#florist reader

Hongjoong knew how cruel the world could be. He experienced it firsthand when his parents died, leaving him in the care of his uncle.

He didn't know it then, but in five years time, he would become one of the most feared leaders in the mafia world. His uncle was a strong willed man, albeit a bit easy when it came to women. Hongjoong watched as his uncle, his only rock, became so obsessed about an average accountant that he left his empire and fled to another country, just to live a normal life with her.

What a stupid man, Hongjoong thought at the time. He could have enjoyed the riches, people bowing to him out of respect, expensive cars and a plethora of beauties waiting to jump his bones. Instead, he was now an ordinary mechanic, drinking beer from his small front porch in a house somewhere along the coast of Italy.

What the fearless leader didn't know, was that he would soon wish to do the exact same, with a woman so special and unusual.

.

.

"Lisa, is the order for Mr. Jung ready? He'll be here in about ten minutes."

"Almost, just let me add a nice bow to the bouquet."

Y/N sighed, knowing how Lisa loved adding her finishing touches in the last minute. She couldn't complain, every customer adored their order, so she let the silly girl have her fun.

Running a florist shop was Y/N's childhood dream. After years of saving money, she got her little heaven with Lisa as an addition a month ago. She was a couple of years younger than Y/N, still in school, but she had a knack for arrangements.

"Lisa, honey, you can go now. I'll wait for Mr. Jung and close up."

The red haired teen came from the back room with a bouquet of white lilies, placing them on the counter.

"Are you sure? You know the street light doesn't work, they still haven't fixed it."

"I'm sure. My apartment is right around the corner, I'll manage."

They said their goodbyes and Y/N waited for her last customer of the day before starting to clean up. She changed the sign on the door to 'closed', but left the lights on inside. The lamppost outside flickered, but it still didn't turn on properly.

Just as she was about to grab her bag and head out, she heard the door opening. When she turned around, her breath got caught in her throat.

There stood a man in an expensive suit, his blonde locks combed neatly from his forehead. He looked like a model, but his stance was casual.

"Hi there. I saw you through the window, you don't mind helping out a man in need?"

She shook her head, almost hypnotized by his voice.

"H-Hi. I mean, we are closed, but if you are in need of a flowery emergency, I can make something happen."

Hongjoong chuckled, noticing how the woman checked him out. He knew he was handsome, but he had nothing on the lady in front of him. She was a true beauty, and for some reason, Hongjoong's heart started beating a little faster. He had to get it together, it's not like he hasn't seen beautiful women before.

"I would highly appreciate it. It doesn't have to be anything fancy."

Y/N nodded, going around her shop and showing him different types of flowers.

"What's the occasion?"

"The cemetery."

His curt answer made her freeze for a second. She turned to look at him, his expression now a little colder than before.

"Oh... Isn't it a bit late to go there now?"

"I was too caught up with... Work. I think my parents won't mind the time seeing as they are six feet under the ground."

Y/N didn't know what to say, thinking she would only make the situation even more awkward. It was clear that both of his parents were gone. She nodded, going over to the bucket of fresh white carnations. She took a good amount, cutting the stems and wrapping them in white paper. The man was watching her every move, and it made her feel a bit self conscious. When she was done, she handed the little bouquet to him.

"Here. Carnations are usually given to grieving families. They also represent Mother's day. Do you have a vase at the gravesite?"

He only shook his head, a bit touched by her effort. She could have picked up anything just to get him out faster, but she made sure the flowers had a meaning.

The lovely woman went behind her counter to retrieve a small vase, seemingly plastic, and handed it to Hongjoong.

"Make sure to put a bit of water in here so that the flowers can stay alive longer."

"I will. Thank you, Miss...?"

"Y/N. And you are?"

"Hongjoong." They looked into each other's eyes, not sure what was happening. The atmosphere in the room changed, and if Hongjoong's phone didn't ring, who knows how long they would have been at it.

"Hello? Ah yes Mingi, I got held up. I'm coming out in a second." He put the phone back in his pocket after ending the call, taking out his wallet.

"How much do I owe you? For the vase and the flowers."

Y/N shook her head, giving him a smile.

"It's on the house. I..." She sighed, her expression turning a bit sad.

"I also lost my parents, so I know the pain. I hope they are at peace."

For the first time in his life, Hongjoong was speechless. There she was, a woman who didn't know him or his background, doing a good deed just because she wanted to. The cruel mafia boss was surrounded with so much evil that he forgot what kindness felt like.

It was refreshing.

"Thank you, Y/N. I'm sorry for your loss as well. My mother... She would have loved these." He motioned to the flowers now sitting in the vase.

"No problem. It's getting late now, maybe you should..."

"Ah, yes. Sorry for barging in so late. Thank you, again. Enjoy the rest of your evening." The man nodded before turning around and exiting.

Hongjoong took out his phone, dialing Mingi's number.

"Yes, boss?"

"Mingi, I'll manage alone for tonight. Wait at the flower shop I just left and make sure the lady gets home safe. The street lights are off."

.

.

A couple of days went by since Hongjoong's last visit to Y/N's shop. Honestly, she was still thinking about him, and she hoped he would come back again. She felt like there was something between them, something that could be explored. Maybe he thought the same?

"Oh, don't be ridiculous!" She whispered to no one in particular. Lisa had the day off for volleyball practise, so Y/N was left to her own devices. The afternoon rush was over - people buying flowers for hospital visits, one lovely grandpa coming to get his granddaughter's birthday sunflowers, and husband's rushing home to surprise their wives with bouquets of red and pink roses.

Wouldn't that be lovely? Y/N never got any flowers from her previous boyfriend. Notice the singular noun, because she only had one. Relationships weren't her thing because she was too shy to try and meet someone new. However, she could imagine a certain blonde man giving her a dozen red roses after a romantic dinner. But that was just wishful thinking. He probably forgot about her already. He seemed like a busy man, his suit pressed and expensive, and by the sound of if he had a driver of some sort with him. She shrugged off her thoughts and focused on making another bouquet that would make a wife somewhere in town very happy once she receives it.

The day went by quickly, and she was preparing to close up. For some reason, of because of false hope, she didn't turn the sign on her door to 'closed' yet. Her back was turned when she heard someone come in. When she looked over her shoulder, there he was.

"Hello again. I promise I'm not coming so late on purpose."

She smiled at Hongjoong, now facing him fully. He noticed how her dress moved, exposing her smooth legs a bit more to his watchful eye.

"Hi! It's no big deal, you stil have about... Two minutes left."

"Well I better make them worthwhile, am I right?"

Somehow, she knew there was a hidden meaning behind his words, but she had yet to discover it.

"What can I do for you today, Hongjoong?"

"I need a bouquet, a fancy one. Something... Pink?"

You glanced down at your dress, seeing its baby pink checkered pattern.

"Got it. What's the occasion this time?"

Hongjoong smirked, looking right into her eyes.

"A date."

Her face fell, and she tried to get herself together. Of course he would have a date, he's gorgeous! What was she thinking imagining them together? His date was probably some rich chick, dressed in branded clothing and adorned with expensive jewellery.

Y/N cleared her throat, managing to get it together. Hongjoong noticed how her mood changed, and he felt amused by the situation.

"Oh. Yes, okay. Wait here, it might take a minute longer. Any preference on the flower?"

He shook his head. "You choose what's best."

Going over to the pink roses, you grabbed them along with some baby's breath to give it a softer vibe. The wrapping paper was in baby pink tones, and you added a nice bow to finish it off. It was a bouquet you'd love to receive yourself, and the girl he was about to take on a date should feel lucky.

"Here you go. Pink roses for admiration. I hope she likes them."

He took the flowers from your hands, and your fingers touched for a moment. It was a light graze, no longer than a second, but you both stopped and looked at each other. Hongjoong got himself together before you did, and cleared his throat.

"I think she will. She was great taste, I can tell you that. And pink looks good on her."

You told him the price, and he handed you his black card. You knew he had money, so it almost didn't surprise you. After finishing the transaction, you were ready to go home and wallow in self pity.

Hongjoong had other plans.

"So, Miss Y/N, what do you like more - Italian or French?"

"I'm sorry, what?" You asked, a bit confused.

"I personally like Italian more, but French pastries can't be beaten. I'll have to take you to Paris sometime, just for the whole experience."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

You watched as the man in front of you smiled, handing over the bouquet you made.

"Y/N, would you like to go on a date with me?"

You were shocked. Did he really just ask you out? He made it seem like he had plans with someone else, when all this time he wanted you?

"Hello? Earth to Y/N?"

"Oh, Hongjoong..."

He could almost feel the rejection burning his heart. Maybe he should have had a different approach? He thought this would be cute.

"Yes, I'd love to go on a date with you. You just surprised me, sorry."

The blush on your cheeks now matched with Hongjoong's, and the both of you chuckled.

"I swear I've seen this in a movies, it went so smoothly, unlike this. But really, the flowers are for you. You deserve them."

Taking the roses from his hands felt like a brand new experience for you. Having never gotten flowers before, it turned out to be a wonderful feeling.

Hongjoong waited for you outside, and you were soon in his expensive car driving towards a nice secluded restaurant. He wanted to have some privacy with you, and he also had to avoid certain parts of town where people knew who he was.

He didn't really think everything through, but he knew he wanted you. That was enough for now.

When you went inside to get seated, you were surprised at how homey the place felt. The staff knew Hongjoong, and they took you to a secluded booth for more privacy. Once you got your drinks, the conversation kept flowing naturally.

"So, Miss Y/N, what's your story?"

You took a sip of your white wine before answering.

"Well, as you know, my parents died when I was young. I was raised by my grandparents until I saved up enough money to move. Flowers were something my mom loved, and she always told me I had a green thumb. So, after a lot of dirty dishes and lunch rushes I experienced as a waitress, I opened up my little shop. It's not much, but it's my pride and joy."

Hongjoong nodded along as you told him about your life, your assistant Lisa, your wish to have a pet but your landlord not allowing it, and so on. He took in every word you said, trying to memorize the things you liked.

"What about you? You seem like a guy who has a much more interesting life than me."

Oh, you didn't know the half of it.

"After my parents died, I went to live with my uncle. We have a... Family business, so I took over when he moved away. I don't do much besides work, to be honest, but I love my job. It just gets a bit lonely sometimes."

You looked at him curiosly.

"Lonely? Don't you have colleagues?"

"I do, lots. But majority don't speak to me directly. I have my right hand man, Seonghwa, he takes care of the communication between all of us. If it weren't for him, I'd be a lost cause."

You nodded, sipping on your second glass of wine. You were a bit of a lightweight, so you had to be careful not to overdo it.

"What exactly do you do?"

Hongjoong went silent. You were confused for a second. You were just chatting about jobs, nothing major. Why would he stiffen up so suddenly?

"I do... Accounting."

"Accounting?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Mhm. A lot of accounting."

He changed the topic after that, not giving you a chance to question him further. You kind of got the message. Dinner went by smoothly, and you were in his car again making your way back home.

"I had a lovely time tonight, Hongjoong."

The man gave you a quick smile before focusing on the road again.

"Me too. I would love to do this again, and soon. I hope I'm not coming off too strongly, but I really like you Miss Y/N."

You blushed, looking down at the roses in your lap.

"Why do you keep calling me Miss Y/N?"

"I like how it sounds. Maybe I should start calling you something else, though. What do you say, rosie?"

The redness of your cheeks only got worse after that.

"I kind of... Like that better."

"Then it's settled."

He pulled up in front of your building too soon for your liking.

"I have to be honest with you, rosie."

You turned your head towards him, seeing his soft expression.

"Yes?"

"I really want to kiss you right now."

Silence followed his statement. You didn't know what to do. On one hand, you'd love to kiss the man, while on the other, you knew it would probably be too soon.

"I... We just met, and..."

"Hey, hey, I get it. I wasn't really expecting to do it now. Keep it in your mind, though, because I'm not a patient man when it comes to things I want, and I really want to have you, rosie."

Once you said your goodbyes you went to your apartment with flushed cheeks and your first bouquet. Hongjoong was something else, and you were looking forward to exploring what the connection you felt with him.

What you didn't know was that your little dream would be ruined the next evening.

.

.

"Okay Lisa, it's time to head out."

"But Y/N, you never let me stay and close up with you."

You looked at the teen sporting a new plaster over her brusied nose. Lisa loved volleyball, but the ball loved Lisa's face even more. The poor girl always had another injury after practice, but she was determined to keep going.

"That's because it's still light out, and I already told you the street lamp isn't working properly. I don't want you roaming around in the dark."

"Oh, but what about you?"

You smiled, arranging another order for tomorrow morning.

"I have a feeling I won't be going home alone tonight."

"Ah, yes. Your little mystery lover. Well, if that's the case, then I'll be off. Have fun, Miss Y/N."

You shooed her away, giggling along with her before going back to the counter. You didn't really know if Hongjoong would stop by, but you had a feeling he would.

Another hour passed before you went around the shop cleaning up and preparing to leave. Your back was turned when the door opened.

"Now, you said you wouldn't come by after clo-"

"So, you're the boss' new toy? He sure knows how to pick 'em!"

You turned around, shocked to find another man there instead of Hongjoong. He was tall and buff, but what caught your attention the most was the gun in his left hand. A gun pointed right at you.

"Say, do you think he'd be angry if I borrowed you? Only for tonight, I'll make your exit quick afterwards."

"Please, I don't know what your talking about. Here, take all you need from the register, my wallet is in my purse."

The gruff man stepped closer, shaking his head.

"I don't want your money, I want your blood."

Your hands were now in the air, your body trembling with fear.

"Please... I didn't do anything."

"Oh, maybe you didn't sweetie, but the little king did."

King? Why would he call him a king. Before you could dwell about it some more, the man started talking again.

"You see, Hongjoong owes me. You know how they say, and eye for an eye. Killing my brother was a mistake, and now I've come to get revenge. The mafia world is too cruel sometimes."

The blood in your veins froze, your heart beating rapidly. You were about to plead some more with him, not knowing anything about the mafia he was going on about. What in the world did Hongjoong do?

Luckily, the door opened again, and there was the man of the hour, also holding a gun in his hand.

"Drop the weapon Chan, you know I'm a better shooter than you. You should ask Hansol."

At the mention of his brother, the gruff man turned his head in Hongjoong's direction, but his hand was still outstretched in yours.

"Don't talk shit, boss. I have your little princess at aim. My finger is about to slip."

Before you knew what was happening, the man was on the ground, a hole right between his eyes.

"I hate traitors."

Hongjoong stepped over his body, going over to you. His face softened, noticing your trembling form. Your eyes were still locked on the body bleeding out on your shop's floor.

"Rosie, sweetie, look away. Come, we need to get you out of here."

"No! Don't touch me!" You swatted his hands away from you, but Hongjoong was persistent.

"Please, rosie, we need to go now. My men will clean everything up."

"Your men?! Who the hell are you?" You were now starting to panic, but Hongjoong managed to wrap his hands around you to keep you grounded.

"I'll explain everything once we get to my house. Please, you have to trust me."

You were to shaken up to notice how he was guiding you outside, hands still firmly planted around your waist.

"Mingi, take care of everything with Yeosang. I want the place spotless. You hear me?"

The two men standing outside nodded, and off they went.

Hongjoong somehow placed you in his car, making sure you were comfortable. The ride through the city was silent, your head hurting from the events replaying in it.

It was clear Hongjoong was involved in something dark. Something that made a random man come into your flower shop and try to... You couldn't even think about it.

"Y/N, we're here. Come, let's get you inside."

The mansion in front of you was lavish, to say the least. There were bodyguards all around the premises, with one of them waiting by the front door.

"The place is secured, boss. We've prepared a room for Miss Y/N."

"Thank you, San. You're free to go now. Make sure to keep me updated if you notice anything unusual. Chan was alone tonight, probably acting out of rage, but we should be careful."

"Of course, boss." The buff man nodded, walking away to give you and Hongjoong privacy.

He led you inside, the front room looking like it came from an expensive movie set. Everything was decorated tastefully, with modern furniture and expensive paintings. The living room was no different, where you were currently sitting and holding a cup of warm tea. You still haven't said a word, and Hongjoong was getting concerned. He knelt down in front of you, placing a blanket around your shoulders.

"Rosie, I know you're confused, and probably terrified, but you're safe here with me. You can ask me anything you want, and I'll answer truthfully."

"You're not an accountant, are you?"

The man chuckled, standing up and making himself comfortable next to you.

"No, I'm not. I'm a leader. This is my world Y/N."

You're voice trembled as you spoke. "You're in the... In the mafia?"

"Smart girl. Yes, that I am. I have my own empire, left to me by my father and uncle. We don't always do things such as what happened tonigh but your safety was my priority."

"You killed a man."

"That was about to kill you. It was an easy decision."

The anger you felt soon came up on the surface.

"But you didn't know him! Maybe he had a family as well? Why would you do that?"

"Do you know what him and his brother did, Y/N? They traded girls around brothels for easy money. Sometimes they beat them until they passed out. They took one of our workers and almost killed her. They deserved what was coming for them."

You went silent after that.

"Y/N, I know this is too much to take in at once, but you've got to listen to me. I like you, hell, I'm falling for you so quickly it's insane. When I saw the gun pointed at you, I snapped. I couldn't let you be in danger a second longer. You still owe me a kiss, don't you remember?"

A small smile appeared on your face.

"Owe? I don't know about that."

"Okay, call it how you want, but I want to kiss you. Everyday, all the time."

You looked at Hongjoong, seeing how intense his gaze on you was. The man seemed smitten, and you never had someone admire you like this.

"What do we do now?" You asked.

"Now? Now, you're mine. You get to be my queen. You'll never have to worry about a thing, my rose."

"But... My shop? I still want to work at my shop!"

"Hey, hey, that's okay. You can do whatever you want, I won't meddle in that. I just want you to know that you don't have to worry about anything else anymore. I'm going to take care of you, for however long you let me. Do you feel the same as me? Tell me you do, I won't survive the heartbreak."

He fell against the couch, closing his eyes and placing a hand over his chest.

Without much thought, you leaned over and placed a light kiss on his cheek. Hongjoong's eyes opened, and he stared at you with so much adoration, you felt shy.

"You... Oh, my rose."

"We need to take things slow, Hongjoong."

"Absolutely, no problem. As slow as you want. But not too slow, please, or I won't make it."

Again, he pretended to faint against the couch, hoping you'd place your lips on him again. Instead, you pinched his cheek.

"Ow!"

"Don't be dramatic, sweetie."

The two of you laughed before you settled against his chest. The fireplace was crackling, the tea in your hand going a bit cold, but you still took sips. Hongjoong's hand was going through your locks, and his breathing made you calm.

Somehow, you found yourself in the embrace of a mafia king, but it didn't matter. He was still Hongjoong.

Dramatic, over the top, but lovely Hongjoong.

You could get used to it.

.

“Hmm…this is the right address.” He looks at the piece of paper in his hand. Sometimes he’s just old-fashioned. Everyone can use their phone to find a place. “This should be a biker shop.”

Bucky squares his jaw. Maybe searching for the parts for his bike online was a bad idea. Now he’s standing in front of a flower shop. “I don’t need flowers, punks.”

“May I help you?” He doesn’t look up when someone speaks to him. Bucky is beyond pissed. He wasted half a day coming here only to end up in front of a flower shop. “SIR, you are blocking my door.”

You speak a little louder when the man standing in front of your door doesn’t react. “SIR! I’m talking to you. This is a flower shop, not an exhibition.”

“Exci—what?” Bucky finally looks up from the piece of paper in his hand. “What did you call me?”

“I told you that this is not an exhibition. And, because you just said you do not need flowers, I must ask you to leave. You’re scaring off my customers.”

Bucky cocks his head to glance at you. His shoulders relax, seeing you stand before him, wearing a cute sundress and an even cuter apron with flowers on it and the name of your shop printed on top of them.

“Y/N’s flower power.” He snickers at the bad name. “Who forced you to name your shop like that?”

“No one,” you snap at the stranger disturbing your peaceful day. “You have some nerve showing up at my shop, not buying anything, only to make fun of my name and the name of my shop!”

“OH!” Bucky tries not to laugh. You are standing tall and pursing your lips. If only you knew you’re talking to one of the most dangerous men you've ever heard of. “I didn’t want to make fun of your name,” he says, still smirking. “It just sounds funny.”

“What can I say? My granny was a flower power girl, okay. Love. Peace.” You shrug. “You know, the good stuff.”

“Good stuff,” Bucky hums, looking you up and down to check if you are hiding something behind your friendly appearance. “I was looking for parts for my bike and ended up here. So, no good stuff for me today.”

“Parts for your bike? Wait—are you TWT10317?” You shush him and grab his wrist to guide him inside your shop. Bucky wants to protest and tell you off, but you’re too cute to ignore in your apron and with no shoes.

“What are you up to, lady, leading me on with promises of bike parts?” He huffs when you close the door behind him and turn the little sign to closed. “Do you think you can take me?”

“In a fight or…” You giggle and shake your head. “Never mind. Follow me to the back. I told you Granny liked the good stuff. This included bikes.”

“Bikes?” Bucky blinks a few times. He’s standing in the middle of a flower shop, almost drowning in the flowers’ sweet scent. “Where are you hiding a bike?”

“Not a bike,” you hiss, pressing your index finger to your lips. “Listen, this is a secret side business of mine. Okay. If you keep on yelling about bike parts, the cops will come and close my business.”

“Cops?” That piqued his interest. Bucky didn’t take you for someone doing anything illegal. “Did you steal that stuff?”

“No,” you chuckle nervously. “People bring stuff to me, and I sell it for them. It was my granny’s side business, and now it’s mine. I make some extra cash with the bike parts. Do you want them now or not?”

“I’ll have a look around. If you tricked me, you are in big trouble, girl!” He mutters under his breath. Bucky is a little grumpy lately. His friend is conspiring with Brock Rumlow to bring some douchebag down, and Bucky doesn't like it one bit.

The guy seems to be in a bad mood, and you don’t want to be the one poking the angry bear even more. “I did not trick you. You were interested in the parts I offered. Take a look and tell me if you still want them.”

“Fine.” He glances at you, eyes searching your face. Bucky is a master at uncovering lies. “I’ll pay the price we agreed on if the parts are good.”

“My parts are always good,” you bite back with a grin.

“I bet they are,” he cockily replies, earning nothing but an eye roll. You know guys like him. Always flirty and cocky. In the end, they leave you with a broken heart. “Let’s see…”

Bucky’s eyes widened for a second, but he played it cool. He doesn’t want to pay more, only because he freaked out in front of you. There they are. Every missing part he needs for his bike.

“See, I did not lie. It’s everything you asked for, and more.”

“I’ll check on them first.” His eyes are glued to you when he reaches out for the first part. Bucky licks his lips when you sit on the only chair to watch him like a hawk. He may be a big and beefy guy, but you won’t let him get away with stealing from you. “Not too bad.”

“Do we have a deal or not?” You get back up to look at the parts he grabbed. “Sir?”

“If you raise me to a date, I’ll pay you some more.” He puts on his most charming smile, blue eyes looking at you as if you are the sun and the moon.

“Yeah, not going to happen.” You turn on your heels to march out of the backroom. “If you want the parts, we can find a good price. If you want to get laid, look for someone else.”

Bucky wrinkles his forehead. It’s the first time his good looks and blue eyes didn’t help him get a date. He cannot remember the last time he got turned down—if it ever happened before.

“I’ll take the parts and your favorite flowers,” he tries again, still with that fake smile on his lips.

“Only the parts then,” you eye the parts in his hands, thinking about a good price. Maybe he will come back for more or tell his friends about your little side business.

“Only the parts, for today,” he replies, smirking.

“Good. I don’t date customers or bikers.”

“We will get you there,” he tells you, gives you his name, and hands you more cash than you requested. “Keep the rest, and…” Bucky leans closer to whisper. “Doll, I’m not a biker…”

This wasn't a coincidence, right?

I mean, yeah you'd done karting a bit when you were younger with Lando but it isn't like you two were that close. You were kids and were just having fun.

At least, to you it was for fun.

For Lando it was life. He wanted to go pro. To be number one. And, yeah, he did that.

But you took a totally different approach. You were more calm and content with your lifestyle. You liked being out in nature and looking at all the different kinds of flowers.

Yeah. That's it. Flowers.

So you became a florist.

Your little shop in the heart of Monaco, ‘Flowers For The Soul,’ was well-known for making the streets smell absolutely wonderful.

After childhood, you decided that trying to go any further than karting wasn't really living, so, you quit. It was definitely a change, way different from your exciting childhood.

But, it wasn't all that bad. You liked it.

You never left Monaco though, your parents lived here so what was the point of leaving in your adult years?

You opened up your shop when you turned twenty, as a new start. Great beginning because of course, everyone loved it. Who doesn't love flowers? (Besides the people allergic, of course.)

Anyway, you'd heard.

Who didn't?

Not like you've been keeping tabs on him or anything...but—just a little. Maybe. Okay, yeah. You watched every race since he started Formula 1.

Lando Norris. From LN4, to now, LN1.

You cheered him on silently.

You could just ask your parents to ask his parents to catch up, but you weren't kids anymore.

But, oh, you wished. Just for a second to talk to that face you'd challenged so hard during karting.

Just to see how he's doing now.

You totally weren't gonna DM him on Instagram and see if he responded.

He wouldn't respond.

Not to someone he knew over a decade ago. Probably didn't even remember you.

So you waited.

Hours. Hours became days, days became weeks, weeks became months. And you hadn't dared to touch his icon to DM him again. You were so damn embarrassed.

Until fate just so happened to cross your path.

You were out organizing flowers that could last all year-round, when you heard a name call out from a couple of blocks down.

"Lando Norris! Lando, how are you feeling before season?"

The voice of a very obvious reporter said. Then, the sounds got louder.

Camera flashing, people shouting his name.

Surely he wasn't—right down the road was he...?

You whipped your head around, standing up from your kneeling position, a flower pot still in your head.

Holy shit. He was right there.

You turned your head back around, cheeks flushing.

Then, the sounds came closer, and closer, and closer.

Until eventually they were right behind you.

"Uhm, is this the shop that DMed me about catching up?"

The voice said.

But, there was just one thing that wasn't mentioned.

You were so scared out of your mind, you got drunk and texted Lando-fucking-Norris off of the account that promoted your shop instead of your personal one.

You turned, putting on your best smile.

"Oh, yeah...! Yeah, that was—must've been a hacker or something y'know?"

Damn. Lando looked really good.

You'd never seen him up close since you two had become adults. And he was definitely living up to the things said about him.

Totally understand the fans.

"Are you sure? I've heard about this place from some of my mates and they say an old friend owns this—"

Lando looked a little bit closer.

"Oh. It is you!" Lando said, sighing. "Could we—maybe go inside?" He said in an exasperated tone.

You immediately nodded, of course. No way in hell you were missing your chance at talking to him again.

Which leads you to now.

Lando sat in the back of your shop, your office, and the silence was so damn loud. You didn't know where to start, damn it.

"First off, sorry about the DM. To be honest? I've been wanting to try to get your attention for a while but...I've been scared out of my mind you'd think I was an obsessive creep or something."

It just gushed out, the words just couldn't stop coming. Idiot.

Lando nodded slowly. He was so understanding. Was he? Or was he finding himself feeling like he was in a hostage situation??

"A lot of my old childhood friends do this, it's fine. But I noticed you owned the shop and I was just a little intrigued, I can't lie."

Lando Norris??? Intrigued with who??? You?? No way.

"Really...? I uhm—I'm a bit glad, I guess. I've been a fan and... considering my career path we differ nowadays."

You nodded your head a bit, the embarrassment subsiding.

"Honestly? I think about you sometimes. You were one of the best karters I'd ever seen as a kid." Lando said, a smile forming on his face.

"Must be my wasted potential then, huh?" You tried to lighten the mood, but it came out sad.

"Huh? No way! You just...wanted to choose something different."

This guy was so understanding it almost killed you.

"I guess. Anyway, what about you? How're you?" You blurted out nervously.

Lando sensed it, immediately chuckling and doing that stupidly cute thing where he covered his mouth while laughing. "This is awkward, isn't it? I...we should not be awkward with each other or something. But since you want to know...okay!"

You didn’t say anything at first. Just gave a small smile and dusted off your palms on your apron, letting the silence stretch. Some people need space before they can breathe.

He looked at the counter, then at the flowers, then at the door.

"Hi," he said, voice low and rough around the edges. "Uh… I’m looking for flowers. For someone.”

You nodded, keeping your tone light. “You came to the right place.”

He huffed something between a laugh and a breath, still giving casual glares at the entrance like he wasn’t sure he belonged here.

You gestured to the rows of blooms behind you, bright against the soft wooden walls. “Want to tell me about them? The person, I mean. Makes it easier.”

He hesitated. “She’s… kind. Tough. Smarter than me.” A pause. “She is helping me a lot.”

That narrowed it down to roughly every type of flower you had.

You tilted your head thoughtfully. “Color preference?”

“Not really,” he said, scratching behind his neck. His left hand stayed buried in the pocket of his jacket, but the right one tapped lightly against his thigh, and even when you caught the movement, you didn’t comment.

Instead, you started gathering: a little yarrow for courage, some soft peach roses for gratitude, a few sprigs of waxflower because they last longer than people expect them to. You built slowly, explaining each one, and he listened carefully, nodding once or twice like he was filing the information away like intel.

When you handed him the bouquet, his eyebrows lifted slightly. “You made that fast.”

“I make a lot of them,” you said with a shrug. “But this one’s fits.”

He studied it like he wasn’t sure how to hold it. “Are those good enough?”

“I’d bet my best clippers they are.”

That earned a real smile —small and crooked, but there.

“Thanks,” he said, and for the first time, he looked you directly in the eyes. “Really.”

You didn’t ask for a name. Didn’t ask who she was or why his shoulders were wound so tight. You just watched him leave, bouquet in hand, the bell jingling again behind him.

He came back the next week.

Same awkward shuffle through the door, same hesitant glance at the display, but this time, he didn’t hover by the entrance. He walked straight to the counter, nodded once, and said, “Need another one.”

So you made him a new bouquet —cooler tones this time, with a splash of lavender and white lilac. He listened, asked a few more questions, and thanked you again before leaving.

The third day, two weeks after your first meeting, he entered with a cup of coffee in his hand and didn’t glance at the door, not even once.

By the end of the month, it had become routine: same day of the week —Thursday—, different flowers and a quiet exchange wrapped in petals. You started learning the curve of his voice, the slight smirk that appeared when he found your jokes funnier than they were. He started saying your name when he came in. You learned his on the fourth visit —Bucky Barnes, spoken like it was nothing, though it lingered in your chest for hours afterward.

He stood straighter each time he entered, spoke with a little more warmth, and sometimes he asked how your day was. Other times, he lingered longer, pretending to browse while you tried not to stare.

But you couldn’t help wondering who the flowers were for. His girlfriend? He said she was kind, smart… You never asked, tough. But it sat there, quietly blooming in the back of your mind: how lucky his girlfriend must be.

The thought shouldn’t ache, sure, but it did. Because somewhere between building bouquets and stealing glances at his hands, you realized you might’ve fallen a little in love with him.

The visits continued into the second month. And then the third.

By now, you didn’t even pretend not to look at the clock on Thursdays. You knew the rhythm of his boots on the pavement, the exact sound the door made when he opened it. You knew already how he’d pause just inside —out of habit, not nerves— and scan the shop until his eyes found you.

Hell, you even started dressing a little differently on Thursdays. Not dramatic. Just a cleaner collar, cuter colors, a touch more of care in your hair, your smile, and in the way your apron tied neatly at the back. Just in case he noticed.

And maybe he did, because he smiled more now. Told stories. Asked about your favorite flowers. One week, he brought Alpine —white fur, blue eyes, a queen in a harness— and you fell in love with her instantly, only slightly more discreetly than you were falling for him.

And always, always, he bought flowers. Always for her.

Today, he walks in a little earlier than usual, but you’re already halfway through prepping a tray of dahlias. Your heart does its usual traitorous flutter when he grins at you.

“Hey, flower,” he says, tugging off his gloves. “Got time for another?”

“For you? Always.” The words slip out too easily, and his smirk lingers a moment too long.

You build the bouquet —wildflowers this time, bold colors, just like he asked. There’s something warm in his eyes when he watches your hands move, and when you hand it to him, he doesn’t take it right away.

Instead, he clears his throat. “What time do you get off today?”

You blink.

“What?”

“Your shift,” he says, a little softer. “When does it end? I was thinking maybe we could… meet up? After?”

And just like that, your brain short-circuits.

You feel your mouth open before your thoughts can catch up. “Oh— I mean— I would love to, really, but that’s not— it’s not appropriate, is it? You have someone. The one you always buy the flowers for— your girlfriend, right? It’d be weird, or— wrong— and I mean I totally understand why you wouldn’t say anything but I just, I didn’t think—”

You trail off, flustered, watching his face shift slowly from confusion to something like stunned amusement.

“Wait,” he says, brows raised. “Girlfriend?”

You nod, heat rushing to your face. “The one you bring flowers to. Every week. For three months.”

There’s a beat of silence. And then Bucky laughs —not meanly or mockingly, but surprised and helpless. Almost warm.

He sets the bouquet down on the counter and shakes his head. “I’ve been bringing those to my therapist.”

You stare.

“She told me I needed a routine,” he continues, still chuckling. “Something calm. So I bring flowers. Every week. Same day, same hour. For her office.” He rubs the back of his neck, then adds, “Didn’t realize I was giving off ‘madly in love with my therapist’ vibes.”

You blink again. “Oh.”

“And I was hoping I could actually bring flowers to someone else this week,” he says, voice quieter now. “Someone who makes the arrangements and knows exactly what they mean.”

Today was the last day of your life, well, your boring stale life in this village at the corner of nowhere. Things were running smoothly as usual. The baker cooled his honey buns (although he was considering making strawberry pastries, practically the most exciting news the village had seen in years), the elders continued to consult the stars as to why the village had been raided by the orcs in the first place, and the farmers bickered at the market over who’s tomatoes were bigger and redder. The sun rose, birds sang by the trees lining the way to the mill, bright flecks of color over an ironically cheerful sky for such a dull place, and the smell of lavender wafted from the open door of the shop inviting customers in. Everything was as it was every day, except it wasn’t. Nobody in the village knew that the wife of one of the most powerful leaders in the kingdom was currently arranging a bouquet for the stable boy. Soon enough they would, after you left with nothing but a note behind.

Buttercups for unfaithfulness. Marigolds in reds and oranges for broken promises. Anemones for forsaken love.

Standing back, you smiled at your work. The bright hues blended with the upcoming fall weather as leaves in matching red, oranges, and yellows were already falling outside. The hidden meaning also had to be one of your best considering how the stable boy drifted from one girl in the village to the next. This was already the 14th bouquet you had made him this year alone! How did he manage to get so many girls to fall for him? The greater mystery was how the girls actually kept believing his tricks. Hopefully, she would understand the meaning, the warning. 

Of course, he would never know what the bouquet meant. That was your little secret you could keep; always telling the other villagers what you really wanted to say without words. Sure, it was a little bit deceitful and maybe it made you a bit condescending. Why not have the audacity? You had learned to own it a long time ago.

“Here you go,” you snipped the ribbon with your scissors and handed the flowers over to the stable boy, “Good luck this time.”

He scoffed, “At least I can get a date. You’re the most single person in this village.”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you went back to sorting some red roses from pink ones trying to keep up your ‘happy to see you even if I really want to snap these stems in half’ face.

“I’m fine. Working in the shop makes me happy,” you lied with a forced smile.

“What’s it been? Two? Three years?” he made a mock thinking face, “Oh right! It’s been never since you’ve been in a relationship.”

If only he knew the truth. 

“Nobody here suits my taste,” you gritted your teeth, “So unlike everyone else here, unfortunately, my type isn’t the village wannabe charmer.”

A look of pure shock came across his face as if he couldn’t imagine a single girl not finding him attractive.

“Weirdo,” he muttered under his breath, “You know I heard you got taken by the orcs during the raid. We all thought you were dead, or had tried to suck up to an orc. Maybe you even sucked-” 

“Here’s your change!” you slammed the gold coins down on the counter cutting him off, “Besides, you wouldn’t survive a day with orcs.”

“Oh, and you would?” he snarked, leaning against the counter.

Dropping your tone to a dark whisper, you looked him dead in the eyes and said, “You wanna know how I ended up surviving the orcs? I stabbed one.”

You put down the stem cutting knife for emphasis.

The stable boy’s eyes widened in horror as he scurried out of the flower shop leaving a trail of colorful petals behind. 

  It was also your last day working at your parents' flower shop, and the last bouquet you would ever make. 

You sighed as you rested against the counter, already exhausted from the day’s work. Things had been more busy than usual with the annual dance coming up. The square would need decorations for the party, and the elders had just so happened to decide that flowers were the best option. You had only agreed to it because it would help you earn enough gold to pay for a horse and supplies to travel to the orc territories in the north. The blacksmith had also come in today for some flowers to celebrate shodding his 1001st horse. So had the baker’s son, who had nervously asked for a bouquet of roses to ask the mill owner’s son to the dance. Working in the shop wasn’t as hard as it used to be now that you had someone of your own to look forward to seeing, and seeing the happy couples in the village didn’t make you as disgusted as they used to at all. Hope had bloomed in your heart, replacing the bitter longing you had for anything different to come along, and rooted, unable to be ripped away. 

Weeks had passed since meeting Drak, making you miss him every day. Only a few letters had been exchanged between the two of you, until they suddenly stopped about two weeks ago. The rational part of you knew it didn’t mean anything; Drak had mentioned in his letters that a few enemies had raided which could prevent letters from being sent. The irrational one felt otherwise. Sometimes you wondered if he felt the same, thinking of you back on his throne in orc territory. A very scary part of you considered he may have lost feelings for you already, or worse, forgotten you altogether. You had promised to return to him, and you would be keeping that promise today. No matter what, you were leaving- your bags were packed and you had already requested a horse to use on the journey. Even if you had wanted to leave the night he sent you back, you also wanted to be ready for what awaited you. If you were to be a ruler by his side, you wanted to know in your heart you were ready, and have your affairs in order before. 

Over the past week, you had turned 21, making you of age, the final key to your plan since your parents couldn’t prevent you from leaving even if they had protested. Admittedly, you had expected them not to approve when you told them you were going to go back to live with your orc husband you had accidentally proposed to in a fight leading you to almost kill him when you thought he was going to murder you. Oh, by the way, parents, he’s the chief of the orcs who raided our village! Surprise! Neither of them understood, even when you had explained your happiness comes first. Leaving things at such a stalemate, a technicality didn’t feel right. 

You grabbed your bags nestled under the counter. A few changes of clothes, your favorite books, the knife you had used when you had proposed to Drak, and a few trinkets that held the few good memories you had here along with some food for the journey. 

Nothing was going to keep from Drak, nothing. Taking out a small slip of paper you wrote:

“Goodbye. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but you will see me again, I promise. The village doesn’t make me happy, but deep down I think you both knew that, I hope you also knew I needed more. I’ve found a replacement for me at the shop who will arrive at the end of the week. None of this makes sense to you, and honestly, it didn’t make sense to me either at first. All I know is that I feel understood for the first time in my life and you can’t take that from me. I will always love you”

You took a moment and then added:

P.S. to the village Get wrecked by a dragon

Plucking a snowdrop from one of the bouquets, you pressed it to the note. A symbol of new beginnings, as well as resilience and determination. It was a final message, one you knew they could read- you wouldn’t be coming back any time soon. 

“Goodbye, village!” you called out slamming the shop’s door behind you, “I won’t miss you!”

“Chief! There’s a human woman standing outside the town’s edge demanding to see you,” a breathless orc huffed out as he ran into the Grand Hall, “The guards stopped her before she could infiltrate. Should we let her in?”

Drak stood up straight on his throne, the words catching his attention and making his heart flutter.  Could it be? No, he couldn’t get his hopes up. Every single day since you had been sent away he had waited, seeing your face in every passing human he had crossed, praying it would be you only to be disappointed over and over again. Just then, he had been sitting there with a daisy in his hand, thoughts filled with the memory of you. 

“What name does she claim to have?” he asked the heaving orc.

“They go by Y/N,” he muttered. Now that was enough to convince him.

“Let them in!” he ordered, “And send for my horse!”

All of his worries melted away at that moment. For whatever reason, you chose to come back, you chose him.

Standing at the border, you continued to argue with the two guards blocking your way. If you could only find a way to slip by, the stone towers were at the edge of your vision in the distance.

“I know the chief! Just let me in, I’m his wife!” you shouted, “I demand to see him!”

“And I’m the Queen of Odara,” the first guard laughed as the second one nudged him, “Ohhh! And I’m an elf.” 

“You’d make a good elf,” the other offered, “Have you considered growing out your hair?”

“Actually, I have now that you mention it.”

You facepalmed as they continued the conversation, now ignoring you and your pleas. Seriously?! No wonder Drak called them a bunch of idiots.

Not today! “Let me through!” you pushed against their plated armor trying to shove them. It was useless- they were giant rocks of walking muscle. Why did you even think that would work?

Suddenly, they parted causing you to fall face-first into a puddle of sticky mud. Huh? Did that actually work? 

“The chief has arrived!” a voice echoed followed by the rhythm of hoofbeats.

You looked up, wiping the mud from your face, and saw him. Drak dismounted his horse walking towards you slowly.

“Great!” You thought to yourself, “The first time I see him again is when my face is covered in mud!”

Bending on one knee, Drak reached out a large, green hand and helped you up. You stood trying to regain your balance and stared up at him, taking in his amber eyes as his own met yours. 

That fire was still there blazing behind your eyes. 

Please don’t be disgusted by me. Please don’t tell me you forgot about me. Please don’t send me with these guards.  Nobody ever wanted me. Everyone said I couldn’t be loved. Please don’t prove them right. Please, please, please.

The other orcs from behind were clearly confused, not understanding who this human was or why the chief was acting so calmly around an invader.

Two hands cupped the sides of your face tilting it up to him.

“Flower…?” he whispered, staring at you in disbelief as if he couldn’t believe you were real, “You came back?”

“I made a promise,” you nodded as he gently wiped the mud from your face, “I don’t break my promises.”

His gaze softened, “You came back to me. Are you hurt? Can you walk?”

“I’m fine,” you said brushing yourself off, “It’s been a long ride here.”

You took a step forward and slipped in the mud, slamming yourself against his chest.

“Sorry!” you mumbled and stood back noticing crushed petals. Were those flowers?

“I got these for you!” He presented the now-torn bouquet with a proud smile, “I know you liked flowers, so I learned how to put them together like you. I’ve sorta been making a new one every time the last ones wilted for when you came back.”

How could such a scary guy be so sweet? “Thanks,” you smiled, taking the bouquet out of his hands, “It’s lovely.” Always the one giving the bouquets, now receiving.

Drak helped you onto his much larger-than-average-sized horse, riding you back to the large central building in the town. As the stone buildings passed by, a testament to all the hard work of the orcs who built together, you couldn’t help but find beauty in the places that had terrified you a few months ago.

Soon, you entered the Grand Hall still on horseback with Drak. All eyes were on you as the orcs stared at the strange human on their chief’s horse. Whispers and hushed questions could be heard echoed throughout the hall. Somehow the quiet was worse than the rowdiness from before. Oh no! Everyone here was going to see your grimy state. Well, there goes first impressions.

The faint scent of hyacinths caught your attention. Looking up, you noticed the Grand Hall was lined in flowers from wall to wall. Those sure weren’t there last time.

“Flowers?” You asked Drak with a confused expression on your face, “Why are there flowers everywhere here? I thought orcs hated them.”

“Well, um…I may have sorta requested them after you left,” he scratched the back of his neck nervously, “The other orcs aren’t too fond of the smell, but I’ve grown fond of it.” 

Picking you up, Drak dismounted and led you to the dais with the large wooden throne at the front of the room. The orc with the scar across his chest stood beside it. Maybe he was some sort of second in charge? Strangely enough, Drak didn’t sit down causing more confusion in the crowd.

“LISTEN!” he bellowed across the room, causing a roar of cheers and applause.

“I present my wife and new fellow ruler of the orcs!” he gestured towards you, “I expect you to treat her with respect as you would me.”

Silence fell across the room. The orcs all looked at each other and then back to you. 

Anything, any noise at all, even the trill of a midnight dove would be better than this.

“Isn’t she supposed to be dead?” one orc spoke up, causing Drak’s right-hand man to grunt in agreement. Wow! Could things get even more awkward?

A look of pure rage crossed Drak’s face, “Have you all forgotten our rule? If one fights for their life and wins, all death is forfeit. She fought nobly for her own life, and even used Firelilies to try and kill me.” 

This only led to another uproar of jeers and whispers among the members of the hall.

“Traitor!” “Murderer!” “She tried to kill the chief!” “We should lock her up!” “No! Execute her!”

No, you were wrong. Things could get more awkward.

“SILENCE!” Drak’s voice practically shook the iron chandeliers above and filled the walls, “Enough! She is my wife and your new ruler! You will respect her! No more of this nonsense!”

A large hand pressed down on your shoulder, pushing you into the seat of the throne.

“What are you doing?” you whispered to Drak as your breath caught in your throat.

Drak looked out at all the members of his court, giving them a steely glare. He pointed to the ground. “Bow.”

Nobody made a move, instead just staring back at you. The twigs and leaves caught in your hair, tears in your trousers, and mud stuck to your face from the journey didn’t exactly make for the vision of a ruler.  No wonder they didn’t bow. Not only were you human, but a pathetic excuse for one. Why did you think you’d be accepted more here than in the village? It was a stupid idea.

“I SAID BOW OR ELSE EVERY ONE OF YOU WILL MEET THE END OF MY SWORD!” 

Everyone dropped to their knees in the hall, staring back at you with a hint of respect and fear. Even the orc at Drak’s side gave a nod of approval. 

Maybe things would be better here after all.

Drak leaned down to your ear, “Let’s get you out of that mess, shall we?”

About an hour later, you were freshly bathed in the connected bath chamber to Drak’s personal ones in some new, less muddy clothes. You stepped into the room wearing a floral embroidered tunic you had made yourself  to find Drak sharpening one of his weapons, a large double bladed ax with ornate carvings on the handle, waiting for you. You sat down on the bed you had once contemplated murder, settling into the soft furs. Who knew today would be so tiring? He set down the ax and offered a smile, “I suppose tonight is our first night together.”

“I guess it is,” you yawned, “Why do you bring it up?”

“Considering you spent our wedding night trying to poison me,” he went on, “Tonight will be a do over, won’t it?”

“Hopefully it will be better than that,” you shrugged until it hit you. Tonight was your wedding night, and unless orcs were different than most humans, things could take a turn.

How could you have completely forgotten about that part? You had been so caught up over the past few months with getting back to Drak, you hadn’t considered other aspects. The only experience you had was one awful kiss with one of the village boys at the dance in the square when you were a teenager. It was way too long, and sticky since he had just been eating frosted pixieplums. Sometimes you still shudder at the sight of those sugary fruits. 

If experience amounted to real life, you had none, and if it amounted to your consumption of romance tales, then you were a whore.

No! No! No! You weren’t ready for anything like that! Not to mention Drak was a giant orc that was at least 10x larger than you! 

Stealing a glance, you saw him shrugging off his furs as he unwinded the hair gathered at the top of his head. 

Think! You told yourself Come up with something!

He began carefully taking out the golden piercings in his ear, struggling with one near the top.

Now his shirt was off, and you looked over his torso unable to move your gaze away. He was a lot taller than you remembered, and you couldn’t help but notice the muscles in his back moving as he worked to get his remaining outer clothes off. What would it be like to touch those? It wasn’t like your mind hadn’t conjured up fantasies like this before, but now it was real life. A vision of him staring down at you, breathing heavily as his large hand gripped your own…

No! Logic! Right now you needed to focus on logic! Not on big muscle-ly orc with giant arms and unrelenting strength right in front of you, all for you to have.

No! Bad brain! You needed to focus on figuring out a plan. Why did your mind always have to do this around his kind? Stupid!

Drak started to turn around and you began to panic. Come up with a plan! Any plan before he sees you! Sleep! That was it! Just pretend to be asleep. Yeah, that could work.

Before he could see, you rolled over onto the furs piled on the bed and closed your eyes. Wait! Was this convincing enough? You added a snore for good measure. Nope! Snore was too much. Soon enough he would see through the act for sure. What if he thought you didn’t love him? What if- 

“Flower?” he asked in confusion seeing you now lying on the bed. Drak smirked as he stared at your obviously awake form. “Human behavior is so strange sometimes,” he thought to himself, “Why is the scary human so nervous? I can feel it on her. No more fear, I’ll make sure of that.”

Two large arms wrapped around you, pulling you against his large chest in a comforting embrace. Heat began to creep up in your cheeks.

Drak teased close to your ear, breath hitting against it, “Looks like my wife is tired. Too bad, I wanted to give her a gift.”

“A gift?!” you shot up in bed. Nothing could keep you from presents. Somehow he must have known that.

“What? I thought you were asleep,” he laughed, one so deep it rumbled against your chest, “Looks like humans are light sleepers.” So he had seen through your act.

“I was nervous about tonight is all,” you crossed your arms, “Where’s the gift?”

“The gift comes tomorrow,” he explained, “So why were you hiding from me?”

“It’s our wedding night,” you looked away.

“Why are you scared of that?” he asked, perplexed with genuine confusion on his face, “If it’s because you snore, I don’t mind.”

“I do NOT snore!” you protested, flopping back down onto the bed, “Now can we just sleep? I’m tired.”

“Orc tradition is to hold our spouse the entire night,” Drak settled next to you, wrapping his arms back around you, “It’s a symbol of protection, if that’s what was bothering you.”

“No, this is nice,” you admitted, pressing your back against his chest. A grumble of approval left Drak’s lips. “Part of the tradition is holding me back,” he gave you a toothy grin. 

You rolled over and wrapped your arms around his large frame as much as you could. A shiver ran down your spine. Another thing you had forgotten was how much colder the northern regions of Odara could get. This only led Drak to squeeze you more tightly, being careful not to crush you. Wow, he was a lot warmer than expected. Sleeping next to Drak felt like being enveloped in a giant cozy blanket.

“You still smell like flowers,” he nuzzled the corner of your neck, not helping with the redness on your face at all, “Sweet…my flower is so sweet and strong.”

His hands gripped you tighter, pulling at the fabric of your tunic as he held to your stomach. A hand ran down the length of your thigh.

“I already like her curves; they’re perfect,” he thought, “Worshipping a body like this won’t be difficult.”

“Wife…” he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck, “My wife…my wife to hold.” 

If your heart wasn’t already on the verge of bursting, it sure was now.

Not sure how to reciprocate, you put your hand in his, vowing a silent promise to yourself for the both of you. No matter what, or how hard it was, you would always protect Drak with your life as he would you. Before you had left last time, he had said he needed someone by his side to hold his hand in battle as well as the throne. Even if the odds were impossible, you would do it not only for him, but for your own sake. You had to prove it to yourself. 

Something had settled in you that night, unmoving, latching on like a knot of tangled vines. Even if Drak hadn’t known you long, he loved you for some strange reason. Heck! Maybe he had loved you since you had “proposed” to him in the barn. Despite the absurdity of it all, you knew this was where you wanted to be and who you wanted to be with. 

Soon, you both drifted off to sleep tangled up in your embraces- the soft hands spent picking flowers their whole life fated to hold a sword, and the scarred hands of a warrior with a heart as sweet as a primrose.

Any feedback is welcome!

Considering taking this concept into a novel, so I need advice if I should or not