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navybrat817 · 5 months

Note

It's cold, Navy! What will our florist do about it?

Keep you warm, of course, nonnie.

Snowfall

Pairing: Florist!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You refuse to go outside on a cold day and Bucky is more than happy to keep you warm.

Word Count: Over 1k

Warnings: Sugary sweet fluff and love, kissing, established relationship, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?)

A/N: Small ficlet for our florist.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You refused to step outside today. Between the bitter cold and thick snow covering the sidewalks and streets, you were more than content to stay inside and remain warm under a mountain of blankets. The heavy gust of wind that pushed against your home told you that you made the right decision.

Thankfully, Bucky made it back safely from the shop before the snow really started to come down. Anyone else would've appeared frozen to their core after being out in that weather, but he merely flashed you a smile after he shook out his long hair and stomped his boots off by the door. He even managed to keep a flower tucked carefully in his coat for you.

Always thinking of me.

“You know, there’s more than enough snow out there to make a snowman,” he said an hour later as he finished stringing up a set of holiday lights around the living room window, taking a step back to admire his handiwork once he turned them on. “Could be fun.”

You smiled as you set two mugs of hot cocoa on the coffee table. “I mean, we could do that,” you said, wrinkling your nose as he looked at you over his shoulder. “But I think I'd rather stay inside.”

He smiled as he turned to face you with his hands on his hips. Instead of his usual t-shirts or Henleys, he adorned a cozy sweater that made his eyes pop more than usual. Gazing into them was like viewing your own personal winter.

“Why? Too cold out there for your taste?”

You fought a shiver, your body temperature dropping from the mere thought of the outside air touching your skin. “Way too cold.”

“Aww, come on,” he said before he asked in a singsong tone, “Do you wanna build a snowman?”

You giggled at his cuteness, but shook your head. “Nope. I’ll freeze,” you said, lifting your chin as he raised an eyebrow. “I’m not going out there and you can't make me.”

The moment the words left your mouth, guilt crept in. What if Bucky really did want to go outside and make a snowman with you? When was the last time you did that? The two of you hadn't done much for the holidays yet, but you wanted to make the season special and not act like a Grinch.

He deserved better than that.

“What if I ask nicely?” He questioned, his eyes locked with yours as he stuck his lower lip out.

You faltered under his loving gaze and pout. He made you weak. You could admit that to yourself. “Okay, okay. We can go outside,” you relented.

“Really?” He smiled as he gestured behind him. “You’ll go out there?”

“I really will. Because it's you, Bucky,” you replied. If he wanted to go out there, you’d tough it out for him and bury yourself underself the blankets after. “But I'm warning you. I’ll turn into a popsicle if I do and you’ll have to carry me inside. And I demand all the cuddles after.”

“I’ll give as many cuddles as you need,” he promised, his easy smile shifting to a playful smirk, which was enough to make your heart pound against your ribcage. “And I don't mind giving you a few licks to make you melt, Petal.”

“Bucky,” you breathed when he took a step toward you.

Instead of moving closer like you expected, he walked toward your soft, oversized chair. He effortlessly moved it from its usual spot and turned it toward the window before he took a seat. “Come here,” he urged, patting his left thigh twice.

You fought a smile as you went to join him. He reached for your hand once you were close enough and pulled you unceremoniously into his lap, chuckling when you let out a sound of surprise. He wrapped a blanket around your shoulders once you settled into a comfortable position, allowing you to relax completely against him.

“I thought we were going outside,” you said, though you made no effort to move from your spot. Not when he was so firm and warm and smelled like heaven.

“We don't have to do that. I was just teasing,” he assured you, his scruff brushing against your cheek as you sighed and snuggled into him more. He could've said that to make you feel better, but you knew he’d never lie to you. “Why don’t we just enjoy the view instead?”

Your heart filled with unexpected joy as you looked out the window. You couldn't recall the last time you appreciated the allure of winter. Nature didn't need any sort of decoration, but the surrounding lights gave a colorful glow to the glittering snow that fell outside. It was like a silent dance, reminding you that there was beauty all around you.

Being in Bucky’s arms made it all the more special.

“Wow,” you whispered.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky didn't glance at the view. He focused solely on you with a gentle and content gaze, both in awe of your beauty and how he was the lucky man who got to hold you like this. Coming home to you after a long, cold day was the best gift he could ask for.

“Maybe tomorrow we can build a snowman,” you offered after a few minutes, tilting your head to smile at him. Heat flowed to your cheeks when you realized he was staring at you. “If you want.”

“Or we can stay in bed,” he whispered, placing his hand against your cheek in a gentle caress. “Keep each other warm.”

You let out a soft gasp before he pressed his lips against yours. The two of you stayed locked together as the snow continued to fall outside, his mouth leisurely moving against yours. Slow and tender, he practically made love to your mouth.

As soft as the snowfall.

“Love you, Bucky,” you breathed.

“Love you, too, Petal.”

And it was his love and passion that would always keep you warm.

He can keep me warm all night. Love and thanks for reading. 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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buckrecs · 1 year

Note

ur account is my absolute go to!!! any chance u could rec biker!bucky fics 🥺🥺🥺

Biker!Bucky

masterlist | req masterlist

ONESHOT

Wanted by @jadedvibes

You consider ending things with Bucky after seeing a girl come on to him, but it's not that easy, and you get a hard reminder about who he really wants in the clubhouse bathroom.

Best Friends? Nah. by @wicked-mind

Classic best friends don’t realize feelings for each other until someone points it out.

Business as Usual by @world-of-aus

Not My Babe by @avecra

After a nasty break up to a nearly two year relationship, you find yourself dragged to a bar by your best friend, though a familiar blue-eyed biker makes the best of your crappy situation.

rough around the edges by @wndalovebot

Let Me Love You Old School by @mysecretlittlelibrary

Bucky meets you at a diner and plans to sweep you completely off your feet.

The Bogeyman and Other Monstrosities by @pellucid-constellations

As the local biker club president, Bucky Barnes had a reputation for being tougher than nails and feared by many—he’d never be caught dead at a halloween street fair. Too bad his best girl always got what she wanted.

Waiting Game by @buckychrist

You knew being associated with one of the most notorious and dangerous biker gangs in the city was bad, let alone scandalously dating their kingpin in secret, but you never thought you’d have to face those consequences. Until now.

Home by @all1e23

Bucky runs into his ex at a winter carnival the MC is helping host, but she didn’t come alone.

Whatever It Takes by @sgtjbuccky

Bucky Barnes knows the way to drive you up the wall in frustration, fed up with it, you show him that you know how to play just the same.

deny me by @drewbarymore

In which you feel like Bucky’s ashamed of you.

Drunk, Dumped and Empty by @green-eyeddragonfanfiction

After a nasty breakup, you go out drinking. After an absolute creep hits on you, you’re saved from a concussion by a mysterious, kind man, who reveals himself to be Bucky Barnes. The bar you’re in is a bit suspect, but you never expected him to be head of a biker gang.

yayo by @sergeantxrogers

“I need you safe. I need you here, and I need you safe, and I need, God please, I need you to let me in, baby, just let me in and I promise I’ll make it all better,” his broken voice pleaded through the door.

Drabble by @fandoms-writings

Biker!Bucky x tattooed!reader

hot and cold by @bucksfucks

you & bucky had never gotten along, but when your ex-boyfriend ransom turns up at the same bar you’re at, bucky goes to every length to protect you.

How To Get Away With Murder by @empyreanwritings

Bucky was always good at helping you clean up your messes, which is why he doesn't bat an eye when you show up on his doorstep covered in your abusive boyfriend's blood.

Hush by @buckysknifecollection

Bucky finds a stray kitten but he doesn’t know anything about cats. A friendly librarian helps him out.

little favors by @onceuponastory

Since Bucky saved her from her shitty boss, Y/N hasn’t seen him again. For a while, she gets closer and closer to giving up hope. Until he comes back. And this time, he’s asking for her help.

SERIES

Swallow by @all1e23

Since he was fifteen years old, Bucky Barnes has only been sure of two things; the club should be the most essential thing in his life, and he’d burn it all down for you.

Delicate Edges by @wkemeup

Your family’s beloved flower shop was not the only thing you inherited when your parents passed. Trapped under a mountain of debt to the Hydra club, you bear the cost of your father’s desperate bargain. It’s only in moments when the charming Bucky Barnes walks into your shop that you can forget the cruelty of the biker clubs of this town. But a war is brewing. The border is crumbling. You're trapped in the middle. And Bucky will stop at nothing to keep you safe.

For The Best by @metalbuckaroo

Bucky is tired of waiting for you to realize what you're doing. He does the only thing he can think of to break the cycle.

White Horses by @whitewolfbumble

Kicked out of school and exiling yourself in a town time forgot, one little incident lands the sights of the locally infamous Avengers biker gang square on you. Wild horses run faster and there was no chance to turn back now.

Howlin’ For You by @invisibleanonymousmonsters

When Y/N gets an unreal deal on her first home, she wonders why her neighbor scared away all the other buyers. Despite being cautious, she wonders why the town has given Bucky Barnes a bad name.

Brotherhood & Bullets by @rookthorne

The 107th motorcycle club has been the protector of their collective hometown for many, many years - shouldering all the bloodshed and loss that came with it. Little did you know, you'd become the President's own twisted version of an angel on his shoulder; the tips of your angelic wings tinged red by your own demons.

Stars & Stripes, Studs & Spikes by @buckyismybicycle

The crew has always been tight, but you and Bucky are best of friends. When Bucky sees Brock's mark on you, he nearly loses it and wants to end Brock for good. But, there's something more important - keeping you safe.

call me baby by @cherryrogers

Returning to Brooklyn for the summer after a year of travelling from city to city, you hadn’t expected to find your best friend, Peggy Carter, hopelessly in love with a biker, and when she decided to introduce you to the rest of his club, you hadn’t expected to fall for one either — that was until you met one with pretty eyes and a habit of calling you baby.

Masterlist by @angrythingstarlight

Masterlist by @metalbuckaroo

#bucky barnes fic rec #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #biker!bucky #bucky barnes modern au #biker!bucky x reader #bff!bucky #best friend!bucky #bucky x florist!reader #neighbor!bucky

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ryzl · 1 year

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imagine a yandere! florist 🌷

yandere! florist who is tired of his every day life. it is a never ending cycle

that is until . . . . . he saw YOU ♡

yandere! florist who, at first, doesn't care. he just saw you as a normal person (with unreal beauty, might i add) who just happens to always visit the bookstore in front of the flower shop he works on

yandere! florist who starts to see you frequently, and couldn't help but get curious as to why you always visit the bookstore in front of the shop.

i mean, could you at least go to HIS shop? pretty please? 😩

yandere! florist who couldn't help but feel overjoyed when you actually went to his shop. hooray for him

saying you ordered for a bouquet of ROSES. hmmm red?

i wonder who is it for ? your lover maybe? oh no that shouldn't be possible. you are his.

so when yandere! florist asked who's it for, you should answer honestly, alright? SO WHO'S IT FOR?

oh? what you've ordered was wrong? whew, you almost gave him a heart attack darling :3

it's actually WHITE ROSES, for a family member ig???

yandere! florist who prepared the bouquet for you (lmao expect his number on a seperate card inside the bouquet)

yandere! florist who told you to come anytime :> you are always welcome here 🥳

yandere! florist who starts to stalk you on the daily. :))

no problem with that right??? yeah, thought so too.

yandere! florist who figured out where you live !!!!

you can expect random flowers that are associated with "romantic love" by your door step :> you're welcome, my dearest.

oh love, it's very fun seeing you look around for whoever the flowers are from. you look so cute :3 he wanna squish you :>

yandere! florist who (finally) mustered up enough courage to actually give the flowers to you. FACE TO FACE 🙀

like omg can this even get any more creepier ROMANTIC?

yandere! florist who did his very best to pour all his affection to you :>

in short, he's proving to you that he's hubby material 🥰🥰🥰

yandere! florist who has vendetta against the librarian

yes he considers that librarian his rival when it comes to winning your love ♡

to anyone who wants to add anything in here, feel free to do so :>

yeah this is so rushed >:D anyways, i would like to thank everyone for supporting my mini writings :3 (love lots)

and btw mga dude, there will be a yandere! librarian next. ay na'spill. keme keme keme :3 see you next time guys

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queenie-the-court-jester · 30 days

Note

M'sorry, i mean benny:D stupid autocorrect

Whoever this anon is I immediately love you, silly goober

Tw: suicide mention, abusive, power imbalance, human pet, yandere oc

depending on how unstable Benny is, you get multiple answers

The beginning of the relationship: he'd be desperate, doing everything he can to win your affection. Going over budget on gifts and practically following you everywhere, begging for a second chance

Midway: where he starts to develop aggressive tendencies: he'd simply knock you out and tie you onto his bed. Putting on a collar when you want to use the bathroom. Say goodbye to leaving the house, because now he treats you like a human pet. Gross mf

Near the end of his sanity. Let's say you got tired of him and his abusive behavior, so you somehow managed to escape. No doubt you've called the police so he's on the run. Hunting you down as you think you finally ended that chapter. Only to wake up one night with him hovering over your bed, knife in hand and getting ready to stab. Till death do you both part right? (He killed himself soon after)

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holy-puckslibrary · 1 month

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sid to a furry friend's rescue!

florist!reader gets flustered during sid's calendar shoot

parents mentors for the day

someone's going on a date with chief crosby... and it ain't our girl </3

gif from @matbaerzal

To Sidney, this sham is nothing more than a meat-market legitimized. His fierce, formidable crew, flaunted and auctioned off in the name of "charity," as upstanding members of the local community brazenly gawk and drink themselves into a courageous stupor.

Gathered in packs around the local watering hole on a Friday night, the only things missing are high-res Animal Planet cameras and the calm wonder of Sir David Attenborough. It's only a matter of time before they start throwing themselves at each other like elk during mating season.

It's a shame Sidney won't be around to see it.

"Don't even think about it, Chief."

Sidney slumps; he spoke too soon.

Now, he's caught between cracked-door freedom and the firm grip of his Assistant Fire Chief. Kneading at the annoyance budding between his brows, Sidney turns on his heel to face his childhood best friend.

"C'mon, really? This is a circus, Nate. I shouldn't—Is this really something I should be doing? Y'know, it's not exactly... becoming of a civil servant."

"I'm doing it," Nate shrugs. "You don't see me pitching a fit."

The Chief glares. "Yeah, because you already know who you're going home with."

"Not true; tonight's could be the night Emmy decides to act on her grade school crush," the blonde jokes, his chin tipped across the gymnasium. "And who'd blame her? Flower's lookin' better than usual tonight."

"Nate."

The younger of the two only laughs in response to the dramatic groan of his name.

"No, I get it. You're acting pissy because your flower's stuck at home with a stomach bug, and, subsequently, you've been condemned to the terrible fate of having Cole Harbour's hottest fight tooth and nail for a date with you—oh, the horror! Truly, I feel for you, Saint Crosby."

"Bandwagon much?" he grumbles.

As Nate's grin widens, Sid's frown deepens.

Blue eyes twinkling with satisfaction, Nate teases, "You didn't deny it this time."

"D-Deny, what?"

Nate rolls his eyes; Sid's refusal to acknowledge anything, let alone something so obvious to anyone with eyes, was starting to get old, and fast.

"Yeah, sure, okay. Play dumb if it makes you feel better. But I'd figure my shit out sooner rather than later if I were you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sidney blinks.

"Oh, nothing... Just that you aren't the only civil servant sniffing around Blossom & Bloom these days."

With a parting wink, Nate vanishes into the crowd, leaving Sidney to stew in a fresh pot of bubbling unease.

—

and the plot thickens... hehehe 😈

as always, i would really appreciate if you reblogged my work, left a comment or dropped by my inbox w some feedback :) fandom runs on engagement, and so do writers!! thx a mil in advance!

DIRECT CONTINUATION HERE!

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strkyoo · 9 months

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— flowerboys

PAIRING ; florist!tighnari x biker!male reader

IN WHICH ; tighnari has a random crush on his regular biker customer! how interesting … i wonder how will tighnari try to approach him and make him fall for him?

NOTE ; IM SO SICK…,, but ugh florist tighnari literally makes my brain hurts so much to not write it — wc ; 680

// FLUFF — MODERN AU, drabbles, implied he/him pronouns for reader, slow burn?, ONE JUST ONE cringy cyno joke reader made, ‘delulu’ tighnari??

⋆ florist!tighnari who had an … ordinary first encounter with you. it all started when you decided to visit his newly opened flower shop. still, he wasn’t expecting someone as sweet as you to be his first customer!

⋆ florist!tighnari who didn’t realise that his tail was swaying here and there whenever he looked at you, struggling to find a suitable seed when you wanted to plant a new flower.

“need any help, biker guy?” he chuckled as he left the cashier counter, smiling playfully as he saw your struggling expression.

you just smile awkwardly and nodded, barely muttering any word to him because of how nervous you are around this new florist guy.

“... chill, dude. i don’t bite or anything.” tighnari laughed again as he stepped closer beside you, trying to help you to find a seed you’ve been looking for with an amused smirk crossed his lips.

⋆ florist!tighnari who likes to look at your padisarah pin on your clothes, saying that it looks lovely, especially since you’re the one who wear it. he would definitely say that padisarah is as beautiful as you as a joke, and maybe deep down—it’s not really a joke for him.

⋆ florist!tighnari who would always smile warmly whenever you entered his flower shop. he would wave at you with a bright as a sunflower and sweet as a nectar smile, looking at your back lovingly whenever you tried to find a new seed. he rests his chin on his palm-like paw (or paw-like palm idk), staring at you with such a dreamy face.

oh archons … did he just fall head over heels for you?

⋆ florist!tighnari who would like to have a matching floral themed stuff — earring, ring, necklace, pin, whatever it is, as long as he matches with you. a secret, unofficial sign that one day, you will belong only to him… <3

⋆ florist!tighnari who couldn’t help but sometimes give you his favorite flower, seeds, or even gardening items for free to you—saying that it’s a gratitude to always coming over to his flower shop every day. but deep down, he had no reason to give it to you, he just wanted to see your adorable reaction!

⋆ florist!tighnari who hesitated when he asks you if he could have a ride on your bike whenever you have free time.

⋆ florist!tighnari who will chuckle awkwardly in relief when you said he can have a ride on your bike, while deep inside, he wanted to scream “LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOO—”on top of his lungs for getting accepted.

⋆ florist!tighnari who pretend that he didn’t know how to ride a bike together before, it’s absolutely clear that he’s doing it on purpose to hear your cute step by step explanations.

“hold on tight, nari!” you joked slightly, which received a playful flick on the back of your head from tighnari. (pls tell me u get the joke)

you guided his hand carefully through your hips to your waist, which caused him to flinch in surprise when you do that so … casually.

he can feel how soft the fabric of your clothes are, his ears drop in embarrassment as he tries to control his breath and his wagging tail.

“his waist is … so soft … so grabbable.” he thought with a rosy cheeks, finding it hard to focus when he was holding your waist so carefully.

⋆ florist!tighnari who always loves to hold your waist while thinking of romantic scenarios you two would have while biking together 𖹭

likes, comments & reblogs are appreciated (with tags) ! ♡

@strkyoo, 2023.

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cowgirlcherrie · 9 months

Text

after the storm. ⚡︎ florist! abby drabble

╰ * a/n: no plot for this either but rather a spin off on my headcanons ! just a little treat for my patient babis who were waiting for more ♡ in simple words this is about happy accidents. . .

song(s) — after the storm. kali uchis & tyler the creator , falling in love. laufey

3:40pm new york.

Abby didn’t do love.

Although it would be nice and she yearned for it. She wished with the very small penny that she would find in her sage dickies, somewhere blanketed with an old mint gum wrapper and her brown leather wallet in her pocket. Tossing her very last penny into the Washington Square Park fountain wishing for a lover as considerate or even more than her. One to build flowers for and be her muse.

One to make stockings with around the holidays where she would plant mistletoe around the house, using it as an excuse to merge lips with her lover; and to make floral centerpieces for the family dinners.

Was it too much to ask for?

Abby felt like a late-bloomed flower in comparison to her peers. They were going to wine and dining events with their partners, fancy yachts in the summer, and getting engaged. Everyone was falling in love around her whilst she fell behind and was tormented into watching.

On this typical, almost mundane Saturday, the rain flooded down the crevices of the tall buildings hugging the wood and brick of the apartments and offices. Golden Canary taxis beeping as passengers let out screeches rushing to the nearest hut under the rain. Abby stood frozen in her floral shop. Figure in front of the window pane, as she let out cracked whistles through her dry lips, hands in her pockets. The jingling of her keys almost matched the sound of how hard the rain came down. Rocking on her toes, to and fro. Abby being alone for the evening took a number. It was vacant around the shop, the smell of roses, chrysanthemums, and daisies merged together itching at her senses — she could feel a faint sneeze drifting up her nostrils from the dust in the vents.

She liked the glass windows. Largely panned giving everyone a wide view into the small business, including herself who had gotten nosy at strangers on the concrete. She admired the different people that she would see. The couple where the girlfriend would beg her partner to buy them a bouquet or a rose; The children dug in the crates begging their parental figure for dandelions to make wishes. It was all too pure for Abby, making her heartache at how the flowers brought unity to everyone around her. It was innocent, lovely and made her love her job even more.

Abby itched at the nape of her neck, swinging her braid to the back as she bolted outside in a hurry to bring the cart of flowers inside as the wind picked up; business was dying down now that people seek shelter instead of enjoying nature. Abby stuck her left foot out kicking the wooden stopper in the door, door chimes ringing as her hands gripped the cart of the flower display.

Abby underestimated the rain, her body was instantly covered in droplets her black t-shirt clinging to her chest almost becoming uniform with her skin. Providing a roughed, sloppy kiss to every curve and outline of her tender body. Abby let out grunts as she pushed the cart inside having to do it all alone until she heard footsteps. Not slow ones, but rather rapid, almost like the sound of the motorcycles against the pavement, bikers revving up at the stoplight.

You were in a hurry, and it seemed as though the day couldn’t get any worse. You wanted to cry and bawl up into your bed, holding the sheets so tightly as sobs flowed through you as the serotonin in your body decreased. Tears weld up in your eyes as you run through the city streets, an oversized blazer above your head with some distance as you used it to shield you from the rain. Why me? – you would cry out, thick lashes sticking to the sunken skin of your eyelids as your face grew puffier in tears. That was all you wanted to do. But naturally, you couldn’t find a way to win. Not only was it raining, wet wind smacking your face, but you were going to miss your train because you weren’t moving fast enough. You were through for the evening. Briefly, your running slowed down in front of a flower shop catching your breath, heaving as your hands lowered letting the rain wash over you like a fresh cold shower.

You lost.

And to confirm it, a black Sudan drove by; hitting a pothole, splashing murky rainwater onto your work outfit leaving you drenched and soaked furthermore. Blinking rapidly, a loud gasp echoed behind you, followed by a falling ceramic flowerpot that collided with beige concrete, the sound echoing like an ice machine. Making your head snap to your left seeing a just-as-wet figure, cursing under her breath as her hands gripped the edges of the table.

She seemed just as stressed as you were. Considering the flower pot on the floor with dirt smeared and washing away into the city drains like mascara on a wet face made you wince. Picking up the still intact flowers surrounded by the broken glass.

She looked like she could use some help.

“Hey!” you shouted, but your voice was low compared to the rain that was drowning you out, the girl didn’t answer steadily pushing the cart in between the long rectangular door. “HEY!”

She stopped moving the cart, lifting her eyes up from the cart in front of her. Her lashes were long – her face free of any makeup, a light dusting of rose across each cheek, contoured and sculpted edges, giving her a bronzy look under the summer solstice. It didn’t help that the rain was making it hard to see turning your vision into endless mush. The flowers behind her almost popped out and came to life…full bloom and kissable touch. You were stuck, still breathing…but heavily of course; you zoned out somewhere lost in her ocean of eyes, before snapping out of it at the sound of someone’s car alarm going off on the street.

her tattoos and soft face almost mocking each other at her inquires as a floral shop owner.

Everything got louder almost amplified. Obnoxious noises match your heartbeat. Her lips were parted as she eyed your wet figure up and down.

“Let me help!” the both of you shouted at the same time. Followed by sweet sweet laughter amidst the rain.

“No, seriously let me help” This time the woman in front of you was whispering, almost merging voices with the pellets of rain hitting the metal of the table. Blonde hair sticking to the sides of her face.

There was a silent agreement. You put the jacket you were using as an umbrella back on your arms, followed by locking your purse over your shoulder as you reached to the other end across from Abby lifting up the table with the count of 3. The two of you carry the table back inside, this time no spills.

You weren’t sure why but she was like a breath of fresh air, beautiful and in her own world almost as if the heavens planted her there for you to see. It was purely an accident that you stopped in front of the flower shop. Hell, you could have chosen Mimi’s Bakery or that’s vintage! Threading and clothing warehouse but your body chose Lovestrung Florals. How glad you were that you did, new feelings brewing inside of you as your brain struggled to find the right words.

The broken flower pot remained, in unity with the concrete hugging each and every crevice of the holes in between the rocks. Going unnoticed by both you and Abby as the two of you worked together, not even catching the single cream-colored rose that was deteriorating under the harsh application of rain. Drowning in water as the petals peeled off and ran down the sidewalk into the city drains, tainted with dark mud; changing like the seasons. The sun begun to peak out embedded through the grey clouds casting a bright glow haze on the busy Soho streets.

“Now let's get you inside, don’t need your beautiful self getting sick now do we?”

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robarazzii · 10 months

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James Potter going to florist!reader’s shop and having the worst allergies ever.

James doesn’t actually need a job (he’s very rich) so he just likes popping in and out when he’s not doing all the millions of hobbies he’s started and got bored off after a week.

He would love helping organise bouquets with her so would always down play how bad his allergies actually are. she could tell but didn’t wanna upset him so just let him help out, it makes him even happier than he normally is so it’s all good.

James wouldn’t order flowers because he knows reader is already so busy, so he just does simple acts of kindness like bringing her and the employees lunch and snacks or coffee when they need it.

James always found his name to be kinda plain although he loved it because it was what his mother named him but when they have babies (whether it be humans or furry babies) he would go through all the rare flower names begging reader to name them after it or at least give them a cool middle name.

it would go kinda like this:

james : Selenicereus grandiflorus

reader: what do you mean jamie?

james: the babies name, we could call her Selenicereus grandiflorus

reader: jamie how is the baby supposed to say that never mind spell it, i can’t even spell that and it’s a mouth full don’t ya think?

james: but babyyy we could call her night bloom for short, pleaseeee

reader: hmm i’ll think about it

#marauders #marauders era #james potter #marauders fluff #marauders headcanon #james potter fluff #james potter headcanon #robarazzii says #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter is my boyfriend #james potter x florist!reader #dad!james potter #james potter has allergies #james potter is an angel #daddy james potter

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bloomingdog · 9 months

Text

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 — 𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐱 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

data: your basic florist au, bit of angst, identity reveal, all that stuff. 4k words, no use of Y/N.

You know him, you know what the looks like at the very least. Once a week—the day never stays the same—him and a group of other instrument-carrying people go into the small venue in front of your shop at nine in the evening, an hour after closing the shop, when you’re about to head home. One early morning, out of curiosity, you checked the schedules adhered and covering the roller shutter in a poor attempt to find who this mysterious guy was. You found no useful information in that regard, you did foind, however, that the club opened at ten and most concerts held there started at least half an hour later. With that new gathered intel your best guess was that they came early to get everything set or a rather quick sound-check.

The venue is on one of the corners that limit the four way pedestrian crossing, the two corners on either side both hold pubs, and diagonally there’s you. “For the Roses” is a name given by its old owner, a sweet lady—and Joni Mitchell fan—you had worked for since you were seventeen, and four years later she had decided it was time to retire. For the last five months it’s been just you, it was easier to take care of it when you were two people working, that much is true, but having to close the shop has given you staring privileges. Years ago, when you first started working here the placement of the shop seemed rather odd, between clubs, pubs and the many other forms of amusement, this, however, was a strategical position. A big part of the clientele consisted of repenting boyfriends and enamoured halves of a first date, and they kept the business afloat.

You recognise him the moment he walks in.

“Hello! How may I help you?” The clock ticks away the last minutes before closing as you try to put on your cheeriest voice.

“Hi, sorry about comin’ in so late. My mate’s playing a gig, I just want some flowers to throw on stage, whole dramatics and all.” His voice is smooth with only the slightest rasp to it. He’s a fun last client.

“Do you want the classic roses then?”

“Nah don’t bother, give me the leftovers.” There are one or two extra cuttings and a bouquet that never got picked up you wouldn’t mind getting rid of.

You excuse yourself to pick out the best leftover flowers you could in an attempt to make a half-decent bouquet. He’s oggling your shop, he’s particularly eye-catching inside your light coloured, slightly old-fashioned establishment. He likes it there, it’s cosy, the floors are filled with different types of flower arrengements and the walls display an amalgamation of different decorations gathered throughout the years, his inspection is only interrupted by your coming back behind the counter.

“Here, I tried to make it as cohesive as I could.”

“It’s alright, love, it’s gonna get thrown anyway.” Oh, that pet name went straight to your chest.

“It felt unprofessional not to give you at least a small sample of my usual, better, quality.” He gave a side smile as a response.

“How much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house, no worries, I wouldn’t make you pay for only scraps.”

“That’s quite nice, take this as a tip, then.” He slid a twenty pound note on the counter, right before turning around a saying his goodbyes with a single wave of his hands.

Spinning the sign at the glass door so it reads “Closed” you turn to sweeping the floor and leaving your workplace as neat as possible, you hum along to the song playing from your phone on the counter. The 20 dollars he gave you felt a bit too much, not that you’re going to complain, not with the cost of everything, a flower shop isn’t a luxurious job to have, so it’s much appreciated.

Drawing the curtain-like metal you spot a group of people walking into the club, one of them must be his friend.

A mere day later, he’s back, making the dainty bells above the door chime.

“Hello! Got another show you need to throw flowers at?” You quip and he chuckles.

“Nah. Only wanted to get actual flowers to have a good reason to ask you out.” He’s confident, maybe overly so, and Hobie is well aware of that, it’s not often that his confidence fails him, though. You look surprised before laughing, it’s ridiculous.

“And what were you thinking of getting?”

“I was hoping you could recommend me something.”

“Roses are usually the go-to flower, although I much prefer freesias.”

“Sick, I’d like a single freesia, please.” He says it in an overly polite manner, the whole situation is laughable.

“That’ll be two pounds.” You say as you hand him the flower.

“Here you go.” You mutter a thank you for an answer. “My band’s playing tonight, at ten, just on the other street, you could come and we could get a drink after.”

No way you’re attending a club on a Wednesday night, with a stranger nonetheless.

“Sure.”

“Sweet, I’ll see you. My name’s Hobie by the way.”

And it sounds like proper fun, really.

You’ve managed to avoid the biggest wave of people going home during rush hour and, thankfully, your ride home is as pleasant as the tube allows it to be and yet, you’re restless. His invite plays around in your mind. He’s handsome, that’s for sure, and it would satiate your curiosity on the other side it would also make you tired for work the next day, you’re too old for that, you think and softly laugh at your own joke. The walk home gives you time to ponder on wasted opportunities and the best years of your life, your flat instead greets you with the promise of a reheated dinner and an eight-hour-long sleep which for a moment makes you think about ditching him.

The commute back feels longer than it usually does. You ate in a rush and got ready far too fast after your flatmate complained about needing to use the bathroom. Your phone marks 10:05PM, fashionably late. You’re thankful the show hasn’t started by the time you sit by the bar, ordering a beer. You still haven’t decided if it’s brave or cocky to ask someone out to your own show.

The whirring of a guitar being plugged signals the beginning of the show.

“Hello, we’re The Spider-Slayers! One two three!” Is your only warning before they start playing. They’re quite good, you have to admit, Hobie, as you’ve recently learned he’s named, exudes power and confidence while on stage, he’s rather skilled. It’s enjoyable, half of the audience is too plastered—it's only ten in the evening—to pay attention to the actual music and are merely glad to have a loud noise playing for them, but they’re well-liked, no doubt an established part of the community. It passes faster than you had anticipated, not even an hour later he’s walking your way while another band prepares to play.

He’s sweaty as he sits down and orders a rum and coke, he looks at you questioning if you also want one. “Make it two.” He indicates the bartender. “Did you like it?”

He’s tall but not intimidating in the slightest, the metal in his face a contrast to all of his warm side smiles.

“Yes!” You’re quick to answer. “It was really nice, you guys are good.” He fully smiles at the compliment, he’s got a pretty smile.

“Thanks. I forgot to ask your name earlier, sorry about that.”

“No worries, it’s Y/N.”

“Pretty.” It’s flirty.

“Did your mate like the flowers?” You ask as the man behind the bar hands you your drinks.

“Totally, made a mess on stage and everything. She was grateful, seriously, funny and praising in equal parts, the bouquet was beautiful too, such a shame it ended like that.” You laugh at that. “How’s it working at a flower shop?”

“Good, actually, better than one good expect, I’d say it’s one of the better retail jobs out there.”

“Seems hard.”

“It is at the beginning, you should’ve seen some of my first arrangements, they were bloody awful, I’m still wondering how we didn’t get any complaints.” It’s Hobie’s turn to laugh.

“You’ve made some improvement then, your shop’s beautiful.” You beam and thank him, you’re proud of the way it’s looking these days. “How’d you end up working there? Do you need a degree to be a florist?”

“Not really, no. I’ve taken a couple courses but for the most part I was trained by my old boss.”

“Hm.” He nods. “Strange place to set up a flower shop, innit? I see you closing all the time and wonder who in their right mind would think of opening it at a nightlife epicenter.” Good to know you’re not the only observer.

“You’d think so! We get a lot of our clientele thanks to that, not all flower shops open until eight either way. Flowers make both great apologies and gifts, you can only imagine the kind of people who walk in there.”

“What, like me?”

“No way, I’d put you in the normal bunch.” He quirks an eyebrow, an invitation to tell him more about yourself. And that you do. You talk for the two hours that the club remains open, he’s fun, you’re both chatty, you’ve got a multitude of things in common, he tells you about his bandmates, you exchange numbers, he’s a cat person by the way.

“You want me to walk you home?” The underground closed an hour ago, it wasn’t that big of a trek to your place, you could say yes if not for the stranger—acquaintance—danger middle school talks flashing in your memory. The bus, though taking longer than the tube, was still an option.

“It’s fine, really. I’d rather take the bus.”

“Got it, I can wait with you if you’d like.” Yeah, yeah, you’d like that. The two of you walk close to each other to the nearest stop. The pavement is damp, it gives you another reason to be glad that you wore your trusty old, slightly dirty, converse instead of a more sophisticated option.

“Thank you for inviting me, I had a nice time, you’re fun.”

“So are you, love.” How could an overused term like that have such a big effect on you when he says it remains a mystery.

You sit in a comfortable silence until the right bus gets there and as you bid your goodbyes you’re unable to contain the big smile you give him, blame it on the drinks. You send him a quick text noticing him that you got home safe and sound before falling into deep sleep.

Your phone rings and vibrates from the bedside table, it always goes off at the same time and yet today it manages to scare you awake. The trip to the bathroom and coffee making is accompanied by a string of curses: music, bad choices, the opening hours of your business and pretty boys all fall victim to your vulgarities. The lack of proper sleep makes your day go by twice as slowly, nodding off and almost missing your stop and doomscrolling during work hours to pass the time, even turning to reading an article from The Daily Bugle, it’s laughable, it’s says something something Spider-Man, something juvenile delinquent something menace for the city.

The chime of little bells half an hour before closing wakes you up better than your alarm had done earlier in the day. Looking up from your phone you spot the same bright eyes and confident stroll that kept you company last night.

“You need to stop coming in right before closing.” You scold him. You’re confident he’s aware that it’s an invitation for him to keep showing up.

“My bad. Do you like food?”

“I-What?” Indeed, what? “I like food, yes.”

“Peng. You want to grab dinner?” And he also needs to stop proposing last-minute plans.

“Where?”

“What do you fancy?”

“Thai?”

“Sure.”

“I close in half an hour, you can stay here if you want.” Not that you’re expecting any more costumers.

He asks if he can help with anything and you hand him the broom and dustpan that hangs in the back of the shop, he laughs and takes it as payment for having you get out earlier. The floors aren’t dirty per se, it’s mostly leaves and bits of cutting that have fallen. He sweeps while you get everything ready for tomorrow and put away what’s been used today. Half an hour later you hang your work apron and close the shutters.

There’s a nice restaurant a couple blocks away you’ve got food to-go from before. You order a spicy noodle soup, khanom jeen nam ngiaw, and he settles for stir-fry noodles. It’s good, warm and comforting, you take a bite from his plate and he follows suit with a spoonful of your broth. The conversation picked up while cleaning and it has yet to die down, he tells you about his hobbies—you can't help to make fun of him by saying Hobie's hobbies—and you share your love for museums with him, ‘We should visit one.’ he says to which you agree in excitement.

You don’t let go of his hand until your bedroom door is closed and you softly push him into bed. Taking only a short break to take off both of your shoes you don’t waist time in straddling him, his hands on your hips as you return to kissing. Soft moans mark the tempo for your exploring hands and you stare at his bare abdomen with much less shame than you think you should have. His hands are slightly calloused and scarred, it doesn’t matter with how skilled they are. It feels like you’re drowning in him, you hope he feels half as good as he’s making you feel, if his breathless mutters of ‘fuck’ and ‘good girl’ are any indicator you can pat yourself on the back after it’s over.

The dinner is paid for, the night chilly compared to the warmth inside the restaurant. He offers to walk you home again, this time you agree because you’re no longer strangers, right? You make it half of the way before puts his hand on your lower back, you don’t make an effort to move it, it’s comfortable.

You make it three quarters of the way until you start kissing, your back against the wall of a mildly busy street, you feel like a horny teenager. You climb up the stairs to your flat two-steps at a time, your hand holding his and praying that your flatmate has confined herself to her room so you don’t have to introduce one to the other, not right now at least.

The morning after your alarm not only scares you awake but it also makes him sit up in bed with a jolt.

“Sorry.” Sleep is still evident in your voice.

“S’okay.” He replies before giving you a chaste kiss on the lips, you don’t think either of you wants to deal with each other’s morning breath, it’s a tad early for that.

You offer him breakfast. Your flatmate has left for work but she won’t forgive you if you don’t tell her of last night’s events. At least it won’t make this morning awkward, or more awkward than it already is, it happens with first breakfasts: sleepy, a mess, cranky from waking up, it’s not anyone’s best look.

You take the underground while he chooses to walk home, it’s not crazy far away from yours, apparently. In the meantime, the work day is spent looking up frantically every time the bells over your door chime, hoping that it will be him at some point. He does come over, at ten past eight, and he has to knock on the door to catch your attention. Your strange arrangement goes on for the better part of the next two months, he comes over when you’re about to close, you eat together multiple times per week, he’s quite a skilled at making exactly seven different dishes, he invites you to his shows and you’ve met his bandmates, you’ve had every cliché date imaginable: the park, the cinema, the natural history museum, markets, the full deal. You don’t call them dates though, you’re not a couple even with all the kissing and sleeping together—literally and figuratively—he’s told you he doesn’t like labels, but he’s being exclusive with you so you’re okay with it.

He shows up with little cuts and bruises, you attributed to being clumsy at first but it’s become more common lately, he excuses it as a protest that went south, a moshpit or just a friendly scuffle with his mates. It doesn’t ease your nerves. But you're soon to forget all about it once you’re outside, walking hand in hand and sharing headphones, he’s incorporated bits and pieces of your music to his playlist and he makes sure to show you the songs he thinks you’ll like first than anything.

Your phone lights up with a text notification from Hobie, he’s coming over soon. It shouldn’t be, but it reads as ominous, he doesn’t usually tell you in advance and would rather showing up unannounced.

“Hey pet.” He greets, it’s his latest nickname for you, you’ve always thought it ridiculous but he’s making you grow fond of it.

“Hi Bee” An animal-related nickname you gave him after he tried calling you ‘duck’ that has stuck. “You want to do something or should we head home?”

“Home’s fine, I’m tired.” It’s fair, he’s always running around doing things, you’re okay with a night in.

He sweeps the floor, it’s his assigned task, you feel bad but he says he doesn’t mind and likes helping you. The ride back to your place is quieter than usual, he seems pensive. You’re about to open the door to your building when you notice him stuck a meter away.

“Are you okay?” Your heart is picking up speed.

“Listen, love.” Oh no. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to come up.” You’re on the second and final step of the stairway while he’s at ground level, he looks smaller than he’s ever been. “I’ve had a lot of fun, really, but I don’t think I can go on with our thing, you know? I’m not good at commitment anyway.” Your lack of a response get’s him speaking again. “I’m truly sorry, I just don’t wanna go on with this and end up hurtin’ you.”

“Okay.” Is the only thing your brain is able to formulate.

“Okay.” He replies. “I’ll be leaving now.” He says as he kisses your temple, turning around and giving you a single wave of the hand for a goodbye.

You feel the tears beginning to fill up your eyes, your vision blurry, at least you were able to hold them until he left, it’s already embarrassing as it is. You don’t bother re-heating dinner that night, choosing to go straight to bed and waking up with puffy eyes in the morning. For the first time in a while you’re sure you won’t have any visits at work, it’s terrible. You feel stupid. He told you enough about himself to know that the two of you weren’t in for a long-term relationship and still you held onto some sort of hope of being an exception.

That was two weeks ago. You’ve seen him two times since, while leaving for home. He waves your way and you wave back, out of politeness more than anything. Two weeks of radio silence that break your established routine and fill you with a sense of expectation during the last hours of work.

It’s nine-twenty on a Sunday, it’s usual for you to stay until late at the end of your work week, Hobie knew that and would make sure to keep you company and take you home those days. The early November weather has made it so it’s already been dark for hours, the city is rather calm, you don’t suppose there’s much to do on a cold November night. A series of knocks on the door alerts you of the presence of someone outside, it startles you as you hold the broom you were using against your chest.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight outside the door. Spider-Man was doubling down and leaning against the glass of your shopfront, electric guitar strapped across him and hanging in his back, clad in his usual metal decorations while his suit had been torn. You let him in a hurry, it’s not ideal to have an idol of the working class dead on your welcome mat. He limps to the back of the shop, in your current state of panic you don’t stop to wonder how he knows the way so well, until he’s sitting on the floor and leaning against one of the walls, guitar forgotten besides him. You follow him and crouch at his side just in time for him to take off his mask.

“Fuck off.”

“Hi pet.”

You were so excited to be done with work and head home to watch a film, lucky for you, your ex-situationship still has a habit of coming in right before you leave.

“Bloody hell Hobie.”

“Please don’t be shocked right now, we can talk about it tomorrow.” He can’t be serious. “I’m knackered.” I wonder why, you think. He looks like proper shit.

“Hobie you’re bleeding.” You’re trying your best to be helpful and not panic.

“It’s fine love, it’ll heal in no time, I kinda have superpowers.” You’re choosing to ignore that and get up to retrieve your first aid kit, it’s far too basic to be useful right now, only equipped to help with cuts and minor injuries.

You can feel his eyes on you and your whole body is shaking as you kneel by his side. You try your best to keep your hands steady while pouring rubbing alcohol into a cotton pad.

“You don’t have to, I’ll be fine.”

“Let me clean it, please, so it doesn’t get infected.” He lets you, wincing at the alcohol making contact with his open injuries. He knows you're doing it more for yourself than him. “Sorry.” He shakes his head as a way of saying ‘no worries’.

You reach for his face with your bare hand once you’ve considered him clean enough, you cradle his cheek and can’t hold your tears from spilling.

“This is why I cut thing off with you, you know? Don’t wan’ you getting hurt.”

“I don’t care.”

“Don’t say that.” He pleads.

“What about you getting hurt? Does that not matter?” He laughs and winces right after.

“You’re a sweet thing. I don’t have a choice but you do.”

“And what if my choice is to stand by your side?”

“You can’t.”

“Yes I do!” You’re reaching tour breaking point and can’t help but raise your voice. “I didn’t know I loved you as much as I do until these last weeks without you. It’s been torture.”

“It’s been torture for me too.” His words soften you, and it’s only then you realize what you said, you don’t dare acknowledge them, maybe he didn’t notice or the head trauma will make him forget it.

You’re crying now and it feels awful because you should be the one comforting him, he’s hurt not you. He holds you as you shake and places a kiss to your head.

“Can we sleep here?” He asks once you’ve calmed down. The tile floor is anything but comfortable and still you nod yes.

You fix a make-shift bed consisting of your bunched up jumper and apron for pillows and your big coat, that barely covers his upper body, for a blanket. Not that it matters, you chose to turn the radiator up and it’s hard to get cold while curled up to a human heater. You’re careful while laying with him, both out of fear of hurting him and prudence of this hurting you even more. He doesn’t care and brings you closer, your head on his chest and his hand drawing shapes on your back over your clothes, you can’t help but worry about the state of his back in the morning.

You find sleep easier than you have since your “break-up”, his rhythmic breathing lulls you and his caresses calm you down. You’re in the before-falling-asleep-limbo when you hear his voice, he says “I love you too” like a confession secret, you’re not sure if you were even supposed to hear it. It’s too late for you to react, his words mix with the beginning of your dreams into a spiralling nonsense.

🕷 i really enjoyed writing this! i was thinking of maybe doing a part 2? tell me your thoughts if you dont mind too! i haven't written anything that isnt academic in years and i feel rusty

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #hobie brown fanfic #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown drabble #hobie brown blurb #spider punk x reader #spider punk x you #spider punk x y/n #florist au #atsv x reader #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown angst #hobie brown x fem!reader #spiderpunk x reader #spiderpunk x you #spiderpunk x y/n

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chrisevansonly · 9 months

Text

From Italy with Love blurb (harry’s angel)

pairing: harry styles x female reader (angel)

summary: nothing beats enjoying the quiet of your italy villa with your little family<3

warning: none!

a/n: i’m slowly getting back into working on some fics, i’ve been just dealing with a few things but i promise stuff is coming<3

Nothing would ever come close to feeling like the summer breeze in Italy felt as you lay tangled up in the sheets. Soft sounds of birds chirping and the small town around your villa awakening as the sun crept up on your villa. This was your favourite wake up call, no rushes to hotels or venues for concerts, just delicate softness to help rise you from your sleep.

The only thing that confused you was the utter quietness within your home, no crying from Violet, and no sweet nothings in your ear from Harry. Looking at the clock beside you it was almost eight a.m., Vi would have been up by now so you figured Harry had gotten up with her and let you sleep, something he was doing a lot of recently, never quite getting enough of his baby girl.

It didn’t take long for you to get out of bed, slipping on a button up of Harry’s, your soft cotton shorts keeping you extra comfy as you brushed your teeth. You took your time waking up, completing your skin care before making your way downstairs. As soon as you made it towards the back french doors you could hear quiet murmuring accompanied by the little noises Violet sometimes made that Harry was certain, she was talking back to him.

“Good morning my sunshines”

At the sound of your voice Harry turned to smile at you, Violet tucked securely in his arms

“Oh say good morning mummy”

“Morning my little Violet”

Leaning down to press a kiss to her little cheeks you smiled moving to kiss your husband, his eyes watching yours filled with nothing but love for you

“Good morning angel”

“Morning baby, have you both been up for a while?”

He shook his head

“She woke up round six, so we’ve been sitting outside napping a bit and watching the birds”

“She’s been sleeping a bit later, maybe she knows her daddy’s on vacation”

Harry laughed, moving to give you space to sit down next to them

“Well isn’t that nice of her”

He looked down at Violet who’s eyes were moving around, when they landed on you she made a little noise

“Hello petal, did you find me? Hmm? You’re so precious baby”

Hearing your voice she gave you the faintest sign of a smile, Harry moving to pass her to you before letting you lean back on his chest. Violets eyes remaining on you as you brought a finger down to stroke her cheek.

“God she’s your carbon copy H”

He hummed

“She’s got your nose though, kinda crazy how we created her isn’t it?”

“Mhm, pinch myself every now and again”

Slowly Violets eyes fluttered closed, happy to be snuggled up against you, your body relaxing further into Harry’s as you enjoyed the warm air and solitude your little family had at this moment.

“Wish we could stay here forever”

“Who says we can’t?”

Pressing a kiss to your cheek Harry’s hands moved to rest on your thighs, no hidden intentions other than to find comfort in being close to you

“Guess we better write letters to our family, from italy with love, we’re never coming back”

“Sounds like a plan to me”

Laughing softly you let your eyes close as well, Harry more than happy to keep his girls comfortable and happy. He knew you couldn’t stay at your villa forever but you could for now, and that was all he wanted to do: shut the world out and hide away with his girls.

There was nowhere else in the world Harry wanted to be than right here, with his little family.

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missmielyhoran · 1 year

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Housemate

in which Y/N finds a cheap place to live...

(Werewolf!Harry × Florist!reader)

Masterlist

*****

Moving out was a hard task and harder than that was finding a place to live.

You thought packing your bags and moving out of your parents' house after one bad fight was some kind of badass move, but it came to bite you in the ass.

You were living in your best friend's apartment, but she herself was moving in with her boyfriend, and the apartment was already bought by the next owners, and you only had two days left.

Most of the places you saw were either too expensive, too shady, or too far from your shop.

Losing all hope, you sat down on the bench in the park and ate your burrito. Tears of frustration and anger were pricking in your eyes when a piece of paper flew straight on your face and stuck to it.

You removed it from your face groaning. The first thing you saw was 'housemate needed' in bold letters, and like fate pulling you in, you walked straight to the address, forgetting all about your burrito.

*****

Harry was in desperate need of a roommate. Someone would think being who he is, he wouldn't have to worry about bills and shit but it was a modern world, even his dad had to go to work.

His work pay wasn't cutting it, though. He was struggling to pay his bills and still have some money left for food and stuff or in his savings. Then Niall suggested getting a roommate like he did. The idea would have been great if he was a normal human being, but he wasn't. He was a walking danger.

A blaring warning signal on legs was who he was.

His house was beautiful if he said so himself. It was a decent size, two rooms, and a bathroom with an open kitchen-living room plan. Most of the walls decorated with pastels. Living room walls were baby blue but a specific shade he loved with loads of plants.

No one wanted to live near the forest, which was the problem. His house of near forest (for obvious reasons) and most of the people living there were either like him or old people who just wanted to live off their days in peace.

He had just plopped himself down on his couch when the bell rang. He stood up straight, something about whoever it was on the door made his senses perk up. He fixed his jeans and patchwork cardigan he made himself. Harry walked towards the door, the unknown feeling growing and growing.

He calmed and took a deep breath before opening the door. But when he did, he forgot how to breathe. There you were in a cute little yellow sundress with black boots and the biggest smile showing your dimple on the left cheek.

"Hi" You said like a bird in some disney movie. You looked like a disney character with big almost animated looking eyes, curly hair tied up in a half up do.

"Hi" He mumbled shyly and welcomed you in. He wasn't very outgoing but in front of you he felt different. It was like he was a teenager again interacting with crush for the first time.

He really hoped you would agree to live here cause he didn't know if he could let you go.

"I saw the ad for a housemate? I honestly didn't know flyers were still a thing you know cause of Craigslist and stuff. " You laughed lightly while Harry's face went red.

"My friend suggested I should get another person here cause of expenses, and I'm not good with the internet, so I did what I knew," He said, feeling a bit embarrassed. He grew up different from the others, and he also didn't like social media, to be honest.

He was basically a grandma in 25 years old boy's body, as Niall says.

"Oh no, I didn't mean it like that." Your eyes widened, thinking you had made him feel bad. The walking around the whole area has gotten you tired and maybe a grumpy, "Oh my god, I'm sorry"

That made him laugh, showing off the deep dimples on both sides of his cheeks, his eyes crinkling. He looked like a squished grape, but in a cute way, you just wanted to pinch his cheeks and hold his face for entern-

Woah there calm down.

"I like this place a lot," you said, turning away before you could do something embarrassing.

"I will show you around," He said, walking in front of you. It was a small house with a small entryway with a shoerack and medium-sized mirror. The living room was blue with loads of plants and a yellow couch with a matching love seat, giving it a pop of colour. The kitchen was also blue with white cupboards, an island facing the back o the couch.

There were two doors, one of which you guessed was Harry's room and other yours. "This is my room" He said opening the room, it was everything you expected, white walls with a blue accent wall, crumbled white sheets on bed in middle of the room, a desk near the window and loads of plants.

"Blue is your favorite I take," you teased, watching him smile shyly and mumble a yeah.

Then we got to the other room, it was sage green with an old couch in the middle and that was it. It was a decent size enough for you. There was a window just like in his. It was identical to most.

"So...do you like it?" Harry trailed off. He was anxiously looking at you trying to figure out if you liked it or not.

"I love it!" You gave him a big smile and walked in more to look around. The whole house had a musky smile, like soil after rain, foresty, and you were in love.

"I might have to tell you I might steal your clothes cause they look good and comfy." You teased him and gave a cheeky laugh.

Harry was about to jump in happiness like a puppy getting asked if he wanted a treat, and in a way, it was.

"You can take whatever you want." He smiled, and you there it was the urge to just pinch his cheeks, and this time you gave in.

You extened your hand and gave him a soft pinch on cheek, "You're soo cut-" You cut off your sentence and removed your hand. It felt like an electric shock went through when you touched him.

Harry felt it too, a lot harder than you. His eyes were matching his, wide in shock. You didn't know what it meant, and neither did Harry, but it wasn't something normal, and neither was them being so undeniably pulled towards each other.

"I never got your name," Harry asked in hushed in voice, your eyes on his emerald ones.

"Y/N," you replied in the same voice, not wanting to break the moment. Harry smiled, thinking how your name suited you a lot.

"Welcome to Lone Cottage, Y/N"

*****

Here is my soft puppy boy, istg i love him sm

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navybrat817 · 1 year

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He's not stalking you, he's looking after you, baby

Oh, is he?

Follow You Home

Pairing: Soft!Bucky Barnes x Florist!Female Reader Summary: Bucky just wants to see you smile when he visits you at the flower shop. Word Count: Over 1.9k Warnings: (S)talking, (c)reepy behavior, talk of (v)iolence and (d)eath, (s)exual thoughts, delusion, obsession, homeboy has issues (still love him), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Future fics for this AU will venture into (d)arker territory. Graphics talent and thanks: Banner by @sgt-seabass. Divider by @rookthorne. A/N: For @springdandelixn's Double-Trouble Sleepover (featuring flowers) and @darkficsyouneveraskedfor's Mini March Challenge ((s)talking, ribbon, plaid shirt). ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

A sense of serenity and calm washed over Bucky Barnes as he walked into the flower shop. The fragrance and colors almost overwhelmed him the first time he went in, but he learned to adjust. One of the only blessings of the trauma he experienced is that he could be extremely adaptable when the occasion called for it. Now he craved the sweet scent that surrounded him.

The way he craved you.

“Hi, Bucky,” you called from behind the counter. “Right on time.”

Like when he saw you the first time, he stared at you for far too long. He was still too intrigued to care if you caught him. Unlike most people around him, you never cowered under his gaze. You always greeted him with a smile which was enough to make his heart skip a beat.

Even if your smile didn’t reach your eyes today.

Still beautiful. Still mine.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a quick look around as he made his way to the counter where his flowers were waiting. “I brought you something.”

“Let me guess?” you asked, your smile still not as bright as normal. “A candy bar because I’m so sweet?”

Sweet enough to melt on my tongue.

“What gave it away?” he asked, handing it over with a small smile of his own. He could have set it on the counter, but he liked having an excuse for his fingers to brush against yours. “One day I might switch it up on you.”

“No, this is nice,” you said, sniffling. “Thank you.”

I’m reliable. Dependable.

Predictability had a way of putting some at ease. It communicated stability, safety, and security. He made sure you knew exactly what time he’d be at the shop and on which day. He always purchased the same flowers. Always brought the same wrapped candy after you commented one day that you craved it.

You'll crave me the way I crave you.

“Beautiful,” he said as he inspected the small bouquet and took a moment to steal a glance at you. Not that he needed to look over the arrangement. They were perfect every time, right down to the perfect ribbon bow to hold them together. “Mrs. Bradshaw will love them.”

Every week he bought a small bouquet of tulips for his elderly neighbor. She didn’t have many people to look out for her, so he checked in whenever he could. In some ways, she reminded him of Rebecca. Or at least what he thought Rebecca would be like if he got to see her grow up. Maybe it was why he felt the need to protect her.

He felt the need to protect you, too.

Just not from myself.

“It’s nice that you do that,” you said, ringing them up with another quiet sniffle.

“I don’t mean to pry, but is everything okay?” he asked, putting the change in the small bowl by the register.

“Just not a great day,” you tried to brush off.

“Bad customer? I don’t mind taking care of them. Just tell me who,” he offered.

A man screamed at you weeks ago over the cost of flowers for his wedding. You explained that he was receiving a discount and the price was agreed upon, but it wasn’t good enough for the jerk. You threw him out after he shattered one of your vases.

Bucky shattered one of his knees.

I’m not a bad man.

“No, it wasn’t a bad customer,” you said, your eyes misty as you reached for the candy bar and changed your mind.

"You can talk to me," he urged, placing his hand on yours long enough to provide comfort without being uncomfortable. "I'm your friend, right?"

I'm actually more than that.

"Yeah," you nodded, taking a deep breayhy. “You know my boyfriend?”

Bucky didn’t say anything for a moment. When his slight obsession with you began, he found out everything he could. While it didn't surprise him that you had a boyfriend, it disappointed him. Especially when he discovered that he was a decent man. Always friendly when he visited the shop. Even kept your place nice and tidy when he stopped by.

It was a feat Bucky didn't break every single one of his fingers for touching you.

“Yeah, I know of him.”

“He dumped me. Through a text,” you said as more tears welled up. “Just said we were through. No explanation. When I tried to call him, he blocked me."

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, his voice filled with sympathy as he grabbed a pack of tissues from his jacket pocket.

"My stuff was in a box this morning, waiting in front of my door," you went on. "I thought things were going great between us. Not too fast or too slow, but I guess I was wrong. Maybe he was seeing someone else."

"If he was, he's an idiot,” he said, itching to walk around the counter to hug you. It broke his heart to see you upset. “They can't see someone as perfect as you when they have you right in front of them.”

“I’m not perfect,” you argued, dabbing your eyes with the tissue. “Look at me. I’m crying in the middle of the shop.”

“You’re perfect to me,” he said.

In every way.

"Thanks, Bucky. You've always been very kind."

“It’s the other way around,” he said, clearing his throat. “And I appreciate it more than you know.”

Because of Bucky’s past, he did his best to blend in most days. As a man forced to do bad things against his will, the truth behind his actions didn’t matter to some. They had their minds made up about him and would never trust him because of what he did.

Do people feel better by making me a villain?

But one day, while he was out trying to make amends, he spotted you helping a homeless man on the sidewalk. He had seen him before. Most passed him without a second glance, but you crouched down and checked on him. You even gave him a bit of food you had on you and some money.

“I wish I could give you more, but that’s all I have,” you said.

The man nearly cried with gratitude. No one else cared, but you did. That was when you spotted Bucky looking your way. He could avoid being seen if he wished, but part of him wanted you to notice him. If you recognized him, in a good or bad way, you didn’t show it. You merely smiled, gave him a friendly nod, and walked on.

As if you hadn’t changed his life.

Bucky didn’t mean to follow you at first, but he had to make sure you got to wherever you were going safely. He didn't want anything bad to happen to you. Besides, a gaze between the two of you wasn't enough to leave him satisfied. Once he squashed his curiosity and made sure you were okay, he thought he’d leave you be.

He was wrong.

The second he walked into the shop and saw you again, he knew you had to be his.

“You’re caring and strong. You deserve kindness and respect,” he told you, wondering if the depths of his feelings showed in his eyes. “Someone who will love and cherish you for who you are.”

“I might cry again,” you smiled.

It reached your eyes this time.

“I’m just glad you’re smiling again,” he said. It would be beautiful to wake up to it each day. He was going to make that happen.

“Is it okay if I ask for a hug?”

“Sure,” he said, opening his arms.

You moved around the counter and leaned into him with a sigh. He smiled as he held you, feeling a warmth inside of him that he hadn’t felt since before he met you. He imagined many times how he’d make you shiver with need once he had his hands on you and it took strength not to stretch you out on the counter.

Just like it took him strength not to touch you in your home.

Watching wasn’t enough. It never was. He’d have you in his bed soon.

Where you belong.

“It’s probably for the best. I think he was stealing some of my panties,” you said against his shoulder before you gasped. “Oh, my god! I shouldn’t have told you that. I’m so sorry.”

Bucky loved the feel of your satin underwear around his cock. It was easy to imagine how wet they’d be against your pussy as he teased you. Not that you’d wear underwear much once he had you. Maybe he’d keep you in one of his Henley’s. Or a plaid shirt so he could rip it open. Or little sundresses so he could push them up around your hips.

So many options.

“Don’t be sorry,” he smiled when you kept your face hidden. “I’m glad you’re comfortable with me.”

As you should be.

“Thank you, Bucky,,” you said, lifting your head and gazing at him. "You're a good guy."

"I'm trying to be," he whispered, holding you a bit tighter before he let you go.

If anything, he'd be good to you.

"Here," you said as you pulled away and grabbed the largest red rose in the shop. “You should find someone special to give this to. I think they’d be very lucky.”

“Yeah, I think I will,” he said as a couple walked through the door. “I should let you help them. Is it okay if I see you tomorrow? Just in case you need a friend."

"I'd like that," you smiled.

"I'll see you later then," he smiled back.

“Bye. Thanks again."

Bucky left the rose next to the candy bar when you weren't looking and walked out the door with his tulips in hand. He’d have to explain to Mrs. Bradshaw that he’d be moving shortly. His new home was ready. A place outside of the city. Quiet. Secluded.

Perfect for the two of you.

Bucky was going to take great pleasure in the two of you christening every room of the place. He'd even fill the rooms with roses and other flowers to show how special you are. You deserved beauty in your home.

He frowned when he suddenly thought of your tears. Your now ex-boyfriend hadn't seen him coming. As much as part of him hated that he ever touched you, had been inside you, he didn't want to cause an innocent man pain. Not when his only crime was that he wanted you.

I just wanted you more.

He almost felt guilty for sending the text and blocking your number. He felt even worse when he remembered how the light left his eyes. That feeling went away when he boxed up your things. It had to be done.

No one would find the body.

Maybe I am a villain, but I'll be your hero, too.

Once Bucky saw you home safely tonight, he’d wait until after midnight to make his move. He did say he'd see you tomorrow. He’d show you how easy it is to break into your place undetected and bring you to your new home. A place where he could keep you safe from a world that didn’t deserve your kindness.

He didn’t have a choice or control over his life in years past, but he did now. He chose to take back control. To begin again.

Starting with you.

And who better to love and protect you than the former Winter Soldier?

You'll love your new home, right? Bucky thinks so. Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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