#she’s also kinda a florist

[acourtofquestions]

Since (haven’t read CC yet) 3 Maasverse main characters thus far are artists in one way or another (something I love in fandoms and especially these/Maasverse)

With:

Aelin the musician (composer/piano forte player) & appreciator of the arts. Fashionista. & semi-ballerina.

Nesta the dancer (a lil lovely scene tidbit I thought was freeing and mostly fun)

And of course Feyre THE Artist (& best example as this is crucial to how she sees the world).

Especially with the latter 2 in ACOTAR & our Archerons; even their father was a wood carver/sculptor… (let’s stick with the latter phrase… cause it’s too soon for carver to be heard as anything other than CREEPY “bone carver”😅) … so that leaves us with one; Elain.

Random HC here but: what if Elain’s a singer?

Specifically thought of this because of a certain other “singer in the series” ;-) *psst* Azriel the “shadowsinger” cause while I know that’s not what they meant, it sounds fun to me :-)

[cressidagrey]

White Horse - Chapter 13: February 2024 - Part 2

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible.

She watched her family give up everything for Charles’ career—Arthur’s karting, their father’s savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more.

But Max does. He notices the things no one else does, listens when no one else will, and puts her first in ways she never imagined. With him, she isn’t an afterthought—she’s a choice. And for the first time, she realizes she doesn’t have to be invisible.

Warnings and Notes: 

we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Discussions of toxic past relationships, talk about loosing a childhood pet, toxic families, Me trying to write therapy sessions.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Group Chat: HELP ME

(Members: Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Daniel Ricciardo, Carlos Sainz, Lewis Hamilton)

Lando: ok wait, are we sending flowers??

Oscar: flowers seem good

Daniel: FLOWERS YES but like what KIND of flowers

Lando: nothing too funeral Lando: nothing too romantic Lando: nothing too "you almost died but like in a chill way"

Lewis: you guys are the worst crisis team I’ve ever seen

Oscar: YOU’RE IN THIS TOO LEWIS

Lewis: i’m saying it with love.

Daniel: ok no roses…roses feel wrong

Carlos: no lilies either, too funeral

Lando: sunflowers??

Oscar: too happy Oscar: feels like "yay you survived!" party energy

Daniel: small soft bouquet?

Lewis: yeah Lewis: something like daisies Lewis: baby’s breath Lewis: stuff that feels gentle

Oscar: Lewis Hamilton out here secretly a florist

Lando: I KNEW IT

Lewis: I just have better taste than you idiots.

Carlos: confirmed.

Daniel: ok so like gentle happy survival flowers

Oscar: can we also send cookies?

Lando: yesssssssss

Lewis: i’m ordering them now Lewis: no glitter. Lewis: no weird colors. Lewis: keep it simple.

Daniel: who’s writing the card???

Lando: "Dear Belle: Sorry the world is trash. Love, some idiots who are rooting for you."

Oscar: perfect.

Carlos: send it.

***

Text Messages: Daniel Ricciardo & Max Verstappen

Daniel: Hey mate. Daniel:  Just heard from Lewis what happened last night. Daniel:  Wanted to check — is Belle okay?

Max: Yeah. Mild concussion. Some bruises. They kept her overnight for observation. She’s home now. Resting.

Daniel: Fuck, man. Daniel:  I’m glad she’s alright. Daniel:  That must’ve been scary as hell.

Max: It was.

Daniel: If you need anything. Daniel:  Or if she needs anything. Daniel:  You know — groceries, errands, new car — whatever. Daniel:  We’re all around.

Max: Appreciate it. Thanks, mate.

Daniel: Seriously, anything. Daniel:  Give her a hug from all of us, yeah? We’ll send flowers. Oscar insisted on Cookies too. 

Max: I’ll tell her. She’ll appreciate it.

Daniel: Good. Tell her we’re all thinking about her. ***

Leclerc Family Group Chat

(Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles, Lorenzo and Pascale)

Arthur: Hey, can you grab croissants on your way over?

Charles: And coffee. Please.

Lorenzo: Maman needs flowers for her lunch today.

Pascale: Isabelle, mon ange, if you have time, could you pick up some things from the market?

Isabelle: Yeah, no. Can’t. I was in a car accident last night.

Arthur: ???

Charles: WHAT.

Lorenzo: What do you mean you were in a car accident???

Arthur: This better not be a joke.

Isabelle: I’m fine. A drunk driver ran a red light and hit me. I spent the night in the hospital for observation, but I’m okay.

Pascale: WHY AM I ONLY HEARING ABOUT THIS NOW?

Arthur: Yeah, kinda rude to just drop that on us.

Isabelle: EXCUSE ME???

Charles: Were you driving too fast?

Isabelle: NO.

Arthur: Were you on your phone?

Isabelle: IT WASN’T MY FAULT.

Lorenzo: But are you sure you weren’t distracted?

Isabelle: I swear to God.

Charles: Okay, okay. Do you need anything?

Isabelle: Just rest.

Arthur: Sooo… no croissants?

Isabelle: ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW.

Arthur: Just asking.

Pascale: Isabelle, you should have told me immediately.

Isabelle: It was the middle of the night!

Lorenzo: You still could have texted.

Charles: Next time, at least let us know sooner.

Isabelle: Next time??? Do you think I PLAN to get hit by a car???

Arthur: …so that’s a no on the croissants?

***

Isabelle was curled up on their couch, a blanket over her lap, her hair still a little messy from sleep and bruises peeking out from under the neckline of his hoodie. She was nursing a cup of tea when Max came in from the kitchen with her breakfast.

“Here,” he said softly, setting the tray in front of her. “Eat something.”

She smiled up at him, touched. “Thank you.”

He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, but as he sat next to her, she noticed his eyes drift toward her phone, still open to the Leclerc family group chat.

Max squinted.

“What’s that?” he asked, his tone already shifting.

Isabelle blinked. “Oh. Just my brothers being… them.”

Max, already suspicious, plucked the phone gently from her lap before she could stop him.

Scrolled. Read.

And then he went absolutely still.

When she finally looked at him, his entire body was tight with anger. Not explosive. Not loud.

Cold.  Sharp.  Deadly.

“They’re asking about croissants?” Max said, voice low and dangerous. “After you spent the night in the hospital?”

Isabelle opened her mouth. Closed it. Shrugged helplessly.

Max stood up abruptly, pacing a few steps across the living room like he needed to physically shake off the fury vibrating through him.

“They’re angry at you?” Max said incredulously. “For not calling them? After you got fucking hit by a drunk driver?”

Isabelle flinched. Not because he was yelling — he wasn’t.  Max’s voice had dropped into that awful, simmering tone he only used when he was one second from completely losing it.

“They’re blaming you?” he said, his voice rising just slightly, like he couldn't believe the words as they left his mouth. "Like you did something wrong?"

"It’s not that bad," Isabelle said automatically.

Max spun to face her. His expression was something brutal and raw.  "Don't," he snapped. "Don't defend them."

Isabelle curled tighter into herself, clutching the tea like it was a shield.

"They don’t mean it like that," she said weakly.

Max crossed the room in three strides, crouching in front of her again, his hands gentle even when his voice wasn’t.

"Belle," he said, fierce and low. "You could have died. You could have been killed. And their first reaction was to demand coffee and flowers and fucking croissants? To scold you like a child?"

Isabelle looked down, her throat burning.

Max caught her chin lightly, forcing her to meet his eyes.

"You are not their errand girl," he said, every word knife-edged. "You are not an afterthought. You are not disposable."

Tears slipped down her cheeks before she could stop them.

Max’s face softened instantly.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe — but she didn't want to breathe anywhere else anyway.

Max let out a breath through his nose, still fuming. “Next time something happens, you tell me before you tell them. Actually—just always tell me first.”

“I did.”

That made him pause.

She looked up at him, soft smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “You were the first and only person I called.”

The fight in Max deflated just a little. His jaw relaxed, and his shoulders slumped as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because I’ll never make you explain why your pain is valid.”

Isabelle pressed a kiss to his jaw, and despite the aches and bruises, she felt lighter somehow. Safer. Seen.

Max kissed the top of her head again, his voice low against her hair.

***

Text Messages: Sebastian Vettel & Max Verstappen

Sebastian: Hey, Max. I heard about what happened in Monaco. Isabelle okay?

Max: ... How do you—

Sebastian: Lewis.

Max: Of course.

Sebastian: He didn’t say much. Just that it was bad. And that you were with her. I figured I should check in.

Max: She’s alright. Concussion. Bruises. Scared the hell out of me, but she’s recovering. Resting at home now.

Sebastian: Good. I’m glad she’s safe. And I’m glad she has you.

Max: Thanks. Really.

Sebastian: Brave of you, keeping it from Charles. Man’s got a temper.

Max: So do I.

Sebastian: 😅 Fair enough. Sebastian:  But seriously — that’s not an easy line to walk. Sebastian:  Keeping something that important private.

Max: It’s not about him. It’s about her. She’s not ready for them to know. I’ll wait until she is. Whatever it takes.

Sebastian: Good. You’re doing the right thing. Sebastian:  (And honestly... I don’t think Charles deserves to know until she’s ready to make him see her properly.)

Max: Agreed.

Sebastian: If you need anything — if she does — let me know. Tell her I’m thinking of her.

Max: I will. She’ll appreciate that. She always liked you, you know.

Sebastian: I like her, too. Always thought she was the strongest Leclerc. Even if no one noticed.

Max: I noticed.

Sebastian: I know. That’s why she’s with you.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Emilie Abadie

Max: Hey. Wanted you to hear it from me. Belle was in a car accident last night. Drunk Driver T-boned her. 

Emilie: WHAT. Emilie: WHAT DO YOU MEAN. Emilie: IS SHE OKAY???

Max: She’s okay. Bruised, mild concussion. No serious injuries. She’s home now. Resting.

Emilie: Max. You can’t just DROP that on me. I nearly had a heart attack.

Max: Sorry. Didn’t want you finding out through someone else.

Emilie: Thank you for telling me. Is she... really okay? I mean, really?

Max: She’s shaken. But the Volvo did it’s job. It could be so much worse.  

Emilie: Good. Emilie:  Protect her, Max. Or I’ll break your kneecaps. (With love.)

Max: Would expect nothing less from you.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Emilie: ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW.

Isabelle: Hi??

Emilie: DON'T "hi" me. Emilie: I just found out you were in a CAR CRASH??? Emilie: A drunk driver hit you?? Emilie: AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME???

Isabelle: I was going to... Isabelle: I just didn’t want to worry you. I’m okay. Isabelle: Bruises, concussion. That’s it. I promise.

Emilie: Isabelle. Emilie: You’re literally my favorite human being on this planet. Emilie: You do not get to almost die and then not tell me.

Isabelle: 🥺

Isabelle: I’m sorry. Isabelle: I really am. Isabelle: It was just a lot last night. And Max was already there and—

Emilie: WAIT. Emilie: Max was there?? Emilie: You called him first???

Isabelle: ... Yeah.

Emilie: 😭😭😭😭 Emilie: Okay. Fine. Emilie: At least SOMEONE was looking after you. Emilie: (Still a little bit furious tho.)

Isabelle: I deserve that. I’m sorry.

Emilie: You are not allowed to apologize for getting hit by a drunk driver you absolute gremlin. Emilie: I’m just glad you’re okay. Emilie: (And also kinda glad Max is apparently ready to physically fight Monaco if needed.)

Isabelle: He’s very serious about it 😅

Emilie: Good. Emilie: You deserve people who take your safety personally. Emilie: And you deserve better than people who think you should apologize for surviving.

Isabelle: 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 Love you.

Emilie: Love you more, Belle. Emilie: See you soon. Emilie: (Also, Max better share the couch or I will fight him.)

Isabelle: 😂 I’ll warn him.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Max: Hey. Need to tell you something.

Victoria: Everything okay??

Max: Yeah. Now it is. Max: Belle was in a car accident. Drunk driver hit her.

Victoria: WHAT. Is she okay????

Max: Yeah. Concussion. Some bruises. She’s home now. Safe.

Victoria: Oh my god. Max. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?

Max: Took a few years off my life. But yeah. Better now.

Victoria: I can’t even imagine. Seeing something like that happen to someone you love... Victoria: I remember when you crashed in Silverstone…For a moment it just…that feeling. That helplessness.  Like the world could just... rip the person you love away from you at any second. I know what that feels like.

Max: Yeah. Exactly that. One second everything’s normal. Max: Next second you’re standing in a hospital room wondering how you’re supposed to keep breathing if they don’t.

Max: Feels like everything inside me cracked open at once. Max: I’m never letting anything happen to her again. Max: I don’t care what I have to do.

Victoria: You can’t protect her from everything, Maxie. I wish we could. But you’re doing the most important thing already. You’re there. You love her. You make her feel safe. That’s more than enough.

Max: Sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough.

Victoria: It always feels like that when you really love someone. It’s the cost. But it’s worth it.

Victoria: She’s lucky to have you. And you’re lucky to have her.

Max: I know.

Victoria: Give her a hug from me. And Max?

Max: Yeah?

Victoria: Give yourself a little grace too. You’re allowed to be scared. You’re allowed to love her that much.

Max: Thanks, Vic.

Victoria: Always.

***

The apartment was dim and warm, the only light coming from the small lamp in the corner. One cat was sprawled across Max’s legs, purring softly; the other had wedged itself stubbornly against the arm of the couch.

It was quiet, comfortable — but Max barely noticed.

He was too busy keeping an eye on the hallway, listening for any sound of her.

Isabelle finally padded into the living room, wearing one of his hoodies and soft pajama shorts, her hair damp from a shower. She carried a mug of chamomile tea between her hands like it was a lifeline.

Max’s chest tightened when he saw the bruises — angry marks along her collarbone, a purple smear near her temple just so peeking out from underneath the bandage that covered her stitches — but she looked a little better.

Softer around the edges.

Steadier.

She settled in beside him without hesitation, leaning lightly into his side.

“Hey,” she said, voice gentle and tired but still teasing, still her. “What are we doing for Valentine’s Day tonight?”

Max blinked down at her like she had asked him if he wanted to fight a bull barehanded.

He set the remote down and turned fully toward her.

“Nothing,” he said firmly. “You’re resting.”

Belle blinked, surprised. “Nothing?”

“You got out of the hospital this morning, Schatje,” Max said, brushing his knuckles carefully along her jaw. “You’re bruised, concussed, exhausted. You’re not putting on a dress or pretending you have the energy for anything.”

She smiled sheepishly. “I wasn’t thinking restaurant. I was thinking… I don’t know. Candlelight? Dessert? A dumb rom-com?”

Max’s heart softened instantly.

“That’s different,” he murmured. “That I can work with.”

For a moment, there was a lull — the safe kind — until Belle sighed quietly and looked down at her tea.

“I’m sorry I ruined it,” she said.

Max froze.

“What?” he asked, sharper than he meant to.

“Valentine’s,” she said, voice even quieter now. “We were supposed to have a real night. You always say you don’t care about this stuff, but you still try. And instead, I ended up in a hospital bed, and you had to spend the night watching me sleep in an awful chair.”

Max blinked at her.

Once.

Twice.

Then, without a word, he took the mug gently from her hands and set it on the table.

“Belle,” he said, low and serious, “you are absolutely insane.”

She frowned. “That’s not—”

Max cupped her face in both hands, his touch achingly tender, like he thought she might break if he wasn’t careful.

He looked at her like she had just split the world open and made everything new again.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he said, voice rough with the force of it. “You scared the hell out of me. That’s all. The only thing — the only thing — I cared about yesterday was that you were still breathing.”

Belle blinked, stunned.

Max leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against hers.

“You’re here,” he whispered. “You’re breathing. You’re safe. That’s all I want.”

Belle closed her eyes tightly, a tear slipping free before she could stop it.

“I just wanted it to be special,” she mumbled.

Max pulled back just enough to see her face, his thumbs brushing lightly along her jaw.

“It is special,” he said, fierce and quiet. “You’re here. You’re with me. There’s nothing more special than that.”

He exhaled hard, trying to keep himself steady, but the fear — the pictures his mind supplied, of her bleeding and dazed in that broken car — hadn’t really left him.

“You could have died, Belle,” he said, voice shaking despite himself. “And if you think I give a fuck about Valentine’s Day after that—”

He broke off, swallowing hard.

“You’re sitting here apologizing because I didn’t get to give you overpriced flowers and a chocolate box?” Max shook his head, breathing out a shaky laugh that was half disbelief, half heartbreak.

Belle let out a breathy laugh too, her voice cracking.

“Well, when you say it like that, I sound ridiculous.”

“You are ridiculous,” Max said fondly, his voice dropping to something unbearably soft as he kissed her forehead.

“You’re my Valentine every goddamn day, Belle. You don’t have to do anything except be here.”

And as he tucked her into his side, wrapping an arm around her, Max made himself a quiet, blistering promise:

Whatever it takes — he would make sure she always had a safe place to land.

***

Alexandra Saint Mleux had always loved Valentine’s Day.

Not for the grand gestures, not for the over-the-top declarations, but for the little things.

 The small, specific ways Charles made her feel seen every year.

Last year, it had been a bracelet with a tiny charm that matched a doodle she'd made in a notebook once.

It was never about the price or the spectacle.

It was the way Charles remembered the quiet parts of her — the parts no one else seemed to notice.

Which was why she knew, before he even handed her the gift this year, that something was... off.

The box was beautiful — simple, elegant, wrapped in gold paper.  But when she opened it, it was a generic necklace. Pretty, but impersonal.

Something anyone could have picked out of a catalog.

Charles was smiling at her expectantly, the way he always did, waiting for her reaction.

And she smiled back — because she loved him, because she didn't want to ruin it — but a small, quiet ache bloomed in her chest.

It wasn't about the necklace.

It was about the feeling that something had slipped, unnoticed, between them.

They went out for dinner after — a cozy little restaurant tucked away from the paparazzi, candles flickering between them — but even there, Charles seemed... distracted.

 Tense in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

It wasn’t until dessert, when she asked casually about his family, that she got a piece of the puzzle.

"Isabelle was in a car accident," Charles said offhandedly, swirling the last of his espresso.

Alexandra's heart stuttered. "Oh my God — is she okay?"

He shrugged, too casual. "It was just a little fender bender. Nothing serious. She’s fine."

Alexandra frowned slightly. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Charles said, waving it off. "She said she was fine."

He didn’t elaborate. Didn’t offer any more.

And Alexandra — who had seen the way Isabelle seemed to fold herself smaller whenever the family swirled too loudly around her — felt that same ache twist sharper.

Something told her Belle wouldn’t have made a fuss even if she wasn’t fine.

Something told her that Charles hadn’t really looked.

She said nothing, just smiled and let Charles change the subject back to racing, back to schedules, back to anything but the sister who maybe, just maybe, needed him to see her.

Alexandra tucked the necklace back into its box when she got home that night.

 It was beautiful.

 It just wasn’t quite hers.

***

The apartment smelled like coffee and something sweet.

Max had gotten up early — not because he was particularly good at mornings, or baking — but because Belle deserved something warm and comforting.

He’d managed toast, burnt only slightly, and found the last few frozen chocolate croissants buried at the back of the freezer.

Small things.

Safe things.

Belle was curled up on the couch in one of his old hoodies, knees tucked beneath her, Lilly on her lap, while Jimmy was laying on her legs and Sassy sat next to her like this was all beneath her, but was slowly inching closer, jealous to at she wasn’t getting any attention.

She looked small.

Tired.

Healing.

Max was wiping his hands on a dish towel when a knock came at the door.

He frowned, crossing the apartment in a few quick strides.

When he opened it, a delivery man stood there — arms full.

Two enormous bouquets, one a soft explosion of yellow and white, the other a careful arrangement of pink and cream roses, and a box tied up with a silky ribbon.

Max blinked.

Took the flowers and box with a muttered thanks.

Kicked the door shut behind him.

Belle looked up immediately, eyebrows lifting when she saw what he was carrying.

“What’s all that?” she asked, sitting up straighter.

Max set everything carefully down on the coffee table, tugging the little notes free from between the stems.

He read the first card — his mouth curving into a small, real smile, the kind he barely remembered how to make before her.

“This one’s from my family,” he said, tossing the card onto the table for her to see. “Flowers from my mom. Chocolate from Victoria.”

Belle’s mouth fell open slightly. “They didn’t have to—”

Max shrugged. “They wanted to.”

He kissed the top of her head before reaching for the second card, tucked between the wild, chaotic second bouquet and the neatly wrapped box underneath.

He read it, and let out a soft huff of laughter.

“And,” he added, setting the card down, “these are from the idiots.”

Belle blinked. “The idiots?”

Max leaned back against the couch, stretching his legs out lazily. “Lando, Oscar, Lewis, Carlos, Daniel. Group effort. They sent you flowers and a box of cookies.”

Belle stared at him, completely thrown.

“They said,” Max quoted dryly, “and I’m reading here, ‘Dear Belle: Sorry the world is trash. Love, some idiots who are rooting for you.’”

Belle let out a small, incredulous laugh — the first real one he’d heard from her since the hospital— and covered her face with her hands.

Max just watched her, something warm and achingly fond spreading through his chest.

When she lowered her hands, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes suspiciously bright.

“They’re ridiculous,” she whispered.

“They are,” Max agreed. “But they mean it.”

He shifted closer, resting his hand lightly against her thigh.

“Victoria sends her love, by the way,” he added. “Said next time you’re in the Netherlands, you’re not allowed to leave without a girls’ day.”

Belle laughed again — a softer, breathier sound this time — and toyed absently with the edge of her sleeve.

There was a pause.

A shift.

And then, almost too quietly to hear, she said:

“Your family’s starting to feel like mine too.”

Max stilled completely.

He turned, reaching for her hand instinctively, finding her fingers and curling his own around them.

Belle looked up at him, vulnerable in a way she almost never let herself be — open and a little raw, like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to say it out loud.

Max melted.

Utterly.

He cupped her face gently in both hands and kissed her — slow, deliberate, reverent — like he had all the time in the world just to love her properly.

When he finally pulled back, his voice was rough with emotion.

“They already think of you that way,” he whispered against her forehead. “You’re one of us, Belle. You always will be.”

She blinked fast, trying and failing to fight the tears burning her eyes.

Max just pulled her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight.

Not too tight.

Just enough.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Victoria Verstappen

Isabelle: Hi Victoria, Thank you so much for the flowers and chocolates. It really meant a lot to me. You didn’t have to do all that.

Victoria: First of all: YES I DID. Second: you’re welcome. Third: you’re stuck with us now. No returns. No exchanges. No refunds. Family policy. Love you.

Isabelle: 😭 I love you too.

Victoria: Tell Max if he doesn’t keep spoiling you, I’ll show up and do it myself. (And make it VERY public and VERY embarrassing.)

Isabelle: 😂 I’ll warn him.

Victoria: Good girl. Rest up. Heal. And when you’re ready, come visit — Lio made you a "Get Well" card and it’s mostly just glitter but the intention was pure.

Isabelle: I can’t wait to see it. Thank you, Vic. Really. For everything.

Victoria: Always, Belle. Always.

***

Text Messages: Sebastian Vettel & Kimi Räikkönen

Sebastian: You’re not going to believe this. (Or maybe you will. You’re hard to surprise.)

Kimi: Busy. Make it fast.

Sebastian: Max Verstappen is dating Isabelle Leclerc.

Kimi:  Huh. 

Sebastian: That’s it? Huh??? I just dropped a nuclear paddock secret on you!

Kimi: Not my business. If they’re happy, who cares.

Sebastian: I mean. True. But still.

Kimi: Good for them. Hope she can handle him. Not many can.

Sebastian: I think she’s the only one who can.

Kimi: Makes sense. Quiet ones are dangerous. Good match.

Sebastian: Also apparently no one in her family knows yet. Including Charles.

Kimi: Charles will cry about it. Not my problem.

Sebastian: 😂

Kimi: Tell Max if he breaks her heart I’ll run him over with a snowmobile.

Sebastian: Will pass along the message.

Kimi: Good. Busy now. Kids want ice cream. Tell Max congratulations.

Sebastian: Will do. (Enjoy the ice cream.)

Kimi: Always.

***

Max hated this.

He wasn’t even trying to pretend otherwise.

He stood by the door, suitcase packed, keys and phone in one hand, looking like someone had asked him to do the impossible instead of board a plane for pre-season testing.

Belle watched him from the couch, a blanket wrapped around her, her bruises faded now but still faintly visible under the soft lamplight.

"You have to go," she said gently, reading his mind like she always did.

Max grimaced, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "I don’t like leaving you."

"You’re not leaving me," she corrected immediately, voice calm, steady.  "You’re going to work. You’re doing what you love."

Max ran a hand through his hair, visibly struggling.

"You just—" he started, then stopped.  "You just got hurt, Belle. I should be here. I should be with you."

"You are with me," she said, rising slowly from the couch and padding over to him.

She reached up and cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her.

"Every time you call, every time you text, every time you think about me — you’re here," she said softly. "I’m not alone."

Max closed his eyes, leaning into her touch like he physically couldn’t help it.

"And you’ll be home before you know it," she whispered, brushing her thumbs over his cheekbones. "Then you can hover and fuss and drive me crazy again."

A reluctant, broken laugh escaped him.

"I don’t want to leave you," he said again, more quietly now.

Belle smiled, tears prickling her own eyes — because even now, even with the whole world pulling him in a thousand directions, he was still here with her first.

"You’re not leaving me," she said again. "You’re just chasing your dreams. And I’ll be right here when you get back."

Max bent his head, resting his forehead against hers.

"You’re my dream too," he whispered.

Her breath hitched.

"And you’re mine," she whispered back.

They stayed there for a long moment — just breathing together — until finally, finally, Max exhaled.

He kissed her slowly, thoroughly, like he needed to memorize her, and she kissed him back just as fiercely.

When he finally pulled away, it was with visible effort.

"Promise me you’ll rest," he said, brushing his knuckles down her cheek.

"I promise," she said. "And you — promise me you’ll drive safe. Listen to GP. Don’t try to out-stubborn the car."

Max huffed a quiet laugh. "Bossy."

"Someone has to be," she teased, smiling.

He kissed her forehead one last time, squeezed her hand, and finally — reluctantly — turned to leave.

Belle watched him go, feeling the ache of missing him before he’d even stepped outside the door.

But it was okay.

Because he would always come home to her.

And she would always, always be waiting.

***

Text Messages: Lewis Hamilton & Max Verstappen

Lewis: Mate.

Lewis: Did you just drop off a bag of stuff at my motorhome?

Max: Yeah.

Max: Belle made something for Roscoe.

Lewis: I just opened it.

Lewis: A handwritten note. And homemade vegan dog treats???

Max: She insisted.

Max: Wanted to thank you properly.

Max: Even though she’s supposed to be resting.

Lewis: I don’t even know what to say. The note made me emotional and Roscoe is probably going to try and mug me for the biscuits.

Max: Good. He deserves them.

Lewis: Tell her thank you.

Lewis: Seriously.

Lewis: She didn’t have to do anything.

Lewis: I was just in the right place at the right time.

Max: You stayed.

Max: It matters to her.

Max: It matters to me too.

Lewis: You’ve got a good one there, Max.

Lewis: Also, if Roscoe explodes with happiness, I’m sending you the vet bill.

Max: He’ll be fine. Belle double-checked the recipe three times.

***

GP had known Max Verstappen for a long time.

Long enough to recognize when something wasn’t sitting right under the surface — even when Max didn’t say a word about it.

He noticed it that morning, before Max even climbed into the car.  The slight tightness around his mouth.  The way his hands flexed once, sharply, before putting on his gloves.  The way his answers in the pre-session briefing were short, mechanical. Efficient, but colder than usual.

GP filed it away. Max would tell him when he was ready.

And he did — just after the second run of the day, in the shade behind the Red Bull garage, water bottle in one hand, telemetry printout in the other.

“She was in a crash,” Max said, his voice flat enough that if GP hadn’t been paying attention, he might have missed it.

GP frowned, stepping closer. “Who?”

Max didn’t look up.  “Belle.”

The name hit harder than GP expected.

“What happened?” he asked, more sharply now.

Max’s jaw tightened. “Drunk driver ran a red. T-boned her car. Hit the passenger side, just behind the front wheel. Sent her spinning into a light post.”

 Quiet. Clipped.  Words that barely scratched the surface of the horror GP could hear pulsing beneath them.

GP stared. “Christ. Is she—?”

“She’s alright,” Max said. “Bruised. Concussion. Hospital kept her overnight.” He paused. “But it could’ve been a lot worse.”

GP’s stomach twisted sickly.  He couldn’t — wouldn’t — let himself imagine Max getting that phone call in the middle of the night. Wouldn’t let himself imagine what it must’ve felt like to walk into a hospital room and see Belle curled up in a stark white bed.

And then Max said, in that same low, steady voice that somehow carried more weight than shouting ever could:

“The Volvo you helped me pick out for her? It saved her life.”

GP went still.

The memory flickered: Max months ago, texting him…asking for his opinion. 

Just buy her a Volvo. Safe. Reliable. Built to last. Also one of the best crash-tested brands in the world. You did say you were thinking about kids, right?

And now — thank god — Belle was still breathing because of it.

GP swallowed thickly, feeling a knot loosen somewhere deep in his chest.

“Thank fuck,” he said hoarsely.

Max gave a short nod.  No dramatics. No sentimentality.

But GP could feel the magnitude of it radiating off him like heat off the tarmac.

This — this — was the side of Max Verstappen few people ever saw.  The side that loved without conditions.  That protected without compromise.

“Thank you,” Max said quietly. 

No dramatics. No fuss.  Just that heavy, quiet sincerity Max reserved for the rarest moments.

GP reached out and clapped a hand to his shoulder — a solid, grounding gesture — knowing Max didn’t need anything else from him right now.

"I’d do it again tomorrow," GP said.

Max nodded again, and GP watched him turn back toward the data screens, pulling his headset on, ready to work like nothing had happened.

But GP knew better.

Max had always raced like he had something to prove.  Now, this season, he was racing with something to protect.

And GP would make damn sure everything — the car, the strategy, the team — was ready for that fight.

Then there was no margin for error anymore.

Not even a sliver.

He pulled his headset back over his ears and keyed into the comms with a calmness he didn’t entirely feel.

“Let’s run another systems check before lunch,” he said smoothly.  “And someone triple-check the safety settings while you’re at it.”

The comm crackled to life with quick affirmatives.

***

Text Messages: Gianpiero Lambiase & Eloisa Lambiase

GP: We’re getting you a new car.

Eloisa: ???

Eloisa: Good morning to you too?

Eloisa: What’s wrong with my car?

GP: Not safe enough.

Eloisa: You’re the one who picked it out, love.

GP: Doesn’t matter.

GP: We’re upgrading.

Eloisa: Did something happen?

GP: Yeah.

GP: Belle — Max’s Belle — she was in a crash last week.

GP: Drunk driver ran a light.

Eloisa: Oh my god.

Eloisa: Is she okay???

GP: Shaken. Concussed. But alive.

GP: Because she was driving the Volvo Max bought her.

GP: The one I told him to get.

Eloisa: Oh.

GP: Yeah. That’s why we’re getting you a better car.

Eloisa: Gianni…

GP: No arguments.

GP: Please.

Eloisa: …okay.

Eloisa: But only if I get to pick the color this time.

GP: Deal.

GP: Something with five stars on every crash test rating.

GP: I’m sending you options this afternoon.

Eloisa:  (And coffee. You owe me coffee for giving me a heart attack.)

GP: Already on it.

GP: Triple order.

GP: Love you.

Eloisa: Love you too, you giant overprotective marshmallow

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Max Verstappen

Max: We need to get you a new car.

Isabelle: Max, I’m fine.

Isabelle: The Volvo did its job.

Max: Exactly. Which is why we’re getting another one.

Isabelle: You’re serious?

Max: Volvo customer for life now. I’m about to put their logo on my helmet at this point.

Isabelle: You’re ridiculous.

Max: Not taking chances, Schatje.

Max: Same model or you want to pick something else?

Isabelle: …I did love that car.

Max: Same brand, non-negotiable. Colour’s up to you. Same as before or something different?

Isabelle: Honestly? I liked the old one. That dark green felt like me.

Max: Then we’ll stick with it. Dark green it is.

Isabelle: You don’t have to do all this, Max.

Max: I do. I’m not letting you drive anything that isn’t built like a tank.

Isabelle: You’re going to spoil me until I forget how to function on my own.

Max: That’s the plan.

Isabelle: You’re impossible.

Max: You love me.

Isabelle: Very much.

Max: Fortunately, it’s mutual.

Isabelle: Fine. Dark green Volvo. But I’m picking the air freshener this time.

Max: Deal. As long as it’s not something that smells like cupcakes.

Isabelle: No promises. And it was strawberry. 

Isabelle: Consider it payback for forcing me into an indestructible Swedish fortress.

Max: Best decision I ever made. Second only to falling in love with you.

Isabelle: You’re dangerous when you’re sweet.

Max: Only for you.

***

Alexandra wandered the halls, pretending to admire a modern art installation while covertly people-watching — one of her favorite pastimes when the pace of life let her slip out of the Ferrari bubble for a few hours.

She was standing near a collection of minimalist sculptures when she caught snippets of a conversation between two women nearby, both well-dressed, deep in quiet, intense discussion.

"I still can't believe it," one woman murmured, her voice low but urgent. "She could have been killed. Did you see the photos? That car was destroyed."

Her friend nodded, wide-eyed.  "Near the tunnel, right? Total mess. And poor Isabelle  — I mean, she's so sweet. She did that whole project for our office last year."

Alexandra’s heart stopped.

She took a tiny step closer, pretending to examine the sculpture in front of her.

"Isabelle Leclerc," the first woman said again, confirming what Alexandra already knew. "Such a shame. She's so talented. And to walk away from something like that — it’s a miracle, really. They said the drunk driver didn’t even hit the brakes."

Alexandra felt her stomach churn.

Destroyed.  Miracle.  No brakes.

That didn’t sound like a fender bender.

That didn’t sound like "nothing."

Another man chimed in, sounding grim. "I heard the paramedics said it was a miracle she didn’t have internal injuries. They were worried about a collapsed lung at first."

Alexandra blinked hard, the art blurring in front of her.

Collapsed lung.

Not a fender bender.

Not nothing serious.

She pressed her lips together, hands curling slightly at her sides.

The women moved on, voices fading into the low hum of the gallery, but Alexandra stayed frozen in place for a long moment.

When Charles had told her about the accident, he’d been so casual. So dismissive.

Alexandra swallowed hard against the knot forming in her throat.

Isabelle hadn't been fine.

Isabelle had survived something horrific.

And Charles — either through ignorance or unwillingness — had looked the other way.

Again.

Alexandra didn’t know what bothered her more: the fact that Charles hadn't seen it, or the gnawing fear that maybe he did — and just didn’t know what to do with the parts of his sister that didn’t fit into the neat, tidy picture of the world he needed to believe in.

She glanced down at her phone, thumb hovering over Isabelle name in her contacts.

For a moment, she debated it — reaching out, saying something, offering something.

But what could she offer that wouldn't sound hollow?

Her family saw her as nothing more than background noise and Alexandra loathed to admit that she was guilty of the same on more than a few occasions. 

It was just…so easy not to think about Isabelle. Which sounded horrible, the longer she examined that thought. 

Isabelle was so happy in the background, so sweet and kind in a way that never seemed to want any kind of attention for it. 

 So easy to overlook. 

***

Text Messages: Alexandra Saint Mleux & Charlotte Di Pietro

Alexandra: Hey, random question. Did you know how bad Isabelle’s car accident actually was?

Charlotte: ?? I thought it was minor? That’s what Lorenzo said when I asked.

Alexandra: It wasn’t. I overheard people talking at the gallery tonight. Paramedics thought she might have had a collapsed lung. Car was totaled. Impact was bad — drunk driver didn’t even brake.

Charlotte: No one told me any of that. Lorenzo made it sound like a dented door and a headache.

Alexandra: Yeah. Charles too. He brushed it off like it was nothing.

Charlotte: …They’re acting like it’s an inconvenience.

Alexandra: Exactly. It’s been sitting wrong with me all night. Like there’s something broken there that no one’s talking about.

Charlotte: Maybe. But I do know they love her.

Alexandra: I don’t doubt that. But love isn’t the same as seeing someone. I’m not sure they know how to see her properly.

Alexandra: I am not sure we know how to see her properly. None of us thought to invite her to lunch…you know, when we ran into her. 

Charlotte: You are right…They aren’t the only ones guilty of forgetting her…

Charlotte: Speaking of forgetting. 

Charlotte: Guess who forgot about Valentine’s Day until the morning off. 

Alexandra: Oh? (Spill.)

Charlotte: Valentine’s Day. Lorenzo didn’t plan anything. Literally nothing.

He said, "Well, it didn’t feel like a big deal this year."

Charlotte: Later he grumbled that "normally Belle helps" and "everything feels off without her."

Alexandra: Wait, what?

Charlotte: Yeah. Apparently Belle used to remind them, plan ideas, even organize half the stuff so they wouldn’t forget.

Alexandra: …Oh my god. Alexandra: That tracks. Alexandra: You know, her friend once joked that Isabelle was the one who bought all my birthday presents from Charles.

Charlotte: Wait, seriously??

Alexandra: Apparently. Alexandra: I didn’t take it seriously at the time — Alexandra: Thought it was just teasing. Alexandra: But now… Maybe it was true.

Charlotte: She shouldn’t have to carry everyone. Charlotte: It’s not fair.

Alexandra: No, it’s not. Maybe it’s a good thing they’re feeling the consequences now.

Charlotte: Let them sit in it. They need to learn.

Alexandra: Agreed.

Charlotte: (Also. Are you ready for Arthur's dramatic downfall?)

Alexandra: LOL. The girlfriend disaster?

Charlotte: The girlfriend disaster. At this point, I’m tempted to bet how long until he posts a sad song on Instagram.

Alexandra: 100 euros says it’s before Thursday. Bonus points if he posts cryptic black-and-white stories too. With quotes he definitely doesn’t understand.

Charlotte: You’re on.

Alexandra: God help us all.

***

The Bahrain paddock buzzed under the heavy sun — mechanics shouting, tires rolling, the faint scent of burning rubber hanging in the air.

Charles leaned against the barrier separating the hospitality areas, sipping from a bottle of water as he chatted with Pierre, both of them still in their race suits, unzipped halfway down against the heat.

Pierre had just casually asked, somewhere between a joke and genuine concern, "Hey, by the way — your sister’s alright, yeah? Heard she had some kind of accident?"

Charles waved it off immediately, flashing a small, tight smile.  "Ah, yes. Isabelle is fine. Just a little fender bender."

Pierre nodded, a little relieved but still wary. "Good. Glad she’s okay. Monaco drivers, man."

Charles laughed lightly. "Exactly. Probably more dangerous in the city than on track."

But before he could say anything else, a voice cut through the air, calm and deliberate.

"It wasn’t a fender bender, Charles."

Charles blinked, turning instinctively toward the sound.

Lewis Hamilton stood a few feet away, gloves dangling loosely from his fingers, expression unreadable.

Charles frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

Lewis shifted his weight, crossing his arms over his chest. "I was there."

The words dropped like stones into Charles’ stomach.

"I saw the crash," Lewis continued, voice low and even. "Drunk driver ran a red light. Slammed into her side full speed. Spun her into a pole. The car was totaled."

Charles opened his mouth — but no words came out.

Lewis wasn’t finished. "Isabelle was trapped in the car. Shocky. Barely able to talk. I called the ambulance. Stayed with her until they got there."

Charles’ heart kicked hard against his ribs, cold and sickening.

He tried — for a second — to picture Isabelle in that moment.

 Tried to imagine her small body pinned in a wrecked car, blood trickling down her forehead, gasping for breath.

It made something twist inside him — sharp and ugly and guilty.

"She’s lucky she survived," Lewis said quietly. "Don’t call it a fender bender."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Lewis gave him one last look — not angry, not cruel — just disappointed.  And then he turned, walking away toward the Mercedes garage without another word.

Charles stood frozen in place.

Pierre cleared his throat awkwardly after a beat. "Uh," he said lightly, "maybe you should... check on her properly. Yeah?"

Charles didn’t answer.

He just stood there, staring after Lewis, feeling — for the first time in a long time — the uncomfortable, foreign sensation of having missed something important.

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

(Members: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Daniel Ricciardo, Carlos Sainz and Lewis Hamilton)

Lewis: Guys. GUYS.

Oscar: uh oh

Lando: what happened now

Lewis: Charles just called Isabelle’s crash a "fender bender." fender bender. LIKE. MINOR. INSIGNIFICANT.

Daniel: ...oh no.

Lewis: IT WAS BAD. Lewis: Bad enough that the car was crushed against a streetlamp. Lewis: Bad enough that she couldn’t even get the door open. Lewis: Bad enough that she was shivering and barely breathing and covered in cuts and glass.

Lando: Lewis is going full caps lock. This is bad.

Oscar: It’s worse than bad. He’s spiraling.

Lewis: I WATCHED HER BLEEDING IN A BROKEN CAR. Lewis: I HELD HER HAND UNTIL THE PARAMEDICS GOT THERE. Lewis: AND CHARLES IS OUT HERE LIKE "lol oopsie minor incident"????

Daniel: Breathe mate Breathe

Carlos: Yeah, deep breaths. We need you alive.

Lewis: HE CALLED IT A FENDER BENDER. I AM GOING TO LAUNCH HIM INTO THE SUN

Oscar: Not before Max does.

Lando: Max is gonna find out eventually and we will ALL need to evacuate Monaco

Lewis: I literally saw it. Lewis: I thought she was dead for a second. Lewis: And Charles didn’t even know how bad it was. Lewis: Didn’t even ask. Lewis: Didn’t even CARE.

Daniel: You okay mate?? Do you need snacks?? Or wine??

Carlos: Or a punching bag???

Oscar: Or a very large blunt object???

Lewis: I need Charles to grow a brain cell.

Carlos: Welcome to the nightmare brother.

Daniel: We have t-shirts.

Lando: and wine Lando: lots of wine

Oscar: and emergency stress snacks

Lewis: I’m bringing tequila next meeting. Lewis: We’re gonna need it.

***

Leclerc Siblings Group Chat

 (Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles, and Lorenzo)

Charles: Isabelle. Why didn’t you tell me the accident was that serious??

Isabelle: Because you didn’t ask.

Arthur: Wait what? Serious?? I thought it was a little crash?

Charles: It wasn’t. Lewis told me today during testing. He was THERE. He said the car was totaled. You got spun into a post. You were trapped in the car, Isabelle.

Lorenzo: What do you mean, trapped?!

Isabelle: I didn’t want to worry anyone. I’m fine now.

Charles: You said you were fine. You made it sound like you got a scratch and drove home.

Lorenzo: That’s not the point.

Charles:  You lied to us.

Isabelle: I didn’t lie. I said I had a concussion and bruises. And spent the night in the hospital. Which was all true. I said I was okay. Because I am.

Lorenzo: Isabelle, why didn’t you say anything?

Isabelle: Because I knew this would happen.

Isabelle:  Exactly this.

Isabelle:  You’d all get angry or guilt-trip me or turn it into something about you.

Charles: Of course we’re angry!

Arthur:  You scared us, Isabelle.

Lorenzo:  Do you think Maman could handle hearing you almost died?

Lorenzo: We are not going to tell her.

Lorenzo:  I’m serious.

Lorenzo:  It would crush her.

Lorenzo:  Better she thinks it was nothing.

Isabelle: So let me get this straight.

Isabelle:  You’re mad at me for not telling you…

Isabelle:  And now you’re also deciding for me that Maman shouldn’t know?

Isabelle:  Because you think she can’t handle it?

Lorenzo: Exactly.

Isabelle: Okay. Noted.

***

Raymond Vermeulen prided himself on knowing everything about Max Verstappen’s career — both on and off the track.

It wasn’t arrogance. It was necessity.

You didn’t manage Max Verstappen successfully by being two steps behind. 

You stayed ahead. You anticipated. You knew.

Which was why, when Jos Verstappen of all people leaned over during a quiet moment at a post-testing dinner and casually said: "Max is serious about a girl,"

—Raymond almost dropped his fork.

He blinked, slowly, suspiciously.

Jos didn’t do casual. Jos didn’t mention Max’s girlfriends unless it was a complaint. Normally, the subject was treated like some embarrassing injury you didn’t talk about in polite company.

Raymond cleared his throat, playing it cool. "Oh? New?"

Jos grunted. "No. Been a while."

Raymond narrowed his eyes. "And you’re... okay with this?"

Jos shrugged. Shrugged.

Like Max Verstappen — his pride, his legacy, his entire life project — dating someone was just fine and normal.

Raymond was officially in uncharted waters.

"Who is she?" he asked carefully.

Jos reached for his beer, nonchalant. "Isabelle Leclerc."

Raymond froze mid-sip of his wine.

Isabelle. Leclerc.

As in Charles Leclerc’s little sister.

As in Ferrari’s golden boy’s little sister.

As in political nightmare fuel if the media ever got hold of it.

"You're telling me Max is dating Charles Leclerc’s sister," Raymond said slowly, like he was trying to defuse a bomb.

Jos grunted again. "Mmh."

"And you’re fine with this?" Raymond pressed.

Jos actually — God help him — almost smiled. "She's good for him."

Raymond sat back in his chair, stunned.

Not just because Max was apparently neck-deep in a secret, long-term relationship.

 Not just because it was Isabelle bloody Leclerc.

 But because Jos — notoriously impossible to please, allergic to softness — actually liked her.

Jos approved.

Raymond processed that for a long moment.

The earth hadn’t split open. The sky wasn’t falling.

Miracles did happen, apparently.

"Well," he said finally, recovering some professionalism. "That’s... good."

Jos nodded, unbothered. "She makes him happy."

Raymond exhaled slowly. If Jos was using words like happy, it was serious. Monumentally serious.

And suddenly, Raymond understood something deeper:

This wasn’t a passing thing.

This wasn’t a fling.

This was real.

Max had gone and fallen in love — quietly, stubbornly, like he did everything else — and somehow, without anyone noticing, built himself a life outside the machine of Formula One.

Raymond reached for his phone under the table.

Because if the media ever got a sniff of this, he was going to need a very detailed contingency plan.

And maybe a drink.

Or several.

***

The office was quiet.

Soft light filtered through gauzy curtains.

A pot of chamomile tea sat untouched on the side table.

Isabelle sat curled into the corner of the couch, sleeves of her sweater pulled over her hands, staring at the stitches in the rug instead of at Simone.

Simone waited.

She always waited.

Finally, Isabelle exhaled a shaky breath.

"It’s so stupid," she said quietly. "I shouldn’t be this upset. I didn’t even get badly hurt."

Simone didn’t flinch at the deflection.

She just tilted her head slightly.

"You’re allowed to be upset, Isabelle. Something frightening happened to you."

Isabelle bit her lip, fingers tightening in her sleeves.

"I didn’t even want to tell them," she said. "My family, I mean. I knew how it would go. And it did."

Simone’s voice stayed soft. "Tell me what happened."

Isabelle shrugged stiffly. "I mentioned it. Just… dropped it into the family group chat. Like ripping off a band-aid. Thought maybe they’d be a little worried, and then we’d move on… " she admitted softly. 

Simone waited again.

Isabelle’s mouth twisted bitterly.  "Arthur and Charles kept asking if I was distracted or speeding—like it was somehow my fault."

Simone’s brows furrowed slightly.

“And then a few days later, Charles found out that it wasn’t just a little fender bender. And suddenly they were angry with me. Because I didn’t tell them how bad it was. But I did. I told them that I was…I told them I had a concussion and bruises…And then Lorenzo," Isabelle continued, voice tightening, "he said—he said he wasn’t going to tell Maman. Because it would 'crush' her."

She laughed, a thin, broken sound.

"Apparently, I’m a bigger problem for them if I exist hurt than if I just… pretend everything’s fine."

Simone stayed silent, letting the words hang in the air between them.

Isabelle blinked hard, willing herself not to cry.

"It’s always been like that since Papa died," she said eventually, quieter now. "Maman either sticks her head into the sand—pretends bad things aren’t happening—or she panics. Makes everything about her fear."

Her voice cracked slightly on the last word, and she pulled her knees tighter to her chest.

"So I learned to make myself smaller. Easier. Less trouble."  She smiled bitterly. "Invisible, sometimes. That’s the safest way to survive it."

Simone leaned forward slightly, her voice still low, but firm now.

"Isabelle, what happened to you wasn't your fault. Not the accident. Not your family's reaction."

Isabelle closed her eyes.

"It feels like it is," she whispered.

"It isn’t," Simone said. "You are allowed to take up space. You are allowed to be hurt. You are allowed to need help, without carrying their feelings on your back."

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

(Members: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Daniel Ricciardo, Carlos Sainz Jr. and Lewis Hamilton)

Lando: okay Lando: hear me out

Oscar: this is already a bad start

Lewis: absolutely not

Daniel: proceed Daniel: i love bad ideas

Lando: what if Lando: instead of everyone panicking about charles finding out Lando: we just... Lando: tell him softly???

Carlos: what the fuck does "softly" mean

Lando: like, we ease him into it Lando: drop hints Lando: plant the idea Lando: subtle Lando: caring

Oscar: you're insane.

Lewis: he'll kill us all.

Daniel: ok but i kinda wanna see where he's going with this

Carlos: no Carlos: lando’s plans never end well

Lando: NO LISTEN Lando: like maybe Lando: i casually say Lando: "hey charles did you know belle’s been hanging out with max lately" Lando: and when he starts freaking out Lando: we just Lando: soothe him Lando: with like Lando: positive reinforcement.

Oscar: you think he's a puppy???

Lewis: lando. Lewis:  this is the worst plan anyone’s ever had.

Carlos: you’re going to get us murdered.

Daniel: actually i’m free next thursday if we wanna die then.

Oscar: i vote no. Oscar: hard no. Oscar: hardest no of my life.

Carlos: softly = we still die  Carlos: but maybe slower and more painful

Lando: NO NO Lando: like Lando: we sit him down Lando: give him snacks Lando: maybe a hug Lando: and then just... you know... gently mention that max is in love with his sister

Oscar: lando.  be serious.

Lando: I am serious

Lewis: this is the worst idea i've heard in a long time

Daniel: give him snacks???  what is he, a wild animal???

Oscar: you’re going to get us killed.

Lewis: softly telling charles is still telling charles.  he’s gonna go full Leclerc rage no matter what.

Daniel: AND THEN MAX IS GOING TO KILL US

Lando: ok but hear me out again Lando: what if we tell him Lando: and then IMMEDIATELY leave the country

Oscar: i'm already packing my bags

Carlos: dibs on Spain

Lewis: i'm going to pretend i don't know any of you

Daniel: same

Daniel: i’ll be in australia by the time charles processes step one.

[yamujiburo]

Why I Love Hanamusa

I get this question very frequently but have never given a really in depth, definitive answer. All just kinda implied through my comics and spread out asks. So here's this I guess! Long post ahead:

First, as a Pokémon fan in her mid 20s, I love seeing a ship where the characters are both in their mid/late 20s. Already, they’re much more relatable to me and my current experiences. Most Pokémon ships are between preteens, which can be cute but ultimately don’t interest me as much as they used to when I was a kid myself. Not enough to get super invested in and draw a lot of fanart for anyways haha.

I’ll also start by saying that canon doesn’t always influence whether or not I’ll ship something. I’m much more drawn to potential. Could the characters work together? Do their personalities work together in a nice way? I feel like this so much of fanon is anyways. Especially with queer relationships because they’re rarely depicted in the first place. A lot of the context for these ships is usually up to the fans to piece together or make up in general. And that’s the fun part to me!

Jessie and Delia have only met in the anime a handful of times. Any interaction they’ve had has either been pleasant, or just a typical Team Rocket interaction, with Delia dismissing them/not seeing them as a threat. Already a great jumping off point for me since, truly, they don’t have any actual beef or true, ill feelings towards each other. It’s not TOO out of the realm of possibility for them to potentially fall for each other. “But Jessie chased Delia’s son around trying to steal his Pokémon!” That’s where that dismissive and aloof attitude that Delia has comes into play. I’ll go more into Delia’s whole deal a bit later but I do think this aspect of her personality is a large reason why this ship can work. It’s not that she doesn’t care that Jessie has a bad past, but she can tell that, on the inside, Jessie’s a good person. And, in a scenario where Jessie is trying to become a better person, is forgiving enough to give her a shot. I feel like this is such a solid foundation for a ship. A character who has done wrong but is trying to be better and another character who is willing to help them be better. A classic dynamic!

It’s not just one-sided though; where Jessie is the only one benefitting and learning from the relationship. I believe Delia could get a lot out of being with someone like Jessie. To understand why, I think it’s important to know these characters’ respective backstories.

Jessie is an orphan/foster child who grew up in poverty. Her mother Miyamoto (from The Birth of Mewtwo) was a Team Rocket operative herself, who went on a mission to find Mew. In order to do this, she had to leave Jessie when she was just a toddler. Unfortunately, Miyamoto went MIA on her mission leaving Jessie to more or less fend for herself. Jessie went through life with zero stability, evident by her MANY different careers and constant moving around. It’s implied in the show that she went from foster home to foster home, and later in life tried being an idol, weather girl, florist, wine connoisseur, actress, most notably a nurse and finally a Team Rocket field agent. And even while in Team Rocket, she, James and Meowth were always doing odd jobs to get by. We see that Jessie used to be a sweet kid, and even adult, but the world and her circumstances repeatedly did her dirty, leading her to become the character we know today. Hot tempered, mean, selfish, etc. But despite this, her soft side does still shine through for the people and Pokémon she cares about. She is incredibly loyal.

Delia, unbeknownst to a lot of fans, also had a rough past (see Pocket Monsters: The Animation). Like Jessie, she had a lot of dreams and aspirations like wanting to be a model and even a trainer. But when she was 10, her mother didn’t let her, telling her that she had to stay home and learn to run the family restaurant (she’s an only child). Delia’s father left her and her mother to be a trainer, and never returned. When she was 18, she married Ash’s father and became pregnant shortly after. But right after Ash was born, he also set off to be a Pokémon trainer. And soon after that, her mother passed away, leaving Delia with just the restaurant and baby Ash. This gives so much context to Delia’s attitude in the show. We see that Delia is pained whenever Ash leaves on a journey, but she never shows that pain to anyone. ESPECIALLY Ash. She’s very quick to shoo him off when he shows any sign of wanting to go on another journey and even when he returns home, she acts more excited to see Pikachu than him almost every time. Without all this backstory, it’s easy to just read this as a funny gag, BUT with context, I think it really shows how quickly Delia shuts down and detaches in order to not confront her own feelings. She’s afraid of losing people and getting hurt again.

All that said, I think Jessie and Delia provide each other with EXACTLY what the other needs. 

Aside from becoming rich and famous, Jessie’s biggest aspiration is to get married. In my opinion, this is more so an underlying want for love and stability. There is no one more stable in the show than Delia. Delia’s lived in Pallet her whole life, she’s worked at the same restaurant since she was young and she is always there when Ash comes back home. She has all the love, patience and stability Jessie needs and craves. While forgiving, Delia’s not stupid and can keep Jessie in check. Delia’s also just an angel, which I feel, would make Jessie want to be better. And on top of all this, on more of a surface level, Delia’s a chef and excellent cook. She shows love through cooking and Jessie, who grew up poor, regularly starving and eating snow, happily receives that love. Jessie’s able to live a happy and healthy life with someone like Delia.

Delia, as stated, is very stable. Likely pretty monotonous and solitary, especially living in such a small town like Pallet. This isn’t a bad thing but it’s a little sad when you consider that Delia also had dreams of traveling, being a model and a trainer. She had to give up so many dreams in order to fulfill her duties as a restaurant owner and mother. And even now, when Ash is off on his journey, she feels the need to always be home and be that stable pillar, leaving behind any ambitions she had, thinking it’s too late for her (she’s only 29 btw). But then along comes Jessie, dangerous, passionate, an absolute firecracker. Someone who’s whole life has been about chasing dreams and either, never giving up on them or finding a new dream to chase. Upon learning about Delia’s past aspirations, I could see Jessie pushing her towards them, letting her know that life’s too short and she has nothing to lose from trying. On top of this, Jessie’s also loyal. She, James and Meowth are depicted as doing anything for anyone who gives them food or shows them kindness. Delia does both so there’s no way Jessie would leave her. This fulfills an essential need for Delia, who is afraid of the people in her life leaving her.

There’s so much potential for mutual growth and learning between these two and I adore that. They compliment each other, they help each other and they bring out the best qualities in one another.

I’m not really sure how to end this and I could truly talk about them even more but I don’t want this to be tooooo long haha. OH I could end it with maybe the most funny aspect of this ship that I've brushed over and also what drew me to it in the first place. Jessie. As Ash’s stepmom. THE END.

[shouyuus]

─── Ⅵ MARCO, PORO

sfw, florist!reader x bartender!vi au; nothing but fluff for the (belated) bday girl @vifilms !!! i hope you like it bby!!!! im sorry it so late but u asked for fluff and i had to deliver! :D and @nightcityaliens as well bc this was vaguely based off of one of your asks!

she finds him after your third date (or, not even really a date because it wasn't really planned — but then again, your previous two dates are also kind of off-cuff; you making good on your promise to "buy her a drink" and showing up with coffee the next morning at yours), the pair of you sharing breakfast at the cafe around the corner not even a week later, you lost in the eos-blue of her eyes, her entranced by the morning glory shade of your laughter, the glittering giddiness of new love bubbling through you both, threatening to spill over, light as just-poured champagne.

he's a wet nose and big floppy ears and eyes so dark and watery you can almost fall into them.

"he was just in a box in the alley behind the bar," vi says, cradling the puppy in her arms as you blink at them both, framed in your doorway, vi in her striped slacks and white shirt, the puppy the color of a summer sunrise — a spill of pale gold — the pair of them limned in the technicolored burst of flowers that line your store.

"oh!" is the only thing you can say, wiping your palms on your pinafore.

as if on cue, poro leaps up onto your opened windowsill, her whiskers twitching forward as she takes in the scene. her ears turn, her head lilts, a flash of pink tongue across her silken white fur as she lets out a soft purr before leaping deftly off the windowsill to wind herself between your ankles, looking up at you with her big blue eyes, trilling out an inquisitive mreow? as if to ask — and what is the meaning of this?

you sigh, reaching down to scoop her up, sinking your fingers into her coat.

in vi's arms, the puppy yips, panting, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth as he squirms.

"what should we name him?" vi asks, laughing as she scritches the puppy behind his ears and his hind leg thumps against the air. you feel the now-familiar coil of warmth in your chest as you watch vi hoist the puppy up and bury her face in his petal-soft belly.

"i — i don't know — is vander gonna be okay with keeping a dog in the bar?" you ask, shifting to the side to set poro down on a workbench, where she tip-toes to the edge and sits, perched, her fluffy tail wrapping around her paws as she assesses the situation.

"yeah, he'll be fine — he's a big softy for animals, especially for strays," she says, chuckling as she allows the puppy to knaw on her thumb, his paws almost too large for the rest of him. there's a helpless nostalgia in her voice, and then you remember, with a jolt, that vi's adopted, along with the rest of her makeshift siblings.

"oh… right. well —" you swallow, turning around and reaching for a handful of bright yellow carnations, "maybe you can ask him for a name!"

a soft yip followed by a streak of white fur makes you jerk around, only to find vi standing by the edge of the workbench, holding the puppy out towards where poro had been sitting a second before, a guilty smile on her face.

"whoops — i uh — i was hoping they could be friends."

you purse your lips around a laugh, looking down to find poro crouched beneath the bench, her tail tapping against the leaf-strewn floor, casting you a reproachful look.

"come on, poro… don't be like that…" you crouch down to offer her a hand in consolation. she regards it for a brief moment before bumping her head against it, though her tail still swishing behind her in a silent flag of displeasure.

"poro? that's a cute name — how'dyou come up with that?"

you push back up, going back to the carnations as vi readjusts her grip on the puppy, who's now very invested in chewing on the ends of her dyed pink hair.

you shrug, "dunno, actually… it just kinda felt like it fit, no?"

you glance at her, only to find her smiling.

"what about marco?"

you blink placidly at her, fighting the incredulous wingbeat laughter fluttering at the back of your throat.

"really? marco and poro?"

vi's grin only grows, "c'mon! it's cute!"

your lips twitch into an unwiling smile even as you turn back to your carnations with a deep sigh. it is cute, but it's also terribly, horribly, world-endingly cheesy. the kind of cheese that melts into dad-joke territory where you'd once promised yourself you'd never slip into. but, here you are, slipping. and all because the hot butch bartender from across the street bought you some goddamned flowers from your own goddamned shop.

"it's not the worst name," you conceed; vi takes it for the victory it is, whooping as she tosses the puppy into the air, catching him and holding him out above her in a pose alarmingly reminiscent of simba from the lion king. you head her off before she can start singing the song, flapping your hands at her even as poro lets out another imperious mewl from under your workbench.

"okay, okay — you and marco are both distracting me! i'm not gonna have the outdoor arrangements done by opening."

vi's shoulders bunch up around her ears as she drapes marco over her one shoulder, shooting you a sheepish smile.

"oops, sorry. i'll uh — i'll swing by before opening shift then?"

you purse your lips around a smile that's already bourbon-soaked and honey-spread.

"sure, yeah. we can uhm —" you motion at marco as he flops nearly backwards out of vi's arms, "take him for a walk, or something."

vi's entire face lights up, "yeah! that'd be —" she catches herself even as the eagerness pours from her. she clears her throat, "that'd be great," she finishes, looking back down at marco.

poro wends herself around your ankels and bumps her head against your calf. you lean down to scoop her up as well, you and vi facing one another, each with an animal cradled in your arms, hedging and hesitant as the day dawns crystaline bright outside.

"i'll — i'll see you later then," vi says.

you nod, feeling the steady swish-swish of poro's tail along your apron as you follow vi and marco to the door. poro jumps out of your arms to settle on the wide window ledge, her bright blue eyes lake-clear and midsummer-bright.

marco lets out a joyous bark as vi laughs, adjusting him in her arms as she waves at you and jogs back across the steet. right before she ducks into the darkened alley behind the bar, she twists to cast you one more smile. it's so wide that you can see it from all the way across the street.

you feel warmth plume up the back of your neck as vi shoots you a wink before letting the darkness wrap itself around her and she disappears into the back alley once more. you stand there for a moment longer, watching the place where she'd been, the after image of her printed along the insides of your eyes, her outlines painted there, fading with each and every blink.

you turn to offer poro a hand, which she bumps casually with her head, settling down into her haunches, curling her paws beneath her chest.

"i know," you say, as if in answer to her wide-eyed stare, "but… you'll grow to love them. promise."

TAGLIST: @traiitorjoe @rizzscary @wetcat020 @alex-thegiraffeboyy @nanasemo @saturnhas82moons @unear7hly @drsnowrose @grantaires-waistcoat @isab3lita @ally-all-around @starrysetup22 @lipsent @lewd_alien @jack-frost-2010 @starsfortaylor @onesockcat @lesbian-useless @the-drama-is-real @froggybich @chwlogy @xrhyllamyx @yaeil @sweetybuzz25 @lustfirepoison @gigizwrld @bruisedbygod @luvmoo @autisticgirlkisser @elegantunknowncloud @norwayromanoff @16novvs -- join the taglist

[meaningofaeons]

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ emotionally unavailable

⊹ character(s) - gepard landau, jing yuan, sampo koski ⊹ word count - 3.3k ⊹ notes - gn!reader (sampo, gepard), fem!reader (jing yuan, you're referred to as 'lady'), reader is emotionally constipated or just kinda stoic as the title suggests, I guess you could say tsundere?? mostly fluff -w- ⊹ part 2 here!

sorry for the delay on new writing!! honestly I've had a bit to do around the house and the inspiration hasn't been inspiring Σ(;Φ ω Φ) if you want to send in a request, feel free! I could use some new ideas ♡(ﾐ ᵕ̣̣̣̣̣̣ ﻌ ᵕ̣̣̣̣̣̣ ﾐ)ﾉ thanks for the support!

⊹ Gepard Landau

You honestly didn't have much to think about the Captain of the Silvermane Guards.

Aside from the due respect and mild admiration that just about everyone in Belobog held for him and his military group, you didn't have much else to say. The two of you had never even spoken.

The only connection you could possibly have to him was via his sister, Serval Landau. She was your friend (a tentative word for your situation, you surmise) and would often have him over at her store.

You also tended to lounge about the Neverwinter Workshop ("hanging out", Serval would call it, but you begged to differ), but you had never really paid him much mind, and you assumed he had paid you the same.

Serval's favorite nickname for you is "lounging stray" due to the way you came in and out as you pleased, staying only for food and rest when it was available.

The most you recall interacting with the imposing man was a hesitant wave when he had entered the shop while Serval was out.

After all, it would have been quite rude to completely ignore him—though, honestly, you never cared much for politeness, so you had always mulled that incident over in your head. Why had you greeted him?

About a week later, you were mildly surprised to see a bouquet of flowers in Serval's hands from Eversummer Florist.

It wasn't exactly an unusual assumption to make that the down-to-earth rock-and-roll enthusiast would have her share of admirers, but they were typically more forthcoming with their affections from what you'd observed.

But then, upon spotting you, she promptly shoved them into your arms, announcing that they had been addressed to you, not her.

You hadn't felt your face shift that much in years, nor had you ever experienced that level of shock before.

"Looks like someone has a secret admirer," Serval touted, tuning her guitar on the side with a smirk playing on her lips. Her tone was drawn out, knowing, as if this were some elaborate prank she was in on.

"Wow, Ball Peonies, even? What an expensive spread! Lucky Y/N!"

You didn't even spare her a glance as you took your usual seat in her workshop, thumbing one of the petals with mildly intrigued contemplation.

In your rush to lounge about the workshop and ignore your friend's loud teasing, you failed to notice Gepard at his sister's side, nor the way his ears turned red and he hurried to hush Serval.

"I don't get it," you murmured at last, both siblings' heads whipping over to you. "I don't talk to anyone. Except you, that is."

"Well, I didn't send them. Sorry, my little stray, but as much as I adore you, it's not in that way!"

You gave Serval an unamused raise of your brow, then huffed, mumbling a 'whatever' as you lay on the windowsill in the corner of the shop.

However, that pair of blue eyes sneakily noted that your attention was still taken with the flowers, far from your usual routine of pulling out your phone to scroll.

Eventually, you held them on your chest, deigning to stare out the window as you began drifting off into a half-conscious nap. Your rest, however, was awoken by the sound of loud whispering. Serval noticed the unimpressed look on your face and laughed, clapping her hands together before patting Gepard on the back, who looked thoroughly embarrassed. His face was bright red.

"Well, I gotta head out and run some errands! Keep Y/N company for me, huh, Geppie? They can get lonely."

You chose to ignore that last bit, raising your hand and waving at your friend who practically flew out the door.

An awkward silence settled over the room, which miffed you a bit. What did you have to feel awkward about? This had happened before with other people.

Even then, you weren't keen on breaking it. It seemed the Captain had other plans, though.

"Um..." Gepard spoke up from across the workshop, standing just a bit uncomfortably as he shifted from foot to foot. You glanced over your shoulder at him from where you lay, waiting for him to speak. "Sorry about Serval. She can be a bit much."

"I know," you replied simply, unable to meet his eye for some reason. "I'm in here a lot."

"I know," Gepard echoed. Then, his face went back to tomato-red. "Um, I mean, I see you around a lot in here whenever I visit. Not that I'm intentionally staring at you, or anything of that sort! I just notice—"

"It's okay, I got what you meant."

"Right! Right." The Captain shut himself up, thorough mortification making its way back to his face as he scratched the back of his neck. "S-Sorry, uh, for rambling."

"It's fine."

Well, this was getting painful.

You stunned yourself momentarily when you opened your mouth to speak back first.

"So, uh... How's being Captain and everything?" you murmured, almost too quiet for Gepard to hear. When he realized you had spoken first, his face brightened just a bit, though he still appeared to be fighting the humiliation off his face from his earlier verbal blunder.

"Well, how much would you like to hear about?"

You shrugged. "Anything, I guess. Got any cool stories from the front lines?"

The blonde man smiled, taking the chance to tentatively move closer, pulling over Serval's stool and taking a seat.

"Well..."

About ten minutes later, Serval had decided to spare her poor brother from any more awkwardness, completely sure that the workshop would be thick with silence due to his bashfulness and your nonchalance.

To her surprise, though, she heard muffled voices from within. Serval opened the door as carefully and quietly as she could, peeking her head in just enough to see a sight she never thought she'd see.

You were smiling, even laughing a bit, engaging in conversation about Gepard's duties and your own daily activities (even if there were little of those) from your place on the sill. Her brother seemed to be enjoying himself too, gesturing with his hands as he talked up his own underlings' achievements in battle.

The eldest Landau watched for only a moment longer before shutting the door softly.

"I should go get something to eat... give them a little space."

⊹ Jing Yuan

You liked to call your relationship to the General of the Luofu strictly professional at most.

To call it anything more, in your mind, would be disrespect of the highest order to the man who has defended the fleet for centuries.

Besides, you didn't know if you were exactly capable of anything beyond that. Even your limited friends agreed that you were just about as stoic as one could get.

You frequently heard of their debates with other workers within the Seat of Divine Foresight even as you worked—who was more difficult to approach, you or the General himself?

You scoffed to yourself whenever your so-called "friends" argued that you were, in fact, harder to speak to.

What's so wrong with being professional? If anything, you should be telling them off for gossiping in the workplace.

Still, you couldn't exactly argue with them.

Being the right-hand of the General was enough for you to learn his mannerisms even over a short time, though now, after serving at his side for several decades, you could confidently say he was far less intimidating than everyone made him out to be.

Not that you cared, of course. Strictly professional, you told yourself. His mannerisms had nothing to do with you unless they affected work.

Even with your indifference, though, the General was being... odd lately.

Jing Yuan let out an unabashed yawn as he slumped into his chair, tugging at his hair as he polished off the last of his paperwork.

For once, you thought to yourself with a huff of amusement, going through your own papers at an impressive speed. Read, approve or deny, sign, move on.

Considering he hadn't skimped on his own work, there was no real reason for you to be giving yourself early onset carpal tunnel as you typically did, but you figured it would be best to finish the work as soon as possible anyhow.

It meant less work tomorrow, the day after, and the day after that, for not only you but the other Luofu staff as well.

"...ey."

Your brain tuned out all other noise as you moved past yet another proposal, flicking to the next page of your increasingly shrinking stack.

"Lady Y/N. Hello?"

You ignored the growling within your stomach. After this is done, you thought to yourself, I'll treat myself to a meal at home.

"Lady Y/N."

You jumped nearly ten feet out of your seat at the low voice whispering in your ear, clapping a hand over the side of your head as red-hot mortification set in. You glanced to your side to spot the culprit—none other than your General, Jing Yuan.

Had he just whispered into your ear?! The feeling of his warm breath still lingered.

"General!" you shouted, taking a deep breath as you tried to reel back your attitude and present yourself with decorum, as always. "I am working on these proposals, so if you could please refrain from pulling pranks, it would be much appreciated."

Jing Yuan gave you a wry smile, raising his hands innocently.

"Is part of your job description not answering to me?" he asked unfeignedly, golden eyes twinkling. "I called your name about ten times."

"Well, yes, but..." You raised a brow a moment later. "Surely not ten. I heard my name a total of twice."

"So you were listening." You heaved a sigh. Ever stubborn, he was. "Does that mean you were consciously ignoring me? My, the gall, Lady Y/N."

"Not at all, General," you assured. "Only absorbed in my duties. Now, do you need something of me?"

Jing Yuan tapped his chin, settling into the seat next to you and stretching out. He didn't get too comfortable, though, you discerned. Was he planning to head out for the night?

"Well, yes, I suppose I do. I'm sure you'll only listen if it's a direct order from me, after all."

"Of course, General. I am at your beck and call." He chose to ignore the edge of sarcasm in your voice as you resumed your proposals, trying to finish as many as you could before he announced his task.

"Lady Y/N, I'd be delighted if you would join me for a meal. Anywhere of your choosing, and it will be my treat."

"Right, of course. It will be done, General," you mused half-heartedly, before your froze in your tracks, hand stilling midway through a signature. "...Wh—"

"Fantastic. Then I will await you at the door," Jing Yuan smiled again, and you felt yourself welling up with exasperation at the cockiness displayed in it. "Please don't keep me waiting too long, Lady Y/N. Those proposals can always wait one more day, but I am short on time myself."

You were about ready to protest, dropping your pen as you nearly rose to your feet. Your face was hot.

"General, I—!"

"You wouldn't think of backing out after agreeing so openly, would you?" the white-haired man teased, and then, after contemplating for a moment, he held out a hand. "In fact, why don't we depart right now? Just so I can be sure you won't get absorbed in doing more advance work."

He had completely trapped you. You furrowed your brow in disbelief, and then heaved a deep, long sigh. Finally, after leaving him to stand and await your decision for just a few moments longer, you took his hand.

"Very well. But General, if I may..."

"Of course, my dear."

You flushed again, but remained steadfast in your words.

"To make up for this trickery, please do not skip out on your paperwork again."

Jing Yuan's low, rumbly laughter caused you to look away, lest your feelings show on your face. He still did not let go of your hand.

"I suppose that is only fair. You have a deal, Lady Y/N."

⊹ Sampo Koski

You would be completely remiss to allow anyone to refer to you and Sampo as acquaintances, much less friends.

Although the two of you had grown up fairly close, he allowed you no clemency from his constant scams.

It turned into more of a game for him as time passed, though—your natural stoicism and good head on your shoulders didn't allow any of his jabs or tricks to pull through.

That was perhaps what kept him stuck like glue to your side all these years, though... The fact that you were the one person he couldn't quite swindle.

Not that he actually wanted to, anyhow.

As much as Sampo was a slimy businessman in the eyes of pretty much everyone, he didn't seek a profit from someone as close as you. Well, not unless he did you a favor first, of course, but that's basic reciprocation.

You, on the other hand, found yourself perplexed as of late.

Sure, you had known Sampo for practically your whole life, but getting close to someone or being close by birth didn't make you any less inclined to cut them off if they interfered with your life to a degree that you found to be annoying.

You enjoyed the predictable, the mundanity of your daily life working as a trainee doctor under Natasha. You didn't need anyone in your life who might throw a wrench into the ordinary you currently enjoyed.

So why was Sampo the exception?

It was a fairly typical, ordinary, boring evening when you walked into the clinic—12am sharp, just as Natasha had requested of you. You were frankly quite lucky that she didn't ask more of you, but you supposed she was already pushing her own ability to ask favors of you by requesting you watch the overnight patients while she rested.

You didn't mind, of course. You'd always been a bit of a night owl, especially with the somewhat perpetual darkness of the Underworld thanks to Belobog looming over top of you.

Not to mention, you and Sampo had always spent most of your time together in the evenings anyways, the nighttime routine well suited to both of your sleeping schedules.

You felt a twinge of annoyance shoot through you at the thought of the blue haired man, and quickly placed a hand to your forehead between bandage changings for the patient on the table.

There he was again. Sampo, Sampo, Sampo!

Though you could usually push him out of your mind without a second thought, it was beyond you why he was suddenly popping into your brain more nowadays.

Sometimes it was a mere, 'I wonder what Sampo is up to right now. Not more trouble, I hope.'

Sometimes it was something more bordering worry, and those passing thoughts irritated you the most. What did you care? If he got hurt, it would likely be justified in the wake of one of his scams.

You could rationalize those ideas with the notion of not wanting more work at the clinic should he get injured, but even that was weak. Sampo deigned to avoid Natasha for his own wounds, not wanting to burden the leader of Wildfire, likely more out of fear than actual selflessness.

Still, though—

"Heeeey, Y/N! Miss me?"

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

"What do you want, Koski?" Your tone was flat, not even sparing him a glance as you moved to your next patient. Changing bandages again, a simple routine that could hopefully keep your mind occupied this time.

"So cold..." You could hear the beginnings of a pout on his lips, finding yourself sighing irritably. "I came to see you, after all!"

Your hands paused for a moment, stilling. A minute tremble in his voice. You whipped your head around to focus your sharp eyes on him, and he winced back, his typical happy-go-lucky smile faltering.

"H-Hey, what's the matter? Helping Miss Nat out with some late night patients aga—"

"Show me," you ordered, finishing the bandage you were currently on and standing up, moving towards Sampo with your arms crossed. He backed up, hands raised in surrender.

"Whaddya mean, I'm— Ouch!"

The conman couldn't help the yelp he let out when his back made contact with the wall, wincing painfully as his wound hit the hard surface. You raised a brow, unimpressed.

"Shirt off, Sampo Koski. Now."

"Woah, woah, at least take me to dinner first!"

Your glare worsened into something stormy as you pointed at the chair nearby.

"Sit down, shirt off, now. Don't make me repeat myself again."

With the face of a wounded puppy, Sampo slunk over to the chair, doing as you asked. He hissed through his teeth as the cloth of his outerwear dragged against the wound, the layers giving way to a deep trio of gashes on the skin of his back. Even with all your medical training, you found yourself cringing at the sight.

"So, Doc, what's the prognosis?" the man laughed weakly, still trying with his jokes even through his pain.

When you remained quiet, his smile fell, and he turned to look at you. If it were anyone else, you might've mistaken that frown for concern.

"Y/N? You... okay?"

"Be quiet," you huffed out at last, grabbing your rolling table of medical supplies and bringing it around, pulling out a chair as you began to inspect the wounds. "What was it this time?"

"Ah, you know, same old, same old! Just some disgruntled robots, not too keen on letting me make a profit with their buddy's parts!"

"You're an idiot."

The usual Sampo would've shot back with some witty or flirty one-liner that was sure to earn him a smack over the head, but when he heard the slight tremble to your voice, he decided it'd be best to keep his mouth shut for now.

"This'll sting. Don't shout, or you'll wake the other patients."

He bit his lip, expecting a harsh serving of antiseptic, but your hands were... gentler this time. You tenderly cleaned the wound with a water-soaked cloth, and though it did sting a bit, it was far nicer than your usual tough treatments from the ire he earned getting injured all the time.

Soon after, he felt you gently patting the wound down with a soft towel, bandages following soon after that you reached around his torso to wrap around him.

Then, you reached for the pack of painkillers.

Sampo was quick to laugh nervously, pushing the pack away when you held it out to him along with a glass of water.

"Hey, hey! Thanks, Y/N, but I really shouldn't be using Miss Natasha's painkillers. Besides, with how sweetly and tenderly you just patched me up, I'm feeling better already!" he fake-swooned, clasping his hands together like a maiden in love to ham up his act.

You were far from impressed.

"You're a bad liar, Sampo Koski," you scoffed, shoving the water and pills past his defensive hands. "Take it. I can't convince you to stay here and actually rest for a change, so it's the least you can do."

When he still looked apprehensive, you swallowed your pride, lowering your gaze and averting your eyes as your face went just the tiniest bit pink.

"...For me."

Sampo honestly thought he misheard you for a moment, but he finally, hesitantly, took the medicine you offered. You led him over to the door, and he laughed breathlessly, finally giving you another smile as he shrugged his shirt and coat back on.

"All right, all right. I'll get out of your hair, and take these. Just for you."

The conman cackled and ran all the way down the alleyways as you shouted after him, fist raised. Once he had disappeared, though, you let it fall to your side, sighing again.

This time, there was a hint of fondness... but that was something else you would be remiss to admit to.

[galacticghoste]

Yep I see tails as a young adult with premature graying hair/fur I think he could become a bit of a workaholic as he gets older. Also see him being a tall boy at least taller then sonic bc that be funny.

His friends still call him tails but only them

(Im not too sure how he would lose both his lower arms but best guess maybe due to an accident while working on a new project course that didn't stop him )

I can see Cream being a tutor she gives off miss honey vibes to me she focuses on children who may need more help and of-course a florist since she has two daughters who love flowers and are kinda a flower

[honeyhotteok]

summary: jake comes in to your flower shop day after day to buy flowers. (jake x florist!reader)

--

The door chime jingles. You look up and see a tall man with his hair slicked back under his cap and scars on his face walk into the shop.

"Welcome, let me know if you need any help."

"Sure," he flashes you a warm smile and has a look around the store.

He pauses in front of the carnations display, scratching his head while glancing back at his phone screen. You peer over at him curiously.

You start to walk over to him ready to offer assistance, but he immediately swivels around, surprised to see you standing closer to him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I was just-"

"No, please don't be sorry. I'll just get these...uh..."

"The mini carnations?"

He nods with a sheepish smile.

After he pays for the carnations, you watch him leave and walk across the street from the storefront window with a sigh. He was kinda cute, you think to yourself.

-

You're unpacking a delivery in the storage area when you hear the door jingle. You do a quick wipe of your hands on your apron and emerge from the back, pleasantly surprised to see the same man from yesterday.

He flashes you his signature smile.

He continues walking through the shop and lingers in front of the daffodil display. “Do you have any recommendations?”

His warm brown eyes meet yours.

“Well, what’s the person you’re planning on giving these flowers to like?”

“Lovely, but...prickly?”

You contemplate his vague answer, flipping through the encyclopedia of flowers in your florist brain.

He picks up a bouquet of roses to take a whiff, then nods his head in your direction. “What about you? What’s your favorite flower?”

“Me? Hm... I really like honeysuckles. I like that they represent both true happiness and first love. Plus they smell nice."

“That’s pretty,” he murmurs.

He remains deep in thought gazing at the display in front of him, then heads to the register with a daffodil bouquet.

"Not a fan of my expert suggestion, huh," you jest.

He laughs. "No, just...not for this person."

Curious, you open your mouth to speak, but decide not to pry.

You notice the way his hands wrap around the bouquet, sensing strength but also softness. You find yourself staring at his fingers a little too long before snapping out of your wandering thoughts.

He gives you a wave as he exits the shop, and you can't help returning his smile.

-

You watch him from behind the counter, back for the third time this week. Your heart flutters at the sight of him, but this time your eyes also follow him with a bit more wariness.

He does a brief circle of the shop before haphazardly plucking a pink rose out and placing it in front of the register.

You clear your throat a little. “Why do you buy a different flower every time you come here?"

“For my seven girlfriends, of course.”

You scoff at the confirmation of your suspicion, but why do you feel so disappointed, a little hurt even, to hear him say that?

“Actu-”

“That’ll be 29,600 won,” you reply curtly.

“Oh. Sure,” he fishes his wallet out of his pocket.

You look out the store window and let out a deep sigh as he leaves.

You head to the back to continue cutting stems so you can keep yourself busy. Whatever, another one-sided crush to get over.

-

“Pink roses again?” You avoid eye contact with him as you ring him up.

“Yeah, it looks like I finally found one my mom likes,” he smiles.

You pause in the middle of entering the numbers into the register screen. “Your mom?”

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to visit her more often and make it up to her by getting her flowers every time I visit. I guess she was still pretty mad at me, since she refused to tell me what types of flowers she actually likes and kept me guessing,” he laughs.

You try not to crumple onto the floor in embarrassment of your dramatic reaction the other day.

“Oh, right, can I get one more thing?”

You nod. “Sure.”

“Can I get the bouquet with the honeysuckles and red roses?”

You reach for the bouquet behind the counter, sighing to yourself. You wish someone would get you a bouquet this romantic including your favorite flower.

You ring up his purchase and hand him the bouquet.

“Thank you,” he says as his fingers brush over yours.

He reaches back out to you while holding the bouquet.

“Here, these are for you,” he beams.

"I'm Jake, by the way."

[redisaid]

In Dreams - Chapter 2 of ???

Flower Language

Maybe there's more hints about what this project is. Maybe there isn't. Maybe it's just weird dreamy kinda smut in here. I don't know fam.

NSFW

3496 Words

Read it on Ao3!

I saw you in a dream, you came to me You were the sweetest apparition, such a pretty vision There was no reason, no explanation The perfect hallucination

“Have you decided?”

The question lingers in the air, echoing across Jaina’s memory of all the other times it was asked of her.

This time, however, her answer is different. “I have.”

Sylvanas smirks up at her, sprawled in her chair with one leg over the armrest. It rolls slightly beneath her on its casters as she pushes off with the foot she’s still got on the ground. The plastic and cloth mesh of its backing collide with Jaina’s thighs gently.

“Let’s hear it then,” Sylvanas says as she leans back, pointed ears and platinum hair joining the collage of textures against Jaina’s jeans.

“A fern frond.”

The whirl of tiny wheels and the sudden absence of Sylvanas’ warmth from her leg tell Jaina this isn’t an expected answer. That’s fine with her. She doesn’t expect to be expected.

“Not a flower? Really?” Sylvanas asks.

The chair and the elf within it are facing Jaina now. Soft grey eyes peer up at her questioningly, but not judging. Sylvanas seems to genuinely want to know why.

And Jaina supposes it’s an answer she’s owed. As the florist next door, the natural assumption is that Jaina would want a flower as her first ever tattoo. She loves flowers. She wouldn’t have made a life for herself out of cultivating and arranging them if she didn’t, but that doesn’t mean she feels that strongly about them. That doesn’t mean they mean what she wants them to mean to her.

It’s why she’s put the answer to this question off for so long. To her, a tattoo ought to mean something. Jaina needs it to mean something to her.

“Flowers have a language,” Jaina tells her. “Sometimes, it’s better not to say anything at all.”

Would she get a wild rose to represent a life mixed with pleasure and pain? A peony to wish herself prosperity? A forget-me-not as some homage to all things past and dead and gone?

No. These say too much and too little. Symbols are symbols and stand for a thing that can be summed up in a word or a phrase. Jaina is more than that and also less.

Ferns have a meaning too. She knows this. She knows what it is. Jaina knows all of this and too much about it. She can speak sentences in her arrangement--poems even. She doesn’t think that Sylvanas will know that meaning, though, and that’s fine with her. It’s how she justifies what she does want to say, and it starts with a foundation of ferns.

Sylvanas, however, doesn’t say anything. Her chair rolls across the tile again, to a station she’d begun prepping before Jaina even closed up shop and walked next door.

“Please tell me you’re doing it in color,” is all she remarks after a while.

When Jaina looks over to her, she sees her contemplating a rack of ink bottles. “Yes. I love a good, deep green.”

Grey eyes turn to appraise her, and the smirk beneath them returns. “And where are we placing my latest work of art?”

Sylvanas looks her up and down as if she hasn’t seen the whole of her before--as if Jaina hasn’t been here before a hundred times just to chat, and a dozen or so to go up to her apartment above the shop for more than just a chat. Sylvanas has seen her naked in her sheets. She’s tasted her in every way she could be tasted. She knows her body in ways that Jaina hasn’t shared with many people, and even better than some she’s attempted to share with.

It’s this teasing and pretending that keeps her coming back--the hiding they do amidst the ferns.

Jaina lifts her shirt in answer. She slides a finger across her lower abdomen in an arc, tracing the soft skin above her left hip bone.

“Here,” she says.

Sylvanas laughs, “That’s going to fucking hurt.”

“According to you, they all hurt,” Jaina reminds her.

Though how much, Jaina questions. The woman before her is covered in ink. Her skin contains multitudes of both meaning and lack of meaning. There’s three arrows on her upper arm for her siblings, but also a fat black bulldog smoking a cigar on her left calf that she and her coworker thought would be funny to do one day. It’s an inside joke--she insisted once when Jaina asked--that she’s since forgotten.

Still, it can’t be that bad if Sylvanas is covered in tattoos. Jaina thinks herself just as resilient.

“A limb would be a better choice for a first one, but I’m not saying I think you can’t hack it,” Sylvanas clarifies. “And it would be pretty there. Plus I’d get to see my own art plenty once it's healed.”

Jaina can’t help but grin with her. It’s infectious--that lopsided smile of hers. That same expression made her feel safe and welcome, the first time they met. It’s as much genuine as it is a performance. Meaning without meaning--Jaina understands that.

“Who knows if I’ll feel like showing it to you, hmm?” she challenges, just to get that grin to widen.

“Oh, I think you will,” Sylvanas tells her. “Do you still trust me to freehand it then?”

Jaina nods.

She trusts Sylvanas with many things. It’s an odd sentiment. Months ago, before whatever it is that lies between them now began, she was afraid of this place. Well no, not afraid. Cautious is a better word, but even then that doesn’t capture the whole of it. Jaina had simply never had the occasion to be in a tattoo shop before and assumed too many things about them from her otherwise tangential knowledge. Walking in, asking to borrow someone’s phone to call a locksmith one evening when she’d dropped her keys to the flower shop down a storm drain, had not been her intended first experience with such a place and its proprietor.

But now, she’s here almost every night.

When she closes her own doors and locks them up, Jaina will take a moment to contemplate the mixture of colors their strip of shops makes on wet pavement. Sylvanas’ shop is to the left of hers, looking at it from the street. An aquarium supply and fish store is to the right. The right is always too blue, interrupted only by the black silhouette of the ugly fish that has always occupied the tank facing the window, having never been sold. Jaina’s flowers and the neons of Sylvanas’ tattoo studio blend into a better rainbow together.

All the colors say more than just one. Their cacophony of pinks and yellows and oranges and greens and purples are a symphony too loud and long to be summarized. Life itself--a jumble of abstraction that cannot be fully voiced.

The tip of the felt marker that Sylvanas draws on her with is cold. It tickles a bit, but Jaina stills herself not to move. She lays now on the tattoo chair, flat on her back, shirt hiked up to sit just under her breasts.

Sylvanas bends over her, intent and drawing on her skin. It’s as intimate as a kiss, watching her like this. She concentrates. Her long elven brows furrow. She breathes and Jaina feels it on the lines and shapes that are beginning to form the outline of a fern on her.

“Almost there,” Sylvanas tells her, but Jaina would be fine with staying here all night, watching her like this.

Jaina both dreads what comes next and thoroughly enjoys this part, so she is content to wait. She’s sure she can handle the pain. Thinking back on her life before all this is really just a flash of pain. That’s all she allows it to be. The now is better. Her present treats her better, and she chooses where, when, and how the pain comes.

When Sylvanas does eventually finish, she’s standing behind her, looking at her work in the mirror with Jaina. Her fingers trace Jaina’s hip, just beneath the marks she’s made on her.

“What do you think?” she asks.

Jaina thinks the answer is in her eyes. She can see them in the reflection. She thinks they say that Sylvanas looks good, standing behind her, hands on her skin. She thinks they say that the fern frond is perfectly rendered in a little curl, such that the spotted sori and their spores are visible on the portion that turns to show the underside of the frond. The detail on the sketch is exquisite, and Jaina knows the tattoo will be even better. She’s seen Sylvanas’ work walking in and out of her shop plenty of times on the skin of many people, and has felt the work of her hands all over her body otherwise. She trusts them. She trusts her.

“It’s beautiful,” Jaina says, but the single word isn’t enough. It will have to do, for now.

The tattoo shop is quiet. Sylvanas normally has music on, or a movie. Not tonight. It’s too late and too significant.

Soon enough, there is new music in the buzzing of a tattoo needle. The movie is Jaina, watching the color stain her skin and trying not to move or even breathe too hard.

Jaina thinks that the description Sylvanas gave her before of it feeling like being pinched really hard over and over again is pretty accurate. As those now gloved hands stretch the skin of her abdomen and ink permanent lines into it, Jaina understands why an arm or a leg might be better. There’s both more support and more firm padding beneath them. All of it brings to mind that there is a physicality to this she did not think about before it was happening to her.

Pain is the furthest thing from her mind. It’s there but it’s not. Sylvanas holds her steady like Jaina might hold a bouquet as she cuts the stems down to size--trying to fit it into a slightly too-short vase and keep the arrangement still intact. She doesn’t let Jaina fall apart. She doesn’t let her ruin the arrangement. The meanings of the flowers and the way they’re presented together in formation remains.

Jaina can see that concentration in her again, and that’s what she focuses on most. Sylvanas bites her lip through a particularly challenging-looking curve. She flicks her eyes up and down with the needle when she switches to a shader, making small sweeping movements look like an elegant dance of fingers as color pours into the outline.

This hurts more. Jaina knows the why of it too. Sylvanas showed her the shader head before, how it’s more than one needle, a collection of them in a line. Of course it hurts more.

Still, that’s nothing to her. She can ignore it. She can focus instead on something better.

Jaina thinks that the optimist in her is always on the verge of dying. It has little reason to cling on, but still, it persists. It tells her there’s hope for better days, for sunshine and flowers when she feels like she’s just stuck in these rainy nights. But the rainy nights themselves are not so bad. Not when she spends them with Sylvanas.

Perhaps that’s why her optimist continues to hang on.

It’s over as soon as Jaina’s gotten used to it. It hurts probably the most of all when Sylvanas wipes the last of the green that clouds the finished tattoo off of her with a damp paper towel. This at least is followed by her applying some sort of soothing, bubbling thing with a gentler wipe.

She smirks as a third pass moves this out of the way, leaving nothing to obstruct the piece. “A fine fern, if I do say so myself,” she remarks. “Sit up slow for me now. There you go.”

A hand supports Jaina as she rises in the chair and she doesn’t expect to tremble. She felt so steady and sure there at the end. It was almost meditative, really. Maybe it's the sudden lack of that state that causes her to shake, just slightly. Maybe it's the fear of the new permanence of her altered skin. Maybe it’s the way that Sylvanas holds her together like a bouquet that threatens to split apart--a sonnet in danger of losing its closing couplet.

The hand on her back stills her and guides Jaina to stand, walking her in front of the full length mirror.

The tattoo reflecting back at her is beautiful. It’s perfect and says too much without saying anything.

“I love it,” Jaina says.

She wants to say “I love you”, but that’s not what she’s here for today. It may not be what she comes into this shop to say ever.

Some things are better left unsaid and undefined. Their meaning is in the interpretation, not the saying of it.

Ferns, for example, mean many things in flower language. Chief among these are mystery, magic, and secret love.

Sylvanas smiles that crooked smile over Jaina’s shoulder. “I love it too,” she says.

There’s a lecture after about caring for and healing the tattoo that Jaina will likely need reminding of later. Luckily, they are neighbors. Jaina can come over any time she needs it recalled her, and from the smooth and practiced way Sylvanas recited it, she probably knows it by heart. Jaina does know that the second skin material that covers her tattoo has to come off in 24 hours and be replaced by another piece that is supposed to stay on for some longer amount of time. She plans on getting Sylvanas to do it for her.

She eagerly awaits the day she can be without it, though, and touch her skin as Sylvanas had, reminding herself of what it felt like to be held together so well.

They’re in Sylvanas’ kitchen in her apartment upstairs when Jaina ties her shirt in a knot just below her ribcage to make it stop rubbing against the tender tattoo. The texture of cotton on whatever plastic this is doesn’t feel good. It is eroding the memory of what it felt like to float in the expanse of whatever it was she felt in that tattoo chair, and Jaina can’t have that.

Sylvanas hands her a sugary drink from her fridge to go with the snack crackers Jaina is eating. Something about sugars and needing to replenish them comes to mind, but she’s too busy watching Sylvanas again to register the fullness of that thought.

Her muscles move like playful cats under silk sheets, the bedding being the designs that cover her skin. There is a beautiful pattern in their chaos. Among them, Jaina takes note of a white chrysanthemum--loss, bereavement, remembrance.

She’d never noticed it before.

She takes a sip of the sweet drink, some sort of bubbly fruit punch, and sets the proffered can and accompanying crackers down to trace the outline of the flower on her on the shoulder of the neighboring business owner she doesn’t dare name her lover.

The skin is bumpy under her touch. Jaina has felt this before on Sylvanas. She knows that means the tattoo, while healed, is relatively fresh--recently done.

“Who did you lose?” she asks.

Tonight feels like a night for directness. Jaina feels like she can ask for it and maybe even ask it of herself.

Sylvanas’ eyes follow her fingers. “Not just one thing or person, really,” she answers.

“But there’s just one flower,” Jaina points out.

It’s above the three arrows and between the swirls of a serpents’ form that cover her shoulder. “If I had a flower for each of them, there wouldn’t be enough of me to hold them. One will have to do.”

There’s a smile that accompanies this, but it’s not the same. It belies confidence and shows Jaina exactly the way Sylvanas uses it to cover her own hurts. Perhaps that’s why she has so many tattoos. Maybe when she thinks back to the past, it too is just a flash of pain that makes the present all the more appealing.

Jaina kisses the flower, her lips lingering on textured skin. She says nothing and does something because that says more.

Soon enough, Jaina is sure that Sylvanas has kissed the sweet artificial fruit taste out of her mouth entirely. They’re on her couch because they didn’t make it to the bedroom. Jaina doesn’t need to worry about her shirt rubbing up against her tattoo now, because the only thing it's rubbing up against is the patterned rug on the floor beneath them. Sylvanas is on top of her, but gingerly avoiding making contact with her hips. She’s grateful, but becoming ungrateful as those hip seek contact on their own.

This chemistry between them is something she can’t compose a bouquet for. It doesn’t make sense. It never really has. Just a moment of talking together, of a calm and collected offering of assistance in a time of stress and Jaina couldn’t get enough. She kept coming back and asking for more, and Sylvanas kept giving it.

She keeps giving it.

She gives it in the light scrape of teeth against Jaina’s neck--just a hint of what they can give otherwise. She gives it in the way she brushes her knuckles against Jaina’s exposed breasts, again just teasing. She gives it when she knows how to end the prospective and commit, holding Jaina tighter to her, but still carefully as she slides a hand past the waistband of her jeans and underwear alike.

Sylvanas finds her wet and wanting. She always does. Jaina can’t help it and doesn’t want to. Something unexplained draws them together, and maybe that’s the magic her fern represents. The interpretation is hers to choose and hers to change, and she does so by the minute--by the second even as Sylvanas’ fingers work magic, drawing on her skin in a different way.

She holds her together again. Jaina realizes that the feelings aren’t too dissimilar now. Pleasure replaced pain in a way that makes Jaina think that maybe she’ll add a wild rose to the bouquet of her fern next. Her entire side will be covered in flowers by the time she’s done finding appropriate ones, and she feels she won’t be able to stop. Not even as they claw up over her ribs, which Sylvanas has told her hurt the most of any place on the body for a tattoo.

Jaina spills over the edge all too quick. She��s floating again, meditative, but now her body is not fully hers to control. She can’t be still or silent. She’s still in her jeans, only pulled down enough to expose the new greens of her hip and give enough room for Sylvanas’ hand to cast its own magic. Jaina feels herself tighten around her fingers. She sees green and tastes fruit and peanut butter crackers and Sylvanas.

Sylvanas holds her together. Fingers slip out of her to circle her down slowly. More fingers grasp at her back, and Jaina trembles like she did in the tattoo chair. She moans out the last of her orgasm. She breathes.

Sylvanas kisses her neck again, but this time comforting, not teasing. The hand not holding Jaina to her wipes itself somewhere, then seeks just the edge of the plastic covering her new tattoo.

Sylvanas laughs before she explains herself, “I’m just checking to make sure we didn’t mess this up.”

Jaina is surprised they didn’t. She checks herself, looking down the tunnel that their bodies make together to find the bandage is indeed intact. The fern below it is sore, but still perfect.

“Never better,” she sighs.

Afterglow takes her to a different place of meditation. A moment stripped of need, bereft of thought. She stirs from it to the soreness of her hip and the residual pleasure still working its way up and down her spine.

Sylvanas kisses her one more time. She’s giving that smile again. Not the first one. Not the downstairs, business owner, “Oh sorry to hear that, but yes you can absolutely borrow my phone”, smile. Not the confident and cocky, “I’ve got you” smile.

No, it’s the kitchen smile. The white chrysanthemum. The yellow tulip, stained with red blood.

“Jaina,” she says. Her voice is strange and echoing--distant and shrill. “You have to wake up. Please. I don’t think I can do this without you.”

The lights in the apartment flicker out. It’s dark and Sylvanas’ skin feels cold, tepid beneath Jaina’s otherwise burning touch. The only illumination the vision offers now is the too-blue light of the aquarium store, reflecting back up through Sylvanas’ windows. The fish swims by, obscuring it, magnified like a giant in the play of the light.

And still, Jaina dreams.

[arrietty-rune]

Question what are your headcanons for some of the characters in your sea world au?

Hiiii I can share you my favorites for for characters i didn't (or barely) drew since this time !! >:)

Humans

Ignacio => Florist/ Gardener, does kinda both jobs in one, has his own store. Used to work with Apollo/Skid's dad in the past, before this one started to live in the sea

Roy => Still a bully toward Skid and Pump, but doesn't have friends (Ross and Robert live in the sea so they never met yet). Has Susie as classmate but due to his bully nature she doesn't much spend time with him. Later will be (kinda) friends with Mihka (Shotgun man), as this one babysitting him when he isn't at school and parents not a home, most of time they're just playing videos games

Candy Dealer => Called Toy Dealer in this universe, as the Candy Club store being a toy store (Kevin and Rick being employees in it). Sell banned toys hehe

Sea creatures

Patty => Octopus, grew up being raised by Mort so she's good at making medicine and also at surgery, like him. She helped for John's top surgery and also helped Apollo giving birth lmao

Bob => Shark mermaid but human in disguise, fishmonger as his job. works with the Aquamarine Group (an organisation who do researches about mermaids and other sea creatures, it's actually similar to the Cult). However, his sharp teeth and ears are still visible as an human so he usually wears a mask and an ushanka

Eyes => Is called The Eyes of the Deep Sea here. They're an entity living in the deep sea (hahaha) and actually kill everyone coming in his zone and eat them, unless it was Apollo. Then they raised him and helped him to survive in the deep sea for years. They don't like to talk, do telepathy with their new Medusa neighbor sometimes, and seems to not reveal much about themselves.

That's mostly what i have in my head for now haha, but i can also say that Carmen, Richard, Ignacio and Evermore are members from the Aquamarine Group

[elliewilliamsfavhoe]

Florist!Abby headcannons

A/n: sorry I haven't posted anything!! I have finals and i haven't had time to work on anything so here is something cute and quick in the meantime<3 also send requests for headcannons, fics ect!!!

Cw: modern au obvi, very fluffy, Abby is kinda a loser dork but it's cute, abby getting hurt (from rose throns) Nora is Abby's wing woman, marriage, slight nsfw, a little sad at the end but like sappy sad, mentions of passing.

Florist!Abby Who met you when you came in with your friend to order flowers for her wedding

Florist!Abby Who thought you were prettier that any flower in the store

Florist!Abby Who made sure to take extra food care of you two while you were in the store

Florist!Abby who thought of you when she went home that night

Florist!Abby who couldn't wait until the day you had to pick up the flowers

Florist!Abby who was ecstatic when you came in for pickup and handed her a wedding invitation from your friend.

Florist!Abby who usually got invited to 5 weddings a week from customers trying to be polite but never would go.

Florist!Abby who couldn't care less that it was just a courtesy invite since she was so excited to see you again.

Florist!Abby who saw you in the prettiest bridesmaids dress and nearly fainted

Florist!Abby who worked up the courage halfway through the wedding party to talk to you

Florist!Abby who couldn't believe it when you started flirting with her

Florist!Abby who not so smoothly gave you her number just in case you ever needed to 'order some flowers for an event'

Florist!Abby who was stunned when you texted her only a day after the wedding asking to get some coffee sometime

Florist!Abby who forced Nora to choose a cute outfit for your date.

Bff!Nora who was so confused on why Abby cared so much because she thought every short was the same.

Florist!Abby who fell head over heels for you the second she started talking to you.

Florist!Abby who after 2 months of going on dates every weekend bought you your favorite coffee and made you a handmade bouquet and asked you to be her girlfriend.

Florist!Abby who knew she loved you a week into being official but only told you 2 months in

Florist!Abby who gets you a bouquet every week

Florist!Abby who always tucks a flower behind your ear and makes sure it matches your outfit when you come visit her at work

Florist!Abby Who pays attention to whether you wear gold or silver and makes sure to get the right color.

Florist!Abby who may seem shy but definitely isn't shy when her strap is so deep in you that you can't form a coherent sentence.

Florist!Abby who fucks you any chance she gets

Florist!Abby who always accidentally cuts her hands from rose thorns

Florist!Abby who reluctantly wears the hello kitty bandaid you put on her scraped calloused hands

Florist!Abby takes you to a gorgeous, secluded garden to propose to you and hides the ring in the flowers she gives you

Florist!Abby who gets the prettiest flowers for your wedding and spends hours handpicking what flower combinations to do for your center pieces

Wife!Abby who cried reading you her vows

Wife!Abby who promised to find you in every reality and love you ever better and even sooner each damn time

Wife!Abby who never stops getting you flowers even after you are both old and wrinkly

Wife!Abby who builds you a garden and teaches you how to take care of all the flowers

Wife!Abby who couldn't imagine ever leaving you

Wife!Abby who always holds you when you go to bed

Wife!Abby who frustratedly turns off her alarm wishing she didn't have to go to work and that she could just hold you because why does she need to tend to flower when the prettiest flower she's ever seen is asleep inside her big perfectly freckled arms

Wife!Abby who gets you a bouquet of flowers and says she'll love you till they the very last one die and leaves a single fake flower inside the bouquet

Wife!Abby who grew here whole life but blossomed when she met you and who's only wish is to wither with you too

Wife!Abby who if you unfortunately died before she did would leave your favorite flowers on you grave and get fresh ones every day

Wife!Abby who if you were to die before her would probably end up dying of a broken heart soon after.

Wife!Abby who was the softest most delicate person you ever met and ever could meet

Wife!Abby who fulfilled her promise and found you in every universe, every reality, every lifetime and loved you more each damn time

(divders creds to @cafekitsune !!!!!) Sorry I forgot to tag u when I originally uploaded I promise I meant to🫶🏼🫶🏼

[speedycoffeedelight]

Hello! I've returned with more 'Reader helps get everyone a job' scenarios! And this time, not anon ✨️

Also, so happy to see you referenced my first ask, really made my day!

Anyway, scenarios begin.

~

Reader: Velvette, this is the second job you've been fired from since you got here. There isn't exactly many clothing store in town and if you keep getting fired, you'll be deemed 'unhireable'.

Velvette: *Rolling her eyes on her phone* I don't see why you're so bothered by that, I'm already a small time influencer and with the way I'm manipulating the algorithm, I'll be monetised in no time. Besides, the clothes they sold there weren't even good enough for a dumpster fire.

Reader: Anyway... There's atleast 2 more clothing stores available before we have to start looking elsewhere, a sports clothes store and a thrift shop.

Velvette: Pfft, thrift shop? You can't in your right mind think I'd be touching second han- wait. *Types on her phone* Thifting is in, sign me up! And then call Princess in here, her little lamb form is guaranteed to get me more likes then that bitch Geraldine's yappy mutt in socks and sunglasses.

~

Reader: Lute, I don't mean to be insulting or anything but I'm not sure if you could handle being a supermarket security guard. It can be a very dangerous job.

Lute: I understand you're concerns but allow me to lay them to rest with a quick demonstration of my capabilities.

*Lute quickly tackles Sir Pentious to the ground and pins him as he shouts a quick 'Why me?!'*

~

Adam: Listen Babe, I don't see what the issue is.

Reader: Adam, the bar is looking for a live band to there regularly, not a solo guitarist. Now I'm sure you are a wonderful singer-songwriter but they're not looking for a solo musician.

Adam: *Crossing arms* Fine. What other jobs are there.

Reader: Plenty, and almost all of them are places we've already got someone in so they can recommend you and you're pretty much guaranteed to be hired.

Adam: Okay Babe, fire away.

Reader: Well, the local cafés looking for another waiter (Charlies workplace).

Adam: Uh, pass.

Reader: The fast food joint needs another cashier. (Vaggies workplace)

Adam: Next.

Reader: The restaurant-dinner is willing to train up a sous-chef with no prior experience or qualifications (Angels/Husks workplace).

Adam: Eh, I don't cook.

Reader: The council is hiring more trash collectors, it sounds bad but has incredibly good pay (Niftys workplace).

Adam: As much as I'm down for driving a massive truck, somethings telling me to stay away from that little freak. She might stab me in the back or something.

Reader: You also don't have a driving license. Anyway, the radio station is hiring a files clerk (Alastors workplace).

Adam: They play rock or metal?

Alastor: *From another room* Nope!

Adam: Then, nah.

Reader: *Muttering to self* And I don't think you can work for the mechanics without a driving license either (Cherris workplace).

Reader: The florist is hiring. (Lucifers workplace).

Adam: *Fake gags*

Reader: What about working at that bowling alley and arcade pizzeria? (Voxs workplace)

Adam: *Sticks out tongue*

Reader: The clothing store? (Velvettes workplace)

Adam: *Raises eyebrow*

Reader: The local supermarket? (Lutes workplace)

Adam: *Pours slightly*

Reader: *Sighs and starts rubbing temple* Well, the only other places available is the post office and that steakhouse on the outskirts of town.

Adam: Steakhouse? Now that's what I'm talking about! Sign me up straight away.

Reader: I thought you said you don't cook.

Adam: Listen Babe, it's grilling, not cooking. Big difference. Besides, I literally invented the grill, you know? It's like 1 of the top 5 best ideas I ever had, you know, right next to naming a bunch of birds 'tits'.

Reader: You invented the grill? That's actually kinda impressive.

Lucifer: Don't flatter him, love. He had to invent a whole new way of cooking meat or else he'd have starved everytime Eve made him sleep on the coach.

Adam: HEY!

HEYYY!! Good to see you back again!! <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>

Yeah , velvette gonna be a real bitch(HAH-) working at stores. She won't settle for anything that's not up to her taste.

* Reader sighing in the corner trying to find more shops.*

Poor Pentious, he had to be the example 🤣🤣

*the cast and reader giving Pentious concerned glances*

And there's Adam, the first man who can't settle on one job( just like girls- *gets shot in the head*). I can definitely see him inventing grilling like this 😂😂

Thank you yet again for your creative and unique headcannons! I truly enjoy reading them!! ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

[dragonflylady77]

i got you a whole flower shop

A Harringrove Valentine's Day fic I wrote this afternoon

present for @shieldofiron and also @lovebillyhargrove

oh and it's on ao3

Steve walks into a florist shop on Valentine's Day but his plans change after he gets a text not meant for him and he finds himself faced with Billy freaking Hargrove looking like every wet dream Steve has ever had in the past fifteen years since he finished high school.

“Sorry, I’ll be right with you.”

Steve made a vague noise of acknowledgement, too busy staring at the message he’d opened as he’d stepped into the first flower shop he’d spotted.

“Can’t wait to see you tonight baby. I’ll tell Steve I have to work late. Love you x”

He blinked a few times but the words didn’t change. The text was clearly not meant for him. Or maybe it was, he rationalised. That was one way to break up with your boyfriend without having to have the conversation.

He ran a tired hand over his face and put his phone back in his pocket. He wouldn’t need flowers after all. He tried to remember how much stuff he’d left at Jamie’s place during the few months they’d been dating and wondered if there was anything he’d miss if he didn’t get it back.

“I am sorry but it turns out I don’t actually need flowers after all,” he said, his eyes floating over the various buckets of colourful blooms in front of him.

“Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?” The voice sounded surprised and familiar and Steve turned around to face its owner.

“Hargrove?” Steve said in shock, stepping closer to the counter. He hadn’t seen Billy Hargrove since graduation fifteen years ago. “What are you doing in Chicago? I always thought you went back to Cali…”

Billy shrugged and Steve took a moment to really look at him. He still had those light brown, almost golden, curls that Steve had always wanted to run his fingers through, piled high in a bun, his face fuzzy with scruff, blue eyes trained on Steve. That part at least was familiar. Steve let his eyes move down, taking in the white tee, tight across the front under the black apron with the shop’s logo on it, Billy’s biceps bulging when he crossed his arms over his chest. Steve’s mouth felt very dry all of a sudden and hoo, was it always this hot in this store?

Billy raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He did, however, run that tongue of his along his bottom lip, another familiar sight, one that resonated inside Steve’s chest, in a place he’d been ignoring for years.

“Um, sorry, didn’t mean to…” Steve fumbled, fidgeting with his fingers. Fuck. He was being so awkward for no reason. He was usually a little bit better at human interactions.

“It’s okay, pretty boy, I know my good looks can be distracting,” Billy replied with a chuckle and Steve felt his face heat up. “To answer your question, my car broke down outside of St Louis and I realised I’d been kidding myself. There was nothing in Cali for me anymore. And I couldn’t leave Max alone with Neil.”

“Ah. I-I heard about him but Max never said—”

“I told her to keep a secret. Couldn’t risk Neil finding out. I made it back to Indianapolis on the Greyhound. Met a nice lady on the bus who offered me a place to stay for a while. Worked my ass off in a bunch of different jobs. Mona and her partner kinda adopted me, so when they moved to Chicago, I followed.”

“That’s why Max went to college in Chicago, isn’t it? Because you were there too?” Steve asked, a few things making more sense now that he knew about Billy.

“Yep. Got her out of the dorms too. She loved it at Mona’s as much as I did.”

Steve smiled. He was glad that Billy and Max had gotten away from his asshole father. He had only managed it himself recently, after more than a decade of working for his dad, being belittled every time Richard Harrington was in the office, no matter how good Steve actually was at doing his job. He’d jumped at the chance when he’d seen that job listing in Chicago and he’d cherished forever the memory on his father’s face when he’d handed in his resignation.

“That’s great, Billy,” he finally replied, and meant it.

“What about you, princess? What brings you to the Windy City?” 

“Oh, I live here too. Been here about three years, I think. I don’t have to tell you how good it felt to be able to tell my dad I was leaving and he could shove it.”

“Ooooh, go Stevie! Always knew you had it in you.”

Steve laughed and shook his head. “Took me twelve years but I got there in the end…”

“That’s what matters.” Billy grinned. “So, what are you after? Roses for your girl, on account of the day? Or something more original?”

“Oh, um, I, um…” Steve sighed. “I was gonna get flowers for my boyfriend, but after the text I got before, I don’t think I will.”

“Boyfriend?” Billy was staring and Steve realised he probably needed to elaborate a little.

“Yeah… My best friend Robin helped me realise some important things about myself after high school. She made being queer in Hawkins a lot easier. We were flatmates for ages then she moved to Chicago to be with her girlfriend. You know her, actually, Heather? Holloway?”

“Oh. Wow. Yeah, I remember Heather. So you’re…”

“Bi. Yeah.”

“And you have a boyfriend.” The way Billy said it, it wasn’t a question.

It left a bad taste in Steve’s mouth. He got his phone out of his pocket again and sent Jamie a text saying they were over.

“I had a boyfriend.” Steve snorted. “Whoever he meant to text when he texted me can have his cheating ass.”

“You don’t seem too cut up about it,” Billy said, his eyes roaming over Steve and Steve found that he liked it. All at once, memories of basketball training and all the posturing and looks Billy would send him in the showers and hallways of Hawkins High took on a different flavour. All the pet names Billy used to call him when they were teenagers… the same ones he’d used a couple of times in the past ten minutes they’d been chatting.

“I’d only been seeing him for a couple of months, wasn’t anything serious.” Steve decided to take a chance. He crossed his arms and leaned forward on the counter. “It does mean I am now free tonight…”

Billy mirrored his actions, the smile on his face genuine and warm. “Is that so, pretty boy?”

“Uh huh… yanno, in case anyone was wondering.”

“That’s certainly pertinent information.”

“I thought so.” Steve leaned a little closer, smiling when Billy did too. “What time does this fine establishment close?”

“Right now,” Billy replied, without a glance at his watch as he removed his apron and set it on the counter next to them.

“Really? Won’t you get in trouble with your boss for closing early on Valentine’s Day?”

“I’m the boss and I have a hot date,” Billy said with that smirk that had always made Steve’s blood boil. Only now he could name that emotion for what it was: lust. There was something else in Billy’s eyes, something more magical and durable.

“Anyone I know?” Steve asked, his heart beating double time in his chest.

Billy didn’t reply, instead he rounded the counter and came to a stop in front of Steve with a grin. He cupped Steve’s face with both hands and breached the last inches separating them, bringing their mouths together. Steve moaned, his hands on Billy’s wrists to hold him there. He opened his lips to Billy’s questing tongue the second he felt it, pouring all that he was feeling into the kiss, and getting it back ten fold.

Steve let go of Billy’s wrists to grab his waist and dragged him closer. He couldn’t get enough of Billy, hands roaming up his back and down to cup that ass Steve had been dreaming about for months after high school, sparking his bi awakening.

“Fuck, Billy, I’m sorry it took me so long to find you again,” Steve said, breaking the kiss to catch his breath, resting his forehead against Billy’s.

“S’okay, Stevie, you’re here now,” Billy said, dipping his head for a quick kiss. He buried his fingers into Steve’s hair and locked eyes with him. “Never letting you go now I’ve got you, though, I hope you know that.”

“Fine with me,” Steve said as he wrapped his arms around Billy’s middle, delighted to feel Billy’s hard body against his. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Steve. I don't know what flowers you like yet, so I got you a whole flower shop.”

Steve laughed as Billy locked up for the night then they went up to the apartment Billy was renting above the shop where Billy cooked them dinner. Then they spent all night in bed, worshipping each other, and it was the best Valentine’s Day Steve had ever had.

[bethpencilart]

Have some sketches I made the last couple of months since discovering Moral Orel

I did some doodles before this to learn how to draw Orel and this was my first attempt at drawing him in my style. I also drew Christina.

I love Stephanie, so I made a page dedicated to her. The flag is supposed to be the lesbian flag. I decided that I should also draw some of the other adult characters. From left to right: Bloberta, Clay, Reverend Putty, Miss Censordoll, Principal Fakey, and Miss Sculptham. I had a theme with the right page, the adults of Moralton that should be role models for Orel but constantly let him down /lh

Adult Swim canceling this show is my Roman Empire. They really canceled it before the main character could go through his entire arc. I made these design mainly to work on something else, but I'm happy to have made them. I have definitely been inspired by other designs fans have made, but I did try to be original. Also made one for Christina! She's kinda inspired by pastel goth cause I imagine her parents are more strict and wouldn't let her wear traditional goth attire. She's probably already pushing the line.

Finally, some OCs I made. I'm sorry. First two are friends for Christina, I wanted to do something more then make a female Doughy and I had fun making them. The second is an OC I designed for a fic that is currently a wip. Yes, I did have a fun time creating the punny names.

Laika Lyukanida is Christina's childhood best friend. She is a second-generation Russian-American, her grandfather defected the USSR and moved to the US. I wrote that he was KGB, but I'm thinking that him being a spy makes more sense. I thought it would be funny for her to quote her grandfather sometimes and it being obvious that the quote was about his previous work, but neither her or Christina recognize it.

She is more resistant to Christina's chaotic plans, but she always finds herself working on them anyway. She has an interest in science and is often sneaking in the library against her family's wishes. As she grows older, she probably becomes more agnostic but keeps it a secret. Her first name is mainly a reference to the claymation studio, but I imagine in universe she was named after the dog that made it to space. Her last name is a reference to an old stop motion film from Russia.

Komugi Nendo Jingorō is Christina's friend who has a friendly rivalry on who's the better Christian. She is unfortunately very aware of how much her and her family are outcasts due to being Japanese in a mostly white protestant town. Christina and Laika are her closest friends due to them being more accepting of her. Laika understands what it's like for her name to be constantly mispronounced and relates to her. Christina's parents, much like Orel's, are racist and she has to keep their friendship a secret from them.

Her first and middle name is a reference to flour clay. It's a type of clay that children play with, and I thought it would be a cute name for a kid character. Her last name is both a reference to an old Japanese artist known for working with clay, and a reference to a stop motion short film that is about the same guy.

Will Plasticine is a gay florist in Christina's hometown. He grew up there, and when he turned 18, he ran away from his parents to go to college out of state. He met Stephanie there and they immediately became friends due to them being able to relate with growing up closeted in a very religious environment. She made one of her first tattoos on him, a pink triangle on his upper arm. He opened a shop in his hometown once he finished college, but he still has contact with Stephanie and sometimes they visit each other.

His first name isn't a pun or a reference, his last name is a reference to material used for claymation, especially earlier on. I thought it would be funny to make him a florist to Stephanie's tattoo artist, ie the florist and tattoo artist au thing. Obviously it's not romantic, they're just good friend. I imagine he has a story that parallels the episode, "The Blessed Union", where Christina hears a sermon about how wives should treat their husbands and she becomes curious on what husbands should do for their wives and she ends up in his shop.

[echantedtoon]

Ocean Deep Ch2 Spectacles And Scales

((Warnings for mistreatment of the mers by the sideshow owner and some of the other people, Buying and selling of mers, mistreatment of animals briefly shown, etc.

 typed in random anime man into Google and this is the first photo that popped up so I'm using this as reference to what Akira looks like.

https://images.app.goo.gl/Kxk9rU7mkMZRiRXbA)

It was a beautiful day today. 

That's usually what the default positive thing you thought was whenever something went wrong or you were feeling bad. You'd look outside and even if it was raining, you'd still find something outside to think about. The clouds looked like funny bunnies today. The next the sky would be a beautiful blue. Those flowers look wonderful. The snow looked sparkly in the sunlight. 

Anything to stay positive in the crazy world ruled by creatures unseen and more powerful than the average human. You've never seen one personally thank the gods, but you knew something must've been going on with all of the disappearances that's happened for hundreds of years. Whether it's some humans, natural accidents, runaways, or something else you didn't know but you weren't going to be one of the ones that ended up disappearing. You had a plan for your life. 

You wanted to work on yourself and maybe find someone to settle down with, and then maybe have a few children later down the line when your career was solid and you knew you'd be secure enough. Maybe even adopt a few animals! You've always wanted a small pony! Maybe a big dog you could roughhouse and snuggle with. That'd be nice. Just you and a domestic life. But for now you were just content with just working at the local florist shop and putting your life together. 

It wasn't bad. You got to help with lots of pretty flowers all year round, there was always the pleasant smell of flowers in the air, it earnt you a decent living, it wasn't too far from your house, and your boss was a very kind old lady who's been doing this for years. You were lucky to have found such a good job. 

"Thank you for coming by. It's always so nice to see you again, Akira." 

You briefly looked up from where you were watering a pot of begonias with an old teapot. One of the local men was in today buying a small bouquet of peonies for whatever reason he wanted them. Being a decently big town, you kinda knew him but with the town still being big you also didn't. You knew this man, Akira, was the son of one of the fishermen families while his mother's family were glass blowers. You only knew that because your boss mentioned that Akira's mother's family were the ones that made the giant glass greenhouse connected to her house, she used it to grow all her flowers year round. But outside of that and just seeing him around every so often, you didn't personally know Akira. But he also had a reputation for being handsome. 

He certainly has the looks to back that up. Greyish-white soft hair. Silver eyes. A tall muscular physic. And a handsome face that looked like it was sculpted by an excellent artist. You only gave a brief look over your shoulder as the two spoke.. before going back to work. It'd be rude to stare while they spoke and you had a job to do which was to finish watering these plants. 

"You too, Mrs. Satoshi. And may I say you don't look a day over forty."

A strong of chuckles that had you rolling your eyes and inwardly groaning. "Oh, stop. You always say the sweetest things to people."

"I can't help it if I wear my heart on my sleeve.~ But while I'm here, I might as well give you this." You heard a distant sound of rustling paper and a moment later Akira spoke again. "Here! I've been handing these out for everyone to see."

There was a pause of silence before your boss hummed again. "Your uncle finally gotten that display up has he?"

"Absolutely! He calls it an 'ocean viewing through glass' and he's planning on showing it off at the end of this month!"

"Having a small tank of pet fish is one thing, but who's ever heard of people keeping giant tanks full of fish just for people to gawk at? Anyone can just go down to the beach and see most of the critters in the water."

Akira gave a deep chuckle in return. "Oh it's going to be be so much more than 'just fish's, Mrs. Satoshi. The opening night is free to everyone who shows up, and there's going to be plenty to see."

"I'll certainly think about it. Tell your family I said hi."

"I certainly will." Footsteps carried away the man from the counter before they slowly came to a stop right behind you. The sudden feeling on eyes on your back had you pausing before turning over your shoulder and finding Akira staring at you with a half lidded smiling face. "I can't forget about your lovely assistant now!"

You blinked and a second later a hand held up a piece of paper to you. F/c eyes glanced at the parchment and noticed that he must've pulled it out of the bag slung over his right shoulder since a few more corners of paper were sticking out and the top opening. The paper made some crinkle sounds when he waggled it at you pulling your attention back to it, and slowly you reached out to take it from him. Your eyes gazed over it and it became pretty apparent that it was a flyer advertising the opening of a new business. Hand written too, detailing the opening date and time and other things. 

"Oh...Thank you," you remained polite.

He smiled maybe a bit too widely but only turned to start walking away with the flowers in his hands. "I hope to see you there."

You watched as he left through the front door and slowly looked back to the flier in your hands.. before just putting it away and carrying on with your business. The roses were in need of the water and the flowers weren't going to water themselves.

"You know I think he likes you."

"...What?" Your head turned to the smiling older lady.

"He passed by here practically every day and he always gives a look at you through the window," she teased, "He's a rather handsome young man, and his family has such a profitable business."

You grimaced. "That's just really creepy. If he likes me then he can be a man and talk to me about it, and I don't even know him. We're strangers. Besides-" You turned back to the flowers pouring more water from the large teapot in your hands. "-he's not my type."

You just wasn't feeling like getting close to Akira. He gave you a bad feeling, and genuinely he really was not you type. He looked really handsome but it was more than good looks that counts. What about personality and character? Nah. The other girls could have him for all you cared. The older woman only hummed in thought before shrugging.

"If you say so, Dear. Just remember you're only young once. It wouldn't hurt to find someone nice to settle down with before it's too late."

"I also have my whole life ahead of me so I have plenty of time to settle down and find someone if I even wanted to. I don't want to rush into anything that I'll just regret later." 

You didn't want to end up like so many unhappy couples you've seen over the years. Fighting and yelling and having affairs- No. You didn't want that. You were going to take your time and if someone comes along then it'll happen. If not- Well you can always get that pony or dog you've always wanted to keep you company. You didn't need to be married or have children to have a good fulfilling life. 

Besides you were perfectly content right now with how things were. You didn't need anything changing or any surprises. Everything was just fine how they were. Not a single thing needs to be added. 

"Are you going to his uncle's grand opening? I think it would be quite interesting to see what all of the excitements about."

"I don't think so. It's just going to be a bunch of fish in giant tanks. If you ask me, that's too much work to maintain. Not to mention that the amount of cleaning the tanks and constantly hauling new water to replace the old sea water-..." You shook your head. "No. Not worth it if you ask me."

She hummed turning to grab a pair of tweezers and cut away the dead leaves off a miniature rose bush. "Well you never know. It might be fun to just go and look. It is going to be free after all. "

"Maybe."

You both left the conversation at that and didn't bring it up again. There was no point. You didn't want to go and really you shouldn't to not give Akira any more encouragement for his creepy behavior. It made a shudder run through your spine and you cringe in disgust. You'd definitely be avoiding him from now on. You'd just ignore him and everything would be fine again.

With a sigh of relief, you just went on about your day and ignored the feeling in the back of your mind. It was nothing.

You hadn't heard anything else for the next three days, and it was just business as usual around here. You were having a peaceful time with your work and had all but forgotten about the encounter with Akira or his uncle's 'grand opening' except for the occasional old flier on the ground or the occasional topic of it being brought up in conversation, but it wasn't very often and you'd forget about it quickly after anyways. But there was one strange thing that happened to at the end of the week. It was really a spectacle. Really it was. Not really a thing you'd usually see around these parts. You hadn't even noticed it really, with your back towards the roads. You were too busy helping your elderly boss pick up big plant pots outside that her frail body was too weak to lift. You'd be needing these for an upcoming big delivery for (ironically) Akira's Aunt Linna as you were informed by your boss. Apparently she was planning on adding a whole lot of giant rose bushes around her home and these heavy pots were gonna be used to transport the bushes over once they were ready in one of two weeks. Unfortunately your work was interrupted by your boss when the kind lady looked over her shoulder and gasped catching your attention.

"My oh my." She looked surprised with a hand to her chin.

You followed her gaze and paused surprised as well as a few other people on the streets around you. Coming from up the road was two giant stallions being pulled along by a strong looking middle aged man. He was cursing at the animals straining to pull along their cargo and angrily whipping the reigns with each curse.

"That's sick!" The words escaped you before you could even think.

A nasiating disgusted feeling churned about in your stomach as you watched as the poor animals strained and slowly came up the road and past you both. The sounds those poor ponies were making made you want to grab a whip and swing it at the gruff looking man as they slowly walked by you. The cargo they were straining to pull was...Well you couldn't tell what it was. It was BIG. At least six feet high, ten feet long, very rectangular, and covered by old wet tarps tied together by ropes. Your eyes widened looking up at the thing as it slowly pulled past you with the man yelling at the struggling ponies, briefly a shadow fell over you both and you froze solid as it continued to be pulled by you both. 

"It ..seems like they had come up from the beach. That's probably one of the tanks Akira's uncle wanted for his opening," your boss eventually broke the silence and pointed out the size of the presumed tank.

You didn't say anything about it for you were frozen in shock. For your eyes could have SWORN they saw the brief sight of a hand and half a face peeking out at you from a gap in the tarps..The light. You told yourself. It was just the light playing tricks on you. There's no way a human was under that tarp. You were seeing things. You shouldn't involve yourself in this. Forget it. Don't get involved in this. It wasn't worth it. Nothing good would ever come out of sticking your nose into other people's business anyways. You turned away from the sight of the cart disappearing and the distant cries of the man's cussing to place another heavy pot down off to the side, the last thing you needed was unnecessary drama in your life. 

Besides it's not like whatever Akira's family was doing would affect you.

[kisstuals]

if blue could be happiness

PAIRING. na jaemin x female!reader WORD COUNT. 2.4k CONTAINS. angst, romance, actor!au WARNINGS. implied smut, just the reader being sad and in her head a lot, pretty reflective and retrospective, not much plot more emotions and vibes PLAYLIST. if blue could be happiness - florist | never goodbye - nct dream | liability - lorde NOTE. turns out i love complex female characters and depressing stories and men who fall harder… who is sensing a theme in my works? also im kinda back hahahaha hope everyone has been well xx. i’d say i’ll be more active now but i have a bad track record. that being said, please do give this some love and interact and let me know ur thoughts bc that will motivate me to be more active and post more things!!! would love to chat with you all <3

All you have ever known is being alone, so you can’t help but pull away when Jaemin comes into your life. Too bad he’s here to stay.

NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU LOVE TRAVELING, there is a wave of relief that hits you when the plane finally makes its descent in New York City. The tall buildings shimmer against the twilight sky, and even from so far away, you can sense the hustle and bustle of the always-busy city. You can imagine people getting off work after staying late, going into bars for happy hour. They laugh and giggle with their friends with a drink in their hands. New York City is always alive, and that’s why you love being there, as the fervor and excitement almost allows you to forget about how empty you feel all the time.

Despite that, there is a blue stillness around. A cloud of comfort, broken by a brief anticipation.

Your fingers curl around your seatbelt, waiting for the indication that you could finally take it off and leave the plane. It had been a month since you were last home, as you had been in Paris for the shoot of your upcoming movie. There is no doubt that your time there had been lovely, for you participated in every cliche there was for a Parisian tourist… eating too many croissants every day, visiting the Eiffel Tower, getting lost in the Louvre. The actual work you had gone to Paris for also concluded smoothly, but film shoots were never a problem for someone like you who actually enjoys their job.

None of that mattered though. You were aching to finally be home. It’s difficult to ignore your heart that is practically beating out of your chest, but that may be for reasons other than simply arriving back in your favorite city.

Reasons that are called Na Jaemin.

You wonder if he thought about you nearly as much as you did over the past month. And why would you, consider that you were the one who pushed him away. But you keep on wondering this as you leave the plane. He plagues your mind at the baggage claim, when you get into the car waiting for you, and the entire ride home. The buzz of your phone on the leather seat next to you is the only thing that pulls you out of your daze, eyes blindly following whatever buildings you could see in the distance. It was getting late, but New York never slept.

It buzzes again, and you finally blink before reaching for your phone. It’s a text from your sister, who had been house-sitting for you (or, more of an excuse to hang out in the city).

sister: he just showed up.

Your eyebrows furrow. The texts keep coming in

sister: (name). sister: JAEMIN IS HERE sister: when are you getting back?

Movements growing frantic, you quickly look outside for a landmark, realizing you were still pretty far from your apartment. And with the city traffic, it would at least be another hour.

you: WDYM HE’S HERE? you: i won’t be home for a while you: tell him to go wait in my room

She sends you a thumbs up and you sigh, leaning back into your seat to close your eyes in hopes of getting some rest. Your efforts prove to be futile, of course, because he’s all you can think about.

The first time you met him, you were drunk out of your mind. It was Ryujin’s party for actors to gather and mingle if you remembered correctly, but truthfully your memories of that night were pretty foggy. Everyone was dressed nicely and there was expensive liquor lining the countertops, but you ungracefully stumbled into Jaemin, a new and rising actor whose name was everywhere on the tabloids, in a corner somewhere. See, you were normally always on your best behavior, with perfectly styled hair, manicured nails, and hands folded politely. You never tripped over your own feet. You never spoke out of turn. You never did what you weren’t supposed to do, which was a long list considering you were an A-list actress with an image pristine like glass. People looked up to you.

So you had really no explanation for how Jaemin’s hands ended up around your waist, his lips chasing your own. Your body was hot against his, aching for his touch, and when you finally gave in, there was no stopping either of you. His lips moved ferociously against yours, lighting your skin on fire wherever they touched you.

It was no surprise you ended up in his bed later that night, but it was equally less of a surprise that you left the next morning before he could even wake up.

Yet, that was only the beginning. You seemed to run into him everywhere. At parties of mutual friends, you didn’t even realize you shared. At dress fittings, because the stylist for your next movie also happened to be his personal stylist. At the new coffee shop you decided to try out, and then realized was his favorite.

Suddenly, you couldn’t run away anymore. He was going to be in your life, whether you willed for it or not, so you entertained it for a brief minute. So you kissed him at parties and showed up at dress fittings with your hand in his. Every Sunday, you went to his favorite coffee shop together. You went to sleep in his bed and woke up in his arms. His name was linked to yours, and everyone talked about it, but you didn’t care. You had relinquished all control of your life.  

It was great, until it wasn’t. Until he got too close, and you went too far.

That night, there was a downpour in New York City and you retreated back into the comforts of your home. Of the perfect, orderly life you built for yourself.

And the next morning, you left for Paris.

There is a tremble in your fingers as you enter the code to your apartment. Why was he here? You pushed him away, and then he was meant to stay away. People don’t usually try so hard to remain in your life. Probably because of how distant you keep your heart from them. Or maybe that’s why you began doing it in the first place. It’s been so long, you cannot even remember what came first.

Your sister greets you with a worried smile as you enter. She takes your coat from you and you take a moment to set down your belongings, including the large suitcase you had been hauling behind you. The longer you take to go into your room, the longer you have to prepare for whatever is about to happen.

“(Name). He’s been waiting.” Your sister says, looking pointedly at your room door. You’ve dug your toes so far into black boots that you are afraid they may appear at the other end. There is a fleeting touch of comfort on your shoulder before she walks away. With a sigh, you take off your shoes and arrange them neatly on the shoe rack.

In an apartment as big as yours, the walk to your room is shorter than you remember, but you know you cannot delay this any further. Jaemin is definitely aware of your presence, no matter how softly your clothed feet hit the wooden floor of your apartment, so you finally open the door.  

Your heart stills when you see him. He’s sitting at the foot of your bed, wearing a fluffy brown jacket and a hat to match. It’s pretty obvious how he looks out of place against your cold, blue walls.

“Hi.” His smile is cautious like you might run away upon seeing him. His worries are not entirely absurd though, as you do consider backing away. But his eyes are warm, and you remember how much you are aching for his touch. You can’t help but take another step towards him.

“Hi.” Your voice cracks and he notices, but you both choose to ignore it.

“How was Paris?”

“It was good.” The temperature of your room must be near freezing, but somehow your words are colder. Jaemin winces, subtle yet noticeable, and stands up, rubbing his hands on his jeans. You pray that he doesn’t move any closer to you, as then you might actually run away, and somehow, he listens.

The heart is a silly little thing, because you find yourself disappointed at the distance between Jaemin and you, even though this ruin was your doing.

“(Name)...” You’re not sure what he’s going to say, but the deep breath he takes before speaking lets you know that you are not ready to hear it. Not yet.

“Sorry for making you wait. Got stuck in traffic.” You begin moving around the room to straighten up a few things that suddenly looked out of order, even though no one had entered your room while you were gone.

“Oh, uh, it’s okay.” His gaze follows your every move. “I hope your sister wasn’t uncomfortable with me just showing up.”

“No, not uncomfortable. Just surprised that you’re here.” Arranging your lipsticks from the darkest red to the lightest nude seemed like the perfect task at this moment, so you stand in the corner of your room farthest from Jaemin, hovering over your vanity.

He sighs. “Me too.”

This makes you glance back at him, eyebrows raised. “You are… also surprised that you’re here?”

“Yeah, considering how you just left me, why would I want to be here?” Jaemin is always honest, and you appreciate him for that, but you can’t ignore the guilt that pools in your stomach as you finally meet his eyes.

Your lips purse, and if you’re feeling anything, you don’t let it show. “Why are you here, then?”

This is the question that ultimately pushes him over the edge. Jaemin’s expression darkens as he finally closes the distance between you two, stopping just close enough so you could feel his breath against yours.

“You’re seriously asking me this? After everything?” He asks incredulously, his eyes searching for answers in your own

“I told you it was over.”

“Okay, but why?” You don’t answer, but you also don’t step away. “What are you afraid of?” Your lip quivers.

“Stop,” you whisper, as you feel your resolve starting to break. Jaemin takes a step back but keeps going.

“That I’ll break your heart? That I’ll leave you and go away?” He lets out an empty, pained laugh. “Well, isn’t that what you’ve done?”

“Jaemin, I–” You begin to speak, but now it’s his turn to cut you off.

“But despite all that, I still love you.” Your eyes widen, and an unknown, indescribable feeling overtakes your entire being. A single tear escapes you, of guilt, and fear, of love and longing.

The room is silent for a minute, and then another.

You are unsure of what the proper response to his confession should be, but whatever it is, you have messed it up already by waiting so long. You owe him an answer, because of everything you’ve put him through. Because you walked into his life, and then walked out, doing it first as you were afraid he would soon enough. But above all, because you loved him too, despite everything you had tried to convince yourself of.

“I’m sorry.” You aren’t sure how to put all your thoughts in words, so you decide to apologize first, instead. And even though it may be a deflection, you hope he realizes that it’s sincere.

But there’s disbelief in his eyes, and you hate that he doubts you, even though you’ve given him every reason to. “That’s it?”

“You’re right. I left because I wanted to do it before you could.” You continue, providing him with the honesty he deserved from day one. “I was so sure you would, because people always leave anyway, you know? They come into my life, I get used to them, then they leave, and I have to get used to life without them. There’s only so many times you can do that before you simply cannot anymore.”

Jaemin’s expression is unreadable as he considers what you said. “So, the solution was to push me away, even though I told you I wasn’t going anywhere that night?” Now his tone is neutral, and you are unable to figure out if he is mad, upset, or disappointed by your explanation.

“Do you know how many times I’ve been told that?”

You had always known that the film world was a lonely one. Your dad was a producer and your mom was an actress. They fell in love when they were twenty and fell out of love when they were twenty-five, with affairs and scandals galore. That left you and your sister, mere toddlers, stuck in the middle, as they threatened to leave each other. Eventually, they just left you. Despite all that, you chose to go down the same path, as the film world was the only world you knew. And then you went through it all over it again, as friends, boyfriends, managers, and mentors all came into your life, only to leave again. The only person who had stuck around was your sister, but because she had to.

Jaemin was the first person who ever wanted to be in your life, by choice.

“I should’ve been more clear then. If I had told you I loved you that night, would you have stayed?” He asks, his voice breaking.

“I don’t think anything would’ve stopped me that night,” you say quietly, remembering how quickly you booked a flight to Paris, and leaving one week earlier than you were originally supposed to for your shoot.

“And how about now?”

You look into Jaemin’s eyes and see only a love for yourself, despite everything, just as he said. And in that moment, the heaviness that you had been carrying around in your heart for as long as you can remember finally settles.

“I want to stay.” You admit.

“So what’s stopping you?”

The question that has plagued you forever now rises to your lips, in a bout of vulnerability you never saw for yourself. “Please don’t leave me.”

At that, Jaemin is immediately reaching for you, the touch that you had yearned for finally engulfing you. He gently cups your face, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’m here, aren’t I? And, I always will be. I won’t give up on us.” You nod, and return his touch, tugging on the collar of his jacket to pull him closer. “And if you leave, I’ll come after you, again and again, like I did today. I just needed to know that you want this as much as I do.”

“I love you.”

And then you kiss him like you never have before, like blue water in the forests of love. Because if blue could be happiness, that is all you ever want.

© kisstuals, 2023

[noellefan101]

Bakery Love

Genshin impact, modern baker au, reader´s family owns(and works at) a bakery + reader works there, gn!reader

characters: Tighnari, Albedo, Kazuha, Cyno, Nilou, Xiao x gn!reader

Warnings: kissing, baking(duh), romantic relationship (+ planoinic in some but not with the main), kissing, , tell me if i missed anything

Note: I'm sorry if there´s any mistakes, english is not my first language and this is not prof-read yeah enjoy ;) and it feels so weird to write for Nilou when the rest is men, i didn´t think abt that. luv you all, mwah ;)

Tighnari

i feel like he would be there to get a birthday cake for Collei, (im sorry it just sounds too cute) and you were at the front desk in your apron talking to a customer, when he walked in and ordered. you looked at him, asked what he would like and wrote a note down so you could remember - he ordered a "healthy" cake with green frosting on one side and red on the other with Cuilein anbars on the green side and baron bunnies on the red side. and then he also leaves his number woth the order bc he thinks your cute so you start to become friends. anyway, thats how you met onto when you start dating

you would come over to his house after your shift, or when you both have time, and bring him some baked goods for him and Collei/i feel like they would live together in a modern au, like Tighnari would still be her caretaker, just like in the game/. you and Tighnari would definitely bake together, and you would teach him how to bake certain pastries and stuff, and Collei/+Cyno maybe/could join if they wanted to (it would be so cute wtf). i also think he would be like a florist or smt, like he owns a flower shop, so he would bring you flowers or just plants in general. so the bakery would have a lot of plants that he´s given you. and your family (lovingly) hates him because where tf are they gonna put all these fricking flowers and stuff he gets you every week. tho their happy for you and they also got free decor for the bakery so they don´t really complain.

to him you´re like a rose, beautiful, even if sometimes you sting, he adores you just as much

Albedo

he was just there to study at first, maybe get some coffee and a piece of cake, when he saw you behind the counter he kinda.. uhm.. fell in love at first sight, yeah... anyway now/because of your beauty/he is there studying more often or when you´re there to be exact. your sibling or parent called it out but you denied it and didn´t think much of it. and then he finally asked for your number

when you finally start dating, he would still study at your bakery but it´ll be a little more often. and not only on your shifts but on other family members too, mainly bc he wants to get to know them better. he also brings his little sister, Klee, with him more often so she can meet you and your family + see the bakery. he also would make some artificial things for you, like flowers and stuff, you could either put in your room or around the bakery. yk the flower he makes in his idol or whatever its called, so like one of those or just anything you want really. he could also paint there, but he´ll just start painting you and he doesn´t want other people to think he´s stalking you.

to him you´re like a painting, pretty in many ways, and perfect in his eyes

Kazuha

he would visit the bakery once in a while, finding it relaxing to be there and finding great inspiration for his poems and stories. and something he has noticed is the beautiful person that is sometimes behind the corner/you hehe/and starts to slowly become his muse. he couldn´t help it its like keeping a secret from someone, but sharing it with the world at the same time. he finds himself going to the same place over and over again, only wanting to see your face one more time. (wtf happened to me) while he was unknowingly falling in love with this new muse, you were falling for him. (ok i need to fricking stop, omg)

when you two finally started dating, he still kept you as his muse, but this time you were both aware and laughed a little together because of it. anyway he would be there even more to just sit and write about something, then later in the day/or week if you both were busy/he would read them out to you. and at some point you would start giving him notebooks every few months just so he could write his poetry on something other than the tissues from the bakery(omg that would be so cute and hilarious at the same time). in return he would gift you your favorite flowers and try and learn to bake, even tho its not perfect he tries and you love it. sometimes you´ll bake something with him and teach him properly how to do something/or do it the way your family does it/and then after you eat it together.

to him you're a miracle, your his love, his life, and his muse, he doesn´t know what to do without you now

Cyno

he´s a policeman (the hot kind) and there was an incident with your neighbor bc their store got robbed/in my mind it's a jewelry store but let your mind go wherever/so you got a few questions since you were on your shift at the time they came in. but you then after went into the back/your home to get your parents. and then after he started showing up more both because of the situation but also because he generally liked your pastries and cakes. even after the case ended he still came over on a lot of all of his breaks, maybe it was sometimes to see you but you ofc didn´t need to know that ;)

so when you guys started dating, he would ofc still come over but also look out for you, your family, and the bakery. also in his free time/even tho its not often/he would "help" you with baking. aka your teaching him how to bake bc he can´t for the life of him, but he brags to his friends abt it "cough". anyway, he would love to try some new recipes you find online or in your family cookbook, and help as much as he can. if you made him some pastries for him to take with him to work, he would fall even more `head over heels` in love with you, seriously do it. he would definitely stop anybody that tries to steal anything from the bakery, and get them arrested immediately.

to him your love is like a drug, addicting, but even if he knows it he will still love you for eternity

Nilou

yk the cake she eats in game, that would definitely be the reason you two met. like it would be in the bakery´s window or smt and she would order that with a smile, while you where on your shift ofc. and she would get all exited and stuff. + she thinks the way you and your family make it is much better, so she´s basically a reguler bc she orders at your bakery so often. and then she starts to fall in love with one of the bakers there (you), and so she tries to find out when your shift is and stuff. (my brain couldn´t stop sry, that was a lot)

anyways, when you start dating she would definitely want to try and learn the recipe and bake it with you, but ofc she needs practice so she´ll eat your portion at the start, but you can´t complain you´ve literally done this your whole life ofc you´re better. she´d also want to meet your family early on bc you told her about some baking days when you test new recipes and stuff, so she´d be the taste tester and give tips if she could. aand you would give her discounts for some kisses. she would also dance in the bakery, with you and your family´s content ofc, so she could attract customers with her beautiful dancing.

to her you´re like cake, has many flavors, not all perfect but to her you are too perfect to enjoy only once

Xiao

i see him getting dragged there by some friends/yk aether, venti, kazuha, heizou and then scara is getting dragged there too. so basically 6rezze(sry if thats wrong) or 5wirl, but they aren´t famous/and they drag him to your bakery. bc they wanted to try the cakes and stuff. and your the one behind the counter(idk if thats a good thing or not, but ig it was?). and so you had to deal with some boys yelling at each other while one of them was completely silent/xiao/he just ordered and explained what the rest/but not for heizou, kazuha cuz i feel like they would already have ordered/you just got the pastries and cakes they ordered, and they then sat down seeming to calm down.

after you started dating he wouldn´t come to the bakery often, but he´ll definitely come over like once a week/before was like once or twice a month/and he won´t order much but is just there to support you. otherwise, if he comes to the bakery he´ll just go straight to the back to see you/they know who he is ofc, but for first-time workers that might be weird/and he would be a little sad if you were too busy to give him attention. if you give him some non-sweet cake or pastries he´ll love you even more(i swear thats impossible). he´ll also feed you, and let you feed him in return. if you want him to learn how to bake he´ll do it, but only if you teach him ofc. so there you are in your kitchen with xiao, trying to teach him to bake the non-sweet cake he likes.

you´re like the cakes you make, sweet, although he doesn´t normally like sweet things, he loves you more than anything else

Author: the sweet things at the end of each one, omg how tf did i come with those aaaaahhhh i´m freaking out right now. also if you want me to do more of these pls tell me + the characters you want in it.

thank you for reading, luv ya-Masterlist

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