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#SHAKES AROUND SIGN LOOK AT MY FRIENDS JEWELRY

wroteclassicaly · 1 month

Text

18+

A/N: Small piece of filth, hope you enjoy ❤️

“Driving me crazy. Don’t know why you do that.” Another bit of babbling you-speak, poured out in waves, interwoven through your whines and moans, Steve notes. Or rather, tries to, given the predicament of being on his back as you use him to your satisfaction.

You’d stared him down like he was prey for the last several months, always shaking your head, clicking your pen until it broke. Then there were the signs that made Steve realize, with a lopsided smirk (that only made it worse), that you weren’t in fact mad at him, not in a serious way anyways. Your hitch in breath every inch closer that he came to you, the way you melted into him if he just brushed by you, or how your legs would tighten, feet would bounce, to the way that you’d chew on your fingertip when he was bent over putting stock out and he knew exactly what you were looking at. When he talked about dates or flirted with girls that came in, you’d roll your eyes and be obnoxious in the background to sabotage unknowingly, but he found it endearing. And when he bought himself his new diamond chain to go with his mustard colored shirt for the fancy dinner in Indianapolis the older kids had all gone to, your public exasperation is partially what led to the moment.

It wasn’t until the following Monday that it exploded in full. Steve was at work on your shift, you were dealing with a sore wrist after his ensemble at Saturday’s excursion. And the stupid bastard had the nerve to wear that blinged out piece of jewelry beneath his button up, all black polo. You slammed a stack of video tapes down and had blew out a rough breath, working your way around the counter to ask Steve ‘what the fuck his problem was?’ And in truth, he’d worn the chain again just to gauge your reaction, before making his move. Sure, you’d been close friends all up in emotional arms for years, but the sexual tension was more alive than ever and could no longer be ignored.

With one hand on his waist, the other propped on the counter, he grinned lazily at you, fresh highlights looking perfect with his grown out tresses under the cheap lighting, jeans tight on his toned legs and perfect ass.

“Oh my god, Steve! You’re just… You’re —“

“I’m what?” He’d said, folding his arms to accentuate his biceps.

Your jaw had dropped rather comically and Steve is pretty sure you whimpered in defeat. You were caught.

“You know what you are, shithead. And I can’t take this shit anymore, it’s too much!” You’d gotten closer, talking with your hands. How Steve loves your hands. And you gave pause, brows pinched. “Wait, is that new cologne?”

Steve had pulled his shirt out to bare thicker chest hair, shrugging. “No, same ol’ stuff.”

“Can you stop, please?” You had sounded completely out of it, your pupils blown, leaving your beautiful eye color a thin ring, nearly transparent to the aroused abyss he’d created.

“Tell me what I’m doing, honey. Can’t stop if I don’t know…” Steve reached out with a finger, his confidence having greatly improved the last year within your friendship, and he traced down your cheek.

“Oh, shit.” Was all you could come up with.

With his thumb pressing at the corner of your mouth, massive hand cradling your jaw, he’d unraveled the knot with, “It’s okay if you say you want me, baby. Because I want you, too.”

~*~

Your hand looks small in comparison to his large girth, shining with what you’d slicked him up in, your babbling from before, slowly fading. His mossy orbs have shattered, their shards prickling you in an electrical stimulation, on you everywhere. His massive hands pinch your plush waist, every tendon visible on his jugular, his throat contracting around a harsh swallow as your fist around his base meets your body - seating him fully inside you. It hurts so bad that you welcome him to see the tears, see the glistening mess of your cunt spread open around his cock, cream bubbling in his base and smeared across his happy trail. You’ve never felt this before, this power, this safety, this want, this love.

Steve tosses his head back as your hips give an experimental rise and fall, sweat soaked backs of your knees feeling the pressure. He’s inside of you so deeply that you can barely move, his length dragging, pushing against every inch of your walls. You’re overcome in the moment and grab his big paws, curling his thick digits around your breasts and holding them together as you begin to roll your hips, never taking your eyes off him. He let out a moan that vibrates through you, his bed beginning to squeak beneath your rocking. His neck is visible again at this, scars beneath the chain, sweat glittering around and beneath the links, every freckle, every mole there, making him Steve.

Your movements have briefly slowed and he realizes, eyes open as you’re staring with this smirk. He gives your nipples a flick and releases, linking hands, to bring yours to his and kiss each knuckle he can get his mouth on. That’s when he’s flipping you with ease, knees sliding underneath your thighs, hands pinning yours to the bed as his nose finds your lashes, mouth planting his words across your lips; cinnamon breath spray, coffee, and cigarettes ghosting with each hot breath, “Don’t get too cocky, honey.”

On the break away, his chain sways forward, links getting caught on your lips. You take the jewelry into your mouth, sucking on the taste of the material, Steve’s chest tufts drag along your breasts as he fucks you on him with an ease so slow, that you can’t find cohesive speech for the rest of the night.

// Eat me paragraph //

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tac-the-unseen · 8 days

Text

COD Random character quirks

Fluff

Ghost:

•Remembers every story somebody tells him, but can't remember where he left his sweater

•Bites the inside of his cheek constantly, to the point of scarring

•If somebody doesn't drag him out of the house he would never leave. Despite this he does love going on a walk from time to time

•Hates talking about his past and will always redirect the conversation

•Extremely fast eater, it's a combination of Trauma and military training. Can finish a whole plate in less than 10 minutes

•Pauses for a long time in between speaking but can't stand it if someone else does the same

Soap:

•Obsessed with swords, but is terrible at wielding them

•Screams “DON'T GO IN THERE!” to the T.V when watching any horror movie

•Wears the ‘I <3 my hot S/O’ shirts unironically, and the loves them because “It's true!”

•Loves to be the best at everything

•Consistently orders the same thing at a restaurant. Has a specific order for every restaurant he goes too

•Learned some magic tricks as a kid and can still do most of them

Price:

•Wears crazy socks, think Spencer and his friend Socko (from iCarly)

•Laughs to jokes no one else laughs at to make the other person not feel bad

•Has one nipple piercing on his left nipple, He doesn't want to get the second one and just likes having the ones.

•Overly Humble, You have to fight him to take a compliment

•Eats while driving and has made adjustments in his car to be able to eat with full effect

•Knows a surprising amount of useless trivia and will bring it up in any conversation he can

Alejandro:

•Screams and runs at the sight of the bee

•Notorious for his eye rolling abilities

•Has a pretty sizable jewelry collection. Necklaces, bracelets, earrings, rings, and brooches (and he's willing to share)

•Frequently complements his S/O

•Steals food off of his S/O’s and friends plate

•Great cook and spends most of his time around/in the kitchen

Gaz:

•Secretly wants to be in a boy band

•Can't swallow pills normally

•Make fake scenarios in his head about him being the ultimate hero

•Snorts when he laughs

•Eats healthy snacks and playful shames others for eating unhealthy snacks

•Surprisingly good at impressions specifically impressions of British government officials

Roach:

•Sneak attack hugger

•His all-time favorite book is Dr Seuss's ‘Put me in a zoo’

•Sometimes forget other people don't know sign language/can't read it that fast and signs so fast that others have no clue what he said

•Gets a bad case of the giggles when someone trips (He cannot stop no matter how hard he tries)

•Likes to eat in private and feels weird looking at other people eat (Not a fan of restaurants or Mukbang asmr)

•Squirms in his seat/Can sit still for that long

Konig:

•Wears a bunch of hair ties around his wrist

•Has to spend hundreds of dollars making custom shoes that actually fit him

•Is an adrenaline junkie on the battle field. He lives for the blood rush

•Has a house shaking laugh and Horangi makes fun of him for it

•Is a very neat eater, he's not overly delicate with his food but just likes to eat in a certain way

•Likes stretching out and popping his joints all the time.

Rudy:

•Sits on the floor rather than the couch

•Will politely remind you how good he's being in the midst of chaos

•Always supports/Roots for the underdog

•Always has Snacks in his pockets/backpack

•Messy eater, somehow always ends up with sauce on his shirt or crumbs in his pockets

•Lean onto the people closest to him

Mace:

•Puts hot sauce on everything

•Tells jokes with a serious face

•Always looking for new adventure, loves exploring, hiking, climbing, and learning about different cultures

•Frequently adjusting his shirt to show off his body modification (traditional tribal scars)

•Likes to eat food with his hand more than with utensils. He'll use forks, spoons, and knives when at restaurants, but when he's at home everything is finger food.

•Gets spontaneous piercing / tattoos

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #alejandro vargas #rudy parra #kyle gaz garrick #gary roach sanderson #könig #mace cod #cod mw2 #mw2 #cod #fluff #sfw #Reader #x reader

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liyawritesss · 1 year

Note

hmm riri finding the perfect ring for you and then proposing hmmmm

ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ɪ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ʙᴇ ᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴀꜱᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴜᴅ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ

Characters: MCU!Riri Williams x Black!Fem!Reader

Type: Drabble

Word Count: 1k

Synopsis: Normally vows are made at the altar, but Riri just can’t seem to wait till your decked out in white to swear her life to you.

Warnings: mild cursing

A/N: This is honestly such a cute ask….i love Riri being a hopeless romantic and when she finds that one person she knows she’s gonna be with, there’s nothing stopping her from loving you in the way a wife would

Tags: @6-noir @playhousedistee @shuririsdefenseattorney @shuriszn @venusdusse @wrendermedone @writingintheshadowsforever @mbakuetshurisprincess @verachii @slytherin-34 @the_lesbian-fangirl @itsmaniiiiiiiii @strangefishflapturtle @cuddl3s4shur1 @shuriislut @dejaonline @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @inmyheadimobsessed @aaliyg @cafehyunji @chunkybabygorl @rosielovesfamily @lulu-network @killmongerskeepermain @riri-red-car

“I have a question.”

It’s the first thing said that breaks the silence that had been looming in Riri’s room for the past hour. It was a comfortable silence, spent with the two of you laying in each other's arms. You’d snuggled up under Riri’s side as she was entranced in a pretty intense basketball game on her gaming console, you busying yourself by watching TikToks on your phone when she had opened the floor for a conversation.

“Yeah?” You respond, still entranced in your phone.

Riri took a pause, her fingers stilling on her controller. She bites her lip, choosing the next words carefully.

“What does a ring mean to you?”

You find yourself stilling with your scrolling as well, eyebrows furrowing as you tear your eyes from your screen to look up at the girl you were cuddled under. Her eyes had stayed glued to the television screen; probably because if Riri were to return your gaze, the practiced prose she had conjured up would have flown out the window.

“What do you mean?” You asked, rightfully confused by her choice of words. A second passes before Riri completely pauses her game to direct her attention to you.

“If I got you a ring, what would it mean to you?”

Many people would say that nineteen was too young to know the person you’d want to spend forever with. At nineteen, you’re supposed to be finishing your first year of college. At nineteen, you’re supposed to be partying with your friends, drinking the night away, figuring out what you want your twenties to look like.

At 19, you’re supposed to be taking risks. But Riri has had enough of taking risks.

You’d been the first good thing to happen to Riri in a long time. Since the death of her best friend. Since the whole ordeal with Wakanda and Talokan. And in the two years of knowing you, and the year of dating you, if anything had become more certain to the young engineer, it was that the way she felt about you was the kind of love her mother and step-father had. The kind of love you could feel from miles away, intense and all-knowing. And she had no intention of letting it go.

“I…I would love it, obviously,” you say, “i love anything you get me, Riri, even though I keep telling you I’on need nothin’-”

“-because having me is enough, yeah, yeah- that’s not the point.”

You move to sit up, and Riri helps you, snaking an arm around your waist, discarding her controller to the side as she puts all her attention on you now. She swears the thumping of her heart can be heard outside her body, it being so harsh and profound in her chest that it almost feels as if it shakes her being with each pump of blood in and out of the organ.

“What would it mean to you if I got you a ring?”

You took a moment, letting the thoughts swirl in your mind, trying to conjure up a response that would satisfy her. There isn’t a word imaginable that would describe the absolute joy you’d be in if the purpose of said jewelry piece was for what you thought it was for.

You took one of Riri’s hands into your own, the caramel velvet of her skin beautifully clashing with your own, molding together as if crafted to belong together.

“It would mean the world to me,” you say, and you’re sure you had more words to say, but once your eyes lock with hers, they get lost in your throat. Perhaps it was the intensity of her stare, and the amount of love they’ve always had for you, or perhaps it’s the way she gently pulls her hand from yours to rest under your chin, focusing your attention onto her, “why?”

Because I have a promise ring under my pillow with our marriage date engraved inside the band. Because I love you fucking much I can’t see life without you anymore. I’ve lost too much. I can’t lose you. I want to promise to be with you until we can make it official.

“Look under my pillow over there,” Riri hums.

There’s a tightness that rises in your chest; a good kind of tightness, anticipation for what you would find. The sound of rustling sheets fill the room as you reach up towards the head of the bed, a hand diving under the feather stuffed pillows, fishing around until your fingers curl around something small, cube like, velvet. You almost stall for a moment, but the hand on your lower back is a reminder that the anticipation you feel is maximized by ten for the engineer behind you. So you pull back, and with you comes the tiny jewelers box, as well as what you know to be inside of it.

A silence fills the room as your gaze switches between Riri and examining the velvet box in your hand.

“It ain’t the real thing yet, but-” Riri begins, her hand slipping the box from yours and into her own, opening the top to reveal the ring inside. It takes a minute for you to recognize that it’s the same ring you’d been gawking at in one of the jewelry stores window displays downtown a month prior. If your calculations were correct, that ring would have cost her at least a band; and if she got herself one as well, then more.

She takes the ring from it’s plush white crevice inside the box, holding it up for the both of you to see, “-I figured it’d be enough til we get everything right.”

It takes everything in you to hold back the tears swelling in your eyes, begging to fall from your lids. Speaking would have surely opened the floodgates as well. All you could do was allow her to hold your hand as she slipped the jewelry onto your ring finger, fitting perfectly onto it.

“I ain’t letting you go, (Y/N),” Riri proclaims, as one hand interlocks with your now ringed hand and the other fishes under her hoodie to reveal the silver chain, which has another ring hanging from it, as you suspected, “but I swear when I get my shit together, there won’t be anything that’s gon’ stop me from asking you.”

And yet, with the glistening in your eyes, and the tightness of which you hold her hand, Riri already knows your answer.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

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acewritesfics · 6 months

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He Is A Beautiful Man | Bradley Bradshaw

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Seresin!Reader

Request: from @rainydayteacups

Prompt: "You're staring."

Warnings: Fluff. Mentions of Hangman x Phoenix pairing. Summer fling. Two fools falling in love hard and fast.

Word Count: 1,777

Tag List: Open - acewritesfics taglist sign up

Top Gun: Maverick Masterlist

©️ no one has permission to copy, translate and/or repost my works on here or anywhere else.

"Hey sis, I hope you packed your cowboy boots because we're going dancing tonight," Jake calls out to Y/N as he walks through the front door of the beach house she's leased for the summer.

While he's stationed in San Diego, he persuaded her to come spend her summer under the Californian sun. Despite being nothing alike, the Seresin siblings are close, and she couldn't pass up the chance to spend the summer at the beach with her brother.

"When are we leaving?" she asks as she walks out of her bedroom.

He informs her, "You've got an hour to get ready."

Y/N spends the next hour showering and getting ready for the bar that Jake plans to take her to. She wears a short-sleeved black dress that is adorned with tiny pink and white flowers. The skirt of the dress flowed freely over her thighs and ended just above her knees, while the top of the dress hung loosely from her shoulders. She wears it with a belt that is the same dark brown color as her cowboy boots, which were a birthday gift from Jake two years prior.

She leaves her hair alone, not bothering to do anything special with it, and then applies a little make-up, aiming for a "no make-up" make-up look before putting on her jewelry. Her jewelry included a set of small, hooped earrings, her watch, a bracelet, and her horseshoe pendant necklace, which she wore every day.

"Are you ready to go?" Jake inquires, standing at the doorway as she clips her earrings into her earlobes

She nods and retrieves her clutch from her bed, double-checking it before following him out of the little two-bedroom beachfront bungalow. "Where are we heading tonight?"

He sheepishly answers, "The Hard Deck."

After being here for 10 weeks, she gives him a little smack on the arm as they arrive at her rental. "Here you were getting me all excited that we were going someplace new, finally asking me if I packed my boots because we're going dancing."

"I thought you loved the Hard Deck," he chuckles as he takes her keys and walks over to the driver's side. When he's around his sister, his country twang always comes out more strongly. "Oh, I'm sorry I forgot, you like going there to see the rooster that's there."

"Bless your tiny little heart, Jake Seresin. How's Natasha doing, by the way? Have you chased her away with your oversized ego yet?" she retaliates as she climbs into the passenger seat. He glares at her, shaking his head, as he climbs into the driver's seat and drives to the navy bar they frequented.

"You're staring," Y/N hears Natasha say from beside her as they're sat at a table watching Jake, Bradley and a few of the others around the pool table.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she denies glancing at her before returning her gaze to Bradley and raising her bottle of beer to her lips to take a drink. "He is a beautiful man," she continues, not denying that she finds him attractive.

Natasha scoffs, smirking at her and says, "Oh please, you and Rooster haven't exactly been subtle."

"I didn't think we were trying to be," she replies, looking back at her new friend, who just so happens to be her brother's fellow naval aviator and girlfriend. "How are you and Jake doing?"

Natasha looks across the bar at her Jake, smiling from ear to ear, "We're doing great."

With a tinge of seriousness, Y/N jokes, "It's nice he finally has someone who can keep him and his ego in check."

Natasha was the first of her brother's girlfriends she loved and got along well with. Before realizing he felt serious feelings for Natasha, Jake didn't have the greatest taste in women often going for ones that didn't have many brain cells and stroked his already massive ego.

The navy pilot beams, "I'm glad I have your approval."

They tap the necks of their beer bottles together in cheers before taking another drink. Natasha turns to face the men after noticing a woman who wasn't wearing a navy uniform stroking Bradley's arm. She looks past the woman, seeing Jake's scowl as he eyes the hand that doesn't belong to his sister.

"Are you going to let her know that he's already taken?" Natasha asks, gesturing towards Bradley and the unknown woman.

When Bradley shrugs the woman's hand off his arm and says something to her, Y/N knows that Bradley has it handled. "I don't have to, but I'm going to make it known."

As a slow song starts playing on the jukebox, she gets out of her chair, leaves her empty bottle on the table, and walks towards Bradley. She approaches him and places a hand on his shoulder getting his attention as she stands in front of him. He hands Bob the pool cue and moves his hands to her hips, tugging her closer.

"Dance with me?" she asks, looking up at him through her lashes.

"With you, always," he replies and takes her hand, leading her onto the small area that's cleared for a dance floor in front of the jukebox.

Standing in front of her, Bradley moves wraps an arm around her waist, placing his large hand on the small of her back as the other takes her hand in his and holds it to his chest. He pulls her close as she lays her free hand on his shoulder and starts swaying to the music.

Never did she think coming to California would lead her into the arms of her brother's 'friendly' rival. From the moment Jake, reluctantly, introduced them, she knew her, and Bradley would become great friends. Little did she know that they would become more than that.

She wasn't in San Diego two weeks when Bradley asked her to dinner, ignoring Jake's threats of shooting down his jet if he even dared touch his sister. Jake tried to convince her that Bradley only asked her on a date to spite him but once he realized that there was no stopping the two, he gave up. But that didn't mean he didn't keep a close eye on them.

The more time Y/N spent with Bradley, the more she could feel herself falling in love with him. She tried to stop it, but it was impossible. Both her and Bradley had agreed that this would be a summer fling but the thought of leaving to go back to Texas in two weeks made her heart hurt.

"What's on your mind, sweetheart?" she hears Bradley voice cut through her thoughts. She looks up at him, her eyes meeting his pretty ones.

"Let's go for a walk along the beach," she says stepping out of his hold, keeping their hands interlocked as she pulls him out the bar doors.

As they walk along the beach, Bradley lets go of her hand and slings his arm across her shoulders and pulls her to his side. Y/N reaches her hand up, covering his hand with her own.

"What's got you so quiet?" he asks after a few minutes of them walking in silence, the only sound coming from the crashing of the waves and the music slowly fading in the background as they move further away from the bar.

"I don't want this to end," she tells him looking towards the beach, not wanting him to see her sadness as she is thinking about her approaching departure date.

"Who says it has too?" he asks her as he stops walking and turns her around. Placing a finger under her chin, he tilts her head up, so she'll look at him. "Who says it has to end?"

"I'm leaving in two weeks," she reminds him.

"Cancel your flight," he says like it's the simplest thing to do.

"I can't just cancel my flight," she says as though it's the most difficult thing to do.

"Why not?" he asks. "We can find you a house here. You're self-employed so you don't need to find a new job. You'll be closer to Jake and Nat and this," he pauses, pulling her closer and buries his head in the crook of her neck, his lips brushing against her sweet spot, his moustache tickling her skin. A soft and pleasurable sigh leaves her lips as she runs her hands through his curls, before gently tugging his head back. He smiled, seeing that her eyes had closed as she enjoyed his affection and planted a soft kiss to her lips. "doesn't have to end," he finishes when he pulls away.

Her eyes flutter open, and she bites the inside of her cheek as she thinks about what he's said. He did make a very convincing point.

"How can I say no to that?" she asks, a lazy smile on her lips as she looks up at him.

"You can't," he says, pecking her lips.

"Want to get out of here?" she asks, running her hands down his chest.

"You know I do," he says stepping back from her and takes her hand, leading her back the way they came.

Y/N giggles against Bradley's lips as they stumble through the door to her rented beach house.

"Sorry," he mumbles against her lips, kissing her hungrily.

"No, you're not," she chuckles after breaking the kiss, stepping away from him. "There's one thing I need to do before this goes any further," she continues, holding her hand against his chest to stop him from advancing on her.

Y/N turns on her heel, taking her phone out of her clutch, dropping the clutch to the floor as she pulls up her flight info. Bradley comes up behind her, his hands on her hips as he places soft kisses along her shoulder and up her neck to her ear. She bites her lip, stopping the moan of pleasure from escaping as she tilts her head giving him more access.

"What are you doing?" he asks, his warm breath hitting her ear and sending a shockwave down her spine.

"I think you know what I'm doing," she smiles as he rests his head on her shoulder, watching her finger hover over the cancel option before pressing it and confirming it. She turns back around to face him, dropping her phone on the couch before wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "After all it was you who convinced me to do it."

"No regrets," he smiles and kisses her again, as he lifts her off the floor and wraps her legs around his waist. Walking them into her bedroom, he kicks the door shut.

TAGGED: LINK TO TAG LIST SIGN-UP ABOVE.

#acewritesfics repost #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader

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lou-struck · 9 months

Text

The Perfect One

Shinsuke Kita x reader

~You visit Kita at his Farmers Market booth and realize that he has closed up early to run an important errand.

WC: 1.6k

The market hasn’t even been open for thirty minutes, but already the streets are packed full of cars; your eyes scan the packed street, searching for even the tightest parking spot.

Today you plan to surprise your boyfriend at his farmer’s market stand, give him some much-needed quality time, and take him out for a lunch date after he closes up shop, Which, according to your calculations, should be selling out in an hour or so…

Shinsuke Kita’s Rice stand is one of the most popular booths due to the high quality of his product and the fact that most vendors and patrons have fallen head over heels for the handsome rice farmer.

And how could they not?

Shinsuke’s honest charm and hardworking demeanor are enough to make anyone fall in love with him. But out of everyone, he chooses to be with you because he loves you just as much as you love him.

And this silly feeling called love is what compelled you to wake up early on a Saturday morning fueled with nothing but the promise of a large cup of coffee and some freshly baked scones with raspberry jelly once you find him.

Your car creeps through the street at a snail’s pace as you spot a light blue truck pulling out from a parking spot on the corner. As you approach, you notice that it looks like a tight fit, but you squeeze into it the best you can. Pulling forward, you hear the overly dramatic sound of your front bumper hitting the curb, but as you reverse slightly and put the car in the park, you shake it off, slipping out of the driver’s seat and onto the pavement.

Rays of sun hit your skin through the layer of cloudy overcast as you walk, making the short trip to the center of the market rather pleasant as you pass people carrying baskets overflowing with fresh produce, baked goods, handcrafted soaps, and other goods.

Stands to sparkle with racks of handmade jewelry and blown glass trinkets that vie for your attention as you walk; if you haven’t been here before, you would’ve lost yourself amongst the crowd, but luckily, you know your way around fairly well by now.

As you get closer to your boyfriend’s usual spot, a few produce vendors you recognize from the weeks before. Despite the many customers at their stalls, they still give you a friendly wave as you walk; off in the distance, you see the edge of the hand-painted sign outside of Shinsuke’s booth, the sign the two of your painted together months ago.

Memories of that wine-stained night bring a giddy smile to your chapstick lips as you quicken your pace, springing over a spilled cone of shaved ice that someone must’ve just dropped.

You creep slowly around the corner, ready to scare. Instead of his soft smile and strong form, behind the register rests a generic sign.

Be back in 30 minutes…

That’s strange; even with his cashbox secured, Kita would never just leave his booth unattended for such a long time. You can’t help but wonder where he has gone.

Is he not feeling well?

Is he in the bathroom?

Whatever the answer may be, you choose to go sit at his stall to watch it until he gets back. You would hate for someone to try and steal things from him.

The next stand over, a friendly older woman peeks out from behind a massive pile of unshucked corn on the cob and gives you the warmest smile you have received all week. She is a longtime friend of Kita’s grandmother and almost always slips you one of her homemade apple tarts. Her floppy sun hat protects her lovingly aged skin from the harsh rays of the overcast sky.

“Oh, hello, My Dear,” she calls in her soft voice. “What brings you to the market so early?”

“Good morning,” you smile, watching fondly as her little leopard-printed cane carries her closer to you. I came to surprise Shinsuke, but it seems he went off somewhere.”

“Oh, don’t worry about him, Dear; he’ll be right back.” she laughs. There is a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she looks at you. “But I told that sweet boy I would watch his stall.”

“An errand?” you ask. “Is he feeling alright? It is so unlike him to just leave the stall”.

She just smiles knowingly. “He is just fine dear, but if you would like to check on him, head to the stalls near the main street while I hold down the fort.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” you smile. “I’ll head over there now.” With a final wave, you turn the corner and leave the stall in her capable hands.

It’s only a quick walk to the main street, but the cluster of booths is different from the usual produce stalls you are familiar with. It only takes a little sniff of the fresh air to figure out that Main Street is where all the flower vendors set up shop to sell their wonderfully constructed bouquets of flowers. Sunflowers, lilts, Peonies, and Daisies galore in every color you can think of rest in large buckets of water reaching upwards toward the light.

You wander past each stall, enchanted by the sweet smells and vibrant petals, until you hear a familiar voice speaking to one of the vendors.

“Thank you for taking the time to help me out with this. All of these are breathtaking, but I want to find the right one.” Your boyfriend says, aching down and smelling a large pink Lilly.

“Is there a particular combination you are looking for?” the vendor says, a light pink blush on their cheeks, no doubt having fallen victim to his natural charm.

“Not a combination in general; I just want a Bouquet that looks like them.” he hums, placing his hand under his chin in thought.

The vendor turns their head to the side. “How so?”

“The peonies with the iris are so fun and vibrant, just like Y/n, but then the Tulips with eucalyptus, baby’s breath, and Callalilles look so elegant and beautiful it makes me wonder if they could see themselves in those as well.”

“Young man, if everyone put as much thought into a bouquet of flowers as you did, the would be a much better place,” they say honestly. “I am sure whatever one you choose, your partner will love, especially with you being such a romantic.”

“I don’t know if I would consider myself a romantic; I just want y/n to have a nice bouquet of flowers today,” he says simply. Even though he has his back to you, you see the way the back of his neck flushes at the vendor’s words.

Is he really putting all this thought into a bouquet for you?

A part of you feels guilty for eavesdropping on him, but really, your heart is fluttering out of control at such a romantic gesture. You turn your back and dart quickly behind a tent that shields you from his view.

Just as you think you are in the clear, you hear a pleasant voice call out from behind out. “It looks like you caught me.” Your breath hitches; Kita has always been too good at picking up those little details, especially when it comes to you.

“I-i’m sorry,’ you stammer, turning around to face him, “I just wanted to surprise you, and I ended up ruining yours.”

His coffee-colored gaze softens as he takes in every inch of your flustered features as if they were a work of art. “You didn’t ruin anything, quite the opposite, actually.”

You blink as you take in his words; how exactly is you ruining his floral surprise a good thing?

“How so?”

He chuckles to himself, “Because now we can pick out the flowers together.” He says it so simply as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Your knees feel weak as he continues, “I want to know what you like so that I can surprise you in the future. You deserve a life full of happy surprises.”

Boom, there goes your heart, and blood rushes to your cheeks so quickly that your hands fly to cover your face from the world.

“Flustered, are we?” he laughs softly, removing your hands from your face and tilting up your chin with the utmost care.

Playfully you stick your tongue out at him with an endearing boldness, “Sometimes I think you’re too good at this. Is there someone else you practice on?”

He rolls his eyes as a characteristic snort escapes his lips. “Only you, My Love. Do I need to prove it to you?”

“Absolutely,” you tease, letting your gaze fall from his sparkling eyes and onto his soft lips. They curve upward knowingly before they meet yours in a tender kiss. He holds you gently as if you are one of the many flowers in the surrounding booths.

You’re breathless, but you want more; Kita’s touch, combined with the sweet floral fragrance, is dizzying and makes you forget about the hundreds of people passing by on the other side of the tented wall.

He pulls away with a tenderness that makes you feel like you are falling in love over and over again. The sweetest look in his eyes as he guides you back towards the flower stalls and the rows and rows of bouquets, so that the two of you can pick out the perfect one together.

Tagging: @enchantedforest-network

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #kita hq #shinsuke kita x reader #shinsuke kita #kita x reader #kita haikyuu #kita shinsuke #kita scenarios #kita fluff #haikyuu fluff

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emmis15 · 1 month

Text

Bucky Barnes Jazz Bar ๋࣭ ⭑

―How did you know about this place? It's 19 years old― my hand was holding hers as she led me to a huge bar with a red sign.

Everyone was dressed elegantly, forming a long line around the place, each of them in suits or dresses, elegant shoes, and shiny jewelry, making me feel out of place as I was dressed in blue jeans, a black shirt, a dark blue blazer, and normal black shoes.

Cass looked beautiful, and for the occasion, she was so herself. She wore a long burgundy red top with a black knee-length skirt, burgundy boots, a long black leather coat, and her burgundy purse where she kept the keys to my bike and my few belongings as I didn't know where we were going.

―I have friends outside the superhero world, and my last name isn't just for death threats or kidnappings; it's also for jumping the line right now― she said with a simple smile, pulling out a white card with a golden number on it and handing it to the security guard with his arms crossed against his chest.

With a simple smile, she handed a white card with a golden number on it to the security guard, who then let us pass by moving aside the rope separating the entrance from the line. Her hand never let go of mine as she guided me through the environment of red armchairs, alcohol, tables, and a stage in front of all the seating areas.

―¿What can I help you with tonight?― a waitress approached us with her uniform and a black tray with small glasses of orange liquid with orange slices inside.

―Good evening, I'm Cassidy Stark, and I reserved a table in the upstairs area; if you could take us there, it would be excellent― she sounded so serious and kind at the same time.

A bit hypnotizing the way she interacted with others, using her privileged position to get things done, something I was used to seeing her do at the complex, albeit in a disheveled manner and always with laughter in her voice.

―Follow me, Miss Stark.

The woman started walking ahead of us, guiding the way from the ground floor, which was filled with people already sitting at tables in front of the stage, having drinks or food and patiently waiting with little chatter to avoid drowning out the smooth jazz that was playing by the live bands tonight. We stood in front of some stairs a few meters from the stage against the wall. These stairs had a ribbon like the one outside but this time with a white sign hanging from the burgundy velvet that read "VIP."

―The reservation was for table 3 next to the bay, ¿right?― she asked as she looked at something on a computer.

I didn't know anything, and I was more focused on seeing the place and its mysterious and reserved aesthetics. But as I looked around and tried to read the decorative signs hanging on the walls, I heard Cass's affirmative voice along with the clinking sound of metal.

―Let's go, Buck― she pulled my hand as she climbed the stairs, leaving the waitress behind to be just the two of us along with a few others upstairs.

We had the best view of the stage, and the lights above were closer, almost as if it weren't for the warm, red lights, we would be in the dark.

―It's a new and exclusive bar because of its mysterious nature and the few reservations it allows. People outside are waiting in case there's room inside, even to stand and be with the people listening to unknown Jazz bands, indie music actually but soft from the aesthetics of the place.

―¿Why did you do this?― I asked as I looked around.

―You need to go to places with people who aren't from your environment. It's called exposure therapy, and since you said you liked jazz, well― she gave me a small smile before we sat facing each other.

―¿So it's like a date?― I asked with a raised eyebrow.

―Something like that.

I chuckled a bit, shaking my head before turning to the candlelight in the middle of the table, casting a warm glow on Cass's face.

―¿Whiskey as usual?― she asked, taking her gaze off the menu to look at me.

―Something normal. You know I don't like those trendy drinks nowadays― I looked at her with a small smile.

―You should try something new in your drinks to know that there are more things than the harshness and pain of whiskey― she left the menu as we heard the voice of a man.

We turned to see the waiter, who was dressed like the girl before, holding a notebook and a pen.

―I'll have an espresso martini, and he'll have a whiskey The Macallan 1926, please― she sounded very firm but kind, giving him a smile.

―¿For food?

―I'll have spaghetti with bolognese ragout― she sounded so good speaking Italian that I didn't think about what I wanted to eat.

They both stared at me, waiting for my response, so I stared back at the guy, trying to compose myself.

―The same as her, thanks― I said in a deep voice.

He left, and I heard Cass's laughter faintly, to the point where I also laughed a bit with her.

―¿Do you even know what you ordered?― she asked incredulously, playing with the napkins.

―No, I'm somewhat scared it might be the worst thing I've ever tasted in my life. I really hope it's delicious― I said, feeling the live music starting to play.

It was calm with light drums and a marked rhythm, with a bit of electric guitar in the background along with a guy singing into the microphone artistically. The song seemed to be about a woman, or at least that's what I thought from the way "She" was repeated.

―It's a Bolognese pasta, but the meat is cooked with milk and white wine. The noodles are a bit thicker than usual, and it's served with grated cheese on the sides― she explained with a small smile.

―It doesn't sound so bad, but the idea of meat cooked in milk and wine sounds disgusting due to the combination.

She shrugged her shoulders, staring fixedly at the stage with attention, her right hand holding her chin with her elbow resting against the table, and her left hand playing lightly with the plants on the railing.

―Your drinks and your plates, and in 5 minutes, your food will be ready― the guy brought the white plates with food and the glasses with the wine bottle.

―Thank you― Cass said, getting comfortable, waiting and watching how they left our food.

The plate was white with clean edges, and the pasta in the middle with the sauce spread nicely, with the touch of cheese on the sides slightly raising the mountain with pieces of meat and tomato randomly placed.

―Enjoy.

He left, and my girlfriend took a photo of her plate along with the glass.

―I don't understand why you do that― I said as I took a sip of my drink.

―¿What?― she asked, putting her phone down near the railings and placing the napkin on her lap.

―The photo of your food. I don't understand why you take a picture of your food.

―Because it's pretty, and I want to take a picture of it. Besides, I like posting them in my stories because it looks nice and aesthetic― she began to eat her food lightly.

―I don't understand this modern era. In my times, photos were taken of people and landscapes.

I tried to mimic the way she ate and picked up the pasta from the plate.

She shook her head while laughing before looking back and listening to the music, her foot tapping a bit against my leg, marking the beat of the song.

We spent the night until around 2 am listening to the same guy with his band, drinking a bottle of red wine and finishing the food with a strange frozen dessert that had a chocolate brownie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream prepared with champagne according to the dessert menu.

―Thank you, have a good night― the waiter left after Cass swiped her black card.

―¿Shall we, Buck?― she asked, getting up carefully and with her jacket on, along with her bag.

―¿Are you okay?― I asked, standing up.

―Just a little dizzy― she gave me a small smile.

I took her hand carefully to help her down the stairs, seeing how, despite the time, the bar was still full of new people, and the line outside had the same number of people.

―¿Why are there still so many people?― I asked confused.

―The bar is open until 5 am― Cass replied as she brushed her hair out of her face, breathing in the fresh air.

We both walked to my bike slowly, enjoying the cool spring air with the few stars in the sky.

―Buck― Cass stopped us a few meters from the bike, her hand on her chest, looking at the ground.

I thought the worst; two months ago, her "heart" had suddenly stopped while she was chatting with the guys at dinner, and she was in intensive care until this week when she finally got rid of her tube and some pills to take and eat solid things, but we were all worried. I think if Cass were to shut down right now on the street, and knowing I only have 5 minutes to get her to the complex doctors, I wouldn't mind killing people in my way to the middle of the forest far from the city just to save her.

―¿What's wrong, Doll?― I asked worriedly, placing my hand on her shoulder.

Her head lifted to look at me with her eyes before throwing herself into my shoulders and kissing me forcefully, putting her hands on my left shoulder and on my hip, smiling in the middle of the kiss.

―Thank you for giving me a very nice night; I needed to forget about my life for a moment― she whispered on my lips.

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toasttt11 · 3 months

Text

gold medal

January 5, 2024

Kensington saw the puck go across the ice and knew they had just won the gold medal, she didn’t know if it was her screams in her ears or her teammates or both, but she skated over jumping on top of all her teammates at the goalie net.

The rest of the team all jumped over then bench skating over to meet all of them.

The whole team was jumping up and down onto of each other, smiles across everyone’s faces.

Kensington felt someone pull on her shoulder turning to see a grinning Gabe, Kensington laughed as they lunged at each other the same time hugging tightly.

Ryan skated over jumping on top of both of them shaking them, “Let’s go baby!” He was shaking them and yelling like crazy.

Will looked over seeing his three best friend and skated over jumping onto the three knocking the all four of them onto the ice.

The four laughed happily as they hugged on the ice having literally just had one of their dreams come true.

“Oh my god, we really did that!” Gabe laughed in disbelief.

Kensington let out a shocked laughed rolling over to lay her back straight onto the ice.

Will and Ryan laughed together seeing Gabe and Kensington both laying down comfortably on the ice and shared a look standing up, Will grabbed Kensington by her waist and Ryan grabbed Gabe’s hands pulling them up.

The team lined up and all were dancing to the music as they were given their gold medals, and all went back to the blue line.

“And now ladies and gentlemen, please rise and remove your hats for the national anthem of USA.” The commentator spoke through out the arean.

The U.S.A. team all linked arms as the music of their national athem started and the whole team was belting out the lyrics with wide grins adorned on their faces.

Will gently knocked his head againt Kensington’s head, who was standing next to him, Kensington looked up at Will and knocked her head against his head laughing as they continued to sign the song loudly with their team.

Kensington was grinning the whole time and was vibrating with excitement as the team watched Rutger get handed their trophy and turned around coming towards them and lifting it into the air.

The who team jumped on top of each other, jumping up and down as the whole rink was covered in gold confetti.

The whole team was on a giddy high as they all but skipped their way back to the locker room, hollering down the hallways.

Kensington could feel herself losing her voice from all the screaming, especially as they all huddled together to scream together oh mama don’t you cry.

Kensington sat at her stall having slipped her jersey and pads off leaving her in a black sports bra, Gabe threw an arm around her shoulder pulling her into the photo with him.

Will and Ryan leaned over from the other side getting into the photo.

Ryan ended up getting up and jumping into other peoples photos of and Gabe walked away leaving just Kensington and Will sitting next to each other.

Will raised an eyebrow at her making her giggle but nod and she reached into her stall pulling her phone out and open her camera and hood in front of them as Will help up both of their gold medals, Kensington and Will both smiled at the camera as she took the photo.

Kensington posted the photo onto her story before getting changed out of her equipment and changed back into her light purple suit.

Kensington headed back to her and Gabe’s hotel room deciding to shower first as Gabe was seeing his parents and her parents couldn’t make it to the tournament.

Kensington threw on a multi colored striped sweater and a pair of mom jeans before getting out of the bathroom letting Gabe head into the bathroom. She sat at the desk finishing her hair and putting on a lightly layer of mascara and some lipgloss and putting on the rest of her jewelry that she took of her the game, she slipped on her a pair of boots and played on her phone until Gabe was done.

Gabe finished getting ready and Kensington and him headed out of the room and headed to the karaoke bar that was close by and was meeting up with their teammates and any of their girlfriends or siblings that came with them.

It seemed like Gabe and Kensington were one of the last people to walk into the bar seeing some of their teammates alreadly very drunk.

Gabe and Kensington walked over to where Will and Ryan were talking with a few of their teammates talking.

Kensington slid next to Will nudging him with her elbow and Will looked over smiling at her.

Kensington looked over seeing Ryan already looking very tipsy and he stood up and dragged Drew up to the stage and put on We are never getting back together by Taylor Swift and the two started screaming it into the microphones.

Kensington let out a laugh making sure to pull out her phone to flim the two especially as they started dancing on the stage together and Drew dipped Ryan.

The whole bar was filled with their group and everyone cheered for Ryan and Drew’s performance and then Rutger and Gavin went up next.

Kensington ended up walking away from the team after almost everyone had already went onto the stage for the karaoke and went to the bathroom.

Kensington walked out for the bathroom when she finished and saw Will leaning on the wall, “Willy?” Kensington titled her head curiously wondering why Will was waiting outside the bathroom.

“Hey Gray,” Will looked up smiling at the sound of her voice, he saw the questioned look, “I uh didn’t want anything happen if you went to the bathroom alone so i waited outside.” Will sheepishly explained not wanting to anything to happen to her.

Kensington felt her face soften and her heart squeeze in fondness for her best friend, she leaned on the wall next to him and nudged him gently, “Thank you.” She appreciated that he cared enough to wait for her.

“Always.” Will softly smiled looking down at her, Kensington looked up at him and saw the way Will’s eyes flickered down to lips and he leaned closer, Kensington nervously bit her lip but leaned in slightly.

Kensington let out a nervous breath at Will being so close to and she could just feel his lips brush hers and suddenly a very drunk Ryan was putting his arms around them both as he was hollering loudly and Kensington and Will both pulled apart quickly and Kensington looked away immediately feeling her heart beat rapidly in her chest and Will kept his eyes on her.

Kensington let Ryan drag Will and her back to their team and she sat right next to Cutter, who gave her a concerned look seeing her look panicked, “You alright Singy?” He put at arm around her and looked at one of his favorite teammates and the girl who had become like his little sister over the last few years.

Kensington shook her head and rested her head on Cutter’s shoulder and closed her eyes, getting the comfort of an older brother from Cutter, especially since she had known him for years know and he is one of the older players she is closet with.

“Will almost kissed me.” Kensington whispered quietly to Cutter, still in shock she almsot kissed her best friend and maybe the person she has been crushing on but has been trying to get over it.

“Oh.” Cutter’s eyes widen and looked at her, “What happened?” Cutter had seen Kensington when she realized she had a crush on Will but he knew she didn’t want to risk her friendship with him so she had been trying to get over her crush.

“Ryan interrupted us.” Kensington whispered playing with her bracelets.

Cutter slowly nodded and he could see she didn’t want to keep talking about it, “Do you want to go back to hotel?” He also knew she had a really early flight the next morning as she had to get back to New Jersey.

“Please.” Kensington softly whispered. Cutter stood up with her keeping his arm around her shoulder as they said goodbyes to a few of their teammates and walked out of the bar, not seeing Will look at them with a sad face and dejected frown.

Cutter walked Kensington the quick walk back to their hotel and he walked with her up to her hotel room, “Are you gonna be alright?”

Kensington looked at him and wrapped her arms around him needing a hug, “I will be.”

Cutter gently wrapped his arms around her and letting her hug him as long as she needed.

Kensington eventually stepped back and gave him a small smile, “Thank you.” She turned around and headed into her room.

She took a deep breath before getting changed in a purple sweatshirt and sweatpants set before starting to pack up her bags before her flight in the morning, she set her alarms and headed into bed wanting to get as many hours as she could before having to get up early.

 Kensington was so deep asleep she didn’t even hear when the door opened and Will was helping a drunk Gabe into the room, Will helped Gabe lay on his bed and covered him with the covers.

Will started to walk out of the hotel room and looked at Kensington, he walked over pulling the blanket up around her and he leaned down pressing a very gentle kiss to her forehead, “I’m so sorry gray.” He looked at her regrettably once more before walking out of the room.

January 6, 2024

Kensington woke up hearing her alarm and quickly shutting it off, she looked towards the windows seeing it still pitch black out side and the sun still down.

She got out of bed and headed to the bathroom and got ready real quick.

She slipped on her black high top converses and packed the rest of her stuff into her suitcase, she zipped the suitcase up and grabbed her backpack, slipping it onto her backpack and rolling her suitcase out of her hotel room.

Kensington headed down to the lobby and waited for the taxi to take her to the airport.

Kensington sat in the Taxi watching the asleep city as they drove to the Airport.

She thanked the driver before grabbing her bags and walking into the airport, she went through Security and walked through the Sweden airport to her gate. She had some time before her flight and headed to the Starbucks getting an Ice Matcha and a breakfast sandwich before waiting by her gate.

Kensington boarded her flight and put her suitcase in the overhead before sitting in her window seat, she grabbed out her headphones and pulled out her journal. She slipped her headphones on and started her playlist and looking out the window as the plane was about to takeoff.

Kensington spent most of the eight hours either listening to music or working on one of her songs in her journal and before she knew they were already landing in New Jersey.

She eventually got off the plane and walked through the airport and got into a uber to take her to Jack’s apartment.

She walked through his apartment building and got to his apartment and knocked on the door waiting, not sure who would be in the apartment and who is already at the Arena.

Jack opened the door looking pretty down but the second he saw his sister he smiled happily and pulled her into a one armed hug as his other arm is in a sling.

“I’m so proud of you Sunshine.” Jack pressed a soft kiss to the side of head, having watched almost all of games during the WJC, and watched her gold medal game with Luke, Quinn and their parents. They all were really happy for her but sad they couldn’t have been there for her.

“Thanks Jacky.” Kensington voice was very quiet and raspy as hugged him, sighing in relief to see part of her family for the first time since thanksgiving as she also spent the holidays with her team in Sweden and not with her family.

“How’s is it?” Kensington softly asked as they pulled apart and headed into his apartment, she didn’t have a chance to see his game only got told he was hurt and wasn’t playing tonight.

“Been worse.” Jack grimaced unhappy about being injured again.

“Well, if you can’t play for a little awhile, i have room for visitors.” Kensington softly whispered her voice still raspy from all the screaming and yelling. She also knew Jack doesn’t do great sitting alone when his team goes on road games and she is only a three hour drive away or a quick flight.

“I like that.” Jack smiled wanting to spend some time with his sister and that may be the only positive about being injured, “Luke and Quinn headed out a while ago and Mom and Dad have left a few minutes ago. So if you want to change or something but we can leave whenever you’re ready.”

“I’ll change.” Kensington nodded and she headed down the hallway with her bags to the guest room she always stays in. She put her suitcase down and zipped it open pulling out her outfit and she grabbed her makeup bag.

She put on a pair of loose blue jeans and a thick grey sweater, a multicolored scarf and her tan ugg’s. She put on very light makeup and grabbed her phone walking out of the room to the living room where Jack was waiting.

Jack looked up at the sound of her waking into the room, “Ready?” Kensington nodded and headed to the front door as Jack slipped on his black coat, “Uh Sunny, so i’m not supposed to drive..” Jack trailed off looking at his sister.

“That’s ok.” Kensington smiled shaking her head and held out of her hand letting Jack giver her the car keys.

They headed down to the parking garage and Kensington hoped into the drivers seat as Jack got into the passenger seat, she started the car and started driving to the Prudential Center.

Jack showed her how to get into the player lot and she pulled into his spot. They walked into the Arena and Jack led them through the hallways, “You don’t mind if it’s just us, because i can take you to Mom and Dad.”

Jack having gotten two seat in the press box and hoping to be less seen there and their parents had gotten a suite with the friends and family that came out for the game.

“With you.” Kensington softly whispered not minding waiting to see her family especially because all of them were free tomorrow and are going to spend the day together and she knows the suite is packed with friends and family and she’s exhausted and can barely talk so she really doesn’t want to be in a suite filled with people.

“Alright Suns.” Jack smiled swinging his good arm around her shoulder pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

They walked to the press box and sat in the seats seeing the teams already warmed up and about to do the puck drop.

Kensington leaned her head onto Jack’s good shoulder as the puck just dropped and the players started lining up for the game to start.

The two watched the game, with no score in the first period and the second period ended in 4-2 with the Canucks leading, the third period started and and both team scored two more times and the game ended 6-4, with the Canuck’s winning against the Devils.

Jack groaned dropping his head as the game ended and hating that they lost against the Canucks.

“Well looks likes Quinn has another win.” Kensington giggled seeing Jack dramatically groan. Jack and Quinn keeping score of all the time they played against each other, who won and or who lost.

Jack and Kensington got up and started the walk down the locker room where they saw some of their family.

Ellen felt someone hug her side and she looked down seeing her daughter, Ellen smiled wrapping her arms around her, “Oh my love!”

“Hi Mama.” Kensington whispered hugging her mother tightly.

Ellen reluctantly let her daughter go, Jim wrapped his arms around his daughter and tightly hugged her.

Jim smiled down at his youngest and before letting her greet the rest of their family and friends that were there.

“Hi Liv.” Kensington whispered as she hugged Olivia.

“Hi Kens.” Olivia fondly smiled having grown quite close to the young girl.

“Sunnyyy!” Luke cheered happily as he rushed forward and picked his baby sister in a big hug and spun her around.

“Lu!” Kensington held onto her brother as he spun her around.

Luke gently set her down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “Hello miss gold medalist!” Luke proudly teased her.

Kensington softly laughed, “Thank you.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek before seeing Quinn walking out of his locker room and perked up seeing her big brother as she hadn’t see Quinn the longest out of her family.

She quickly lunged at him wrapping his arms around him and resting her head on his chest.

“Hello Sunshine.” Quinn smiled hugging her back gently and contently closing his eyes as he held his baby sister. Quinn wrapped an arm around her shoulder and walked to the their family.

Kensington smiled seeing her family all together something that doesn’t happen often.

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onskepa · 10 months

Note

Can I get a Lo'ak x Metkayina female reader?

Where Lo'ak meets the reader when he first met Payakan. As Lo'ak gets to know the reader better he asks her why she stays in the sea with Payakan all the time and never goes to the village. All the reader answers is "Because I am considered outcast. Just as Payakan is. That's why I live here with him instead of with the other Metkayina. I don't belong with the other Na'vi. The reason for that is..."

You can continue it from there :3

Heeeeeeeeey! ngl this took me a bit. Was thinking long and hard what would make the na'vi different...until it hit me! So here ya go! enjoy!

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

Kelsar

Lo'ak had enough. Enough of everything. The change of home, learning new things that aren't meant for him, being forced to get along with that skawng ao'nung. He had enough. It was bad his father was breathing down on back at the forest, but it has gotten far worse.

And as if his luck couldn't get any worse, he was stranded out in the open sea.

"FUCK YOU AO'NUNG!!"

He hated his life at the moment, as his life was being threatened by an akula. They looked more terrifying than a thanator. He hid under the coral and rocks He braced for the worst until a hand reached out to him. As means to keep him still. He couldn't turn to see but saw as the akula was ready to once again attack when suddenly, a tulkun hit the akula!

The two creatures fought a bit when the akula thought it wasn't worth it and left. Feeling the mysterious hand guide him up, with the tulkun assisting him. Breaking the surface and finally take in air, he gasps heavily. He heard a feminine giggle behind him, turning around he sees a metkayina girl.

Smiling, the girl helps him up on the tulkun's fin, sitting down as she calms herself.

"my my! that was fun!"

Lo'ak looked at her confused, taking in a good look at her. The girl's hair was long, very long, even with braids, she wore very simple top and loin cloth, not much jewelry on herself, just a simple hair piece with a shell décor. But she looked like all the other reef na'vi he as meet. Same shade of blue, but her eyes were than of teal blue. Her smile wide and bright.

"thank you for saving me, you and the tulkun" he says finally.

"this is payakan, my good friend" she says as she pats gently on payakan.

"nice to meet you payakan" he says, payakan made some noise and lo'ak shakes his head a bit. "im sorry, I don't know what he is saying".

The girl giggled again, "its ok, I can teach you, my name is kelsar". Lo'ak tilts his head a bit feeling confused. That name meant 'useless'.

"lo'ak" he says.

For the remainder of the day, they talk, kelsar would show him how to speak sign language, not to throw dirt of tsireya who was a wonderful teacher but kelsar was better in showing him sign language.

Lo'ak heard a bit of payakan being an outsider, but never heard of a metkayina being with the outcast.

"if its ok to ask...why are you with payakan and not back at the island?" he asks a bit nervously.

The girl smiled, but her smile was a bit sad. "they don't see me as one of their own...much like payakan, I too am an outcast".

"how? I understand with payakan but you? What could you have done or anything for you to be an outcast?" he asks, curiosity getting the better of him.

The girl didn't say anything but rather she bends down, splits her hair into two parts for him to take a look and there he realized.

Kelsar doesn't have a queue.

It didn't look like it was cut or anything deformed. Nothing was there.

Flipping her hair back kelsar begins to explain.

"when I was born, my mother and the tsahik were shocked to see me born without a queue...they never knew why it was like that. The tsahik at the time believed I was cursed, that I wasn't was Eywa envisioned me to be. That I wasn't her child..."

"she continues as she strokes her hair as mean for comfort.

"they knew it be a struggle. That I could never connect with Eywa or any animal, much less connect with my possible mate. My communion with Eywa never happened. I did my best doing my iknimaya but obviously I couldn't connect with a skimwing much less an ilu. I couldn't finish them...I tried my best. I hunted, I fought my best. Nothing was enough, my mother hated me. Everyone saw me as a freak, no one wanted to be my friend, no one even bothered to try...one day my mother suddenly wanted to go out an explore the reef with me. I was happy, I thought finally she wanted me. But I was wrong.....so so wrong....."

lo'ak lean in, letting her continue.

"she took me beyon the reef, into the open sea. I thought it was fine, but no. I looked behind me and she was gone...she left me. And not just leaving me like that no no. She left me where an akula was there. She left me to be killed. But payakan here saved me. And I have been with him since then. Isnt that right payakan?" she says as payakan agrees.

Hearing her story, being born with something that isnt in her control, he understood her. Understood her pain.

"now you tell me, do all forest na'vi have four fingers?" kelsar asks as means to change the subject.

"no no, you see my father was...."

they chatted more and more. Until night reached, where payakan and kelsar took him back to the island while being discreet. They hear jake and the other na'vi call out his name, they were searching for him.

"best you go now. Before they lose their minds" kelsar says. Lo'ak looks back at her then back at the people. "will I see you again?" he asks. He enjoyed her's and payakan's presence and felt more at ease with them. He didn't want to lose that. Kelsar giggled once more, he come to love that sound.

"of course silly boy. But you better go, they seem worried for you, go go" she gently pushes him onto the rocks. Taking one last look, they wave each other good bye as kelsar and payakan go back underwater.

Lo'ak shakes his head as he goes to his father. Ready to embrace what will come. Though he hopes to see more of his two new friends. Outcasts gotta stick together no?

And that is it for this fic! hope you all liked it! byeeeeeeeeee~!!

Kelsar = useless

#avatar #na'vi x reader #avatar the way of water #na'vi avatar #avatar 2 #lo'ak #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak imagine #lo'ak sully #lo'ak avatar #lo'ak x y/n #lo'ak x fem!reader #lo'ak x you #lo'ak x metkayina reader #metkayina reader #metkayina #lo'ak x fem! reader #payakan #tulkun

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onlymingyus · 1 year

Text

Everyone Knows (Snowventeen Collab)

pairing; boo seungkwan x gn reader

genre; fluff, angst

warnings; joshua, vernon, and mingyu are side characters, slight angst due to unrealized feelings, mentions eating and drinking, bad jokes, and crimes against food by lack of cooking skills, otherwise this is just fluff

svthub snowventeen collab master list - snowventeen tag list

w/c; 5.3k and some change

Joshua smirks behind his phone screen hearing you sigh for the fifth time in a row. Your finger pushes the scroll wheel of the mouse through yet another page on another shop but nothing wowing you. Nothing was screaming “Seungkwan.”

“This is so stupid, why does everything suck? It was so easy to find your present. Why are you so simple?” Shaking his head, Joshua considers his words to answer your question before sitting up on your couch finally speaking. “Because I’m your best friend.”

A scoff escapes your lips between another sigh when you close another window and type in another search. “You are both my best friends. In fact, Joshua Hong, I’d argue he is my first best friend and you are just second best. Especially after a comment after that.”

Joshua only laughs, whispering out a small “ouch” at being second best. It’s only when you glance over your shoulder at him that he laughs a second time shrugging your way. “Y/N…if you are that blind, I’d have to spell it out for you and then you’d just call me second best again. I bet you’d still make me pay for dinner.”

Shooting him a finger gun over your shoulder, you hear Joshua groan out a breath playfully, faking being annoyed as he falls back on the couch cushions. “You know him incredibly well Y/N. Just pick something, he will love it, I promise, almost as much as you love him.” The last of Joshua’s sentence is muttered under his breath but you are able to catch enough of it to make you spin your chair around with a loud annoyed scoff.

“Could you let it go? I don’t know what you are insinuating. Of course I love him, I love you too. I love all my friends.” Joshua raises a brow watching you stand up moving away from the computer for the first time in hours. Now you were pacing, a clear sign that you were overthinking and stressed.

“I know you love me and the rest of your friends…but Seungkwan is different. It’s been different with him since college. I don’t know why you two won’t just admit that and move past this charade. Seriously, Y/N?” You hadn’t even realized you were pacing in front of the coffee table until Joshua’s hand reached out to grab yours bringing your attention fully back to him.

“We are best friends but I’m sorry…if I get a fantastic job offer across the country I’m not going to be able to turn it down just to stick around closer to you. I’d miss the hell out of you but…I can’t do what you and Seungkwan did. You can’t see how that’s a little different?” You had always been told not to furrow your brows, your family members afraid you’d create premature wrinkles but as you stood in front of Joshua Hong you couldn’t help the way your brows knitted together tightly.

“Oh please, it wasn’t that great of an offer. I got just as good an offer here and I get to hang out with Kwan and you. So it’s not just about him. You are just trying to see something that isn’t there, and it’s cute but seriously…just help me figure out a freaking Christmas present for him before I run out of time.”

Joshua’s hand falls from your arm at the same time as a sigh slips from his lips. He wanted to shake you and tell you to wake up the same way he wanted to shake Seungkwan every time he saw the man but instead he simply nodded. “Sure, fine.” This time you are following Joshua back to the computer leaning over his shoulder making disapproving sounds at every suggestion.

Seungkwan wrinkles his nose, taking a long sip of his americano while he leans over the counter looking down at the display of various pieces of jewelry. A disapproving sound escapes around the straw that only causes Vernon to groan when he has to stop leaning on the counter and follow his best friend further into the store. “Dude…we’ve been here for two hours. Everything is starting to look the same. Just pick something. It’s not that serious, I swear.”

It might not feel serious for Vernon, but it was a Christmas present for you so to Seungkwan it was the most important gift he had to buy this year. Vernon meets Seungkwan’s glare, another groan slipping out of his lips when he knows he’s not going anywhere anytime soon. “Okay, jesus. Can we at least take a break? Maybe go to the food court? I am getting hungry.”

Seungkwan pushes his hand through a few shirts looking at the various patterns deeming none of them nice enough for you, his eyes glancing towards Vernon then to the cup in hand noting that he was almost out of coffee. “Mmm, I could use more coffee and this store sucks. Literally not a thing worth my time or Y/N’s.”

That was his in, Vernon nods moving to Seungkwan’s side gesturing towards the exit. “You are so right, Boo. I’ll even buy you a fresh coffee.” Seungkwan knew what Vernon was doing, he knew that he didn’t actually care what the store had, he just didn’t want to shop anymore, but a free coffee was a free coffee.

“Ok, but then we really have to buckle down and search this mall. I’m not leaving empty handed again, Vernon. I’ve got a week, it has to be perfect. I want Y/N to be blown away.” Vernon couldn’t help but to smirk a bit at Seungkwan’s words. It was pretty cute how much he cared about a gift for you, if only it wasn’t taking up Vernon’s entire Saturday.

“Or…you could just take Y/N out on a fancy date or something? That’d be better than something they’ll use a few times and then probably forget about.” Vernon keeps walking towards the smell of food, his stomach growling louder with each step causing him not to realize that Seungkwan wasn’t still by his side until he hears a loud “a-hem” from behind him.

Turning on his heels, Vernon raises his brows and his hands meeting Seungkwan’s gaze once again. “What? Why are we stopping? We are so close to the food court and the coffee? Why are you glaring at me?” In Seungkwan’s mind Vernon shouldn’t even have to ask but then again he knew that Vernon wasn’t his most perceptive friend.

“What do you mean take Y/N on a date? What the…” Moving closer, his voice dropping almost to a whisper as if someone was going to listen in and tell you about the conversation, Seungkwan glances around before continuing. “What are you even talking about? That is my best friend you are talking about. We are here to buy them a nice gift not to start this crap again.”

Rolling his eyes, Vernon sighs, using his shoulder to push Seungkwan forward and into the food court towards the closest coffee stand to stand in line. “Oh please, nothing is good enough for Y/N in this entire friggin’ mall and you know it, and do you know why Boo?” Chewing on his lip Seungkwan doesn’t answer, instead he shakes his head no but more as a way to wave off the conversation though he knows Vernon won’t let it go.

“Because nothing is good enough for the person you are head over heels in love with. Are you seriously going to go through another year of this? It makes me nauseous to sit in the same room as you two because I’m afraid I’m going to catch feelings.” Seungkwan was happy when the cashier asked him for his order knowing it would shut Vernon up at least for a moment, and because he could order the largest americano with an extra shot on Vernon’s tab.

“Literally you don’t need to answer me for me to know I’m right. Do you want me to make reservations? Then you could take it easy for a day or two? Get a nice suit; hell, maybe then you could actually pick out a present that would make sense to give them on a date instead of trying to pretend like you are picking out a present for a friend.” It was hard to ignore your friend’s rambling when the cashier was holding back a laugh ringing up your order with his card.

Seungkwan’s cheeks were burning hot, his neck felt even hotter when his eyes finally met Vernon’s again. “Could you please shut up? I am not in love with Y/N. I mean yeah I love them. I…god, I love all my friends, Vernon. That’s basic human decency, you should get some.” Vernon watches with an amused scoff while Seungkwan instantly turns to smile at the barista thanking her and taking his absurdly large coffee before walking away from him.

Vernon watches Seungkwan find a table, the man taking out his phone presumingly texting you giving him plenty of time to order something to eat. Seungkwan leans back, his thumbs moving over the screen almost comically fast while he tries to catch up with you. It was amazing to him, but not surprising, how much he missed you in just a few hours. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t at least FaceTime you in order to not feel like he was going stir crazy in his own apartment.

Kwan: If Vernon’s body is never found, tell the authorities he is visiting relatives on another planet.

The sound of the notification makes you smile even before you look at it because you knew who would be on the other end. Laughing softly you shake your head at Seungkwan’s text before responding quickly earning yourself a small side glance from Joshua and Mingyu as they sat at the table trying to enjoy lunch with you.

“It’s Seungkwan, literally the only person who can make them smile like that.” Joshua sighs into his water causing Mingyu to laugh while he reaches for another french fry, popping it into his mouth. “Well you better carry the conversation now, Hong, because if you are right there is no way we are getting a peep outta Y/N for at least half an hour.”

Y/N: What did he do this time? Aren’t you at the mall? Please tell me you are eating something and not just surviving purely on coffee Boo Seungkwan. The human body needs food, not just caffeine.

Seungkwan smiles at your text, lifting his coffee to his lips, taking a long sip, his shoulders lifting in a shrug. He knew you were right but he also knew he could rely on Vernon to get him something to eat because he was almost as bad as you were. Re-reading the message Seungkwan sighs and shakes his head, of course you remembered what he was doing today but he wasn’t sure what you had planned. It was lunchtime so he hoped that you were doing something similar.

Kwan: What hasn’t he done would be a better question. He makes it impossible to enjoy the mall. 🙄 Yes, dear I will eat food. I’m sure the heathen in question is getting me something too. What about you? Have you ate?

You could hear Joshua and Mingyu’s conversation, it had thankfully changed from you and Seungkwan to something about a tv show they were both watching. It was easy for you to ignore when your friends talked about you. It had become such a common thing in the last few years, especially when Seungkwan decided to move to an apartment just around the block from you, stating “It’s just easier to get public transport on this block” (despite the fact that it was further away from his work). You didn’t care, you liked having Seungkwan even closer. You didn’t see what the big deal was, best friends were close…that didn’t mean what they all thought it meant.

When the next text message comes in you laugh again, making Joshua give you another look, shaking his head. “Tell Kwannie we said hi.” When you simply make a sound to acknowledge what he said and nod, Joshua rolls his eyes and gestures towards you making Mingyu laugh. “Stop, they are cute. Did you ever pick out a gift for Seungkwan by the way?”

You glance up at Mingyu when he asks you a question, your attention split between your phone and him even as you frown a bit. “No, everything sucks and Shua is the worst shopping partner. Not even a bit helpful, do you have any suggestions Gyu?” Hearing you insult him once again Joshua scoffs, picking up his fork to stab at his salad a bit too aggressively, mocking you and making you smirk slightly.

Mingyu laughs at his friend's reaction, leaning forward a bit in thought, his own brows furrowing slightly in thought while you text. “What about something more sentimental since nothing bought seems to be clicking with you? Have anything you can make or maybe something that will remind him of the past? The good ‘ol days? Like when you guys first got together, I mean…when you first met.”

Both men watch your eyes narrow slightly at Mingyu’s words, your phone lowering slightly for a moment so you can analyze him. “We are not…never mind. Sentimental?” Your mind wanders for a moment letting Joshua and Mingyu snicker to one another when you don’t finish your correction of Mingyu’s wording but when you smile at an idea coming to your head Joshua is the first to notice the change.

“What? Did you think of a gift? Finally? Are we done?!” Instead of answering him you wave your hand signally for him to shut up, turning your attention back to your phone finishing your text back to Seungkwan. The first wave of relief rushing over you in weeks knowing you at least have an idea of what to do for Christmas.

Y/N: I’m out with Joshua and Mingyu now. Make sure Vernon gets you something delicious and call me when you get home. I love you Kwan.

Seungkwan wasn’t exactly sure why it took you so long to write him back or why your message seemed shorter but he was sure there was a perfectly good reason. By the time your message came through, he was picking at some chicken tenders Vernon had bought him refusing to eat until your text finally did come back. Vernon watched with a mixture of annoyed and amused noting the exact moment he knew when you had answered when Seungkwan picked up a piece of chicken eating it rather than nibbling on it.

“So…Y/N isn’t dead and you were worried for no reason at all.” Seungkwan shoots a look at Vernon as he texts you back that he loves you too and that he will call you as soon as he gets home. “I never thought they were dead, Vernon. God you are dramatic. I was just…mildly concerned. Never takes that long to write back usually but they are with Joshua and Mingyu so I’m sure it’s one of those idiots' fault.”

Vernon simply nods, hiding his smile with his own piece of chicken while Seungkwan checks his phone one last time before putting it away. “I’m sure it is, Boo. I was thinking about the Christmas thing, mostly because I don’t want to spend my entire Saturday inside this god forsaken mall. What if you make dinner for you two? You literally never cook, they always cook. That would be a great present.”

Seungkwan’s nose scrunches up slightly almost as if he dislikes the taste of the chicken in front of him at the idea Vernon offers but the more he thinks about it, it isn’t the worst idea. There were just a few kinks in the plan. “I’m sure that would be nice but I’d start a kitchen fire or serve them ramen. Not even nice ramen but like the most simple ramen. Not exactly a, “Merry Christmas here is your gift to remember,” kinda dinner.”

He had a point, Vernon knew almost better than anyone that Seungkwan was not a chef. Though he wasn’t either but perhaps together and with some more help they could make it work. “Ok, well tell you what. I’ll make a deal with you. If you promise that we can leave after we finish eating so I can go home and actually play some games on my day off, then I will help you cook. I’ll even get Joshua and Mingyu to help.”

Joshua wasn’t much of a bargaining chip but Mingyu…that was the pièce de résistance and worth maybe letting Vernon get his way. Seungkwan narrows his eyes, carefully considering the offer only to tilt his head glancing at Vernon’s cellphone gesturing towards it. “Ask them now, if they say they will help then we can leave after lunch, but I get to pick what we make for Y/N.”

Vernon wasn’t sure he had ever texted so fast in his life when he sent the offer to Joshua and Mingyu in a group text causing both men to glance at the table in surprise.

Vernon: Help me get out of the friggin’ mall. Literally 🆘. I told Boo I’d see if you two would help fix Y/N a Christmas dinner as their gift. Don’t let me down, but more importantly maybe these two will finally hook up and we can get some peace and quiet.’

Joshua is the first to respond, a smirk on his lips, his eyes side glancing at Mingyu first then you.

Joshua: Anything I can do to help and prove that I’m right to Y/N.

Mingyu: I’m going home in a few days for the Holidays. I won’t be here. I’m sorry Vernon.

Reading the text first, Joshua gasps, causing you to look up in concern. Your eyes do a quick scan of the man, your brows furrowed only to meet his eyes when he smiles shaking his head. “I’m good, just spilled some water on my lap. I’m catching some of Mingyu’s clutz.” It seems to be enough to make you less suspicious for you to return to your meal and something you were reading on your phone. Joshua’s attention turns back to Mingyu who gives him an apologetic look and a shrug.

Vernon’s stomach sinks seeing the text from Mingyu, his fingers tapping on the back of his phone before he glances at Seungkwan swallowing hard. “What if…Mingyu helps via FaceTime would that still count?” Seungkwan considers Vernon’s words, the straw of his coffee resting between his lips as he nods.

Vernon: Can you be ‘a phone a friend’ Mingyu? Boo will accept the terms if we can FaceTime you.

Mingyu: Yeah, sure. Just let me know when.

Seungkwan watches the smile spread across Vernon’s face causing his own stomach to twist with nerves. There was literally no reason for him to be nervous about having dinner with you. The two of you had gone out to dinner a million times together alone, you had cooked him dinner just as many times, but he wasn’t sure why this felt different all of a sudden. Why did this seem more important?

The smoke detector had only gone off twice, which appeared to be a good omen in Seungkwan’s eyes thus far. He was attempting to drown out Joshua’s comments about the temperature of the oven but Vernon was making that impossible all while the latter tried to follow Mingyu’s directions from an IPad screen.

“This is literal chaos. The worst idea I’ve ever agreed to. Y/N is going to hate this and me.” Mingyu laughs softly from the video call shaking his head while Vernon glances over to his best friend trying to give him a positive smile. “Hey, no…none of that. This is great. We have chicken ready to go in the oven, rice is in the rice maker, you are doing something with vegetables, and Joshua is the only useless one here.”

Seungkwan feels the dish towel brush by him on its flight over his head to hit Vernon square in the face once it leaves Joshua’s hand. “I’m doing plenty, you are the once that caused the last smoke alarm. Just put in the chicken Vernon, Y/N is going to be here in like an hour and a half.”

Vernon sighs, pulling the towel from his shoulder using it to pick up the pan of chicken turning towards the preheating oven to open it when all of the men hear a sound of caution from the IPad. “Did you turn it down?” Seungkwan can’t help but to be slightly amused watching Mingyu sitting up in his chair as if that was going to help him see further into the kitchen that was thousands of miles from him currently.

“It’s on 475, like I said before.” Vernon’s voice dripped with annoyance, the heat from the oven radiating into the room when he opened the door sliding the pan onto the top rack. “I told you that was too hot, turn it down Vernon.” It wasn’t making sense, that was clear by looking at Vernon’s face, this logic was sound.

“It will cook faster this way. Hotter oven, faster cooking. An hour and a half, remember?” Seungkwan watches Mingyu fall back on the chair, his head shaking defeated when he meets the camera and Seungkwan’s eyes. “I hope Y/N likes dry chicken, Seungkwan. Cause that’s all that Vernon is making you.”

“It will be dry just like his jokes, Mingyu. There is only so much you can save from so far away. I salute your efforts.” Joshua smirks into his words making Vernon scoff while Seungkwan sighs loudly tilting his pan towards the camera to show Mingyu the vegetables. “That looks so good Seungkwan. At least someone is listening to me. Those are done, put them in a bowl or something, they don’t need to keep cooking. You can mix that with the rice when you are ready to serve and it’ll warm the veggies back up.”

Seungkwan was thankful for Mingyu, he had helped him decide on the meal keeping it simple and still something he knew that you would enjoy. Something that you had made for him several times, though he knew this wouldn’t compare to your cooking. Glancing towards the clock, Seungkwan swallowed hard, noting that more time had passed than he had realized. He needed to set the table and make sure he looked okay. God why did he care so much? It was just dinner for his best friend? Wasn’t it? The closer it got the more he started to hear his friends' words replaying in his head. All those decisions the two of you had made playing back like a movie.

Vernon stepped to the side letting an unusually quiet Seungkwan past him with the plates and silverware. He wondered what was on his mind but deep down he was pretty sure he knew, in the days leading up to the dinner things had started to shift for Seungkwan and for you too. Joshua had noticed it too when you were wrapping your present. This Christmas was different.

Smoothing his hand over the tablecloth, yes he had even bought and put a tablecloth on his table for you, Seungkwan curses quietly under his breath smelling something suspiciously like burning chicken. “Vernon! Check the chicken! I need to get changed and then you two seriously need to get going. I need you out of here before Y/N gets here. I’m supposed to have done all this by myself.”

Vernon turns with wide eyes towards the oven at Seungkwan’s words, the realization he hadn’t set a timer hitting him in the same moment. A cloud of smoke pillows from the oven making Mingyu groan in disgust, running his hand over his face while he watches Vernon take slightly burnt chicken out of the oven putting it in front of the IPad. “It’s just…like, crusty or something. We can scratch off the really dark parts.”

Your stomach was almost queasy with nerves, your head spinning as you held the package to your side on the walk over to Seungkwan’s. You had sent him a text to let him know you were on your way, his request, a strange one at that, then decided to walk hoping the crisp air would calm you down. There was no reason you should be this nervous about going to his apartment. You had been there almost as much as you had been at your own apartment, but this felt all different.

Joshua had been the one to point it out to you so clearly he was to blame for all of this anxiety. He had helped you pick out the wrapping paper, watched you wrap the plain white box, that stupid smirk on his face the entire time. Then the jerk had the audacity to bring up how much Seungkwan was going to love the gift, how romantic it was. It wasn’t romantic, it was sentimental. You were going sentimental with this gift.

Looking up at the apartment building you blow out a breath shaking out your arms and your nerves one more time before starting up the steps and into the building. You only pause a moment to press the buzzer signal to Seungkwan that he has a guest, your feet hitting the steps working your way up.

The sound of the buzzer sends a panic through not only Seungkwan but the rest of the men including Mingyu who grabs his phone standing up to start pacing. “They are early! I mean everything is done but…you two are still there. Seungkwan wanted…” Joshua’s groan cuts off the rest of Mingyu’s sentence while he and Vernon watch Seungkwan move back into the room, his eyes wide with panic.

“Hide, right now. You will just have to sneak out when Y/N isn’t looking. Mingyu, I love you and thank you for everything but bye!” Seungkwan was quicker than Vernon, his hand hitting the red phone button before Mingyu even had a chance to respond. Vernon wanted to tell Seungkwan that everything was going to be great, that he looked sharp, and good luck but he knew better than to say anything at this point. Instead he grabbed Joshua’s elbow tugging him towards the guest bedroom just in time to hear the front door opening and your softer voice calling out Seungkwan’s name.

“Oh my god…” Joshua’s voice was quiet enough that Vernon wasn’t too afraid you or Seungkwan would hear but he still shushed him gesturing to the door pushing against it while also pulling in order to open it a crack without making a sound. “Vernon, if Seungkwan…”

“We have to sneak out, and I want to see how it goes.” Joshua knew Vernon had a point, it would be easier to sneak out if the door was already cracked, and he had to admit he did want to see your reaction to everything. Leaning into Vernon, Joshua grunts slightly to the feeling of the other man’s elbow hitting his ribs hearing him tell him to give him space.

Your eyes move around the sight of the kitchen, it was a disaster but you hadn’t expected much less when Seungkwan had told you he was going to cook. You still find yourself unable to stop smiling when you find him working to put the food on to the plates so carefully. Your heart tightening impossibly more at such a simple gesture when you consider how hard he must have worked on all of this. “Hey Kwan.”

Seungkwan pretends to be slightly surprised leaning into your kiss on his cheek, which were warmer than you were used to them being. He shies away only slightly at your laugh turning to meet your eyes, a soft gasp falling from his lips when he takes in your appearance. “You look stunning Y/N. I should have dressed up more. I didn’t…think, I don’t know what I thought.”

His eyes fall to the present tucked under your arm while you do the shying away this time. “Please, you look fantastic and this looks so good. I can’t believe you did all this by yourself. I’m so impressed..” Seungkwan starts to defend himself when you say you can’t believe he did it, but a smile replaces the look on his face when you finish your statement.

“I just wanted to do something nice for you. Something you do for me all the time, I don’t thank you enough for taking care of me Y/N.” Your head was spinning with Seungkwan’s words. Your eyes follow him while he sits the plates at the table before returning to you, that smile on his lips that makes you feel like you want to melt right there. He had never made you feel like that, you think but then quickly realize you were lying to yourself. You had never allowed yourself to feel that way before.

“You are easy to want to take care of Kwan, and you do take care of me too. Speaking of, um Merry Christmas. It’s a strange present but I hope you like it.” Holding out the box towards Seungkwan you dare to meet his eyes feeling the slight tension between the two of you that had never been there before. His hands brush over yours while taking the present from you, a small laugh escaping his lips. You watch Seungkwan shake his head, his body turning towards the kitchen island and you so he can unwrap the box.

Seungkwan can’t help but to notice how you are watching him, how you swallow harder when he is closer while he unwraps his gift. He was reacting the same way. Have you always smelled this good? Of course you had, he remembered when you bought this body wash and the scent but god it was intoxicating now. Lifting the top of the box Seungkwan laughs when he sees the hoodie inside, his head tilting glancing back over to you in question.

“I kinda stole it from you back in college when we first met. I know it’s your favorite. I keep stealing it because I like it so much but I felt like it was time to give it back. Actually let you have something that is your favorite for once. Not be so selfish.” That was something Seungkwan had never seen you be, selfish. Shaking his head, Seungkwan takes the hoodie out of the box bringing it to his nose to take in the scent of you, a smile on his lips, shaking his head before meeting your eyes again. “Y/N, thank you. This is perfect but I don’t want it back. It’s my favorite because I love seeing you wear it.”

Joshua elbows Vernon hard causing him to groan and glance over to him. He wanted to complain about being elbowed but both of them were smiling too hard seeing how this was going. You furrow your brows watching Seungkwan close the gap between you offering you the hoodie, your eyes moving from it to his face twice making him laugh. “Seriously, it’s yours–”

“It’s about freaking time. Now I’m ready to get out of here. I don’t want to see anything else.” Vernon laughs under his breath at Joshua’s words glancing away as your lips meet Seungkwan’s for the first time causing Seungkwan to gasp, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. His eyes glance past your head watching your two best friends slipping out the front door, his hand slipping around the back of your neck letting his eyes meet yours again when you give him a nervous glance.

“Everyone else knew huh? Were we the last to know?” Your laugh causes Seungkwan to laugh, his lips meeting yours again, this time more tender it takes your breath away. This really would be a Christmas neither one of you would ever forget.

tag list; @bangchanbabygirlx @just-here-to-read-01 @niktwazny303 @strawberri-uyu @yeritheloml @tis-niki @noraehey @hoohoohope @otterpopchan @xuxibelle @foxdaisy @smileysuh @vern0nsworld @synthetickitsune @enhacolor @pandorashbox @yeosayang @gyuhanniescarat @yoonguurt @jwnghyuns @xoxodino @sakurasangcl @woniewhite @fantasy2wonderland @midnightvalentines @woozis-wife @cheolsbestie @sunnyteume @sakurasangcl @multi-kpop-fanfics @noseblowersanonymous @whyokoa @baldi-2 @misssugarlips @raevyng @sstarryoong @dkakapizzaboy @noniestars @hoohoohope @tigermoonbiss @diving1ntoyou @valentxi @98linerz

please note that I am doing my best to tag all of you who have filled out the tag list form but tumblr won’t let me tag some of you. I think that is because either you have tags turned off or possibly a blank tumblr page. consider reblogging some of the fics you like from me or other writers. ♥

#seungkwan fluff #seventeen fluff #svthub #caratwritersclub #svthub.collab #svt #boo seungkwan fluff #seungkwan x reader #seungkwan fanfic #snowventeen

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fandomscompilation · 11 months

Text

The story of two broken souls (Kaz Brekker x Reader) Part 13

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: eventual Kaz Brekker x Reader

Warnings: talks about menagerie, guns, knives, threats, talks about murder, mentions of a dark past

A/N: Welcome, welcome! Here's another part that I had prepared. I'm starting on the next chapters, but I need to get Netflix cause I can't have it at my bf and mine. So there's that 👍🏻 But enjoy this one and let me know what you think!

Taglist: @d34drapunzel @coldheartedmar @igakc

Gif is not mine!

Kaz dragged me out with him to find Jesper on the streets of Ketterdam. We found him fairly quickly, but I noticed him looking around for something, or someone.

"Jesper, new job!" Kaz shouted nearing our friend. "Come along."

I watched Jesper smile to himself before he jogged behind us. We went throught the back streets while he got distracted with everything every few minutes.

"I mean it. We need a demo man." Jesper said after walking beside a stall with some explosives.

"You're still on that?" Kaz shook his head not stopping.

"Yeah, I babysit enough with you. Not to mention a guy with a knack for blowing things up." I grunted while another woman tried to show me some jewelry, probably fake either way.

"I just brought it up tonight." He argued looking around at people.

"Jesper, you ask for an explosives expert on every job." Kaz points out and I nod along. He even talks about it after getting few drinks.

"Because I don't want to be the one you point to and say, "Explode something for us." That is not a Jesper talent. I shoot things with style. And I look good." He says pointing at Kaz making me huff.

"And a big ego." I tease making Jesper wink at me.

"Alina Starkov will be kept at the Little Palace. Entering that building requires us to be quiet." Kaz explained to Jesper while I looked to the building ahead of us. "Blowing something up, we've likely failed."

"Then we should take Inej." Jesper said like it was second nature. "She's a good investment. More quiet than I'll ever be. She can't stay here, you know that." Jesper caught Kaz's elbow stopping him. He glared at the hand like it burned him and Jesper pulled himself away. "Whoa. Hang on, aren't we on Pekka's turf now?"

"I go to Heleen now and ask for her buyout, she know I need Inej and sets a price I can't pay." Kaz explains quickly and Jesper frowns.

"That's evil. Well, how do you know that?" He asks looking to Kaz confused.

"It's what I would do." I shake my head knowing he probably did it. "Besides, Inej refuses to kill. Would you trust her in a matter of life and death?"

"Well, I've trusted her so far and I'm still alive, so, yeah." He says while I voice my agreement too. Inej might have her own rules, but I didn't doubt her for one second. "Now, you want to tell me why we're scoping out a rival club?"

"To have a talk with an old business partner." Kaz said looking to the building with displeasure.

"The bouncer will know you on sight." Jesper said making Brekker look back to him.

"That's why I brought you. Make sure they don't see me." He said before walking away from us. We looked to each other before sighting tiredly.

We walked up to the doors and Jesper shoot at the boot sign on the wall. In a second all of them ran down the stairs and pointed their guns at us. Jesper raised his one arm up, while the other was draped around my waist. I hugged myself close to his chest in an act of fear, but also to make sure his chest was hidden by my face.

"You heard that, too?" Jesper asked pointing to the side.

"Was that you?" The bouncer asked with the guns still pointed at us.

"No, I'm, uh... I'm bouncing for the Clipper. And had a small break to see my lady." He squizzed my waist while Kaz was sneaking behind the man.

"Haven't seen you before? Where's Tombar?" The man asked but they guns were lowered now, making me straighten up lightly. They started to turn around while Kaz was still in the doorway, his eyes set on us for a moment.

"Hey, hey. Was that sign damaged before?" Jesper asked and when they looked up he shot the sign. I covered again hiding his chest. "Saints. Where was that?" He asked with his arm still raised. They looked at each other confused before one of them told us to stay put. The other one started to walk around the street looking for anything out of the ordinary.

When I finally noticed Kaz safely walk out I whimpered hugging Jesper tightly.

"Can we go now please?" I all but whined and the men huffed letting us go.

We hurried to catch up with Kaz, who looked like he was on a mission.

"What did you learn?" I asked falling in step with him.

"I've got an address. Go ahead and make sure nothing happens." He said giving me a piece of paper and I hurried to the rooftops.

I ran along the tiles and kept an eye out for Kaz and Jesper. I circled the whole building noticing everything was locked. I jumped down in front of the doors where they stopped.

"It's locked." Kaz sighted crouching down to pick the lock. "Keep a lookout." Jesper nodded while I walked in before Kaz.

"Better stay behind me." Kaz said trying to sidestep me, but I blocked his way.

"Do not forget who I am, Brekker." I send him a glare and we followed the noise. When we neared the doorway I recognized Inej's voice.

"Ask the Saints for me." She said when we finally stepped into the room. I noticed the man and Kaz was the first one to react.

"Don't!" He shouted making Inej throw her dagger at us and I redirected it with my own blades. It flew past us to emb itself into the doorway next to Kaz's head. "He's our way to Alina Starkov." He said still quiet shaken from the attack while I stepped up to the pair.

"Him?" Inej asked with her knife still on his throat. I placed my hand over hers.

"Heleen knew it. She was using you to sabotage our mission." His words made Inej frown in confusion and she shook her head.

"She and I made a deal." Her hand began trembling and I pulled it back lightly.

"It isn't worth more than what we get with him alive." Brekker stepped closer trying to stop her too.

"You choose him over my freedom?" She asks turning to face him while I make sure her hand doesn't slip with the turmoil of emotion she felt right now.

"You assume it's one or the other." He says and Inej stills for a moment before stepping back. "Conductor. I have a job for you." Kaz stands over him and I groan getting the man into a sitting position.

After Kaz's talk with the Conductor we all made our way back to the Slat where he immediately went to his office and the three of us stayed downstairs. Inej was obviously still a bit shaken about almost killing the man, while Jesper kept on glancing at both of us.

"You asked Jesper to do it. Before we got to him." I stated leaning back in my chair and they both looked at me. "Why didn't you come to me?"

"Because I knew you would do it without question." Inej admitted looking down at the table. I sighted reaching for her hand.

"I'd kill more than just one man if it meant your conscience was untouched Inej." I said in a soft voice making her smile lightly.

"I know. And I think that was the reason why I didn't come to you." She admitted and I could see her pain.

"It's in the past now. You didn't do it." I squizzed her hand before letting her go.

"What if I wanted to?" Inej asked looking to both Jesper and me.

"We're human, Inej. We're the worst type of predators. And sometimes that animalistic part wins." I shrugged looking at the few Dregs laughing around.

When Kaz finally walked down we were informed to pack lightly and head for Novokribirsk. I was the only one that went to my room and didn't come out in seconds. But I still wasn't a Crow, I still didn't want to cross the Fold.

"Why are you not packed?" Kaz all but barked getting into my room without knocking. Minutes after they were supposed to leave.

"Because I'm not going." I huffed turning to face him.

"You're on this job as much as the others." He said stepping closer with an air of authority.

"I don't remember when I agreed to this." I snapped back and took a step closer too. He looked down at me with a clenched jaw, but I wasn't giving up that easily.

"You're either going to pack or I'll drag you out." He threatened making me laugh. I shook my head in irritation.

"I came here on a job, yes. But not this one. I didn't sign up to cross the Fold again or to go back to that Saints forsaken place!" I shouted letting my anger speak. It took only a second for my words to register in my brain. I straightened up while Brekker watched me carefully.

"You've crossed the Fold?" His eyes squinted dangerously.

"Who do you think brought that woman into your Club, huh? Who do you think gave you a way through that pitch black hole?" I asked stepping away to lean my hands on the dresser. "I am not going back there, Kaz. Do not ask me."

"If you know the way around the Little Palace that means we need you more than ever." I could hear him step closer and I felt his presence hover behind me. He was close, but it felt like he was already on the other side of the Fold.

"You have no idea about my past. And going back means living through it again. I am not ready to do that." I shook my head to get rid of the memories that flooded my mind.

"You are not the same as you were. You survived Ketterdam, you balanced between gangs and you took lives. You became the Void Blade. And if you coming means bringing her back to life then so be it." Kaz said and I knew it took a lot to allow my other identity to come back to life. It would mess with our plan and bring attention to both me and Dirtyhands.

"Fine." I spat out grabbing few of my hiddens weapons that were only assimilated to the Blade. "But if it goes wrong.."

"It won't." He said keeping his gaze on me. "Now let's go."

#fanfiction #writing #fanfic #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows #kaz brekker series #the story of two broken souls #kaz dirtyhands brekker #requests are open

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kaleidoscopewritings19 · 2 years

Text

Bruce Wayne x Reader

“THE CIRCUS AND THE FLYING GRAYSONS”

Part 2 to “Black Boas, Tiaras, and Fake Jewelry”

Warnings: Mentions of Death

Characters: Bruce Wayne (Robert Pattinson) x Reader, And Alfred

________

Bruce was buttoning up his dress shirt and you put on a simple, blue, floral sun dress. You put on a leather jacket and a pair of black converse to finish your look. This has been the first time in a few months since you guys had a date night, and both of you wanted to try something new. So why not go to the circus?

While you were putting on red lipstick, Bruce came up behind you and placed a kiss on your cheek. “Are you almost ready, darling?” He asked and you puckered at the mirror to make sure you didn’t miss a spot. “Yes, I believe I am. Don’t forget the tickets, they’re on the kitchen counter.” You say as you tossed your lipstick, cellphone and wallet into your purse.

You walked down the stairs and Bruce was already waiting for you by the front door. Alfred came around the corner the same time as you, “Looking beautiful as always, Miss Y/N.” He said and you curtseyed and said a quick thank you. “Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” you ask as you linked your arm with Bruce’s. “I am sure. I’m going to start my spring cleaning early.” He said. “But go enjoy yourselves. A married couple need to spend quality time together.” Alfred said as he shooed you guys out of the house.

The drive felt different and something felt off to you, Bruce noticed your uneasiness and he placed his hand on your thigh. His left hand held the steering wheel steady, and his silver wedding band glistened when the sunlight hit it. You watched the way the sun hit it, and you felt a little more at ease. “Y/N, why are you nervous? Your bouncing your leg and you only do that when your nervous.” He said and you stopped bouncing your knee and gave Bruce a small smile.

“This is going to sound so dumb...” you say as you look out the window. “I’m scared of clowns...” you said under your breath, and it was barely loud enough for Bruce to hear. “What was that?” Bruce asked as he leaned closer to you. You sighed deeply, “I’mscaredofclowns.” you ran your words together and Bruce cracked a smile.

“What?” Bruce said again and you huffed in annoyance: “I said-”

“No, no. I heard what you said, I just can’t believe that you, my wife, are scared of clowns. And spiders- they’re both harmless.” He said and you glared at Bruce. “For one clowns are freaky looking and after watching IT, I don’t want to find myself near one. And two, spiders are little diabolical creatures!” You state and you shiver at the thought of spiders and clowns.

Bruce started laughing and the big top tent came into view. Bruce pulled into a parking space, and you watched as children hurried inside excitedly, and the parents were even running with their children. You were sure everyone- especially the rich people of Gotham were here. Even the paparazzi was following the “big names” of Gotham.

He opened the car door for you, “I promise, I will protect you from all clowns and the occasional spider.” He said and you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “Thanks. But please don’t make me go near a clown. Don’t let them near me...” You say and Bruce shook his head, “No promises. I don’t want to cause a scene if one happens to walks up to you.” He said and you crossed your arms. “Do you feel like signing divorce papers?” you say jokingly and Bruce brought you into a hug. “Come on. Let’s go find a seat.” he said as he picked up your hand and led the way into the tent.

When the two of you found seats, you sat next to a couple that worked for Wayne Enterprises. “How are you, Mary?” you asked and she smiled as she rubbed her pregnant belly. “I am ready to give this baby an eviction notice.” she said and you chuckled. The two of you were friends but weren’t best friends. She was the sweetest person you would ever meet, “Any luck for you and Bruce?” she asked as she pointed to your stomach. Shaking your head you watched the jugglers juggle bowling pins, “No luck at all.” You say and you turned back to Mary who had a sad expression on her face. “If you’ve been trying for over a year, may I suggest that you go to the doctor?” She said quietly and you nodded your head. You and Bruce had agreed if you guys cannot have children, the next step would be adoption or fostering.

Bruce tightened his grip on your hand and rubbed your knuckles in a circular motion with his thumb. You looked up at him and he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I heard the Flying Grayson’s are coming up next, and I hear they put on a good show.” You say and all of the lights went out for a minute or so.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, Haley’s Circus brings you: THE FLYING GRAYSONS!” He shouts and emphasizes the Grayson’s name. The spotlight shines on a man and a woman; they both drop their robes, and wasted no time at all. The man took off running and jumped off at the platform; most of everyone gasped, but he caught himself on one of the flying trapezes. Everyone began to clap and shout, and he jumped to the other one.

This time, he was hanging onto the trapeze by the back of his legs. With his legs supporting him, his wife jumped on a trapeze and swung to him. He caught her hands and Bruce began to clap, watching intently. “And here comes the youngest family member! Remember folks, they’re doing this all without the safety net to catch them!” The announcer shouted. A young boy emerged from the shadows, and the spotlight shined on him and his parents. When his parents swung to meet his jump, the wires holding up the trapezes fell.

I hid my face into Bruce’s shoulder and screams of terror filled the room. Bruce stood up and he grabbed your hand and led you through the crowd of people who were trying to leave. Your eyes gazed up at the young boy who stayed on the platform- frozen in shock. Both of you stayed until the police told you and Bruce to leave, “Sorry Mr. Wayne. But this is a crime scene, take Mrs. Wayne home. As of right now, this place isn’t safe for you guys.” The detective said and Bruce walked closer to the detective.

“Was there fowl play?” he asked and the detective looked back over his shoulder. “In my opinion. someone did this on purpose. Guess you’ll hear it on the news soon enough.” He said as he looked up in annoyance at the news crews entering the tent.

You watched one of the police officers escort the young boy down from the platform. Looking up at Bruce, he led you away from the scene and took you home. When you arrived at home, you changed into sweatpants and one of Bruce’s t-shirts. You were shook up by the whole thing and you found Bruce sitting in his study. He had a glass of bourbon in his right hand, staring at the picture of his parents that hung on the wall.

You laid your hand on Bruce’s shoulder, and he adjusted so you could sit on his lap. “Are you okay?” you asked quietly as you sat on his lap and he sat his glass on the desk. “I’m- I’m fine. All of that brought back memories...” he said as he wrapped his arms around you.

“I have to ask you something Y/N, and I need your full honest opinion.” Bruce said as he looked down to look into your eyes. You nodded, “I would like to foster the Grayson’s boy. He needs somewhere to go and I can’t simply let him go to the local orphanage.”

You were taken aback, did you hear Bruce correctly? The man who couldn’t imagine having kids, wanting a child? You tore your gaze away from Bruce and looked down at your wedding band. Your mind took you back to when Bruce was having a tea party with your niece, and your heart skipped a beat thinking about it.

You wrapped your arms around Bruce and whispered a quiet, “Yes.”

_________

TAGLIST: @lexivass @minstens

Part 3 coming in a few hours!

#batman x reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x batmom #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #robert pattinson #batmoblie #battinson #dc comics #dc heroes #alfred pennyworth #dick grayson #the flying graysons

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loosesodamarble · 1 year

Text

Wedding March

Summery: A series of vignettes about Morgen and Josele preparing for their marriage. Part of it is inspired by "Monster's March" by Kenshi Yonezu. Genre: romance Word count: ~3800

..........

There were times in one’s life when all things seemed brighter. When one was all too eager to rise from their bed and face the world. When one’s heart felt lighter than a feather and their smile couldn’t be hidden. In some cases, those high moods came with no prompting, they simply happened to a person. That itself was a joy.

But for Josele, she knew what it was that made her heart race in recent days.

She stared at the ring, at the polished gold and sparkling brown gemstone, that Morgen had presented to her and put on her finger only a couple weeks ago.

Each time Josele looked at her ring, it appeared more lovely than the last time she saw it. It wasn’t just the jewelry’s physical beauty either. What the ring represented, the hope for the future that was Josele and Morgen’s union, became more wonderful too.

Josele was brought out of her thoughts by the sound of a familiar voice.

“Whoa there, Jo! You looking to blind someone this morning?” Yami asked with a chortle as he stopped in front of Josele.

“Huh?” Josele blinked then quickly examined herself. Had she been using Shining Joy by accident? But seeing no glow of Light Magic around her body, she gave Yami a shake of the head. “Very funny, Yami.”

“I know I am.” Yami patted Josele’s back and they started to walk together towards the mess hall. “So how long are you gonna go around with that dopey grin on your face?”

Scoffing, Josele smacked Yami’s shoulder. “It’s not dopey. It’s lovestruck.” She held her left hand to her chest then sighed, “And I don’t know when I’ll stop smiling, if ever.”

“Your face is gonna start hurting then,” said Yami.

“I don’t mind. I don’t think Morgen would either,” Josele remarked with a light shrug. “Better that I smile all the time instead of frown, yeah?”

“I think both would get creepy after a while, but I’d also prefer a smile.” Yami ruffled Josele’s hair before she swatted his hand away. “A smile’s a good look on you anyway.”

“Y-you think?” Josele blushed and grinned even wider.

“Yeah. Even if it’s dopey.” Yami caught Josele’s hand before she could punch him for his comment. “I know I said it before, but congratulations.”

Yami, a rough guy who caused as many problems as he solved, maybe more in reality. Rarely did he act like he took anything seriously. Yet in that moment, his words were spoken with a plainness. His eyes held a softness that gave away the truth in his heart.

It made Josele feel all the more confident in the joy she felt about herself and Morgen.

.....

Morgen stretched his arms over his head and let out a groan as he did. His limbs felt sore and heavy but Morgen found that he didn’t mind. Satisfaction was at the front of his thoughts instead as he and his teammates had successfully completed another mission. The ache was a sign of a job well done.

“You look oddly energized after all that work.” Morgen turned and smiled sympathetically at William as the younger Deer approached. “Or did you perhaps loaf around when we weren’t looking?”

“Certainly not. You saw me fighting on the front lines, William,” Morgen laughed as he answered. “But you’re right.” Morgen touched a hand to his cheek. “I wonder if my energy is perhaps…” His heart performed a quick flutter and he grinned knowing who it was for. “Perhaps it’s due to the anticipation of seeing Josele again.”

At that, William let out a guffaw. “Incredible! You really are in love!” He patted Morgen’s shoulder and they started to walk together. “Some might even say ‘besotted’!”

“W-well I do love Josele!” Morgen stammered. “And you say it like it’s a bad thing!”

“It’s more amazement, my friend. But I admit…” William’s voice grew quiet and he leaned closer to Morgen as he continued, “I think you might want to restrain your passion a bit unless you wish to earn the ire of those who don’t happen to have a girlfriend.”

“Well I don’t have a girlfriend either. Josele is my fiance,” Morgen whispered back in jest. “But! I understand.” Morgen looked up at the sky. “I’ve gotten so caught up in my feelings for Josele lately that I forget how to act properly.”

While Morgen could certainly conform to the sophisticated practices that came with his class and upbringing, he never favored having to act in those ways. He didn’t outright hate them—at least in most cases he didn’t—but he didn’t exactly like them either. And Josele, being with her, made him forget the need to mind his manners. She freed him to be whomever he pleased. Which included being a man hopelessly in love with her.

“Even the simple change from girlfriend to fiance has made Josele so much more loveable that I can’t help myself,” Morgen mused. “That feeling will surely increase once I call her my wife.”

“And when that day comes, you can gush about her until your voice is hoarse,” William said before he started to walk ahead. “Although, don’t expect me to listen to your whole soliloquy.”

Morgen let out another laugh before hurrying after his teammate. He was a fool in love for all to see, but he didn’t mind.

.....

The smell of chocolate and caramel filled Morgen and Josele’s nostrils as they stepped into Driftwood Desserts.

“Welcome! Welcome in, my favorite customers!” The elderly owner of the store, Gladis, walked around the front counter and towards the couple. She stopped just in front of Morgen and Josele, placing a hand on their faces, caressing their smiles. “Let me get a look at you… My, you’re absolutely glowing today!”

“Thanks!” Morgen replied. He took a step closer and fully embraced the old woman. “And you look to be in great health as well.”

Gladis waved a hand in the air and laughed, “Thank you, thank you. And I think you know as well as I do that the secret to it is living happily.”

Josele and Morgen looked at each other before nodding in agreement.

“So, shall I get you two the usual for today?” Gladis asked while moving to return behind the counter.

“A-actually.” Josele stepped forward, causing Gladis to pause. “Morgen and I want to make a special order today,” she said as her grin spread on her face.

“Oh, does your captain want another sugar sculpture for your squad?” Gladis beamed with pride. She was far along in life yet her enthusiasm was as boundless as a child’s. “I’ve been itching for a bigger project lately, you know!”

“Well…” Josele giggled into her hand. “It’s a big project. Just… a little more personal.” She turned her hand to give a better view of her ring. “There was no other option when it came to where we’d get a wedding cake from.”

Gladis’ jaw dropped. Her head flicked back and forth between Josele and Morgen, who silently nodded to confirm. Then, her face lit up with the largest grin imaginable.

“Oh my goodness!” Gladis gasped and put a hand to her heart. “I’d be a fool to turn down the chance. And the money!” She walked back over to the young adults and grasped one of their hands each. “You two’ve always been so good to each other so you better keep that up. And while you still get to be yourselves, your lives are really shared once you’re married, understand me?”

Morgen and Josele quietly nodded. With that Gladis brought Morgen and Josele’s hands together.

The pair looked at their joined hands then into each other’s eyes. They more than understood the commitment they were making. It was part of why they were making it in the first place.

For no rhyme or reason, Morgen felt a surge of adoration for Josele. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. Josele let out a squeak but smiled up at Morgen once he pulled back.

“Sweetheart,” he mumbled, again for no reason.

Though maybe the only reason he needed was his love for her.

“Want to discuss the details of the cake then?” Gladis asked, watching the couple with an amused grin.

“Yes, let’s,” Morgen answered.

.....

It was the quiet afternoon of a day off.

Morgen sat at his desk, looking down at a list of names. The guest list for his and Josele’s wedding. He’d done his best to cap the list to one hundred individuals as Josele had agreed to a larger ceremony but insisted that it not be “too big.” It wasn’t a serious loss at least. Because for those who didn’t attend, Morgen could take joy in being able to introduce Josele to them as his wife the next time they met. Josele, too, would begin introducing Morgen as her husband.

Thinking of that scenario brought a smile to Morgen’s lips.

There was so much to anticipate. The wedding itself and even thereafter.

Having finished reviewing the guests, Morgen rose from his seat and went to where Josele was, laying on their loveseat and looking over a different paper. Morgen silently touched Josele’s shoulder and in response, she started to sit up. Once there was room to do so, Morgen sat down. Then, he guided Josele back down so her head laid in his lap.

“What’s on your mind, my heart?” Morgen asked while combing his fingers through Josele’s hair.

“Well at first I was thinking about floral arrangements…” Josele muttered, gesturing to her paper and the various sketches of possible bouquets on it. “But then I was thinking about children.” She gazed up at Morgen with wide eyes. “I’m not thinking too far ahead, am I?”

“Not at all,” Morgen replied with a grin. “I’m glad I’m not the only one.” He used his free hand to hold one of Josele’s. Their fingers intertwined, like second nature to them. “To be honest, I can't wait to be a parent.” Morgen closed his eyes and began to rock side-to-side, letting himself get lost in thought. “I’d want a large family, where the children play together and learn from one another. I’d like for them all to be friends or at least care for each other.”

“Lots of kids sounds good,” Josele mused aloud, closing her eyes as well. “All that love, increasing with every child we have.”

Morgen hummed.

To be married wasn’t the end goal for him or Josele. It was but one step in a longer, grander journey that they called life. The wedding was certainly an important moment—it would be like a stepping stone made of diamonds in a garden path if Morgen were to compare it to anything—but there was more to come after it. And that more was a family.

“So how many would you like, my dear? I’d like… four maybe?”

“Is ten too many?”

Morgen threw his head back as he laughed. “Are you sure you want to put yourself through all that?” He smiled down at Josele and was met with her wide grin. “We could start our own squad with that many.”

“I like kids, okay?” Josele muttered, turning her face into Morgen’s stomach.

“More than okay, it’s wonderful.” Morgen silently stroked Josele’s hair for a moment longer. “I’d like for our children to resemble you. With pretty brown eyes and hair… Your warm smile… Everything that I love about you, I want our kids to have. So that they can be loved for those same things.”

Josele faced up to Morgen again, blushing bright pink.

“Oh Momo!” she cooed while sitting upright. She turned to face Morgen, crouched on all fours, and leaned in until their noses touched. “Well I hope the kids look like you. At least one should have your eyes which are clearer and bluer than the sky. And if they could be people with brave, kind hearts too, that’d make me happy.”

Drawn to each other, Morgen and Josele shared a feather light kiss. Then, Josele moved back to sit more normally.

“But… The children will also be their own people, huh?” Josele said. “I’d like for them to resemble us, but I’d love to see how they’re different from us.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

If they were different, then Morgen would take it as a sign that their kids were raised without the same difficulties that he and Josele lived with. Being an only child. Or growing distant with a sibling. Losing a parent. Or having parents that hardly cared. Growing up too quick or having one’s passion suffocated by duty.

Morgen wanted none of that for any children of his. And with Josele at his side, he had hope that such pains would never find them.

.....

Hand-in-hand, that’s how they always walked. Even while out on a patrol as Magic Knights, Morgen and Josele held onto one another. It only made sense to them.

At that moment, Morgen and Josele walked towards the meeting point where the Magic Knights for the evening patrol would take over. As the sun set over the town, signaling the end of their shift, the streets were bathed in a golden glow that made the mundane world seem breathtaking.

“Thank goodness for a peaceful day, right, Josie?” Morgen asked as he squeezed Josele’s hand.

Turning her head to Morgen, Josele nodded. She was always willing to fight if it meant protecting others, but Josele preferred not needing to do so in the first place. Dull circumstances were often safe ones, and Josele could live with that.

“Josele,” Morgen muttered as he came to a stop, “can you look at me for a moment?”

“Sure?” Josele faced her betrothed, smiling despite her confusion. “Something up, Momo?”

The sunset was at Morgen’s back, causing the sun’s light to envelop him and make it seem that he was the one glowing. It was a different sight compared to the usual silver halo that his Light Magic gave him. But it was no less handsome.

As Josele stared at Morgen, she realized that he was gazing back at her with the same adoration.

“Yup, I thought so, I still love your eyes the most…”

Josele blinked before letting out a quick laugh, “Oh you!” She tugged on Morgen’s hand. “C’mon, let’s get going.”

They started to walk again. After a few strides though, Morgen stepped in front of Josele, as if to face her, and lifted Josele’s open hand to his shoulder before putting his hand on her waist.

“M-Morgen?!” Josele, as shocked as she was, still naturally matched Morgen’s rhythm. “What’re you—?”

“Practicing our wedding dance of course,” Morgen answered whilst chuckling. “To hold you close and stare into your eyes like there’s no one else in the world… It feels quite nice.”

What truth Morgen spoke. Josele could’ve easily felt the gazes of strangers that were certainly on her and Morgen as they waltz in the street with no music. But she wasn’t going to pay them any mind.

“It feels good to be by your side in general, Josele. Being with you now… Sometimes, it feels like a miracle. I know it’s not so great a difference as, say, you being born in the Forbidden Realm, but we were practically born in different worlds. And I think we were born apart in order to find each other.” As he spoke, Morgen continued to guide Josele’s steps, even getting her to twirl along the way. “Does that make sense?”

Humming softly, Josele considered Morgen’s words. It was true that there could’ve been a greater difference of status between them. But their lifestyles were still drastically dissimilar: her, a commoner who decided to work beginning at age four, and him, a noble who had enough luxury to be bored with it. And being born apart only to find each other…?

“Yeah, I get it, sunrise,” she finally replied. “After all, people go looking for things that are far from them, rather than near.”

If Josele had only known people like herself as a child, she wouldn’t have become who she was in the present. Meeting Morgen, who was different in some ways and similar in others, was what changed her.

So of course she would believe Morgen.

“I’m glad…” Morgen leaned in and nuzzled their foreheads. “To have met you at all and now to be close to marrying you… Gods, am I happy…”

“I know how you feel. And I can’t wait for what comes next for us.”

What was to come was sure to be beautiful.

.....

Josele and Morgen decided to go about acquiring their wedding attire in an untraditional fashion.

The taboo was that the groom seeing the bride in her gown prior to the ceremony brought bad luck. But the couple agreed that they wanted to look matched for their wedding day. Not only that but they wanted to be the first ones to see each other in their chosen suit and gown.

And so they went shopping together.

It began with finding dresses similar to Josele’s favorite dresses: ones with voluminous skirts that used layers of light material such as lace or gossamer. Ruffles and beading were another thing Josele sought out, ruling out a selection of dresses. Narrowing it down further, Morgen suggested a dress with an off-the-shoulder necklace since he found the look alluring on Josele.

The couple then considered options for Morgen’s suit. Black was ruled out. Though neither understood why, Josele and Morgen both felt black didn’t complement Morgen’s appearance as it did for Nacht. Grey and navy were thus the top color choices. Josele insisted that Morgen look for embroidered jackets, so his outfit would have an elegance and flair to it.

The couple searched the boutique for what felt like hours. Then when it came to try out the options, that felt like an eternity.

“The skirt on this one is too poofy. It might be hard to dance in it.”

“Oh no, that pattern doesn’t work on you, Momo.”

“All the beading on this bodice, it’s not for you, my sweet.”

“Ah, I look terribly pallid in this suit.”

“This dress looks nice but I don’t think it’d look good next to any of the available suits.”

Soon, the fitting came to the final dress and suit the pair had picked out.

Morgen’s final suit was an unexpected pick from Josele. It was a white suit with golden embroidery along the front of the suit jacket, the cuffs, and hems. Morgen thought to wear the golden cuff links Josele had given him last year with the suit when he first saw it. Then, as he was putting it on, he realized that white was the perfect color for his suit.

He would wear white to match Josele’s dress but also as a symbol. Marriage was a new life, a clean slate of sorts, for both husband and wife. And so it was sensible for Josele as well as himself to don white as one. Or, well, white with golden embroidery for Morgen.

Josele, meanwhile, stepped into a dress picked out by Morgen. It had a little of everything they’d decided they wanted. It wasn’t entirely white as they’d initially imagined as the neckline and beads had a pearly, off-white color but they didn’t need it to be “pure” white.

When each half of the couple stepped out of the changing stall, they immediately stopped to stare at one another.

Their names were whispered. Maybe.

Neither Morgen nor Josele was sure if they’d really spoken the name of their lover or if they were so overwhelmed at the sight of one another that everything but the name of their beloved ceased to exist.

Never before had Josele seen Morgen look so bright. In the white and gold together, he looked like the shining prince she lovingly called him. He looked angelic even.

And though Josele would always be beautiful in Morgen’s eyes, the layers of lace and satin on Josele made her seem like the most divine of visions, an incomparable beauty.

Slowly, they walked up to each other.

“I think these are the ones,” Josele said as she stroked the golden thread that went up and down Morgen’s torso.

Morgen traced a finger along the neckline that outlined Josele’s sturdy shoulders. He then caressed Josele’s face in both hands and replied, “I think so too.”

.....

“Morgen Faust, when we met all those years ago, I didn't think we’d ever become friends. Now that I’m here, about to become your wife, I’m forever grateful that I was brave enough to take a chance and open myself up to you and Nacht. You’ve brought so much to my life: happiness, peace, love. And I want to give you those same things too. You are my comfort and my hope, the light shining in my life. Through the good times and the bad, regardless of if we’re right or wrong, I want to be by your side. I vow to support you when you're strong and protect you when you're weak, to see and love every side of you. So long as it’s with you, I can confidently face the future, no matter what it holds.”

“Josele Canty, when we first met, I knew I was drawn to you but I never thought that I’d become your husband. There’s a lot I still don't know, but I do know that there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right here, no one else that I’d rather be with than you. You, with your kindness, honesty, and straightforward love of the world which has captured my heart. Whether there be tears or laughter, I vow to love you, care for you, and fight alongside you. And I want to make more promises that only we’ll know of. I’m sure we’ll both change with time, but know that I’ll fall in love with every version of you, over and over. For right now though, I only want to take your hand, look into your eyes, and take our first step into a beautiful future together.”

Those were the words they had hoped to speak to one another. Their deepest, most honest feelings were wrapped up like gifts. For that’s what the words were. Presents of grand promises to one another.

Though nothing was set in stone. Though nothing could be guaranteed. Morgen and Josele still had hope for each other. For what was to come.

So they would go towards the future, towards light and color, and do so hand-in-hand.

#black clover #black clover fanfic #morgen faust #black clover oc #josele canty #soda's ocs #morgsele #yami sukehiro #william vangeance

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countessofravenclaw · 8 months

Text

Now I see Daylight

This is gonna be a super blunt summary, so here we go... This is a companion piece written for chapter 11: I'll tell you the Truth, but Never Goodbye of Like a Red Rose Blooms in the Oxford Garden (GOS for short). Si, La Trinidad el amor also provides additional context about the Gastina wedding- So, this is the story of what happened after Gastón and Nina's wedding. After Luna and Matteo's speeches revealed a lot of additional secrets about their relationship, James, Oliver, Jacob, Ariana and Marlee obviously had some additional questions

After the cake was cut and the attention was off them for a moment, Gastón dragged Nina—No, his wife—away from the crowd. As he got them to a little more private corner, he pulled her against him tightly and kissed her.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Nina responded as they faces came apart, just a little bit, noses still touching. Gastón was sure he could see stars on her eyes. God, she was beautiful. He totally now understood the sentiment about not seeing the wedding dress before the wedding. He wasn’t so sure how many words he would have gotten out during the ceremony if he had noticed the open back then. “Is the public portion over now?”

“You need to still throw those flowers,” Gastón chuckled and brushed a couple of strands of hair, that had fallen on her face, behind her right ear. “But I may be counting down the time, for us to get out of here, so it can finally just be two of us.”

He started to lean closer to her again…

“STOP!” Jazmin had appeared out of thin air next to them and was inspecting Nina’s hair. “We’ll need to fix that.”

“But…” Gastón wasn’t able to get a word in before Jazmin was already dragging Nina away and calling for Luna.

“Great.” He huffed, shaking his head.

“Enjoying the quiet?” Matteo had suddenly appeared next him.

“I would,” Gastón turned to look at him, “but Jazmin just stole my wife.”

“Well, that’s how she is,” Matteo laughed, “You know, it's extremely weird to hear you say that you have a wife.”

“Well, I do,” Gastón smiled, “I have a wife.”

“Honestly, well done,” Matteo patted him on the back, “Now let's see the bling. First time I see you supporting some jewelry.”

“Oh, this?” Gastón raised his left hand into view and flexed his fingers for a moment. The ring definitely still felt just a tad bit odd, but he surely would get used to it. He had to say, he liked the look of it.

“Gotta say that it suits you.” Matteo grinned. He was a person who wore some jewelry on occasion, like he often wore his dad’s former wedding ring on his right hand in formal events.

“Hey, finally been able to catch you,” Simon joined Matteo and Gastón, “Congratulations! Welcome to the club. I won't be lonely anymore.” He was spinning his own wedding band around.

“Thank you,” Gastón nodded, “Does it stop feeling weird at some point?”

“You don’t want to take it off soon, nor will there be a reason you should,” Simon explained, “Except while doing the dishes, because it’ll fall off and Ambar gets mad at me. I don’t know why. It happens to everybody.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Gastón nodded.

“Great speech, Matteo.” Simón continued, “I’m glad that you were not my best man.”

“Not like I was given much choice on the topic either,” Gastón laughed.

“Hey!” Matteo grumbled, “I poured my heart out! You got what you signed up for.”

“I know,” Gastón patted Matteo on the back, “I’m already looking forward to returning the favor.”

Gastón turned around to see if Jazmin had maybe released Nina already, when he was met with three more pairs of eyes staring at him.

“Okay, so, we have some questions.” Oliver, James, and Jacob had apparently decided to join the little gathering.

“I knew this was gonna happen,” Gastón sighed. Obviously, Luna’s and Matteo’s speeches had revealed lot of details that he and Nina hadn’t had the time to tell all of their Oxford friends.

“A blindfold?”

“You were in love with a screen?” James was staring at him, “At this point we probably should think ourselves lucky that you told us your real name.”

“Hey, look,” Gastón started and reached to grab Matteo by the arm, “I know this revealed maybe couple of details that we hadn’t mentioned before.”

“Couple?” Jacob rolled his eyes, “How about a thousand? Marlee and Ariana told us that one of the other bridesmaids is your ex.”

When had the girls had the time to talk about that? Gastón had a hard time keeping up. Anything could happen in the bridal suite. “Delfi and I had an extremely brief thing before I ever dated Nina. How Ariana and Marlee found that out is beyond me.”

“I purposefully omitted that from the speech.” Matteo piped up.

“We have more questions.”

“I know,” Gastón sighed, “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. I will not be answering anything right now, as it is my wedding and what I say goes. Matteo—” He turned toward Matteo. “—you and Luna have my full permission to tell every secret ever about our early relationship, when were gone on our honeymoon.”

“Way to put me on the spot.”

“We’re holding you to that,” Oliver nodded, “When can we meet up before we go?”

“You can do that in our house,” Simon suddenly piped up, “Cause I wanna hear this.”

***

“Nice place you got here.” Everyone was looking around on Ambar and Simon’s living room after they had let them in.

Ambar had agreed with Simon, that watching Luna and Matteo being grilled about all the details by Gastón and Nina’s Oxford friends would be extremely entertaining, so of course they could do it at theirs. Plus, there was no way they would fit into Luna and Matteo’s apartment.

“Isla helped us,” Ambar explained, “We thought it was the easiest to just get a house that had the potential of being our home forever, before we got married.”

“She was Gastón’s mom, correct?” Ariana asked as they sat on the couches.

“One of the most formidable people in the real estate market in the country and beyond,” Ambar nodded.

“Marco isn’t that different,” Matteo added.

“We know him over six years, and never knew about the millionaire part,” Ariana shook her head. “We clearly know nothing.”

“That’s why we’re here,” James shook his head, “Cause, apparently you know the answers.” He looked at Luna and Matteo.

“Oh yeah, I think we do,” Matteo nodded, “We were there.”

“Sí, todo fue tan loco, no puedo esperar a que lo escuches…” Luna started excitedly but stopped as she was faced by many confused faces.

“Luna, they don’t speak Spanish.”

“Oh, right, sorry.” Luna corrected, and started speaking in very accented English, “I am not gonna be good.”

“I can translate,” Matteo placed his hand on her knee. “Anyways, balls in your court. What do you wanna know?”

“Where do we start?” James was the first to speak, “What’s with the internet handle thing?”

“That’s actually a very good point to start,” Matteo nodded. “It’s a very long story if we start talking about the whole Felicity For Now debacle. Luna, you need to start it. Just speak a sentence at a time, so I can translate it.”

“Well, it started when we were sophomores at Blake,” Luna started, “I had actually just moved here, and met Nina when all a sudden there was this new blog that everyone liked. Nina didn’t tell me at first, so I thought she was texting to some guy when I caught her writing once. Obviously, she wasn’t… at the time. I was the first to know that she was actually the one behind that blog.”

“The blog was called Felicity For Now,” Matteo took over, “And it kind of blew up really fast, at least in our circles. I don’t know how honestly it happened, but Gastón just really like what she did, and they started like chatting. After a while he already started saying that “he felt like he knew her” and that “there was a connection”. You know, when I am repeating these now, it feels so crazy.”

“So, he literally was in love with an internet handle?” Jacob frowned his eyebrows, “Really?”

“Yes,” Matteo nodded, “It gets better from here, trust me.”

“Wait, but if they were only chatting online… How did Gastón ask Nina out, because both of you mentioned in the speeches how Nina stood him up.” Marlee asked next.

“He didn’t ask Nina out, he asked Felicity.” Matteo answered, “Because she didn’t know who he was either… Luna, you need to take over from here.”

“Okay,” Luna laughed, “Well, Nina agreed to go on that date with the so called “Roller Track”, but then she found out it was Gastón and ran away. Because you know, she had always had a crush on him, and he couldn’t possibly like her.”

“This is where the madness really starts,” Matteo started laughing, “Gastón can be extremely stubborn.”

“Yeah, we know.” James leaned back.

“There was some other madness that happened in between, but then they agreed to meet via video.” Matteo put himself back together, “And the girls thought that it would be a good idea to dress Nina up on a wig, honestly, I have no idea how we did not recognize her.”

“And then during the call, I accidentally appeared on the screen,” Luna explained laughing.

“It gets more complicated from here,” Matteo sighed, “But the other part of this story is that while Gastón had been obsessing over his invisible internet girl, he was also literally in love with Nina. I’m not even sure how it really happened, but like they are some sort of soulmates so who knows, but he quickly realized that as well. He was in love with her twice but didn’t realize it.”

“What was with the blindfold?”

“Well, that you need to ask from Gastón,” Matteo admitted, “Neither of us were there, so we can’t really tell what happened. The ring thing on the other hand,” Matteo tried to keep himself from laughing too hard, “You see, during that video call that Luna so rudely interrupted, Nina was wearing a ring that Gastón later for some reason remembered. So, when the desperation strikes twelve, you go check every girl’s hand at school… Including Nina’s, but she wasn’t wearing the ring at the time.”

“What?” Everyone’s faces were absolutely priceless.

“You know, we were only 17-year-olds. The person you know as the almost Oxford valedictorian was pretty stupid once upon a time.” Matteo started to laugh, “Anyways, the bottom line of this is that Gastón was in love with Nina twice and would have gone crazy if she hadn’t finally revealed herself as the mysterious Felicity.”

“So, they just got together after that?”

“Not exactly,” Ambar piped up suddenly. “And that’s my fault. We don’t know each other that well, so I don’t know how much you know about our team.”

“Only that there was a lot of drama,” Ariana answered.

“That would be correct,” Ambar continued, “I used to be a quite of a mean girl… When Nina told everyone that she was Felicity, I decided to sabotage her and Gastón. It was something about her taking my popularity and something…like I said, I was awful. I guess a small part of me was kind of wanting to help Gastón, we have known each other for a really long time. So, in some misguided way I thought he deserved better… Anyways, I was completely wrong and it didn’t work. Anything I tried to sabotage, never worked. The things about the drama are very right.”

“I’m pretty sure you could make a tv-show about our skating shenanigans.” Simon laughed.

“Anyways, that’s more or less how they actually got together,” Matteo nodded, “So if you thought it was super generic high school relationship that Gastón wasn’t able to let go off, it wasn’t exactly like that. Any more questions?”

“What’s the thing with him and his ex?” Oliver asked next, “I mean, you can’t just drop that. Her name was Delfi right?”

“Ambar, you probably know about this?” Matteo turned toward Ambar.

“Well, I can enlighten it somewhat.” Ambar threw Matteo sharp dagger eyes, “Delfi is one of my best friends since forever. Honestly, I have no idea where it came from, but right before the summer, she just started having this head-over-heels crush on Gastón. He obviously was oblivious and had zero interest, but Delfi didn’t want to believe it.”

“Not completely oblivious,” Matteo piped up, “that’s why he didn’t want to skate with her, until she convinced him. There is nothing really to it after that, they dated very briefly because she kind of tricked him. What made her so determined on that, beyond me.”

“Well, it actually was because of Flor.” Ambar stated.

“Me?” Flor looked very shocked for a second.

“Well, cuz, it’s actually quite simple,” Matteo laughed, “Gastón had a crush on you, Delfi had a crush on Gastón, he paid attention to you, she got angry. Easy math, which led Delfi to actually catfish Gastón.”

“Oh my god, I did not know that.”

“Okay, should I start to be worried about something?” Oliver, who had been holding Flor’s hand, asked.

“No, what do you mean?”

“You got yourself into this mess now, Oliver,” James laughed.

“Anyways,” Ambar started speaking again, “Something I am interested in is that, you didn’t know anything about their past when Nina came there?”

“No,” Everyone shook their heads.

“I mean, I was there when they “met”,” Marlee started, “You think I should have known that something was up. There was some staring going on, but they had just bumped into each other. Then they really didn’t say anything, outside of saying couple sentences in Spanish, which I thought, as a very smart Oxford student, was just some introductions. Then Gastón just said that he had class and left.”

“He was totally out of it during that class,” James continued, “I should have picked up on something, but I didn’t know what had happened.”

“We all should have taken those Spanish classes.”

“So, what do you think would have happened, if you knew who Nina was?”

“No idea,” Ariana shook her head, “Because like, our agenda for the longest time was to have him move on… Yeah, it would have been awkward.”

“We always wanted him to put himself back out there,” Oliver continued, “but in the end, he refused the mere idea of it. Nina seemed like the perfect person to get him back on track. Similar interests and Argentinians so he couldn’t use any form of language barrier excuse.”

“And they seemed to get along quite well from the beginning,” Jacob pointed out, “There was definitely something there.”

“Obviously now we know why,” James shook his head, “I also don’t know if we would have encouraged him to get involved with her again, if we had known, or tried to get him to move on even harder. I’m not even sure if they were ever going to tell us if I hadn’t found those photos.”

“It’s even debatable if they were even going to tell us that they were together if we hadn’t confronted them.”

“Oh, how did that happen?” Luna piped up, “I don’t really remember if Nina told me or not.”

“When literature major wants to take a physics course, you tell them no and to quit the course,” James started speaking, “You don’t start helping them. Gastón wasn’t doing that for just brownie points.”

“And then we went away for Easter and when we came back it was pretty obvious that they were sleeping together.”

“We should have been in contact back then,” Matteo blew air out of his mouth, “I could have told you to just lock them in a closet somewhere for an hour.”

“All’s well, that’s ends well.”

{}

So, this has been just a funny idea I have been thinking about since there was no way Gastón and Nina ever fully detailed how they first started dating at Blake to their Oxford Friends, because that would be a long story. So the first time they hear about the all Felicity shenanigans is during Luna's and Matteo's speeches at Gastón and Nina's wedding. I just decided to write this so it could be released with the chapter where they found out about Nina being the "ex" in the first place. I didn't put that much effort or love into this, so that's why it may seem little all over the place.

#Soy Luna #SOy Luna fanfiction #Gastina #Companion piece #Lutteo #Simbar #Gastón and Nina's Oxford friends have some questions

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rainiishowers · 2 years

Note

In response from your last poly bros ask, can I please ask for headcanons for the brother overhearing their conversation with Diavolo please

A/N: I imagine this is going on at a ball/dance lol

Idk why but I did kind of more darker stuff for the younger bros, idk why, don’t ask me.

Also I did my small headcanon on Belphie’s part, if you want to read it, you can find it here

CW: Kinda graphic body horror on Asmo’s part?

Lucifer

He was going to approach Lord Diavolo and ask him something, but that's when he overhears it.

How come they were asking about this?

This reminded him of the unpleasant time where he ripped off his own angel wings...

Lucifer shakes off the memory and he goes to confront Diavolo about it, expressing his concern about this question.

The prince understands it, but tells him not to do anything rash..

He promises he won't, but he will definitely be keeping an eye on those two friends of yours..

Mammon

He was going around, see if he could pick up any easy jewelry, he got his eyes on your friends jewelry but noticed they were with Diavolo

Eh? Why the hell are they asking about humans cutting off demons wings and tails?

Mammon noticed that Barbatos seemed suspicious, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized that these two friends hated the brothers, and expressed that hatred countless times

Are they really planning to try to cut off any of the brothers wings or tails? Do they really think they are that fragile?

Sure, their wings, at least his, are sensitive, but it’s not going to be easy to just, cut them off

Are these humans really dumb?

Leviathan

He was in the corner of the ballroom, just standing there, awkwardly

His eyes were following you as you dance with his brothers

He felt jealous, so he quickly looks away, his eyes landing on the little conversation happening near him

He could barely make out what they were saying but he did hear something about cutting tails and wings off.

He shudders at the thought and his tail wraps around his leg.

Levi knew that cutting off wings or tails would be a sign of weakness, it wasn’t just humans, it was anyone. Anyone who cut off a demons wings or tail would automatically show they are more powerful then the demon in question.

He only knows this because there’s small fear of someone being brave enough to cut off his own tail when he’s leading the Hells Navy, occupied.

What were they planning? He didn’t know..

But boy, he did not want to find out.

Satan

He was gliding around the ballroom with you when he managed to see this, and curiosity got the best of him.

He kissed your hand and told you he’ll be back before walking to the dessert table, somewhere close enough to the conversation

His anger bubbled a bit when he heard them ask about the whole cutting off a demons wings or tail thing.

He kept composed, but he knew that they wanted to cut off the brothers limbs.

He decided he would approach them later, but for now, a simple needle feeling spell casted on them wouldn’t hurt.. Well it would, but sucks to be them.

Asmodeus

He was being a socialite, per usual, when he overheard the conversation.

His wings recoil a bit and he scoffs.

After the conversation, he managed to get a dance with one of them, and he wasted no time.

He grabbed the friends hand, staring at them with a sickeningly sweet smile.

“If you ever try to cut off my wings, I won’t be afraid to do the same thing to you, ten folds. Perhaps I’ll start with cutting off your ears, or sewing your mouth shut so you can’t spout anymore bullshit.”

He lets go of a horrified friend’s hand and gave him a closed eye smile. “Tell that to your friend too, it would be a shame if I had to do that to them, wouldn’t it~?” He gave them a quick dark glare before walking off, continuing to talk with the guests.

Beelzebub

He was over at the food table with Belphie when he heard it.

When it finally clicked that they were intending to harm his brothers, he lets out a low, guttural growl

He was not happy, not at all.

When the conversation ended, he stormed over like an angry bull.

He grabs one of the friends hands, almost crushing it.

They let out a yelp, but that didn’t stop him from leaning down, making direct eye contact with them.

“If you hurt my brothers, I’ll eat you for lunch.”

He was serious about this, and by the look on his face, it was obvious.

They just quickly nod before Beel looks at the other equally as horrified friend.

“That goes for you too.”

Then, he simply twists the persons hand so it breaks and walks off.

Maybe it wasn’t the best course of action considering they are at a ball, but he wanted a message to be said then and there.

Belphegor

He was with Beel, nearly dozing off

That is, until he heard the conversation.

Belphie thought he was imagining it, but nope, when he looks, it was real.

After the conversation, and the two friends were alone, he turns into his gaseous form and invades their minds, making them relive or live through their worst nightmares.

When he was done, and floated back to Beel, he was giggling at the two friends screaming and begging it to stop.

It may of caused a bit of a ruckus, but it was worth it.

Until you came to their aid and shot a glare at him, knowing he was the one who caused this.

He shrugs and looks off, it was their fault, he was just giving them what they had coming..

#obey me shall we date #omswd #om! brothers #om! mc #om! lucifer #om! mammon #om! leviathan #om! satan #om! asmodeus #om! beelzebub #om! belphegor #cw: body horror

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jingyismom · 2 years

Text

Since I saw a gifset of drunk Wei Wuxian I've been thinking about what kind of drunks wangxian are, so:

POV you (yes, you) are in the all-gender bathroom at a club trying to get a stain out of your shirt when an insanely beautiful guy with an easy grin and a wicked tattooed undercut walks in

You try to ignore him because 1. he's too beautiful and 2. stain problem, but when he comes back out of the stall his eyes fall on your sad paper towel via the mirror

He's swaying a tiny bit, washing his hands with the careful movements of the comfortably sloshed, and openly staring at the mess you're only making worse

"Sauce??" he asks.

"Sangria," you say.

He grimaces and meets your eye sympathetically.

"Won't come out with soap," he says. He starts fumbling around in all his pockets, though how he fits anything in jeans that tight is a mystery.

"Aha!!" he goes, whipping out a detergent pen with a flourish and a lopsided smile. "It really is a tide pen, I'm not just happy to see you." He grimaces. "But I am happy to see you, too. What's your name? You seem great. Ooohh nope, here, you do it. 'M too drunk."

He's gregarious in a way that manages to be both disarming and endearing. He's not even actually flirting with you, you can tell he's just like this, and you can't help but like him. You take the pen and introduce yourself while you work on the stain. He leans against the sinks, arms crossed, silver jewelry glinting in the dim light, his smile going apologetic.

"I'm Wei Ying! But...terrible with names. Sorry if I call you Sangria, just correct me," he begs.

You tell him Sangria is fine anyway.

He laughs with you, and says, "True, you were drinking it! You must like it."

With a sigh, you start to summarize the unfortunate events resulting in someone else's sangria going down your shirt. He makes a startled sound, though, when he notices a tear in the waist of his own shirt.

"Noooooo," he groans. "This was my hottest outfit."

His head thunks against the wall at his side.

You produce a safety pin, and hold it out. "Here."

He opens his eyes, and his face lights up so bright it almost hurts to look at. He takes the safety pin, and then looks at you with unguarded joy.

"You're the BEST," he says, and starts to try to pin the seam. He struggles. "I can't....reach.”

You put the pen down and help. He smiles at you like you hung the moon, then reminds you you were telling the sangria story. You have no idea how he remembers this, when this drunk, but not names.

He keeps you talking, friendly and genuine and enthusiastically in your corner. He seems ready to march out and dump a fishbowl of red wine on the responsible party himself, but then you mention you weren't having that great of a time anyway, and he stops.

"Why???"

Without going overboard for a conversation in a crappy public restroom, you tell him you weren't really feeling the atmosphere, you've just been kind of down. The sangria was a sign you should probably head home.

He goes quiet and intent, and reaches out to squish your face in both his hands. He stares into your eyes, his gaze a little unfocused but very determined. It's actually a little terrifying to have someone this stunning looking at you this close.

"You. Are amazing," he says. "You wanna party? You party. You are the good Sangria, and you can't let the bad sangria get you down."

Horrifyingly, his eyes start to get a little wet.

"D’you even know how awesome you are??? Look!!"

He turns your head to look at your own squished face in the mirror, and gives your head a little shake.

"Look!!! Even Lan Zhan would like you!!"

"Lan Zhan?" you ask, the unfamiliar name coming out smushed like your cheeks.

"Yeah! Even him!! And he doesn't like anybody!"

You realize at this point that he's one of those people who appears much less drunk than they are, even as drunk as he currently appears.

"Who ish Lan Zhan?" you smush.

"My best friend!" Wei Ying says, and shakes you a little again before letting go. He's got a distinctly faraway look in his eye now. "He's amaaaazing. The best...person. The. He's really. Yeah."

"If he's your best friend, then he clearly likes you, too," you say.

This has the opposite of the intended effect. Wei Ying blinks several times before closing his eyes.

"Yeah," he says. "He likes me. As a friend."

"That's good," you say tentatively. "Since you're friends."

Wei Ying hiccups. "En," he says, with a loose nod. "We're good friends."

And then Wei Ying starts to cry.

You rush forward to pat him on the back.

"What's wrong?" you ask, bewildered by the sudden emotional swerve.

He sniffles. "I think I'm in love with Lan Zhan," he says wetly.

Ah. That would do it. You try to comfort him by telling him what a catch he is. He shakes his head.

"Not like Lan Zhan," he says, between little sniffling hiccups. "I mean, yeah, I am, but not like Lan Zhan."

You find this sort of hard to believe, but know better than to argue with a crying drunk.

"You're amazing," you parrot back to him. "Look how much you helped me, a stranger in a bathroom! I'm sorry you're in love with your best friend, but there are worse things…you could fall off a cliff or something, you know? At least you're here, and you're awesome, and you get to be friends with someone as amazing as Lan Zhan? Right?"

He sniffles some more, and nods.

"Isn't being friends with him better than not being friends with him?"

He nods frantically. You pat his back some more, hoping he swings back around to happy again soon. Or at least that he doesn't barf or something.

"Who are you here with?" you ask him.

"Everyone," he mumbles.

You start to wonder if he means this in a cosmic sense, but he clarifies.

"A-Cheng, A-jie, A-Ning, Qing-jie, The Peacock, Mingjue-ge, Huaisang, Xichen-ge, Lan.....Lan Zhan...."

He gets a little weepy again.

"That's a lot of people," you venture.

He nods again. "A-Cheng's birthday after-party. All the kids go out to get hammered."

"I s--"

"Except Lan Zhan. He doesn't drink. And Xichen-ge says he doesn't but I know I've seen him tipsy."

"Oh, what a liar," you say, indulgent.

Wei Ying makes a sound that could be called a giggle. "He dessserves some fun. You know. That type. Good...goodest old son. Good oldest. Eldest. Responsibility."

"Oh. Yeah, I know what you mean."

"He's good brother. To Lan Zhan. They're good."

"That's good."

Eventually you bring him back around and coax another sunny smile out of him. Within minutes, you've sent him back out to his party, and you've put on a brave face for yours. You catch a few glimpses of him dancing happily with a small, beautiful woman, so you figure he's okay.

And then, not a half hour later, some guy with a sour expression, wearing sunglasses in the club (pick your most-hated character)(or the one that makes you laugh hardest to picture), punches you directly in your carefully-done hair.

Just like that, you're in the bathroom again.

And you remember how you thought Wei Ying was possibly the most beautiful person on the planet?

The stall behind you opens, and a different guy comes out, and you figure Wei Ying has some stiff competition.

He's standing perfectly straight when you spot him in the mirror, and you start to wonder what the deal is with this bathroom that it keeps producing ethereally gorgeous human beings, but then he takes a step, and the careful deliberateness of it almost conceals a slight wobble.

So you wonder how this bathroom keeps producing ethereally drunken human beings.

You keep an eye on him as he makes his slow, dignified progress toward the sink, and it would be hilarious if he weren't somehow pulling it off so well - head high, disinterested expression on his stunning face. He braces himself briefly on the counter and then turns on the tap with minimal hesitation, so your eyes wander to his perfect makeup and his frankly shocking subtly-glossed mouth, and at that point you decide to focus on your own ruined hair instead. You've tried everything, though, so your hands fall to your sides, and you sigh. It's just going to look like a ferret did zoomies on your head no matter what.

You kind of wish that Wei Ying guy were here. He had incredible hair. He'd definitely help. But it's just you and totally-out-of-it Haughty McBeautiful, so you pull out your phone to order a ride, and turn to go, but then stop short.

Mr. Ice Prince is staring at you with an expression that would probably cut straight to the bone if it were at all focused.

You clear your throat. He doesn't say anything. It's a little worrisome.

"You okay?" you ask.

He blinks a little too slowly, and then looks at your hair.

"Hair," he says, observantly.

You grimace. Of course this unearthly being is offended by the tragedy on your head.

"Some guy ruined it," you say. "I'm good enough at hair to do it in the first place, but not good enough to fix....this."

He frowns. It softens his sharp expression into a startlingly cute pout. You shrug at him. He points to your hair, and then himself, and then your hair again.

"Um..." you say.

He wobbles over behind you, and taps your head with one elegant finger. After the surprise subsides, you shrug again. He honestly couldn't make it worse.

You hold still as he picks at the strands, pulling and rearranging and occasionally splashing a bit of water from the sink. You can't really see what all he's doing, but his movements are suddenly quicker, more deft, from what you can see out of the corner of your eye. You're too afraid to turn your head to look in the mirror, but it's only a few moments before he steps back, and you hear him go, "Mn."

You do look then, and your jaw drops. It looks better than you had it before. When you look at him, he's assessing you in the mirror, much more lucid and shrewd than a moment ago. He nods and repeats, "Mn."

The warm sense of approval you feel at that has no reason to be so overwhelming.

"Wow, thanks," you say. "It looks incredible."

He's still looking you up and down. He tugs on one of your sleeves to make the fabric lay better.

"Good," he says, and it sounds, from him, like almost embarrassingly effusive praise. If someone who looks like this says you're good, you must be.

If he can be this pulled together when he's so drunk he can barely speak, you can't imagine what he's like sober. How do people even go anywhere with him? Maybe they don't, maybe someone with this level of standards doesn't even like being around mere humans.

A sudden suspicion strikes you. It doesn't make sense with the little information you have about him, and yet, in this magic bathroom, it very much does.

"Lan Zhan?" you say.

His eyes widen, and then narrow in suspicion.

"You're Lan Zhan, aren't you."

Slowly, he nods.

You feel a deep, heartfelt pang of sympathy for lovely Wei Ying.

"Your friend Wei Ying," you say, meaning it to be explanatory.

As soon as you say the name, however, he loses interest in you entirely. He looks at the door.

"Wei Ying," he says, low and almost comically wistful as he sweeps past you.

"Wait," you say. He ignores you. "About Wei Ying."

He stops. Turns just enough to look at your elbow. You probably shouldn't say anything, but he's so drunk you can't imagine it doing any harm, and your curiosity is mighty.

"If Wei Ying were in love with you..." he looks you in the eye, and you realize he hasn't done that before. You almost lose track of the sentence, but you soldier on. "What would you do about that?"

His eyes go big and round, and his mouth drops open just the slightest bit. He looks lost for a moment. But then he blinks, and takes a breath.

"Marry him," he murmurs.

Your heart approximately imitates a star going supernova.

"Okay," you say.

His eyes are glassy, and he sways a little. You think, from what Wei Ying said, this might be the first time he's ever been drunk.

"Are you okay?" you ask, to make sure.

He nods, head swinging a little too freely on his long neck.

"Alright, go back to Wei Ying," you say, and hold the door open for him.

He glides unsteadily out, back into the loud dark, and you track him as you go back to your friends, just in case. He gets there okay, but you don't forget about him. You probably never will.

Luckily, about three songs later, the person who jostles you not only manages to catch you before you faceplant, but turns out to be none other than sunny, apologetic Wei Ying.

"Sangria!!!!!!!" he says. "You're still here!! And I almost ruined your night again aahhh!!"

"No, it's fine!" you assure him. "It's all good!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" you tell him.

And then you smush his face between your hands, and fix him with your most intense stare. You make your voice as serious as you can.

"Wei Ying. Listen. Are you listening?"

He nods, eyes huge, moving your palms with the movement.

"You have to tell Lan Zhan how you feel."

"But!!"

"Shh! We're listening, remember?"

He nods again, mouth pressed closed.

"Tomorrow, when you're both sober, you WILL remember this, and you WILL tell him you're in love with him. And then you will live happily ever after. Do you understand?"

"But what if he—"

"Trust me," you say. He looks uncertain.

"What are you, psychic?"

"Yes," you say, because why not.

He squints at you.

"You believe in Lan Zhan, right?" you ask.

He nods.

"You know how sad you are, thinking he doesn't love you?"

He nods again, glum.

"What if he's just as sad, thinking the same about you?"

He flinches, and stares at you in shock.

"You're making Lan Zhan sad, Wei Ying."

It's mean, and only half true, but you're trying to make this stick. You let it sink in, watch the horror crawl over his face.

"So you'll tell him?"

"I..."

You hear a friend call your name.

"You should tell him," you say, and release him. You give his shoulder a pat. "Just trust me."

And you leave him there, staring at nothing, your fingers crossed in hope.

::SIX MONTHS LATER::

Your friends want to go back to that bougie club with the magic man-producing bathroom, and you figure, might as well. It was an interesting night to say the least.

But when you get there, it's closed for a private event.

You actually do have to use the bathroom though, and the manager who opens the door to tell you to buzz off is actually nice, so you sneak in.

As soon as you close the stall door behind you, the door to the bathroom opens again, and you freeze.

"...be right back!" a voice calls before it shuts again.

"Right there," the same voice says, softer. It sounds suspiciously familiar. "At the sink."

There's a long silence. You try not to make any noise.

"I think I remember this as well," says another voice, low and thoughtful.

It sounds familiar, too.

"Ah! Really? Did you have an ~encounter too??"

The word 'encounter' is said in a mock-spooky voice.

"Possibly," the second voice allows. "I remember...messy hair."

"Hmm I don't remember any messiness, Lan Zhan, maybe you saw a real person."

Somehow, it's them again. Magic bathroom, indeed.

There's a pensive hum. "Perhaps."

Wei Ying laughs, bright and happy.

"Okay Lan Zhan, when we tell the getting-together story after the toasts, we can say you met The Psychic Named Sangria in the Bathroom of Fate, too."

"Wei Ying is gracious as ever," says Lan Zhan.

There's laughter and more silence after that, and then the soft but unmistakable sounds of enthusiastic kissing.

It goes on for...a while.

You panic and flush the toilet.

"Oh shit sorry!!" Wei Ying calls, laughing again.

The door opens, and closes, and then they're gone. You never see that bathroom or Lan Zhan and Wei Ying again.

But you might be a little bit psychic after all, because you know they live happily ever after.

::The End::

(PS you did SUCH A GOOD JOB!!!! You got wangxian together you did it congratulations!!!! 💖💖💖💖 This was originally thrown onto twt!)

#lan wangji #wei wuxian #wangxian #the untamed #wangxian fanfic #i tweeted this a while ago #absolute fluffy silliness #i have another thread i did this weekend that i'll be crossposting here too #and that one is Spicy so get ready #don't ask me how i ended up writing a fluffy little reader-insert 2nd person pov fic i have no idea #but it was fun so i hope you enjoy <3 #my fic

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angelisverba · 3 years

Text

thinkin’ bout you

in which harry owns a flower shop and has a major crush on a girl who comes in to buy flowers every once in a while (and he’s too shy to ask for her number)

word count: 17.3k

paring: florist!h and y/n

warnings: just some pinning and lustful yearning. m for mature...

author’s note: i’ve been working on this forever. not to pick fav’s but i think florist!h comes second to sl23... hes just so.......well, you’ll see!!

* * * * * *

When Harry was given the option to go on a playdate with his car-loving and dirty-nailed schoolmates or spending the weekend at his nan’s house, he would often pick the latter.

He preferred to spend his afternoons frolicking with her Siamese kitty in her wild-flower filled garden, sunbathing in the open grass, or napping on a quilted blanket under the large, round oak tree, with the kitty nestled into his tummy, keeping him warm. When he woke in the arms of his nan as she carried him inside the house for a glass of cool lemonade, he bore a band of pink sunburn over his button nose, and the blue and white striped Mickey shirt was sticking to the areas where his furry friend had provided an extra heat.

So, it was safe to say that from the start, Harry’s tastes weren’t what could be considered ‘average’ or ‘normal’ or ‘straight’ for a heterosexual male of his age in current society.

Not that he ever valued those opinions, but their impressions rang in the back of his loving head when the women who he brought to the comfort of his home made hurtful ‘joking’ comments on how ‘peculiar’ his choice of decor was or giving him prolonged strange looks before shaking their heads and yanking their clothes off so that they landed in a forgotten heap in some unimportant corner of his room.

Granted, he still got a good shag, but it wasn’t enough to fulfill his desires regarding any actions associated with relationships. He wanted someone warm and soft and kind. Someone who wouldn’t judge his home, his music choices, his clothing, or anything else about him. A girlfriend, not a fuck.

Long ago, he’d stopped caring about what others said about him. Adopting this mindset had given him some of the happiest and healthiest moments of his life (albeit occasionally, doubts merged with the ghastly shadows of his loneliness). Business at his flower shop increased as his charm increased with positivity, and a new life within him bloomed like a baby rose bud when he accepted that being single was okay. The ribbons of his bouquets bouncing with an added umf and the mist that landed on his skin when he changed the water in the flower buckets only enhanced the golden hue of his skin.

Harry even took to renovating his home a bit.

Coincidentally, his apartment was located on the floor above his flower stop, and contained a significant amount of singular flowers in vases or bouquets in empty corners to prove it. An array of pastel colors smeared on the once blank walls. Bambi pink in his bedroom, sage green in his kitchen, and a French blue in his living room. The couch was a suede papaya three-seater with black and white checkered pillows, and the coffee table was an emerald-tiled piece standing on top of a geometric lavender carpet, a soft contrast against the dark oak of his floorboards. Harry’s taste in pop-culture, art, and literature was displayed on the frames hanging off his walls. Pictures and posters of his favorite pieces like Matisse’s Blue Nudes and Goldfish and The Dance II. An enhanced, enlarged photo of maraschino cherries and a raven haired pin-up girl. Another glass table by the end of the couch held a silver candlestick and a small statue.

Sometimes, the miniature Greek statue he bought at a thrift store of a man with his nakedness pure and unobscured to the viewers' eyes made his dick bloat against the seams of his pants. If he stared at it for too long, his eyes drawn to the softened cock between thighs that looked so flesh-like even though it was carved out of some clay or ceramic material, his mind would travel to sensual, honey-red places that he hadn’t been in so long. Harry’s imagination explored- as cheesy as it sounds- the sexual aspects of the male genitalia, and therefore his own sexual expeditions and how much he missed giving or receiving a good fuck. More often than not, he ended up with himself in his fist, forehead sparkling with perspiration under the candle lights in his room as his thighs and abdomen clenched with every buck of his yearning hips.

The doorknob of his room was in the shape of an eye, the iris colored a brilliant blue. His king bed- no, frame, just a minimalist white base, pushed up against the wall with two tables on either side, both of them loaded articulately with vintage trinkets and ceramic ring trays shaped like seashells to hold his jewelry. His bedsheets were a stylish combination of pastel colors; lilac comforter, mint and sky pillows. Previously, they had been snow white sheets with strawberry print, but a woman he brought over said they looked like the sheets her five-year-old niece had.

He changed them the week after that.

On the windowsill, a pot in the shape of a white, blue-eyed kitty with vines of string of hearts kissing the floor. A mirror in the shape of a heart with a pink trim besides the lightswitch, above his brown dresser. In the corner, a bookshelf stuffed with books that spilled over the seams, and perpendicular to it, the home of his pet chameleon, Owen (he wanted a cat, but when he went to the pet store and saw the dehydrated creature, he couldn’t leave him there). A 16 x 16 x 30 inch tank filled with a branch that cut across halfway. It was full of all the things he might need, maybe even too much of it, but it didn’t matter because when Harry was home Owen spent most of his time hanging off the collars of his shirts or snuggled in the ruffles of his hooded sweatshirt on his shoulder. The small, color changing friend adored his owner, and only morphed into a mild red color when Harry didn’t feed him more mango.

The renovations occurred in his bathroom; a cherry-red covering the walls because it looked boring before (at least in his opinion). The gold piping of the sink accentuated nicely with the darker color, and the sun seemed brighter when it streamed in through the window above his ceramic claw-footed tub. Owen particularly liked the misty showerhead stall in the corner, and as long as he kept his eyes to himself, Harry didn’t mind it if his green friend wrapped around the showerhead and enjoyed the mimicked tropical atmosphere.

For awhile now, it had been just him and his chameleon (and maybe his mum’s cat if she was going out of town and needed a sitter) but he didn’t mind it.

He got to meet new people everyday within the parameters of H’s Garden, and they all tended to overshare when it came to buying a bouquet. ‘My wife just had our son, want to see a picture?’ or ‘my boyfriend and I have our anniversary on Saturday’ and even ‘my sister had plastic surgery so me and my dad need something that says ‘congrats you look like Kim Kardashain now’ how ‘bout it?’

Stories ranged from sweet, to grotesque, to sad, to funny, and sometimes even evil- Harry didn’t like customers that gave flowers as a ‘fuck you’. He thought it was a waste of beauty and sacrifice. Flowers were living things that had their lives cut short in order to provide momentary satisfaction and life long memories to the receiver, not bitter feelings of revenge. Although it was still business, it pained him that such a pretty arrangement be misused. It was one of the cons of his work. He created what he considered to be masterpieces, and had no control over where they would end up, whether it be as a centerpiece for a candlelit dinner, or in the trash after the apology for a strong argument hadn’t been enough.

However, Harry couldn’t deny that he didn’t love his job, because he did.

When he turned 16, he’d determined that he wanted a peaceful life with a job that wouldn’t bore him. He wanted to be as stress free as possible, with his spirituality as a prominent highlight in his lifestyle. When he turned 18, he had determined that he wanted to be a florist, and began to save up to open his own shop with the occasional help of his friends and sister. He refused to take anything from his mother because he wanted to be the one giving her gifts and money and everything good after all of her sacrifices in raising him. Call him a momma’s boy. Harry loved his mother.

Online seminars and college classes became his best friend, teaching him everything he needed to know about accounting, stocks, and how to keep his business going. He was a businessman first, florist second. During the slow seasons (the start of winter and an awkward half-week between summer and spring) he relied on his investments to triple-ensure that he had enough money to stay afloat.

On his 22nd birthday, as a gift to himself, he signed the lease to the building that housed all of the pretty plants in temporary buckets full of flower food and water, and hired a graphic designer to design the cursive, golden letters that spelled out the name of his shop above the front door.

Now, three years later, he lived as happy as can be.

And he wasn’t lonely anymore.

Well, if you wanted to be technical, his relationship status was still a checkmark over the box labeled ‘single’, but his heart couldn’t be fluttering any harder at the sight of one of his regular customers, and she was there, creeping around in his brain to keep him company.

She was the complete opposite of every girl he’d ever been with. She was sweet, kind, funny, and didn’t judge him for the way he dressed, or his profession. In fact, they bonded over things that previous women had… slyly berated him for. The color of his nails, the lace of his collar, the pattern of his flared pants, and even the sheep on his baby blue sweater vest.

She stole his heart the moment she walked through his door with a soft smile on her face, a sparkling gleam in her warm eyes, and placed it in her pocket the moment she said, “it smells lovely in here!”

Harry, awestruck and blushing because well, she was pretty and wore a shade of purple that somehow made her hair look so soft. Two strands of hair were pinned at the back of her head, essentially keeping the rest of it away from her face save for the few baby wisps that rested gently against her cheeks like a lover’s caress. The stuttering, stumbling cupid’s-bow-struck fool replied with, “thank you. It would be my pleasure to help you with anything you’d like,” and that had been his name, signed on the dotted line of a soul contract. Only she was not the devil. She was an angel.

But even then, it wouldn’t matter. If she was the devil, if she was an angel, something in between or something new entirely he wouldn’t care because he was half gone for her already.

“In that case,” she smiled, and Harry’s heart sang a melody it never had before. It was like the sun beamed from the spaces between her teeth and tickled the fuzzy spot beneath his earlobe. She had the most amazing voice, tranquil and clear and ethereal. “I just moved into a new apartment and wanted the place to feel like home. I thought maybe flowers would give it a little life.”

He vividly remembers that the color of her cheeks changed to that of what is called a ‘blush’, but he didn’t know if it was a trick under the light, or a product of his wistful imagination. Her fingers gently skimmed the petals of a rose from it’s bucket near her hip, and one of the straps of the tote bag on her shoulder disrespectfully dropped away from her shoulder. He wanted to simultaneously rush over and fix it for her, and yell at the inanimate object for not being grateful of the fact that it had the opportunity to cling to her shoulder.

But, before either of these inner-conflicts met a sound resolve, her delicate fingers righted what was once wrong, and Harry cleared his throat, embarrassed because he’d stared for a little too long. He wanted so badly to ask for her name and how she liked her eggs in the morning, but instead he said, “there’s nothing like a bit of something pretty to brighten your day. Did you have something specific in mind?”

He hoped that the meaning of his words wasn’t caught on her, or that would be totally embarrassing and ‘loser’-like.

When she walked out the door with a content smile on her lips, his own heart was beating faster than the flapping of a hummingbird’s tender wings. He was sure that he had never laid eyes on a pair of lips like hers, neither the feeling that blossomed in his chest at the thought that she might be smiling just for him to see and enjoy.

Of course, it was a silly crush. One that clawed and gripped onto his sweaty palms with no sign of letting go. Maybe, Harry thought, it was because he hadn’t wet his wick in so long, and the interaction he’d had with her had sparked irrational, poem-inspiring feelings within the love cavern of his ribs. Because how could he fall head over heels with someone he didn’t even know? Surely, the swarm of hormone-pumped butterflies in his stomach was the beginning of a dead-end infatuation.

Right?

Harry went that entire day, appalled at the apparent angel he had the fortune of being in the presence of in her short fall from the tender heavens. He wondered where she placed the flowers she bought (an arrangement he was particularly proud of, full of lilac, delicate stems of lavender, and puffs of baby’s breath wrapped with a white bow) and where that tiny extension of him was. At the entrance of her home, right below the place she rested her hand against as she tugged her shoes off? At the center of her table? Maybe besides her bed? Where she would see the purple petals and white of him as he wrapped it every time she woke up or went to bed? He hoped- as much as it was a romantic thought- that it wasn’t the last one. He’s been so awkward, so pink. A blush on his cheeks he hadn’t remembered being there since the time he yelped, startled, at the unexpected pain of a tattoo needle, the artist pointedly peeved. Acting like such a boy.

Right before crawling up the steps of his apartment, heart still bleeding with love-blood from the deadly tip of Cupid’s arrows, he made himself a mini version of the bouquet he’d made her, and placed it at the center of his tiled coffee table.

*********

A few days trickled by, and the memory of her face drifted in and out of his mind like a giant sway of fabric slowly billowing in the wind. He was just so… struck by a slab of awe, stunned by her kind of beauty. Natural, the kind that hooks you in it’s purity, like the golden beams streaming in through transparent curtains on a warm spring afternoon.

Her strawberry lips curved elegantly under her nose, and displayed a smile that leaked some sort of heady drug into the air because the air was sweet when he breathed it in. And when he handed the bundle of flowers over to her, the pads of her delicate fingers skimmed the rough ridges of his knuckles. He wondered immediately what kind of moisturizer she used, and if it smelled like honey or lavender or peaches. She smelled sweet. Sweeter than all of the flowers in his colorful soul shop put together. The colors that belong to her, on her person and worn by her, were more captivating than any of the tones that painted the petals on his plants.

Owen got a kick out of this whole ordeal, though. Harry’s passionate mood had him divulging in munching and nibbling on things that tasted the way he felt; ambrosial, fresh and pure. It resulted in the purchasing of endless amounts of fruit, with many bites given to the tiny chameleon. Mangoes, strawberries, oranges, grapes, pears (Asian pears, if the store carried them, they were Harry’s favorite), peaches and guavas. The sudden craving for fruit might be explained as just a casual craving, but deep deep down inside, Harry knew that it was because he wanted to replicate the feeling that coursed through his golden veins when she giggled at something she happened to find funny.

He wished that he had caught her name. The girl had paid in cash (and left a five dollar tip Harry fawned over), so he couldn’t have read it on her card, and he was halfway between charming and awkward that he didn’t even think of asking for it until the minute the door closed behind her, bells tinkling in announcement of her exit. He wished for a hundred different things, but he was not the type to live in regret. Not anymore. So after about a week of floundering in her memory, he meditated for an hour, tropical incense on one of his bedside tables, and cleared his mind as best he could.

The next morning, he did the same thing. Woke up with heavy limbs, plopped himself down on his blue mat and stretched in various positions, his white boxers hanging low on his hips. His lips and eyes were sticky with sleep, and the back of his nose ached with cold air that he must’ve breathed in throughout the night after forgetting to close the window (again) but the pleasurable twinge of stretching aches between his joints were the perfect way to start his day. They urged his mind to transform into the still surface of water, clear and collected from any unproductive-pinning thoughts towards a girl he would most likely never see again.

Even his clothes reflected his refreshed mindset.

Harry donned his favorite pair of flared trousers in an earthy brown color, nestled snugly on his slender hips and around his thighs. The tight fit accentuated the way his back tapered into his waist, glutes shapely and sculpted. A maroon sweater vest that had a teddy bear embroidered on the middle of his chest, the small latte-toned stuffed animal seemingly childish, but on him it only directed attention to the spotlight daze of the velvety heart sheltered underneath his breathless plate. Underneath, a mustard long-sleeve shirt with tiny cherries printed on them. Some straight, some tilted or lopsided. His shoulders and biceps were hidden in the floofy bunches of cloth, anonymity given to the true thickness of his ink slathered skin.

He looked like a corduroy dream. A thick milkshake of patterns and colors, but he managed to pull it off.

A tiny gold hoop on his right ear gleamed under the morning sun coming in through the windows and a pearl necklace rested against the downy skin of his throat. Slender fingered tipped with a coat of pure white, with his ring fingers accented in a shimmery pink. Chunky rings adorning the base of his digits; a silver rose, a band of dancing teddy bears (a running theme with him), two gold rings with his initials H and S on one hand, and a simple ruby stud from his graduating class.

He looked good, he knew that he looked good, and was ready to begin a bright, healthy, non-pretty-girl-thought-polluted day. Even the old woman had pinched his cheek whom he had been assisting- a regular-had said he looked like a proper ‘nice boy’ along with ‘when are you going to her a lovely girl to help you run this place, Harry?’. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he had momentarily sworn off women until his broken sentiments healed, and they had a long way to go.

In the middle of wrapping a smashing set of tulips and fern stems with a cherry red bow, the bells adorning the top of the door frame dinges, announcing the entrance of another pleasant customer and giving passage to a gust of chilly air. Harry looked up to greet the customer with his usual pleasantries of ‘welcome! I’ll be with you in a moment!’, but the words died on his throat in a desperate hussle, just as the little mermaid had given up her voice to meet her gallant prince.

It was his own personal little slice of heaven presented to him on the black and white checkered floors of his shop. Hair loose against her shoulders again, eyes cast downwards to inspect a bucket of fresh daisies that tickled the space above her bare knees. How she could wear a skirt in this biting weather, he didn’t know, and it partially prevented him from continuing his pursuit of admiring her because the first thought his caring mind jumped too was, ‘is she cold? And if so, does she need a sweater? Because I will gladly give her one.’ His second thought, however, was ‘how could someone be that beautiful?’. The third was something along the lines of ‘all my yoga has gone to shit, and I’m okay with that’.

He cleared his throat, tightened the bow around the stems of the flowers in his hands and said, “I’ll be with you in a moment, love!” His head bowed, looking at his work because he wasn’t sure he could afford the medicals for the paralysis that was sure to take over his meek self if they made eye contact so soon. Harry needed a moment of homeostasis, his soul adjusting to her dulcet presence.

The woman he was assisting, Edna, spoke, drawing him out of his daze, but he had been so deeply in thought that he had not heard what she said.

“What was that?” He asked her. He grabbed Kraft paper from the roll by the register to wrap up her arrangement.

“The girl. You like her?” She was smiling at him, wagging a finger the way his nan used to do when she caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. “Don’t lie to me, I recognize that look. I’ve given and received that look many times throughout my life.”

The woman was not wrong. With age, comes wisdom, Harry thought, smiling to himself at being caught. A dimple carves itself into his cheek, nestling onto the space above the corner of his mouth as if he had no choice in the matter. The apples of his cheeks were shadowed with a dusky pink, and the tip of his nose was twitching like a rabbit when it stood on its rear and sniffed the air, only he was coy after just being caught and wanted to avoid the question as much as possible.

“I’ve got no idea what y’talking about,” he chuckled, keeping his voice low so that the intriguing stranger in the store didn’t hear that their topic of discussion was her. He moved over to the register to ring her up, and even slid in a discount he applied to customers he liked.

“Next time I come in,” Edna said, passing Harry her debit card, “I hope to hear that you got her number, dear. Don’t let these opportunities pass you up. Life is short. And who knows? She could be the one.” Harry gave her the card back after charging her, and handed her the flowers, too. All the while Edna was grinning at him, shaking her head like she knew something he didn’t.

“Take care, Edna. And don’t forget to change the water every 2 days with the flower packets I placed at the stems,” he reminded her, sweetly wiggling his red-lacquered nails at her retreating woman as butterflies awakened in his stomach in a furious flood of nerves. The girl was looking around, her hands hovering over the up-turned faces of a bundle of lively sunflowers, browsing and quietly humming to herself as she waited.

There was no backing out of this, even if he wanted to. And he didn’t! He didn’t want to back out. The girl was a customer, and he would have to approach her no matter what. But she was so pretty it was also intimidating. He doesn’t remember ever being this nervous while approaching someone, especially one he harbored feelings for. His heart was pounding so loud, he was sure it was audible.

“Hello,” he wanted so badly to add ‘love’ at the end of his greeting. “Are y’finding everything a’right?” He asked her, his hands wringing themselves, palms moist with sweat from his unyielding need to impress her. The pink tip of his tongue poked out to swipe across his full bottom lip, and soon after that his teeth sunk down into it, nibbling with uncertainty. Harry made sure that he was standing straight, body aligned to face hers because in that psychology course he took once, he learned that it was a subconscious tactic to engage interest and pleasant replies to attempts at wooing another.

At the sound of his voice, the girl jumped, startled at the sudden vibrations of Harry’s husky voice. Her delicate feet, he noticed, skittered on the floor from her tiny jump, and her doe eyes widened, shouldered rising and falling at a quicker pace than before from the new rush of light fear. When she realizes that it’s just him her hand flattered over the base of her neck and her collarbone in attempts to soothe her racing heart.

“M’s sorry,” he whispers, his hand clamping over his mouth, and then lowering to his chin when he speaks again, “didn’t mean to scare y’love.” This time he can’t restrict himself. It comes so naturally, like the endearment was meant for her, and when a flush covers the bridge of her nose his first instinct is to coo at her for looking so cute. The second is a surge of guilt for having scared her to such an extent.

“It’s okay,” she says, a little out of breath. The blush on her face was partly because she was embarrassed at her own reaction, while the other was that she had let herself act so freely and uncoordinated in front of someone that looked like him. Handsome and sweet and eyes so green they refreshed you upon first glance. Like the cool burn of water going into a mouth that had just chewed a stick of minty gum. “I want to buy these flowers.”

God help him. Her voice alone was enough to make him melt. The lilts and melodies of her voice swarming all four of the ventricles in his heart with warmth, and every blood cell that passed contained a glowing heat, buzzing with her energy.

She points to the sunflowers, her gaze lingering on them with longing. A soft smile toying on her mouth, and Harry could see the tendons in her throat stretch as she inhaled to add another thought to her sentence, “Do you sell vases by any chance?” The girl looked at him shyly, her eyelashes almost twinkling as she blinked, and his heart soared, “I had a really nice one in the shape of a big Coca-Cola bottle, and I accidentally knocked it over, so now I have nothing to put them in.”

Harry is incredibly enamoured by subconscious gestures that take over her hands as she speaks, fiddling as if the vase she spoke about was in her hands, all in one piece before it was broken. He’s quiet throughout her tiny ramble, listening and taking note of her enticing antics. She’s looking down at the floor or the flowers or her hands, and when her eyes dance over to his steady gaze, “I’m rambling aren’t I?” she murmurs bashfully.

“No, no it’s a’right. I can look in the back for something if y’like?” He suggested, arrowing a thumb to the ‘back’ he mentioned. “Did y’want anything in particular?”

“Oh, I don’t wanna be a troubling customer!” She squeaked, concerned with becoming a nuisance she didn’t want to be.

“Y’not a bother, love. M’promise. I’ll go look f’you. What color did y’have in mind?” He asked her, tone calm and soothing to reiterate his sentiment. She was not a bother. The only thing about her that bothered him was the fact that he did not know her name, and even that was his own fault for not asking her.

His hands rest on his hips, tattooed cross momentarily hidden by the bunch of his sweater vest as he waits for her to respond, his eyes locked on her mouth, her own tongue subtly licks her lips, adding a sparkly sheen to it that only drove him crazy. Ever the jilted fool, his mind jumps to what it would feel like to kiss her, or what it would feel like if she kissed him in other places. What fruits she tasted like, and what kind of kisser she was. A timid one? With a patient mouth waiting to be broken open with the force of his own? Frugal? Opening her mouth and giving him everything she had to offer.

“Something pink, please. If you have it.” That smile again. One that told a million apologies it didn’t owe, with her eyes pinching at the corners with whatever nonsense culpability she felt. Her voice was sweet, Harry thought, like wind chimes on a summer morning.

Feeling guilty for allowing such dirty thoughts to gallop through his mind when she was so… so pure. Like an angel. Even her way of presenting herself was shy and sweet, yet he was thinking about kissing her. Was that perverted? She was a customer he had seen twice, and his mind was already running wild with luscious assumptions; a sunday topped with a red cherry of sensuality. How awfully dirty of him.

But! But those were not the only thoughts he had. He wanted to ask her what happened to cause her to drop her vase, and where she had bought it. If it was vintage, considering it was a Coca-cola bottle, and if she had any accidents while cleaning up the mess of broken glass. He wanted to hear her thoughts. No, better yet, he just wanted to hear her talk. He wanted to get to know her. To know if she was as nice as she looked.

“‘Course,” he mumbled, his eyes shamefully downcast to the floor. “Be righ’ back.”

Harry stalked off to ‘the back of the store’. Truth was, there was no back of the store containing vases. There was only a small closet with boxes of items he might need around the store, like flower food, rubber bands, and decorative paper for the bouquets. A crate of bottled water for when he got too lazy to climb up the back stairs and into his home.

His home.

Plucking the keys from his pocket, a ring that held a ceramic swan his closest friend Mitch had gifted him with a humble admission of ‘saw this at a thrift store and thought about you, H, I had to buy it’, and five keys: one to the front door of his shop, one to the cash box in the register, one to the mailbox, another to the front door of his apartment, and one to his car. The one to his front door was painted at the head with pastel pink nail polish, so it was easy for him to pick out when he was dead tired after a long day of being on his feet (spunky shoes that he liked to wear sometimes didn’t help ease the ache on his back, and neither did his posture).

The back door that led to the stairs had locks on both the inside and the outside. A deadbolt and chain on matching sides of the door to ensure comfortable sleep at night, and peaceful work time during the day. Not having to worry about curious children opening doors or nosy customers relieved him. It was a little amatuer, but the door made a loud noise when opened because it wasn’t quite level, and he had a tiny key so he could lock it from the outside, too.

A loud shucking noise resonated through the store as he pulled the door open, and then again when he closed it behind him. The delicacy of his dainty yet large hands were nearly comical around the tiny golden pin stud that hung from the chain, almost slipping from his hands with nerves as he slid it in place. Harry didn’t think that she was nosy or anything like that, bit if he was going up to give her a vase of his own personal collection, he didn’t want her to find out and feel even more intrusive that she already did.

He was a huge giver, and upon hearing her say that she broke her flower pot, his mind was already thinking about the perfect one to replace it. It just so happened to be sitting on his shelf with a bundle of dying lavender. Climbing up the stairs (the ache in his thighs was a mere twinge compared to what it was when he first moved here), Harry huffed and thought to himself all the ways he could ask for her name and number.

Listen, I really like y’and would like to have y’number?”

Do y’wanna have my number so we can go out sometime if y’feel like it?”

“Is it alright if I get y’number so we can go out sometime?”

“Hey, love. What’s y’name?”

Nothing’s making sense to him. The pick up lines he had stored in his head for the rare times he would flirt with a girl were slipping from him. None of them seemed worded right to use with her. Too abrupt or too brisk. Not sweet enough. He wanted to treat her gently and to be worthwhile of her time. Plus, it also had to be smooth enough that it made her forget she was paying him for flowers or it would be awkward. He was a twenty-six man for crying out loud, not a twenty-one year old smile at the bar looking for a good time. This wasn’t a ‘good time’. This was… a courting. An inquiry to a relationship. A rose rose in a candlelit room.

Harry opened his front door and moved in a quick jog to a table besides his hi-fi that held a translucent pale pink glass, fat at the base before twirling and widening a few inches at the lip. An image of a nude mermaid puffing out at the front like an engraving. Cuddling it into his breast, he grabbed the lavender, speed walked back to his kitchen where his toe banged against the metal of the trashcan as he pressed on the lever to open it. He hissed fuck under his breath and shucked the dead lavender into the bag before turning back to his door, closing it behind him, but not locking it because he didn’t want to keep her waiting. His feet moved quickly down the stairs, the one hand not holding onto the vase cupping a hand over the side of his hips that held his keys so they didn’t make much noise.

The button on the chain slipped from his fingers a few times from their repeated clamminess, and when he was ready to finally twist the knob, he paused to take a breath and collect himself. Harry ran a hand through his hair, fixed his collar, and dusted off his pants legs. He wanted to look perfect for her.

“Don’t be stupid,” he murmured to himself. He had a good feeling about this. About her. And if he messed this up because he looked bad or said something weird he would kick himself into a muddy ditch.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and calmly walked back, “I’ve got the last one,” he said, tapping the tip of the vase with his pointer finger. It was a lie, right through his teeth, but he was happy to tell it in return for the way she was looking at him in that moment. His eyes rounded out as he approached her, like the curves of hearts that made up the heart-eye emoji, or the puppy-dog face. Just another physical display of his growing affinity towards her.

“Oh my god!” She said, “It's so pretty!” The trapped crystals in her irises twinkled with bewilderment at the treasure Harry’s presented her with. She’s got a smile on her face, and he can’t help but think, ‘wow, she looks like a freshly bloomed white lily’.

There’s a vintage print hanging in his corridor, a ‘flower language chart’ with different types of flowers and a sentence beneath them describing the messages they send. For example, red carnations= my heart aches for you. The description beneath white lilies reads ‘my love is pure’.

She asked him if it wasn’t too pricey, and he made up some fake sale he had going on about a hybrid BOGO in which if she bought an arrangement she would get a vase included in her purchase (he added “I’ve got a shipment of new ones coming in an I need the space cleared out before they get here” just to make sure his fib is believable.) And he explains this so shyly. Harry can’t keep his eyes locked on hers because she’s staring at him with an intensity that lets him know she's really listening, and it makes him squirm. The tips of his fingers tap against the vase, and he’s tripping over his tongue, which is ridiculous because he already talks so slow.

“I guess I was right in waiting then,” she said casually, waiting for Harry to finish ringing her up.

His finger froze over the touch screen of the sleek, modern device (he wanted nothing but the best for his store) and listened to the exciting roar of blood through his eardrums at her words. I guess I was right in waiting then? What did that mean? That she was planning on coming back to see him and didn’t? Of course, it could also mean that she was going to buy something else somewhere else, but he couldn’t stop the vine of ripe hope that swelled around his chest. And she looked so apprehensive while saying it. As if she was walking on glass and was looking for cracks as she stepped. As if she was waiting on him to catch on to something.

Harry cleared his throat and looked at her through the corner of his eye, trying to be as discreet as possible as his fingers continued their deliberate work on the screen, “What d’you mean, love?”

“I was going to stop by sooner, but I just got in my head about it,” the girl shrugged, and adjusted the ends of her cardigan so they wrapped around her torso. She had a different bag this time, one of those reusable market bags that was made up of holes, and it was filled with two books and a can of green tea from the vegan store down the street. Harry thinks he can make out one of the titles on one of the spines, which looks suspiciously similar to something that he has on his own shelf.

“Why would y’get in y’own head about coming to m’flower shop, hmm? It’s hardly that intimidating,” he chuckles to play off the dashes of pink and red that are painting themselves across the bridge of his twitching nose, “I don’t bite, either.”

And he hopes that his wistfulness isn’t meddling with his vision because he swears that he can see a matching reaction on her own doll face. “I know! I know, it’s just that I can’t help it sometimes. Talking to other people makes me nervous.”

Harry could coo at her right now. He doesn’t, though. He nods and smiles at her before reading her total out to her, “That I get, too. But y’doing just fine with me, love.”

Waiting patiently as she digs through her bag for cash, he tries to not stare. However, it’s impossible. His eyes had a mind of their own dragging against the forces of his will to feast on her image again. Her hands and the tip of her nose. The base of her neck and gentle swell of her clavicles. The swoops of hair that hung in a curtain from her shoulder as her head tilted in search, and the how her teeth bit down into her lip in concentration. Harry counted the amount of times her eyelashes met her waterline in those few seconds of comfortable silence. Three.

“I thought I had cash on me today,” something in her bag clicks, and she pulls out the rectangular card Harry’s become familiar with, holding it out to him between two deft fingers, painted with red hearts on a white base. “I guess I used my last twenty at the organic food store down the street,” she said.

“It is pretty easy to get lost in there, isn’t it?” He took her card from her, and tried not to make it obvious that he was eager to read her name off of it as he inserted it into the machine. The embossed letters into the plastic read y/n y/l/n, and when he turns back to look at her, he can’t help the smile that spreads across his boyish features.

Y/n.

Y/n, y/n, y/n.

This is what it must feel to be let in on a secret that’s worth millions of dollars. It must, because Harry’s heart is soaring with a closure he didn’t know he needed. Y/n, y/n. Her name tickled him. Stroked him. Lathered him with the honey smoothness of the beeswax shampoo he bought at that fateful organic store. It was a fitting name. Sometimes, one could tell a person ‘you know, I actually thought you were a Amy or a Jessica’, because their looks and style just didn’t match the strength or modesty of their name. But not y/n. It fit her like a glove. There was no other way to make sense of the way Harry’s brain was thinking. The name was her.

“What?” Her lips quirk up into a smile and her eyebrows dip in confusion. Why was he looking at her like that? Did she have something on her face? Here she was, opening up to a cute stranger and she had something on her face? This, she thought to herself, is humiliating. Her finger dusted off non-existent crumbs from the corners of her mouth, “do I have something on my face?”

“No! No, no.” Harry’s careful beam simmered down from it’s previous brightness, and his hand nervously filed through the swoop of chocolate curls sitting on his head like a cinnamon roll. “I just think y’name is pretty thas’ all.”

He murmured the last part so that it was practically incoherent, and lowered his gaze as a searing heat stretching like saran wrap around his head and the divot on the nape of his neck. Oh, God. He was fucking blushing. Great Harry. A normally favorite among the ladies had been reduced to murmurs and thick, uncoordinated movements.

Like dropping her card when she piped up again.

Voice as small and quaint as his had been, "you think my name is pretty?” Her fingers are wrapped around the frail straps of her bag, tight enough that her knuckles were white and Harry was scared that she’d bury her fingernails into her palm.

“I think y’very pretty.” He whispered back. He can’t even bear to look at her in fear that he’s totally fucked himself over once and for all. His logic was this: what girl wants to be told by the guy they’re buying flowers that they’re pretty after he reads her name from her debit card? Especially one who (if outside female sources are to be believed) dresses “the way my mother did when she was a girl in the seventies”? Jesus, fuck. He must’ve looked ridiculous.

Harry opened his mouth to backtrack and apologize for being so unorthodox in his workspace, a breath sitting on his tongue with words ready to spew out, but the bell began to chime and it yanks his head from the register to the front and instead he said, “welcome! I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Flustered and full of regret, the flower connoisseur returned his wired gaze back to y/n, who… was smiling at him? The kind of smile that said ‘oh my god, I can’t believe you just said that. Now please say it again’? Was he… dreaming? Did he have to pinch himself in order to verify that he wasn-

“Thank you... what’s your name?” Y/n looked at the card from his hands and sunk her hand- carefully, as to not get her fingers stuck in any of the tiny holes- and there was another clicking noise before she took her hand back out. That angel-like smear of girlish happiness was still on her, decadently radiating positivity and secret affection. Goodness leaked from the seams of her bones; through the cracks of her breastplate, radiating from her chest to Harry’s. He could feel it now. He could feel that his previous assumptions about her nature were true. She was altruistic and tender, like the inside of a bird’s wing.

“Harry. M’name’s Harry.” This time, he didn’t hide his happiness. Even his eyes shone with a heightened, clear and sparkly shade of liquid evergreen. The joy that bounced inside of him like ricocheting metal balls in a pin game machine. His slender hand, fawn-skinned and graceful like the legs of a deer, stretched out between them. His mother had taught him that along with the first introduction of his name, a handshake must be present, always. Dipping his head slightly, and his words spongy with love-ditz, Harry rumbled, “Nice to meet you, y/n.”

She placed her hand in his, and was practically swallowed by only his palm. He curled his fingers around her, thumb and middle finger overlapping around the clammy center of hers. So she was nervous, just as he was. Y/n was trained on their embracing limbs, and he could feel a spot on his neck where the skin palpated from the rush of blood as she observed their entwined digits. Their hands moved up and down, up and down between them for longer than necessary until her chin twitched back up to meet his, and she blinked mawkishly, slowly, like the videos of rehabilitated barn owls Harry sees on his Instagram.

Then, suddenly, as if she remembered she was not the only one present, y/n jolts upright and shakes her head dazedly. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Harry. I like your nail color,” she added.

He’s cheesing. A shit-eating grin too big for his face and it carves dimples into the flesh of his cheeks. His name on her tongue had never sounded so appealing, like it was made for her and only her to say. Not even the turtle-doves that cooed outside his window in the mornings sounded as beautiful as she did saying his name. And she complimented her nails! She hadn’t scrutinized him like others had, instead, she displayed her admiration for them. No one- well, actually he can’t say that without offending Mitch- no female of his age had ever received him with such open-mindedness as hers. If he didn’t have any self-restraint, he would giggle. Instead, Harry pulled his hand back so that their perfect moment wasn’t sullied with bouts of bad timing, “thank y’love. I like yours, too. You’ll have t’come over sometime and paint mine, yeah?”

Y/n laughed, and he breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t been too bold, “I’d love too!” With glee frozen on her, she turned to look over her shoulder at the customer who was browsing the flowers Harry had in buckets, “I don’t want to hold you back from a customer for so long. I’ll stop by again soon, Harry. Thank you so much for your help.”

The moment her hands reached for the wrapped bundle of sunflowers and the mermaid vase, a metaphorical grey cloud of rain and thunder manifested in the space above his head, and blocked all of the sunshine from spanning across his toned, lithe body. Did she really have to go? He wanted to whine. Maybe even wrap himself around her ankles like a child that refused to leave the park. They were only just getting to a mutual spot of comfort! Forget the other customer, he wanted to shout. Harry would kick them out and flip the sign to ‘closed’ if it meant only a few more minutes in the presence of her candy-coated charisma.

But he knows that’s unrealistic, and settles with, “it was my pleasure, y/n,” a flirty wink (at least he hopes it is), “I’ll be waiting f’your next visit.” His taffy lips wrapping effortlessly around his smooth words, fueled by her welcoming receptiveness to his advances. It would be easy to be himself in the future, a little smoother and eloquent in his language and feeling. He was usually clear with what he wanted from anyone, and made it a pleasurable experience in all aspects for both parties involved (once it was three). Harry wanted to sweep her off her feet, and he wanted it to be an enjoyable experience for the both of them. Revel in that feeling of blooming emotions in a new relationship. A healthy one, in which he wasn’t receiving back-handed compliments all the time.

He wasn’t superficial enough to push anyone off the table based on looks alone, but it did help that y/n had the disposition of an angel. An ethereal voice, supple lips that looked so silky and soft they had to feel that way, too, and hands that felt so tender in his. Perfect for holding on a late night stroll, or over the center console of his car when -if they go out on dates.

What really hooked, reeled, and sinked him, though, was the fact that she was so nice to him. From the start, she’d been nothing but polite and sweet with him. Don’t even get him started on the way he swooned at the tone of her voice when he said that her name was pretty! So quiet and velvety, careful and calculated like she wanted him to know that it was okay. That she wasn’t thrown off by his comment. He nearly toppled over, clutching his heart with his legs jutting straight up into the air like a frightened goat.

It wasn’t until the bells stopped ringing the sad notice of her exit that Harry realized he passed up the perfect opportunity to ask for her number, and as he kicked himself over it, he walked with the perfect customer service face he could muster to help the other person in his store.

***

Harry was having a shitty morning.

Not the kind of morning where every aspect of his routine is a terrible mishap, but like the water being too cold and the stove not working or the bottle of oat milk in the fridge being empty so he couldn’t make coffee. No, everything was fine and rolling smoothly, as it should.

His water was the perfect temperature and ran down the toned bumps and divots of his muscles like the relaxing thrums of a lover’s caress in the midst of prowling heat. As soon as it hit his back, he released a sigh of contentment, his shoulders hunching and head rolling back and his hands roamed his shoulders and the back of his neck, rubbing away any aches that existed. The branch of eucalyptus that hung from the golden pipe of his showerhead fused a thick minty scent into the steam that fogged the glass wall, and the calming aroma helped the tendons loosen like the deflating limpness of untied shoelaces. He spent a few minutes just standing there, inhaling and exhaling deeply and feeling his lungs open and stretch beneath his rib cage.

It almost made him wish that he’d opted to use his tub for a hot bath instead.

He was able to cook an egg just fine on his stove, with dashes of Everything Bagel Seasoning with a side of avocado and a slice of toasted cranberry walnut bread, the same thing he had every morning. The carton of oat milk was brand new from his trip to the market the day before, and his coffee tasted the same as it always did. But… he was just... sad. An melancholy soreness that eroded against the insides of his body, consuming him slowly but surely and leaving him with a lost feeling of emptiness and unimportance.

He thinks he might know why he’s feeling this way.

While he’s stirring his scrambled eggs, he’s wondering how y/n likes hers. Over easy? Sunny-side up? Scrambled, like him? Did she even like eggs in the morning? What did she eat in the morning? He knows that some people ‘aren’t hungry’ in the mornings, though that’s only because they’ve gone hungry in the mornings before for an extended time period, and after so long of not feeding their growling stomachs, their brain discontinues the signals of hunger. Harry hopes that isn’t the case with y/n, and that she’s eating the proper three meals a day every day.

And while he dipped a mini vegan chocolate croissant that he got at Whole Foods, he also wonders what she likes to dip chocolate croissants into, or if she even likes chocolate croissants. If she was a person who likes sweet treats, like strawberry tarts with powdered sugar over them or something lighter, like fruit cut into small squares in a bowl. When Harry was younger and would visit his nan on the weekends, she would pick fresh strawberries from her garden and cut them up for him when he’d woken from his nap. Sometimes, she would even sprinkle half a tablespoon of sugar over them. He wonders if she’d ever eaten strawberries like that.

It’s been a week and a half, he still hasn’t seen her, and his heart is yearning.

Harry knows he’s not in the correct headspace to assist other people with a cheery disposition about an hour before opening time, and decides it’s best if he writes a note on the door about how the shop wouldn’t open that day because he didn’t want to taint the reputation of his business by snapping at a customer for the only bundle of sunflowers he had, or dissolve into a puddle of love-sick tears in the middle of ringing someone up. Though really the notice just says ‘H’s Garden will not be opening today. Sorry for the inconvenience!’ followed by a frowning face and a lopsided, filled-in heart.

Harry drags his feet back up the stairs, his lower lip jutting out in a discreet but depressing pout, and grabs Owen from his tank so that the chameleon could curl into the shoulder of Harry’s hoodie while he moped on the couch to sappy rom-coms that would only make him think about her more. At least there was someone there with him, even if his small green friend only used him for mangoes and papaya. They sit together for the entirety of Romeo + Juliet, and when it’s over, Harry’s sniffly and standing up to return Owen to his enclosure and to clean because the riotous emotions that whirl within him are too much to process while sitting down.

Cleaning wouldn’t help him solve his problems, but it would help him cram all of his worries into a tight corner at the back of his mind- sort of like when dirty laundry began to overflow in the hamper and it requires extra force to shove it all in, only to come all back out like a memory sponge. His tormented thoughts on y/n could be compared to a dramatic inner monologue, very similar to how Romeo feels about his Juliet. But, soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and y/n is the sun. Harry has the play on his book shelf (the one with the side-to-side modern English translation because he was never quite gifted in the English department) and as he reaches for a bandana to tie his hair back, he finds himself resonating with a particular line: parting is such a sweet sorrow.

There was no need to change any of his clothing, since he was already dressed in one of his more impromptu outfits; grey sweats and a white t-shirt that read ‘women are smarter’ in black across his chest. He tied the red bandana into a knot at the back of his head, and lifted it over his chin so that it settled on his forehead, sweeping his hair back with a final push back. It doesn’t get in his way when he crouches to clean his various tables, spraying cleaning products with his shirt pulled over his nose, another organic product that’s supposed to be less harmful and smells like cinnamon and sandalwood. His shoulder blades begin to ache because he’s being a little more aggressive than he has to be, but the green tiles were sparkling so he was content.

He washes the dishes, mops the kitchen floor, vacuums the carpets, cleans Owen’s habitat, and tidies the mail that piled up on the table when he finally calls it quits. Scouring his brain for something to do, to keep him busy- his brain busy, Harry settles on the floor with his back to the edge of his bed. He’s shirtless now, and is in need of another shower but he’d rather not because he knows he might end up crying over the possibility that he’s scared y/n off. There’s a book in his hands and a Frank Ocean record playing softly in the background that mentions something about ‘I've been thinkin' 'bout you, do you think about me still?’ and it’s not helping his case at all.

It’s no use.

There’s a plague of darkness buzzing like cicadas in his ears. He fears rejection and criticism. That maybe, she was only pretending in order to make the situation more pleasant so it ended sooner. Most of all, he feared that it would always be this way. That he would never find someone who embraces who he is as a person. Always met with mean side-eye glances or second looks of displeasure and confusion. It isn’t always that way, though, because then that would mean he gets absolutely no action, and that isn’t true.

Harry is very… well-educated in matters that concerned sexual intercourse, but it was always a one-night stand ordeal. It was never ‘I really like you we should go out sometime’. In fact, he noticed that only time his approaches were well received were those in which he was dressed in a calmer manner. Simple, solid colors with sneakers or a t-shirt. Girls would flirt back, make good conversation, allow him to buy them a few drinks, and when he’d take them to his apartment they’d ask why he lived on top of a flower-shop, and if it was his sister or female-friend’s palace that he was crashing. Sex would ensue, but his heart wouldn’t be as present and engaged as he wanted it to be.

Wrong. It was always so fucking wrong, and God, if he didn’t get out of this apartment he’s going to breakdown and cry and there’s no one to call to come over because Mitch is on a trip with his girlfriend, Sarah, and his other friend Jeff is on his honeymoon in Sweden. They were the only two on his mental speed dial list during the rare occasions he had a crisis, as they were the two that Harry had ever really opened up to. Mitch was a bit closer to his heart. They’ve known each other since their school days and practically grew up together (at one point they had small crushes on each other, which were confessed years down the line). Jeff was the owner of Winsome where… where y/n had mentioned spending her last twenty dollar bill. He didn’t have an issue opening up to them. He liked opening up to them, but he didn’t understand why they were the only two that ever truly opened their arms to him.

A walk, he decided, would help him… air out his brain. Calm down. Breathe a little deeper, a little easier.

He threw his white shirt back on, and a forest green sweatshirt that donned the emblem of the school he went to earn his business degree that fit him wide around the shoulders and felt like a marshmallow. Putting on a pair of beat up shoes, he shoved his keys into his pocket, hobbling and nearly losing his balance because he was moving way too fast. The door closed behind him with a slam, and even though he was still wearing the bandana around his head, wispy stray curls framing his face in a wild mane, his distress palpable through his appearance, but he doesn’t care. He just needs to get out and feel the cool air against his skin.

There’s a backdoor behind the stairs that will take him to a small alleyway that leads to a back parking lot where other shop owners that live at the top of their stores on the same side of his street parked their cars. He unlocks it from the inside, and throws his shoulder into it, desperate to her out. When it shuts behind him, he doesn’t turn back because it’s the kind to lock from the outside when closed. His fingers curl into the ends of his sleeve so that the tips of his fingers (nails now changed to a sparkling silver color) are the only parts of his hands visible.

Rounding the corner, he whistled the cheeriest tune he can muster. His lips are puckered and his cheekbones high with the extension of his mouth. He’s not very happy on the inside, though he remembers reading something somewhere that if you pretend to be something long enough, you’ll eventually become it. If he pretends to be happy, then he’ll actually be happy.

Right?

Harry rounds the corner of the parking lot and turns on to the main street. It’s only two in the afternoon, so there's people crawling in and out of shops anywhere. He even sees a man and a woman peeking into the window of his store, and he would feel bad if he wasn’t in a shitty mood already. He’s so out of it, that he nearly yells ‘get your hands off my windows!’. He doesn’t though, because for a moment the woman becomes y/n and the man becomes him, wrapping a ringed hand around her waist and whispering in her downy ear ‘they’re closed, darling, let’s go somewhere else’ and she straightens dejectedly, pouting playfully and standing up and her tippy toes so that she could press a quick kiss to his lips.

That image fades though, and the couple continues with their stroll, hand in hand, and his heart is wrenching, writhing and trying to yank itself free from it’s place in his chest because it hurts too much to stay.

Cars whizz past, and he skirts in and out of people on the sidewalk, keeping his pace fast and focused. There’s no intended destination, he’s just moving with the intent to forget the pretty girl who haunts him. Her voice is all he can hear. Her smile is all she can picture. And the rest of her is all he can imagine, which is exactly what hurts the most. Imagination only goes so far, fulfils so much with uncertainty of what the truth was and what wasn’t. Harry could imagine her with her feet up on the lip of a bubble filled tub, a glass of wine in her hands, but then…what kind of wine did she like? Or did she even like wine? And did she even have a bathtub to stretch out in after a long day?

He curses the crimes he may have committed in past lives to deserve this torture. This unbearable pain that felt like he was being dunked in a slow-acting acid. He can do nothing about it but keep walking with labored will power. He passed his shop, and a bakery and a small thrift store that sells used clothing for way too much money. At the propped open double-doors of Jeff’s Winsome, he decides to talk in and browse. There’s so many items that smell good and taste good, that it was fun to just walk in and look.

“Back again so soon, H?”

Spinning on his heel, Harry comes face to face with Niall, a brunette, fit, Irish bloke with a chummy smile and a killer sense of humor. The two have brokered a sort of friendship, considering the amount of time (and money) that Harry spends there. Niall has even started calling him ‘H’ in silent homage to his flower shop.

“Y’know I can’t stay away,” Harry attempted to joke, his lips pulling up in a weak smile, “plus, I think I needed s’more of the peppermint essential oils f’my diffuser.”

“‘Course ya do! You're worse than the bloody vegan mums that come in asking for gluten free baby powder!” Niall cups a hand over his mouth and loudly whispers to so that only Harry catches his verbiage. There was a woman in the back of the store, looking through soaps in the limited kid’s section, the same exact kind that Niall was speaking about. “Go on and look around then, I’ll be here when you’re finished.” He said.

Harry only nodded his acknowledgement, and moved in between wooden walnut shelves. The entire store had a caramel brown color scheme, with only the inventory adding color to it. Macramé potted succulents and plants added to the natural, outdoorsy feel. Winsome had an interesting mix of smells from all of the aromatherapy based products it housed, but it only added to the appeal.

Currently, he held a packet of four lip balms that advertised to be ‘100% all naturally derived ingredients with no artificial additives' infused with ‘healing power of crystals’, two of them ‘citrine cherry' flavored, and the remaining ‘garnet guava’. The brand name is something in Italian that he can’t read, packaging thick and a triangle made of arrows in the corner signaling it can be decomposed and/or recycled. He had the same exact ones at home, only they were all misplaced and-

“Harry?”

A small, timid voice called his name from behind him, and he froze. He knew that voice. It was the same one he had repeated over and over in his head for the past week, waiting for her promised arrival with a hopeful heart.

His eyes go wide with recognition, body still and stiff like a deer caught in headlights. His heart begins to rump at a furious speed, loud in his ears like a million stampeding hooves. The packaged products in his hands shake, and then she speaks again, “Harry, is that you?”

Is this really happening right now? He’s embarrassed at having been caught with lipstick in his hands of all things, but he can’t put them back now. It was too late for that. He lets them hang at his side, and turns around. He hopes there isn’t perspiration dripping from his temples because all of a sudden he wants to yank his sweater off.

Harry turned, slowly. He feared that if he moved too fast she would fly away like a startled dove.

“Y/n…” He’s breathless, but he manages a pitiful quirk of the corner of his mouth, which he licks over right after, “hi.”

She’s wearing a dress this time, frilly at the hem which fell just above her knees. It’s pink and covered and lined with blood red trim at her forearms. A string of pearls glistens at the base of her throat, and her lips are covered in a sheen of lipstick. Her hair, however, is a tousled mess, pieces of it framing her face and untucked from her bun as if she had been jostling around. Her cheeks are flushed with the cold, and clearly that thin beige cardigan hanging off her elbows is doing nothing to keep her warm.

Y/n smiles at him, with the same shakiness, “f-for a second I thought I was talking to the wrong p-person.”

It’s quiet again, and they’re both fidgeting. Y/n’s knees knock together as she shifts her weight from foot to food, and Harry idly rubs his finger under his nose and sniffs boogies that aren’t there. She’s staring at the ground and rocking back and forth on her heels and he can’t think of anything to say because he’s so paralyzed by the fact that she’s actually standing in front of him, and looks as gorgeous as ever. Had he somehow manifested her presence?

While she’s hiking up the ends of her sweater so that they’re situated properly on her shoulders, he says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Aren’t y’cold?”

Her head snaps up and she peeks at him from under her lashes while flattening a hand at her thigh, “a little bit.”

Harry watches her tuck her hair behind her ears and wonders if she came walking from her apartment again. In the cold. Dress as she was. Not that he had a problem with the way that she was dressed! He understood that sometimes when people grew bored they used the smallest occasions to dress up and have some fun and get out of their homes. He did it too, sometimes. To clear his head. Hell, isn’t that what he was doing now?

“D’you need a ride home?” He stumbled over his tongue to backtrack, not wanting her to think that he was a wierdo or anything like that, “t-that is if y’walking, I wouldn’t want you to get sick or anything like that. S’bit chilly out today.”

Y/n smiles shyly at him, a blush on the highest points of her cheeks, and rubs the side of her face against the fabric of her cardigan, “thank you, for the offer, but uhm… it’s my friend’s baby-shower-gender-reveal thing today and I came with my other friend to some last minute gifts and some flowers. I was going to buy some stuff from here because she’s crazy about the whole ‘no preservatives’ and all but, and I was also going to stop by your shop to buy some flowers, but I saw you were closed so I…I’m rambling again.” She sputtered out the last bit, and pressed the tips of her three middle fingers to her lips to stop the words from coming out.

Harry smirked at her antics, but it’s more of a repressed smile, and the rest of his humor gleamed in the sea-glass of his eyes like a message in a bottle.

“S’alright, love.” He’s still holding the lip balms in his hand, and he can feel the moisture that’s collecting on his palms dampening the Kraft like material as he gestured to her dress with the tip of his chin. “Y’wearing pink. I take it y’want the baby to be a girl?”

“Actually, I know it’s a girl. She told me,” y/n pips, shrugging smugly.

Harry laughs at her this time, “Did you finish with all your purchases here? I can make an exception and open up f’you.”

“Oh, Harry, I don’t wanna bother you! Because if this was your day off then-”

He lifts a hand to get her to stop, and uses the opportunity to twist around and put back what he had in his hands. The conversation is flowing so smoothly now, that all of his previous worries are gone. He can only focus on her and the way her eyelashes fluttered and the crystalline sparkly in her voice.

“Y/n, it’s fine. D’ya finish here? We can head over to the shop now if you’d like.” Harry points a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the door.

“Uh, no. I just got here so I still have to go grab some things,” she said, pushing her hair past her ears again. He thinks that she can probably tell the disheveled state her hair was in, because she begins to pop off a pin in her hair to readjust it. He doesn’t mind it, though. He thinks she looks cute. Angel-like.

He nods, rolling his hands into fists within his sleeves so that the cuffs hang over his knuckles, and tries not to trip over his legs as he backs away. “A’right. I’ll wait f’you in the front, then. Take y’time, love.”

“‘Kay,” she gleams at him, biting down on her bottom lip, and Harry turns away fully before he starts whining about how cute she is or before there’s a dent in the heather grey fabric of his sweatpants.

At the front, Niall has his chin at the palm of his hand, and as he gets closer, Harry lifts his head to see that the brunette is wiggling his eyebrows mischievously. There's a shit-eating grin on his face that clearly points to a mountain of teasing in the near distance.

“A little love-struck, mate?” He said, as soon as Harry was within hearing distance. At least he had the decency to keep his voice down, he thought.

Harry flips him off, “oh, bug off.”

Silver glitter sparkling on his nails, and his gaze strays to the floor, bashful of how clear his affection was. He turns to rest his bum against the counter and pulls out his phone to appear busy as he waits for y/n, mindlessly opening Instagram to have something to do (and to stop him from glancing at her ever two seconds).

“Yup. I knew it. Have y’asked her out yet?” Niall doesn’t stop to let Harry refute his question, “y’know she comes in sometimes, after stopping by your place? And she just will not stop talking about how nice yeh were to her.”

Harry’s head snaps up from his screen so fast, something at the back of his neck creaks with the force. Instagram is long forgotten.

“What? Are you fuckin’ with me right now?” He doesn’t mean for his words to come as aggressive as they do, but the thought of her speaking to someone else about him is… well, it’s thrilling.

Alarmed, Niall’s hands come up near his face in the motion of surrender, “no, man! Dead serious. Think she likes yeh, honestly.”

He can only say: “Fuck me.”

Niall is about to respond when a quiet voice breaks their stares, “I’m all finished.”

“Already, babe? I’ll rig ya up, then!”

He’s quick to slide the few products over the scanning square, and y/n and Harry stand beside each other silently, their height difference laughable. Niall’s gaze flickered between them with no commentary, and his lips pucker with a wiggling smile when he finally announces her total. A bit too much for a small changing blanket, oatmeal-based baby lotion, pacifiers with a lavender infused towel attached to ‘aid with goodnight night’s sleep’, and a bamboo hairbrush with a tuft of soft bristles.

Nonetheless, she provides the money with a pleasant smile. Harry can see a bit of tightness around her eyes that suggests discomfort, but he doesn’t say anything. Niall hands her a paper bag with her purchase, “there yeh go! Have a good day now, y/n! And be good, to Harry!”

Harry’s eyes widen at Niall’s last comment, and it takes every bit of self-restraint in him to not reach the other counter and whack him in the back of the head. Instead, he shakes and ducks his head in near shame.

Y/n, however, quips back with “I’ll be nice only if you’re nice,” and bumps her shoulder against his before walking towards the door, looking over her shoulder at Harry who’s smiling wide now, and trailing after her with no regard to Niall at all.

He shouts something after them about being rude lovebirds, but Harry doesn’t care. He’s floating after this heaven-sent like cartoon characters being led to a freshly baked pie with their nose on the scent. His rump high in the air like the Lorax disappearing into the light in the clouds, utterly ignorant to everything else.

When they’ve both stepped outside, they speak at the same time,

“Let me just-”

“Do y’wanna put-”

Harry and y/n giggle at each other,

“You go first.”

“Y’speak first.”

And then they laugh again. Harry pretends to zip his lips and throws away the key, and she says radiantly, “I’ll drop this off in my friend’s car really fast and we can walk to your flower shop.”

Watching her approach a car parked two spots away, a girl with blue, pink, and brown hair leans over to the passenger side, seat belt straining against her throat and when she sees Harry, she waves and it makes y/n push her back to her spot behind the driver’s side. Whoever this girl is, she and Niall have to meet, seeing as they can’t mind their own business. He chuckled and waved back, that girl laughing along with him and it made y/n cover her face with her cardigan covered hands.

“I’m sorry about Charlotte,” she said when she got back, “she doesn’t know how to mind her own.”

“A bit like Niall, it seems.” Harry said. He waits for her to catch up before beginning to walk down the street. Side to side, shoulder to shoulder. They’re so close, Harry can feel the warmth of her body heat through the fleece of his sweatshirt. It’s cold, and she’s still this warm?

“Maybe,” her eyebrows raise, and her head tilts towards him, “they should meet.”

“Tha’s exactly what I was thinkin’!” His voice rises with his excited agreement, and the tip of his nose wiggles as he scrunches his nose.

As they get closer, to H’s Garden, Harry reaches into his pocket for his keys, fingering through them so that they wouldn’t have to stand in the cold for so long. He didn’t want her to get sick.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I feel really bad about this,” she whispered beside him, looking up at him with doe eyes as she worried her lip between her teeth, the sheen of gloss adding an extra allure to her image at that moment. “It’s your day off, and I’m bugging you.”

They stood in front of the door now, underneath the green umbrella cover that extended from the top of the door and down the side of the window. Harry waited for her to step into the little alcove created by the indent of the door before stepping in after her and jiggling the key into the lock. He resisted the urge to pull his lips down into a cooing frown at the look on her face. She really was worried about disturbing him. If only she knew that he spent the entire day moping (and nearly crying) over her.

He sucked on his teeth, “oh, love, please worryin’ about it. Don’t wanna see that frown on y’pretty face anymore okay?” His confidence was slowly coming back, “s’not my day off, I just didn’t feel like speaking to customers today.”

Shrugging, he opened the door, and took a step back to allow her to step through first. Y/n ducked her head as she passed him with a murmured ‘oh, okay’, and he followed right after her, wanting to get away from the cold too because he knew that his nose was probably pink at that moment, but what he didn’t anticipate was for y/n to stop right after breaching the threshold, and bend over at the waist to pick something up from the floor, causing Harry to bump into her at such an awkwardly sexual angle with all of his momentum.

Considering he was half twisted away from her and in the middle of pulling out the key from it’s slot, the amount of force in Harry’s push from behind was enough to cause her to nearly fall forward, a surprised whimper slipping from her lips. Harry, determined not to see her fall, lets go of the key and reaches out just in time to grasp her hips on either side, pulling her back towards him mid-fall so that she doesn't collapse on her face.

However, in the midst of all of this Harry forgets himself and uses a bit too much force. Not to mention, the implications of their position makes him hyper aware of every single place their bodies touched, her small frame against his lithe, tattooed body.

This moment only lasts for a few seconds, but he can feel everything.

He can feel the easy give of the skin of her hips underneath each finger that touched her, the softness of the flesh on her thighs against his sturdy knees. The fabric of his sweatpants is suddenly non-existent, and it’s almost as if he felt every taught tendon of her legs, frozen with efforts of helping catch or brace herself. The heat of her groin is flush against his, and it makes him want to scream with a sudden sensitivity. Her ass is practically seated on him, full and malleable against the points of his laurel covered hip bones. Harry’s semi-hunched, as her weight also pushed him back, and the position is doing nothing to help his frenzied mind settle. He feels like shit because he’s being a horny, pubescent kid instead of asking her if she’s okay, but then y/n moves back into him to straighten fully and their centers grind. Her dress is semi-bunched at the halfway point of her bum, and he can feel heat emanating from her, radiating back on his bloating cock. He has to stifle a moan when she pushes herself up with the tips of her fingers.

Just as quickly as it started, it’s over. Y/n is dusting her bum off so that her dress falls and covers her modesty, and she’s beet red in the face, not looking at him. Which was fine by him, he was too ashamed to look into her eyes.

He clears his throat (something he’s doing a lot around her) and asks if she’s okay.

“Yes. Yes, I’m okay. This was on the floor,” she squeaked, holding up a neon yellow notice sheet in her hand. That damned thing was what caused all of this?

It’s a notice from the delivery men that said, ‘sorry! We missed you!’ with a time and date messily scrawled on the dotted lines. Harry had forgotten that he was getting a shipment of several plants that morning.

Cursing, he takes it from her, “t-thank you. Now how ‘bout those flowers?”

It’s awkward, obviously, but y/n is severely silent. Harry’s still stuffy in his pants, but he ignores it and doesn’t add any fuel to the fire because there’s more pressing matters at hand than a boner. Y/n is the most quiet she’s ever been around him, considering all of her word vomits and ramblings, and he’s suffering. Definitely beating himself up in his head for having ruined the moment. He held onto her for a second too long, frozen. She must feel so embarrassed, and he was self-endulging like a fucking asshole.

Harry asks her questions on what flowers she’d like, and she answers by pointing or bringing a stem to him, laying it on the counter without a word. A mixture of dahlias and baby’s breath with a handful of feverfew to make the pink in the dahlia’s stand out. He lays them out on his work table, cutting the ends at an angle where they need to be cutted and laying them out on a sheet of clear, dusty rose paper. Three packets of flower food are strewn at the corner, and y/n busies herself by fidgeting with them. He grows concerned when he makes a comment on the kinds of ribbons he had stored and she doesn’t say anything. Not even a nod or a hum.

Eventually, he decides he’s had enough of her neglect, and pauses his work to devote her some attention.

“Love, I’m sorry about what happened,” he said softly, trying to catch her eyes, “I know it probably made y’uncomfortable, and I didn’t do much to make the situation better, but I just didn’t wanna see y’fall.”

Y/n’s head is already dipped, so he can’t see her face, but when her shoulders begin to shake, he knows he’s utterly fucked. She starts to sniffle, and his eyes go wide. The paper crinkled as he set down the baby’s breath he’s holding in his hands. He hates seeing people cry, not because he didn’t know how to deal with it, but because he often ended up crying along with them. Also, he just didn’t want to see her cry. Harry wanted her to be happy, glowing, and smiling. Not dull with dollops of woeful distress in liquid form.

He rounds the corner and spares a look out to the street, wanting to make sure that there is no strange onlooker eavesdropping on their interaction. His hand reaches out to stroke her back or shoulder comfortingly, but he thinks better of it and drops his arm. She most likely would not like to be touched, considering what just happened between them. He drops his head, seeking face-to-face interaction, and speaks as gently as he can, “y/n, what’s wrong?”

She avoids his search, and turns the other way while sniffling, “you probably think I’m weird now or something after that.”

“No!” Harry exclaimed, jerking his head back as if he’d been struck, and her words practically had. He can’t believe that she would think that and even go as far as verbalizing her thoughts when he worshipped the ground she walked on and didn’t even know her that well, yet. “No, no. I don’t think that. Y’tripped, that’s all. Happens to everyone. If anythin’ I’m the weirdo for grabbin’ y’the way I did, and I’m really sorry about it.”

Y/n dig the heels of her hands into her eye sockets, “that was so embarrassing, I should’ve told you I was gonna stop or something. I always embarrass myself in front of cute boys and I never know what to do. I just-”

Harry interrupts before she can dig herself further another hole. He highlights a segment of her words, dropping everything else in hopes of changing the conversation and taking her discomfort away, and mostly because he was bursting with relief and happiness. She had said that she thought he was cute, just how he thought that she was adorable, and nice, and everything good. They were on the same level, their minds in sync. Did that mean…

His voice is airy and light because of what she had just admitted, “y’think I’m cute?”

She stills with awareness of what she’s just said, and a puppy-like noise seeps from the back of the throat before her hands sink further into her eyes, embarrassed. Harry tenderly wraps his fingers around her small wrists and pulls her hands away from her face, murmuring about ‘don’t rub y’eyes anymore, love, y’gonna hurt’ with nothing but kindness. A millisecond of distraction speeds through his mind at the softness on the inside of her wrists.

There’s a trickle of blubbering in her part, her bitten lips bumping against each other as she attempts to backtrack, “I mean- I- I-”

Harry decides that it’s now or never. It was a bit inconvenient, perhaps, but with her revelation his confidence soared and he was more prepared now to ask than he ever had been. So, he goes for it, “can I have y’number?”

A moment of semi-uncomfortable silence as the unknown tips the scale. Would she say yes? Would she say no? His head was spinning and he hoped his nose didn’t start bleeding or something because y/n nods slowly, smiling, and then, “okay.”

He’s elated. He was the polar opposite of what he had been that morning. If only Owen could see him then. He doesn’t waste any time reaching into his back pocket and handing her his unlocked phone. They don’t share any words, only coy glances and flirty quirks of the lips as the tips of her fingers move on his screen. Harry can’t believe that he’s finally getting her number, after nearly a month of pinning.

When she’s finished, she clicks it off and sets it next to him with an added pat to the back of his suspiciously clean white phone case while he’s tying the flowers together with a loose rubber band at the ends to attach the food packets. He’s fine with working in silence now that she's not crying anymore. He throws occasional glances in her direction, and catches her watching his hands while fiddling with her own. Her brows were furrowed and her mouth was twitching.

“Will you text me?” She asked him.

He’s careful not to bruise any of the petals as he sets them down again, pausing with his ministrations to pick up his phone. He wiggles his eyebrows at her and types a quick ‘Hi. It’s Harry :)’. He hits send, “until you’re sick of me.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.” She shakes her head, and Harry’s reminded Rachel McAdams in The Notebook while she’s in complete denial of her feelings for Noah. The comparison makes his heart flutter, considering the romance of the onscreen couple. “How much do I owe you?”

Harry waves her off, “it’s on the house.” She begins to argue, but Harry stops her before she starts rambling again, “y’better go or you’ll be late, love.” He holds out the arrangement to her, tufts of baby’s breath poking out from between the vibrant dahlias like fluffy clouds, the feverfew looking like miniature white daisies in the center.

She looks at it, and back at him before huffing, “fine, but you’ll have to let me return the favor.”

“Of course,” he smirks, “with dinner, maybe?”

They’re both gleaming at each other now, “okay.” Y/n takes a step back, her body half twisted as she walks away, but it remains like that for a moment as her eyes rake him up and down, a murmur following, “bye, Harry.”

His veins charge with electricity, and his dark taffy lips part at her actions. Had she just checked him out? He doesn’t recover quick enough to return her goodbye because the previous swirl of arousal in his navel was bristling back to life at the implications of that look. Calm, slow, steady, and her eyes remained doe-like and innocent.

She had to have known exactly what she was doing, whispering his name the way she had, looking over her shoulder and under her eyelashes the way she did. Deviously provoking his thoughts to begin a new with a reinspired fervor. The space in his underwear was growing tighter by the second, a blissful ache swelling.

Before any other customer stepped in after her, Harry locked the door, and jogged up the stairs to prepare himself a nice, hot bath, simultaneously cursing and thanking the stupid fucking delivery men.

********

Harry can’t stop thinking.

Obviously, this is a huge issue for him. He was constantly thinking, and well, who wasn’t? The process of thoughts wisping around in his brain was one that he often put an unnecessary amount of energy into because he had no one to filter these thoughts onto, releasing them through a conversation to prevent the exhaustion of his brain and heart. A prime example of these mishaps being the depressing slump that occupied his demeanor that very morning.

This?

This was different.

As soon as the apartment door was shut behind him, Harry pulled the suffocating sweatshirt off of his upper body, fingers hooking in at the collar and yanking it off with a swift tug. It landed somewhere on his kitchen floor, and he didn’t stop to take note of its final destination. Instead, his legs instinctively took him to his bathroom.

Chest heaving, Harry walked to the small window leaking sunlight and rolled the stick between his fingers to close the blinds. His thumb dipped into the waistband of his boxes and dragged them down lopsidedly, the tiger tattoo roaring as it became exposed. When the blinds are fully closed, the white extension clangs against the shutters from his aggressive release. His body was slowly being consumed by a raging fire stoked by the illicit images his brain conjured of the innocent, unsuspecting y/n.

His inner turmoil consisted of guilt for using her image that way and justification from the conspiring rake of her eyes along the upper half of him that was visible behind the counter. He was so fixated by her, that her look alone felt like a tempting caress along his skin. And it all happened in a matter of fucking seconds. That’s how gone he was. That’s how fucking gone he was. Harry guesses that the easy excitement also had to do with the fact that he hadn’t gotten laid in a while (he only ever gets lucky when he goes out to the bars with Mitch or Jeff, and they’d been gone for a significant amount of time) and the strong affinity he had for the girl who bought flowers from him.

Explanation or not, he had to do something about the problem in his pants. He was painfully hard, and when he shucked his pants off fully, his underwear dragged with the movement and pressed against the tip of his swollen prick. A darkened patch of moisture bloomed where the head was, and he saw stars at the short pressure. He wouldn’t take his pants off just then, though. He liked to stall his pleasure as much as he could so that when he finally did cum, his stomach muscles contracted and his toes remained curled for more than ten seconds.

He twisted the golden knobs of his tub so that the water would come rushing out at a borderline scalding temperature, and opened the small cabinet above the toilet for a bottle of almond and coconut shea butter bubbles. He uncapped it and bent over the edge of the tip, the cool, porcelain lip touching his crotch and provoking a choked whimper to leave him. Jerking his hips back, he poured the soapy liquid into the spot where the water cascaded, and retracted his hand when the beginning of froth formed along the surface.

The heady sweet smell permeated the air with the rising levels of bubbles, and Harry couldn’t wait any longer. Because he liked to torture himself, he closed his eyes and slowly dragged the hell of his hand over the outline of his cock, a groan ripping though the silence. It’s so painfully good, that he does it one more time, and he jolts forward. He removes his hand, slips his thumbs underneath the waistband of his boxers, and lugs the fabric down his hips at an excruciatingly slow pace. The head of his member smearing precum all along as he moves and when he gets caught in the ripples of his boxers the muscles in his thighs flex at the ripple of pleasure that zips into his nerves.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath. His mind was a spinning vintage reel of slideshow images of y/n. Y/n on bruised knees, her mouth wide open and her own drool on her tits, the tip of his cock flat on her tongue as she pleads with weepy eyes for him to cum down her throat. When he finally springs free of his underwear, a hefty slap rings out as his dick collides against his abdomen, right on the space underneath his belly button.

There’s a stripe of liquid on the trail left by the mushroom head of his prick, and Harry’s eyes roll to the back of his head, throat straining as he hovers over the bathtub. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s ever been this hard over a girl before, and it’s driving him crazy. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to last as long as he usually does. As he swings a leg over the edge of the tub, the hot water encasing his calf, he’s thinking about how soft she is. The inside of her wrist and the palm of her hand. If she’s that soft on an external part of her body that’s used everyday, he can only wither away at the idea of what the inside of her thighs feel like.

Bubbles are swarming up now, swathing his thighs and buttocks as he sinks into the sloshing water. When he’s completely seated and satisfied with the belly-button level of water, he clumsily throws a hand in the direction of the knobs to shut them off, and reclined his head against the curved end of the tub with his eyes shut.

He hikes up his knees so that they’re resting against the porcelain walls, and mindlessly ruts up into the water at the filthy images he’s picturing, white foam collecting in sparse clouds over the math on his chest. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. It’s as if his body is being transported back to the moment his hips clashed with y/n’s. At the recollection, his mouth drops and his eyebrows pinch in a silent moan. The feel of her flesh underneath his fingertips has him bobbing in the water, and the next ideation has him gripping the base of his cock.

Vividly, he pictured her on all fours, keening back onto him as her pussy enveloped him in warmth, a warmth that is almost replicated by the temperature of the water, dripping and making a mess of him but what’s turning him on most of all is the easy flushness of their bodies. He had felt the way her bum gave way under his hold, and he imagined the bounce of her flesh as he thrusted into her.

He moaned a broken call of her name with his eyes still shut, and heard the trickling of water as his fist rolled up his stiff prick, squeezing at the tip so that a few more droplets of precum dribbled out. With his thumb, he rubbed over the red mushroom head and lathered it in slow, leisurely circles, a throb pulsating with the beat of his heart as he returned to flicking his wrist over himself.

The way that he looked at him and the sound of his name on her lips seared into his memory. Airy and willowy, similar to it resonated in his brain with the fantasy of sinking into her for the first time, stretching her and having her preen and arch with desperate whimpers of his name for more. Harry considered himself to be ‘well-endowed’ and his size was a factor of what sent him careening over the edge as girls mewled over his size after he’d bottomed out. He wanted y/n to mewl under him, both of them falling apart at the seams at the mutual pleasures because if Harry’s this broken over just the thought of her, then he’s sure he’s going to lose himself beyond recognition after he’s buried himself into her velvety walls, slick with her arousal and so fucking warm.

Just as she had been earlier that day. There had been two layers between them- the fabric of Harry’s pants and her panties- yet, he was still able to feel an immense heat from the apex of her thighs against his cock. He needed more than this. He needed her, not just his hand driving him closer to the edge.

His jaw clenched as he bit back on a particularly loud moan, for no reason other than he enjoyed self-sabotage from time to time, and the speed of his jerking hand increased. His other hand gripped the side of the tub, and his legs flexed as he began to thrust up into his own fist, a trail of bubbles sticking to the tanned muscles. The cut rectangles of muscles of his abdomen glistened like freshly chopped cubes of apricot with the droplets of water that remained clinging to him. His breath came in labored, strained puffs as the palm of his hand twisted, tightening at the tip and loosening at the base.

For a moment, he paused and cupped his balls, massaging them as the fantasy in his head continued. His mouth wrapping around y/n’s nipples, her eyes glazed over from previous orgasm that he wanted so badly to give her. She’d whine something soft and quiet to match her personality, ‘please, Harry, please I want more. Need another Harry, please’, and he’d speed up the movement of his hips, driving deep into her and cooing into her ear about, ‘c’mon, darling. Give m’another then. Y’want it so bad, yeah? Give me a’fucking ‘nother’, and she’d release a peircing moan that explodes in his eardrums while arching into him. She’d squeeze impossible tight around him, gushing with her own cum.

The water in Harry’s tub sloshes around his ankles, and the muscles of his abdomen clench so that he’s closing in on himself, sputtering on an outrageously loud cry that he can’t contain and his hand increases the speed of his filthy ministrations because he’s right on the edge. He’s about to fucking cum and the back of his eyelids burns with the possible variances of y/n’s face in ecstasy provided by him with his nose deep in her cunt, lapping at the sweet honey that spills with every whimper of, ‘please let me cum, Harry. I’ll do anything, I’ll be good, please let me cum.

He tensed violently, his face contorted painfully as white ropes spurt from the tip of his cock over his fist and onto his chest, blending with the white almond foam. His feet are braced against the edge of the tub and his head falls back and his stomach tenses even further, the final leaks of his cum dribbling out.

With the fuzziness that comes after an orgasm, his body melts back into the water that’s still warm, and his jerks with a pant as he allows his softening prick to sink into the water. The head on his hair is matted in a chocolate smear across his forehead, and his lips are a raging heart of cherry blossoms, parted with arduous gasps of recovery breath. His hands fall into the water at his sides, and with the lapping movement of the liquid against his sensitive member, he ruts into nothing again.

Reclined with his eyes closed and heartbeat slowing, Harry murmurs a final, “fuck me,” at the extreme sensations that had raked through his body.

Somewhere in the muffled distance, his phone dings with the notification of a text message, and with a tired noise of resentment, he sits up and reaches for his sweatpants that lay in a messy puddle besides the tub. His fingers drip darkening spots onto the grey material as he rummages for his phone, and then he finally clicks it on...

It’s her name, lighting up his screen, and the text reads:

y/n <3 : so… dinner?

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever crushed on a girl this hard before because even though he’s just completely physically spent himself, there’s something stirring in the depths of his tummy just at seeing the heart she put next to her name.

He couldn’t be happier.

* * * * * *

and here he is!! what do you guys think?? pls pls pls leave your feedback in my askbox! i’d love to hear your thoughts! and if you really really loved it, don’t be afraid to press that reblog button <3333

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