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luvxiem · 2 years

Text

pink camellias

word count ! ~3.3k pairing ! luxiem x gn!reader (separately) genre ! fluff summary ! flower shop/tattoo parlor au (alternates between reader & the boys bc i want cute flower boys too) song ! whereabouts of the bouquet | kanae

.｡.:*☆ IKE EVELAND !

occasionally on mornings where you're arranging flowers outside the shop, you would spot the handsome stranger across the street opening up for the day. sometimes, the two of you would make eye contact and he would shoot you a pleasant smile before slipping past the parlor door. you never spoke to him—never even got within six feet of him, in fact—but your curiosity was piqued by this pretty boy with fishnet gloves and wire-frame glasses.

your thoughts couldn't help but stray to him—the quiet, mysterious tattoo shop owner across the street. what you didn't know, however, was that he's noticed you too. to him, you're the gorgeous florist with a dazzling smile, and his mood always seems to lift after meeting your eyes. when he gets a particularly difficult client, his gaze will shift from them and out the windows, ultimately landing on your colorful form. the image of you grinning and laughing with one of your regulars shoots a burst of energy in his veins, letting him survive the day with his sanity thankfully intact.

it was a quiet wednesday morning when you finally met.

you were once again arranging a new arrangement of spring flowers out on your shops windowsill, humming a soft tune under your breath. you didn't notice him slowly approaching until he was right behind you, yelping in surprise when you spun around and saw him so close. he let out a soft laugh as you placed your hand on your chest, playfully scowling at him.

"god, you scared me!" you breathed. "how are you so quiet? i didn't even hear you come up." the stranger gave you a knowing smile.

"it seems to be a talent of mine. my friends complain about it quite often as well," he says, cocking his head to the side ever so slightly. taking his hand out of his pocket, he reaches out to shake your own.

"it's nice to finally meet you," he starts. "my name is ike. i work at the tattoo parlor just over there." he points over his shoulder to the shop in question. funnily enough, you swear you can see a figure in the window giving the two of you a big thumbs up. he seemed to be wearing a fedora?

returning your gaze to ike, you smile and introduce yourself in turn. he was much more beautiful in person, you thought. and maybe it was the soft sunlight dancing across his features, or the gentle breeze ruffling his hair in a way that felt criminal, but you felt emboldened by the tranquility of the moment and spoke before you could chicken out.

"would you like to come inside for tea?" you ask, biting your lower lip slightly. ike's gaze softens at your words.

"i'd love to, älskling."

.｡.:*☆ LUCA KANESHIRO !

luca loved his job. it was clear to see his adoration for tattoos considering the swirling forms of ink adorning his chest, back and arm, and he had the reputation to back it up; great skills, excellent service, and a wonderful conversationalist. the blonde's shop is a popular choice for first-timers thanks to his bubbly attitude and easy-going personality, and he had a way of making you feel comfortable in the chair even with a needle buzzing away and leaving permanent marks on your skin. he knew why he was popular; luca has high emotional intelligence after all. how else could he make his clients feel so at ease as he does? this reputation was what drew you to his shop in the first place.

immediately you felt out of place in your pastel yellow cardigan and white linen trousers. when you called on the phone, the woman you spoke to was enthusiastic about your idea and understood your request for the "nice artist that everybody goes to for their first tattoo". you assume the turquoise-haired receptionist sitting behind the counter was her, and you mustered up the courage to approach at her kind smile.

"hi! did you have an appointment?" she asked. you nodded and gave her your information as she clicked through the files on her computer. turning back to you, she gave you another grin in an attempt to ease your obvious nerves.

"luca's just cleaning up his equipment from his last appointment, he should be ready in five to ten minutes," she says. nodding and shooting her a quick thank you, you go sit down on one of the plush couches as you wait to be called in.

it feels like no time has passed at all before a head of blonde hair pokes out from behind a door, violet eyes sweeping across the lobby before landing on you. suddenly, a bright smile adorns the man's face as recognition flickers in his eyes.

"hey!" he calls, approaching you quickly. your eyes quickly drop to his rather large chest—how are his tits so big? what the fuck. that button is fighting for its life right now. oh god the way his shirt stretches as he moves. is he talking right now? oh fuck i'm staring aren't i shit oh god fuck-

you quickly snap your gaze back to his face, praying to any god out there that he didn't notice your painful obvious staring. lucky for you, luca is the textbook definition of himbo. while he did notice, he thought it was for a completely different reason.

"oh shit, is there something on my shirt?" he asks, looking down to check.

"ah, no, there was a fly but it's gone now," you quickly say, trying to salvage the situation and save your hide. the receptionist is watching the exchange with stifled laughter.

"oh pog, that's fine then," the blonde says. "anyways, as i was saying. it's super cool to finally meet you in person! i'm luca, you own the flower shop across the street right?" you nod, fiddling with your sleeves. he leads you into the studio with a smile, plopping down onto the swivel chair and flipping through a black binder that presumably held your design.

"it's super cool that you're getting a tattoo," luca starts, removing a few sheets of paper from the binder. "i'm honored to design your first one. i know it's a big deal and you might be scared, but there's nothing to be nervous about! here's some of the designs i came up with for your idea, by the way. don't worry if you don't like any of them, we wanna make sure you're a hundred percent satisfied with the design before we start inking!" he finishes. luckily for the both of you, you fell in love with a version on the second page.

luca grins, and soon enough the high buzzing of the tattoo needle fills the room. seeing that you're still a bit fidgety, he racks his brain for a way to calm you down while he sanitizes your skin with an alcohol wipe.

"hey, uh…" he pauses. you look up and meet his eyes. luca bites his lip for a moment before continuing with a small smile.

"how about we make a deal?" you lift an eyebrow showing that you're interested.

"if i can get this session done without any tears or panic attacks, will you go on a date with me?"

.｡.:*☆ MYSTA RIAS !

tucked away in a hidden corner of central london was a quaint little street filled with cute little shops and flowering trees. string lights hung across the buildings while vines crept up the red brick giving it a cozy atmosphere. passerby can be seen browsing the many stores and chatting with each other outside cafes, sipping on their tea and snacking on pastries. overall, it was a popular area for locals and a hidden gem for tourists.

there was one store in particular that got a bit more foot traffic than the others, and that was the flower shop. run by a mother and her son, you could always see at least one patron scanning the many bouquets or discussing events with either of the two florists. they were well known for their great color combinations and meaningful consultations, and the two had a solid group of regulars coming back every week.

one of those regulars was you.

your coworkers can find you at the florists every tuesday morning to pick up your usual order of carnations to decorate the reception desk of your tattoo parlor. they were your favorite flower and there was always a bouquet set aside and ready for you to pick up when you inevitably dropped by.

today, however, you were met with the son instead of the matron who normally worked tuesday mornings.

walking inside, the tinkling of a bell signaled your arrival in the shop. there was one other person here this early in the morning—an old man you see every week picking up flowers for his husband. you shoot him a quick hello and a smile before you turn to the front counter. you saw the carnations wrapped up and ready on the shelf behind the counter, but no florist to be seen. since you were in no rush, you decided to just wait and look out the window, watching a rather amusing dispute between a squirrel and a bird.

about five minutes had passed before you hear a door open. looking over your shoulder, the first thing you notice is his orange shirt, and the rather large basket of peonies in his arms. closing the door behind him with his foot, the man turns around and jumps slightly at the sight of you.

"oh shit!" he yelps, fumbling the flowers in his arms. you laugh a little under your breath at how cute he is before you walk over to him.

"do you need help?" you giggle, reaching out an arm in case the basket fell. he waves a hand signaling that he's fine before sliding past you and gently setting the flowers down onto the counter. briefly, memories of the matron retelling various stories and gushing over her son flash in your mind. he's a lot more handsome than you thought, based off her descriptions of him alone.

"you own that tattoo parlor down the street, right?" the man asks, turning around to face you. "my mum told me you would be coming to pick up the flowers. i'm mysta, by the way." walking around the counter to pick up the bouquet of carnations, he turns back to you and inputs the price into the register. you swipe your card and quickly thank him as he hands them off to you with a grin. you're about to push open the door to leave when you pause, biting your lip. fuck it, you think, turning back around.

"mysta," you call. the florist looks up from where he was arranging another bouquet.

"yeah?" he responds, quirking an eyebrow. taking a deep breath, you smile.

"would you be interested in grabbing a bite to eat later?"

.｡.:*☆ SHU YAMINO !

it only appears when you need it most. at least, that was how the rumor goes. it was hard the believe that the run down building across the street was home to a magical flower shop, but there were too many people who swore they’ve met the sorcerer to brush it off completely.

it was quite an old building—vines crawled up the decrepit brick and weeds sprouted in large clumps in the cracked sidewalk. the archway leading to it was rusted and the gate itself was hanging precariously by its hinges.

you refused to believe it at first. after all, magic wasn’t real, right? but the number of clients gushing to you about the pretty florist kept increasing. it spread to your actual work as well with many of them requesting to get their flower permanently inked onto their bodies.

every morning now when you’re opening up the shop, you find yourself looking over your shoulder to stare at the old building, wondering if you would ever be able to see it like so many others have.

the answer to your question showed itself almost a month later.

when a rather scathing review of your shop appeared on yelp, you couldn’t help but feel insecure of your work and your place in this profession. despite what your coworkers and fellow artists have said in an attempt to reassure you, you couldn’t get that nagging feeling out of the back of your mind.

now, you find yourself locking up the parlor for the day when you hear a faint tinkling. it sounded like wind chimes, but as far as you knew, nobody on this street had any hanging outside. curious, you strained your ears to see if you could determine where the sound was coming from. it was almost enchanting, and you couldn’t stop yourself from walking toward its melody. your feet take you to the rusted gates across the street, and taking a brief look around, nobody else was outside at the moment. it almost seemed as if the world went quiet. pushing past the worn gates, you gasped at the sight.

instead of the dilapidated old building you thought you would see, your eyes are met with a warm brick shop with smoke gently puffing out its chimney. flowers you’ve never even seen before were on display in the windowsills, and the dainty cobblestone path was lined with little orbs of light. for a lack of a better word, it was magical.

pushing open the wooden door, you hear the tinkling of the wind chime that drew you to the shop in the first place. taking a quick glance around, you see various flowers and plants tastefully decorated around the room. the muted purple walls seemed to hum with energy—in fact, the whole place did.

you took careful steps around the displays when you hear the wind chime’s melody once again. this time, it takes you toward the back of the shop where you find a small pot housing what looked to be daisies. you let your fingers brush against the petals lightly, breathing in its pleasant aroma. taking a closer look, however, you see a little label next to the pot that said ‘chamomile.’

“it means strength in adversity,” a voice says behind you. spinning on your heel, you’re met with striking violet eyes and a mischievous smile. the man—who you’re going to assume is the florist/sorcerer everybody has been talking about—is leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. you stare at him for a moment. he really is pretty, you thought.

kicking off from the wall, he walks up to you and caresses the chamomiles with a soft look on his face. turning to you, he grins.

"it's nice to finally meet you, neighbor. i was wondering when you would show up,” he says. “i’m shu; i’m the owner of the shop.” you reach out to shake his hand as you introduce yourself in turn. looking back at the white flowers, you bite your lip. opening your mouth, you ask him how much they cost. shu shakes his head with a knowing smile.

"i don't take mortal money,” he starts. “all my customers pay me with memories or feelings instead. they’re much more valuable to me and my work.”

soon enough, you find yourself sitting on a plush chair with a bowl of swirling pink mist sitting in front of you—mist that was supposed to be your emotions. shu dips his hand into the bowl briefly before he jerks it back with a blush on his face. he coughs awkwardly, unable to meet your eyes. the sorcerer rubs the back of his head before taking the bowl and pouring its contents into a flask he seemed to pull out of thin air.

right when you’re about to leave the shop with your chamomiles in hand, the violet eyed man stops you with a hand gripping your elbow. you raise your eyebrow at him in question.

"um…" shu starts. he takes a deep breath before continuing. “would you be interested in coming back? you don’t need to buy anything, it’s just…” he bites his lip. “i’d like to see you again, if that’s ok.”

six months later, you shrug off your jacket and place it on shu’s chair revealing fresh ink on your shoulder. he grins at the sight.

.｡.:*☆ VOX AKUMA !

AKUMA FLOWERS was well known for its handsome florist. extremely well known. you can often find handfuls of people trailing into the store as if they were hypnotized, an excited smile gracing their face as they greet the man. it's obvious to see that many of these patrons aren't exactly interested in the flowers but vox instead, and despite this he always welcomes them in with a warm hello and an attractive grin. however, it was because of these types of customers that the demon tends to appreciate those with a genuine interest in his work.

vox takes a lot of pride in his arrangements—many nights have been spent memorizing different flower meanings and experimenting with color combos—and the demon knows his regulars appreciate his efforts. the florist lets his familiar smirk soften into a more sincere smile whenever a regular comes in to the store, welcoming them by name.

yes, vox loves flowers. how ironic that a fearsome demon such as he now wears soft cardigans and tenderly cares for roses. but despite this stark contrast in his nature and his job, he doesn’t regret choosing this path. after all, it led him to you.

vox wasn't ignorant of your lingering glances. when you park your motorcycle and tug off your helmet, your eyes automatically land on his store across the street. it’s hard to ignore your presence when more than a few of his patrons have complained about the noise of your bike, but all he can think about is how breathtaking you look every day.

the demon puffs out his chest a little bit more, stands a little taller every time he feels your gaze on him. yes, he preens at your attention. sue him. on more than one occasion he’s considered walking inside your parlor for a tattoo just so that he could have an excuse to talk to you. luckily, he didn’t have to resort to that.

one late afternoon after the last customer for the day left, vox heard the small tinkling of a bell signaling an arrival. he poked his head out from behind a display, the words ‘i’m so sorry, but i’m afraid we’re closed for today’ on his lips when his eyes landed on your form. vox’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ in surprise, before he stood up straight and dusted his apron.

"oh, um, hello there,” he stuttered. internally, vox cursed himself. where did the suave voice demon go?

"hey yourself, handsome,” you purred, sliding up next to him. from this close, vox could smell your perfume and gods was it simply alluring.

"it's nice to finally put a voice to your face,” you say, cocking your head to the side.

"don't you mean, putting a name to my face?” he asks, sure that that was how the saying usually goes. you let out a melodic laugh at his question and vox was sure he couldn’t fall any harder.

"oh, i know your name, vox akuma,” you declare. “my coworkers go on and on about the handsome florist across the street.” the demon feels his face flush at your words, and curses himself for doing so once again. putting on a brave front, he smirked.

"this is a bit unfair then, no? i should get to know your name as well,” he bargains, leaning over slightly. his eyes widen in surprise when you lean closer as well, your eyes darting down to his lips before you meet your gaze again.

"i'll tell you if you agree to grab dinner with me?” you propose. vox doesn’t even have to think before he replies.

"let me close up the shop real quick and we can go. i know a great pizza place down the road.”

WRITTEN ! 081122

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