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bunnis-monsters · 3 months ago

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Becoming the Queen

Bee hybrids x Fem!Reader

warning: oviposition, orgy, breeding, oral

WK: 5k

A/N: I hope this is alright for a Valentine’s Day special… this is a commission, hehe. The lovely members on kofi got to see this 2 weeks early ><

It was early, the grass you trudged through to get to work still wet with the morning dew. You never truly enjoyed waking up before the sun rose, but you loved what you did and could never give it up.

You were a florist, owning the only flower shop in the county. People from all over would come to buy a bouquet, and you were up to your head in flower arrangements by the late afternoon.

Some customers were kind, tipping you well and making sure their flowers were well taken care of. Others got on your very last nerve, daring to say your flowers seemed old or wilted.

It took everything in you not to leap over the counters. You could take people insulting you, but no one could insinuate that your flowers weren’t perfect. You grew them yourself, preening and watering them to perfection.

As you neared your flower shop, you noticed there were more customers than usual waiting outside. Usually most of your sales happened after 10 am, not so early in the day.

But as you took out your keys and looked up, you realized that not all of them were there for flowers.

One of your windows was broken, shards of glass covering the floor and a bit of blood staining the windowsill. Something has smashed through the glass!

And from taking one look into your shop, you realized that they hadn’t just broken your window.

Bouquets lay strewn across the cool tiles, petals blowing in the wind as you opened the door. Someone or something had been in your shop and had ruined your carefully arranged bouquets.

A shard of one of your potted plants crunched under your foot as you took in all the damage that had been done. It would set you back several weeks.

“Damn it…”

Although it frustrated you to no end, you brushed off your skirt and set off to the back, grabbing a broom and getting to work.

After getting the mess up and opening up the shop, you tried your best not to think about what destroyed your inventory. You focused on your work instead. It was always easy to lose yourself in a good book while waiting on your next customer, but today your mind kept wandering back to potential culprits.

There were a group of teenagers that vandalized a restaurant a block away last week. At the local boba place, someone had been stealing the boba and straws. It wasn’t unthinkable that the other incidents may be related to what happened earlier that morning.

You closed the shop for the night, sighing as you zipped up your hoodie. It was way too cold, you’d have to bring your coat tomorrow if you planned on being out this late.

It couldn’t be helped, you had to stay after closing to contact clients and refer them to other florists that could get their arrangements done now that the ones you prepared were ruined.

Thankfully, most of your clients were kind enough to overlook it, but you received a few earfuls that you couldn’t complain about. At least they weren’t leaving a bad review…

The night air made you shiver. You rubbed your arms and continued on home, dreading tomorrow. There was so much work you’d have to redo, and money you would lose out on.

‘I hope there’s going to be enough money left over for me to pay my bills this month…’

You were stirred from your thoughts when you felt a chill go down your spine. For a moment you just assumed it was the frigid temperatures making you feel this way, but something was off.

The world around you was quiet. The way home had sparse light, and before that night you had never been afraid of the dark. It comforted you, in fact.

But as you froze in the middle of the path, your heart thumping against your chest, you realized that there was a sound that drowned out everything else. You hadn’t noticed it at first, and now it was almost unbearably loud.

A buzzing filled the air, and you quickly had to cover your ears as it only increased in volume.

You picked up something else, the smell of honey. Slowly, you opened your eyes.

It took a moment to fully comprehend what was before you. There were several humanoid silhouettes surrounding you, and their outlines were… fluffy?

“Is this really her?”

“Yes, I told you she was soft!”

“And she makes the flowers bloom?”

“Yes, yes!”

A hand reached out to tilt your chin up, and you were face to face with some kind of insect-like creature. It was taller than any man you had ever seen, with big black eyes and yellow… fluff? Fuzz? You weren’t sure, but these things didn’t have normal human skin.

“Ah, she’s just as pretty as you said.”

The other creatures let out a satisfied buzz, encircling you. They all seemed rather curious and excited, lifting up parts of your clothing and examining you.

“H-hey!”

When you yelped, they all backed off, seeming confused and a little hurt. “Wh… what the hell are you… things? Why are you following me!?”

The leader stepped forward again, a bit sheepish but understanding. “Sorry… we saw how upset you were about the mess we made and-“

“You all caused that mess!?”

They all let out whines and upset buzzes as you groaned. The entire day had been a nightmare you’d wake up from soon. It had to be.

“I’m going to bed…”

You moved past the group, but they followed after you, seeming concerned and nervous.

“But you’re coming with u-“

His mouth was covered by another’s hand. “We’re sorry for the mess. Please, we’ll help repay you tomorrow. So… don’t be too angry.”

It was hard to stay too angry with them, they sounded genuinely remorseful and a touch sad. “… alright, but you’ll need to be here early tomorrow.”

You went to bed, figuring that this would all be over once you had a good night of sleep. There were no strange bee-like creatures in your front yard, no difficult messes to deal with, just a bad dream.

Unfortunately you were very wrong.

Walking outside with your hot coffee and sporting your pajamas, you were met with several expectant faces.

“You’re awake!”

You stood there for a moment, blinking sluggishly before staring down at your coffee. After blinking a few times, you breathed in and out.

“So… you are real then.”

The creatures were bee hybrids, a species you heard about before. Hybrids weren’t exactly uncommon, but it was rare for insect based hybrids to leave their hives or nests to interact with humans.

They did keep their promise and help you prepare bouquets the entire day, pollinating your flowers and following after you baby ducklings with their mother.

Unbeknownst to you, the bees had been watching you for a while.

It started when they lost their queen.

For months she had been bedridden, and no eggs were laid. Of course, the bee hybrids were much more concerned about their beloved queen than eggs, but she was beside herself with worry.

“Who will take care of you when I’m gone?”

The queen knew she was well past her egg bearing years and was going to die soon. After all, what purpose did a queen have when she couldn’t expand the hive?

“Don’t say things like that, your majesty. You won’t leave us…”

They were stricken with grief after her passing, nearly a year went by before they even considered a new queen.

Their last one had been a bee hybrid born in that very hive. Wanting to keep the tradition of raising a new queen wasn’t possible since she had only ever birthed sons.

Not wanting to take the chance of foreign bee hives trying to spy on them by giving them a female, the bee hybrids looked elsewhere for their next queen.

You happened to be a perfect match.

Not only were you beautiful and plump as a good queen should be, your kind nature and gentle heart told them you would be an amazing mother to the little ones.

The only problem was getting you to the hive.

“She’s so pretty, I love her…” said one of the bee hybrids, his wings fluttering as he watched you remove the thorns from some roses.

“She is. I want to stuff her full of my e-“

The others turned red and buzzed at the horny bee. “H-hey, don’t talk about the queen like that!”

“But that’s what everyone’s thinking…”

The worker bees pouted, flying around you and offering pollen or honey. The guards watched from afar.

Most of the bee hybrids were not what you would call… intelligent. But there were some that ran the show and made all of the important decisions.

“We’ll take her soon. Our hive needs a queen, and if we don’t get one soon, everyone will go mad. We need a queen to mate and protect, it’s what keeps us calm,” said one of the guards, his stinger twitching and ready to attack.

“But she loves working with the flowers. What if we put a strain on her mind? If she is unwell, our hive will suffer with her.”

That was true, the bee hybrids’ productivity and mental well being depended on you. If you were depressed, they would be as well. Not only that, they’d be constantly trying to cheer you up and become worse if you remained in that state for too long.

“I think I know what we can do to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

You had never felt so tired in your entire life. The day hadn’t been so tough, but as you closed your eyes to go to bed, suddenly your body felt so heavy that you weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to get up.

Sleep took you, and when you woke up everything seemed… different.

Your usually stiff bed felt incredibly soft, your body melting into the plush material.

“Ugh…”

The moment you let out a groan, you heard the sound of buzzing and frantic voices.

“The queen is awake!”

“Oh, my queen are you alright?”

“Hurry, prepare her breakfast and bring the towels for the bath!”

You rubbed your eyes as you listened to the bustling around you. When your vision was no longer blurry, you could hardly believe what you were seeing.

No longer were you in your small bedroom in your modest home by the forest. The walls of your room were shaped like a honeycomb… no, they were a honeycomb. You could even see the amber colored liquid pooling at the bottom as some bee hybrids scooped it up.

You were laid out on a king sized bed, with thick blankets and plush pillows surrounding you like some kind of nest.

Surrounding you was a swarm of bee hybrids. Some were teeming with excitement and giddy energy, while others peeked around their fellow hybrids with curiosity. The ones closest to you, though, seemed a mix of concerned and nervous, fretting over you.

“Oh, what if she isn’t feeling well? Should we give her some honey?”

“Breakfast first, she can have honey on toast or biscuits.”

“Humans really eat honey in that way?”

While you struggled to get your bearings, they continued to flit about the room doing various things to acclimate you.

“Where… am I?”

Every single one of the bee hybrids paused, their attention solely on you. Several whispered among themselves as their gaze stayed on your plump figure.

“You’re home, my queen.”

A taller, less fluffy bee hybrid walked forward, his expression neutral. He kneeled before you, taking your hand and raising it to his mouth for a kiss.

“Q-queen? What do you-“

All at once they all rushed forward to dote on you. Your body was covered in kisses, and you could feel their soft fluff almost everywhere.

“My queen, we’re so happy!”

“We promise you’ll have a good life here, no more stress or worry!”

Gentle nips and bites were pressed into your sensitive neck and thighs, hands moving to caress and grope all of your body.

You were still groggy, and immediately began to warm up when one hand found its way to your inner thigh. When you let out a startled moan, the bees on the bed began to buzz and focus on that spot.

“Our queen is sensitive!”

A few of them pried your thighs open, inspecting your bare cunt and giving it a few experimental touches and licks. Had they undressed you beforehand?

Their tongues were long and thin, delicate against your slowly hardening clit. You could tell they were all excited by the way their buzzing increased and their bodies shook.

Your scent filled the air, attracting more bee hybrids from the hall. The ones on the bed touched and fondled your sleepy body as the others watched from the sidelines.

Your face heated up when you realized they were stroking their cocks, their eyes glued on your body and the way it was being played with by their peers.

There was no chance to react or cry out in protest, you were being too overwhelmed by pleasure. One of their tongues entered your cunt, making your eyes widen and your fists clench the silk bed sheet underneath you.

“She likes that, don’t stop.”

You felt one of them latch onto your breasts, their long tongue swirling around your nipple. Their antennae tickled your face, and you felt completely overstimulated.

Every touch made you twist and buck your hips, it was hard to control yourself. Never before had you felt such intense pleasure, and it was making you see stars.

‘This has to be some sort of wet dream…’ you thought to yourself, squishing your plush thighs together. ‘Might as well enjoy it…’

“Is she ready yet?” one of them cooed, nuzzling their fluffy face against your neck.

“Not for eggs, but…”

The others backed off, and a smaller, more feminine looking bee hybrid climbed on top of you. He was still at least half a foot taller than you, but tiny compared to the others.

“H-hello, my queen…” he chirped shyly, giving your cheek an affectionate nuzzle. “I’ll be the one to mate with you first…”

He was even fluffier than the others, and his cock was already twitching against your thigh. It was more long than thick, and had a pinkish, orange color.

You reached out to touch it, your fingers wrapping around his length. This made the smaller bee hybrid gasp, his hips bucking wildly in surprise.

The other hybrids stepped closer, buzzing with both excitement and jealousy. Already, the single male was receiving all of your attention… they all wanted a turn!

Fortunately for you, they had been ordered to give you space. This would be your first time with a bee hybrid, and if they weren’t careful, they could end up hurting their precious queen.

Your health and well being meant more to them than anything else.

“M-my queen, ahh!”

His eyes glistened with flustered tears as you stroked his cock, honey colored precum seeping out of the tip. You couldn’t remember the last time you had pleasured yourself.

If this was a dream, you were going to have fun.

You laid on your back, pulling the hybrid in by his hips. It was clear out of the two of you, he was the one lacking experience.

“Oh, you’re so pretty my queen-“ he blubbered out, his hips rutting against yours as his cock settled between your pussy lips. You could feel his tip kissing your clit, and it was enough to have you both let out a shuddering moan.

“Mmph…”

You kissed him, letting his long tongue slip down your throat as you moved your hand to guide his cock towards your entrance.

The moan he let out in your mouth as he sunk into your fat cunt was sinful, and out of the corner of your eye you noticed several of the bees were fucking their fists to the sight of you being fucked by one of their own.

“T-too good! I’m gonna-“

His cum spurted into your womb, he was finishing before he could even properly thrust in and out of you. You were going to whine about it, but something caused you to pause your complaints.

While his cock twitched inside of you, it swelled up, and before you could question what was happening, eggs began to pool into your womb along with his cum.

The feeling of them being fucked into you, stretching your pussy out as the eggs were laid inside of you made your head spin.

Your pussy clenched around the eggs, and before you knew it you were cumming harder than you ever had before. You arched your back, tears running down your cheeks as you rode out your high.

By the end of it, you were a mess. Cum from both you and the bee hybrid pooled around your thighs, soaking into the expensive feeling sheets.

“This… isn’t a dream, is it?”

The hybrid gathered around you, some cooing over your spent, naked body while others were desperate to have their hands on you.

“It’s no dream, my queen!”

“We all love you!”

“Let’s get you to the bath, you deserve to relax!”

You let out a tired sigh as you were carried away. The tub was nearly as big as your bedroom back home, and several of the bees joined you in the warm, pleasantly scented water.

You could smell fresh flowers and honey, and you let out a sigh of relief when several pairs of hands went to work massaging your sore muscles. A pair of two slipped between your thighs, toying with your sensitive clit and feeling around to make sure all of the eggs were safe and sound inside of you.

“Is the water warm enough, my queen?”

Hands cupped your breasts, giving them a playful squeeze before rubbing honey scented soap into them. “Mmph, yes, it’s good…”

You glanced down at your belly, noticing it poked out slightly. The memory of how the eggs felt being pushed inside of you made your cheeks heat up.

This was all a lot to process. If this wasn’t a dream like you had originally assumed, then that meant you had been taken away to a bee hybrid hive and made into a queen.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions…” another bee said, giving you a sympathetic look. “But you don’t have to worry, we’ll cater to your every want and need. You’ll never want for anything.”

Deciding a fight wasn’t worth it, you sunk back into the warm water, letting yourself be pampered and taken care of for now.

“… I want to talk to whoever is in charge here.”

The two hybrid bathing you shared a look before speaking.

“That would be you, my queen.”

You placed a hand on your temple, rubbing it before replying. “I mean, who decided that I would be queen? Surely someone here has been making decisions regarding the hive while there was no queen.”

A silence fell over the room, the only sound being the water droplets falling from your skin.

“Well… I guess that would be the council. Are you requesting a meeting with the council, my queen?”

You nodded, and the two stood before getting you dried off and dressed. They were obedient, doing exactly as you asked. “Are you sure, my queen? You still need your breakfast and-“

“I’m sure, take me to the council.”

The walls of the hive were made of honeycomb, unsurprisingly. Each section contained a bee hybrid that was hard at work, making honey while chattering amongst themselves.

“Haven’t you heard, Bumble? There’s a new queen, and she’s a pretty one too!”

“Yeah, she’s already had her first batch of eggs too!”

“That’s not fair, I wanted to give the queen my eggs first!”

You avoided making eye contact with them, your cheeks hot with embarrassment again. It flustered you to know their words were causing your panties to grow wet.

Hiding was useless, though. The scent of your arousal caused the bee hybrids near you to react. Their antennas twitched while their cocks hardened the second your scent reached them. It was an immediate reaction that had you hiding within the safety of your guards as you were escorted to the council.

“My queen, what brings you here?”

You stood before the council, looking up at their pleasantly surprised faces. There were around 30 of them, all sitting in a half circle. Papers were piled next to each bee, and even while their full attention was on you, their hands still moved to work on the papers in front of them.

‘Busy and a bee’ was a phrase you heard a lot growing up, and as you watched them flit about the room, writing and shouting orders all while keeping their eyes on you, it finally dawned on you how accurate it was.

“I came here with questions. My first one is why am I here?”

They paused their work for a moment, and some shooed away any bees that weren’t in the council before shutting the doors.

“… as you may know, bee hybrid hives consist mainly of males,” one of the council members began, standing and walking towards you.

“Female bees are not born often, meaning that we cannot run a hive without… taking a female on as our queen,” another finished, setting aside a stack of finished papers.

“It’s also a great way to diversify the hive and prevent… inbreeding.”

You raised an eyebrow as the bee hybrid stood in front of you. He was nearly 10 feet tall, and crouched down in front of you, taking your hand before kissing the back of it.

When he looked into your eyes, they sparkled with devotion. “Our undercover agents have been watching you for months. You’re kind, and you love nature. You must know that without a queen, our hive will die out within a year.”

It was hard to look away from his dark orbs. The way he looked at you made your heart race.

“I know that we took you away without asking, but we cannot let you go. Please know that you will be treated with the utmost care, and you will be pampered beyond belief.”

For a moment you stayed quiet, your expression softening. “… what would be expected of me as queen?”

The entire council perked up, some leaping out of their seats in excitement without warning. They quickly returned to their work when the leader gave them a warning glance.

“You only have a handful of responsibilities each day. You greet the public, bond with the children, attend diplomatic meetings, and… breed with your loyal subjects to create your children.”

Your face heated up at the memory of your morning session with the pretty bee hybrid.

“And… I do these every day?”

They nodded. “Diplomatic meetings are less frequent, but everything else is daily.”

Daily… you’d get fucked like that daily?

‘Am I really going to abandon the life I’ve been living for the past few years just to get a good fuck and some pampering?’

Yes. Yes you were.

“Alright… I’m in. Not like I have much of a choice in the matter anyways…”

The bees surrounding you let out happy whines and buzzes. You were surrounded once again, being nuzzled and pulled into fluffy chests. They were all scenting you, obviously happy you were going to be their queen of your own free will.

“Then let’s get you some breakfast, my queen. You have much to do!”

Breakfast was filled with lots of chattering among your current attendants. They were fluffy, jealous things that lounged about in your quarters, burying their faces into your soft body and gossiping amongst themselves.

Once you were done eating, you were escorted to your first duty as queen.

“I hope your royal attendants behaved well. They are just excited to have a queen to dote on again. If you have any sexual needs or desires, they will perform them for you. And do not worry, they cannot produce eggs, so they exist purely for your pleasure and entertainment.”

It seemed strange, but your attendants seemed quite happy and spoiled, so you continued to follow the councilman in charge or guiding you.

“This is the nursery.”

The walls had the same honeycombs as the rest of the hive, but in each one was a crib and a sleeping babe. On the carpeted floor, toddlers waddled and crawled about, playing with toys as they got in their daily exercise.

Almost like a switch had been flipped, their tiny heads turned towards you. The closest baby bee tears up, their tiny, chubby legs struggling to carry them forward as they toddled their way over.

“M-mama!”

Every child within hearing range made their way over, clinging to your legs and fussing as they attempted to crawl up. They held onto your clothing, suckling on any bare skin they could find in an attempt to nurse.

“H-hey, I’m not your-“

The bee hybrid next to you sighed softly. “They won’t listen. You have the scent of their mother now, they want you to hold and feed them.”

Their little eyes were getting red and puffy from crying, they couldn’t understand why their mama wasn’t holding or feeding them.

It was really tugging at your heartstrings. They were just so little, you couldn’t imagine having a baby and how their innocent minds would try to process your death.

“Hey… it’s okay, mama is right here.”

You sat down, letting them climb into your lap and arms. A team of bee hybrids joined you, helping to bottle feed and soothe them.

“Once the eggs in you begin to grow, you’ll start lactating and will be able to feed hordes of the baby bees,” the councilman said, watching how the young ones bonded with you instantly.

“For now, though… you just need to give them your attention and care. They need it.”

As the little ones were laid down for a nap, you were able to sneak out and leave for your next appointment.

“The entire hive knows there is a new queen, gossip gets out fast,” the councilman said as you ate some lunch. Your attendants were playing with your clit, all cooing over how sensitive and hard it was getting under their touch.

There seemed to be no shame with them. You were sitting in the middle of the cafeteria and no one batted an eye as your fat pussy lips were pulled apart so they could lick and fuck your hole with their long tongues.

“However, you’ll still need to make an official appearance in front of the hive… that, and we’ll need to start the breeding ceremony.”

You were having trouble focusing, your fingers tugging on the hair of the bee between your legs. “C-ceremony?”

“Yes, my queen. It is customary for every bee hybrid to take a few days off of work to come and greet the queen. They all get their turns to mate and fill you with some of their own eggs.”

The ceremony began later in the evening. You were brought out before your loyal subjects, dressed in lacy lingerie and placed on a bed.

You felt less like a beloved ruler, and more like a breeding cow being brought out to be sold to the highest bidder.

Every bee bowed before you, dropping to one knee as they waited for you to speak.

“My loyal subjects…”

Just the sound of your voice sent a shiver of excitement through the crowd. You could see them shaking, few already hard and struggling to keep their hands off their pink, throbbing cocks.

“You have all been gathered here for the… breeding ceremony. As thanks for working as hard as you do, you all get a turn to…”

Again, your cheeks began to warm up. You couldn’t believe you were saying this. “… you all get a turn to breed me, your queen. I will take your eggs and incubate them, ensuring your bloodline will continue.”

With that, you laid down. The councilmen ushered forward a group of bee hybrids, and the breeding commenced.

They didn’t want to hurt you, that much was for sure.

Most of the bee hybrids were several feet taller than you, though some stopped at only a few inches above your head. No matter how much they towered over you, their touch was still gentle and hesitant.

None of them had ever touched a human before, much less mated with one. Your body was so sensitive, responding to every nudge and movement of their hands.

One of them sunk their fingers into your cunt, another offering you their cock. You took it into your mouth, causing them to buck their hips.

Your pussy gushed around their fingers.

“S-she’s getting all wet… my queen, is this good for you?”

“Yes, that means she’s excited! You can mate with her now!”

Each cock that entered you was different. Some were short and thick, others thin and long, but a few were both so girthy and long that you felt like you were being split in two.

At one point you were being fucked while jerking off two other bee hybrid and blowing another, trying to please as many as your subjects at once as possible.

The first creampie was almost soothing, the feeling of eggs filling your needy cunt was… mind blowing. You felt so fulfilled, you wanted to be fucked like this forever.

After the tenth bee hybrid though… you were so stuffed full you could barely think. Your tummy was stretched out, looking just about ready to burst.

“Oh, so pretty…” a bee chittered, rubbing your distended belly. “Our queen is doing so well…”

After another five bees had their way with you, the councilmen stepped forward. “That's enough for now, she needs her rest.”

Your attendants were quick to descend upon the bed, buzzing threateningly at every other hybrid that dared to even look at their exhausted queen.

“You truly did do well…” one of them cooed, kissing your temple after they bathed you then tucked you into bed.

“Sleep, you’ll need your rest. Tomorrow will bring even more eggs.”

As you laid down, curled up with a bee hybrid cuddle pile, you couldn’t help but look forward to tomorrow.

You were already becoming an amazing queen… and it had only been a day.

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taropolarbear · 2 years ago

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bunny florist /)/) ( ˶•༝•)✿ he's rather forgetful but has a loyal customer base because he's nice! (he's also best friends with the owner of the bakery next door...)

#artists on tumblr #bunny #bnnuy #cute art #rabbit #illustration #digital art #digital illustration #florist #flowers #i need to come up with a name for this series of illustrations im going do #next door neighbour is coming up XD #children's illustration

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espinosaurusrexex · 1 year ago

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Bad Boys Don't Buy Flowers

CEO!BuckyBarnes x Female!Florist!Reader AU

read Steve's story here

summary: Bucky would have never thought, he’d be chasing after a girl. Not when all of them usually fell at his feet. But when he finds himself entangled in a deal born out of a desperate argument with his assistant, he realizes there is nothing he wouldn't do for you: The independent florist who is adamantly dragging him to the homeless shelter every chance she gets. There is just one problem: Bucky doesn't know how to tell you. And the teasing from his friends is certainly not making things easier for him...

a/n: I should be working instead of writing long ass billionaire love stores, but here we are: you and me both... happy it happened and already regretting the tasks we neglected because of it (please enjoy this wholesome piece of imagination - I know it's long, but I hope you’ll give it a try nonetheless)

word count: 16.4k 😬

warnings: play boy behavior/talk, a reader that knows what she wants, Bucky falls first (and hard 🤭), mentions of war, injuries, and death (all not applying to Bucky for once), just so much fluff, questioning life choices (angst with happy ending!), smut (this is freaking love making okay?!?!? praise and confessions, dry humping, fingering, multiple orgasms, squirting, touch starved Bucky - in a way…, sensual and beautiful, protected p in v, cock warming, and aftercare) !MINORS DNI!

ﾟ✫ 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ𝒄.𝒂𝒊 ｡✭･ﾟ

"Did you place the order?" Bucky leaned back in Steve's office chair and watched as his friend paced the space with a hand in his pocket.

Steve was grinning like an idiot when the answer on the other side satisfied him and Bucky felt a tiny little spark in his chest at the sight. He'd watched his best friend go through life with a default tension in his shoulders for what seemed like forever. All until he found Bambi - a sweet and incredibly clumsy woman who was formerly his maid. But they found each other and Steve had been a happier man ever since.

Bucky was happy for him, too. He was a lot more fun to be around ever since, but it did remind him that Bucky himself had yet to find the one that would make his heart beat faster.

It was a ridiculous idea, of course. Bucky was never the one for relationships or long-term commitment in the romantic department. To be honest, he wasn't even sure he was capable of love - not that he needed it, anyway. He had no problem with having a new plaything every other night. It was fun and kept him on his toes.

"Perfect. Okay. Thanks, Sharon." Bucky sat up straighter in the chair. "Yeah, next Friday. See you later."

Steve sighed as he slumped on the sofa across the room. He watched the ceiling, looking like a love-drunk schoolboy, even though he tried so hard to conceal it. Bucky knew him too well.

"Dinner is booked.”

“You’re really doing it huh?"

“Yup." There was no doubt in Steve’s answer, but rather a special kind of excitement Bucky rarely felt.

The brunette just nodded as he looked to the ground, the chair swaying as he pushed his knees from one side to the other.

Steve just grinned in response. "So when are you gonna let me help you find the one?"

Bucky perked up, amusement seeping through his gaze when he answered his best friend. ”Me? No no. I’m fine."

Steve shrugged. ”You know, that’s exactly what I said about a year ago."

"No offense, Stevie, but you and I were in vastly different sex universes back then. I’m getting laid - I’m aaaaall good." He leaned back with a smug grin and Steve just frowned in response. "You can be as happy as you want but don’t start trying to get everyone on the girlfriend train. That’s a Rogers and Wilson thing. I don’t need that type of commitment."

Steve remained silent as he watched Bucky stand up and head for the door, a thoughtful look on his face when his friend passed him.

“Look, I’m happy for you, truly. I just don’t see myself in that type of life.” Bucky’s hand squeezed Steve’s shoulder just as the blonde cocked his head to the side.

“Never?”

Bucky winked at him. “You know I like to live in the present. But speaking of the future... You’re still up for tomorrow night, right?”

“Tomorrow night?"

"Ironbar."

Steve’s eyes widened. ”Shit. No, I promised Bambi we'd-" Steve stopped when he saw Bucky's eyebrows raise in amusement. “...next time."

Bucky sighed in defeat. "Tell her to leave some Steve time for the rest of us, will ya?" And with a laugh of Steve’s, he shut the office door, walked past Sharon’s desk, then Natasha’s, and then into his own office.

❁ ❁ ❁

The clock hand barely struck 8am when another set of files hit Bucky’s desk.

Bucky huffed as he watched Natasha stand before him with an amused smile, her hands on her hips that were hugged by a tight pencil skirt. “Looking for something, Boss?”

“No...”

“Something like... the invitation to that business dinner on Thursday?” She mused and carefully pulled a piece of paper from the stack between them.

Bucky snatched it with a glare. “It would be much more helpful if you sorted this chaos rather than stand here and be a smartass.” He looked at the invite, the familiar company logo printed in the top right corner. “And why are people even sending paper invites anymore? We’re a security firm,” he sat the paper down and tapped on it with his index finger, “just shows how desperately they need consulting.”

“Don’t blame me for it.” Nat threw her hands in the air. “And stop complaining. I know you’re the cyber guy but a couple papers shouldn’t faze you. I’ve got more important things to do that don’t particularly fall in your area of expertise.” She turned to leave but Bucky stopped her before her heels could reach the threshold.

“Are you saying your job is harder than mine?” Bucky watched the mess on his desk, then the computer screen with his calendar and the impending meeting with those jackasses from Hydra Enterprises. There was no way sorting a couple of papers could be worse than Alexander Pierce and his nephew Brock Rumlow. One of them barely knew how to send an E-mail and the other kept subtly asking if it was legal to install cameras in the lady’s room.

“If you’re referring to your inability to sort a couple files, then yes, I assume you wouldn’t last a day with my tasks.”

“Now that’s bullshit.”

“Is it now?” She raised her left eyebrow with a half-smirk. “I want to see you deal with idiots when scheduling appointments and keeping everyone’s day structured while also organizing the annual fundraiser.”

Bucky huffed, leaning back and crossing his arms before his chest. He averted his eyes from his assistant and the stupid pile of paperwork in front of him. He really did not want to sort through all of that.

“Call me old fashioned but I believe assistants should sort files.” He shrugged, knowing Natasha wouldn’t let him off that easily. They had been working together for years, he respected her as much as his other friends. And presenting the fierce redhead with a challenge to get out of some annoying tasks was something he would gladly do.

“I’ll tell you what. I will sort your papers in my assistant duties.” She made a mockery curtsy - as much as her skirt allowed - and then lifted her finger before the smile could spread on Bucky’s face. “If... you plan the charity event.”

Bucky was shocked. He didn’t expect her to play dirty - well to be fair, it wouldn’t be Nat if she weren’t teasing a little bit - but still. “You think you can handle that, boss?”

Bucky closed his mouth and eyed her suspiciously. It couldn’t be that hard to do. And certainly would be a nice distraction from the impending meeting of doom as well as the following consulting sessions. He let his head fall back and stared at the ceiling.

Was he really going to trade some papers for a whole Gala? That paperwork really sucked. He loved how easily he could wash through files on his computer. Sadly, his programs didn’t help much in the analog part of the job.

“Are you backing down, Barnes?” Nat’s teasing voice rang through to him and he snapped back into his attitude.

“Never.” He stood up, fixed his suit, and then reached his hand toward her. Natasha shook it with an evil smirk. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Romanoff.”

And with that, she took the papers from Bucky’s desk and carried them out of his office with a triumphant smile.

❁ ❁ ❁

It wasn’t long before Bucky regretted his decision.

What had he been thinking? A Fundraiser... a fucking fundraiser. Bucky couldn’t care less about them.

Okay, that wasn’t true. He deemed charity to be a very important part of society... and economy. There were times in his life when he was close to needing their help as well. And Bucky swore he’d never let that aspect of his story slip from his mind ever. Still, it didn’t prevent him from living lavishly and making use of the things he had access to now.

Usually, the organization of the charity gala was stuck on Nat and Sharon. Mainly because they had always done an amazing job. The tabloids had only positive things to write about it and always pushed the number before Christmas even higher. Which urged Bucky even more to do just as good of a job this year.

There was just one problem.

He had no idea how to organize events this size. Bucky could program a software from scratch, hack into classified state files on a bad day. Hell, he could track every person’s phone in New York in his sleep. But he never expected to be overwhelmed by a couple invites and color palettes.

Though as little as he knew about his new task, he liked a challenge, and he would most certainly not give Natasha the satisfaction of asking her for a checklist.

So, the internet had to do for now. He’d found a blog by a highly motivated suburban mom, that led with step-by-step instructions on how to plan the perfect event. It might not have been on the scale of what Bucky had to do, but considering his lack of knowledge on the topic, he figured this would do until Natasha snatched the task away from him again.

The first thing on the list was to find a date and venue. But since the gala of Shield Protection Services was always held at the same venue, Bucky figured they had booked it indefinitely for the event.

Next was to find the perfect florist that ‘is able to put your vision into extravagant floral arrangements’. Yeah... that was another problem.

Bucky didn’t buy flowers. The only women he deemed important enough in his life to get them were his sister and his mother. And well, both of them had passed away. So, picking the right flowers hadn’t been a problem until now. His mother and sister were always enchanted by the bouquets they received when Bucky was younger. He’d steal them from their neighbor‘s garden. But since he could grow a beard, Bucky hadn’t even touched flowers anymore.

Well, that had to change now.

Bucky stepped into the elevator just to be greeted by big round eyes and an even wider smile. “Paying Steve a visit?” Bucky teased with a half smile as he hugged Bambi and then faced the doors.

“I’m actually meeting Natasha for lunch,” she shifted from one foot to the other, “I didn’t realize she was already at the restaurant... so that’s where I’m headed now.”

Bucky chuckled at her slight awkwardness. But it wouldn’t be Bambi if she wouldn’t miss such a detail.

“Do you need a ride? My driver’s waiting for me anyway.”

“Tha- yes that would be nice, thank you.”

Bucky just nodded and gestured for her to lead the way when they reached the ground floor.

“Where are you going?” Bambi asked as he stared out the window of the car. They had told the driver where they needed to go. And Since Bucky had no particular destination in mind, it worked out well.

“I’m on the hunt for the perfect flower shop to cater to my vision of our charity event.” He chuckled and shook his head at his own words. He’s never thought he’d say this.

Her eyes peered at him with intrigue, a glimmer washing over them when she asked: “Are you taking suggestions?”

Bucky sat up straighter now. “Uh, yes. Gladly.” This was easier than he thought.

“There is this wonderful shop in Brooklyn. It’s called AsGarden on 18th Avenue. You can’t miss it, it’s like a breath of fresh air between all those ugly beige buildings. The woman owning it has great taste, she managed to make the perfect bouquet for me without ever seeing me.” She turned forward, a little flustered, “Steve gets me flowers from there sometimes, they’re my favorite.”

“Did you hear that, Stan?” A victorious smile spread on Bucky’s face as he squeezed Bambi’s shoulder. “Next stop is Brooklyn.”

“Alright, Sir.”

“You don’t know how much easier you just made my life.” Bucky leaned forward and kissed her cheek before the car came to a stop and he bid her goodbye.

“I’m glad I could help.” She waved back and then headed into the restaurant.

Maybe the event wasn’t so difficult after all, Bucky thought as he leaned back in his seat, his legs spreading in satisfaction.

❁ ❁ ❁

The cool air snook through your shop when the familiar bell of a customer chimed above the door. You’d seen many people frequent your shop daily. Women, men, teenagers, elderly. All came from different backgrounds and varying stories in their repertoire. Your store was in the heart of Brooklyn - a bunch of people mixed in this town. And you’d made it your mission to find the perfect flower arrangement for each and every one of them.

The man who had set off your little bell this afternoon was different though. A perfectly tailored coat adorned his broad shoulders. The way his hands were tucked in his pockets revealed the expensive-looking suit beneath as well as the toned chest that hid beneath the button-up in vain. His presence oozed money as he sashayed through your shop, carefully grazing delicate pedals with the aura he brought in.

He seemed to own the world, but something about him just didn’t fit between the colorful flowers surrounding him. If you didn’t know any better, he looked a little lost, eyes glassy as they swayed through the sea of colors and shapes soaking in fresh water.

“Good afternoon, sir. Can I help you?”

He ripped around, fixed his posture, and approached the cash desk. When his eyes landed on you, he froze. Just for a second, however, and then his jaw snapped into a handsome smile as he leaned forward.

“I sure hope so.” His white teeth flashed between his lips before his tongue stroked over them. It was capturing. “This flower shop has been recommended to me. You wouldn’t happen to be the owner?”

“Well actually, I am,” you smiled hiding the pride swelling in your chest from the comment.

“Great. What is your capacity when it comes to event arrangements?”

“That depends...” You smiled as the handsome stranger raised his eyebrows in intrigue. “I reckon we have vastly different understandings of what is small and... big.” Your eyes wandered over his expensive coat again. The innuendo was accidental, really, but he seemed to be amused nevertheless.

“My company is hosting its annual charity event in November... at The Glasshouse.”

“So just as I suspected...” You nodded and strode past him towards the fall flowers.

“Pardon me?”

You turned your head towards him and winked. “Bigger than I thought.”

“So?” He approached you with his hands still in his coat pockets and peeked over your shoulder. “Can you do it?”

“Totally.” Then you gestured to the flowers. “Do you have any preferences? I don’t have all the flowers in yet, but I recommend going with some soft orange and sage tones... to cater to the season.”

“Forgive me, sweetheart, but I am useless when it comes to this kind of stuff. My qualities lie more in the technical aspect of things.” A hand ran through his thick dark hair and the gesture made him look boyish.

“Alright let me rephrase my question then: Do you trust me?” A sly smile sneaked on his face, matching yours.

He tipped his head. “My life is in your hands.”

“Good. Then please write down your details here.” You pushed a form over the counter once you reached it again, and the man just followed you around like a lost dog. You watched as his hand swiftly filled out the free spaces on the paper, curious which company he had been referring to.

“Wait you’re working for SPS?”

“I own it, sweetheart.” The man adjusted his coat as you tried to look unimpressed. “My name is James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.” His hand extended over the shiny countertop until it encased your smaller fingers and his warmth seeped through your body.

Bucky’s smile brightened when you revealed your name to him, telling you how beautiful it was, and you began to struggle not to show the effects it had on you. Then he resumed filling out the order and slid it over to you again.

“What cause are you raising money for this year?” You asked as you sorted the paper into your books, only to be surprised when Bucky seemed a little nervous all of a sudden.

You knew Shield Protection Services was a pristine company with reach to people whose powers you could barely comprehend. Whatever they were choosing, it would have a big impact on the change their chosen organization was advocating.

“Well, to be honest... we haven’t decided yet.” A silly idea hushed through your head at that, but you dismissed it. A company such as Bucky’s would raise sums only big fish could handle. There wasn’t space for the things you had in mind.

“I hope you’ll do so soon, then.” You nodded thoughtfully and ended with a tight-lipped smile.

Bucky nodded and smiled, then turned around and headed for the door. But before he could open it, he came back again. You looked up to see a black card held before you.

“I’d be happy for suggestions... if you have any in mind.” He shrugged with that cheeky look of his and then left. And you just stood there, dumbfounded, and toying with the ridiculous idea that Bucky Barnes might actually be able to read minds.

❁ ❁ ❁

“Rogers really couldn’t make it?” Tony asked as he leaned back in the leather booth of his very own establishment. He tipped his emptied whiskey glass towards the slender redhead at the bar and smiled as she rushed to get his refill ready.

“He promised Bambi to be home...” Bucky trailed off as he watched a customer hit on the waitress - Tiffany he remembered - A pretty thing, but unfortunately incredibly hollow when it came to conversation... not that Bucky looked for anything like it.

Tony huffed. “That woman has him wrapped around her finger!” He liked Bambi, everyone did, he just missed hanging out with his guys.

“Just wait until you find the one, Tony,” Sam chimed in with a sly smirk on his face - a hopeful, yet cautious hint as Sam secretly loved the idea of all his friends finally finding the one. He was a romantic, Bucky knew it, even if Sam never actually said it.

“Me? I would never give up my glorious bachelor life for one woman. There are way too many things to explore...”

“Mark my words, Stark. We’ll look back to this day and laugh about this incredibly jackassy statement. You, too will be finding the one. I just know it.”

Bucky chuckled and tipped his glass on the Table as the bickering of his friends faded into background noise. For some reason, he didn’t feel like adding to the conversation. He blamed it on the banality of a conversation both he and Tony had long decided on, but perhaps, it was because for once in his life, he considered taking Sam’s side on the topic.

It was ridiculous, really, how fast you’d occupied his mind when it came to Sam’s comment about finding ‘the one’. He didn’t even know you aside from the ‘background check’ he conducted after his visit to your shop. That might have covered your personal details, but he still didn’t know if you were a dog person or preferred cats, or if you were vegan or vegetarian, or if you considered kids in your future.

Bucky cleared his throat and sat up straighter when he felt the fluster creep up his neck. What the hell was happening to him? He wasn’t like this at all. Women occupied his mind for about as long as it took for him to make them come undone in his hands. When he was with them, his full attention was on them - he loved them - but he’d never let them control his life. James “Bucky” Barnes never even considered seeing them twice, let alone thinking about a future with them.

Though, to Bucky’s displeasure - or pleasure (he hadn’t decided yet) - the thought of seeing you again wasn’t uncomfortable to him. On the contrary, he got a weird tingly feeling in his stomach when he remembered the smell of the flowers in your shop and how your delicate fingers carefully picked out the prettiest ones. Bucky sat his drink down with a clink. Maybe he’d had enough alcohol for tonight.

“Barnes, how come you’re not defending me here? Have you grown soft or something? Do you have a girl we don’t know about?” Tony’s nagging broke through to Bucky and the whole bar reached back into his consciousness.

“Sorry, what?” He stuttered, shaking his thought and trying to find a good answer to his friend’s remark. “I was distracted by Betty.” Bucky smiled sheepishly as he received a clap on his shoulder.

“That’s my man.” Tony grinned and Sam huffed into his whiskey. And Bucky? He just sunk into his seat, feeling somehow shameful for the white lie he had made up.

❁ ❁ ❁

The SPS office was impressive. Amongst the old New York brick building surrounding it, it reached up into the sky with its glass front everything. But you wouldn’t be fooled by its fragile looks. This was one of the most secure buildings in the city. You’d read about it in an article some time back - the whole hype about the company was their way of making fragile-looking things indestructible. You couldn’t see through the “windows” from the outside. And you wouldn’t be able to launch a rocket through it either. SPS had patented their stronger-than-steel-glass years ago, making them the leading security company in the world.

To say you had been a little surprised to see the very owner of said company on your side of town would be an understatement. But besides his incredibly adamant way of flirting, he was quite normal to talk to. He’d even asked you for advice on the cause they should donate to this year. And after having thought about it for the better part of what should have been your sleep time, you had decided to just try and pitch your idea.

“Do you have an appointment Ms.?” A stunning redhead peered up at you from her desk, her nails clicked on the keyboard of her computer as she waited for your answer. You didn’t really know why you thought getting to Bucky was going to be easy. The security guard had already eyed you suspiciously at the front desk in the lobby. After you’d smiled at him as charmingly as you could, he’d decided to let you be someone else’s problem today - or maybe he just didn’t see you as a threat - whatever it was, it had gotten you this far. But what were you gonna say now?

Actually, I don’t have an appointment, but Mr Barnes met me yesterday and after thinking about him all night, I decided to pay him a visit today.

Yeah, that wouldn’t cut it. Not in this office. The redhead - N. Romanoff - was what her sign said, made that fairly clear with the way her lips pursed at the opened calendar on the screen.

“You don’t happen to have to discuss something not suited for work with Mr. Barnes, do you? I know he tends to leave some of his meetings... open-ended.”

Your eyes got wide. “God, no. I’m not-“ Your hands made a swishing motion between you two and then you took a breath. “I’m here to discuss business. Purely business. Mr. Barnes has made an order at my shop for the company fundraiser and I just want to discuss some details.”

Her eyes glimmered when her lips pulled into a smile. “Did he now?” She peered over to catch the look of the blonde assistant a few feet next to her and then back to you. “Well if that is the case, please have a seat, I’ll tell him you’re here.” And with that, she got up, winked, and wrapped at the large wooden door presumably leading to Bucky’s office.

She came back a minute later and gestured for you to enter. “Lucky for you, his meeting just got canceled, so you should have enough time.”

“Thank you.” And then Ms. Romanoff went back to her desk and started whispering to the blonde assistant.

Bucky sat behind his desk, a sleek glass surface lightly cluttered with papers. Other than that, the room felt cool, the large rug by the seating area did little to cover the marbled floors. You stepped inside just as Bucky called out your name. You almost didn't see the wide smile on his face as the rising sun hung low on the horizon behind him, casting a halo-like glow around his silhouette. What a freaking entrance. Though Bucky surely couldn’t control the sun, you thought with a small smile, you really had to stop imagining this man was extraordinary.

“You’re here.” He got up and walked towards you, his sleek back shoes echoing on the ground. And then he was next to you, leading you to the seat in front of his desk with his hand on the small of your back. “What brings me the honor of your visit, darling.”

He leaned on his desk with his arms crossed, a pleasant smile on his lips. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice that you came by, but you do have my number, don’t you?”

“I do.” You cleared your throat, trying to sound as convincing as possible. “I was hoping you had some time to spare, actually. I find the phone to be a little... impersonal.”

Bucky’s eyes shined with intrigue as he leaned forward, pinning you to the chair with his gaze. He licked his lips. “Show me what exactly?”

“You’ll see.” You smirked. “I happen to know that your next meeting just got canceled.”

Bucky got even closer, his breath hitting your neck with every word he spoke. “And I’ll gladly cancel the rest, too.” A shiver shot over your arms, his cologne seemingly intoxicating you. But before you could respond, he backed up, grabbing his coat and gesturing towards the door. “Lead the way.”

And so you did.

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky was suspicious when you pulled him into the subway, but he decided against saying something. He had told you he trusted you after all, and though Bucky considered himself a lot of things, a flake was not one of them. So he let it happen.

It wasn’t half bad, either. Somewhere between his office door and the train, you had taken his hand in yours to pull him along faster. Bucky had noticed his lips spreading into a smile. It didn't last long, unfortunately. Because as he had made eye contact with an elderly lady who had then proceeded to tell you what a beautiful couple you were, you had pulled your hand away with an awkward laugh.

‘Oh, God, no, we’re not together, ma’am.’

Admittedly, Bucky felt a little sting in his chest ever since. In fact, he was rubbing his hand over his shirt at this very moment. You were walking along a street in Brooklyn, not too far from your shop. The neighborhood was a little more run-down than he was used to, certainly nothing like the part of town he lived in. But he kept quiet still. Maybe he was a little butthurt from your earlier aversion about the couple comment, but to be fair, Bucky wasn’t used to women denying him - except Nat.

You suddenly stopped, making Bucky almost run into you and then stare at you in question. But when you gestured towards the sign above the two-story building, his gaze softened.

There, above the blue-painted metal doors, hung a faded sign. Bucky could make out the orange and yellow stripes on the board, a big Sunflower painted in the middle of it all. ‘Sunflower -Shelter & Food’.

“Hey, are you coming or are you glued to the ground?” Your voice rang from the entrance, he hadn’t even noticed that you already moved inside.

Bucky gulped when his eyes swayed back to you and then down his own body. If he was going to step in there in the outfit he was currently wearing, he would look like the biggest asshole on the planet.

“I can’t go in there.”

“Why not?”

He just gestured towards his clothes, his Rolex glinting in the sunlight for good measure. But there was no reaction from you. You stood in the doorway, pursing your lips seemingly in thought, and then shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly. “I guess you’ll just have to deal with it then.”

“What?” He called your name. But when he realized you weren’t joking, he caught up to you as fast as possible. Because the only thing worse than showing up there looking like he did was doing it alone, he decided swiftly.

“‘Think now might be a good time to mention that this is not a very good place for a date,” Bucky mumbled next to you before closing his coat, trying to hide the even more expensive suit beneath.

“How would you know?” You turned to him. “This isn’t a date, is it?”

Bucky just smirked and then he watched you greet a young boy with a warm hug, and man he imagined what it would be like to have you hug him like that.

“Peter this is Bucky, Bucky, Peter.” You pulled him towards you by his hand again. “I brought him along to help today, thought we always need an extra pair of hands around here.”

“Pleasure to meet you, sir.” Peter reached his hand out, slightly frowning when he took in his appearance but did not say anything. “Any help is always welcome here. Come, I’ll show you what we’re doing today.”

Within ten minutes, Bucky had an apron and gloves on and was ordered to cut the biggest stack of potatoes he’d ever seen. You were happily chatting away with the other helpers and Bucky, for the first time in a long time, felt ...normal.

Nobody was recognizing him in the crowd, there was no talk about business and investments, and there were no fucking cameras. Here, people recognized him for what he came to do, help. And it felt weird. Bucky wasn’t quiet about his lavish lifestyle around his crowds. He knew the privilege he had, and he had worked for it enough to be proud of it. But it was like he had entered a different universe in this part of town. All the things he deemed normal, were things so far from imagination here, they were left out of conversations entirely. So, he tried to remember this whenever he was offered a conversation.

“You do this every day?” He asked into the kitchen while struggling to peel his 5th potato.

“Whenever we can.” An older woman answered with a smile. She was the one who had shown him how to use the peeler faster. “They are people just like you and me. They have to eat every day, too, Bucky.”

Bucky just nodded in silence at the humbling answer, his cheeks felt hot with embarrassment at how naive he had been.

Two hours later, he was standing by your side at the serving station, plating mashed potatoes and the accommodating ‘you’re welcome’ every once in a while. He rarely was out of his comfort zone, like today. But he also knew that, whenever he felt unsure, he’d look at you and you’d gift him an encouraging gesture that kept him going a little while longer.

After everyone had their food, you gave Bucky a tour of the premises.

There was a small courtyard, a couple rooms with telephones and a computer, some sofas and pillows. Nothing fancy but functional nonetheless. You led him through every room, explaining curtly what it was for and then you led him up the stairs.

On your way up, you passed Peter, who was helping a child find its toy and Bucky felt a lump form in his throat at all the new impressions he was fed today.

He cleared his throat. “Peter... is he?”

You shook your head. “Not exactly. His parents died when he was quite young. Lucky for him, though, he has always been a bright kid. He got a scholarship for every school he ever went to. But he spends most of his free time here. He has this urge to help wherever he can. Took me a couple months to keep him from skipping his lectures.” You chuckled and led him through the next door.

Bucky nodded with adoration. Not many people dedicated their time to something that would not benefit them directly. And while Bucky knew what a dedicated mind was capable of, he had to admit that his efforts were always motivated by personal gain.

“He’s very admirable for that.”

You just hummed in response. “I don’t think he chose it himself. Not that I think he wouldn’t. But this shelter belonged to his uncle and aunt. They died when he was in high school. He’s working hard to keep this place alive. As do we all.”

The next room you entered was resembling a classroom. “What happens here?”

“Most of the children are registered for the public school of this district. But they don’t always make it there. This room gives them the opportunity to catch up on missed work. We also have adult classes here, preparing for job interviews and such.”

The next hallway presented doors, all leading to bedrooms, as you explained to Bucky when you walked through the corridor. The last door was larger than the others - a double swing leading to a big sanitary area. Showers, toilets, and sinks lined the walls - all run down but functional.

“This place could use some serious renovating,” Bucky mumbled, but he was sure you had heard him. Because you looked up at him now, a sad smile decorating your beautiful face.

“We try to make it as clean and cozy as possible here, but we just don’t have the necessary financial means for it. It works for now. The people coming here need very little. But it’s only a matter of time until the roof needs redoing or the pipes or the windows, or the-“

“Yeah...” Bucky trailed off, making you stop and giving him a break to breathe. He usually wasn’t surrounded by people unable to get out of unfortunate situations. The clients he spent his time with ordered his services to protect the material things they’d bought for status and fun. It was something entirely different when you were robbed of your place to sleep.

“Well, this completes my humble tour.” You clasped your hands together and proceeded to look at your watch. “I think it’s time to go home.”

You descended the stairs in silence, Peter hugged Bucky goodbye and when he stepped foot back on the sidewalk, Bucky turned around to the sign once more. You stood beneath it, leaning against the doorframe and smiling at him. It was dark out now.

“Are you not coming?” He asked watching as you shook your head.

“Peter has an exam tomorrow. I offered to stay the night.”

“Here? Alone?”

“Yes.”

Bucky stepped towards you again. “Then I’m go-“

“Stop.” Your hand reached for his shoulder, the touch sending him straight back to a haze. “Don’t do this. I know how you feel. There’s this sadness inside you now. You saw this for the first time. It feels awful - I know.” You retracted your hand and pushed yourself off the doorframe. “But until you don’t see anything other than pity for these people, you can’t be here without breaking.”

“Doll...”

“Bucky, I'm serious. Go home. Sleep on it. Try to understand the situation.”

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this helpless. He just stared at you, unable to move or say anything. He didn’t like the idea of you staying here alone at night. And though the feeling of caring for someone he’d only known for two days so much scared him, he pushed it aside.

You leaned forward and hugged him goodbye and then the cold night surrounded him again. “Thank you for trusting me today.” And then you turned around and left him standing outside alone.

❁ ❁ ❁

Your purple-inked pen marked the date in your calendar.

“That’s an unusually big order, Steve...” You looked up at the blonde frequenting your shop every so often. He’d always get the pink carnations for his girlfriend. Apparently, she loved them after you bound them in the first bouquet you ever sold to Steve. He was a simple man, you could tell, so his usual orders were just as such. But not today. “Are you planning anything special?”

The handsome customer blushed with an innocent smile. “Actually...” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’m planning to propose.” He looked so sheepish when you clasped your hands in excitement.

“Oh, that’s amazing. Congratulations!”

“Well not yet.” He cleared his throat, visibly trying to compose himself. But this giant pretty man in front of you was adorably nervous.

“I just know she’ll say yes,” you mused and made a note to reserve some more carnations for his order - a couple simple arrangements that held so much meaning.

“How do you know?”

You watched Steve peer over to you with hopeful eyes. “It’s not every day a man puts so much effort and thought into what bouquet to get his girlfriend on a casual Monday evening each week.” You winked and Steve nodded lost in thought.

“To be honest, I haven’t even thought about her saying no. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

“You shouldn’t worry too much. You are a good man, everyone can see that. And just to be sure, I’ll make the most perfect flowers ever. Paired with your charming ways, there will be no other option but to say yes.”

He relaxed a little. “Great. Thank you.” And then he turned to leave your shop.

“I’ll have them ready by Friday.” You smiled.

“Thank you... so much.” Steve smiled and you knew there was so much more hidden in his gesture.

❁ ❁ ❁

It had become a habit that Bucky visited the shelter with you once a week. Admittedly, you were surprised he even cared enough to free his schedule so religiously. But as of the past four weeks, he had shown up at your shop, walked with you to Sunflower shelters, mingled with the people, and then even walked you home.

It was actually kind of refreshing, seeing him so invested and kind of protective. There weren’t many guys in the city that cared enough to get you home safely. Peter offered more times than often, but you rather knew him safe at the shelter than try to fight a gangster double his size out of the kindness of his heart and the deep wish to somehow become a superhero one day.

So Bucky had to do it for now. Not that you were complaining. He was handsome and charming and interesting to converse with given the vastly different lives you lived. But he tried to adapt. Ever since the incident on the first day, he had even tried to wear less wealth-telling clothing, though he seemed to not always hit the mark just right.

In a way, bucky was a little fashion icon. You’d noticed it in his colorful waistcoats, the intricate details on his shoes, or the fancy cufflinks adorning his oxford-cotton shirts. He tried to dress down. But to your surprise, the color remained. Instead of waistcoats and dress shirts, he wore regular t-shirts. His confidence never wavered.

A little smile hushed across your face every time you looked at him. The pink shirt he wore combined with the green apron he had been given, made him look like a lollipop. A Beautiful one, that was. With a dashing smile and an adorable frown as he tried to separate the peas from the pod.

“So... how is the gala coming along?” You teased him a little having noticed how unusual this task was for him. Throughout your few meetings, you had gotten to know Bucky quite well. And apart from his statement the very day he stepped foot into your shop, he revealed to you more and more how difficult the project was for him.

“Let’s just say I’m glad I can count on the flower arrangements,” he grumbles as a pea slipped from his fingers and across the table.

“That bad, huh?”

His hands stopped working. “The Band canceled on me again and I seem to run after every other arrangement I have made so far. If I had known how much work-“ he huffed and then shook his head with an even deeper frown.

“Hey, it’s okay to not be good at everything.” You encouraged him, your elbow nudging his side as you smiled lightly. “There has got to be something humbling you. Makes you seem more human.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I meant to ask you...” You picked up your task to avoid his eyes that were suddenly on you again. “How come you’re the one organizing the gala?”

Bucky chuckled, his head shaking for what seemed like the hundredth time today. “I made a deal with my assistant.”

“What was in it for you?” You threw a couple peas in the strainer and Bucky did the same.

He shrugged. “I got to hand off some paperwork.”

Wow. “Seriously? A bit of paperwork seems like a poor trade for months of organizing something so important.”

Bucky laughed, the sound warming your stomach from the inside out and finally making you look at him again. It was little moments like this in which he felt so careless and relaxed. You liked to believe the shelter did it to him, or maybe even you. But primarily, you were glad he laid off his work self just then. “Yeah it might have not been my smartest move... but I don’t mind it really.”

“Why’s that?” Your eyes locked and you suddenly became very aware of how close the two of you were standing.

“If it weren’t for the deal, I would have never met you.” There was something so honest and pure about the way he had stated this so plainly. And for a moment, you liked to forget that he might have just meant your suggestion to donate to Sunflower. That maybe, the funny fluttery feeling in your stomach wasn’t one-sided, and that you too meant something greater to him than the coincidences that led him into your shop that day.

A wide smile spread on Bucky’s face and then he winked. He freaking winked at you. And while you turned back to your peas, desperate to hide the fluster on your face, you had to remind yourself that this was Bucky fucking Barnes and that he knew what he was doing.

About two hours later, you sat amongst the people currently living at the shelter, sharing the meal you had prepared for them with the hopes of getting them through another day. You and Bucky were sitting with Gabe Jones, a veteran whose post-traumatic stress disorder had cost him everything after the Vietnam War. He was always telling stories of his time on the front - a way to cope with his horrible past. By now, you and Peter had probably heard every single one of his stories twice. But Bucky was on the edge of his seat. Listening with intrigue as the food on his plate remained untouched.

“It was ’68 when I was sent out. There were soldiers who done already survived a year or so at the front. And, son, I am sayin’ survived ‘cause you couldn’t call that livin’.” Gabe shook his head before pointing his fork to his shoulder. “Caught a grenade in ’69 and on our way to camp, they shot at the helicopter. Lost my right arm and comrade that day. The damn arm’s gone but I’m gon’ have the memory forever.”

The words didn’t seem to affect the veteran anymore, but they never failed to leave their recipients shocked and wondering. It was always the same question: How can someone fight for a country, leave their life for a country, and end up here?

And honestly? You didn’t know.

“I’m so sorry, sir.” Bucky swallowed as his eyes fled over to yours. “Thank you for your service.”

“Notin’ to be sorry ‘bout.” Gabe waved his hand and then pointed at Bucky’s plate. “You eatin’ that?”

Bucky just shook his head and pushed his plate towards Gabe, a somber state overtaking his body. You did feel a little bad. But you also knew that Gabe wasn’t affected by sympathies and that he was happy at Sunflower - though he preferred the street over the beds here. While he had spent just another day existing, he had simultaneously opened Bucky’s eyes to the severity of making stories like his more known.

By now you were pretty confident, Bucky would choose the homeless as recipients for his company’s fundraiser sum. But he surprised you by getting involved with the people here over and over again, willing to learn and to understand.

The walk to your apartment building that evening was awfully quiet. Bucky had insisted he walk on the street side of the sidewalk, buried his hands in his coat pockets, and shut up ever since.

You knew he was contemplating, letting the day play on repeat in his mind. He probably had a lot of questions, a lot of frustration, and worry. Nothing unfamiliar to you, but something you’d learned to deal with ever since helping out at Sunflower.

“Don’t feel bad,” you said when you stopped in front of the familiar brick building you called home.

“How?”

“Feeling bad isn’t helping them. You have the power to change things.” It was an awfully dry response, but the truth hurt sometimes.

Bucky just looked at you through hooded eyes, a knowing nod shaking his features as he watched slowly take a step back toward your front door.

“Thank you,” he suddenly released - steady and calm. “For taking me. For helping me see...”

You couldn’t help yourself. The confession overwhelmed you. Knowing you had succeeded in showing him what was so important to you overwhelmed you. You leaped forward and slung your arms around him, pressing tightly into his chest.

Bucky’s arms found their way around you in an instant, the hug conveying so much more than just a goodbye. It was a ‘thank you’ a ‘this means the world to me’.

After about a minute, you leaned up to him and placed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m also glad you took the deal, Bucky.” You whispered into his ear, feeling the smile on his face on your cheek.

When he finally released you, it seemed like the spell was gone. Bucky was back to burying his hands in his pockets, only the faint remnants of a smile hinting towards your earlier interaction. You hadn’t realized how much this would affect him. You had forgotten how long you fought with yourself until you could act normal around the people at Sunflower yourself.

“Do you want to come up?” You threw your thumb over your shoulder at the entrance of the building with a lopsided smile. “Don’t want that cheap bottle of merlot to go bad.”

Bucky’s eyes brightened underneath the street lights and the wide boyish grin returned to his face. “We can’t have that, can we?”

❁ ❁ ❁

To say Bucky’s heart had skipped a beat at your invitation would have been an understatement. It did somersaults and ended with an impressive backflip. He’d not expected a move from your side. Especially, since the last time he had picked you up, the universe had flipped him the bird by sending two of his former one-night-stands your way. He had been able to shake them off before they were able to yell at him or reveal more of what their connection to him was. But that marked the first time he was a little embarrassed by his late endeavors. You had acted like nothing happened, but since that night, Bucky hadn’t stopped wondering what you thought of him.

You lead him up the narrow staircase to a red wooden door, the color chipping by the floor as an indicator of having to kick it to open sometimes. Beyond the door, it was cozy and warm. Every corner of your place had a memory placed in it - a self-made quilt or a photograph. When you walked through it, Bucky could feel the love and time this place had seen.

It was nothing like his own apartment: a penthouse standing high above the city, with sleek black surfaces and cold marble wherever you reached. Here, he felt the need to take his shoes off, to feel the fuzzy carpets on the scratched-up wooden floors. Your place wasn’t sterile like his, it felt... like a good hug.

Bucky snorted as the result of a breath he released. Never before had he cared about what his place lacked. It was expensive and pristine, clean and big. And even though your apartment was about the size of his living room, it had so much more to offer.

“The living room is right through there, you can choose a movie if you like.” Your voice called out from somewhere Bucky assumed to be the kitchen as he kicked off his shoes and made himself comfortable on the rust-colored sofa that had more pillows than necessary. It was super comfortable, though. And the lack of space due to the pillows forced you to sit a little closer to him, so he wasn’t complaining.

“Your place is... cute.” He stated as you handed him a glass of wine and laughed.

“It’s a shoebox but I do love it very much. Probably nothing compared to what you’re used to.”

Bucky shook his head and took a sip. The wine did taste cheap, but he did not care. “Bigger isn’t always better.” His arm was spread on the backrest but your whole body was turned to him. “It has a lot of character.”

“Oh god, please stop, you’re just making it sound worse.” Your hand came up to hide your face but your smile peeked through the gesture.

Bucky laughed. “I didn’t mean it condescendingly. I really do like it. Reminds me of my childhood home.”

“Are you close with your family?” Bucky was surprised by the question. Maybe it was because his friends never talked about his family, or because the peers he hung out with tended to discuss business rather than sentimental. But he realized that nobody had asked him about it for a long time.

And so he began talking. Bucky talked about his parents and how both of them died early in his life. He told you how close he was with his sister until she got adopted into another family. He spoke about his childhood with Steve and how they’d met Sam and Tony in college, about the night they had the idea for Shield Protective Services, and finally the day he was told his sister had passed away.

Throughout his story, you had leaned into him closer, hanging onto his every word until your hand had to support your body on his thigh and Bucky suddenly stopped talking.

Your glasses were emptied, the bottle as well, and Bucky gulped when he felt the heat from your hand travel throughout his entire body.

“So... that’s my story.” He had to clear his throat to gain his usual timber back, his hands becoming sweaty when you blinked next to him. “What about you, dove?”

“Dove?” You smiled, yet intrigued by the name that had slipped past his lips in the trance of the moment. He’d only ever called you that in his thoughts. Attributed the nickname to you the second he realized it was the most fitting one of them all.

“You don’t like it?” He asked, his arm slipping towards your shoulder ever so slightly.

“I like it.” You smiled. “I just want to know... why this one?”

A hush of giddiness crawled up his throat when he thought about his answer. It was the way you had welcomed him so easily into this world of yours. How you were willing to show him the things precious to you. That you trusted him with this very opportunity to help. Every day he spent with you he felt it, found that between coding his new security program and meeting with Hydra enterprises, its somber reality sent him into a feeling of breathing fresh air. You created a button that turned off the noise in his head. “Because you bring me peace.”

Your eyes stared at him in wonder when he tilted your chin with his thumb and index finger. There was appreciation and happiness, he could see it, feel it.

Bucky was entranced by your stare when your voice whispered a response to him: “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever been told.”

You leaned forward and Bucky’s heart threatened to jump out of his chest, and then your face fell into his chest, your arms encasing him in the warmest hug he’d ever received. He willed his pulse to slow and wrapped his arms around you tightly. A little humbled and a little confused, but appreciative of the situation nonetheless.

You stayed like this when you chose a movie to watch. Even after an hour, Bucky’s grip didn’t loosen. He peered down at you on his chest and watched as you fell asleep. And when he was sure you were far away in your slumber, he pressed a warm kiss to your head, lingering in the scent of your shampoo.

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky stared at his computer screen as the pen in his hand clicked on his glass desk in perfect rhythm. The Shelter website displayed on the surface, portraying a brighter version of the sign you had dragged him to that very first day.

But it wasn’t the heartfelt story behind the building or the way his pen clicked slightly more hollow every other tap because he turned it too much that had him zoned out at work. It was - as unbelievable as it sounded - a woman. Not just any, no. You.

“Hey, I need a signature from you for this design draft.” Steve dropped his notepad on the desk, then rounded it and settled behind Bucky who had yet to recognize his presence.

“This your charity suggestion?” He questioned with his hands on his friend’s office chair.

Bucky nodded absentmindedly. Perhaps it was because he had decided to support your suggestion the second you had taken his hand on his way to the subway. Or maybe he was just letting his mind roam freely again. Mainly because it was a safe bet to call you into memory and he liked the feeling it provided.

A pale hand waved in front of his face. “Earth to Bucky.” Steve snapped his fingers, making the brunette jump. “You seem oddly distracted.”

He had been thinking about you. Of course, he had. There seemed to be nothing else he could do lately. Every time Bucky read through his reports, he imagined what your voice would sound like reading them to him. Whenever he went down to IT, he envisioned the room decorated with your flowers and how much happier they would make the place. When he sat in a meeting with HR and watched their burnt-out faces stare back at him through their coffee haze, he wondered if you could make them as lively as you made him.

Bucky could - so he realized after weeks of denial - not escape you.

That was one thing. But the more chilling revelation was that he did not mind. He enjoyed the little admonitions his mind set out in his environment. He appreciated the quickening thumb in his chest, whenever he saw his calendar entries stating another meeting with you - so much so that he almost forgot how unusual it was for him.

It was crazy. A month ago, if someone had dared to tell him he’d be finding something more than his regular flings, he would have laughed in their face. In fact, he actually did a few days before he met you.

Bucky didn’t know what kind of magical spell you’d put on him, but within a few weeks, he’d started to become a different man. A better version of his thought-to-be-marvelous self. Now he realized what he was missing: a counterpart, someone who made life seem dull without them by his side. He wasn’t going to admit it to Sam or Steve immediately, but the idea of you being that very someone became more attractive each day.

“Just a lot to do with the gala and all...” Bucky trailed off and spun around to Steve.

“You know, I never took you for an event manager...” The blonde grinned and his eyes lit up in the office light. “Don’t take this the wrong way, I like seeing you try something new, but this feels very... out of place.”

“But you also know I never back down from a challenge. And I’ll be damned if Nat has something to hold against me for life.”

Steve’s head tipped forward. “We both know that woman has blackmail material for two lifetimes on us.

“She really does.” Bucky sighed and then slumped back in his chair, the little issue he had been hiding from his best friend gnawing on his mind.

He thought about Steve and Bambi and how he had just asked her to marry him. She’d said yes, of course, nobody expected otherwise. Steve - of all people - was living a magical fairytale life with the woman of his dreams. And here Bucky was, thinking he had figured it all out with women and relationships - or rather that he never wanted one - yet he found himself wondering why that decision bugged him so much when you came into the picture.

“Can I ask you something?” Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, not believing he was really going to ask Steve for dating advice.

“Always.”

“How did you know that Bambi was the one?” A stupid question, really. Bucky already knew there was nobody like you. But it was best to start this conversation off lightly.

Steve smiled widely again, his cheeks tinted pink. “Well, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. And not in an I haven’t touched a woman in years kind of way... I couldn’t stop. Every second of every day, I imagined her with me. The thought of her made me happier even before she knew how I felt about her. And, well, it also hurt like hell when I thought she didn’t return my feelings... when she refused to talk to me for a day...” He cleared his throat and then eyed Bucky again. “Why do you want to know?”

“Nothing in particular. I was just wondering and I needed material for my best man speech.” But the blonde didn’t buy it. He caught Bucky’s chair when he attempted to turn away, pulling him right back in front of him. “Are you dating someone? Is it that woman from the flower shop?”

How did he know about you? “No??” Bucky squinted at Steve.

“You know if you wanted advice, I do consider myself an expert to some extent now.” Bucky wanted to wipe the smug grin right off his friend’s face.

“You’re an idiot.” He stood up and paced to the window.

“Oh come on, Buck.” Steve followed suit, the playful grin ever present. “You teased me for years about my love life, can’t be mad now.”

“I’m not mad.” He was annoyed.

They stood by the glass front for a while, watching the busy city unfold beneath them in the glow of the rising sun. Bucky could feel his friend’s eyes stare at him though. And after another moment of silence, the blonde finally spoke. “You should ask her out.”

“What?” He faced him again.

“You like her. I can tell. And you’ve never acted like this about a woman, let alone put so much effort into a relationship. I know it’s not your style, but I think it would do you good to at least try.”

“The effort is for the gala.” Bucky corrected.

“Right. Because that’s your thing... charity galas.” Steve squeezed Bucky’s shoulder and then tapped it and then he made his way to the door. “I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I really wish you would listen to your heart and not be a stubborn dickhead for once. This could be something life-changing - something great. And it’s your choice whether you welcome it or not.”

Life changing. Bucky didn’t like the sound of that. He liked to be in control of the situation and rule over his own life. However that aspect seemed to have left the building when you entered.

He huffed. There you were back on his mind again, and he felt the tingle creep up his throat. There was no denying it. What Steve had described with Bambi was what Bucky had with you.

With a shake of his head, he grabbed his coat, told Nat he’d be back in an hour, and then pressed the button for the elevator. He would deny it if Steve ever dared to take pride in convincing him to do so, but he’d also be damned if he didn’t at least try to find out if you felt the same.

❁ ❁ ❁

There was a burly-looking stranger standing at the counter when Bucky entered your shop. He had willed the traitorous voice in his head to silence all the way here. But now that he saw the handsome older man taking all your attention to the point you hadn’t even noticed him stepping in over the customer's broad shoulders, the heat began to bubble up again.

Bucky wanted to tell himself you wouldn’t prefer the salt-and-pepper-bearded man over him. But to be honest, he didn’t even know what your type was. Yes, you had cuddled on your sofa just the other night, but since Bucky wouldn’t consider himself an expert in anything other than one-night stands, it could have been a friendly gesture for all he knew.

“Would that be all for you?” You asked the man and handed him his chance. Bucky watched as his thumb grazed over your hand, feeling a tinge of anger starting to consume him.

“That’s all. Thank you, sweetheart.”

“I hope to see you again soon, sir.”

“Oh, you can bet on it.” He winked then turned, nodded to Bucky in a brief greeting, and then exited the shop. Bucky’s eyes lingered on the door for a while longer. He took deep breaths as his jaw clenched and the bell above the entrance fell silent.

“Hey.” A warm hand touched his arm, pulling him right back to your eyes. And just like that, the anger washed away a little. There were just you and him in your tiny oasis amid Brooklyn. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” He forced a smile, but the frown on his face probably betrayed him. “Just thought that man was a little inappropriate.”

“He’s just a sweet man buying flowers for his wife.” Your eyes glimmered with mischief when you bit your lip. “Bucky... are you jealous?”

Oh, hell no.

“Jealous?” Bucky wasn’t jealous. He couldn’t be. There was nothing to be jealous of. He had no claim to you. Even if he really wished he did. And yet that man had angered him with only the touch of his hand. That was the only thing he’d ever get. Bucky knew what it felt like to have you in his arms, how your body lotion settled in his nose, how your head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck. “No.”

“But you should not be so naïve, dove. Married men are also flirting... and cheating.”

A short laugh escaped your throat before you caught yourself again and Bucky’s heart began doing that funny somersault thing. “Not to burst your bubble or anything, but I do know how the real world works.” You crossed your arms before your chest. “Besides, what do you care if he did ask me out? Maybe it has been a lifelong dream of mine to be a mistress.”

“It’s not. And I don’t. I just think you deserve someone better than a cheater.”

“Oh, like who? The percentage of good guys in this city is disappointingly low.”

Bucky snorted, guided by the excitement in his chest he opened his arms. “Please, I could name at least five guys off the top of my head who are better than whatever that was.” His left hand flailed in the direction of the door, referring to the previous customer.

“Name one.”

“Me.”

The surprise sprung onto your features faster than Bucky realized what he had said. “What?”

Well, this was certainly not the way he had planned to ask you out today. Damn jealousy. The only way for this to not be embarrassing was to own up to it now. It was what he had come here for after all, right?

Bucky looked directly into your eyes, his expression sincere and determined. "Yes, me. I may not have everything figured out, but I do know one thing: I care about you. I've seen the way you light up a room, the kindness you show to everyone around you. You deserve someone who sees that, who appreciates it.”

Your eyes softened when you shook your head, averting your gaze to the ground. “I don’t know, Bucky.”

He bit the insides of his cheeks, instantly hoping you’d say something else. Anything that would show him there was a chance you would change your mind. The silence was all-consuming, but he kept his mouth shut, careful not to fuck it up once again.

“Bucky, I appreciate your honesty, I really do. But I don't think it's a good idea.”

Bucky's brows furrowed, his confidence wavering as your soft refusal hit him. "What do you mean, you don't know?" he asked, his tone tinged with a hint of frustration. He struggled to keep his composure, the unfamiliar feeling of rejection gnawing at him. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he searched for the right thing to say. His jaw tensed, betraying the hurt he felt deep down. "Forget it," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. With a curt nod, he turned on his heel, his disappointment palpable in the air as he made his exit, leaving you to contemplate his unexpected confession.

❁ ❁ ❁

“Why, don’t you just look precious!” You bent down and picked up Sam’s daughter, Darla, who had eagerly stormed through the door as soon as he’d opened it because she wasn’t quite tall enough to reach the handle yet.

“You... I’ve missed you soooo much.” You nuzzled her into your chest and pretended to squeeze real tight.

“Come play dragons with me!” The little one squirmed and then hopped off in her tiny knight costume.

“Nothing I would rather do,” you singsonged and then mouthed a ‘she’s grown so much’ to Sam before he closed the door with a shake of his head.

“I know... she just does it without my permission. Unbelievable.”

About ten minutes later, you sat on the living room floor with a bunch of stuffed dragons, you had been instructed to play. Sam’s daughter was happily fighting the stuffies with her wooden sword and his husband handed you a cup of coffee with a smile.

“So how have things been?” Matt sat down on the sofa and Sam instantly wrapped his arm around him. Your eyes lingered on the interaction for a second before your gaze wandered back to Darla.

“Oh, you know, business as usual. The shop is doing very well... the shelters are holding up.” You smiled at her and then made a dragon fall backward in defeat.

“Hm...” He frowned. “That’s weird... I had a feeling it was getting better soon.”

You smiled tight-lipped and wondered if you had butchered it all with your stubbornness. Matt wasn’t clairvoyant or anything crazy like it. But the joke of his other senses being heightened due to his impaired vision had carried on forever. And even though you never believed in supernatural magical things, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, there was a hunch of truth to it nonetheless. He had been right about many other things after all.

“I don’t know,” you sighed and Darla excused herself to her room to ‘get more toys’. “Except for the shop, everything else seems to go a little downhill right now.”

“But you have been seeing someone, no?” Matt tilted his head and Sam squeezed his shoulder in an attempt to make him stop.

“Babe, do we need to talk about appropriate prying again?”

“Sorry,” Matt blushed, “Occupational hazard.”

You laughed and then turned serious again. “I have... but to be honest, I doubt it will have a future. It’s - I don’t know - it just seems a little too good to be true.”

“It’s been Bucky you’ve been seeing, hasn’t it?” Sam chimed in with a calm deep voice, making your attention snap to him. Your heart began to race at the mention of Bucky’s name.

“How did you know?”

His fingers lifted in air quotes “A gorgeous girl with a flower shop in Brooklyn that somehow tries to convince him to donate to Sunflower shelters? You did not make it hard, honey.”

“He... he talks to you about me?” Well, that changes things, you thought as you watched Sam reassure you with a small smile.

"More like a little birdy told me...." Sam shrugged. “What happened?” He leaned forward slightly, his eyes holding concern.

“Isn’t it obvious? I don’t want to be one of his many trophies. And I’m scared, I just made the chase attractive by not putting out immediately.” Your eyes turned glassy. “What if he will lose interest when I do.” Your voice broke, making you almost whisper the last part into the living room. “Because I really really want to...”

Matt cleared his throat. “If it helps anything... I have a feeling you are not going to be just another one-night stand.”

“And why is that?”

“I’ve never seen him like this.” Sam chimed in. “So butthurt about a girl or even put effort in a relationship that would only become a one night stand - which it is not - he wants more, he needs more. He sees a future with you. And as much as his bad-boy demeanor has made that pretty unbelievable in the past, he is changing. I just know, and it’s about time that he aims for peace and quiet and love and comfort.”

Turning your head with a suspicious grin, you answered: “Is Matt contagious? Because that sounded one hell of a lot like a prediction to me.”

Sam just shook his head with a smile, scooted forward on the sofa, and then took your hands in his. “Believe me when I say this: You are so amazing. And not even a douchebag like Bucky could deny it. Yes, he has had his fair share of women in the past, and he can be the most stubborn dickhead in all of New York City, but he’s not stupid. He knows something valuable when he sees it. And you, love, have given him the most precious thing he’s ever had.”

You held eye contact for a short moment, letting your friend’s words sink in and warm you from the inside until the butterflies in your stomach began to tingle. As much as you wanted to refuse, you had shown him love and acceptance every step of the way. And Bucky? Bucky had tried so hard to impress you. He had done so many things just for you, to spend time with you.

You just wrote it off as a means to get you to sleep with him. But at this point, that argument was farfetched. Because throughout the time you spent together, his presence was pleasant, casual, and... wanted.

“So what do I do now?” You said with determination, making a smile spark on both Sam’s and Matt’s faces.

❁ ❁ ❁

“So, Barnes is unusually grumpy tonight.” Bucky heard Tony say when he came back from the bathroom, jamming his glas on the table to announce he was listening. “Did you get cockblocked or what?”

“Shut it, Stark, or I’ll personally demonstrate your very own cockblock.” Bucky pressed through his teeth.

“Damn, Buck. What the hell could possibly throw you off this much?” Tony signaled for two more drinks to the bar as Bucky took a seat again.

Sam looked at him with a raised brow - the fucker knew what was going on. But Bucky refused to get dragged into talking about his feelings.

“I thought it was going good?” Steve chimed in, a question in his features. Steve, you punk. Shut up!

Bucky knew he was referring to the bouquets of flowers that subtly decorated the office now. First his own desk, then the kitchen. And when Nat had grown suspicious, he proceeded to place them on her desk to have her stop asking questions.

It wasn’t his doing - not this time. You had just given him a bouquet of the flowers you couldn’t sell anymore every time you met. And Bucky couldn’t bring himself to throw them out. They also reminded him of you and were a nice little distraction from work. ...Not that it mattered anymore.

“Going good? What is going on? What are you talking about, Rogers?”

“Bucky met a- ouch goddamnit!” A kick was heard from beneath the table. And when Steve’s eyes snapped over to Sam, the man just tipped his head with a warning stare. “What the hell, man?”

“Okay, that’s it. I feel like you guys don’t tell me anything. I need details. Now.”

“No.”

Bucky didn’t need Tony to know. In fact, Bucky didn’t need anyone to know he had trouble talking to a woman. He, of all people, who never had any difficulties getting even the married ones - yeah he wasn’t too proud of that... But Tony would just make everything worse. And with his patience hanging by a thread right about now, he was not willing to play with fire.

“Buck, we- they’re your friends. They deserve to know, especially if things are as serious as you told me.” Bucky just stared at Steve in silence, his gaze trained on the crystal class in front of him with the amber liquid untouched. Steve always had a need to calm the storm. And maybe, Bucky would let him do it this time.

Truthfully, Bucky couldn’t imagine a life without you anymore. His friends would sooner or later hear about you - if he had not fucked it up entirely. So, it was better to rip the band-aid off now than peel it back painfully slow in the future.

He crossed his arms and exchanged a brief glance with the blonde, and Steve understood that he was allowed to proceed.

“Bucky met someone. He’s organizing the charity gala this year and she’s the florist doing the flower arrangements.” He had never noticed it before, but ever since Bambi had entered Steve’s life, his best friend’s fable for romance became more and more apparent to Bucky.

“She’s also helped him find a cause to donate to. She’s been taking him to the Shelter she has worked at for years,” Sam chimed in and Bucky didn’t even question where he got his information from anymore. Steve and he had always been close, and though Bucky didn’t believe Steve would tell Sam his most private conversations, Sam always had a way of finding out.

“Event planning? Florist? Who are you and what have you done to Bucky?” Tony looked seriously stunned, But Bucky didn’t expect anything less than incomprehension. He had always been the only one in the group Tony could relate to and talk to when it came to women and lifestyles. Now, that very thing was slipping away.

Bucky just shrugged, uncertain how to answer. It was true: He had changed quite a bit ever since meeting you. But they weren't bad changes. He actually liked them.

Steve cleared his throat. “I thought things were going great, just the other day he talked about asking her out. And there were all these flowers in the office, I just assumed...”

“Yeah well, they weren’t.” Bucky interrupted as he felt the frustration creep back up. There were so many new feelings mixing within him that he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Well it’s good to have you back, I guess. Can’t imagine how that would’ve turned out.” Tony’s hand landed on Bucky’s shoulder, who immediately brushed it off.

“What do you mean ‘turned out’?”

His head swayed from left to right and his hands turned outward. “Well, we all agree it would have never worked out right? You’re not the one for relationships and she was clearly using you for that charity money.”

What the actual fuck?

“You don’t know her. So don’t you dare assume anything about her.” Bucky sprung up, his hands hitting the table with a thump. “Dove has the kindest, most beautiful soul on this earth.” He wouldn’t let Tony, of all people, insult you. Not you. Not his dove. And, yes, maybe it also hurt a little that his friend did not believe Bucky could change for something truly important. And maybe it scratched his ego that this might have been the reason for your rejection the other day. But all of that seemed unimportant now.

“Look at you growing all protective.”

“Tony.” Steve’s condescending tone rumbled over the booth.

A look at Tony and Bucky wanted to smack the smirk off his face. Another look at Sam, whose eyes had grown soft with empathy. And one last look at Steve, who’d only wanted him to be as happy as him. Damn it.

“You wouldn’t fucking know what I’m talking about, Stark.”

And then he stormed out of the Ironbar and into the night, head fuming, heart racing, and only one thing on his mind.

❁ ❁ ❁

You were pretty sure Bucky would have kicked your door down had you not opened it the second time he wrapped his fist against it. Now he was standing in front of you, cheeks reddened from the cool night air, chest rising with deep breaths, but still devilishly handsome.

“Hey, Bucky!” You smiled until you noticed the irritated look in his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

He seemingly ignored you, stepping into your home and then turning once you closed the door. “Do you think I can change?”

“What?”

“Do you believe I could change? That I could become the person you would date?” His eyes were pleasing, his head cocked to the side - fidgedy.

“Is... is this about the other day?”

Bucky looked nervous, vulnerable even. “Just answer my question, please.”

“I believe everyone has the ability to change. But I also know not everyone wants to.” You looked at your hands, suddenly feeling a bit awkward.

“Then why... why do you think I haven’t. Through all the times we’ve gone to the shelter, through all the conversations. I’ve never had that with someone before... what I have with you.”

There it was. You knew you had to talk to him about it sooner or later. Sam and Matt had suggested as much. You just didn't know it would be this soon.

“Bucky, I just don’t want to end up as one of the women passing you on the street, throwing side eyes at the newest one you’re having on your arm.” Yeah... that encounter had been a rather awkard one. Not to mention how nervous you were that night, hopig Bucky had only played it cool in order to protect you.

“See, but that wouldn’t happen to you, dove. It wouldn’t. Because I realized that you are the reason that makes me want to change.” Bucky's gaze softened as he spoke, his tone gentle yet resolute he stepped closer. “I'm not perfect, but I promise you this: I'll always try my best for you. So, yeah, maybe it's a long shot, but I think I could be good for you. And if you'd give me the chance, I'd love to show you.” He took your hands in his, then closed his eyes and came even closer. “I know I'd treat you right.”

Throughout his confession, your gaze never faltered from his face. You could feel the desperate honesty in his tone, in the way his hands lightly trembled. He was scared, and he lay that emotion in your hands - for you to do whatever you needed with it.

Your voice was shaky when you answered, a light hue of shame fogging the question on the tip of your tongue. “But how do I know...?” That this is not what you’re telling every woman in this godforsaken city?

But Bucky understood. Because apparently that pull you'd had toward him had been there for a reason. “Because the things you make me feel scare me.” His face was mere inches from yours now, you could see every speck of color in his irises. “They scare me because I’ve never felt them before. Every time I’m not with you, I think of you. In every situation I am in alone, I imagine how much more exciting it would be with you in it. I’m going crazy. I’m lost without you, dove.”

A single tear ran down your face at his confession. This moment felt so raw, his words so sincere. But most importantly, it made your heart pound with excitement.

“Will you be mine?” His forehead leaned against yours, his hands moving up your arms and to your neck. “Please say yes,” he whispered and his breath tickled your nose.

He just felt so right. Bucky felt right in your home, in your arms, in your life. “Yes.” You finally answered and as soon as the syllable left your mouth, his lips came crashing onto yours.

Within seconds, Bucky had you pressed against the door. His hands held your face lovingly, his hands warm and big on your skin. The kiss was deep and so unbelievably pure, it punched the breath from your lunges the second your lips connected. And suddenly you knew that Bucky’s words held far less emptiness than you had feared. Nobody could kiss like this and not be sincere. At least you hoped it to be true because once you’d gotten a taste, you knew you would never want to try anything else. You could get drunk off him. Forever.

Your hands wandered beneath Bucky’s coat, settling in the warmth of his back beneath the thick wool and feeling the muscles ripple when he pulled you even closer.

You sighed into him because the moment felt so right, so perfect, so tailored to the two of you and Bucky brushed his tongue over your bottom lip. The tingle from the gesture traveled down your spine. Before you could hold yourself back, you let his touch swallow you whole.

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky moaned, a feeling so warm and enjoyable taking over his body with every breath you stole from him. He had wanted for this to happen for weeks. And the real thing did not disappoint.

Your hands roamed his back until they hooked onto his shoulders and began shrugging off his coat. He tried hard to keep your lips on his during the action, not wanting to miss a single moment without them anymore. You were here, you were his, and it was perfect.

“Bucky,” you whimpered when his thigh made its way between your legs. A move so instinctually feeling for him. But all the other women he’d been with before only seemed like practice now. Preparation to be the best lover you’ve ever had and ever will have. Because you were the real thing, the grand prize, the best person to ever happen to him.

You ground down on his legs in rhythmic motions, Bucky could feel the heat seeping through his expensive dress pants and it made him feel even hotter. He pushed his leg higher, reveling in the sounds that came from your lips and the very knowledge he was the one providing this pleasure. There was nothing more exhilarating.

But still, it wasn’t enough. “There are too many layers of clothes between us, dove,” his wet breath brushed against your cheek as he pulled his thigh back for you to take off your jeans.

“You’re so right.” You grinned and then pulled them down in one swift motion only to reveal a pink pear of panties underneath.

In an instant, his body was pressed to yours again, his lips attaching to yours like magnets - he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you. But instead of placing his leg right back to get you that delicious friction, his hand began traveling down your front until it disappeared in your underwear.

If you were any other woman, Bucky would’ve gone down on you. He would have dropped to his knees and eaten you out because he knew it was the fastest way he’d make you come. And he took pride in the fact that the women he was with always had at least one orgasm more than him. But he didn’t do so with you.

Why?

Because Bucky Barnes got high off of your lips, and he couldn’t possibly imagine not seeing your face, feeling your mouth shape in a silent scream when he would make you come for the first time.

So his hand had to do for now. His fingers slipped past the thin pink cotton and over your mound to gather your slickness. He gasped when he reached your heated core. “You’re so wet for me, love. So ready.” He pecked the corner of your lips. “So perfect.”

“Yes!” You whined and pressed your pussy into his touch. Bucky immediately started to trace circles on your clit. He took his time to find the motions with which your breath staggered, or your fists clenched in his shirt. With every whimper, every stroke of his hand, he felt his dick strain his pants a little more - the aching exciting him for when he could finally sink into you.

“Shit, don’t stop. I’m so close.”

“I don’t plan on ever stopping.” He growled into your mouth, his hand movements becoming more frantic, the wet noises filling your apartment. Frankly, Bucky didn’t believe he could ever stop giving you pleasure and having you writhe in his arms with deep sighs. Not until he knew how you sounded cumming on his hand, on his face, on his dick, on the sofa, on the bed, and every other surface he could possibly imagine. Your body was like ecstasy.

Your walls began to clench around his fingers, every drag becoming harder as he imagined his cock being squeezed by you instead. “There you go, Baby. That’s it.”

“OH MY GOD!” You screamed as your hand pulled on his hair, your body growing rigid with pleasure and Bucky kissed every curse word from your lips.

After a minute, he slowly pulled his hand back, the other caressing the skin on your cheek. “Are you okay?” He whispered, his eyes boring into yours in genuine concern.

“Are you kidding? I’m more than okay. That was incredible.” Bucky couldn’t help the small chuckle from leaving his lips at your praise.

“You look really fucking pretty when you come.”

“I’m glad. Because I want you to make me do it again.” You kissed his cheek. “And again.” And then you gently stroked his cock through his pants. “And again.”

And the second you said that Bucky pulled you onto the floor with him. He took his time removing your clothes, kissed the trial of your bra strap all the way down your shoulder, licked and bit at your hips all the way down to your ankles where he finally pulled off your underwear and pressed his lips to the soft skin of your leg. And when you were fully naked, he paused. Bucky’s eyes roamed your body, taking in every divot, every mark and curve of yours.

He sat back on his haunches, his head getting dizzy when the butterflies took over. “God, you’re so beautiful,” Bucky softly wheezed, his hand slowly stroking your leg as you lay spread out in front of him.

“Come here.” You gestured with your arms open, welcoming him in your embrace with a wide smile. Bucky supported his weight with his arms on either side of your head and let your hands bury in his hair. He closed his eyes letting the warmth of your touch overtake him. Your thumbs stroked over his brows before you whispered: “Look at me.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I doubted you. I feel the appreciation in the way you talk to me and touch me. It was unfair of me to assume you are your reputation.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s not like I made it easy for you to believe me.”

You chuckled and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Well, I do now.” Your eyes locked with his and a new fire lit within them.

“Good.” He smirked and then rolled you over so that you were straddling his waist. The cool wooden floor hit his bare back as you had bunched his shirt up on the way, now pulling it over his head and revealing your satisfied stare when your hands traced over his abs.

You shook your head and released a breath. “Shame on me for refusing this for so long.” Your fingers passed his happy trail and began working on his belt. Bucky’s thumbs stroked your thighs as he watched you undress him, the tent in his pants ever so present and growing with every brush of your fingers.

“Don’t worry, dove. We have all the time in the world to make up for it.” When his pants were off he pulled you forward again, kissing you ferociously. “‘Cause I’m not planning on leaving.”

You smirked and ground down on his cock, interrupting his speech and ripping a guttural sound from his chest.

He had been holding back. Ever since you'd dragged him into that shelter, he had not touched a woman, because you had him hooked the second you had taken his hand on the way. And now he had to bite his tongue to keep himself from coming in his boxers like a school boy.

“Are you getting nervous, Bucky?” You grinned and moved again to tease him a little more.

“Can you blame me?” He clenched his jaw when you rocked forward again, his hand stilling your hips with a near-bruising grip. “I’ve wanted you ever since I stepped foot in your shop.”

“You did?” Your head cocked to the side, surprise washing over your face and his dick twitched making Bucky’s cheeks heat up.

“Yes...” He confessed only to be attacked with your kisses again. He groaned and bucked his hips up until you were a moaning mess on top of him. His hands reached around you, settling on your ass and giving it a small clap.

“Hand me my walled, baby. It’s in my pants.”

“Why?”

“We need a condom if you don’t want to keep dry-humping me.” He smirked, knowing, feeling there was nothing dry about this anymore. Your arousal was already drenching his boxers. The slick pushing him close to losing it.

“It’s okay. We don’t have to, I have an IUD.”

“As much as I want to, we should be safe...” Bucky swallowed and averted his eyes in regret. “Have to get tested again.”

“Oh, ok.” You were disappointed, he could tell. And Bucky was too. It was the first time he ever regretted all his one-night stands because he would kill to fuck you raw and feel all of you. And as hazy as your body made him, he could not ignore the fact that he did have several different sex partners before. It would have to wait a few weeks. And when he would come back clean, he would keep you in the bedroom for a week straight.

You must have noticed his misery because you leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Then you scooched back and retrieved the condom from his wallet. Bucky held his breath when your fingers hooked into his waistband. And when you pulled them down, his cock stood proud and thick with precum already pearling from his tip.

He reached for the shiny packet in your hand but you pulled your arm up, your eyes stuck on his cock. “Let me.”

“Okay,” he breathed out as he watched you rip the packet. His shaft twitched when your careful hands rolled the condom over him, another bead of precum dripping into the condom and before he could collect himself, you rubbed your pussy all over him, coating him in your arousal.

Bucky’s hands turned into fists at your sides as he watched you finally sink down on him - inch by inch, your heat welcomed him, his body sparking with pleasure all over. You moaned in unison when he was fully seated inside you, his cock being hugged tightly in your warmth - he’d barely held it together then.

You planted your hands on his abdomen and rocked forward, sending the both of you reeling. It took a second for Bucky to collect himself. His eyes closed and his nose huffing, he reminded himself of what he had promised you and what he wanted his first time with you to be. When he opened his eyes again, his hands moved over your body with determination. One setting over your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers, the other began tracing tight circles on your clit.

Your head fell back, a vision of ecstasy and pleasure unfolding before him when he sent you over the edge a second time. He slowed your hips on his and rubbed your pussy with his thumb. He needed you to come again. And then again, and he had to hold out for that long. But the way your chest heaved, the light sheen of sweat forming on your skin, made his plan more than difficult.

It took all of Bucky’s willpower to pull you off his cock and push you to his legs. He sat up and kissed up your neck until he reached your lips. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you what you asked for.” He mumbled against your skin and then licked over your nipple, the other being caressed by his fingers. His free hand found its place right between your legs again and when you moaned lowly, he slipped two fingers inside you.

Your pussy was squelching, the lewd sound traveling across the living room as Bucky worked you towards another release. You were already squirming in his hands again. Your fists pulled at his roots, sending a shiver straight to his cock when you leaned his head back. “You’re amazing.” Your breath was hot, fanning over his lips only to be replaced by them again. His tongue slipped inside and mimicking the movement of his fingers in your pussy.

“Right back at ya, dove. I can't wait to be inside you again.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“For you to come again.” He bit your lip and sped up his fingers already feeling you squeeze him tightly. “So you’re satiated when I come deep inside you, feeling you squeeze me with that perfect pussy of yours until you see stars.”

“Shitshitshit. I’m coming!” A series of curses flew past him when you pulsed around his fingers, gushing all over his hand and lap until he finished rocking you through your third orgasm.

“Fuck,” Bucky licked your juices off his fingers and his eyes rolled back into his head.

“I don’t think I have another in me, Bucky.”

“Don’t worry, love. I got you.” And with that he hooked your legs around his waist, falling forward until you were with your back to the floor, Bucky hovering over you and aligning his length with your entrance.

He couldn’t wait anymore, in one swift motion, Bucky fully bottomed out until his balls hit your ass. And when he was confident you were comfortable, he set a relentless pace. He had been on the edge this entire time. You had almost made him come just having him watch you let go. But there was nothing like the feeling of your pussy hugging him tightly, your body writhing beneath his, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure and nails raking down his back.

“You feel so good,” he grunted and you just moaned in response.

“Look at me, please.” His hand turned your face. “I need to see you.”

Bucky snapped his hips into yours even faster, your walls already clenching tightly around him and he threatened to burst. Your eyes opened and fell to his and Bucky couldn’t stop his orgasm from ripping through him anymore. His strokes stuttered, his balls tightened, but he held eye contact with you, searching your hand behind his back to lock your fingers with his.

The white pleasure exploded within him, elevated by your own peak hitting with full force. He kissed you then, feeling like he was somewhere between heaven and your living room floor. His mind was consumed by you, his body tingling in aftershocks as he rocked you through your highs.

His damp chest fell into yours when you came down. He rolled on his back, taking you with him, pressed deeply into his body, his cock still buried inside you. Bucky’s chest was heaving, the last remnants of pleasure sparkling in his nerves. He kissed your hand and cuddled you closer.

This was what he was made for. To be with you, to be consumed by your affection and warmth.

He smoothed over your head and felt your lashes flutter on his skin. His heart was blooming with contentment - all the fear he’d felt to commit was miles away, lost somewhere between the Ironbar and your doorstep. There was nothing he was more sure of.

“Let me do this right. Let me take you out.” He whispered into your hair with a smile, trying to remember a time he’d ever been this happy.

You snorted as your hand gently stroked over his chest. “Bucky, you’re literally ballsdeep inside of me right now.”

Bucky chuckled as well, his hand rubbed down your bare back in a soothing motion when he kissed your head. “Nothing like a convincing argument, huh.”

🫵 You cant get enough of this character? Go check out the chatbot I made for him! This way you can explore different endlings, plotlines, or just enjoy his company for a while longer 💕

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puck-luck · 29 days ago

Note

jack hughes comes back from a long roadie and his gf (of only like a few months) is all over him, wearing his jersey on top of some lingerie, and just saying the dirtiest most filthy shit because she missed him so much and needs him immediately, and he is like in a state of shock (the good kind) bc he’s never really seen her like this before and it turns into like the hottest sex they’ve ever had ☝🏻

(this is my last one!! sorry, i am not a dawson mercer girly so i don’t really have any ideas for him, hopefully some other nons can pick up the DM slack for me 🫶🏻)

in memoriam of one of the original asks cappy sent me in a spree last april🥹 see, guys, i get to everything eventually...

warnings: unprotected p in v, **mentions of jack's shoulder injury**, mentions of handjobs, mentions of blowjobs, mentions of thigh riding, mentions of overstimulation, fingering, switch!jack and switch!reader (they do both! in this one, jack is... leaning more dom, but he's not like a DOM!dom), praise, mentions of pain play, squirting, that's all i remember. doing this from memory is hard!

pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader

wc: 3,995

The finishing touch for Jack’s big welcome home party– just you, since Luke and the rest of the team are on the road at the moment– is the vase of flowers in your hand. You can’t decide where exactly to put it.

You put the vase together on Jack’s kitchen counter. You cut the stems into his pull-out trashcan near the dishwasher and filled the vase with lukewarm water from his sink. You sprinkled some of that nutrient packet into the water, the packet that came with the flowers, even though you’re not sure if you used the right amount or if that’s what you were supposed to do anyway. You’re not a florist. You just wanted to do something nice for your boyfriend.

Your heart damn near stopped after he crashed into the boards in that game against Vegas. To see Jack’s opponent– and friend, since you’d met the other Jack at 4 Nations when they were on Team USA together– crouched over him and checking on him, making sure he was okay… it made you feel sick to your stomach. Obviously, he wasn’t okay.

And then he went to get surgery almost immediately. He went to Colorado, got patched up, and went back to Michigan for a couple of weeks to get his initial rehab and recovery out of the way with his old Team USA trainers and his parents closeby.

You’d felt so useless when it happened. You and Jack only started dating a couple of months ago, right around the new year, and you had no idea how to help him with this injury. You have no idea what he needs now that he’s coming back.

So, you’re trying to make the apartment pretty for him.

You’ve strung up a banner in the living room, above the door of the balcony, which says “Welcome Home, Jack!” in big bubble letters. You painted it yourself last weekend, when he’d texted that he’d be coming home soon, and you’d artfully hidden your mistakes by turning the banner over and starting again. You hope that Jack doesn’t observe the back when he takes it down. You never claimed to be an artist, but it’s still embarrassing to be so bad at spacing out letters when you used a ruler and everything.

There are balloons in the corner and tied to Jack’s seat at the table. You’re wearing a party hat and you bought him a paper crown to wear when he arrives.

The only question that remains is where to put these damn flowers.

You want him to see them when he walks in, so you can’t put them on the kitchen counter, or the dining room table, or in his bedroom. You could put them on the table they have next to the door, where the guys put their keys and throw their coats, but Jack would knock them over with said coat or he’d throw his keys into them by accident and lose them forever among the petals. They’ll have to go on the coffee table near the couch, but even that seems imperfect.

When Jack tells you that he just made it to his building, not knowing that you’re upstairs waiting for him, you decide that the coffee table will have to do.

There’s one last thing to do before he walks in the door. Like you said, you and Jack have only been dating for a couple of months. You’d finally worked up the courage to wear his number to the two home games before his injury. At the first, you’d worn a little beaded bracelet with the number ‘86’ squeezed between a bunch of red, white, and black beads. At the second, you’d worn a jean jacket with an ‘8’ and a ‘6’ ironed onto the breast-pocket of the jacket, done by one of your more fabrically talented friends at your request. Jack had quirked a smile at both, but planted a kiss on your cheek after the jean jacket and murmured something about how you’d have to wear his jersey and cheer him on while he’s on the road.

That was the plan, until he’d gotten injured. You hope that it doesn’t add insult to injury– no pun intended– to wear it now. After all, you’re still Jack’s biggest cheerleader. Now, you’re just… cheering him through his recovery instead.

You tug off Jack’s big sweatshirt, which you totally hadn’t stolen when you’d been missing him after he’d left for Colorado, and toss it into the corner of his closet. He’s got a few random jerseys in here, which shouldn’t surprise you, even though you thought that the jerseys stayed at the rink. Aren’t they part of the equipment? Or does every player get to have a couple of jerseys to do with what they wish?

You choose his classic red, pulling it over your head. The sleeves reach your fingertips and the length falls past your hips. It’s a big garment. That makes sense, you guess, since they have to wear pads and stuff underneath it. It covers the pretty panties you’d chosen to wear for Jack in case he felt up for sex– when is he not, to be fair– and the matching bra that pushes your tits up and shows them off. You’ve also splurged on a pair of sheer, black stockings that only come up to your mid-thigh. There’s lace trim that accentuates the hem of the stockings and you tug it up to make sure they don’t slide down. You want them to be securely in place when Jack finds you in the apartment.

You look at yourself in the mirror. The stockings are coquette in a vixen-like, sirenous way. There’s a sliver of your skin visible between the lace of the stockings and the hem of Jack’s jersey. You look dwarved in it and you know that Jack will like that. He’s got a thing for throwing you around and showing off how strong his training makes him. Unfortunately, he’s got that pesky shoulder injury, so he won’t be doing much of that anymore– not for a while. Your hair is messy from brushing it out of your face as you decorated the apartment, then eventually tying it up as best you could. Some strands escaped and the elastic you used is old and loose, but your hair looks effortlessly good. This is a hairstyle that you’ll never be able to recreate because it’s so messy and haphazard. You’re about to whip your phone out to take a picture when you hear the front door swing open and a suitcase roll into the atrium ahead of Jack.

You hear his confused “What the–” and the two tentative steps he takes into the apartment before you grab the paper crown from atop your bag, exit the bedroom, and reveal yourself.

“Welcome home!” you exclaim, skipping forward towards Jack.

His eyes light up when he sees you, which takes away from the sting of sympathy that nips at your heart when you see his slinged arm. He opens his other arm and wraps it around your waist once you’re close enough, pulling you into his body and pressing a kiss to your hair. “Baby,” Jack says, grin dancing across his face. “Did you do all this?”

You pull back and place the flimsy crown on his head. It falls crooked almost immediately, so you have to fix it again. You’re surprised Jack’s hair wasn’t already hidden beneath a hat of some kind after such a long day of travel. “Mhm,” you confirm. “Wanted to do something nice so you didn’t come home to an empty apartment.”

Jack leans forward and pecks your lips, his available hand splayed over the small of your back. He presses your torsos together. “You’re so thoughtful. I missed you.”

“I missed you more,” you chirp back. It’s still early in the relationship. You’re allowed to do the “I missed you more, I missed you most” bit without feeling like it’s too middle-school.

Jack finds it silly, but in a fond way, so he rarely ever completes the superlative. He just cuts his eyes at you, then rolls them in faux-exasperation. “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “Whatever you say.” He loosens his grip around your waist. “Let me get a good look at you. Are you wearing my jersey?”

You step back and pop your hip, posing for Jack. “What do you think?”

“I think you wear it better than I do,” Jack replies. His mouth is crooked as he smirks at you. “The socks are a nice touch. You couldn’t find any tube ones to match mine? The ones that go over my leg pads?”

He’s just teasing, but you frown. That would’ve been fun. You could’ve basically worn his uniform, but a sexier version. “Boo,” you lament with a pout.

Jack tips his head back and laughs. “I’m messing with you, pretty girl. I love it. You know I’m going to have to take it off of you, right? It’s been too long since I’ve gotten my hands on you.”

“Don’t you mean ‘hand,’ singular?” you tease, narrowing your eyes at Jack. “You can’t use both your hands. You have to wear that sling.”

“I can take the sling off for twenty minutes,” Jack replies. When you make a face at him, he raises an eyebrow. He bargains, “I’ll put it back on right after.”

You sidle up close to him, tracing the velcro straps and the long belt that wraps around his neck. “What if I want you to keep it on?” you ask.

Jack smirks at you, eyes glimmering with playfulness. “Then I’d ask if you like seeing me in pain, sweetheart.”

“Seeing you in pain?” you repeat, making your eyes wide and innocent. You ignore the way your heartbeat speeds up as an image of Jack, squirming and whining and overstimulated but bucking his hips into your tight fist, pops into your brain. “I would never enjoy that.”

“Hm.” Jack looks over your face thoughtfully. He wraps his arm around your body again, placing his hand on your asscheek and squeezing before he prompts you. “Jump, baby.”

You wrap your arms around his neck for leverage. “You think you can carry me with one arm?”

“I know I can,” Jack insists, lifting you off the ground with his forearm pressed to the back of your thighs, then holds your behind again once you twine your legs around his waist. “I lift.”

His defensive tone has you laughing and kissing him, distracting him, as he walks down the hallway towards the bedroom. He kisses you back just as passionately, tracing his tongue against yours and nibbling on your lips when you pull back just enough. He pushes the door open with your back, then abruptly tosses you onto the bed.

You shriek and giggle when you fall through the air and land with a bounce, scoffing at Jack with an open mouth. “Oh my God!”

Jack laughs and sticks his tongue out at you, tugging at the straps of his sling until it’s loose enough to slip from his body. He carefully flexes his arm and gets the blood pumping through it again, tugging off his shirt and fumbling with his zipper.

You lean back on your elbows and spread your legs, knees hooked over the edge of the bed. Jack’s jersey has ridden up, revealing the crotch of your panties but nothing more.

Jack eyes you with his teeth digging into his bottom lip, shoving his pants and boxers down, leaving him bare before you.

Your eyes almost immediately grow hooded, fixed on his cock. Jack makes it jump in place, grinning at you when your gaze comes up to his face. You smile back and spread your knees an extra inch, nodding at Jack.

He takes his cock and fists the base, walking between your legs as he strokes himself slowly. He then drops to his knees and kisses the inside of your thigh, his free palm coming to your stocking-clad shins and tracing up the fabric until he reaches the lace around your thigh. Jack digs his fingers into the lace and begins to drag it down your legs. He kisses each inch of new skin that is revealed, gently removing the stocking before kissing back up your leg and repeating the process on the other side.

Your core has started aching with want, slick probably seeping through your panties. If Jack can tell, he ignores it.

His movements are slow and measured, reverent. He treats you gently and takes his time with you, like you’re the one who’s injured and in pain.

You whimper for Jack as his lips pass your knee on the way back up.

His eyes lift and regard you. His lips pause for just a second before he continues his path. His hands slide up your sides, under the jersey, and he pushes it up. His mouth creeps over your stomach and his head hides itself under the dangling fabric of the jersey. Jack is now crouching rather than kneeling, and you scoot back on the bed so he has a more comfortable position. He places a knee on the edge of the bed and inches up your body, still kissing, and finally removes the jersey.

“Can’t wait for you to wear that while I’m actually playing,” Jack tells you quietly before he tosses it away. His fingers tease your entrance, tracing it through your panties. “It’ll inspire me. Remind me of this night.”

“I will,” you promise breathlessly, your hands tracing up Jack’s biceps and digging into his hair, which has only gotten longer since he left.

“You’d promise anything,” Jack chuckles. He slides his thumb over your clothed clit. “As long as I keep touching you.”

You detest that, but he’s probably right. In order to avoid admitting that, you pull his head forward until his lips mold against yours and his fingers pull your panties to the side.

Jack’s muscles bend and flex as he pumps his fingers into your heat, starting with two because he just can’t wait to sink his cock into the wet space between your legs.

You’re immediately reacting to the way his blunt fingertips curl into your walls and press into the gummy flesh, seeking out your sweet spot.

He has to draw back from you, resting his forehead against yours and gnawing on his bottom lip while he watches your face.

You roll your hips and gasp wantonly when his middle finger prods the spot inside of you. Your eyelashes flutter and you shake, pupils fixing on Jack’s.

His eyes glow with pride and his smile grows, breathing hard as he bullies his fingers against the spot, his other hand coming up from your waist to your chest and drawing one of your breasts from your bra. He gropes it, thumbs the peak, and pinches your nipple. He dips his head and seals his mouth over it, suckily audibly and flicking his tongue against the skin.

A plea spills from your lips, practically a squeal, and Jack giggles against your skin. He flattens his tongue against your nipple and looks up at you through his eyelashes, scissoring his fingers inside of you until your vision is tinged with black spots. “Take your tits out,” Jack commands softly. “Let me see them.”

You reach a hand behind your body awkwardly and unclasp your bra.

Jack pulls it off and tosses it behind him. He fucks a third finger into your cunt, stretching you so that you can fit around his width comfortably, and sucks a bruise on your tits, the edge of his mouth overlapping with your areola.

Your stomach jumps and twists, clenching and crumbling apart when Jack actually licks a stripe up your neck and takes your earlobe between his lips. Your breath stutters and your body writhes, fucking down on Jack’s fingers as you ride out the wave of your first orgasm.

“Good girl,” Jack coos in your ear. “So responsive for me, so ready to take my cock. You didn’t put fresh sheets on the bed, did you? I’d hate for this little wet spot to ruin all your hard work.”

Dazed from your climax, you shake your head.

Jack’s smile reveals his teeth. He kisses your lips, then whispers conspiratorially, “Let’s make it bigger.”

You moan at his tone. Jack’s hands slide down your legs, wrapping them around his waist, and then he flips your bodies so you’re on top. You make a noise of discontent against his mouth, wanting him to fuck you, but Jack shushes you.

“Give my shoulder a rest, sweetheart,” he says. “I need you to take care of me for a couple of weeks before I’m doing better.”

It’s not possible to argue with that, especially once Jack’s engorged cock slides between your folds and the head bumps your clit. You make a soft ‘oh,’ which Jack drinks up. His tongue pets against yours and you suck on it when it fills your mouth. You feel Jack’s hand sneak between your bodies and circle his base, aligning his tip with your entrance so that you can sink down, still basking in the relaxation of your previous orgasm.

You hum, neck rolling back. You move your hips in a circle, then you change direction, then you start to rock back and forth.

“That’s it,” Jack praises. His fingers dig into your waist. “My pretty girl.”

“I love how you feel,” you sigh, placing your hands on Jack’s abdomen for leverage. Your mouth is an inch from his, the breath that leaves your lungs mixing with his. Your eyes are closed, forehead resting against his, and Jack’s hands slide to your behind. He pulls you forward, aiding your movement. “Fuck, Jack, it’s nothing like I imagined while you were gone.”

“What did you think of while I was away?” Jack asks, only a hint of desperation in his voice.

“I was thinking about things we can do that won’t hurt you,” you say. “Until you’re able to use your shoulder again. Then it’ll be like rehab.”

Jack snuffles out a little laugh, the shaky air displacing the hair that is falling from your updo. “Smart. Make me do something I like.”

“I fucked myself with my fingers, bent over my sink,” you tell him abruptly, the memory sparking in your mind when your clit brushes against Jack’s skin. “Imagining you were there, watching me in the mirror.”

“Oh,” Jack says dumbly, his voice thick.

“I thought about how you’d only be able to touch me with one hand and how you wouldn’t be able to decide what to do with me,” you continue. “I thought you’d– oh– hold onto me until I was bruised, just to try and keep me in place.”

“You want me to…” Jack trails off.

His tip brushes your cervix, sending a jolt through you, and you start to fuck yourself on his cock. Jack’s fingertips reflexively dig into your flesh, lifting you with the help of your momentum and slamming you back down on his member.

“Fuck,” Jack adds.

“I imagined you spanking me if I looked away from you,” you admit, your voice breaking off into a desperate ‘yes’ as his hips twitch and fuck up into you.

Jack plants his feet on the mattress and bucks up, matching your bounces in pace and intensity.

“Thought you’d leave a mark there, too,” you finish. “And come inside me and leave me there, dripping all over the tile.”

Jack makes a choked noise, gasping. “Tell me another,” he requests. “Fuck, baby, we can do whatever you want. What else did you think about?”

“I thought about, shit, I thought about helping you masturbate,” you say. The image of Jack, panting and flushed and squirming as you overstimulate him, pops into your mind again. You whimper and clench down on him, feeling your orgasm build. Your lips come into contact with Jack’s and he kisses you desperately, breaking away only to encourage you to continue. “I thought I’d make you come and then I’d clean you up with my mouth.” You take a deep breath. “And then I’d make you come again on my tongue.”

Jack whimpers brokenly into your mouth. His fingernails dig into the skin of your behind, his hips pistoning into your body even faster. The bedframe is creaking beneath your bodies, shaking with your movements, but Jack just continues. He’s giving you everything he has and it makes your blood thrum through your veins, senses heightened and climax so close.

“I’d– I’d,” you cut yourself off with a silent moan, voice failing you.

“What?” Jack gasps. His cheeks are pink and his forehead is beading with sweat. “What, baby, fuck, I’m so close, tell me what you’d do.”

“After I make you come in my mouth,” you rush out, trying not to bite your tongue as you speak. “I’d sit on your thighs and grind against them until I come and I’d keep my hand on your cock the whole time, even if you feel like it’s too much, because I know you’ll get hard again, J. Making me come without even touching me would drive you crazy and I’d have to serve you again to satisfy you, can’t leave my boy hanging–”

You and Jack shudder at the same time. You can feel him losing his rhythm. You open your eyes and are met with the same glassy blue eyes that you’d imagined as you’d coaxed a third round of cum from his tip. Jack’s eyelashes are long and dark and capture your attention before his mouth clumsily collapses against yours, teeth colliding in an ugly, not-sexy way.

Jack’s moan feels like a glass of cold water trickling down your throat, and the warm spurts of cum filling your insides juxtaposes it in a way that has your mind spinning.

You’re unraveling atop Jack so intensely that you don’t even realize that your orgasm is washing over his abdomen and hips and joining the wet spot on the bed that Jack had wanted to grow. He succeeds, practically without even trying. All you can feel is the shaking of your thighs and the thumping of your heart in your chest, plus the desperate clutch of Jack’s hands on your skin.

“Baby, oh my God,” Jack whines. His hips continue to work into you, his nails creating half-moons on your behind. “Keep– oh my God,” he repeats.

You grind against him, trying to chase the high that is starting to slip from you, but as Jack’s cock softens, the feeling fades away. You let out a soft moan, somewhere between contentment and disappointment that you can’t keep coming forever and ever, and sink into Jack’s touch.

His arms come around your waist and he presses his face into your clavicle. “You’re so fucking sexy,” Jack pretends to complain. “Dirty talking like that, it’s not fair how hot you are.”

“Just being honest,” you quip back. “You asked.”

Jack groans. “I know.” He buries his face between your boobs, muffling his voice. “And we’re going to have to do all of those, I can’t believe there’s a bright side to this fucking injury.”

You smooth his hair back and laugh lightly. “Poor boy, I’m sorry you got hurt. I really wanted to see you in the playoffs this season.”

Jack reveals one stink eye at you, glinting with playfulness like before. “You just wanted the WAG jacket.”

You laugh louder. “I am not that shallow!”

“Are too,” Jack goads into the swell of your breasts.

“Now you’re just being mean,” you whine, pushing at Jack’s good shoulder.

He bites your boob, then peppers your sternum with kisses. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“How?”

He rests his chin between your breasts and grins up at you. “I had some ideas of my own while I was gone.”

#puck-luck's fics #andy writes anything🍄#jack hughes #jack hughes smut #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x you #jh86 #nhl #nhl smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #hockey smut #hockey fanfiction #new jersey devils

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kiwriteswords · 1 month ago

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Florally Inappropriate [Aaron Hotchner x Florist!Reader]

Masterlist [I need to update this, sorry!]|| Ao3||Word Count: 1.3k|| AN: Florist!Reader is making me miss my days as a florist! Tags/Warnings: Female!Reader, Florist!Reader, Non-BAU!Reader, established relationship, secret relationship, flirty!reader, bold!reader, sassy!reader, reader kinda has acts of service/gift-giving love language, sexual theme (if you squint), teasing BAU members, The BAU giving Hotch SHIT. Summary: Aaron Hotchner is not a man who treats himself, but when he begins dating a florist, you make sure he knows what it's like to be doted on...and the team slowly catches on.

Dating Aaron Hotchner had always been quiet by necessity.

Subtle glances. Brushed fingertips. A softness only shared in private.

He didn’t like attention. Didn’t like being fussed over.

But you liked taking care of people.

And he’d accidentally made the mistake of falling for someone who loved to dote.

So, naturally, you made it your mission to turn him into something he never asked to be:

A flower guy.

Not for others—

He’d already mastered that.

You’d heard all the stories by now: the bouquet traditions with Haley, the subtle elegance he insisted on for gifts, the ways he used flowers like quiet punctuation in the lives of the people he cared about.

But when it came to himself? His own space? His own peace?

Not once.

“A vase of fresh flowers,” you’d said once, teasing him as he stirred sugar into your coffee at your shop. “Just for you. No occasion. No apology. Nothing to prove. Imagine that.”

He had rolled his eyes, but not unkindly.

“Not really my thing.”

You smiled. “That’s what you think.”

So you took it as a challenge.

It started the first time he called you late one night from the tarmac, exhaustion in his voice and a subtle softness you now recognized as I miss you.

“I’ll be home tomorrow,” he said, voice low over the hum of the jet engines. “Can’t wait to see you.”

You hummed a quiet, “I can’t wait to see you too,” already flipping open your planner to jot down the return date.

And then the next morning, with a smirk and a plan, you pulled one of your smaller house arrangements—crisp white anemones, soft lavender sprigs, dusty miller—and walked it over to Quantico. You didn’t even try to get upstairs. You already knew the drill.

Security didn’t question you.

You were the flower shop girl with the kind eyes and security clearance just shy of trustworthy. They took the vase from you, promised it would be placed on his desk.

The next time, it was something different. Warmer. Whimsical. Ranunculus and chamomile. You tucked in a note that said:

“Fresh blooms for your fresh start (aka post-case paperwork hell). You’ve got this, Mister Tall-Dark-and-Tired.”

Just your handwriting, which he’d definitely memorized by now.

And it became a ritual.

Every time he let you know he was coming home, you delivered a new arrangement to his office. Always tasteful, always different. Sometimes elegant—simple roses and clean lines.

Sometimes soft and romantic—pale blush peonies, trailing jasmine, a note that read:

“For when you miss holding me in your arms. These won’t talk back, but they also don’t smell as good as I do.”

And sometimes just… you.

“Here’s something cheerful in case the world is being insufferable again.”

He’d show up at your door later, late and exhausted, but with that rare smile—

That real one. The one that crackedthrough his armor and made you feel like something inside him had bloomed just for you.

He’d step inside, slide his arms around you, press his mouth to your neck, and murmur, “You really don’t have to keep doing that.”

And you’d say, every time, “I know.”

And then do it again anyway.

Because if anyone deserved a small piece of peace—of beauty—it was Aaron Hotchner.

Even if he’d never pick flowers for himself.

And it started innocently enough.

A vase of flowers on Hotch’s desk wasn’t exactly out of place. He was a thoughtful guy. The team had seen him organize flower deliveries for others before—

Memorials, birthdays, even that one time when Penelope had a “bad vibe” week and he sent her peonies from Gideon.

So when they first noticed a small vase on his desk—a clean arrangement of white tulips and baby’s breath—no one thought much of it.

Until it happened again.

And again.

Always different flowers. Always perfectly arranged. Always with a small card tucked into the side.

The first time, Emily made a passing comment while grabbing a file. “Nice centerpiece, Hotch. Didn’t peg you for a soft bloom guy.”

He didn’t even look up. “Gift.”

From who? she wanted to ask. But he was already mid-profile, and she figured maybe Jack’s teacher or Jess sent something. Whatever.

But by week four, when another bouquet—this time sunflowers and eucalyptus—appeared in his office with a small envelope and zero explanation, the curiosity officially became a thing.

Morgan was the first one bold enough to poke the bear.

He leaned in Hotch’s doorway, arms crossed. “You, uh…got a secret admirer, or is this part of your new mindfulness routine?”

Hotch didn’t even flinch. “Flowers improve workplace morale.”

Reid, walking past, chimed in without looking up from his tablet: “That’s actually true. Studies show that the presence of plants and flowers can reduce stress and increase productivity in office environments.”

Morgan raised a brow. “So you’re saying Hotch here is just…a flower guy now?”

Hotch flipped a page in his report. “Apparently.”

But it was Penelope who finally cracked the code.

Or, at least, peeked into the vault.

She was walking past his office on her way to the breakroom when the newest delivery caught her eye—

Velvety purple calla lilies and dark greenery.

Very moody romance vibes.

She stopped, admired it, and then saw the card tucked in.

And, of course, she read it.

She gasped so dramatically, it startled Reid halfway out of his chair.

“Oh. My. God.”

Morgan leaned over the back of JJ’s desk. “What?”

“Hotch has a lover. A secret lover. A saucy secret lover.”

Reid blinked. “How do you know it’s…saucy?”

Penelope held up the small card like it was evidence in court. “‘If you’re reading this before taking your tie off, just know I’m already thinking about undoing it with my teeth.’”

JJ choked on her coffee.

Morgan barked out a laugh so loud, Hotch’s office door creaked open.

He stepped out, perfectly stoic. “Something wrong?”

Penelope froze, the card still dangling from her fingers like a loaded weapon.

“Nothing!” she squeaked. “Just… admiring your very professional workplace foliage.”

Hotch walked calmly to her, plucked the note from her hands with two fingers, and returned to his office without a word.

Door shut.

Silence.

Then:

“Oh my god,” JJ whispered. “Who is she?”

“She’s bold, that’s for sure,” Emily said, now seated at her desk, clearly invested. “I like her.”

Reid blinked. “He has a…romantic partner?”

“Clearly,” Penelope said, fanning herself. “And clearly, she knows what she’s doing.”

“I bet it’s the cute florist,” Morgan said suddenly. “That case I stayed back for, I saw her delivering something at the receptionist downstairs.”

Everyone turned.

JJ narrowed her eyes. “What florist?” The gears began turning in her head. She’d almost forgotten.

He shrugged. “You remember a few months ago? You said you set Hotch up with someone to help with a flower arrangement?”

JJ paused. Blinked. “No way.”

Emily’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god, JJ. Did you set him up with a flower shop femme fatale?”

Penelope nodded slowly. “Makes sense. She’s got the access, the handwriting, the aesthetic.”

Reid, slightly concerned: “Should we be… teasing him about this?”

JJ smiled, sipping her coffee. “Only if you want to die.”

Morgan laughed. “You’re just mad you didn’t call it.”

Emily leaned back in her chair. “I’m not saying we stake out the next flower delivery. But I am saying if she starts sending him candles, I need to meet this woman.”

“I knew she’d be good for him,” JJ said with a sigh, wishing she pushed the two of you together sooner.

Meanwhile, inside his office, Hotch sat at his desk, reading the note again.

His lips twitched just slightly at the corner.

He didn’t even care they’d seen it.

Because later, when he got home, you would pretend not to know what they were talking about, wrap your arms around him, and ask, “Did my flowers brighten up your scary little office today?”

And he’d murmur against your skin, “They did. But I think your note is what caused the real chaos.”

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016 @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry @Sweethotchlogy @softtdaisy

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daddy-issues-galore · 1 year ago

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Are you going to continue florist next door? I really love the series. Hope your doing welll!

Yes, I am. Currently working on it now 😊

#andy barber #Andy Barber x reader #The Florist next-door #Andy Barber x reader smut #andy barber smut

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i-have-a-wonky-eye-too · 2 years ago

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I'm going to start posting properly again soon. But I'm just going to focus on one story for a little while whilst get back into writing again.

#chris evans #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #sebastian stan #chris evans x reader #lee bodecker x reader #bucky barnes #andy barber #andy barber x reader #lee bodecker #devil in disguise #The Florist next-door #Always Meant To Be #A Princess. A Queen. A Wife. A Mother.#Andy Barber #Lee Bodecker #King!Steve Rogers #Ransom Drysdale

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silverbrain · 2 months ago

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The LADS when you get them flowers

coz men should be given flowers too!

Xavier

On your way back from the association on a breezy evening, you’re stopped at a red light when you spot an old woman selling a few flowers. The bright yellow sunflowers catch your eyes and you find yourself simply unable to look away.

You quickly steer off towards her, and decide to buy them, planning to give them to Xavier. You wonder what he will say, and your heart skips a beat as you imagine the surprise on his face.

You quickly scramble home and double check with Xavier who is waiting on his dinner delivery that he ordered for the two of you.

“Is that who I hope it is?”, Xavier asks from his place on the couch, leaning back to look towards the door. He had hardly moved since he had placed himself there on the sofa with his evening coffee. It was a rare day off that he had and he had found himself in a rabbit hole of conspiracy theory videos.

“Xavier!! I’m finally free!”, you say cheerfully as you take off your shoes and enter his apartment.

He chuckles. He knows how much you hate the paperwork.

“These are for you”, you say, moving towards him, with your arm outstretched, five bright yellow sunflowers standing tall.

“What?” He looks from your face to the flowers, back to your face. “For me?”

You nod. Xavier laughs softly but he takes them quickly. “Thank you”, he says after a beat, before enveloping you in his arms.

He puts them in a vase, and doesn’t elaborate but you can see the faint blush painting his cheeks. You settle down to have dinner when he brings it up. “You know…”, he begins, “I don’t think I’ve ever been given flowers before…”, he says shyly.

He never gets used to it whenever you pick up random flowers to give him.

Zayne

Zayne’s eyes widen when you give him the bouquet of flowers, a sophisticated set of pink tulips.

“Happy Doctor’s Day!”, you wish him. He stands there; a bit too shocked to move.

“You…got me flowers for Doctor’s Day?”, he asks, as if you had got him a pet rat instead.

“Yeah! After all, you ARE my favorite doctor”, you say, smiling.

He smiles before leaning in, placing a small kiss on your forehead. “Really? Is that what I am to you? Your favorite doctor? Nothing else?”, he asks, mischievously.

“What else?”, you ponder, a finger dramatically resting against your chin.

"Maybe the funniest person you know?", he questions.

You snort, but it comes out quiet, muffled. "Hmm some days", you shrug.

Zayne laughs, the sound deep in his chest before he holds you close. "Thank you, they're very pretty."

"Are they the only thing that's very pretty?"

"Hmm. What else?", he wonders, copying you dramatically.

"There's a note", you tell him. Zayne raises an eyebrow in question before he unfolds the paper, but you stop him quickly.

"Not....now...later maybe?"

"Why...?", he asks.

"Maybe I'm shy??"

"Why?", he continues, "after all, I'm just your favorite doctor, am I not? There should be nothing in this letter that makes you so shy."

Rafayel

Poor Rafayel had been having a terrible week after he had taken up an art commission with a businessman who couldn't tell blue from purple but insisted on criticizing any sketches Rafayel sent him.

He's been calling you at least five times a day, and even though you've been trying to spend some time with him after work, you wonder if there's anything else you can do to make him feel better.

As you finish talking to him for the second time in an hour, and it’s only 11am, your eyes fall upon the plastic flower decor at the Association and a plan begins brewing in your mind.

Maybe a bouquet would cheer the man up.

On your break you decide to visit the florist by the hotpot place and send off a fat bouquet of oriental lilies with a short note. 'Hang in there fishie. I'll get back to you in no time ♡'

You can't deny you're waiting for your phone to light up in the next hour, and it does. You accept the video call, trying to hide your smile.

"Do you think you can appease me with these?", Rafayel pouts, but it's only playful.

You lean forward and laugh a little. "Is it not working. Oh...", you feign disappointment.

"I didn't say it isn't!!", he replies hurriedly. "It's just...the promise of seeing you soon is only making it harder to stop counting the minutes till I do see you..."

"Well, let these keep you company till then. I sent them with special instructions to take care of the recipient", you reply.

"Wow cutie, you can talk to flowers now?"

When you see him in the studio that evening, the flowers are in a vase right next to him, and he seems to have made some progress with his paintings. He doesn't waste a single moment before wrapping you up in his arms and peppering kisses all over your face.

Sylus

There is no love purer than mine. Sylus's words echo in your head as you walk through Vagrant's Land on the way to the Onychinus Base.

It had been some time since he had said it, but it was making your heart thump as your thoughts returned to the old couple you had met while finding Tobias. They had met so long ago, and they had been together for so long. “I didn’t know what love was before I met her”, the man had said and that had sent your thoughts into a flashback.

You think of Sylus, and you feel your cheeks flush, wondering if there was something you could do for him. As you mount your bike, ready to return, you decide to buy him some flowers. Imagining Sylus with flowers was hard, he was more suited to shiny gems or sleek metals, but his heart sure was soft as a flower.

You take a detour. Standing in the middle of the flower shop, you wonder what kind of flowers he’d like. You had some ideas, but the variety the shop had to offer was making your brain spiral. You finally decide to go with your first choice. You buy three red roses and begin the ride back home, hoping the dumb crow wouldn't tattle before you got there.

Sylus is doing ‘business’ when you get back, but he doesn’t miss the way you hurry a little.

“You’re back kitten? How did everything go?”

“Oh, you know, nothing special”, you reply. “I do have something for you, though” You cross the room quickly, giving him the flowers. He raises an eyebrow from where he’s sitting, unsure.

“Go on, it’s not a trick”, you joke.

Sylus extends his hand to accept the flowers, his fingers brushing yours softly. It builds an anticipation in you, a slight nervousness, but you look at him to find that he seems even more affected.

Sylus opens his mouth to reply, but words fail him. He closes his mouth again and raises his ruby red eyes to meet yours. “You…got these for me, kitten”

“Yup”, you answer.

He stares at them long. “Where did you get them?”

Where?! What kind of question? But before you can reply he’s standing up to wrap his arms around your waist and lift you up, causing a little squeak to escape your lips. “Thank you, dear”, he whispers, oh so quietly before he kisses your hair.

Caleb

You want to surprise Caleb with something when you visit Skyhaven for a friend’s wedding. You don’t tell Caleb you’re visiting, even though he calls you pretty frequently. You just want to see the look of surprise on his face when you catch him off guard.

You bring along a big jar of apple syrup, the special recipe that he likes, but as you type in the address in your phone, you wonder if you could somehow do more. You notice a flower shop close by and decide the colonel’s house needed some flowers to make it a home.

Caleb opens the door and stands there in shock at seeing you. When the initial shock wears off, you present the bouquet of daisies to him shyly. “For you”, you smile.

“Thank you”, he whispers, like it’s so, so precious. He kisses your cheek, then your lips, before he’s kissing all over your face and making you laugh. He’s laughing too, softly, happily.

“The things you do...You make me so happy pipsqueak”.

He takes one flower out to place it in your hair. “There, now we’re matching.”

#lads #lnds #lads imagines #love and deepspace #lads xavier #lads zayne #lads rafayel #lads sylus #lads caleb #lnds xavier #lnds zayne #lnds sylus #lnds caleb #silver writes #it's been silver #slvrwrites

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kysstar · 1 month ago

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MISSED BIRTHDAYS | KIM HONGJOONG

pairing : : kim hongjoong x fem!reader

synopsis : : due to the stress of the upcoming comeback, hongjoong forgets your birthday.

genre : : slight hurt-comfort, fluff

warnings : : suggestive ending maybe?

word count : : 1.2k

author's note : : wrote this while stressing abt my mafia au joong fic

—The studio was buzzing with energy, filled with the hum of unfinished tracks and the quiet murmurs of tired voices. Hongjoong had been glued to his screen for hours, making final adjustments for the upcoming comeback. The weight of expectations sat heavily on his shoulders, pushing everything else to the back of his mind.

"What's today's date again?" Seonghwa suddenly asked, flipping through some papers.

"Uh..." Hongjoong barely glanced up, reaching for his own phone to check. "It's the—"

His words trailed off. His heart sank as the realization hit him like a freight train. He stared at the date on the screen, eyes wide.

Your birthday.

The blood drained from his face. How could he forget?

Panic seized him. He shot up from his chair so quickly that his headphones clattered to the floor.

"Hyung?" Mingi blinked at him, confused.

"I—I gotta go!" Hongjoong stammered, grabbing his coat and shoving his phone into his pocket. "I'll explain later!"

The others barely had time to react before he was out the door, sprinting toward his car. His mind raced faster than his heartbeat as he navigated the streets, cursing himself with every red light. How could he be so careless? So consumed with work that he forgot one of the most important days of the year?

His first stop was the nearest florist. He nearly scared the poor shop owner when he burst through the door, panting. "I need flowers," he blurted out, barely able to catch his breath. "Something—something good. Beautiful. The best ones you have." The woman behind the counter gave him a look, but after a quick glance at his frantic expression, she sighed and grabbed a bouquet of fresh flowers.

His next stop was a bakery. He didn’t even check what cake he was buying, just pointed at one that looked remotely decent and hurriedly paid, not caring if it was overpriced. Every second felt like wasted time. He needed to get to you. Now.

As he drove, he fumbled for his phone at a red light, quickly glancing at his messages. His chest tightened at the empty screen. Not a single call. Not even a text from you. Nothing. He knew what that meant. You were mad. No, beyond mad.

Hongjoong clenched the steering wheel, his jaw tightening. He had been so caught up in everything—the comeback, the stress, the pressure—that he hadn’t even thought to check the date. Hadn't even thought about you. How could he let this happen? You had always been understanding of his schedule, always patient with him when work got too much. But your birthday? That wasn’t just another day. That was your day, and he had completely let it slip his mind.

By the time he reached your place, his pulse was hammering. With the bouquet in one hand and the cake in the other, he barely took a second to collect himself before knocking. The door creaked open, and there you stood, eyes widening in surprise.

“Joong?” You blinked, gaze flicking down to the flowers and cake before returning to his face. He looked wrecked—eyes slightly red from stress, lips pressed into a thin line like he had been holding his breath the whole way here.

“I—” He cut himself off, stepping forward. “I’m so sorry.” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “I can’t believe I forgot. I—” He swallowed hard, the guilt weighing on him heavier than anything else. “You have every right to be mad. I should’ve—”

“darling.” You stopped him with a small shake of your head, a soft smile playing on your lips. “It’s okay.”

He froze. His brows furrowed slightly, as if he hadn’t heard you right. “What?”

“I get it. You’ve been busy. You have so much on your plate already.” You stepped aside to let him in, and he hesitated before finally walking through the door. “I won’t lie and say it didn’t sting a little,” you admitted, setting the bouquet down on the table. “But I know you. I know how much pressure you’re under right now. I didn’t expect you to drop everything for me.”

Hearing you say that nearly shattered him. His throat tightened as he watched you set the flowers on the counter, your smile still so gentle, so forgiving. You weren’t mad. You weren’t upset. And yet, somehow, that made the guilt eat away at him even more.

Before he could stop himself, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. His face buried in the crook of your neck, and for a moment, he just held you, inhaling the familiar scent of your shampoo, feeling the warmth of you against him. His grip tightened as he felt the prick of tears in his eyes.

"You should be mad at me," he mumbled, voice slightly muffled against your skin. "I forgot your birthday."

You sighed softly, running a soothing hand through his hair. "I don’t want to be mad at you. I just want you to take care of yourself." You pulled back slightly, just enough to cup his cheeks, brushing your thumbs against the soft skin beneath his eyes. His lashes fluttered as he looked at you, eyes glassy with unshed tears. "I know you didn’t forget on purpose. I know you love me."

He let out a shaky breath, leaning into your touch, eyes flickering between yours and your lips. "I do. More than anything."

You smiled before leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss against his lips. His hands found their way to your waist, fingers gripping the fabric of your hoodie. When you finally pulled away, he chased after your lips slightly, reluctant to let go of the moment.

"I'm making it up to you," he said, determination replacing the guilt in his voice. "Tomorrow. I’ll take you anywhere you want."

You chuckled, poking his forehead lightly. "You have a comeback to focus on, Captain. You don’t have time for that."

"I don’t care," he insisted, pulling you closer again, his forehead resting against yours. "I’ll make time."

"You can make it up to me next time," you reassured him, pressing another gentle kiss to his cheek.

He groaned, clearly unhappy with your response, but he melted under your touch when you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for another hug. "I still feel horrible," he murmured, lips grazing the side of your neck as he pressed a soft kiss there.

"You can make it up to me right now," you teased, tilting your head slightly to give him better access.

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips despite himself. "Oh? Is that so?" His hands slipped under your hoodie, fingers tracing absent-minded patterns along your skin.

You hummed, leaning in to kiss him again, slower this time. "Mhm. Starting with another kiss."

And who was he to deny you that?

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reddtulips · 3 months ago

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tattoo artist x florist but it’s johnny as the tattoo artist and simon as the florist

part 2 here

johnny opens up a studio in london, with that industrial vibe and en entire wall that’s just exposed brick. he steps out one day for a smoke on a nice sunny day and takes notice of a flower shop across the street. his eyes focus on movement inside the shop, but the person seems a little tall. no matter, he doesn’t mind a tall girl, he’s taller either way. he expects to see a lovely lass dressed in a floral dress exit through the door, but he nearly chokes on cigarette smoke when a man the size of a tank walks out instead. he’s dressed in all black, a sleeve of tattoos covering his left arm and a surgical mask covering the bottom half of his face.

he’s carrying the biggest bouquet of flowers johnny’s ever seen, pink and purple and red flowers decorated with wrapping paper a similar hue to the flowers, and hands it to a lovely old lady that’s waiting out front. she’s grinning widely and nodding her head at the man who, johnny has concluded, is the lovely lass he expected.

the lady leaves with a bright smile on her face, and johnny, in a complete trance, watches the man retreat back into the flower shop.

the next day he goes to work, he’s greeted with a single red rose wrapped with a neat bow around the handle of the shop’s door. in a trance, he’s hurrying across the street to get the biggest bouquet he can afford, and hopefully the man’s phone number.

#cod #call of duty #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghoap #ghost x soap #ghostsoap #ghoap fluff #ghoap fic #I AM VEEEEEERY NORMAL ABOUT THIS #VERY VERY NORMAL #*screaming at the top of my lungs normal*

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aquarius-johnny · 27 days ago

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“tats & tulips” | johnny suh

𝜗𝜚 genre: fluff, soft smut/suggestive | wc: 7k | au: strangers to lovers 𝜗𝜚 pairing: tattoo artist! johnny x afab florist! reader 𝜗𝜚 warnings: mutual masturbation (like quick mention), other names included for writing purposes, other members mentioned (yuta), full sleeve tatted johnny, he’s also shy and slightly awkward and artistic 𝜗𝜚 summary: a love story between an ‘intimidating’ tattoo artist and the ‘preppy’ florist who just so happens to have their shops next to each other. 𝜗𝜚 aimee's thoughts 💭 : i’m fully aware of johnny having tattoos, but i imagine him to be fully tattooed in this fic. requested by @lovesuhng 𐙚

check out my other work here! → m.list navi

When your family business got passed down to you to run, a part of you couldn’t be happier. Sure, you ventured off to do other things in the time being, but to come back and be part of the floral shop your late grandmother graciously raised you in, it truly felt like your life had come full circle.

Adjusting the vases to your liking, your employee, Hana, makes her way to the display window — something you notice she does at the same time, every day. “Looking for someone?” You playfully tease as you make your way to her, scanning the outside of your shop.

“You haven’t met the tattooists next door, have you?” She smirks.

“No, I have not. Why?” You look at her suspiciously.

She smiles. “There’s this specific artist. I see him every morning and it brightens my day even when he’s quite the opposite,” she jokingly retorts. “He’s intimidating, like really intimidating. He’s tall, tattoos all over his arms from what I can see, definitely seems like the brooding bad boy type of guy, rarely seen him smile, but he’s oh so cute.”

“Ah, so we have a brewing crush don’t we?” You giggle, before gently pulling her away from the window to which she gladly follows you.

“Not a crush,” she shakes her head. “He’s more like eye candy. I don’t see myself dating someone so brooding like him. But seeing him made coming to work a little easier…before you came, obviously.” She nudges your arm.

“And yet, you’re still searching for him?” You chuckle as you watch Hana’s cheeks blush in embarrassment.

“Force of habit.” She giggles. “You’re single, right? He seems to be around your age.” Hana smirks.

“Alright that’s enough from you. Go and get ready for opening,” you playfully scold with a gentle tap to her arm.

Hana scurries off to the back room while you set out more pottery displays near the front entrance. As you stand near the display window, you feel the warmth of the sun shine through before disappearing behind a temporary cloud.

You see a car drive into an empty parking spot across the street. A tall man, dressed in head to toe black clothing, steps out of the driver’s seat. He throws a backpack over a shoulder and pushes the sleeves of his black cardigan up to his elbows, exposing his heavily tattooed forearms. When he makes it to the edge of the sidewalk, you both make eye contact with each other before he turns his attention away — eyes refocusing on the tattoo shop he was entering.

Hana meets you by the window and lets out a disappointed groan. “Dammit, I missed him.” She pouts. “Did you see him?”

You nod, clearing your throat. “Yeah. I can definitely see what you mean when you say seeing him makes your day.”

Hana stifles her laughter. “Come on,” she nudges you. “It’s time to open.”

The first few weeks of business went extremely well as the profits slowly made up for the loss from previous management.

As you and Hana, along with another new employee you hired named Wren, get ready for the day, you allow Hana to take the new employee under her wing for training while you water the white tulips in its planter outside the display window. Wren and Hana join you, finishing everything needed inside.

“There he is,” Hana harshly whispers, pulling Wren’s arm. You turn in the direction she’s looking in to find the mysterious tattooed man emerging out of his car. “He opens today and tomorrow.” She giddily remarks.

“I see she’s told you about her little dose of serotonin every morning, huh?” You look at Wren who giggles.

“She kept telling me I needed to see how attractive he is,” Wren rolls her eyes.

You turn your back towards the tattoo shop, reaching over to water the flowers behind the two younger girls.

“What do you think?” Hana whispers, careful not to let him hear or notice they were talking about him.

“He looks scary,” Wren replies. “Like he looks like he’d break your heart if you gave him a chance. But he is attractive for sure. I can see why you look forward to seeing him.”

“Not your type?” Hana asks Wren, who glances over towards the direction of the tattoo shop where the tall man is near the front entrance.

“Not my type,” Wren replies. “But it seems like our boss might be his.” She whispers quickly before turning around as Hana looks at him.

You’re too busy and preoccupied to notice how the mystery tattoo artist fiddles with his keys a little longer than usual. He quickly steals glances at your attire, eyes wandering up and down your body before he notices your hair is done up into a new hairstyle. When he finally opens up the front door to the tattoo shop, he shuts it behind him before letting out a small sigh.

When you’re done watering your pride and joy, Hana begins to tap you on your shoulder. You look at her to see a wide smile on her face.

“He was totally checking you out.” Hana gushes.

“You’re just seeing things,” you rationalize, heading back into your shop to put away the watering can. Both Wren and Hana follow closely behind you.

“Oh come on! Whenever he goes for lunch, he always passes by and I see him try to hide the fact he’s looking in.”

You open your mouth to defend him, but she shushes you.

“He’s never done that before. The past five years I’ve been here, he’s never been this interested in the shop but he suddenly is when he sees who our new boss is?” Hana reports. “Can’t be a coincidence.”

Wren nods her head, approving of Hana’s observations before giggling.

“Maybe he’s surprised with how much the shop has changed?” You move from behind the counter where Hana moves toward you. She opens her mouth to say something before you stop her. “Anyway, it’s time to open,” you smile. “I’ll be in my office!”

You take a deep breath, grab your belongings, and step out of your car. Closing the distance between you and the tattoo shop, you feel your nerves heighten when you step into the space.

The buzzing of needles and laughter fill the room. Another tattooed man greets you from behind the counter, recognizing you from the shop next door.

“Hey, you work next door right?” He asks with a smile. You feel eyes on you, seeing a few employees lift their heads to get a look at you.

“Mhm,” you nod.

“You work for…” He snaps his fingers, trying to remember the old manager’s name before you swiftly cut him off.

“No. It’s my shop, actually. Family business and all that stuff,” you smile.

“Nice!” He grins. “Thank god the guy isn’t there anymore, he was a massive dick.”

You can’t help but giggle at his comment.

The tall, good looking, and mysterious tattoo artist emerges from a back room, quickly catching your attention. When you catch his, his brows lift in surprise before quickly turning his back to you — refocusing his attention on the needed items for his next client.

“I’m Yuta, by the way. Thought I’d introduce myself since we’re neighbors.” He turns to name the other employees working before he lands on the tall man who caught your attention. “And that’s Johnny. He owns the shop.”

You smile at his kindness, easing your nerves a little before you tell him your name.

“You have an appointment, right? I think I saw your name in our system.” His eyes quickly scan the computer screen in front of him, searching for your name. “Okay, yeah, I found it. Johnny will be working on you today.”

You quickly thank him before taking a seat on the black sofa against the wall. You see Yuta playfully nudge the guy you’ve been checking out for the past few months before your tattooed crush nudges him back, seeing a glimpse of a smile dance on his lips.

Looking at the full length mirror on the opposite wall from you, you realize how much you stand out against the darker walls. You scan your white tennis shoes that’s paired with your light green pleated mini skirt and white camisole top that’s under your light green cardigan.

You hear your name and you look up at your tattoo artist standing behind the counter. “Come on back,” he smiles, tilting his head towards his work area.

Your heart pounds against your chest as you get up. You follow him, scanning his tall frame up and down before he turns around to face you.

“Have a seat,” he gestures. He sits on a rolling stool and places himself in front of you. “I’m Johnny, by the way. You work next door, right? I don’t think we ever met.” He extends his hand for you to shake.

You grab his hand, giving him a soft smile. “Yeah, I do.” Your hold lingers a little longer than it usually would before you pull back. “It’s nice to finally put a name to a face.”

Johnny shyly looks down, chuckling at your comment. Grabbing his iPad, he pulls up the reference photo you sent in.

You both discuss the intricacies of your tattoo, adjusting the image to your liking before he walks you through the process and has you sign consent forms.

“Where do you want it?” Johnny asks, his eye contact causing heat to flush against your cheeks.

You quickly remove your cardigan and point to your inner forearm.

He quickly stencils the medium sized design that starts at your wrist and runs up your entire forearm. He gets your approval of the placement before beginning the fairly lengthy process.

“Let me know if you need a break,” he softly says before the vibrations of the needle is heard — adding to the other noises that filled the room.

As the needle punctures your skin, your mind strays away from the pain and instead notices the way Johnny’s gloved fingers press against your soft skin and how you could feel his breath as he moves closer to your body. You feel your heart race being so close to him.

When the needle moves over tender spots, Johnny notices the way your body tenses.

“Try to relax,” he softly, but sternly instructs. “You’re doing a great job so far.”

You feel your stomach do backflips at his words.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“So, tell me.” Johnny clears his throat, eyes still fixed on the lines of the stencil. “What made you want to work at a flower shop? I’m assuming you love flowers?” He questions, referring to the intricate design that includes flowers.

“My grandma opened up the flower shop next door, so I grew up in it while my parents were at work. She taught me about different flowers and even taught me how to customize a bouquet,” you giggle, seeing the corner of Johnny’s mouth lift into a smile after hearing your laugh. “My grandma told me that flowers make people better and happier, like it’s medicine for the soul and it stuck with me. I saw flowers differently growing up and I wanted to do something that genuinely makes me happy, hence becoming a florist. When she passed, my mom couldn’t run the shop with her job so she hired someone else to do it and that new manager took what my grandma built and ruined it. So, I finished up getting my business degree and my mom passed the shop down to me.”

Johnny lifts his head to quickly look at you. “I think your grandma was right.” He nods. “You’re also doing great keeping your grandma’s legacy intact.”

“Thank you,” you shyly reply. “So tell me, what made you want to open your own shop instead of working for someone else?”

Johnny gives you a chuckle. “Honestly?” He smiles before returning to your design.

“Yes, honestly.”

“It was a compromise I made with my mom. She wasn’t the biggest fan of me becoming a tattoo artist, so she said that if I major in business while in university, then she’ll get off my back.”

“Did she?”

“No,” Johnny laughs. “She then said to put my degree to use. She probably meant to get into some boring corporate job, but I opened this shop instead.”

“Has she finally gotten off your back?” You giggle.

“Kinda,” he smiles, slightly shaking his head. “She still isn’t used to me being covered in tattoos, but she understands how much I love what I do, so that’s enough.”

After a few hours, the studio was cleared out of clients. During your session, Johnny’s employees let him know they were leaving, eventually leaving you two alone in the shop.

He finishes up, reminding you of the aftercare process, and you both walk over to the front counter.

“Sorry I made you stay past closing,” you apologize, preparing your payment method.

“You’re good, sometimes it happens.” Johnny grins, presenting you with the service amount, causing you to question how low the payment amount is.

“I expected to pay more,” you furrow your brows a bit, looking up at Johnny who raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, uh,” he chuckles. “Think of it as a discount for other shop owners.”

“You don’t need to do that.” Your eyes soften at his words, unknowingly making his knees weak.

“Perks of being the owner,” he shyly smiles, biting his bottom lip nervously.

“Thank you.” You tap your card against the card reader. “Are you leaving after this?”

“Gotta close up first. Probably gonna grab dinner then head home. You?” He pauses, realizing you are in fact going to leave after this. “I mean, do you have any plans after this?” You see his cheeks burn a rosy pink flush.

“Probably just grab dinner and head home too,” you nod. Your mind races as you debate on whether or not to invite him to get dinner with you. “Actually, there’s a restaurant a few stores down. If you want, we can get something to eat, my treat. A way for me to make up for making you stay here so late.” You suddenly feel heat run under your skin. “If not, I totally understand.” You stammer over your words. “It’s late and you probably already had a really long day.”

“I don’t mind,” Johnny chuckled, lifting his hand to the back of his neck. “Give me like 15 minutes to clean and close up.”

“Take your time,” you nod. “I’m gonna go quickly check on my employees next door. I’ll meet you outside?”

Johnny nods. He nearly stumbles over a chair behind him when he walks backward before he catches himself, shyly turning away from you to cover his embarrassment only to be betrayed by the way his ears flush a red tint.

You quietly laugh to yourself and quickly disappear into your shop, your employees shocked to see you.

“Hey, I knew that was your car I saw when I came back from lunch,” Hana says, wiping down the clear glass table and closing up for the night.

Wren emerges from the back room and greets you with the same shock as Hana did.

“I got my tattoo done next door,” you share, trying to keep your excitement contained. “Your eye candy has a name and it’s Johnny. He’s the owner of the shop.”

“Was he the one who did your tattoo?” Wren questions, restocking some of the pottery items that sold out during the day.

You nod, earning a squeal from both of them. “I’m actually going to that restaurant a few stores down for dinner with him.” You share. “But it is not a date.” You playfully point at Hana who you could already see going on and on about it being a date.

Before they can respond, a knock on the entrance door is heard. You turn to see Johnny wave at you with a kind smile, letting you know he was ready to go.

“That’s the first time I saw him smile!” Hana shares through clenched teeth, thankful for the four walls that made Johnny blissfully unaware that you were all talking about him.

“I gotta go.” You make your way to the door, opening it, and turning to wave the girls goodbye.

“Have fun!” Hana and Wren shouts, earning a small wave from Johnny who is silently thanking them for letting him steal you away from the conversation.

“That was fast. Must be really hungry, huh?” You playfully comment that earns another shy smile from him.

He sticks his hands into the pockets of his black cardigan. “Yuta actually did everything else, I just had to clean and lock up.” You feel his arm brush against yours, realizing you both were a lot closer to each other than you thought you were. “I’m sorry if I interrupted the conversation you were having. I didn’t mind waiting.”

“You’re fine,” you smile up at him. “Just wanted to see how the day went, that’s all.”

Johnny holds the door open for you when you both reach the restaurant. You’re greeted by a hostess who quickly seats both of you.

You grab a menu that’s laid on the table before watching Johnny push up the sleeves of his cardigan, exposing his sleeve of tattoos on his forearms before picking up the menu for himself.

“Any tattoos you have that you’ve done yourself?” You ask, eyeing his arms.

He looks down, smiling to himself. Setting down the menu. “There’s this one,” he says, showing you a simple ace of spades card tattoo. “And this one.” He points to another small tattoo of a ramen bowl with noodles and chopsticks.

“Cute,” you giggle. “Your girlfriend must really love your tattoos, huh?”

Johnny picks up the menu again, scanning through it. “I’d hope so,” he pauses.

Your heart quickly falls to the pit of your stomach, suddenly feeling foolish for thinking he was single.

“If I had one.” He continues, one finger tapping against the menu before he closes it, assuming he’s finally decided on what to order. “I don’t date much.”

“Oh?” Your surprised tone makes Johnny lift his gaze to meet yours. “By choice?”

“I guess you can say that,” he softly chuckles. “I’ve been told that I’m unapproachable, so I guess women don’t come up to me a lot.”

When you finally decide on what to order, you stack your menu on top of his. “You don’t ever make the first move?” You question before taking a sip of water.

“No, not really.” He clears his throat. “I guess if I really like someone, then yeah I’ll make the effort, but if I’m being completely honest with you, I’m really shy when it comes to things like that.”

The surprised look on your face catches his attention.

“Does my shyness surprise you?”Johnny chuckles in amusement, slightly cocking his head to the side, leaning into the backrest of his chair.

“Yeah, kind of? You’re just really intimidating,” you softly let out, leaning onto the table, elbows and arms resting on the table top. “I don’t think you being shy would be my first thought when looking at you.”

“What were your first thoughts of me?” He asks curiously.

You shake your head, a cheeky grin appearing. You definitely aren’t sharing the thoughts you had when you first saw him, so instead you keep it general. “I mistook your shyness for aloofness,” you share.

He smiles, looking down at his fingers before mimicking your body language. “I should probably fix all of that, right? If I want to get a girlfriend.”

“I don’t think so,” you shake your head. “It’s not a problem, you just have to find someone who can get through that tough looking facade. I have a feeling you’re gentle and sweet, so I don’t think it’ll be hard for you to get a girlfriend just by being you.”

The waitress stops by to take your order, pausing your conversation for a moment. When she walks away, you catch Johnny looking at you.

“You think your boyfriend is gonna like your tattoo?” He asks, glancing down at your index finger tapping against the table top.

“I’m sure he would,” you pause, taking a sip of water. “If he existed. Like yourself, I don’t date much either.”

“Why not?” Johnny questions, attempting to hide his shock.

“Honestly? People don’t really ask me out.” You chuckle, pushing the sleeves up to your elbows. “I don’t think I catch people’s attention,” you giggle.

“I’m sure you catch people’s attention.” He gives you a bashful smile. “Maybe they’re just too shy to say anything.”

Since dinner, you and Johnny have been more friendly when you see each other.

You find yourself near the display window whenever it’s near Johnny’s lunch break just so you catch his attention, making him give you a small smile and wave when he sees you. While Johnny always makes sure to grab something to eat at the bakery that is a few stores down from your shop, so he could see you even if just for a moment when he passes by.

“I’m going on break,” you tell Hana who nods as she greets a customer who regularly comes by the shop.

You walk over a few stores down to the bakery you always go to. The aroma of freshly baked goods makes your mouth water. As you’re waiting in line, you feel a presence behind you.

“Hey,” the familiar voice says, bending forward towards your ear.

You turn to see your tattoo artist, sporting him wearing the black cardigan he loves to wear but this time with a white t-shirt underneath. “Hey Johnny,” you smile, turning your attention back to the moving line.

“What’re you getting?” He asks, standing next to you. He looks at the menu above the workers, deciding on what to get.

You tell him your go-to order before you watch him nod his head.

“How’s your tattoo healing, by the way?”

“Really well,” you proudly smile, lifting your cardigan sleeve to show him your forearm. “See?”

“Yeah, looks good.” He smiles down at you, but you’re too busy admiring your tattoo.

You both step forward as the line moves and the cashier greets both of you.

Johnny orders for you and him, swiftly pulling his phone out to pay for the pastries. “Could you bag those separately, please?” He asks the woman in front of him who simply nods.

“You didn’t have to,” you nudged his arm with yours. “But thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he smiles, nudging your arm back. “Are you heading back after this?” He asks, waiting for the baked goods.

“I was actually going to stay for a bit. What about you?”

“I was planning on staying, too.” He grins, extending his hand out to grab the paper bags filled with pastries and iced coffees he ordered. “Can I join you?”

“Of course,” you giggle, leading him to an empty table. He takes a look into the bags, giving you the pastries that you ordered along with the iced coffee you wanted.

You both talk about your day before laughing and giggling when one of your pastries is almost stolen by a passing baby in a stroller. The child’s mother profusely apologizes for her child’s curiosity, only to have the toddler give you a gummy smile.

You don’t notice how Johnny looks at your interaction with the child. His eyes sparkle when he smiles, admiring your playful demeanor around the kid and the calm demeanor with the mom. He watches you wave goodbye to the child who squeals in excitement as they leave the bakery. You miss the opportunity to see him admiring you — this time, right in front of him.

You both finish eating before walking back to your respective shops together. You stop in front of yours. Before you could thank him for paying for your lunch again, he asks if he could ask you something.

“Sure,” you nod. “What is it?”

“I know you're busy and I probably should’ve asked sooner, but do you think you could make me a bouquet of flowers? It’s my mom’s birthday today.”

“Ah! This is why you bought me lunch today,” you playfully remark. “Butter me up before asking me for a favor.”

“Damn, you read me like a book.” Johnny giggles, playing along.

“Yeah, I can definitely make one for your mom.” You smile. “Any flowers in particular she likes?”

“Sunflowers and tulips.”

“When do you want to pick it up?”

“Think it can be done by 4? I’m leaving a little before the shop closes for the day.”

“Yeah, for sure.” You smile. “I’ll see you around 4. Thanks for the treats, again.” You wave him goodbye and head into the store.

“Pretty,” Hana smiles as she looks at the vase of flowers, meeting you behind the counter.

“Thank you,” you smile. “Johnny asked if I could make it for his mom’s birthday.”

Hana playfully gushes, nudging you in the arm with her elbow. “Speak of the devil.” She smirks, eyeing the entrance where Johnny walks in.

The colors of your shop's wall contrast heavily against the dark clothes Johnny wears.

He radiates a bright smile upon seeing you as he makes his way to the front counter.

“Wow,” he grins. “So pretty.”

Hana glances over at your interaction with Johnny. She quickly notes the way he looks at you when he compliments you only to notice that you were looking at the flowers — her heart screaming out in frustration that you missed his compliment.

“Here, write a quick note to your mom.” You slide a small card with a pen in his direction. He pushes his sleeves up his arms before writing a quick note.

Pulling out an already prepped gift bag from under the counter, you place it next to the vase.

Johnny slides you the note and you carefully place it between the plastic card holder that’s in the middle of the bouquet.

“I also added one of our best selling ceramic cups for her as a little gift from us.” You smile, sliding the items towards him.

“That’s very kind of you.” He smiles, watching as you fiddle with your register.

You show him his total cost, watching him knit his eyebrows together in confusion. “I expected to pay more,” he giggles, repeating the same comment you made when you got your tattoo.

“Think of it as a discount for other shop owners,” you tease.

“I can pay for it in full. I made you do it last min-”

You cut him off. “Perks of being the owner, right?” You giggle.

Johnny quickly accepts defeat and pays. He grabs the vase and gift bag, then proceeds to walk away only to stop in his tracks. He hesitates for a moment before turning to face you again.

“There’s another thing I want to ask you,” he softly lets out, setting down the items back onto the counter.

“Need another bouquet?”

He softly giggles and shakes his head. “Are you free Friday night?” He nervously bites down on his bottom lip.

“Yeah.” You slowly nod your head.

“Do you maybe wanna go see a movie with me?” He pauses. “Like on a date?”

Your brows lift in surprise. “Yeah, I’d love to,” you smile, feeling your heart swell tenfold. You watch a sense of relief wash over his face, confidence quickly returning to his tall frame.

“Great,” he grins. “Can I get your number?” He pulls his phone out and hands it to you to input your number.

You hand his phone back to him after saving your number in his contacts before leading him out, opening the door for him.

“Thanks,” he grins. “I’ll call you.”

During the movie, you watch Johnny’s fingers tap against his dark colored jeans as he bounces his knee.

“Nervous?” You lean over to whisper in his ear.

“Maybe a little,” he weakly grins. He sharply inhales, trying to calm his nerves. “Sorry, I’m distracting you.”

You reach over, gently grabbing his hand and interlocking your fingers between his. “Better?” You smile, shifting your body to rest your head on his broad shoulder.

He quickly relaxes, tightening his grip on your hand. “Much better.” He gently rests his cheek against you.

You stroke your thumb over his hand as you refocus on the big screen. A few minutes later, your attention is pulled away when Johnny softly whispers your name.

“Hm?” You lift your head to look at him. You could feel the air thicken around the two of you.

Tension builds when his hand gently cups the side of your neck and your lips part at his touch. Your heart thumps hard against your chest. He leans into you and his lips gently press against yours. A spark in your stomach ignites and you feel nothing but pure bliss. You move your soft lips with his, feeling him deepening the kiss before slowly pulling away.

Johnny tucks a strand of hair behind your ear before kissing you again, this time, slowly delving his tongue into your mouth and gently rolling it over yours. Your hands grip onto his shirt, pulling on it to keep him close to you. He tugs on your bottom lip as he pulls away, causing your stomach to flutter immensely and leaving you breathless.

“Do you still wanna watch the movie?” He whispers, stroking his thumb against your cheek, his lips just centimeters away from yours. “We can grab something to eat and head back to my place instead.”

“After you,” you quickly reply.

Johnny chuckles. He quickly finds your hand, leading you out of the theater and back to his car.

You unbuckle your seatbelt when you arrive at his apartment building after grabbing a pizza of your choice. Your hand reaches to open the passenger car door until Johnny gently grabs your hand.

“Just so you know, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Please don’t feel like we need to do anything other than hang out.” His reassurance lifts a weight off your shoulders.

“Thank you for saying that,” you smile.

You follow him up to his apartment. Settling in his living room, he places the pizza box onto the coffee table and grabs paper plates from his kitchen cabinet while you wash up in his bathroom. You join him on the sofa, grabbing the plate with a slice of pizza on it that Johnny hands you.

“Can I ask you something?” You ask Johnny, who leans his back against the sofa’s armrest with his legs pressed against his chest. You mimic his seating position on the opposite end of the sofa.

“Sure,” he takes a bite of his pizza.

“So, what made you want to ask me out?”

He nearly chokes on his food before washing it down with his drink, clearly finding your question unexpected.

You give him a moment to recollect himself while giggling at his reaction.

“I, um,” he stammers. “I enjoyed our conversation we had over dinner that day you got your tattoo.” He shyly smiles.

“Oh?” You grin. “Why did it take you so long? It’s been like two months since then.”

“I wasn’t sure if you were interested. Like I told you that night, I don’t usually ask people out.” He blushes at you. “Speaking of that day, can I admit something?”

You nod, taking a bite of your food.

“I was surprised you came into the shop when you did.” He bites back a laugh before swallowing.

Your brows shoot up in shock. “Why’s that?” You cock your head to the side, a smile lifting from the corners of your mouth.

“You don’t look like someone who would get a tattoo.”

“There’s a specific look?” You tease.

“No, no,” he giggles. “You just look like someone who wouldn’t want one or didn’t care to get one. I guess I didn’t expect you to see you and talk to you that day either.”

“But you’re glad I came in?”

“Definitely,” he lightly chuckles before taking a sip of his drink.

“I’m glad I did too,” you take another bite. “I’m able to get to know you and I got the tattoo I’ve always wanted. It’s a win-win situation for me, really.”

“Any more questions you wanna ask?” He teases.

You ponder his question, thinking of something to ask. You nod your head when you finally think of a question. “Can I see your sketchbook?” You ask, sweetly.

“How do you know I have a sketchbook?”

“Before I got my tattoo, I would see you at the bakery on your lunch breaks with it. I’ve always wanted to see it.”

“Oh? So you’ve been watching me?” He teases, placing his slice of pizza onto his plate on the coffee table. “Let me go grab it.” He disappears into another room and returns with a black sketchbook in his hand.

You extend your hand out as Johnny hands it to you. You reposition yourself so you’re leaning your back on the backrest of the sofa.

Opening up the sketchbook, you excitedly flip through the pages in awe. Johnny takes a seat next to you, sinking into the sofa.

His sketchbook is full of potential tattoo designs and little doodles that he drew that you recognize he has tattooed on his arms. You lightly graze the coffee stains that paint some corners of the pages, knowing he probably spilled some of his coffee on it while he was on break. You eventually come across portraits he’s drawn of random people.

“I didn’t know you drew portraits,” you look up at him who shyly looks away when you catch him staring at you. You wrap your arm around his bicep, resting your head onto his shoulder, finding it adorable when he gets shy around you.

“It’s not something I’m super confident in, so I don’t tell people.” He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

“These are really good though,” you praise. “Do you just draw random people you see?”

“Only ones that spark some emotion.”

He points to his drawing of an old man having coffee by himself and holding a letter in his hand. “He used to come to a cafe with an old lady every weekend and one weekend, he came alone.” Then he points to a drawing of a little boy with tears brimming his eyes. “He fell and ran to his dad because he scraped his elbow.” And points again to a drawing of the side profile of a girl. “I just thought she looked lonely.”

“These are all sad pictures,” you let out.

“It was all I really noticed at the time,” he shrugged.

You flip the page and scan more beautiful drawings. As you’re about to turn the page again, Johnny tugs on the book, swiftly pulling it away from you.

“I think that’s enough,” he nervously chuckles, getting up from his seat.

“Wait,” you pout. “But I wanted to see more. They’re really good.”

Johnny hesitates.

“I’m not here to judge it, I find your work incredible.” You tug on his arm, urging him to sit back down. “Please?”

He slowly sits back down and gives it back and you flip back to the page you were on. “Thank you,” you smile, repositioning your arm around his bicep again.

Turning the page, you find portraits of you that fill two pages. One of them is a drawing of you holding a bouquet of flowers behind what looks like your store’s display window — presumably the same day you first saw Johnny. There’s another portrait of you watering flowers with sketches of tulips next to it.

“Have you been a secret admirer of mine?” You tease playfully, feeling his body move as he chuckled.

Your fingers brush over another drawing of you sipping on your iced coffee as you look at your phone. You flip the page again and see another drawing of you eating a bowl of ramen with the same outfit you wore the night you had dinner with Johnny.

You continue flipping the pages before eventually coming to a blank page. Closing the sketchbook, you carefully hand it back to him who places it on the coffee table in front of you.

He turns his entire body to face you.

“You’re really talented,” you smile. “But I’m just a little confused.”

“About?”

“You said you draw portraits that ignite some kind of emotion right? The drawings of me didn’t look like it invoked any emotions, it’s just things that I do like drink coffee or watering plants.” You laugh, holding Johnny’s hand in yours.

“It might not seem like it, but it does.” He lifts your hand to his lips, giving the back of your hand a tender kiss. “I haven’t felt this way about anyone in a really long time.”

“Felt what?” You smirk, fully knowing what he was talking about.

Johnny shakes his head, biting his bottom lip with a smile across his face. “I like you.” He admits. “I hope that’s okay. I’m not entirely sure if I’m your type b-”

You cleanly cut him off. “You’re exactly my type,” you grin. “And for what it’s worth, I like you, too.”

Johnny leans in to give you a soft kiss on your forehead. Silence falls between you for a moment. “It’s getting late,” he lets out. “I should get you home.” He cups your cheek with his hand and strokes your skin with his thumb. You give his palm a gentle kiss.

“I don’t wanna go home,” you wearily let out.

Johnny’s eyes widened ever so slightly in surprise at your words — you would miss it if you weren’t looking right at him. “Do you wanna stay the night?” He asks, heart beating against his chest, nervously awaiting your answer.

“Yes.”

You both lay in Johnny’s bed, lips moving in sync with each other’s as his hand explores your body. His lips move to the crook of your neck, swiping his tongue against your skin before sucking it into his mouth.

“Remember when you said we didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to do?” You question.

He lifts his head and nods.

“Would it still be okay if I did want to do something?”

“Only if it’s something you really want to do,” he clarifies, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “There’s no rush, really.”

“I want to,” you shyly let out, feeling a hint of embarrassment. “Do you?”

He nods and begins peppering kisses against your heated cheek before capturing your lips once again. Smoothly removing his shirt, your eyes scan the tattoos inked onto his right side of his chest as he hovers over you.

Your hands cup the sides of his neck, pulling him down to your lips. A low groan is heard from Johnny before he removes his sweatpants, kicking the fabric to the side.

Quickly sitting up, you lift your arms as he helps you remove your top, allowing the fabric to fall onto the bedroom floor as Johnny presses his soft lips against your collarbone, causing you to fall onto your back again. You undo your jeans and Johnny helps you remove them, throwing it to the side.

“You’re sure about this?” Johnny questions.

“More than sure,” you smile, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

Johnny carefully removes the fabric covering your core, leaving you completely naked underneath him. He gently strokes your slit, feeling your body tingle under his touch as he coats his finger with your arousal. A quiet moan parts your lips, earning a little smile from him.

Dipping into his underwear, you gently tug on his shaft. He quickly removes the only fabric he has on, his erection more prominent than ever. Licking your hand, you slowly stroke his length, watching him bite back a moan — his jaw falls open when you rub your thumb over his sensitive tip.

“I want you now,” you softly beg.

He leans over to his nightstand, pulling a condom out of the drawer before sliding it on. Aligning himself with your entrance, you feel his tip slowly dip inside of you.

You bite down on your bottom lip as you feel the stretch. Your fingers dig crescent shaped indents into his biceps as he sinks deeper into you.

Johnny gently moves deeper with every stroke until he’s completely inside of you. He keeps his sights on you, watching your body move up and down with every deep, slow, and sensual thrust.

You’re inched closer and closer to your climax as Johnny’s tip hits that sensitive spot in you. He swallows your moans as he kisses you before you wrap your arms around his neck and press the heel of your feet against his lower back, keeping him as close to him as possible.

He’s timing his orgasm with yours, wanting to make sure you reach your climax before he does.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, your back arches, and sweet melodic moans fill his room when your orgasm overtakes your body. Johnny releases into the condom right after you — helping you through your ecstasy as his thick ropes fill up the latex.

He kisses you, hard. “Are you okay?” He asks, concerned. The weight of his body on top of you warms your naked body as he tries to catch his breath for a moment before slowly pulling himself out of you.

“I’m great,” you weakly grin. “Are you okay?”

He chuckles, sharply inhaling before another soft laugh leaves his lips. “I’m good.” He removes the condom and tosses it into his trash bin. “Should we wash up before calling it a night?” Johnny stands at the edge of his bed, extending his hand out for you to grab.

You take his hand and he leads you to his bathroom, helping you wash up before heading to bed. You’re cuddled next to him and feel his large hand stroke your back. You lay your head on his chest with your eyes closed, slowly falling asleep to his heartbeats.

Johnny kisses your forehead tenderly. “Good night, baby. See you in the morning.”

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