Art Deco

daylight

pairing- flowerist!sirius black x barista!reader
warning(s)- fluff, bad pick-up lines.
a/n- happy birthday loml!

the cozy small cafe stands in the corner of the street, a quiet contradiction against the bustle of the city. you hug yourself, your arms wrapping around yourself to seek warmth as the cold mid november air bites into your skin. you glance at your battered old watch, the leather straps tight around your wrist. 30 minutes till the next shift. ample time to pick up some flowers.

you shove your hand into the pocket of your trouser, kicking a stray pebble, your footsteps crunching along the gravel. you bite your lip, your thoughts muddled by the gray eyed, long haired man who owned the nursery. it was a fleeting friendship, one that sparked emotions you'd been afraid to feel, afraid to express.

you didn't remember the exact moment when your stupid heart blossomed feelings for him, falling for the depth in his stormy gray eyes, falling for his bark like laughter, falling for the way he ran his hands through his luscious hair, falling for the way he brushed his fingers with yours while he handed her flowers, falling for him.

you heard your name being called out into the wind, the familiar voice nearing you.

'hey,' he pants, placing his palms on his knees, bending down as your footsteps come to a halt. he's clad in his regular black leather jacket, and the wind carries the scent of wood, tobacco and incense he emits. for a man who spends most of his time in a nursery locked him flowers of different kinds, it was ridiculous how he didn't smell like a walking bouquet of flowers.

you smile, acknowledging his presence, as his arms wrap around you body. he rests his chin atop your head, breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

'i was just walking to your shop,' you mumble against his chest, flustered at the sudden hug. you hear the smile in his voice before you see it, adorning his ridiculously handsome features, as he speaks,

'walk with me?'

'sure why not.'

*****

he holds a yellow rose at your eyeline. you raise your eyebrow inquiringly. there's mischief hidden in his stormy gray eyes, lips curled into a smirk,

'i just wanted to this rose how fucking pretty you are,'

heat crawls up your neck at his words, as you smile, slapping away hand. he laughs, enjoying your flustered reaction. it makes his heart skip a few beats, the smile on your face, the scrunch of her nose when you laugh at his stupid jokes. he thinks he'd going crazy, he thinks he's going bonkers with the ways you make him feel, the things you make him think. he thinks it's cruel, how he can't have you, how he can't make you his. he thinks it's a blue feeling that settles into his heart, it makes him feel drunk, the desire for you bestowed deep into his soul. he wants to hold your hand, he wants to kiss your pretty lips stupid, he wants to braid your hair, he wants to spoil you with presents, he wants to listen to you rant about your favorite things, he wants to make you laugh, he wants to drown himself into your eyes, he wants to love you.

'god,' you chuckle. he smiles, rubbing the back of his head. slips his fingers into yours, displaying his pearly whites as he grins, running his other hand through his hair.

'you know what?' he questions. you render yourself from the speechless frenzy you'd slipped into with his touch,

'what?'

'i think that the gaps between our fingers are meant to be,'

it's a challenge to try not to burst out, and kiss his pretty face, and make him shut up with every cheesy pick up line he uses on you. you groan, slightly stomping on his foot.

'ouch,' he says, positioning his hand in an over-dramatic over his heart as you slip out of his grip. you roll your eyes, the action a contradiction to the smile on your face.

'god, sirius, do you ever shut up?' you ask, very well knowing you wouldn't like it if he did. he smiles, leaning down to whisper in your ear. his breath fans over your neck and your breath hitches,

'nope,'

'please do,' you reply, gulping nervously with the sudden change of tension.

'oh? your wish, my command,'

his hands grip your face, as he brushes his lips with yours,

'should've been careful with what you wished for honey,'

the world swirls, your daydreams crashing down with reality as warmth surges you from within, collywobbles gnawing you from inside. you loose your head, bonkers with the way he pulls your forward, the cold tip of his nose budging with yours before his lips capture yours. it's as if the world looses color, the only highlight being you and him. it's like you're drunk, as you cling onto his leather jacket standing on your tip toes as your lips, tongue and teeth clash into each others, basking in the feeling of burning desire that he ignites you with.

you pull away, breathless, your hands wrapped around his neck, as his lovely raven hair tickles your face. you tuck the locks behind his ears, your eyes gazing into each others, heart beats rhythmically beating with each passing moment. he stares at you with such longing you think you'd melt. he smiles, pressing his forehead against yours,

'i'm sorry i forgot your name, can i call you mine?' you say, a mischievous smile on your face. he laughs, his bark like laugh echoing like a melody you'd like to hear for the rest of your life. you bask in the moment.

you're drunk in love.