eventually, she huffed and all but pushed her into the front of the van where Jurian already had the engine running, giving the duo a final wave as they drove off.
Lucien was loading a fresh shipment of flowers when she entered the shop, his arm muscles flexing and stretching the rolled up sleeves deliciously. Elain allowed herself one moment to appreciate the sight, her gaze settling on the back of his fitted pants which did nothing to hide that tight ass. There was no denying the attraction she felt towards her manager, the man was gorgeous.
"It's just the both of us today, huh?" she remarked in what she hoped was a light unaffected tone.
"Yep." he replied, his lips popping the 'p', "I'll work from the counter instead of the office today."
Elain had the words to persuade him otherwise poised and ready but found herself flashing him a smile instead, "It'll be fun."
Apart from a demanding customer's refusal to accept that their bouquet could not be delivered together with the pie from a cafe down the street, the day went by without a hitch. Elain had soon found herself deep in thought as she figured out how to close up as slow as humanly possible.
"Would you like to grab dinner?" A distant voice sounded.
"Elain?" There was that voice again.
A hand waved over her face, snapping her out of her stupor.
"Wha-?"
Lucien gave a bemused smile, "Would you like to grab dinner?"
"S-sure" she stuttered, lifting her palms to relieve some of the warmth gathering in her face. "Where to?"
"Fancy a pie?" he asked, eyes twinkling in mischief. Elain laughed in agreement.
***
"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." A leering voice sneered.
Elain hid a cringe and quickly schooled her expression and surveyed the guy next to her coolly. His drunkenness obvious from the flushed expression and putrid breath. Elain turned stiffly back to the display of pie selection, ignoring him.
“Hey, I’m talking to you.” he snapped, his hand reaching to grab her arm. Elain instantly recoiled, her back hitting a firm chest.
“Everything alright?”
Elain internally sighed in relief at the familiar masculine voice. She scooted closer to Lucien, her body pressed against his body and said in a honey sweet voice, “Fine, babe.”
Elain felt a strong arm circled around her waist, the grip light but firm. The muscle in Lucien’s jaw feathered as he took in the drunken man.
“Do we have a problem?” he asked coolly, his chin tilted up as he leveled a threatening glare at the guy.
“No.” the drunk finally spat out, throwing out a swear at them before turning to leave.
“You ok?” Lucien murmured into her ear, the gentle voice raising goosebumps down her spine, his arm still firmly closed around her waist.
“I’m fine,” she gave a reassuring smile before commenting brightly, “More importantly, I have decided on a pie.”
Lucien looked torn for a moment before a chuckle finally won out, “So have I.”
As it happens, the pies were delicious.
“Maybe you guys should consider partnering with them.” Elain later suggested when they were on the road, Lucien giving her a lift home. “You could package it as the perfect pick-me-up gift.”
“The pies?” Lucien’s expression turned contemplative, “That is actually a really good idea.”
“Actually?” she drawled, “Should I be insulted?”
Lucien sputtered as he raised his hands, “It was a compliment!”
Elain grinned, “I know. I was just messing with you.”
“No wonder you get along so well with Vassa.” he grumbled as he pulled over at the roadside outside her apartment. She flashed a cheeky smile as she got off, thanking him for the ride. It was only after she entered her flat that she collapsed on the couch, raising her hands to close over her racing heart, willing it to settle.
Her phone chimed as she was getting into bed. It was the link to the footage Lucien had edited for their Instagram page. Elain scrolled through the clips, admiring the editing. He had even managed to salvage the shots from the first bouquet, editing it in a stop motion-like style.
Her phone dinged again.
The last couple of photographs are not intended for posting. I just thought they were too lovely to delete. - Lucien
Elain scrolled to the end in curiousity, gasping when she saw the photos. They were all pictures of her smiling and laughing. Through his lens, Elain never felt prettier. She clicked “save” to download before she set her phone down and drifted to wonderland, dreaming about large warm hands and russet eyes.
***
“I should fire my staff and hire you instead.” Vassa sighed as she watched Elain pack up the little belongings she had accumulated over the past 2 weeks.
“My school term resumes tomorrow.” Elain reminded her, giving her tote bag one last lookover.
“Pshhh. Who needs a MBA when you can have unlimited flowers.” Vassa huffed.
Elain gave her an unimpressed look, “Didn’t the three of you meet during your MBA programme?”
Vassa turned to look away and said loftily, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Elain hummed distractedly in response as she stared at the closed door of the office, acutely aware of the male sitting inside. Vassa followed her gaze and the edges of her mouth curled upwards, “But I guess it’s not flowers that would keep you around.”
Elain flushed and muttered, “I don’t think he’s interested.”
Vassa snorted loudly, asking after a long moment, “You can’t possibly think that.”
Elain started to respond when her phone rang from an unknown number. Frowning, she stepped out of the shop. It turned out to be one of the vendors for Feyre’s wedding, calling to confirm the tasting schedule they had scheduled later in the day. Elain turned to return only to bump into a familiar chest.
“Elain! I thought you’ve left.” Lucien called out, continuing when she simply blinked up at him, “You know, we are engaged to do the floral decoration for the Velarian wedding next month.”
She frowned, giving him a befuddled look, “Yes?”
“The couple had extended the invitation for us to stay for the reception.”
“O-kay?”
“Would you like to be my date for the wedding?” he finished, and placed a bouquet and a box into her hands.
Elain whipped her head up in surprise before asking incredulously, “Are you asking me to be your plus one for my sister’s wedding?”
“Yes.” Lucien replied smoothly, “Yes, I am. Coupled with our latest offering - the Elain set.”
Confused, Elain looked into the box - it was the blackberry pie she had the other evening. Her mouth widened into a smile, “The Elain set?”
“It’s a pick-me-up package. Designed to cheer up anyone’s day” he added, pulling her in close, “Just as all Elains do.”
“Is that right?” she asked breathily, staring deep into russet eyes, “What if I would like the Lucien package instead?”
“That was supposed to be a later offering.” he teased, “But I guess you could have it now too.” And with that, he leaned in to capture her lips in a searing kiss.
End
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Lover Dearest
Nahoya Kawata x GN Reader
WARNINGS: literally none, very slight angst like very very very slight, fluff, sweetness, like tooth rotting fluff, reader and Nahoya r so in love I'm sick. Nahoya grown is such a sweet boy. Not beta’d we die like men, no physical describers (i think), no pronoun use
Summary: When his sadness hits, what better to do than surprise your loving boyfriend with flowers - which are named after him.
w/c:1k
A/N: Aster flowers are a symbol of love, baby’s breath means everlasting love, and white carnations mean innocence and pure/sweet love :) (i love flower language)
Its 5am. I need sleep. this is from my last ask :)
Nahoya didn't often do things for himself you realized. Though you did adore the fact that Nahoya despite his abrasive personality he is very much a selfless person, you wished he would just do something for himself for once.
Which is how you got here. At a flower shop. Your beloved had seemed down the last few weeks, and regardless of your semi-regular reminders that you're there for him as well, he didn't really open up to you. Nothing past a simple “I know precious, but I'm really just fine.” You, of course, understand that there are definitely some things he doesn't like talking about often, like his violent past or the less savory parts of his mind, but you think sometimes he doesn't realize that he isn't alone.
Browsing through flowers you kept thinking about how these ones needed to be special. Something meaningful. Being versed in the old plant language was useful, but really only when the person receiving the flowers knows what they mean.. And bless your pretty boy's soul, he does not understand it at all. While you could give him a pretty bouquet of aster, baby’s breath, and white carnations, that is not special enough for your liking right now. And only you would understand what the meaning was..
While staring at the roses and tulips, you thought back to when you did a research paper on native plants in Japan. You got a sudden idea and grinned to yourself, thinking about how perfect your newly brewed plan is. All you had to do was talk to the clerk about something very special and then your plan will be in motion.
When you got home, you immediately started setting up your little surprise for ‘Hoya, placing the small pot full of the pretty greenery that you had picked up and then filling up a vase for the smaller bouquet of baby's breath and lavender that you had also gotten. Setting everything up on the counter of your shared apartment kitchen so when Hoya came home from the ramen shop he would see them immediately. You had also managed to get a bag of his favorite chocolates that you know he's been craving for awhile and set them up in between the pot and the vase.
Stepping back you looked at your work and nodded in approval. The potted plant had waxy leaves and pretty pale pink flowers that grow in clusters similar to hydrangeas. The flowers were simple but they were shaped like stars, which made you smile and cheekily think ‘cause he’s a Rockstar.’
After admiring your surprise you went to go change in your shared bedroom, throwing on one of his old hoodies and a pair of comfortable lounge shorts. Faintly, the sound of a key turning the lock on the front door can be heard, then the door opening, “Precious? I’m home!” your lover's voice calls out. You could hear him pause, then you decide to head out of the bedroom.
The sight you were greeted with was heartwarming. Your 5 '7 beloved was standing in the doorway, a bag of groceries fallen out of his hands as he stared at the flowers and chocolates in front of him. He had small crocodile tears starting to form in his eyes, which made you slightly worry.
“Do you not like them..?”, you asked quietly, inching closer to him.
“You got me flowers…?” His sweet voice croaked out, his breath caught in his throat. He liked it.
You smiled then nodded, going over to move the bag of groceries onto the other counter, then giving him a reassuring hug, wrapping your arms around his frame and squeezing gently, one hand rubbing his back ever so slightly.
“Mhm, got them for you baby, thought you deserved something nice. Been working yourself to the bone lately,” you said gently, studying his face for any other sort of reaction. A small smile took over his features and he looked genuinely happy for the first time in weeks. “You got me flowers..” he repeated, more a statement than his previous sentence, simply affirming it in his mind. He wrapped his arms around your frame and laughed softly, burying his nose into the crown of your hair. “You got me flowers!” he said one last time, full of joy and slight laughter, it warmed your belly seeing him this happy.
“Yup!” you giggled out, returning his affection, “and there's something special about these ones,” you said gesturing towards the potted plant.
“What's special about them, pretty?” he said gently, smiling at you with a loving look lingering in his eyes. You turned and smiled at him, “They’re named after you, Hoya..”
He furrowed his brow and tilted his head at you, “What do you mean they’re named after me baby?” His tone was confused but soft. He always refused to use anything but a kind voice with his pretty baby. You smiled, “This is a Hoya Carnosa, it's a native to japan and its named after you. At Least to me it is, haven't I always told you that you were my pretty flower?” your smile turned teasing then you laughed, “thought they would look nice on the front counter of the shop.. A little plant named after the owner?” you suggested, smiling towards him.
His face went through a range of emotions, love, joy, then something unreadable to you. He was looking at you like you were his sun, his moon, and all his stars. Staring at you like you were the only thing in existence, “I love you so much, pretty baby..” he said while collecting you into a hug, one of his hands coming up to the back of your hand, caressing gently like you were fragile and he might break you.
“Truly, this made all the bad stuff go away, please never change or leave me..” he said into your shoulder, his tone was not remorseful but more gently broken. He wasn't upset or anything, just thankful. That was the only way you could describe it, he was thankful he had you.
“Never. I love you too, Hoya.”
“Thank you”
#tokyo rev fluff#tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers nahoya#tokyo rev x reader#nahoya x reader#nahoya kawata#nahoya kawata fluff#fluff#nahoya#~AskBanna
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Don't forget me (Part 4)
Summary: kiss and make up
Warnings: mentions of SH, throwing up, alcoholism.
Notes: it's kinda shit since I wrote this at 3 in the morning the other day.
Elvis and his buddies drove around in a black car with tinted windows. The car was going at a dangerously high speed. But Elvis needed to find Rosie, his Rosie. They drove down every street, road, and highway. Elvis's breath quickened as his heart pounded against his ribcage. He regretted every bad thing that he ever did to Rosie. He let the fame get to him. He rolled down the tinted window as he scanned the moonlit alleyways. His eyes settled on a small figure. He squinted his eyes as he waved his hand at Jerry as a way of telling him to stop the car. He quickly opened the door and rushed over to the mysterious mistress. She was passed out. Her hair was messy, and her mascara smudged. An empty bottle of liqour rested on the coble floor beside her. Elvis bent down to her level. He examined her before gradually cupping her face. He moved her head so that he could see if it really was..
"Rosie!"
He exclaimed. Fear coursed through his body as tears rolled down his cheeks. He had never seen her in such a bad state. She looked dead. He dragged her motionless body into his arms. He picked her up bridal style. His hot breath hit her cold, pale face that was lit by the moonlight. A few tears dropped onto her form Elvis's eyes. Elvis scurried back over to the car and placed her in the backseat with the boys. Sonny Red held her so that her unconscious body wouldn't move around. The boys eyes widened as they saw her.
"Is she d-dead?"
Jerry asked as he bagan to drive.
"I don't know what happened to her, j-just go to the hospital."
Elvis said with a muffled voice as he held his head in his hands. He felt guilty, he felt that this was his fault.
Within no time, they had already got her in a hospital bed, and the doctors were examining her. Elvis sat in the waiting room patiently with the Memphis Mafia. His leg bounced up, and down as he bit his nails. He stared at the clock as the minutes passed. Finally, a nurse approached him. She bent down to speak to him since he was seated.
"She passed out due to an excessive amount of alcohol in her system. We are going to have to keep her overnight just in case anything comes up. But you are free to stay here with her if you like."
Elvis quickly nodded as he stood up and rushed over to the room. She lay on the hospital bed like a sleeping beauty. Her long black hair spralled out over the fluffy pillow as her rosy cheeks made her look slightly more...alive. her long black eyelashes and her perfect pink lips enhanced her soft appearance. She had a face like an angel, but she was cursed with the worst memories. Elvis slowly walked towards her. Tears filled his eyes and dropped to the floor. He bent over the hospital bed to place dozens of kisses on her soft skin. His hand played with her hair as he whispered the word 'sorry' at least a hundred times.
"I'm so sorry, baby. I never thought that t-this would happen."
He whispered with his shaky breath into her ear. He sat himself down on the chair beside the bed. He watched her in silence as a million thoughts rushed through his head. He covered his mouth with his trembling hand as he cried in silence. His whimpering slowly faded as he fell asleep. Only the sound of the hospital equipment beeping was left.
He woke up and instantly went to check on Rosie, who was still asleep. He placed a kiss on her forehead before he walked over to the telephone that hung on the wall. He dialled a number and twisted the spiralled cord around his finger as he patiently waited.
"Hiya Jerry, could ya get lots of bouquets of flowers and lots of gifts and decorations. Bring them into Rosies hospital room. Make sure to get her expensive gifts, though. Use the money that I left on the kitchen counter."
He said before placing the phone back on its stand. He slumped over in the chair as he patiently waited.
______________________________________
Rosie slowly opened her eyes. She looked around at the blurred room that was covered in red and pink. She furrowed her brows in confusion. She blinked a few times before her vision was finally restored. She saw dozens of bouquets of pretty flowers and hundreds of bags of designer gifts. She looked around to see the word "sorry" in big letters. She shifted her eyes to Elvis, who stood in the corner of the room, watching her reaction. Her heart turned cold as she grunted and hid herself under the covers. Elvis rushed over to her and pulled the covers off her.
"Hey, baby, why ya running from me?".
"Go away."
She said through her teeth as she shot him down with her menacing eyes.
"Look, I'm ever so sorry. I swear to God that I will never let you down again, I swear, Rosie."
Rosie's face softened as she looked at his watery eyes. He brought his hands to her face. She felt a wave of sadness wash over her. She needed affection and love, Elvis's affection and love. She quickly wrapped her arms around him before sobbing into his chest as she pulled onto his t-shirt. She felt lost without him, and she was overwhelmed with emotions. She pulled away to look up at him.
"T-thank you so m-much."
She said as her voice shaked. Elvis smiled sweetly, and so did she. He held onto her hand before helping her step out of the bed. Her bare feet touched the cold floor. She struggled to gain her balance, but with Elvis's hands to keep her steady, she was fine. He led her over to the gifts. She sat on the floor with Elvis next to her. Elvis looked at her hospital dress.
"Nice outfit."
He said sarcastically.
"Oh shut up."
Rosie said as she rolled her eyes and laughed. Elvis handed her a gift bag. She opened it carefully and pulled out a shiny necklace with the name 'Rosie' moulded into it. It was studded with real diamonds that shimmered in the light. Rosie's jaw dropped as she examined the expensive item that was basically foreign to her. Elvis giggled at her reaction.
"Elvis, this is too expensive."
She whispered yelled.
"No, it's not, I'm Elvis Presley."
He said rather arrogantly. Rosie laughed at his ego before she continued to open the gifts.
A few days later
Rosie sat in Elvis's lap as him and The Memphis Mafia discussed business. Her long hair got tangled in Elvis's long fingers as one of his hands held onto her hip. She laughed as Jerry cracked a joke or when Elvis tickled her belly. Elvis looked at her with lust in his eyes. He loved that she was so cute and pure, but she wasn't innocent or naive. She was exposed to a dark world of cigarettes and blades at a young age. Ever since Elvis saw her mutilated thighs, he would be extremely protective. He would always be around her so that she wouldn't lay her hands on any sharp objects that she could butcher herself with. He hadn't talked to her about it since he didn't want to make her uncomfortable. Ever since that day she wore tights or trousers. She wouldn't dare to wear a bikini.
Elvis continued to admire her side profile. The way her nose was perfectly straight and her lips were full, and plump made a tingle rise in him. He pulled his fingers out of her black velvet hair. He rested his hands on her thigh, gently moving it up and down. Rosie gasped quietly as she froze like ice. She gulped as she swallowed the salty tears at the back of her throat. She quickly pushed his hand off as she plastered a pathetic smile on her face. Elvis suddenly realised what he had done. He moved closer to her ear.
"I'm sorry honey."
He whispered as his puppy eyes gave an apologetic look. She looked at him as all of the memories came flooding back. She felt a sudden wave of nausea come over her. A spicy feeling lurked in the back of her throat slowly creeping up to her mouth. She turned away from him before gagging. She instantly covered her mouth with her hand in hopes of stopping her insides from pouring out of her mouth. She stood up.
"Will yall excuse me."
She said before rushing out of the room. She ran to the downstairs bathroom and opened the door before slamming it shut. She grasped onto her long hair to keep it in place as she hunched over the toilet. Before she could blink, gallons of puke escaped her mouth. The men that sat in the room had concerned faces as they heard the sounds of gagging and splashing.
"What the fu-"
Elvis said quietly before getting up from the cream coloured sofa. He rushed over to the door, nocking loudly.
"Are ya ok in there?"
He inquired.
No response, only the sound of her coughing.
"Rosie, talk to me."
He said as he attempted to twist the golden door knob.
"I-im ok."
She said quietly as she cleaned herself and the toilet up. She washed her face thoroughly with cold water. Elvis sighed before she opened the door. He looked down at her as she looked up. Her skin was pale, and her eyes were bloodshot. She looked half dead. He instantly brought her into a hug.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Rosie. I didn't mean to touch your thigh."
He whispered as her face was buried in his chest.
"It's ok."
See managed to muffle out. He held her as if she were a baby. From that day, he made it his life mission to keep her safe, no matter the circumstances.
She wasn't depressed or anything like that. She just couldn't escape her sick memories. She felt guilty that she had left her mother with her phsyco father, for all Rosie knew she could be dead.
#elvis presley#fanfic#lana del rey#elvis the pelvis#fan fic writing#singers#50s#60s elvis#sad stories#throw up#tw self h4rm#please follow me#please like this#he loved her so much
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I. The Flower Connoisseur: Eternal Love.
One day, after a long day at work, Gianna found herself in her living room, feeling at a loss. She missed her boyfriend deeply, the absence of his presence weighing on her mind. She slumped on the sofa, her head resting against the back as she stared at the ceiling above. Minutes ticked by, and she found herself repeatedly getting up, pacing the length of her living room, her thoughts a whirl of longing.
After pacing for a while, a thought struck her. Maybe what she needed was a change of scenery. The idea of some fresh air and a different environment seemed appealing. Making up her mind, Gianna grabbed her coat, put on her shoes, and headed for the door. A little while outside might do her good, she thought, filling the vacancy and perhaps clearing her mind.
The warm air greeted her as she stepped out of her home. It was a perfect day to be outside, the sun shining warmly and a gentle breeze cooling her face. As she walked down the street, she couldn’t help but notice the people around her. Families out for a stroll, children laughing and playing, and couples enjoying walks together. It was a picture of everyday life, and the scenes felt strangely comforting.
And then, right after that, the sight of a flower shop caught her eye, and a sudden realization hit her. Why not buy something for her boyfriend, Jio? The thought made Gianna heart flutter, and without a second thought, she walked into the shop. The inside of the shop was filled with an array of vibrant blooms. The fragrance of the flowers filled her nostrils, the sight of the colorful petals making her giddy.
Gianna walked up to the counter, where the elderly owner stood, arranging a bouquet of daisies. Seeing her approach, the owner smiled warmly.
“What kind of flowers are you looking for, my dear?” She asked kindly. Gianna was thinking for a moment, then blushed. “Well, I wanted to give something to someone I... care deeply for,” Gianna confessed.
The owner chuckled, a knowing glint in her eye. “Ah, young love. Let me help you.”
The owner disappeared into the back room, and she waited patiently, her eyes roaming over the various flower arrangements on display. A few minutes later, the owner returned, carrying a beautiful bouquet. The arrangement was a mix of sunflowers, roses, and baby's breath, giving it a cheerful, yet classy, feel.
“I think these would be perfect,” she said, handing the bouquet to Gianna.
Her eyes widened as the owner showed her the baby’s breath one. She knew exactly behind of its meaning. Eternal love. It was a perfect symbolism of her feelings for Jio. She knew then that she had to have that flower as part of the bouquet.
“I’ll take it!" Gianna said firmly, her fingers caressing the soft petals of the baby’s breath. “This is perfect.”
The owner smiled at her decision, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Ah, I can tell you truly care for this person,” she observed sagely. As Gianna blushed and thanked her, the owner leaned in, a twinkle in her eye. “I’ll pray for you both,” she said softly. “May your love last for all eternity.”
She couldn’t help but pause to express her gratitude to the owner. “Thank you so much!” Gianna said earnestly, holding the bouquet close to her chest. Then she left the shop with a smile on her face, carrying the flower bouquet carefully to avoid any damage to the delicate blooms. As she walked, she couldn’t help but feel a giddy sense of excitement. With the bouquet in hand, she hailed a taxi and hopped in, her heart racing with excitement. As the car wove through traffic towards Jio’s office, the anticipation built with each passing minute. She sat in the backseat, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the paper surrounding the bouquet. She couldn’t wait to see his reaction.
With a deep breath, she stepped into the building, holding the bouquet close to her chest. Her heart pounded as she settled onto a couch in the lobby, her eyes fixed on the elevator doors. Minutes ticked by, each one feeling excruciatingly long yet at the same time, like an eternity. She sat, her leg bouncing up and down, trying to steady her nerves. Any moment now, he would step out of those elevator doors.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft whir, and out stepped her boyfriend, his eyes scanning the lobby. His eyes widened in surprise when he spotted her, his expression a mix of joy and disbelief.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, walking towards her with a bemused smile.
Gianna jumped up from the couch and dashed towards him, wrapping her arms around him in an embrace. She buried her face in the crook of his neck. “I missed you,” she mumbled into his shirt, her voice slightly muffled.
A soft chuckle escaped his lips, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly against him. “I can’t believe you came all the way here just to see me,” Jio said, the surprise apparent in his voice. He pulled away slightly, studying her face for a moment before his smile widened. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she held out the bouquet, the beautiful baby’s breath catching his attention.
“Look what I got you!” she said, her voice filled with pride. Jio’s smile widened as he took the bouquet, his fingers gently touching the soft petals. “You really are full of surprises, aren’t you?” he said, his eyes meeting hers with affection.
The sight of her, standing before him with that warm smile on her lips, stirred something in him. Jio couldn’t resist the urge anymore. Leaning in, he gently cupped her face, his gaze filled with adoration. Without any regard for the public setting, he closed the distance between them and placed a light kiss on her lips. The feel of his lips on hers, even though it had been many times before, still sent a flutter of butterflies through her chest. She pulled away slightly, looking into his eyes, and smiled mischievously.
“There’s something waiting for you back home too,” Gianna whispered, her fingers tracing a feather-light trail down his arm. Jio’s expression became excited once again, the light in his eyes growing brighter at the thought of more surprises waiting for him.
To be continued.
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@starcchild sent: With a box of Sachertorte and a small bouquet of baby's breath in hand, Carter entered their apartment - doing her best to be as quiet as she could in case Katrina was still asleep. Even Kenobi, much to her relief, seemed to understand, and trotted after her with a small gift bag in his mouth. The only thing keeping the teddy bear inside from getting slobbered on, and also giving her one free hand to actually be able to unlock and lock the front door.
He stuck next to her as she made her way into the kitchen, and she set the box down on the counter as carefully as she could, not wanting to jostle the cake, and set the flowers down to find a vase. A soft hum rose from her throat as she picked one out and filled it with water, and paid no mind to Kenobi as he sat close by - staring rather intently in the direction of the bedroom. She was far too focused on getting the flowers ready to pay much attention to begin with, but once she was done she glanced up just in time to see him making a beeline for the room.
"Kenobi!"
Her dog paid no heed, and quickly disappeared into the bedroom - still carrying the gift bag.
With an amused sigh, Carter shook her head and failed to fight back a smile as she followed after - her smile only widening as she stopped in the doorway to see him with his head rested on the side of the bed next to Katrina as his tail wagged furiously. Looking as though he was trying to give the gift to her.
"It- it was su-supposed to be a- a surprise," she explained with a small laugh. "I- I guess he couldn't- couldn't wait for you to- to get it." Either that or he was hoping Katrina would give it to him instead. Frankly, she wasn't quite sure what her dog might've been thinking, if there was anything other than elevator music playing in his head.
With a slight shake of her head, Carter made her way over toward them and sat down on the edge of the bed - her expression softening as she smiled again at Katrina. Warmth and adoration bright in her gaze. "Alles Gute zum Geburtstag, meine Liebe," she murmured, and leaned over to give her a kiss. "There's- there's something else in the- the kitchen for- for you as- as well."
Even if she didn’t do much for her birthday, one thing Katrina absolutely appreciated was the opportunity to stay in bed and sleep in. For once, having absolutely nowhere to be and nothing to do. When Carter had gotten up she had stirred a bit - she was never the heaviest sleeper - but figured if it was something important she would have been properly woken up, and simply stayed put. Besides, if Carter had anything planned, she didn’t want to ruin the surprise.
What she didn’t expect was the first one to greet her being Kenobi. With a slow blink and a half-smile she finally stirred, finding the dog staring at her and proudly holding out a little gift bag. Sitting up with a little chuckle, she took the bag from his mouth before giving him a pat on the head.
“Did you get this for me? Thank you. What a sweet boy.” As she opened the bag, her smile widened at the sight of the little bear. Before she could ask another rhetorical question that Kenobi would no doubt ignore in favor of sniffing the new toy, her eyes caught on the sight of Carter in the doorway.
“If it’s any consolation, it still was very surprising,” she said, shifting to make room beside her for Carter - and Kenobi, if he wanted. As she made her way over, the smile on Katrina’s face became a grin. “Thank you, Spatzi.”
She may not have been much of a birthday person, but it would be a lie to say that the thought Carter seemed to be putting into this didn’t make her heart warm. One of her arms snaked around Carter’s waist as she leaned into the kiss. For a moment she pressed their foreheads together as they pulled away.
“Thank you, Liebste. So much.”
At that last sentence, she slightly raised a brow. “Oh? I’m intrigued.” Stretching slightly, she finally started to get to her feet. “Did Kenobi help pick all this out? Because I’m pleasantly surprised by his taste.”
#AAA this is so cute!!! tysm midge <3#katrina loves it and loves carter so much#i put it under a cut bc it got Long hfksjdf#starcchild#‘ die sehnsucht du / und was sie stillt ‘ - carter.
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in which tangerine apologizes—and you’re determined to find out why 🍊 18+ only; fem!reader; shower smut; kinda subby!tan?
There’s an obscenely large bouquet of roses sat atop the little table in the breakfast nook when you get home. Red petals gleam in the flickering yellow light of the candles Tangerine has left lit across the counter and, because you can hear the shower running from down the hall, you pretend to be angry, imagining yourself scolding him for potentially burning down the flat.
Truth told, you don’t give a shite about the candles. It’s the roses you’re focused on, at least two dozen of them, dotted with tiny spurts of baby’s breath and a satin black ribbon looped artfully around their tall vase.
Tangerine. That fucker.
In a moment, you’re outside the bathroom, picking at the lock with a dull kitchen knife until it gives and you open the door to a cloud of steam and warmth. Tangerine peers around the shower curtain—citrus-patterned on your insistence, though he’d argued it was a bit too on the nose—blue eyes wide until he realizes it’s you.
His face relaxes into an easy grin and he pulls the curtain open a bit more. You’d make a comment about him flooding the bloody room if you weren’t so distracted by his body, all sharp lean lines, rivulets of water running over muscles, his hair sticking to his forehead in a way that’s almost too boyish for such a seasoned killer and a pithy twat.
And, of course, the roses. They’re equally distracting. Of course.
“Care to join me, love?” Tangerine’s voice breaks through the fog of your thoughts. You blink at him, at his lopsided smirk and his perfect body, riddled as it is with tattoos and scars.
“What did you do?”
“The fuck you on about?”
You stare at him for a long moment, hard and appraising, trying to suss out if he’s being sincere. His lip twitches slightly, so gently you’d not have noticed if you didn’t know all his tells.
“The roses,” you continue, unbuttoning your trousers and kicking them down your legs, “What did you do that needs apologizing, Tan?”
There’s still water dripping out of the shower from where the curtain hangs open. Tangerine shrugs, muttering something under his breath that you can’t quite make out as you pull your jumper over your head, leaving you in lacy undergarments that he takes in appreciatively.
“Do I need to clean up your mess?” you ask, hooking your fingers into your panties and giving them a little tug down your hips.
Tangerine licks his lips. “No, nothing like that, sparrow.” He continues to watch as you make a show of stepping out of your underwear and unclipping your bra, allowing the straps to fall down your arms. You hold it there in place, covering your breasts, until Tangerine lets a low and breathy curse escape his lips.
“What’re they for then, dear heart?” You pull your hands away, letting your bra fall to the floor. Tangerine, you can see, has taken his cock into his hand, giving it a few languid strokes.
“I broke your fuckin’ mug,” he grunts, eyes fluttering closed as you step into the shower with him, closing the curtain behind you.
Your eyes grow wide. “Not the…”
“Yeah, that fuckin’ one.”
The mug he’s talking about is irreplaceable—stolen, of course, but that’s beside the point. With a sigh you sink to your knees, hot water hitting your back as you press your forehead against Tangerine’s thigh, brush his hand away from his cock so you can wrap your fingers around his length.
“The roses were a good start,” you grin up at him affectionately press a kiss to his tip, “But I don’t think you’re quite sorry enough yet, you bastard.”
#tangerine x you#tangerine x reader#tangerine imagine#tangerine blurb#tangerine bullet train#bullet train tangerine#tangerine x fem!reader#tangerine x reader smut#tangerine x reader fluff
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Bravo, Dieter.
Authors note: I'm just as surprised to be here as you are. We're starting the year off with a bang, writing for a character I've only ever done half a drabble of lol, hopefully you enjoy what I came up with. As always, thank you @wheresarizona for beta-ing and letting me exorcise my demons through you. Shoutout to @frannyzooey for her unending support, and to my literal wife @foli-vora for screaming reassurances at me (affectionately) Love y'all!
Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader
Word count: 2.1k
Warnings: a sprinkle of angst (Dieter is a dummy- no specifics, I left whatever dumb comment he said up to your interpretation), 18+ no minors, piv sex, dirty talk, feelings? let me know if I missed any!
Masterlist
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There were twelve of them, twelve absolutely perfect roses wrapped up in expensive-looking brown paper, and they made you sigh. There was only one person who could have sent them.
Goddamn it, Dieter.
There was a card tucked between the blood-red blooms, three little words.
“Text me back.♥️”
Your blood boiled, fizzled, and cracked under the strength of your annoyance, and without giving it much thought, you marched right over to the garbage can and shoved everything in, vowing silently to put it out of your mind.
Three days passed before the second, bigger bouquet arrived at your door—more roses, bigger and somehow more lush than the first bouquet.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. Please talk to me. ♥️♥️♥️”
They went into the trash with a roll of your eyes, ignoring the slight flicker of guilt at the waste of such beautiful flowers. Still, the memory of his words came back into the forefront of your mind, compounding the sentiment that they had no place amongst your things.
Two days later, another gorgeous arrangement sat on your kitchen counter, this time an array of different colours and textures; a work of art.
“Nothing in this world feels like you. Let’s kiss.♥️”
Your eyes close, and you can feel him, feel the way his mouth moved against yours, how he’d kiss you until you dripped for him. How sweetly his tongue moved against yours, against your nipple, between your legs. The flowers were on the receiving end of the daggers in your eyes for him, but they stayed on the counter.
The fourth bouquet was the epitome of excess.
It was massive, almost too heavy, and it was only with sheer determination that you managed to heave it onto the counter. A storm of white blooms contained within a surprisingly tasteful black vessel. Orchids, roses–peonies that were almost fluffy, a baby’s breath halo.
“I miss how wet your pussy gets for me.♥️”
A gasp. A widening of your eyes and more memories of the times he pulled you apart in your bedroom, in his.
Your fingers fly across the keys on your phone.
[you] Dieter, enough.
[D] I knew that last note would get you.
[you] Stop sending me fucking flowers.
[D] Forgive me. I miss you, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.
You chewed on your lip, anger burning white hot in your gut that he managed to get you speaking to him once again. It was in you to turn off your phone and head out, grab a drink with some friends, or indulge in some retail therapy, but you didn’t. You wouldn’t. Truth was, you missed him too, missed whatever arrangement you’d both somehow found yourselves in after one too many flirty comments, one too many lonely nights.
[you] it seemed like you did. You really hurt my feelings, and I don’t want to deal with it if that’s how it’s going to be.
You stared at your phone, wondering whether you truly preferred cutting all ties.
[D] I know, I really am sorry–let me come over. We can talk about it, and I can apologize in person.
You hesitated, knowing full well what would happen if you let him in.
[you] just to talk…?
[D] Yes, just to talk…be there in 20 mins?
[you] Fine.
[D] see you soon xo
You rushed to your bathroom, ignoring the excitement and arousal burning in your belly as you jumped into the shower.
All too soon, there’s a knock at the door, and it’s almost irritating how fast you move to answer it.
“Hi, babe.” He’s leaning against the doorframe with a cheeky little smile, and you long to smack it off his face; he must see it because the smile vanishes and is replaced with a boyish frown.
A cat caught with the canary.
“Don’t ‘babe’ me, Dieter.” You move to let him in, and the smell of his body wash makes you salivate.
You ignore it.
“Look, I know it was a stupid thing to say. I don’t even know why I said it. I didn’t mean it at all—can we please just forget it happened?” His voice is velvet, his shoulders are so broad, and it’s not lost on you that he’s wearing a baggy pair of sweats with an even baggier sweatshirt. The outline of his cock a calculated taunt.
You cross your arms and turn away.
“It was mean. So fucking mean, and it made me feel horrible.” Your voice comes out smaller than you mean it to, a true glimpse into how hurt you were. You feel his broadness behind you.
“I know, it was so stupid, I’m stupid sometimes—I regretted it as I was saying it. I didn’t mean it at all.” His big hands skate across your shoulders, slowly turning you to face him. “Can you forgive me?” He’s staring at your mouth, and you almost pant. He’s so close, he smells so fucking good, and every molecule of your being screams at you to just give in.
He senses it.
His hands slide down your sides, grabbing onto your hips softly as he pulls you ever closer. His head dips, and he plants a soft kiss on your neck. The sigh you let out fills the dwindling space between you, involuntary. Just like the way your head moves almost imperceptibly to the side to give him more access, he doesn’t disappoint.
“Forgive me?” He kisses your jaw, moving up towards your ear. “I missed you so much.” He bites your earlobe while his hands move to grab at your ass. “Did you miss me?” He moves to the other side, repeating the same circuit before he looks you in the eye.
Your slightly parted lips and glazed-over expression are all the confirmation he needs to know he’s been forgiven.
He presses his lips to yours softly, so soft it almost tickles, and he swallows the small whimper it pulls out from your throat.
He presses himself closer still, the wall of his chest pressed up against you tight. His kiss turns from something soft to all-consuming, something breathless.
“I thought-“ he moves to kiss your neck again. “-you only came to talk.” Your hands move without your permission, fingers threading through the wild locks of his hair.
“We did talk.” His tongue is in your mouth now, and it tastes like the gum he always chews, minty and sweet. “I wanna kiss now.” He devours you again as his hand creeps up your shirt, and now the cup of your bra is being pulled down. His tongue moves against yours while his fingers pluck at your nipple.
You moan, and it spurs him on, his cock hard against your hip, and suddenly you're herded towards the bedroom, only stopping every so often en route for him to press you against a wall or door. His hands are always moving, always grabbing and palming.
You land in your bed with a soft gasp, but he doesn’t let you land alone; he’s right there with you. The look of triumph shining out through his dark eyes, lidded with the same passion that presses against your core when he slots his hips in the cradle of your thighs. A soft hum from him, a panted breath from you, and the whisper of skin moving against the now-rumpled sheets of your bed are the soundtrack to your reunion.
He pulls away, and you chase his mouth, any anger left overtaken by lust. He laughs low, not unkindly, moving to kneel between your legs as you stretch out before him. His eyes follow the movement of your body, plotting how he’ll devour you.
He smiles as he divests you of your layers, unwrapping you like a present, and as they come off, your arousal burns brighter, pools at your opening like a spring just for him.
“Admit it-you missed me.” He’s almost breathless, his fingers curl around the waistband of your panties.
“Obviously.” You grit out the word, raising your hips to help him, and he lets out a bark of laughter. “I don’t need your smugness, mister.” You reach up to pull his shirt up and off, and he lets you. The broadness of his shoulders, and the golden skin on display, almost makes you sigh.
“I like that you missed me-“ he lifts your leg by your knee and the flash of his rings catches your eye before he places a soft kiss on your calf. “-makes me hard as a fucking rock.” He wasn’t lying; you could see the proof of it tenting the front of his sweats.
“Show me how much you like it.” You match his tone, reaching up to run your fingers down his belly, through the little patch of hair, and further down until you tease at his waistband.
“Pull me out.” His words send a thrill through you, and you rush to comply, relishing the look on his face when you finally wrap your hand around the heft of him. His low moan goes straight to your cunt when you rub your thumb through the pearl of his own arousal, giving him a quick stroke before he pulls his sweats down and off.
His cock bobs in front, resting against your wet center when he gets back into position, hot and heavy, and by the way your heart is pounding, he can surely feel it even there-all for him. He spreads your legs open and up, bending them at the knees and holding them tight to your chest with his big hands on your shins.
“God, you’re so fucking wet. I bet I could just slip right in, wouldn’t even need my hands.” He rocks himself back and forth slowly, coating himself in your liquid heat, his eyes glued to your cunt. You writhe, whining with frustration. He lets out a tsk, drunk on his ability to get you into this state. One of his hands moves, and then his thumb is circling your perky little clit, dizzying circles, while his cock rests just at the mouth of your pussy, the thickness of him opening you up like a flower. He leans forward slightly, letting his spit drip down where his thumb is, and it’s like you're drowning in him.
Your hands pluck at your nipples as the circling of his thumb pushes you closer and closer towards nirvana.
“God, yes, play with your tits.” He swirls his thumb faster, the glide of it just right—and then you’re floating, gifting him with a filthy moan as your cunt clenches, all but pulling him inside. He doesn’t wait until your orgasm passes; he feeds himself into your fluttering entrance, and his earlier musing was correct-he slides right in.
“Fuck.” His voice is low, the bravado gone, lost in the proverbial sauce as he coats himself in you. He speeds up quickly, unable—or unwilling to pace himself. His eyes are glazed over when he looks up at you, a gorgeous flush creeping up his chest, lighting up his cheeks and his ears. His panting breath, the wet sounds of your joining, and your gasping moans all come together to make the song that always plays whenever he’s with you.
“I’m gonna fucking come-“ he sounds wrecked, and he is- his hips snapping faster now, the wet clutch of your cunt casts its spell on him, and within a handful of thrusts, he’s groaning, his hand leaves your shin and moves to hold himself as he comes. The first spurt of it is inside, but he pulls out and finishes on the lips of your sex, and you know this is his favourite part.
“Oh fuckkk, there it is-“ He groans out the words, and his voice is somehow more vulgar than the act, mesmerized by the sight of your pussy covered in his come. “God, I fucking missed that.” He hisses, enduring the discomfort of overstimulation just to rub himself in his own mess.
“I missed it too.” You’re sated, basking in the afterglow, loving the mess just as much as he does. He smiles up at you, and you ignore the way your heart pounds for him.
“I know you did.” He’s not cocky when he says it, and it makes ignoring the pounding harder than it should. His fingers collect some of his fluids and push it back in, as deep as his thick fingers can get, before popping them into his mouth, pulling an involuntary moan. “Give me a few, and then I’ll fuck you on your knees how you like.” He leans forward to lay between your legs, kissing his way up from your sternum to plant one of those toe-curling kisses on your mouth once more.
“What a gentleman.” You wrap your arms and legs around him, relishing his dimpled smile.
“You should know-“ he frowns now, eyes darting, and you know what he’s thinking, wondering if maybe there’s a pounding he’s ignoring.
“You’re forgiven, Dieter, it’s okay. Just stop sending me flowers.” You run your fingers through his hair; nothing else needs to be said on the matter, and for the rest of the night-there isn’t.
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#dieter bravo fanfiction#dieter bravo#dieter x freader#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#dieter x reader#dieter bravo x female reader#the bubble#the bubble fanfiction#the bubble fic
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gilded - MYG
ready to return home after nearly two weeks of being apart, your excitement begins to fade into anxiety; there’s something important you need to tell your husband.
𓃠 yoongi’s birthday drabbles⁹ 𓃠
⤷ drabble for gold
pairing — husband!yoongi x reader
genre/rating — R | fluff, smut, light angst, established relationship
word count — 3.3K
warnings/tags — strong language, domestic yoongi 🥺, mentions of nausea, mentions of pregnancy & babies, explicit smut — so many kisses, fingering, cockwarming, biting/scratching, edging, hair pulling, unprotected sex, impregnation kink, praise kink, creampie, some nipple play
a/n — can be read as a stand-alone !! i missed them 😭
The twitching of your fingers intertwined with his is the first thing that begins to worry Yoongi. Gaze fixed on the bouquet of flowers in your lap as he tries to keep his own on the road, glancing at you now and again. But you don’t notice that he had noticed your anxious state.
He drags your luggage up the staircase, pausing just around the corner when he notices you lagging behind, clutching at the lapels of your coat. Knowing that he shouldn’t push you, how your blinding smile had subsided into a frown, teary kisses shared before you got quiet.
Once you enter your quaint apartment, memories come flooding back with the homely scent that belongs to the space you share with your husband only, crouching to greet your furry friend.
“Hi baby,” you coo, setting Norangi on your thighs, eyes widening a little at her weight, “daddy’s been spoiling you with snacks when I was gone, hmm?”
Yoongi laughs behind you, setting down his keys on the counter as he watches you coddle Norangi to your chest, comfort blooming at the sight of you finally home.
Without meeting his eyes, you drag a hand along his arm as you pass him, unwinding your scarf, “I’m gonna shower. Feel a bit icky.”
“I’ll get lunch ready.”
You rummage through your suitcase for loose pajamas, pausing when you spot one of Yoongi’s white shirts hanging off the chair in the corner. Your mind runs a mile a minute, heart beating just as fast. You want to compliment him, tell him how happy you are to see that he’d kept the apartment clean, laundry up to date. But your tongue sits like lead in your mouth. Why do you want the first thing you say to him to be it? The news you’ve been keeping to yourself for the past two days now.
According to Jungkook, it would be a better idea to tell him in person. Deliver the surprise face to face. Watch his reaction so you can treasure the memory. But you’re not so sure if Yoongi’s reaction would be one you’d want to witness. Jungkook complained that you’re worrying over nothing. But you wouldn’t expect him to understand.
You hear him call your name from the kitchen, a spark in his voice, “do you want orange juice or soda?”
A mix of air and something else whirls around in your tummy, rising to set a bitter taste on your tongue. Sucking in a deep breath, you shout back ‘anything, you choose’ before peeling off your clothing and stepping into the shower.
The solid droplets of water beating against your scalp provides momentary relief before your thoughts set you back to the present. Stomach empty but still gurgling with a nagging pain. A little lower: the reason why you’re so nauseous.
Whether it’s because you’re nervous to give Yoongi the news or because you’re actually pregnant.
Too lazy to change out of the t-shirt when you catch your nipples staring back at you through the material, you fit on your fuzzy slippers and step into the kitchen. The delicious aromas hitting you full force.
He looks so content, table filled with all your favorites. How could you tell him that you don’t have an appetite?
Dragging the chair across the tile, he spins around with a gummy smile splitting his face. The sight warms your heart.
“I’m so happy you’re back,” he beams, taking the seat across you before reaching for your hand, “I missed you. Couldn’t even look at your mug without feeling sad.”
You giggle, thumb rubbing his knuckles, “I missed you too. Missed your cooking.”
He cocks an eyebrow, corner of his mouth lifting with mirth, “so you only missed me for my cooking?”
Rolling your eyes, you set a pie in your plate, catching sight of the new clock above the refrigerator. He follows your gaze, chopsticks caught between his fingers as he speaks.
“That’s new.”
“Yeah, do you like it?”
“I like the color.”
“I also replaced the towel rack, since the old one was rusting.”
“Really,” you mumble, taking a sip of the orange juice then immediately regretting it as it travels through the network in your belly, trying not to grimace, “I didn’t notice.”
“Yeah. How was LA? How’s Jungkook doing?”
“He’s alright, better than the last time we visited,” you smile, dragging a nail across the edge of the table, “I—“
“Are you sick?”
Your gaze lifts, finding him with a pensive stare on his face. When you say nothing, he rises from his chair, reaching across to place the back of his fingers against your forehead.
“You look a bit pale. No fever.”
“Uhm…yeah.”
He returns to his seat, the sound of him slurping reaches your ears before he calls your name, dragging out the syllables.
“Yeah?“ You scoop up a bit of stew into your bowl, breathing in the rich fragrance that only appeals to you when it’s his cooking. However, you’re not feeling it today.
“Something’s wrong?”
“No.”
“Look, I’m sorry I had to throw away Lucas but we—”
Your head snaps up, spoon plopping into your bowl with a small splash, “what?! You threw Lucas away?”
He licks his lips, tiny eyes widening, “he was smelling weird and I—”
“Why did you throw him away?!” You shriek, words tapering into a sob, one you can’t conceal because you’re full on crying now, hiding your face in your shoulder. But you know your tears aren’t for Lucas the Cactus.
You hear the chair scrape across the floor before a hand curls around your knee, worried eyes set on your face.
“I’m sorry baby. Fuck—” he scans your face, calloused palm sliding down your cheek to wipe away your tears “—I’ll get you another one, okay? Exactly the same. Just like Lucas.”
Through your tears, you stare up at the ceiling, laughing despite yourself. He looks at you, puzzled, crouching by your side. Guilt filling your chest. You’ve barely said anything to him since you arrived, he cooked for you, all your favorite meals and now he thinks you’re crying over a cactus. One you got a few weeks ago.
“Tell me what’s wrong, baby,” he urges, head resting on your thigh, “I missed you so much, you know I hate to see you cry.”
Swallowing thickly, you let your hand fall into his hair, dragging your nails up his scalp just the way he likes. Hearing him hum contentedly with the action. Once again, the lump builds in your throat as you prepare to say the words, looming nausea weighing down your stomach as the smell of shakshuka hits your senses.
He pecks the side of your knee lightly, drawing shapes into your calf. You smile to yourself, chest puffing out with affection. And as you finally release that breath, the words come out too. A lot lighter than you expected.
“I’m pregnant.”
His hand stills. Hair sticking up when he turns around to face you, pouty lips parted.
“What?”
“I’m…pregnant?”
At that moment, sunlight breaks into the room, hitting the glaze in his eyes before you’re being pulled to your feet and into his arms. It’s like your fireworks moment. The world around you spinning as you bury your face in the crook of his neck.
“I can’t fucking believe it. Oh my God. You—” he pulls away, hands on your shoulders “—how long have you known? When did you find out?”
“Uhm…two days ago.”
His shoulders sag, wide gummy smile falling, “and you’re only telling me now?!”
“I-I wanted to tell you in person! When I see you!”
He takes a step back, one hand tucked under his elbow while the other grips his chin as he scans your belly. Cackling, your hands lay flat on your stomach, making a show of doing the typical pregnancy pose despite there being no bump.
“What do you think? Would I look good as a mother?”
“Wow,” he grins, clearly unable to find the right words as he runs his hands through his hair, grabbing your arm to pull you into the lounge. You sit side by side on the couch, searching his eyes. “You have no idea how fucking happy I am right now. I’m going to be a dad!”
“And I’m gonna be a mum,” you squeal, leaning forward to peck his lips but he wraps his arms around your shoulders, drawing a surprised gasp from you as he douses you in a passionate kiss, the kind that has your stomach fluttering. In a good way. He tries to pull away, but you’re not ready yet, having forgotten how amazing his lips feel on yours, tasting spice and soup and him, tongue lashing into his mouth.
“Wait,” he chuckles, speaking against your lips. But you refuse to let go, suckling on his lower lip and feeling up his chest. “Wait. Baby—” kiss “—I have so many q—” kiss “—questions.”
Begrudgingly, you move away, not without dragging your nails down the skin below his navel, knowing how crazy it gets him. He grips your wrist, clearly not in the mood for sexy time yet.
“You found out on Thursday? How did you know? Does Jungkook know?”
You tuck your legs under your bum, jubilant atmosphere simmering down. Which is when you realize exactly why you were nervous in the first place.
“I missed my period. Nearly two and a half weeks ago,” you begin, running your fingers over the short hair on his hands, “and then…we…we were supposed to go out drinking that night. But I wasn’t feeling too good the entire day. And then, finally in the evening, I couldn’t take it anymore. Everything I ate that day came out.”
He listens attentively, not even blinking.
“I knew I missed my period and then I decided to get a few tests and yeah…Jungkook got them for me at like 3 in the morning. Thank God he was there.”
“Do you have the tests?”
You narrow your eyes at him, “what? You don’t believe me?”
He rolls his eyes, clearly fighting off a smile, “I do believe you. I’m just asking. Shit. We’re going to have a baby…We’re going to be parents.”
You can’t tell if it was the look in his eyes or the tone in his voice that sets you off, but a new wave of tears wet your lashes, collapsing into his arms as he rocks you back and forth. Yoongi always spoke about wanting to be a dad lightly, in a heated moment he moaned about how bad he wanted to put a baby in you. But a serious conversation never took place.
“I’m just…” You look up, chin pressed to his chest. “Are you happy?”
He tucks your hair behind your ear, warm breath wafting over his cheeks, “of course I’m happy. Why would you think otherwise?”
“Because we never actually talked about it,” you hiccup, voice nasally and soft, “and I was afraid that you might…”
“That I might?”
“I don’t know.”
He mumbles your name with his admonitory voice, sitting you up against the backrest.
“I’ve been your husband for what…nearly two years now and you still don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?”
“Me.”
“I do.”
He cocks an eyebrow, “clearly not. By now you should know about my dream to start a family of my own.”
Your gaze bounces around the room, stopping on Norangi in her small sun patch, curled up in a deep slumber. Buying yourself some time to find the right words.
“But…but when anyone asks…like that night we had dinner at your parents’ place. When your mother asked, you said not for a few years and I just—that just made me think that you wouldn’t want—"
He grabs your cheeks, silencing you with his lips slotted into yours. A single tear slipping down as he pulls you onto his lap, spreading your thighs so you’re straddling him. Your heart clenches in your chest.
“We can plan as much as we want, but if something’s meant to happen, then it will.”
“Yoongi…”
“When I saw you that first day on the beach, I knew I wanted you to have my babies.”
You scoff, fist pressing into his chest, “stop lying.”
“I’m dead serious.”
Cheeks warming, you wrap your arms and legs around his body, clinging onto him tightly while he strokes your back. You missed being home.
“Do you know if it’s gonna be a boy or girl?”
You giggle, “it’s too early to tell. Plus, I haven’t been to the gynae yet.”
“I’ll have to book an appointment,” he notes, excitement in his voice, “any cravings?”
“Hm,” you think for a bit, “not really. Just really queasy. It happens for most women.”
“So that’s why you didn’t have a single bite of food. I was beginning to think you were tired of my cooking.”
Snapping away from him, your face must show how offended you are to hear him say that. He tries to pull you into his embrace with his hand on the back of your head, but you swat it away, scooting closer to him.
“I will never, ever be tired of your cooking. I missed it so much,” you complain, pouting as you speak, “I was having withdrawals.”
“But now that it’s all there, laid out for you…”
“I don’t have the appetite,” you lament, tugging at the hair near his neck, “your hair got longer.”
“Yeah,” he beams, reaching up to run his fingers through the blond strands, “I’m growing it.”
“Sexy.”
His eyes glint with mischief, tugging you even closer to him, his crotch grazing the thin material of your panties.
“Yeah?”
“Yes,” you breathe, goosebumps trailing the hands that slide up and down your bare thighs. Your eyes flutter when he leans forward to place sloppy kisses on the column of your throat, sucking into the soft skin below your collarbone.
“Do you think we can have twins?”
“Mmm,” you sigh, tilting your head to the side involuntarily when he moves up, “I don’t know.”
“Maybe I should try putting another in there then.”
“Yoongi,” you grin, unable to keep your eyes open with his teeth on your neck, “that’s not how it wor—fuck.”
His hand slithers between your legs, two fingers rubbing your clit languidly until you feel slick pool at your center. You’re gripping onto his arm, pleasure building with each tap against the swollen bud, nipples poking though the thin material of your shirt to rub into his chest. You reach down to palm his bulge, sucking in a sharp breath as he pushes your panties to the side and runs his long fingers up and down your swollen folds.
“Yoongi,” you moan, rocking into his hand, “I need you.”
He nips your earlobe, tongue darting out to soothe the burn, “I’m here baby. Missed you. Missed this pussy.”
You whine, knowing that he’s aware of what you actually mean. But your husband is a tease, sinking in his middle and ring finger to the second knuckle then pulling out, spreading your slick over your folds then nudging at your clit. Through your heady wave of lust, you squeeze around his thick cock, lingering on the tip to hear him groan.
He plunges his fingers into your heat, finding your sweet spot with practiced ease to have your thighs tensing around him.
Your moans are muffled by his mouth, spit mixing with his when your tongues clash wildly, grinding down into his hand.
“Please,” you whisper, “need you.”
“Need what?” He coaxes, fingers massaging your walls with quick, deep snaps of his wrist.
“Need your cock.”
His thumb finds your clit, pressing and flicking it just as he abuses that spot inside you until your thighs begin to shake, body vibrating with pleasure before he pulls them out. You sit up on your knees, chest heaving as you whimper and plead.
“Because I missed you so much,” his voice is strained, pulling down his pants haphazardly as he positions you over the tip. Holding the base with one hand while the other guides you down inch by inch, blunt nails pressing into the meat of your ass.
Bottom lip caught between your teeth, you wince with the burn, heart hammering inside your chest once he’s buried to the hilt. You lift your head from his shoulder, finding a goofy smile on his face.
“Guess I’ll have to hold off on the deposit for my new studio.”
Leave it to your husband to crack jokes while you’re sitting on his cock.
Your fingers slot into each other behind his head, both of your breaths labored as you try not to move. A small smile lifts the corner of your mouth, able to fully take in the news yourself without the stress of wondering what Yoongi would say.
From the looks of it, you had nothing to worry about in the first place.
“We still have nine months to go,” you inform, rolling your hips slowly. He sighs, head falling back on the couch, both hands cupping your ass now.
“Less than nine months,” he counters, bucking up into you. Your teeth grind into each other, deciding fuck it and lifting your hips up, thick, twitching veins tugging at your walls before you slam back down, ass hitting his lap in a resounding smack of skin to skin. “I win—Shit.”
“What—” you pause as you feel the familiar heat creep up on you, laughing to yourself because you missed the feeling so much “—ever.”
His eyes snap open, forehead pressing into yours, “left me for a bit and got mouthy?”
“Shut up and fuck me.”
“Whatever you want.”
Adjusting his hold on your thighs, he holds you still as his girthy cock slides out. The tip of his cock fitting in your walls when he lifts you up. Your eyes begin to water as he begins to fuck into you with harsh snaps of his hips, pulling you down onto his lap to meet each thrust.
“Fucking hell. Missed this so much.”
“Me too,” you sigh, tingles dancing across your skin as he continues to brush your sweet spot, cock fitting snug inside you while you drip down his leg, soaking him in your essence.
“Can’t wait to see you nice and swollen, fill your cunt up with more of my cum.”
You’re a sweaty mess, tired limbs aching as you’re forced to bounce on his lap while his words spur you on, dragging your nails down his neck when a hand slips up your shirt, plucking at your nipples.
“Fuck, missed these tits. Gonna look so good filled with milk.”
Hearing all this from him is new, your abdomen tightens, clenching around him as he continues to spew filthy words, cock splitting you open. You shudder, high washing over you unexpectedly when he rolls up your shirt and begins to suckle on your tits, walls convulsing uncontrollably at the sight.
His lips part in a silent moan, short puffs of air leaving his kiss-bitten lips while you’re coming down from your high, hot ropes of cum painting your walls to have you sighing out in delight. You tremble when he blows on your spit slick nipples, softening cock slipping out of you.
Fully expecting him to give you both some time to catch your breath, you yelp with surprise when he scoops you up off the couch, carrying you down the hallway bridal style. Your hands loop around his neck, clit still pulsing.
Noticing your furrowed brows, he huffs out, “just got the couch cleaned.”
“Oh.” You chew the corner of your mouth, tucking away a smile. “You’re gonna carry me to the bath like this all the time then?”
He replies with full confidence, nuzzling into your cheek before kicking the bathroom door open.
“I’ll carry you like this till week forty.”
a/n — big time sad, gold yoongi & oc shall be parents soon 🥲 please let me know what you think, feedback is appreciated.
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#yoongi x reader#yoongi smut#ficscafe#btscreatorscorner#bangtansorciere#btsgoldnet#bangtanbathhouse#houseofddaeng#btsdreamcourt#bangtanarmynet#yoongi fluff#yoongi angst#yoongi x you#min yoongi fanfic#yoongi fanfic#yoongi x y/n#min yoongi x reader#bts smut#bts scenarios#bts fanfiction
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| sanctified |
Summary: Bucky Barnes’ holy grail and safe haven are your body and soul, and after getting a taste of them, he finally knows what it means to be a sinner.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader
Word count: 2.7k
Warnings: Smut!! (switch!Bucky, choking, light spanking, orgasm control, slight exhibitionism), some crying, confessions of love baby
____________________
Bucky Barnes never had a serious girlfriend. Sure, there were girls he’d go out with, press a little smooch to their lips just out of principle, girls he’d walk home after a trip to the fair, girls that would follow him around Brooklyn watching his every move in the hopes that they would catch his eye and that he would give them more than just a polite smile.
Bucky Barnes used to be a ladies’ man, girls batting their lashes at him when he and Steve passed by on their way to Bucky’s place for dinner, throwing themselves at his feet any chance they’d get because they wanted to be something special to him, they wanted to mean something to him, and Bucky always rejected anything serious with grace.
And then he fell from the train. And he hadn’t seen a girl his age for almost 50 years after that. He had forgotten what it was like to be smiled at, to be searched for in a crowd, for someone to call out his name - his real name, not Soldat.
He had gotten used to the harsh orders and cruel insults, the flirty, boyish Bucky that winked at the ladies and guided them during dances hidden and stashed away somewhere deep inside him, dormant and asleep. He was fine with being ignored after everything that happened with Steve, and the fall of HYDRA, and Shuri “fixing” his brain. Fine with staying in the shadows when he didn’t need to be out of them, fine with avoiding people and missing their eye, slipping through the streets of New York like a cat, his only goal to get from point A to point B.
Until he met you.
You, the part-time waitress that worked at the restaurant he frequented with Mr. Nakajima. Bucky took a liking to you the second he saw you. The do no harm, take no shit attitude that every fiber of your being seemed to be dipped in intrigued him. He liked watching you work, multitasking between orders and receipts and drinks and money and all things in between. It was fascinating to him, especially the side-eyed glances you’d give him with an accompanying little smirk whenever he sat down at the counter with his older friend. Intriguing you were, so much so that he quickly learned what days you came in, and what days you didn’t: Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
Yori kept pushing him to ask out the “pretty waitress” at the restaurant, and though she was pretty, she wasn’t the one he had his eye on.
“You should go out with her, she’s a nice girl,” Yori’s soft voice would mutter into his ear, and Bucky would give him a smile and a shake of his head.
If only you knew, Yori. If only you knew, he thought.
The flirting started simple enough: a sly smile as you greeted him when he walked in. An “accidental” brush of the hand when you’d hand him his third beer. Biting your lip whenever he called your name out to pay. It was simple enough that Bucky’s elderly friend stayed oblivious on the Wednesdays they’d go out for lunch together.
And truly, Bucky had no reason to come to the restaurant three times a week, twice without the company of Mr. Nakajima. No reason but the sight of you, and it was enough to keep him drawn in, keep him coming and throwing his money on food he never ate and beers he downed without a second thought because he was so enamored by the way your eyes glimmered whenever you gave him a smile.
Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays went by and by until he started dropping his gaze below your neck, pants growing uncomfortably tight at the way you’d bend over to get a new roll of receipts under the counter, or the small sliver of stomach he would notice beneath your shirt whenever you’d reach up for a glass.
And it wasn’t like you were oblivious either; on the contrary, you stared at the door on the days you knew he’d come in, waiting anxiously for him to come and sit down just so you could feel his presence. It wasn’t that long before you were asking your coworkers to cover you for a few minutes just so you could lean against the counter by him to chat (and give him a peak of something special, but that was besides the point).
Chats soon turned into jokes and full-blown conversations, with Bucky staying behind long after closing time just to talk to you about anything and everything, from his past to the way you wore your hair on that particular day.
Which is how you found yourself in your current little predicament.
“Fuck, Bucky,” you hissed, slapping your hand against the counter beneath you.
Bucky’s hand travelled up your back, entangling in your hair and pulling your head back, your back arching against him.
“What happened, baby?” he cooed into your ear, thrusts relentless and never faltering. You whined in response, swallowing back a heavy breath as his lips trailed against your shoulder.
“So... so good,” you managed, and you felt him smirk against your skin.
His hand left your hair, snaking around to the front to wrap around your neck loosely, and a chill ran down your spine.
11:47 p.m. and an hour and a half past closing time, shades only half shut on the glass door of the entrance, the only light in the room coming from the streetlight outside and the digital clock on the wall behind you.
Heavy lidded eyes traveled to watch the door, only a few feet away from where Bucky was pounding persistently into you, your skirt flipped up and panties around your ankles. The fact that anybody walking by would just have to look through the blinds to see you getting railed made you breathless.
Bucky’s low hum floated into your ears, hot breath fanning against your cheek as he rolled his hips to hit that spot that made you clench around him.
“I’m- I’m gonna-”
Your stuttering made him slow his hips, and in return you whimpered.
“Gonna what? Gonna cum? Hm?”
You huffed at his condescending tone, and he slowed down even more, to the point where you could feel him dragging along your walls, hot and heavy.
“What if I just-”
Bucky stopped moving his hips completely, and tears pricked at the back of your eyes as your chest heaved, his grip tightening only slightly around your throat.
“- don’t let you?” he finished, pulling out almost completely then, and you groaned in frustration. You felt the knot that had been forming in your stomach loosen, the tingling in your legs fading, and you furrowed your brows in a desperate plea for release.
“P-please,” you mewled. “Please, please, I need to, I have to-”
Bucky seemed to be satisfied with your begging, because he thrusted himself into you again, bottoming out with the slap of skin on skin and your quiet, breathy moans being the only sounds in the restaurant. Each thrust brought out a moan from your lips, a layer of sweat covering your skin. The first tear left your waterline and rolled down your cheek as he pressed down harder against you, the edge of the counter digging into your hip bones deliciously.
“More,” you whispered, eyes clenched shut as your head went dizzy with pleasure.
Bucky obliged, nipping at your neck as his hand that wasn’t wrapped around your throat travelled downwards to lay a slap to your ass, and you hissed at the sting. Your orgasm washed over you quickly, eyes rolling to the back of your head and legs going weak. If it wasn’t for Bucky’s body holding you upright against the counter, you were certain you would’ve collapsed. Warmth took over your belly as Bucky groaned in your ear, cumming inside you, and he let go of your neck, allowing you to drop your head down in an attempt to catch your breath.
After he had pulled out of you carefully, helping you pull your panties back up, you turned around, a lazy smile on your lips as you leaned back against the counter on your elbows. Bucky gave you a skeptical look, smirk crawling onto his face as he narrowed his eyes at you.
“What is it?”
You shrugged, tugging at the hem of his shirt to straighten it out a bit.
“Nothing,” you said mindlessly, smile only growing larger.
He chuckled in amusement, grabbing your hand in his.
“What is it?”, he repeated, and you sighed dramatically.
“Well, I mean...,” you started, eyes travelling around behind him in false apprehension. “I hope you know this means you gotta take me out now, Barnes.”
Bucky stared at you for a moment, the grin on his face only brightening.
“Alright, I promise I will.”
____________________
And Bucky kept his promise.
Five days after your initial hook-up, Bucky came buzzing at your apartment building entrance, bouquet of flowers in his hands, smile on his face.
“Wow, Barnes, I didn’t know you were into romantic gestures,” you teased, taking the flowers from his hands. He shrugged, shoving them into his pockets as he walked alongside you.
“I wasn’t. Not really, never used to be.”
He glanced at you as he finished his sentence, but you were too preoccupied with the smell of fresh blossoms to notice the smile playing on his lips.
“Things change, I guess,” he muttered, and you grinned at him.
“So, where are we going?”
“I told you already,” he said with a teasing shake of his head.
“It’s a surprise.”
____________________
Three official dates later and Bucky finally came up to your apartment.
Albeit, a bit hesitant, because it was well past midnight and “I don’t wanna wake up your neighbors with my huge footsteps, doll.”
It took some convincing but he finally agreed to come up and sit with you a while. You said you would show him your favorite books, introduce him to some new literature he could catch up on. And you definitely planned on doing that, but things with Bucky have a funny way of playing out differently than you expect.
“Jesus fucking Christ, doll-”
Humming in amusement, you smiled down at him, straddled around his thighs.
Your fingers gripping his hair, you held his head so his eyes were level with yours, and you saw the struggle in them as your other hand teased his cock through his boxers with gentle fingers.
“What is it, baby?” you pouted, tugging harder on his hair, and he winced at the feeling.
“Stop teasing,” he hissed through clenched teeth, and you feigned a disappointed frown.
“Now that’s not very nice of you.”
Bucky shut his eyes quickly in a split second of frustration, and when he opened them again, you noticed his pupils were blown wide, staring into yours.
After a deep sigh, his demeanor changed, lids heavy and lips swollen from the bites and kisses you attacked them with previously.
“Please...,” he said in a whisper. “Please don’t tease me.”
His words brought a smile to your face, and you pretended to think about it, tilting your head to the side slightly.
“Alright, pretty boy, since you asked so nicely.”
You punctuated your sentence with a roll of your hips against his, and a soft whimper left his lips when your bare pussy rolled over his dick.
Your fingers found the hem of his boxers, and you pulled them down, teasingly slow, Bucky lifting his hips a bit to make it easier for you. He breathed a sigh of relief at the feeling of release, and you felt your breath quicken at the sight of his cock, heavy and hard and begging to be touched.
“Please.”
It came out quietly, desperately, as he stared into your eyes, and you almost smirked at the way he looked near tears. You hummed in adoration, leaning your head down somewhat to press a kiss to his lips.
“So needy...,” you muttered into his mouth as you rolled your hips upwards, the tip of his cock gliding through your wet slit, and his hips bucked up involuntarily.
He whined against your lips, nipping at the bottom one when you sank down onto his cock without warning. A sigh left your body when you felt him stretch you out, filling you out completely. You clenched around him, trying to adjust, and he groaned, forehead dropping against your chest.
No matter how many times he’d been inside you, you always need time to adjust, and you would wait. Oh, you would wait hours if you needed to, because once you got a taste of him, that was it. You were ruined for other men.
And Bucky could spend hours inside you, warm and wet and perfectly made for him, your body wrapped around his. All you had to do was ask him, and he would fall to his knees in worship.
You sat on him, just like that, for... seconds? Minutes? An hour, maybe? Bucky couldn’t tell because it didn’t really matter to him. His mind was clouded with the feeling of you tight around his throbbing cock, and your lips on his neck and jaw, and your fingers in his hair.
Bucky looked up at you, almost glowing with sex and gratification, and he swore to himself he would pray to you, pray for you, pray with you, every single day for the rest of his life. How he went a century without the absolution of your touch was entirely beyond him, but he knew he wouldn’t let you go now that he had you in his grasp.
You started moving, slowly, teasingly, and Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. Sighs and pants left your lips at the feeling of being full, stuffed to the brim, and it took everything Bucky had in himself not to grab your hips and absolutely destroy you himself.
“Oh, God,” you panted into his ear, rolling your hips, chasing your pleasure as Bucky’s chest heaved with labored breaths.
It was pure torture, in the best way. His eyes watched the way your brows furrowed slightly in concentration, your lips slightly parted. Watched your hands search for purchase on his body, anywhere they could find, as you clenched tighter around him.
If there was a place he had to choose to stay for the rest of eternity, it was here.
“I love you,” he mumbled, almost subconsciously, and your movements faltered only slightly.
Biting your lip, your eyes searched his face, and found only honesty. Bucky’s hands came up to rest on your thighs, fingers digging into them, the contrast of one warm hand and one cold hand sending shockwaves down your spine.
“I love you more,” you whispered, pulling him in by his cheeks for a short kiss.
Your pushes and pulls, ups and downs, gasps and moans grew quicker, more incessant, and Bucky could tell by the way your walls fluttered quickly around his cock that you were about to cum.
____________________
He laid there, next to you.
He laid there a long time, fingers tracing shapeless patters along your arm as you slept, and his eyes studied your face.
No, Bucky Barnes never had a serious girlfriend. There were girls he’d go out with, girls he would smooch. Girls he would walk home and girls he would smile at. None of them ever gave him the feeling he was running after, always thinking it was right there but always just out of reach. The feeling you gave him, like he was underwater but could still breathe. Like he was on fire but cold as ice, like he never breathed properly before he met you and now, after getting a taste of you, he would never be able to breathe properly without you again.
He laid there, body heavy and mind satisfied, and he understood. He understood why Adam ate the apple, why Orpheus turned around. He understood why Sparta started a war for Helen, and he understood why Romeo drank the poison.
He would do it all, sin and be punished a million times over if it meant he would get a glimpse of you every day.
____________________
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