#kc x reader

[ribbonsssence]

angel dating headcanons ──── ୨୧ ────

notes ﹒ just wanted to do this as a warm-up cause I've never written headcanons yet, ermm, might do a ronin one next!!! since I haven't even written for any of the main/side casts of KC other than angel literally.. pls request me,,,,

content includes ﹒ angel x reader ; established relationship ; fluff ; minor arguments

✦ Ever since your established relationship with Angel, you frequent to her house or vice-versa (but it's often the former). She gives you gentle encouragement offline and online; she likes the gestures and answers you reply, it makes her feel reassured of your current demeanor. ✦ Angel's a model and has a channel, so technically: she gets paid — a lot. Although, she knows your type of gifts and only buys those that she knows you will appreciate very much. Considering her busyness, her time with you often becomes underwhelming which results in her insecurity and regret for not being able to spend time with you. Hence, she'll sometimes buy you an apology gift, and a side recovering your quality time with her. ✦ Angel likes to use pet names, she doesn't overdo the usage, but she has a couple of pet names she uses for you; she prefers calling you the sweet types being "my love," "babe," and would even call you pet names in Spanish such as "mi rey" and "corazón." Just in the courtesy of her loving affection towards you.

✦ Angel prefers private dates, not that she is opposed to having a date in public, it's just that she's well too known and recognized in public sadly. Additionally, simple dates are already the best for her. Watching a movie at either your homes is already enough for her. ✦ Your first date with Angel was a picnic at a secluded spot near her house, it was midnight and the stars shone brighter than ever. You were quite glad, this date was your idea in the first place, and Angel was loving it. The iridescent moonlight embraced the gleaming radiance of the stars, it was tinted with a blue to purple hue with bright streaks, clear in the moonless vast sky. In the end, you and Angel enjoyed the beauty and peace of the starry night sky while the both of you chattered about trivial matters.

✦ Angel's love language is quality time and acts of service (said by the rosesrot!). As the ever-busy Maria de la Rosa, she yearns for the moments she could spend with you. When her mind isn't preoccupied, it drifts to thoughts of you — imagining your touch, the warmth of your presence, and the comfort of simply being together. ✦ In regards to her acts of service, she will always give. Oh! Some man is pestering you? Consider him done dead in a ditch! That being said, she's never been into the receiving when it comes to the acts of service since no one has really done that for her but it actually does make her contented.

✦ Arguments with Angel don't frequently happen, but it's usually about Angel's busyness or health in general. The arguments never last or worsen more. In the end, Angel can never get mad at you, nor can you at her. You will always be her safe haven and she will always be your safe haven too. ✦ The worst argument that occurred between you and Angel ended abruptly and took a day of silence from Angel to ponder about her feelings and thoughts, just to apologize and cry out her true feelings in your warm embrace. The both of you have an emotional evening (mostly for Angel) for the rest of the day.

✦ Angel's support for you never wavers. It doesn't matter if you're not a serial killer like her, she'll be the one to kill for you anyway. She'd devour every moment of between you and her, your existence consumes her heart as a whole.

[tsbs-shipfessions]

me x KC

My otp if you will

A wonderful OTP indeed.

[tavernlords]

Like Old Times, Your Majesty (A King's Choice Kerwin x Neu!Reader Oneshot) || Angst/Comfort

"Your Majesty... What are you doing...? It's pitch black out here."

"Kerwin-!" In the darkness, all you can see is a silhouette of a tall man with a dim candle in the distance. It's hard to make out, but you know it's him. You could never mistake that velvety voice.

As he walks up, he plops down beside you on the grass with a soft grunt and sighs. He takes in the fresh midnight air and the gentle breeze. You stare at him as he rearranges himself into a comfy position and snuffs out his candle before putting it on the grass. While he is outstretched and enjoying the night, you are tiny with legs tucked and face squished to your knees. You wonder how he does it. How he seems to become one with the world as he lays. You wish you could do that.

He takes a deep breath. "So, what's on your mind? You don't usually stay out this late." You turn away from him, a heavy guilt in your chest for forgetting to change your demeanor. You don't want him to see you like this. You have to stay strong for him. After all, with the death of his father, he must be going through a lot. You can't burden him with the weight of the ever-growing boulder on your back. He must be sick of it as it is. "Nothing... just uhm..." But the crack in your throat gives you away. You pretend it didn't happen. "Talbot..." He knows you're lying he knows you're lying he knows you're lying. "He dropped a vase."

"Oh, yea. I heard that. It got me up, too..." He pauses for a second. "Did that startle you?" You nod, tears in your eyes threatening to let loose. He puts a hand on your back in an attempt to console you. It works a little too well, and you feel yourself sob a little without your consent; his presence is like a warm hearth to you right now. Just him being there with you makes you feel a little more protected. You hate being alone. You're afraid someone might attack you if you are. It's a heavy burden to bare, but you'd never admit that.

The thin veneer of stoicism blows away in the wind, and you hear your sobs get louder and louder. You hug your knees firmly, planting your face into the crevice between your thighs, and let go. You know if you looked at him right now, you'd instantly crumble. But it seems that you aren't doing a very good job at keeping yourself from doing so. It's simply all too much.

He quickly pushes toward you to hold you in his arms. As time goes forward and your sobbing turns into frantic gasps of air, he hugs you tighter. There was always something different about Kerwin hugs. They were like the coziness of your blanket when you first wake up every morning, the fuzzy feeling of a beer after 5 longs years of fighting a relentless war, or the laughs you had as a kid when you had no idea the world was so cruel. They made you feel innocent and light. Like you were just a commoner with no kingdom to rule and only a home to take care of.

After a good, long moment, when you can finally feel yourself breathe again, you let go and apologize. You tell him you really don't mean to burden him and that it's okay if he thinks you're a weak ruler now. You didn't mean to make him feel sorry for you. He just hugs you again. But then he light pushes you away from him, and grabs your shoulders.

"Y/N. You're not a ruler to me. You're so much more than that!" He looks down, empathy heavy in his heart. "I know it's hard for you... but you don't have to put up that act around me. We've known each other for, what, 10, 15 years now? I'll always be here for you. I never plan on leaving." Then he gently gazes into your eyes, worry coating his face like fresh waves darkening light sand. You feel your heart racing, and your eyes well up again. He takes notice, discreetly looking down and then peering up again, this time with a kinder and lighter expression. Softening his grip, he traces his hands down your arms to hold your hands. You know his skin is scarred and calloused from countless battles, but they feel soft to you. He makes sure you feel that softness.

You manage a faint smile in response and a tiny grief-stricken chuckle. He smiles a little more at this, happy to make you happy at least for a second. You stay like this for a nice minute. The air clears with time.

"It isn't just Talbot, is it?" You look away again. "No..." You murmur.

"Do you want to talk about it?" His voice is low and unintrusive.

You pause, breathe in, and try your hardest not to cry again.

"Its just... I'm scared." You look up at him, lips quivering. "I'm scared I'm going to..." Your body chokes on a sob, and you try to recuperate, "lose everyone. I'm scared that, in the end, it's just gonna be me in my giant castle with my guards and servants and I'll just..." Sniffling, you squeeze a tear down your cheek "...Be alone. I'm afraid I'll be walking with you down the path to a nearby kingdom and you'll just- you get stabbed or shot or anything! I couldn't-"

Kerwin clenches your hands, and fold his fingers into yours. Letting your heart settle before continuing, you utter "I couldn't live with myself if I ever let that happen, knowing it could. I don't think... I could ever live without you by my side. Or Greg. Or Talbot. Or Lance. Or-" You curl into him as you can no longer help yourself from bawling. To know he's here and alive gives you so much comfort. You never want this to end. You never want to stop feeling his unbuttoned nightgown against the side of your face or his hands cupping your back. You wish he was immortal. If somehow, by your power as a lord, you could make him invincible. But you can't.

Planting his face in your hair, Kerwin whispers something to you. "Hey... do you remember..." He's holding you entirely in his arms and supporting you with his chest. Almost like he's shrouding you in light or draping a sheet over you. "That time we were outside the city walls, in that great big field near Agatha's wheat farm?" "Hm?"

"I was 11. You were 12. The world was so big and all we wanted to do was to explore it. But then, I got lost in those huge stocks of wheat. You were calling out my name, wondering where I was. I laughed and laughed and laughed while you tried to find me." You giggle at the memory. "...Then you heard this growling from out of nowhere! You panicked and started running trying to find me while I was still laughing. And suddenly - I got bit by something hard! When you finally found me, I was wailing like a baby."

He laughs a little, a burning in his heart with fondness of the past.

"You took me back to your castle, and Allie fixed me right up! I was good as new, but you were still worried. You made me pinky promise you that wherever I go, you had to be with me no matter what."

You smile, now a little tired from all the energy you spent crying. You feel safe in his embrace. "I remember it like yesterday." You let out a tiny chuckle. You can never forget the face he made as you picked him up and forced him onto a piggyback ride. You wish it was summer as kids again. The golden spray of light that peeked behind sheaves of yellow grass. The beautiful pink glow of Kerwin's hair under the sun. The story calmed you down. Your breathing is at steady pace again.

"Well, I never forgot it... Y/N, I trust that whatever comes you'll always have my back. At the same time, I'll always have yours. Things will happen as they happen, and we can never truly prepare for the future. I'm constantly afraid I'm going to lose you. But i wake up the next morning, and you're still there. You're alive and breathing, and still that strong and beautiful lord I've always known." You snuggle in closer to his chest and feel his heartbeat. It's unusually fast, but you take comfort in it. You moan lightly, at ease, sleepy and secure. His heartbeat rises.

He pauses for a long time, and you feel his body get warmer. It's serene and cozy. Just as you're about to fall asleep, he says "Uh... Actually... Y/N... I've been meaning to tell you something for...." He laughs to take off his own tension "about millennia now..." You moan again sleepily, as a confirmation for him to go on with what he wants to tell you. "Do you think... You'd want to stay like this? I mean- Ah, what I'm trying to say is- I think I might..." He takes a breath. "Want to be with you. For ever. Or as long as possible, if that's okay?"

That wakes you up, and you gasp, bumping the top of your head on his chin and nose as you launch up in surprise. He yelps. As you feel adrenaline rush through your veins, your cup your mouth in shock for what you'd done. Kerwin covers his nose and winches in pain. "Oh, my god, Kerwin! I'm so sorry!" He laughs and smiles, "Haha, no! It's fine, really. Augh..."

With tears in his eyes, he looks up at you through strawberry hair, hovering his hands above slightly bloody nostrils. You grab his face and squish it into yours, absorbing all his pain and tasting the metal from his nosebleed. It definitely it's not the most sanctimonious kiss in the world, but goddamn it, it's yours. It's finally yours. In between gasps for air, you chuckle in relief. Finally.

Kerwin sobs for a brief second between kisses and stops, holding you forehead to forehead. Droplets hit your legs, and when you open your eyes you see him crying. "Kerwin-"

"I'm-" He takes a breath "I'm okay, Your Majesty, I just-" He sniffles "I've been waiting so long for this..." He lets out a relieved giggle.

You kiss him again.

[sematarygirls]

Okay but he’d fuck you so hard when they lose the Super Bowl after you spends an hour gloating about the eagles handing their asses to them!

i saw this request and started giggling and kicking my feet omg. anon, i owe you my first born child. you are a GENIUS! (although, fair warning, i'm not great at writing smut. i hope this is okay <3) not proofread

cw: unprotected p in v, rough sex, mean rafe, slapping, degradation

Football tended to be a touchy subject between you and Rafe. Where you were a diehard Eagles fan, he wouldn't be caught dead rooting for them. After the Chiefs narrowly beat out the Eagles in the 2023 Super Bowl, Rafe wouldn't shut up for weeks about how "trash" the Eagles were. It drove you absolutely insane.

That's why, when the Eagles absolutely kicked ass this Super Bowl in a rematch against the Chiefs, beating them out at a whopping 40-22, you thought it was your well-deserved right to rub it in Rafe's face, much to his dismay.

One thing about Rafe is that gloating is only okay when he does it—much like a lot of other things (he's a very hypocritical guy), hence his growing anger when you wouldn't stop talking about how the Chiefs absolutely threw the game with all their fumbles, making jokes the whole time about how it seemed like they weren't even playing.

Another thing about Rafe? He tended to get violent when he was angry. With other people, this meant he'd kick their asses, but with you, it meant you were in for a long night of rough fucking to make him feel better and put you in your place for your "bratty attitude."

Though, if you tried to point out the hypocrisy with him finding your actions annoying when he had done the exact same two years prior, he would only get more annoyed and very, very defensive.

You'd learned at a very early stage in your relationship that some battles were not worth fighting with Rafe, and besides, you kind of liked it when he was all rough with you, manhandling and degrading you deliciously.

"Not so mouthy now, huh?" He taunted, pounding into you from behind. Each thrust pushed you forward a little bit, your face burying further into the pillows as you moaned. A sharp slap to your ass had you gasping, the pain sending a jolt of pleasure to your core that had you practically gushing around Rafe's thick length. You didn't know how long you'd been going at this with him, but he hadn't let you cum, nor had he let up the brutal pace.

"Look at you," he sneered. "Can't even think of anything to say back to me, huh? Thought you were gonna gloat all night about how the Eagles won." His words were cruel and biting, revealing the depth of his anger, which wasn't about the football game. It was more so about being challenged, his ego hurt after talking such a big game about how the Chiefs were going to dominate.

You couldn't form a coherent sentence. Your brain turned to mush as the only thing you could focus on were his rough hands on you and his length stretching your velvety walls. You could practically feel each ridge and vein of his cock as it slid back and forth, his tip nudging your cervix roughly with each pass.

"What happened to that smart mouth, huh?" He mocked. "Your dumb little brain's too desperate for cock, huh, bunny," he cooed, his tone patronizing as he continued to pound into you with rough strokes, making your back arch and eyes roll back.

He was so mean, but you loved it.

He was right. You couldn't respond to him anymore. You had lost your ability to form a single word, dumbed down to a mess of please sounds as he hit that sweet spot inside of you so perfectly. He took that as a victory, seeing it as proof that you knew your place. He loved it when you whimpered underneath him, completely at his mercy. "Look who's behaving now. You're lucky you're so pretty, honey," he continued, enjoying this little game of his. "Otherwise, I wouldn't put up with such a bratty mouth."

"Fuuuuuck," he groaned, giving your ass another sharp smack before his hands found your hips again, his grip bordering on painful. "And this fuckin' love this pussy. Fuckin' perfect, baby."

He was getting close. You could tell by the way his pace started to falter, and his words switched from degrading to praising. One hand slipped down to your clit, rubbing firm circles. Even when he was pissed, he still tried to make you cum first.

It didn't take much more effort on his part. Your thighs were already trembling, desperate for release from the moment he'd thrown you onto the bed and ripped your clothes off.

"You're gonna be a good girl now, huh? You're gonna stop being such a pain in the ass, aren't you?" He questioned, punctuating each question with a thrust. "No more running your mouth and riling me up, right?"

"Uh huh," you whined pathetically, needy and desperate to cum.

He knew he had you right where he wanted you, all pliant and begging. "Yeah, you gonna stop talking back, huh? You can be a good little bunny for me, can't you?" He cooed, his words sounding a little bit less harsh. He was enjoying having you like this, completely at his mercy.

All you could muster was a weak nod, your fingers gripping the sheets and mouth parted in ecstacy as you reached your peak, blinding pleasure overtaking your body as your walls clamped down around his cock.

"That's it, baby, just like that," he groaned, pumping a few more times before pushing deep inside you and releasing spurts of hot, sticky cum into your eager cunt.

[multifandomsimagine]

Imagine Zayne surprising you on your birthday

— Birthday Present for @cantstoptheimagines —

You let out a groan as you walked up the steps of your apartment building, carefully rotating your shoulder as you attempted to soothe the soreness you felt. It was bad enough that Wanders couldn't give you a break for your birthday - couldn't those Dark Mysts wait until tomorrow to wreak havoc in the No.98 No-Hunt Zone - but with how long the mission took complete, it was way too late to spend time with Zayne. A quick glance at your watch confirmed that thought as the screen flashed 11:11 pm.

Zayne would have just finished his shift at Akso Hospital with the long hours he usually worked. You knew that if you messaged him, he would quickly respond to your text and turn his car around to head over to your apartment. But he already slept so little that you would rather he go to bed and hang out with you the next time he was available.

But as you pulled out your phone to pull up your text thread with Zayne, it would be a lie to say that you didn't feel a bit sad that you couldn't see him on your birthday. He had already sent a sweet happy birthday message and had promised that he would give you your present when you two met up but if you were honest, you would have rather just see him.

Reaching the front door of your place, you quickly entered the key code, ready to shed off your Hunter uniform and pass out of your bed. Pushing open the door, you step inside the dark living room, closing it behind you as your hand moves to the light switch and flick it up. Eyes sweeping the room, you let out a loud gasp and jump up slightly when you spot a familiar bespectacled man in your dining room, platters of pastries and sweets litter your table, and right in the middle of it is a beautifully decorated cake.

"Zayne, you're here!" Taking large strides, you quickly reach him and wrap your arms around him to hug him. He reciprocates just as fast, holding you flush against him as the both of you take the other in. Tilting your head up, you give him a bright smile, all the exhaustion in your body instantly vanishing with him here. "I thought you would go home to sleep after your shift. You must be so tired."

He shakes his head at your words, tilting his head down to look at you, eyes softening as he stares at you, a gentle smile on his face while one of his hands runs down your hair. "I know we made plans to celebrate your birthday another day because of your mission but I still wanted to see you today. After all, how could I miss my love's birthday?"

Despite how often Zayne called you sweet names like that, each one made you blush and caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach. Burying your face in his chest, you only grow more flustered as Zayne chuckles at your reaction, clearly enjoying your flustered state.

Feeling him shift underneath you, you feel him press a kiss to your head before speaking again. "Come blow out the candles and eat some macarons. I ordered your favorite."

[aurmisery]

- a little death -

ronin b. x gn! reader !!

inspired by a friend of mine in the rose's rot discord, vanity! @vanitywoo

hi erm this is my first time putting down a killer chat! work of mine on here uhhhhhhh

cw // mentions of sh scars on mc -

please tell me if anything else in here can be considered triggering !!

okay enjoy!!!!!1!!1!!!!2! sorry if this is ass and or ooc for ronin bro i TRIED MY BEST I TRIEDMYBEST

1878 word count!!!!!!!

FUCKIFORGOT THIS US FLUFF BTW

-

you know when you walk into someone's room, you can immediately tell what kind of person they are? what posters they roll on their walls, what decor they line the edges of their room with- if they have LEDs, what merch they willingly buy and if they have a whole shelf for said merch, etc?

if you were to walk into ronin's room with no idea of who he is other than his oh so charming looks, you might just say "typical, makes sense given his aesthetic." even if the jars of human remains seemed a bit too hardcore and realistic.

it all fit though, the color palette ranging from all hues of red, black, and white, the masks, the lava lamp, the VHS tapes, the illuminated 'KORN' sign hung in the corner of his room matching the 'still alive?' frame with a cartoonishly drawn heart- it was all him- it screamed ronin.

the plainest thing in his room was probably his bed- and he knew that. it was just a black headboard and footboard, with a red duvet and pillows with a white blanket overtop it. it did match the color scheme, which was enough for now, but it was missing something.

.

.

.

but as his pupils grazed over your steady form, warm and breathing, he realized something.

the slight flush of your cheeks, the way your eyelids fell heavy over your unblinking stare, the hazy glare of his TV burning a light glow over your side-

the ruffle of your hair, your legs snaking awkwardly with his, fingers mindlessly tracing invisible doodles over his forearm, and the slight quirk of your brow as your eyes retrace back to his.

"what's up?" your lips curl upwards slowly as his eyes noticeably fade from the trance he planted himself into, brows slanted upwards as he slow blinked.

"...youuuu good?" a small giggle slewed unevenly from your grin, and he scoffs, a playful jab at the side of your waist following the roll of his eyes.

"'m fine, jus' thinkin'. what about you, darlin'? feelin' comfortable in the devil's den?"

you flop over on your right side, facing him rather than the TV, propping yourself up on one elbow with your other arm tracing the angle of his jaw.

"for a devil, you're rather accommodating, i'll give you that," you tease, and he revels in it; in your warmth, in the fiery trace of your finger along his jawline, and for once, his hell is starting to feel a bit hot.

"in a literal sense, if i'm laying in your bed, wearing your shirt, cuddled up with you, watching old slashers, i think i'm as comfortable as i can ever get."

it's his turn to grin, moving his hand from its resting position on your hip to the small of your back, letting a small exhale he didn't even know he was holding fall from his lips.

his downcast eyes flicker from the graphic tee bagging low under the curve of your shoulders to the width of your thighs, and he couldn't help but feel a little warmer.

you did look good in his clothes.

and as your hand caressed his cheek, his head melting into your warmth, he spots something along the flex of your arms.

his blackened irises almost narrow at them, but they reverted back to whatever you would call normal as his hand drags from your back to the base of your arms, fingers gently rubbing over the faded marks of your pliant skin.

at this, the knitted furrow of your brows came together, a slight wrinkle in your expression as you awkwardly chuckle, a defensive grin uneasily firming itself on your cheeks.

"what's this for?" you question, a wry smile on your face as you realize the implications of his stare, and the look on his face...was just blank.

"no reason, just glad you don't...do that anymore, i guess."

with a shiver up your spine, you firm up your lips into a sheepish smile, nodding with a creak to your voice. "aww, c'mon. can't even say that without the 'i guess' at the end?"

and then he laughed, the tiniest hue of cherry blending into his ivory skin, his onxy irises filled with amusement.

"is it like me to carve open my chest and bare it fresh? i'm not that much of a romantic, darlin'."

it was your turn to scoff, turning over onto your stomach and reaching out to cup his chin with the flex of your fingers, thumb lolling over his bottom lip.

"'i'm not that much of a romantic, darlin'," you mock, voice whiny and pitchy before you deadpanned, eyes narrowed at him.

"oh please, cut the bullshit, ro. not that much of a romantic my ass."

ronin weaved a palm through the plum tresses sitting upon his head, a dismissive hum resting in his throat as he looked you over. "i'm not really, i mean- i kill people?"

"yeah- abusers. usually, anyway."

you then fanned out your hands, your digits extending with each gesture you were about to point out, pupils darting upwards into your lashes as if recounting your times together.

"our motorcycle dates? the shirts you give me each time i come over? the way you snuggle against me while we watch movies, when you complain about being cold to get me closer to you, when you crack cheesey jokes about how lonely your lips are, how-"

"okay, okay, i get it."

and as you took a glance at your boyfriend, a bead of sweat brimmed at his forehead and neck, face flushing a hue of carmine as his words spewed out in an exasperated rush.

you grin.

"oh, and that time you rushed me through your front door after i got drenched by the rain despite the fact that you were also soaked. when you prepared me soup in worry that i would get sick, and while i didn't get ill, you did the next day."

you were trying to be subtle, but with how his pupils were blown out and watching your every move, he was probably more aware of your slow crawl over to him than you were, the mattress making a small dip where your knee paused.

"then, i stayed over the whole time and nursed you back to health while we watched your favorite movies? or when i stopped by your job and you purposely wiped your face with the front of your shirt to flash your-"

"okay, fine! fuck, you win!"

his face was hot and covered by a thin sheen of sweat, a hand flayed out over his jaw to hide his most-likely embarrassed expression, brows arched downwards into a glare. he couldn't even look at you.

ronin beaufort, flustered? ronin fucking beaufort, embarrassed?!

you just made the devil bow his head.

a boisterous laugh bounced out of the pits of your stomach- jesus christ, you've rarely never seen him like this before, all shy and flustered.

your arms snake over your own abdomen, trying to pat down the rumbling giggles orchestrating from your gut with a roll onto your side, and you feel his elbow butt between your ribs playfully.

"give ya an inch and you take a mile, huh?"

he grumbles, giving you a nudge as you only cackle further, slapping a palm over your eyes to smear the tears pearling at your lash line.

"god, your face is fucking priceless when you're embarrassed! geez, i shoulda taken a picture, would've been amazing to have that spammed in mai-"

without skipping a beat, he reeled you into his arms, before turning and slamming you down right in the middle of the bed, hands jabbing and feverishly dancing over your sides.

all the sudden, your laughing increased tenfold- tears springing out of your eyes like sprinkles as you jerked, bucked, and kicked in protest of his tickling, but you couldn't do anything against his iron grip.

you felt like you were dying, stomach exhausted as you guffawed and blabbered, hiccups along the lines of "i can't-" "wait, my stomach hurts-" "have mercy-" following between the tears pitifully steaming down your reddening face.

he lets out a soft-hearted snicker, his body over yours and his knees pinned on either sides of your hips. his plum locks tickles your forehead, reminding you of the teasing grin on his face as he mercilessly dug at your sides- before his fingers traced upwards to your collarbone, and-

his fingertips padded over your neck, before your head jerked instinctively and you could only cackle further. is he trying to kill you?

and finally- you fought back, hands reaching up into his shirt.

he stiffened, eyes widening as your hands snaked up into the black fabric and wandered over his lower waist, making him jump and bubble his cheeks- as if that would quiet his laughter.

but you powered through the pain in your gut from laughing your vocal cords out and frenzied your hands up his abdomen, he gave out, falling pathetically besides you as you took your sweet, sweet retribution.

his arms flexed over his head in defense, lashes clenched shut as his face buried itself into the pillow besides him, almost as if taking cover from your violent antics.

you curl over against him, hands jabbing and frantically scurrying up his shirt as his laughs and pleas muffle besides you, and then-

your hands seemingly touched a sore spot, his laughs dying out and his breath hitching, as if he was in pain. finally taking a second to feel the skin below your palm, you handle it with deft, and...

it's smooth, slightly arched in size, extending from the middle of his chest to the side of his pecs. you lift up your head to look up his already hiked-up shirt, and...

it's his scars. a cringe forms in the side of your gut, fuck- did you piss him off?

"sorry," you usher lowly, withdrawing your hands, only for his to grab your wrists, placing them back right back on his chest.

his thumbs roll over your wrists, reassuring your tense frame back into ease, and you eye his facial expressions carefully.

his eyes are beady, sucked into the way your thumbs navigate the faded discoloration of his torso, brows furrowed and watching with a slight quirk in his lips.

and then his eyes harden.

"do you, uh," he begins, tone devoid of that usual bite he has to it, gaze wandering away from your hands on him, from your face and to the corner of his room.

"do you see me as, y'know, uhm-"

"the devil? hell yeah."

he smiles.

it was so... genuine, so adoring, blooming through the erasure of his doubts, of your validation- even as his soft hair messily spiraled into his vision, he couldn't take his eyes off you.

and as you slink besides him, letting your head sink into the pillow conjoined with his- he realized something, and this time he took full joy in memorizing it.

your touch, your voice, your sweet, sweet lips- even the messy, unbothered display you shroud around.

the way you smile at him in the dim light of his room, the warmth radiating from your body as your lips brush against his.

you're all the decoration he needs.

-

okay hi i hope you liked itsorry for the words being kinda clunky here n there???? ok bye

[mariposa-writes]

The Rumor Mill

Pairing: Travis Kelce x Reader

Word count: 1.2k

Overview: The truth hurts more than the rumors.

CW: infidelity, betrayal, emotional distress, and relationship complications.

As the rumors continued to spread, you couldn't help but feel a jumbled mix of frustration and hurt. Every other day seemed to bring about a new headline or TikTok video speculating on Travis Kelce and Taylor Swift's supposed relationship. You knew that it shouldn't matter. After all, you and Travis were nothing more than friends with benefits. Despite all this, it didn't make the rumors sting any less.

You wouldn't have agreed to being fuck buddies if you'd known what laid ahead. In the beginning, it sounded like a great idea; both of your jobs were too time consuming for any kind of committed relationship. Yet after some time, you started to develop feelings for the six-foot-five tight end, and you couldn't help the ball of anxiety that continued to grow in your stomach, knowing that you'd be the one walking away with a broken heart.

It was Travis's fault, really, for being so infuriatingly perfect. He went above and beyond to make sure you felt cherished, both inside and outside the bedroom. From ordering takeout on your busiest nights to ensuring that your pleasure surpassed his in every encounter, he always left you feeling valued.

He texted you this evening, asking what you were up to. You knew this was his way of inviting himself over for sex. Typically, you'd be all for it, but with all the rumors going around, you decided against it. Sorry, not feeling too good. Started my period. That was the response you gave him. It wasn't completely false - your period had indeed started and you weren't exactly feeling your best either. However, Travis usually didn't mind when you were on your period and the amazing orgasms he gifted tended to ease away any cramps.

You didn't bother waiting for his reply, instead tossing your phone on the white fluffy rug and heading for your kitchen. All you wanted to do was curl up on your couch with a tub of ice cream and watch reruns of love island, to make yourself feel a little better about your life.

You grabbed the rocky road from the fridge, doing just that as you snuggled into your comfy couch. You only made it through one and a half episodes, before your door bell was ringing. You groaned, throwing the blanket off of you and heading for the front door.

It was probably your stupid neighbor lady, wanting to complain about how you didn't hid your trashcans well enough. You yanked open the door, ready to go off on the poor soul standing on the other size, but to your surprise Travis was there with flowers and a grocery bag in his hand, a Walgreens bag specifically.

"Brought you some things to help you feel better," he announced, his tone gentle and caring, making your stomach flutter. Without a word, you stepped aside, inviting him into your space.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he placed the bag and flowers on your spotless kitchen counter. The vibrant bouquet added a touch of color to the room, and you couldn't help but appreciate the gesture even though a knot of mixed emotions still clung to your heart.

"Thanks but you didn't have to do that," you said, your voice laced with genuine gratitude and a hint of reluctance. You wanted to convey your appreciation, but the complicated nature of your relationship with Travis made accepting such kindness a double-edged sword.

A scoff escaped your lips, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes as you turned away from him. If you truly held a place of significance in his life, why did he talk so casually about his potential involvement with Taylor Swift on his podcast? That single conversation had been the catalyst for all the rumors, and deep down, you couldn't completely dismiss the possibility that they might be true. After all, the two of you rarely shared the intricate details of your day-to-day lives.

His brows furrowed, his concern evident in his furrowed brow. "What was that about?"

"Nothing," you mumbled, refusing to meet his gaze.

He persisted, a determined note creeping into his voice. "It was clearly something."

You hesitated, the words lingering on the tip of your tongue. The turmoil of emotions within you was too tangled to unravel in this moment, but Travis deserved to know your thoughts, even if they were filled with uncertainty.

Sighing, you finally spoke, your voice tinged with vulnerability. "It doesn't matter right now."

He rounded the kitchen island, his steps purposeful as he positioned himself squarely in front of you. In a decisive move, he gently but firmly grasped your wrists, his touch demanding your full attention. "You can tell me if something's wrong," he persisted, his eyes locked onto yours, his determination unwavering.

You drew in a deep breath, your mind racing with the weight of the question that had been gnawing at you. Maybe it was best to confront it head-on, to rip off the bandage, even if it meant facing an uncomfortable truth.

"Are the rumors about you and Taylor Swift true?" The words slipped from your lips, laced with a mixture of anxiety and longing. You held your gaze steady, searching for any hint of honesty in his eyes. "Are you two talking, or dating, or anything like that?" The silence that followed your question stretched, urging you to speak again.

He sighed, releasing your wrists and rubbing his chin, his actions speaking louder than words. The lack of an immediate response told you more than you needed to know, and a wellspring of emotions surged within you.

"Seriously?" you questioned, taking a step back from him, anger seeping into your voice. "I thought you had enough respect to at least end things with me before pursuing an international superstar." You were furious, and the betrayal you felt was palpable.

When you and Travis had embarked on this arrangement, you had agreed on one fundamental rule – exclusivity. Despite the lack of a formal commitment, there was an unspoken understanding that you wouldn't be sleeping with other people, even if your connection wasn't officially labeled as a relationship.

He knew about your past, about your parents and your father's infidelity that had marred your childhood. He knew that infidelity was the one thing you despised above all else. He knew it was the reason you had been hesitant to pursue conventional relationships or believe in the concept of love.

You took a deep, steadying breath, your efforts aimed at quelling the storm of emotions inside you. "You need to go," you said, your voice firm and resolute. When he remained rooted in place, you added with an urgency, "Now."

"I'm sorry," he whispered softly, his voice laced with remorse as he retrieved his keys from the kitchen island, his footsteps carrying him toward the front door.

Your silence hung in the air, heavy with unspoken disappointment, as you waited for the telltale sound of the door closing behind him. When it finally did, it was as if a dam had burst within you, and the tears flowed freely. Each tear felt like a piece of your heart breaking, and the pain was almost unbearable. You had believed Travis to be a good guy, someone different from the men you had known before. Yet, in this moment, it seemed he had let you down, just like so many others had in the past.

[87kelce]

—tell me, daddy, it's yours

summary: travis returns home from an away game and you just can't wait to get him back into bed with you.

warnings: smut (18+ only, no minors), slight possessiveness, use of daddy kink, size kink, slow sex, semi-rough sex, doggystyle, thigh riding, praise kink, fingering, pussy eating, finger sucking, multiple orgasms, aftercare

word count: 2119

notes: title taken from the song gorilla by bruno mars. this is basically pwp what can i say. again likes and reblogs are very much appreciated 🫶

Nothing felt right when Travis was away. He was home more often than not, but the few days he went to another state for a game, always felt like torture. You promised him you would be fine at home by yourself, but then you always missed him too much and just wished his was home already.

Every time he had an away game, you usually spend most of your time between the couch and the bed, wearing his jersey and wanting nothing more than to be back in his arms. Thankfully today was the day he was travelling back home and you were laying in bed when you heard the front door open and close. It was late and you really should be asleep but you just couldn't, not when you knew he was coming home so soon. The flight wasn't long and you had called him before he left, him letting you know how long he would be. He told you not to wait up for him and just to get some rest, but you heard him dump his bag by the couch before the bedroom door slowly opened.

"Hey baby.. you awake?"

"Mmhm.."

"I'm going for a shower.. I'll be back in 15 minutes, okay?"

"Okay."

He left the door slightly open, walking down the hall to the bathroom. The fifteen minutes he was in the shower for, felt like hours. You just wanted him back in bed, his arms wrapped around you while he kissed all over your face until you were giggling and pushing him away from you. He's always over affectionate when he gets back from an away game, like he's just letting go after a stressful time away, playing in a stadium that's not home.

You were still wearing his jersey, and even after months of wearing it, it still smells of him. It became a comfort item for you whenever he was away, just slipping it on and instantly feeling warm and safe.

Eventually the bedroom door opens again and you don't look at him until you feel the bed dip beside you. Opening your eyes, you see him staring at you, eyes crinkled and a massive grin on his face.

"Hi baby.."

"Hi.."

You scooted across the bed, snuggling into his arms as he kissed your forehead. You buried your head in his neck, and shifted slightly to straddle his thigh. One of his hands found your waist, and rubbed your skin with his thumb, his face turning inwards to kiss your cheek. His beard stubble slightly scratched against your skin and you swore you could almost cry from how much you missed it.

"You miss me or somethin'?"

"Lil' bit.."

He just chuckled, squeezing at your hip. He dipped his head slightly, lips pressing to your neck for a brief kiss. You adored his affectionate side, the side he saved just for you when you were at home together. He was still affectionate to you if you were ever out in public together, but he didn't go overboard with it, saving the best part for when he had you alone. You knew his love language was physical touch and he showed that every time you were in bed, or cooking dinner while he had his hands on your waist, swaying with you while you stirred something in a pan.

"Missed you too.."

He mumbled against your skin, hand squeezing at your waist again. You tried not to make any noise but he heard you softly whine against his skin, his hand now sliding across your lower back to hold your other hip.

"How badly did you miss me, hm?"

"Couldn't help myself while you were away.. but it's not the same without you.."

He tightened the grip he had on your waist, slowly pushing you to grind up and down his thigh, the hem of his shorts bunching up to give you more friction than you were expecting. Your hands moved to fist his t-shirt, gripping onto him as you felt yourself already close to an orgasm. Travis moved his hand that wasn't on your waist, down to the drawstrings on your shorts that were tied in a knot around your waist. He made quick use of his fingers, undoing the knot and pulling your shorts loose, before his hand delved under the waistband. One of your hands immediately went to his wrist, grabbing on as you felt his fingers run through your folds, causing you to almost go limp against him, whimpering into his neck.

"I got you, baby.. I got you.."

He started rubbing circles against your nub, your hand gripping tighter around his wrist. He stopped briefly for a second, then you felt his pinky and index finger spread you open, allowing him to slowly plunge his two middle fingers knuckle deep inside you. All the while he was leaving soft kisses over your neck, listening to your little whines and whimpers against his skin.

"Doing so good for me, baby.."

You moved your hand that was gripping at his wrist, to tug at the waistband of your shorts, trying to rid yourself of them. He got the hint, pulling his hand from around your waist, helping you tug them off, while he still had two fingers inside you, slowly sliding them in and out of you every so often. You were almost already completely spent, feeling your legs tremble against him as his fingers pushed you to your first orgasm of the night—you knew he wouldn't let up after an away game and you had to prepare yourself for more than one tonight, maybe even more than two.

He slid his fingers out of you and just as he was about to wipe them down on an old t-shirt discarded on the bed, you grabbed his wrist, taking his fingers into your mouth and licking them clean.

"Shit.."

He locked eyes with you as you took his hand from your mouth, his mouth hanging open slightly. Once you had let go of his hand, he wasted no time in sitting up slightly, hand grabbing the back of your head and pulling you in for a kiss, almost bruising your lips from how hard he kissed you.

You pulled away first, catching your breath, but only for a second before he lifted you off his thigh, letting you kneel down on the bed beside him. You tried to turn to watch him get up but he faced your head back with his hand, moving to kneel up behind you. His hand moved to your back and gently pressed you down, face squashed into the pillow as you moved your hands up to grab onto it.

"You tell me to stop and I'll stop, okay?"

"Okay.."

"Okay?"

"Okay.. Daddy.."

You turned your head to breathe for a second, mumbling out a response to him and out the corner of your eye, you saw him smile and nod, acknowledging that he understood you. Then you felt the head of his cock run through your folds and your whole body went limp again, moans muffled into the pillow. You heard him grunt through his teeth as he pushed himself inside you, throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut as he seated himself fully inside you. He moved his hands to your hips, squeezing gently before hearing a soft exhale leave your lips, a satisfying sound that gave him the green light to keep going.

He was going slow, making sure you felt everything he was giving you, thriving off the squeaks and whimpers you were eliciting from your slightly swollen out lips.

"Y'aint satisfied until you're all filled up, huh?"

He only heard you whine into the pillow and decided that wasn't enough for him. His hand was then in your hair, pulling you up off the mattress slightly.

"I said.. y'aint satisfied until you're all filled up, huh?"

"No.."

"'Atta girl.. who's pussy is this, baby?"

"Yours.."

"Hm? Who's?"

"Yours, Daddy.."

"Good girl.."

He pulled out of you and thrusted back in, slamming his hips against you as you spoke. He was purposefully tiring you out even more, making sure you were absolutely spent and satisfied when he was done with you. He moved his hands over your hips every time he slammed his hips against you, his thumbs rubbing into your skin. One of your legs gave way and started to shake, but Travis caught it and put it back in its place, holding onto the back of your thigh. You leaned more into the pillow, pushing your body forward and trying to pull yourself off of him, trembling as the wave crashed over you. But he pulled you right back, hand wrapping around your stomach.

"Hey, hey.. I got you.."

You whine out, hips jerking back against him until you heard him hiss through his teeth.

"Keep doing that, fuck.."

Your movements were sloppy but you tried to almost fuck yourself back on him and his grunts and deep groans were his way of telling you it felt good.

"You feel so good, baby.. I got it from here, it's ok."

You sighed out, holding onto the pillow again as he slammed his hips forward, skin slapping on skin. You knew he wouldn't let up after two and was clearly trying to coax another orgasm out of you—and he's still got his own release coming as well. But you could tell he was close, some of his thrusts becoming sloppy. Then he started to slow down again, pulling out to the tip before pushing back inside, his hips grinding against you as he's full to the hilt inside you. He just stops for a moment, letting you feel all of him inside you, feel just how big he is inside you and finally letting you try to adjust to his size. It was almost putting you to sleep, and you'd let him if he wanted to, you'd let him fuck you right to sleep. You were already tired before but he's making you completely worn out and exhausted, his cock driving into you at just the right angle.

He kept going at a slow pace, his movements gentle and soft now, while his hand brushed the hair out of your face and turned your head so your cheek was on the pillow.

"Hey baby, you got one more for me?"

"Mmhm.."

He brushed his thumb over your cheek, before returning his focus on his thrusts, slow and steady, until he felt you tremble against him. He cooed at you, encouraging you to let go and relax into it. You had to turn your head back into the pillow, grinding back against him and trying to work your way through your third orgasm of the night. His hands massaged over your hips, working you through it until he heard you sigh and watched your body go limp. He pushed into you one more time, groaning before pulling out, spilling himself over your back. He huffed out a shaky breath, before standing up and walking to the bathroom, adjusting his shorts on the way there.

He returned with a cool towel, wiping you down and cleaning you up. As he did so, his hands occasionally squeezed at your hips, or massaged up your back, trying to push all the knots out your body. He tapped your hips twice, indicating for you to turn over, which you did. He tugged your shorts back up your legs, before tying the drawstring back into a knot. His hands then moved up and down your legs, watching you smile and close your eyes, settling into his movements.

"You okay?"

"Yeah.. I'm all good.."

"Wasn't too much?"

"Never.."

He grabbed the towel, throwing it in the laundry basket before he got back into bed, laying down on his back. He pulled you back over his chest, hand scratching at your scalp through your hair. You were already half asleep, but he knew every little thing to get you to fall asleep completely.

"Thank you.."

Travis looked down at you and smiled, leaning down to kiss you softly.

"You're welcome, baby.. now go to sleep, okay?"

"Mmhm.."

You pulled off him to turn around, letting him move behind you, arm wrapping around your stomach to pull you in against him. You felt his lips across the back and sides of your neck, gently kissing across your skin. There was no sexual undertones in his kisses, just pure adoration—it was his way of getting you to fall asleep. Soon, your eyes fluttered closed and Travis felt you drift into sleep, smiling before he dropped his head to the pillow, slowly falling asleep himself.

[treasuringizu]

“Hmmm…” Satoru holds your hand up, twisting it this way and that and carefully examining it, pitch-black glasses discarded on the side to allow his azure eyes to show. He hums, a deep rumble in his throat as his long, pale fingers trace the back of your palm, gently tugging on your pointer finger, then your pinkie, and your ring finger.

His eyebrows furrow in faux concentration, lips in a pout, and then he nods once to himself. “Alright. Looks promising!” He says out-loud to himself, like a child inspecting their new toy.

You’re so used to his antics that you don’t even bat an eye at his out of the blue examination of your hand, an amused smile playing on your lips as you watch him. You had been walking past where he sat on the couch, only for his arms to wrap around you and pull you sideways onto his lap, no care for what you had been doing prior. He then proceeded to grab your hands with no words, silently beginning his very serious yet sudden inspection. Not like you put up much of a fight, though.

“Satoru,” you say. He rubs his thumb over your knuckles. “Everything okay, baby?” You ask, raising your eyebrows as your smile grows wider with the way his arms tighten minisculely over your midsection at the pet name. You love him. So, so much.

He grins, pearly white teeth winking at you and he ardently nods his head. “Yes! Everything’s great in fact, my dear sugar plum.”

You shake your head, and his attention is momentarily taken from your hands to you, dramatically sighing. “Not that one either?”

“No, Satoru. Try another name.”

“Aw, okay. Anyways!” He intertwines your hands together, affectionately squeezing. Your arm that’s wrapped around his shoulders moves so that your other hand is in his hair, running through the soft snow-white strands, causing his eyes briefly flutter shut at the kind touch. “…Hmm.”

You grin, always happy to see the little ways you affect him. “Anyways…” you prompt, dragging it out and successively reminding him of what he had started to say.

His eyes snap back open, and he gets back to his original task. “As I was saying, you have really, really nice hands,” he murmurs, gently swaying your locked hands, then placing a soft kiss on the back of your palm. “I love them.”

“Thank you, Satoru. I love your hands too.”

“I know, they’re pretty amazing.”

“I’ll smack you.”

He glosses over your threat. “Buttttt…” His grin grows a bit shy, timid— well, as timid as he ever could be. Leaning in for a kiss, you meet him half-way, and your heart leaps as your lips touch, even though this definitely isn’t the first time he’s kissed you before.

When you part, he leans his forehead against yours, his hand that’s not interlocked with yours smoothing over your back, under your t-shirt and fervidly rubbing against your bare skin.

He winks, and your mouth dries. “I think it would look even better with a ring on it.”

[vandme12]

know my creativity has no limits, mortal 🫶

Ronin x reader who is a cannibal but hid it from everyone including Ronin 🤭

WORDS :7729

PROMPT : SICKENING SWEETNESS

TRIGGER WARNING : Graphic Violence, Gore, Murder, Obsession, Manipulation, Death, Cannibal Themes, Dark Themes

CHARACTER USED : Ronin from Killer Chat!

SUMMARY : You were the sweetest person ever, How did you end up with Ronin, Maybe it takes a mess to understand a mess... Ronin walks in, when you're chewing the shiny bone.

HOW DELIGHTFULLY SWEET YOU ARE:

You're the very essence of sweetness—like a burst of sunshine and a cloud of warmth all in one. A heart dipped in honey, every word you utter feels like it’s been dusted with sugar, and your presence is as comforting as the softest blanket. You exude an undeniable charm, effortlessly weaving love and kindness into every moment. You’re a living, breathing masterpiece of warmth, kindness, and beauty, and if sweetness were a currency, you'd be the wealthiest person alive.

Someone as pure and gentle as you… it’s almost unreal that you’d end up with Ronin Beaufort. But here you are, in his world, where sweetness meets chaos. How perfectly twisted, don't you think?

Being in a relationship with Ronin? It’s something you never could’ve predicted. You walked in with the belief that he would never captivate you—how could he? His whole aura screamed danger, chaos, and unpredictability. He wasn’t the type to get under anyone’s skin. He was the one who did the damage. You were too kind, too soft, too… sweet for someone like him.

But then, little by little, something shifted. You started seeing the cracks in that devilish mask, and underneath, you found a deeper, more complicated person than anyone ever expected. His flirtations became a twisted kind of affection, his threats, strangely, a form of intimacy. And somewhere, somehow, without even realizing it, you fell into his world—his chaotic, dark, yet strangely magnetic world.

The more you fought him, the more you were drawn in. He pushed you to your limits, but in doing so, he peeled back layers of yourself you never knew existed. And when you realized it—when you understood how far you'd fallen—it was almost like a sick joke. You? Falling for someone like him?

But here you are, tangled in his grip, willingly wrapped in the chaos and the thrill of his twisted love. It’s dangerous, yes. But there’s no denying it: you wouldn’t have it any other way.

u. The table before you was set with a single plate, a fork, and a knife—neatly arranged, as if this were some normal, respectable meal. But it wasn’t.

Oh, it so wasn’t.

You sighed, staring at the piece of meat on your plate. Cooked to perfection, slightly charred at the edges, seared just enough to lock in the juices. The smell was rich, mouthwatering. You hated that part the most—the fact that it smelled good. That it tasted even better. That despite every ounce of shame that sat heavy in your chest, despite every promise you made to yourself that this is the last time, you knew deep down... it wouldn’t be.

Your fingers gripped the fork tightly, pressing the prongs into the tender flesh. You could hear it now, Ronin’s voice in your head, laughing, teasing:

"Really, sweetheart? All that sugar and spice, and this is your dirty little secret?"

No. No, no, no. He could never know.

Your serial killer friends didn’t even know. Which, honestly, was insane. They knew you were no saint, sure. You had your fun. But they all thought you were just… well, a little bloodthirsty, maybe. A sweet little thing with a bite, a killer, sure, but not like this. No one could ever know.

You sliced into the meat with practiced ease, lifting a piece to your lips, hesitating for just a moment.

This is the last time.

You popped it into your mouth.

…

Goddamn it, why was it so good?!

Your head hit the table with a dramatic thud, groaning into the wood as the taste flooded your senses. You hated this. You hated yourself for loving it. The texture, the richness, the way it melted just right on your tongue—like the best cut of steak you’d ever had. And the worst part? The worst, absolute worst part?

You knew exactly who this was.

You sat up, chewing slowly, staring at the remains on your plate.

"Sorry, Pastor Jim," you muttered around your bite. "You really should’ve stopped touching choir boys."

You stabbed another piece, eating with a little less guilt.

Because technically, you were still keeping to your moral code, right? You only went after the worst of the worst. And it’s not like you meant to start eating them! That had been an accident! A very unfortunate accident involving a freezer, a power outage, and a very poor sense of food preservation. But after that first taste? Yeah. Yeah, it became a problem.

You shoveled another bite into your mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

Ronin would never let you live this down if he found out.

Oh, he’d love the murder part—he’d practically applaud you for it. Maybe even invite you on one of his little outings. But this? This would be his golden ticket to bullying you for eternity. He’d never shut up about it. You could already hear him.

"Oh, doll, you mean to tell me all this time you’ve been lookin’ at me like a snack, you meant it literally?"

You dropped your fork and groaned again. No. Nope. That was nightmare fuel.

You reached for a napkin, dabbing your lips as if you hadn’t just committed an unforgivable sin. The plate was almost clean now, the evidence disappearing bite by bite. As much as you hated yourself for it, at least it was practical. Waste not, want not, right?

Still. You needed to get out of this habit before you really fucked up. You’d been careful, so insanely careful, but all it took was one slip-up, one little mistake, and suddenly you’d go from ‘mysterious and deadly’ to ‘literal horror movie monster.’

You sighed, pushing your plate away, feeling full but entirely unsatisfied. The guilt was still there, coiling like a snake in your gut, whispering, This isn’t normal. You’re a freak.

Like that was news.

You stood, stretching, rolling out your shoulders as you walked over to the fridge. Opening it, you took a moment to survey the contents, lips pursing. You had normal food in there. You could just eat normal food. Maybe. Probably.

You shut the fridge.

Later problem.

For now, you needed to clean up and make sure no one ever found out about this.

And, more importantly, make sure Ronin never, ever found out.

Because one thing was certain: if he did…

You would never hear the end of it.

The clock read 2:47 AM. The server was quiet—everyone else had gone to sleep, the usual chatter of chaos and mayhem dying down for the night. Well, almost everyone.

One handle still glowed in the dark.

Goreboy.

You smirked, clicking on the voice chat. The moment it connected, his voice came through, low and lazy, like he had all the time in the world.

"Hey, what’s up, darlin’? Can’t sleep? Or just missed my face too much?"

You rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. "It’s just… missing. And both."

He chuckled, the kind of sound that dripped with amusement, but also a little bit of something else—something that made your stomach twist in ways you weren’t ready to admit.

"So, what’d you wanna ask me for?"

You blinked. "For…?"

A dramatic sigh from the other end. "Idiot. Valentine’s."

Oh. Right. Last year had been a disaster. Mostly because he thought it’d be funny to leave you a gift-wrapped corpse—freshly skinned, because of course he’d go the extra mile. It had ended in a chase, a near-stabbing, and an impromptu rooftop knife fight that nearly landed both of you in jail.

Ah, memories.

But this year, you had both agreed—no killing each other for Valentine’s.

Which meant you had to get him something.

"So," you started, tapping your fingers on the desk, "what do you want?"

Ronin’s face—well, his emoji reaction—popped up on the server. A middle finger.

"Why would you ask for a goddamn gift?" he grumbled. "You’re supposed to surprise your lover. That’s, like, the whole point, sweetheart."

You huffed. "And yet, last year, I got a literal human hide on my doorstep."

"I thought it was romantic."

"You thought wrong."

A pause. Then, a laugh. "Fine. Flowers. That’ll do."

You blinked. "Flowers? Like… lilies or something?"

"Sure. Whatever. I’m not picky."

"Okay!" you chirped.

And for a second, just a second, there was silence. Something rare when it came to Ronin.

Then, in a tone so casual it made your blood run cold—"Midnight snack?"

Your heart stopped.

You sat up straight. "What?"

"You been eating, sweetheart? Kinda weird, this late at night. But, uh, mostly just wondering ‘cause you got ketchup on the end of your lips."*

…Oh.

OH.

Your hand shot up to your mouth, wiping at the corner.

You looked at your fingers.

That was not ketchup.

You shot up from your chair. "I’ll be right back!"

You rushed to the bathroom, practically tripping over your own feet as you scrambled to wash your hands. The blood—not ketchup—clung to your fingers, vivid and fresh. You were quick, but not quick enough to forget that Ronin had seen it.

Your heart hammered in your chest, and for a moment, you froze, staring at the sink, the sound of running water filling the silence. It was too close—the slip-up, the small hint of a mistake that could unravel everything. The last thing you wanted was for him to know.

He didn’t notice. He didn’t notice. He’s too busy being an idiot to notice.

You scrubbed your hands furiously, trying to erase any trace of it, the red staining the water swirling down the drain, just like the thoughts in your head. It’s fine. You’ve done worse.

You wiped your hands on a towel, your mind racing. He hadn’t called you out on it. Yet. And it wasn’t like he needed to know, right? Please, don't notice.

You shook your head, trying to brush off the paranoia creeping in. Of course, he'd notice. Ronin noticed everything.

But for now, you were in the clear.

You took a deep breath, checking your reflection in the mirror, making sure you didn’t look too guilty. You ran your tongue over your lips, still tasting the remnants of that awful little snack.

It was weird, you thought. You hated it, but also? It was surprisingly good.

You turned on your heel, heading back to the computer with a forced smile on your face, your pulse still thrumming in your ears.

"Everything okay, darling?" Ronin's voice came through, smooth and teasing, as if he hadn’t even noticed your brief disappearance.

"Yeah, yeah, I’m fine," you said, trying to act casual, even as your mind screamed at you.

"Mm. Good." His voice held that strange amusement, as if he was watching you. "Better not be hiding anything, sweetheart."

Both of you were uncharacteristically still—something had shifted, some unspoken tension that made everything feel… off.

Ronin’s voice had been teasing at first, but now, as the minutes passed, it felt like he was holding something back. And then, the blush hit. You weren’t sure if it was him or you who started it first, but it was unmistakable. His voice took on an almost shy edge when he spoke again.

"Kay… Better not let you be a not sleeper this time," he said, the words almost careful as if testing the waters. "That time your fucking manager almost made you... frickin’ not sleeper. We wouldn’t want that, right?"

You let out a soft chuckle, but even you knew it was a little too nervous. The memory of that incident was still too fresh—the way you’d almost been pushed to the edge by that workaholic manager, the constant pressure, the stress. It had taken everything in you to keep functioning, but Ronin’s comment seemed to shift the mood, the tension, and for a moment, your walls cracked.

"Yeah..." you said, your voice soft, almost a whisper. "But I wouldn’t mind speaking to you. You know? Speaking to you is enough."

You didn’t even know why you said it, why it felt so vulnerable all of a sudden, but there it was. You were falling deeper, and you couldn’t help it.

"Hah… I’m really a hopeless romantic, huh?" You sighed, the weight of your own words settling in. You hated how much you were giving away with every little thing you said, every little action. But somehow, with Ronin, it didn’t feel like weakness. It felt like… something else.

"Well, hit me up," Ronin’s voice came through again, but this time, it was softer—an almost teasing undercurrent that made your heart flutter. "We could spend Valentine’s at mine… or yours. Or hell, that alleyway we ran into each other in last time."

You flushed, unable to control the heat that rushed to your cheeks at the thought. The alleyway was a place you’d never forget—the smell of blood in the air, the thrill of the chase, the way everything had felt so… alive.

"I—I don’t know about the alleyway," you stammered, feeling the tips of your ears burn. "But, sure, we could… we could do something like that. I’m not picky."

Another laugh, low and dangerous. "Yeah, you’re always the one who’s not picky, huh?"

And then you heard it. The sound of him clearing his throat. Was he blushing, too?

"You’re really going to make me lose my shit over this, huh?"

You bit your lip to suppress a smile, but you couldn’t help it. Ronin was a lot of things—volatile, unpredictable, dark—but he was also fun. And somehow, against your better judgment, you liked that. You liked the dangerous little dance you two played.

"But," he continued, his voice now tinged with something almost sweet, "I don’t want to sleep deprive you again."

Your heart fluttered at the way he phrased it. Sleep deprivation… was that his way of caring? Of worrying about you? Or was it just his twisted way of showing affection? You couldn’t tell anymore.

You tilted your head, staring at the screen. The words you wanted to say got caught in your throat. Does he care, or is this all just part of the game?

"Well, I do have to work," you said, shifting uncomfortably in your chair, the weight of it all sinking in. "Manager said there’s more writing to do."

Ronin’s voice changed in an instant. You could hear the frustration, the tension rising as he cursed under his breath. "What the fuck? More writing? Are they insane?" He sounded genuinely pissed now, and it wasn’t the playful anger you were used to—it was something more serious.

You winced. "Yeah, I know. It’s a lot."

"Fucking hell," he growled, a rare tone of annoyance seeping into his voice. "You need a break. Don’t let them fucking work you to death. What are they thinking, pushing you like that?"

You chuckled nervously, trying to mask the heaviness that weighed on you. "It’s fine. I can handle it."

But Ronin wasn’t having it. "No, you can’t. Fuck that." The silence that followed felt almost too loud. "Do whatever you want, but don’t overwork yourself. I swear to God, if you doom yourself like.."

Your breath hitched.

"Ronin…" you whispered, barely audible. "I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me."

There was a long, heavy pause. Then, with a sigh, Ronin muttered under his breath, "I don’t want to hear about it if you end up like that. You hear me?"

You bit your lip, your eyes stinging. He wasn’t just angry anymore; he was worried. Maybe even protective. And you were terrified that you might like it.

"I hear you," you said softly, but it wasn’t enough.

You glanced at the clock. Valentine’s was approaching. And you? You had a lot of thinking to do.

The call ended abruptly, but you were still left staring at your screen for a few moments, lingering in the silence that filled the room. You hadn’t expected Ronin to hang up so soon, but maybe he wasn’t one for goodbyes. After all, when it came to Ronin, it was always about the moment rather than anything after.

Just as you were about to put your phone down, your screen flashed with a new message.

Goreboy: "Why not stay on the call until you fall asleep?"

Your lips curled into a smile as you quickly typed a reply. "I don't want you to worry." You meant it, but there was always a part of you that liked the idea of him sticking around, even if he didn’t seem to care about you quite the way you cared about him.

The response came almost instantly.

Goreboy: "I’m not worried, sweetheart. You’re just a rotten saint, too good for your own shit."

You chuckled at that. "Rotten saint, huh? Sounds about right." You sat back in your chair, feeling the comfort of the familiar exchange. Something about him being around always made the long hours of work seem more bearable. It was easy to get lost in the chaos of his teasing, and his dark sense of humor made the night seem... lighter.

You: "Well, I’d like that. Let’s do it then."

And so, you returned to typing, the soft clack of your keyboard the only sound between you and the quiet hum of the night. He didn’t say much at first, but you could hear the occasional rustle on his end, the shift of his posture or the sound of him stretching. You couldn’t see him, but you could almost picture it.

You laughed at something funny in the book, your fingers moving almost too quickly to keep up. You two chatted about anything and everything—his usual dark humor, your frustrations with the latest writing assignment. Every now and then, you’d get caught up in a tangent, bantering back and forth until the conversation felt easy and natural, like the two of you weren’t constantly circling each other in some game neither could win.

As the hours passed, the yawns began.

You felt a wave of exhaustion crashing over you. Your eyes drooped, your head growing heavy, but you fought it—if only for a little longer. It was nice, being able to laugh with him, to share the quiet moments that didn’t need words.

But as the minutes ticked by, it was clear your body wasn’t going to listen. Your words became slower, your typing more erratic, and before long, the yawns became impossible to hide.

"Shit…" you muttered, rubbing your eyes. "I think I’m falling asleep."

You heard Ronin’s voice through the speaker, low and almost playful. "You sure you’re not just bored of me already?"

You chuckled softly. "No... just tired, I guess."

There was another pause, but you could hear him shift in his seat, the slight rasp of his breath as he yawned, too.

"Yeah… I’m getting there too," he said, the words thick with exhaustion. "Guess you’ll have to deal with me being sleepy now. How’s that for fun?"

You smiled, your head sinking into your pillow. "It’s fine," you murmured, your voice soft, nearly a whisper. "I don’t mind."

He let out a quiet huff, but it was different from the usual playful smirk. It sounded… gentler, more like he was actually considering something, his usual sarcasm dulled by the exhaustion that hung heavy in his voice.

And then, just as you were slipping further into that comfortable, drowsy haze, you heard him sigh.

"It’s not that healthy," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "At least you're asleep now."

You barely registered the words before they faded into nothing, your eyes closing.

"Good night," he whispered softly, his voice low, almost tender in its quiet warmth.

You wanted to say something, to reply, but the words died on your lips as sleep finally claimed you, the exhaustion sweeping you away before you could even react.

The last thing you heard was the sound of Ronin’s breath on the other end of the line, as if he, too, had surrendered to the pull of sleep.

"Good night, sweetheart," he repeated, and then the call ended.

This is the last time, He talked with you. At least you didn't come online, Angel told him to check up on you before she uses her gun.

Your house was quiet. Peaceful, even.

Well, except for the fact that you were currently sitting on the kitchen floor, absentmindedly chewing on a cooked leg.

Not your leg, of course. That would be ridiculous. No, it belonged to your now ex-manager, who was currently in several pieces scattered across your apartment. You hadn’t planned on killing him, but he just wouldn’t shut up about your deadlines, your workload, how you weren’t being "grateful enough" for all the opportunities he gave you. He’d pushed you, and pushed you—until you pushed back.

And now? Now he was dinner.

You sighed, poking at a plate of slightly undercooked meat with a fork. You’d always hated this part of yourself, the part that craved something you shouldn’t. It was disgusting. It was wrong. And yet, the taste... well. You weren’t about to lie to yourself.

You took another bite.

And that was exactly when Ronin kicked open your front door.

"What the fu—"

You froze mid-bite, staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. Ronin, meanwhile, was standing in your doorway, expression torn between disbelief and absolute amusement. He scanned the scene before him—blood smeared across the floor, the half-butchered body slumped over the couch, you sitting there like a guilty puppy with a mouth full of human flesh.

You swallowed slowly. "...I can explain."

Ronin blinked. "Can you?"

You considered your options. "No."

A beat of silence.

Then, he cackled. Not just a chuckle, but a full-on, throw-your-head-back kind of laugh. "Holy shit," he gasped between laughs. "*I thought you were just some cute little killer, but this? This is—Oh my fucking God!"

"Listen!" you said, standing up and wiping your mouth as if that would somehow erase the crime. "It’s—okay, it’s exactly what it looks like, but—"

"YOU’RE A FUCKING CANNIBAL!" he howled, doubling over, hands on his knees. "Oh, this is the best thing I’ve ever seen. Fuck Valentine’s Day, this is my real gift!"

You scowled, crossing your arms. "You don’t have to be so loud about it."

"*Are you kidding? This is hilarious!" He wiped a fake tear from his eye. "Angel thought you were dead, and instead, you’re in here having a romantic dinner for one with your goddamn manager! Jesus, sweetheart, you could’ve told me you had a taste for this kind of thing."

You huffed. "Because you’d react so well?"

"*I’m reacting great!" he gestured wildly at the room. "This is the best fucking plot twist of my life! You’ve been holding out on me!"

You muttered under your breath, "I hate being like this."

Ronin grinned, stepping closer, his boots splashing in a puddle of blood. "But you still do it."

You didn’t answer. You just turned away, rubbing your temple. "Are you going to tell Angel?"

"Oh, absolutely," he said without hesitation.

"Ronin."

"Okay, fine," he smirked. "I won’t. But only because I wanna see how long it takes her to figure it out on her own. Could be fun!*"

You groaned, sinking back into a chair. "I can’t believe this is happening."

"*I can." He sat on the counter, kicking his legs like a child. "So, what’s the verdict? Tastes good?"

You stared at him for a long moment before muttering, "...Yeah."

Ronin was still laughing. How was he still laughing?

He was clutching his stomach, cackling like you’d just told him the funniest joke in the world instead of, you know, revealing that you were a literal serial cannibal.

"Angel is going to love this," he wheezed, wiping at his eyes. "I mean, fuck, I thought you were just some adorable little killer, but this? Oh, sweetheart, this is—this is something special."

You rolled your eyes, leaning against the blood-smeared counter. "Yeah, well, keep it to yourself," you muttered. "She’d have a heart attack if she knew."

"Oh, absolutely," he grinned, still catching his breath. "Which is exactly why I’m tempted to tell her."

"Ronin."

"Relax, relax," he smirked, waving a hand. "I won’t. But I will be thinking about it. Every time she nags me, I’m gonna remember that you are out here making gourmet fucking human dinners, and it’s gonna make my entire week."

You exhaled, dragging a hand down your face. "God, why did I let you into my house?"

"Because you secretly love my company," he said smugly, hopping off the counter. "Now, c’mon, you said you needed to clean up, right? Let’s do it."

"Wait," you smirked, a sudden idea sparking in your mind. "Actually, I was thinking… you could help me cook instead."

His laughter stopped. He blinked at you. Then his lips curled into a wild grin. "You are so fucked up, and I am so in love with that."

You ignored the way your stomach flipped at that. "So that’s a yes?"

"*That’s a *fuck yes.**"

Midnight Cooking Show: Cannibal Edition

The two of you stood over the kitchen counter, your manager’s remains laid out in a disturbingly organized manner. You had spent the last few minutes separating the best cuts, while Ronin was busy washing the parts that were, in his words, "too chewy for my taste, but hey, I’m not the one eating this sick shit."

"So, what’s the dish, Chef?" he grinned, leaning against the sink. "Please tell me we’re making something fancy. Like, I dunno, some five-star shit. Let’s turn this asshole into a delicacy."

You smirked, grabbing a knife. "Ever had Char Siu?"

Ronin’s eyebrows shot up. "Are you fucking kidding? That’s, like, the best thing ever. That sweet, sticky, roasted pork shit? That?"

You grinned wider. "That. Except, well… pork’s off the menu.*"

Ronin howled with laughter. "You’re insane. I love it. Let’s do it."

Cooking Instructions (as narrated by you and Ronin, because he wouldn’t shut up)

Step One: Choosing the Meat

"Alright, we’re looking for the tender stuff, right?" you said, eyeing the cuts. "Something fatty but not too fatty."

Ronin tilted his head, considering. "I feel like an asshole saying this, but our dear ex-manager here was kinda scrawny. Might be a bit tough."

"That’s what marinating is for," you hummed, grabbing a particularly meaty thigh. "This should work."

"God, I’m never looking at a butcher shop the same way again," Ronin snorted. "This is so fucked up and I am having the best time."

Step Two: The Marinade

"Alright," you said, pulling out the ingredients. "We’re gonna need honey, hoisin sauce, soy sauce, Chinese five-spice, Shaoxing wine, oyster sauce—"

"Okay, okay, wait a goddamn second," Ronin interrupted, pointing at you. "Are you telling me that your cannibal ass just had all this on hand? Like, you were prepared to make human Char Siu?"

You blinked. "I like cooking."

He doubled over. "Holy fuck, I can’t— You’re out here casually prepping for gourmet murder meals, and you want me to believe you’re ashamed of being a cannibal? Sweetheart, you are BUILT for this."

You huffed, shoving a bowl into his hands. "Shut up and mix the marinade."

"With pleasure."

Step Three: Marinate the Meat

Ronin watched as you coated the leg meat in the thick, dark-red sauce, the sweet-smoky aroma filling the kitchen.

"You know," he mused, propping his chin on his hand, "I’ve seen some fucked up shit. But watching you massage sauce into a man’s thigh like it’s a goddamn steak might just be my new favorite memory."

"I hate you," you said, completely void of heat.

"You love me," he grinned.

You ignored the way your face burned. "It needs to marinate for a few hours," you said instead. "Overnight would be best, but I doubt we have that kind of time."

"Booooo," he pouted. "Fine, what’s next?"

Step Four: Roasting

You slid the marinated human flesh onto a roasting rack, setting the oven to the perfect temperature.

Ronin leaned against the counter, watching you with too much amusement. "So, uh, just wondering…"

"What?" you asked without looking up.

"When do I get a taste?"

You froze. Then, slowly, you turned to him, smile too sharp. "You don’t."

His grin faltered. "…Huh?"

"You’re not eating this."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because I said so." You leaned in slightly. "You’re mine, Ronin. I don’t share my food, and I don’t eat the things I like."

For the first time tonight, he was the one caught off guard. His smirk flickered, eyes scanning your face, looking for… something.

Then, he grinned. A slow, dangerous thing. "Oh, sweetheart." His voice was lower, sweeter. "That was the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me."

You rolled your eyes. "Just go set the table."

Dinner for One (Plus One Obsessed Serial Killer Boyfriend Watching You Eat)

The aroma that filled the kitchen was heavenly. The glazed, caramelized crust of the human-Char-Siu gleamed under the kitchen light, a perfect blend of smoky, sweet, and savory.

Ronin watched intensely as you took your first bite, his chin resting on his hands.

"Well?" he smirked. "How’s our dear ex-manager tasting?"

You chewed slowly, savoring the rich, perfectly seasoned meat. After a moment, you swallowed, licking your lips. "Mmmm… tender. The marinade really helped."

Ronin whistled. "Damn. Maybe I should take up cooking."

"You can help clean instead."

"Ew, no. That’s boring."

"Then sit there and shut up."

"Aye-aye, Captain Cannibal."

He grinned as you continued eating, watching you with something intense, fascinated, and a little dangerous.

And you?

You chewed, swallowed, and pretended you weren’t thinking about how Ronin would taste.

"You know, you look cute like that," Ronin murmured, propping his chin on his palm as he watched you scrape off the last bits of blood from the counter. "White clothes were a bold choice, though. Now you look like a bloodied lily."

You paused, glancing down at yourself. Your white button-up, once pristine, was now splattered with deep crimson. You were drenched in it—smudged across your sleeves, streaked along your cheek, staining your collar.

"Cute," you echoed dryly. "I look like a crime scene."

Ronin grinned. "Yeah. But a pretty one."

You sighed, tossing a rag at him. "Shut up and help me clean, lover boy."

He caught it easily but made no move to help. Instead, his grin widened, his eyes dark with amusement. "You know," he drawled, "since Valentine’s Day is coming up, I’ve been thinking…"

You raised an eyebrow, still scrubbing the floor. "Thinking about what?"

"Your gift."

That made you pause. You turned to him slowly. "Ronin."

"What?" He was way too smug.

"If this is a cannibal joke—"

"Oh, it absolutely is."

"Ronin."

He laughed, finally pushing himself off the counter. "Relax, sweetheart. No human meat in your chocolates. Probably."

"Probably?"

"No promises."

You groaned, turning back to your cleaning. "I swear to God, if I find even a hint of flesh in whatever you get me—"

"Then you’ll love me anyway, because you already do," he finished smoothly, flashing you that damn grin.

You scowled at him, pointedly ignoring the heat in your face. "What’s the actual gift, then?"

He hummed, tilting his head as if considering it. Then, suddenly, his gaze shifted. Lowered. Darkened.

And then he smiled.

Not his usual cocky, playful smirk.

Something softer. Deeper. Dangerous in a way that made your heart skip.

"I already saw my gift," he murmured.

You blinked. "…What?"

He didn’t elaborate. He just kept looking at you, as if you had already given him something he wasn’t willing to name.

You opened your mouth, about to demand an explanation, but he had already turned away, grabbing a sponge.

"C’mon, let’s finish cleaning up," he said casually, as if he hadn’t just dropped something on you and walked away.

You frowned, staring at him for a few seconds longer. But he didn’t look back.

You exhaled, shaking your head.

Fine.

You’d let it go. For now.

Valentine’s Day. The day of romance, devotion, and in your case—waiting in a corpse-themed purgatory for your unhinged serial killer boyfriend.

Because of course you were.

You weren’t in some cute little café, or at a fancy dinner with overpriced wine. No. You were sitting on an overturned crate in Ronin’s personal murder studio, a dingy, bloodstained alleyway that smelled like iron and bad decisions. A place where the pavement was practically screaming for an exorcism.

Romantic, right?

You sighed, adjusting the heart-shaped box in your hands. Inside was a batch of apple crumble chocolates, apple crumble brownies, and an apple crumble cheesecake, because Ronin—annoyingly—had mentioned once that he liked apple crumble ice cream, and your dumb, smitten heart had latched onto that information like a leech.

You glanced around at your surroundings, unimpressed.

A "Happy Valentine’s Day" banner would’ve really brightened this place up. Maybe some candles. Or bleach. Yeah. A lot of bleach.

But honestly, what the hell else did you expect? Candlelit dinners weren’t exactly Ronin’s vibe—unless the candles were being used to torture someone.

Still, you sighed. He was late. Typical.

You kicked a stray piece of… something. Meat. Maybe. You weren’t going to check.

Waiting here was a mistake.

Ten Ways Ronin Had Annoyed You This Week: He kept making cannibal jokes. Every damn conversation. No escape. Called you "Gourmet Hannibal" like it was a fucking title. Asked if your favorite song was “Eat Me Alive” by Judas Priest. Claimed he was “checking his fingers just in case” whenever you looked at his hands too long. Said, “I’m a snack, but not like that,” at least five times. Every time you ate, he dramatically recoiled like you were about to rip his throat out. You bit into a steak, and he muttered, “Damn, there goes another one.” Started calling you “Tooth Fairy” because you had “a weirdly specific taste.” When you asked him to drop it, he said, “You first.” Brought you an actual human tooth in a jewelry box and asked if that was a ‘romantic gesture’ or a ‘fucking problem.’ (It was both.) (And Angel suggested him this. It takes a cannibal to fucking know another)

And despite all of that, you were still standing here. With chocolates.

God, you were down bad.

Instead, all you got were a few ominous puddles, some suspicious stains, and a crowbar leaning against the wall like it was waiting for its next victim. So romantic.

You checked the time on your phone. Ronin was late.

Oh, what, was he busy? Did he have better things to do on Valentine’s Day than see you? What, was he murdering someone else?

Cheating bastard.

You huffed and crossed your arms, scowling at the empty alleyway.

And then, because you were bored, you started making up excuses for him.

Maybe he was picking flowers. You doubted it. Last time someone handed him a bouquet, he used it to smother a guy.

Maybe he got distracted by something shiny. Likely. Ronin had the attention span of a caffeinated raccoon.

Maybe he got arrested. Again.

Maybe he was actually planning something really sweet and elaborate for you. HA. Yeah, no.

Maybe he was testing you to see if you’d get impatient and kill someone while waiting. Classic Ronin move.

You kicked a stray pebble, sighing dramatically. He was taking forever.

At this point, you were tempted to start leaving cryptic messages in blood just to pass the time. Maybe something poetic. Something that would make future detectives stare at the crime scene and go "What the hell does this mean?"

Maybe something simple, like:

"Men will literally commit murder instead of going to therapy."

Or, if you were feeling extra dramatic:

"My Valentine is LATE and I’m NOT MAD but if I WAS, there would be CONSEQUENCES."

You pulled out your phone and considered texting him something passive-aggressive, just to be a menace.

Maybe: "Are you cheating on me with your victims? :("

Or: "I swear to God, if you stood me up, I’m eating all this chocolate myself and then killing you for making me eat that much sugar."

Or, if you wanted to really get under his skin:

"Hey, I’m just gonna leave this box of sweets here, okay? Hope some random guy enjoys them! :D"

That one would definitely get a reaction.

You smirked to yourself, already typing.

But before you could hit send—

A voice drawled from behind you.

"Damn, sweetheart. You look so cute when you’re plotting."

You startled, whipping around.

And there he was.

Ronin Beaufort, in all his smug, late-ass glory, grinning at you like he hadn’t just made you sit in a bloodstained alleyway for an HOUR.

You narrowed your eyes. "You’re late."

"Fashionably."

"You don’t even have a watch."

"Exactly."

You huffed, shoving the box of chocolates into his hands. "Here. Happy Valentine’s, you menace."

His brows lifted slightly in surprise before he smirked. "A gift? For me? You shouldn’t have."

"I really shouldn’t have."

He snorted and popped open the box, blinking at the sheer excessive amount of apple crumble-themed sweets inside.

Then he looked at you.

Then back at the chocolates.

Then back at you.

And then—

The bastard laughed.

Like, full-on cackled.

"Oh, you’re OBSESSED with me," he teased, grinning like the absolute menace he was. "Damn, sweetheart, this is embarrassing for you."

You rolled your eyes. "Shut up and eat."

"You love me SO much it’s ridiculous."

"Ronin."

"Like, imagine being this whipped—"

"RONIN."

"I feel so flattered—"

"RONIN, JUST EAT THE DAMN CHOCOLATES."

He snickered but finally picked one up, popping it into his mouth.

And then—

He froze.

You smirked. "Good?"

He chewed slowly, his expression unreadable.

Then he swallowed and looked at you.

And for once, Ronin was speechless.

You grinned. "Told you I was good at baking."

He blinked. "Sweetheart, I don’t know if I wanna kiss you or kill you right now."

"Romantic."

"No, seriously, what the hell?" He grabbed another one, taking a bigger bite. "Why is this actually amazing?"

"Because I have actual skills, unlike you."

"Wow. Bold of you to disrespect my artistic talent."

"Beating a guy to death with a crowbar is not artistic talent."

"SAYS YOU."

You laughed, shaking your head.

For a brief moment, there was silence.

Then, much softer, Ronin spoke. "Thanks, sweetheart. Really."

You blinked at him.

And there it was again.

That look.

That look he gave you sometimes, when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

The one that was too soft for him, too raw. The one that made your chest tighten and your stomach flip.

You cleared your throat, suddenly feeling way too warm. "Yeah, yeah. Happy Valentine’s, loser."

Ronin grinned. "Happy Valentine’s, darling."

And, with zero warning, he leaned in and kissed you.

Oh.

OH.

Your brain short-circuited.

But you barely had a second to process it before he pulled away, smug as hell, licking a bit of apple crumble chocolate off his lips.

"Mmm. Sweet," he murmured, shooting you a wink.

And then, just to be a menace, he added—

"Kinda tastes like human flesh, though."

You smacked his arm. "RONIN!"

He cackled.

Valentine’s Day. A day of love, romance, and— apparently—receiving an actual human heart in a goddamn box.

You blinked down at it, tilting your head like a curious little puppy.

It was fresh. Still glistening. Still warm. Nestled inside a bed of black tissue paper, a stark contrast to the pale pink ribbon tied around the lid. There was a letter tucked neatly inside, pressed against the inner lining.

You didn’t open it. Not yet.

Instead, you just… stared at the heart.

And then you smiled.

Because oh—oh, this was so cute.

Your face practically lit up, your eyes shimmering with the kind of sickeningly sweet delight that could rot an entire dentist’s career. You clasped your hands together, a lovestruck little sigh slipping from your lips.

And then—

You picked up the heart.

With your bare hands.

And gently, lovingly, sweetly held it to your cheek.

Like a cherished stuffed animal.

Like it was the cutest thing anyone had ever given you.

Because to you—it was.

Your voice practically dripped with saccharine delight. "Ohhh, Ronin… you SHOULDN’T HAVE!"

Ronin, who was leaning oh-so-casually against the alley wall, just grinned. Like the absolute menace he was. "You like it, sweetheart?"

"LIKE it?" You gasped, offended by his lack of confidence in his own romantic gesture. "Ronin, I LOVE it."

You nuzzled the heart slightly, sighing in contentment.

Like it wasn’t a literal organ from a probably-still-warm corpse.

Like this was a plushie and not something that had been inside a human being ten minutes ago.

"You’re so thoughtful!" you cooed, holding the heart up like it was the most precious thing in the world. "Oh my God, my boyfriend is so romantic. He literally got me a heart for Valentine’s! What a sweetheart!"

Ronin cackled, "Sweetheart, you’re actually insane."

"Says the guy who just gave me a heart in a box," you shot back, giving him an adorably scolding little pout.

He snorted. "Okay, yeah, fair. But I mean… well, I thought you might appreciate it more than flowers.*"

"You THOUGHT RIGHT!"

You cradled the heart in your hands, your expression practically glowing with love and adoration.

Like someone had just gifted you the rarest diamond in existence.

Like you weren’t holding a fresh, dripping, human organ.

Ronin watched you, his eyes dancing with amusement.

He had expected a reaction.

Shock. Maybe a flustered little squeak. Possibly even an affectionate slap to the arm.

But this?

This was…

So. Much. Better.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You’re seriously hugging a heart right now."

"Because it’s sweet, Ronin! It’s so SWEET!" you insisted, gushing over it like a lovestruck schoolgirl. "You gave me something that symbolizes love in the most LITERAL way possible! It’s like saying ‘I love you with all my heart’—but PHYSICALLY! That’s so poetic!"

Ronin just stared at you, grinning like a lunatic. "You’re so damn cute, it’s ridiculous."

You beamed at him. "I KNOW!"

And then, like the sickeningly sweet thing you were, you held the heart close to your chest and sighed. "This is the best Valentine’s Day ever."

Ronin just laughed.

Because of COURSE this was your reaction.

Of course you, his hopelessly adorable, sickeningly sweet, horror movie protagonist of a lover, would treat a bloody human heart like it was a goddamn teddy bear.

HEARTFELT!

God. He was so obsessed with you.

You tilted your head, blinking up at him. "So? Where did you get it?"

Ronin raised an eyebrow, smirking. "What, you wanna know the sourcing? What are you, a food critic?*"

"I mean, a good gift comes with a story!" You twirled a strand of hair around your finger, genuinely eager. "Like, did you rip it out yourself? Was it a special kill? Was it from someone annoying? Is this a love rival’s heart? Did you monologue before taking it out? C’mon, tell meee!"

Ronin grinned. "Damn, sweetheart, you wanna know all the gory details?"

"Of course!"

"You’re adorable."

"I KNOW!"

Ronin laughed again, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, alright. If you MUST know—"

Before he could continue, your eyes sparkled as a thought hit you.

You gasped, clutching the heart tighter. "Oh my God—"

Ronin blinked. "What?"

Your entire face lit up. "I should PRESERVE it!"

Ronin… stared. "I’m sorry, what?"

"OHMYGOD, IT’LL BE LIKE A SENTIMENTAL KEEPSAKE!"

You spun around, practically twirling in excitement. "I can keep it in a jar! Oh! Or taxidermy it into a cute little display piece! Maybe put it in resin! OR! OR! I could make it into a necklace—"

"*SWEETHEART.**"

You whipped back around. "YES?"

Ronin was wheezing. "You are SO—" He choked on his own laughter, running a hand down his face. "I fucking LOVE you."

You giggled, hugging the heart closer. "I KNOW!"

Ronin shook his head, still grinning. "Damn. You really just accepted a human organ like it was a bouquet of roses."

"BETTER than roses!" you chirped. "Flowers wilt, but this? This is LOVE. This is COMMITMENT."

Ronin chuckled, watching you with that ridiculous fondness in his gaze. "You’re actually insane."

"I PREFER ADORABLY ECCENTRIC!"

"You’re both."

You grinned. "I KNOW!"

Ronin sighed, still grinning, before nodding towards the box. "You gonna read the letter, or just keep caressing the damn thing?"

Your eyes widened. "OH RIGHT, THE LETTER!"

You gently (and very reluctantly) set the heart back inside the box before snatching up the envelope.

It was sealed with red wax.

You gasped. "OHMYGOD, YOU SEALED IT WITH WAX?"

Ronin smirked. "Had to be fancy for my girl."

Your soul practically ascended. "OHMYGOD, YOU’RE SO ROMANTIC, WHAT THE HELL!"

Ronin snorted. "Open it already, sweetheart."

You ripped it open.

Inside was his messy, unmistakable handwriting.

It read:

Sweetheart, You’re probably grinning like a maniac right now, and if you’re not, I’ll be disappointed. Just so we’re clear: this was not easy to get. The bastard screamed a lot. He was annoying. So I made sure to take my time. But I figured—if I’m giving my heart to anyone, it’s you. Unfortunately, my heart is still in my chest (for now), so you’ll have to settle for this one instead. Happy Valentine’s Day, darling. —R.

Your stomach flipped.

Your heart melted.

And then—

You clutched the letter to your chest.

And let out the most lovesick, disgustingly sweet sigh in existence.

Ronin smirked. "Lemme guess. You love it."

You spun towards him, eyes SPARKLING. "I AM GOING TO MARRY YOU."

Ronin snorted. "Oh? Are you proposing?"

"I MIGHT!"

Ronin cackled. "Damn, sweetheart. Didn’t know a human heart was all it took to make you lose your mind over me."

"RONIN, I ALREADY LOST MY MIND OVER YOU MONTHS AGO."

"That’s fair."

You beamed. "Best Valentine’s Day EVER!"

And Ronin?

He just grinned.

Because really—

Who else but you could make being a serial killer this goddamn romantic?

You held the heart to your chest, rocking slightly on your heels like a child hugging their favorite plushie. But this wasn’t a plushie. This was Herny.

Yes. Herny.

"I’m gonna name him Herny!" you announced cheerfully.

Ronin blinked. "I’m sorry. What?"

You beamed up at him, all sickening sweetness and innocent delight. "The heart! Herny! It feels right, doesn’t it?" You tilted your head, gently patting the still-warm, blood-slick organ. "Herny the heart. He deserves a name. It’s what he would’ve wanted."

Ronin stared. Then, he grinned. "You’re actually insane."

"I PREFER ADORABLY ECCENTRIC!" you chirped, smearing a little more blood across your cheek.

Ronin just snorted, rubbing his temple. "Yeah, yeah, sure. Alright. Herny it is. So what’s the plan, sweetheart? You keeping him as a pet or something?"

You clasped your hands together. "Oh no, I’m gonna COOK him!"

Ronin choked. "I—what?"

"COOKING, Ronin! It’s an art! I have to do Herny justice! We have to send him off with STYLE!"

You spun around, your blood-streaked hands gesturing with dramatic flair. "Oh! Maybe braised in a red wine reduction? Or slow-roasted with garlic and rosemary? Or—OHH! CANTONESE STYLE!"

Ronin was wheezing. "You’re actually considering recipes right now?"

"OF COURSE!" You turned to him, eyes wide with mock betrayal. "I can’t just EAT Herny raw! That would be barbaric!"

Ronin just laughed. "You do realize you’re still a sweet little cannibal, right?"

"Sweetness is a STATE OF BEING!" you shot back, twirling a bloody strand of hair between your fingers. "One can be both elegant and a devourer of flesh!"

Ronin smirked, amused as hell. "You’re really about to start Gordon Ramsay-ing a dude’s heart, huh?"

"RONIN." You clapped your hands (which, again, were covered in blood). "I take my cooking VERY seriously."

A wet slap of blood hit your own face.

You blinked.

Looked at your hands.

Then at Ronin.

Then back at your hands.

And then—you started laughing.

Ronin watched you, his smirk softening slightly.

God. You were actually fucking adorable.

Here you were, covered in blood, cradling a human heart like a goddamn treasure, talking about cooking it like a five-star meal, and STILL, you managed to be the sweetest thing he’d ever seen.

Like a twisted little doll, dipped in crimson, giggling in the middle of an alleyway littered with corpses.

He was obsessed.

And then—you kissed him.

Without warning.

Without hesitation.

You grabbed his collar, pulled him down, and kissed him—deep and desperate.

And oh.

Oh, he tasted it immediately.

The sharp tang of blood.

Metallic. Warm. Iron and copper and something so unmistakably human.

You were practically smothered in it.

Your lips, your hands, your cheeks—all stained red.

And Ronin could taste it all.

You were laughing against his mouth, too.

A sweet, giggly, lovesick little laugh.

Like this wasn’t fucking insane.

Like this was normal.

And maybe it was.

For you. For him.

Ronin’s first instinct was to pull back.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t.

Because this?

This was so much better.

So he let you kiss him.

Let you pull him closer.

Let you smear more blood across his skin as your fingers curled into his hair.

This sweetest of all.

is a sick freak.

[triasticalwarlock]

Which one would you fuck, marry, and kill?

[thatsdemko]

super bowl - t.kelce

masterlist

requested: n

pairing: dad!travis kelce x mom!reader

warnings: established relationship + children + mentions of pregnancy + mentions of Patrick mahomes

a/n: I just wanted to write for this fine man! me writing this does not mean I’m happy the eagles lost just an fyi.

you weren’t sure how the chiefs were able to pull this game off, but they did. the whole second quarter looked like a disaster. with mahomes down, the defense playing like shit, you weren’t sure how they were going to pull it together after half time. but there you stood waiting for the ‘okay’ to go onto the field with your two kids after the chiefs won the Super Bowl.

your arms were being tugged in two different directions thanks to your son, Lucas who was five, and your daughter, Ari, who was three. the two of them had minds of their own attempting to play with other kids or chase after the opposing team players. you were growing irritated hoping the security guard would finally free you all so you could find Travis, your husband.

finally being given the okay, you herded your children straight to your husband who was searching for you three the second everyone entered the field. “Daddy!” he heard Lucas’ voice and a small body wrap around his lower half.

“daddy won!” ari reached upward and Travis took her in his arms planting a kiss on her cheek before bending down to ruffle Lucas’s ginger hair. his eyes finally landed on yours giving you a big grin and you returned it.

“congrats, champ.” you pressed a quick kiss on his lips earning some gross noises from your kids only leaving you both to roll your eyes.

this was your kids first Super Bowl fully able to remember it. Lucas was young the first time around, and Ari was barely one the last time. you couldn’t believe how much time had gone by as you watched the three of them run around the field playing the confetti.

the Lombardi was making its way around with the players, while the press snapped pictures, video footage, and even interviewed the players. you watched an interviewer approach Travis and your daughter while you watched him answer questions.

“Travis, how are you feeling right now?” you watched Ari position herself into the crook of his neck to avoid looking at the camera. it earned an ‘Aw’ from the two of them, as Travis’ hand touched the back of her head, protectively.

“I’m happy! my wife and kids are here and they couldn’t be happier to celebrate.” he gestured for you to join the interview, but you just shook your head. it was much cuter the two of them, Ari was playing with the hat on his head while he tried to focus on the question she was asking him.

“we noticed your son has drifted off to hang out with the mahomes family, who do we have here with you?” she asked, making sure the microphone wasn’t too into your daughters face as Ari turned her head to look at the camera for a second before hiding again against her dad.

“this is Ari, she’s a little camera shy. but she’s her daddy’s girl, right?” he asked earning a little nod from her before she wiggled in his arms to be free. letting her down, she ran straight to you and the camera panned over to you and her.

a couple more questions later, he was done with the interview and finally being handed the Lombardi. you watched him carefully take the trophy from Patrick, and squat down to his kids letting them both touch it.

“daddy has two of these now.” you mentioned earning a nod from Lucas, who explained to Ari about the 2020 Super Bowl—that was narrated by Travis to him for bed time stories.

“does this ever make you wish you had one more?” Travis turned his head to face your direction. an irreplaceable smile was still on his lips that just melted your heart. despite the sweaty appearance, he was still handsome.

a smirk formed on your lips watching his eyes grow with concern, “well you don’t have to wish.” you watched his eyes grow big as the news settled in his brain, he reached over pulling you into his sweaty body. you had been holding off the news since you found out just before your departure for the Super Bowl, you figured it would be a perfect surprise no matter the outcome.

“you’re pregnant?” he mouthed the words, hoping nobody caught this interaction between you two and was still stuck on your kids cuteness with the Lombardi.

nodding, you felt his lips press against your forehead, “this is the best Super Bowl win.”

[2hiigh2cry]

rip chiefs 💔 loser!luke is a major chiefs fan and would rail the shit out of you in anger at his beloved team’s loss

[informalcrybaby]

One Condition (Travis Kelce x Reader) P.2

“I’m Travis by the way.” You could feel his warm breath as his low gravelly voice crested over your ear. He was so close, invading your space in the most exhilarating way. If you moved a fraction of an inch, your back would be pressed flush against him.

“Y/N,” You replied, trying desperately to keep your voice even.

“Well, Y/N,” He shifted slightly behind you, “I hope you have some kind of competitive spirit because I don’t like to lose, honey.”

You couldn’t stop your giggles as they fell from your lips. You grew up fighting for everything and anything you ever got. When it came to you, competitive was an understatement. You turned towards him, having to raise your chin significantly to meet his gaze.

“Try to keep up handsome,” You smiled a devilish smile as you spoke, “You look a bit too heavy to carry.”

His eyes blazed with a mixture of amusement and some other emotion you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Whatever it was caused an increasing amount of heat to gather between your thighs and you squirmed slightly to soothe the ache it left behind.

“Stop flirting you two!” Murphy’s booming voice broke through the haze Travis created, “You’re up Y/N.”

“Game on,” Travis chuckled, his big hands reaching out to give you a gentle nudge forward, “Show me what you’ve got pretty girl.”

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

The game was down to one final throw, and you needed a fucking bullseye to win. You had gone shot for shot with Travis the entire game. He cheered you on with every hit you landed on the board and goddamn if that wasn’t doing something to you.

“Come on honey,” He cheered, clapping his hands together, “You got this!”

“Choke! Choke!” Murphy mocked from your side jokingly, but she was shot down quickly by Travis.

“Hell no peanut gallery, my girl is a badass, she’s got this on lock!”

You swelled with pride at his praise and decided there was no way in hell that you were going to lose. You let the dart fly without hesitation and before you could even register that it hit dead center, your legs were swept out from underneath you.

Travis had his arms tightly around you, squeezing your back to his front. His warm, mahogany scent invaded all your senses as he held you close. He turned you to face the losers and you joined him in rubbing in your joint victory.

“Ya’ll are sore winners!” Murphy exclaimed, “But I’ll still buy your next round.”

She turned on her heel and dragged her partner back towards the rest of Travis’s group. You expected Travis to let go but he didn’t. He set you back on your feet but kept his arms firmly wrapped around your middle. His fingers trace lazy circles on your stomach. You could feel him through the layers of clothes in between you and a shiver rippled down your spine.

“How about we skip those victory drinks and get fresh air instead, badass?” he asked as his index finger skimmed a bit lower.

You shifted backward into him, rubbing your ass slightly against what you were sure was his growing erection. He groaned, pulling you impossibly closer, his lips falling to the shell of your ear and giving it a gentle kiss.

“I have to let Murphy know where I’m going in case you turn out to be some kind of sexy murderer.” You joke, trying to cool the intense burn in your core.

He lets go and you gasp as he gives you a gentle tap on the ass, nudging you forward.

“Meet you outside, I promise to leave my chainsaw in the truck.” His lust-filled voice drives you forward, and you can't help but latch onto the bait he's cast.

"Leave the chainsaw," You call over your shoulder, sending him a playful wink, "But I can be talked into handcuffs."

[ribbonsssence]

red carnations, they bloom ──── ୨୧ ────

summary﹒ You work as the head designer and general florist for your flower shop. Maria de la Rosa hires you as a short-term worker to arrange some flowers for her modelling photoshoots and for her channel after she encounters posts about the flower shop. It was an enjoyable experience after that, but for some reason, she keeps contacting you, whether it's about producing more floral arrangements or growing some flowers for her. Then it escalates from there.

a/n ﹒ angel is still the same serial killer here, but that role of her isn't known here (like at all)! i was planning to divide this into chapters but decided not too, so have this 14k words oneshot for fun !

content includes ﹒ angel x reader ; fem!reader ; flower shop au ; flower arrangements ; floriography ; color symbolisms ; falling in love ; fluff ; happy ending ; not actually unrequited love ; love confessions

You smell of flowers and dirt.

The integrated scent of the earthly roots and the sweet breeze of floral fragrance completely waft the air of the flower shop, Everblooming Fleur, wherein you work. Yet, it does not distract you from the absolute and devastating workload you have from the shop.

You would quit this job, but unfortunately it has the greatest salary you can find, and you just had to take in floristry as a hobby. What were you doing with your life? Whether you regret this decision, it doesn't matter (only money does).

You take the deepest breath you ever took and crack your knuckles before grabbing your phone to take a picture of one of the hydrangea bouquets you just made, about to create a new weekly advertisement post on Twitter (or X) for the shop. Yes, you also handle the social media accounts for the flower shop because you're most familiar with it more than anyone else who works in the shop, surprisingly.

Once the post has been sent, you get on again with your typical busy routine as the head designer, general florist, social media manager, and one of the salespersons (and that one too) of your shop.

Luckily, you're just one of the salespersons, and as a matter of fact, just an extra and replacement if one of the main salespersons is absent, which is what's happening right now. Today, the shop emptied itself throughout the day, and all customers just wanted to buy a pre-made arrangement, so you're a bit contented about that.

Sooner or later, the clock strikes twelve o'clock in the morning, the end of your shift. You just sighed in relief and prepared to get back to your comfy home.

Pattering your way to your home, to the living room, to the upstairs, and to your bed; falling face flat on the soft, inviting mattress. Your head sank into the heavy, quilted blanket spread across your bed. You toss and turn in bed; even though the sheets are warming you up in its tender hug with whispering promises of comfort and rest, you're bored.

Be damned as hell you are; you're not exactly tired enough to be shutting your eyes and truly resting, so you ended up binge-watching Maria de la Rosa's channel till you feel sleepy.

You were okay with that personally; you like her (videos) and even outside of the channel, whereas her photoshoots and interviews are publicized. Her angelic appearance could lure you into her delicate trap, but even you wouldn't mind that. You can easily tell her immaculate outlook exudes a graceful mien. All in all, you just admired her like a fan.

You click on Maria de la Rosa's latest video and let it play in the background while diving into your inbox to see if there's any new inquiries about the shop or hiring work.

You start scanning across the mix of spam and unreasonably complex questions regarding the floral arrangements or the shop in general. Until one email catches your eye by an instant—a subject line with a well-known modeling agency affiliated with the Maria de la Rosa.

"Holy shit," you utter in shock, flabbergasted. Can it be? Or can it not be? Who knows, you got to click the email and see the details immediately!

And your heart absolutely skipped a beat once your eyes scrutinized the content. It is from one of her modeling agencies, requesting a custom floral arrangement for an upcoming photoshoot for Maria de la Rosa herself. You couldn't believe it, but it was serious. The email was articulated; it outlined all the vital details, from the floral arrangement itself to the time and date when, to the place you'll be meeting her.

They want the head designer and florist to come there, under the request of Maria de la Rosa.

Your entire body buzzes with uncontainable excitement. It’s like a fireworks show going off inside you as you kick your feet wildly in the air with a grin plastered on your face. A muffled scream of glee escapes your lips while you bounce up and down, hands flailing as if trying to grab onto the sheer joy of it all. The fact she herself wants you under her angelic presence? Your emotions are all over the place.

And the pay? It’s astronomical — far beyond anything you’d expect from your usual gigs. This isn’t the standard floral arrangement for a wedding aisle or a funeral bouquet draped over a casket. This was instead the rarest opportunity that has been bestowed upon you — to bloom flowers that will share the spotlight with one of the greatest influencers.

For just a short-term job, it feels like you’ve hit the jackpot. It excites you a lot by the thought of working with someone who you've admired for a long time.

Definitely, you were accepting this offer. You have to.

You sent back a small response to the email, keeping your excitement subtle while hopping onto your cozy, delicate bed, cocooning yourself beneath the fresh linen sheets. You let yourself rest, tugging your eyelids, and anticipate a thrilling opportunity in the next couple of days.

Nonetheless, the exhilaration lingers; you swept yourself in an imagination of the dreamy hues and intricate designs of your floral pieces arranged carefully, held gracefully by the Maria de la Rosa, the center of your vision in the cascade of your blossoms; their vibrant colors and soft textures frame her like a perfect living portrait. The thought carries you on a peaceful ride to slumber amidst the dreams that shall bloom to life in the future.

In the end, you began shedding light instantly for the next few mornings earlier than usual. Passionate, stirring, exciting — you name it. Non-stop, did you practice and prepare for the upcoming photoshoots. Despite the terrestrial fragrance of the grass and dirt mixing itself with the strong honeyed aroma of the delicate trailing vines of the clematis, the petals of the asters strings fine silk threads that radiate its bright sunlit center, and the rich yellow hues of the trumpet-shaped petals of daffodils; the rest lying in sweet smells of the earthy spring as you helped them continue to blossom. You continued to prep up with all your might for this once-in-a-lifetime hiring.

It tired you a lot, more than the prolonged hours of your working shifts in the flower shop, but you knew it would be worth it. Your passion sparked like a firework; you buzzed with lively energy while tirelessly practicing the arrangement of the requested flowers and envisioning the petals catching into the light, harmonizing their blooms with the already bloomed influencer and model.

There were more tireless days to come till the day of the meeting, but that's fine. If they were to hire you because of your potential in the crafts and tapestry of floristry, then you need to show them. Display the passion that fueled your creativity, your innovative mind; show yourself as an expert in the blossoming fields of the flowers.

One flower by another, after meticulous preparation, did it finally come. It really wasn't a dream.

You began another set of preparations, physically and mentally. You double-checked the details again before stepping out of your home, smoothing off the creases in your formal clothing and ensuring that each flower is in good shape, neatly placed in their containers. The location of the building was a fair distance from your house; all you had to do was pay a taxi of an average amount.

You find yourself sitting with jittery excitement bubbling underneath. But professionalism was paramount. So you remembered to take a mental checklist of yourself: be nice, be confident, be professional, and do not let your trivial emotions get the best of you. You really thought that was a great checklist.

Passing through the cityscape, you finally found yourself at the arrival of your destination — the agency's building.

It was contemporary, as you expected, with a sleek exterior with large windows offering a view of the prominent and minimalistic lobby. You gave all the important documents to the receptionist, and thank goodness nothing went wrong during the process.

You breathed out a sigh of relief, as you were being guided by presumably Maria's agent. Your heart beats loud and fast, reminiscent of a sprinter about to reach the finish line. You feel your palms damp, shaking a bit too. You still reassured your physical state to be calm and composed. walking further into the lively hallway of chatters between agents and other agents, you prayed that this meeting would go normal yet memorable.

Just before entering the studio, you rechecked your flowers' condition sitting on a hand trolley that the man offered; luckily, it's still in perfect condition. There were no signs of Maria's presence while following the agent, so you were rest assured she's in that studio room.

The agent briefly paused to open the door; he holds the cold steel knob. With a twist, the faint sound of the latch disengaging echoed softly in the hallway; a cool breeze sweeps out after a gap of the creaking door and caresses your face.

You flicker your eyes in response to the gentle glow of the lighting in the room. You snapped your eyes back into focus and entered the studio fully. The agent assists you in closing the door, once that is out of the way, you take a quick glance at the whole studio.

To your left was an interconnected set of vanity tables, wherein an array of accessories is being arranged by stylists; they were organized and chattered with one another. You turn your head to your right and see the glimpse of garments hanging on a sleek rack; they were organized too. Each cascade of garments ranged in colors from a soft pastel to bold, vivid tones; they shone in the lights of the lighting rigs; each intricate design and texture also woven delicate patterns like nothing else.

The more you scan the room, your very own eyes finally catch a glimpse of none other than the Maria de la Rosa herself, mid-conversations with the photographer's white backdrop. Her hair was loosely drooped down to her back with no signs of her typical twin tails with buns; her outfit was sophisticated, a flowing ensemble of saturated colors—complementing every surreal detail she had. Her expression was animated and warm. With a relaxed posture, her gracefulness and elegance linger in the studio as her presence shimmers more.

Then she shifts her eyes towards the door — you.

You snap your eyes again, suddenly sensing goosebumps crawling onto your skin. She looks at you, she is looking at you. Her eyes are fixed at you with an unwavering gaze of mixed intrigue and anticipation. She smiles, at you. Smiling with such minimal effort, yet her expression was a gentle and disarming one that makes you feel a sensation of relief washing over you.

"Please, place the containers near the vanities," the agent said.

You obliged, taking your eyes away from Maria and carrying each container one by one with a tight grip to ensure it doesn't fall out of your arms. You decided to fix your focus on your beloved flowers first and finished carefully placing down the containers next to the vanity tables as instructed by the man.

As soon as you placed down the last batch, you get up, taking a glimpse of your prized possessions, ready to bloom in the spotlight. But for some reason, you can sense an unsettling weight of someone's piercing gaze behind you.

"You must be the florist I've been requesting to see?"

Although you didn't want to, you unconsciously leap out of shock and quickly twist your body in the direction Maria was going. Your gaze darted directly to her eyes, who obviously meant no il intents of scaring you from behind.

Maria places her hand above her mouth, shaping her expression to worried one. "Oh! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to scare you..." she interjects, her expression slowly forming a slightly mischievous one as she giggles. "Perhaps it got to the best of me."

You were one to quickly reply to a person, but that's always done informally. So you reassured yourself again to tone down the informalities and be as professional as you can be. "No worries, it's truly my apologies instead for overdoing my reaction," you reassured. Remember: friendliness, confidence, and professionalism.

"Awh.. You... There's no need for you to be the one apologizing," Maria replies softly, her voice laced with warmth and remorse, "but it seems like you are the one," she added.

You offered a warm smile and nodded, your gesture quietly reassuring. "Yes, I'm the head designer and general florist of Everblooming Fleur," you answered, you intertwine your hands together while having such a stuttering voice. "It's my pleasure to be working with you, Ms. de la Rosa." You introduced, moving onto your name and a bit of details about you.

Her eyes glimmer like an angel, her smile warmer than ever, she seems interested in you? You doubt that. "Great! It is also my pleasure, since I've been waiting to meet you."

Meet you? Really? Don't overthink. It's obviously because of your skills in floristry. You still kept your composure nice and cool in front one of the greatest influencer plus model. But really, she does seem interested in you, in some way...

You let out a faint 'hm?' in slight dumbstruck, "oh? What do you mean by that Ms. de la Rosa?" you curiously asked.

She giggles, a soft and cute one, "well... I have seen some of your flower shop's advertisements and the arrangements are quite unique as I say so!" she answers, "and if I'd admit it myself — I'd like to see how it is done."

You chuckle in response to her comment about your flower shop (and most of the pre-made arrangements came from your technique), knowing damn well inside that you are screaming for your life: she complimented your style of floral arrangements, "thank you! I appreciate the comment, really. And I'm more than welcome to let you observe how it's done."

"Of course! And luckily, you just got here in the perfect time! Are you able to start the custom arrangements?" Maria asks, "if you need anything, you can ask the agents, I asked permission to prepare anything related to the arrangements such as the vases, bouquet holders, and the rest. This also includes the table you'll be preparing the arrangements on."

You nod thankfully. She's doing a lot just for you as a short-term worker, but you decided to not overthink it as always. "Thank you so much again Ms. de la Rosa, and yes, I can start them right now." you chuckled, "would this mean you'll be watching me?"

"What else was the point of this meeting then?" She coos, her melodic laughter was lighthearted and gentle, yet it hits you automatically onto your stomach and makes you want to fall on your knees out of shame.

God forbid trying to be professional and all, you can sense the steaming red-faced you as your smile falters and lowering your head in shame. You nervously laugh in return, even though your physical condition isn't looking the best of a professional, "my apologies, Ms. de la Rosa." you uttered, your gaze averted to another surrounding.

"Oh please, you don't have to take it to heart," she responds, "Maybe I should be the one to apologize instead for teasing you."

You uncontrollably sigh; it's a nice reassurance coming from her, but you still feel like you're about to fumble your biggest and probably once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. "That's... I should start the arrangements, so time won't be wasted and so you can have your photoshoots."

"Thank you, I'll guide you to the table you will reside at," she tilts her head, her expression bright with amusement. Her gaze meets with yours again, playful yet sincere, with a subtle dare. "Show me how you do it. How you make them more beautiful than ever then they are."

For some reason your heart flutters, but you also feel the sensation of a heavy tension tightening up in your chest. She wants you to 'beautify the already stunning flowers,' embellish them with artistic compositions to evoke nature's perfect transient beauty while adding a touch of harmony and meaning for her photoshoots.

"I will. Miss de la Rosa."

You followed and took a seat at the table that the agents had set up. Maria was seated just across from you, she leans in close, her intentions clearly stating the obvious while you can see her eyes watches you intently. Right, just a watching, she just wants to watch you silently, no instructions told.

In order to enlighten yourself under the state of being tense, you settled in disregarding her eager soft gaze at your rough hands. But you can recall the last words she spoken, it was a challenge. A testament to the extraordinaries.

You began the arrangements with the first batch for her first photoshoot, starting with the asters. Recalling again the email, remembering all of its details, they requested for the first set of vases, pedestal vases, to have a monochromatic structure and incorporate the single use of each flower for the two — the asters and the clematises.

You place each asters with your utmost delicacy, nudging them into their place, arranging the first pedestal vase before the second. Your hands already carried a subtle, delicate fragrance, a reminiscent of the freshly dewy grass it once embraced.

You attempted to not make an unnecessary face of the sickly scent of these flowers, knowing they are popular just before the world bathes itself in the warmth and life of a bright golden glimmer and vibrant hues. The Maria de la Rosa is just right across you, following every fluid of gesture your hands does to the flowers.

"You really have your ways, huh?" Maria chimes in, her voice lacing a mix of awe and curiosity.

You blink and glance at her soft gaze briefly, a side of her right cheek was resting on her right palm, tilting her head with a thoughtful smile: watching you. The sensation of pride and humility spurs you on. "Much obliged, I appreciate it a lot Ms. de la Rosa," you replied back.

She chuckles, "the same goes to you, you don't know how watching you is lovely."

Your heart flutters again, and you can feel the sensation of a steam on your probably flushed face, was it because of her? Obviously, but why? You couldn't care, you need to focus.

After finishing the vases, it was time to do the bouquet, a combination of the asters, clematises, and finally the daffodils. You start using some of the green fillers you bought alongside the flowers and place them tenderly to frame the bouquet as you ponder about the process of wrapping it after all of the flowers, You carefully place each flower on top of the fillers while nudging some in between the fillers.

You could faintly discern the softening gaze of Maria as you carefully wrap the flowers around in the textured specialized floral wrapping paper, finishing the arrangement with a delicate embellishment: a purple and yellow ribbon. The hues echoed the effervescent contrast of the three flowers within the greenery.

"And that's all," you conclude, "it seems like... I didn't do anything wrong from the details, am I correct?"

You see the brief shine on Maria's bright blue eyes momentarily, a reflection of genuine delight, enthralled. The corner of her lips curled into a radiant smile, beaming gently like the glowing sun. "Of course! I have so much gratitude for you," she exclaimed, "you managed to convey their beauty and expression so good!"

Her genuine delight was so genuine it captivated your heart again in a mess, fluttering easily. How fragile are you? Her ushering glow of content makes you almost blind, if only you weren't facing her upfront, you'd probably collapse onto the floor by now. You couldn't imagine much of it, being heavily complimented by one of the greatest influencers and models you so admired? It's already a lot for you to take in.

Frankly, the flattery got to you a bunch, so you shyly chuckle, "thank you again, Ms. de la Rosa." That was all you could reply with as you tried to keep your tone casual yet professional. Her radiant smile persisted, as though she enjoyed your company and you arranging the flowers.

Maria began running her slender fingers on her hair, sighing with tranquility. "it's my pleasure, but really, you're quite talented, you know?" she said, voice dripping with a playful lilt, "I should go and do my photoshoots right now."

That's right, you forgot it again, the photoshoots. Your heart flutters anew, a chaotic rhythm you could barely suppress. The notion of the flowers you aid in growing them to be the best kind of their flowers, to be adorned again beneath the flourishing structure of balance, composition, and harmony by you, and to be held and surround the beauty of Maria de la Rosa as pretty and graceful she already is.

"Ah, right. You may go ahead and do your photoshoots now, I suppose I'll take my leave."

"Actually, as per my gratitude and how well you managed to make the flowers as gorgeous as they already were, I'll let you stay here and watch me take my photoshoots. I'll let the others know," Maria calmly said, a drop of reassurance to your mind.

You couldn't keep your professional facade anymore. You, in fact, made a shocked expression, yet your eyes glimmer in beam. Frankly again, you didn't expect this, to actually watch behind the scenes of the Maria de la Rosa's modeling photoshoots. Did your 'unique' methods of floral arrangement amaze her so much? To become her only audience of her photoshoots live?

Truly, you didn't even know someone like her seemingly had a fascination with flowers, as you can sense an avid sensation of keen interest in floral arrangements or flowers in general.

You were in shock, barely could let out a word out of your mouth, not even from your vocal cord. Nevertheless, you have a verbal mind of steel and managed to utter out something. "It's... I'm really indebted to you forever, Ms. de la Rosa!" You shyly exclaimed, god how embarrassing was that? but you had to be honest, right?

Maria forms a teasing and playful expression, giggling at your beaming and flushed state. "You have no need of thanking me, it's just a gift I could give you in return." Her words were coated with a lighthearted charm she always uses; as she winks, she winks at you.

It's finalized, you have a weakness in her. There's no valid answer than that regarding your current state as of now. Deeply pondering about the times of you just scrolling on your laptop, admiring her modeling photoshoots and the way she looks. Here you are, wanting to scream and giggle, kicking your feet like some kind of child again.

"Find yourself a seat near the white backdrop, do whatever you like," she adds, before turning around and walking back to her staff.

You find yourself sitting at a seat near the white backdrop, as Maria mentioned. You take a glance at the current environment, it was quite busy, even while you were arranging the flowers. Designers having a friendly talk with each other while seemingly planning out the next garment for her next photoshoot, stylists also conceptualizing different kinds of hairstyles for Maria.

You watched the photoshoots go on and on, using the arrangements you made as background and the bouquet being in the soft, tender hands of Maria. You still couldn't shake the feeling of excitement once the photoshoots were released to the public. Although you do wish for some anonymity, for the sake of yourself and the others working at the flower shop, it was still a visible feeling you've been having since the moment you saw the email.

The photographers instructed Maria to pose in various positions with the props and the flowers. You became fascinated by how it was done. Each pose meant a quick white light shine throughout the studio, she was diverse and quick with her poses and expressions. The photoshoots overall spoke a seasonal and nature theme while she was dashing and graceful, now it makes sense why they requested for the said arrangements they need.

The photoshoots went on and ended in the evening.

You eloquently bow down to show courtesy. "Thank you for letting me watch you take your photoshoots, and I'm glad to be of great help for the flowers." You gracefully smiled.

"Oh, you," Maria coos, a playful chuckle escapes from her mouth, soft and disarming. "I feel I haven't appreciate you enough, yet here you are, thanking me."

You shake your head lightly, you know deep down your appreciation for her is unwavering, you have to let her acknowledge it. "This has been the first big opportunity I was offered, so I need to give you my gratitude for that." Your smile deepened.

Maria tilts her head, crossing her arms just to rest her cheek against her palm again. She smiles fondly, her expression effortlessly radiant. "You're too sweet," she says softly, yet carrying a teasing warmth, "Anyways, before our meeting ends, I would like to ask you something."

Your curiosity piqued; you responded without hesitation, "No worries, is there anything?"

Her gaze at you is steady and kind. "I'd like to ask for your contact number," she replies smoothly, pausing for a moment, "for business matters."

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a split second, you regain your composure after she said it was for business matters. Of course, it's for business matters; why were you thinking it like that? It's not unusual for people to ask for your contact number in the name of business anyway.

In regaining your composure, you offered her a smile. "Oh, yes, yes! You may have it; I'll write it down for you," you said, before quickly jotting down your contact number on a note, ensuring your handwriting is neat, and handing it over to her.

"Thank you for being so kind. Let's see if there's a time between you and me to collaborate again."

You wish.

Back in your welcoming home, you lie again face flat on the comfortable quilted sheets of your bed. Your heart flutters, whether you're falling in love with her or it's just admiration; god, you could never differ. Albeit, if you were to fall in love with her and just her, you'll slip it aside.

You started feeling tired ever since going back to your home, so you changed your clothing to your pajamas and cocoon yourself again beneath the blanket. The warmth enveloped you like the sunbeams passing through the clouds in the morning. You shut your eyes and pray you don't have to do as much as conceptualizing a bunch of arrangements for next season.

The first day back at work after your unforgettable encounter with Maria de la Rosa passes with a serene ease. No flurry of customs nor urgent requests of custom arrangements, and the other designers are mostly handling the work after it was your turn. You could just run in a field of grass, feeling the cold breeze brushing through your skin. This day was another time to breathe and let your mind wander.

Your shift ends again at twelve o'clock in the morning, and you find yourself awaiting some sleep for the weekends — your favorite time.

Waking up with no competence of the current time, you scroll casually through your Twitter (or X) until you see a tweet popping up on your feed: It's the same photoshoots of Maria de la Rosa you saw being taken from a couple days ago! The same poses, outfits, make-up, everything!

And to your astonishment, she posts a new video on her channel, another video about beauty. However, it just so happens, in the thumbnail, her room — the vases and bouquet you made are there, just sitting in the background.

You were in your utmost delight.

Being in your happy bubble, viewing her most recent video and admiring the same studio-shot photographs. She also mentions the flowers, how you produced them for the photoshoots, while you also watched her take them simultaneously as a token of appreciation. Your name and the flower shop wasn't mentioned, obviously for the sake of anonymity, and you were more than glad for that.

Your weekend went on as better than it already is. It was like a garden springing to life in your heart, vibrant and carefree, it lifts you higher.

The clock strikes midnight as you unwind from the day, your heart finally quieting after its relentless fluttering. You sit before your laptop, the soft glow spilling over your fingers. Writing — your secret solace. You recall those endless daydreams of penning a novel that would touch the world, a dream now nestled like an unopened book on a dusty shelf.

After the clicking echoes filled the silence of your bedroom, a river of thoughts. You stopped to take a small and fresh break, and a text notification vibrates your phone. The first thing you see on the notification was their name, Maria de la Rosa.

Hello! I know it hasn't been 3 days since the photoshoots and video have been released... But, I'd like to request another set of custom floral arrangements, any kind and amount! Except, you have all the creative freedom in your hands. Just bring what you need. The address is the same, be there before 7 am preferably. Thank you! <3 Oh, and there's money as a reward, hehe

No way.

It's happening again, you're working with her again.

You stretched your arms to the heavens above and exhaled deeply, just to laugh in a sudden explosion of joy, a grin spreading across your face. High spirits became higher than before, it's like you've been blessed by the gods. Nobody, not even a modeling agency, but none other than Maria de la Rosa reached out to you. It's just like a surreal dream of yours, but it's reality.

You jumped out of your chair and collapsed back onto your bed, the mattress sighing beneath your weight. Sleep was tugging at your eyelids, but excitement still coursed through your veins, making you grin against the pillow. Another day was on the horizon, another chance to work with Maria de la Rosa. The thought alone was enough to make your heart race.

Waking up with a vivid memory of yesterday, you take your quick daily routine and back to prepping.

You drank your casual coffee, savoring the comforting bitterness that jolted your senses awake. The steam curled upward, brushing against your face like a warm morning embrace. Its lingering scent grasped the creative freedom you were given. You devised a plan with more flowers than last time, you ensured to choose the most beautiful flowers, ones that embodies vibrancy and elegance; with petals so lush they tell a story, an expression.

Dahlia, peonies, larkspur, flowers that bloom in this late Spring was suffice, you called it.

Sketching out concepts for the arrangements, you wondered what kind of photoshoots they're going for next, it might become the same theme but you shook the idea out of your head and went back to preparation. With each passing second, more concepts rushed through your mind like a tidal wave, exhibiting ribbons, complementing greenery, and bursts of color palettes.

And your back again at the same contemporary building, same studio, and same table.

By the time you sat back again in the same chair too, she was already there to greet you. The same nervous excitement wells up in you as you meticulously piece together the flowers she requested—each delicate petal flowing with allure.

"Hi there," Maria greeted, her voice drips a casual warmth that immediately put you at ease. Her outfit was effortlessly stunning, more different from the outfit she wore previously; wearing a pastel pink sundress with floral print. Tailored with short puffed sleeves, a fitted bodice with pearl buttons adorned around ribbons in the side and a subtle A-shaped layered skirt.

"I— Hello, Ms. de la Rosa," you stammered out, you couldn't believe it was such a problem for you when her beauty enamors extremely. Your handwork completely slows down in bringing out the flowers and bases.

"Oh?" Maria interjects with subtle playfulness, a giggle escapes from her mouth, "seems like you're admiring me?"

Shit, she knows. Your heart skipped a beat, panic flashing through your mind. Yet, you decided to lean into the playful banter, just like her. "Uhm, maybe," you replied, keeping your tone casual yet playful, meeting her gaze with a slight smirk. "I'm sure it isn’t a surprise for someone like you."

Her laughter filled the room, melodious and genuine. "Well, I can't say I'm not flattered," she quipped, her expression softening. "But if you're going to admire me, make sure to keep your work just as flawless. Not that I don't have my trust on you. Deal?"

You nodded, though a hint of warmth lingered between you. "Deal," you said with a chuckle, already eager for the rest of the day working by her side.

"Great, just while I do my work."

The faint sound of her heels clicking as she goes to the area of the stylists, going to have her hair styled you assume, you ponder more. Pondering regarding your relationship with her, she's been incredibly nice with you, friendly, so casual — like friends.

"I'm overthinking it."

You thought. You sighed, trying to push aside the self-doubt. It was true that Maria had been incredibly nice, always friendly, and effortlessly casual with you. The way she spoke to you felt natural, and that ease made you wonder if there was something more beneath her smiles. Nonetheless, there was no reason to complicate things.

As you focused on the work ahead, you resolved to stick with the present, keeping things professional and organized.

As you picked up each delicate bloom, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of uncertainty, until you realized: she never told you a certain theme, nothing, just only she quotes, "creative freedom". Perhaps, this may be a bit difficult as you thought.

You paused. Creative freedom. On one hand, it was liberating. But on the other, it left too many directions to go in. Flowers could symbolize so many things, evoke a range of emotions. They could be arranged in endless ways, from bold, colorful displays to subtle, elegant compositions. The choices were overwhelming. You practiced without analyzing her message, you feel somewhat regret and disappointment in yourself.

But then again, you shouldn't worry about that, you got a small glimpse of Maria's clothing for the photoshoot, you'll just have to base it on that, generalize it, broaden it.

Without the weight of Maria’s gaze on you, your movements became more fluid, more confident. You worked quickly, flowing through the arrangement with a quiet rhythm. Drawing inspiration from the casual yet bold outfit Maria had chosen for the day, you decided to go for an arrangement that echoed her energy: loose, free-spirited, but still filled with elegance.

The slack movement of the green fillers intertwined with the soft, structured beauty of pink foxgloves and peonies. The flowers cascaded around the vase, almost as if they were spilling over, the greenery framing the blossoms in a carefree yet deliberate manner.

Once you finished the vase, you rubbed your hands already soaked in the sickly aroma of the fragrant flowers, ready to move onto the next arrangement.

You decide to create a nosegay next, where the dahlia becomes the focal point, its vibrant petals commanding attention. You carefully choose complementary flowers to be arranged tightly around the dahlia. Finishing it off with a layer of the usual green fillers you use, securing all of it with a ribbon and cut off the excess stem.

Fixing your focus on the next arrangements after another, the soft click of heels against the floor announced Maria's return. You barely had time to glance up before her voice carried across the room.

"Oh my!" Maria exclaims, her voice tinged with admiration. "You’ve already done so much, and they’re absolutely stunning. Looks like you knew how to pull off the theme as well." She tilted her head, her blue eyes shining with intrigue. She was lilting with approval and fascination.

Her compliment caught you off guard, and for a moment, all you could do was blink. Then, snapping yourself out of your daze, you managed to stammer, "Ah, thank you! I—I'm glad you think so."

Maria chuckled softly at your response, her lips curving into a playful smirk. "It's not just thinking so, darling. It’s knowing. If I didn’t know better, I’d say these flowers are trying to upstage me." She chuckles repeatedly, so tender and lighthearted.

She calls you darling. She called you darling.

The word echoed in your mind, like a bell tolling, leaving you slightly stunned yet undeniably charmed. Her words hung in the air, warm and honeyed, as if they were designed to melt your resolve. You swallowed hard, heat rushing to your cheeks. You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat, tangled in the weight of her gaze and the softness of her smile.

Maria tilted her head slightly, a gentle wave of her styled hair catching the light. "Hm? Did I catch you off guard?" she asked, her tone laced with amusement. Her laughter, soft and melodic, filled the air, adding another layer to the haze enveloping you.

You smiled awkwardly, feeling as though the room had become warmer, the floral scents around you amplifying the surreal atmosphere. "Maybe, just a little," you admitted with a sheepish chuckle, attempting to shake off the overwhelming fluster.

Maria’s laughter sparkled like a light breeze rustling through petals. "Only a little?" she teased, her voice lilting with mischief. She leaned ever so slightly toward you, the gesture subtle but enough to make your heart skip. "But, you've done a lot. So, I'll take these arrangements and start my photoshoots. You may stay here again and watch, if you would like to."

Her initial playful edge in her tone sent your thoughts scattering. You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to focus. "Thank you, Ms. de la Rosa," you muttered, half to yourself but loud enough for her to hear.

You watched Maria take her photoshoots again, her every pose a masterclass in elegance and poise. Each movement felt deliberate yet effortless, as though she were in complete harmony with the world around her. The way she tilted her chin, the graceful arc of her arms, and the fluidity of her posture captivated everyone in the room.

And if you were being outward honest? Maybe, and just maybe — you like her.

The camera flashes illuminated her figure, creating a glow that almost seemed unreal. Her hair cascaded like silk with every turn of her head, catching the light and shimmering with life. The fabric of her outfit flowed with her movements, accentuating each pose as if it had been made solely to complement her grace.

Romantically or platonically? You weren't so sure.

From time to time, she glanced in your direction, her expression softening for the briefest of moments, as if silently sharing a private acknowledgment amidst the buzz of the shoot. It sent your heart racing every single time, a quiet flutter of emotions that you couldn’t quite suppress.

Something rings in your brain about her, and the subtle way her demeanor seems to shift when she’s around you. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but there’s an undeniable pull, an inexplicable connection that feels far from ordinary.

Her attitude towards you has grown warmer, more familiar, almost as if she’s seeking out moments to interact with you. It’s in the way her eyes linger a fraction longer than necessary, the way her smile seems softer and more genuine when it’s directed at you. Even during the busy chaos of her shoots, she finds small, almost imperceptible ways to include you, a glance here, a comment there.

It feels... strange. Not unwelcome, but disorienting. Why does it seem like she wants to see you more and more, even when she could be surrounded by countless others vying for her attention? You try to brush it off, but the thought nags at the edges of your mind. Could it be simple friendliness? Or is it something deeper, something unspoken?

You shake your head, feeling the weight of your overthinking settling in again. Maybe you’re just reading too much into things. But then again, the warmth in her eyes, the effortless charm in her words those don’t feel like coincidences. They feel deliberate.

But then again and again — she's way too out of your league. You're just some woman who works for rest of the day at some flower shop, and she's one of the most prominent models and influencers with dripping elegance and gracefulness everywhere she goes, a perfect being.

You shake your head repeatedly while you wait for the photoshoots to be completed before heading home.

Heading home in a taxi, the hum of the engine and the faint city lights create a soothing rhythm that matches the whirlwind of thoughts spinning in your head.

"Maybe, we're like friends by now."

You wonder, your fingers idly tracing the fabric of your seat. Possibly it's just a friendly professional connection, nothing more. You've encountered instances like these with other people who hired you. But somehow, the more you think about it, the less certain you feel.

Your whole week has been silent. Aside from the recently published pictures and a few videos, giving you anonymous credit.

You returned to work with a sense of calm, though a flicker of uncertainty still lingered beneath your composed demeanor. The days dragged by on your feet, dealing with the same usual arrangements, occasional requests, and quiet, almost meditative work. Considerably, one of the salespersons came back to work again, so you're back in behind the scenes of the flowers and arrangements.

Until, one particular shift started unlike any other.

Out of nowhere, as you were tending to your usual tasks, a figure entered the shop, her presence commanding attention. But you wouldn't know that, yet.

"Hey!" A demanding voice yelled out, they turned toward you, eyes wide, and you could see the faint tremor of disbelief in their gaze. It was almost as though they were seeing something surreal unfold right before their eyes.

"Did something happened?" you curiously asked. It's probably another complaining customer, at least that's what you would've predicted.

"Yeah, kinda, whatever. This is new," they whispered under their breath, shaking their head. "Maria de la Rosa, like the actual one, came here and told me she wants to see you?"

"Oh. Oh? What the fuck?"

You blinked in shock and disbelief just like them, did she actually came here just to see you? You choose to not waste any time. "Ah, okay. I'll see her."

With a swift motion, they hurried over back to the front of the shop. “She’s right here, miss,” they managed, leading you to the counter. They left and went inside the shop to probably leave you two a time to talk and it felt like the whole shop was silently holding its breath, waiting for what would happen next.

"Hi," Maria greeted, her voice smooth with a playful undertone, the kind that made your heart skip. The glint in her eyes was familiar, mischievous, and as she flashed you a smile, it was effortlessly charming. You could feel your face warm, your usual composure slipping away. "Sorry if my appearance was too sudden, especially when I asked to see you."

You stumbled over your words, your thoughts crashing together like a thousand half-formed sentences. It felt like your words were trapped in the air, swirling just out of reach. You shifted your feet, an unconscious attempt to ground yourself, to steady the storm inside your chest. "I—I didn't expect to see you stop by, here," you mumbled, your voice small, swallowed by the space between you. "What do you need, Ms. de la Rosa?" You managed to ask, but it sounded more like a question for yourself, a search for the ground beneath you. 

Her presence was a warmth that wrapped around you like a silk ribbon, effortlessly pulling you into her orbit. It made your heart race—more than it should have.

Maria leaned over the counter slightly, her expression more thoughtful now. "You know, I wanted to have a longer chat this time, if you don’t mind. I’m not really here for an order..." Her voice drifted, and you watched as she looked around, clearly comfortable in the environment. "And, drop the titles. I frankly like to be called by my name."

You nodded, still unsure how to handle the situation.

The conversation flowed between you and Maria, smooth like the ripples on a calm lake, but with the depth of an ocean hidden beneath the surface. Her words, light as a gentle breeze, carried a weight that seemed to pull you in deeper, unearthing thoughts and feelings you hadn’t even realized were there.

You were unprepared for how natural it felt to talk to her, how her presence in the space seemed to make time stretch, like the hands of a clock forgotten in the corners of the room. Each laugh, each glance she offered felt like a quiet invitation to stay a little longer, to breathe in the air that seemed to hum with possibility.

"I'm still really sorry if I came here so sudden," Maria expressed, leaning against the counter, her expression no longer playful but drawn with the weight of unspoken thoughts. "You know how busy I am, do you?"

Keeping your silence, you offered her a swift nod, willing to listen as the air between you and Maria shifted, the space once filled with casual banter now heavy with something deeper, more fragile. The brightness that often surrounded her presence dimmed, leaving her raw and exposed, a person and not just an image.

"I just..." she trailed off, biting her lip as if trying to suppress the emotion bubbling just beneath the surface. "Feel a bit exhausted lately. It's not like it has been the first time. But I honestly shouldn't be busy for the past few weeks but I am."

The vulnerability in her voice stung more than you'd expected. Maria, always in control, always the image of poise and perfection, now seemed like a person. Just a person, weighed down by her own life, caught in the whirlpool of expectations. You noticed the tension in her shoulders, the way her eyes avoided yours, not in embarrassment, but in a kind of reluctant surrender. It was as if she had tried to hold everything together for so long, and now, in front of you, the seams were beginning to crack.

Thinking about what she said more, made you completely forgot, Summer is coming, a time when most people think of breaks and vacations, had no such promise for her.

Her laugh was hollow, a sound that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Sure, Summer is coming, but for me, it'll be just another busy season," she said, almost bitterly, though the tone quickly softened again. She shrugged, that same elegant shrug that seemed to let her hide the storm inside her, but you knew better now. You could see through the polished surface. "It should be slow... but the work never stops."

"Don't you have agents or people who work beside you? Or... Are they the reason?" you asked, your voice a mixture of curiosity and concern.

Maria hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering toward the window as if the world outside held the answers she couldn’t quite find. She let out a soft sigh, her eyes drifting to the side as if looking for something that could offer her solace. "Yes, mainly my manager, Finian. He's been demanding lately, over my modeling status and channel as well. But, I don't necessarily blame him for anything."

You blinked in confusion, unable to fully grasp the weight of her words. "A-huh, how?" you asked, your voice laced with uncertainty, unsure of how to continue the conversation or if you were even equipped to understand what she was really going through. "In what way you don't, necessarily, blame him? You don't think he's nagging you?"

"What?— No, no... I'm sure he isn't, he just wants the best for me but... sometimes I feel cut out from my busyness."

The weight of her words lingered in the space between you both. For a brief moment, it felt like you could understand her, if only a little. You wanted to say something reassuring, but what could you say? Words seemed too small, too insignificant for what she was feeling.

Instead, you simply nodded. "Y'know," you murmured, your voice a little more steady than you felt. "You don’t have to carry all of it by yourself, you know?"

Maria blinked, her lips parting slightly as though she wanted to argue, but no words came. She glanced toward the floor, her fingers absentmindedly brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I mean it," you continued, your tone soft but firm. "I know it probably feels like everyone expects you to be perfect all the time, but... You're allowed to take a step back. You’re allowed to need someone, something, or just a break once in a time."

For a moment, the room felt still, the weight of the conversation settling into a comfortable silence. Maria’s expression softened, her walls momentarily lowered. "You’re too kind," she said quietly, her lips curving into a faint, genuine smile. "Thank you."

"There's no need to thank me," you replied simply, offering her a small, reassuring smile. "Everyone deserves a break, and someone to lean on. You."

Maria gave a faint, almost wistful smile, her shoulders sagging slightly as if releasing some of the burden she’d been carrying. "Maybe you're right," she said, her tone almost playful, though it was clear she was still wrestling with her thoughts. "Thank you for your words. I'm quite glad I came here. It... Did a lot."

You watched her, feeling the weight of the moment, knowing that she wasn't just seeking answers, but someone to hear her, to understand the chaos of her life. You stood there with a smile, with her in the quiet, letting her thoughts spill out, offering nothing more than your presence in the midst of her storm.

"Either way, something about you, your presence, makes me feel safer than ever."

The words hit like a wave, gentle yet powerful, stirring a mix of emotions you couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t just what she said, but the way she said it — her voice dipping into an honesty that felt rare and precious. It was as if she’d peeled back a layer of herself she didn’t show to just anyone.

You found yourself searching for a response, anything to match the gravity of her confession, but your mind was a flurry of thoughts. What could you say to something like that? The quiet between you stretched, filled only by the faint hum of the shop and the delicate fragrance of flowers around you.

Your heart swelled with a strange, unfamiliar warmth, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this fragile, unspoken connection.

As the conversation came to a lull, Maria’s gaze fell on a display of fresh flowers near the front.

"I’ll take just one, the red flower there," she said, as if it was the most normal request in the world. She points her index finger to the flowers of carnations.

"Oh, the red carnation? I suppose so..." You replied, your voice hesitant, your thoughts trailing as you picked up the delicate bloom. Something about the entire exchange felt a bit surreal, like the weight of her presence and her sudden generosity was pressing down on you all at once. You wrapped the flower quickly, fingers brushing the soft paper, trying to focus on the task at hand.

Once the flower was neatly placed on the counter, you handed it over to her, expecting the usual polite exchange. But then, you were hit by the unexpected: she placed an absurdly large tip on the counter, the bills nearly spilling over the edge.

You stood there, dumbfounded, your mind racing to come up with a response. Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you were frozen, unable to find your voice. The tip was too much, too generous, and you weren't sure if it was the heat of her smile, the unexpectedness of it all, or just the sheer magnitude of her gesture that left you at a loss for words.

"No need to argue, just take it," Maria insisted, a smile still on her face. "I know you deserve it for all the hard work, and for being a great friend to me."

You tried to protest, but she waved it off, her hand brushing against your arm lightly as she turned to leave. The door swung shut behind her, and the shop was quiet again, but this time, it was filled with a sense of confusion and a bit of wonder. The scent of fresh flowers and the quiet hum of the lights seemed to weigh heavier in the air, as if the walls themselves were holding onto the tension left in her absence.

You're left in absolute perplexity. Maria's emotional walls had crumbled for just a moment, giving you a glimpse into the weight she carried. And then, without much transition, she shifted back to her usual confident self, ordering a single red carnation. No elaborate bouquet, no symbolic arrangement — just one simple flower.

The whole interaction felt surreal, as if you were caught in the middle of a dream that didn’t quite make sense, there were so many things about this woman being so surreal. Before you could even ask why or if she was okay, Maria pulled out her wallet and slid an absurdly large tip across the counter, and called you a great friend.

"Friend?"

The word rang in your head like a struck bell, leaving you frozen in place as she turned and headed for the door.

"I'm her friend?!" you muttered to yourself in disbelief, staring at the carnation in your hand and the stack of bills on the counter. It wasn’t just the tip that shocked you—it was the fact that, somewhere along the way, you’d apparently become someone important to her.

As the door closed behind her, the shop returned to its usual quiet, but the space she left behind felt anything but ordinary. You stood there for a long moment, trying to piece together what had just happened, the warmth of her words lingering like sunlight breaking through a cloudy sky.

Nonetheless, you retreated back behind the doors of the flower shop, the rhythmic motions of arranging blooms grounding you once more. It was almost as if the candid, deeply personal conversation with Maria de la Rosa — the same model who graced magazine covers with an effortless elegance and the same influencer whose beauty and lifestyle posts amassed millions of fans on her renowned channel — had been a figment of your imagination. The fragrance of roses and carnations surrounded you, soothing and familiar, contrasting sharply with the lingering whirlwind of emotions.

Each flower you handled felt like a quiet distraction, their delicate petals whispering reassurances as you immersed yourself in your work. Yet, no matter how diligently you focused on arranging vibrant bouquets, her words, her presence, and the undeniable significance of your encounter stayed with you, like an indelible mark etched onto your day.

Throughout the weeks, Maria's visits became a rhythm in your life, a quiet melody that played between the hustle of your work. Whether the conversation was light and professional or drifted into something more personal, there was one constant thread: each time, without fail, she left with a single red carnation flower.

"Another carnation today?" you asked during one afternoon, trying to sound casual as you wrapped the delicate bloom in tissue paper. Your hands worked deftly, but your heart drummed unevenly in your chest.

Maria smiled, the kind of smile that lingered in the air like a secret. "Of course. It’s tradition now, isn’t it?" she teased, her tone light yet somehow loaded, as if there were an unspoken meaning behind her words.

"Tradition?" You couldn’t help the nervous laugh that bubbled up. "Do you give these to someone special?" The question slipped out before you could stop it, your voice betraying the hesitance you felt.

Maria tilted her head slightly, her gaze locking with yours, piercing and playful. "Maybe, maybe not," she replied with a coy shrug.

Her words left you flustered, the subtle compliment blooming in your chest like the very flowers you handled daily. Her ambiguous answers always seemed to carry the weight of something unsaid, a secret tucked just out of reach. As she handed you the money, always more than necessary, you found yourself caught in the haze of possibilities.

Before she took another step away from the counter, you found yourself blurting out, "You really have a fascination with flowers, don't you?" The question slipped out before you could think twice about it, your voice barely above a whisper. You couldn’t help it. After all, the flowers she had bought, the care she had to place them in her bedroom, and the way she seemed to light up every time she spoke about them, it felt like a fitting observation.

Maria paused mid-step, her fingers brushing lightly against the counter as she turned back toward you, her gaze softening. "I guess you could say that," she said with a thoughtful smile. "Flowers, always felt like a way to express things words can't. Which I can't, sometimes."

You watched her carefully as she spoke, noticing how the slightest smile touched her lips when she mentioned them. Flowers had become more than just a hobby for Maria; they were a window into her heart.

Each visit lingered in your mind like the faint, sweet fragrance of carnations, the pattern of her requests carving itself into your thoughts. Did it mean anything? Was she just kind, or was there something deliberate in the way her gaze softened when she spoke to you, in the way her hand brushed yours as you exchanged the flower?

The questions swirled around you, tugging at your focus like a persistent breeze, scattering your composure. Every interaction left you grasping for clarity, only to find yourself sinking deeper into the unknown. By the time she left, her scent still faintly in the air, you were left staring at the counter, your thoughts as tangled as the stems in your hands.

Later that evening, as you rearranged a shelf of flowers, your thoughts swirled like petals caught in a gust of wind. Red carnations symbolize romantic love. Romantic. Love. The word thudded in your mind, insistent and impossible to ignore.

Does that mean she likes someone? You frowned, the idea both logical and confusing. It made sense; someone as amazing as Maria would have someone special. But why does she keep coming here for a single carnation? The thought twisted in your chest, a strange mix of hope and doubt.

But then there was you. A stubborn part of you clung to the possibility, replaying her casual flirtations; the way her smiles lingered just a second too long, and her compliments that always felt more personal than professional. Could it be you?

"No way," you muttered to yourself, shaking your head. "Get a grip." Yet the thought refused to settle, flaring up every time her image crossed your mind. You couldn't deny that you liked her—how could you not? Her presence was magnetic, her kindness genuine. And you’d been a fan of her long before she started walking through the shop door or the email that changed you as a whole.

The internal debate consumed you for days, leaving you distracted and restless. Each time the bell over the door chimed, you half-expected to see her walk in, and your heart would leap in anticipation. It wasn’t until you threw yourself back into your routine: rearranging flowers, chatting with customers, that you managed to clear your mind.

For now, you decided, you’d leave the questions unanswered. But as you wrapped yet another red carnation for Maria during her next visit, a quiet, persistent hope bloomed in the corner of your heart.

Days pass by normally than as it should, although too normal for your likings.

You sat in the peaceful table, hands still trembling slightly as you arranged another bouquet. The light from the window streamed through the glass, casting a warm, golden hue over the flowers, but it felt like the glow had settled into you. An energy that lingered, filled with confusion and unspoken words. Then, your phone buzzed.

It was a text from her, Maria. Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest as you read the message.

Hiii! Can you come to my house right now? Before I get kinda busy again.. I want you to teach me about arranging a bouquet.

The message was as simple as it was direct, and your mind whirled. Her house? Before you could even process, the next message came through, and with it, her address.

The world seemed to tilt as your breath caught. What? Was she being serious? You had barely processed the warmth of her words, and now, out of nowhere, you were about to step foot into her world. Into Maria de la Rosa’s real life. Your heart hammered as your fingers hovered over the phone screen, mind racing. What was going on?

All you could was reply a yes, on the way. Your manager wouldn't mind if you take a leave for today, they'll always know you do a lot on each shift you take.

Flustered and overwhelmed, you scrambled to get ready the flowers, things for the bouquet, and yourself. Your thoughts tumbling over each other like the petals in a breeze. It felt like you were about to do something completely out of your depth, but at the same time, the anticipation buzzed through you — an electric current running under your skin. A delicate invitation into a space where boundaries blurred, where your feelings and her casual, yet intimate, gestures seemed to entangle in the quiet moments you shared.

You weren’t just preparing to teach her about flowers. No, something more was brewing, though you couldn't quite place it.

When you arrived at her house, the world seemed to fall into a softer rhythm, the usual hum of city life dimming as you stood on her doorstep. The air around you felt still, as if everything was holding its breath, waiting for what was about to unfold.

Maria’s smile greeted you like sunlight through a window, warm yet playful, effortlessly making you feel at ease, as if this was just another one of those casual encounters. Still, there was something in the way she looked at you, a glint in her eyes that made the moment feel different. "Hi! I've been waiting to see you. You sure did come here quicker than I expected."

You let out a playful chuckle, your nerves settling a little, but you could feel that subtle undercurrent of anticipation. "I couldn’t leave you waiting too long, could I?" you responded, smiling in return, though your words felt more like a way to hide the rush of emotions swirling in your chest.

"You flatter me too much. Let's go to my bedroom."

She led you inside, her movements fluid and inviting, as if she had rehearsed this moment a thousand times, yet somehow, it felt new. Her home had an elegance to it, the kind that seemed effortless and yet thoughtfully curated.

As you made your way to her living room and to her own bedroom, you noticed the small touches, the delicate curtains; the soft lighting, and the subtle arrangement of her furniture, all somehow embodying the same grace that Maria herself radiated.

"So, shall we start?" you asked, your voice a little less steady than you intended, the tension in the room thick with an unspoken curiosity.

You moved closer to the table, the smell of fresh flowers swirling in the air like a gentle summer breeze. You picked up the first flower, its petals soft like the first touch of sunlight in the morning, and began to arrange it. Your hands, though skilled, were still shaking slightly as they moved with practiced precision, the familiar rhythm of arranging grounding you in the moment.

"Okay, see how the stems need to be cut at an angle first?" You explained, your fingers brushing lightly against the stems as you guided her. "It helps the flowers drink water more efficiently."

Maria followed your instructions, her fingers a bit hesitant at first, but she seemed to catch on quickly, her hands moving with a growing confidence. As she placed the flowers next to each other, adding the green fillers, there was a subtle energy in the air, like something was blooming between the two of you — not just the flowers on the table, but something you couldn’t quite place.

Eyeing her hesitant hands, you felt a quiet pull in your chest. You couldn’t help but reach out, walking behind her and placing your head on one of her shoulders to take a peek of her creation. Your fingers brushing against her hand, a moment of hesitation before you gently took her hands into yours. The warmth of her skin sent a jolt through you, a pulse that ran through your fingertips, spreading through your chest like the quiet thrum of a heartbeat.

You guided her fingers with slow, deliberate movements, your own touch gentle but firm, as if your hands were creating the space for something more than just a bouquet. You weren't sure how long you stood there, both of you just standing in the middle of this quiet moment, but every second felt drawn out like a note held too long.

The touch lingered longer than necessary. "Here, let me help you with the spacing. You want to create balance, make sure the flowers complement each other."

Her eyes flicked to yours, searching, but there was something guarded there, as if she were unsure whether she should pull away or stay. Her breath hitched for a split second, and you nearly pulled your hands back in response, but something stopped you: a pull, like gravity, holding you both in place.

Her hand felt warm against yours, like the heat of a flame just starting to catch. You could feel the pulse in your fingertips, the quiet intensity of the moment settling over you. You couldn’t look at her, not now, not with your heart threatening to break free from your chest.

"Like this?" she asked, her voice a soft murmur, breaking through your spiraling thoughts. You nodded, the words caught in your throat.

"Yeah," you said, your voice sounding distant to your own ears. "Perfect. Just like that."

Maria didn’t move her hand away immediately, and you felt it, the heat of her touch lingering between you like a secret you weren’t ready to face. You could sense the shift in the air, like the quiet before a storm, but you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge it. Instead, you focused on the flowers, hoping to push aside the rush of feelings that threatened to overwhelm you.

Finally, you let go, your hands lingering for just a second too long, as if the air itself was holding onto that connection. You took a step back, your pulse still racing in your chest, unsure of what had just happened. Maria, too, pulled her hands back slowly, the moment slipping through your fingers like sand.

She smiled at her creation, a soft, knowing smile that seemed to pull at something deep inside of you. But just as quickly as the moment had bloomed, it was gone. You stepped back, still holding onto the flicker of warmth in your palm, but you didn’t dare look up to see if she felt it too.

Maria's eyes met yours, but you quickly glanced away, the weight of the moment too heavy to hold. "I think you’ve got the hang of it," you said, your words forced, like you were trying to fill the silence with something, anything, to mask the way your heart pounded in your chest.

She smiled up at you, her expression unreadable, but there was a softness in her gaze that hadn’t been there before. "Thanks," she said quietly, her voice a little more subdued, like the weight of the moment had settled over her too, "can you teach me more and some tips too?"

"Ah, yeah, can do."

While teaching her more about the basics; tips and tricks of arranging a bouquet, you found yourself stealing glances at the red carnations she'd bought from the shop. They were conspicuously absent from the room, and curiosity gnawed at you.

Finally, unable to hold it in, you asked, "hey, about the red carnations you always buy as some kind of 'tradition' you quote, where are they? I haven’t seen them around here."

Maria paused, her fingers stilling as she looked at you with a small, almost secretive smile. "Oh, about that..." she said casually, as though the answer was nothing at all. "I'm... hiding them, of course."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What, is this also a part of the tradition too? Ms. de la Rosa" you teased, trying to keep the mood light, though your heart was racing slightly in your chest.

She seemed to consider this for a moment, her gaze flicking toward the window before returning to you, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "Oh, you... But maybe," she said softly, her voice almost laced with something unspoken. "It's just for someone I may consider, I love."

"You... Love? You like someone?"

Her eyes sparkled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. She continued, her voice soft, almost affectionate. "I'll be honest, I guess so. They have this wonderful appearance, this cute demeanor, and this soft voice that’s... Well, it’s lovely. All of it is so charming." The way she spoke seemed so tender, so deliberate, and yet your brain still couldn’t quite connect the dots.

You nodded, keeping your response calm and friendly. "Sounds nice," you said, trying to mask the confusion (and somewhat jealousy that you don't know) swirling inside. You kept your tone light, not thinking much of it, but in the back of your mind, you couldn't shake the feeling that you had missed something.

Maria’s smile seemed to falter ever so slightly, just enough for you to notice if you were paying attention. But, not being particularly sharp in matters of the heart, you brushed it off, convincing yourself it was just a fleeting thought.

The visit was short, much shorter than you had thought. Maria’s work life was demanding, and she had to get back to it. After a few more minutes of flower arranging instruction, you left her home, your thoughts tangled in the quiet of the journey back. The red carnations still lingered in your mind, but more than that, it was her words that echoed, leaving you with more questions than answers.

What was going on with you, and about her? You couldn’t quite decipher it, but somehow, as you walked back to your home, the feeling that there was something more lingering between you both began to settle deep in your chest.

It was one of those quiet weekends where time seemed to slow down, the kind where the world outside felt distant and you could just relax into the comfort of your space. The only sound was the gentle hum of the air conditioner and the soft rustling of your blanket. You were sprawled on the bed, scrolling aimlessly, when your phone buzzed, slicing through the calm like a sudden gust of wind.

Hi againn, I just wanna ask something I would like to send my apologies which is right now before I send what I want to ask cause this might be a bit too sudden or unexpected hahaha.. can you send me your address? it's a bit important right now

You paused for a second, wondering what she could possibly need your address for. But without giving it too much thought, you typed it out, fingers moving quickly over the keys. You know her address and she should probably know yours too by now, right?

Another message followed shortly after you sent a reply including your full address.

Thank you <33 I'll be there in an hour or two

That’s when your pulse quickened.

"An hour or two?! She wasn't actually kidding—"

What was she planning to do? You glanced around your room in a mild panic, rushing to change into something a bit more presentable, since you looked like a mess right now. You opted for something that still felt casual enough for a lazy evening but formal enough to feel like you were making an effort.

You had been waiting for what felt like an eternity, each passing minute stretching longer than the last. Your nerves humming with anticipation. Just as you were about to settle your mind, a knock at the door jolted you from your thoughts. Your heart skipped a beat, adrenaline surging through you. You scrambled to answer, almost tripping over your own feet in your hurry.

And there she was.

Maria de la Rosa, standing at your doorstep with a radiant smile that could have brightened the entire block. Her presence seemed to fill the space, making everything feel lighter. But it wasn’t just her smile that caught your attention: it was the mysterious object hidden behind her back. You raised an eyebrow, curiosity bubbling up inside you, wondering what she was hiding.

"Hi," Maria said, her voice light but with an unspoken depth beneath it. It made your heart do a little flip, the soft tone of her words wrapping around you like a warm, comforting blanket.

"Hey," you managed to stammer, still a bit taken aback. "Thinking about it, you never told me why you're here."

Maria's smile deepened as she took a step closer, her eyes glinting with something you couldn't quite place. "I'll tell you," she said, her voice almost teasing. "Just once I'm inside and the door is shut, okay?"

The mystery hung in the air like a delicate thread, pulling you in, making your curiosity itch. You opened the door wider, stepping aside to let her in, your mind racing with questions. What was it she had to tell you that felt so important, so private?

She stepped inside, the door closing behind her with a soft click. There was a quiet tension in the air now, something charged that made the room feel a little smaller, a little more intimate. She took a deep breath, then spoke again, this time her voice softer but steady.

"You don't know how long I’ve been desiring this moment," she said, her voice light but carrying an undertone of something deeper. It fluttered something in your chest, the words wrapping around you like a soft, warm blanket. "And I thought I never knew someone that oblivious until you."

You stood still, a sense of confusion weaving through you, unsure of what exactly she meant. Her words lingered in the air, sweet yet cryptic, leaving you to untangle their meaning.

Maria, still holding something behind her back, watched you carefully, as if she were waiting for the pieces to click into place. The silence between you two stretched just a bit longer before she finally took a small step forward, her eyes softening as she spoke again.

"Yeah? I'm gonna be oblivious if I don't get a hint at all."

She chuckled softly, a light, teasing sound that only made your heart race more. Great, you look like a fool now. And you looked more like it, still reeling from her words, when you finally smelled something hovering the air.

It’s a scent that carries weight, like a secret or a memory waiting to be discovered, and in this moment, it envelops you completely. The red carnations, with their bold hue, seem to emanate a warmth that matches the scent itself. It’s as if they’re telling you something, inviting you to breathe them in deeper, to notice their beauty—not just in their color, but in the way they fill the air, making everything around you feel alive and in motion.

The scent of red carnations is undeniably rich, distinct, and evocative. Unlike the more delicate and subtle fragrances of some flowers, red carnations carry a deeper, almost spicy sweetness that draws you in. It's a fragrance that can be described as warm, like the earth after a fresh rainfall, grounded and vibrant at the same time. The scent is often a blend of clove-like warmth and a light floral sweetness, creating an aroma that's simultaneously comforting and a bit intoxicating.

As you breathe in, the sharpness of the floral notes lingers in your nostrils, while a soft, almost powdery undertone settles in your chest. There's a lingering note of something woody or herbaceous, adding to the complexity of the scent, reminding you of a garden after dusk, where the earth and flowers converge into a single, tangible essence. The fragrance isn’t overwhelming; it’s present, like a soft, persistent whisper, weaving through the air and gently caressing your senses.

"I’ve admired you since the first time I saw you," Maria said, her gaze never leaving yours." At first, it was just admiration, but then it turned into something more. Something I couldn’t ignore. You’ve always been unintentionally cute with your little quirks... Funny, caring, and just... Kind. Despite our busyness because of our careers, it still made me realize... I love you."

Her words hung in the air like a delicate perfume, surrounding you with warmth and a bit of awe. You stood frozen for a moment, your mind scrambling to catch up with what she was saying. Love? You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t seen it coming, but now that she had said it, everything felt... different.

Maria gently offered the bouquet of red carnations she’d made herself — just like you’d taught her. You could see the care she had put into arranging the flowers, each stem positioned with purpose. The same flowers she had bought from your shop weeks ago now symbolizing something far beyond just a customer’s simple order.

You took the bouquet from her, your hands trembling slightly as you met her gaze. The heat of the moment hit you, but so did the realization. You’d always cared for her. You’d always admired her, maybe even liked her in ways you hadn’t allowed yourself to recognize before. But now, everything was crystal clear.

"I... I love you too," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. Your heart raced, and you took a deep breath, gathering the courage to let the words spill out, words you had kept hidden for so long. "I always admired you too: everything about you. Your looks, your voice... they always drew me in, but I thought maybe it was just admiration. But, I always liked you and loved you."

As the weight of your words settled into the air between you two, the silence that followed felt different; comfortable, like the calm after a storm. Maria’s eyes twinkled with joy, her lips curving into a soft smile, almost like she couldn’t believe it either. You both stood there for a moment, caught in the whirlwind of everything just falling into place, before it all seemed to hit you at once.

And then, in the quiet warmth of the moment, you both burst into laughter, the kind that bubbled up from deep inside, releasing all the tension that had been building. It was a beautiful sound—unrestrained and genuine. You couldn’t help but laugh with her, feeling the weight of the world lift from your shoulders as the joy between you bloomed.

You embraced her arms too,

Maria wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, still grinning. "So," she said, her voice dipping lower, teasing, "does this mean I may... Kiss you?"

The air seemed to still for a second, the words hanging there like a promise. The question lingered in your chest like a tender secret you had both been waiting to acknowledge.

“Yes,” you said, barely able to suppress the smile that tugged at your lips.

And with that simple, yet profound exchange, Maria stepped closer, her presence almost electric now. The space between you felt like it was charged with an undeniable pull, the closeness of it making your heart beat faster. She leaned in, and time seemed to slow, the world outside your little bubble fading into a blur.

Her lips met yours in a soft, slow kiss — a kiss that tasted of sweetness and the promise of something new. There was a tenderness in it, like the first rain after a long drought. The warmth of her body against yours, the soft pressure of her lips, it all melded into a feeling of rightness, like everything had led to this moment.

The kiss was gentle, almost tentative, as though you both were savoring the newfound connection, unsure whether to rush or take it in slowly. Your hand, still holding the bouquet of carnations, the faint scent of the flowers lingering in the air, mixing with the soft warmth of her skin. It was a moment suspended in time, one that felt both completely new and strangely familiar, like the final piece of a puzzle clicking into place.

When you finally pulled away, there was a lingering softness, the air around you filled with the quiet contentment of shared emotions. Maria smiled, her eyes sparkling with a newfound light. "I’ve wanted this for so long," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath.

You playfully laugh knowing what to say next, "And I never knew I could be dating the Maria de la Rosa in my whole life!" you replied. Really, you would never knew in your whole life, not even as a possibility.

Maria chuckled softly at your words, her eyes gleaming with amusement, yet something deeper in them—something more vulnerable. She brushed a strand of hair from her face, looking at you as if she were seeing you for the first time, a new spark of warmth in her gaze. "Well, you know," she said with a playful smirk, "I’m not just the Maria de la Rosa you see on camera, you know. I’m just... Me."

Her voice was light, but it held the weight of a thousand unsaid things, the quiet vulnerability of someone who'd spent so much time in the spotlight that being seen for who they really were felt like both a gift and a risk.

You smiled back, the full meaning of her words sinking in. You had always admired her from afar, watched her from your little corner of the world, unsure if someone like her could ever look your way. But here she was, with you, and the world outside seemed to fade into the background. Everything felt so surreal, yet so real, as if the universe had quietly shifted to make this moment happen.

"Well," you said softly, your hand brushing against hers once more, a gentle reassurance, "I’m glad it’s you. I don't mind anything else." The words felt natural, a truth you didn’t realize you’d always known until now.

"Yes, but maybe let's keep this a secret for now," Maria murmured, her voice soft like the rustling of leaves in a gentle breeze. There was a vulnerability to it, an unspoken hesitation, but also a sense of trust. She looked at you, her eyes searching for your response, a subtle spark of hope flickering in them.

You nodded, the air between you feeling light yet charged with something deeper, a shared understanding. "No worries, I don’t mind it either that much since it makes sense, so of course," you replied, your voice steady, yet there was a small tremor of excitement you couldn’t quite hide.

Maria’s expression softened as if she’d been holding her breath all this time. Then, a small sigh escaped her lips, her gaze turning downward. "And before you say something: maybe I should’ve bought the other flowers for the bouquet..." she mused, a playful yet uncertain edge to her words, her fingers absently touching the petals of the red carnations in your hands.

The soft scent of the flowers hung in the air, mingling with the lingering warmth between the two of you. The carnations, with their delicate red petals, seemed to echo the very essence of her—beautiful, slightly wistful, but undeniably real.

But you were incredibly sure that wasn't she meant.

"Roses are more overused, so it's fine," you replied casually, your gaze lingering on the bouquet in your hands. "I don’t mind if there isn’t that much diversity with it." The red carnations seemed to whisper their own story; bold, simple, yet undeniably elegant. You couldn’t help but feel that, in their own quiet way, they spoke volumes about how Maria had expressed her feelings.

"Thank you so much," Maria sighed in relief, her eyes softening with a vulnerability that was rare yet beautiful to see. "And now that I’m here, and we are... dating, I’ve always wanted to spend time with you. Spend the whole day, or even every day together. So I was wondering if we could—"

"Always." You smiled, cutting her off gently, as your heart swelled with a newfound warmth. "I don't have much to do today either, so I’m more than glad that I can spend my time with you."

Maria’s smile deepened, her gaze steady as a quiet understanding passed between the two of you. "I’m glad too."

Ever since, you feel a sensation of blossom from the bouquet of the red carnations Maria handed you.

[yingfelis]

Killer love

Angel x Reader

“You’re really weird y’know.”

You looked up, your eyes meeting Angel’s as you gave her a curious look.

“Care to elaborate?” Angel just giggled as you just stared cluelessly at her.

“Look at what you’ve doing right now and tell me you’re normal with a straight face.” Angel’s voice teasing with a hint of fondness as you remembered what exactly what you were doing.

You looked back down as you rubbed a damp towel into the palm of her hand, getting rid of the blood that had previously covered her skin. “Wasn’t saying I was normal, just wondering what finally got you to say something.”

Angel chuckled as she moved her (now clean) hand to grab your wrist, and brought your hand (holding the towel) to her cheek. Said cheek which was spattered in blood you immediately started to wipe off.

“Well for one, normal people don’t gently wipe off the blood on a serial killer’s face after they’ve just killed someone.”

“Normal people don’t tend to knowingly date serial killers” you retorted as you finished cleaning the blood off her face, leaving a small kiss on the corner of the blonde’s mouth to solidify your point.

Angel’s cheeks sparked a light pink as the sudden affection, “You don’t go easy on the heart… but touché”

Angel shifted and rested her head on your shoulder, letting out a deep sigh. It wasn’t done out of annoyance or anything, it was as if she just finally let herself relax.

“Are you sure you’re not secretly a murder?”

“I’m not.”

“Not even the tiny bit murderous?”

“That…” you had to take a pause as you thought back to the first night you saw Angel in person. Covered in the blood of her previous asshole of a manager, the manager you encouraged her to kill.

“That’s… debatable. But I still haven’t technically killed anyone.”

The girl beside you let out a laugh as she seemed to lean her body on you more. “I’m not sure whether to call you incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. I mean sure accidentally getting onto a serial killer is one thing… but staying for as long as you have now is another.”

It’s true. You could have left at anytime. You thought about leaving many times. You should have left a long time ago. Before you involved yourself so much with these people.

But you never could for some reason.

You blamed it on your book, your whole obsession with writing to the point of throwing your life away. Going as far as you view your life as nothing but secret story waiting to be transferred onto a page. A viewpoint that was probably nowhere near healthy and basically what got you into this mess in the first place.

But you knew it wasn’t only that.

It hasn’t been that reason for a long time.

You turned to face the girl next to you. She looked back at you with expecting eyes and the most relaxed expression on her face you knew you were one of the only few to have the privilege of seeing.

Angel, The Heartsick Angel, Maria De La Rosa

You muttered something under your breath. Barely audible that just escaped comprehension but was there nonetheless. And as Angel’s— no… not in this instance. Not right now with you you cut your own thoughts off, as Maria’s lips parted to ask what you said, you already silenced her with your own.

Right the reason you stayed…

You leaned back, your hand gently cradling Maria’s cheek as you looked into her light blue eyes. She truly looked so angelic in this moment, you couldn’t help the words stumbling out of your mouth

“My muse…”

You whispered on her lips before she pulled you back in for another kiss.