#peony's fic

[peonywithroses]

just what affinity level should you unlock to have jin share his cigs with you~? @snowmoonwrites might know 🩵

[redyarns]

i changed a few of the scene names (and also fixed the numberings on the previous chapter because it was legit driving me NUTS). anyway im getting ready to go ahead and tackle this next one. as a sneak peek here are the pov's we're going to see in each one:

scene 14: sentinel

scene 15: orion

scene 16: megatron

scene 17: bee

scene 18: ultra magnus

[twistedappletree]

[ protection ]

scene sketch from my fic in progress, letters never sent 💌

[guqin-and-flute]

Are You Here to Stop Me? –Ch. 7 [Peony to Lotus!Verse, Yaoli]

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5][Chapter 6] [First post in Peony to Lotus Verse]

[Ao3 Series]

[CW: Mention of blood, canon and era typical internalized ableism and misogyny from Yanli]

"You're sure you don't need me to get your parasol, furen?" 

Yanli opened her eyes to the buttery autumn sun and smiled up at her maid, who hovered by her elbow like a nervous bird. "A-Si, I’m fine--” she began to insist, gently.

But the girl was already spinning, hurrying away up the garden path and calling back over her shoulder; “I’d better get it, just in case! I’ll be right back!” 

With a sigh of fond surrender, Yanli settled back into her heavily cushioned chair, hands resting on her stomach. Nothing moved inside, yet, and it was no more round than it ever was, but there was life there. Wen Qing--Qing-mei, as she had begun to call her in the weeks they had spent so much time together--was certain of it.

Yanli was certain of it, now, as well. In the weeks following the diagnosis, she had felt the changes beginning, quite apart from her the recovery symptoms of lingering wet heaviness in her chest. There was the horrid nausea and sickness in the mornings, the aversion to foods she once loved, a craving for foods of a strange combination. Her belly didn’t look any different, but it certainly felt fuller. And she was so tired. Wen Qing had assured her and A-Yao that it was normal when she was recovering as well as metabolizing for 2.

And ever since the fact had “accidentally” gotten its way around to the rest of her family, as well as the Wen, the servants, and disciples, she was being treated as if she might trip and fall to pieces at any moment--treatment which she amiably bore. Even if it was excessive. Would such pampering really go on for 9 whole months? Her health had always been fragile but now, she hardly had a moment alone! 

“You’ve hardly grown at all, yet, and everyone is taking such good care of you,” she murmured down to her own belly, slowly rubbing it.

 She wasn’t certain exactly how news got out, as she and A-Yao had intended to wait the 3 customary months to announce the pregnancy--but somehow, everyone in Lotus Pier now knew. She might have suspected A-Xian, with his mischievous streak as wide as the lake, or A-Cheng, who was truly terrible at keeping any secret back from his face; but it just as well might have been given away by the fact that she couldn’t stop cradling her middle or the way that A-Yao’s doting attention on her had increased tenfold. 

Besides, A-Xian was far too preoccupied working himself ragged reviving poor Wen Ning, and A-Cheng too busy entrenched in the steps of that cutthroat political dance he must perform to gossip with anyone. It took all of their attention just to keep this whole affair afloat. 

She let out a sigh, watching her belly rise and fall with her breath, the tiny purple beads on her hanfu sparkling with every movement. They were all now in an uncomfortable stalemate—which, she supposed, was better than one of the alternatives, being outright war. From what she heard of the initial meeting, it had been tense and heavy, just barely above outright threats. Yanli was just as happy not to have been in any shape to go to Koi Tower and have to face anyone there. A-Cheng seemed incredibly stressed about the outcome, from what she had seen of him, and Yao seemed unhappy, but simply assured her that it was to be expected, assured them all that his father was keeping a wary eye on the other Sects. Jin Guangshan was too politically savvy, he said, to act purely from anger. They still had time to maneuver. And other meetings scheduled.

Even then, they had received plenty of correspondence of outrage, from rival and allied Sects alike—some even from their own people. They had not forgotten the pain of being occupied as a Supervisory Office. The wounds of the loss of all of those in the Lotus Pier compound were not even scarred over, yet, still red and furious. A-Yao was doing things behind the scenes to work on public opinion, but had once described it as carefully walking a tightrope. Yanli would agree, and secretly add that it felt as if it were one high in the air, above crashing waters and hungry mouths. The Jiang still held a strong standing in the jianghu, solid reputation held there equally by the legacy of their parents and A-Cheng's monumental success in the rebuilding of their Sect at his age.

But the children of the Jiang knew better than anyone, save perhaps the other Clans wiped out by the Qishan Wen, to never rely on that remaining true. They were not safe yet. There were miles yet to go, in this.

She wished she could be of more help, but she was still too weak to do much else besides be led about to bask in the shade, as she did now. Today was the first time in a long time she had felt well enough to consider reading, or perhaps embroidery. Maybe even cooking something simple, if she had help. And, in truth, there was not much she could do amidst the street gambler’s Shell Game they were attempting to pull with the Wen amidst the already complicated match of go they always played with the rest of the jianghu. 

And so, the leak of who told who about the pregnancy remained a mystery. It didn’t truly bother her; the excitement and congratulations, A-Yuan’s sweet, probing questions. She was just as relieved to be able to not have to keep a secret on top of the upwelling of emotions that swamped her daily. Elation. Terror. Anticipation. Pride. Anxiety. Satisfaction. And, of course, love.

Most of all love.

She had hardly been able to properly absorb what Wen Qing was saying that day, to express the elation and terror that coursed through her--and through A-Yao as well, if the shock in his pale face had been anything to go by--before Qing-mei had somehow herded him out of their room after A-yuan and closed the door firmly behind them. “Jiang-furen,” she had said, coming to sit on the edge of her bed. There was an edge of steel in her face and tone that was nowhere to be found in the gentle hands that folded around Yanli's own. “Please, speak freely. Tell me the truth. Is this what you want?”

Exhaustion had sapped into her bones, as wet and heavy as her breath. “Is…what?” she had trailed off, dizzy.

Wen Qing, seeing this, had first helped her settle back down flat onto her pillows. When the gnawing swirling in her gut and head had abated, slightly, Qing-mei continued, unflinchingly; “This pregnancy. If this isn't what you want, there are ways I can help you that no one will be able to detect. If you are being pressured by Jin Guangyao to--”

“What? A-Yao?“ Yanli had repeated on a laugh more of startlement than humor that had turned into a coughing fit. 

As it had squeezed her already sore middle, a strange, aware panic had suddenly overcome her--would coughing so hard hurt the pregnancy? She had curled around her stomach and tried to stifle them, with limited success. From now on, she would be housing another that would share in her discomforts. The thought was…unimaginable. 

When the coughing had finally passed, she had gasped, weakly, “Ah, oh no, no…this was planned, we both want to start…. I...we didn't expect...I'm just surprised, I suppose.”

The worried disbelief on Qing-mei’s face had made her close her eyes in weariness, praying for patience and words enough to convince her. She would not live through another well meaning woman trying to pry her marriage apart at the seams because they did not think he deserved her. How to explain to them a husband who laid every choice at her feet? How to properly convey just how safe she had been made to feel in her own marriage? The easiest love she had ever been gifted? “You have gotten the wrong impression, meimei, I'm delighted, I'm...I'm....” Going to have a baby. A baby! 

The thought had made her more lightheaded still, either with giddiness, terror, or a combination of the two, she hadn't quite been able to tell.

Even then, it had taken a significant amount of effort to convince her suspicious sister-in-law that, no, her husband was not impregnating her in some sneaky bid to solidify a place of power in their Clan; no, he did not scare, control, or force her; no, he had not been the one to somehow put the idea of transferring her own core to A-Xian into her head. That had been there a while all on its own.

It was still close enough to the failed conversations she had had with Madam Jin that she might have begun to feel the same helpless frustration, if Wen Qing hadn't subsided into a still suspicious acceptance of her wishes and the quickly growing whirlwind of shimmering excitement hadn’t begun swarming through her limbs as every time she said ‘my baby’ and ‘our child’, the future seemed that much more tangible.

And Qing-mei meant well, Yanli knew. Whatever she had seen in A-Yao in their time at the Scorching Sun Palace had clearly scared her deeply, and Yanli wasn't going to dismiss that. Her husband was cunning and clever, able to change faces with the ease of a passing cloud when he needed to. She had seen it herself and she could not, would not deny it. But she knew his heart, knew that he was also kind, sweet, gentle, and frightened--she loved him for all of it. That included the parts he regretted, the parts that Wen Qing hated. Yanli would never have anything to fear from him.

She could tell that Wen Qing still thought she was either helplessly hoodwinked or naive, but she seemed at least satisfied that Yanli wanted this for herself and her family and did not bring up the idea again. In fact, each new day she got to spend with the girl, she seemed to be a little more relaxed. At least she had far more color in her face and light in her eyes than when she had first laid eyes on her in that Lanling forest, looking as much like a corpse as her brother--just a walking one. Yet, even with the improvements to her health and mood, even after weeks, she and A-Cheng still circled each other warily. They practically fled the room whenever they saw that the other had entered. 

It might have been amusing if it weren’t so tragic. 

How did one matchmake a couple who was, effectively, already married? Yanli thought that she might be able to have some clue, seeing how her and A-Yao’s love had blossomed with care and time, but if the two wouldn’t even share the same air….It reminded her uncomfortably of their parents’ relationship; prickly silence and separate rooms across the Pier. It raised ugly gooseflesh down her back to think of A-Cheng resigning himself to be as miserable in marriage as they clearly had been. She might not have dared to think so as a child, but after her own delightful marriage, knowing what it could feel like…she wept for her parents and all that they had become. For what they both so clearly wanted but didn’t know how to get without sacrificing parts of themselves they refused to let go of, for better or worse.

A-Cheng and Qing-mei didn’t need to love each other. Yanli knew the seed of love was there, in her brother at least, knew that yearning look in his eye. She had seen him as a teenager eagerly waiting for her eye to turn to him--a warming Wen sun, not a burning one. Everything had become hopelessly tangled with rage and regret and duty and grief during the murder of their Clan and the war. But irreparably so? She hoped not. They didn’t need to love each other, but Yanli would have them at least comfortable in their living with each other. She would love to actually host a real wedding for them, one day, in private.

What little she could do for A-Cheng, she tried, probing him gently once in a while--when he had a spare moment to visit, which wasn’t often. She complimented the clothes he had admitted to ordering for Wen Qing; robes in a spectrum of rich plums, burgundies, and muted magentas--red the undertones of each. “Did she ask for those colors in particular?”

“No.” His whole affect always sagged, dulled whenever she gently probed him about his wife and he would stare at his hands.

“Did you choose them yourself, then?” 

“...Yes. I…Yes.”

She had been delighted to be surprised by this, though she shouldn’t have been--he had always been a smart dresser with a keen eye for color. Besides some of her Jiang shimei’s and the tailor, she had specifically sought his opinion on her own wedding outfit. He and A-Xian had been planning her entire wedding since they were 8, after all, he was bound to have opinions. And he certainly had--her wedding dress had had both of her brother’s stamps of approval.

Lately, when he came by, he was always well groomed, but could feel the stress humming through him and behind his tired eyes. He could act so prickly, she wondered if anyone was pestering him to make sure he slept well. If they would let themselves, she was sure a wife would be a perfect person to do so. Whenever Yanli tried, he would just say that she shouldn’t worry about him with everything going on with her, that he was sleeping fine, and would proceed to fuss over her instead.

“A-Cheng, what’s troubling you?”

“Nothing, jiejie.”

“You’re a terrible liar, sweetling.

“I don’t have the time to worry about pretending to be married, right now.”

“You could just try talking to her, you know. Just…start a conversation.”

His face scrunched up in a combination of self derision, confusion, and agony, wrinkling his nose and narrowing his eyes. Waiting, she had stroked his hand where it lay balled up on her blanket, his knuckles a pale bite against the rich emerald and purple. “I wouldn’t know what to talk about,” he had finally said, shortly, his voice more of a mumble than the gruff dismissive tone she thought he might have been aiming for.

“You could ask her what she’s feeling, how she likes it here.”

“I don’t think I want to know.” He was staring down at her bedspread, bleakly, tight lines of worry between his brows.

When she had reached up to try to smooth them away, admonishing his doubt with a gentle, “A-Cheng--” he had caught her hand and pressed the backs of her knuckles against his cheek, eyes squeezed shut. After a sharp, indrawn breath, he had announced that he needed to go--and she needed to rest. There was nothing more she could say without making him flee faster.

What a mess all of this was.

Qing-mei was not much more of a help on that front. And Yanli was even less inclined to force her, poor girl--they didn’t have the history and she didn’t want to trap her. Every time she brought up A-Cheng or their marriage or what she felt about the whole relationship, she clammed up and grew solemn. “I’m grateful to Jiang-zongzhu. To all of you,” was all she would ever say, regarding their arrangement.

 At least Yanli had finally convinced her to stop calling her Jiang-furen, insisting that if they were going to be sisters now, it only made sense. She had confided in the younger woman that she had never had a little sister before, that she was excited to have someone to call ‘meimei’. At that, quite apart from her unflappable, self assured doctorly attitude, Qing-mei had offered, shyly, that she had never been a little sister before and that she found the idea quite odd. This tacit acceptance of the role delighted Yanli beyond words.

Qing-mei had taken to visiting her long past the time she had finished checking and treating her, taking tea and meals in her room either A-Yao came back or Yanli would, embarrassingly. fall asleep mid sentence. They hadn’t been able to visit like this very often when she had sheltered them in Yiling--Wen Qing would be called away and there had been work to be done, healing A-Cheng. Now, though, they had time and privacy, and their conversations would wander both wide and deep, over being elder sisters to trouble-prone younger brothers, about their shared time in Yiling, their mothers, their favorite books. Qing-mei was very clearly reluctant to confide her worries in her, whether in not wanting to cause her further stress or simply due to her own innate reservation, and so their conversations rarely included fears or the far future. 

But, sometimes, she would talk about Wei Wuxian’s progress and Wen Ning. “I don’t know what I’m more afraid of,” she had whispered one evening as the sun set outside, stock still next to Yanli’s bed, staring at the screen that threw spindly shadows of willow’s fingers across like thrashing ropes. “The idea that he may never come back. Or that he might…and I don’t know what he will be.” She had turned her head then, her neck and spine braced bravely, but her large, sweet eyes shining with tears in the low lantern light. “Da-gu, he’s so cold,” she had choked, barely audible. 

When Yanli had sat forward and reached out her arms, there was no hesitation when Qing-mei huddled into them, shaking silently.

Yanli herself had not yet seen what was left of Qing-mei’s gentle brother since she had landed at Lotus Pier, barely conscious herself. It hurt her heart to remember the shy, earnest boy she had seen attempting to become invisible behind his sister, despite his standing several inches taller than her at the Cloud Recesses what felt like eons ago. She hardly knew a thing about him, and all she did was through Xianxian and Qing-mei’s eyes. Hopefully there was a future possible for them to get to know each other on their own terms. 

Though she wholeheartedly believed in Xianxian’s brilliance and dogged tenacity, she had to admit…a conscious fierce corpse had never been achieved before. And the work was hard and damaging. It had scared her when she had finally seen what A-Xian had looked like after a week of what was clearly just a diet of half forgotten food and resentful energy. She had found him in the family shrine just a few days ago, when it was too rainy to sit outside comfortably. The early autumn had been washing warm, wet storms over them almost daily, but often, they came and went within minutes and she would patiently await the sun beneath a tree and her parasol. That day, however, the day woke to rain, and it had stayed, churning the lake cloudy with disturbed particulates. 

Though she enjoyed a good walk in the rain, everyone--A-Yao, A-Cheng, He Si, Qing-mei, Liu-popo, her childhood doctor-- had cautioned against going out in it when she was still fragile, and so her maid had helped her shuffle slowly across shining walkways and summer-verdant ponds pebbled with raindrops, huddled together under a waxed parasol and cloak. When she saw a hunched, dark shape within, she had paused at the door, squinting into the incense and candle warmed gloom within. When she recognized the set of her brother’s shoulders, she had quietly dismissed He Si with a lift of her chin. 

A-Xian had looked up when she moved from the fresh, silvery air of the outside to the space of quietly splashing water and remembered prayers. Immediately, the comforting hiss and patter of rain receded even more when she slid the door shut, leaving them surrounded only by the pale darkness of the ornate lotus screen panels--a private little universe. When she turned, A-XIan was already there, helping her out of her cloak, taking the dripping parasol from her hand. “Shijie! Are you sure you should be up?” The shadows beneath his eyes were dark and he had missed a spot on his jaw shaving this morning.

“I don’t think staying in bed for the rest of my pregnancy would be good for me or my baby, A-XIan.” She had softened the already gentle jibe by brushing back the hair from his face and patting his cheek, feeling the prickle under her fingers. “Help me to the cushions?”

He, of course, did, supporting her elbow, his other hand wrapped protectively around her far shoulder. The scent that clung to him was sharp and unpleasant, wholly unlike the memories she associated with him. Long ago, she had buried her nose in the top of his little boy head, and would breathe in soap and sunshine and love--and now, as a man, he used to smell like the spices he liked to eat and something fresh. Now, he smelled like…danger, soot, blood. That alone would have unnerved her. But when they sat next to each other and her eyes adjusted, she could take in the whole of him.

“I know, I know, I look terrible. I look worse than I feel, don’t worry,” he waved off her eye’s widening with feigned ease, smiling.

He had lost weight quickly, leaving him hollow cheeked and wan. His hair was only hastily brushed, his topknot uneven, slightly lopsided, and his eyes were bloodshot. On his hands, cinnabar, soot, and old blood was smeared, half-heartedly wiped, then smeared again, darkening around his nails. “A-Xian,” she had intoned with enough force that he immediately sat up straight, sucking in his lips like a child caught out doing something he knew he shouldn’t be doing. “After we talk, you’re going to take a bath and eat a full meal outside your room. Alright?”

“Really, I’m--” 

“A-Xian!” She had broken in, frowning, eyebrows drawn down. 

He hunkered down, pouting as he muttered, “Yes, Shijie.” Tilting doleful eyes and pushed out lip up at her, he then whined, “Shijieeee, don’t be mad at me. I’ll do better. Sorry if I’m smelly.” To illustrate this, he theatrically lifted up his sleeve to sniff it, then wrinkled his nose in real distaste. “Ugh. Alright, I get it.”

With a sigh, she had reached for his hands. He had seemed to wake to what was on them and scrubbed his palms on his thighs before taking them. “It’s not that, Xianxian, you know that. I’m worried about you. I’m worried about both of you.”

Apparently, he and A-Cheng had also been warily circling each other, like they did after most fights. Their spats, she had heard from a combination of A-Yao, He Si, and Qing-mei were more mundane and brotherly, now, weeks later--though they ended as often with eye rolling and secret smiles as hurt feelings and tight lipped silences. It had been bad right after their return, she had heard--A-Cheng storming around with a poisonous temper for days and A-Xian working on Wen Ning all hours of the day and night, refusing to leave his room. She hated that she had to hear about it second hand, that they visited her one at a time, that when she was able to emerge from her room, they were often away, doing what they could. She wasn’t around to soothe their rough edges from grinding against the other.

Qing-mei was with her the most, A-Yao a close second, when he wasn’t helping A-Cheng or something else that needed doing around the Pier. Xianxian had only come in a few times, sometimes too exhausted to do anything but drape himself over the edge of her bed and childishly request hair stroking, which she, of course, gave. Once, a day or two after she had discovered she was pregnant, apparently deciding that she was well enough for a scolding, he had come and very seriously told her to never even think about giving him her core again. “Aren’t you glad Wen Qing said no to that nonsense?” he had demanded, frowning at her in displeasure.

Yanli thought it was rich of him being so incensed about it, but she had let it go. “I wasn’t…I don’t remember doing it. It was the fever, I think.”

“Well, don’t even go thinking it!” he had said, fierceness belayed by him anxiously petting at her arm. “Put it out of your head! Alright?”

She thought about a great many things that she didn’t share with him. It wasn’t something she thought of…constantly. Or even very often. It was just something that had reared its head when she had learned of what A-Xian and Wen Qing had done. When he had sat before A-Cheng and herself with A-Yao by his side and tried to pretend it wasn’t the worst thing they had ever heard. She felt sick when she remembered it--sick for both her brothers. She couldn’t think about it too long, or….

But she was, indeed, glad that Qing-mei had stoutly refused her delirious babble. Her core, weak and pitiful as it was, was going to have to support her and this child through her pregnancy. At least it was finally good for something.

With a start, Yanli blinked out of her hazy, sunwarmed ruminations of the past few weeks and back into the garden, now shaded a brilliant blue from the after images her orange eyelids had left. She couldn’t have been dozing long, for she could hear footsteps returning back down the path. But something in the back of her mind perked up at their familiarity and the knowledge that it wasn’t He Si’s stride. Delighted, she levered herself back entirely upright in the chair and twisted around to see her husband emerging from around the dwarf maple whose leaf edges flirted with gold. “A-Yao!”

“I’ve brought you something, Jiang-furen,” he announced with a twinkle of humor in his dimples, presenting her favorite scalloped, lavender parasol, dotted with intricate plum blossoms on a branch. “He Si was very keen that you have it.”

She laughed and shook her head, reaching out to him for a greeting kiss, which he warmly bestowed on her. He smelled and tasted lovely, like he had been walking around out in the fresh air all day. “She frets so much. It couldn’t have anything to do with you fretting so much, could it? Is she coming back?”

“I dismissed her for other duties, as I assumed you might wish to spend time together.”

Delights up on delights! “Oh, always!”

He helped her up from her chair and walked pressed to her side, his arm sure and firm around her, his fingertips brushing her belly beneath her sleeve, out of sight from passing eyes. Oh, A-Yao; her beloved, tangled up A-Yao. 

Despite his calm outward face, was so clearly terrified by everything about this, including the prospect of not being by her side at every moment. He was constantly on the move, organizing and advising and assisting and whatever else his clever mind decided that they needed--but in between all this, he would appear anxiously at her side at all hours, asking what he could do, if He Si was attending to her properly, if she needed something. Come to think of it…perhaps she had better make sure her husband had no overt hand in her maid’s currently overly fretful state.

She was fairly certain he was more scared than she was about the prospect of becoming a parent, which was endearing, considering she was the one that would have to give birth and not him. He hid it quite admirably, even for him, buried underneath the more typical worry for her--and now, the baby’s--health. And he clearly planned to “burden” her with none of it. But she could see it in his eyes, could feel it in the way he held her.

When they had discovered she was with child, that night, he had asked to make love to her, and had done so exquisitely sweetly. Well, every time they had made love so far had been sweet, but that night, he had been even more tender, more warm and attentive than ever before. Every press of his skin had been gentle enough that she could barely feel where he began and she ended. Ever since then, he had been treating her as if she were made of precious glass. From him, her husband, she happily accepted the attention. The way that he doted on her never made her feel lessened, like he thought she was some incapable child or weak, silly girl. It only made her feel wanted and precious.

He had been appalled that he had let her go on the arduous trip to find Wei Wuxian, and when she had asked with her expression, smiling softly; Let me?, he had amended that he should have begged her to come back with him to Lotus Pier. She had had to remind her that she couldn’t have. A-Yao had simply sighed deeply and said that he knew. Running her hands over his jaw, where the yellow-brown ghosts of the bruises on his jaw from Zixun were finally no longer visible, she had said, “I’ll be careful now. And so should you, yes?”

He had kissed her slowly into sleep.

Now, together, they agreed to try some cooking in the smaller kitchen, so as not to get in the way of the cooks. It was the most activity than she had attempted in days, but there was no tremble to her hands and her muscles felt like actual muscles today, instead of some wet, quivering mud. Standing felt good instead of arduous. And she would never get her strength back if she lived in a chair for the next 9 months. This kitchen was more cluttered than the main one, and a little darker for the smaller windows, but by no means dirty--it also gave them the added benefit of privacy. It was because of this, she was certain, that A-Yao felt comfortable enough to press up behind her as she stood at the counter and sliced up figs. His arms rested comfortably about her waist, palms pressed to her belly and chin resting on her shoulder as he observed her work. Though his whole front pressed warmly against her back, there was no lascivious invitation in it, only closeness and trust. In public, he was not overtly performative with his affection; a supporting arm while walking here, laying a hand atop hers there. It was when they were alone he felt he could cautiously touch her more freely, as if the eyes of others made his love something lewd. Well…she supposed that might in fact be a concern for him. No matter. Whether a peck in private, a brush of her cheek in public and everything in between--and sometimes more--she adored it all. 

“I’m not going to fall over, A-Yao,” she teased. “I’ll let you know if I need to sit down.”

“Of course,” he answered easily, but did not move away, instead nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck.

Contended, she hummed and paused in her knife strokes, laying her cheek atop his shoulder. A golden glow, at once fierce and tender, had a permanent place in her chest nowadays. It had nothing to do with her fading illness and everything to do with this bright new future she had been gifted. She was so lucky. 

Outside the widow, across the courtyard, someone screamed. 

A-Yao spun her back from the window as the bright afternoon outside was split with a crash, an inhuman roar, and more screams, one right after the other. Yanli stumbled, pressed herself against the far wall, her heart pounding wildly against her ribs. Icy gooseflesh cascaded over skin, her stomach knotted in fear. A-Yao, a dagger suddenly in hand, was peering out the window, motionless. She couldn’t see anything from her angle and the leaves outside, but the wild screaming, the roaring continued. The sound of running feet. “What is it?” she whispered, voice pressed thin. 

He only wordlessly shook his head, scanning back and forth. A tree stood in front of the window, she knew, obscuring most of the view of the outside. 

What on earth could it be? Lotus Pier was protected, there were talismans and wards and--

A-Cheng bellowed something, voice harsh with fear.

A-Cheng.

“A-Li, no--!” A-Yao’s shout followed her out the door, but she couldn’t stop.

Her brother was in trouble. I won’t be left behind again, I can’t, I can’t-- 

The courtyard stones flew beneath her feet, then the bridge and she could see, flashing into her mind like blinding light off of waves. A-Cheng, across the walkway, Sandu flashing in the sun, Zidian crackling. Still bellowing, pointing. Disciples running to him as quickly as the servants flooded away, wailing in terror. A towering black figure on the other side of the ornamental pond, wreathed in writhing smoke. It ripped out another unearthly snarl as it flung something big away from itself. A body, a person, flailing in midair, screaming. A snap as they crashed through a carved banister and landed in a sickening, motionless heap, a loose pink ribbon fluttering to earth behind them. “He Si!” 

A hand clamped on her arm as she started forward. A-Yao had caught up. “A-Li!”

“We can’t! A-Si!” She struggled forward, clutching his sleeve, dragging him along.

Shouts and screams bled into the pounding in her ears, pulse a frantic bird in her head that shrieked. She was only across the walkway, only a dozen steps away. Clangs, a thump, a grunt--oh gods! Then she heard A-Cheng’s voice still shouting orders--not him. A-Yao’s face was sharp and hard. His other hand rose to her shoulder. He was going to pick her up and carry her away, saw his thoughts written like script across his face and she couldn’t, she clutched at him and pleaded, “No, please! A-Yao, please, please!” They couldn’t just leave her here, bleeding, in danger!

His eyes darted, then his pull changed, urging her forward, running with her instead of pulling her back. Her movements were loose with fear, jerky and wild and she nearly fell up the steps onto the walkway. Blood covered the girl's face, pooling crimson rapidly onto the shining wood around her. They bent, dragging her back to get better purchase on her limp body. Her feet dragged pitifully. Yanli’s hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t close them around her arms properly. One still held the knife from the kitchen. She had forgotten she still had it. 

The girl wasn’t moving. A-Yao hefted her torso up in his arms, turned to her, opened his mouth--

A fresh wave of screams.

“Jiejie!” A-Cheng’s voice cracked from across the second bridge as she heard a shuffle of wind, a thump behind them and suddenly, the roots of her teeth ached, and that smell--the sharp, burning metal-blood smell that clung to A-Xian--flooded her.

Looking up, the sun blinded her for a split second before vicious smoke--resentful energy stung her eyes, flooded her throat--white hand filled her vision.  Then, something canoned into her side, knocking her away to sprawl away from He Si. Blood and sky spun around her. Battlefield gore, fear, death choked her throat. Gasping, coughing, she scrambled, to her hands and knees, head whirling. When she looked up, her entire body went ice cold and all she could hear in the world was screaming.

It was Wen Ning, black veins sprawling across his face, the empty white holes of his eyes fixed on who he now held by the throat. A-Yao, who had knocked her aside.

No!

Even though the foul resentful energy wreathing them both, her husband’s eyes were alight with more rage than fear, teeth bared. He had already buried his dagger hilt deep in Wen Ning’s chest, right in his heart. The fierce corpse vented another noise human throats should not be able to make and lifted A-Yao, like he was light as a rag, off his feet. Thrashing, choking, A-Yao brought up a leg to kick the dagger hilt deeper, another already in his other hand.

Wen Ning’s other hand shot out, latched around his wrist. Yanli felt the snap in her chest more than heard it. His dagger clanged to the ground. She could see those fingers closing further, like a vise, crushing. A-Yao made no sound--couldn’t, his throat was squeezed, he couldn’t--he couldn’t--

 Screaming--she was screaming, that noise was her--she stumbled up, forward, swinging the kitchen knife up to hack at Wen Ning’s arms, wrists, anything to free her husband. She was close enough that the writhing mist stung like nettles over her skin when something collided with her again, knocking her back from them, sending the knife clattering away from her grip. Qing-mei clung to her, dragged her back, shouting something into her ear. She fought against her, still screaming. He had A-Yao!

 It had been only moments since Wen Ning had landed behind them, but time was boiling, stretching, bursting around them. No no no no no--

Crackling, blinding purple wrapped around Wen Ning’s pale throat, pulled tight and he at least dropped A-Yao’s arm, snarling, clawing at it. Zidian. A-Cheng was there, yanking back on Zidian hard enough to bow Wen Ning’s spine back. But he still had A-Yao’s throat clenched in his grip, still held him up entirely as he kicked at him, hands locked on Wen Ning’s wrist.

“A-Ning, stop! Stop!” Wen Qing cried, arms still knotted around Yanli, still dragging her back as she struggled. 

The disciples clamored nearer, shouting, flinging talismans that sizzled into ash as soon as they met the corona of energy spilling from Wen Ning. Some were already limping, bleeding, and A-Cheng shouted at them to stay back. A piercing, chilling note shrieked above the clamor, freezing Wen Ning still as stone. 

A-Xian. 

Frantically, Yanli searched for him, found him pelting around the corner of the Banquet Hall, Chenqing at his lips. “Wei Wuxian!” A-Cheng roared over at him. “Make him stop!”

A-Xian was pale and wide eyed as his fingers flew over the black lacquer of his flute. He skidded to a halt to suck in a huge breath and trill a complicated, twisting melody that raised all the hairs on Yanli’s body. A shudder went through Wen Ning like a wave across the pond and he began to shake. A quiet, abrupt gasp broke from A-Yao’s lips, as if the fingers around his throat had loosened fractionally. But his face was almost blue, eyes rolling back--and black veins were snaking from under the fierce corpse’s palm. 

“A-YAO!”

In that instant of brief stillness, like a shadow, A-Cheng rose up from behind Wen Ning, Zidian pulled taut in his hand, Sandu raised--his face was dark as a thundercloud, death in his eyes. “Zongzhu!” Qing-mei’s gasped, “Husband, please! Don’t hurt him!”

A-Cheng’s hesitated, eyes flickered, his killing intent cracked. “A-Cheng!” Yanli shrieked, fighting and thrashing, throat raw.

She didn’t even know what she was begging him to do. All she knew was that A-Yao was now just twitching instead of kicking and she could not get free. 

A-Cheng’s face hardened as Chenqing’s tone shrilled up and down a haunting scale, and, with a huge heave, he wrenched Zidian back. The frozen Wen Ning toppled down sideways with the force of it, collapsing both he and A-Yao over into the ornamental lotus pond beside them with a splash. Yanli no longer had to break free of Wen Qing’s grip, for they were both racing to the pond as fast as they could.

 But A-Cheng slid in front of them, flinging out his arms to block them both with his chest as Chenqing’s notes cut off, A-Xian’s panicked voice instead yelling out a warning; Wen Ning reared up from the water behind him, roaring, thrashing, and splashing. 

A-Yao did not.

[pato-roldnart]

A gift from Peony!!!!!!!! OMG I COULDN'T WAIT AND READ IT AS FAST AS I COULD.

Peonyyyyy 🥺🫂 thank you, thank you!! It's absolutely brilliant and hot and is everything to me😭😭 Simon injured and going straight to Baz in his moment of weakness had me crying a little 😭😭

SnowBaz I Explicit I 6k - ongoing I Canon divergence (no truce in 8th year), minor injury, snowbaz on the run, disguises, a cottage in the Yorkshire Dales, smutty smut, shibari, praise kink.

Summary:  There’s a soft grunt coming from behind the door. I watch goosebumps erupt on my skin as I pad towards the door in my socks, my eyes closed as I listen for even the faintest sound, when a familiar smell suddenly hits me. Blood. Smoke and blood and freshly-baked cinnamon rolls. Burnt butter. I open the door and find him there. Simon Snow, his hand clutching his side, mouth open as a ragged breath escapes his lips. “Baz,” he murmurs, his voice a faint thing. “I didn’t know where else to go…”

This is an extremely belated birthday present to the wonderful @pato-roldnart. Pato, I am so sorry it took me ages to get this started! I still hope you enjoy it. 

A shiny thank you to my amazing beta @crazybutgood for her super speedy and fantastic feedback. Additional thanks to @avenueofesc and @bubble-gumhead​ for always reminding me that I can do it.

Read chapter 1 of Hiding on AO3.

[goddess-aelin]

Blossoms and Begonias

Part 2 of Peonies and Poplars

Masterlist

Words: 600

Warnings: Language, talk of smut

I used the prompt "Blossom" from @throneofglassmicrofics as a follow up to Peonies and Poplars, which I would highly recommend reading before this one. It's just a cute little addition that absolutely will have another part to it. I won't leave you guys hanging here...

It was two months to the day since the event Aelin had taken to calling the incident. If she was giving a longer description of the incident, she would have dubbed it the “very embarrassing and terribly mortifying time she met her favorite author and didn’t realize it was him and therefore fought over a copy of his newest book with the aforementioned author and made a complete fool of herself” incident. Yeah, she thought. Not her finest moment. 

Of course, Peonies and Poplars was just as good, if not better than the author’s first two books. Aelin adored R.J. White’s writing, even if he was a giant ass. He was, wasn’t he? What kind of author would fight with a reader about a copy of their book, embarrassing them with their superior knowledge of said book since they created the damn thing, and proceeded to taunt her further by just giving her that same copy of the book, freshly autographed. Not to mention the number he had inked on the front page before giving it to her. What was this guy’s game plan? 

Aelin still wondered at that question while sitting in a coffee shop down the street from the bookstore where it all went down. She had never ended up texting the number he had given, too nervous that it was some sick ruse. She’d been burned in the past and didn’t really feel like making even more of a fool of herself in an already embarrassing situation. There was, however, a little voice that always lingered in the back of her mind, asking her what if he was being sincere? Would he want to talk about the book? Did he give her his number out of pity or was he genuinely interested in her? Did he want friendship or something else? 

These questions would never get answered, of course, because she had no plans to text that number. Nothing could change the fact that she fought with R.J. White over a book, his book. That was enough to deter her from ever wanting to reach out.

The coffee shop was bustling as Aelin sat at her table, drinking her caramel latte (with extra sugar, of course). She had gotten to the quaint little shop just in time to avoid the morning rush and had snagged a table and settled in with her book. And no, that book was not Peonies and Poplars, even if she had read that particular title thrice already. No, this one was a romance. Not fantasy, not historical, but straight-up, smutty, romantic goodness. Aelin, it turned out, was a master of reading smut in public. She could keep a straight face when there was dirty talk, casually swallow her drink when something kinky happened, and continue eating her bagel as if she wasn’t reading about the main character getting dicked-down within an inch of her life. 

And because of those things, she didn’t think twice when someone sat down at her table, knowing it was a busy morning and the person probably had nowhere else to sit. Yet when she glanced a look to her side, there were at least two empty tables to her left. Furrowing her brow, she moved her eyes from the empty tables to the dark brown coat of the person invading her space. And once her eyes met the green of the person who held the pair across from her, she couldn’t help but think “shit.”  Because R.J. White himself was sitting across from her with a devilish smirk on his too-beautiful face. Shit, her mind repeated. She was in such deep, unending shit. 

Tagging: @cretaceous-therapod @morganofthewildfire @tomtenadia @live-the-fangirl-life @charlizeed @violet-mermaid7 @euphoric-melancholyy @kritical24 @rubyriveraqueen @dealfea @wellofnothing @ayaashryver @moonknight-spector @leiawritesstories @whoever-you-choose-to-love @holdthefrickup @heirofflowers @thecrispypotatochip @shanias-world @rowanaelinn @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @hanging-from-a-cliff @fantacysoup @swankii-art-teacher @thegreyj @fromthelibraryofemilyj @westofmoon @lovely-dove-zee @books4eva04 @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @backtobl4ck @dreamer-133 @elentiyawhitethorn @writtenonreceipts @shyvioletcat @aelinchocolatelover @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @athena127 @tothestarsandwhateverend @highqueenofelfhame

[solaris-amethyst]

🪻Cappuccinos and peonies🪻

✨Pairing: Hendery x gn!reader ✨Chapter 1. Y/n and Ten are informed by Sicheng about the newest collaboration between his flower shop and the coffeeshop on the other side of the street. Y/n get to go over with some flower arrangements and also see the cute barista they've had a crush on since January. ✨Genre: Flowershop au x coffeeshop au, romance, fluff, angst in future chapters ✨Word Count: 3.3k ✨Tag list: ☀️Authors Note: Hello all! This is the first chapter of an 8 part series I am working on! Do let me know if you'd like to join the tag list for this series🥰 <Next>

The day started out in a slow fashion, getting on the early morning bus, which was practically empty, sitting near the window and watching the sun color the sky in a bright orange. It was beautiful to see every morning, to see how the sun worked it’s magic onto the sky and the buildings and trees in your city. That time of the day never failed to amaze you despite seeing it almost every morning whilst going to work. The orange reminded you of the new flowers that came in yesterday, the marigolds, poppies, hibiscus and begonias. It brought you a sense of serenity thinking back on the flowers, their orange hues varying but still shining brightly. 

You glanced down at your phone to see the time saying 6:10. It was early, some of your friends had thought it was way to early to be up at this hour and had questioned why a flower shop opened that early. You had told them time and time again that your shift started at 7:00 but the shop opened at 8:00, it’s just that you and your colleague enjoyed having that extra time at the shop. Figuring out the daily bouquet that will be sold next to the monthly bouquet or perhaps rearranging things whilst listening to some relaxing music or an audiobook the two of you were listening to together. And the fact that you and Ten, your colleague, had started a ritual every morning. Getting your preferred drink at the coffee shop and a pastry to enjoy in the morning as you worked slowly until the owner of the shop arrived at 6:45 to go through the day with you two and be just as present in the shop as his employees.

Ten had been so happy yesterday when all the flowers were delivered and the two of you could start to unpack them whilst decorating the shop that you knew that he’d be buzzing with energy when the two of you arrive at work. You would not deny it, seeing all the flowers and new pottery and decorations to put up always made you feel the same kind of happiness. Sicheng had been away during the day letting the both of you know he was working some things out with the owner of the coffeeshop on the opposite side of the road of the shop. He had promised that he’d tell you two today what the meeting had been about and if they had been successful.

It takes you 30 minutes before the bus stops at the stop 10 minutes away from the shop. Ten is standing outside waiting for you as you get of the bus. He smiles at you and the two of you embrace before walking together, linking arms as you two chatt about anything and everything.

”Do you think Sicheng will tell us today what he and the owner, I think his name is Kun? Talked about yesterday when they had that meeting?” Ten inquires curiously and you nods confidently knowing that Sicheng rarely kept things from the two of you. 

”Yeah, you know he rarely keep things away from us, he’d let us know if it was positive or negative.” You look at Ten before continuing ”Remember how he came and told us immediately after he got off the phone when he bought the building we are in now? All excited running up to us with a big grin telling us how he will finally start his dream.” 

”Yeah i remember that. He was so cute when he cheered loudly.” Ten said and you nodded agreeing that Sicheng had been cute when he had cheered loudly. 

”Or that time when Sicheng came and told us about that fiasco with the bride who refused to pay for the flowers we had fixed that he delivered and how he got kicked out of the wedding. He was devastated that we lost out on the money and that he couldn’t take the flowers back without them attacking him.” Ten hummed and you nodded trying to fight back the anger that would bubble up within you whenever you thought about that day.

Sicheng always wore his heart on the sleeve when he was around you and Ten. He had been devastated that day and had sobbed on the phone when he had called the two of you once he was in his car to tell you both what had happened. That day you and Ten had traveled to that venue and cussed some people out and caused a scene because no one treats your friend and boss badly like they did and on top of that refuse to pay him for a service they had booked. To outsiders Sicheng sometimes looked cold and unapproachable but that was far from the truth. He was silly and kind and loved being around the flowers and plants in his shop.

You would sometimes catch him in the back of the store reading some stories to a little plant he had bought, claiming that reading and talking to the plants helped them grow. Sometimes he’d hum lowly as he worked as well. Sicheng was just that person who was incredibly kind to others and you felt lucky he was not only your friend but your boss as well. 

”I’m looking forward to today. I even know exactly what to order at the café. Have you decided what you wanna order?” You ask Ten and he nods.

”Yeah I was thinking of a latte and one of their bagels and then a muffin. Good way to start this day.” He admitted

”Their bagels are to die for! One of their servers, I think his name is Dejun, always warms mine to perfection and it never fails. I hope they got the egg and bacon bagel today. Or the salmon one.” You tell him as you get closer to the store and the café.

Once the two of you got closer to the building, you quickly opened the door allowing your friend to step inside first. Dejun was the only person inside, soft music was playing as he was setting things up slowly. Hearing the door open and close he looked up and smiled once he saw who it was.

”Good morning you two! How are you today this early morning?” He asked as he moved closer to the register where the two of you were waiting with a kind smile.

”A bit tired as usual but otherwise really good.” You told him with a smile as he nodded.

”I’m great! We got a bunch of flowers to work with today so I’m super excited.” Ten told him and Dejun chuckled.

”Thats great!” 

”How are you today Dejun?” You asked and he smiled ever brighter at you.

”I’m good now that you are here.”

”Eugghhhh keep your flirting away from me!” Ten pretend to barf looking disgusted as you shove him harshly, fighting the heat that is climbing up your cheeks.

”Ignore him Dejun.”

”Anything for you.” He winks before continuing ”What can I get the two of you today? A drink? A bagel?”

”I’d like a cappuccino and a egg and bacon bagel if you have one? And perhaps a carrot muffin too?” You inquire and he writes it all down before looking at Ten.

”I’d like a vanilla latte, a salmon bagel and a blueberry muffin please.”

”Sure! Please sit down while I get started on both of your orders. To go right?”

”Yes please that would be great!” 

”Perfect.”

Ten rolled his eyes at you two as the two of you sat down at the table, he always found it annoying when Dejun flirted with you, cute, but annoying nonetheless. It was like seeing someone flirt with a younger sibling or something for him and he never hid it from you. You on the other hand found the flirting a bit funny from time to time but more often than not would you wish in the back of your mind that it was the other cute barista that would flirt with you and not Dejun.

”Don’t roll your eyes at me Tennie!” You pout as you kick his foot under the table.

”Ow! Don’t hit me!” He hisses back at you leaning down to nurse his leg.

”That’s what you deserve for doing that!” You tell him before picking up your phone to just doom scroll until Dejun called for the both of you.

”I can’t stand the sight of him flirting with you every day!” Ten starts leaning over the table to whisper ”How would you feel if I flirted with a regular customer of ours that is your best friend or a younger sibling?” He asked

”Ten… he’s not actually flirting with me you know that. It’s all a bit of fun, like playful flirting the way you and I sometimes playfully flirt with each other.” You bit back and he groans leaning back into his chair again.

”If that’s what you want to call it then fine. Be oblivious.” 

You were just about to respond to him when Dejun called the two of you over, letting you know all the things you bought where ready to go now.

The two of you walks up to the counter where to paper bags where neatly next to each other and two cups as well.

”Thank you Dejun. It means a lot.” You tell him with a thankful smile as you take the bag and your cappuccino.

”You’re welcome Y/n. It always makes me happy to be able to make the start of your day a little bit easier.” 

”Let’s go Y/n! We got flowers to arrange!!” Ten calls from the door wanting to get away from the one sided flirting as quickly as possible. 

”Wait for me! Bye Dejun! Have a great day!!” You call before rushing after your friend who’s already at the other side of the road opening the door to your shop. You can hear Dejun calling out for you to have a great day as well before the door shuts. You manages to get inside before Ten closes it shut and locks it again so no outsider can come in while you two work and enjoy your breakfast.

”You don’t have to be so rude to him Tennie!” You tell him with a huff as you put down your bag and coffee on the table. Handing him your jacket since he motioned for you to give it to him so he could hang it up with his own.

”I can’t stand hearing him flirting with you. Eugh!” He makes a face before continuing ”Like he gotta know you’re not interested in him, like you got feelings for his coworker not him.” He says

”Well yes, but like I said its just playful banter and friendly flirting he doesn’t actually mean anything by it! Now sit your ass down so we can enjoy breakfast before we start unpacking again!” You tell him, pointing to his chair as you lean back connecting your phone to the speakers and putting on some calm classical piano music for you two to enjoy.

You sit mostly in silence, enjoying your bagels and having light conversation from time to time. Ten tells you about his cats, Louis, Levi and Leon, the glimt in his eyes as he tells you about their shenanigans is lovely to see. You love watching someone light up with that love and passion when they talk about something they love dearly. You often wonder if you light up the same way he does when you talk about something you’re passionate about and if others noticed it. 

The fear of talking passionately around people wasn’t always there for you. Before him you used to be very open about all of your interests but now there are few you tell about what you like. Fearing being judged like you had been before, it was easy being open around Ten and Sicheng, they were your best friends, they were kind, loyal and loving in the unconditional way. But around others it was hard, hard to open up and move past what had happened back then.

”Hey, you okay?” Tens soft voice could be heard, it was laced with concerned and he had reached across taking your hand in his gently. ”You were zoning out.” He explains and you can feel your cheeks heating up.

”Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore what you were saying. I just got lost in thought.” You told him.

”That’s okay, wanna talk about it? You looked a bit upset?” He inquires and you just shake your head not wanting to talk about it and Ten being the amazing friend he is didn’t push you. He never did unless he felt it was serious enough that he needed to know what was going on to be able to help you properly.

It doesn’t take long after you have opened the store for Sicheng to walk through the doors. He looks a bit tried which is evident by the slight darkness under his eyes but his smile is bright and cheerful as he sees the two of you.

”Good morning you two! I have some great news!!” He said before going up to hug the both of you causing you both to laugh.

”Okay what is going on? I haven’t seen you this happy since the day Leon cuddled up to you when you were sick?” Ten says happily looking at him curiously.

”So yesterday I had a meeting with Kun who is the owner of the café at the opposite side of the road and we came to an agreement of collaborating between our two shops! So we will decorate their shop with some flowers and also make some lighter flower arrangements for them to sell throughout the week and they will come over with some sweet treats for us to sell as well and for a limited time both stores will allow a 15% discount if you show your receipt from the other store!” He told you both, gesticulating wildly with his hands.

It was clear he was so excited. Sicheng had often spoken about ways to expand and reach more customers whilst still only having this one store and now it seemed like he had a good way of perhaps encouraging more customers to step foot into the humble little flower shop he worked so hard to keep afloat.

”That’s amazing Sicheng!!” You exclaim before hugging him and celebrating with him excitedly.

”No wonder you’re so giddy!” Ten chuckles watching the two of you dance around the store fondly.

”Now we gotta fix some pots to bring over to the shop. They’re expecting us to come over at around 11:00 so we have no time to waste!” He said quickly ushering the two of you to start working with him.

It took the three of you roughly three hours to put together flowers and greenery in pots, making enough flower bouquets and arrangements they could sell that would last them the week out. The time had been spent with lots of laughter and arguing about what would fit the quaint little shop. Sicheng argued that bright colors were out of the question whilst Ten argued that the pop of colors was exactly what the coffee shop needed dubbing it as dull and boring. Causing you to hit his arm and let him know the shop was not boring and dull it just had a different aesthetic from his own personal preferences.

”Okay I think we shall be able to walk over now, Kun just texted me that him and his two co-workers are waiting for us to arrive. So Y/n you take the flower bouquets, Ten takes the arrangements and I take the pots. We’ll put up a sign saying we’re away for a while before we leave so any potential customers knows to come back a little bit later, okay?”

”Sure sounds good bosscheng.” Ten grunted as he picked up the big basket of all the arrangements and Sicheng rolled his eyes at the nickname Ten had given him way back. 

”Good then we should go now.” He said as he quickly put up the sign and you picked up all the bouquets.

There were so many you could barely see anything when walking. Ten had to guide you vocally to make sure you wouldn’t trip when crossing the street or walk into a door or lamppost. It was a struggle to say the least to get though the door, you felt so awkward as you groaned when you first got stuck until Sicheng gave you a nudge making you go through the door. The only problem was you almost fell forward had it not been for two arms catching you, stopping you from hurting yourself and destroying the flowers.

”Watch it next time.” A voice said and you almost froze when you heard it. You’d recognize that voice anywhere. It was the cute barista, the one guy you had had your eyes set on since January, the one person who made your heart beat faster every time you saw him. At a distance he always seemed cheery and happy, him and Dejun always laughing and chatting but now he sounded cold and irritated and you could only swallow the lump in your throat before looking sideways at him.

”I-i’m sorry I didn’t mean to slip… I’ll be more careful next time.” You told him timidly and he just gave a silent nod before letting you go and walking away.

”Ey Hendery! Be nice to my favorite customer!! You’re okay right sweetheart?” Dejun chastised his friend and co-worker before checking on you and you could only nod, hoping and praying that Hendery wasn’t angry with you. Perhaps you had just ruined any chances you had of getting to know him better just now.

”Ignore him okay? He’s just in a bad mood because he lost a bet and have to clean the bathrooms today.” Dejun tried explaining to you but a part of you couldn’t believe what he was saying. You had seen the look in Henderys eyes and seen how cold and stiff he was.

He wasn’t happy with you at all.

”Welcome you three! I’m so glad to have this partnership with Sicheng and the two of you! My name is Kun! I’m the owner of this place.” A young man with a pair of glasses introduced himself to the three of you.

He was handsome you noted and he had a lovely smile that made him look very kind. He was so welcoming and excited to help the three of you put your stuff away and tell you where to put things. Both him and Dejun helped out decorating the place and putting everything away. During the hour it took you could feel Henderys eyes on you during multiple occasions and you couldn’t help but worry the cute guy you had a crush on was now keeping an eye on you so you wouldn’t make a mess or a fool out of yourself again.

”Earth to Y/n??? Helloooooo???” Ten waved his hand in front of your face with an annoyed face. ”Are you going to ignore me again today??” He pouts ”I asked if you were done with your section and if we could head back to the shop?”

”Uhhh yeah yeah sure. I am done with my section let’s go!” You grab his hand and drags him towards the door.

”Thank you Kun! Dejun! Hendery! We look forward to be working with you!! Byeee!!” You said hastily before rushing over the street still dragging Ten back into the shop and quickly closing the door leaning against it with your back before looking at your friend and saying dramatically:

”Well that went shit.”

”What? What are you on about?!”

[emotianallesbiansoup]

Gals, I have finally lost it :D

you know your in deep in a fandom when you patiently wait for a new episode of your webcomic to realize every week,

you know your in deeper when you squeal like a pig at the alarm you set and dedicated specifically to letting yourself know the minute the new episode of said webcomic has dropped,

BUT you know you have actually entirely lost it when you've burrowed yourself so deep into a fandom that you do all of the above, AND have the general vague upload scheduled for your favorite fnafictions of said fandom memorized by heart.

*cough cough* nevermore webtoon *cough cough*

*cough cough* AO3 has a stranglehold over me *couch cough*

[peonysgreenhouse]

finally got to kiss the old man and it was so cute i had to do a run around the neighborhood to get the zoomies out 😭😭

[springbreezes-and-peonies]

Ripples in The Pond

As Peony walks along with the spider king, and the silence between them becomes less awkward and more peaceful, she feels a heavy swelling in her heart. It beats and beats…It’s a feeling she’s only experienced one other time and that’s not a time she’d like to think about now, oh no. Yet…as she lets her pink eyes wander curiously to his smiling face…she cannot deny the fluttering in her chest, like hundreds of tiny moth wings…She smiles all the brighter. What is she to do? What is she to say? She hasn’t the funniest idea, and she thinks that’s perfectly okay.

‘He’s handsome…and gentle. I don’t feel afraid though I…I’ve never been around another. Not…anyone real anyway…’ her mind drifts and floats with thoughts, all of him.

“Lady Peony, your home, is it uhm…much farther?”

His voice interrupts her whir of thoughts, and she laughs a little at herself, at how swept up in the moment she’d become, so quickly.

“Not far now, no. Just a few more minutes and we’ll be there, and you’ll be warm and dry.” She answers tenderly, squeezing his hands in hers affectionately once more, and she hears from him a sigh of relief as they continue in silence again.

After the briefest stretch of time some of Peony’s thoughts begin to get the better of her. Taranza is the king. THE king of Floralia, and he was married to…her…Sectonia. The late Queen…Peony was not entirely unaware of the circumstances of her death…she’d always been so curious of her…now she had an opportunity to ask.

“Your majesty?” Her sweet voice pierces the silence again.

“Yes Lady Peony?” Taranza responds, looking up at her, clearly wondering what she’s thinking on.

“I’m just…so very fascinated to meet you…and I…well, I was wondering I suppose…you were married to Queen Sectonia…is that right…?”

Peony hears a sharp and sudden intake of air from him at her question, and her warm and carefree smile fades to a concerned frown. She tilts her head, looking at him, a little worried.

“Yes Peony. That’s right. I was…married to Sectonia. Mhm.” He answers, his response short, his voice monotone.

“Oh…I…wondered if you could tell me…what was she like…?” She continues, and she can feel him squeezing her hands now, very gently, as if for comfort or to be sure she’s still there with him, or that he’s still here at all. She can see his eyes stare straight ahead, his expression now solemn, melancholy, weary…A second passes, then another, then thirty and he finally responds.

“Lady Peony? Would you do me a favor?” He asks, his voice quiet, almost meek…

“Yes majesty? Whatever you need.” Peony nods, still not expecting this sudden greying of the mood…

“Would you…please not ask me about her? I…can’t speak of her. It is too painful. It’s not your fault but…please…? You understand…?” He looks at her, and she sees his face is so tired…so sad…he looks aged a thousand years as he makes this request.

She nods subtly and mumbles a quiet “Mhm…” at his request, squeezing his hands once more, being sure to keep their fingers interlaced, she traces her thumb softly, soothingly round the back of his hand, a slow, smooth motion. He sighs, closes his eyes, and they continue their walk.

After a moment, he speaks up again, his voice still tired but more clear. “Grief…is like a…a pebble tossed in a pond. The ripples bubble and spread, and even once the water is still again, that pebble is still there. Even when you no longer see it. Always there. When I hear about her, when I think about her, the ripples stir again…” he frowns, looking to Peony, and she traces her thumb over the back of his hand more quickly now, her brow furrowed in concern and care for him.

“I’m sorry. I understand. I wouldn’t like to cause you any sorrow.” She replies, her voice so genuine, so sweet. He smiles sadly to her, and nods knowingly in acknowledgment, accepting her apology.

As the pair walk along, they come to a small hill, and peeking over the hill is an old tree that has had a home carved out into it, a quaint, but inviting cottage. There is a small wooden fence wrapped around the ancient roots, and many tiny sprinklings of gardens in the makeshift yard. Flowers and plants thrive within the fence line and wooden baskets and buckets of plants hang from what is working as the tree cottage roof, rainwater dripping lightly from the planters, crafting an almost melodic sound in the air. Taranza’s eyes go wide in surprise, and he blinks a few times taking in the sight.

“Here we are. Home at last. I know it surely pales in comparison to the castle majesty, but I hope you can make yourself comfortable while we wait out the storm.” She stands close beside him still, unlatching her fence, opening it up. And suddenly…she freezes for a moment, her mind and heart pulsing…it’s rather a bit like…no. She shakes her head. Tosses that thought away and curls her lips to smile once more, letting him enter with her, walking up the tiny step stone path she laid herself forever ago up to her door. Once they are under the roof she carefully lays the umbrella aside, and works the handle to the door.

“Oh Peony, I…I think it’s quite a beautiful place. And you…you live here all alone???? All of this is your work???” Taranza asks, his eyes wandering the rainy, plant-filled yard, a little in awe of how resourceful the moth-girl is…She looks beautiful and soft but clearly, there is something much more to her…

“All alone…” She answers, a slight melancholy to her voice. “Mhm. My whole life!” She laughs softly, part of her hoping to hide the sorrow in these words, a pain she’s felt far more keenly this past year since losing her powers on that dreadful day. No. No. She doesn’t want to think about that. She opens the door, letting them both inside out of the rain.

“You mean you…you’ve always been all by yourself? No one around to keep you company or to talk to?” Taranza asks, a look of concern growing more and more on his face. He knows Peony is the only person he’s seen since his arrival several hours ago now, but he didn’t think she was literally the only person here!

“Oh! No! Not so! Why, most of my life I had the very good company of all the plant life on the island! In fact, I was raised by a lovely weeping willow tree just a mile down the path. We would talk every day, the plants and myself.” Peony smiles, and then that brilliant smile slowly becomes…less…the memories…the fear…

“You…could talk to plants…?” Taranza tilts his head quizzically, a little in disbelief. He’d known much of magic, Floralian culture is built on magic. But he’d never known anyone, Floralian or otherwise who could communicate with plants.

“Mhm! I used to be able to. They told me all I know about the kingdom, about the uhm…Queen…” She lowers her voice to a barely audible tone at the word ‘Queen’, recalling their talk earlier. “And about you! And how to talk and look after myself in general. I owe the plant life here everything.” She smiles and she walks over to a small fireplace hollowed out into the wall, grabbing a nearby match to light it.

“But Peony…my lady, you said ‘used to be able to’? Does that mean you can’t any longer.” He asks, still a little confused, scratching the tip of one of his horns in thought.

“Uh huh! That’s what I said!” She answers simply, cheerfully, but there’s a strain on her tone and she knows it. She can feel it in her throat.

“I…what happened to make you lose that ability? Did it just…go away one day?” He ventures more, deeply curious about her now. She’s truly quite fascinating. A woman, all on her own, on this deserted sky island, who could talk to plants. He’s never met anyone like her.

“……Majesty I…I’d really rather not talk about it, if it’s all the same. I…just don’t like to even think about it. You understand?” Her voice cracks and breaks far more than she intends to. Oh dear. She wants to be happy right now. He seems so nice! Why can’t she just…stay happy?

Taranza is surprised, he won’t press her. Whatever caused her to lose her powers is clearly very painful to talk about still. It seems very fresh. She gave him the same understanding earlier, it’s only cordial he follow suit for her. “Of course. Don’t worry about it. You don’t have to tell me.” He smiles comfortingly, stepping in a little more, closing the door behind him.

“Thank you.” She says, a soft smile on her face once more, she moves to him and tenderly grips the ends of his dripping wet scarf in two of her hands, careful of the fabric as she unties it from round his neck, looking down on his face, that same warm, inviting smile on her pretty pink lips.

Taranza feels his heart absolutely POUND. It’s as if it’s…beating again for the first time in years…She’s so close to him…She smells of flowers and…honey…and just to be standing so near to her feels so warm that it makes his chest ACHE. He looks up at that darling pink face keenly…staring without realizing…mesmerized by her afternoon sunset eyes and her gold-dust freckles and those smiling…plush little lips…His cheeks BURN.

Peony grins wider, and waves at him, noticing his lamblike stare. “Hiiiiii!” She coos affectionately, her voice like a little bell.

Taranza waves back, feeling dizzy, then he realizes what exactly he’s doing and he clears his throat, shaking his head. “H-hi.” He responds, his voice low and soft.

Peony giggles, taking his scarf and hanging it over the fireplace mantle. “That way it will be dry for you tomorrow.” She explains, holding two hands out for him. “Your cape?” She offers kindly.

He nods, unclasping his emerald, gold-web embellished cape and handing it over for her to hang. She takes it gingerly, hanging it just beside his bright red scarf.

After both are hung, Peony backs away from him a few steps, materializing her wings again. A bubbling of laughter sings from her as she twirls gracefully into the air about a foot from the ground, spinning quickly. Once she drifts back down, her cotton-candy curls bounce and her dress ruffles and smooths…she’s completely dry. Her wings quickly blink away.

“Ah. That feels better. Not that I mind the rain mind you, but it’s certainly nice to be warm and dry.”

Taranza gazes, a little in awe of her again before he simply smiles, laughing brightly. “Very impressive lady Peony.” He nods, approaching a cushiony, quilted chair by the fire. “May I?” He asks, tapping the head of the chair.

“Oh certainly. Please make yourself at home.” She smiles, walking off to the kitchen area she has, open and visible from the living room where he sits. “You know, this storm will likely last all through the night. It would be very dangerous of you to try to fly home in it. You’re welcome to…to stay the night here majesty!” She suggests, a fond, welcoming tone to her voice as she gathers a kettle, heating it over a very old stove.

“Oh dear lady, I wouldn’t want to intrude on you anymore than I already have…” He can feel his cheeks growing warm again at her suggestion. Though he is hesitant to do so, he may need to take her up on this offer…after all, she’s totally right about the storm.

Peony shakes her head. ‘He’s so silly.’ She thinks to herself, smiling a little as she scoops some cocoa powder into a small, porcelain cup. ‘Why would it ever be a problem?’ She laughs very softly, speaking up again. “Majesty, I’d much rather you stay than try to brave that storm or sleep out in the rain. Besides I…being all alone here, I like the company.” There’s a mix of melancholy mixed with the joyful tones in her speech, barely perceptible, but certainly there.

“I suppose you’re right. Thank you Lady Peony.” He sighs, sitting back in the chair, but he perks up after a moment as he sees her stepping back out into the living room with him, holding a steaming cup of cocoa in two of her yellow-gloved hands.

“Here you are majesty. This’ll warm you, surely.” She smiles at him as she hands over the cup and he takes it graciously, nodding his head in thanks.

“Thank you, you’re a very gracious host to have lived all alone.” He says, sipping slowly from the cup. The cocoa is very good…he can taste a hint of honey added to the mixture, faint but subtly apparent. He grins sweetly at this, gazing over at her as she sits down on the chair near his, that same smile on her face…such a tender, welcoming smile she has…

They sit in silence for a time, Peony hums softly to herself, something she always tends to do around this time of night. She likes there to be some noise, and though it is raining just outside and the pattering is soothing and steady on her windowpanes, she’s grown so accustomed to generating her own little noises for such an hour that she just hums instinctively to herself regardless, rocking ever so slightly in her chair.

After a good, long, pause in their conversation she hears Taranza set down the cup she’s given him a little shakily, and he speaks, a quiver to his voice. “Lady Peony?”

She instantly turns to look at him, ceasing her humming and tilting her head. There’s a concern in her heart for his sudden shift in tone. He sounds very sorrowful suddenly. “Hm???” She asks, watching him gently, his expression downcast and anxious now.

“Earlier…I told you I…didn’t wish to speak of……the Queen…MY Queen……I was wondering if…if I actually could just now…? If you’d…still like to listen…?” He asks of her, and his voice trembles and wavers with every word. This request, this thought is plain to see is a heavy burden on his heart. Peony instantly nods her head.

“O-oh! Yes! Yes of course. If you wish to, you certainly may your majesty! I’d be more than happy to listen to you.” She smiles so tenderly, a little excited to hear about the Queen but also more than a little concerned for Taranza’s sudden dis-ease.

“Please, just uhm…just Taranza if you will. I know I’m the king and all but……but just Taranza is fine.” He says softly, looking up to her, a little meek, a little anxious.

“Oh…Okay maj—Taranza.” She smiles, correcting herself, and she waits patiently for him to begin.

He exhales, a heavy sigh…as if he’s releasing something he’s held within, all alone, for an eternity…and then…he begins to speak. He speaks of a girl and a boy. Raised together, the best of friends. The girl destined for greatness, fierce and bold and brave. So daring, so gorgeous…eyes that shone like justice even at only ten years old, fangs sharp and beautiful as diamonds. Fated for the throne, for Queendom, for rule…The boy…soft…quiet…thoughtful…utterly besotted, even in their youth. A little clumsy, but eternally loyal…would follow her everywhere, would do anything as long as it was with her. She had his heart tied up tight with a string, and she made it known that he had hers just the same. And when the day came that she would marry, and it would be to HIM! To a COMMONER! His heart exploded with a joy he didn’t know possible. He was hers…and he would be hers forever, and it would be plain for all to see…She chose him. She chose HIM. She could have anyone, but she chose HIM.

His tale goes on. Taranza tells Peony of days and nights full of love and laughter, grace and beauty…Heaven he thought insurmountable, impossible. Gardens they’d plant in flowing with life…His beating heart…his starstruck eyes…the way he felt both totally at peace, and totally insane when they’d kiss and cling……and then…on their anniversary, after a year of perfect marital bliss…he brings her a gift, and everything goes wrong. Everything falls from grace. The heavens, turn to hell.

He tells of beauty, obsession, perfection. Of his love gone MAD. Of his heart so thoroughly caged to her, that though he hated all she was doing, though he feared her, he could not leave. He could never leave…and he tells her of that terrible, fated, moonlit night when he lost her forever. His voice cracks and falters and he breathes in sharply now, sputtering in despair.

“The love of my life! And I had to…to…oh STARS! It was all my fault Joronia! All MY FAULT! Oh!” He sobs, shaking entirely, nearing hyperventilation, and Peony cannot just sit by. She’s never seen anything like this, not ever, she’s never known his grief, nor his love, but she cannot just SIT THERE.

She rises quickly from her own chair, and clambers into his, squeezing in so close beside him as he sobs, gripping him in a tight, warm, close embrace. She can feel her own eyes stinging a little, pricking with tears, but she doesn’t care. She squeezes him close to her, runs her hands along his back and through his silken hair—careful of his eyes…She just…holds him. Just holds him. And after a moment, she can feel him cling to her like moss on a stone, sobbing still, murmuring almost breathlessly. “A-all…my fault…what…an a-awful husband!”

Peony shakes her head, her brow furrowing with worry and sorrow for him. It’s difficult, but she wills herself to speak. “No…no Taranza it…it wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known! You just wanted to…do something kind for her. To share something beautiful with her. You aren’t to blame for what happened! That dark mirror is. Not you…” She says, her voice breaking a little as she talks. She hears a faint, hiccuping gasp from him, his sobs a little more quiet now, the tears still running down his face. He lays his head against her shoulder, letting himself cry, and she holds him still, hoping to give him some peace.

They stay this way for awhile, Peony holding him so tightly to her, hoping with all her hope that she’s helping, not hurting the situation. After a moment, he clears his throat, looking up at her. “I thank you…Peony…I…think I’m okay now.” His voice is still shaky, and his cheeks are stained with his tears, but his crying has at last ceased. She slowly unwraps him from her embrace, carefully rising from the chair, holding two of his hands in two of her own still. Wanting to keep hold of some small part of him just in case, her body shaking a little itself now.

“I’m sorry.” He says at last, squeezing her hands tenderly. “I didn’t expect to…to cry like that…I…haven’t spoken of her in……I haven’t…spoken of her.” He states sorrowfully, another heavy sigh leaving him. “It is…hard…but…I actually feel better now, having done so…Peony. Thank you for…consoling me like you did…you……” He sighs. She was so warm and her embrace so firm but so gentle…so needed. Much more needed than he thought. “You were…very kind to me to do as much. I’m sorry I…put you in such a spot.”

Peony shakes her head. “Oh Taranza…that…sounded all so heartbreaking. Please don’t apologize to me…” She tears up a little herself now, but chokes it down. “I…I couldn’t just…leave you to yourself…I’m…sorry I asked and…and sparked such pain…” She cries. She can’t help herself, the emotions are heavy…

“Shhh…Oh…come here. It’s alright.” He tugs her gently to him again by her hands held in his, and HE hugs her this time, breathing deeply as he embraces her. “You’re so kind……I’m sorry to stir you up so…” He laughs weakly, rubbing her back soothingly. “What a blessing you are. Thank you for your hospitality. Truly. I’m lucky to have met you.” He whispers, his voice so gentle…so soft…Peony feels a ripple up her spine, a warmth flooding her face and her chest…a weary sigh leaves her and she lets herself be held awhile longer…to be held…she’s never been held. She closes her eyes.

He holds her awhile longer, caressing her soothingly before speaking again, his voice little more than a whisper. “I’m very tired. If it’s alright with you, I think I’ll retire for the evening. Will you be okay with that?”

Peony sighs, and nods, reluctantly slipping from his grasp. “Majesty, if you’d please, you should sleep in my room in a bed. I’ll stay on the couch out here. You’ve been traveling all day. I think you need it.” She smiles weakly, still holding his hands.

“Taranza, please. And…I’d hate to take your bed from you Peony, you’ve done so much already…” He looks down, but she shakes her head in protest.

“The couch is very cozy! I sleep on it sometimes regardless! I insist! My guest isn’t going to sleep on the couch! Besides, my bed is already made up!” She says, and she is truly, very insistent. ‘The KING sleeping on the couch??? No way!’

Taranza can’t help but to laugh at the stubborn look on her sweet face. He nods eventually. “Okay, okay.” He gets up, fixing himself up a little. “It’s just up these stairs?” He indicates a very short set of stairs, leading up to a room, all built into the cottage walls.

“Mhm!”

At her reply, he begins walking up them, letting slip another sigh, gazing down on her from the top of the stairs. “Good night Peony. Thank you for…for having me. I hope you have sweet dreams.” He smiles, and he can feel his eyes lingering on her again. ‘Such a sweet girl. Such a beautiful face…’

“Good night…Taranza…you too.” She smiles, and her smile grows and grows, her eyes taking an invisible path right to his own, lost in the moon-like glow his gaze holds…

“Oh, I think I will.” And at that, he waves to her, and steps into her bedroom, closing the door behind him at last.

Peony presses her hand to her chest, as if burying a new, fresh seed in the formerly barren, destroyed, gardens of her heart and sighs the deepest sigh she’s ever sighed…Her eyes linger on that door for so long before she lets herself collapse against the couch, her antennae curling and her cheeks sore from smiling so much…What a day. What a day.

[persphonesorchid]

Picking Peonies - KSJ

Summary: Roses are outdated, and overused. Bloomingdales even more so.

Genre: fluff

Pairing: COH!Seokjin x reader

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: Seokjin's a bit jealous, that's about it.

Notes: Happy Valentine's to the she's the he's, the they's and the gays. No one asked for this, but lmaooo I am fully aware of the pain I caused with Cupid's on Holiday, so , a gift! For you! Happy valentine's my loves! Also! This is like....if rules hadn't mattered and Seokjin didn't leave like a 🤡. Love y'all ���️

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There’s a quiet murmur when you step off the elevator. The heels of your shoes click softly as you walk down the hall and into the space your open office occupies.

The office had been decorated with only a few valentine’s decorations: a string of paper hearts lining every doorway and window pane, red twirling streamers hanging from the vents in the ceiling. It’s only a bit, but you pity the poor soul who would have to go around taking them down – other departments have done a way better job at decorating than yours has.

The soft murmur grows to a buzz and quiets when you step onto the floor and everyone’s head’s turn to you. You stand at the entrance for a minute, feeling a little put on the spot by the sudden attention and the fact that mostly everyone in today is standing around your desk.

Brinny’s head pops up from the gaggle of co-workers crowding your desk, a smile blooming on her face when she spots you.

“Alright you vultures, go away!” The shorter girl waves her hands at your Officemates, “Back to work, shoo.”

Quite aware of everyone’s eyes on you, you walk quickly over to your desk. Immediately, you see what’s got everyone’s attention and why you’re suddenly the star of the morning.

Laying in a pretty arrangement on your desk is a bouquet of flowers. An assortment of Ranunculi in pinks, reds and whites, wrapped delicately in red florist’s paper and tied with white ribbons at the stems. It’s not a large bouquet, but it’s bright enough to catch anyone’s eye.

“I think they’re Bloomingdales... Someone definitely likes you.” Brinny picks up the bouquet, the pretty red paper around it crinkling softly in her hold. “There’s no card...” she frowns, trying to peek into the bouquet.

You smile anyway, not needing a card because you already know who sent them. Seokjin had been busy since the weekend, complaining that Valentine’s Day would be the busiest for him and the other Cupids in the area. You’ve barely seen him for the past couple days, which doesn’t bother you—it does a bit—he has his job to do. The flowers are a pleasant surprise, though, he’d told you not to expect anything until tomorrow because he’d be too busy to do much else.

Even if you’re unsure that he would see it, you text him your thanks and settle down for work.

An hour later, the flowers are sitting in a nice glass vase Brinny found in the store room, and you’re halfway through your emails. You’re gossiping with Brinny about anything you missed while working from home, when your phone buzzes near your hand. The silly photo Seokjin set for his contact lights up on your screen.

“Hey, sweet girl,” It’s a bit noisy where he is when you answer, and for a moment you can hear him talking to someone else before it gets quieter. “That text was vague...what am I being thanked for?”

You make a confused sound in your throat, brows drawing together, “The...the flowers?”

“...what? I didn’t—send me a photo.” Seokjin’s gone quickly after that, line cutting off and you’re left blinking at your lock screen.

You stare at the bouquet for a moment, pondering, before sending a photo of it to Seokjin. You’re wondering who sent it to you. It’s a sweet gesture, that maybe would’ve worked on you three months ago before a certain Cupid came along.

It wasn’t until lunch time, when you’re out of the office. You’re sitting across from Brinny, in a deli close by, as she goes on about upcoming projects. You’re stuffing your face with the most amazing ham and cheese sandwich when Seokjin finally sends his reply.

[12:25] Sharpshooter 🏹: That’s the worst flower arrangement I’ve ever seen in my life.

[12:25] And I have lived.

You roll your eyes at his dramatics, dusting your hands before picking the phone up.

[12:26] You: Idkk, I think it’s pretty cute.

The bell on the door of the deli jingles as it opens, a cold gust of February air disrupting the warmth of the deli. You and Brinny are sitting near the back, so you don’t see the person coming your way until they’re right in front of you and speaking.

“Cute?”

You startle at the sudden voice, as does Brinny, who’s gaze flickers between you and Seokjin – who looks like he ran here as fast as his legs could carry him—with raised brows.

“I can’t believe you’d call that assault on my eyes cute. Ranunculus.” He huffs, plopping himself down in the chair next to Brinny, who scoots her chair a little closer to the wall. She nudges your shoe with hers, eyes darting to Seokjin in question. You’ve never told Brinny about him, the only people who know are the boys. Which is — you now realize — why everyone at the office was buzzing around your desk this morning.

“You know what’s cute? Peonies. Roses are outdated and overused, Bloomingdales even more so. What is it, the 19th century?” Seokjin takes a breath, while you watch him, thoroughly amused. He turns his head, finally seeing Brinny next to him, “Hello.”

“Hi?” Brinny laughs out her response, still looking confused. “And you are...?”

Seokjin looks mildly offended, but gives a charming smile, “Seokjin.” He points a finger at you, “Boyfriend.”

Brinny looks confused, then shocked and then she reaches over the table to swat at your arm. “You have a boyfriend?”

There’s warmth flushing your cheeks and ears, but before you can answer, Seokjin is suddenly on his feet again. Saying that he only took a moment to come here, and that he’d see you later before he’s back out the door and out of your sight.

“Where’d you even find that guy? He doesn’t even look real!”

You hum softly to yourself, fitting your key into the lock of your door. Brinny had a bunch of questions you’d barely manage to answer, having to give her a watered down version of how you and Seokjin actually met.

When you enter your apartment, you’re almost sent sprawling to the floor. In your path was the biggest bouquet of peonies you’ve ever seen in your life. There’s a distinct aroma of steak cooking, and the underlying smell of vanilla scented candles.

“Jin?” You call, moving carefully around the bouquet to get out of your shoes. “Did you rob a florist?”

Seokjin pokes his head out of your kitchen, a smirk on his mouth. “No.” He waves you forward with a hand. When you reach him, he cups your cheeks with his hands and kisses you. You chuckle into it, running your fingers through the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

“You have to admit that peonies are way better.” He says when he pulls away, taking your hand and leading you into the kitchen where he’s set up an early dinner of steak, potatoes and steamed vegetables.

“Just say you’re jealous and we can move on.” You laugh at his rapidly reddening ears.

“I’m not.”

Tags: @xpeachesncream @blog-name-idk @madbutgloriouspond @bangtansmauyeondan @taestefully-in-luv @matchy6812 @eoieopda @luaspersona @allhobbitstoisengard @eren-fall @dontstoptime @euphoricfilter @mssukeyna @jinsquishes @minmin2022

[summerongrand]

Fanfic Masterlist

Stories:

Psyched On U (ongoing) Chenford's love story Romance, angst, fluff, humor Rated E

Sacred New Beginnings (completed) Consuming this fic is like eating a big spoonful of caramel sauce Rated C for cavities

Bee's First Boo! (completed) Fluff and humor Rated T for language

All of the Girls You Loved Before (Tim Bradford Has a Type) (ongoing) Ch. 1: Serious and funny Ch. 2: Adorable chaos, fluff and humor Rated T for language

You're Losing Me (ongoing) Angst Rated T for language, canon typical violence

Do You Remember Me? (ongoing) Rated GA

[redyarns]

snippet (undertow, ch. 6)

IM TIRED OF THIS GRANDPA

[crazybutgood]

By George, I'm hooked!

So a short while back, while searching for a fic featuring both human and crup George, I tagged a few people whose works I binged recently in a bid to try to recall the author. Amidst the embarrassing chaos where I tagged three guesses (before I finally found the fic written by a fourth), I figured I’d share what it is about these three authors’ writing that has me engaged so thoroughly and often. And to tie it all in a theme, I’ll drop a rec of their fics that feature George Weasley.

An assortment of delights 💝🍫

@schmem14 masterfully crafts the most delicious and unique ideas. Like a box of mystery-flavour chocolates, trying each one gives a new delightful experience of Em’s stories and interpretations of prompts, plots and pairings. And I find myself reaching for another, and another and another…

I have especially really enjoyed her collections where she takes on themes in her inimitably creative way. I’d really recommend checking out the George ones in her collections too, and for now I’ll leave you with this rec:

Peeling Potatoes (Harry/George) (T, 585)

George is still grieving Fred. Harry offers a moment of peace.

An immersive binge-a-thon 🎥🍿

@the-francakes' fics are such a vibe. She has me absolutely engrossed in a variety of stories; it really feels like a chill, cinematic experience. I love browsing through each enticing summary (and lovely banner!) of both old favourites and new updates. I’m always happily transported right there in the bubble of the world she’s created, rooting for the characters and absolutely flailing at the gorgeous plot, until I reach the end and float right along to the next one.

Here's a George rec from her catalogue:

Helping Hands™ (Hermione/George) (G, 1510)

George shows Hermione his new Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes product, Helping Hands™. And they help more than he expected.

A familiar comfort 😌💙

I always sink into @orange-peony's fics with the most satisfying feeling. Her fics are a pleasure to enjoy, curled up in bed with “entire work” clicked, squeeing, sobbing, smiling into a pillow. Her fics are always thrilling in their emotional rollercoaster, and never fail to warm my heart and make me just… feel with every fibre of myself. I absolutely love and crave that reading experience.

This fic is a quintessential example of that Peony experience:

Mirror, Mirror (Lee/George) (E, 22,759)

George feels a wave of relief washing over him at the thought that he still has time, that he can still get his shit together and stop feeling so utterly broken every single moment of the day, and then maybe he will be good enough for Lee. Sometimes he feels like the pain and the loss have woven through every fibre of his being, that his whole body is made out of grief, raw and wretched beyond repair. But then Lee takes his hand, or he threads his fingers through George’s hair, whispering something that George can only feel against his skin, lost words that make him shudder and reach for Lee, to feel him there and have him close. Real.

I hope you enjoy these fics, and check out these authors’ other works on their ao3s as well! Do remember to leave them some love 🥰 And as always, please mind the tags~

An eternal gratitude

Thanks to @stavromulabetaaa and @getawayfox for looking this over! (and for sparking the memory of the fic in the first place~) ❤️❤️

[slydiddledeedee]

playing around with some different outfits for peony

[mamuzzy]

Title: Dar'ad

Words: 423

Characters: Commander Fox, Alpha-17

Pairing: None

Warning: Mention of execution

Beta: None, I die like a clone. English is not my first language.

Based on a scene from our on-going RP AU with ithillia where Fox was pushed over the edge by the Senate and impulsively drew a weapon at the Chancellor to shot him. Now how the Palpatine was able to survive such wound, Fox couldn't know, only the fact was clear. Palpatine survived and now Fow was sentenced to death in the worst possible form: going back to Kamino.

x~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~xXx--------------------------x

120 hours was enough for Fox to feel the reality's cold punch in his gut. Truth to be told he always imagined himself quite an inglorious death fitting to his inglorious position as Marshal Commander of the Coruscant Guard. Deaths like getting hit by a drunken speeder; tripping in one of the velvet rug in the Senate building breaking his neck while at it; or probably heart attack from the amount of caf he consumed to much dismay of Headshot. But greeting the kaminii as his executioners was far worse than any fate and in his heart Fox believed it he deserved this. He let down the his brothers after all.

With handcuffs on his hands, the two Alpha clones pushed him out of the ship into the familiar stormes of Kamino raging through the skies and the dark ocean roared a deafning aria. Rain prodded his skin through his blacks like a thousand needle. He was home. No... home where his brothers where... home where his batchers used to be... where Alpha-17 used to be...

The giant figure of his buir stepped closer to him from the hangar, made Fox and his entourage stop, rained poured down from his armor as it would cry in his stead because silent rage burnt agressively in Seventeen's ever-judging eyes.

"What have you done?" asked Seventeen though he wasn't sure what answer he expected. Or wether an appropriate explanation existed at all to sooth his raging soul as he looked at his defected son.

"Not enough, Buir" Fox replied silently. He was tired. Terribly tired. "My only regret is that I did not planned it properly. That way I wouldn't have failed.

Aiwhas hummed in the distance. But the silence between them was louder.

"I didn't raised you to become... this!" Seventeen stared at him and gestured toward him as a whole.

Fox eyes widened and he stepped forward to Seventeen but the one of the other Alphas grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. He didn't want to explain himself, he didn't want to beg for his miserable life, he didn't want to redeem himself... he only wanted to tell him so much, how lonely he was at Coruscant... how he missed him... how he loved him despite never calling him.

"Buir" Fox voice trembled as the reality punched him in the gut for the second time and felt himself again that little, helpless cadet, wanting a safe place beside his father.

"You... you don't have the right to call me like that anymore. Aruetii." Alpha-17 spitted in the word then turned his back to Fox, never looking back.

x~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~xXx--------------------------x

Written in one sitting, I'm sleepy and tired. Still I hope you enjoyed this little snippet!