The Flower Patch

Pairing: Alex Claremont-Diaz x Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Request: “Okay so since you are doing red white and royal blue can you do an Alex x male reader. He doesn’t have the best family so he’s always working at the florist shop And photography business. Alex being the amazing boyfriend he is starting to notice and just sets up something cute or just wraps him in his arms asking what’s wrong. (Also I don’t know if you remember but I requested that Hamish duke and sad reader request and I don’t think I thank you enough because I still read it sometimes. Long way of saying love your work and what you do)

A/N: Okay, your ask was so sweet I almost died. This dynamic ended up being so fun though! I loved this ask (and your last one too!) so if you’ve got anymore, feel free to send them my way. Glad my writing can make a difference for you ♥️

—--

In the year and a half since Alex and you had started dating, he’d quickly learned that you tended to hide out at the flower shop you worked at when something was wrong. The bright colors and sweet smelling flowers had always helped lift your spirits in a way that nothing else seemed to, so when he hadn’t heard from you in the past two days, he had a strong suspicion of where he’d find you.

Sure enough, he’s able to spot the back of your head over one of the rows of potted tulips as he makes his way into The Flower Patch. You’re slightly crouched, the sleek black camera in your hands directed at a bundle of roses, lilies, and babies’ breath in a crystal vase, clearly preparing to take another of the photos that decorate the shop’s website and social media.

“Excuse me, sir,” Alex calls out, a smile tugging at his lips as he stops to watch you, “Can you point me toward the love of my life?” He tries (and fails) not to snicker as you jump, startled by your boyfriend’s appearance.

“Not funny,” you say, but Alex can still pick out the slight grin twisting at the corner of your mouth. 

Alex hums, moving to stand behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “A little funny,” he corrects, setting his chin on your shoulder and watching you work. He’d always been amazed at the way you were able to capture a moment with your camera, to frame your subject perfectly in order to freeze time. You were able to capture lighting and highlight textures in a way he’s never seen from other photographers, to make him feel like he could reach through the frame and touch the things you photograph. “Now, are you going to tell me what happened or are we just going to pretend you’re working on your day off just for fun?”

Alex can feel the way you tense against him, shoulders stiffening and knuckles paling as you clutch tighter to your camera. 

“Not sure what you mean,” you say and Alex knows you well enough to know what must’ve happened.

“Right, you were meant to be working today all along, huh?” He knows you weren’t. You always have Wednesdays off- that’s why they’d become date nights. So for you to be working today means that something must’ve happened that made you want to get out of the house and work was the easiest excuse. He knows you well enough to know that you don’t want to think about what must’ve happened if you’re dodging his questions the way you are. “Well, how would you feel about coming over after your shift? My mom and dad are going to be stuck working late, but you and I can take over the theater and have a movie night if you want? I’ve got all your favorite snacks?” Alex can’t help but smile as you relax back into him again, his heart warming at the pleased little sigh that escapes you. “Yeah,” you say, setting your camera aside and turning in his arms to tuck your head against the side of his neck. “Yeah, that sounds good.” As much as Alex hates what you go through with your family, he’s happy to know that you feel safe with him. That your escape had extended past your camera and the beautiful blooms of The Flower Patch to include him.

splat oc doodles babey!!! top to bottom we got:

Trooper

Patch

Jade

Tint(boyfriend's oc!!!) and Patch

AGAIN, Tint and Patch

Noise

Berry

“My Favorite Flower” - Part 1

Bucky Barnes x florist!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k+

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Requests are open! | My Ko-Fi | Part 2

Summary: Based off this concept I made: Bucky goes to your floral shop to get flowers for all the unsuccessful dates he’s been on. Soon, he only goes to buy flowers for an excuse to see you.

A/N: So as I was writing this I accidentally closed the tab without saving and I lost a few hundred words, @bemine-bucky can attest to my absolute distraught. Thankfully I was able to rember pretty much everything I wrote down. This has not been proof-read so don’t fucking come for me ok?

Divider by @firefly-graphics , gif not mine

Warnings: mentions of death, fluff

“Flowers from Dot, this is Y/N, how can I help you?”

You quickly wedge the phone between your ear and your shoulder, quickly snipping of the roses’ thorns with quick precision. You’ve had to have trimmed thorns over a thousand times, learning the best way to do it without pricking your fingers. Your grandmother always had a huge box of bandaids underneath the register, always prepared to patch you up whenever you clumsily poked your skin as a child. She would always treat the smallest of wounds with the most loving care, giving you a sweet kiss to your forehead every single time. That box hadn’t been opened in a long time, and you really don’t need them there anymore, but just the memory of your grandmother taking care of you has them sitting in the exact same spot from the last time she patched you up.

You had been droning on a boring conversation over shipments, expecting a very large amount of lilac sprays. It was for one of the multitude of wedding arrangements you had been planning. There was never a time you weren’t making arrangements for weddings. Sometimes you would hate how basic the couples were, always wanting open rose buds, or the simplest of peonies. But you never hated the job, you’ve wanted this job ever since you stepped foot in it the first time.

“Granny, which one is your favorite flower?” You asked excitedly, pulling on the hem of your grandmothers mod dress. It was covered in an indistinguishable, floral pattern. Your grandmother was probably the quintessential florist, always having some sort of floral inspired part of her everyday wardrobe. She pointed to the glass door you walked through, specifically to the painted daisy that your grandfather had painted.

“I always loved daisies, for many reasons. My mother loved to plant them in our garden, and your grandfather gave them to me on our first date,” She says with a wistful stare, her eyes never leaving the painted daisy. You could see the backwards writing of “Flowers from Dot” surrounding the flower, along with the business hours that had remained the same for years.

“So is that why mom’s name is Daisy?” You guessed, and Dot looks into your innocent orbs with her misty ones. You see her wipe away a stray tear.

“Yes dear, she was my favorite flower, but now I think you may have taken her place,” She chuckled when you gasped in surprise, “But don’t tell her I ever said that, it’s our little secret, okay?” she links your pinky with hers. You nod enthusiastically,

“Okay Granny!”

You finally hung up the phone, readjusting the small daisy earrings you had on. Before you could reminisce further, you heard the familiar tinkling of the bell hung above the door, and you look up to see probably one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen in your life, walking into your flower shop. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and a short haired brunette. You nearly drop dead when your eyes meet his baby blues.

“Hi, welcome to Flowers from Dot!” you greet him, knowing full well he wasn’t a regular. You would remember a face like that. You see him nervously look around your small business, room nearly filled to the brim with flora. You see the permanent crease between his eyebrows, you wish you could smooth it out with your lips—what? You see him open his mouth but he hesitates, so you continue,

“Something I can help you with?” You say with a small encouraging smile. He swallows a bit of air before trying to give you a forced smile,

“Uh yeah, actually, I have a first date tonight, and I haven’t been on one in a while. I’m not really sure what flowers women like these days,” he shyly chuckles, as he approaches. Your heart slightly falters. Oh, of course, someone that gorgeous wouldn’t be single for long now would he? You scan his figure as he nears the counter you’re standing behind. You spot the black leather gloves before he shoves them into his jacket. Why is he wearing gloves when it’s the middle of spring? Oh, whatever. He’s too gorgeous for you to care.

“And I’m guessing you don’t want some boring old dozen roses?” You imply, waving the bouquet of roses in your hand before you place them and the scissors you were holding on the table behind you. You hear him let out a small chuckle and it makes you smile immediately. You spot his teeth slightly breaking out of his smile. He should definitely smile more.

“Well, I just had these new camellias ship in yesterday that I think you might like, or uh- your date might like, if you’d like me to show you?” You offer him with the most confident smile you could muster.

“Sure,”

“Great! They’re in the back so I’ll be right back!” You say, rushing into the back room. You have to take a few deep breaths before grabbing the things you needed before you walked back out. You spot the man glancing around the shop, before returning his attention to you.

“Alright, I grabbed some baby’s breath that I think would look lovely with these, what do you think?” You ask excitedly. You always got so amped whenever you got to have free reign over any floral arrangement. The man looks at the flowers in your hands, blinking for a moment, before making eye contact with you again.

“Oh, I think they’re perfect,” he reassures you, and you heart jumps. He likes them!

“Okay, I’ll get started on that bouquet for you,” you chirp, quickly grabbing white tissue paper before cutting off a long strip with ease. After a moment of silence he speaks once more,

“So I’m assuming you’re Dot?”

“Oh no, I’m Y/N, Dot is my grandmother’s name.”

“But you run the shop?” The man quirks an eyebrow at you.

“She passed the business to me a few years ago before she passed,”

“Oh I’m sorry”

“No it’s fine, it’s was about time she joined mom,” You say without even thinking, and you glance up at the man, who takes in a sharp breath. Your eyes widen,

“Oh don’t worry, that was a long time ago,” You try to reason, but you wanted to literally crawl into a hole for dumping this heavy information on this complete stranger. He thankfully saves you from your spiraling.

“Well, I think you seem to be running it quite well, Y/N. See people walking in here all the time.” He gives you a small twitch of his mouth resembling a smile.

“Thank you..” You start before you realize you never caught his name.

“Bucky,” he says, finally giving you a full smile. Bucky. You’ve heard that name somewhere.

“Thank you Bucky, I try my best,” You say bashfully, quickly tying the ribbon of the bouquet. He goes to reach for his wallet but you shake your head.

“It’s on the house, didn’t mean to give you my sob story, for being a first time customer and all.” You assured. He takes a moment before letting a smirk fall on his lips,

“I think you meant to say, ‘on the greenhouse’” he jokes and you let out a small laugh.

“Don’t make me change my mind,” you say mid laugh, handing him the bouquet. You notice the glove is very cold, but you hide the slight shiver down you back well enough so he doesn’t notice.

“Thanks, they look lovely,” He thanks you, beginning to walk out the door.

“Hope your date goes well!” You call after him, and he throws you a small wave over his shoulder in response.

You really hoped it didn’t go well.

Part 2

Hot Patch (Dad! Yuta x you)

a/n : Hey! I am here to share another Yuta domestic au :) Himnaseyo everyone! I hope this oneshot can make you feel calm before sleeping or just have a better day :) Hold On Pain Ends! Idk if you remember, but welcome Nami and Kenji back to your pages.

tagging my eonni @yutahoes and amazing fellow ais who always support yuta with all their hearts @2-3-t-i @ailoveyuta and all the domestic yuta lover out there

here we go ~~

The cloudy sky starts to cry and that gives you a bad feeling. You pause in track, open your umbrella and quickly pull Nami under the umbrella and Kenji up on your shoulder.

“Kenji sweetie, hold on tight okay?” You ask through your shoulder as you hoist him up so he can hold on to your shoulder nicely.

Kenji just nod and with his firm grips on your shoulder you now check on the growing beautiful girl who already clings her hand on your dress.

“Nami, stay close.” One of your hand is under kenji's body making sure he is not slipping off while your other hand is holding the umbrella. Nami understands and three of you start walking down the pouring rain.

You are glad you didn’t bring much stuff when walking with them to the park, you give yourself a good job for bringing an umbrella but in your mind you have to remember to make Nami bring her own. Before Kenji is here, you can pick Nami up and run through the rain but not now.

Your phone rings and you guess it must be Yuta. He said he was heading home earlier and you guess he must have been homed and found your message that three of you are going for a quick afternoon walk.

Nami glances at you for ignoring the call, but you chuckle “It's probably dad, don’t worry he's home already. Now Nami after this you go inside and take off your wet clothes okay?” you tell the little girl that when you see your home sweet home.

Yuta’s car was parked already in the garage and the lights are on. Nami made it to the front door mostly dry, she bangs on the door and waits for Yuta to open the door for them.

“I was super worried when the rain fell-" Yuta's sentence stop and his eyes run from Nami who dashed through him, to you who look super struggling keeping Kenji up with one hand and holding an umbrella. His heart goes warm and he wants to scold her.

“Help me please?” you raise your brow. Yuta quickly step forward and you turn your back to him. Yuta takes over Kenji from you and you winces when your left arm was completely numb and sore from hoisting him up. You drop the big heavy umbrella. Good thing you're still able to bring both of your kids home safely.

But your duty as a mom is not over. Nami has already taken off her clothes, Yuta runs the hot water and you're helping Kenji escapes from his dry clothes. You smile feeling proud that the torturous journey at least makes Kenji dry as bone.

“Kenji fell asleep already since he arrived!” Yuta said when the kids are already sitting in front of the TV, eyes glued to their favorite ninja series, while hands and mouth are busy drinking hot chocolate.

You have taken a warm bath too and stretch your aching limbs a little, before getting teased by Yuta.

“Really? Kenji fell asleep? No wonder he felt heavier on my back.” You sigh and gulp down the steaming hot ocha Yuta placed in front of you.

Under the dining lamp on the small dining table, Yuta sits across you. In his comfortable clothes and smiling face.

“You could’ve called me. I will pick you while you wait in the park.” Yuta taps his fingers on the table.

You cross your arms over your chest and giggle “Aigo, we were already halfway home, I thought going back home before the rain gets heavier is a better choice.”

Yuta nods “It is, but you overworked yourself.”

“A thank you would be better. Look at Nami and Kenji arriving home dry!”

“yeahh but you, your front side is totally not dry.”

“kids are the priority Yuta…” you lean to your chair while keeping your palms warm with the heat from the tea cup.

“I know, but look at your hands. I'm sure you won’t be able to move them tomorrow.” Yuta clicks his tongue.

“Then it’s your turn to babysit them.” You clap your hands and stop when the pain hits your arm.

Yuta laughs and leaves his chair “Hold up okay let me get you some hot patches.”

He comes back with the famous hot muscle patches from his homeland and Yuta walks to your side. He seems to know where to put the patches on, because he went for specific points.  Unlike you who usually press all your arm and find the aching spot and put the patch there.

“Now, done!” Yuta slams the empty sticker to the table and you crack your neck “Thanks. Can you prepare dinner?” you bat your eyelash and if this is anime, he'd have blood dripping from his nose.  Both from your aegyo and the request to cook.

“Alright, since you look so cute and you've been a great mom. I can cook dinner. What should we eat?” he leans over to grab his phone and you press your back to the soft mattress.

“Anything edible. Don’t burn the house, I'll take some nap.” You yawn and stretch your arms up before disappearing under the blanket.

Yuta scrolls through the internet, using a website that can give you recipes from the stuffs you have in your fridge. He smiles when he found one that will suit the children's palette and yours too.

“Guess it’s some italian night dinner today. I at least know I won’t burn the house from boiling pasta.” Yuta thinks to himself. He changes his clothes to a comfortable one where he won’t mind getting oils or sauces on and he walks to the kitchen.

With his apron on and his hair tied back, he begins organizing the tools he needs, ingredients and starts boiling the water.

There's an hour to dinner time, he hopes he can finish on time before any of his little piglets come for food. Talking about his piglets (aka children) Yuta walks to peek into their room after putting the pasta into the boiling water.

There he sees Nami laying on her bed with her favorite doll cuddled next to her, Kenji on the other bed is already snoring lightly. They must’ve been tired from playing all day long!

He steps into the room to cover Nami with her small soft blanket, a purple one! Similar to what Taeyong has, just his is black. Kenji has tossed his blanket on the floor and Yuta gently returns the blanket on his smaller copy of him.

He adores his babies so much and sometimes seeing them already this big makes him wants to cry. He has been missing a lot of things! His idol career doesn’t allow him to always be on their school activities or events. He's glad you stopped your office job and listened to his aid to just start your long wished start up project. A small florist with a coffee shop next to it.

You have your workers so you just have to occasionally come for control. Other than that your children have your attention and time 100% of the day.

He remembers about his cooking and before he can escape from the room, a small whine catches his attention.

He twists his body to see the owner of the voice rubbing and blinking his eyes and turn over to stand on his bed. Oh Kenji can go down from his bed by himself now! Yuta just witnessed that.

“Otosan?” he yawns and blinks several times confused at the dark room condition. Yuta puts a finger over his lips and kenji copies it. “Your noona is sleeping,”

Kenji seems to understand and slowly tiptoes to his father who's already kneeling down to hug him.

“Hungry,” Kenji grins and Yuta swiftly picks him up in one go and make a dash to the kitchen. He comes back in time, with Kenji on his other arm, he turns the stove off.

“Kenji, I have to move this water but it's hot. Do you want to sit first?” Yuta asks nicely but Kenji shakes his head eagerly and clings into Yuta's neck stronger.

“I miss otosan.” He buries his face to the crook of Yuta's neck and Yuta sighs. Oh so this is why you always said clingy kids are annoying when it comes to cooking.

“Okay then, you can be on my back but behave.” Yuta walks to take the baby carrier on the sofa. Well he has this baby strap where you can keep your baby on your back safely while you do your chores.

Kenji happily climbs into his back and Yuta’s glad he can put on the strap by himself. After making sure it's secured and Kenji is comfortable, Yuta begins throwing away the hot water, and prepares for the sauce.

Although he knows you love creamy pasta, the children love tomato bolognese more and so as parents both of you will have to set creamy pasta aside.

“Otosan, am I heavy?” Kenji asks after he keeps quiet when Yuta is stir frying  the meat.

Yuta chuckles when did this kid learn this phrase? “Of course not! Otosan is strong. I can carry you even if you are heavy.”

Kenji leans his chubby cheeks on Yuta's shoulder and his small fingers play with Yuta's ear. Yuta's glad he doesn’t have any earrings now. Having Kenji pulls one accidentally or not is a nightmare.

“Then Otosan should do this more!” kenji claps his hands happily “Mommy says she cannot carry me on her back anymore when she does chores.”

Yuta is surprised at his eloquence but more surprised to find out that you've been carrying Kenji on your back while doing chores.

“Eoh okay then Kenji.  Since otosan is stronger, you come to me when you need a lift okay? We don’t want mommy to get hurt.” Yuta speaks softly to his son while his focus is still on making sure he didn’t overcook the meat and pours the right amount of sauce.

“Otosan cool.” Kenji's sentence return to fragments and he sure is a surprise eh?

“Cool? Otosan looks cool?” Yuta's proud voice is back and his sassiness is showing.

“Hm" Kenji nods and his eyes are focused on the plates filled with pasta now.

“Hungry!” Kenji points to his lion plate and Yuta takes them all to the table. He quickly sets the plates and glasses  not to forget the cutleries.

“We wake up mom and noona then we eat?” Yuta always makes sure they are eating together, thankfully Kenji is used to this and he rushes Yuta to wake Nami up.

He gets down from Yuta's back and Yuta moans in relief when his back feels lighter. He giggles now why he understood you asked Kenji to stop being on your back all day long. Yuta makes his steps to your room and wakes you up gently. You stir in your sleep and smell the delicious food.

“Hmm pasta?” you ask while rubbing your eyes and smiling to Yuta. His heart softens at how cute you can still be even after having two kids. Without holding back, Yuta plants a quick kiss on your lips and takes your hand to stand up.

“Kenji is starving and he is waiting.” Yuta only needs to say that for you to quickly walk to the door and greet your two loves with big smile as the four of you wash your hands and sit around the table.

“Thank you for the food.” The four of you chime together “Itadakimasss!”

Yuta pauses before taking his own bite. He looks around the table to wait for complains or thumbs up but looks like everyone is too hungry.

“It's delicious.” You mutter the praise, it’s the truth. A food cooked by your husband is always delicious. Because you don’t have to cook and don’t have to wash. No kidding.

Nami gives a thumb up and kenji is already shoving his face into the bowl.

Yuta feels happy and he digs into his own plate. You're right this is not bad. He expected it to taste too bland or too salty, but it's perfect.

Dinner ends nicely with Nami and Kenji asking for more pasta and you gladly give them more. They're kids and they need nutrients to grow.

All in all this is a perfect day and night. You got to spend a fun afternoon in the park with your kids and Yuta cooked you all dinner. You even get to rest afterwards because he washed all the dishes and even play with the kids and sings them lullabies.

He returns to your room when the kids are alseep. His face shows he is tired but the glow he radiates shows he is happy to do this father-children bonding time.

“I told them their favorite bedtime stories.” Yuta says after he changes into his pajamas and dives into the space next to you.

You're watching a tv series and Yuta hugs you from the side “Don't you want to sleep? You're tired.”

You turn the tv off and face Yuta, slowly you cup his cheek “Why would I sleep when I still don’t receive my bonding time?” you wink at Yuta and he chuckles.

“You really are naughty!” he tickles you but you tickle him back “I am just waiting for you so we can sleep together! Pervert.” You playfully hit his chest and he grabs your arm that's on his chest.

His gaze is deep and he kisses your palm without breaking eye contact “Okay we'll sleep. What queen wants , queen gets.”

You laugh and press yourself closer to Yuta. He engulfs you in a hug and you nuzzle yourself to a comfortable position.

One slight shift and suddenly everything's so good. The pillow feels cold, the blanket soft and Yuta's heartbeat is a great lullaby for you. You don’t want to move, you want time to stop and pause here.

Life is great with Yuta and the small family you love. Your small family with Yuta.

endddd, it’s rainy season somewhere out there please take care of yourself :D

In a Garden of Blue Violets

I’m gonna start on requests this weekend in between studying but until then!!! 4k of angst?? new territory for me. ft a happy ending. 

Jason x Reader. You are always trying to heal from the loss and move on with your life, but Jason finds ways to remain tangled in your soul. 

Sorrowed, and the day for me will be as the night (tomorrow, at dawn by V. Hugo)

Two days after Selina finds you at an ungodly hour on a rooftop, bare feet dangling off the edge and shoulders drooped, as if one more ounce of melancholy might pull you into the deepest depths of the Earth. Maybe that’s where you could find Jason. She wants you to know she’s there – you can hear it in her uncharacteristically audible footsteps because you know her heart is heavy, too. You stiffen a little and rub at your cheeks with the heel of your palm, sticky tears and fresh wave of grief, before turning around to face her. She taught you to never look away, so you meet her eyes with a shaky exhale. A sentimental sorrow glimmers in the twist of her mouth and the subtle, maternal warmth reflected in orbs of jade and wisdom. “Y/N, you should come eat.” Selina’s voice is a soft caress above the cacophony of late-night traffic and Bruce’s words still echoing in the space between your ears. You nod meticulously and sniffle, gaze shifting to your toes. She looks at you for a long moment of bated breath before she sighs and slinks down the stairs. Now when she moves, she’s silent. You weren’t supposed to find out this way, but Bruce called the landline and your heart did a funny little flip when the caller ID read Wayne. You and Selina had been off on a drug ring bust for the past four days and she was only just catching up on calls and intel. You were supposed to hang up when Bruce asked for Selina, but you didn’t. Instead, you barely breathed and stayed on the line. When Bruce’s words caught in his throat and he whispered one of your worst nightmares into existence, your mind blanked. You don’t even know if the phone turned off – you only comprehended that you had to go somewhere Selina couldn’t immediately find you. After Bruce had called, his voice a static rasp over the phone, you’d thrown yourself up the stairs and onto the rooftop, sobbing against an empty crate until you were dizzy. Eventually you’d ended up on your back, staring up at threatening storm clouds. The concrete beneath you was cold and jagged, marred by time and rain and sun. You don’t understand how you drift off to sleep with your heart so impossibly heavy, but you do. You don’t know how long you sleep, minutes bleeding into hours, but when you wake the world is much darker. When you remember why you’re on the roof in the first place, you have to shove your first into your mouth to keep from bawling and rousing the whole city. This is an awful breed of despair, thick and frantic, filling your lungs with coal and your blood with acid. Now, you stand and stretch and crane your neck to look at the stars, but nothing shines. The expanse of darkness makes your heart ache impossibly more. Each contraction is an echo of loss. You’re a bit lightheaded as you make your way down the steps, but you barely notice the throbbing in your temples or the taste of sandpaper on your tongue because the weight of Jason’s death presses so severely on your chest. Selina waits at the bottom of the stairs. You don’t think twice before collapsing into her arms and dissolving into tears once more. 

Two months after When the doorbell chimes and you peek through the peephole on a rainy Friday afternoon, you expect to find either your cranky downstairs neighbor or Maggie – certainly not Dick Grayson. Hot tears well in your eyes upon the sight of his damp hair and five o’clock shadow, and you have to take several deep breaths before you open the door and welcome him inside with a tempered grin. “Nice to see you, Dick.” He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes in the way that’s so defining of Dick Grayson. “You, too, Y/N.” “Selina’s just upstairs, I can – “ “Actually, I came for you.” You blink up at him, surprised. “M-me?” He nods and swallows hard. “I was gonna go, um, visit Jason. And I was wondering if you wanted to join.” At the mention of Jason, you freeze. You feel as though you’ve been plunged into the Arctic, so intensely frigid that you feel pinpricks of heat down your spine. Breath dissipates from your lungs and your language skills completely vanish. You ogle at him, mouth slightly parted and eyes suddenly very watery. Dick takes immediate notice of your shock and flaps his arms frantically, like he doesn’t know whether to fan you or hug you. “But you totally don’t have to! There is no pressure at all! Only do what you’re comfortable with!” A reply lodges itself in your throat. “Maybe you should go, Y/N.” Selina drawls, rounding the corner and slinking towards the pair of you. You can’t offer much of a coherent response, so instead you nod tensely and turn robotically on your heel to grab shoes, an umbrella, and three packs of tissues.

The car ride has been largely devoid of discourse, but Dick’s radio plays what sounds like circus music and you’re quite certain that opening your mouth will evoke either a torrent of tears or hysterical laughter. Possibly both. Dick’s voice is like the faint fog hovering in the air. “He cared about you a lot. I hope you know.” You swallow the lump in your throat and squint out the window, where blue violets wilt on the side of the road. “I cared about him, too.” You don’t think you could ever stop caring about Jason; he’d become too deeply threaded into the very muscle fibers of your heart. Falling for Jason had come easily, refreshing and natural like spring rain. The pair of you tagged along with your mentors or operated solo on less severe missions, often crossing paths and ending up back-to-back, battling chains of criminals and otherworldly creatures. When you weren’t training to lead the next generation of heroic vigilantes, you often found yourself in a cozy corner of the library with Jason and many textbooks. You were not his and he was not yours, but a sweet sort of chemistry flourished between you and Jason, a quiet relief from the pressure of mentors and successors and evil. It never blossomed into a garden – it never had the chance– but an undeniable warmth, an indisputable maybe one day, had existed between you and Jason, sprouting like roses in April. Dick stops at the florist and grabs a bouquet of flowers; lavenders, anemones, and gladioluses. You hold the bouquet as Dick continues driving. You tell him they’re beautiful and he tells you that next time, you should pick out the flowers. The prospect of a ‘next time’ is like cold glass cracking within your chest because there hasn’t even been a first time yet, but you say okay and stick your nose in the lavender bunch. 

Three years after You decide this time of year is your favorite in the company of rain clouds and the white heathers and violets sprouting on your windowsill. Spring blossoms into summer easily, in the same way that you turn the worn page of your textbook. Things are different now. Instead of saving the city by battling villains, you enroll in nursing school to help heal the people of Gotham. You still see Selina often – she mandated that you two have dinner at least once a month – and occasionally bump into Dick on weekends at a coffee shop. Once in a blue moon, Catwoman, Batman, or Nightwing will request your help relaying intel from the Batcave or patching up a team member. Time has been the best remedy for you. As months bled into years, the searing anguish melted into a dull ache. You drive with Dick to place flowers across Jason’s grave every once in a while, whenever he gets a moment away from the office and you can afford a study break. You still need to bring tissues, but now the visits only require a few stuffed into your pocket instead of several packets. This evening, your schedule is free of any obligations for the first time in ages. You work nights at the local hospital and when you’re not working, you’re in class or at the library. Work has been especially taxing lately. You’ve treated more criminals than you’re comfortable with due to the thoroughly wounding work of a rancorous vigilante who calls himself Red Hood. You don’t necessarily mind that he targets the worst of the worst, but you are less than thrilled when you end up changing gauze for gang leaders. At the same time, you don’t feel any less rabid anxiety when a convicted murderer has a seizure due to brain damage and flatlines in front of you in comparison to when the same happens to an elderly mailman. Death is death; there is no return from her cool embrace. And a patient is a patient, even if you know their soul is less than human. Sometimes, you struggle with this and when you voiced the thought to Selina a few weeks ago, her answer was unsurprising. “Right now, you are obligated to save people. Some are so horrible; I know you don’t think they should be saved. You can always come back to me, Y/N. We save good people by getting rid of the bad ones.” But tonight, in the company of your cat and a light drizzle, things don’t seem so morbid. Admittedly, you do feel a little lame for spending your night off buried abnormal psychology notes, but quickly shrug it off when your cat bumps her head against your ankle encouragingly. You scratch beneath her chin and she purrs like a motor. “I’m not that lame. I’m working hard so I can buy you the spiffiest cat trees. And I have the whole night to cuddle with you, can you believe it?” She meows, probably in disbelief.

You take a break from studying and make the executive decision to pick up your favorite Chinese food. “Hold down the fort for me, baby.” You tell your cat as she bids you farewell with a soft chortle, shutting the light off. She doesn’t do a very good job because when you return twenty minutes later with a large brown paper bag and a Disney song stuck in your head, there’s a man sitting at your kitchen table. And your cat is in his lap, purring. You see red – not because you’re angry, but because the color of his mask is the color of blood, something you’ve always been too familiar with. You let the door shut behind you with a soft click and when he turns to look at you, you have a vision of your body, bruised and broken at the hands of a man who had done the same to so many others. Dick and Selina are on speed dial, but if Red Hood wants to murder you, that would not matter very much.   It’s been a while since you’ve had to punch anyone in the mouth or land a swift kick to the back of a knee, but the rush of adrenaline fizzing in your head all the way down to your toes is relatively reassuring. If nothing else, you could scream. His face is angled towards you and his chests moves with steady, untroubled breaths. Your face is still a bit cold from the way the rain kissed your cheeks, but you feel heat rising to the surface of your skin. You swallow hard. “What do you want from me?” He’s quiet for a long moment, tilting his head in a disarmingly casual, pensive manner. “I’m…not sure. I’m still trying to figure that out, Y/N.” His voice rumbles like distant thunder and you blanch when he utters your name. “How do you know my name?” You say hoarsely, fighting the building panic in your throat. “I know a lot about you. You’re a nursing student and you work at the hospital.” “And?” You subtly stick your hand in a pocket, hoping to dig for pepper spray in a less than obvious way. “You used to live a different life, under the guidance of Selina Kyle. Catwoman. Adoptive mother figure. And, occasionally Batman.” Your shirt sticks to you uncomfortably with rain and sweat. “You left that life after a bad incident with The Joker a year and a half ago.” You exhale sharply, goosebumps erupting across your arms. Instinctively, your hand goes to fiddle with a necklace at the base of your throat, one that hides a tiny but terrible scar. “You’re also probably waiting for the right moment to pepper spray me or call Selina.” You practically jerk in surprise. Red Hood shrugs, looking down at his lap. “Didn’t know you have a cat, though. She’s cute.” “Leave my cat out of this.” You manage. He sighs complacently and gently places her on the ground. She has the gall to meow in protest. You clear your throat and move towards the kitchen table like you’re walking on ice even though you feel like you’re on fire with fear, setting the food down and fixing Red Hood with what you hope is an unwavering, intimidating look. “If you don’t know what you want from me, you should leave. If you do know what you want from me, you’re already aware of my history. It won’t be an easy fight.” He bristles at the threat and the implications. “I’m not here to hurt you.” He bites out, leaning forward microscopically. His arms rest on the table and his gloved hands are clenched tightly, as if his sense of composure will unravel if he relaxes his fingers. Your strong front dithers at this. “Then what?” Red Hood exhales like he’s never been more exhausted, shoulders hunching, and head cast downward. He’s quiet for what must be an eternity before he responds. “I just wanted to know if you are yourself.” You don’t know what his eyes say about his soul in that moment, but in his voice, you hear a very human sense of hurt. You pay no attention to the ambiguity of his mortality and ability to feel pain. “Somehow, that’s the most cryptic and creepy thing a villain has ever said to me.” He barks out a laugh at this and the sound startles you because it’s nothing like The Joker cackling or Ivy giggling. “I think I have my answer now, though.” He stands up and you’re further startled by his size – over six feet of toned muscle, brutal tendencies, and a remarkably light laugh. Instinctively, you step backwards, poised to fight if need be. He raises his hands in surrender, walking slowly toward the window. “I’m leaving. No trouble.” You proceed to propel yourself across the room and land with a soft thump in front of the window, shoulders squared, and hands clenched. “I don’t think so, Red Hood.” “Huh?” “You don’t get to break into my apartment, spew facts about my life, and leave.” He leans back a little, seemingly resigned. You imagine he arches an eyebrow at you skeptically beneath the mask. “What do I get to do in addition to that?” You frown. “Answer some questions.” “Like?” “Who the hell are you? And are you aware of the fact that I change bed pans for high ranking drug dealers because of you?” “You’re not going to like the answer to either of those questions, Y/N.” “I still want to know!” “I’m no hero, but I don’t think I qualify entirely as a villain. And, no, I was unaware. You’re showing them a kindness they do not deserve.” “And why do you know my name? He shrugs; a deliberate, slow movement. “For a bit, it was the only thing I did know.” A sensation of dread begins knotting tightly in your stomach, sending your heartrate skyrocketing even higher. You watch him through wary, wide eyes, drinking in the unbothered slouch in his shoulders. “I-I don’t understand.” You take a tiny step backwards, anxiety slithering up your throat. He looks directly at you and his voice is almost haunting. “I don’t think you want to.” It feels a bit like you’re climbing a mountain, except without any equipment or preparation. Your breathing becomes more erratic, just shy of outright hyperventilation, and there’s a funny buzzing sensation in your head. Your cheeks are flushed with warmth and your hands are cold, no matter how tightly you curl them into fists. If you fall off this cliff, there’s no hope. It’s perhaps a bit unwise when you suck in a deep breath and say, “Try me,” but you’ve never been one to accept anything at face value. Red Hood goes still for a few moments before reaching up to place his hands on the helmet. “Okay, Y/N, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Red Hood slowly removes the mask to reveal a mop of dark hair, olive skin, and ocean eyes. You see burning sapphire and then, darkness.

You wake with a frantic gasp on your couch, a damp cloth falling off your forehead and into your lap as you look around in a frenzy. “Mittens, I just had the worst dream of my l- OH!” When your sight lands on a man reading your favorite Hugo criticism, you fling yourself off the couch and against the front door in a whirlwind that leaves you dizzy and nauseated. He nearly jumps off the armchair and moves towards you but freezes in place when you put out your hand. “No! P-please.” You inhale a ragged breath, lungs aching as you slide down the cool wood onto your butt with shaky legs. “I need y-you to stay over there. For now. Please.” You can barely make out a nod because your vision is so blurry. You squeeze your eyes shut and take in big gulps of air that make your chest burn, leaning your head back. Inhale. Red Hood. Hold for four seconds. Jason. Exhale. Alive. Repeat. You don’t know how long you stay like that, quelling rampant thoughts and waiting for the blood to stop rushing around in your ears. When you open your eyes, you notice that tears have begun to stream down your cheeks, but your vision is less blurry than before so you can see at the man in the armchair properly. He looks like he’s going to jump out of his skin, a concerned frown etched into his dark features. “Maybe you should drink some water.” He suggests. You nod numbly, struggling to pull your guard up. “Is it okay if I stand up and get it for you?” You sniffle a bit before croaking, “Okay.” He fills up a glass – it’s your favorite, one with dancing frogs – and ambles over to you cautiously. He remains over an arm’s length away from you and you are grateful for the space. He squats down and hands you the glass. You barely look at him, muttering a thank you and chugging it down. When you finish, you shut your eyes again and take several more steadying breaths before sitting up and looking him in the face. This is a different kind of heartache. It’s like your best dream and worst nightmare to have a man in front of you who looks an awful lot like the boy who left a gaping hole in your soul. But he’s certainly not the same. His face is hardened by unforgiving edges. The hair atop his head is wavy and dark, save for the streak of white curling over the center of his forehead. His earthy skin is inscribed with a litany of scars; one curves across his cheek and you feel a swarm of anxiety loom closer to your head because you can read the marred skin like it’s the only language you know. There’s a darkness in those eyes, as though his demons had swallowed any sliver of light, leaving a fire of anguish instead, and a weariness in the bags beneath the stormy sea of sapphire. “Who are you?” “Someone you’ve always known. Someone you’ve never met.” You shake your head slowly. “This can’t be happening.” There’s a shade of panic in your voice that makes him sit down completely in front of you. He crosses his legs and wrings his hands, visibly nervous and almost boyish. Red Hood – Jason – radiates heat and smiles bitterly. “If I had a dollar for every time I said exactly that…” But this isn’t the time for smiles. “You’re different.” You say in a way that says much more. The implications are clear. He hears them, you’re sure, because his face briefly scrunches in pain. You were killed. You came back. Your soul is darker. “There is no way I could be the same as before. Or maybe this has always been me. I don’t know, but I wish I did.” “How long?” You ask meekly. “A little over two years.” You blink at him, lashes wet. “Oh.” Seconds of silence ebb into minutes. You think about the past two years of your life and all that’s changed; your path, your home, your hair, your fears, your hopes, even your little pot of flowers on the windowsill, but never the space in your heart for Jason. You think about how he’s changed; from a lanky, brash teenager into a dauntingly powerful man; a hero that once lay bleeding into nothingness on the floor of a warehouse, one who now has blood on his hands. You think about the dulled pain of the past two years and you wonder about his pain; if he wants to clean the blood from his hands, if he wants to turn back the clock, if he wishes he had never been brought back at all. You’re quiet because you can’t find words and because you’re looking for a flicker of familiarity, of the Jason who always felt like home in a meadow of gentians. In those stormy eyes, you see him. A sailor lost at sea, trying to find his way home in the dead of night. Your hand is a bit shaky, but you reach out to place your palm against his cheek, if only to ensure that he exists outside of your memories. His face is warm, and he places his own hand over the back of yours, large and calloused. His name on your tongue tastes like hard liquor and ripe fruit, but you can’t bring yourself to speak it aloud, into the air, beyond the cascade of tears and a torn heart. “Y/N,” His voice is thick with emotion. Your bottom lip quivers. “J-Jason.” It almost burns to say it and a fresh wave of tears crashes to the shore to put out the fiery pain in the same way that you crash into his chest. You clutch at worn leather and thick hair, tighter still when you feel tears drops on your head like the early evening rain. He holds you to his chest securely – too much has changed in his life has been unsteady and he’s spent too long without you, he doesn’t know if he’s capable of letting you go. But you don’t seem to mind, keeping your head tucked under his chin until you can breathe without weeping, almost going limp beneath the way he rubs the pad of his thumb soothingly against your hip. “This whole night has been longer than the past three years of my life.” “Time is relative.” “Says the guy who’s been dead.” “And brought back to life, don’t forget that part.” You squeeze him tighter when he says this. Unanswered questions hang in the air, but you know they will find answers in time. For now, your eyes find his and he seeks your mouth with a tenderness you haven’t known in this lifetime.  

cc #1 [taekook]

jungkook likes the dog cafe a few blocks away from the university. after a particularly gruelling statistics lesson, he enjoys taking his bike from the dorms all the way to the quaint shop nestled between a coffee shop and a hipster boutique.

puppy pals is a relatively small store, with an almost homely setting, with its mismatched cushions and seemingly random framed photographs on the creme walls. there are always new flowers every time jungkook drops by, though he guesses that's because the owner, yoongi, has a thing for the pink-haired florist next door.

today, jungkook sneaks out of their 'self-study' stats class to go hang out with the dogs. puppy pals is almost always relatively empty when jungkook's around, the only other occupants being yoongi's grandmother, and some high schoolers who prefer to stay with a bunch of dogs rather than stay in cram school. jungkook can't blame them, though, he definitely sees the appeal.

“hey, hyung,” he calls out after having locked his bike onto the rack just outside the shop, pushing the door open. yoongi's dark head pops up from behind the counter where he was evidently cleaning something a dog had dropped.

“oh, hey, kid. shouldn't you still be in class?”

“self-study,” is all he says, squatting down and making cooing noises at the few puppies who are still awake. they like taking naps after eating lunch — he thinks it's something they learnt from yoongi. “aww, cloud, you're so cute today!”

another thing that makes puppy pals such an attractive place to him is how yoongi only owns rescued dogs. they're not all perfect; cloud is one of the worst off, with patches of missing fur and an angry scar across his snout, but he's so sweet that jungkook finds him truly adorable and only truly adorable.

“where's holly?” he asks, looking for yoongi's favourite chocolate toy poodle. at this, yoongi's face twists into something like dejection.

“he's sick upstairs," he admits, wiping his hands off on a rag. "he's been vomiting everything he eats for a day, now. called in a vet."

"a vet?"

"a doctor for animals."

"i know what a vet is," he sighs. "i meant, are they here?"

"yeah," yoongi says, "upstairs with holly. you can go see him if you want, check on him for me, yeah?"

"m'kay," jungkook agrees easily and scoops cloud into his arms as he steps over the other dogs and makes his way to the stairs. the apartment above the cafe is as quaint and homey as everything else, with worn carpets and numerous cushions lying about. he almost trips once or twice over stray dog toys, following the sound of holly's whimpers.

"aww, baby," someone coos deeply, "it's fine, i've got you."

the vet, jungkook thinks absently, and pushes on the door.

he very nearly drops cloud, who squirms impatiently at being held aloft for too long, at the sight of a man with the most beautiful eyes rubbing circles into holly's stomach with his fingertips.

"oh," he says, eyes curving with his smile. jungkook feels faint. "i'm just soothing holly's stomach. are you a part-timer here?"

he gently lowers cloud and tries not to squirm himself. a mask covers the lower half of the man's face, but jungkook can tell that he's definitely very attractive. "i," he clears his throat. "um, no, actually. i'm a customer? um. yoongi hyung's friend."

"i see," the man says, still smiling. "come here. holly should be relatively okay, now. he'd need to take some medicine but i can hand the prescription to yoongi hyung before i leave."

"i see," he says lamely, and kneels by holly, who keens and noses his hand. "aw, poor thing, you."

"it's just a bit of a bug," the man tells him, voice slightly muffled. "he must've eaten something or was fed something by a customer that didn't agree with his stomach." he scratches a finger behind holly's ear, the dog's tail wagging in delight. "hm, your tummy didn't agree, did it?" holly wriggles and makes little puppy sounds. jungkook is enamoured — with both the pup and the half-hidden veterinarian.

"i'm jungkook," he blurts out, "jeon jungkook."

“kim taehyung," he replies, reaching out for a brisk handshake. his long fingers and big palm absolutely swallow jungkook's comparatively small hand. it makes something warm twinge in his chest.

"what's with the, uh." he gestures to his face. "the mask."

taehyung laughs and shrugs. "i'm allergic to dogs."

"oh." he pauses. "that's...ironic."

taehyung laughs easily and tugs the mask down. "i suppose it is, isn't it?"

jungkook wants to cry. his entire face is more beautiful than anything has the right to be. how is that possible?

"i don't mind though. as long as i don't breathe in too deeply, i should be fine."

jungkook hums, awkwardly staring at his face then at the two puppies who lazily play by their feet. yoongi's living room is littered with knotted rope, rag dolls, and toy bones. jungkook feels abruptly like he's in a nursery. he pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and chews anxiously, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders with pain.

he is surprised to feel a thumb gently tugging at his lip until it pops free from behind his teeth. with wide eyes, he stares at taehyung who only smiles pleasantly, lips stretched into a charming grin. "cute."

”what's cute?" jungkook's brain feels fried.

"you," he answers breezily, as though that single word didn't send something like electricity shooting down jungkook's spine. "you're cute. but you shouldn't do that, you'll hurt yourself."

he nibbles on his bottom lip anxiously on reflex before realising what he's just done and settling for pursing his lips instead. "sorry."

"a bunny."

"pardon?" taehyung leans forward, eyes searching jungkook's face and nose almost brushing with his. then he leans back, smiling in a frustratingly enigmatic way. "you're a bunny."

he sputters. "excuse me?" then, "is it the teeth? because i swear my teeth aren't that bucked."

"hm, they are a bit, though," taehyung muses. jungkook flushes in embarrassment. "they're very cute." he flushes darker.

"anyway," taehyung announces, pushing himself onto his feet and reaching into his trousers for a card. with the pen clipped onto his shirt pocket, he scribbles something on the back of the card. "so, here's the medicine that holly would need. i have to be somewhere else soon, so please relay to yoongi hyung the following."

"um." he is a bit bewildered. "sure."

"great!" taehyung beams, looking up from what he's writing briefly before looking away again. "the medicine should dissolve in the food — stick to dog food for the moment, no human food until we can determine what exactly caused holly to react like this. small servings three times a day. i've written down the dosage, so don't worry about it."

jungkook blinks. "okay."

"okay!" taehyung goes, capping his pen and slipping his card into jungkook's open hand. 'kim taehyung, veterinarian,' it says, along with his professional number and the name of the clinic he works at. "my personal number's on the back in case you need to call."

"what — why would i need to call?" taehyung only winks at him, tugging up the mask over his nose and reaching down to pat each of the dogs on their heads. "see you lot soon, probably." to jungkook, "you hopefully sooner. i don't only treat dogs, you know. goodbye!"

"um. bye?" it's only when taehyung's left yoongi's apartment, shutting the door behind him, that jungkook, while running over the instructions he'd been given in his mind, flips over the card. the name of the medicine is there in long penmanship, along with the dosage and where to best purchase them. as expected.

what isn't expected are the doodled whiskers and ears, forming something like a disjointed rabbit head, with a number on the side and a note: 'i treat bunnies, too. for coffee or ice cream especially. call me, bunny!