#peony flower bunches

[eikaebana]

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[ent-is-undecisive]

Some snail pics from the garden ♡

[seiwas]

grow on me like a dog loved fondly: prologue | kamo choso

wc: 1.0k

summary: your regular to the flower shop is more than what he seems. 

contains: written with f!reader in mind but can be read as gn!, animal shelter employee choso x flower shop owner reader, implied that reader is shorter than choso, flowers, small talk.

a/n: the promised choso drabble! depending on how this is received, i intend for this to be the prologue to a longer choso fic i have in mind!

You have a regular on the weekends. 

Business in the flower shop tends to be slow during winter, with less occasions having the need for flowers and even less buds blooming during the season. 

But even with the expected decline in customers, Saturdays always guarantee one—

The bells attached to the store doors jingle, allowing in a gust of cool air that tickles your cheeks from where you’re crouched down. The peonies in your hands were delivered just yesterday, the ends of the stems needing a slight trim to keep them fresh for longer. 

You turn, standing up to face your visitor. A purple scarf is wrapped high around his neck, with white fleece running down the length of his arms—a sort of undershirt to the short-sleeved uniform worn atop it. The outfit is familiar enough, but what truly distinguishes him are the two spiky pigtails on the sides of his head. 

There are a few things you’ve managed to pick up from four-line exchanges with your regular (six if you’re lucky): 1) he works at the animal shelter a few streets away, 2) the flowers he buys are for the front desk, a weekly replacement he deems necessary to keep the place looking alive, and 3) who he is, his name—

—‘Choso’, if the tag on his uniform says anything. 

The tag that is now, also, just a hand’s reach away from you. 

You look up, pocketing your plant nippers. The peonies dangle between your fingers. 

“W-welcome!” you stutter, focusing on the thin metal chain running across his nose. 

It’s new, an addition that intrigues you more about the man in front of you. 

The look he gives you is lazy, gaze deadpan, almost empty. Anyone else might find it snobbish and off-putting, but you’ve gotten used to it—an almost magenta puffiness that surrounds his eyes, bags of fatigue that usually hang underneath. 

He continues to stare, unmoving. 

Considering all your previous interactions, you’ve realized, he isn’t scary or rude or anything of that sort—he’s just awkward. 

A bit quiet and unbothered, maybe, but still just awkward. You don’t think he’s ever started an interaction with you first. 

“Is there any flower in particular that you’re looking for?” you ask, motioning around your store. 

The selection is limited this season—a few camellias and clusters of Japanese primrose with an abundance of peonies and daffodils. 

His head turns as he glances around the store, pigtails bobbing slightly with each movement. When he faces you again, he shrugs, voice deep and firm as he asks, “Do you have any recommendations?” 

It’s an odd feeling, borderline awkward and nervous; you have no idea why your mind is blanking. 

“Um,” you clear your throat, tucking the peonies between your fingers into your apron pocket, “daffodils are bright and friendly, good for entryways and front desks, I think.” 

He eyes the daffodils to your right, buckets of stems holding yellow and white. The store stays quiet for what feels like a good minute before he nods, agreeing to your suggestion. 

“The usual?” two clusters, wrapped in newspaper. 

Your question echoes throughout the shop, lingering while you pick at which daffodils look best. 

“Yes, but two of them.” he answers in monotone, before adding on, a soft hesitancy, “Please.” 

You smile to yourself, picking more daffodils for another bunch. 

Both of you make your way to the cashier, another bout of silence surrounding you as you crumple newspaper and pull at tape. He always watches, you notice, his focus set on your practiced handling of stems and leaves. 

You look up momentarily, seeing that he keeps his head down, “The pigtails are cool.” 

He doesn’t say anything, and for a while you’re afraid you might have offended him, but he responds, voice low; it’s soft, gentle in a way you never expected it to be. 

“Thank you.” you catch him shifting his weight from your periphery, hands digging deeper into his pockets, “The dogs think they’re chew toys when I wear it this way.” 

You most certainly were not expecting that, either. 

This is the most initiative he’s taken to add onto the conversation.

You grin, chuckling under your breath, “That must be fun.” 

It’s faint, but you think you hear him laugh a little. 

When the flowers are completely wrapped, you set them aside, making your way behind the cash register. You punch in the cost, ready to bill him before he speaks again. 

“Actually, would you happen to do deliveries?” he seems shy asking it, barely looking you in the eye. 

“Yes!” You nod, grabbing a pen and paper to hand over to him, “Just write down your contact details, the address you want it delivered to, and when you’d like it to be delivered.” 

Another thing you’ve realized, is that despite appearances and what he seems to be, Choso handles objects gently; the pen and paper you’d just given him were taken lightly from your fingertips. Even the strokes of his penmanship are slow, the tip of the pen barely creating an indent on the small sheet. 

“Will you be having both of these delivered?” you ask, holding up the bundles of daffodils. 

“Just one.” he answers promptly, before adding on again, “Thank you.” 

And you know you shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t be so nosy, but—

“What’s the occasion?”—

Flowers are rarely in demand during the winter season. 

—“If you don’t mind me asking,” you follow-up quickly. 

The immediate quiet makes you think you might have gotten too comfortable again, made him feel weird about your questions—but he answers.

“My brothers,” he finishes the final curves of his writing, “they’re coming to visit.” 

The piece of paper is handed to you, and you hum, acknowledging his response. You go over his details, reciting it to him to double-check. But when you land on his address, your eyes go wide, a little ‘oh!’ slipping out. 

He furrows his brows, confused. 

You definitely, most certainly did not expect this. 

“Sorry,” you shake your head, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment, “Just—“ you chuckle, “I think we might be neighbors.” 

thank you notes: @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat for sending me lil prompts that somehow birthed into this!! + @yemmuishomeforthementallyunwell for feeding the choso brainrot 🥹 + @mysugu @soumies for being my angels, lights of my life!! listening to me ramble abt this and helping me pick music, hash out plot, pick title, everything! ily

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[francixoxoxo]

⋆.˚ Rose Gold ᡣ𐭩 ୨ৎ

𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐗 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐲𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭 𝟏𝟐 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭. 𝐇𝐞’𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲!! 🫶🫶

Ballet seemed to be the only way for you.

Your feet were molded to fit into slippers, never mind if your toes were bruised and broken. You were gratefully blessed with thick hair, because years of updos would have thinned it to a rag-doll’s amount otherwise. You grew used to the dull ache of an empty stomach. Your body was made to be tugged and bent and manipulated without so much as a complaint, you were made to push every comfortable limit. You were born to sacrifice comfort for greatness.

Coriolanus had recognized that greatness since you were children. He saw that immense talent, as he sat in the very back of the theater in a seat you’d begged your director to provide. You’d been so young, at the first show you brought him to. Perhaps just twelve. But so, so magnetically beautiful.

The stage was your Eden, Coryo could tell from the start. The dainty way you moved, the way your brows pulled taught in an expression equally as emotional as the dance. He couldn’t peel his eyes off you, clearly the company could see that was the overwhelming sentiment because you got most of the lead parts. You were their prima ballerina, and you deserved every ounce of the praise for your bone-cracking work.

Coryo, even in your academy days together when he could hardly afford a half-decent tie, never came empty handed to your shows (which he seemed to always find a way to attend). He always had a bouquet of flowers for you, the bright tulips you adored or soft pink peonies to match your tutu. It was always worth it to see the way your eyes lit up.

It was needless to say that Coryo fell in love with the beautiful-souled, elegant ballerina. How could he not, after years of being so close to you?

Tigress and you were the ones to teach him how to dance for his first prom, his cousin not-so-discreetly recording Coryo learning to dance the lead with his “little girlfriend” in the Snows’ apartment. (Coriolanus had protested to that nickname, claiming you were a “friend who was a girl.”) He still remembered the feeling of your waist under his hand as you gracefully moved, stark contrast to himself. More embarrassingly he still remembered you and Tigress had both broken into giggles at Coryo’s unrelenting stiffness. He liked to think he was a better dancer now.

You’d been the one to walk with him to the library, if only to check out classical dance magazines into your backpack while he studied. You’d always leave early for ballet lessons. He knew you were a hard worker, dedicated to your craft. But Coryo hadn’t known the half of it.

Once, he recalled, you’d gone straight to the changing room instead of coming to greet your father or Coriolanus. He’d been puzzled, holding his bunch of white roses in the crook of his arm and asking the other dancers what’d happened. They’d only shrugged. So he might have snuck behind stage, confident that the rest of the ballerinas were still taking photos and chatting with family, and knocked on the changing room door.

“Yes?” Your voice rang out, croaky and raw. His heart had dropped at the sound.

“It’s just me. Can I come in?” Coryo called to you, his ear to the door. You shuffled around before opening the door yourself.

Just as he’d expected, your eyes were red and blotchy, mascara running. You’d taken out the comb in your hair but not the updo itself. Your tutu, though you’d been raised and reprimanded to take extreme care of the company’s accessory, was discarded on the floor beside your ballet slippers. As Coryo stared down at you, hips brows furrowing in concern, you stood in your pale pink leotard and snow-white tights. Through the sheer fabric he could see the bandages around your feet, scabs reopened and bleeding through the gauze to your tights.

You’d sniffled. “It’s fine. It wouldn’t show under the slippers.” As if that was his cause of worry. You stepped aside to let him into the dressing room, stiffly sitting himself down on a mauve chaise. He set the roses beside him.

“Are you all right?” Coryo cooed, watching you as you sat beside him. You pulled your knee to your chest with your foot on the upholstery.

You shook your head. “I made a mistake on my pirouette en dehors.” You wiped your eyes, spreading more mascara onto your cheeks. Coryo just stared, so you swallowed down the lump in your throat. And yet still your voice was meek and raw. “The spin. I ended it far too early, made a fool of myself. Nearly fell over, too!”

Coriolanus shook his head, watching you tear your updo down and shake out your hair with a roughness all too aggressive for his liking. He reached for your hand. “I thought you did amazing.”

“Because you don’t know ballet!” You bawled, your lips pulling in a grimace as more tears poured down your rosy cheeks. It was evil of Coryo to think, but he couldn’t deny you were pretty when you cried. “Oh, Coryo, I’ve never danced so sloppy in my life! And there was a critic in the house!”

He didn’t get it one bit. You were lovely. Every ballerina adored your kind nature or was jealous of your undeniable talent. You’d entranced him, mind, body and soul, with every move you made— on and off stage. He hadn’t realized how much effort it took to look, well, effortless.

It was then that Coriolanus realized just how hard you worked, just how much of your life ballet consumed. And he adored you more for it, as he folded you into his arms and promised you were a born star.

For years, you flourished. Your grace was unmatched, the emotion you could convey in the simplest of movements spoke volumes in a medium that used no words. You had the loving care and support of your father, your mother long gone. Coryo provided a kind of companionship that was invaluable. You were, with no exaggeration, a star.

When Coryo became a mentor for the Hunger Games, you saw him a bit less. It was all right, you supposed. You were busy too. Though, it did sting when he didn’t attend your ballet company’s performance of Appalachian Spring. The only show he had ever missed. After the news of his cheating in the Games and his relationship with Lucy Gray got out, it was only salt in the wound.

You weren’t sure why you expected letters from him when he was sent to the Districts. Life went on, you supposed. Even though you sorely missed seeing his face in the crowd, which seemed to only diminish.

The company was failing. They were holding on, grasping at straws, under the immense pressure of closing. That just about ripped your heart to shreds. And, as if the world was endlessly trying to knock you down, your father fell fatally ill. Dead within the month.

Ballet was the only way for you. But without your father’s support, and (though your family name had never been particularly prestigious) no social standing, other companies were reluctant to take you on. Your talent didn’t seem to matter in a world that revolved around social status.

With the ballet company’s sinking, so was your career. You saw yourself walking languidly towards a cliff, your mind in despair, your eyes witnessing where the road ended, yet your feet betraying you— It was hardly their fault. The finale of your passion, your life, was impending and inevitable.

The theatre was putting on A Midsummer Night’s Dream tonight. Coriolanus’ platinum blonde curls were still cropped, he rubbed a now-calloused hand over his head as he sat in the back row. It wasn’t difficult to score a seat anymore, perhaps now that his new internship with Dr. Gaul put some money in his pockets the cost of a ticket seemed less steep. Perhaps his memory served him wrong. Or, more likely, the prices had lowered exponentially.

Coriolanus was stone faced as he watched the stagnant red curtain, inoffensive music playing before the ballet began. He’d expected there to be as much of a turnout as there had been the last show he attended; but he could only count fifty-six people finding their seats. He couldn’t see your father, who he usually sat with, anywhere.

He paid it no mind. The moment the performance started, his icy blue eyes were focused solely on you. You could’ve been the only ballerina on stage, though the program in his lap said otherwise. You were a magnificent Hermia, as the program listed you were dancing.

Even after years of watching ballet, Coryo wasn’t very cultured in it. But any fool could see you looked utterly stunning in a pale pink, flowing dress to your calves with a gold-trimmed bust. Your tresses were done in an intricate updo, topped with a decorated comb. Watching you move, daintily and freely yet practiced— he forgot to breathe.

Coryo was entranced.

In Coryo’s lap he held a bouquet of hawthorn, purple hyacinths, pansy and bluebells— wrapped in white, tied off with a dainty, baby pink ribbon. It was rather beautiful, he’d taken care in which he chose, double-checking the meanings of the specific flowers with the florist. He knew you’d understand them, he recalled your raving about a secret language hidden in petals. He’d never been able to afford such an intricate bouquet for your previous shows.

Coriolanus wondered what you would think of him now, in a crisp white dress shirt, a simple black suit to let his red tie and coat pop. Those blonde curls you loved shaved down. Bearing expensive flowers. And in his pocket, a rose-gold bracelet dotted with diamonds.

Oh, he felt like a little boy again, admiring your radiance on stage, blue eyes round and glimmering with adoration. You were exuding passion, an overwhelming and raw talent.

When the final curtain drew, he set about finding you. It wasn’t how it had been when you were younger; ballerinas no longer took photos with family in their little pink tutus. He followed the masses to the lobby of the theatre, hanging by the grand door he knew you and the other dancers would come flooding from. In his red coat’s pocket he rubbed a thumb over the velvet jewelry box for you. The other hand clutched the bouquet, the flowers that bared every feeling.

None of the ballerinas that slipped from the backstage were you, to his dismay. For a moment he thought you might’ve slipped out a back door. Coryo still hadn’t seen your father, there wasn’t a point in coming to the front if he wasn’t attending. He leaned his back against the marble wall, frowning down at your flowers, until the door creaked open, and his azure eyes flicked up to see if the girl was you, and to his delight—

“Coryo?”

Oh, you hadn’t realized how large the hole he’d left in your heart gaped until Coryo was standing in front of you. Your Coryo.

“You’re here.” You must’ve sounded so silly. You certainly felt silly. You were already out of your costume, in a loose white sweater, soft and short pink skirt over black leggings. And here he was, in a sharp suit and tie, a gorgeous coat.. Stark contrast to the young boy who couldn’t scrape together a decent suit-jacket for your shows. The young boy who had filled out and chiseled into a man.

Coryo smiled softly down at you, eyes twinkling fondly. He offered the bouquet to you, his voice gentle and smooth as silk. “I’m here.” You took the bouquet absentmindedly, admiring it for a brief moment before shifting it to the crook over your elbow and turning your attention to Coriolanus again.

He looked so different, yet all the same. Those soft blue eyes slightly sharper but not any less attractive. His hair, Christ, that was the thing you couldn’t keep to yourself.

“Your hair!” You breathed, reaching up to push a dainty hand through his grown-out blonde buzzcut. It caught him a bit off guard, but he leaned his head down and chuckled.

“It’ll grow.” Coryo shrugged, letting your hand slip from his hair but not without grabbing it with his own. He leans down to press his lips to your knuckles. You think you might be in heaven. “You were amazing up there. Just.. angelic.”

You wondered if the heat in your cheeks was obvious. “Thank you..” Suddenly you had no words. Well, you had plenty to say. Plenty of thoughts, certainly. But no way to say them just yet. Coryo must’ve been able to tell.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” Coriolanus’ brows drew together hopefully. You got a faint idea he might actually be nervous. To your dismay he dropped your hand gently. “You must be tired, but..”

“No, no, I’d love to.” You blurted, cutting him off with a bright smile. You slipped your hand into the crook of his elbow.

Coryo couldn’t stifle his grin. He decided to save your gift for later, as he guided you through the grand doors of the theater and to his car. Your lips had formed into an “o” at the long, cream-white vehicle. It even had a hood ornament, the silver logo of the expensive brand. “Oh, Coryo, it’s beautiful.” You couldn’t stop yourself from gasping your next words, though you were mortified after uttering them, “Since when could you afford something like this?”

You thought he’d be offended, but he just chuckled and opened the passenger door for you. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

Restaurants weren’t exactly open at this time of night— atleast not any that Coryo found good enough to bring you to. So he settled to bring you to a gelato place he recalled you loved, sitting outside with you and watching the people go by. The streetlamps cast the dark street in soft yellows, the city was still very much awake.

You felt awake. For the first time in months, you felt your heart beating, you felt an honest smile gracing your lips. Seeing Coryo again was a breath of fresh air you hadn’t realized how bad you needed.

Coriolanus told you about his time in district twelve, though he left out some details. You told him about your father’s passing. You were hesitant to mention how poorly the theatre was doing, though. You had a feeling he knew.

Your feeling was correct. While the two of you were walking home, your hand comfortable in the crook of his elbow, Coryo spoke up. He breathed your name hesitantly, waiting for your acknowledging hum. “Tell me the truth. Is the dance company failing?”

You frowned, eyes on your feet. Well. What was the point in hiding it? It wasn’t exactly private information. “It is.” You murmured, almost ashamed.

“But you’ll go to another one?” Coryo immediately jumped to you. He didn’t seem to care about the theatre, only whether your talent would be in one.

That was the issue. Your breath caught in your chest, your lips pressing nervously and your eyelids fluttering shut to avoid the sting of tears. “I haven’t gotten any offers.”

It seemed your hard work simply.. Wasn’t enough. Not without a family name. In the capitol, where everything depended on a girl’s parents, an orphan whose name hadn’t been prestigious in the first place didn’t stand a chance. The only reason you were with this theatre was because your father and the owner had been friends in the war.

That just didn’t sit right with Coriolanus. He found your hand in the crook of his elbow, resting his roughened hand over your soft one, squeezing. “But you’re a natural talent.” His brows pulled taut. You shook your head.

“It’s not that simple.” You sighed, using your free hand to dash away the tears wetting your cheeks.

But it could be, Coryo knew as he turned over the jewelry box in his pocket, but didn’t say. Oh, you’d hate the idea. You’d be furious. You were a hard worker, anybody could see. You prided yourself in making a career for yourself without nepotism or assistance, very few favors. Of course you’d deny the idea brewing in Coryo’s mind, you’d write it off as a shortcut.

But he saw your talent. He’d just make it so others would see it aswell.

Coriolanus would never be ashamed of his cunning mind. He should be. But he never could.

He was like a snake. The next socialite party he attended, he slithered his way into every sophisticated conversation, networking, whispering his agenda into men’s ears, men with the power he thirsted for.

Politics was exactly where a snake like Coriolanus Snow belonged.

Usually it was for himself. Coryo was climbing the capitol’s ladder, collecting pons at each rung and using them as he went. But this time, this particular snobbish event, he smoothly brought up the name of a beautiful, immensely talented young ballerina looking for a new theatre to perform to. A ballerina he would personally vouch for, a ballerina he insisted would bring pride (and fame, of course,) to any company she danced for.

Eventually Coryo pulled on the right string, his words reaching the right ears. He got acquainted with an older man, Darien Jeux. The owner of a very, very prestigious ballet company. Oh, he was skeptical at first, but wasn’t Coriolanus a charmer? By the time the glittering champagne in his glass was finished, a deal of sorts was sealed. Jeux had a grandson in need of work, an internship would be arranged for the dolt. In exchange?

Coryo was the first person you called when the letter came in the mail. You had just arrived at your apartment after a late-night rehearsal, a crisp envelope left in the slot in your door. Stabbing an ornate letter opener, a gift from your father, into the paper and tearing it, oh, the words printed almost brought you to tears!

“Coryo, you won’t believe it!” You cheered over the phone, the joy in your voice as you gushed about Yeux’s ballet company extending an audition, the possibility of a contract, the prestige of this company! “Oh, isn’t it wonderful?” You breathed, the hope in your voice washing away every qualm Coryo had about going behind your back.

“It is.” Coriolanus smiled softly to himself, his eyes fluttering shut in an overwhelming relief.

Ballet was the only way for you. Coryo would kill a man to keep you happy, to keep your career alive. It was only right, that if he had the capability to make everything easier for you, he should use every resource available. Anything for you.

“You deserve it.” Coryo cooes, leaning back in his leather desk chair and letting your lilted voice keep him awake for another hour.

Hope had been thrust into your life again, the air under your wings, keeping you afloat. It seemed like your life was brightening in every corner now. Coryo insisted on taking you to dinner to celebrate when your audition went smoothly. How desperately he wanted to lean over that table and kiss you silly. He settled for taking you to dinner the next week. And the week after that. And after that.

In his eyes, his help was just that. A bit of help. This society was idiotic and venomous, your immense talent would have been enough to bring you to the top if that was the sole factor. It would be such a waste of great potential if you were stifled simply because of your name. He couldn’t have that.

Once Coryo gave you that little push, simply just got your name out there, your ability spoke for itself. You really were a star, landing one of the large roles in the first performance the theatre put on since signing you.

Coriolanus also pulled some strings to get a seat in the gallery balcony of the theatre. The company was putting on The Sleeping Beauty, which in your delicately graceful nature you landed the role of Princess Aurora. Tigris sat beside him, she’d absolutely adored you even when you were young. He even had a little pair of opera binoculars to watch you dance, not minding his cousins giggles at how old he looked holding them up to his eyes.

Coryo felt waves of pride, seeing the seats full. All eyes were on you, your grace on a pedestal display— exactly where it should be. Oh, the smile it brought to his lips each time the crowd roared with applause and whistles for you. You deserved no less.

When you came out after the show, you donned a simple yet elegant white dress, a boat-neck A-line that fell to your mid thigh, accentuating your delicate figure. Coryo had specifically told you it would be perfect for the after party, which technically wasn’t solely for your first performance with the theatre, but you’d be on display no less. He was certain that your name would be in headlines by tomorrow, and he told you so, which you’d smiled shyly and shaken your head at.

You’d never been to such an extravagant party. Your old theatre was never this grand, and whatever luxurious events they held were distant memories by the time you were old enough to attend them. The ballroom was classically beautiful, marble pillars along the walls and a painted rotunda ceiling.

You hadn’t a chance to look up and appreciate the mural before you were swarmed with people wanting to meet you, shake your hand and congratulate your performance. Coriolanus was right at your side the whole time, a strong hand on your shoulder. It shouldn’t have made you feel such excitement, but your heart was betraying your mind at the protective gesture.

Eventually, you grew a bit tired of all the introductions and stale small talk. Coryo could tell, he bowed his head and murmured against the shell of your ear, “I think it’s time for a dance. If you aren’t tired of it by now?”

“No! I mean, yes. I’m not tired of dancing. I’d love to dance.” You stumbled over your words, feeling the flush come to your cheeks. Oh, you weren’t tired, quite the opposite. You were restless. You were infinitely grateful for Coriolanus as he guided you by the hand, pulling you into a dance. He was a better dancer than you remember, you told him so. He’d only chuckled lightly, shaking his head as he lifted his hand to twirl you.

Coryo wore a boyish grin while he watched your dress flower and billow as you twirled. “I’m glad I’m not embarrassing myself, then.”

Perhaps it was then that you truly realized the boy you’d grown up with had turned into a man in the blink of an eye. A man who laid a strong hand on the small of your back, blonde hair combed neatly, cheeks roughened with stubble and eyes sultry. A man who was staring at you in a way that nearly made an expert ballerina stumble in her dancing.

You weren’t sure what moved you to lay your ear against his chest, feeling the solid and comforting warmth of him. You hoped, though, that he didn’t hear the soft sigh you released as he nosed your hair. You imagined that he dropped a kiss to your scalp. Why, Coriolanus, your Coryo, was cradling you as you languidly danced like you were made of porcelain.

In fact, as the song’s lulled to an end, Coriolanus leaned away from you just barely. Just enough for you to lift your head, eyes raising to meet his sapphire ones. Sapphire eyes filled with a soft affection, a kind of tenderness that you were beginning to wonder if you could live without. For a moment you dreamed he might kiss you.

You watched as his icy gaze flickered over your face, before he murmured lowly, “I’ll go get you a drink.” Wordlessly you nodded, watching as a tantalizingly sincere smile curled Coryo’s lips. He slipped away from you carefully. Expertly stifling the white-hot anxiety burning a hole in his chest under that clean-cut suit.

With a soft sigh, and rubbing both of your palms over your burning cheeks, you sought out your new friends. The circle of ballerinas, done up in simple and classically beautiful dresses, welcomed you happily. Eager to listen about your flustered retelling of the whole interaction with Coriolanus. Gasping girlishly and relishing in that sisterly bond. Slowly that exciting knot in your stomach came loose.

Just as you had collected yourself, your ears perked to the dropping of your name. You looked over your shoulder, finding the source to be two older men, one pudgy and one gaunt. They both had cold eyes, sharp and knowing. That would’ve been enough to make you shiver, if it weren’t for the words slipping past their thin lips.

“I heard Yeux was paid off.” The thin man hummed. Your stomach sank. Surely they weren’t talking about you?

The fat man shook his head. “No, more of a favor, I heard. That boy Dr. Gaul funded? Crassus’s boy.” The other man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with the hand not clasping a champagne flute.

He sneered, “So, the company ‘star’ only has a contract because the Snow boy pulled strings? What a disgrace this theatre is coming to!”

Oh, the marble floor was spinning under your feet. A frustration, a fury was boiling in your heart, dull and painful as you clenched your jaw. How many times had you told Coriolanus that you didn’t want any nepotism? How many times had you mentioned your pride in how hard you worked for your career? All for him to pull the rug from under you!

How could he? How could he go behind your back and snatch your values away from your hands, make an absolute fool of you?

Feigning a smile you excused yourself from the ballerinas, walking aimlessly through the ballroom. Slipping through the crowd with a kind of bleariness in your eyes. Color had been brought back into your life, but at what cost? Your morals. You hadn’t even been given a choice of whether to keep them intact or trade them for glory. You wouldn’t have chosen this, certainly.

You moved on autopilot. You hadn’t even realized Coriolanus was trailing after you until he clasped a strong hand on your shoulder, gently turning you. You shrugged your shoulder away from his grip, your wild eyes meeting his. Oh, the betrayal swelling in your stomach threatened to swallow you whole.

Coriolanus breathed your name in an awkward chuckle. His brows drew together as he offered a fruity drink to you in an ornate glass. “Are you alright?”

“Don’t talk to me.” You hiss, turning from him and storming away with a purpose in your feet.

Coriolanus only follows after you like a lost puppy. “What? What happened?” He called your name, but bitter loathing was toiling in your mind too strong to so much as cast him a look.

Damn him for feigning innocence! Damn him for coming back into yourself, sweeping you off your feet and having the balls to think he could just fix all your problems with his connections! Damn him for taking all that you prided yourself on away, just to make himself feel better. Charity, that’s what you were.

“I’m not stupid!” You cried, calling over your shoulder and blinking away hot tears. Nevertheless they streaked down your cheeks. At last you found the walls of this cursed ballroom, turning down a grand hallway. Gratefully, only a few people hung by the pillars and potted plants, disgustingly old men and beautiful, young women, some of them ballerinas from your new company. Your company that Coriolanus got you into.

Speak of the devil, he was still on your heels. Perhaps he even broke into a run after you, because before you knew it he was grabbing you by the shoulders, cornering you between a marble pillar and the wall. You shook him off you, staring blazingly up into his buggy and nervous eyes.

“Darling.” Coriolanus breathed, exasperated and terribly confused. He stopped reaching for you, gratefully, but he was still looming over you. Trapping you in.

You wiped the tears from your eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

Coriolanus sighed. He murmured your proper name gently, his brows pressing together. “Please. Tell me what’s wrong. I’ll fix it for you, just tell me what’s wrong.”

“You would, wouldn’t you!” You cried, throwing your hands down. “Try and fix everything, just swoop in like a knight in shining armor and fix my poor life!”

His face fell at that. His azure eyes darkened, lips parting and his chin tilting further down to you. He knew he was caught, you thought bitterly as you huffed. Coriolanus dragged his hand down his face, trying to rub the situation off his skin. “Tell me what you know.”

“I know that you disregarded my wishes! I didn’t want any nepotism, I didn’t want any shortcuts, and that is exactly what you did, Coryo!” Tears were flowing uncomfortably and warm down your cheeks, ruining your pretty makeup. You rubbed the skin around your eyes raw. If only you could see the distraught look on Coriolanus’ face.

He shook his head, murmuring breathlessly, “But… I did it for you. You needed some help, you needed someone to get your name out there.” You shook your head, but your silence gave him a chance to go on. “I knew you’d be upset, but your talent—“

“I am upset!” You bawled, “You knew I’d be upset and you still did it, Coriolanus! You did it for you, not for me, if—”

“You couldn’t even afford to eat!” Coriolanus snapped, barking at you with buggy eyes. His jaw tightened, his chest heaving with a deep breath. His eyes slip closed, he pinches the bridge of his nose and grimaces in exasperation. He never wanted to yell at you.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.” Coriolanus murmurs, rubbing a hand over his mouth as he watches the way tears come to your eyes stronger than before. He watches the way you cross your arms, looking to the wall and chewing on your lip. “You were struggling. You… You’re a talented woman. The most talented. I couldn’t… I couldn’t let you fizzle just because you don’t have someone to vouch for you.”

“But now all this isn’t because of myself. Where I am today isn’t because of my talent or my hard work.. It’s because of a man pulling some strings.” You murmured, rubbing your eyes again. Your voice is raw and low, you look down at your dress and smooth down the material. Such a quality, beautiful dress. You would’ve liked to say that you were wearing it because of your own work. Coriolanus took that away from you, you reminded yourself.

Coryo pushes a hand through his hair, sighing softly. His lips press, he looks away at the others in the hall. He’s scrambling for a way to resolve this. “I had to help you. Because…”

You eye him expectantly, turning your wet cheek. Coriolanus reaches forward to tenderly thumb away a loose tear, and you don’t pull away. Perhaps you’ve tired yourself out. “Because I love you. And I can’t let a woman so special fail for such a stupid reason. Special to the world, of course, but special to me.”

Oh, the world was spinning around you too fast for your mind to keep up. You felt the floor giving out from under you, you had to cover your eyes with a palm. He loved you? This is why he did all this? This is why he felt the need to lift you from the mud? Not for his own selfish gain, but for you? For love?

“Coryo, you can’t just...” You began, the words dying before they could pass your lips as you shook your head desperately. He seemed to understand, nodding a bit and watching you with wide and buggy eyes. You finally looked up to meet that penetrating gaze, feeling your chest heave with deep breaths.

Without a word you moved into Coryo’s arms, pressing your wet cheek to his chest. You felt his breath hitch, his arms immediately wrapping closely around you. He nosed your hair, smelling deeply your rose-scented shampoo. God, the things he would do for you. This barely scraped it. He knew you’d be hurt, but he also knew what would be best for you in the long run. He knew he’d rather let you hate him than regret a passion left dry in the sun.

A long while passed like this, Coriolanus murmuring sweet words of consolation and diligently drying the tears on your rosy cheeks.

“My love, this world is cruel.” Coriolanus cooed, his eyebrows drawing together and forehead creasing as he smoothed down your hair. “Talent without a name is nothing. If talent was all that mattered, you wouldn’t need my help.”

Coryo dropped a kiss to your forehead. “I wish you didn’t need my help.”

Coryo brought you home that night. Neither of you breathed a word the whole ride there, Coriolanus casting you longing glances constantly and you fidgeting with your rose gold bracelet. A gift from him. Your most prized jewelry nowadays.

Feelings just toiled and swam in your heart, threatening to spill and taint your whole body. You were furious with him. But oh, how you loved that man.

The man who is not pressuring you any further, not shouting, not condemning your anger with him, just silently holding your hand over the center console, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles slowly. Tenderly. The man who loved you. The man who would kill for you, much less call in a favor for your sake.

When his car rolled to a stop in front of your apartment, you leaned away from him. You shifted in your seat to face him, but he never let go of your hand. In fact, he’d squeezed it a bit tighter.

Coryo was watching you with wide, you’d dare say puppy dog eyes as you opened your lips to speak in a whisper. “I don’t want you to do this again.”

He nodded seriously, dragging his thumb across the backs of your fingers. His sapphire eyes never dropped from yours. “I promise you.”

“And I don’t need your altruism.”

“Of course.”

“I’m not a child, I’m not a poor thing.”

“Not even a little bit. Kill me before I suggest it.”

You found yourself leaning over the center console, your nose brushing his. He found his hand slipping to gently cradle the back of your head. “I forgive you.” You murmur quietly, Coryo nods a bit, mind like a runny egg. He’s having a bit of trouble focusing on your words, as important to him as they are.

Coriolanus draws you closer, planting a tender kiss onto your lips. The cool metal of your bracelet pressing into his nape drew a sigh from his mouth, you wrapped your arm around his shoulders. Kissing him felt like a comfort. Kissing Coryo felt right, your lips moving on his as if your soul knew before your mind had even considered it.

He didn’t interfere with your career again. He respected you with every bone in his body, with every string in his heart. He let your talent, your ineffable passion for your craft speak for itself. You were a prima ballerina of your own work, he’d often murmur to you late at night. In a bed he had somehow managed to coax you into, in a bed he couldn’t imagine sleeping in without your warm form beside him. You were a star.

No matter how independent you were, he would never stop protecting you. Caring for you. Providing you the best he could. Until the day you died, he would break his own bones to bend to your whims.

Coriolanus would kill for you. Without qualms, he would carve his own bone and flesh, if you asked him to. You didn’t even need to ask. If it made you happy in the slightest, Coryo would engrave your name into his heart.

It had always been written there, hadn’t it?

[bonus-links]

DIRECTORS COMMENTARY PLEASE I LOVE HEARING YOUR THOUGHTS AND PROCESS <3!!!!!!!!

YEAHHH lots to say for this update

there's a scene I didn't so much as cut from the beginning of this update as significantly shorten: Wolf, Loft, Wake, and Slate are changing into their lighter outfits. Loft says the same line as having the party, Wake begs them for this one day with his Gran Gran, and they all agree they can wait. I've been trying to get better about like, not putting a ton of work into unnecessary connecting scenes, which is why I cut it down. Wake sounding more cavalier also works better for the overall chapter. But i was sad to leave this joke out lol:

may I present to you, Slate's picture gallery! he was mostly on task documenting flora and fauna but he gets a little sidetracked sometimes

I love the idea that he's just, like, kind of terrible at photography. he documents stuff for Zelda and it's always weirdly cropped and kind of out of focus, but she appreciates it anyway.

Slate is also picking flowers for the party! so he is still helping out on that front lol

idk if i've mentioned this before, but beetle does still have pincers! they're just. idk what the right word is. retractable maybe? yeah. like the ancient weapon blades

the filling of the half moon pies is pineapple :-) i was. so worried about it looking like an egg HAHA.

I thought way too hard about how they were going to cook these pies. I was originally going to draw a clay oven or some other setup, but ultimately I thought the Zelda tradition of only having pots over fires to cook was a funnier nod lol. So, they're frying the pies

believe it or not, I wrote this scene before reading dungeon meshi HAHA but it certainly served as good reference for how to set up shots for it

Aryll did in fact eavesdrop on Wake telling Tetra The Situation

That's Champion's little sister in the memory! I like the headcanon that her name was also Aryll.

Champion and his sister are making meat pies instead of pineapple ones.

One again, made a bunch of layout mistakes I ended up having to fix, except this time I didn't catch them until I had already gotten to rendering :-( if you're a patron, you probably saw these versions in the WIP:

problems here: Wolf is walking the wrong away. I was sad we'd be losing his expression but alas. And for the panels with Champion's sister, the angle is too low to be an actual POV shot. I could've left it and said he's just sitting or something probably but it was really bothering me lol so I redrew everything. and then recolored all of it. woof.

as a general rule, if he has scars, that's Slate. No scars is The Other Guy

I understand the complaint about this in BOTW, but I actually kind of like that weird moment that occurs after you finish a memory cutscene, and it just abruptly goes back to Link looking blank-faced like nothing happened. It implies this kind of....distance from the memories that I find interesting. Slate has complicated feelings abt the memories of Champion's life he gets, but like. there's pies to make

shout out to peony she's a real one

[nochukoo97]

flower girl

pairing: convict!jungkook x florist!reader

summary: you’re in charge of mentoring jungkook, a convict who’s currently doing community service. as time goes by, you grow closer and closer to the man, finding out more about him and his past. jungkook makes you crazy with his small gestures, he makes your cheeks turn the same shade as carnations, he makes you dizzy. most of all, he makes you his flower girl

word count: 5k+

teaser

When your boss had told you about the community service programme, you were a little skeptical, having had no prior experience with any convicts volunteering at the shop.

“Basically, we were assigned someone, and he will be coming in tomorrow,” Your boss is briefing you,

“And he’ll be following you, I’ve told the department that you are the most trustworthy and patient person that can help him,”

You’re honoured that your boss thinks that highly of you, but it’s making you a little anxious having to interact with a convict who’s currently doing community service. Surely if he was allowed out of prison to volunteer at shops, he couldn’t be all that bad right?

You were nervous, unsure of what to expect, but only tomorrow will tell.

d-30

The next day comes pretty quickly as you open up the shop, you mentally prepare yourself for what’s about to come.

It’s exciting to have changes, especially since your job was pretty repetitive, bunching flowers together and sending them off for delivery. Not that you disliked your job, but it was good to have a little switch up too.

You were currently pushing the stem of the peonies into the flower foam, arranging the flowers to have varying colours.

The sound of the bell rings, indicating someone has walked through the door.

You look up, anticipating greeting a customer that walks in.

But your breath hitches in your throat as you watch your boss signal for a man to walk in.

Your eyes drift towards his sleeve of tattoos, colours popping from the intricate designs. His eyebrow has a piercing, so does his lip. He has really big eyes, short hair, wearing chunky shoes as it thuds against the white tiles of the shop’s floor.

He wasn’t like what you expected, you had expected a big burly man, scary appearance. But somehow the man standing in front of you reminded you of a puppy, his eyes shining as he scans the place.

Why were you studying him so hard? Wake up.

“___, this is Jungkook, Jungkook this is___, she’ll be guiding you here,” Your boss introduces the man to you

Jungkook politely bows towards you, giving you a small smile.

You smile at the man, whose face resembles that of a puppy, especially with his big eyes, but his arms and piercings give off a manly vibe to him.

You thought you’d be scared, having assumed you’d have to teach someone that would probably beat you up if you had corrected his mistakes.

Maybe it was just you and your stereotypes, but now it seemed having him around wouldn’t be as bad as you expected.

“Hi ___, thanks for taking the time out of your work to accompany me, I promise I won’t cause any trouble,”

Jungkook grins at you, you notice his bunny teeth, it’s cute.

Wait, no you shouldn’t be thinking these things, ___ stop it.

You chuckle in response, your boss now announcing that she would be leaving.

That leaves you and the man in the shop alone.

“Alright, so where should I start,” You begin to talk after a moment of silence, after watching Jungkook standing a little awkwardly in the midst of many flowers around him. It’s amusing to see that he was so timid and calm despite what you had expected him to be like.

“Let’s get to know each other first,” Jungkook speaks up next, his eyes lighting up at his idea.

You’re somewhat surprised at his suggestion. You’d thought he would immediately just want to learn the basics and be left alone to do his own things.

“Okay, you can ask a question first,” You laugh, trying to ease the tenseness and awkwardness in the air.

“What made you want to be a florist?”

That’s a simple question for you,

“Ever since young, I’ve always had a love for flowers, my grandmother used to have a little garden at the back of her house and I would spend hours there admiring the flowers,”

You’re unconsciously smiling, recalling the fond memories from your childhood.

“That’s sweet,” Jungkook’s smiling back at you,

His voice is sweet like honey, deep but yet so so addicting.

“My turn to ask a question,” You light up, thinking hard of a good question.

“Why did you choose to volunteer here?”

Jungkook laughs, “I wanted to do something for my mum, I know I hurt her badly by committing all my past crimes and serving my time in jail, so I wanted to learn to make her a bouquet myself to give to her when my sentence is over,”

His eyes have a little glint, slightly red.

Even though you take notice of it, you don’t mention it.

“That’s really sweet of you Jungkook,” You smile sweetly at him, genuinely impressed and touched by his words.

“Those are peonies, right?” Jungkook gestures towards the half done bouquet you were putting together before he came in.

“Yeah! How did you know?”

Your surprised to know he could even recognise the flowers, although peonies were common, maybe as common as roses, not many people could distinguish them in the middle of a shop filled with a thousand different types of flowers.

“They’re one of my mum’s favourites,” He mumbles shyly.

You found it so sweet, cute even.

In a platonic way of course, nothing else.

Jungkook quickly lights up again as he turns his arm, showing you the orange flower amongst the many other tattoos on his arm.

“I also have a tattoo of the tiger lily, it’s my birth flower,” He proudly shows off his tattoo to you, as you gasp in admiration.

“I have many other tattoos but their a story for another day, not as significant to this as the flower,” He explains, as you nod, still making an effort to scan the sleeve of tattoos, noticing phrases and small pictures here and there.

“My turn to ask again,” Jungkook begins, “What’s your favourite flower?”

You gladly answer him, “Carnations, especially the pink ones,”

-

You spent the rest of the day teaching Jungkook how to arrange flowers into an aesthetic pattern, he picked up on everything really quickly, surprising you by how fast he was progressing.

Jungkook was currently out in the front of the shop, as you packed up the back. You had told him that he could go, but he insisted on staying until you left.

Walking out from the back as you shut the storeroom door, you spot Jungkook bent over a table, as if concentrated on something.

“Jungkook? I’m leaving now, you can go now too,” You call out to the man who has his back faced to you, hunched over and arms fiddling with something that you cannot see.

He turns around, huge smile on his face as his hand holds a bouquet of flowers, pink carnations tied together with a ribbon, wrapped with blue paper.

Your eyes widen in surprise, applauding him;

“Woah! Did you do that?”

Jungkook nods eagerly, holding out the bouquet, gesturing for you to take it.

“It’s for you,”

Jeon Jungkook might have killed you on the spot there.

You gratefully take the bouquet from him, heart thumping in your chest, the tips of your ears turning slightly red.

“Thank you, Jungkook, that’s really sweet of you,” You manage to spit out, despite having almost choked on your words.

He chats with you while waiting for the department to pick him up, both of you sitting on the sidewalk, talking intimately about life.

That night, you transferred the pink carnations into a vase, putting it next to your bed.

There’s a white piece of paper that sticks out from the pink flowers, you reach for it in curiousity, opening up the folded letter.

Hi ___, thanks for today, I really enjoyed my time with you, and I hope you like my flowers, they may not be perfect but I tried my best to make them look pretty :))))

Your heart thumps in your chest again, a smile unconsciously creeps onto your face.

Jeon Jungkook is a sweetheart.

d-15

It’s been a few weeks since Jungkook arrived at the shop, and he’s been pretty independent, also extremely skillful at putting together beautiful pieces.

Your boss even joked about hiring Jungkook when he finishes his sentence.

Right now Jungkook’s humming to the soft music playing throughout the shop. It’s a wednesday afternoon, meaning there weren’t as many customers, so it was a chill day for you both.

You’ve grown to really like Jungkook, he was good company considering you didn’t really have other coworkers with you.

Sure you had a few other girls who would come in and intern during summer breaks, but other than that it was mainly you alone in the shop.

Jungkook just gave you the company you never knew you needed.

He also makes your day way better, just simply by existing. Even though you had a shit night and only two hours of sleep, Jungkook had managed to make you laugh at least five times since this morning.

You stare at the empty coffee cup, the one that Jungkook had brought in the morning for you. He had told you the whole story of how he spent a really long time convincing the officers driving him here that he had to stop at the coffee shop to get something for you.

“My charms convinced them to let me do so,”

You remember Jungkook’s proud face as he tells his story, you listened to him in amusement.

The bell at the front door rings, as both you and Jungkook’s head whips up, watching a group of teenage girls walk into the shop.

Immediately you can tell as they whisper and giggle amongst themselves, that they were talking about Jungkook.

There’s this small tight feeling in your chest that you can’t really explain, but it makes you want to keep Jungkook by your side.

You gesture for him to follow you as you approach the girls, offering help.

They eagerly agree, telling you both, or rather only Jungkook, you think, about what they were keen on getting.

“No problem, we can make the bouquet now and give it to you guys in five minutes time, is that okay?” Jungkook replies to the girls, who immediately nod their heads.

Jungkook then grabs your hand, dragging you to the tables where the flowers are.

The teenagers behind you now whisper loudly amongst themselves, as if discontented that Jungkook had held your hand.

“Jungkook, what are you doing!” You whisper-yell at him, but the man himself sees nothing wrong with his actions.

“What? I just wanted to bring you here so we can do their bouquet?”

He’s acting innocent, you know it.

Because his hand refuses to let yours go, even though the both of you were already at the table.

So you raise your eyebrow at him, shaking your hand in his hold to show him.

“Okay, fine,” He’s pouting a little, being dramatic towards you, as he releases his hold on you.

It was nice while it lasted

After you finish putting the flowers into a bunch, you pass it to Jungkook who wraps them up.

“I’ll be in the storeroom ‘kay? We need more ribbons,”

You tell Jungkook as he nods, eyes focused on wrapping the flowers up nicely so he doesn’t fully pay attention to you.

When Jungkook passes the bouquet to the girls, who all seem extremely delighted, even leaving a pretty big tip, he seems proud.

“Thanks so much for these flowers, they’re like soooo pretty,” One girl says, leaning over the counter, opposite from where Jungkook was standing.

You can hear the conversation from inside the storeroom, the walls thin enough to be able to hear anything that goes on. You ignore the tight feeling in your chest again.

“Oh? What’s this note?” The other girl grabs the small bouquet at the corner of the counter, the one Jungkook had been secretly working on for you.

“Hey! Don’t touch that, sorry it’s not for sale,” Jungkook exclaims, snatching back the bouquet from the girl.

“Is it for me?” The third girl smirks at Jungkook, as he laughs, amused that she thought he would even give her one.

It was for you, he only ever made bouquets for you.

Jungkook decided that every week, he would gift you one bouquet, each one unique and different from the next.

And everytime he would write a little note, telling you small little details he noticed, like when you wore the same checkered shoes you liked and he had noticed, or when you began to wear your glasses a little more often.

It always makes your heart thump in your chest.

But you remind yourself that he’s only here to volunteer.

You walk out just on time, or maybe you intentionally walked out, but who cares.

Jungkook passes you the bouquet with a sweet smile, as the girls scoff and walk out.

“Sorry, I wanted to pass it to you at the end of the day like I always do, but I wanted to show them that it was for you,” Jungkook scratches the back of his neck a little awkwardly.

You laugh a little, finding it cute.

“It’s okay Gguk, thanks for this, I’ll read the note at home,” You smile, reaching up to ruffle his hair.

When you walk off Jungkook has to coax himself not to turn the same shade of red as the roses next to him.

d-7

It’s another chill day, you and Jungkook were sitting together on the small couch in the corner of the shop, chatting away.

“So,” You start, “It’s one week to your release, how’re you feeling?”

“Excited? Not sure, I’m a little nervous even though it hasn’t even been that long,” Jungkook’s fiddling with his fingers again, a habit you took notice of when he talked about intimate stuff.

“You should be excited, you get to see so many people again, and you’d get to live in your own house,” You smile, scanning his unreadable expression but attempting to coax something out of him.

You weren’t gonna lie, there was this ache in your heart knowing that he would probably be gone and move on with life after next week.

Jungkook had grown onto you, he was a part of your daily life, your routine. You didn’t want to have to let him go.

“I’ve grown so used to this, to us,” He gestures towards you, “I don’t see myself doing anything else but this, with you,”

Damn it Jeon Jungkook. At this point you think he’s purposefully playing around with your poor heart.

“But I’m sure you’re excited to try new things again? Like maybe getting tattoos, or boxing again? You said you liked that right?”

Jungkook nods, but there’s still this dissatisfaction within him.

“Yeah, but those are like hobbies, I don’t know how to say this,” He frowns, biting on his lip in frustration.

“It’s like, I don’t see myself anywhere else, not because of this shop, it’s because of you, ___”

Jungkook looks into your eyes.

You almost faint.

“Becoming so attached to me huh?” You tease him, nudging his shoulder.

Jungkook chuckles in response, mumbling a soft, “Yeah,”

He thinks you don’t hear it, but you do.

Your intimate moment gets interrupted when the front door bell rings, making you get up to go and greet the customer.

-

Jungkook’s talking to the old lady as she waits for her flowers, you’re at the tables focused on placing the flowers into the foam.

“Oh these flowers are really pretty!” The old lady is gleaming at the carnations on display, the one that Jungkook insisted on putting at the front of the shop.

“Yeah? It’s her favourite,” Jungkook tells the lady, gesturing towards you, she smiles fondly at him.

“You must be close to her to know that, are you her boyfriend?” The lady’s question takes Jungkook by surprise,

“No,no, she’s my mentor,” He waves off, laughing.

“Not yet,” He then whispers to the lady, who gives him an amused look.

“Well good luck young man, don’t wait too long to confess to her,” She pats Jungkook on the back, as he nervously chuckles.

You quickly give the basket of flowers to the old lady, as Jungkook holds open the front door for her to leave.

“What was she talking to you about? She looked really interested,” You ask Jungkook curiously,

“Oh it’s nothing, just asked about the names of the flowers,” He brushes your question off, not wanting to get caught.

“That’s cute,” You smile, watching the lady slowly walk along the path.

Jungkook takes the old lady’s advice seriously, he’s too busy thinking of a plan to confess to you before his sentence is over.

-

As you close up the shop, Jungkook trails behind you like a little puppy, rambling about the things he’s excited to get back, you actively listen to him, he lists out stuff like his car, a new phone, his apartment which his brother has been helping him stay in and clean, and he doesn’t tell you but he’s also excited yet nervous about what he plans to tell you. Sometime soon.

d-6

The next day Jungkook doesn’t come to the shop, he’s told by the department he needs to settle documents and legal papers to prepare for his release.

You were currently cutting the stems of the flowers, but you get distracted by the stray cat walking outside,

You’re cooing as the cat rubs its body against the glass, purring.

The next thing you know, you unknowingly pull the scissors too close to your finger, snipping at your skin.

You gasp, wincing as you watch the blood flow out.

Sighing as you walk to the sink to wash the wound, you scold yourself for not being more careful.

As you bandage up the cut, the phone at the desk rings, you pick it up.

“___?”

“Jungkook?”

“I won’t be there today okay? But I’ll see you tomorrow, until then don’t miss me so much,”

You can hear the hint of playfulness in his voice, as he laughs hearing your groan.

“Don’t worry, I’m good on my own Kook, but why did you waste your one phone call on me? You could’ve used it to call someone else,”

Jungkook always got a phone call every day, he told you he would always call his mum, and sometimes his brother.

“I’m not wasting the call, they said I should call my loved ones using it so I did,”

Your heart will burst out of your chest soon.

“Jungkook, don’t say these things,” You groan over the phone, thank goodness he cannot see your red face right now.

“I mean it ___,” Jungkook’s deep laugh rings over the phone, “Okay, I gotta go now, see you tomorrow!”

You say your goodbyes as you put down the phone.

You catch yourself unconsciously smiling a little too widely.

He’s going to be the death of you.

d-5

“_____~” Jungkook’s voice rings through the shop as the officers dropping him off gives you a wave, before leaving.

“Hi Kook,” You laugh, as he approaches you, hiding something behind his back.

“What are you hiding?” You ask as you watch his expression, can’t really tell what he’s feeling, nervous? Excited? Scared?

He’s definitely feeling everything you’ve listed.

Jungkook had spent his allowance on a flower necklace for you, but he didn’t tell you, or you’d gotten mad at him for spending so much money on your gift.

“Close your eyes,” Jungkook instructs you, as you listen obediently, shutting your eyes.

There’s a weight in your hands as Jungkook gently places the box into your hold.

“Okay, open them!”

You open your eyes, seeing the red velvet box in your hand as you gasp,

“Jungkook…. What did you get me? This is probably so expensive, you spent your allowance again right?” You’re rambling on and on,

“Stop nagging, just open it and accept my gift,” Jungkook whines, impatient that you’re still scolding him, not that he minds.

He makes you open the box,

You gasp again, picking up the silver flower necklace,

“This is so pretty, thank you Kook,”

He smiles at you, tips of his ears turn red.

“Still you didn’t have to spend-“

“Aish, just let me put it on you,” He cuts you off, taking the necklace from your hand and wrapping it around your neck.

“Pretty,” Jungkook mumbles to himself, as you agree with him, talking about how intricate the flower design was.

He was talking about you, not the necklace, but you don't need to know

Jungkook’s train of thought gets interrupted when he notices the pink plaster wrapped around your finger,

“What happened? Are you okay?” He worriedly grabs your hand, inspecting the plaster.

“It’s okay, I just snipped myself by accident,” You tell him, mentally cursing at yourself for foolishly making the mistake of not watching what you were cutting.

Jungkook leans his head down, pecking your finger as he brushes his thumb over it.

What

The

Fuck

Your eyes widen slightly, shocked at his sudden action.

Jungkook peers at you through his bangs, his hair grown out a little, as he smiles

You flick his forehead as he whines, clutching dramatically onto his head.

You laugh at his expression, ruffling his hair.

d-1

Jungkook is almost dreading tomorrow, his release date. Even though he should be happy, excited to be ‘free’, but the man has grown so attached to your presence, he doesn’t want to leave you.

“___?” Jungkook speaks, after both of you have been sitting together in comfortable silence.

“Yeah, Kook?” You look up at him, putting the foam away to listen to him.

“I’m kind of dreading tomorrow,” He mumbles, fiddling with his fingers again.

“Why?” You’re surprised, thinking that since it was a big day for him, you had thought that he would be excited,

“I don’t want to not spend time with you anymore, I can’t live without this,” Jungkook bites down on his lip, holding back his tears that begin to slowly form.

“You know we can still stay in contact, Kook, I’m not just gonna cut you off like that,” You tell him, and he nods.

“I know, but I want to be with you, I don’t want to just stay in contact with you, I want- Urgh how do I say this,”

He’s frustrated, drawing blood from his lip.

“I just, I can’t see my life without you, ___. I don’t want us to just be in contact, I want to be with you, I want you,” He’s rambling on without thinking about his words.

Jungkook curses under his breath for slipping up and confessing to you.

You’re grinning at him, “You want me? What do you mean?”

He knows what you’re doing, you're teasing a reaction out of him. Coaxing him to tell you exactly what he means, even though you know what he means.

“You know what I mean, ___”

“I don’t really know though,” You're playfully nudging him.

Jungkook’s had enough, fuck it, he didn’t want to confess like this but he can’t stop himself, you make him crazy.

The next thing you know, Jungkook’s lips are on yours, you feel the coldness of his lip ring as you lean into the kiss, heart thumping in your chest.

You wrap your hands around his neck, sighing into the kiss.

When Jungkook pulls away, he stares at you, there’s a boyish smile on his face.

“I really like you, ___” He whispers, face still in close proximity to yours

“Me too, Kook,” You laugh at his red face, as he groans, processing what happened.

“Fuck, I didn’t want to confess to you like this, I was planning for a huge thing, I planned what flowers I would give you, and everything, Oh fuck I should have-“

You cut him off with a peck on his lips, laughing in amusement at his endearing self.

“Koo, it’s okay,”

Jungkook sighs, scolding himself, but deep inside he’s going crazy.

“When I prepare the surprise confession, pretend none of this ever happened okay?”

Jungkook is serious, he’s already thinking about sharing a house with you, cooking for you, making flowers for you— okay maybe he’s taking it a little too far.

“Promise,” You stretch out your pinky finger, as Jungkook happily wraps his around yours, sealing the promise.

“My flower girl,” He mumbles as he buries his head into your neck, pecking the skin delicately.

You're laughing and squirming at how ticklish it was, and Jungkook playfully pinches your waist, making you squeal.

“Ow!” You whine dramatically, as Jungkook rubs his fingers over the spot, kissing your lips in apology.

“Sorry, been waiting too long to make you my girlfriend, you don’t know what you do to me,” Jungkook’s cheesily smiling at you, as you squish his cheek, smiling back at him.

Your moment is interrupted again when the front bell rings, Jungkook jumping up from his spot on the couch to greet the customer.

He doesn’t forget to give you a playful wink before attending to the man who’s admiring the flowers on display.

After the shop closes, you and Jungkook stay in the shop, working on a pretty bouquet, for his mum, as he focuses hard on making it perfect.

Between making the flowers and exchanging sweet nothings, Jungkook thanks whoever is above for letting him meet you, his life, his meaning and now, his girl.

d-day

It’s the day of Jungkook’s release, and when the court officially announces that he’s free, the first place he goes to is the shop, looking for you.

“Jagi?” He calls out, as he enters through the back door, that’s always open.

There’s no reply, and when he walks further into the shop, he sees your sleeping figure hunched over the counter, hair over your face.

He coos silently, brushing the hair out of your face.

Jungkook pulls out his new phone, finally being able to have his own now that he’s done with his sentence.

He snaps a picture of you, replacing the automatic background to the picture.

His first picture on his new phone was you, his first wallpaper was you.

Jungkook was crazy for you.

He accidentally knocks his chunky shoes against the counter, making you stir in your sleep.

When you open your eyes, there’s a familiar man standing in front of you.

It’s Jungkook, he’s here.

“Kook!” You jump up, hugging him tightly as Jungkook laughs, hugging you tightly back.

“Congrats on your big day, we should celebrate it!” You tiptoe, pecking his lips before pulling away.

Jungkook chases your lips for another kiss, passionately kissing you.

“I’ll pick you later at 6?” He mumbles against your lips, swaying both your bodies as he laughs.

“Sure, now go bring this to your mum, tell me how it goes okay?” You push the bouquet into his hands, as he salutes to you playfully, telling you he’ll text you when he’s about to pick you up.

You smile as you watch Jungkook walk out the back door.

-

Its currently 6pm as you close up the shop, locking the doors and shutting the computer down, there’s a pair of arms that creep up behind you, wrapping around your waist.

You gasp, shocked at the sudden touch.

“Baby! You scared me!” You whine, turning around as you hug Jungkook.

“Sorry, wanted to surprise you,” Jungkook pecks your lips.

You admire him, noticing he’s dressed up, hair styled and everything.

“I like this Jungkook,” You smoothen out his shirt, smiling at him.

“Yeah? I tried to style my hair, but I haven’t done it in a long time,” He scratches the back of his neck.

“It’s perfect, Kook”

Jungkook takes you through the back door, he helps you lock up the shop, as you turn to see a black Mercedes light up when he clicks the button on his car key.

Your jaw drops to the floor.

“Hah, my dad gave it to me for my 18th birthday, he owns a big company so he managed to buy me this as a huge coming-of-age gift, haven’t driven this in a long time though,” Jungkook explains, he taps the hood of the car as he stares longingly at it.

“My boyfriend drives a mercedes?” You taunt him, as your boyfriend laughs.

It’s a little weird now calling him your boyfriend, but you like it. It just feels a little foreign and makes your stomach do flips.

“Yeah, and your boyfriend is also taking over his father’s company in a few years time,” Jungkook takes your hands into his, as you exclaim, jumping in excitement.

“Really? That’s awesome Kook, can’t believe you're progressing so quickly!”

Jungkook finds your excitement adorable, he has to even calm you down when you begin to shake his hands, over the moon that he’s succeeding so quickly.

“Thanks Jagi,” Jungkook laughs, opening the passenger seat for you.

He takes you to this fancy restaurant, tells you to close your eyes when you complain about how pricey the food was.

“Oh my goodness, 10 bucks for bread? That’s insane,”

Jungkook takes your hand, kissing it from across the table,

“Wanna spoil my girl, just close your eyes when picking the food Jagi,”

You roll your eyes at him as he laughs.

“This was suppose to be about you though,”

“I’m happy whenever you’re happy”

Jungkook smiles lovingly at you

You and your boyfriend eat together, laughing and sharing sweet stories with each other. You tear up a little when Jungkook tells you his mum’s reaction to the flowers, how she had cried and hugged him.

He doesn’t tell you that he cried too, but you can probably tell he would have.

-

“I spent really long decorating my whole apartment so be prepared for a grand surprise,”

Jungkook wiggles his eyebrows, teasing you as his hand stays on the door handle of his apartment, not opening it.

“Okay I’m ready Kook,” You chuckle, a little nervous on what to expect.

When Jungkook opens the door, you gasp loudly, eyes immediately tearing up as you see rose petals all over the floor, candles lit up, forming a path to walk into the hallway.

There’s romantic music playing, there’s little desserts on the table, you notice the table cloth he has put over the table too.

“Baby,” You turn around to hug Jungkook, who’s shocked by your crying.

“Why are you crying Jagi?” He wipes the tears rolling down your face, smiling at you.

“I love it so much Jungkook, I love you so much, thank you,” He leans down to kiss you, as tears continue to stream down your face.

You’re so happy, you could cry. You are crying out of happiness.

“Okay follow the petals,” Jungkook gently nudges you to walk, as he trails behind you, heart thumping in his chest as you walk into his room.

There’s a huge banner hanging above his bed, held up by strings attached to his window grill and his cupboard:

Will you be my flower girl?

More tears overwhelm you, you spot a huge bouquet of carnations sitting on the bed, there’s a note attached to each flower.

“Jungkook,” You sob, hugging him as you kiss him again.

“Jagi, why are you crying so much huh,” He laughs, endearingly wiping away every tear that flows out of your eyes.

“I love you so much, this is so much,” You laugh between tears.

“I love you too, now read the notes,” He gestures to the flowers.

You open each note, reading it:

The first time I met you, I was enchanted by you, the way you patiently taught me how to do stuff, the way your laugh sounds, the way you smiled at me

You take the next note attached to the other carnation,

When I saw a coffee cup sitting near the counter on the first day I arrived, so I made sure to remember your order that was printed on the cup, and I bought you the coffee

The next note came:

When you accidentally cut your finger that day, I cursed at myself for not being there to protect you, I wanted to protect you from all danger, to not let you get hurt

And the next:

I felt so sad when I counted down the days I was about to leave, I didn’t want to leave your side, you became a part of my life, a part of me.

Another one:

While you counted down the days to me leaving, I counted down the days to when I would confess to you, but you didn’t know.

The last one:

____, I want you in my life, I love you so fucking much, you make me crazy, you make me want to do anything and everything to make you happy. I want to live with you forever, to have a home with you, to have a family, to be with you until we’re old and wrinkly. Although I’m sure you’ll always be as pretty as you are, even as an old lady ;)

I want you to be my flower girl

Love,

Jungkook

[funnyjb]

Sparks

Summary: what happens after childhood friends met again and feel a certain spark?

————————————————————————-

2022

A regular October morning. The grey clouds covering the bright sun. The wind blowing leaves into the street. Lattes and books are all you need.

Your flower shop called Lily’s Bloom named after your late grandmother who you called your best friend was flourishing. Many customers in and out each day. Pretty colored flowers filled the walls and tables.

Your regular routine as always is to check inventory, look for any dead flowers, check appointments, and make sure deliveries are set up.

You lit a pumpkin spice candle and started to make a special bouquet for a client who is supposed to pick it up soon. They ordered pink peony’s, white baby’s breath, and pink roses. Also adding a special note.

The bouquet was set and so was the note. Now you just have to wait.

An hour later

The bell rings as the door opens. Your head was down trying to plan out your events in your notebook.

“Hey, I’m picking up for Joe.”- joe

A tall muscular man stands in front of you. His green long sleeve shirt and grey sweatpants.

You look up

“Joe?”- you

“Y/n? I didn’t recognize you!”- joe

You walked over to him to embrace him in a hug

You laugh

“Yeah, I use contacts now and got rid of the bangs.”- you chuckle

“Wow! I haven’t seen you since high school graduation. How have you been? How’s your parents?”- joe

“I’ve been good! Opened the shop last year and it’s been wonderful! My parents have been good though. They always tell me how they see your parents all the time.” How are they?”- you smile

“They’re great! You know them, always doing stuff around town and call 24/7.”- Joe laughs

“Never changed…well let me get your bouquet.”- you

“Thanks.”- joe

You walk back into the store where the bouquet was being kept. You walked back out with a beautiful bunch of flowers in your hand.

“Wow! This looks amazing, thank you.”- joe says as you hand it to him

“Thank you! Wonderful assortment you picked out.”- you smile as you walk to the computer for him to pay.

“Thanks. I tried my best. It’s my mom’s birthday so I wanted to get her flowers with a few gifts.”- joe

“Well, that’s very sweet. I’m sure she will love it.”would you tell her I say happy birthday?”-you

“Of course. She still asks about you.”- joe

Really? Well I’ve always loved your parents. Always welcoming and kind.”- you

“That’s them.”- joe smiles

You smile back.

“Ok, your total comes out to $76.00.”- you

He hands you his card and you scan it. You hand it back. His hand grazes yours.

“Thank you.”- joe

“Of course! Hope your mom likes the flowers and the gifts.”- you smile

Joe laughs as he waves goodbye and walks out.

I can’t believe that just happened.- you thought

————————————————————————-

A day later

“I can’t believe it! He’s hot, y/n. You should have shot your shot.”- kelly

“No, he probably has a girlfriend and that’s weird.”- you

“He actually doesn’t. We would have known by now.”- kelly

You give her a stare

“Just saying,y/n. You should have given him your number.”- kelly

“Well, he has the store number.”- you

“Eh, that doesn’t really count.”- kelly

You both laughed.

————————————————————————

Couple days later

You were walking along the street trying to get to brunch with kelly. Your brown boots making a noise on the sidewalk and your long coat keeping you warm. As you were looking down at your phone texting kelly you will be there in ten you bumped into a large broad chest.

“Oh- I’m so sorry.”- you look up

“It’s o- y/n?”- joe

“Oh-hey Joe!”- you

“Hi, where are you off to?”- joe

“I’m going to meet kelly for brunch! Where are you off to?”- you smile

“You’re still friends with kelly? Every time I hung out she tried to make a move on me.”- joe

“That sounds like kelly.”- you

“Yeah…anyway I was just picking up some take out.”- joe

“That’s nice, well enjoy and good luck on Sunday!”- you saw as you walk away

“Thanks, y/n. Tell kelly I say hi.”- joe winks

You laugh

“I will.”- you walk away

————————————————————————

That night

You were sitting on your couch snuggled up in your cozy blanket watching Gossip Girl when your phone chimed.

You opened it to see a contact you never thought you would see in a million years. Joe.

Your heart fluttered

Hey, y/n! It’s Joe.It was nice seeing you again today. Hope brunch was good. I just wanted to see if you wanted to come to my game on Sunday? I understand if you can’t or busy. I just feel like we always used to joke about you coming to my games in the NFL when we were kids and now that I am I feel like it’s right to have you there this weekend. You can bring kelly if you want.

You decided to text him back

Hi! I would love to come! And I know kelly would to. And those were some pretty funny jokes we made. They still make me laugh to this day when I watch you guys on tv.😂

————————————————————————

Hey guys!!!!! This is a new series called sparks!!! Can’t wait to put more out for you guys! Hope you like and always welcome to send requests!!🩷

[cvtyvvitch]

💗💐✨Pick-A-Card: What Is Next for You in Love?✨💐

💕 Pick an emoji (⚡️, 🌸, or 🌊) for a reading on what is coming next for you in love.

✨ Focus your intention and remain open — if none of the images light up for you, there may not be a message for you in this reading! Alternatively, more than one image might connect with you. As always, trust your intuition and take what resonates, leaving the rest.

⚡️⚡️⚡️

#1 ⚡️ Lightning ⚡️

In French, love at first sight is called ‘coup de foudre’ — a lightning strike. This picture makes my eyes water, and I get a few different impressions off it. First, someone sees you and is completely taken back. This could be someone you have met already and they felt this, but for some it’s happening soon. Someone who literally stops in their tracks and is dazed by you. It’s a frenetic energy, hard to pin down. A bit of the madness that comes with a really intense new crush.

The second option I get is that someone reenters your life very suddenly, a bit of a Tower experience. It feels that things were left unresolved between you, and it’s a situation/feelings that still keeps you up some nights. It’s a feeling like horses straining under a harness and energy built up to the point of explosion. Not a bad feeling per se, but definitely volatile and shocking.

Key words: fire, volcano, out of control, thunder, chewed straws, bitten nails, knock on the door, feet on pavement, midnight, nokia cell phone, unknown caller ID, broken glass, be not afraid, late night gas/petrol station, buzzing silence

PS If you have any feedback, please let me know! Also if you save this reading and notice it being accurate for you, I���d love to hear about it!

🌸🌸🌸

#2 🌸 Pink Flower 🌸

For this group, I get the image of someone picking flowers from the garden for their grandmother. Someone very sweet on the periphery of your life who you know or may get the opportunity to get to know soon. They feel like someone with a lot of responsibility with maybe their family or community, but always find the time for you. Sweet, somewhat shy or quiet energy. Feels like a neighbor, maybe, or a neighbor to someone in your family.

There’s hesitation here, maybe on both ends? I don’t feel major turmoil but just the uncertainty mixed with curiosity that comes with a new person who isn’t obviously mutually interested in you. Friendly without being over flirtatious. The type of person who gives you a bucket of lemons because they’ve had a bunch extra in their backyard.

Keywords: bicycle, farmer’s market, pharmacy, picket fence, down the hall, shy, hedge, grandmother, dahlias, peonies, tuna can, plum

PS If you have any feedback, please let me know! Also if you save this reading and notice it being accurate for you, I’d love to hear about it!

🌊🌊🌊

#3 🌊 Waves 🌊

This connection coming in has a feeling of longing. It feels like a period of missing someone or a time in your life that you know you can’t return to. Grief that feels a little bit difficult to place because it feels like wanting something that even if you got it, things wouldn’t feel the same because you have also changed.

I know that’s not a super happy sounding message, but this is a period where you are asked to deeply reflect on what you loved and feel you’ve lost. Allow yourself to move past the surface of yearning to the deeper questions: why did I have this experience? Where did I learn what I wanted, and what does not truly help me grow and feel safe? It may feel very confusing right now in the face of perceived loss. It’s a murky time you must allow yourself to experience and pass through, but take care not to become trapped by the siren’s song of nostalgia. There is more for you to experience on the other side of this lesson, and a version of yourself waiting to embrace new joy based on a profound understanding of these past disappointing experiences.

Keywords: sighs, mirror, fingers along water, long hair, loneliness, emptiness, nostalgia, despair. Salt, tears, egg yolk, relearning, color, passion, glorious comeback and rebirth

[sassypossum]

Gojo Satoru x Sick Reader Headcanons

I need this idiot YESTERDAY to straighten out my stubborn ass 😭

Gojo is religious about keeping you at home and in bed when you aren't feeling well.

A simple case of the sniffles? Sprained ankle? Broken bones? Doesn't matter, every ailment or injury is the same in Satoru's eyes.

At even the barest hinted suggestion of you feeling discomfort he jumps into action. Calling in sick for you before scooping up your stubborn ass and tucking you into bed under a mountain of blankets.

He won't take no for an answer. And if you try to argue the point? He simply kisses the top of your head and dematerializes before you can summon the strength to argue - only to reappear exactly an hour later, arms laden with various medicines and a floral offering.

Peonies. Always peonies. On your first date, you'd stopped by a flower stand and he's never forgotten how your face had brightened at the sight of a white bunch of the fluffy flowers.

Now, whenever you're sick - or simply whenever he decides- it's something of a ritual that you'll be surrounded on all sides, and in all shades of your favorite colors.

White, powder blue, blush rose, and he's selectively deaf to your protests, simply kissing your fingers and tapping your bottom lip with a spoon laden with soup - autumn squash, your one weakness- with a hushed ‘just one more sip baby, what do you mean? This is your favorite.’

And you finally decide to go back to work after only taking a day? He eyes you suspiciously, brow cocked at your adamant promises that ‘yes, you feel fine’ when you're obviously not fine - back stiff and your features pinching- Satoru wastes no time in gingerly lifting you and escorting you back to bed.

Nothing gets past his keen notice, and your cute little ass won't be leaving that bed until doctor Gojo decides you're better.

[7ndipity]

I was just daydreaming and realized I've never had a bouquet or flowers from anyone, soo...

Could you do them picking flowers to their S.O?

Flowers For Their S/o

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: What types of flowers that the members would get for their S/o

Warnings: none

A/N: Thank you for sending this request! Tbh, I’ve never received flowers either(I’m pretty sure I’d burst into tears if I ever did, lol), so we can just daydream together💐 I hope this is okay!💜

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jin: Jinnie loves getting you flowers, whether it’s for your 3 month anniversary or just a random Tuesday, he just loves how happy they make you! He usually goes for something classic like pink roses or tulips, tho, he definitely likes to splurge on bigger, more elaborate bouquets for special occasions.

Yoongi: Yoongi always gets you daisies, doesn’t matter what type of bouquet it is, there’s always some type of daisies peeking out the mix at you. If you ever ask why, he’ll admit it’s bc you mentioned them once on your first date, and now everytime he sees them, he thinks of you.

Hobi: Bc it’s Hobi, my brain immediately went to sunflowers, but I actually think he would get you smth like dahlias or peonies. Expect them every week for the foreseeable future tho, bc he plans to make up for any bouquets that you’ve missed out on in the past.

Namjoon: I could see Joon trying to be clever and getting you a potted plant instead so that it (hopefully)doesn’t die in a week like cut flowers do, but sometimes his sentimental side gets the best of him and he comes home w a bright mixed bouquet for you.

Jimin: Jimin I think would make a point to find out what your favorite flower is, and then makes sure to always include them in every single bouquet he gets you. I also think he would like simple bouquets of things like carnations, bc they’re so bright and friendly looking.

Taehyung: Tae’s a classic romantic, so he tends to bring you red roses a lot. He’s also a fan of big gestures tho, so don’t be surprised when he sends like 20 bunches of smth bright like daffodils or chrysanthemums to your place whenever you’re sad or he’s traveling.

Jungkook: I think Jk would typically get you different flowers every single time, bc he can never make up his mind and he just likes surprising you, but I think he would especially like getting you a mix of lilies(his birth flower) and whatever your birth flower is.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[eikaebana]

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Visit Us: https://shop.eikaebana.com

[fanaticallyfleeky]

“She guessed my favorite color on the first try. To be honest I didn’t even have a favorite color until she yelled out yellow”*

Whatever you do, don’t think about Tommy. Tommy, who doesn’t think he has a favourite flower because honestly, nobody has ever gifted him flowers. And throughout his life he was told time and time again that flowers were definitely not for men.

“Flowers are delicate, like women, Thomas. I’m not a sissy, and neither are you,” his father had grunted when Tommy had asked him, at 8 years old, what his favourite flower was after they learned about the different meaning of flowers in school. He’d never brought it up again, but his father had made sure he would never forget about it.

Then, decades later, Buck comes into his life, with his sunshine smile and gigantic heart and it’s so easy to just let himself fall in love. And at some point in their young and blooming relationship Buck gifts him flowers. A beautiful bunch of fresh peonies. And Tommy nearly cries from happiness there and then.

Because it’s not just that no one has ever gifted him flowers, but it’s also the beaming smile on Buck’s face as he thrusts them in Tommy’s hands. It’s the pure love that radiates from his gaze, and it’s the typical enthusiasm in which he tells Tommy everything there is to know about peonies and the meaning of flowers. It’s the devotion in his voice as he murmurs:

“I saw these and they made me think of you.”

Because Buck guessed his favourite flower on the first try. But to be honest Tommy didn’t have a favourite flower until Buck gifted him peonies with a smile that could light up the whole city.

(*Rudy Francisco)

[katedrawscomics]

hey tumblr, dunno if this is of interest to you but i am gonna gardenpost at you cus it's really brought me a lot of happiness and i wanna share that, if possible!

here is the greenhouse we recently finished constructing

i love this guy. the garlic I planted in troughs outside it isn't far off done! maybe another month or so

inside the greenhouse, the tomatoes and peppers are becoming a thing! those flowers will turn into fruit and then into a dinner yum yum

the inside of the greenhouse! I have like 3 types of chili going cus chilis are best. also outside there's a bunch of plums on the little plum tree but I know I will never have these, they are destined for birdsnacks. i accept this

some blooms arriving in the garden proper, this peony hates me and will only do one flower total but that is its right. I planted those bellis daisies this year and I'm stoked at how well they've taken

an immense barrel that is gonna bloom a huge beautiful lily, just you wait and see

[jam3sacaster]

“Just breathe with me, darling.

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Reader

Suggestion by a sweet anon 🫶🏽 I hope this was what you envisioned! / Rupert calms you down after a panic attack. Anxiety warning.

18+ FANFIC / Soft. Not too long but as always, got carried away! Reader character aged 21.

As always, request what you wanna see on my ask box 💋

Incessantly tapping the edge of your pen against your desk, the skin of your lip peeled under your canine as you anxiously chewed at the corners of your mouth. It was 4pm, and you had turned your production notes into Tony Baddingham’s office precisely 24 minutes ago for his approval. At the moment, work was hard. Tony did his absolute best to berate, humiliate and insult you. All because you and Rupert Campbell-Black had made yourselves official and the whole office was astutely aware that they despised each other.

Taking a quick glance over at his office, you caught a glimpse of your superior pacing up and down his office, flicking nonchalantly through your notes, not quite taking them in and not at all caring. Your vision went black as a pair of rugged hands covered your eyes. Breathing in, your mind immediately calmed — You recognised that sweet, aromatic aftershave from anywhere. “Guess who?” The opulent, inebriating voice sounded from behind you. You couldn’t help but grin and spin round in your chair as the hands removed themselves from your eyeline. Rupert, smartly clad in his hunting gear, was holding the most tremendous bouquet of flowers one had ever seen — lavish bunches of roses, lavender, and peonies. An exquisite array of colours and the most stunning fragrance. “Rupert! You shouldn’t have!” You burst with glee, standing up and throwing your arms around his neck, embracing him and pinning yourself to him tightly. The grin plastered across his jaws was unlike Rupert — a pure, genuine display of joy. You had really got under his skin, for the better.

“I was passing on my way to the hunt. I thought you could do with cheering up, I know that miserable bastard has been getting on your nerves as of late.” He muttered the last part, and shot you a wink. Rupert wasn’t passing — in fact, the florist was precisely 15 minutes away from the location of the hunt, and Corinium’s office was 26. He just couldn’t resist seeing that beaming smile on your face. From his office, Lord Baddingham had been keeping a firm eye on you both, and swung his door wide open. “What are you doing here? Who let you in? Get out.” The erratic man spoke, pointed finger waving brutishly at Rupert. Your lover jokingly threw his hands up in defeat, and took a step back from your desk. “I’m going, I’m going.” He spun around on his heel to leave, but quickly turned back. “Just quickly, Tony, how are your ratings doing since Declan left? I heard from a certain insider that they are absolutely tanking.” A devilish grin painted Rupert’s face as he spoke, he knew exactly which buttons to press of Tony to make him explode. Tony’s face grew a remarkable crimson shade, and you could almost physically see the steam rush to escape his ears. “Get the FUCK out of here, you cunt! You and your fucking whore! You’re SACKED!” Spit flew from the corners of Tony’s enraged mouth, fists clenching so tight his nails were drawing blood from his palms.

Despite sitting in a web of his own making, the red mist subsequently descended over Rupert and he raised his own clenched first to swing a punch. Except, he would have done, had he not first heard frantic hyperventilating from the seat beneath him. You threw an outstretched palm across your chest — trying to calm your breathing. But, it was futile. You felt your throat constrict and your vision tunnel in. Tony, along with everyone else in the office, watched in stunned silence as your panic attack tightened its cruel vice over your body. Rupert, however, immediately knelt beside you and pushed your chin upwards with a curled finger. “Hey, hey, angel. Breathe. Just breathe with me, darling.”

Rupert kept his distance at first, not wanting to constrict you anymore than you already felt. Instead, he maintained constant eye contact and took slow, calm deep breaths whilst facing you, urging you to do the same. God, this man could fix anything. Steadily, Rupert took a hold of your hand and placed it over his heart— allowing you to feel the rhythmic thumping and encouraging your own to fall into the same beat. Wiping tears away with your other hand, you took a trembling exhale and allowed yourself to take a moment of calm. Shooting Tony a menacing glare, Rupert lowered himself again and directed your gaze towards him. “I’m here, angel. I’m not going anywhere.”

That was enough to coax inconsolable sobs from you. Safety and protection was all you craved, and Rupert certainly gave it to you. Practically falling into his arms, he allowed you to sob into his shoulder. His warmth had a vice-like grip over you — unwavering and shielding you from the world. His veined hand stroked through your hair softly as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear. “Don’t do this to me again, darling. You know I’m always here. You’re safe with me, beautiful.”

He pulled you from your chair with the strength of one arm, and tucked you closely into his side, simultaneously picking your bouquet up with the others. “Come on, angel. Let’s get you home.” He muttered, and you gently nodded your head in agreement, allowing your body weight to melt into his. As he beckoned you away from your desk, he shot one last look at Tony — he was never going to forget this.

“Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear.” - Jane Eyre

[mcytshipsandmore]

Flower husbands x Desert duo have been taking over my mind since I watched 3rd life and I'm tierd of pretending it hasn't.

There's something about the way they all interact with each other that just gah!

Like I can imagine both pairs talking about it separately and coming to the same conclusion but no one wanting to say anything.

So Flowe husbands take the first step Jimmy collects a bunch of flowers from around the valley, Roses, Tulips, Dandelions, Peonys, Liliacs and most importantly, Poppies.

Scott aranges them all into a nice bouquet tied with a string and a note saying who it's from with a (not so subtle) heart.

They thin its subtle, but then after they deliver it they question if it was too subtle. Cut to Scar and Grian around the bouquet freaking out cause they know what the flowers (Specifically the Poppies) mean to Jimmy and Scott.

There's a whole discussion on if they mean it like that or not, and it ends with Grian and Scar deciding to try to 'subtlety flirt with Jimmy and Scott.

And as time goes on they keep flirting back and forth to the point everyone thinks their all already together, but they don't relise it till Scott accidentally calls Jimmy 'Our husband' while speaking to Scar and Grian.

That's when they decide to properly talk everything out and decide what exactly they are.

Yeah, sorry for the long rant. I've been thinking about them forever, Idk if it has a ship name, I would think it'd be Desert Flowers, but I'm not sure if that's used for something else, either way those are my thoughts thank you for listening.

*holds the ship name desert flowers tenderly in my hands*

*sniff*

*sob*

Its beautiful…

-🍫

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

girl on fire 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as cheating, neglect, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: neglected, you find comfort in another home.

Characters: Jonathan Pine, Loki

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself

Another lonely morning greets you. The chirping of birds and the yellow haze of sunlight does little to warm your bed. You stretch your arm out, feeling the empty space beside you. You lift your hand and stare at the ring you forgot to take off, as you often do. Sometimes, you just don’t want to. Sometimes you think if you do, he’ll truly be gone. 

Your husband isn’t gone though. Just absent. Just away on business. What's the difference?

You sit up and that knot under your shoulder pangs. You don’t sleep well without Loki near. Even after all this time, you’re not used to it. You wonder if he lays awake in his hotel beds. 

You go to the bathroom and wake yourself up with a splash of cold water. The day unfolds slowly around you as the dregs of sleep recede to painful reality. Alone. Again. Just like every day. When you said til death do you part, you didn’t think it would be a walking death. 

You wash and dress, for no reason in particular. You suppose because you should look human if you go outside. You sit and drink your tea in the kitchen as you watch the news on your phone. Current events only make you feel worse about the world. Even in your suburban paradise, there is no joy. 

You close out the player and tap on your messages. The last text you got from your errant husband was two nights ago. He landed safely. He doesn’t respond unless you message first. You’re starting to forget the days when he would rush in the door and sweep you off your feet. There is only numbness left where once you tingled. 

You’ll talk. Yeah, you’ll sit down and communicate and make it all better. Sure, that’ll happen. You laugh at yourself as you rinse the mug and leave it in the sink. You say that to yourself every time and then he comes home and it’s just silence. 

This isn’t a home, it’s a prison. At least you get outdoors time here. 

You step into your slippers and go outside, grabbing your gardening gloves as you tie on the tool belt with trowel, rake, and spade tucked in the pockets. You roll your shoulders and stretch, groaning as the dull jab remains under your shoulder blade. You need to stop reading in bed. 

As you near the soil along the walk, you stop short. Dirt litters the pavement and petals scatter all around. You near fall to your knees, staggering instead as you grasp at your stomach. No, no, no. 

You stare down at the ruin of your tulips. Not just any tulips but the pink and white ones you’d been nursing for weeks. The ones you bought yourself to mark your tenth year of marriage. The gift you never got from your husband because he couldn’t fit you into his calendar. 

“Ugh!” You exclaim and stomp the broken stems. “I hate you!” 

You stamp your feet in the dirt, spreading the mess, jumping up and down as your anger swells and your hurt flows over. That damn squirrel! That pest! That horrid creature! 

You kick through the other flowers, crushing peonies and pansies and violets. You don’t care about any of it. It doesn’t matter. It all just wilts and dies. It’s all just a bunch of bullshit. 

You clutch your head and collapse on your heels, sitting on your knees as you hang your head forward. It’s not the flowers. You know it’s not. The one thing you don’t want to think about is the only thing you can think about. 

You stay like that, sobbing into the ruin of your front garden. How pathetic you must look in your old Gap tee shirt and oversized sweatpants. If any of those HOA cyborgs walked by, they’d surely give you a citation. 

“Pardon,” a voice breaks through your tragedy and you close your eyes.  

You’re delusional. You have to be imagining things. It sounds just like him. Like your Loki. You turn your head and open your eyes, lashes webbed with tears. You sniff and quickly mop them away. Of course it wouldn’t be your husband. 

“Are you alright? I saw you fall from across the street,” the slim tall man stands on the other side of your iron gate. “Oh my, well, what a mess that chap made of your garden. I’m afraid he had a go at mine as well.” 

You squint and shake your head, “who?” 

“That squirrel fellow. He broke one of my planters as well,” he points with his long index finger. How peculiar. He reminds you of him. Tall, slim, and his nose... 

“That’s... yeah,” you sniffle and look down, using your shirt, to wipe away what’s left of your grief. 

“They must’ve meant very much. Even if they are just flowers, I can empathise,” he says. 

You shrug, “I’m being dramatic.” 

You stand and sweep off your pants. He lingers and you avoid looking at him. You’ve humiliated yourself enough. 

“Tulips,” he remarks. “I’ve some lovely blue ones from Holland if you’d like some bulbs. Can never have too many.” 

“That’s nice of you,” you keep your head down, turning your back to him, “who are you exactly?” 

“Oh, yes, I suppose I’ve not made the rounds yet. I... do you perhaps know a Hattie?” 

“Yeah, across the street,” you mutter. 

“That would be her. My aunt,” he explains, “she’s in need of some assistance, she’s due for surgery, so I’ve volunteered myself as her minder. She always did make the nicest biscuits, I only think it fair.” 

“That’s... nice,” you nearly choke on emotion. It is very sweet and selfishly, you feel worse for hearing it. 

“Needless to say, I’m a bit of a stranger around here,” he continues, “I’m Jonathan, though, if you... care.” 

You take a breath and lower your head, trying to get yourself together. You face him and try to force a smile but only feel like you might start crying again. You enunciate your name through the tension in your lips.  

He repeats it and it nearly takes your breath away, “do I have that right?” 

You have to hold back a gasp as you nod.  

“Beautiful,” he remarks, “happy to have a name to the face. I hate to be trouble but you might see me around.” 

“That's… That's okay. I'm sorry. I'm just… having a day,” you try to laugh out your distress but it only sounds fractured. 

“We all do,” he says, “I might be so lucky you never catch me in one.” 

“Sure, uh, I'll… I gotta go inside.” 

“Of course,” he purrs, “I shall let you know if I do catch the menace.” 

You put on a perplexed face. 

“The squirrel,” he says, “I am merciful, never worry. I'll only give him a good fright.” 

“Mm, thanks, er, I'll keep an eye out too.” 

“I do hope your day turns for the better,” he dips his head slightly, “can't complain for the sun, can we?” 

He turns and struts to the curb. You watch as he looks both ways then strolls on, hands in his pockets, a man without a care. You envy him that, but you can't quite place that other thorn in your chest.