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pinkmelodie · 9 months ago

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First Miguel fic + 250+ follower special ୨୧

I’d like to start off by saying THANK YOU SO SO MUCH FOR ALMOST 300 FOLLOWERS !! And 2000+ notes?!? omg. I checked my inbox a few times and saw 99+ notifs every time, and when I tell you I SCREAMED. As a new writer I can’t thank you enough for all the notes and sweet comments ! I’m so grateful, so take this fic as a thank you <33

Warnings: Miguel is hinted to have slept with socks on which….is a trigger on its own apparently 😥, potentially botched ass Spanish……(no Google translate was used tho, my French teacher taught me better than that), p in v, making out, grinding, slight blood, reader has no chill nor filter but Miguels lowkey into it, degradation, bondage, banter, oral, praise, etc.

a/n: Takes place before the whole Miles incident !! I love Miguel but I can’t forgive him for doing that to my son 🤨🤨 This could also be imagined as König, since they’re both huge stubborn men <33

Pairing: Female reader x Miguel O’Hara

Summary: Miguel is pent up and needs a release. Lucky for him, there’s a certain spider woman who’d do anything for him <3

Words: 4141 (DAMN I shocked myself w this)

. . .

Miguel runs his hand through his hair, grumbling when he feels it’s getting to a length that needs cutting again. Just another thing to add to his pile of responsibilities.

He pushes the fumbled blanket off to the side and lazily palms at his morning wood, finding the ministrations do little to help his raging hard-on. He’s shocked, mainly that he could still get one with how tense he’s been lately, but mostly that he’s actually annoyed that he has to jerk off. It feels like a chore to him now…though taking care of himself in any sense has since he became Spider-Man.

With a sleepy groan he drags himself up and to the bathroom. His mismatched socks are soft against the cool bathroom tiles where he turns on the shower. His muscles stretch when he tugs his white sweater over his head and tosses it onto the ground nearby, abs tensing and shoulders refusing to relax no matter how much stretching he did.

When the rest of his clothing join the heap on the floor he steps into the freezing cold shower, twitching at the icy droplets that felt like tiny icicles poking into his taut skin.

He hoped the temperature would make the nuisance go down, but it raged on, standing proud at its full height. Miguel never thought he’d find himself glaring at his own dick, but here he was, horny and heavily pissed off.

He reached down and tugged at his cock, rubbing his thumb over the angry red tip. He jerked profusely, yet all it did was leave him feeling unsatisfied and humiliated.

“Fuck.” He cursed, washing his hand off before aggressively turning the knob to stop the flowing water. He tried to remember what he had to do today while pacing the bathroom, but he couldn’t focus with his erection clouding his thoughts. Maybe if the blood would stay in his head…

He was an attractive guy, he knew that much. It would be easy to go out into the town and hook up with some stranger, but not so much so when he was in this constant sour mood. That sullen energy & resting bitch face paired with his looming height would scare any woman away.

Any sane woman.

You tied up the last of the criminals in your silky webs, smiling in victory. Unfortunately, the joy wasn’t long-lasting since as soon as you got home you felt boredom creeping up on you once again.

For weeks you’d been entertained by the intimidating founder of the spider society; Miguel O’Hara.You’d been bugging him for days on end, literally drooling at his feet and begging him to come back to your place.

He kicked you out multiple times, but like a cockroach you couldn’t be squashed—and neither could your need for him. You just couldn’t take a hint apparently. When he picked you up by the back of your suit and threw you back into your universe, all you focused on was how easily he carried you with just one of his big, veiny hands.

The way that suit hugged his defined chest so well, and his massive arms where you could see every vein…plus that prominent bulge? You were sunk.

He’d finally run out of patience for you when you ‘accidentally’ messed with the tech for his suit, almost making him go full commando in front of everyone in the spider society.(wouldn’t be the last time that happened…) He banned you for good, taking away your ‘multiversal gizmo’ without a second thought.

Your last words being ‘worth it!’ as you were flung back into your universe by the go-home-machine seemed like the icing on the cake to him despising you forever, but apparently that wasn’t the case because the man himself just appeared in your living room.

“Y/N.” He addressed nonchalantly.

You stared at him, jaw agape for a few moments before pinching yourself to see if you were dreaming. You had to be, he basically filed a restraining order against you. A really complicated, multiversal restraining order. Why would he ever voluntarily come to you?

You couldn’t even respond since your throat felt so dry .. . It seemed your body had other ideas of where to soak.

“Why are you so obbsesed with me?” He suddenly asked, paying no mind to your awkward silence.

“uhm-“

“I mean, you chased me around every day, eyed me down so intensively it was basically public sex and yet here you are, alone with me like you wanted, and now you’re speechless?” He stalked around your living room, circling you like a bird of prey.

You blushed up a storm and stood frozen in front of him, trying to discretely rub your thighs together.

He eyed you down, noticing your obvious ministrations but only chuckling. “Sometimes I had wished you were an actual spider so I could crush you under the soles of my shoes, but lately I’ve found myself feeling as horny and desperate as you.” He admitted with a smirk that revealed his sharpened fangs.

That confession had your mind reeling to the point all you could muster up was; “I would’ve let you step on me regardless.”

His smirk grew and he started to approach you until his shadow covered you completely. You had to tilt your whole head up to look him in his glowing red eyes now—but you couldn’t handle making the eye contact anyway.

“You are just a small little thing, yet I didn’t expect you to be all bark no bite. All those filthy things you said lingered in my mind..don’t you want to take care of what you started?” He asked in a deliciously low voice. The almost mocking manner he said it in made you feel called out, and you looked down at your hands and picked at your nails to try and calm yourself.

A clawed finger tilted your head up by the chin and forced you to look into his eyes. How could you forget—in all your time spent basically stalking him you noticed how he never broke eye contact with anyone that he was speaking to. It was both exhilarating and intimidating to see, and you felt that full force while finally being on the receiving end of it. “Look at me when I’m speaking to you, arañita.” He ordered, and it sent tingles shooting up your spine.

You swore you heard your neck crack from how fast you looked up at him. He looked predatory staring down at you like that, eyes gleaming in the sunlight. “So? Will you finish what you started muñeca?” He asked, as if it was even a question to you.

“Fuck yes.” You agreed without missing a beat, making him chuckle darkly. “Needy thing.”

Before your mind could catch up you were suddenly being lifted by him and thrown on his shoulder with ease. He walked through the halls of your cozy apartment and waltzed into your bedroom without even searching for it, carelessly throwing you onto the bed.

You landed with a bounce on the soft comforter, feeling even smaller now with him standing above you. “Wha- how do you know where my bedroom is?” You asked when your brain finally decided to have a rational thought.

“I’ve done my research—wanted to make sure you weren’t a spy. It was a waste of time, really, you’re just a horny stalker.” He shrugged.

You stared at him with an offended expression (tho it was 100% true) and went to argue until your lips were suddenly sealed by sticky red webs.

“On your back.” He ordered.

You crossed your arms at him first until he repeated the command in a low, dangerous voice. “Now.” Any defiance you had pretended to have quickly left your body and you laid down flat on the silk sheets.

He stalked over to you, all big and menacing as always. He leaned over you and forced your wrists together, twirling more glowing silk around them until they were bound above your head.

He smirked down at you, leaning in to pepper kisses all over your neck. He sucked dark hickeys onto the sensitive skin of your throat, enjoying your muffled moans. While before he found your voice excruciating—he was now desperate to hear it crying out his name.

He stripped the webs off your mouth and you whined at the pain. The feeling resembled a bandaid being ripped off a fresh cut. He cooed pitifully above you and leaned in, whispering “Pobre araña, why don’t I kiss it better?”

You nodded desperately until his lips met yours with a slight sting. He growled into your mouth, swirling his tongue around yours and exploring your mouth until you were squirming. He nibbled on your bottom lip, sharp canines threatening to break the skin. He pushed his muscled thigh between your legs and pressed down on your clit with his knee, the pressure making you moan under him. Your sweet sounds drove him wild, and he couldn’t help but bite down lightly on your lip until tiny droplets of blood dripped onto his tongue.

He groaned at the taste, his animalistic split-DNA going wild. When he pulled back—lips reddened, hair tussled and fallen slightly in front of his face— you couldn’t help but stare. His face looked so much more chiseled up close, cheekbones perfectly defined and a jawline sharper than the claws currently resting on your hips.

His toned chest rose up and down steadily while he regained his breath, the familiar spider symbol on his suit growing bigger then smaller with each rise of his lungs like it was breathing.

“Let’s take care of these, Cariño.” He addressed your clothing as if it were nothing but a nuisance for him before slicing your shirt right off you. He did this with ease, big claws moving onto your bottoms and clawing those off as well.

“Hey! Those were nice.” You pouted, though apparently he didn’t appreciate that comment because you were now being tied up even worse than before. Webs spewed from his wrist and circled your body like serpents, tying around your waist, arms, and thighs. “Don’t be a brat.” He ordered, webs tightening in warning. Once satisfied, he admired the way they looked pulled taut against your soft skin. “Red looks lovely on you, amor.” He praised, a quick switch from his previous comment.

He lifted you and reached behind your back, unclasping your bra with one hand. He threw it onto the ground somewhere with your torn up clothes, focusing his attention on your soft tits.

He hummed in content, playing with your nipples and letting his webs circle around the soft flesh of your breasts. He licked and sucked at one while tugging on the other, making you moan and squirm under him.

“Fuck Miguel- ah! more!” You whined desperately, coaxing a chuckle out of the behemoth.

“Such a desperate slut.” He tutted, sucking marks all over your chest to match your throat. He kissed over the already forming hickeys, grazing his teeth dangerously close to your jugular. This man was massive, and made of pure muscle like a Greek god. He could easily hold you down without the help of his webs, but he wanted to focus full attention on you.

He finally moved down to where you needed him most, going to rip your panties straight off you before you rudely slammed your thighs shut. “You take off your suit first….” You whined, embarrassed at being nearly completely nude before him while he was still covered. He was genuinely offended by this, feeling like he’d just had a door slammed on his face, yet he grumbled and messed around with his watch until the hologram started to dissipate.

Your jaw dropped wider and wider the more you took him in. The man resembled a skillfully carved statue belonging to Olympus itself. His biceps and abs were enough to challenge even Ares himself. Your eyes trailed lower and lower, leisurely mapping him out until your eyes locked on the weapon between his legs.

His dick stood loud and proud against his toned stomach, and it was massive. The man is 6,9, you knew he’d be big, but this thing was around 9 inches and looked like it could rip you in half. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from it even if you tried—I mean—the thing was basically introducing itself to you. We’re talking hello, how are you and goodbye.

Miguel basked in your ogling, his ego swelling more than it already had since he first noticed your obsession with him.

You finally snapped out of your trance when he bent down and slipped off your soaked panties, kissing up your leg as he did so. You spread both your legs for him and he took that as an invitation to lean in and lick a stripe up your wet cunt. You jumped, not expecting him to get into it so quickly, but you definitely didn’t complain.

He prodded a finger at your hole and pushed it in slowly, holding your hips down with his free hand. He made sure to be mindful of the claws adorning his fingertips since they wouldn’t go back down thanks to his clouded mind. The thick digit went in without much resistance thanks to how wet you were, until he pushed in a second and started scissoring them.

You moaned and whimpered at the stretch, two of his thick fingers the size of nearly four of yours. He pumped them in and out quickly, the slick sounds your pretty hole made for him music to his ears. Your slick dripped down his ring and middle fingers that he was ruthlessly pumping inside you and dribbled down his veiny forearm.

He massaged your walls and pushed against them, scissoring his fingers to stretch you as much as possible. He couldn’t hit your g-spot thanks to his clawed fingertips, so he sucked at your clit to fill that extra stimulation until your head was rolling back.

Something circled your waist and you figured it was his arm until you looked back down to see more webs. You would wriggle far too much without them, and he needed his other hand to spread your folds to drag a mix of his salvia and your slick around your twitching clit. You mewled at the overwhelming stimulation, bucking onto his face while he had a full on make out sesh with your pussy.

Only when he finally sunk four fingers into you and you were basically on the brink of tears with need did he pull away. Not without blowing on your sensitive clit, of course, just to see you twitch and squirm under the unrelenting grasp of his webs.

He stood up with a playful smile, freeing you from some of the webs just to pull you to the edge of the bed. Your ass met his pelvis with a slap when he yanked you by the ankle that quickly locked around his waist. He chuckled out something in Spanish that you didn’t understand, maybe along the lines of “Qué bonita putita…”. You didn’t bother to question it when he started to grind his rock hard dick on your drooling pussy, getting him all nice and wet to push into you.

Only when he was coated completely in your essence did he listen to your pleas and finally line his fat tip up at your hole. Even with the all the stretching, your poor cunt had to stretch to accommodate the swollen red tip. His pre-cum mixed with your juices when it finally popped in after some resistance, and he groaned at the warm feeling.

“So fucking tight, your poor pussy can’t take it, hm? You were so confident when you were begging for it like a desperate whore.” He growled, degradation making you clench Impossibly tighter around his head until he had to bite back a groan.

“Please Mig, I can take it.” You begged, rutting your hips onto him and trying to coax him deeper until he swiftly grabbed your waist. His claws dug into your skin, threatening to break through. He pulled back and you immediately assumed he was going to tease you again for being desperate.

Straight away you whined out apologies, stumbling over your words and pleas until he suddenly slammed back inside you, cramming 5 of his solid inches into your hole. You screamed, tears brimming on your waterline at the stretch. Your back arched off the bed and you squirmed away from the sting until he pulled back and rutted back in again, almost as if testing the waters.

With every drag of his hips his cock slowly got deeper into you until he was bottomed out completely. His tip kissed against your cervix and you looked down, amazed and horrified to see him crammed inside you so snugly. He gave you a moment to compose yourself—preoccupied on the bulge in your lower stomach.

“My good girl, fitting around me so perfectly. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He teased, dick twitching at the fucked out moan you gave in response.

It definitely was hard, yet his dick was harder. You could feel every single vein and ridge pressing into you, rubbing against your gummy walls in a way that left you drooling. You suddenly understood why he’d prepped you for so long. It wasn’t just to tease you, this just was not an easy thing to take.

“Move,” you pleaded, correcting youself when he raised an eyebrow, “please.”

He hummed, palming at the fat of your hips to see the way your skin sunk under his touch. “I don’t know Cariño…do you really deserve this dick?”

You gave him your best “are you for real?” face. This man was not about to make you beg when he was the one to randomly show up in your home. You’d been begging on your knees for him for months, and now he chooses to acknowledge it?

You made it your personal mission to go against everything he’s ever ordered from you, and the grind never does stop, does it?

“Like you deserve to kiss my ass?” You jest without hesitation.

You can see the way his whole face stretches; clearly dumbfounded at your response before he’s able to compose himself. With your cunt wrapped around him so tight and warm like that, it’s easy to forget the pretty spider underneath him is a little rascal.

“You were just whining a second ago, don’t try that,” He warned. “You’ve been begging for it for months, practically humping my leg in front of the entire Arachno-Humanoid-Poly-Universe.”

You groaned at his insistence on calling it that, even while balls deep inside you. “I didn’t sign up to fuck a geek,” you mutter.

“With the way you approached me I’m sure you’d fuck just about anyone, puta.”

You wanted to be insulted, but your words caught in your throat when he leaned close to you to whisper right into your ear; “Quit acting like you had any dignity in the first place and beg.”

His warm breath on your nape left you shivering. Miguel wasn’t human—not completely. With DNA mixed with a spiders, he was a predator; one ready to devour you whole.

It wasn’t a surprise to anyone really when you gradually let quiet pleas spill from your mouth. Miguel had half the mind to make you speak up, but he was loosing his thin amount of patience as is. With a satisfied click of his tongue, he pulled back until his flushed head was right at your entrance “see, was that so hard?”

You knew better than to try and answer at this point when he rammed his cock back into you. Huge hands gripped your thighs and pushed your legs into your chest while he bullied his dick further and further into your cunt.

Your pussy was embarrassingly loud for him, squelching with each brutal thrust of his hips. His muscled thighs were tense with the pure strength he put into slamming into you—beating your sensitive pussy in until it memorized his shape for life.

“Mig- ah! Holyfuck!” You screamed, draping your arms over his shoulders and scratching at his back like a cat post.

“Go on princesa, mark me up.” He encouraged and got a better grip on your thighs, pushing your legs out to a full spread. He had you displayed like a dinner feast and bent you like a lawn chair with your lower half on his toned chest. He was actually impressed at your flexibility, yet like always he chose the worst way to phrase it.

“I’m shocked, I never expected you to do any real training.”

“Fuck you.”

“That’s what you’ve been wanting, is it not?” He gloated with such a shit-eating expression that you just had to wipe off his face. He sunk deeper into you when you pulled him in for a kiss and it had you clenching around him.

His thrusts got more erratic until your mind was clouded with only the sounds of his dick disappearing into your cunt. His hands were dragging you back onto him by the hips at the same time, so you could feel him bumping against your cervix with each thrust.

You were too fucked out to say anything other than broken moans and mewls of his name, and he wasn’t too far off.

“So pretty Cariño,” he groaned, “all for me? mierda- yeah, all for me.”

A string of loud mewls along with shameless moans poured out of your bruised lips in response. He pounded your pussy with so much vigour that you edged forward on the ruffled mattress with each rough thrust.

He massaged your throbbing clit between his fingers, laughing at the way they kept slipping around from how much of your own arousal was dripping down your cunt. Heavy balls slapping against your soft skin filled your ears when you felt that coil in your stomach start to snap.

“Pussys gripping me like a fucking vice- you gonna cum for me?” he teased, “look baby- look at how well this sweet little pussys taking me.”

He took your hand and lead it down until it was tracing the prominent bump in your stomach - You could feel every brutal thrust and see the way he ravaged your insides. You pressed down on it, getting impossibly tighter around him and the broken moan he let out was what got you.

He quickly tore a mind-numbing orgasm out of you - thick cockhead still splitting you open while he worked your clit. You soaked his cock and squeezed against it, shaking and crying under him until you could barely take it anymore.

He smiled in pride, sharp fangs showing and making him resemble the waiting mouth of a shark. “Such a good fucking girl, coming all over me like that. Look at the mess you’ve made,” he hummed, observing the noticeable white ring you left around the base of his cock.

His thrusts stuttered before stilling completely inside you. He made a noise akin to an animal before spilling his hot cum inside your welcoming heat with a shudder and a broken moan.

“Mfhm- mierda.. .” He cursed, his warmth filling you up so much it started to spill out.

You felt like a rag doll under him, half-asleep and smiling dumbly up at him. He chuckled and admired one last time how pretty you looked in his glowing red webs, wrapped around you like his own custom lingerie.

He sliced them off you and smiled warmly when you raised your arms out to him. He leaned in to let you wrap your arms around his massive shoulders with your legs now wrapping around his waist.

He picked you up with you curled into him like a koala - the warm sensation of his cum dripping down your connected bodies grounding you while he walked to your bathroom.

He pressed soft kisses to your marked up-neck while he ran a warm bath, rubbing at the indents his claws subconsciously left on your hips.

You didn’t remember exactly when you fell asleep; somewhere between when his large hands washed the cum off your skin or when he gently laid you down on your fresh bedsheets.

All you knew was that you woke up to the smell of clean laundry and noticed snacks and a water bottle left on your nightstand. There was a note too that you had to reach over to grab. His handwriting was smudged but fancy, and it was so adorably him that it left you smiling ear to ear.

“Had to leave early. Meet me in my office tomorrow and we’ll discuss how you’ll be living in my universe from now on ,seeing as how you’re now mine, mi vida.”

. . .

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ribbonsssence · 13 days ago

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red carnations, they bloom ──── ୨୧ ────

summary﹒ You work as the head designer and general florist for your flower shop. Maria de la Rosa hires you as a short-term worker to arrange some flowers for her modelling photoshoots and for her channel after she encounters posts about the flower shop. It was an enjoyable experience after that, but for some reason, she keeps contacting you, whether it's about producing more floral arrangements or growing some flowers for her. Then it escalates from there.

a/n ﹒ angel is still the same serial killer here, but that role of her isn't known here (like at all)! i was planning to divide this into chapters but decided not too, so have this 14k words oneshot for fun !

content includes ﹒ angel x reader ; fem!reader ; flower shop au ; flower arrangements ; floriography ; color symbolisms ; falling in love ; fluff ; happy ending ; not actually unrequited love ; love confessions

You smell of flowers and dirt.

The integrated scent of the earthly roots and the sweet breeze of floral fragrance completely waft the air of the flower shop, Everblooming Fleur, wherein you work. Yet, it does not distract you from the absolute and devastating workload you have from the shop.

You would quit this job, but unfortunately it has the greatest salary you can find, and you just had to take in floristry as a hobby. What were you doing with your life? Whether you regret this decision, it doesn't matter (only money does).

You take the deepest breath you ever took and crack your knuckles before grabbing your phone to take a picture of one of the hydrangea bouquets you just made, about to create a new weekly advertisement post on Twitter (or X) for the shop. Yes, you also handle the social media accounts for the flower shop because you're most familiar with it more than anyone else who works in the shop, surprisingly.

Once the post has been sent, you get on again with your typical busy routine as the head designer, general florist, social media manager, and one of the salespersons (and that one too) of your shop.

Luckily, you're just one of the salespersons, and as a matter of fact, just an extra and replacement if one of the main salespersons is absent, which is what's happening right now. Today, the shop emptied itself throughout the day, and all customers just wanted to buy a pre-made arrangement, so you're a bit contented about that.

Sooner or later, the clock strikes twelve o'clock in the morning, the end of your shift. You just sighed in relief and prepared to get back to your comfy home.

Pattering your way to your home, to the living room, to the upstairs, and to your bed; falling face flat on the soft, inviting mattress. Your head sank into the heavy, quilted blanket spread across your bed. You toss and turn in bed; even though the sheets are warming you up in its tender hug with whispering promises of comfort and rest, you're bored.

Be damned as hell you are; you're not exactly tired enough to be shutting your eyes and truly resting, so you ended up binge-watching Maria de la Rosa's channel till you feel sleepy.

You were okay with that personally; you like her (videos) and even outside of the channel, whereas her photoshoots and interviews are publicized. Her angelic appearance could lure you into her delicate trap, but even you wouldn't mind that. You can easily tell her immaculate outlook exudes a graceful mien. All in all, you just admired her like a fan.

You click on Maria de la Rosa's latest video and let it play in the background while diving into your inbox to see if there's any new inquiries about the shop or hiring work.

You start scanning across the mix of spam and unreasonably complex questions regarding the floral arrangements or the shop in general. Until one email catches your eye by an instant—a subject line with a well-known modeling agency affiliated with the Maria de la Rosa.

"Holy shit," you utter in shock, flabbergasted. Can it be? Or can it not be? Who knows, you got to click the email and see the details immediately!

And your heart absolutely skipped a beat once your eyes scrutinized the content. It is from one of her modeling agencies, requesting a custom floral arrangement for an upcoming photoshoot for Maria de la Rosa herself. You couldn't believe it, but it was serious. The email was articulated; it outlined all the vital details, from the floral arrangement itself to the time and date when, to the place you'll be meeting her.

They want the head designer and florist to come there, under the request of Maria de la Rosa.

Your entire body buzzes with uncontainable excitement. It’s like a fireworks show going off inside you as you kick your feet wildly in the air with a grin plastered on your face. A muffled scream of glee escapes your lips while you bounce up and down, hands flailing as if trying to grab onto the sheer joy of it all. The fact she herself wants you under her angelic presence? Your emotions are all over the place.

And the pay? It’s astronomical — far beyond anything you’d expect from your usual gigs. This isn’t the standard floral arrangement for a wedding aisle or a funeral bouquet draped over a casket. This was instead the rarest opportunity that has been bestowed upon you — to bloom flowers that will share the spotlight with one of the greatest influencers.

For just a short-term job, it feels like you’ve hit the jackpot. It excites you a lot by the thought of working with someone who you've admired for a long time.

Definitely, you were accepting this offer. You have to.

You sent back a small response to the email, keeping your excitement subtle while hopping onto your cozy, delicate bed, cocooning yourself beneath the fresh linen sheets. You let yourself rest, tugging your eyelids, and anticipate a thrilling opportunity in the next couple of days.

Nonetheless, the exhilaration lingers; you swept yourself in an imagination of the dreamy hues and intricate designs of your floral pieces arranged carefully, held gracefully by the Maria de la Rosa, the center of your vision in the cascade of your blossoms; their vibrant colors and soft textures frame her like a perfect living portrait. The thought carries you on a peaceful ride to slumber amidst the dreams that shall bloom to life in the future.

In the end, you began shedding light instantly for the next few mornings earlier than usual. Passionate, stirring, exciting — you name it. Non-stop, did you practice and prepare for the upcoming photoshoots. Despite the terrestrial fragrance of the grass and dirt mixing itself with the strong honeyed aroma of the delicate trailing vines of the clematis, the petals of the asters strings fine silk threads that radiate its bright sunlit center, and the rich yellow hues of the trumpet-shaped petals of daffodils; the rest lying in sweet smells of the earthy spring as you helped them continue to blossom. You continued to prep up with all your might for this once-in-a-lifetime hiring.

It tired you a lot, more than the prolonged hours of your working shifts in the flower shop, but you knew it would be worth it. Your passion sparked like a firework; you buzzed with lively energy while tirelessly practicing the arrangement of the requested flowers and envisioning the petals catching into the light, harmonizing their blooms with the already bloomed influencer and model.

There were more tireless days to come till the day of the meeting, but that's fine. If they were to hire you because of your potential in the crafts and tapestry of floristry, then you need to show them. Display the passion that fueled your creativity, your innovative mind; show yourself as an expert in the blossoming fields of the flowers.

One flower by another, after meticulous preparation, did it finally come. It really wasn't a dream.

You began another set of preparations, physically and mentally. You double-checked the details again before stepping out of your home, smoothing off the creases in your formal clothing and ensuring that each flower is in good shape, neatly placed in their containers. The location of the building was a fair distance from your house; all you had to do was pay a taxi of an average amount.

You find yourself sitting with jittery excitement bubbling underneath. But professionalism was paramount. So you remembered to take a mental checklist of yourself: be nice, be confident, be professional, and do not let your trivial emotions get the best of you. You really thought that was a great checklist.

Passing through the cityscape, you finally found yourself at the arrival of your destination — the agency's building.

It was contemporary, as you expected, with a sleek exterior with large windows offering a view of the prominent and minimalistic lobby. You gave all the important documents to the receptionist, and thank goodness nothing went wrong during the process.

You breathed out a sigh of relief, as you were being guided by presumably Maria's agent. Your heart beats loud and fast, reminiscent of a sprinter about to reach the finish line. You feel your palms damp, shaking a bit too. You still reassured your physical state to be calm and composed. walking further into the lively hallway of chatters between agents and other agents, you prayed that this meeting would go normal yet memorable.

Just before entering the studio, you rechecked your flowers' condition sitting on a hand trolley that the man offered; luckily, it's still in perfect condition. There were no signs of Maria's presence while following the agent, so you were rest assured she's in that studio room.

The agent briefly paused to open the door; he holds the cold steel knob. With a twist, the faint sound of the latch disengaging echoed softly in the hallway; a cool breeze sweeps out after a gap of the creaking door and caresses your face.

You flicker your eyes in response to the gentle glow of the lighting in the room. You snapped your eyes back into focus and entered the studio fully. The agent assists you in closing the door, once that is out of the way, you take a quick glance at the whole studio.

To your left was an interconnected set of vanity tables, wherein an array of accessories is being arranged by stylists; they were organized and chattered with one another. You turn your head to your right and see the glimpse of garments hanging on a sleek rack; they were organized too. Each cascade of garments ranged in colors from a soft pastel to bold, vivid tones; they shone in the lights of the lighting rigs; each intricate design and texture also woven delicate patterns like nothing else.

The more you scan the room, your very own eyes finally catch a glimpse of none other than the Maria de la Rosa herself, mid-conversations with the photographer's white backdrop. Her hair was loosely drooped down to her back with no signs of her typical twin tails with buns; her outfit was sophisticated, a flowing ensemble of saturated colors—complementing every surreal detail she had. Her expression was animated and warm. With a relaxed posture, her gracefulness and elegance linger in the studio as her presence shimmers more.

Then she shifts her eyes towards the door — you.

You snap your eyes again, suddenly sensing goosebumps crawling onto your skin. She looks at you, she is looking at you. Her eyes are fixed at you with an unwavering gaze of mixed intrigue and anticipation. She smiles, at you. Smiling with such minimal effort, yet her expression was a gentle and disarming one that makes you feel a sensation of relief washing over you.

"Please, place the containers near the vanities," the agent said.

You obliged, taking your eyes away from Maria and carrying each container one by one with a tight grip to ensure it doesn't fall out of your arms. You decided to fix your focus on your beloved flowers first and finished carefully placing down the containers next to the vanity tables as instructed by the man.

As soon as you placed down the last batch, you get up, taking a glimpse of your prized possessions, ready to bloom in the spotlight. But for some reason, you can sense an unsettling weight of someone's piercing gaze behind you.

"You must be the florist I've been requesting to see?"

Although you didn't want to, you unconsciously leap out of shock and quickly twist your body in the direction Maria was going. Your gaze darted directly to her eyes, who obviously meant no il intents of scaring you from behind.

Maria places her hand above her mouth, shaping her expression to worried one. "Oh! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to scare you..." she interjects, her expression slowly forming a slightly mischievous one as she giggles. "Perhaps it got to the best of me."

You were one to quickly reply to a person, but that's always done informally. So you reassured yourself again to tone down the informalities and be as professional as you can be. "No worries, it's truly my apologies instead for overdoing my reaction," you reassured. Remember: friendliness, confidence, and professionalism.

"Awh.. You... There's no need for you to be the one apologizing," Maria replies softly, her voice laced with warmth and remorse, "but it seems like you are the one," she added.

You offered a warm smile and nodded, your gesture quietly reassuring. "Yes, I'm the head designer and general florist of Everblooming Fleur," you answered, you intertwine your hands together while having such a stuttering voice. "It's my pleasure to be working with you, Ms. de la Rosa." You introduced, moving onto your name and a bit of details about you.

Her eyes glimmer like an angel, her smile warmer than ever, she seems interested in you? You doubt that. "Great! It is also my pleasure, since I've been waiting to meet you."

Meet you? Really? Don't overthink. It's obviously because of your skills in floristry. You still kept your composure nice and cool in front one of the greatest influencer plus model. But really, she does seem interested in you, in some way...

You let out a faint 'hm?' in slight dumbstruck, "oh? What do you mean by that Ms. de la Rosa?" you curiously asked.

She giggles, a soft and cute one, "well... I have seen some of your flower shop's advertisements and the arrangements are quite unique as I say so!" she answers, "and if I'd admit it myself — I'd like to see how it is done."

You chuckle in response to her comment about your flower shop (and most of the pre-made arrangements came from your technique), knowing damn well inside that you are screaming for your life: she complimented your style of floral arrangements, "thank you! I appreciate the comment, really. And I'm more than welcome to let you observe how it's done."

"Of course! And luckily, you just got here in the perfect time! Are you able to start the custom arrangements?" Maria asks, "if you need anything, you can ask the agents, I asked permission to prepare anything related to the arrangements such as the vases, bouquet holders, and the rest. This also includes the table you'll be preparing the arrangements on."

You nod thankfully. She's doing a lot just for you as a short-term worker, but you decided to not overthink it as always. "Thank you so much again Ms. de la Rosa, and yes, I can start them right now." you chuckled, "would this mean you'll be watching me?"

"What else was the point of this meeting then?" She coos, her melodic laughter was lighthearted and gentle, yet it hits you automatically onto your stomach and makes you want to fall on your knees out of shame.

God forbid trying to be professional and all, you can sense the steaming red-faced you as your smile falters and lowering your head in shame. You nervously laugh in return, even though your physical condition isn't looking the best of a professional, "my apologies, Ms. de la Rosa." you uttered, your gaze averted to another surrounding.

"Oh please, you don't have to take it to heart," she responds, "Maybe I should be the one to apologize instead for teasing you."

You uncontrollably sigh; it's a nice reassurance coming from her, but you still feel like you're about to fumble your biggest and probably once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. "That's... I should start the arrangements, so time won't be wasted and so you can have your photoshoots."

"Thank you, I'll guide you to the table you will reside at," she tilts her head, her expression bright with amusement. Her gaze meets with yours again, playful yet sincere, with a subtle dare. "Show me how you do it. How you make them more beautiful than ever then they are."

For some reason your heart flutters, but you also feel the sensation of a heavy tension tightening up in your chest. She wants you to 'beautify the already stunning flowers,' embellish them with artistic compositions to evoke nature's perfect transient beauty while adding a touch of harmony and meaning for her photoshoots.

"I will. Miss de la Rosa."

You followed and took a seat at the table that the agents had set up. Maria was seated just across from you, she leans in close, her intentions clearly stating the obvious while you can see her eyes watches you intently. Right, just a watching, she just wants to watch you silently, no instructions told.

In order to enlighten yourself under the state of being tense, you settled in disregarding her eager soft gaze at your rough hands. But you can recall the last words she spoken, it was a challenge. A testament to the extraordinaries.

You began the arrangements with the first batch for her first photoshoot, starting with the asters. Recalling again the email, remembering all of its details, they requested for the first set of vases, pedestal vases, to have a monochromatic structure and incorporate the single use of each flower for the two — the asters and the clematises.

You place each asters with your utmost delicacy, nudging them into their place, arranging the first pedestal vase before the second. Your hands already carried a subtle, delicate fragrance, a reminiscent of the freshly dewy grass it once embraced.

You attempted to not make an unnecessary face of the sickly scent of these flowers, knowing they are popular just before the world bathes itself in the warmth and life of a bright golden glimmer and vibrant hues. The Maria de la Rosa is just right across you, following every fluid of gesture your hands does to the flowers.

"You really have your ways, huh?" Maria chimes in, her voice lacing a mix of awe and curiosity.

You blink and glance at her soft gaze briefly, a side of her right cheek was resting on her right palm, tilting her head with a thoughtful smile: watching you. The sensation of pride and humility spurs you on. "Much obliged, I appreciate it a lot Ms. de la Rosa," you replied back.

She chuckles, "the same goes to you, you don't know how watching you is lovely."

Your heart flutters again, and you can feel the sensation of a steam on your probably flushed face, was it because of her? Obviously, but why? You couldn't care, you need to focus.

After finishing the vases, it was time to do the bouquet, a combination of the asters, clematises, and finally the daffodils. You start using some of the green fillers you bought alongside the flowers and place them tenderly to frame the bouquet as you ponder about the process of wrapping it after all of the flowers, You carefully place each flower on top of the fillers while nudging some in between the fillers.

You could faintly discern the softening gaze of Maria as you carefully wrap the flowers around in the textured specialized floral wrapping paper, finishing the arrangement with a delicate embellishment: a purple and yellow ribbon. The hues echoed the effervescent contrast of the three flowers within the greenery.

"And that's all," you conclude, "it seems like... I didn't do anything wrong from the details, am I correct?"

You see the brief shine on Maria's bright blue eyes momentarily, a reflection of genuine delight, enthralled. The corner of her lips curled into a radiant smile, beaming gently like the glowing sun. "Of course! I have so much gratitude for you," she exclaimed, "you managed to convey their beauty and expression so good!"

Her genuine delight was so genuine it captivated your heart again in a mess, fluttering easily. How fragile are you? Her ushering glow of content makes you almost blind, if only you weren't facing her upfront, you'd probably collapse onto the floor by now. You couldn't imagine much of it, being heavily complimented by one of the greatest influencers and models you so admired? It's already a lot for you to take in.

Frankly, the flattery got to you a bunch, so you shyly chuckle, "thank you again, Ms. de la Rosa." That was all you could reply with as you tried to keep your tone casual yet professional. Her radiant smile persisted, as though she enjoyed your company and you arranging the flowers.

Maria began running her slender fingers on her hair, sighing with tranquility. "it's my pleasure, but really, you're quite talented, you know?" she said, voice dripping with a playful lilt, "I should go and do my photoshoots right now."

That's right, you forgot it again, the photoshoots. Your heart flutters anew, a chaotic rhythm you could barely suppress. The notion of the flowers you aid in growing them to be the best kind of their flowers, to be adorned again beneath the flourishing structure of balance, composition, and harmony by you, and to be held and surround the beauty of Maria de la Rosa as pretty and graceful she already is.

"Ah, right. You may go ahead and do your photoshoots now, I suppose I'll take my leave."

"Actually, as per my gratitude and how well you managed to make the flowers as gorgeous as they already were, I'll let you stay here and watch me take my photoshoots. I'll let the others know," Maria calmly said, a drop of reassurance to your mind.

You couldn't keep your professional facade anymore. You, in fact, made a shocked expression, yet your eyes glimmer in beam. Frankly again, you didn't expect this, to actually watch behind the scenes of the Maria de la Rosa's modeling photoshoots. Did your 'unique' methods of floral arrangement amaze her so much? To become her only audience of her photoshoots live?

Truly, you didn't even know someone like her seemingly had a fascination with flowers, as you can sense an avid sensation of keen interest in floral arrangements or flowers in general.

You were in shock, barely could let out a word out of your mouth, not even from your vocal cord. Nevertheless, you have a verbal mind of steel and managed to utter out something. "It's... I'm really indebted to you forever, Ms. de la Rosa!" You shyly exclaimed, god how embarrassing was that? but you had to be honest, right?

Maria forms a teasing and playful expression, giggling at your beaming and flushed state. "You have no need of thanking me, it's just a gift I could give you in return." Her words were coated with a lighthearted charm she always uses; as she winks, she winks at you.

It's finalized, you have a weakness in her. There's no valid answer than that regarding your current state as of now. Deeply pondering about the times of you just scrolling on your laptop, admiring her modeling photoshoots and the way she looks. Here you are, wanting to scream and giggle, kicking your feet like some kind of child again.

"Find yourself a seat near the white backdrop, do whatever you like," she adds, before turning around and walking back to her staff.

You find yourself sitting at a seat near the white backdrop, as Maria mentioned. You take a glance at the current environment, it was quite busy, even while you were arranging the flowers. Designers having a friendly talk with each other while seemingly planning out the next garment for her next photoshoot, stylists also conceptualizing different kinds of hairstyles for Maria.

You watched the photoshoots go on and on, using the arrangements you made as background and the bouquet being in the soft, tender hands of Maria. You still couldn't shake the feeling of excitement once the photoshoots were released to the public. Although you do wish for some anonymity, for the sake of yourself and the others working at the flower shop, it was still a visible feeling you've been having since the moment you saw the email.

The photographers instructed Maria to pose in various positions with the props and the flowers. You became fascinated by how it was done. Each pose meant a quick white light shine throughout the studio, she was diverse and quick with her poses and expressions. The photoshoots overall spoke a seasonal and nature theme while she was dashing and graceful, now it makes sense why they requested for the said arrangements they need.

The photoshoots went on and ended in the evening.

You eloquently bow down to show courtesy. "Thank you for letting me watch you take your photoshoots, and I'm glad to be of great help for the flowers." You gracefully smiled.

"Oh, you," Maria coos, a playful chuckle escapes from her mouth, soft and disarming. "I feel I haven't appreciate you enough, yet here you are, thanking me."

You shake your head lightly, you know deep down your appreciation for her is unwavering, you have to let her acknowledge it. "This has been the first big opportunity I was offered, so I need to give you my gratitude for that." Your smile deepened.

Maria tilts her head, crossing her arms just to rest her cheek against her palm again. She smiles fondly, her expression effortlessly radiant. "You're too sweet," she says softly, yet carrying a teasing warmth, "Anyways, before our meeting ends, I would like to ask you something."

Your curiosity piqued; you responded without hesitation, "No worries, is there anything?"

Her gaze at you is steady and kind. "I'd like to ask for your contact number," she replies smoothly, pausing for a moment, "for business matters."

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a split second, you regain your composure after she said it was for business matters. Of course, it's for business matters; why were you thinking it like that? It's not unusual for people to ask for your contact number in the name of business anyway.

In regaining your composure, you offered her a smile. "Oh, yes, yes! You may have it; I'll write it down for you," you said, before quickly jotting down your contact number on a note, ensuring your handwriting is neat, and handing it over to her.

"Thank you for being so kind. Let's see if there's a time between you and me to collaborate again."

You wish.

Back in your welcoming home, you lie again face flat on the comfortable quilted sheets of your bed. Your heart flutters, whether you're falling in love with her or it's just admiration; god, you could never differ. Albeit, if you were to fall in love with her and just her, you'll slip it aside.

You started feeling tired ever since going back to your home, so you changed your clothing to your pajamas and cocoon yourself again beneath the blanket. The warmth enveloped you like the sunbeams passing through the clouds in the morning. You shut your eyes and pray you don't have to do as much as conceptualizing a bunch of arrangements for next season.

The first day back at work after your unforgettable encounter with Maria de la Rosa passes with a serene ease. No flurry of customs nor urgent requests of custom arrangements, and the other designers are mostly handling the work after it was your turn. You could just run in a field of grass, feeling the cold breeze brushing through your skin. This day was another time to breathe and let your mind wander.

Your shift ends again at twelve o'clock in the morning, and you find yourself awaiting some sleep for the weekends — your favorite time.

Waking up with no competence of the current time, you scroll casually through your Twitter (or X) until you see a tweet popping up on your feed: It's the same photoshoots of Maria de la Rosa you saw being taken from a couple days ago! The same poses, outfits, make-up, everything!

And to your astonishment, she posts a new video on her channel, another video about beauty. However, it just so happens, in the thumbnail, her room — the vases and bouquet you made are there, just sitting in the background.

You were in your utmost delight.

Being in your happy bubble, viewing her most recent video and admiring the same studio-shot photographs. She also mentions the flowers, how you produced them for the photoshoots, while you also watched her take them simultaneously as a token of appreciation. Your name and the flower shop wasn't mentioned, obviously for the sake of anonymity, and you were more than glad for that.

Your weekend went on as better than it already is. It was like a garden springing to life in your heart, vibrant and carefree, it lifts you higher.

The clock strikes midnight as you unwind from the day, your heart finally quieting after its relentless fluttering. You sit before your laptop, the soft glow spilling over your fingers. Writing — your secret solace. You recall those endless daydreams of penning a novel that would touch the world, a dream now nestled like an unopened book on a dusty shelf.

After the clicking echoes filled the silence of your bedroom, a river of thoughts. You stopped to take a small and fresh break, and a text notification vibrates your phone. The first thing you see on the notification was their name, Maria de la Rosa.

Hello! I know it hasn't been 3 days since the photoshoots and video have been released... But, I'd like to request another set of custom floral arrangements, any kind and amount! Except, you have all the creative freedom in your hands. Just bring what you need. The address is the same, be there before 7 am preferably. Thank you! <3 Oh, and there's money as a reward, hehe

No way.

It's happening again, you're working with her again.

You stretched your arms to the heavens above and exhaled deeply, just to laugh in a sudden explosion of joy, a grin spreading across your face. High spirits became higher than before, it's like you've been blessed by the gods. Nobody, not even a modeling agency, but none other than Maria de la Rosa reached out to you. It's just like a surreal dream of yours, but it's reality.

You jumped out of your chair and collapsed back onto your bed, the mattress sighing beneath your weight. Sleep was tugging at your eyelids, but excitement still coursed through your veins, making you grin against the pillow. Another day was on the horizon, another chance to work with Maria de la Rosa. The thought alone was enough to make your heart race.

Waking up with a vivid memory of yesterday, you take your quick daily routine and back to prepping.

You drank your casual coffee, savoring the comforting bitterness that jolted your senses awake. The steam curled upward, brushing against your face like a warm morning embrace. Its lingering scent grasped the creative freedom you were given. You devised a plan with more flowers than last time, you ensured to choose the most beautiful flowers, ones that embodies vibrancy and elegance; with petals so lush they tell a story, an expression.

Dahlia, peonies, larkspur, flowers that bloom in this late Spring was suffice, you called it.

Sketching out concepts for the arrangements, you wondered what kind of photoshoots they're going for next, it might become the same theme but you shook the idea out of your head and went back to preparation. With each passing second, more concepts rushed through your mind like a tidal wave, exhibiting ribbons, complementing greenery, and bursts of color palettes.

And your back again at the same contemporary building, same studio, and same table.

By the time you sat back again in the same chair too, she was already there to greet you. The same nervous excitement wells up in you as you meticulously piece together the flowers she requested—each delicate petal flowing with allure.

"Hi there," Maria greeted, her voice drips a casual warmth that immediately put you at ease. Her outfit was effortlessly stunning, more different from the outfit she wore previously; wearing a pastel pink sundress with floral print. Tailored with short puffed sleeves, a fitted bodice with pearl buttons adorned around ribbons in the side and a subtle A-shaped layered skirt.

"I— Hello, Ms. de la Rosa," you stammered out, you couldn't believe it was such a problem for you when her beauty enamors extremely. Your handwork completely slows down in bringing out the flowers and bases.

"Oh?" Maria interjects with subtle playfulness, a giggle escapes from her mouth, "seems like you're admiring me?"

Shit, she knows. Your heart skipped a beat, panic flashing through your mind. Yet, you decided to lean into the playful banter, just like her. "Uhm, maybe," you replied, keeping your tone casual yet playful, meeting her gaze with a slight smirk. "I'm sure it isn’t a surprise for someone like you."

Her laughter filled the room, melodious and genuine. "Well, I can't say I'm not flattered," she quipped, her expression softening. "But if you're going to admire me, make sure to keep your work just as flawless. Not that I don't have my trust on you. Deal?"

You nodded, though a hint of warmth lingered between you. "Deal," you said with a chuckle, already eager for the rest of the day working by her side.

"Great, just while I do my work."

The faint sound of her heels clicking as she goes to the area of the stylists, going to have her hair styled you assume, you ponder more. Pondering regarding your relationship with her, she's been incredibly nice with you, friendly, so casual — like friends.

"I'm overthinking it."

You thought. You sighed, trying to push aside the self-doubt. It was true that Maria had been incredibly nice, always friendly, and effortlessly casual with you. The way she spoke to you felt natural, and that ease made you wonder if there was something more beneath her smiles. Nonetheless, there was no reason to complicate things.

As you focused on the work ahead, you resolved to stick with the present, keeping things professional and organized.

As you picked up each delicate bloom, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of uncertainty, until you realized: she never told you a certain theme, nothing, just only she quotes, "creative freedom". Perhaps, this may be a bit difficult as you thought.

You paused. Creative freedom. On one hand, it was liberating. But on the other, it left too many directions to go in. Flowers could symbolize so many things, evoke a range of emotions. They could be arranged in endless ways, from bold, colorful displays to subtle, elegant compositions. The choices were overwhelming. You practiced without analyzing her message, you feel somewhat regret and disappointment in yourself.

But then again, you shouldn't worry about that, you got a small glimpse of Maria's clothing for the photoshoot, you'll just have to base it on that, generalize it, broaden it.

Without the weight of Maria’s gaze on you, your movements became more fluid, more confident. You worked quickly, flowing through the arrangement with a quiet rhythm. Drawing inspiration from the casual yet bold outfit Maria had chosen for the day, you decided to go for an arrangement that echoed her energy: loose, free-spirited, but still filled with elegance.

The slack movement of the green fillers intertwined with the soft, structured beauty of pink foxgloves and peonies. The flowers cascaded around the vase, almost as if they were spilling over, the greenery framing the blossoms in a carefree yet deliberate manner.

Once you finished the vase, you rubbed your hands already soaked in the sickly aroma of the fragrant flowers, ready to move onto the next arrangement.

You decide to create a nosegay next, where the dahlia becomes the focal point, its vibrant petals commanding attention. You carefully choose complementary flowers to be arranged tightly around the dahlia. Finishing it off with a layer of the usual green fillers you use, securing all of it with a ribbon and cut off the excess stem.

Fixing your focus on the next arrangements after another, the soft click of heels against the floor announced Maria's return. You barely had time to glance up before her voice carried across the room.

"Oh my!" Maria exclaims, her voice tinged with admiration. "You’ve already done so much, and they’re absolutely stunning. Looks like you knew how to pull off the theme as well." She tilted her head, her blue eyes shining with intrigue. She was lilting with approval and fascination.

Her compliment caught you off guard, and for a moment, all you could do was blink. Then, snapping yourself out of your daze, you managed to stammer, "Ah, thank you! I—I'm glad you think so."

Maria chuckled softly at your response, her lips curving into a playful smirk. "It's not just thinking so, darling. It’s knowing. If I didn’t know better, I’d say these flowers are trying to upstage me." She chuckles repeatedly, so tender and lighthearted.

She calls you darling. She called you darling.

The word echoed in your mind, like a bell tolling, leaving you slightly stunned yet undeniably charmed. Her words hung in the air, warm and honeyed, as if they were designed to melt your resolve. You swallowed hard, heat rushing to your cheeks. You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat, tangled in the weight of her gaze and the softness of her smile.

Maria tilted her head slightly, a gentle wave of her styled hair catching the light. "Hm? Did I catch you off guard?" she asked, her tone laced with amusement. Her laughter, soft and melodic, filled the air, adding another layer to the haze enveloping you.

You smiled awkwardly, feeling as though the room had become warmer, the floral scents around you amplifying the surreal atmosphere. "Maybe, just a little," you admitted with a sheepish chuckle, attempting to shake off the overwhelming fluster.

Maria’s laughter sparkled like a light breeze rustling through petals. "Only a little?" she teased, her voice lilting with mischief. She leaned ever so slightly toward you, the gesture subtle but enough to make your heart skip. "But, you've done a lot. So, I'll take these arrangements and start my photoshoots. You may stay here again and watch, if you would like to."

Her initial playful edge in her tone sent your thoughts scattering. You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to focus. "Thank you, Ms. de la Rosa," you muttered, half to yourself but loud enough for her to hear.

You watched Maria take her photoshoots again, her every pose a masterclass in elegance and poise. Each movement felt deliberate yet effortless, as though she were in complete harmony with the world around her. The way she tilted her chin, the graceful arc of her arms, and the fluidity of her posture captivated everyone in the room.

And if you were being outward honest? Maybe, and just maybe — you like her.

The camera flashes illuminated her figure, creating a glow that almost seemed unreal. Her hair cascaded like silk with every turn of her head, catching the light and shimmering with life. The fabric of her outfit flowed with her movements, accentuating each pose as if it had been made solely to complement her grace.

Romantically or platonically? You weren't so sure.

From time to time, she glanced in your direction, her expression softening for the briefest of moments, as if silently sharing a private acknowledgment amidst the buzz of the shoot. It sent your heart racing every single time, a quiet flutter of emotions that you couldn’t quite suppress.

Something rings in your brain about her, and the subtle way her demeanor seems to shift when she’s around you. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but there’s an undeniable pull, an inexplicable connection that feels far from ordinary.

Her attitude towards you has grown warmer, more familiar, almost as if she’s seeking out moments to interact with you. It’s in the way her eyes linger a fraction longer than necessary, the way her smile seems softer and more genuine when it’s directed at you. Even during the busy chaos of her shoots, she finds small, almost imperceptible ways to include you, a glance here, a comment there.

It feels... strange. Not unwelcome, but disorienting. Why does it seem like she wants to see you more and more, even when she could be surrounded by countless others vying for her attention? You try to brush it off, but the thought nags at the edges of your mind. Could it be simple friendliness? Or is it something deeper, something unspoken?

You shake your head, feeling the weight of your overthinking settling in again. Maybe you’re just reading too much into things. But then again, the warmth in her eyes, the effortless charm in her words those don’t feel like coincidences. They feel deliberate.

But then again and again — she's way too out of your league. You're just some woman who works for rest of the day at some flower shop, and she's one of the most prominent models and influencers with dripping elegance and gracefulness everywhere she goes, a perfect being.

You shake your head repeatedly while you wait for the photoshoots to be completed before heading home.

Heading home in a taxi, the hum of the engine and the faint city lights create a soothing rhythm that matches the whirlwind of thoughts spinning in your head.

"Maybe, we're like friends by now."

You wonder, your fingers idly tracing the fabric of your seat. Possibly it's just a friendly professional connection, nothing more. You've encountered instances like these with other people who hired you. But somehow, the more you think about it, the less certain you feel.

Your whole week has been silent. Aside from the recently published pictures and a few videos, giving you anonymous credit.

You returned to work with a sense of calm, though a flicker of uncertainty still lingered beneath your composed demeanor. The days dragged by on your feet, dealing with the same usual arrangements, occasional requests, and quiet, almost meditative work. Considerably, one of the salespersons came back to work again, so you're back in behind the scenes of the flowers and arrangements.

Until, one particular shift started unlike any other.

Out of nowhere, as you were tending to your usual tasks, a figure entered the shop, her presence commanding attention. But you wouldn't know that, yet.

"Hey!" A demanding voice yelled out, they turned toward you, eyes wide, and you could see the faint tremor of disbelief in their gaze. It was almost as though they were seeing something surreal unfold right before their eyes.

"Did something happened?" you curiously asked. It's probably another complaining customer, at least that's what you would've predicted.

"Yeah, kinda, whatever. This is new," they whispered under their breath, shaking their head. "Maria de la Rosa, like the actual one, came here and told me she wants to see you?"

"Oh. Oh? What the fuck?"

You blinked in shock and disbelief just like them, did she actually came here just to see you? You choose to not waste any time. "Ah, okay. I'll see her."

With a swift motion, they hurried over back to the front of the shop. “She’s right here, miss,” they managed, leading you to the counter. They left and went inside the shop to probably leave you two a time to talk and it felt like the whole shop was silently holding its breath, waiting for what would happen next.

"Hi," Maria greeted, her voice smooth with a playful undertone, the kind that made your heart skip. The glint in her eyes was familiar, mischievous, and as she flashed you a smile, it was effortlessly charming. You could feel your face warm, your usual composure slipping away. "Sorry if my appearance was too sudden, especially when I asked to see you."

You stumbled over your words, your thoughts crashing together like a thousand half-formed sentences. It felt like your words were trapped in the air, swirling just out of reach. You shifted your feet, an unconscious attempt to ground yourself, to steady the storm inside your chest. "I—I didn't expect to see you stop by, here," you mumbled, your voice small, swallowed by the space between you. "What do you need, Ms. de la Rosa?" You managed to ask, but it sounded more like a question for yourself, a search for the ground beneath you.

Her presence was a warmth that wrapped around you like a silk ribbon, effortlessly pulling you into her orbit. It made your heart race—more than it should have.

Maria leaned over the counter slightly, her expression more thoughtful now. "You know, I wanted to have a longer chat this time, if you don’t mind. I’m not really here for an order..." Her voice drifted, and you watched as she looked around, clearly comfortable in the environment. "And, drop the titles. I frankly like to be called by my name."

You nodded, still unsure how to handle the situation.

The conversation flowed between you and Maria, smooth like the ripples on a calm lake, but with the depth of an ocean hidden beneath the surface. Her words, light as a gentle breeze, carried a weight that seemed to pull you in deeper, unearthing thoughts and feelings you hadn’t even realized were there.

You were unprepared for how natural it felt to talk to her, how her presence in the space seemed to make time stretch, like the hands of a clock forgotten in the corners of the room. Each laugh, each glance she offered felt like a quiet invitation to stay a little longer, to breathe in the air that seemed to hum with possibility.

"I'm still really sorry if I came here so sudden," Maria expressed, leaning against the counter, her expression no longer playful but drawn with the weight of unspoken thoughts. "You know how busy I am, do you?"

Keeping your silence, you offered her a swift nod, willing to listen as the air between you and Maria shifted, the space once filled with casual banter now heavy with something deeper, more fragile. The brightness that often surrounded her presence dimmed, leaving her raw and exposed, a person and not just an image.

"I just..." she trailed off, biting her lip as if trying to suppress the emotion bubbling just beneath the surface. "Feel a bit exhausted lately. It's not like it has been the first time. But I honestly shouldn't be busy for the past few weeks but I am."

The vulnerability in her voice stung more than you'd expected. Maria, always in control, always the image of poise and perfection, now seemed like a person. Just a person, weighed down by her own life, caught in the whirlpool of expectations. You noticed the tension in her shoulders, the way her eyes avoided yours, not in embarrassment, but in a kind of reluctant surrender. It was as if she had tried to hold everything together for so long, and now, in front of you, the seams were beginning to crack.

Thinking about what she said more, made you completely forgot, Summer is coming, a time when most people think of breaks and vacations, had no such promise for her.

Her laugh was hollow, a sound that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Sure, Summer is coming, but for me, it'll be just another busy season," she said, almost bitterly, though the tone quickly softened again. She shrugged, that same elegant shrug that seemed to let her hide the storm inside her, but you knew better now. You could see through the polished surface. "It should be slow... but the work never stops."

"Don't you have agents or people who work beside you? Or... Are they the reason?" you asked, your voice a mixture of curiosity and concern.

Maria hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering toward the window as if the world outside held the answers she couldn’t quite find. She let out a soft sigh, her eyes drifting to the side as if looking for something that could offer her solace. "Yes, mainly my manager, Finian. He's been demanding lately, over my modeling status and channel as well. But, I don't necessarily blame him for anything."

You blinked in confusion, unable to fully grasp the weight of her words. "A-huh, how?" you asked, your voice laced with uncertainty, unsure of how to continue the conversation or if you were even equipped to understand what she was really going through. "In what way you don't, necessarily, blame him? You don't think he's nagging you?"

"What?— No, no... I'm sure he isn't, he just wants the best for me but... sometimes I feel cut out from my busyness."

The weight of her words lingered in the space between you both. For a brief moment, it felt like you could understand her, if only a little. You wanted to say something reassuring, but what could you say? Words seemed too small, too insignificant for what she was feeling.

Instead, you simply nodded. "Y'know," you murmured, your voice a little more steady than you felt. "You don’t have to carry all of it by yourself, you know?"

Maria blinked, her lips parting slightly as though she wanted to argue, but no words came. She glanced toward the floor, her fingers absentmindedly brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I mean it," you continued, your tone soft but firm. "I know it probably feels like everyone expects you to be perfect all the time, but... You're allowed to take a step back. You’re allowed to need someone, something, or just a break once in a time."

For a moment, the room felt still, the weight of the conversation settling into a comfortable silence. Maria’s expression softened, her walls momentarily lowered. "You’re too kind," she said quietly, her lips curving into a faint, genuine smile. "Thank you."

"There's no need to thank me," you replied simply, offering her a small, reassuring smile. "Everyone deserves a break, and someone to lean on. You."

Maria gave a faint, almost wistful smile, her shoulders sagging slightly as if releasing some of the burden she’d been carrying. "Maybe you're right," she said, her tone almost playful, though it was clear she was still wrestling with her thoughts. "Thank you for your words. I'm quite glad I came here. It... Did a lot."

You watched her, feeling the weight of the moment, knowing that she wasn't just seeking answers, but someone to hear her, to understand the chaos of her life. You stood there with a smile, with her in the quiet, letting her thoughts spill out, offering nothing more than your presence in the midst of her storm.

"Either way, something about you, your presence, makes me feel safer than ever."

The words hit like a wave, gentle yet powerful, stirring a mix of emotions you couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t just what she said, but the way she said it — her voice dipping into an honesty that felt rare and precious. It was as if she’d peeled back a layer of herself she didn’t show to just anyone.

You found yourself searching for a response, anything to match the gravity of her confession, but your mind was a flurry of thoughts. What could you say to something like that? The quiet between you stretched, filled only by the faint hum of the shop and the delicate fragrance of flowers around you.

Your heart swelled with a strange, unfamiliar warmth, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this fragile, unspoken connection.

As the conversation came to a lull, Maria’s gaze fell on a display of fresh flowers near the front.

"I’ll take just one, the red flower there," she said, as if it was the most normal request in the world. She points her index finger to the flowers of carnations.

"Oh, the red carnation? I suppose so..." You replied, your voice hesitant, your thoughts trailing as you picked up the delicate bloom. Something about the entire exchange felt a bit surreal, like the weight of her presence and her sudden generosity was pressing down on you all at once. You wrapped the flower quickly, fingers brushing the soft paper, trying to focus on the task at hand.

Once the flower was neatly placed on the counter, you handed it over to her, expecting the usual polite exchange. But then, you were hit by the unexpected: she placed an absurdly large tip on the counter, the bills nearly spilling over the edge.

You stood there, dumbfounded, your mind racing to come up with a response. Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you were frozen, unable to find your voice. The tip was too much, too generous, and you weren't sure if it was the heat of her smile, the unexpectedness of it all, or just the sheer magnitude of her gesture that left you at a loss for words.

"No need to argue, just take it," Maria insisted, a smile still on her face. "I know you deserve it for all the hard work, and for being a great friend to me."

You tried to protest, but she waved it off, her hand brushing against your arm lightly as she turned to leave. The door swung shut behind her, and the shop was quiet again, but this time, it was filled with a sense of confusion and a bit of wonder. The scent of fresh flowers and the quiet hum of the lights seemed to weigh heavier in the air, as if the walls themselves were holding onto the tension left in her absence.

You're left in absolute perplexity. Maria's emotional walls had crumbled for just a moment, giving you a glimpse into the weight she carried. And then, without much transition, she shifted back to her usual confident self, ordering a single red carnation. No elaborate bouquet, no symbolic arrangement — just one simple flower.

The whole interaction felt surreal, as if you were caught in the middle of a dream that didn’t quite make sense, there were so many things about this woman being so surreal. Before you could even ask why or if she was okay, Maria pulled out her wallet and slid an absurdly large tip across the counter, and called you a great friend.

"Friend?"

The word rang in your head like a struck bell, leaving you frozen in place as she turned and headed for the door.

"I'm her friend?!" you muttered to yourself in disbelief, staring at the carnation in your hand and the stack of bills on the counter. It wasn’t just the tip that shocked you—it was the fact that, somewhere along the way, you’d apparently become someone important to her.

As the door closed behind her, the shop returned to its usual quiet, but the space she left behind felt anything but ordinary. You stood there for a long moment, trying to piece together what had just happened, the warmth of her words lingering like sunlight breaking through a cloudy sky.

Nonetheless, you retreated back behind the doors of the flower shop, the rhythmic motions of arranging blooms grounding you once more. It was almost as if the candid, deeply personal conversation with Maria de la Rosa — the same model who graced magazine covers with an effortless elegance and the same influencer whose beauty and lifestyle posts amassed millions of fans on her renowned channel — had been a figment of your imagination. The fragrance of roses and carnations surrounded you, soothing and familiar, contrasting sharply with the lingering whirlwind of emotions.

Each flower you handled felt like a quiet distraction, their delicate petals whispering reassurances as you immersed yourself in your work. Yet, no matter how diligently you focused on arranging vibrant bouquets, her words, her presence, and the undeniable significance of your encounter stayed with you, like an indelible mark etched onto your day.

Throughout the weeks, Maria's visits became a rhythm in your life, a quiet melody that played between the hustle of your work. Whether the conversation was light and professional or drifted into something more personal, there was one constant thread: each time, without fail, she left with a single red carnation flower.

"Another carnation today?" you asked during one afternoon, trying to sound casual as you wrapped the delicate bloom in tissue paper. Your hands worked deftly, but your heart drummed unevenly in your chest.

Maria smiled, the kind of smile that lingered in the air like a secret. "Of course. It’s tradition now, isn’t it?" she teased, her tone light yet somehow loaded, as if there were an unspoken meaning behind her words.

"Tradition?" You couldn’t help the nervous laugh that bubbled up. "Do you give these to someone special?" The question slipped out before you could stop it, your voice betraying the hesitance you felt.

Maria tilted her head slightly, her gaze locking with yours, piercing and playful. "Maybe, maybe not," she replied with a coy shrug.

Her words left you flustered, the subtle compliment blooming in your chest like the very flowers you handled daily. Her ambiguous answers always seemed to carry the weight of something unsaid, a secret tucked just out of reach. As she handed you the money, always more than necessary, you found yourself caught in the haze of possibilities.

Before she took another step away from the counter, you found yourself blurting out, "You really have a fascination with flowers, don't you?" The question slipped out before you could think twice about it, your voice barely above a whisper. You couldn’t help it. After all, the flowers she had bought, the care she had to place them in her bedroom, and the way she seemed to light up every time she spoke about them, it felt like a fitting observation.

Maria paused mid-step, her fingers brushing lightly against the counter as she turned back toward you, her gaze softening. "I guess you could say that," she said with a thoughtful smile. "Flowers, always felt like a way to express things words can't. Which I can't, sometimes."

You watched her carefully as she spoke, noticing how the slightest smile touched her lips when she mentioned them. Flowers had become more than just a hobby for Maria; they were a window into her heart.

Each visit lingered in your mind like the faint, sweet fragrance of carnations, the pattern of her requests carving itself into your thoughts. Did it mean anything? Was she just kind, or was there something deliberate in the way her gaze softened when she spoke to you, in the way her hand brushed yours as you exchanged the flower?

The questions swirled around you, tugging at your focus like a persistent breeze, scattering your composure. Every interaction left you grasping for clarity, only to find yourself sinking deeper into the unknown. By the time she left, her scent still faintly in the air, you were left staring at the counter, your thoughts as tangled as the stems in your hands.

Later that evening, as you rearranged a shelf of flowers, your thoughts swirled like petals caught in a gust of wind. Red carnations symbolize romantic love. Romantic. Love. The word thudded in your mind, insistent and impossible to ignore.

Does that mean she likes someone? You frowned, the idea both logical and confusing. It made sense; someone as amazing as Maria would have someone special. But why does she keep coming here for a single carnation? The thought twisted in your chest, a strange mix of hope and doubt.

But then there was you. A stubborn part of you clung to the possibility, replaying her casual flirtations; the way her smiles lingered just a second too long, and her compliments that always felt more personal than professional. Could it be you?

"No way," you muttered to yourself, shaking your head. "Get a grip." Yet the thought refused to settle, flaring up every time her image crossed your mind. You couldn't deny that you liked her—how could you not? Her presence was magnetic, her kindness genuine. And you’d been a fan of her long before she started walking through the shop door or the email that changed you as a whole.

The internal debate consumed you for days, leaving you distracted and restless. Each time the bell over the door chimed, you half-expected to see her walk in, and your heart would leap in anticipation. It wasn’t until you threw yourself back into your routine: rearranging flowers, chatting with customers, that you managed to clear your mind.

For now, you decided, you’d leave the questions unanswered. But as you wrapped yet another red carnation for Maria during her next visit, a quiet, persistent hope bloomed in the corner of your heart.

Days pass by normally than as it should, although too normal for your likings.

You sat in the peaceful table, hands still trembling slightly as you arranged another bouquet. The light from the window streamed through the glass, casting a warm, golden hue over the flowers, but it felt like the glow had settled into you. An energy that lingered, filled with confusion and unspoken words. Then, your phone buzzed.

It was a text from her, Maria. Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest as you read the message.

Hiii! Can you come to my house right now? Before I get kinda busy again.. I want you to teach me about arranging a bouquet.

The message was as simple as it was direct, and your mind whirled. Her house? Before you could even process, the next message came through, and with it, her address.

The world seemed to tilt as your breath caught. What? Was she being serious? You had barely processed the warmth of her words, and now, out of nowhere, you were about to step foot into her world. Into Maria de la Rosa’s real life. Your heart hammered as your fingers hovered over the phone screen, mind racing. What was going on?

All you could was reply a yes, on the way. Your manager wouldn't mind if you take a leave for today, they'll always know you do a lot on each shift you take.

Flustered and overwhelmed, you scrambled to get ready the flowers, things for the bouquet, and yourself. Your thoughts tumbling over each other like the petals in a breeze. It felt like you were about to do something completely out of your depth, but at the same time, the anticipation buzzed through you — an electric current running under your skin. A delicate invitation into a space where boundaries blurred, where your feelings and her casual, yet intimate, gestures seemed to entangle in the quiet moments you shared.

You weren’t just preparing to teach her about flowers. No, something more was brewing, though you couldn't quite place it.

When you arrived at her house, the world seemed to fall into a softer rhythm, the usual hum of city life dimming as you stood on her doorstep. The air around you felt still, as if everything was holding its breath, waiting for what was about to unfold.

Maria’s smile greeted you like sunlight through a window, warm yet playful, effortlessly making you feel at ease, as if this was just another one of those casual encounters. Still, there was something in the way she looked at you, a glint in her eyes that made the moment feel different. "Hi! I've been waiting to see you. You sure did come here quicker than I expected."

You let out a playful chuckle, your nerves settling a little, but you could feel that subtle undercurrent of anticipation. "I couldn’t leave you waiting too long, could I?" you responded, smiling in return, though your words felt more like a way to hide the rush of emotions swirling in your chest.

"You flatter me too much. Let's go to my bedroom."

She led you inside, her movements fluid and inviting, as if she had rehearsed this moment a thousand times, yet somehow, it felt new. Her home had an elegance to it, the kind that seemed effortless and yet thoughtfully curated.

As you made your way to her living room and to her own bedroom, you noticed the small touches, the delicate curtains; the soft lighting, and the subtle arrangement of her furniture, all somehow embodying the same grace that Maria herself radiated.

"So, shall we start?" you asked, your voice a little less steady than you intended, the tension in the room thick with an unspoken curiosity.

You moved closer to the table, the smell of fresh flowers swirling in the air like a gentle summer breeze. You picked up the first flower, its petals soft like the first touch of sunlight in the morning, and began to arrange it. Your hands, though skilled, were still shaking slightly as they moved with practiced precision, the familiar rhythm of arranging grounding you in the moment.

"Okay, see how the stems need to be cut at an angle first?" You explained, your fingers brushing lightly against the stems as you guided her. "It helps the flowers drink water more efficiently."

Maria followed your instructions, her fingers a bit hesitant at first, but she seemed to catch on quickly, her hands moving with a growing confidence. As she placed the flowers next to each other, adding the green fillers, there was a subtle energy in the air, like something was blooming between the two of you — not just the flowers on the table, but something you couldn’t quite place.

Eyeing her hesitant hands, you felt a quiet pull in your chest. You couldn’t help but reach out, walking behind her and placing your head on one of her shoulders to take a peek of her creation. Your fingers brushing against her hand, a moment of hesitation before you gently took her hands into yours. The warmth of her skin sent a jolt through you, a pulse that ran through your fingertips, spreading through your chest like the quiet thrum of a heartbeat.

You guided her fingers with slow, deliberate movements, your own touch gentle but firm, as if your hands were creating the space for something more than just a bouquet. You weren't sure how long you stood there, both of you just standing in the middle of this quiet moment, but every second felt drawn out like a note held too long.

The touch lingered longer than necessary. "Here, let me help you with the spacing. You want to create balance, make sure the flowers complement each other."

Her eyes flicked to yours, searching, but there was something guarded there, as if she were unsure whether she should pull away or stay. Her breath hitched for a split second, and you nearly pulled your hands back in response, but something stopped you: a pull, like gravity, holding you both in place.

Her hand felt warm against yours, like the heat of a flame just starting to catch. You could feel the pulse in your fingertips, the quiet intensity of the moment settling over you. You couldn’t look at her, not now, not with your heart threatening to break free from your chest.

"Like this?" she asked, her voice a soft murmur, breaking through your spiraling thoughts. You nodded, the words caught in your throat.

"Yeah," you said, your voice sounding distant to your own ears. "Perfect. Just like that."

Maria didn’t move her hand away immediately, and you felt it, the heat of her touch lingering between you like a secret you weren’t ready to face. You could sense the shift in the air, like the quiet before a storm, but you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge it. Instead, you focused on the flowers, hoping to push aside the rush of feelings that threatened to overwhelm you.

Finally, you let go, your hands lingering for just a second too long, as if the air itself was holding onto that connection. You took a step back, your pulse still racing in your chest, unsure of what had just happened. Maria, too, pulled her hands back slowly, the moment slipping through your fingers like sand.

She smiled at her creation, a soft, knowing smile that seemed to pull at something deep inside of you. But just as quickly as the moment had bloomed, it was gone. You stepped back, still holding onto the flicker of warmth in your palm, but you didn’t dare look up to see if she felt it too.

Maria's eyes met yours, but you quickly glanced away, the weight of the moment too heavy to hold. "I think you’ve got the hang of it," you said, your words forced, like you were trying to fill the silence with something, anything, to mask the way your heart pounded in your chest.

She smiled up at you, her expression unreadable, but there was a softness in her gaze that hadn’t been there before. "Thanks," she said quietly, her voice a little more subdued, like the weight of the moment had settled over her too, "can you teach me more and some tips too?"

"Ah, yeah, can do."

While teaching her more about the basics; tips and tricks of arranging a bouquet, you found yourself stealing glances at the red carnations she'd bought from the shop. They were conspicuously absent from the room, and curiosity gnawed at you.

Finally, unable to hold it in, you asked, "hey, about the red carnations you always buy as some kind of 'tradition' you quote, where are they? I haven’t seen them around here."

Maria paused, her fingers stilling as she looked at you with a small, almost secretive smile. "Oh, about that..." she said casually, as though the answer was nothing at all. "I'm... hiding them, of course."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What, is this also a part of the tradition too? Ms. de la Rosa" you teased, trying to keep the mood light, though your heart was racing slightly in your chest.

She seemed to consider this for a moment, her gaze flicking toward the window before returning to you, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "Oh, you... But maybe," she said softly, her voice almost laced with something unspoken. "It's just for someone I may consider, I love."

"You... Love? You like someone?"

Her eyes sparkled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. She continued, her voice soft, almost affectionate. "I'll be honest, I guess so. They have this wonderful appearance, this cute demeanor, and this soft voice that’s... Well, it’s lovely. All of it is so charming." The way she spoke seemed so tender, so deliberate, and yet your brain still couldn’t quite connect the dots.

You nodded, keeping your response calm and friendly. "Sounds nice," you said, trying to mask the confusion (and somewhat jealousy that you don't know) swirling inside. You kept your tone light, not thinking much of it, but in the back of your mind, you couldn't shake the feeling that you had missed something.

Maria’s smile seemed to falter ever so slightly, just enough for you to notice if you were paying attention. But, not being particularly sharp in matters of the heart, you brushed it off, convincing yourself it was just a fleeting thought.

The visit was short, much shorter than you had thought. Maria’s work life was demanding, and she had to get back to it. After a few more minutes of flower arranging instruction, you left her home, your thoughts tangled in the quiet of the journey back. The red carnations still lingered in your mind, but more than that, it was her words that echoed, leaving you with more questions than answers.

What was going on with you, and about her? You couldn’t quite decipher it, but somehow, as you walked back to your home, the feeling that there was something more lingering between you both began to settle deep in your chest.

It was one of those quiet weekends where time seemed to slow down, the kind where the world outside felt distant and you could just relax into the comfort of your space. The only sound was the gentle hum of the air conditioner and the soft rustling of your blanket. You were sprawled on the bed, scrolling aimlessly, when your phone buzzed, slicing through the calm like a sudden gust of wind.

Hi againn, I just wanna ask something I would like to send my apologies which is right now before I send what I want to ask cause this might be a bit too sudden or unexpected hahaha.. can you send me your address? it's a bit important right now

You paused for a second, wondering what she could possibly need your address for. But without giving it too much thought, you typed it out, fingers moving quickly over the keys. You know her address and she should probably know yours too by now, right?

Another message followed shortly after you sent a reply including your full address.

Thank you <33 I'll be there in an hour or two

That’s when your pulse quickened.

"An hour or two?! She wasn't actually kidding—"

What was she planning to do? You glanced around your room in a mild panic, rushing to change into something a bit more presentable, since you looked like a mess right now. You opted for something that still felt casual enough for a lazy evening but formal enough to feel like you were making an effort.

You had been waiting for what felt like an eternity, each passing minute stretching longer than the last. Your nerves humming with anticipation. Just as you were about to settle your mind, a knock at the door jolted you from your thoughts. Your heart skipped a beat, adrenaline surging through you. You scrambled to answer, almost tripping over your own feet in your hurry.

And there she was.

Maria de la Rosa, standing at your doorstep with a radiant smile that could have brightened the entire block. Her presence seemed to fill the space, making everything feel lighter. But it wasn’t just her smile that caught your attention: it was the mysterious object hidden behind her back. You raised an eyebrow, curiosity bubbling up inside you, wondering what she was hiding.

"Hi," Maria said, her voice light but with an unspoken depth beneath it. It made your heart do a little flip, the soft tone of her words wrapping around you like a warm, comforting blanket.

"Hey," you managed to stammer, still a bit taken aback. "Thinking about it, you never told me why you're here."

Maria's smile deepened as she took a step closer, her eyes glinting with something you couldn't quite place. "I'll tell you," she said, her voice almost teasing. "Just once I'm inside and the door is shut, okay?"

The mystery hung in the air like a delicate thread, pulling you in, making your curiosity itch. You opened the door wider, stepping aside to let her in, your mind racing with questions. What was it she had to tell you that felt so important, so private?

She stepped inside, the door closing behind her with a soft click. There was a quiet tension in the air now, something charged that made the room feel a little smaller, a little more intimate. She took a deep breath, then spoke again, this time her voice softer but steady.

"You don't know how long I’ve been desiring this moment," she said, her voice light but carrying an undertone of something deeper. It fluttered something in your chest, the words wrapping around you like a soft, warm blanket. "And I thought I never knew someone that oblivious until you."

You stood still, a sense of confusion weaving through you, unsure of what exactly she meant. Her words lingered in the air, sweet yet cryptic, leaving you to untangle their meaning.

Maria, still holding something behind her back, watched you carefully, as if she were waiting for the pieces to click into place. The silence between you two stretched just a bit longer before she finally took a small step forward, her eyes softening as she spoke again.

"Yeah? I'm gonna be oblivious if I don't get a hint at all."

She chuckled softly, a light, teasing sound that only made your heart race more. Great, you look like a fool now. And you looked more like it, still reeling from her words, when you finally smelled something hovering the air.

It’s a scent that carries weight, like a secret or a memory waiting to be discovered, and in this moment, it envelops you completely. The red carnations, with their bold hue, seem to emanate a warmth that matches the scent itself. It’s as if they’re telling you something, inviting you to breathe them in deeper, to notice their beauty—not just in their color, but in the way they fill the air, making everything around you feel alive and in motion.

The scent of red carnations is undeniably rich, distinct, and evocative. Unlike the more delicate and subtle fragrances of some flowers, red carnations carry a deeper, almost spicy sweetness that draws you in. It's a fragrance that can be described as warm, like the earth after a fresh rainfall, grounded and vibrant at the same time. The scent is often a blend of clove-like warmth and a light floral sweetness, creating an aroma that's simultaneously comforting and a bit intoxicating.

As you breathe in, the sharpness of the floral notes lingers in your nostrils, while a soft, almost powdery undertone settles in your chest. There's a lingering note of something woody or herbaceous, adding to the complexity of the scent, reminding you of a garden after dusk, where the earth and flowers converge into a single, tangible essence. The fragrance isn’t overwhelming; it’s present, like a soft, persistent whisper, weaving through the air and gently caressing your senses.

"I’ve admired you since the first time I saw you," Maria said, her gaze never leaving yours." At first, it was just admiration, but then it turned into something more. Something I couldn’t ignore. You’ve always been unintentionally cute with your little quirks... Funny, caring, and just... Kind. Despite our busyness because of our careers, it still made me realize... I love you."

Her words hung in the air like a delicate perfume, surrounding you with warmth and a bit of awe. You stood frozen for a moment, your mind scrambling to catch up with what she was saying. Love? You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t seen it coming, but now that she had said it, everything felt... different.

Maria gently offered the bouquet of red carnations she’d made herself — just like you’d taught her. You could see the care she had put into arranging the flowers, each stem positioned with purpose. The same flowers she had bought from your shop weeks ago now symbolizing something far beyond just a customer’s simple order.

You took the bouquet from her, your hands trembling slightly as you met her gaze. The heat of the moment hit you, but so did the realization. You’d always cared for her. You’d always admired her, maybe even liked her in ways you hadn’t allowed yourself to recognize before. But now, everything was crystal clear.

"I... I love you too," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. Your heart raced, and you took a deep breath, gathering the courage to let the words spill out, words you had kept hidden for so long. "I always admired you too: everything about you. Your looks, your voice... they always drew me in, but I thought maybe it was just admiration. But, I always liked you and loved you."

As the weight of your words settled into the air between you two, the silence that followed felt different; comfortable, like the calm after a storm. Maria’s eyes twinkled with joy, her lips curving into a soft smile, almost like she couldn’t believe it either. You both stood there for a moment, caught in the whirlwind of everything just falling into place, before it all seemed to hit you at once.

And then, in the quiet warmth of the moment, you both burst into laughter, the kind that bubbled up from deep inside, releasing all the tension that had been building. It was a beautiful sound—unrestrained and genuine. You couldn’t help but laugh with her, feeling the weight of the world lift from your shoulders as the joy between you bloomed.

You embraced her arms too,

Maria wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, still grinning. "So," she said, her voice dipping lower, teasing, "does this mean I may... Kiss you?"

The air seemed to still for a second, the words hanging there like a promise. The question lingered in your chest like a tender secret you had both been waiting to acknowledge.

“Yes,” you said, barely able to suppress the smile that tugged at your lips.

And with that simple, yet profound exchange, Maria stepped closer, her presence almost electric now. The space between you felt like it was charged with an undeniable pull, the closeness of it making your heart beat faster. She leaned in, and time seemed to slow, the world outside your little bubble fading into a blur.

Her lips met yours in a soft, slow kiss — a kiss that tasted of sweetness and the promise of something new. There was a tenderness in it, like the first rain after a long drought. The warmth of her body against yours, the soft pressure of her lips, it all melded into a feeling of rightness, like everything had led to this moment.

The kiss was gentle, almost tentative, as though you both were savoring the newfound connection, unsure whether to rush or take it in slowly. Your hand, still holding the bouquet of carnations, the faint scent of the flowers lingering in the air, mixing with the soft warmth of her skin. It was a moment suspended in time, one that felt both completely new and strangely familiar, like the final piece of a puzzle clicking into place.

When you finally pulled away, there was a lingering softness, the air around you filled with the quiet contentment of shared emotions. Maria smiled, her eyes sparkling with a newfound light. "I’ve wanted this for so long," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath.

You playfully laugh knowing what to say next, "And I never knew I could be dating the Maria de la Rosa in my whole life!" you replied. Really, you would never knew in your whole life, not even as a possibility.

Maria chuckled softly at your words, her eyes gleaming with amusement, yet something deeper in them—something more vulnerable. She brushed a strand of hair from her face, looking at you as if she were seeing you for the first time, a new spark of warmth in her gaze. "Well, you know," she said with a playful smirk, "I’m not just the Maria de la Rosa you see on camera, you know. I’m just... Me."

Her voice was light, but it held the weight of a thousand unsaid things, the quiet vulnerability of someone who'd spent so much time in the spotlight that being seen for who they really were felt like both a gift and a risk.

You smiled back, the full meaning of her words sinking in. You had always admired her from afar, watched her from your little corner of the world, unsure if someone like her could ever look your way. But here she was, with you, and the world outside seemed to fade into the background. Everything felt so surreal, yet so real, as if the universe had quietly shifted to make this moment happen.

"Well," you said softly, your hand brushing against hers once more, a gentle reassurance, "I’m glad it’s you. I don't mind anything else." The words felt natural, a truth you didn’t realize you’d always known until now.

"Yes, but maybe let's keep this a secret for now," Maria murmured, her voice soft like the rustling of leaves in a gentle breeze. There was a vulnerability to it, an unspoken hesitation, but also a sense of trust. She looked at you, her eyes searching for your response, a subtle spark of hope flickering in them.

You nodded, the air between you feeling light yet charged with something deeper, a shared understanding. "No worries, I don’t mind it either that much since it makes sense, so of course," you replied, your voice steady, yet there was a small tremor of excitement you couldn’t quite hide.

Maria’s expression softened as if she’d been holding her breath all this time. Then, a small sigh escaped her lips, her gaze turning downward. "And before you say something: maybe I should’ve bought the other flowers for the bouquet..." she mused, a playful yet uncertain edge to her words, her fingers absently touching the petals of the red carnations in your hands.

The soft scent of the flowers hung in the air, mingling with the lingering warmth between the two of you. The carnations, with their delicate red petals, seemed to echo the very essence of her—beautiful, slightly wistful, but undeniably real.

But you were incredibly sure that wasn't she meant.

"Roses are more overused, so it's fine," you replied casually, your gaze lingering on the bouquet in your hands. "I don’t mind if there isn’t that much diversity with it." The red carnations seemed to whisper their own story; bold, simple, yet undeniably elegant. You couldn’t help but feel that, in their own quiet way, they spoke volumes about how Maria had expressed her feelings.

"Thank you so much," Maria sighed in relief, her eyes softening with a vulnerability that was rare yet beautiful to see. "And now that I’m here, and we are... dating, I’ve always wanted to spend time with you. Spend the whole day, or even every day together. So I was wondering if we could—"

"Always." You smiled, cutting her off gently, as your heart swelled with a newfound warmth. "I don't have much to do today either, so I’m more than glad that I can spend my time with you."

Maria’s smile deepened, her gaze steady as a quiet understanding passed between the two of you. "I’m glad too."

Ever since, you feel a sensation of blossom from the bouquet of the red carnations Maria handed you.

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