#like little metal succulents and flowers and other potted plants

[modishomeus]

Round Coffee Table Decor Ideas That Elevate Any Living Room

A round coffee table is one of the best furnitures to place in the middle of a living room, they are both useful and beautiful to look at. Curtains bring color and personality in the room; the same thing can be said about decorating a round coffee table. No matter what kind of interior design style you are incorporating a minimalist or a complete opposite it can set off an entire room if the coffee table is styled perfectly. For instance, you may add small decorative light bulbs that are available in the market for home decoration or even style up with luxurious modern wine decanter sets for the living room.

1. Use a Tray for Organization and Style

Tray is one of the simplest but subtle ways of decorating the round coffee table that can be used easily. Cup holders and trays are both elegant and practical in terms of organization and do a great job of classing up the product. Select the tray that fits into the modern luxury home decor; metallic trays give a sleek look and wooden trays are more naturally warm.

Place it with objects like designer drinking glasses, a little vase or even a modern teapot. This makes it an appealing appearance that only needs to rearranged occasionally when the tables are to be shifted. This way the tray helps to compartmentalize things and gives the decor a more intentional, selected vibe.

2. Add a Touch of Nature with Decorative Plant Pots

Plants on coffee tables are a great idea to bring life and color to the table. Choose decorative plant pots and make them pretty to complement the table size and color tone of the room. Lively plants regardless whether they are real or fake serve to give the appearance of a new look, and they complement other decorations like books or sculptures.

Select plant type that suits the decor style of your home. For example, a small round-shaped succulent is perfect for modern homes while a flowering plant is perfect for eclectic, designer homes. It remains fun to see that unique and textured decorative plant pots surround the coffee table.

3. Incorporate Books for a Personal Touch

Books are a great addition to any coffee table setup that is why they should be included. Accidentally, choose a few with a hard cover and beautiful pictures or bright color to match that of the room. Nest them one upon the other, on the tabletop, or inside another receptacle to give elevation and depth. Books are an obvious yet subtle method of bringing that extra identity to your coffee table.

To give it a personal flair, put some decorative figurines for home or a small modern sculpture decor on the very top of the pile. This just adds an extra level of creativity and it doesnÕt look haphazard and thrown together to create a display. Every home can have books as their decoration since they can be incorporated in any house style from a modern one to a rural one.

Add Warmth with Candles or Decorative Light Bulbs

Instead, candles are more suitable for setting the mood, especially, if it is evening. Put one or two candles at a coffee table to make the atmosphere warmer, and the light from the candles will be perfect. As for the decoration of a modern coffee table, the set can be complemented with decorative light bulbs. These bulbs can make your living room look more attractive and give your living room a warm look of comfort.

Select Christian candles whose fragrances reflect the current season, for instance, using fresher smells during springtime while using more aroma during the wintertime. Place them in a tray or besides a modern flower pot of an elegant contemporary design in order to achieve proper placement. These lighting elements may as well make your living room to appear more welcoming and cozy.

Conclusion

As it pertains to round coffee table you want your decor to be functional, aesthetic, and personality-projection enhancing. Everything whether the trays books plant or lighting element you install can help you decorate and make it a beauty point. To find the best clocks and home decor lights which are modern and elegant, you should visit Modish Home. Indeed, buying everything needed for the deeper transformation of a living room and the enhancement of the coffee table is possible when choosing Modish Home.

[vetra-furniture]

Boho Vibes With Vetra's Garden Furniture

Three elements make a perfect Boho outdoor setup – colors, greenery, and the right furniture. As far as the furniture items are concerned, Vetra, a reputed garden furniture manufacturer, has you covered. But, for a complete Bohemian outdoor decoration, you have to be more careful while choosing lighting, plants, and accessories like rugs, covers, etc.  Here are a few smart ways to turn your garden, backyard, terrace, or balcony into a Boho heaven. 

Use Broken or Salvaged Utensils

Do not throw away worn-out metal utensils like vintage chairs, watering pots, baskets, etc. Even rusty items will set the Boho environment right. The Bohemian decoration theme requires a touch of carelessness. 

But, you have to incorporate carelessness carefully. Boho magic is all about balancing between the old and the trendy. Therefore, broken China cups or saucers can fit into a Boho setting effortlessly. Gather a few used items and place them on a strap and rope table in a corner of your garden. 

Plant Trees Carefully

The next step remains to add a touch of green to your outdoor space. Boho decoration cannot be complete without three types of plants – succulents, plants with big leaves, and flowering creepers. Place the larger plants and creepers a little away from your sitting area. On the other hand, keep the succulents on your coffee tables. Place one of Vetra’s wicker sofas in your garden and keep a few succulents by its side. 

Choose Colorful Planters

Much like plants the selection of planters also plays a critical role in Boho-themed decoration. Make sure to pick colorful planters. Hand-painted planters, ceramic varieties, etc., do perfectly fine for this decoration.  Buy an outdoor teak table from Vetra and place the planters housing succulents on it. 

Pick Boho Style Fabric

Furniture items are critical for lending your garden a Bohemian look. Choose weather-proof wicker, cane, or outdoor teak furniture from Vetra for this purpose. These materials blend perfectly well with the natural surroundings of gardens and look stylish.

But, to lend the atmosphere a Bohemian dose, choose the covers of the furniture and cushions carefully. Since colors set the mood for a Boho setting, make sure to use shades like red, yellow, blue, orange, yellow, and green. Bold, right colors are ideal for a Bohemian atmosphere. 

Illuminate the Space Properly

No matter the cushions, furniture, plants, and planters you use for making your garden area a Boho-themed space, if you fail to illuminate the space warmly, your efforts will be in vain. 

Simple string lights, hanging from the branches of a tree in your garden, perfectly blend with the carefree spree of the Bohemian setup. For spotlight above the sofa or lounger, you can use wicker or bamboo chandeliers. You can also use fairy lights for Boho-themes areas. 

Vetra is one of the acclaimed manufacturers of garden furniture in India. Its extensive collection includes artistically crafted pieces made of weather-proof materials such as wicker, cane, outdoor teak, etc. To buy gazebos, cabanas, garden swings, sofas, chairs, tables, dining sets, cushions, and more, check out Vetra’s collection today.

[spectreleaders]

au where Rey is a hitchhiker with nothing but the clothes on her back and a small backpack of stuff, surviving on her own ingenuity & the goodwill of others

it’s a cold Thanksgiving, and Ben offers to take her to his parents’ house, at least for a bite to eat.

[ibis-gt]

aaaand have a short drabble for a borrower cam au too bc Por Que No Los Dos. uhhh major spoilers for an agatha christie novel but it’s not mentioned by name so. there you go.

When Cam first came across the little cottage in the woods, he heaved a sigh of relief. A human this close to his home was a blessing. He wouldn’t have to travel nearly so far to restock on certain supplies anymore. Anything metal or plastic he needed would likely be inside those walls, and he might even be able to snag some extra food. He really needed something to help him bulk up a little more for the coming winter; mouse pelts only went so far in keeping a body warm.

When he got inside, it was better than he could have possibly dreamed. The occupant was clearly concerned with the aesthetic of the place. There were odd bundles of dried herbs and flowers hanging from the ceiling, overflowing pots of succulents and ferns and other pretty plants, cutesy leaf patterns painted on the walls and over doorways, little throw pillows with mushroom and forest designs on overstuffed furniture. The whole place was cozy and quaint and straight out of a picture book. And after he’d gotten a look at the pile of stuffed animals in the bedroom, he knew he was set for life. Whoever lived here adored cute little things, and what was cuter or littler than Cam himself? All he had to do was stroll right up to them and introduce himself, and it was the easy life from here on out.

Oh, sure, he’d heard the horror stories of humans getting their hands on borrowers. But he’d also heard the success stories of borrowers getting all but adopted by the humans that had discovered them, pampered and adored and given everything their heart desired. He wasn’t much for daydreaming, but he couldn’t deny that the hard work of survival wore on a body, and more than once he’d thought about trying to get himself a human. And now this wonderful opportunity had landed right in his lap.

Cam took out his hair clip and combed his fingers through his hair, trying to work out all the tangles, before giving up and clipping it back again. He examined his reflection in a shiny ceramic plant pot. Adjust the poncho, wipe a bit of dirt off his face, check for anything between his teeth - okay. All good. He was looking his best and ready to get loved on.

The cottage’s occupant was lying on his back on the couch with a book and a glass of water. He’d finished the water some time ago and was now thoroughly wrapped up in his book. It was a murder mystery, and he’d made frequent guesses out loud to himself about the killer’s identity. He made one now.

“Oh, the secretary must have done it,” he said.

“Actually, it was the doctor,” Cam said, from his position on the arm of the couch inches away from the human’s ear. “Unreliable narrator, see.”

The human shot upright with a scream. Cam smiled at him.

“Hi, how ya doin’. Look, I live in these woods, and gosh is it a tough time out there. Wolves and birds of prey and the nastiest rodents you’ll ever meet. Sure would be nice if someone took me in and saved me from this horrible life of - whoa whoa whoa oh sHIT - ”

Cam leapt off the arm of the couch as the book thwacked into the space he’d just occupied. He landed on the coffee table, momentum carrying him forward into a roll. He sat up and whipped around just in time to see the man holding the empty glass over his head. Cam tried diplomacy one last time.

“Hey, listen, no need for all this, I just - ”

The glass thunked over him, mercifully open-side down. The human scrambled off the couch and ran to the other side of the room, hiding behind an armchair. Cam stared in open-mouthed silence through his glass prison. That... had not gone according to plan.

Across the room, Luther sat with his back pressed against the armchair and tried to slow his breathing to a normal rate. That... had been a tiny man. A tiny man who spoke to him. A tiny man who spoke to him and spoiled the ending of the book. What the hell was that all about? Were there more of him? Oh god, what if there were more, living in his walls, scrabbling around and -

To his horror, Luther realized he could hear a faint tnk tnk tnk noise coming from the room behind him. Slowly, he dared to peer over the edge of the armchair.

“HEY!” Cam yelled, voice muffled through the glass as he pounded his fist against it. “This is not how this is supposed to go! Get back here and dote on me, idiot!”

Luther ducked behind the chair again. Nope. Nope nope nope. He would not be doing that any time soon.

For another solid fifteen minutes, Luther cowered from a man a tenth of his size while Cam yelled obscenities, banged on the glass, and cursed his stupid luck. He finally gave up and sat down, putting his head in his hands.

Luther waited. The silence continued for a moment. Then, he heard something that chilled him to the bone. The faint but unmistakable sound of glass sliding across a tabletop.

In an instant, he vaulted the armchair and dashed to where the book had fallen on the floor. He slammed the volume down on top of the glass, pinning it in place. Cam, who had had to use every ounce of strength he had to move the glass even a few centimeters, threw his hands up in frustration at the added weight.

“Great! Leave me here to die, why don’t you!” His voice cracked, going hoarse from all the shouting. He kicked the glass, only succeeding in hurting his foot, and sat down again in a huff.

Luther got down on his knees and peered cautiously in at the tiny man.

“H-hello?” He managed to say.

Cam glared at him and gave a sarcastic wave.

“Um, are there more of you around?” Luther darted a nervous glance around the room.

“Nope. Just me here.”

“Oh, that’s a relief.” Luther ran a hand through his hair. “I just don’t think I could handle more than one of you. I mean, I can barely take care of spiders, you know?”

“I believe it,” Cam snorted. Then an idea came to him. “I could, though.”

“You could what?”

“I could take care of spiders. For you, I mean. I bet you get a lot in here, right?”

Luther grimaced. “So many! Oh god, and they’ve got all those legs, and they leave those horrible webs with all those insects in them... eugh.”

“Yeah, you don’t want to have to deal with all that. You want a professional.”

“A professional?” Luther echoed doubtfully.

“Exactly.” Cam spread his arms out wide. “You want someone who can go toe to toe with them, literally! You want someone on the spiders’ level. Well, he’s right here, and available for hire for the low low price of a place to sleep and a bite to eat.”

“Hmm.” Luther considered this. He looked critically at Cam for a moment. “I bet you don’t eat much, do you?” He mused.

“And I don’t take up too much space, either.” Cam waggled his eyebrows. “Whaddya say?”

Luther paused for a moment, then said, “Okay, sure. Just don’t spoil any more books for me and you’ve got a deal.”

Cam gave a sheepish grin. “Heh, sorry about that.” He waited for a moment. Neither man moved. “Soooo... are you going to let me out?”

Luther chewed his lip. “Yes. Absolutely.”

“...When are you going to do that?”

“Right... now.”

Another long moment passed.

“Okay, but see, you didn’t lift the gl - ”

“I’m working on it! Give me a minute!”

“Okay, okay, sorry.”

They stared at each other for another moment or two.

“Buddy. This is not how I want to spend my night. Let me out.”

“AAAaaaaokayokayokay.” Luther lifted the book and the glass and shot backwards onto the couch, curling into a ball and staring at Cam. Cam stared back at him curiously.

“You are... weirdly afraid of small things.”

Luther buried his face in his hands. “I knowww,” he moaned. “I’m sorry.”

“There, there,” Cam said. “We’ll work through it together, roomie.”

[cherrynojutsu]

Title: Like Gold

Summary: Sasuke grapples with love and intimacy regarding his developing relationship with Sakura after returning to the village from his journey of redemption. Kind of a character study on Sasuke handling an intimate relationship after dealing with PTSD and survivor’s guilt in solitude for so long. Blank period, canon-compliant, Sasuke-centric, lots of fluff and pining, slowly becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes beginning/ending author's notes

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Chapter 6/?: Roots

It's pouring rain by the time Sasuke awakens, a tempestuous sort of hush awash a village swathed in grey. He's gotten a very good night's sleep, only waking once around five to groggily hearken as the pitter patter of droplets began against the asphalt and metal of the roof. He'd watched the beads of liquid slowly connect to others, forming small rivulets pulled downwards by gravity on the glass of his bedroom window, before he made the decision to try to fall back asleep. To his bewilderment, it had actually worked; a rare occurrence, as it usually doesn't. No dreams, no nightmares, just blissful emptiness, like he was allowed for once to drink in the moisture of rest like a tonic, exuding into his being much like the precipitation trickling into the soil outside.

It's nine thirty when he rolls out of bed, reluctant to leave the warm requiescence of his comforter, but also wanting to give himself plenty of time to get ready. He'd like to shower before he heads over to Sakura’s, and he also wants to eat something light for breakfast first. He decides on ochazuke, because it’s relatively easy to prepare and he thinks he would like more tea; two birds with one stone. There are sesame seeds in his cupboard that he could sprinkle over the dish, at the end. He sets a portion of brown rice to boil before brewing a cup of the caffeinated green sencha to eventually seep over it.

It smells really good as it permeates into the hot water, earthiness propelling upwards and sinking into his nostrils. He'll have to thank her again today, now that he knows what her gift actually contained.

While he lets things stew, Sasuke considers the kitchen table, where he left the remainder of the gifts yesterday. Now is as good a time as any to find a place for each of them, he supposes. He makes quick work of washing the paring board before setting it aside to dry. The cough drops find a home in his bathroom's mostly empty storage behind the mirror; he takes the two lozenges left from the hospital and puts them there, too, to use before he opens any of the new packages.

He decides that the photo should go on the bedside table, next to the clock. He can always move it, if he changes his mind. It catches his eye for longer than is strictly necessary.

Eventually he returns to the kitchen, removing the strainer from the tea and stirring the pot of rice twice as he waits for it to finish cooking. The barrage has lessened since daybreak, not overly loud, but enough to create an ambient sort of background noise that is a nice change of pace; less of a storm and more of a quenched thirst for the earth, emptying from rooftops down the gutters and into the ground. Sakura’s building is older, too; it probably will sound much the same at her apartment.

He savors the ochazuke once it’s finished, a simple but enjoyable way to start the day, caffeine threading its way into his system gradually. Washing the dishes is his next task, followed by an extremely lengthy shower, temperature near thermogenic. The bruises from his two spars with Naruto are still sore, but not terrible; the heat feels good on the marred skin. Water drifts across more bruising that has bled into existence overnight on his shins, before it sinks between his toes and vanishes down the drain. He’s not sure why he watches it; it just seems compelling today for some reason, everything pulling downward.

When he’s dry, he throws on a comfortable pair of black pants and a matching long-sleeved shirt. He doesn’t want to read more of his book since he has a little less than half left of the one on kenjutsu, so he decides to complete some meal prep instead, testing out the paring board by chopping and slicing various produce; mushrooms, bell peppers, broccoli, carrots, tomatoes, green onions, and burdock roots are slowly removed from his fridge, cleaved into neat pieces, and then returned to their respective assortment of bags and containers. The small bits of metal attached to the board allow for cutting goods with ease, a bit ingenious. It works extremely well, much more efficient than the hassle of summoning a clone to simply stand there holding each item still. It’s not that he doesn’t have the chakra to spare, but it feels more dignified this way.

After enough time has passed, Sasuke pulls on a pair of grey socks, sandals, and his cloak before he leaves, library book concealed and protected by the black garment.

It’s marginally chilly outside, but not terribly cold like it would have been earlier in the morning. Petrichor overwhelms him, an aroma he is well acquainted with. He is reminded of the scent of the foliage the handful of times he passed through the Land of Rain, and also of drizzly days spent as a child here in Konoha. Every bit of vegetation he glimpses on the way to Sakura’s apartment complex is drinking up the liquid greedily, drop after drop of nourishment with which they will sustain themselves and use to grow.

The puddles are starting to join in their crevices, small streams of gentle cascades forming. It captures his attention like the shower drain did earlier, and it feels nostalgic for some reason, like there is some forgotten secret that the land beneath is whispering through the medium of interconnected pools, rippling outward until they touch more solid soil.

His hair is a bit damp when he arrives at her building just prior to eleven. Illumination flows from beneath doorways of variegated colors; everyone else is inside today, too. The tonality is similar to the harmony overheard at his own apartment, as he expected; he finds it comforting.

He knows he’s a little early, so Sasuke takes his time going up the stairs. Once he reaches the sage green of her threshold, he raps twice and waits, studying Sakura’s plants in their terracotta pots. There are a few amongst them that he doesn’t recognize, which is curious, given that he’s wandered so many places and has grown familiar with a vast diversity of flora. There is lucky bamboo pushed towards the back of the array, in the area that gets the least amount of light. A spider plant is to its left, and a golden pothos, along with a snake plant, are sandwiched to its right, towards the corner. A lilac moth orchid blooms near her door, a paler variety than he has seen anywhere else. Coral kalanchoe spill out the side of a taller planter, next to pink and pistachio mums, faded yellow butterfly ranunculus, and a small vessel filled with white daffodils, sunny insides flourishing outwards. There are succulents, too, tricolor lavender scallops sprinkled throughout several of the ceramic containers, along with a strain he doesn’t recognize.

Yarrow and jewelweed emerge from smaller pots on the edge of the spread, which makes him wonder if the few plants he’s unfamiliar with are being grown for useful purposes rather than decorative. Perhaps she keeps them for her work crafting antidotes; he knows that the roots of plants can often carry medicinal benefits. One of them is quite odd looking, now that he is peering down at it closely; dark plum-colored stems spread upwards with circular leaf-like shapes at the crown, trains of spiky white flowers budding from them. Another one he can’t identify has a tiny whitish yellow flower, dwarfed by the huge wrinkled leaves that surround it.

They appear as if they have been tended already, the loam damp as it is outside with no opportunity for warmth to dry them as of yet, though this verdure is more tame, less wild. She must water them in the morning. All of them are so different, yet they are all alike, too, stringy germinations and rhizomes expanding to suffuse through their similar planters.

Her door clicks open, and he shifts. Sakura smiles up at him, sunshine on a rainy day accented by a dimple, wearing an extremely comfortable-looking outfit: an oversized cream crewneck that slips off one of her shoulders a little, and a juniper pair of jogging pants that he thinks would be too long for her if not for the gathering at the ankles.

"Good morning, Sasuke-kun," she greets, eyes he loves radiant on his. "It's almost ready; come in."

He responds, “Morning,” and follows her inside, placing his library book on the console table momentarily, where her lamp is already switched on. As he shrugs off his cloak and toes off his sandals, she drifts back to the kitchen, something likely needing her attention there. He notices as she goes that there is an extremely fuzzy pair of beige socks on her feet.

As he hangs his cloak, he realizes that her apartment smells like roasted tomatoes and toasting bread, overpowering any vague notes of her tea cabinet in a way that makes his mouth water.

Sasuke reaches for his book from the console table and goes further into her living space, where the rest of her lamps are also turned on already; no hard lighting. He assumes they'll read on her couch, so he sets the text on the end table, closest to the side where he’d sat the previous night. There are two blankets thrown over the sofa now that weren't there yesterday, one appearing plush that is a color somewhere between mauve and lavender, and the other one a knit heather grey. It’s probable that they came from her bedroom; perhaps the walls are some variant of violet, a color he would not have expected.

As he turns, intending to join Sakura in the kitchen, his eye catches on a familiar photo, and he stops. Perched on one of the few empty areas of one of her bookshelves is their original Team Seven portrait, in a pale wood frame, near white. It's different in finish from the other frames adorning her walls near the kitchen, much lighter in color.

He is struck by it for multiple reasons; it wasn’t there yesterday, meaning it probably has also come from her bedroom, and it is very close in finish to the wood of the uchiwa fan he gave her as a birthday gift. He hasn’t seen it; Sasuke knows most women keep ornamental fans like that in storage for safekeeping. He vaguely recalls his own mother used to keep hers, though less ornate and made of paper rather than silk, in boxes, stored securely for future use at festivals and such in her closet. She’d shown them to him, once, and he’d seen her carrying them on special occasions, from time to time.

Sasuke studies the picture and the wood grain for a long moment, gaze softening. He wonders if she moved it out here to make him feel more at home.

He breaks his contemplation by making his way to her kitchen finally, where Sakura is flipping a grilled cheese sandwich over in a pan, one of two. A slow cooker lies atop the counter, lid condensed with moisture, with plates, bowls, and spoons laid out next to it.

It smells really good.

Green eyes fall on him, bright and filled with exuberance. "These are on their last minute, I think, so if you wanted to, you could dish up the soup while I finish them. There’s a ladle in there.” She gestures towards the drawer beneath the counter where the slow cooker rests. “It's tomato miso; I hope you like it. It should be done by now.”

His stomach suddenly feels tied in knots in the best sort of way. A gilding of warmth spreads throughout his entire being, veins and arteries and capillaries slowly immersed in something numinous.

“...I’m sure I’ll like it,” he murmurs, reveling in the blush that inks its way onto her cheeks, all the way back on her cheekbones to surround the freckle he’d touched yesterday. She looks away shyly, grinning like he has given her some grand compliment. The corners of his own mouth twist upwards.

Sasuke pulls the ladle from the aforementioned drawer, where it sits amongst other utensils, setting it in one of the bowls already placed on the counter. When he removes the lid, his olfactory senses instantly flood with a wave of savory miso; by the aroma, she must have used red, middle range, a perfect foil for the acidity of tomatoes. When he grabs the ladle again, he stirs it a few times; quartered shiitake mushrooms, kombu, scallions, and tomato chunks - he thinks they are of the plum variety - circle the pot, filling it near to the brim just below the surface. Sakura has made a considerable amount of it, much more than is needed for a single meal for two.

He shifts the plates closer to the slow cooker, bowls set atop them, before ladling soup in, careful not to spill and making sure to get an even mixture of produce with which to fill the broth in each. He rinses the ladle clean, and she mentions that there are small plates in the cupboard to his upper left, to rest the ladle on; he grabs one as she moves to open a different cupboard behind him.

Sasuke returns the lid to its place to trap in the slow cooker’s heat, rotating the dial from hot, past low and into the warming setting. When he turns back to Sakura, she’s shutting the stove off and moving the pan to a cool burner. Both of the sandwiches are resting on a cutting board, sliced diagonally.

The sandwiches smell really good, too. She veers the halves onto the empty space of the plates using the knife, before leaving it, along with the paring board, in the sink.

They each grab a plate and spoon before heading to her dining table, in front of the northern window. The dangling market lamp is already turned on, and fat droplets are slipping down the glass.

It’s a calming lunch they share, a steady lulling of inclement background noise alternating between bites of sandwich and spoonfuls of soup as they watch the street below. The avocado is good in grilled cheese; it’s something he would have never thought to add. Sakura dips hers into her soup, so he tries it, too, and finds he likes it even better that way. The soup on its own is something else, though; filling and savory, near perfectly spiced. She’s a good cook.

“It’s good. Thank you,” he compliments halfway through as she chews and swallows a bite.

She beams at him. “You’re welcome.” She studies him before adding, “There’s enough for leftovers, if you’d like any more.”

He nods and takes another mouthful, looking out the glass thoughtfully. The residential buildings across the way are also lit up, soft light blurred through the fractals of raindrops.

“Do you think Naruto’s doing his homework on a day like today?” Sakura asks eventually.

“Tch.” He turns his gaze to her. “I doubt he’s even awake yet.”

Her grin is mischievous. “You’re probably right. It's his weekend. No Hinata around to wake him up? Definitely still asleep.” She sighs exaggeratedly. “Kakashi-sensei will be so disappointed. Though it’s better than copying someone else’s, I guess.”

“...Did he used to copy yours?” He’s more amused by that prospect than he should be, though he’s pretty sure he knows the answer.

Sakura furrows fine pink brows as if she knows that he knows the answer, too, but she’s still smiling. “He used to ask if he could. I was too good of a student to let him.”

“...Figures.” A ghost of a smile overtakes him, a cleansing sort of sentimental fondness for bygone days during which their third squad member was at his most annoying.

“I think Shikamaru used to let him. It was too much effort to say no that many times.”

Sasuke exhales through his nose, a rendition of a laugh as she takes another bite of her sandwich, dipping it first in the soup and looking amused. Nara would.

He also takes another bite, and mulls over his next words.

Swallowing beforehand, he inquires, “...What’s in Suna?”

Sakura blinks in surprise, analytical eyes quickly working out that he’s referring to her comment yesterday at Ichiraku’s. She turns to the window, smirking and chewing her food as if considering something of great importance. The dimple sinks in and out as her mouth moves; he averts his eyes back to his plate before he gets caught staring.

When she swallows, she’s quiet for a long moment, then says ambiguously, “I’m not sure I should say anything. Insider knowledge.”

Interesting. Sasuke is sure she has the same friendly camaraderie with Nara that she has with everyone else, but he assumes the insider knowledge must have actually come from Ino; she is the type to know everyone’s business, given how much she apparently shares her own with Sakura, and she is Shikamaru’s teammate, though they're both Jonin now.

“...No hints?” He presses, pinning her with a stare. Now he’s more curious; it must be something good, if it’s a secret of this magnitude.

She bites her lip, still grinning, then bites into her sandwich, watching precipitation race down the glass.

“One,” she finally acquiesces, as if it’s a monumental conspiracy. He raises an eyebrow in anticipation.

“It’s in Suna sometimes. Other times, not.”

He narrows his eyes and suppresses an urge to twitch, because that could really be anything, given their line of work, but based on her bemused expression, he’s not going to get more than that. He settles for studying her until she looks elsewhere, a shy giggle escaping her throat as if this is very funny.

“Sorry. Not mine to tell.” She raises another spoonful of soup to her lips.

“...But Kakashi knows?”

She swallows. “Oh, yes. He might have known before anyone else caught on.”

“Naruto?”

Sakura appears to be deliberating. “...Mmm, he’s more observant than when we were kids, so he might. I kind of doubt it though. They’re pretty good friends now, but…”

Sasuke hadn’t known that. He waits for her to finish her thought, staring at her pointedly. Her gaze flicks back up to his after a second.

She shrugs, then. “He’s a good strategist. I kind of think he’ll hold a higher-up position, once Naruto becomes Hokage, if Kakashi-sensei doesn’t promote him before that. He’d be an asset as an adviser.”

Shikamaru became the chief coordinator of the Shinobi Union, after the war. That type of advancement would make a lot of sense. He would be well-suited to assist the Hokage even now, moreso in a few years. It speaks to Naruto’s increase in awareness, Sasuke thinks, that he would be planning ahead to compensate for areas he is less strong in by appointing sensible counsel. A clan head is an astute choice, especially one who has put in efforts to make peace.

It’s odd, to think of the roles everyone in their generation has come or will come to fill, the more he considers it. Distinctively different plants with roots distending into analogous vessels, like the terracotta ones on Sakura’s doorstep.

“Nara’s a good choice for that,” Sasuke finally says, realizing he should respond.

Sakura inclines her head before lifting her bowl to her mouth to drink the last of her broth. She’s finished her sandwich now. He’s about finished with his, too.

This is nice, he thinks as she smiles at him before glancing outside again. “It’s really coming down now, huh?”

It’s the type of question that doesn’t really need an answer, but he nods anyway, because it is. Meager ponds are collecting in the street, rills tracing pathways over the awnings of the building across the thoroughfare. Pitter patters on the roof have grown in intensity to rival those of the early morning. It reminds him almost of the summer monsoons Konoha tends to get, though this clearly isn't one, still being in the throes of spring. Moisture is good for roots, he supposes.

He sips the last of the broth from his bowl, and she looks back to him. “Would you like another bowl? Or maybe some tea? I can brew some while I do the dishes.”

Sasuke considers the offer. It was a pretty filling meal, the soup piquant and packed with produce as it was. “...Tea would be good. I can help.”

Sakura seems like she’s going to protest, so he adds, “Thank you for the sencha… and the rest. I didn’t have loose leaf yet; I like it.”

She flushes, smiling at him softly. “You’re welcome.”

A silence filled by drizzle passes in which they regard each other, and then she’s standing to collect her plates, so he follows her example and grabs his own before trailing behind her to the kitchen.

It’s early enough still that they can have caffeinated tea, so she cycles through the loose leaf options she has as the sink fills with suds; matcha, chai, ginger peach, white monkey, and rose bouquet white. “The white monkey isn’t as sweet as it usually is; I think I got a unique batch. It’s more woody and peppery than anything; I’ve been mixing it with matcha.” There are the pre-packaged versions, too, but she doesn’t read them off, since they have more specifically sweet flavors, like caramel vanilla, banana dessert, and strawberry shortcake.

He picks white monkey at her recommendation of it not being too cloying, and she grabs one of the banana dessert pre-packaged tea bags for herself. Sakura makes short work of setting the water in the kettle to boil before procuring two teacups and siphoning some of the white monkey blend into a small strainer she pulls from another drawer.

Once she’s done that, she unplugs the slow cooker and reaches for something from a lower cupboard - two hand towels - to put on the counter; he assumes one is to utilize as a dish mat and the other is to actually dry with.

“If you really want to, you can dry… But you’re a guest, so you don’t have to,” she murmurs, expression affectionate in a way that makes his neck warm.

So Sasuke helps. She washes and rinses - her dish soap is lemon-scented - and strategically sets each piece atop the first towel he’s laid out. He dries one side of the plates and bowls, then flips them over one-handed to dry the other, stacking them on the clean expanse of counter to his right. It doesn’t take very long with them working together. When she goes to empty the sink, she gives it a scrub and a rinse with the soapy sponge she’s been using, efficient as always, before rinsing any remnant suds from her own hands.

“I can show you where everything goes,” Sakura says, so Sasuke helps her put things away, too, mentally cataloging what’s in each cupboard for future reference. Her storage system is well thought out, organized in a way that makes the most sense for the layout of the space.

When she reaches upwards to put the cutting board back in its place, the sleeve of her top slips further to one side, gravity pulling the fabric downwards on her slender frame and exposing some of the skin of her upper back. There is a dusting of tiny freckles just above the interior portion of her left shoulder blade that he hadn’t known was there. The way they are scattered reminds him of serpens caput, missing only one of the constellation’s general equivalent of stars. He forces his stare away, ears reddening, when she turns to remove the pot from the slow cooker.

“Thank you for helping.” Sakura adds coconut creamer and sugar to her own cup of tea, stirring. “Would you like lemon with this one?”

Sasuke thinks, still a little distracted by dainty freckles, before shaking his head. If it’s woody and peppery, he’ll probably like it fine on its own. She pushes his teacup towards him on the counter with a look that tells him to test it, so he does, and finds he was right; it’s herbaceous, with a scant amount of woodiness and pepper lurking underneath. Maybe the tiniest hint of sweetness, but barely.

“It’s good,” he tells her quietly, before taking another sip.

Apparently the grey blanket is reserved for him; she takes the lavender once they head to the living room, curling up on one end of the couch with it, tea and her book on the table. Based on her bookmark, she’s about halfway through hers. Sasuke does the same on the other end, mirroring her pose, back propped towards the side of the couch with feet extending to the middle rather than going off the front. He keeps his knees slightly bent so he doesn’t invade her space too much, though he doesn’t think she would mind.

He steals one last glance at her before opening his own book to get lost in the different ways to wield a blade. The rain on Sakura’s roof is ataractic, accented by the pleasant smell of tea, the sensation of a full belly, and a warm blanket that smells like her, though it’s more raspberry this time than any lingering antiseptic.

It’s nearly three by the time he finishes his book, mind swimming with descriptions of sword forms. Sasuke peeks at her and sees she’s almost done, too, so he rereads the more engrossing passages, the ones that were particularly well fleshed-out. He’s so relaxed that he thinks he could fall asleep despite the caffeine, if he closed his eyes for more than a few minutes; focusing on rereading should help him stay awake.

Sakura closes her book after a bit; he looks upward at the sound, meeting green.

“How was your book?” She asks, lips twisting upwards; she must have noticed he finished his, despite still reading her own.

"...Good."

“Learn anything?”

“...A bit.”

Her smile widens as if she is amused; maybe he should elaborate, but he’s not sure if practical applications of swordsmanship are something she’s interested in.

Evidently they are, because she questions, “Care to share?”

Sasuke begins explaining the concept of iaido, derived from iaijutsu, the samurai skill of drawing one’s sword and cutting in the same movement, rather than cutting from an assumed stance after already drawing the weapon. It’s a simple idea, one he’s experimented with in the past, but there had been illustrations on a few of the pages showing different forms, and two of them he has never attempted. The pictures helped; he thinks to himself when he visits the library again, he’ll seek out one containing more visual aides.

He expounds upon the chapter on dual swordsmanship, too, primarily utilizing one sword to attack and another to defend; the defensive stances detailed are some he would like to try, specifically tailored as they are to be used with one arm. Some of them he’s already used intuitively, but one of the forms captured his attention, involving a slight variant sweeping of the blade to repel an attacker that would situate them at a more advantageous angle. It could be useful, if he ever needs to draw an enemy into a trap.

“Interesting,” Sakura remarks, and it seems genuine. Maybe it is interesting, in the case of someone who has, at least to his knowledge, never used a sword. He would like to ask her about medical ninjutsu sometime. “So it was a good read?”

He inclines his head to indicate yes. “...And yours?”

Sakura grimaces. “It… wasn’t terrible, I suppose. I didn’t really like the author’s writing style. Ino and I differ in that regard. She reads things more for the story itself than the way it’s told, so sometimes this happens.”

Sasuke raises an eyebrow so she’ll clarify. She shifts slightly, bringing a finger to her chin in thought. “It was too… straightforward. Limited and repetitive vocabulary, not a lot of dialogue structural variation, though it’s well-researched; I’ll give it that. It takes place during the second Shinobi War. A civilian woman’s husband going off to battle, they have to evacuate the area, the costs of conflict, that sort of thing. The ending was sad…” Her voice trails off, punctuated by the plunk of deluge, then she adds, “I guess it makes sense that the protagonist would think in limited language given the rudimentary basic education structure of everything back then, but it’s not very… poetic. It was like the author felt nothing as they wrote it, a kind of detachment from the whole thing.”

He suppresses an urge to smirk, reminiscing on her letters and extensive vocabulary. “...You like poetry.” It’s just an observation, but it’s something he hadn’t known about her, prior to now. Very Sakura.

Color floods across her cheekbones, and she looks at him with an expression that is very tender, as if there’s something else she would like to say. He could stare for hours, entranced by her as he is. “...I do.”

Sasuke wonders, then, if any of the books on her bookshelves are poetry books. He hasn’t read the titles carefully. It occurs to him that she might have more books in her bedroom, now that he’s thinking about it. When he was younger, he used to keep many of his own in his room, too, sorted by genre.

“Did you finish your other book already?” Sakura asks him, then, expression inquisitive.

He nods, eyeing her as he contemplates what he would like to say. He decides not to phrase it as a question this time; he wants her to offer, so he knows he's not requesting too much. Give her an out. She trains with Ino in the morning on Mondays and has lunch with her after, but she hasn’t said anything about her plans for the afternoon.

There’s still something in him that’s nervous, tightening as he speaks, careful to specify time. “...I was thinking of going tomorrow afternoon to get some new ones.”

Her smile unfurls slowly; Sakura really can read him well. “...I was, too.”

His chest rushes with warmth, anxiety released in a single relieved breath; it's not too much, then. The corner of his mouth quirks up, and that seems to encourage her, because she adds, “Ino and I are usually done with lunch by around one. It’s supposed to be nice out, I think. We could…” Her voice trails off, as if she’s considering. “...We could meet at the library around one thirty, and then maybe… take books to a quieter area to read, after. If you want. I... think I know a spot that should be fairly dry by then.”

“...I can meet you here,” Sasuke offers in a low voice, a confession he's more comfortable with now. The way she glows in response as she agrees is captivating.

Sakura invites him to play go with her, after. He agrees, because he wants to, and also because he doesn’t want to leave just yet. They set up the board on her dining table, a gridded battlefield of sorts beneath the market light.

She absolutely demolishes him in the first round, carefully surveying the board before each play of her white stones with careful calculation and syllogism. It’s to be expected, because she has always been smarter than him, but also because he hasn’t played in years and is woefully out of practice, ill-prepared to deal with this sort of onslaught. The second round is closer, but he still loses. It’s a challenge, as he knew it would be; Sasuke finds her moves to be quite roundabout, more about the long haul tactics of trapping than any short and quick route to victory. There are times where he realizes he unknowingly played right into a ruse more than five turns previous.

It’s four thirty by the end of the second match. Sakura’s attention flashes to the clock once as she puts away the board; he helps, sorting his own black pieces into their respective container. He will have to head out soon, though he’s not looking forward to it. He is quite comfortable here, with her.

“It’s still coming down out there,” she muses as she rises to store the box, peering through the glass before turning to make her way to the bookshelf she’d retrieved the set from earlier.

“...It is.” He gazes out the window, distracted by the puddles and their ripples below them in the street. It feels almost as if something is tugging on him to focus on them, suggesting something orphic, beyond simple rainwater.

The soft clicking of teacups and small plates being collected from her coffee table resounds behind him, so he turns to her, thinking he could offer to help wash them.

“I made enough soup for leftovers, so if you want to take some home, you can.” Sakura says, before the words make it out of his mouth. Outwardly he remains blank-faced, but something in him sighs. He’s not really sure what he's going to do with the rest of the day. Sparring with Naruto would be unwise on a day like today; he’d probably catch a cold. He could go by a store and buy a book to read, he supposes.

Being back in Konoha is odd like that. He used to just… walk, if he didn’t have anything to do on his journey, or read her letters, but now that he has had the opportunity to spend time with her, he selfishly just wants more of it. Time spent alone seems dimmer in comparison.

He would like to take some soup back to his apartment, though. It was kind of her to offer; he should probably say something.

She looks contemplative when he looks to her, though, carefully clutching porcelain, and thank you lingers in his throat, unspoken.

“Or… If you would like to stay for dinner, and do something after... you could.”

The faintest of stings begins behind his retinas, something long in the tooth stirring, aged roots buried so deeply he had perhaps forgotten they ever existed in the first place. He thinks it is the feeling of being wanted, of having a place in someone’s home.

He hopes she’s offering because she genuinely wants him to stay. She has a mountain of responsibilities, he knows, although it is her day off.

“...You’re sure?”

Pink brows furrow as if she’s confused how he could ask such a thing; she shuffles her weight slightly from one foot to the other. “Of course.”

An interlude passes in which the torrent measures time, the beat of a ballad that is very old. Her next words are hushed, pianissimo lyrics that he’s sure she has no idea just how much he has yearned for; she’s biting her lip and peeking at him from beneath pink lashes as she says them.

“I missed you, when you were gone. You… can fill as much of my free time as you’d like.”

The daunting prospect of a lonely evening evaporates completely. His tongue feels tied up in his mouth, but he nods, hoping she can read in his eyes his gratitude; he’s fairly certain that if he spoke, it would come out hoarse, not at all suitable as a response to the song she has just offered to him.

Sasuke thinks that she can see it just fine, because she gives him a breathtaking smile that could sustain him for a long time, a drop of honey added to an overflowing teacup in which he sips the surplus, with a tinge of an aftertaste that isn’t too sweet for his liking.

The dishes are tackled together. After they finish, she reheats tomato miso soup and cooks two more sandwiches for supper. Another meal is shared at her dining table, overcast skies overlapping into evening, the lights from the windows of Konoha glowing more and more as time passes. It’s just as good the second time, flavorful and filling.

They watch a geology-focused documentary on her television about lava, earthquakes, and landslides. Sakura questions him afterwards about the little time he was in the Land of Volcanoes, south of the Land of Mountains. He hadn’t stuck around for any extended time due to the extreme heat, but what time he did spend there is seared into his memory due to the intensity of it. He had come rather close to one of the region’s volcanoes, within sight of a smoking center mere miles away with lava tendrils trickling outwards, in the process of cooling but still alarmingly hot.

It makes him feel more appreciative for the rain here today, recalling it. Here in Konoha, he could touch the streamlets if he wanted to; he doesn’t need to keep a distance.

They follow up the documentary with a movie after; this time he tells Sakura to pick one. It’s unique, including some fantasy elements, about a struggle between the gods of a forest and the humans living on its edge that consume its resources. The protagonist is cursed by an animal attack, and seeks out a cure from one of the deities. While traveling, he sees other areas in which humans are ravaging the earth and warring with the gods of nature, a thought-provoking contrast considering they’ve just viewed a program detailing the inner mechanisms and wrath of volcanic eruptions, much like gods of nature in their own rights. The conclusion is open-ended; though the hero tries to broker a peace between humanity and the spirits, there is no feeling of resolution or success, no guarantee that one side will mediate with the other. It isn’t quite what he expected it to be, but he notes that the characters were quite realistic, allowing for the viewer to identify with them and better experience what they must be feeling secondhand; it was not told in a detached sort of way as she’d said the book from earlier had been.

Sakura makes earl grey tea, after, and they visit for the better part of another hour, quiet voices awash in auriferous lighting, relaxed by bergamot malt and lemon slices. She inquires about his travels, which places overall were his favorite in the four other great nations. The way she looks at him as he answers makes his heart thump, as if she is hanging on his every word.

It’s near eleven at night by the time he rises for the entryway. The kiss they share before he leaves feels like the drizzle of the rainwater outside, mellow collections grown slowly but surely deeper from time spent together, inexplicably telluric like submerging into soil.

He steps in a few unavoidable collected pools of moisture on his way back to his own apartment, drenching his socks. It makes him feel strangely nostalgic again for some reason, a reminder of a place’s capacity for change, to absorb something and thrive again.

Sasuke has seen many parts of the world now, absorbed as much as he can through his brother’s eyes, and has just relived his favorites by describing them to Sakura. She didn’t ask him about his favorite place in the Land of Fire, though.

It may easily become Sakura’s apartment.

XXX

When he sinks into slumber, he is pulled further downwards into a memory from a very long time ago, something quondam that has since dissolved.

The recollection is hazy in the ways that dreams are, slightly murky as if he is viewing it through a puddle tinged with the loam of Konoha, but perhaps there is something about Sharingan vision even unactivated that embeds the visual acuity into one’s optic nerves, to live there in perpetuity for eventual retrospect. It is one of his earliest memories, he thinks; he would have been maybe four, meaning Itachi had to have been nine or ten, though there is no one he can ask to confirm.

There had been a summer monsoon, perhaps the first one he was old enough to remember, water temperate enough to exult in without catching cold. Their mother warned them not to be outside too long in the storm, and occupied the covered porch, observing them to make sure they heeded her will. There had been no precipitation for a while prior - he thinks there may have been a drought - so the moisture was welcome. Plashets collected in their sprawling yard, causing Mikoto Uchiha’s prized white lilies to appear as if they were emerging from small lakes. She had expressed concern that they may drown upon Sasuke’s examination of them, framing the boundary of their home, but he, in that naive viridity that small children have before the world beats it out of them, thought they were strong enough to persevere.

“I’m sure you’re right, Sasuke,” his brother had said supportively, before showing him a path that allowed a step in every puddle on their family’s grounds. They had raced to the far end of their property and back; he had clumsily fallen at the end of the first pass, getting soaked, as if he wasn’t already from the warm rain coating both of them from the ashen sky above. Mud stuck between his toes, squelching and cushioning his fall while simultaneously making him filthy. It had sloughed off so easily back then in the deluge, corroding all at once and bleeding into the mess of their yard to immediate murky liquidity.

Itachi helped him up by his left hand, getting covered in his muck before the water rinsed their digits clean, and then he was being challenged to a second sprint. Sasuke emerged victorious this time, though now, looking back with eyes that are not his own, he realizes his brother obviously let him win, trained Shinobi that he was by that point. Coming to terms with that is horrifying, because he can see now that his brother was still just a child, wisdom beyond his years be damned. Sasuke is sure Itachi would have to have killed people on missions by then, completely at odds with the soft-spoken and gentle countenance he portrayed at home.

Eventually there was enough drizzle that miniature rivers of connected pools formed, capillaries of nourishment interlacing everything. Sasuke had been fascinated by the changing landscape, until Itachi had ambled up to the porch to speak with their mother. Disappointment swept into him like a tide; he had thought that his brother didn’t want to play with him anymore. But then their mother had risen and gone indoors, and Itachi motioned for him to join him at the edge, beneath the awning.

She came back carrying a small pile of paper, which confused him. He’d watched, enthralled, as Itachi folded one of the pieces into something reminiscent of a boat, simple yet perfect.

“If you put them by the gutter, the force will push them sailing across the yard,” his brother had said; he remembers the inflection so clearly, strange because it is from a time when Itachi was young enough to have the voice of a child, so unlike the rich timbre he’d held later in life.

He had trailed after his brother to the gutter, and sure enough, the paper boat was propelled by the rain streaming down from the roof; it took off as soon as Itachi let go. Sasuke had stomped after it with approximately zero grace, mud coating him up to his ankles, until it reached the boundary fence, saturated through and less buoyant due to the barrage of droplets dampening it from above.

The absolute joy he felt, when he had sprinted back to tug on his brother’s sleeve to ask if he would show him how to make one, and he’d agreed. They’d returned to the pile of paper guarded from the elements by their mother, and Itachi showed him each step, creating another one alongside him as an example. His small hands were not very coordinated back then; his boat hadn’t turned out as nice, all wrinkled sloppiness instead of crisp, clean folds.

“You just need more practice,” Itachi had murmured. “My first one was messy, too. I’ll help you.”

Larger hands had closed around his, creating skillful creases and shaping with dexterity. The second boat turned out much better. Sasuke had given his first one to his mother, then, so she could race, too. Remembering the smile, the genuine look of motherly gratitude she’d given him, bruises something in his soul, precipitation on frail roots entombed deep; it reminds him of the struggle of swallowing a gulp of water after traipsing through the desert, dry mouth making it almost painful, a gargantuan effort that takes everything in him not to look away.

She’d followed them from the porch over to the corner eaves, staying under the cover to avoid getting drenched, and the three of them had released their creations. Sasuke thinks they had to have given him a small headstart, surrendering theirs just after his, so his boat would make it to the other end of the yard first. He’d run after it, Itachi meandering along behind him at a slower pace, while their mother stayed beneath the awning.

His brother had smiled at him as he jumped puddle to puddle in glee. They’d grabbed the now-soaked paper boats at the conclusion of their path, and brought them up to the porch to set in a pile. Then they constructed and raced more, a veritable treasure of a late morning. For his last of the day, Sasuke had tried folding one on his own again, and it turned out better than his first attempt. Though a little lopsided, it hadn’t capsized, sailing strong in the current unaided just like Itachi’s.

Their mother had made them shower and then drawn them a hot bath after, to ensure they were clean and warmed. She had parted his toes to get the mud stuck there out, soil spiraling and dissolving down the drain as he watched. He’d splashed Itachi in the bath after, and folded one more boat with a piece of paper his mother brought him, so he could see how much time it took for it to sink without getting flooded from above, an experiment in buoyancy.

She made miso soup with rice for a late lunch, with something from their aunt and uncle’s shop as a treat after, some variety of warmed pastry. Itachi had let him try his in addition to his own; Sasuke’s had been strawberry, but Itachi’s tasted of peach, gooey sweetness to top off a perfect day that wasn’t even over yet. Their mother must have made herself some tea, too; he remembers the aroma of jasmine filling the space, warmed by lamplight cast on dark wood. When she’d told Sasuke it was time for a nap, he’d become extremely sullen, because he didn’t want to sleep; he’d wanted to spend more time with his brother. It wasn’t often he was home for a full day, prodigy that he was by then and always on missions.

Itachi had surprised him. “I’ll take a nap, too. It's important to rest sometimes. You can join me, Sasuke.” His refusal morphed instantaneously to greedy acceptance. Sasuke crawled into bed with his brother in his room, huddled in the comforter for warmth as the deluge continued for hours, the dousing on their roof and peaceful breathing composing a conciliating symphony with which to lull him to sleep. Eventually he'd succumbed, tuckered out and content, though he'd tried to stay awake as long as he could so he didn't miss out on time with Itachi.

Ten year olds don't usually take naps. His brother may have feigned sleep just to get him to do as their mother wanted. That realization is trenchant, too, sharp like a blade, because it’s a cycle that would repeat itself until Itachi’s end, Sasuke never understanding until the moment had passed, always a step behind and looking backward instead of forward.

When he’d awakened later in the evening, he’d smelled food cooking, miyabi soup and some kind of grilled fish. Itachi hadn’t been beside him anymore, but after blinking groggily, his brother had appeared like an apparition in the door frame.

“Dinner’s almost ready, Sasuke.”

Drizzle is still pummeling his apartment building when he rouses in a dark bedroom, alone. No one appears in the door frame this time as he blinks unsteadily, throat choked before the silent tears come, because this memory aches, haunting his heart like some kind of drowned spectre, dripping muddy stains onto clean floors. Sasuke moves to wipe them away with his left hand, the one Itachi used to help him up from the mire, until he remembers that he doesn’t have a left hand anymore. Making a paper boat now would take twice as long.

Everything in him hurts, marcid marrow writhing in his bones as if they are dead roots that have gotten a drink after a decade spent in drought, someone trying to nurse something deceased or rotting back to life. He goes to the memorial stone under the tenebrose cover of two in the morning, but it doesn’t feel like his brother is there. All he has of him are the eyes drowning in his sockets and excruciating retrospection, intermixing with the rain soaking him outwardly.

I miss you, he thinks as he tries not to asphyxiate on the memory, hoping that his mother at least hears his thoughts here, echoed in the ponds collecting around the stone that bears her name. He has to leave eventually, because he starts picturing white lilies emerging from miniature lakes, full of life and swaying with wind and torrent, instead of cold and motionless grey granite, and he thinks he is going to start sobbing.

Sasuke returns to his apartment after the better part of an hour and stares out his living room window, nursing a miniscule cup of sencha tea, weak so as not to unsettle him too much. The weather lets up eventually, turning from a drench to a drip between the fine branches of the cherry blossom tree across the street. The puddles slowly begin to sink in, though there are remnants of dirt collected in the grooves of the pathways due to the overflow. The tree is starting to lose its petals; they float atop the collected areas of water, a hint of hope buoyant atop sorrow like a paper boat.

He isn't at all hungry, but Sakura said he should try to gain weight, so he forces down a very early breakfast of plain rice, tasteless, before he goes to rifle through the box in the closet. He averts his eyes as he lifts the lid, fumbling to turn the photo upside down without looking at it and moving it to the bottom of the container before sifting through Sakura’s letters.

He picks a favorite of his, one she wrote to him while he was passing through the Land of Savanna, the first autumn season of his journey.

Sasuke-kun,

I was so happy to see your hawk on the horizon today. I gave him some water since he had a long journey.

The way you described the grasslands changing color in Savanna was lovely. The trees are changing here, too, shedding all of their leaves and making the roads a sea of color. Naruto slipped on a scarlet one the other day coming out of Ichiraku’s. He almost dragged Hinata with him, but thankfully no one was hurt. That's providence, I suppose, though it's not a red thread.

Soon it will be the season for chestnut-flavored everything. Stout squirrels come next, and Tsukimi will be happening, too. I've only ever seen it here in Konoha and once in Sand, while we were on a mission. You'll have to tell me if the moon looks any different where you are. Don't forget to make a wish.

The air is turning crisp here, like the leaves, so I imagine it will be there, too. Please stay warm.

I miss you.

-Sakura

Sasuke comes to the realization then that he’s sitting in damp clothes, and that he is kind of cold; he hadn't thought to grab his cloak earlier, too overcome with mourning. He carefully puts the letter back, and makes the decision to take a hot shower. The heat makes him feel incrementally better, thawing him from the inside out. It also makes him realize his mouth feels dry; he’s probably dehydrated, and needs to drink more than a weakly brewed half glass of tea. He prepares another cup, stronger this time.

A mission summons arrives around nine. He uses the mirror of his bathroom to make sure he doesn't look too disheveled - the shower helped, he thinks, though he’s slightly pallid - before heading to the Hokage’s office.

He's the first one of those requested to arrive, though not by much. Naruto is sitting in his designated chair with the scroll again, looking for all intents and purposes like he just woke up.

"Teme?! Eh, really?!" The dobe turns in his chair to glare metaphorical daggers at Kakashi, who pointedly ignores him. "You're seriously not sending me with?! Bogus."

Kakashi simply inclines his head towards him, not even sparing Naruto a glance. "Sasuke. Good morning. Ready for a mission?"

He nods mutely, wondering what it could be. Naruto whines some more, but Sasuke tunes him out. There's nothing like his teammate’s complaining that grinds on him in the morning, though he’ll inwardly admit it is helping to coax him back into some sense of normalcy.

His replacement walks through the Hokage’s door next, impassive as always. He inclines his head politely at Sasuke, so he returns the gesture. Naruto heaves a sigh. "Oh, come on!"

Sai doesn't miss a beat, turning to Kakashi, absolutely devoid of any kind of emotion as he delivers Sasuke’s favorite invective. "Is Dickless not coming?"

Sasuke barely manages to suppress a snort as Naruto guffaws, launching an entire container of pens at Sai. "STOP CALLING ME THAT!" Not all of Sai's nicknames are poorly chosen. He loathes the one he has for Sakura, but Sasuke doesn't think he'll ever get tired of hearing Naruto’s. It improves his mood measurably.

Shikamaru Nara saunters through the doors last, looking extremely apathetic already. Shrewd eyes flick to Sasuke’s momentarily, too quickly for him to read anything from them, then to Sai’s, then to the pens Naruto is picking off the floor, before settling on Kakashi.

Interesting. So it’s the escort mission, after all.

Naruto is outright mad now, glowering but past the point of saying anything as he returns to his seat in silence. It seems he at least knows when to give up, these days.

"Now that I have you all here, I'm afraid I must break the news that this won't be a terribly exciting mission. Simple escort to Sand for our diplomat tomorrow. It may be a bit… overkill, but there will only be three of you on the return trip, and my newest batch of missions didn't have anything terribly exciting in it. It's better to complete something useful with enough time to get back in case we need you for bigger tickets next week; it can't be helped." Kakashi shrugs, before adding, "Sending Sai should shorten the trip and make it less taxing, at least, flying birds and all. Shikamaru will lead, like usual."

Kakashi goes on to disclose that they'll be leaving at dawn tomorrow. Apparently it's only a four day round trip with his replacement's jutsu involved; this means they’ll leave on Tuesday morning and be back on Friday evening, should nothing go awry. It’s not likely that it will; Suna and Konoha are strong allies at this point.

“Any questions?” Kakashi asks at the end of the briefing. Neither Shikamaru nor Sai say anything; he doesn’t, either. An escort is simple enough, especially one of a fellow Shinobi.

His old sensei smiles in a way Sasuke feels is directed mostly at Shikamaru. “Alright, then. Dismissed.”

Nara strolls lackadaisically out of the office as Sai follows. Sasuke gets the inkling that this will be a rather silent journey, between the three of them. He’s a bit thankful he hasn’t been assigned a mission with more talkative comrades, at least not for his first one back.

“Teme!” Naruto pipes up as he turns to leave as well, so Sasuke lingers. “Wanna spar this evening?”

His brows knit together while Kakashi looks between them, as if amused. Sakura has not invited him over for the evening, but he thinks of soft words yesterday anyway.

I missed you, when you were gone. You… can fill as much of my free time as you’d like.

“The day before a mission? You’re stupid. Pass.” Sasuke says, both because he’s hoping to spend the twilight hours with her, too, but also because he knows it will annoy the hell out of Naruto. They really shouldn't go all out the night before one of them leaves for a mission anyways; if one of them breaks something, Sakura will be stuck fixing it, and it’s supposed to be her day off.

Naruto looks miffed, a lone blond brow twitching, so he adds, “...Saturday, early morning. If you’re even awake. Dobe. ”

Before he turns away from Naruto’s spluttering, he catches an all too knowing gleam in Kakashi’s visible eye. Sasuke is suddenly sure that their old sensei is well-acquainted with Sakura’s work schedule. He can feel the hole being burned into the back of his head by blue eyes and a single dark one as he leaves the Hokage’s office, the dobe still struggling to come up with a response to his quick refusal.

He feels marginally better as he walks leisurely back to his apartment, noting along the way that more of the puddles are already beginning to dry up.

Sasuke fixes something more substantial for lunch, since he knows Sakura will eat with Ino; a chicken curry, fragrant with garlic and ginger and carrots, poured atop rice. He doesn’t have any potatoes, so he substitutes with other produce, a unique mix for curry; bell peppers, green onions, and burdock roots. It’s not bad, but maybe he’ll pick up some potatoes when he gets back from Sand.

He is looking forward to going on a mission again, he realizes as he eats. It’s probably going to be a rather routine one - it’s not likely that they’ll face any enemies in friendly territory - but it will be good to be amongst allies again, contributing to fulfilling a purpose, however slight. Sasuke thinks maybe he should make more of an effort to interact with Sai. It appears as though he and Sakura are close, if he’s been to her apartment; Ino was there, too, he supposes, but still.

Sasuke spends the remainder of his time doing the dishes and making sure everything in his fridge is wrapped well, to ensure it doesn’t spoil in the time that he’s gone.

XXX

Sakura’s hair is damp, pink more saturated than it normally is, when he meets her on her doorstep; she must have showered. The scent of mixed berries is renewed, and suddenly he is certain that it has to be some kind of soap, perhaps a body wash. She has her single fiction book in hand.

“Hi,” she says, grinning up at him with a disarming beauty that makes his heart skip. Her hair clings to her neck when she locks her door behind her; Sasuke focuses on a ranunculus bloom instead, noticing that there are two small cuttings of the flowers missing, taken from its rear portion, until she turns back around.

“...Hi.”

“How was your morning?” She questions kindly as they make their way down the stairs and out the glass door, spring sunshine filtering in.

He blinks once as he considers how to answer. “...Fine. I had a mission briefing.”

Sakura’s lips quirk upwards. “Anything exciting?”

He exhales through his nose, a shadow of a laugh. “No. Just an escort.”

Jade eyes twinkle. “Ah, I’m guessing… Sai and Shikamaru.”

“...Kakashi might listen to your squad suggestions more than Naruto’s.”

She chuckles a little. “No, it’s just that he usually sends them for that. You must have replaced Naruto; he’s the third squad cell member, most of the time. Sai’s jutsu makes it a quicker journey, especially with Temari’s fan techniques; she can create updrafts.”

Sasuke thinks he vaguely remembers a blonde woman who is Gaara’s sister; that must be the diplomat. The sibling of the Kazekage would be well-suited for such a job.

“...Maybe I’ll find out what’s in Sand.”

She smiles while biting her lip. She’s very pretty.

“Maybe,” she finally offers cryptically.

They weave through the road on their way to the library, taking care to avoid the water still lingering; it has sunken into the earth for the most part by now.

Sasuke checks out three books this time. One is another on historical samurai, this one with more illustrations as he’d wanted. The second is a historical account of the establishment of Nunogakure, in the Land of Silk. He had passed through the country twice, and had always been interested in learning more about its history, given the establishment of its hidden village by kunoichi and their record of hostility with the ruling daimyos. The third is a fiction book about an old man at sea, suggested to him by Ichika as she scans Sakura’s books, then his.

“It’s kind of proverbial, and not terribly lengthy. You seem like the type who would like it,” the librarian offers, so he adds it to his pile. It’s not quite an old lady giving him vaguely prophesying teacups, but it sounds interesting enough. He appreciates her kindness; not everyone in Konoha gives him this particular brand of easy acceptance after the debacle that was his past. Sasuke thinks perhaps showing up with Sakura helps. Ichika looks at his empty sleeve for a long moment this time; she must not have noticed the last time he was here, the unfilled end of it hidden by the counter.

Sakura says there’s a spot towards the slope of Hokage Rock that drains off the cliff, a hill that should be dry enough to sit on, so they meander upwards. It’s on the western side, just at the juncture where the grass begins to give way to harsher stone. A wild cherry blossom tree that he spotted from a half mile away is clinging to the precipice, a bit off the beaten path. It must have sturdy roots, he thinks, reaching deep into the dirt and bedrock to give it the strength to soar upwards even here on uneven ground.

As they near it, he observes that it’s losing its petals, too, late in blooming like the one across the street from his apartment; small green buds are starting to take the flowers’ place.

They read for a bit under its branches, sprawled out on the hillside. She was right; the ground is dry here, already soaked into the soil or run off the slope. It’s not too warm or cool out, an enjoyable spring day where everything is freshly watered. The book Ichika recommended is pretty good, full of oceanic metaphors, some of which he finds unnervingly relevant. Sakura might like it; it’s written somewhat artfully. He gets about a third of the way through its pages as the sun begins to hang lower in the sky.

It’s around four when he allows his focus to wander away from his book to her. He's been leaning up against the tree, in the only spot someone could; the rest of the area by the trunk is too asperous to sit comfortably, roots twisting ruggedly, but strong. Much stronger than white lilies, hardy enough to weather even the harshest storms. Sakura is on her back a few feet away, book open above her and pink hair settled in a halo on the grass. She looks extremely comfortable, as if lying like this in the small amount of shade offered is something she does all the time. Maybe this is a place she visits often.

Her book is titled Hazel Wood; he can tell by the cover it must be fiction, but he's not sure what exactly it's about. He's thinking maybe he’ll ask her later. He's also thinking maybe he should ask if she wants to do something after this; he would like to, if she's free.

She shifts slightly, and he slides his eyes to the skyline so he doesn't get caught staring, very suddenly becoming conscious of the fact that he’s been admiring her for the better part of a few minutes. When he looks back over warily, she is picking up a stray petal and situating it between the pages, sticking out like a bookmark to mark her place. Then she regards him, smiling like she's amused.

He arches a brow, unsure what could be funny, but she's setting her closed book neatly aside and pushing afoot to close the distance between them. He tilts his head up towards her as she walks to the tree trunk, and then she's reaching out. Two fingertips skim his scalp, and then she's handing him a cherry blossom petal that evidently had been caught there.

"A bookmark, if you want one," she offers, her expression saying she is incredibly entertained.

He blinks once before taking it, lone hand brushing hers for a millisecond. He's distracted by how soft her fingertips feel again.

"...Thank you." He puts the petal in his book to mark his spot as she straightens.

Now would be an opportune time to query her evening plans, but she beats him to it. "Would you want to stop by the market quick with me and then come over for dinner?" Comely green melts into charcoal when he looks up. "I was thinking of making teriyaki atsuage and cucumber salad, but I'm out of cucumber."

His agreement is immediate, insides twisting pleasantly.

As they head down the hill together to beat the evening rush, books in hand, a single crow passes overhead, swooping low towards the center of the village extending before them.

That’s providence, he thinks, though it’s not a red thread. He stares at it like he’s seen a ghost until it disappears.

He helps her cook this time. Sakura handles the cutting and chopping while Sasuke seasons and turns the tofu as it fries in one of her pans, mixing together mirin and soy sauce to create the teriyaki dressing while she slices cucumbers and tosses them with other ingredients; she loads the salad with peanuts, sauces, garlic, and red chile flakes.

It’s another gratifying evening together. They play three rounds of chess this time, and it’s just as challenging as go; she cycles through positions intuitively, sometimes with seemingly little thought involved. Sasuke thinks she might be analyzing her next moves in her head during his turns, having a few planned out and simply narrowing it down based on whether he moves a rook or a pawn. He comes close to winning the final match, at least. With more practice, he might win once in a while.

Sakura offers to make tea again, after. He accompanies her to the kitchen, and when she opens the cupboard, his throat closes, because two new jars of loose leaf sencha from the tea shop have mysteriously appeared, one for the caffeinated shelf and one for the decaffeinated shelf.

Sakura’s expression is tentative. “I thought maybe sencha this evening. I… picked some up on my way back from lunch, earlier today.”

He nods weakly, tongue-tied and endlessly grateful.

She makes some for the both of them, finishing off her own with sugar and honey. Sasuke watches her swirl the spoon in the now fading luster of her kitchen, thinking the way she takes her tea is like her very being, so sweet.

Verdant eyes peek up at him when she walks him to her entryway, hours later. He sincerely hopes that she’s enjoying spending time with him as much as he is with her.

Then, Sakura’s voice lilts up to him, a quiet murmur, "Will you… come see me, when you get back?"

He blinks, sugar and honey pouring into him now, because it’s almost an answer to the question in his head that he hadn’t vocalized. Then his brow furrows, because maybe he’s failed at conveying that he'll spend literally any amount of time with her that she allows him. Sasuke knows his communication skills aren’t the best, and he has never been in any sort of romantic relationship, so everything is new territory, stunted by his lack of practice.

Her gaze flits away from him. "Just… so I know you're okay."

Oh. She means coming to see her right after debriefing, so she'll know he's returned safe. Something pleasant pools in his belly, sinking to the extremities in a way that feels nurturing. He realizes he is taking too much time to respond; she looks nervous.

"I will."

Jade centers back on him, reassured now, and he's not sure how he's going to go four days without it, this limitless green that soothes him to no end.

"Oh. Good. Thank you." Her expression changes to one that is considerably more relaxed, a tender look directed upwards that he has never seen her wear for anyone else.

Sasuke presses his lips to hers for a long time before he departs, a soft goodbye he’s hoping will convey all the words that are caught in his throat, gratitude and affection that have been stewing there since they were thirteen.

He thinks he feels love press back from hers, a delicate flickering that makes him ache, and perhaps providence. Sugar and honey, too. Sweetness doesn’t hurt him like the recall of pastries does, when it’s experienced secondhand like this.

XXX

The mission goes smoothly. Sai's jutsu does speed things up considerably, and the Sand delegate, Temari, uses her giant fan to give them a boost in places that are lacking in higher gales. He rides with Sai on the way there, while Shikamaru and Temari drift on the other; Sasuke thinks the separation must be so she can use the jutsu, strategically getting behind his replacement's bird to give him a boost before Sai can control it and have theirs catch the subsequent updraft, too.

Sasuke and Shikamaru fulfill lookout roles, him scanning ahead and Shikamaru scanning behind. It is refreshing to see the land from above, giving way from forests to grasslands to the beginnings of desert edges. He finds himself thinking about what his hawk saw, all of the times he brought correspondence to and from Sakura. It’s not as hot this way, traveling through the air with breeze ripping around them, though they make an effort to stay hydrated, still.

Sai is quiet, but Sasuke is, too, so he can't knock him for it. He wonders, scanning the horizon for the upteenth time, if Sai knows what's in Sand that interests their squad leader. He would have to, dating Ino, but he doesn't feel comfortable asking him something like that.

They spend most of the first day in relative silence, only spying a single squad of comrade ninja from Suna traveling hundreds of feet below them, just leaving the desert. Towards the end of it, as they finally cross into the first area that is truly all sand as far as the eye can see, Sai surprises him by speaking.

"Beautiful says Ugly is stupid happy that you've returned. I am certain that Dickless is, too."

The effect the words have on him is a little jarring and complex. There is the immediate familiar disdain for Sai’s inaccurate nickname for Sakura, intermixed with immature amusement at Naruto's epithet. A feeling of brotherhood follows, and his heart blooming with something tender, vines twisting or perhaps not-so-dead roots getting another drink. Stupid happy doesn’t sound like a phrase common to Sai’s vernacular, leading him to believe it was Ino’s exact wording, likely after spending the morning with Sakura yesterday.

He thinks it over as they soar over the last bit of terrain for the day, sorting through the different emotions. His answer isn't hesitant; it just takes preparation for him to muster the gall to vocalize it to someone he's not terribly close to.

"...I am, too." It’s an understatement.

XXX

They arrive back in Konoha on Friday evening, as scheduled. No issues, just more lookout duty and enjoyable wind offering relief from the heat. Peacetime is nice; anyone they saw to or from Sand was an ally, no foes. They only utilize one of Sai’s creations on the return trip, Shikamaru still observing the rear but this time atop the same bird as them. It’s a slightly longer trip, without the diplomat to speed things up, but they still make good time.

It's a bit after six when they leave Kakashi’s office, mission report paperwork folded neatly into his satchel. Naruto wasn't there; Sasuke assumes he's either been sent on a mission or has gone home for the day already. He supposes he’ll find out tomorrow, if a banging erupts on his apartment door after sunrise. It must have stormed again recently; the soil is damp, and everything is faintly greener than it was before.

He finds he missed it, the smell just after it rains that was decidedly not present in Suna, even if it does bring hard memories.

“Good work,” Shikamaru says simply to both of them as they step outside, ready to go their respective ways. It’s not necessary for him to say it, but Sasuke appreciates the acknowledgement. He’s aware it is probably not easy to trust him, after everything. Not everyone has the same confidence in him as Team Seven does.

Sai nods towards Shikamaru, then turns to him.

"Tell Ugly I say hi." His tone sounds almost kind as he turns to part ways from them in the street. Shikamaru glances at Sasuke for an instant, expression not containing an ounce of surprise, but he doesn't say anything as he turns to head the other way.

Tentatively, Sasuke starts out in the direction of Sakura’s apartment. She should be home right now, if she didn’t stay late at the hospital. He wonders as he gets closer if maybe he should wait a bit; she might be in the middle of cooking, or eating dinner.

He wants to see her, though. He's missed her greatly, and she did say to come by; he tries very hard to swallow his doubts.

Soon he's knocking on a sage green door that is beginning to look familiar. The plants are still damp indoors, too; maybe it rained as recently as this morning. It has to have been overcast for a good portion of the day, for the sunlight through the diamond window to not have dried the moisture from her watering them just yet.

Sakura opens the door wearing a smile; it grows wider upon seeing it's him, like she can’t help it.

His heart skips a beat when she says his name. "Sasuke-kun."

"Sakura."

She steps aside while holding the door open, a silent invitation for him to come in, so he does. He stands in her entryway uncertainly for a second, until she offers, "I'm making tenmusu; there's enough for two. Would you like to stay for dinner?"

Everything in him relaxes, any and all ambiguity dried by her kindness in an instant. "...I would. Thank you."

Little flecks of gold shimmer in the lamplight, facets atop something burgeoning with warmth. There is love there, in her eyes and upturned lips. He wonders if she can see it in his, if she has any idea of the true gravity of his feelings for her, all of the things that flare to life in his belly at the mere thought of time spent here.

It’s a break in routine, but there is something he would really like to do, something he has been working up the courage for over the past few days, so he takes the risk, pulse quickening; he hasn't kissed her anything but farewell yet, really, aside from their first, which was somewhere in the middle.

It is better than he imagined, vespertine devotion saying hello rather than goodbye. He skims the freckle on her cheek again as his lips brush hers, hand tender against her skin and silky pink locks. When she leans into his touch, he finds himself wishing there was a way for his soul to graze hers, to tell her the utterly selfish thing he wished for after her letter so many moons ago. Sakura’s soul would be warm to the touch, he thinks, like freshly-brewed tea or the flux of a summer monsoon, but much more illimitable, and endlessly ardent.

Her hands on his shoulders are becoming a familiar weight, grounding him like the roots of her namesake.

When they part, she blinks up at him once, and then suddenly her arms are wrapping around his center instead of his shoulders, pulling him close. His heart swells, and he hooks his lone arm around her waist.

She smells like home, he realizes. "...Tadaima," he murmurs against her hair.

"Okaeri," she responds, soft and sweet against his chest.

[hawksugarbaby]

Momojirou

Fluff + flowershop Au

Jirou tied the apron around her back sighing in annoyance looking over herself in the mirror "Do we have this in black?" she called to her mother round the back of the flower shop who shook her head and apologised. "Sorry Jirou, I'm sure I can get one made for you though" she offered but the hero in training shook her head and started filling up thin metal buckets hung on the wall with water and plant food.

The neatly lined buckets on the wall hung slightly forward with worn labels with cursive names of flowers stuck on the front and jirou sighed heavily rolling up the ribbon rolls at the side so the trails of silky fabric weren't curled on the floor folded over each other in a tangled mess. "I would have been happy applying for a job at Domino's mum" she shouted to her mother setting up the cash register for the day. She didn't want to cause problems for her mum at the flower shop but she did need money, though it felt like cheating working for one of her parents. "Nonsense i'm sure you'll do great!" her mum encouraged and the purple haired girl nodded anxiously.

She flipped the closed sign to open and awaited customers as she stacked up vases and terracotta pots on the lacquered Ikea shelves shoved against the side and the door opened behind her. "Jirou?" a polite voice asked behind her, one she'd recognise instantly. She spun around holding a yellow glass and her face brightened red almost immediately. "Hey momo, h-how are you" she asked putting the glass down in the line of others and ignoring the rest of the shelving she had to do. "I'm good! It's lovely to see you. I didn't know you worked here?" she said, gesturing at the cozy and quaint building. Jirou just nodded quickly "It's my mum's shop actually but yeah. Take a look around and I'll be... well, here if you need help."

She nodded and grabbed a basket from the side starting to pull out flora from the buckets and taking note in her head how much the bouquet would cost in her head and keeping the red, pink and yellow colour scheme in mind the basket quickly filled. "What colour ribbon do you want?" Jirou asked standing in front of the wall, reels of colour dangling in front of her and scissors in hand. "Pink please" momo stated, standing very close to her friend and Jirou snipped off the fabric wrapping it on the handle of Momo's basket so it wouldn't get lost.

"Have you been working here long?" Momo asked as jirous typed in the order pressing the old keys on the register violently "just started a couple of weeks ago actually but I always feel like I'm gonna mess something up" she laughed nervously laying the flowers out on a piece of transparent paper lined with red tissue and rolled it around the flowers making a cone of paper around them keeping them safe for the journey. "I don't think you could mess anything up, you're so talented!" Momo complimented her eyes trained on Jirous hands tying the ribbon half way up the paper making the ends fan out and she repositioned the flowers inside so the composition didn't look too overwhelming in one spot.

"Well you're more amazing and I refuse to argue" Jirou said handing her the bouquet that she held gently like a fragile piece of china, "thank you Jirou" the brown eyed girl said with a smile. "O-of course. That's um 20.99" (I don't know japan prices) She said and the money was dropped into her hand then sorted into the slots in the register. "Well I'll see you on monday!" momo said, skipping happily out of the shop and Jirou nodded waving her out.

"What am I going to do with myself" Jirou groaned and her mum poked her head out the back of the store "was that the girl you like?" she asked politely stepping next to her daughter and they both patiently kept their eyes on the glass door "Yeah" jirou muttered covering her red face "well you certainly know how to pick them! What was she buying flowers for?" her mum asked, twirling her earphone jacks around her fingers and jirou's eyebrows knit together "I don't know actually?"

The week passed without much explanation from Momo and Jirou left it as it was assuming it was personal. But Jirou found herself back in the shop turning the succulents so the names faced the front and moved the ones in the wrong spot back to the right coordinate. The bell above the door dinged and Jirou turned slowly then jumped seeing momo again "H-hey momo! Nice to see you!" Jirou greeted clutching a succulent for life as the upper class women chuckled at her state "yes it's nice to see you too!"

'What could she be back for' jirou wondered handing a straw basket to jirou who had settled on white and purple this time gathering dahlia's, tulips and baby's breath into her basket.

Momo already knew Jirou had a job before she walked into the place. She didn't know how to function around Jirou feeling like she needed rebooting after every conversation and her face would burn instantly instead of her alabaster complexion. She'd walked past the flower shop a few times, silently admiring Jirou singing to the music on the radio through the window but not having the courage to go in. until last week, when the thought of visiting Jirou was too irresistible and she stepped in with no plan of action except "flowers"

"Can I help you with anything this week?" Jirou asked with an unusually cheery voice, the effects of being lovesick. "Yes actually do you have these daisies?" Momo asked, showing a picture of the larger daisies and you nodded reaching for one of the bottom buckets which were harder to see "Ah wonderful!" she cheered holding out the basket for you to place on the daisies. "Any colour of ribbon?" Jirou asked and momo skimmed over the choices "the creamy beige one is nice" she said running her fingers along the roll and you nodded cutting the ribbon to size.

"What are these little things Jirou?" she asked, examining the succulents in little cat shaped pots "oh those are succulents. They're really easy to look after; they don't require much just watered once or twice a month. Very popular for beginners" The purple headed girl said ripping the transparent paper and laying down a reddish purple tissue for the flowers to sit on gently and wrap in the paper typing a little bow in the front "can I get one of these too?" she asked politely carrying a little plant to the register "of course momo they are for sale" Jirou chuckled and scanned the barcode typing in the bouquet again.

"I'll see you Monday momo" Jirou said, walking her to the door and greeting another customer who entered and went straight for the pots without so much as a hello. Momo waved across the street and went on her way not wanting to put Jirou off work for too long though she wanted nothing more than to spend the day with her.

Again Saturday rolled around and she was prepared for momo's arrival that day dressing nicely instead of the scabby clothes she'd been wearing previously. And a bonus was Jirous mother got her the black apron with the shop's name embroidered across the front neatly in cursive.

The door opened chiming the bell and she spun quickly with a smile "Oh jirou you got a new apron! It looks wonderful on you!" she cheered giving the girl an excited hug. Both of the girls' faces bloomed red and Jirou stood in stunned silence grounding herself with the flowers and earth tones of the small shop. "Jirou do you have Marigolds perchance?" the kind girl asked softly and jirou dropped her shoulders "not at this time of year unfortunately but we have amaryllis which are similar colours!" Jirou suggested and momo nodded enthusiastically, grabbing a basket and following her to the suggested flowers.

she snipped off the orange ribbon and wrapped Momo's flowers again handing them to her and sorting the cash into the till "Jirou I have a question" momo said holding the flowers and staying in front of the till "would you like to go to a cafe down the road?" she asked "well I can ask for the rest of the day off I guess" Jirou muttered excusing herself and going to the back talking to her mum.

"With the girl you like?" she asked hanging her apron up and handing her daughter some change "yeah with her" "oh this is so exciting! Have a good time honey!" she said, shoving her out of the room and into Momo's back. "S-sorry. Mum said I could go!" she said holding the door for jirou and exiting the shop. jirou followed momo to the cafe down the road with similar cosy vibes as her flower shop and they sat down together.

"Whoever is getting all those flowers must be really lucky" jirou chuckled nervously looking up from her black as night coffee and momo raised her eyebrows "y-you think i'm buying someone else flowers?" she quizzed blowing on her tea to cool it before taking a sip, the greyish smoke puffing up and flying away to who knows where "well, yeah aren't you?" Jirou asked, suddenly confused. There was a second of silence and momo put her cup down knitting her fingers together "no i'm not getting them for someone else. the thing is I... Well the thing is I come in the shop to see you!" she admitted with a bright smile that could rival the sun. "to see me?" Jirou confirmed and the ravenette across from her nodded.

"I really like you. And I enjoy spending time with you but I couldn;t figure out a way of asking to see you more often so I... started visiting your shop because, well, I think you're amazing" momo explained not holding any feelings or words back unlike Jirou who was always so reserved "And I would love to date you if i'm honest" momo added handing the flowers to the girl in front of her as if she didn't buy them from her. "You want to date me? Why i'm so... awkward and i'm nothing like you" jirou chuckled nervously rubbing the back of her neck. Was this a prank? No Momo would never do that to someone. "Exactly, you're nothing like me and that's why I like you so much"

Jirou considered the reality of the situation for a moment worrying the world could shift into a nightmare any second or she'd wake up front this dream heartbroken and betrayed by her own heart and head. "I would like to date you too" she said back finally after a beat of confidence. "Ah i'm glad! I've wanted to tell you for so long!" Momo giggled sweetly and jirou twirled her jacks in her fingers "I can't believe I could have been with you sooner if I didn't think you were buying flowers for someone else" jirou sighed facepalming and hiding a small smile. This might be what she needed, her way of getting out her shell.

[kimera20]

Flowers

Dannymay day 2

Also in AO3 and FF

“I want black roses” Sam suddenly said breaking the comfortable silence around the group.

“You want what now?” Tucker asked sleepy, having been half asleep just a moment before.

The three friends were in Danny’s bedroom and had just finished four uninterrupted hours of delayed homework. Sam was sitting in the desk chair, Tucker was in Danny’s bed and Danny was spread in the floor, he didn’t feel like getting up to a more comfortable seating was worth it.

“I want roses, but black instead of red, white or, ugh, pink” Sam said grimacing at the word “pink”.

“But why?” Tucker asked aweke enough yet.

“Because my mom has been nagging me that my garden needs a more feminine touch and that some flowers might give it more color” Sam said annoyed.

“Uh? What’s in your garden anyway?” Danny asked looking at her from the floor, he remembered she has a lot of plants but didn’t know if any where flower plants.

“Oh you know, cactus, flytraps, succulents, aromatics and edibles” Sam described.

“And what’s wrong with that?” Tucker asked a little more awake now, he didn’t knew much about plants but thought that if those were enough for Sam, then it was a good garden.

“The problem is that they don’t have colorful flowers all the time, according to my mom” Sam explained.

“It’s bad that black roses don’t exists then” Danny said.

“Uh? And how would you know that?” Sam asked curious.

“Ah… well… Remember your last birthday? The one I gave you that carnivorous plant?” Danny said nervously.

“Yea. I called her Flybane” Sam said, it was one of her favorites plants.

“Yes her, anyway I actually wanted to give you a black rose plant but all the sellers told me they don’t exist and that the only way to have one is to paint them” Danny explained.

“Oh that’s to bad. Well i guess I’ll have to find some other plant with black flowers” Sam said defeated, she wanted the roses mostly for the spines, but any goth looking plant would do.

“You guys think those plants could be found in the Ghost Zone?” Tucker asked, “ Because of all the odd colored things in there, besides it would be cool to have a ghost flower”

“Tucker you are a genius!” Danny suddenly exclaimed scaring his friends.

“What!? Why!? Well of course I am, but for what reason?” Tucker asked confused but proud of his unknowing intelligence.

“No time, I have to go right now. See you tomorrow!” Danny said before changing into his ghost form and passing through the floor.

“Do you think we’ll see him tomorrow?” Tucker asked.

“I hope so. Let’s go home” Sam said before the two teens left the Fenton residence.

---x-x-x-x-x

The next day Danny was late to class as usual, unfortunately for his friends they had to wait to lunch hour to speak with him with more privacy.

“Hi dude, good to see you are alive” Tucker greeted him.

“Mostly alive” Danny responded.

“True. So are you going to tell us what you did last night or do we have to start an interrogation?” Sam asked and threatened.

“No need for that. I found the perfect plant for Sam in the Ghost Zone and I’ll show you guys after school ok?” Danny said clearly satisfied with his research.

His friends agreed though that didn't turn off their curiosity. Sam was ecstatic, all day trying to guess what kind of mysterious plant Danny got her. Tucker on the other hand just hoped his friend didn't bring something that could eat them. When school ended Danny led them towards Sam’s house saying that he already put the plant in the garden, when they entered Sam was delighted and Tucker relieved.

In the nearest bench was a pot made of metal with glowing green lines around it, a very obvious Fenton invention. In the pot buried in a brown-purple ground was a plant that resembled a rose only with very unusual coloring, all of it was so black it appeared to absorb the light around it, except the flowers, it had fluorescent purple flowers that seemed to glow in the surrounding darkness of it leaves, stems and spines.

“Wow Danny! This is beautiful!” Sam exclaimed.

“Yea well, I couldn’t find black flowers but when I saw this one i thought you would like it” Danny said awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

“Does it needs water? You know cause is a ghost plant and all” Tucker said.

“That’s the great thing, it doesn't! I went to the Ghostwriter library and read that this one's only need light to survive” Danny said.

“Thanks Danny this is great! Now my mom can't tell me anything about the lack of colorful flowers” Sam said happy to have the most goth plant she ever seen.

[goth-girlfriend]

Hitoshi~

💜 Hitoshi is a Slytherin, not because he’s evil, because he has determination, drive ambition. Even if he looks so tired and uncaring, he’s is giving 100% to become the best he can. Now, we all know, no Slytherin is complete without their emotional support Hufflepuff. 💜The first time you met him, you weren’t sure, kinda scared, he gave off a slightly intimidating vibe, and well, you had just been assigned a project together. He was staring at you not saying anything, it became a stand off. You swallowed and (great words of all might~) clenched your butt cheeks and kinda loudly blurted out your name. “I’m (L/n) (Y/n)! It’s a strange name for Japan so just call me y/n!” You were smiling with your eyes closed but you felt your heart in your throat and kinda sick. He didn’t care still, “Hitoshi Shinso, let’s just get this over with. If you don’t want to do the work I’ll do it, just tell me.” Well you blurted out again but not as loud, “No! I’ll do my part! What are we partners for if your going to take the work and stress! It’s only fair!” The look he gave you was slightly bewildered before he went back to his normal expression. “If you want.” 💜 After getting your grade you two had made just one point away from a perfect score, definitely the highest in class, so when it came to group projects you had become a lot more attractive to those who wanted an easy grade, but what shook them to THE CORE, was the fact you’d ignore them and plop down right next to SHINSO. “So, another project.” You held out the paper to him with a closed eye smile. You could feel his stare and almost felt like an idiot until you felt the paper leave your hand, you relaxed both internally and externally with a sigh. He looked at you again and then back at the paper reading what you’d given him. Sadly for him, he didn’t know this was your ticket to jump on the friendship Express. Que the montage of different projects and study times in the library to find information. 💜 “Hitoshi! Look! A week of work done with another perfect score!” You ran up to Shinso holding the paper that held your grade, he looked at it and was about to talk until you cut him off, “So! To celebrate! I’m going to treat you to a relaxing weekend!” You linked your arm with his and pulled him with you, he wanted to resist but he’d learned early in the friend ship that it is very much in fact ✨impossible✨ 💜 For the first time, you’d have Shinso come over to your dorm, without class work to back it up. It was completely new to him, a new sight, not he didn’t direct his stare solely to work, but now he walked in head level and looked around noticing small things he’d never noticed before. The wooden book case that had school books messily stacked, while the other shelves were neatly filled with old movies, manga, and little figures, the fairy lights around the doors to the balcony and the curtain of lights that had stars placed behind an ombré blue sheer curtain. The light blue thick duvet that had the pattern of metallic stars and moons, the mountain of pillows, but the one thing he noticed over all, were the plants he could see sitting outside on your balcony. Black prince succulents, a white rose bush in bloom, stems of lavender and lilac, star lilies and regular green plants just hanging from the balcony above you, he notice a stool that had three small cacti. He realized then, there is a lot more to you then what he sees in class.

“Good morning Hitoshi!” You greeted him as you took your regular seat behind his. “Hm?” He barely looked over his shoulder to side he you, “oh, good morning.” You gave him a smile and he didn’t really smile but every now and then you’d see a small quirk in his lip and assumed it meant a smile. So you’d take what you could get from the bed head boy.

“Are you excited?” You asked in a low voice leaning forward on your desk.

“For what?” He leaning back into his seat no longer wanting to strain his neck to look over his shoulder.

“This weekend! I said we’re going to celebrate! It Friday! So tomorrow is the day! You better be ready! Because it’s going to be the works!” You started to cheer yourself on for the celebration you’d planned.

“It sounds tiresome.” He tried to play it off.

“It will be if you resist, so just go with it Toshi.” Your lips pulled into a small smile, eyes filling with a slight glow.

“Alright, tell me when we have time.” He propped he left hand on the back of his neck, he stopped when the teacher walked in announcing class to start.

Incoming Message: Sender:🏵Nerd🏵 ‘Saturday morning, meet me at the door to the dorms! I’ll take care of everything else! Don’t worry about money, or anything at all! I’d say around 8:30? I’ll be there a bit early probably but that me! So I’ll see you at 8:30! Everything is a surprise so just stick with me!’

Outgoing Message: Receiver:🏵Nerd🏵 ‘Alright, but I’d your not there I’m going back to my room.’

Incoming Message: Sender: 🏵Nerd🏵. ‘Don’t worry Toshi! Don’t you have some faith in me? Have I ever let you down?’

Incoming Message: Sender: 🏵Nerd🏵 ‘Exactly! You can’t think of a time! I’m such a good friend! ^-^ 🤍’

✨💜💜💜✨💜💜💜✨💜💜💜✨

“Over here!” I shouted trying to get Shinso’s attention before he could leave.

He turned to look at me, I smiled, his lips turned into a scowl but his eyes held a different feeling, it wasn’t noticeable, but I managed to catch it, I’m definitely the main character of my life.

“Alright, where are we going?” He asked before I even opened the door.

“I told you it’s a surprise! Sooo,” I opened the door, “Just walk with me for now.”

He stepped out and I started to lead the way, we walked in comfortable silence to town making it in a ten minute walk.

“So! I don’t know if you really care for them, but there’s this inside garden cafe place, and I heard it’s really cool, and it’s five star rating, and I know you like coffee so I wanted to bring you here!” I pulled him by his sleeve to a stop so we could face a large white building.

The front sign read “ボタニカルカフェ” Botanical Cafe. He looked at it, the front windows had displays of colorful flowers and types of coffee pre bagged, behind them large hedges to block out the rest.

“Alright I’m interested.” He said and I smiled, “Great!”

I opened the door and let him enter first, he gave me a weird look but walked in. We stood at the door until a lady came and told us, “You can sit in front behind these hedges or go through the back where the patio is.” She had a kind smile and motioned towards the room, it was beautiful, the inside was white brick, and vines were climbing up the walls, wild flowers hanging from the ceiling and rails, a small waterfall that fed into a koi pond, stand and book shelves with flowers and other things, but the best part, were the blue green and yellow budgies flying around and chirping when they would land on a swing or onto an unsuspecting person. They were precious, but I wanted to see the outside, “Where do you want to sit?” I turned to ask Shinso, he looked around and then towards the back, “How about outside?” He asked and I nodded, “Sounds good!”

We walked through the room and I stopped to pet a budgie sitting on a low book shelf it fluffed you and started chirping. I couldn’t stop, it was so cute. But eventually we made it out, and the place was beautiful! It had a mesh roof, but the space was huge! Thick green hedges with different wild flowers, in the center a three tier fountain with two budgies bathing, around it a circle of rose bushes, the floor was made of different bricks, the tables were simple thin cement type benches and tables. So many flower pots and the most beautiful flowers were everywhere! Along the mesh were Edison bulb light, the formed a circle skeins the fountain and then headed out to every corner. But what took it next level were the monarch,Blue morpho, Luna moths and Dragon tail butterfly! They fluttered around and I could help but think how beautiful they really were up close.

“Do you see this?!” I was asking to loudly luckily no one else was there.

I turned to look at Hitoshi, his jaw propped on his hand that leaned on the table, his eyes were lidded and now I could tell he had a faint smile. The corners of his lips were turned up, even if it wasn’t bit, it was nice. I smiled at him closing my eyes for a brief second before opening them to the sight of Hitoshi still smiling but this time he had a Morpho buttery on his hair just sitting there enjoying the rest.

I smiled faintly at the sight, “don’t move.” I pulled out my phone and took his picture sending it to him. He pulled out his phone to look at it, and the smile never left his lips. For that, I’m great full.

“So, what can I get for you two?” The voice broke me out of my staring trance, “Oh! We’ve never been here actually! It’s our first time.”

“Oh! Let me give you two these menus, I’ll be back in a few minutes to get your order, if you have or need change we have these small coin machines that sell butterfly food.” She pointed to a black box by the door and I nodded, “Thank you.”

We looked at the menus and I watched Shinso, he still had the same smile and I couldn’t help but stare, I’d never seen him smile genuinely, but this, this is nice. I feel like I’m over staring, but, you don’t just watch your favorite movie one time right?

“What are you getting?” I nodded at the question before looking at my menu, “No ide- Boba!” I pointed my menu, “Ah, milk tea, the best of both drinks, milk, and tea.” I looked though the flavors and after figuring out what I wanted I asked Hitoshi, “What are you going to get?”

“A coffee.” Simple answer. “Food?” I asked, he only shrugged.

“Alright then.” I mumbled and shrugged, “I’ll order!”

Just as I declared it that waiter asked, “What will you be ordering?” I jumped a bit and smiled sheepishly, “Honey Dew Avon’s milk tea with Mango bubble, he wants a coffee, also two milk bread curry buns and two orders of Takoyaki please.”

We ate and left, after I smothered a few budgies, and kissed a few budgie heads and made Hitoshi take a few pictures.

“Sooo, Hitoshi, tell me something about yourself? You don’t talk much.” I shrugged and stuffed one of my hands into my jackets pocket mimicking him the other hosing my left over boba.

“What is there to know?” He asked looking down at the sidewalk ahead of us.

“I don’t know? Your favorite flower? Color? What you do for fun? Biggest fear? Interests? Dreams? Hogwarts house? Idols? Movies? Anything really, we can both talk, you tell me something and I’ll tell you something.” He side eyed me, a crack of a smile before he started.

During the time I managed to steer us into my favorite shop to buy snacks and drink, followed by an anime shop, and few other places. I ended up buying Shinso a Purple Pearl Echeveria and a small pot of lilac flowers. We carried them back, I held the flowers while he held the Echeveria, I watch him touch the thick leaves? He seemed so amazed by it. But what I liked more than the flower was his smile, it was goofy, his eyes were still lidded but crinkled when he smiled. This is probably the biggest I’ve been seen him smile and will probably ever see him smile. I smiled down at the flowers in my hands, I’m glad, I didn’t know this would make him happy, I just wanted to treat him for working so hard and being a fair partner. But, it definitely makes me feel better knowing he enjoyed it and it wasn’t as forced as he made it seem.

“Well, the suns setting so what’s next before we head back?” His deepish voice pulled me out of my thoughts and I smiled, “Well, I was actually going to end it with a movie, I prepped my dorm because the movie theaters get way to stuffy for my liking, so! Let drop off your new plants before we watch a movie! I have a few good ones picked out!”

***Continued I Ran out of Space***

@milkteeboba I hope you enjoyed this! I’ll tag the second part as soon as it’s up! I got carried away!

[strangebrews]

perfect complements

chapter two // on ao3 // chapter 1 // chapter 3 // chapter 4

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

Tommy had gotten divorced the year before, the papers making it official arrived a week after he had moved into this new house. 

He did not elaborate on who it was, only said that they were the one to make the decision. “Claimed I was too cold—too distant and emotionless. Being with me was more of a challenge than a pleasure.” His tone was nonchalant throughout it all—whether that was because of genuine indifference or a refusal to reveal his pain was unclear.

They were sitting on Alfie’s back porch, sipping on warm apple cider and listening to the crickets sing. The complaints Tommy’s ex had were understandable. He was reserved and his scarce enthusiasm could be interpreted as rude, but the silence was misleading, Alfie had learned. Tommy simply expressed his appreciation in tiny spurts—you had to know what to look for. 

Eye contact was the most common. He would stare straight into Alfie’s eyes when he spoke, nodding along with the rhythm of his words, entirely expressionless. It was robotic, seemed like he had tuned out somewhere in the middle of the third sentence. Yet Alfie knew that was not the case, because Tommy filed all of the information away carefully, referencing it in different situations. Or sometimes he would take a day or two to digest before returning to the topic, prompting it with “You know, I’ve been dwelling on what you said…”

Another month had passed and their relationship blossomed further—Tommy now prepared a teapot every Saturday morning in anticipation of Alfie’s visit. He’d been shopping for an extra chair, a few more plates and some utensils—everything necessary to make their little routine as comfortable as possible. He bought precisely what he needed, never in excess. 

It took a batch of shortbread cookies, a carrot cake and 3 sourdough loaves—Tommy very much liked those—for him to finally ask Alfie to help him haul the mattress up to what would become his room. 

Patience —that was the main requirement for a bond with Tommy and Alfie was brimming with it.

-

The task was more taxing than they had anticipated, but when they had finally succeeded in rolling the mattress over onto the bed frame, Tommy dusted off his jeans and said, “I want to plant a garden. Some flower beds or…..or vegetables.” He was directing his words to the floor, which, Alfie presumed, were supposed to deflect onto him. 

It was mid-November, the morning air was growing frostier with each day—hardly the time to start planting anything, but Alfie scanned the room. It was just as plain and gloomy as the rest of the house. A winter in this setting would be horribly somber. 

“You could start with some house plants, until the seasons turn again. But you’ll need more shelves or stands—places to put them. Curtains to regulate the light, depending on the kind you buy.” he would have continued, these were necessary details, but Tommy was staring at him now, eyes growing wider with each word. 

“Ah...right.” he kicked one of the metal legs gently. “It was a stupid idea anyway.”

“I can help you, I’ve done it all before.” It slipped out before Alfie had enough time to evaluate whether that would overstep another boundary, but Tommy had replied with his Ok before he had time to overthink that as well. 

-

They visited one of the smaller flower shops in town. Alfie was a regular, knew all of the workers by name, but it took this trip with Tommy and the chorus of Alfie ’s in the entrance—all from elderly women—for him to realize how long it had been since he’d spent a considerable amount of time with someone closer to his own age. 

Tommy was particularly drawn to the succulents, brushing their stems with the pad of his thumb. He chose two large, bowl-like pots of assorted kinds—mini gardens, one of which had a ceramic gnome poised in the corner, right next to his mushroom hut. 

“I thought it’d be nice….to have someone else around—you know?” he explained it sheepishly, catching Alfie staring at the figurine, his voice hitching at the end. 

But Alfie wasn’t judging, he was simply fitting this piece of information into the Tommy puzzle. 

“I think you’re right.” and he assumed his smile was successfully reassuring, because the strain in Tommy’s jaw vanished.

-

Alfie made the rest of the suggestions. A few varieties of orchid, one blooming peace lily, a sword fern growing in a hanging pot, and some African violets—for some color. 

Tommy did not refuse any of the choices, instead lined them up in neat rows within their cart and made the occasional “Hm...yes.”

A watering can was added to the purchase—because, just as the food liked when the cook was dressed up, Tommy reasoned flowers would appreciate not being watered with some chipped mug he’d abandoned in the back of his cupboard.

And Alfie, suddenly choking on the sentiment, for once had nothing more to say.

-

It had started to drizzle lightly by the time they returned. They’d taken Tommy’s car, engine now idling in the driveway. 

“The shelves and things will be easy to find, just buy whatever furniture you think will fit best for your vision.” This single shopping trip was enough. Alfie didn’t want to overindulge in their time together.

He turned the door handle, but a hand on his upper arm stopped him. Tommy jerked it away quickly once Alfie had turned back. His mouth was open. Then closed. Open again.

“Um...what if we—I mean I—” closed again. He blinked rapidly, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. So incredibly pretty.

The raindrops had grown heavier, sky darkening around them. He opted for “I’ll let you know once it’s ready,” instead.

It played out much less romantically than the thousand and one scenarios that Alfie managed to fabricate in the span of that minute. Tommy sounded defeated. Or disappointed. Perhaps a combination of the two. 

But Alfie only nodded his agreement, rather than grieving on the lost opportunity, and escaped before his own mixture of reactions could manifest themselves on his face—and other places.

He dreamt of meadows and butterfly lashes that night. 

-

The setup was ready the following week, when Alfie arrived on the doorstep with a plate of coconut custard, in the shape of a mini dome. “Something new for a change,” he shrugged, hoping inwardly that it would be an omen for other things.

Tommy had done quite a lot of work, his plants now decorating the newly arranged stands in his living and bedroom. The fern hung from the ceiling at the end of the kitchen, one of the violets soaking in the sunlight on a windowsill. 

“And the gnome garden?” It would be the centerpiece of his coffee table, Tommy explained. A simple black one, still packaged.

A bit out of place, Alfie thought, but Tommy was glowing with pride so he agreed it was the perfect location for it.

The home, in general, was still quite drab, but visibly happier with the greens and purples and yellows vibrant against the white walls. Tommy was visibly happier—the creases in his forehead had smoothened out a bit, his skin no longer a sickly pale. 

It was good. Nice, even, to see the smiles reach his eyes more often. 

Nice was of course an understatement, but Alfie had to restrict his choice in adjectives to resist the overwhelming urge to hug him. 

-

The flowers had created another visible change: Tommy talked more. Still less when compared to an average person, but he asked questions and appeared on Alfie’s front porch unannounced. 

They were all regarding the plants—he’d grown very preoccupied with their well-being and, inexperienced as he was, kept requesting that Alfie come over and check on their condition. 

He was tending to them well—much better than the flower Alfie remembered in the front window the first day. Perhaps a leaf or two had browned slightly, but nobody could avoid that. Though Tommy kept returning with the same set of worries, questions rephrased, and Alfie addressed them gladly. 

This continued for around two weeks before Alfie began to struggle with balancing the visits with his own work. So he developed a system, terrified that if he mentioned the difficulties, Tommy would retreat entirely. 

When they’d been moving the mattress, he noticed a window at the end of Tommy’s hallway upstairs—within clear view of and identical to the one on the side of Alfie’s home. 

“Write your questions here and I’ll respond as soon as I see them.” He gave Tommy a stack of white papers and a thick, blue marker—the assortment of things Tommy owned and did not was entirely random. Alfie could spare a few sheets.

Tommy accepted the idea with what could have bordered on excitement.

-

There was a question waiting for him, taped to the glass, virtually every day.

One of the orchid heads has fallen off….what now?

The grey succulent—you know, the spiral one, beside the gnome—I think it’s gotten greyer. Is that even possible?

Can I keep the violets over the heating vents? They look a bit cold. 

The first snow had fallen, third week into December. Alfie wrote out the NO in big, block letters to emphasize his message, then added the (you can knit some pot warmers) underneath, beside himself. 

A few hours later, a new paper awaited him. I have no idea how to knit—can I buy them online?

Sarcasm—that was the one thing Alfie forgot Tommy had difficulty grasping.

-

I don’t think this will come as a surprise, but I don’t really have anywhere to go for Christmas this year either. If you make the fruitcake, I can provide the tea and music (: 

Alfie had mentioned that he spent his holidays alone—seeing as he was an only child and both his parents had died—but it had been in passing, he refused to dwell. Tommy Shelby, always listening.

He read and reread the words, letting each one soak into his memory, chest tightening each time he reached the smiley.

Walnuts or no walnuts?

[koala-soap]

Content In Your Presence

Chapter Three

Pairing  Foreign Reader X Japanese Shouto Todoroki

Summary  Moving to Japan seemed like the only option left open to you, to escape your rapidly increasing problems that latched themselves onto your life back in Australia. As if to cut it off, wipe everything off the table, and have some sort of a new start for yourself, despite the guilt that stuck to you like rust. Through getting lost at airports, loosing luggage and being surrounded by a foreign language, moving to Japan managed to weasel it’s way into being the best decision of your life, thanks to someone you met on the balcony next to you: a sweetheart called Shouto Todoroki.

A lovely story about a foreigner falling in love with a Japanese sweet heart, and all your adventures and mishaps together.

。。。。

With it now being your second official day in the county of Japan, it made you glad to have some sort of responsibility to busy yourself with; give yourself the feeling of being productive, rather than sitting in your small apartment slurping on roasting hot noodles from a cheap plastic cup bought from a petrol station. For the next three weeks, you were had a small and simple job, and that was to water that nice old lady’s plants every weekend during her absence.

Having no clue on how to tend to flowers or any type of plant didn’t stop you though, and having this quaint little responsibility beat ending up working long shifts in a dull super market or a little sweaty fast food place crammed with oil and fat fingers. This way, you got to help someone out and have cool breeze in your face.

But that’s enough of that, because as of now, you stood at the end of what seemed like a maze of numbers, welcome mats and corridors. Just earlier, you had set off on a mission following the bright blue line on your phone guiding you to the address, and now that the short elevator ride was over, it was time to find the correct numbered door.

Your phone now sat snug in the tight pockets of your jeans, as concentrated eyes swayed from either side of the hallway, in search of a two digit number that kept repeating in your mind.

After a minute of wandering past countless doors neighbored with mats and boots and even small plants by them, a door with the number ‘38’ etched into it’s golden plate popped up on your right. Like a switch being turned on, the rigorous eyes on your face lit up like that of a Christmas tree covered in shining tinsel; and just like was planned, a cold metal key was left lying lonely under the scratchy welcome mat for you to let yourself inside.

It slid smoothly into the lock, and the door had slowly opened up to a colorful apartment inside. Unlike your own, there were colors all around. The couches that first greeted you when you entered had multiple knitted blankets flopped over their sides, bright tins of various cooking ingredients lined up against the kitchen counter, and strings of rainbow beads draped down in front of the sliding door opening up to the giant city outside. There was also a smell of soothing incense singing around in the air.

“ Dude, my apartment sucks. ” You mused to yourself with a chuckle.

The air outside was crisp and refreshing, the large green watering can in your hands quickly filling with water sprouting from the hose on the wall.

The white cap that hugged your hair kept the sun’s warm rays out the way, and only when the can was half-way filled did you rotate the creaky tap and attempt to pick it up. Water sloshed around inside and rounded out the top onto your slippery hands, trickling like a gentle shower head over the tiny succulents shortly after. Your strained hands held the water source over each plant pot, with greedy soil who slurped every drop up into its dry dirt.

Once all were happy and watered, the dripping green can sat happily in its spot by the coiled hose, and your hands rested on your hips to admire the view in front of you. However, once your wet hand reached up and around the back door’s handle to pull it back, it made you skin grow cold despite the shining sun when it laughed in your face that it was indeed… locked.

“ Oh, come on, please, no.” It ignored your desperate plead and sat smugly closed in its place. Whimpering and with eyebrows screwed together in exhausted worry, you gently placed your head against the cold glass. “ Am I supposed to sleep out here? Like, c'mon…”

After tugging on it, thinking it may just be jammed, you realized it certainly was not. You stood staring at the furniture mocking you from inside also, rapidly going through your options. Fujiko was away for the entire weekend, hence why you were here in the first place, and climbing down was only a job for super heroes since you were on the fourth floor. You couldn’t call the apartment’s reception either, since it was abandoned for the weekend.

Once the panic settled in, you were left to sit on the balcony floor waiting for god to answer your prayers for the door to just magically open. The sight of the neighbor’s matching sliding door caught your eye, and you peeped through the thin black railing and thought about asking them for help.

Being the positive soul you were, you decided to give it a go. So long as they were home and weren’t an axe murderer, what could go wrong?

A small sigh filtered out your nose to prepare yourself with whatever was about to happen, but it really was the only thing that you could do in this situation; calling the fire department sounded a bit too dramatic to you, and Fujiko was over two hours away enjoying time with her kids and grandchildren.

Your wet hand gripped onto the thin railing and you looked over to the matching balcony just in front of you, pondering how to get their attention without being excessively loud.

Your body strained to stretch as far over the railing to swerve your eyes past the door blocking your view, one thong covered foot lifting slightly off the tiles. When a sudden noise busted through your concentration, it was a quick struggle to not fall over the side and onto the busy streets below.

Flinging your head around, you see a young male stepping out his sliding door with a concerned but unsure look on his sleepy face, a hand flicking rouge strands of bed hair from it. The stranger was still clearly in pajamas from the baggy shirt and shorts, but his lively eyes suggested he’d been awake for a while.

He eyed your strange situation. “ ねえ。。だ。。だいじょぶ です か？[ Hey.. Uh.. Are you okay ? ] ”

“ はい、 はい、だいじょぶ。[ Yeah, Yeah, I’m fine. ] ” Once you popped your cap off, ruffling the hair off your sweaty forehead was a relief. An uncontrollable fit of nervous laughter jumped from your lips, and out of nervous habit, scratched the tips of your sweaty ears. You really didn’t like speaking Japanese to native people, in fear of them judging you. A wave of English words gushed through your mind, and you realized your vocabulary wasn’t good enough to explain yourself.

“ しょくぶつ に 、あの。。[ I’m here to.. water.. plants and uh… ] ” Your eyebrows sank together, and your hands waved about in circles to think of words. His gentle eyes follow your finger to the glass door. “ たちおうじょう [ Stuck . ] ”

Despite his empathetic gaze, you giggled relentlessly with unimaginable embarrassment at yourself with a hand clamped over your mouth. He’s silent for a few moments, eyes internally arguing over a decision before saying with only an impressively small amount of an accent, “ Do you speak English ? ”

The sheer look of absolute shock slapped into you was honestly priceless, and for a measly second, the strained laughing ceased for a second from behind your hand. It was as if the cogs in your brain had come to a complete stop and malfunctioned right in front of his eyes, and shocked eyes stared at him for a while, though clearly impressed. Just like your own, a very faint chuckle of nervousness left him. The hand on your face quickly shot down, and your eyebrows arched up to make your smile naturally kind as can be. “ Yeah! Oh my god, that was so strange, your English is so good! ”

The stranger’s eyes scrunched to make way for his shy smile. The beginning of your excited outburst was a little too fast for him to understand, but he got the end. “ Thank you. Were you saying the door is… stuck? ” The small pause he took was for him to shift through various English words until he landed on the correct one.

Two delicate hands placed the white hat back on your hair, and you giggled again when thinking of your horrible attempt of communication earlier. “ The key’s inside and I locked myself out here… Rookie mistake, I know. ” You chuckled.

“ Ah.. ” He nodded knowingly while his brain whirred about inside to try remember what 'rookie’ meant, but found nothing. The rest made sense to the stranger, anyhow. “ Okay, uh… hm. ” He seemed stuck for what to do as well, just as you were.

Fiddling with the tip of your left ear, face scrunched in thought and you looked at the handle. “ Can we pick it ? Or is that just in the movies ? ”

He puffed out a breathy chuckle, and scratched his head. “ Maybe.. You have uh.. それ なんだった？[ What was it? ] ” Quiet Japanese mumbling made his eyebrows furrow, and then pop up when he got the word and made a motion with his fingers to show what he meant. “ A pin ? Bobby pin? ”

You shook your head with a face full of apologetic guilt. The young man lent back to peer into his house and said, “ Hang on. ” Before hopping inside and making a bunch of thudding sounds.

He reappeared with a small grey box resting in large hands, patches missing reflective metal from being scratched off with what seemed like age. It clanged with tools inside, and he crouched down to open it on the floor of the tiled balcony. Things clanged against each other, until a small and thin metal tool that slightly resembled tweezers lifted out in his hand. “ I’m pretty sure this open locks… I promise I’m not a part time burglar, though. ” He smiles, and grunts to stand back up.

“ I’ll take your word for it. ” You joke back, and he quickly reaches a hand past his door to grab a screwdriver from a cabinet. “ Are you a mechanic or something? You have so many tools. ”

He quietly chuckles for a second with the tools in his hand. “ No, I’m not that cool. I’m studying to be a doctor. I just have them for convi- convin- convinience ? ”

You reassured him of his English with a nod paired with kind eyes, and he smiled shyly. “ Now how should we do this ? ”

Agreeing to letting him hand over the tools for you to try was apparently a big mistake, because even after a while of him leaning over the railing to observe your confused fiddling and directing you, the lock still remained stuck in its place. The pieces of metal in your fiddly fingers wiggled around inside the key hole, and were lifted or twisted depending on what the kind stranger told you to do. It remained hopeless though, and you stood defeated with the lock laughing at you.

“ This is so freaking hard. ” You mumbled mostly to yourself, tongue stuck out to assist in balancing the tools in the intricate place you had them.

“ Would like me to help? It’s fine. ” He offered, and soon enough, Shouto found himself hanging off the edge of his balcony railing, one hand in yours for balance as his leg reached out for the neighboring railing with his butt sat uncomfortably on his. The gap was only about half a meter wide, but the rock hard concrete and racing cars beckoned his body to fall.

The second foot with a large sandle weakly hanging from it leaped from the metal underneath it, and with a few stumbles, the tall man had succesfully made it to the other balcony with all four limbs. You let his hand go, and winced when you caught a glimpse of the busy streets below.

“ You okay ? ” A voice couldn’t sound more worried than yours, but the stranger simply kicked his dad sandles off and sighed out all the suspense that grew inside him.

A confident nod made your nerves ease themselves. “ Yeah, yeah, don’t worry. ” He panted heavily and switched from the gap he just leaped across to the shaken young lady in front of him again. “ Easy peasy lemon squeazy. ”

You snorted, and soon both got back to opening the stubborn door.

“ 愚かなロック。。[ C'mon, you stupid lock.. ] ” It was after five minutes that both of you realized he wasn’t much better than you. He did manage to get something in the lock to click, so whatever that was was hopeful. The man currently stood hunched over, hair flopped anywhere it desired, hands delicately twisting the tools with the tip of his tongue poking out. The screwdriver was angled ever so perfectly, and the other tool was twisted to the left carefully. Both you and him jumped at the sound of a rather loud click coming from inside the door, and he decided to risk it and put his hand around the handle.

He pulled on it, and it slid along the hinges to reveal the prize inside. Shouto sighed with exhaustion and grinned with triumph; you were jumping around excitedly.

A tsunami of relief crashed down onto you, so much so you could melt and cry. This generous stranger had just wasted forty minutes and jumped a balcony for you, and now you wouldn’t have to sleep out there for two days. “ Yes! Oh god, you did it! Thank you so much! ”

He nodded, just as triumphed as you. “ No problem, my morning was rather boring to begin with. ” He breathlessly chuckled. “ Now I can say I jumped a balcony. ”

“ You sure can, my god. ” You laughed as well, “ I’m [______] by the way. ”

You both shared a chuckle over the fact you were just doing this now, after the chaos had happened. The stranger pocketed the tools with grey, oily fingers and said with a heavy accent and smile, “ I’m Todoroki Shouto. ”

[boogiewrites]

Mae Flowers Ch. 2

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Mae LeBlanc (OFC)

Word Count:  6600+

Summary: A modern, magical Alfie Solomons AU. After a soul awakening of her own, Mae LeBlanc, a natural born witch, as well as a sensitive and kind woman from New Orleans soul finally starts to bloom and calls out to Alfie’s, unbeknownst to her. Not believing in supernatural powers, she finds herself thrown into a new existence that is full of things she never thought possible, including magical powers of her own. Alfie takes her under his wing to teach her about her powers. As she grows and learns, so does he. They navigate her lessons together, come to terms with how lonely their lives have been without the other and face these very human emotions together. With a newfound friendship formed out of necessity, will the idea of a soul mate translate from a mere magical meaning to a romantic one?

Warnings/Tags: Language. Spooky Imagery. Mentions of violence, poor self image. Magic/Supernatural. Soul mates. Lots of environmental descriptors but bare with me. 

Positive feedback is MUCH appreciated! Reblogs, likes, asks and comments feed me to write more! Let me know if you’d like tagged in my work.

Click on my screenname then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

Alfie drives over to the Westbank into the residential parts of town. Old and new houses, apartment complexes and shotgun homes. He follows the GPS to Mae's house and it looks how he thought it might.

 A small colorful front, with a tall wooden fence around the sides and backyard. The door was a deep teal set against a faded yellow exterior. An awning over the front door, with a small porch, a stoop that was painted and worn. Flower pots of all sizes and in the color of gemstones and varied conditions sat on the stairs and around it. Wildflower boxes sat underneath windows with shutters of the same teal color as the door and fencing. It was quaint, comfortable and colorful just like she was, he thought it suited her well. He pulls into the small driveway, in the residential area with houses that look much the same as hers. It homed older houses with older owners that had fallen into a less than pristine condition, newer family homes with landscaped front lawns. But Mae's had a small patch of grass, closer to the road as he suspected the backyard would be where most of the bulk of the grass would be for a garden.

He carries Mae into her house, unlocking her door with a nod of his head. Finding the interior to be as warm and comfortable as she felt in his arms. He walks directly into the far corner of the living room. The large bay window seen from the front of the house is bleeding bright light into the room from behind a large and plush couch. The room is decorated in deep jewel tones, a teal sectional sits against navy walls, with a collection of warmer color throw pillows in bohemian and southwestern styles. A shaggy faux fur blanket was thrown haphazardly over the extended lounge end of the couch. Large potted palms sit in the corners, succulents in tiny decorative pots on the window sills. They carried onto the mantle of the brick painted black fireplace that sat like a huge room divider, sitting in a huge square column in the center of the large space of the living room and kitchen. A flat-screen tv rests on the opposite wall of the couch above the fireplace. A driftwood coffee table containing a large fern in a bright yellow pot, books on plants and herbs stacked with various remotes and cat toys.

He places her gently on the extended section of the couch, careful to place her head on a pillow and make sure none of her limbs are twisted.

He hears and feels his darkness rev and purr and push around inside him. "Yeah I know, me too." he sighs.

-"Been waiting so long."- it moans. "So soft. So much life. She glows like the sun. The companion to our moon."- It starts reciting its own strange poetry for its mate it's waited millennia for. It hadn't been with its light since the dawn of time he assumes, as he knows his darkness is so old that time isn't even relevant to it for the most part.

He recalls the dark horrors of primordial ooze and black endless voids and abyss when it had come upon him. He was impressed it was behaving itself. For so long he'd had to fight so hard to control it, making him do evil, terrible things. Deeds so bad he'd exiled himself for years away from civilization. But in her presence it was calmed, it rippled like water, it was happy and he'd never known his darkness to feel happy about anything. Except when he was digging through the insides of innocents. He shakes the old thoughts from his head, still feeling guilty even almost a century later and trying to make amends ever since.

He traces his fingers over her face and whispers calming words to help ease her anxious nature he sensed. He stands and takes in the room. Her house is very quiet. He moves soundlessly around the fireplace and sees a quaint little kitchen. Driftwood light fixtures, colorfully painted window and door frames in the same jewel tones that carry throughout the house. The kitchen is white-walled, sunlight from a window over the sink pouring in against the far wall. But the majority of light came from the two patio doors that led to her garden. A closed-door sits off to the left next to an open archway that goes down into a sunroom. He looks over the open shelves on the kitchen walls and is very excited to find tins of various teas lining them.  Old jars of pantry staples sit across the wooden countertops, some he'd say were from his time possibly, he wonders if she inherited them or if she simply had classic taste. He finds a small, dinky metal kettle and starts on making her some tea. He figured he needed something to calm her, finding her windowsill full of herbs he could easily use to make something to soothe her.

He senses something alive in the house, something besides the plants. He turns, seeing a large white long haired cat staring at him from a short hallway between two doorways to his right.  It swishes its tail and they both narrow their eyes at each other.

"Who are you, lad?" Alfie asks as the cat continues to sit and stare at him. "You must be with Mae." he says with a nod, going back to searching through the cabinets. "Not much for talkin' to strangers, eh?" he chuckles. "Must mean there's a little more to ya than being a common house cat."

Percival lets out a noisy huff of air, taking offense to the term common house cat. He lets out a low growl at Alfie. He could sense his dark energy and he didn't trust him. Although why he had brought Mae home and was now making her tea was a bit confusing if he wished her ill.

"I'm not here to hurt your girl." Alfie says, still not looking back to him. "I'm here to help her. You know she has powers, yeah? I'm here to teach her how to use them. I have similar powers, although I'm not a witch like her." he shakes his head, his fingers digging into a small tea tin.  

Percy knew he wasn't a witch, he didn't feel like a witch, didn't have the aura. He lets out a typical meow.

"You can say somefin' better 'an at mate." Alfie grins.

He lets out another meow of the same tone.

"Fine, fine. You're protective, I understand. She seems like a sweet, soft girl I can understand your concern." he remarks as he looks at him with a sympathetic expression.

Percy moves to jump up on the kitchen island to get a better look at this new person that'd come into their lives.

"'Ello." he says, leaning back against the counter while the kettle fills.

Percy says nothing and continues to sit and stare as he had been.

"I'm Alfie Solomons. You're probably sensing my darkness. But I've had it for a very, very long time, yeah? We're in control, we're not gonna hurt Mae." he states again. "We're here because of her lightness. She's our mate, right? We've been lookin' for her since me 'n this darkness got together. So the last fing I wanna do is cause her harm, 'right?"

Percy tilts his head, content for now with his explanation. But he wasn't so sure what Mae, who had no knowledge of anything of their world was going to think about this.

Mae's eyes blink open and then widen as she finds herself at her home, which is not where she remembered last being. She sits up slowly, her head feeling a bit swimmy but she's quickly aware of that strange feeling in her stomach acting up again. This time it felt different, it was what she imagined a jolt of electricity might feel like. A humming in her ears she hadn't heard before, a warm tingling in her limbs. She wonders if she has a concussion. Her attention is drawn towards the kitchen. She hears the clang of something metal and the sounds of someone clearing their throat. Her eyes are the size of saucers again.

"Oh, shit." she whispers, eyes darting around the room, hearing movement and now humming and in a distinctly male tone coming from the kitchen. She moves slowly, trying to be as quiet as possible, feeling that vibration inside her intensifying and she reads it as anxiety. She sees her shoes have been taken off as they rest by the couch, which makes her brow furrowed in question. She peeks around the corner of the fireplace, see's the same man from her dreams in the kitchen, now recalling the man walking into her shop. Then she recalls fainting and rubs her head where she's guessing she hit the ground as if it might give her some answers. Why was he in her dreams? Was she having prophetic dreams now? Great, that's just what a weirdo like her needed, more weirdness stacked on top of everything else strange about her. Was she being kidnapped? Why was she at home is she was being kidnapped? Is this a hostage situation perhaps? Holding her for ransom in her own home. She recalls reading about Stockholm syndrome and makes a quick pact with herself not to fall into that sort of mess in her manic rush of thoughts.

She eyes the large cast iron skillet on the counter in front of her, and if Saturday morning cartoons had taught her anything, is that when you needed to knock someone out, that's the way to go. So she grasps the grainy handle in both hands, holding it to her chest because of its heavy weight as she tries to sneak up on him. Little does she know he knew she was awake the moment her eyes popped open. But as is in his nature, he wants to learn about how she reacts to the unknown, taking this as a learning experience about her. He can sense she's scared and he understands that much. But her reaction with violence surprises him. Perhaps it was his darkness being near that made her so bold and go for that method first. Maybe it was trying to mingle with her to even her out, make her less passive and more reactive.

So as he hears her deep inhale as she's about the bring the pan across the back of his head, he turns and stops it, putting his hand over hers as she's about to swing on him.

"Fuckin' 'ell girl." he frowns down at her short frame.

Her bottom lip juts up, her brow going low in surprise for his hearing her and being so calm about her attempt at murdering him.

"I ain't here to hurt ya." he says with that thick accent she heard in her dreams. "If I was would I be makin' bloody tea and layin' ya down all nice and comfy while you'd passed out?" he asks, his gingery beard jutting towards her as he spoke to drive his point forward.

Her large hazel eyes blink rapidly, taking in the new information, still wild and large and full of questions he could sense. Her mouth opens and her lips twitch but no words come out. He had a point.

"Now let's put this down, eh?" he says, taking the large black pan and setting it on the counter behind her. "I know you got a lot of questions, yeah?" he nods, his lips pouted out as he moves closer to her. "I know you've been dreamin' 'bout me 'cause I've been dreamin' 'bout you." his voice dips lower, but not in a threatening way. "Do you think there might be a reason for that?" he tilts his head and their eyes connect fully for a few seconds, that flame inside her makes her take a sharp inhale. What was this feeling?  He reached out with tentative hands, putting them on her shoulders to ground her, depart a bit of calm energy into her. She feels it immediately, not understanding the source. Her muscles loosen, her heart rate slows and it's like the best anxiety medication she's ever taken. "Let's just breathe... calm down..." he says nodding slowly and she mirrors the gesture without thinking much about it, their eyes still fixated together.

She gives a quick but still unsure nod.

"We don't want ya gettin' all excited and burnin' down the place now do we?" he says with a smile that tugs back the corner of his mouth. Her eyes go wide again and he feels that spark of fear come back. She recalls being angry a few weeks ago. The flames in the fireplace lapping out wildly for a moment, catching one of the plants on the rug on fire, the singed piece of rug still black despite her scrubbing it. "Yeah, I know all about that sweetie, come now." he says, putting a hand on her back, moving her towards the round kitchen table that sat in the space between the bar top and the sunroom. "Try some proper tea made by a real Englishmen and have a sit down with me, hmmm?" he suggests with a kind smile and a nod of his shaggy head.

She still doesn't speak but another series of quick nods as she places her hands flat on the table top and stares with those big enticing eyes as he moves about her kitchen. He pours the tea from the kettle in such a delicate way it takes her by surprise. He'd chosen her favorite mug somehow, an old one of Bessie's, textured like tree bark and cream, a funky green and orange mushroom on the side that she liked to run her fingers over as she drank. He sits next to her, pulling the chair closer to her, taking a sip and motioning with the steaming mug for her to do the same. She was taught not to take drinks from strangers but what is proper etiquette for a stranger, but not really a stranger, who brings you home after passing out then tells you secrets you've not told anyone else? Where was the after-school special on that when she was a kid?

"It ain't poison." he says with a chuckle into his mug. "See? I'm drinkin' it too. No worries, love." he says in a soothing even tone.

Once again she responds in a nod, taking the mug into her hands and taking a sip. It was nice, she had to give him that.

"Best start with the basics, yeah?" he says with a quirked brow, taking a deep breath and setting the mug back own. "My name is Alfie Solomons," he says with an authoritative tone. "I've been tryin' to find ya for weeks but I think you know that." his eyes narrow almost playfully at her. "I know Cordelia and Fiona-"

"I'm not going to that stupid academy." Are the first words out of her mouth to him and he smirks at her stubbornness. She was going to need that.

"Now sit on back, darlin' I ain't here to try to get ya to go." he dismisses the thought with a sweep of his hand. "I just know 'em and they know you eh? I'm tryin' to create some familiarity here understand?" She nods and keeps her face harder than it had been. "I'm not a Salem witch, I'm not a voodoo priest or nuffin' of the sort like Maria who does your hair."

"What are ya then?" she blurts out, her brow lower and her eyes more curious than frightened now.

"Someone that has been lookin' for you for a very long time, love." he says with a softer expression, his hand resting out of the table. "There are some things I'm gonna tell you about yourself, yeah? And I need you to believe I ain't here to lie to you because you're not gonna believe it. I know enough about you just by how you've reacted to me bein' here to know you aren't naive."

Her lips purse at the compliment, her eyes finally leaving him and watching Percy jump up onto the table and join them. He seemed calmed as their eyes met, a slow lazy blink as he laid down. She took this a sign to proceed. "I'll listen." she says softly.

"You are a very powerful woman Mae." he begins, a finger tapping the space on the table between them.

Her face scrunches and he can tell she's already not believing him.

"I'm not on about no modern feminist rant here, love, just hear me out, please," he adds. "You're very powerful and you need to be guided by someone who knows what it's like. You and I are very similar, contrary to what our appearances might indicate. I'm here to help you understand that power." he pauses, watching her face and she's still listening, even if shes' taking everything with a grain of salt. "You are a natural born witch. But beyond that, you were born with a very special soul. A very rare and powerful thing, yeah? I happen to have the same sort of soul. You might understand it best as a...yin and yang situation. Your soul balances out mine you see. Your powers are complementary to mine."

His face is very serious, she can tell at least he doesn't think he's lying. But crazy people believed their own lies so of course, he would.

"I ain't crazy, sweetheart." he gruffs out, furrowing his brow and taking a sip of tea.

Her eyes shoot over to him and she stiffens. Can you read my mind? She thinks with a tilted head.

"Yes." he nods. "But only to prove a point." he shakes his head and looks up at her from under a heavy brow. She gulps noisily. "You can do it too. But you've not had any discipline, no one to explain the strange things that happen to...and that's why I'm here." he says with a sweet soft voice as his hand touches her knee for just a moment, trying to show her he meant her no harm. He wishes she could read his mind so she would understand how entirely the opposite was his intention.

"To help me with my..." her face frowns. "Powers?" she says with a solid nod of her head.

"Precisely," he says with a large nod. "You see, every so often there is a soul created that takes a bit of ancient power with them into creation, into this world, this...plane of existence if you will." he begins speaking with his hands. "You are one of these souls. I think the term white witch might be easiest for you to relate it to. You've been denying these power and they keep manifesting in inconvenient ways, yeah?"

He sees the realization come over her face as she hides her uncertainty with a long sip of tea.

"Things explodin' when you're angry, your wonderful gift with plants. How you speak to them and they flourish. How every full moon you find yourself almost uncontrollably amourous." he says with a cheeky tone and looking away with a quirk of his brow.

She lowers the mug and frowns at him, giving him a warning glance. There's no way he could've known that.

"I'm not tryin' to start trouble, love, I'm simply trying to ease your mind that I'm insane." he explains with another low swing of his voice, back to seriousness. "I'm here to mentor you. It's how this system works. Our souls need each other to balance the other out. And that normal, part of how the universe keeps it's balance, yeah?" he nods and looks to see her processing the information.

Something fluttering inside her tells her to trust him, even though anything she'd ever been taught should be telling her otherwise. She studies him, thinking he looks perfectly human, but so did she, and if she, in fact, did have these powers then he wouldn't look any abnormal than she did. "I...I don't know why but... against my better judgment I'm inclined to believe ya." she says with a sigh that slumps her shoulders. As her nerves ease, her southern accent comes out a bit more, her throat not feeling so tight and it causes a little smirk to come across his face. "But I ain't really sold on it." she adds with a furrowed brow.

"Right." he drags out the word, looking around the room for a moment, trying to think of how to prove it to her. "Ah." he says, grabbing a tiny succulent that sat in a homemade planter that resembled Percy, he waves his hand over and it withers and died immediately.

"NO!" she cries out, taking it in her hands as her breathing picks up and she stares at the plant. "Poor little thing..." she whines, her face entirely distraught, her mouth hanging open.  She glares at him while stroking the plant and without her noticing, it starts to plump back up again. As she looks back down she drops it against the table, but only by a few inches and it thuds as a tiny flower that hadn't existed before starts to bud on it as it goes back to how it had been.  "Oh," she says with a straight face, only her eyes moving over to him. "I...I've never done that before." she states quietly, her face still in shock.

"You need to start believin' in yourself before you believe in me, love, see? Ya powers work. They're charged with your emotions right now because they're not trained. I can help you with that. You might be hesitant to my being here, but clearly, your powers aren't, eh? We can feed off each other in that way." he explains, taking the plant and studying her handiwork before placing it back where it had been.

He sees her eyes going cross before they squeeze shut and she lets out a little moan, reaching up to touch her head.

"Right," he says with a wrinkling of his face in concern. "That'll happen at first." he says in an unintentionally condescending way. It'd been so long since he'd thought about what it was like to only be learning of powers that he'd forgotten how draining it could be.

She moans and he holds her shoulders as she slumps forward. "So tired." she rasps out, her eyes looking a bit sunken, as they look up at him like a little, injured kitten.

"You're learnin' but you're weak, love." he nods, rubbing her shoulder. "We can make ya stronger, but now let's get some food in ya and get ya to bed, eh?" he says with a caring tone again, patting her head before pushing her back in the chair as she rests her weight on the table.

He rises and moves to the fridge, angling himself so she isn't out of his sight. His darkness is already impatient to get back to touching her, letting Alfie know of its greed to connect with her. But Alfie feels the sadness that's coming from her that it's choosing to ignore in its selfishness.

As her head spins, the frown on her face is not only from the uncomfortable feeling she has. She'd never thought she could be special. Only Bessie and Charles had even told her she could be but she'd never believed it. So it turns out she actually was special and that felt like it should feel better than it did. If she was different, then that explained a lot but it also meant she could never fully blend in and disappear like she'd always tried to. So she had to form a new approach to how she lived, which felt incredibly daunting and made her head throb. Percy senses her pain and walks over and purrs, rubbing against her face.

Alfie leans against the counter with his hips as he mindlessly put together a sandwich for her. He sees the deep blues around her, can feel the confusion and sadness and he wishes he could take it away but it's all part of the process. It physically hurts him to feel her pain, he hopes he can show her what a gift these powers can be. How it can make her life easier and all the perks that come along with it. She had so much love to give inside her and no suitable outlets for all that life to escape and flourish. She must be so unhappy with all that confusion and pain from a source of love and life only needing to be properly expelled, used and focused. He takes solace in knowing he can help her. They've found each other now and the wait was over. His darkness does it's equivalent of wiggling in excitement at the thought. She seemed so very sweet and kind, a real ray of sunshine in human form and he supposes she very well could be. He swears to himself no matter how this goes he'll do everything within his own enormous powers to help her figure herself out, learn how to flourish on her own. Only that would lead to a better life for them both.

Her favorite comfort sandwich, bologna and cheese with lots of mustard and pickles appears before her. He refills her tea and sits next to her wordlessly.

"So..." she begins, forcing her eyes open and taking a bite. "Ya gonna be teachin' he, huh?" her face winces as she turns it towards his.

"That is the plan, yes." he nods.

"You said you were lookin' for me. That means you're not from here, right?"

"Right. I'm not from anywhere really, just got into town last week."

"Where are you stayin'"? she asks

"I've been at the Academy while I've been lookin' for you."

"Ah." she nods, taking a bigger bite, her strength starting to come back. She weighs the next thought that pops into her head before she expresses it out loud. "I can..." she tilts her head back and forth in uncertainty, "I can trust you right?" she asks with a weaker voice than she intends to.

"Of course, love. I said I'd never hurt you and I mean that. Hurting you is hurting myself and that'd be rather daft of me seein' as I've waited so long for ya and my soul has waited even longer than either of us could fathom." he says with an expressive face.

She nods and looks at the table as she chews another bite. "So you would like.. protect me basically? Teach me how to use this and keep me from hurting myself?"

"Yes, of course," he says earnestly again. "I know you can be a little clumsy." he chuckles and she smirks because he's right. "Not gonna let ya hurt yourself." he gives her a smile that feels genuine, the hesitation and instructional tone in his voice now gone and only that charm of his handsome face and accent remain as she feels an unfamiliar warmness spread through her body. She wondered if it was the light she was told about. Should I ask him to stay here? She asks herself, her eyes studying his. And as if she was hearing a voice that was carried downwind by a breeze, the faintest lightest 'yes' she hears.

"I have a spare room," she says, her head motioning to the closed door by the sunroom. "If ya... wanted to stay." she says blinking and looking away from him. "I mean... would that help? Make things easier for..." she motions her hand back and forth between them. "Whatever this is." she lets out a huff of a laugh with raised brows, her face no longer looking sad and he's thankful.

"It would make it immeasurably easier." he says with a grateful nod and another dashing smile that she's not used to receiving from men that look like him.

"I don't want you to have to stay with those witches anyway." she shakes her head and looks away again, taking another bite. "And it's not like I live that close to them," she adds. "Would hate for you to have to do that every day." she shrugs. "Plus this way when I blow up a cauldron or whatever you'll be here to help." she smiles and takes another bite.

He knows she's making excuses now but he doesn't mind. Her capacity for kindness is showing already, inviting to share her home with him. He wasn't going to ask to stay with her but this was the ideal situation. "I can help with that, yeah." he nods and lets out a little chuckle, much like the one she'd heard in her dream, she feels that warm feeling again, like walking into the sunlight after being inside in the air conditioning. It felt good and something was telling her this was right and it certainly wasn't her common sense.

She finishes her sandwich, still feeling extremely drained but no longer dizzy or in pain. She shows him to the room, switching the light on and revealing yet another cozy space. The walls were white, it was filled with plants. A shelf full of ivy rests the length of the wall over a soft looking bed with dark colored and mismatched pillowcases, blankets and sheets. A southwestern style rug in pinks, yellows and burnt orange rests across the floor at an angle, a blanket of the same color scheme but different pattern rest across the lower half of the bed. A worn wooden dresser rests under the window, plants in pots, an old metal fan, and an incense holder sit atop it.  A nightstand with a lamp sits against the wall next to the bed. He sees a fireplace on the wall opposite the bed, giving a thankful nod as it would make his spellwork much easier to have it so close and with such privacy. Boxes with the names of her foster parents sit stacked in the corner.  

"I can move some of the plants if you need me to." she offers. "This room gets really good light during the day so I put a bunch in here." she moves towards the window. "I'm sure I've got some darker curtains if you need them. This doesn't shield you at all from the sun." she shakes her head as her fingers tug on the sheer fabric. "I'll get the boxes out of your way tomorrow." she says with a kind but tired smile as she turns back around to look at him surveying the room.

"You can leave them, love, no problem at all. I get some curtains if it turns out I need them," he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. "No rush on the boxes either." he adds with a smile that reads as thankful. "It's a very cozy room." he nods with pouted lips.

"The bathroom is on the other side of house." she says walking out of the room and he follows. He sees the rectangular space. His eyes are first drawn to the old and large claw foot tub that had been painted yellow and hooked up to also function as a shower. The same navy paint on the walls as the living room, with white tile on the floor. A sink with a cabinet underneath, various toiletries rest on top of the small counter space. A large worn mirror hung above it with a golden frame that showed it's age. As was with the rest of the house, the plants had made their way in here as well. Leaves of eucalyptus hung from the silver hardware shower head, plants rest atop the makeshift wooden stands the fit snug around the tub, some of the leaves and branches falling down into it slightly. The shower curtain was shoved back and out of the tub, he took this to mean she took baths more often. A window with a bright paisley fabric cover keeps the view of the outside blocked. And old work of embroidery of a bouquet of flowers is framed and rests above the toilet. "I'll bring in a basket from my room for you to put your stuff in, there's not much room left under here." she says with her foot tapping the door to the cabinet under the sink.

"Much appreciated, love." he says, eyes still scanning the busy space. There was so much to look at in her home. She turns to open the other door, different from the rest as it was painted lavender.

"And this is my room." she says almost timidly. He feels the magic wafting out of the room as soon as she opens the door. The walls were a deep teal, a paisley purple rug covered the worn hardwood floor. A thick and plush mustard yellow comforter cover the bed, another faux fur, shaggy throw in strewn over the bed like the one on the couch. Her pillows are all mismatched, some with floral prints, some shades of purple. A fireplace rests in this room as well and he can feel the age in the house as he enters the room. The mantle is painted the same shiny black as the other fireplaces and pillar candles of all colors, widths, and sizes rest atop the mantle. Some in tiny silver platters, some melting down onto the wooden surface.

The room smelled deeply of lavender and seeing an incense burner next to a flat screen tv on her purple dresser he knew the source. A closet door of the same lavender color rests in the corner. A large chair next to a bookshelf sat next to it in front of a window with flowing jewel-toned fabrics and sheer panels create a blanket around the chair. A wicker clothes hamper and a stained glass lamp on the nightstand all fall within the same color scheme, the room full of all sorts of energy. A small table pushed into the corner with a runner across it, a worn little pink stool pushed under it with a laptop on top. Framed pictures of all sorts, from all time periods and mediums, cover the far wall, some she'd inherited, some from her weekend trips to the flea market. Of course, the room was not complete without a large palm overgrowing in the corner next to a standing mirror.

He felt his insides quiver. This was her nest, he thought. This was her safe space and her sanctuary and his darkness knew it too. The space wasn't as well lit as he imagined but it was night and he hoped he'd get to see it in the morning light, anxious to know what else it would reveal about her. She felt a bit exposed and vulnerable suddenly, there'd never been a man in this room before with her.  But he took in everything with a look of awe on his face, she watched his thoughts pass over his face, eyes tensing, lips twitching.

She tried to read his thoughts, but of course, she had no real clue as to how to do it, but she still felt no maliciousness in him towards her. There was something under the surface, she could tell. Something about him was timeless in a way. He had said their souls were ancient, perhaps that's where the term old soul came from? Without the new explanation of there actually being souls at all, and now knowing they could, in fact, be old, she thought the descriptor on a more lamen's terms still made sense about him. He had an ease about him, the bohemian sort of casual and comfortable style to him. The messy hair, the beard, and jewelry. It would seem their aesthetics matched well, which she hoped was a good sign.  for

"If you need anything, feel free to knock." she says turning to leave the room before looking back at him. "But knock first." she says with a stern nod of her head and he flashes another smile, happy to see her giving him boundaries. The lightness in her could make her too giving, too compassionate to the point of harm to herself and he was hopeful that this wasn't the case with her as she gave him a look that told him not to push it with her. "I guess we'll get ya a key tomorrow..." she says rubbing the back of her neck. "You have stuff with you or...?" her face contorts in question.

"I got stuff in me car, yeah." he nods looking towards the door. "I'll try to be quiet bringin' it in. You need to get some rest now though," he says with a wag of his finger at her. "Very important you take very good care of yourself while you're learnin', love. You can drain yourself and your health will suffer and we can't have that." he says with a clap of his hands. "So I will get my things, settle in, and we can convene in the mornin', eh?"

"That sounds good. I get up between seven and eight usually." she says, moving back towards her room. "So uh...goodnight?" she asks with a soft laugh for the unique nature of the very unusual situation.

"Goodnight Mae." he says with a nod and smile. "If you need anyfing, you come knock as well, yeah?"

"Yeah, no problem... uh...." he looks at the floor realizing she doesn't even remember his name. She lets out a laugh and rubs her head. "I'm sorry but I don't remember your name." she admits with a bitten lip and an apologetic glance.

"It's Alfie, love." he grins. "Alfie Solomons." he nods again. "You've 'ad a lot coming at you today Mae, I take no offense." he says with a hand to his chest.

"Thanks for that." she nods. "Movin' in and I don't even know your name. What a weird ass day." she shakes her head but she's smiling as her eyes shift around, trying to process everything.

"Things'll start to feel more normal again once we establish a routine, you'll see. It'll be fuckin' weird at first, I won't lie." he laughs and she's hit that warm feeling again, recalling her dream and the same sound she'd heard then as he moves towards her. "But we'll get through it together, yeah?" he responds supportively with a hand on her shoulder.

"I appreciate the honesty." she says sheepishly with a smile that reflects the tone.

"Ain't got no reason to lie to ya, sweetheart. Now you get on in bed. I can tell you're fadin' on me." his eyes almost twinkle at her as he motions to her door.

"Lock the door before you go to bed, please."

"I will. But if anyfing came in here, believe me, it'd regret it as soon as it met me." he chuckles again.

"Also good to know." she nods."Night Alfie." she says with a wave from her doorway.

"Night, Mae. Don't worry 'bout a fing!" he says loudly as he walks towards the door.

She lies in bed wondering what the fuck she was doing. There was a man in her house. Not just that but an attractive magical one that was apparently lethal and her... soul mate? She groans and rolls over to her stomach. Yeah, the term fit didn't it? She had too many questions but she knew she'd get answers as he'd already been very helpful so far. Well, helpful in the sense of turning her life upside down. But at least he was sticking around to help clean up the mess and make sense of it. She couldn't say she'd ever known any man to do that before for her. She decides to go to sleep on that hopeful note, wondering what she would dream about now that he had found her.

@jaegeeeeer @negansdirtygirl22 @brianaisasongbird @hardygal69 @emerald-bijou @captstefanbrandt @coolgh0st @tinastarkandco @stylishmileage 

[symmratgiftexchange]

Satya Vaswani Smile

Hey @threepointonefourmakesxai ! I went and made you a fic based off of your request. Thank you so much for participating in this event! I hope you enjoy this and I hope you have a wonderful new year!

You can read your story either under the cut or over on my AO3!

Junkrat fucked up.

He didn’t know when exactly, or even how. But at some point this which for whatever the reason he fucked up things with Symmetra.

She was still working next to him in the labs. But she would hardly look at him! And when she spoke to him she was so clinical and curt. More so than usual. So much that it’d finally dawned on Junkrat that Satya was intentionally trying not to speak with him. That she was mad with him.

And Junkrat had no idea what he did.

Maybe a year ago he wouldn’t have cared. He definitely wouldn’t have worried over apologizing, he wouldn’t even bother with any of that nonsense. He would have just ignored the lady, brush her aside just as quickly as she was ostracizing him, call her another one of those stuffy suits, cause a few pranks to get a rise out of her then just… move on with his life.

But this wasn’t just some lame old suit. This wasn’t a faceless nobody who he’d just go on to forget. This wasn’t even the same woman he’d met when they first joined the team, a woman he assumed would always judge him and never see him as more than a criminal or a coward. This was Satya Vaswani, this was Symmetra. And ‘Metra had come to be one of the most precious people in his life. The only person who shared that title was Roadhog.

So if Symmetra was mad at him than he needed to figure out a way to win back her favor or die trying!

First he tried to figure out what the hell he even did wrong.

He was tempted to just go ask her but whenever he got close to Symmetra she’d either glower at him, or worse yet her face would stay completely neutral and she’d just raise a single eyebrow, as if daring him to take another step closer and see what would happen. And while not always the safest person on the Overwatch team he at least had enough self-preservation to know he ought to avoid Symmetra. At least until he had a plan of fixing whatever he did and apologizing.

So without knowing exactly what he did wrong, Junkrat began formulating a way to make things up to Symmetra. He started off by trying to think of all the sorts of things he knew the woman actually liked. In the time they’d come to know one another and even develop a relationship he’d learned there was a lot more to Satya “Symmetra” Vaswani than met the eye.

For example, everyone who was anyone knew she was an amazing architect but her fascination went much deeper. She adored art, especially in the 3rd dimension in all its forms such as sculpture, CGI and architecture. And it was more than just art appreciation of simply liking art a lot. For Symmetra that 3rd dimension was a special interest of hers. Going as far as to memorize the names of many great artists as a child and study their styles and inspiration. Even to this day if someone brought the subject up Symmetra could talk for hours on end about art. Many times Junkrat had gotten so caught he almost fooled himself into liking art too just because of how much passion Satya had for the stuff! And it was that dedication and good eye in Junkrat’s opinion that had helped Symmetra become an even greater architect. She didn’t just see boring towers waiting to be built in over-crowded cities. She saw art and beauty. She wanted to inspire people the way old artists had inspired her.

Also despite being such a regal, poised woman, Symmetra loved to stim. Junkrat had seen her fiddle with a few physical things before, a pen, an object she’d just built, but she stimmed the most with her hard light. It reminded Junkrat of a man he’d known back in Junkertown who would wind up old strings in his hand into all different kinds of shapes. Symmetra would do so with her blue lights, turning them this way and that until they created these different crystals or towers of interwoven triangles. Whenever she had down time, or felt nervous, or found herself trying to focus intently on a project, like clockwork her mechanical hand would begin glowing and she’d set off forming light structures. And while most of the time Symmetra’s stim shapes were just nonsense pattern’s that built nothing, sometimes Junkrat caught her making little intricate crystals or flowers.

She also loved tea, whenever the two of them went out to a café it was a given that while Junkrat got his boba, Symmetra would get her own cup of tea. Though unlike his own iced, half sweet brew, Symmetra preferred a cup of warm freshly-brewed stuff without any sort of milk or sugar. And while she usually got similar things, a few times when she claimed to want to “treat herself” she would order these special brews that came in a glass pot where you could watch as a flower slowly bloomed in the tea or little pearls of dry leaves would unfurl in a nice little showy display.

She also had a soft spot for kids. So worst comes to worst, Junkrat could bring a kid like Efi along with him to make sure Symmetra didn’t do anything rash in front of the children. She always wanted to make a good impression on kids, always acting polite and listening to what they had to say.

And while she wasn’t very good at caring for plants she still appreciated how they looked and their ability “to seem so simple but truly be so complicated on the cellular level” as she put it.

Oh, and even though it could make her homesick at times she still adored Bollywood. The music, the outfits and costumes, the dancing, the movies, all of it!

So at least Junkrat had that, now all he needed to do was figure out what pieces he could use to make things up to Symmetra.

Most of the things he could recall didn’t seem to fit together in any perfect pictures. However Junkrat was nothing if not an inventor. And it was his specialty to take small things that seemed like nothing to others and turn them into something they couldn’t ignore… usually bombs. But he knew that he could figure out how all these small pieces of Symmetra’s interests could fit together into something so great she would have no choice but to stop being mad at him!

Two days later he finally got something and was ready to show it to Symmetra, along with what he hoped would make a good apology.

Symmetra had been in the middle of creating a new model when Junkrat slid a cardboard box in front of her, disrupting her hard light.

“What is this Junkrat?” She asked in a humorless dry tone.

Trying not to lose his cool, Junkrat cleared his throat. “Uh, why don’t you open it up and find out?”

Sighing through her nose, Symmetra dispersed the light from her gauntlet and began unwrapping Junkrat’s gift. He’d done a quick sloppy job taping the box closed, Junkrat expected her to at least comment on the crummy job he did wrapping. But she didn’t say anything. She just continued to silently unwrap the box until she could finally pull the tabs apart and see what Junkrat had given her.

Inside was what could probably be best described as an oversized desk ornament. A shelf if you were feeling generous. Held together by a metal frame a few pedestals branched out from a base. Each branch seemed to be molded to look like shining towers in Utopaea, though rather than the shining silver and gold of the city these were made from a more rustic metal that had been painted orange and blue. And within each “tower” were different hollowed out spaces. Some of which were already taken up by packages of floral teas or little succulent plants. And scattered all about the little towers were photos and cut pictures. Some Junkrat had found of different cities Vishkar had constructed like Utopaea or Oasis, others that seemed to just be the more natural landscapes of India, but mostly there was pictures taken of their base in Gibraltar, and of all the people the pair now considered friends.

“Tah-dah!” Junkrat sang, making jazz hands. “A little something to remind ya of home!”

Symmetra was trying to keep their face neutral. But Junkrat had seen the look of surprise on her face as she’d taken the little city out of its box, and how that spark of joy had yet to leave her eyes as she ran her hand along the lovingly crafted towers, modeled after her own work.

“This is indeed a fine show of craftsmanship.” Symmetra said in a bored tone, not even her voice reflected that happiness Junkrat had seen in her eyes. But as she turned her head to Junkrat, she tried to remain serious. “What on earth prompted you to build such a thing?”

“Oh you know, I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been… eh, off these past few days. And I thought, I ought to make’ya something nice and… cheer you up?”

Symmretra raised an eyebrow, though she had yet to let go of the little city. “You spent all this time making this thing just to cheer me up?” She asked, repeating his own words.

“Also, I uh, I wanted to apologize.” Junkrat said nervously, hand subconsciously going to rub at the back of his head. He could hardly look at her and waited for the other shoe to drop.

“So yeah, I’m real sorry ‘Metra. About all… that?”

Whatever small look of happiness on Symmetra’s face seemed to instantly die as she looked at him directly. For a moment Junkrat was horrified that she was going to smash Junkrat’s gift on the ground but instead she set it down gently in the center of her workbench. Her constant, emotionless gaze however did little to make Junkrat feel any better.

“Tell me Junkrat, do you know why you’re sorry?”

And here it was. The moment Junkrat had been trying to avoid. He honestly had no idea what’d he’d done to piss her off. His best bet was he broke something on accident, but he couldn’t recall smashing anything recently. Plus everything in Symmetra’s side of the workshop seemed to be in good condition. His only other guess was that maybe she thought he smelled or something, but he’d been staying on top of his hygiene more recently. Besides that he had nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“Uhhhhhhh-”

All at once that calm exterior was dropped and Satya glowered at Jamison with a fire normally only left to the battlefield. “You completely humiliated me in front of my Vishkar associates!”

“Oh, that’s what that was? When the hell’d I do that?”

“Last Tuesday. I was in the middle of a call with my associates to update them on my work. And I’d explicitly asked that everyone stay out of the workshop while I made my call. And not only did you walk through! But you were completely shirtless and scratching yourself!”

Everything finally fell into place, Junkrat wanted to say something more thought-out but all that came out was “Ohhhhhhhhhh…”

“I can’t believe you!” Symmetra continued, massaging her temples. “After you left I was reprimanded for your lack of dress code, or professionalism of any sort! It was so humiliating!”

“Hey at least you weren’t the one runnin’around shirtless!” Junkrat tried to joke, the only reaction he got from Symmetra was another glare. Though she was already starting to lose that fire from moments before. “And Overwatch don’t even have a dress code. No one’s ever got on me case for not wearing shirts before.”

“I know, and there is no policies here on how to dress.” Symmetra agreed. “It’s just, I feel like as I’ve been here I’ve grown more lack with my own self-discipline… And my meeting was another harsh reminder that I still have responsibilities. A vision to uphold”

Junkrat frowned. “That sounds like Vishkar talk.”

“Well, I do owe them my entire career.” Symmetra argued. “My education… The opportunities they gave me. My whole life even.”

“Nah.”                                                                  

“No?”

“I don’t agree with that.” Junkrat said. “I think no matter how you would’a ended up right here doing what you’re doing. Whether you got roped up with a fancy company or not.”

“But without Vishkar’s training I wouldn’t know how to manipulate hardlight.” Symmetra said.

“No, I mean bigger than that.” Junkrat continued. Reaching over to grab the little city he’d built her. “No matter how, you’d find a way to do what you do. Sure you can get trained or whatever but you got something bigger than all that. You got a mind. You got ideas and dreams. And you do what you do to make things happen. And you wanna help people. Like really help people.”

Symmetra said nothing, watching as Junkrat placed the city back onto her workbench, sliding it closer so she could see some of the pictures of their Overwatch team.

“So I’m sorry I made an ass of myself in front of those suites. But you know what? I don’t care about any of those blokes! And I don’t think you should either. Cause no matter what you’re already lightyears ahead of those bastards, no matter how they try to drag you down and make you feel bad!”

“You really think so?” Satya asked.

“Sure!” Jamison said, suddenly realize he’d gotten so loud as he talked that he was practically shouting.

But then, for the first time in days, Jamison saw Satya smile, and he knew everything he’d said and done had been worth it.

“Thank you Jamison…”

“Any time darl!”

[tacticalgrandma]

Thank you fic for @bloomingcnidarians! You are so kind, thoughtful, and talented, and I was so surprised and happy when I saw the Huntress piece you made for me. Here’s some absolutely saccharine Gencio gardening fluff to thank you for it <3 

The Shambali monastery Genji and Zenyatta had set up in in Rio was an unassuming thing. It had concrete walls and a sheet metal roof, like many of the other buildings around it. The bike rack in front of it had been painted but now it was starting to peel, and the mural of a great golden eye on the front wall had started to fade in the bright sun. Lúcio supposed there was not much beautiful about the monastery, except his boyfriend, and the garden. He found the former in the latter that afternoon, an obscured gleam in a patch of sunflowers. In the pagoda by the pond, Lúcio spotted Zenyatta, who raised up a peace sign, then pointed towards Genji. Lúcio grinned, waved, and made his way to the flowers.

“Hey,” he said, peering over the petals. “These are going good.”

Genji set down his trowel and looked up. His face mask was off– because dirt was difficult to clean from his armors nooks and crannies, but also because he liked the feeling of the sun on his face, Lúcio remembered. Genji’s cheeks were in fact gaining some color, though that was obscured by the dirt smudged on his face.

“Not quite,” Genji said. He looked away from Lúcio, surveying the little plot. “I wanted these to grow into a sunflower house. Instead…”

He gestured to the amorphous blob the flowers made. Lúcio winced and wove his way through the flowers, to sit next to him.

“These grow fast, right?” Lúcio said. “You could pull up some of them, and plant some more. And do some research before you plant ‘em.”

“Maybe.” Genji sighed and leaned back on his hands. “I just don’t like pulling them up, when they’ve already grown. It feels like killing, I guess.”

They’re just plants, flashed briefly through Lúcio’s mind, but then he remembered his father carrying spiders out of his bedroom in the middle of the night, and Genji telling him all life was equal before the Iris. He nodded.

“Well. Maybe you could just make this the first part of a super-thick-walled sunflower house.”

Genji laughed. “I think Master Zenyatta would object to me taking up so much space. No, it’s fine.” He took Lúcio’s hand. “I can plant more. You’re right. They’re good flowers.”

Lúcio intertwined their fingers. “You know, I don’t think you’ve ever told me. What is your favorite flower?”

“Mmm.” Genji tilted his head up to the sky. “Before the fight, I would have said roses.”

“You basic bitch, you.”

“But now, I don’t know,” Genji continued, ostensibly ignoring Lúcio, but not quite hiding the laughter in his voice. “Cherry blossoms remind me of home, and sometimes that’s nice, when I’m so far from it. Lotus flowers remind me of Zenyatta, they’re his favorite, and he always takes pictures of them when we see them travelling. And now the flowers I work with aren’t always the types to show up in bouquets.” Lúcio scanned the pansies and geraniums that Genji so carefully tended to and nodded. “So I don’t know. I guess I just like seeing flowers still in the earth, these days.” He looked down at Lúcio. “What about you?”

He made a face. “Now you’re going to make me feel guilty about liking getting flowers.”

“No, I’m not! I’m–” Genji relaxed a little as Lúcio broke into a wide smile and leaned in closer, but he still rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I really do want to know. For. Reasons.”

"Mmm. Reasons.” Lúcio kept his smile as he tapped his fingers against Genji’s thigh, thinking. “I don’t know,” he said after a minute. “You’re actually kind of right. Most of the plants I have at my place are cacti and succulents– stuff even I have trouble killing. I usually give any flowers I get from shows to the crew manager.” Genji nodded. “But hey. You know what’s unfair?”

“What?”

"There are no green flowers," Lúcio said. Genji surveyed the garden as Lúcio gestured across it. "I mean I get it, don't get me wrong. The whole purpose of flowers is to get attention. Bees and shit have got to know the difference between normal plant and that good pollen shit." Genji snorted. "But it kind of sucks, you know? It's my favorite color. And you never think about flowers when you think of it. You just think about stems and leaves. The stuff you don't pay attention to." "That's not what I think of," Genji said. Lúcio leaned his head on his shoulder and tilted his face

up. "Oh yeah? What do you think about?" "I think about springtime," Genji said promptly. "I think about realizing warmer days are coming. I think about looking to green coming up from the dirt and knowing that whatever's down there is still alive, and growing." He kissed Lúcio’s forehead softly. "And I think of you." Lúcio considered that for a moment. "That was cheesy," he finally pronounced. "But did it work?" "Of course," Lúcio said. The corners of Genji's eyes crinkled as he smiled. "Your cheesy shit always works on me." "Good to know," Genji said, and kissed him again. "I think there are green carnations," he added after a moment. "If you get me carnations, I’m going to marry you just so I can divorce you immediately." Genji shoved him and Lúcio cackled. - About a week later, Genji met Lúcio at the entrance to the temple. "Come in," Genji said, shifting on his feet. "I want to show you something?" "Oh yeah?" Genji hurried ahead of Lúcio, and held the door open for him. "You get that sunflower house going?" "Not quite." There was a little table at the center of the atrium that had not been there before. On it was a pot, and in the pot was a green orchid. "I asked Zenyatta about green flowers," Genji said, as Lúcio moved in to inspect it. "And he said this would suit you well, and I agreed. So. What do you think?" Lúcio turned back to him, an eyebrow raised and a smile on his face. "So like... is the flower supposed to be me, or something?" "God no," Genji said. "Orchids are finicky and require as much care as every other flower in the garden combined. You're reasonable and strong. I hate this stupid flower and I love you. But." Genji stepped next to Lúcio and wound his arm around his waist. "It's beautiful, and so are you. So it fits."

“And it’s in a pot,” Lúcio added. “It’s still growing. Just like you like.” He leaned into Genji. “You are so, so cheesy.”

“But did it work?”

“Always,” Lúcio said, and kissed him.

[ezzydean]

fireflies in the square

yet another everyday/modern magic au that you didn’t ask for but I started writing anyway.  because I do what I want.

no ships yet, just potential

2k

Technically - technically - Kei really shouldn’t blame Kentarou for this.  But Kentarou was the one who threw the dart at the map and therefore the one who chose where they would be going and therefore was the reason Kei’s favorite plant was nearly dead and therefore the reason Kei was standing in front of a shop called Garden Gnome that he hoped was a plant shop staring at the tallest mass of muscle he had seen in a very long time.  Maybe ever.  He hugged the pot for his plant a little tighter against his chest when the mass of muscle turned and spotted him standing outside.

He blinked and was looking at nothing but plants behind glass and then the door to his left opened.

“Hello.”

Kei’s fingers twitched against the pot.  It had been awhile since he had gone out on his own and actually interacted with people.  It was even more nerve wracking than he remembered.

“Hello,” he finally managed after what was probably far too long of a pause to be normal.

“Did you need help with something?”  Kei took a step closer and spotted a name tag pinned to a pastel apron that should have seemed out of place on the slab of muscle.  But it wasn’t.  Somehow.  Kei squinted at the tag: Ushijima.  “Or perhaps you wanted to come look around,” Ushijima suggested.  He stepped back against the door in an invitation for Kei to enter.

Kei glanced down the sidewalk back towards his and Kentarou’s apartment.  Then he licked his lips, pulled the pot even tighter against his chest, and headed inside.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

The moment he stepped into Garden Gnome Kei felt like he had been transported to a new world.  The air was fragrant and crisp, the light was somehow shimmering and warm in a way the sun outside hadn’t been, and plants covered every surface they could.  Vining plants crawled up shelves and hung from the rafters.  Succulents and cacti covered shelf upon shelf.  Big, leafy tropical plants crowded the aisles.  Feathery leaves whispered against each other across the room, moving from a breeze he couldn’t feel.  He heard a quiet series of thumps, like books falling onto carpet, from above him and he followed the line of a spiraling metal staircase up to the second floor and spotted more flowering plants than he could ever remember seeing in one place.

Someone poked their head around a huge planter filled with dark teal flowers and peered down at them.

“What is it now, Ushiwaka?”  They demanded.

Kei could feel the plant in his arms stirring back to life, just from being here.

“This customer was standing outside and I invited them in.”

Kei shifted under the pinpoint stare of light brown eyes.

“A paying customer or one who wants to gawk at the great Oikawa?”

Ushijima let out a quiet sigh.  Kei got the feeling that this was a fairly regular occurrence here.

“Uh.”  Kei cleared his throat.  “We just moved into the area - my roommate and I - and, uh, my plant isn’t taking the move so well I guess.  I’m not sure what exactly is wrong with it?  I was hoping someone could help me?”

“Oooh,” Oikawa cooed from his perch above them.  “A challenge!”  He hopped over the edge of the railing and landed gracefully in front of Kei.  Oikawa curled his fingers in delicate grabby motions and Kei let him peel the pot away reluctantly.  

He never knew what to do with his hands when he wasn’t doing something with them, never had and probably never would.  Kentarou found it hilarious and, much to Kei’s chagrin, kind of adorable.  It wasn’t adorable.  It was mortifying.  Was he supposed to shove them in his jacket pockets?  Did he hook his thumbs in his front pants pockets?  Play with his scarf?  Why were his fingers so long and gangly and awkward like the rest of him?

He settled for his default: pressing his thumbs together and letting his fingers tangle up while his arms hung awkwardly in front of him.

Oikawa cooed at his plant as he ran his fingers along the leaves and poked gently at the soil.

“He might be awhile,” Ushijima said from behind him, startling Kei.  “Feel free to look around if you’d like.”

Kei didn’t really want to let his plant out of his sight but seeing as how Oikawa scurried away with it the moment Kei had glanced over his shoulder at Ushijima and was now nowhere to be seen he didn’t really have a choice.  Ushijima wandered away carrying a watering can Kei didn’t remember seeing him pick up and left Kei to look around the shop warily.

He was a little wary because he had no idea what he’d find in the shop and Oikawa and Ushijima left him feeling skittish and restless and all sorts of things he couldn’t quite pin down.  He was mostly wary because the last time he was in a building with this many plants in it Hinata had forgotten to tell him that he was living with a giant snake shifter and Kei had turned a corner and come face to face with a flickering tongue and what seemed to be a metric ton of slithering, coiling snake.

If he ran into a snake shifter he was calling Kentarou and dragging his ass right back on the road whether or not Kentarou wanted to come with.

Kei wandered through aisles of plants, brushing past leaves and flowers that seemed to shiver at his touch.  He wasn’t all that good with plants.  The one he brought in was actually one of the few he had managed to keep alive all these years.  So of course now, when it and Kentarou are the only physical reminders of what he left behind, is when it starts dying.  He grit his teeth and shoved the melancholy out of his mind - or at least to the back of it - and ducked under a frondy ferny branch of some kind that he had spotted out of the corner of his eye.  He froze as the leaves whispered and fell back into place behind him.  In front of him was a small pond surrounded by mossy rocks and trailing vines.  That wasn’t what froze him in place.  It was the fawn delicately lapping water out of the pond and nudging a pink water lily out of the way almost irritatedly.

Time seemed to slow to a stop as he stood there watching the fawn.  Its light brown coat dappled with white made his fingers itch to touch and the way its ears kept flicking towards him let him know it knew he was there.  It knew and it just kept lazily lapping up water.  Kei looked around and saw nothing but plants.  Nothing that indicated that this was even a shop anymore.

Oikawa’s voice snapped him out of his own swirling thoughts.  He might have been standing there for five minutes or he might have been up there for five years he really wasn’t sure.  The fawn finally looked over at him and for a moment he swore it looked irritated.  Not at his presence, at least he didn’t think so.

“Kunimi,” Oikawa called out again, enunciating each syllable.  The fawn let out a soft huff and the plants around the pond trembled.  Then the branches behind Kei rustled and Oikawa poked his head into the little clearing.  “There you are.  Kunimi.  Eat this.”  He held out a small leaf and Kei had never seen a fawn look so unimpressed and exhausted as he did right then.  It let out another huff but it licked the leaf out of Oikawa’s hand and chewed on it.

Before Kei could ask what exactly was going on the fawn shuddered and twisted its head at a strange angle and then, well, there weren’t really words to describe the way it started shifting and twitching and tearing itself apart until there was a guy who looked about Kei’s age standing there with a grimace on his face as he swallowed and then licked his lips like he was trying to get a bad taste off of them.

“He’s being cursed,” the guy, who he assumed was Kunimi, said.  “Low level, maybe a two or three, intentionally weak.”  He leaned in close to Kei and plucked lightly at the cuff of his jacket, squinting at him.  “Non-family so far as I can tell.”

That… that explained a lot actually.

Oikawa gasped dramatically.  “You poor thing,” he cooed at the same time Kei said, “Oh, just a curse?”

The other two stared at him in surprise.

“What do you mean ‘just’ a curse?”  Oikawa gave him a once over, apparently seeing him in a new light or something.

“I bet that’s probably why so many of my plants have died over the years,” Kei muttered mostly to himself.  “I just wish I had realized it before.  Kyoutani could have taken care of it and then I would have a lot fewer dead plants on my conscience.”

Kei really should get back to the apartment and let Kentarou know.  He slipped past Oikawa and headed back for the front door of the shop.  He spotted his plant on the counter next to Ushijima who was watering it carefully and gently plucking dead leaves from it.

“Thanks for, you know, everything.”  He grabbed his plant and held it to his chest again.

“Wait, wait, wait.  You’re just gonna waltz out of here all casually after being told you’re being cursed?”  Oikawa tilted his head in curiosity.  Kei glanced up to the second floor where Kunimi was watching him warily.  Ushijima made a unhappy noise at Oikawa’s words but before he could say anything Kei gave them all a polite bow and backed up to the door.

“I should go.”

He thought he heard Ushijima say something about coming back some time but he was out the door and heading down the block before any of them could stop him.  He wasn’t running, but between his long strides and what was probably one of the most epic ‘bitch get out of my way’ faces he’d ever had on he made it back to the apartment in near record time.

“How was your day dearest?”  Kentarou snorted before he even finished his sentence, ruining whatever dumb joke he had been trying to set up before he even got it started.  Kei rolled his eyes and kicked his shoes against the wall.  He was happy to note they fell exactly where they should and lined up perfectly with Kentarou’s own.

He shoved his plant into Kentarou’s lap and dropped down onto the floor next to him, arm balancing casually on one knee.

“You know I always thought a plant was kind of a weird gift to get.  Especially from one seventeen year old to another.”  Kentarou stiffened, eyes darting towards Kei and then down to the plant in his lap.  “Couldn’t you have just given me like a talisman or something?”

Kentarou meet his gaze, searching for something.  Probably gauging how irritated Kei was about it all.  When he realized Kei was more irritated at the situation than at Kentarou himself he laughed and shook his head.

“A talisman?  Jewelry?  Dude that’s gay.”

“Um.  You are gay,” Kei reminded him.

“Not for you.”

Kei shrugged.  “Fair enough.”  He was quiet until Kentarou bumped their shoulders together.  “I’m pretty sure I found a plant shop that’s just a front for a fae portal of some kind.  How about you?”

Kentarou grinned at him and pulled something out of his pocket, leaning most of his weight into Kei’s side in the process and nearly tipping them both over.  He handed a small business card to Kei.

“‘The Polyarmory’?”

“One: four very attractive individuals and a whole shit ton of weapons.”

“Basically your wet dreams.”

“Basically,” Kentarou agreed.  “Two: at least one of them has the kind of dark magic we need.  Three: I got a personal number from one of them.”  His grin grew even wider when Kei turned the card over and saw the name and number scrawled on the back.

“Well I hope you and,” Kei peered down at the card, “Kuroo will be very happy together.  I’m going to go lay on the floor in the kitchen and see if I can figure out who, exactly, has been cursing me for the last five or so years.”

[formallyfreya]

Hidge Week Day 7: Free Day

[[I ended up doing a Flowershop/Tattoo Parlor AU! Thank you kindly for the suggestion @proxypunch]]

**(It’s a little longer so it’s under a cut again)**

The flower shop is slow going today. No major holidays or weddings scheduled. Means that Hunk spends most of his time wandering about the store, reorganizing plants and stacking pots. Recently he’s moved the potting desk over towards the window so he can at least have a view as he works.

Cars passing, couples walking arm in arm, delivery boys on their bikes with a box of pizza precariously balanced on their handlebars. It’s a nice day and if the tree out front of the store is any indication, there’s a nice breeze too. Might not be a bad idea to prop the door open and sweep off the entry. He’s about to when she walks out of the tattoo parlor across the street.

He’s seen her a couple of times while out sweeping. Pretty girl, short and thin with haircut and styled with a bit of flip to it. Thick glasses and expressive eyebrows. Always in tank tops and khaki shorts with a flannel shirt tied around her waist. Shows off the numerous tattoos on her body.

A full sleeve on one arm and a half sleeve on the other. Her calf on one leg is covered to the knee with a small tat over her ankle on the other. The sleeve over her arm extends over to her chest and collarbone too. Hunk’s never seen them up close enough to know what they’re of but he imagines they’re nice.

She often leaves around noon to hit the hot dog stand at the corner. By the time she walks back she’s usually put away two chili dogs and a soda. Then she  steps back into the parlor for her next client. She always seems to be busy with clients. He expects that she’s heading to lunch now but she’s crossing the street. Which is a little weird. There are no food places on this side. Just flowers, laundry, and a clothes shop.

She stops in front of the family flower shop, eyes the hours, and then tentatively peeks her head inside.

“Hello? Anyone here?” she asks. Hunk steps over to the door while wiping potting soil off his hands onto his apron.

“Welcome to The Garrett Family Greenhouse,” Hunk says and she enters the rest of the way. “Can I help you find something?”

She’s even prettier up close. The sleeve tattoo is nothing but microchips and wires and metal making her arm look a like it belongs to a cyborg. The part that extends over her chest shows a gear in the shape of a heart. Very futuristic.

“Yeah, this is a long shot but, do you have a…” she opens a small sketchbook the size of journal. “...a butterfly jasmine orchid?”

“Oh wow, uh, that’s...very specific,” Hunk nods and gestures out a single pointing finger. “Actually! Just a second!”

Hunk goes into the back and into the miniature hothouses. What a coincidence that she’d want one of these. The only reason he has one in the first place is because his friend needed one as the centerpiece in a wedding arrangement. He just so happens to have one left.

“Will this be all?” he asks as he brings the flower to the register.

“Yeah,” she nods as she pulls out her wallet and slaps down a debit card.

While ringing her up he can’t help but notice the way she’s dissecting the the flower with her eyes. Breaking it down with a slight purse to her lips. He hands her the receipt and she reaches for the plant.

“Glad it’s going to a good home. What kind of hothouse do you have?” he asks with a smile. She looks a little confused as she raises a brow. “The best temperature to house those at is about 80 degrees fahrenheit and a 60% humidity. Full sun is best. Oh! You know what? We have some potting soil that’s great for orchids. Whenever it gets too big and you want to repot it let me know, I can even do it for you if you’re worried about it getting damaged in the transfer.”

She seems a little uncertain and hesitant to take the plant from the counter now.

“You...really care about these plants, huh?” she asks.

“Well, sure. They’re living things,” he says with a soft smile. “Like people, they need great care to flourish.”

Now she looks just downright guilty, like she hadn’t considered keeping the flower long enough for it get properly potted, let alone flourish. Her hands retract from the plant as she nibbles on her lip.

“I...don’t have a hothouse,” she admits.

“Oh.”

“Honestly, I just wanted it to help finalize a tattoo design for a client,” she says with a sheepish smile but it goes a little somber as she rubs her arm. “I don’t exactly have room at the shop or home to build a hothouse for it. And now...I’d hate to see it wilt and die--”

“Tell you what,” Hunk interrupts. “Anytime you need a flower for inspiration, you can come over and draw one. No charge.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Hunk smile, a little flush coming to his cheeks at her worry melting. “That way you don’t have to spend money and the plants stay healthy. And you still get your designs finalized.”

“Hmmm,” she smiles, pinching her chin with a smirk. “That does sound optimal.”

“But I’ve already taken your money--oh! Hold on a second,” he says and crosses the store.

She loses him for a moment in the foliage. He hums and moves a few things around. When she leans to try and locate him she finds him reaching up to a hanging plant. He pulls it down and brings it to the front.

A large hanging plant with heart shaped leaves on it’s long vines streaming down.

“Take this,” he insists. “It’s a pothos.”

“It’s bigger than the orchid,” she says.

“You have a good open spot at the window at your parlor,” Hunk tells her. “Just install a hook and it’ll do well hanging there out of the way.”

“What if I kill it?” she asks still a little uncertain.

“You won’t, it’s easy to care for. Leave it in the sun. Water it once a week. That’s it,” Hunk insists. “It’ll even purify the air you breathe in return.”

She pauses to think as Hunk pushes the plant to the edge of the register.

“Sound good? Ms…?”

“My friends call me Pidge,” she says with a smirk. She offers her hand to him which he shakes. “And you’re uh…?

“Hunk,” he tells her and she erupts with snorts and giggles. It’s gotta be about the cutest sound he’s ever heard, even if she is laughing at his name.

“I can’t believe it!” she snorts again. “He was telling the truth! Your name actually is Hunk! One of my clients--he told me it was but I thought he was pulling my leg. Thought he just called you that because you’re--”

“A hunk?” Hunk laughs.

“Yeah,” she laughs and bites her lip a little again as her cheeks flush pink, like the new posies he got in. They’d compliment them perfectly. “Thanks for the plant, Hunk,” she tells him as she takes the pot in hand.

“N-No problem,” he stammers with a smile, finally coming back to earth. “Come by anytime you want to draw some flowers. I’ll pick out some doozies.”

“Are those some kind of off-brand of daisies?” she asks with a furrowed brow.

“You’ll have to come back to find out,” he says with his best charming smile. Seems to work because she flushes anew with a shy smile and takes off with her new plant.

In the days to come things change around the shop. Every Thursday Pidge waters the pothos in the tattoo parlor window and comes visiting with Hunk in his shop.  She draws out flowers, vines, and cacti while Hunk chats with her about them all. She even brings lunch for them to share.

And then one day after being gone for a week, she returns to Hunk’s shop first thing. To show off her new sleeve.  Growing all over her arm arm a number of lush succulents, vibrant flowers, and flavorful herbs. All the ones he went on and on about and she came to love.

But at the very top of her shoulder sprouts her favorite, a long beautiful vine that travels throughout the rest of them and down her arms. The same plant she has still in her parlor window. One with sweet heart-shaped leaves.

[businesslistingsaus]

Vertical Garden Design Ideas For Home

Vertical gardens south Melbourne are an attractive way to add colour and life to your home. They make great additions to patios and balconies, as well as being a great way to add greenery inside your home. Here are some vertical garden ideas for your home!

Painting a mural on a short wall

If you're going to paint a mural on a short wall, try using a stencil. It can be used to create an interesting pattern in your garden or even just add some colour. This is great for making sure that all of the plants are spaced evenly and aligned in the same direction.

If you love the look of succulents, then you'll love this vertical succulent garden idea

If you love the look of succulents, then you'll love this vertical succulent garden idea. Succulents are a great way to add colour, texture and form to metal garden screens melbourne. They're also incredibly easy to grow—just ask any kid with a pot of dirt in their backyard! Here's how it works: You'll need four 1-foot PVC pipes that are painted white on one side and green on the other. Drill 1/4 inch holes every 12 inches along both sides of each pipe (so there is 8 total). Then fill each pipe with soil and plant your succulents about an inch apart from one another so they can grow up through the holes (this is where those fun little flowers come in handy!). That's all there is to it!

Gutter systems are another way to create some beautiful vertical garden designs at home.

Gutter systems are another way to create some beautiful vertical garden designs at home. With the gutter system, you can create a vertical garden by suspending it from a wall or attaching it to the side of your house. This is great for creating a hanging garden that looks like it's growing out of the side of your house! You can also use gutters as an alternative to traditional soil and plants in creating a vertical wall planter. You could even go one step further by using gutters and creating multiple levels by stacking them on top of each other! Just think about all the places you could use these types of horizontal gardens: they're perfect for patios, decks, balconies...even indoors if you put little lights around them (because who doesn't love indoor lighting?)

Create an herb wall with trellises and planters

If you want to grow herbs but don't have the space for a full herb garden, consider building a herb wall with trellises and planters. It's easy to do by yourself and will look great when you're done. Herbs are easy to grow, so if you've ever wanted to try growing your own herbs but didn't know where to start, this is a great way to get started. They're also a great way of adding colour and flavour to your cooking! Conclusion We hope these vertical gardens south Melbourne design ideas have inspired you to start creating your own vertical garden. We know that it's not always easy to find the right inspiration and motivation, but we think these gorgeous examples will help get you on track! With just a little bit of imagination and creativity, you can create something beautiful for yourself and your home. Read the full article