#coffee at a place that is filled with plants and is also a florist
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“ douceur „
quanxi x fem florist | barista reader.
multiple part series. first part thats just pretty fluffy and romancey!! first time writing and actually publishing it so ermm leave tips ig idk. ik the pacing is weird but its bc i like to write in detail.
feminine reader x quanxi, includes romance. >:3 smut in later chapters or wtv.
disclaimer ; I've never written like romance before so forgive me lol. I write with extreme detail too so it probably gonna be the SLOWEST burn ever. also she smokes weed cuz ion fuck wit that cig shit lmfao
CHAPTER I
being a florist in tokyo isn't anything you thought you'd be finding yourself doing. though, being drawn to the sweet and naturey smell of flowers wouldn't suprise anyone who had known you before. head over heels constantly in love with all kinds of plants and flowers, from spider lilies to hydrangea, peony and flower arrangements in themselves.
. . .
you'd adjust your grip on the box cutter in your dominant hand, the vivid pink color of it mixing with the warm lighting above you, the blade swiftly and sharply cutting through the protruding thorns of the white roses, the remaining water inside would drip slightly onto the paper below the bouqet would find itself sitting inside of momentarily. a smell similar of freshly cut grass would fill your senses, and the cozy and comforting feel of the floristry – cafe place that you had recently assigned yourself to.
the smell of coffee, tea, and the baby's breath that sat to the right of you would fill the air, a rainy day with cars ever–so making light noises as their wheels splash and sputter inside of the puddles left by the rain. the annoying ding of the door would fill your ears once more, and like clock–work the all too familiar words would spill out of your mouth.
“ Welcome to Yrlissa's Flowery, How may I be of assistance? ”
as your eyes lazily drifted off the commissed bouqet that laid on the counter infront of you, your eyes would laid upon a tall lady, with a muscular yet slim figure. wispy bangs and a lacey eyepatch concealing her right eye. the rest of her thin hair contained by a black hairtie— who the hell visits a flower shop in a full black suit? Is she going to a fucking funeral ?
NOT professional thoughts. get it together!!!
the lady would approach the counter, with an almost monochromatic expression. not one emotion would appear on her face, and no body language out of the ordinary. her movements would seem almost perfected calculated, almost uncanny even, but as she grew closer the smell of the the roses and baby's breath would be replaced with the smell of marijuana.
the footsteps would come to a halt uncomfortably close to you, or maybe it would seem that way since shes near the height of a basketball player and you couldn't be any closer to a smurf, and also leaning over flowers with posture far from the best in the world– a few seconds of silence commence, the ladies eyes piercing above to read the sign. her lips parting to finally speak.
“A small espresso will do, please.”
“ would you like sugar or cream? ”
“ Surprise me. ”
the click of the box cutters blade retracting back into itself, and the clack of its placement onto the counter would follow her sentence. with your feet tapping to the cups behind you, and your body language obviously showing your nervousness, you'd swiftly grab it and draw back over to the counter near the woman.
tipping over the jug of geyser water just measuring to the line that marks a half liter. the sound of the water filling up would once again save you from extremely embarrassment from the pure awkwardness of the situation at hand.
. . . .
you'd stretch your hand over and weigh out 20 grams of coffee beans, pouring them into a small tin and placing them on the miniature scale. the lady bringing a stop to the awkward silence that filled the air.
“ I take it it's relaxing to work here hm? ”
“ It's nice on it's slow days, but then there's times like valentines day, and wedding season ykno? ”
“I'd imagine.”
as a few weeks passed, the lady swiftly became a regular. almost always coming in during your shift or being there before you clock in. a name you wrote on the coffee cup almost every shift, the type of name that rolls off your tongue sweet and slick, — quanxi. another day had arrived, opening the door to yrlissa's the bell would chime as you walked in, swiftly pittering to clock in, not missing quanxi sitting in the corner of the shop, as always.
she would stay for a few hours and make nice company on slow days, an often occurrence it would be to sit and speak with her while filling out the commissions for bouqets, and other kinds of assortments. it didn't take long to realize quanxi liked more to listen than to speak.
today was october 5th. the chill in the air sweeping into the store moments after the bell on the door would ring. it didn't take long for you to learn to brace yourself against the cold on the cue of the chime. completing the same ol' sequence you'd do everyday, steaming the milk and poking holes in the puck of espresso, yet this time for yourself to warm up on the cold day.
the thick fog outside would make seeing the people and events happening outside near impossible. pouring the milk, then espresso, a drizzle of caramel and whipped cream onntop, the perfect go—to drink. the cup would warm your hands, soothing you and bringing you into relaxation with the first sip, a small breath leaving your parted lips—
the all too familiar chime would fill your ears.
bruh.
quickly stepping behind the counter to at least shield your lower half. or.. 90% of ur body bc ur a fucking smurf. srry im writing this in my perspective im fucking 5'0. the chill would still expectedly hit your face and torso, sending a small shiver up your spine. gripping the cup of coffee just a bit tighter to warm your hands once again. fluttering your lashes and squinting to keep the ice cold air out of your eyes, you'd realize who'd walked in.
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cold.” Quanxi would say, looking back and closing the door softly behind her as not to brush more cold air inside. this time she was wearing a brown turtle-neck under her coat and long black pants. she'd take a deep breath in and pull her other hand out of her pocket.
“you're fine don't worry. at least it's not another total stranger walking in, I think I'd rot inside having to make any more small talk today.” you'd set down your coffee to start her order, placing it beside the cash register and lean on the counter with the corner digging into your palms.
“Usual?”
“Mm.”
Quanxi would approach the table near the entrance of the work space, leaving about 3-5 feet in between the two of you as you started her order. It took her a few days in the beginning but she got what she wanted down pack. a shot of espresso, mixed softly into chocolate syrup followed by warm steamed milk and whipped cream. In other words, a Caffé Mocha. with some extra chocolate.
. . . should probably start that order
you'd started serving quanxi in the pretty white mugs boss lady told you not to use, simply to reduce dishes. but you didn't mind washing one or two for quanxi. You'd hear the clink of her keys being placed onto the table before she'd speak.
“How's work been treating you lately? ” Quanxi would say to you, looking at you completely still with a hand propped up under her chin, but still as nonchalant as usual. It was hard to believe she was genuinely interested sometimes.
pouring the chocolate into the bottom of the cup focusedly, to make it look as pretty and perfect as can be, you'd take a second before answering. “Horrible, Actually. This guy yesterday, came in and got mad at me because I forgot to put caramel on top of his frappe. He ended up throwing it on the floor, and of course I had to clean it. ”
Quanxi's eyes would follow the way you carefully made the coffee. The way you'd twirl the cup to make sure it was evenly distributed, and the way you'd add extra for her, even though she didn't ask for it. Nor did she really like how sweet it made the drink, but to her it was an act of kindness.
"Mm."
“Oh! and thennnn I had a lady come in here with her boyfriend and I guess I was a bit too friendly with her and she pulled me to the side and basically threatened me. I'm not one for wanting a guy in general. That was actually around a week ago and she came back a few days ago an—”
the glass pot to steam the milk in would fall to the ground instantly shattering. nothing but the thought of your boss chewing you out rushes into your mind. not only is it expensive to replace, it was definitely coming out of your paycheck. Quanxi wasted no time raising out of her chair and assisting you with cleanup even before you, yourself could process what had happened.
“thank you. god my boss is gonna make me pay for this. . . " you'd say squatting down and beginning to pick up the big chunks of glass first and placing them in your palm. “I'll get it, you might get cut. ” Quanxi would take the glass from out of your hand and continue to pick up where you left off.
"are you sure? I can just get a broom or something." you'd turn away for a second to grab the broom from the back, yet once you come back you find the glass all gone, not a single piece remaining on the floor and a note on the counter, sitting placed under two 10,000 yen notes. (around 140$)
the shock would spread across your face almost in an instant. what the absolute hell? picking up the notes, you'd take the time to read the note she'd left behind.
“𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓹𝓲𝓽𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓻. 𝓾𝓷𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓫𝓮, 𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓿𝓮.
𝓠𝓾𝓪𝓷𝔁𝓲 347-1782.”
✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: * 🎀 .* :✧. ───✧
tired of there not being fuckin quanxi fics and smut bro. ik u stans r alive ACT LIKE IT!!!! 😡 k hope u enjoyed tho owo also im seriously fucking hoping this isn't ugly on pc bro.. idk but if ur reading fluff n shit on a pc u got balls cuz id cry if i got caught
#quanxi#quanxi smut#quanxi fluff#csm x reader#csm smut#csm fluff#quanxi x reader#wifey is back#quanxi csm#chainsawman
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"I named my little plant after you." for Willie/anyone plz and thank
“William?”
Willie winced, it was never good when Caleb called for him. He wasn’t a bad boss per se, but he had high expectations and let it be known one could expect recrimination for disobeying.
“Yes sir?”
Caleb smirked at him. “Caleb please. I swear I’ve told you that a hundred times.”
“Yes si-Caleb. What can I do for you?” Willie asked, hoping his posture was correct, that he looked obliging enough.
“I want to get a floral arrangement for Delores, it’s her birthday soon and we like to recognize our biggest donors,” Caleb said. “Can I entrust this task to you?”
"Of course you can sir-Caleb. Any florals to avoid?" Willie asked.
"No marigolds," Caleb said, waving him off. "And charge it to the company account, plus arrange delivery."
Willie gave a nod and went off, sagging in relief as he left the office. Okay, flowers he could do. There had to be a hundred florists in LA alone, and he could peruse a few to find something suitable.
Only after a few calls Willie was drawing blanks. He wanted to do this right, so something better than the normal dozen roses or piles of baby's breath. He decided going in to the stores would probably be best, so took off for the afternoon, confident Dante could cover for him once he told him it was for an errand for Caleb.
He went to a few places, but none struck the right chord. Then finally, a little place, just down the street from a nice coffee shop, and strangely a tattoo parlour. Dahlia's Bloom was small, but it looked amazing inside, wild colours and out of the box bouquets on display, the air warm and filled with different smells.
Plus the cutest guy standing at the counter, oh so carefully spritzing an orchid. His dark hair falling into his green eyes, a bridge of freckles across his nose.
"Um hi?" Willie called out.
The guy looked up, and then gave a truly disarming smile. "Oh hi! Welcome to Dahlia's! What can I do for you?"
Willie explained his quest, and the guys-Reggie he said his name was-hummed, considering. "Well purple hydrangeas usually mean wealth and gratitude, plus some sweet peas add to that, and some yellow lillies for a pop of colour?"
"That sounds perfect," Willie said. "I know it's a birthday bouquet but I think it's moreso a bribe to get her to keep giving, so Caleb will love that. Can you do a simple card and deliver it by the end of the week?'
"We certainly can!" Reggie assured him, and they went over the details before Willie paid, and reluctantly left. There was something about the warm atmosphere of the flower shop that made him feel at home, and it was weird leaving it to go back to the concrete and steel of the city. Willie was wondering if he could find a reason to come back again, recapture that feeling.
As it turned out, Caleb received glowing praise from Delores, and he told Willie to keep the florist on retainer, as there were a lot of events coming up that required flowers.
And Willie was more than happy to go back every time.
Most times he got Regie, and that sent a secret thrill up his spine that didn't bear examining. Of course, he also got Reggie's sister Julie a few times who smirked when she heard his name, and told him that Reggie would be sad they missed each other. Once he even got Rose, the matriarch of the Molina family who threatened to call Reggie in when she heard he was that Willie, but Willie managed to dissuade her. But just barely, because he had been fairly tempted to see Reggie again.
The next time he went in, Reggie was there with the same orchid, though it looked to be in much better shape, a couple new blooms on it. "Hey, the little guy is looking good!"
Reggie beamed at him. "Oh yeah, Wils is thriving!"
"Wils?"
"Oh, I named my little plant after you," Reggie explained. Then he blushed a bright pink. "Honestly I was planning on gifting him to you on your next visit in... maybe with an invitation for coffee afterwards?"
Willie felt the heat rush to his cheeks. "Oh um, I don't know what to say..."
"Say yes!" Julie called from the back.
"Please!" Rose shouted.
Reggie ran his hand over his face. "I swear to god. Mami you and Jules are embarrassing me!"
"Lo siento cariño!" Rose called.
Willie chuckled. "Well after all that, how can I say no?"
"Please don't feel pressured because of my family," Reggie said.
"Honestly I was working up a way to ask you out, and instead kept chickening out by coming up with reasons to come back," Willie said. "So, when's your break?"
Rose came out, shoving a leather jacket at him. "You're off for the rest of the day, have fun!"
Reggie sighed, but offered his arm to Willie who grinned and took it. And wondering if he could sneakily ask Julie or Rose for Reggie's favourite flowers to give him on their second date.
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Hellooo again from your secret Santa!
I have ideas coming together so I hope you don’t mind if I pop in for some more questions!
You’re a big reader - do you have any foundational fantasy books that hold a special place in your heart? Like Game of Thrones, Lord of the Rings, Mists of Avalon, Wrinkle in Time? And if so, what do you love most about them?
You mentioned gardens - tell me your ideal fantasy garden to wander around. Is it messy and wild and covered in moss? Full of strange special plants from around the world with magical traits? Is it filled with hedges trimmed to look like dragons?
Finally, if you were Rhys and buying Feyre her first Solstice gifts, what would you get her?
HOOOO BOY YA ALREADY SPOILING ME I CAN TELL BY YOUR QUESTIONS WOW
Okay just wow where to begin
BOOKS
Foundational fantasy... hard to say since I'm only really now getting into High Fantasy/the foundational epics typical of the genre (I never read lotr till this year, but grew up with the movies - discovered Philip Pullman late, couldn't get into GoT, etc) but some long time favs inlcude:
- Tamora Pierce (lioness/wild magic): characters are fun, spunky, and challenged by circumstance to weigh what they value vs what must be done. The romance! The action!
- Howls Moving Castle: I loved how protagonists can be flawed and petty and stubborn but those things can also be strengths in the right light (I have the same feeling about the Mistborn cast) not to mention that underlying truth of sometimes you don't want to do a thing but you have to and you'll be better for just doing it idk I really hope this makes sense
- you mentioned Mists of Avalon! I took Arthurian Lit and loved it so anything that takes an old myth and spins it, I'm am here for
- (do you know how hard of a question this is for me?)
This is only what I could squeeze in frame. Books were one of the very few things i collect? Hoard? And have been hoarding since Ive had my own money. A lot of fantasy I think of as 'foundational' is whatever I could get my hands on and shaped how I read the genre. Cinda Willaims Chima. Patricia C Wrede. Bruce Colville. Niel Gaiman. Piers Anthony. Terry Pratchett. Could literally talk for hours. But I love characterization/character dynamics and tropes (whole tag: "takes a hit of the good shit tropes") omg this got so long I'm sorry I hope this is helpful I just really want to do your questions justice
GARDENS
(I'm sorry in advance I've worked at a plant nursery and as a florist assistant so bear with me!)
Dream garden: wild and colorful! Anything that attracts pollinators (half the fun is watching bees and butterflies and birds appreciate what's been grown) and smells nice! Jasmine lavender honeysuckle, I think gardens should still look like nature (wild, balanced between flowering and evergreen) but also a sensory experience. Moss!! For!!! Days!!! Old stone/brick work! Statuary! Swings to sit on in the morning sun with coffee or at night with the bats and fireflies! (I once got to walk in Central Park in the rain and stumbled across the Shakespeare garden and I straight up was in heaven. The sound of rain on leaves. The walking paths.)
BACK TO YOUR Q: Hedges are for kissing behind. Plants with healing properties are a magic of their own. Growing things ARE magic. But if that dragon statue was enchanted or the sculpted siren in the fountain sang when the sun hit the water just right? I WOULDNT BE SAD ABOUT IT. 🌻
FEYRE
For our our first solstice I would give her a space to paint or read in depending on her fancy. A space to be creative in with lots of light and windows. With warm drinks on tap for the late nights she wishes to stay up late chasing that creative buzz. Conveniently soundproofed for music to jam to while painting late at night... or maybe other late night activities with a certain high lord should he also need an escape or she needs a model (ahem 👀). Maybe it's near a garden or within walking distance of a view of natural elements to inspire her. Maybe its filled with plants and canvases and brick walls to hang other artists art on. I know Rhys has gifted her similar things in cannon but as a fellow creative, it's the dream.
EDIT: MAGIC CHAIR!!!! SHIFTS BETWEEN THE PERFECT READING CHAIR OR PAINTING STOOL! COMFY NO MATTER HOW YOU SIT IN IT
(Dear lord this got long, I hope it helps!!!)
#secret santa#my love you spoil me yet#even your questions are charming#heart eyes#i cannot wait#im kicking my feet and twirling my hair its fine#thank you so much this made my day
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Qualities of a Reliable Online Flower Delivery Service
Choosing the best online flower delivery service for your flowers can be a difficult task. You need to know what to look for in order to find the best and most reliable one. Here are some important qualities to consider.
Ooh La La Florist
Whether you are looking for a nice bouquet for a wedding, a birthday or just a thank you, the Ooh La La Florist can help you. From healthy plants to dazzling gift baskets, this flower shop in South Surrey, BC has got you covered.
The Ooh La La Florist can deliver your flowers anywhere in the Lower Mainland, including Metro Vancouver, White Rock, Burnaby, Richmond, and New Westminster. Whether you want a bouquet of flowers or a gift basket, you can rest assured that it will be delivered in style. This online flower shop is reliable and a pleasure to work with. They have a knowledgeable customer service team and a good range of options. If you are in a pinch, they can also arrange redelivery.
In fact, the Flower Delivery Service in North Vancouver is the top flower store in the city. They are open 7 days a week and have a staff of dedicated professionals. They offer the best in flowers, cakes, and gifts, and have been a favorite for both locals and visitors alike.
The Ooh La La Florist's online flower shop in South Surrey, BC can deliver fresh blooms to any part of the province. They even deliver across the nation. They have a wide variety of floral designs and are proud to provide the best in flowers for all occasions. You can choose from traditional arrangements or have your own floral designer create custom arrangements that will surely delight any recipient. In addition to florals, you can order a bouquet of fruit, a bottle of champagne, or a gourmet cheese platter. They also have an extensive range of gifts and a slew of special offers, including a store credit for future purchases.
Frans' Flowers
Whether you're looking for a gift that will pleasantly surprise, pique interest, or boost morale, flowers are always a good choice. If you're looking for a reliable online flower delivery port coquitlam, you've come to the right place. Among other things, this swishy site delivers high-quality blooms from local growers. They also offer free local delivery.
Not only do they deliver flowers, they also do baked goods, cold treats, and sugar free options. The store is open Thursday to Saturday. For those with a sweet tooth, you'll be happy to know that the store offers an ice cream cake. In addition to the aforementioned items, the shop has a selection of tea and coffee, as well. They're also located near many local restaurants, so you're sure to get your fill of grub.
In addition to the many flower and beverage selections on offer, the shop also offers a handful of gluten free and sugar free desserts. And while you're at it, you might as well check out the bakery's selection of cookies, cakes, and pies. Besides, there's nothing like a freshly baked cookie to get you through a rainy day.
One of the best features of this particular flower shop is its willingness to work with you to create the perfect bouquet. The shop uses high-quality blooms from local growers, so you're guaranteed to get the freshest, highest quality bouquet. They're also very customer-friendly, with a team of knowledgeable and friendly flower pros standing by to answer questions and provide advice. Whether you're looking for a reliable online florist in port coquitlam, you're sure to find what you're looking for at Frans' Flowers. The store is also the best place to find a good cocktail, thanks to their wide range of booze and beer selections.
Coquitlam's Green Cities Award and 5 Blooms - Gold
During Coquitlam's Green Cities Award and 5 Blooms - Gold celebration, the City of Coquitlam presented the Hoy/Scott Watershed Society with the Grand Champion award for their work at the Hoy Creek Hatchery. The City of Coquitlam is also inviting residents to celebrate salmon-spawning creeks this year.
The Coquitlam in Bloom program is a public-education initiative that encourages citizens to take pride in their city's green spaces. Among other things, the program promotes tidying up and weed removal, and encourages improving street appeal. Throughout the year, the program hosts a variety of events including a Bad Seed community weed pull and a Tree Spree, a tree planting event.
The City of Coquitlam is also collecting public feedback on a new neighbourhood park in Burke Mountain in 2021. This public engagement is a part of the new Community Engagement Framework, a new set of tools designed to guide community engagement. This framework will help the City develop a clear vision of how to engage with citizens and guide decisions.
In addition to this, the City has launched an online recreation system that makes it easier for residents to register for recreation programs. In addition, Coquitlam is collecting public feedback on safety, parks and other aspects of its services. In addition, the City is collecting input on Achievement Awards and tap water.
The City is also hosting a community tree-chipping event. In addition to this, the city is encouraging residents to participate in Fire Prevention Week, which runs from April 29 to May 1 to remind residents about cooking safety.
The Minnekhada Regional Park wildfire is also a reminder of the importance of proactive firefighting measures. In addition, the City of Coquitlam is inviting residents to help shape the future of the Robinson Memorial Park Cemetery.
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Floral Arrangements
Summary // Flowers the AOT characters would give you & what they represent
Characters: Armin, Eren, Connie, Jean, Levi, Zeke
Warnings: Slight mention of Daddy Kink
Armin
Tulips | Deep Connection, Appreciation
Armin gifts you tulips because they’re a flower you can plant and continue to grow, just like your relationship. They express how he feels one with you and the empathic nature you have for one another.
Evenings spent at the beach watching the sunset with Armin were pretty common. At this point, it was close to being a tradition. While he always kept a pastel yellow blanket in the back of his car and you always made sure to bring along snacks, you were a bit confused when Armin advised you to not worry about it this time. He had already stuffed a woven basket with all your favorite items and made note of the flowers you had eyed last time you both visited your sacred spot. So as the both of you make your way closer to the shore, cool sand beneath your feet, you help Armin spread out the blanket and weigh it down with your shoes. As you claim your spot on the soft fabric, he begins to pull out the snacks along with the orange tulips.
“I hope you like them” he sheepishly says, a small smile forming to conceal his nerves.
Eren
Roses | Undying Love, Affection
Eren gifts you roses because they convey his passion for you. You see red roses, you think love. And Eren is determined to make everything he feels for you known. Whether that’s to the world or you or both. He’s a spontaneous lover.
As you both are heading home from running errands, sitting in the 5 o’clock traffic, you distract yourself by aimlessly scrolling on social media. Small conversation being exchanged between you and Eren as he keeps his focus on the stagnant cars in front of him. He notices a group of people walking down the street, vibrant flowers in hand. The closer they get he can hear them yelling out “ Five dollars a bouquet!” Signs accompanying them asking to help support worker’s rights. You lift your head up from your phone and before you can realize what’s going on, you see Eren lowering his window, waving the man over.
“I’ll take them all please” He says as he pulls out two twenties.
The vendor thanks him repeteadly with a nod of his head and hands over every bouquet in hand, to which Eren places into your lap.
Your confusion now amplified even more so, but not as severe as the swelling of your heart for the loving gesture, you let out a breathy laugh.
“Eren, what in the world?”
“What? I’m supporting a cause” he justifies with a toothy grin, knowing that wasn’t his only motive in doing so
Connie
Gerbera Daises | Playful, Innocent Love
Connie gifts Gerbera Daises because of how colorful they are. Night adventures are pretty common and being around you heightens his playful personality. It’s nothing but laughing fits and genuine comfort when in the presence of one another.
Neon signs and city lights illuminate the streets as you and Connie make your way towards the subway. Returning from your late night pizza run, you walk hand in hand listening to his corny jokes. Giggles filling the air as you lean into his side, Connie tightens his grip on your hand, forcing you to run with him to God knows where. He had noticed the bright red sign reading “FLOWERS” down the street, past the subway stop you both were supposed to get on.
“What are you doing?” you ask while continuing to laugh at his shenanigans.
“Getting you flowers, duh” he says while turning to face you and pointing upwards to the sign above him.
You both wander the shop, admiring the variety of flowers among you. Connie begins to pick out radiant daises, ranging from pink, yellow, and orange.
“Do you like these?” he asks, looking for your approval
You reply with a nod of your head and beaming smile.
“Perfect. Help me pick out some more”
Jean
Lillies | Purity, Virtue
Jean gifts Lillies because they’re pure, just like his intentions for you. All he ever wants is to be the reason you smile. He’s supportive in everything you do and you’re the same for him. He shows his appreciation for you often and while it appears in various forms, he likes to make sure you know how much you’re on his mind with tangible gifts.
After hearing your sobs over the phone from the previous night and the strain in your voice the following morning due to the stress you’ve been under from school/work, Jean decides to head over to your apartment. He figures you could use a break and since you’re not giving yourself it, he will. So as he makes his way over to you, he stops at a local florist and grabs a bouquet of Lillies, making sure to also snag a coffee from the cafe next door, before continuing his venture to you.
As you lay in bed, engulfed by the warmth of your comforter, you hear a knock at your door. You make your way over, still swaddled in your blankets and open it to find Jean staring back at you, stifling a laugh at the sight of you as little burrito. Only then do you realize the gifts in his hands, and look up at him with thankful eyes.
“Seemed like you could use some company” he says while entering and handing over your coffee. He had your order memorized just like very other little detail about you.
Settling into his presence, you grab a vase for the flowers and fill it with water. Placing them in, you notice the little card accompanying the white lilies. Written on it is “Be kind to yourself, my love” and as Jean watches you read it, he walks over the other side of the island to where you are
“Please” he mumbles before planting a kiss on your forehead.
Levi
Peonies | Prosperity, Compassion
Levi gifts peonies, accompanied by eucalyptus because he cares deeply although it may be hard to express sometimes. It’s very subtle but with these flowers he’s able to root himself deeply into you the way you did him. The eucalyptus helps ease the everyday stress you (and him) face.
The sunlight shines through the blinds, awakening you as you lay in bed turning over to find your lover missing.
Levi always woke up earlier than you, but usually on weekends he’d stay in bed with you a little longer until you woke up. This morning though, he decided to occupy himself by visiting the plant nursery you both had spotted driving home one evening. He remembered your comment on wanting to get a bouquet for your shared apartment, something to make it more lively. So as a way to let you know he was listening, he purchased flowers and decided to construct an assortment for you. Peach peonies for the pop of color and eucalyptus as aromatherapy. Sure, he could have bought a pre-made bouquet, but he knew it wouldn't be as perfect as he wanted unless he assembled it.
So as you crawl out of bed to find him standing over the kitchen sink, trimming stems and placing the flowers into a glass vase, you can’t help but tease him a bit.
“Didn’t know you were a florist” you playfully poke
“Tch, shut it” he jabs with the tiniest grin.
Zeke
Baby’s Breath & Roses | Purity, Everlasting Love
Zeke gifts you baby’s breath and roses to represent the two extremes in your relationship. It feeds into his Daddy kink, as you’re so pure and perfect for him. The roses are his way of “tainting” you while conveying his feelings of loving you intensely yet delicately.
Zeke’s always been into the more vintage things. He claims they have more soul, real significance. So as he picks you up to drag you to a new Vinyl Record shop he’s discovered, you’re a bit taken aback when you see flowers resting on his back windshield of his car. Opening the passenger side of the door, you can’t help the curious smile plastered on your face as you begin to ask him what they’re for and why they’re propped there out of all places.
“They add to your aesthetic” He defends while reaching behind your seat to hand you a seperate bouquet of roses decorated with dainty baby’s breath flowers.
“My aesthetic?” you question, quirking an eyebrow to express your confusion as you analyze the bouquet with a smile beginning to tug at the corner of your lips
Lighting a cigarette before pulling out of the driveway, he turns to you with a smirk
“Timeless”
I literally spent 8 hours looking at photos of flowers to make this. I wish I could say I was joking but I can't. It’s okay though *eye twitch* Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed this, please let me know what you think!
#AOT headcanons#aot x reader#aot x y/n#armin arlert#armin arlert x y/n#armin arlert x reader#Eren Jaeger#eren jaeger x reader#eren jaeger x y/n#jean kirschstein x reader#jean kirstein x reader#jean kirschstein x y/n#Jean Kirstein x y/n#levi ackerman#Levi x reader#Levi x y/n#connie springer#connie x reader#connie x y/n#connie springer x reader#connie springer x y/n#zeke yeager#zeke jaeger#zeke x reader#zeke x y/n#zeke yeager x reader#snk x reader#snk#snk headcanons#snk x y/n
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Mafia AU - Bokuto x fem!reader
Chapter 8 - I love you’s and lies
Chapter 7- take you home ; Index ; masterlist
warnings: slight NSFW and FLUFF
a/n: this is kind of long upss - also sorry for typos, I looked through it and corrected everything but then posted it and everything was gone except the headline, so I had to edit everything again but was too lazy too really correct everything again ( two times )
Thursday, 9am
The sun shines on your face.
You groan and hide your face in the sheets. Your head hurts. You extend your arm and reach for your phone.
9:48 am.
Well your class already started so there’s no need to get up now.
You’re about to put your phone away when a message pops up.
From: Bokuto
9:48am
Hey there sunshine! I hoped you slept well! I’m sorry for not texting you before, I was busy with .. work… and well yeah- don’t worry tho I’m fine!
9:48am
I miss you..
9:49am
Do you want to hang out today?
You feel something shift behind you, immediately you’re pulled back against a strong chest, as small kisses are planted all over your shoulders.
Forgetting about the messages you’ve just read, you turn around and look up at beautiful olive eyes.
“Good morning my love.” He says in his even deeper morning voice.
“Hey baby.” You beam back, pressing kisses all over his face.
“How’d you sleep?” He laughs softly.
“Perfect! Your bed is so comfy - I can’t believe you hid it from me all the time.” You playfully pout.
Ushijima laughs softly and rolls on his back, pulling you with him.
“That’s not funny.” You pout and he laughs even more. “Wait until you see the rest of it - and wait until you get a taste of the amazing coffee I make.” He smirks and kisses your forehead.
“Oh? An amazing coffee made by my amazing boyfriend?” You joke around until you realise what you just called him. Your whole body stiffens and you start ramble: “I - I that’s not what I meant I know we -“ but Ushijima interrupts you.
“Baby, baby, stop. There is no need to apologise. I’d love it when you call me your boyfriend.” He smiles at you lovingly.
You look up at him with big eyes, a blush on your face and a big smile.
“Does that mean … that you’ll call me your girlfriend? That you introduce myself as your girlfriend when we’re with others?”
“Yes baby. That’s what I mean. I would love to make things even more official, so everyone knew you’re mine and that they better not mess with you… but I can’t You still got your job to do.” He frowns.
Ah yes, the job.
Bokuto.
You sigh at the thought of his face, his golden eyes.. his smile.
“But love, don’t worry. I trust you. I know that you’ll always come back to me at the end of the day. That your heart belongs to me. I uhm… I’m sorry if I come off too jealous … I just.. I wasn’t sure if you’d feel the same.. and..” You shut him off by placing your lips on his.
“You big stupid idiot. Of course I feel the same.” You chuckle.
“Say it.” He looks into your eyes.
“I love you Toshi.” You say softly and blush.
Ushijimas face breaks his usual neural mask and he smiles.
He smiles such a beautiful and heartwarming simile, you have never seen him smile like this before.
“I love you too Y/N.” He leans upwards and kisses you passionately, rolling over you, deepening the kiss. “ I love you so so much.” He mutters over and over again. It feels as if a wall broke done between the two of you.
Your hands roam over his broad shoulders and you begin to kiss his neck when you hear your phone ring.
Ushijima rolls to his side and groans.
Grabbing your phone you look at the caller ID and suck in your breath.
“It’s him right?” He rolls his eyes when he sees you nod, “Then go get it.”
“Hey?” You shyly say.
“HEYY Y/N! Sorry did I wake you up?” Bokuto beams and you feel Ushijima shift beside you.
“No noo, you didn’t ! What’s up Kou?” Your smile quickly drops as soon as you see Ushijima sitting in-between your legs, evilly smirking. You mouth a “NO” and try to crawl away, but he simply grabs your legs with his big hands holding you in place - and then he begins his magic.
“Oh nothing much…, I uhm… I just missed you..” Bokuto stutters. You let out a surprised squeal when you feel two fingers inside of you.
“Oh.. uhm I’m sorry I shouldn't have called you.” Bokuto begins. “No noooo I’m sorry I was just surprised. Uhm… do you want to meet up?” You ask, trying your best to ignore Ushijima.
“YES! I- uhm I mean Yes, sure.” You can practically see Bokuto scratching his head through the phone and you smile to yourself.
“So… tonight at uhmmm.. 8pm?” You suggest.
“Yes! Perfect- I’ll pick you up at yours and we can go shopping and then head to mine?” He asks now shy again.
“That sounds perfect Kou.” You smile.
“Okay - I - uhm need to go now. Boss is calling.” He laughs, “ See you tonight!” And he hangs up.
Immediately you throw your phone on the other side of the bed and your hands grab Ushijimas hair. You scream when he bites your clit. “TOSHI OMG!”
“So … tonight?” He mumbles against you, “What do you two do?”
“I… ughhhhh fuckkkk - we chill at his… and — AHHHG!” Arching your back you groan and grab the pillow.
“Ahh… so you and him alone… in his flat.. late at night…” his fingers move faster and faster while his tongue circles around your sensitive knot.
“No.. Toshi.. this.. OMG TOSH I’M GONNA COME!”
“Yes babygirl, scream my name.” He demands.
“USHIJIMA !!!!” You scream and lift up your body.
Thursday, 11am
“Andddd here’s your special coffee!” Ushijima places the coffee mug in front of you on the table.
Taking a sip you frown.
“Wow. I can’t believe you’ve hid, an amazing bed, this beautiful view, this whole beautiful place, AND that you’re practically a barista. Ushijima? Who are you? OH also are you a florist? How do you keep all those plants alive?” You shake your head and he laughs loudly.
“I’m sorry love, I promise you form this day on, you’ll get to see all of me.” He smiles and looks at you with love filled eyes. You grab his face and kiss him passionately. His hands wander down your body and he grabs your waist, lifting you up. Your legs wrap around his torso, your hands find their way to his hair. His arms move upwards to your back, pulling you closer to him.
Pulling away, Ushijima looks into your eyes. His eyes are soft, so incredibly soft, you feel your heart getting heavier with each second you look into them. Then your stomach grumbles, ruining this perfect moment.
“Well… I’ll better make something to eat.” He laughs.
Thursday, 7:50pm
You came home just a few minutes ago. You and Ushijima spent the day at his, watching movies talking, cuddling and eating. Today felt as if you finally got to know him. From now on you can say that you know the infamous Ushijima Wakatoshi, that you truly know him.
As for now, you stand in front of your mirror, you’re wearing some tight black highwaisted sports leggings, an oversized dark grey cropped hoody and some black platform Doc Martens. Pulling up the hood, you grab your phone and head towards the front door. Bokuto should be there in a few minutes and you definitely need some fresh air to clear your mind and get into your role.
You hear the sound of the black Bugatti and in a matter of seconds it’s parked right in front of you.
Taking a deep breath you put on a fake smile and open the door. The second you see Bokutos face though, your fake smile switched into a real smile. He’s dresses as casual as you are. Grey sweatpants, black oversized T-Shirt and a black and yellow Nike Jordans cap, which he has on backwards.
“Hey there!” He smiles as you sit down and close the door.
“So… shopping now?” You wiggle your brows and smirk.
“You bet!” He says sheepishly and speeds down the road.
“How was your day?” You ask casually.
“Well… the usual…” He scratches his head, “Some business to deal with, but everything worked out just fine.” He smiles and quickly looks over at you.
“Ohh - well I’m glad.” You smile and look out of the window. Bokuto turns on the music and ironically “Gangsta’s Paradise” starts playing. You look over at him with an are you serious - look, but Bokuto just smirks and starts sining along on the top of his lungs while turning up the volume.
“Tell me why are we so blind to see
That the ones we hurt are you and me?" He sings and you just had to join him.
“Been spendin' most their lives livin' in the gangsta's paradise
Been spendin' most their lives livin' in the gangsta's paradise
Keep spendin' most our lives livin' in the gangsta's paradise
Keep spendin' most our lives livin' in the gangsta's paradise" you two sing on the top of your lungs
He stops the car on the parking lot of the grocery store and looks at you. For a second it’s silent then you two burst out in laughter.
“Okay okay, let’s get out.” You menage to say while trying to catch your breath.
You walk over to get a shopping cart and walk back to Bokuto, who’s already waiting for you with an evil smirk on his face.
“Kou - what are you planning now?” You ask and stop in front of him, a worried expression on your face.
“This.” He says and jumps in the cart, “TO THE SNACKS” he yells and extends his arm as if he’s some general on a horse, telling his soldiers to march forward.
“Omg why am I doing this to myself?” You fake whine and gather all your strength to move the cart.
“You do it for the SNACKS!” He laughs.
About an hour later, you got all the chips, chocolates, ice cream, sweets, drinks, alcohol and a watermelon, which Bokuto - still sitting in the cart - holds proudly. You move to the check- out, Bokuto lifts all the stuff out of the cart and pays - still in the cart. All the people around you two look as if you’re the craziest thing they have ever seen. The best looks you two get are the ones when you move the cart to the black Bugatti, that everyone on the parking lot is starring at.
Winking at you, Bokuto revs up the engine drives off to his apartment.
Friday 1:20am
All the snacks are open, the water melon exploded in the kitchen, the bottle of tequila almost empty and you and Bokuto have a dane off to “Hollaback Girl”. Sadly you have to admit that he is winning, simply and only to the fact that he can throw it back like a pro.
The song switches to “No Diggity” and Bokuto walks up behind you wrapping his arms around you, pressing his body against yours while you start moving your hips to the beat.
His lips find the soft skin right behind your ear.
You arch your back at the sudden contact, pressing your lower back even tighter against him.
“You’ve been with him this morning, haven’t you?” He purrs into your ear. You bite your lips and shake your head. “Don’t lie to me. I know what he’s done while I called you.” He growls in such a deep voice, your whole body shivers. “Kou.. I’m sorry I-“ you begin but quickly stop talking as you feel him biting down on your skin. “I know you’re not sorry, love. You enjoy all of this right? Having two dangerous man fighting over you?” He starts sucking on your neck, leaving marks that’ll be hard to cover up. You lean your head back against his shoulder, giving him more space to work with. One of his hands move under your hoody, fingers gazing over your skin. “I can’t blame you, love, yet I can promise that I’ll fight for you.”
Your heart arches at his words. Bokuto is so honest with his emotions and you start to feel a warm feeling filling up your heart. You can’t let this happen, you’ve just told Ushijima that you loved him, have you been lying? No. You do love him, but what is this feeling now? What is this warm feeling that fills you up?
Bokuto moves you around in his arms finally looking down at your beautiful face. With big eyes you look up to him, how could he hold back now? His lips crash with yours in a hungry kiss that leaves you breathless afterwards.
“Kouu..” You moan against his lips, but he pulls away.
“No. Not now.” he turns away. You open your eyes and the second his hands left your body you feel cold and empty.
“What.. Bokuto .. I’m sorry .. “ you stutter confused.
“No, it has nothing to do with you. I just.. I want to be sure that you really want me and that it’s not the alcohol speaking.” He says shyly and looks at the ground. At this moment, he looks more like a 16 years old that has to ask his mother to leave the house and not like a gang member.
“Thank you for being so respectful.” You smile warmly at him and walk towards him.
He looks over to you, “ You don’t think I’m weak for being that way?”
“What?! NO! How could I?” You ask confused.
“I - It’s just - I feel like I have to act a certain way since I’m in a gang… and that I don’t really fulfil those expectations.” He looks at you with big eyes. Gently you place your hands on either side of his face forcing him to look at you.
“Bokuto, there’s nothing wrong with it. You’re still dangerous and whoever messes with you has some serious death wishes. Also I believe you don’t show this side to everyone.” You smile at him and kiss his nose.
“No.. only to the ones I trust.” He mumbles embarrassed, “Have I trusted you too early, y/n?” He asks innocently and your heart breaks.
Yes yes, he did. He certainly did, but he’s not one to blame. You’ve been too open and carefree around him. You didn't act, they’ve all been your true emotions and feeling. Who is he to blame for trusting you?
“Yes Kou you did, but it’s fine. I won’t betray you.” You say and his eyes lit up.
“Thank you. It’s so hard for me to find someone to trust and who accepts me outside the gang.” He kisses your cheek and grabs your hand, “NOW we haven’t decided who won the dace off!” He laughs and starts looking for the right song.
You feel your phone vibrating.
From Tosh:
Are you okay?
Yes I am.
Okay good. Please, remember that you’re just playing a role…
I know Toshi.
Good, sorry.. I’m just worried. I’m with the boss rn and he asked where you are and I just- got worried...
I know- but you don’t have to, I’m all yours love.
I love you.
Shaking your head, you brush off the feeling of guilt and put your phone away.
Bokuto looks at you with sharp eyes.
“Hm?” you ask and look at him confused.
“Does he know you're with me?” he asks.
How. How is he able to read you so easily?
“Yes he does.” you honestly reply.
“Good.” he smirks, “I hope it bother his as much as it bothers me knowing you’re with him.” You roll your eyes and grab his phone. “You take too long to find a song.” you comment and scroll though his playlist. He hugs you from behind and he rests his chin on your shoulder. “How about we end the night with some movies?” he kisses your shoulder. “Sounds like a plan.” you smile and add “Movies and cuddles?”
“Baby, by deciding to have me as friend you signed up for a lifelong subscription for cuddles.” he laughs.
Friday, 4:40 am
Bokuto wakes up by his phone ringing.
“Yes?” he answers still sleepy.
“Bokuto? Where are you?” Sakusa asks from the other line.
“Home. Why?”
“Come to the club now. We got some business to take care of?”
“What kind of business?”
“We found someone who works for the Adlers and we need our best man to make sure we get all the needed information out of him.”
“Coming.”
Bokuto sighs and hangs up. He looks down at your sleeping form. Gently he frees himself out off your grip and lifts you up, carrying you to his bed. He stays for a few more seconds, gently running his fingers through your hair. The he kisses you goodbye and leaves.
Taglist (open) : @kageyamasbraincell , @tendouthighs , @lilacshouko @softhourswithseb @theperksofcoffee @cuddlesslut @shhhlikeme, @kynyta @yammmers @asahi-is-jesus-periodt @hxnni-bxnni @theduvetpirate @chromaticstudio @gywjd0131
#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu fanfiction#bokuto x reader#bokuto imagine#bokuto headcanons#ushijima x reader#ushijima headcanons#ushijima imagine
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Chapter Ten
Pairings: Bucky x reader
Word Count: 1408
Warnings: Smut
A/N: Taglist is OPEN! Feedback is appreciated.
Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
“Erik?” you squeak out as the girls help you down from the table. You feel the alcohol evaporating from your body as you come face to face with your past. “What are you doing here?” you ask once your feet are planted firmly on the ground again. The girls take a step back, leaving you to come face with your ex-boyfriend. “I could ask you the same thing but it uh...seems pretty self explanatory,” he says, gesturing at the sash across the front of your body. “I’m actually here for a company retreat. I relocated back to the US a few months ago…” your mind begins to wander as he starts talking about his work and you have to refrain from rolling your eyes, nothing was more important to him than his work - and at one point, that had also included you. “But enough about me, you look great!” he says with an appreciative gaze that lingers a little too long, “And congratulations by the way, who's the lucky guy?” he asks, a friendly smile on his face. You look down at your fingers nervously before looking him straight in the face and answering him. “James Barnes'' you beam, mind filling with images of the man waiting for you at home. “Your boss?” he asks as something flashes in his eyes...jealous maybe? It’s gone just as quickly. “Yeah,” you smile as you think of Bucky - how he made you feel so loved, how he let you know of your importance, the way he showered you with his affection...god you missed him so much, especially at this very awkward moment. “I’m happy for you, truly...and I’m...I’m sorry I left the way I did” Erik starts to say but you put your hand up to stop him. You’d healed from the heartbreak, and hearing an apology nearly two years late was not what you wanted nor needed. “It’s fine, Erik. I’m over it...obviously” you say, gesturing - with your left hand - at the sash you’re wearing. Erik smiles wistfully at you, “Well, that’s great. I’ll see you around, Y/N” he says, giving you a friendly smile. “Yeah...see you, Erik,” You watch as he leaves. He turns back once to look at you, and you offer him a tight smile and a small wave before turning on your heels to face the girls who’d watched the whale awkward exchange from the sidelines. “You okay?” Nat asks, concern etched across her face. “I need a stiff drink” you breathe out, rubbing your forehead.
The celebratory vibes had now been dampened by your ex’s appearance and no matter how hard the girls tried to make things fun again, your mind just kept wandering. Eventually, after several strong drinks, you decided to call it a night and head back to your room. You’re changing into your pajamas when your phone buzzes. It’s a text from Bucky. You okay? Becca told me what happened. Of course she did. You take a deep breath before hitting the dial button. Bucky picks up on the second ring. “Hey,” he sighs out and you mutter a hello of your own. It’s silent for a moment, and it might just be the first awkward silence you’ve had with Bucky throughout your entire relationship. “You’re not having second thoughts are you?” he suddenly asks, his voice dripping with anxiety and you can sense his distress through the phone. “About you? Never” you reply firmly. You can feel the tension between the two of you slowly melt away as you answer him. “I’m just...it was hard facing my past like that. I shut down after him...I was afraid of being hurt again but then you...us happened. I love you, Bucky. Nothing and nobody is going to change that” you say and you hear him softly exhale. “I love you too, Y/N. So much.” You smile into the phone, Erik and the awkward interaction forgotten. “Get some sleep, doll. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You say your goodbyes to Bucky and settle into the hotel bed. You fall asleep pretty quickly, the excitement and stress of the day washing over you.
You’re reunited with Bucky late the next evening, the journey having taken longer than expected. His arms envelope you the moment you walk through the door. “God, I missed you so much” he whispers into your hair and you chuckle quietly. “I missed you too, so much” you say before pressing your lips to his. When you pull away from each other he takes a hold of your hand and wordlessly leads you to your shared bedroom, your luggage forgotten as you happily follow him. You wake the next morning to the sound of your phone vibrating against the bedside table. It’s Wanda. “Good morning, future Mrs Barnes!” she greets you and you laugh softly, trying not to disturb Bucky who is curled against your arm, his breath tickling against your skin. “Good morning to you too, Wanda” you whisper into the phone. “Oh, is Bucky still asleep? I can call back later?” she asks, anxious that she’d disturbed him. He was still her boss after all. “It’s fine, Wan. What’s up?” you ask, looking down at Bucky as he snuggles closer to you. “Well, I was thinking...considering you’ve decided you want to get married next month...which is very short notice by the way!” she says, teasingly, “we should start planning things...the dress,the cake, the florist, the venue...important details like that y’know?” she says as she rattles off the list of things you still had to do before the wedding. “Yeah, I know. How about we meet for coffee this afternoon and we can start then?” you ask, feeling Bucky finally stir from his place next to you. “Alright. I’ll see you later then” Wanda says, agreeing to your afternoon coffee plans. “See you later” you reply. You hang up and place your phone back on the bedside table before snuggling back under the covers.
“Future Mrs Barnes...I like that” Bucky says and you snap your head to look at him. He’s already looking at you, his face filled with adoration. “I thought you were still sleeping,” you laugh before it turns into a gasp as Bucky moves so that he’s hovering over you, a grin on his face. “Mrs Barnes” he whispers before capturing your lips. You melt into the kiss, your hands moving to run through his hair. He gently spreads your thighs apart and settles in between them. You lock your legs around his waist, deepening the kiss. Bucky chuckles against your mouth before peppering kisses along your jawline and down your neck. You let out a soft moan when he finds a sensitive spot. “Well, good morning to you too” you breathe out, feeling his hard length against your naked core. He growls playfully when you rake your nails down his back before pushing your sleep dress up to your waist. “Take those off” you moan, referencing his underwear. “Yes, ma’am” he says teasingly before removing the offending article of clothing. He slowly settles back in between your thighs and kisses you again, it’s slow and soft - a lazy morning kiss. You gasp softly when you feel him push his way into you and you thread your hands into the hair at the nape of his neck, looking deep into his eyes as he lazily thrust in and out. You both close your eyes at the pleasure. You let out soft moans and whimpers whilst he groans, his head falling to your neck. “God, I love you” he moans out as his hand slips down to play with your clit. With a few skilled strokes of his fingers, he has you cumming around him. He works you through your orgasm with lazy thrusts before reaching his own climax. He slowly pulls out of you and moves to lie back down, planting a soft kiss on your shoulder once he’s settled. You kiss his forehead before moving out of the bed to get ready for the day ahead. “I love you too...by the way” you say cheekily before heading out of your shared room. You hear him chuckle softly as you make your way down the hallway to the guest room, where your clothes are stored.
Time to plan a wedding, you think to yourself as excited butterflies fill your stomach.
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🌸Restoration🌸
🌹Hi!!! This is dedicated to @yamagucji and our shared love of plants and nature! Go check their blog out and give them some love!🌹
🌺(Yamaguchi x GenderNeutral!reader) {TW: Mentions the death of reader’s cousin} Angst (this is my first angst, please be nice)->fluff (The italicized word/words after a flower are what the flower symbolizes, and the reader isn’t saying it!)🌺
🌼**Please be aware of the fact that flowers have different meanings based on your sources! My source is from a book where the author did research on the flowers and chose either the most common definition or the definition that made most sense to her!**🌼
Everyone knew of the garden. The massive 3-acre garden. The garden that had flowers, succulents, and various other plants. The garden that was open to all visitors on Saturdays. The garden who’s owner memorized the meanings and history of the flowers that graced it. The garden that held various activities for families and the elderly. The garden that gave so much, but took nothing. Everyone knew of the garden. The garden that closed it’s gate four months ago. The garden that was filled with dead plants. The garden that no longer had visitors. The garden that stopped holding events. The garden that had cracks in the once moist and rich soil. The garden who’s owner’s heart felt the pain of every fallen petal and every bug-ridden leaf.
The owner, Y/n, hadn’t had the mental or physical energy to tend to the large garden. Not after their cousin had passed away four months ago. Their cousin had been the co-owner of the garden, tending to the look of the garden. Had Y/n had it their way, the garden would be unruly, the pathways non-existent as the plants took over the land. Their cousin, however, knew that couldn’t happen. How would they hold all their activities if there was no place to sit or walk? Y/n’s cousin had died without warning, crushing them. After the news had reached Y/n, the garden was immediately closed, a sign taped to the gate saying, “Closed until further notice”. As Y/n’s mental health declined, so did the wellbeing of the garden. Before Y/n could even think about the garden, it had already died. Their beloved plants nothing but dried up scraps that blew around in the gated area. This broke their heart even more.
The garden incident happened two months ago. Four months had passed in total, and they knew they couldn’t live the way they were anymore. They knew their family was running out of excess money to give them. They knew the garden was calling to them louder and louder every day. They knew the innocent plants didn’t deserve the neglect they received. However, when they had tried to walk through the barren garden, they were hit with a wave of nausea. Memories flooding down from their brain into their throat, pushing into their lungs, forcing their way into their stomach. Y/n laid on a random path, shaking and gasping for air until they eventually fell asleep. They woke up two days later, the sour taste of stomach acid on their tongue, a pounding migraine, and an ache in their bones that would last for at least two weeks. After that, they stayed in their house, sleeping during the day and crying at night.
One thing did bring them joy, though. That thing, or rather person, was Yamaguchi Tadashi. They called him Dashi, per his request. He brought them groceries once a week and read to them every 3 days. He was also the one to convince their boss to not fire them and to just give them time. They met a couple of years ago when he came to the garden with a tall blonde boy. He soon became a regular at the garden, often following Y/n around, asking them questions about the flowers they memorized. They became friends quickly, hanging outside of the garden. Y/n remembered the time their cousin told them to ask Dashi out every time he came to read to them. Every day when they woke up to a text from him, they felt their heart heal just a little bit. He gave them the inspiration to keep going. The way he showed them soft and tender care, made them feel like the chills in their bones was slowly going away. They knew he loved them. The only issue was that they didn’t know how long it would take for them to get back on track and know that they truly loved him back. That was why Y/n was currently at a floral shop, about to design a personalized bouquet meant for the sweet and quiet boy. They had already practiced their speech in the morning and texted him to meet them at their local coffee shop.
“What would you like to be in your bouquet?” the nice florist asked. “May I have White Jasmine amiability, Hibiscus delicate beauty, Angelica inspiration, Aster patience, Bellflower gratitude, White Carnation sweet and lovely, Flax I feel your kindness, and Lily of the valley return of happiness, please?” they asked. After the florist gave them their bouquet, Y/n made their way towards the coffee shop. When they got there it was 12 in the afternoon. “Right on time,” Y/n thought. They saw Dashi sitting at a two-person table in a pretty empty corner. When he saw them walking towards him, he quickly got up and gave them a firm hug. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you inviting me places again!” he exclaimed. “Yea, it’s nice to be out again,” Y/n said. When they both sat down was when Y/n noticed a cup of (favorite hot drink) sitting on their side of the table. Yamaguchi noticed their gaze at the cup and let out a quiet, “I thought I’d order it early. I know this place makes their drinks too hot for you.” “Thank you, Dashi,” they said. “Of course! Who’s that bouquet for? You haven’t talked about flowers for a while now? Is everything okay?” Y/n smiled at the way his words were laced with both care and concern. “Well, this bouquet is for you, Dashi,” they said, handing the delicate flowers to him. “Oh! That’s really sweet of you, Y/n. Do you want to explain the flowers to me?” he asked, a blush gracing the soft skin on his cheeks. “The Jasmine means amiability, and it’s there because you’re so friendly to not only me but others, too. The Hibiscus means delicate beauty because you’re beautiful inside and out. The Angelica means inspiration because you inspire me to wake up and at least try to make things better. Aster means patience because you’ve stuck with me throughout this whole ordeal. Bellflower means gratitude because I’m grateful for you. White Carnation means sweet and lovely because that’s exactly what you are. Flax means I feel your kindness because anyone and everyone can feel your kind and loving heart from a mile away. Finally, Lily of the valley means return of happiness, because every time you talk to me, I feel the cracks in my heart feel a little less deep. Listen, I know you like me romantically. I would have to be blind to not see it. As much as I want to say I like you too, I can’t. My brain and heart are still feeling so many things, and I think I should focus on myself before I focus on if I have feelings for anyone in general. Thank you for being there for me. Maybe, when I’m better, we can go out on a date and see how things go. I guess I did all this just to ask you this question. Will you restore the garden with me?” Y/n asked. There was a silence between them for a few moments, but Y/n knew it was needed for him to process everything and arrange his thoughts. They both drank their drinks for a few minutes before Yamaguchi spoke up, saying “Thank you for the bouquet. It’s probably the nicest thing anyone has done for me in a long time. As far as my feelings go, I respect your decision and maybe we can talk more about it when you’re ready. Hell yeah about the garden. I wouldn’t want to do anything else than to restore that place with you!” “Sounds great!”
After that interaction, the two immediately got to work. To say it was hard work would be an understatement. The first step was to get rid of all the dead plants and weeds that were still in the garden. It took about two weeks to get a majority of the junk out. He held them every time they started to break down. Whether it be sadness about their plants or memories of their cousin. When they were in a happier mood, they would chase Yamaguchi with a rake, both laughing their asses off. The second step was to remove the old and nutrient-deficient soil in the planters. this was probably the hardest step. Digging 3 inches into the soil of all the places designated for plants was a hard job. As the days went on, Y/n’s mental health improved. They knew that if their cousin was there, they would’ve been happy, and that made Y/n happy. Not only that, but as the restoration went on, Y/n and Yamaguchi became more flirty and comfortable with each other. He started staying the night at their house. His excuse being that he wanted to be there so he could jump straight into work in the morning. It took about 3 weeks of daily work to get all the soil out. Word had gotten out that there was something going on at the town’s beloved garden. People started a donation page for the garden, wanting to help out Y/n with the finances. The third step was to get new soil in the places where plants were going to be planted. This was the easiest step, as all they had to do what pour soil into the planters. This took about 4 days to do. Some might say that’s a long time to just pour dirt in certain places, but the whole garden was 3 acres with a majority of it being planters filled with flora. The fourth and final step was to choose the plants that would be put into the planters. This was Y/n’s favorite step. When choosing the plants, Y/n let Yamaguchi choose the succulents, vines, and other plants. Anything that wasn’t flowers. Y/n went on their own to get the flowers, knowing they had to get meaningful flowers. They ended up choosing the same flowers that were in the bouquet she made for Yamaguchi, Allium prosperity, Alyssum worth beyond beauty, Baby’s breath everlasting love, Pink carnation I will never forget you, Chervil sincerity, Coreopsis always cheerful, Cosmos joy in love and life, Everlasting pea lasting pleasure, Fennel strength, Feverfew warmth, Freesia lasting friendship, Hawthorn hope, Wisteria welcome, and a bunch of other flowers that had lovely meanings.
When they were putting in the last flower, their hands patting down the soil, getting closer and closer until their fingers interlocked. The earthly smell of the soil contrasted the sweetness of all the flowers. Bees had already found the gorgeous once more. Once they had both showered up, Y/n walked Yamaguchi toward the gate of the garden. Y/n delicately placed Yamaguchi’s hand on one side of the “Closed until further notice” sign and then placed theirs on the other side. All it took was a nod and smile from the two, and the sign fell to the ground. With the extra funding they received, they were able to advertise the reopening of the garden.
Both Y/n and Yamaguchi were ecstatic, beaming as people passed by them at the front gate. The day went perfectly, families were bonding, kids admired the beauty of the flowers while their parents simply basked in the calming aura of the garden, and elderly people enjoyed watching the insects and birds from the comfort of various benches. That night was when Y/n decided to have a serious talk with Yamaguchi. They had him sat down on their couch, sitting on the other side themselves. “So, you wanted to talk?” he asked, concerned that they weren’t happy with how the day went. “Yes. Let me go get your gift,” they said. When they returned, they held a bouquet in their hands. “Another bouquet? What’s the occasion?” asked Yamaguchi. “Well...I believe I’ve taught you enough for you to know the meanings of these flowers,” they said. It was true. Throughout their friendship and the time restoring the garden, Y/n taught Yamaguchi all they knew about plants. Specifically flowers. Yamaguchi stared at the bouquet before saying, “Agapanthus means love letter, Baby’s breath means everlasting love, Clove means I have loved you and you have not known it, Heliotrope means devoted affection, Jonquil means desire, Lilac means the first emotions of love, and Myrtle means love. If you’re trying to say what I think you’re saying, I’d love to hear you say it.” Y/n let out a deep sigh before saying, “Dashi, I love you. I realized it slowly as we rebuilt the garden. I feel as though the garden represents my heart, somehow. When my cousin died, the garden died too, along with my heart. When you helped restore it, though, you also helped restore my heart. All while finding your way into it. I’ve never been happier. Seeing the garden in full swing again is what my cousin would’ve wanted.” “Y/n, will you go out on a date with me?”
~Time skip 4 years~
“Y/n, do you take Tadashi Yamaguchi as your lawfully wedded husband?” “I do!” “And Tadashi, do you take Y/n L/n as your lawfully wedded spouse?” “I do!” They stood in the middle of their garden. Flowers representing love and devotion surrounded them. Family and friends applauded as the two kissed, sealing their marriage. When they stopped, Y/n saw butterflies flying around everyone. Somehow, they knew it was their cousin.
🍄Thank you for reading!🍄
(2.2k words)
#haikyuu!!#hq#hq imagines#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#yamaguchi x y/n#yamaguchi imagine#tadashi yamaguchi x reader#hq tadashi#tadashi fluff#haikyuu tadashi#yamaguchi tadashi#hq yamaguchi
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Pink Roses | Part 4 (Final)
Summarry: Chanyeol was coming everyday with his pink hair and a bright smile. You didn’t even bother asking what he wanted because he always bought one type of flowers. And one day he didn’t.
Gnere: Fluff, angst if you squint
Warnings: literally one suggestive comment
AU: Florist
Pairing: Park Chanyeol x Reader
Word count: 4,5k~
Author’s note: I have a love-hate relationship with finishing a series, haha. And I will really miss cute Chanyeol and the lovely flowery vibe this fic has. I hope you enjoyed it and thank you for staying and reading the whole series!
My phone started to ring on the other side of the room interrupting me softly humming to myself as I was watering the succulents standing next to the entrance to the florist. I took a quick glance at the counter from where the sound of the ringtone was coming and put the watering can on the floor. I swiped my hands into the apron I was wearing and quickly moved to the back of the store to check who was calling me.
I reached the counter and grabbed my phone in a swift motion. A smile appeared on my face immediately after I saw Chanyeol’s name showing on the screen. I ran my hand through my hair and quickly picked up.
“Hi.” I greeted him as cheerfully as I usually did
I got really used to Chanyeol calling me everyday - sometimes he called me once, but usually it was at least twice. This routine of him dialing my phone number whenever he finished his lectures, or just at any other time of the day when he felt like doing so, became in a short notice something we both got used to. From time to time he called me with a bigger issue he wanted to talk about, but our talks were mostly chit-chats and him saying that he’s just ‘checking on me’. Actually almost every time he did that, he’d right away come to visit the florist, and after helping me close the shop he would walk me home. It was some kind of mini habit we shared together.
“Hi.” he answered with his, now so familiar, deep voice “I was wondering whether you’re free this evening? Baekhyun is inviting some of our friends over for his mini birthday meet up.”
“Are you sure that he wouldn’t mind if I came over?” my brows furrowed slightly at his words
It wasn’t like Baekhyun and I didn’t like each other or something like this. Actually, now that Chanyeol and I were spending much more time together, we got really used to the other’s presence and we began to get along well. The thing I was concerned about was that if it had been Baekhyun's party, he should’ve been the one suggesting that I come, and I didn’t want to intrude. What if he just wanted to spend time with his closest friends?
“Of course not.” Chanyeol reassured me “He told me to tell you to come over if you want and have some free time this evening.”
Another small smile appeared on my face.
“Well…” I let out a sigh of fake annoyance to tease him “Since I don’t have anything planned for today, I guess I’ll come.”
“Damn, I didn’t know you were such a busy person, Y/N.” his laugh from the other side of the phone filled my ears “It’s probably easier to schedule a meeting with the president than one with you.”
Him cracking another one of his jokes, to which I got so used to, made me laugh quietly and I could almost picture him smiling proudly in return as if he had been standing right in front of me. I had noticed that he had this habit of grinning after pulling off a good one-liner. It was this sort of satisfactory sign he was sending to himself unconsciously as a reward for cheering the other person up.
“Okay, but now seriously.” I leaned myself on the counter as I spoke “What time can I come?”
“Whenever you feel like it. You know you’re welcome at our place at any time.”
My visits to their apartment also became more frequent. I pooped in every now and then during the weekends when I didn’t have work, but most of the times it was Chanyeol coming to ‘The Twisted Tulip’. Usually he would help me with some chores I had to do at the shop when I was serving the customers, or when there was nobody else but us we would just sit behind the counter and chat.
“I’m supposed to be closing the florist at five.” I said “But I think that I’ll go home after. You know, just to grab a snack, change and stuff. But I promise I’ll be quick.”
“Yeah, sure.” Chanyeol was never the type to put pressure on me or anybody else “Take your time. I’ll pick you up at six if you want.”
My heart skipped a bit at his proposition.
“I’d love that.” the smile on my face was growing even wider with each passing second
“Great!” he exclaimed a little too excitedly, but by that time I was used to his unstoppable outbursts of enthusiasm at the smallest matters “See you later than!”
I answered him with a quick ‘bye’ and hung up. With a loud sigh I put my phone in between my palms. The breaths I was taking were so deep that probably if someone walked inside the florist they would’ve thought that I’m having an asthma attack or something of this kind. I remained leaned against the counter andey the scent of freshly cut flowers fill my nostrils.
My doubts about my own feelings towards Chanyeol started to run through my head. He was the kindest person I have ever met and he always made sure that I was smiling. And the fact that he was extremely good looking wasn’t helping at all. Chan was probably the only person in the whole world I could never say no to whenever he asked me for something. The problem was, that he didn’t really act like only a ‘friend’ with me. I had a feeling like the relationship we had was that one type of relationship in which you know that something’s going on between the two of you, but nobody wants to admit anything. Most probably because they’re scared of rejection or having simply misunderstood the other’s friendly actions. And I hated this weird stadium of our even weirder relationship with passion.
But perhaps all of those things were just what my imagination wanted me to see.
“Coming!” I shouted when I heard the sound of the doorbell coming from outside the kitchen. I put the empty mug that was filled with coffee just a few seconds before down on the counter and rushed to open the door.
The next moment Chanyeol was standing in front of me with the usual grin on his face. The colorful, flowery shirt he was wearing and messed cotton candy hair made me feel like his smile was even brighter as he leaned against the frame and slowly scanned my body.
“Ready?” he asked me playfully
“Yeah, just let me grab my bag and we can go.” I turned around and started to walk to the small sofa where I had left my purse, but on my way I snapped my head back at him “I like your shirt by the way.”
“Thanks.” he looked down at the piece of clothing he was wearing “I knew you would like it.”
I grabbed my purse and swiftly hung it over my shoulder before facing Chanyeol again with my eyebrows raised.
“Because it has flowers on it?”
The boy just shrugged at me and moved so I could walk past him “That was supposed to be the main reason.”
We got out of my small apartment and I grabbed the keys out of the bag to close the doors behind us.
“You know that if something has flowers on it doesn’t mean I am going to instantly like it, right?” I teased him, still focused on putting the key in the lock and turning it around in a quick motion
“Yeah, but you own a florist and seem to like plants in general.” now Chanyeol was leaning on the wall right next to me
“A thing doesn’t need to have flowers on it to make me think that it’s at least decent.”
The keys landed back in my bag right next to my phone and my wallet with a muffled jingle.
“And what if I told you that I had put the shirt for you? Because I had thought you’d like it?” he raised his eyebrows at me playfully, but they almost completely disappeared under the fluffy locks falling down on his forehead “What would you say than?”
We began walking towards the exit of the building and I felt his fingers gently brushing against mine with each move. For people watching from afar it would’ve looked like something accidental, but it wasn’t the first time Chanyeol did that. And despite the fact that I should’ve been at least somehow used to this kind of affection, there was no way I could’ve hidden the pink blush slowly spreading on my face from him. So I just looked down at myself pretending to be very occupied with the non existent folds on my dress.
“I would say that I really appreciate the fact that you consider my opinion important when it comes to your outfit choices.” my tone was steady, but it was extremely hard to keep it that way with the beating of my heart and the feeling of blood running to my cheeks “And I probably would also say ‘thank you’.”
He chuckled and opened the door for me The first thing I saw after exiting the block of flats was a black car parked in such a messy way, that there was not even a small chance somebody else but Chanyeol could’ve been sitting behind the steering wheel before.
“So the limousine has arrived.” the boy just hopped in front of me and presented the vehicle proudly
I shifted my weight and crossed my arms over my chest.
“I thought we would be taking the bus or a taxi. I didn’t know you had a car.” I said with a gentle shake of my head “And especially such an expensive car. Or just one looking like an expensive.”
Chanyeol walked up to it and held the passenger’s door open for me so I could take a seat inside.
“It is expensive, I can’t lie. But it’s not mine.” he declared as I sat down putting the bag on my knees “It’s Junmyeon’s. He told me I could use it to pick you up. So, no, I don’t have a car. The only thing I have is a driving license, but my parents told me they are not going to get me my own car after I bumped their into a fire hydrant the other day.”
I laughed trying to picture the scene he had just described in my head, when he closed the door and walked around to the other side to sit behind the steering wheel.
“Is Junmyeon that one friend you told me about?” I asked when he jumped into the seat next to me “The one who’s parents are growing money on trees in their garden?”
“Exactly.” he sent me a nod and started the engine while we both fastened our seatbelts “And putting the jokes aside, I’m almost sure that they really do own money trees.”
I sunk into the leather seat at his words.
“God, now I’m scared of meeting him.”
“I swear to you Junmyeon is normal.” Chanyeol’s eyes were focused on the road as he spoke “He’s not like one of those rich, spoiled kids you read about in books. And he’s definitely not the type to show off.”
I put my elbow next to the window and looked out of the it, watching the city passing us as we strolled down the streets.
“You’re lucky I trust you.” the sigh I let out was loud and deep
For the next ten minutes of our ride we just chatted about random stuff that came up to our minds just like we usually did. Talking with Chanyeol came so easily for me - for some reason I felt like I’ve known him for much longer than I actually did. It was like I could tell him everything and I perfectly knew that he wouldn’t judge me regardless of what my word would be. Maybe it was his personality, his general attitude towards everything, and how effortlessly he was making other people smile, but it also might’ve been because of the feelings slowly boiling inside me. Every single day I had spent with Chan made them grow stronger and harder to get rid of.
I wasn’t exactly scared of them. Yes, having a crush can be overwhelming eventually, but it wasn’t quite my main concern at that time. The thing that worried me the most was how Chanyeol’s previous relationship had ended and how he had almost broken down in front of me after it had happened. Also I really didn’t want to ruin what we already had. I was torn apart between enjoying and getting slowly fed up with it.
“Y/N?”
His voice made me snap out of my thoughts so I turned my head abruptly to face him.
“You keep spacing out more often these days.” he chuckled at the surprised expression on my face
“Sorry…” I mumbled, looking away “What did you say?”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s kinda cute when you do that.” his eyes were looking at everything but at me “Anyways, I said ‘let’s go’.
Only then I noticed that the car had stopped and I couldn’t hear the engine working anymore. Chanyeol parked the vehicle in the same messy way as he had done it before in front of the building I was living it and unbuckled his seatbelt. I quickly did the same thing and and we synchronically got out.
After walking inside the building and taking the elevator, we stood in front of the door I had become so familiar with in the past weeks.
Without any warning Chanyeol opened them and loudly announced startling both me and the rest of the people inside “We’re here!”
The soft, chill beat coming from a small speaker reached my ears and the smell of something sweet mixed with a hint of alcohol filled my nostrils. Baekhyun had been previously sitting on the couch, his arm lazily thrown over the shoulders of a black haired girl next to him, but swiftly got up to greet us. I looked around the apartment and noticed two more guys and one more girl.
I felt a knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach as I realized that the only person I only knew one more person expect Chanyeol inside here.
“I hope my car is still working and it won’t require taking it to the mechanic.” another boy walked out of the kitchen and handed both of us glasses filled with black liquid
“Yeah, yeah, nothing happened as I promised.” Chanyeol rolled his eyes “So, Y/N, this is Junmyeon the owner of the cool car.”
I smiled at him and shook his hand gently. Junmyeon was exactly like Chan had told me - completely normal without even a small touch of unnecessary fancy vibe coming from him.
“Okay, guys, this is Y/N.” my friend placed his free hand on the small of my back, pushed me smoothly further into the living room and started pointing at his friends, one after another, with his glass almost spilling the drink inside “This is Kyungsoo, Jongdae, Yoojin and Nayoung.”
My eyes darted from one of the guests to the other with the speed of light as I tried to remember all the names and match them to the faces.
“Hi.” I sent them a small wave and awkwardly shifted my weight, unconsciously moving closer to Chanyeol whose hand didn’t leave my lower back for a second
We moved to take a seat on the couch, next to Baekhyun and the girl Chanyeol had introduced as Yoojin. My friend rested his arm on the usual spot, on top of the couch right behind my back, and I automatically leaned into him to the point our knees were touching. I took a sip of the drink Junmyeon had given us before and immediately felt the familiar sweet frizz of coke on my tongue along with the bitterness of whiskey.
“Don’t act so shocked.” Chanyeol whispered into my ear with a small grin on his face when he noticed my furrowed eyebrows “Jun always provides that the drinks are the highest quality.”
“To be honest, after what you had told me, I should’ve been expecting it.” I murmured quietly so only the two of us could’ve heard it while looking at the liquid inside glass
As time passed by and all of us sat in the living room together laughing and chatting casually, I learned that Chanyeol and Baekhyun’s friends were almost exactly like them - they were absolutely hilarious and treated me like we had known each other before. My previous doubts vanished as quickly as they had previously appeared.
“Y/N, you own a florist, right? Baek told me that.” Yoojin, who was sitting right next to me, turned her head in my direction
“Yeah.” I nodded and put the now empty glass on the table next to Chanyeol’s “It’s the one near Chan and Baekhyun’s uni.”
“You mean ‘The Twisted Tulip’?” she asked me and when I sent her another nod, she broke into smile “I know exactly where it is. Baekhyun got me flowers from you for our third anniversary and they were all so pretty. I kept the for as long as it was possible.”
“I’m glad you liked them that much.” I mirrored her grin
“And how long the two of you have been together?” Jongdae pointed at me and Chanyeol with his chin putting me completely off “Since we’re talking about anniversaries and stuff.”
I felt Chanyeol stiffen in his place and remove his hand that he had previously placed on my thigh, as I shifted nervously next to him. His eyes landed on my figure for a brief second before he turned his head away from me, but I didn’t have enough courage to face him as well.
“Um…” he started and cleared his throat before continuing “It’s not-”
“We’re not dating.” I interrupted him suddenly, surprising everybody in the room including myself
My whole face was burning and I curled my fingers on the fabric of my dress nervously. For a moment I had a feeling like the beating of my heart along with my heavy breathing were the only sounds inside the apartament.
“Really?” Nayoung’s said with a shocked tone “You two seem extremely close. I actually also thought that you’re a thing.”
My body reacted on it’s own as I stood up and took a deep breath. With my shaky hand I grabbed the empty glass I had previously put on the coffee table in front of me “I’ll refill it and be right back.”
All eyes followed me as I stormed into the kitchen, leaving everybody in the living room dumbfounded. I took the half empty bottle of coke and poured the drink inside the glass, but I didn’t even bother taking a sip.
With everything almost boiling inside of me I placed both of my hands on the kitchen counter. I hated how freely Chanyeol had been acting with me on the couch. And I hadn’t even bothered stopping him. No, I had even responded to that and done almost the same thing. Perhaps I just wanted it to become something more than just friendly actions? Maybe I wanted us to stop beating around the bush and clear everything between us up? But what if he hadn’t felt the same need?
“Hey.”
I jumped in my spot, almost spilling the drink in front of me, when I heard Chanyeol’s voice as he entered the kitchen.
“You looked like there was something bothering you when you stormed out like that.” he said and took a few steps closer to me “You okay?”
I wanted to shout at him. Scream that I wasn’t okay at all because I didn’t know if he wanted the same things I did. Because I hated the fact that I wasn’t sure who we were for each other. But I couldn’t do that. Not to Chanyeol. He was just too precious for me.
“Yeah.” my voice was barely a whisper
I sent him a sad smile, perfectly knowing that he could’ve seen in my eyes that I wasn’t exactly fine. But he didn’t dig deeper into the topic. Instead he grabbed my palms and pulled me into his chest, his familiar scent hitting me. My arms instinctively wrapped around his waist, as his circled around my frame, and my hands began rubbing his back soothingly.
A few seconds ago, I had just wanted to scold him and scream at him for all of his actions. But now all I wanted was just to stay forever in his embrace, listen to his steady heartbeat, and forget about my feelings. Maybe we were just meant to stay the way we already were?
“Can I ask you something?” he asked me quietly
I hummed in response, giving him a signal to continue.
“Does the thought of dating me scare you that much?”
I moved away from him just enough to look at him. My brows were furrowed because I wasn’t sure if I had heard his question correctly. But the pink blush dusting his cheeks and his eyes that were piercing into mine were enough evidence for me to know that I couldn’t have misheard it. I didn’t know wether it was my heartbeat that had sped up or his.
“No…” I murmured “Actually, it doesn’t scare me at all.”
“So why did you run away when they asked us about dating?”
I hid my face in his chest once more feeling the embarrassment and anxiety grow inside of me.
“I don’t know… I was just afraid it would turn out weirdly awkward if any of us had answered it.”
“Maybe it doesn’t have to be ‘weirdly awkward’ next time.” he suggested still holding me close, but I leaned back in his embrace connecting our eyes again “Maybe we could have an answer next time somebody asks us a question like that?”
For a few seconds I didn't respond because I wasn't sure if I was reading well enough between the lines to know what he meant.
“Maybe we could give it a chance? Give us a chance, I mean?” his voice was getting quieter with each word “Only if you want to though.”
“I…” I breathed out softly and smiling at him genuinely “I’d love that.”
Chanyeol stared at me in disbelief for a bit and let out a sigh of relief right after. I felt his chest slowly fall down. We just looking at each other for a moment with grins on both of our faces before breaking out into fits of laughter. Chanyeol placed his forehead on mine, holding me even closer to his frame and stared deeply into my eyes.
“I wanted to say that I really like you, but I guess it’s not the case.” his warm breath fanned my cheeks “Because I actually love you.”
I giggled at his words and said “I actually love you too.”
Catching me off guard, he dipped his head and captured his lips with mine. I quickly collected myself and responded to the kiss with my eyes closed as I let the feelings take control. His kisses were gentle as a feather and I could feel the taste of the drink we had before in them. Chanyeol’s lips moulded into mine perfectly as both of our bodies worked in synch. My hands moved up to his shoulders and I wrapped my arms around his neck. My fingers tangled in his pink locks and I felt him tilt his head slightly to deepen the kiss.
“Okay, it’s the second time I’m walking inside the kitchen when you two are here alone and next time I’ll just scream before I do it.”
Baekhyun’s annoyed tone made us quickly pull away from each other and immediately look at the floor with our cheeks flushed.
“I wanted to check what was taking you so long, but I guess I should’ve known better than to casually walk in.” he crossed his arms over his chest “Hand holding in the kitchen - fine, kissing in the kitchen - I can live with that. Just don’t go any further.”
My face started to burn even deeper shade of red at Baekhyun’s words, but the boy didn’t comment on anything else and just turned away to go back to the living room, leaving me alone with Chanyeol again.
Breaking the moment of silence I let out a short laugh and threw my head back. Chanyeol wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me into him again, both of us completely forgetting about Baekhyun and his comments.
“You know, I think I figured out what flower is my favourite now.” he said, his thumb rubbing small circles on my waistline
“Yeah?” I raised my eyebrows at him “What is it than?”
“Roses.” he announced “Especially pink.”
I hit his chest playfully.
“Hey, but that’s my favourite flower!”
“And you’re my favourite person in the world so it’s only natural that it’s my favourite flower too.”
His cheesy comment made me giggle in the spot as I leaned in to peck him on the lips once more. And one more time. And another one, letting the third kiss last for a little longer. Chanyeol’s hand cupped my cheek and he caressed the skin of my face with my thumb.
“I can accept that explanation.” I teased him after we pulled away reluctantly
The moment I had met him, I knew that he was somehow different from anybody else I had known throughout my whole life. Because actually Chanyeol and I were like pink roses - full of sweetness, joy and pure happiness. And I knew that we would stay like that for longer than forever.
#exo#exo k#exo scenarios#exo fluff#exo angst#exo imagines#exo series#exo chanyeol#exo park chanyeol#Park Chanyeol#chanyeol#chanyeol scenarios#chanyeol fluff#chanyeol series#chanyeol imagines
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( chloe bennet, cis woman, she/her ) welcome to lakeview, frankie sullivan! we hear that you are 29 years old. you’ve been in town 24 years? you should get to your job as a florist shop owner. i hear that it fits your generous and cynical personality. don’t be out on route 9 alone!
i. about
a girl who was born in las vegas, nv. everything was given to her on a silver platter thanks to the new money from the sullivan family. with her dad running a successful and popular hotel, there was no worries about running out of money. on top of that, her parents were wonderful. they loved her and she loved them. the only time that was slightly hard to get over was a divorce and moving out of the state. at the age of five, she didn’t understand why it was happening, but she looked to the brighter side of things. as long as her parents were happy, she was happy. unfortunately, her mom wanted to move elsewhere. wanted a more quiet location. both parents decided it was best for frankie to follow her mom. since then, she’s lived in lakeview, but visits her dad once in a while.
things were going smoothly. she was living an average life. it was when she was around twenty years old that her perspective toward others changed. first, she found out her boyfriend cheated on her. then, she was told the person he slept with was her best friend. the part that hurt the most was hearing how everyone in her friend group knew about it for quite some time, but didn’t tell her right away or in person. due to all this, she has a cynical view and hasn’t forgiven them since. it became rare for the brunette to truly become close to someone again.
now, she prefers to use her time indoors watching movies and tv shows, taking care of plants, reading, or simply going on the internet. if anything, she’s mainly the type to have a one night stand, but has kept about 3 or 4 friends with benefits all her life.
ii. details
pinterest
aesthetics: walk-in closets but wearing the same 5 outfits, smelling fresh air, having polaroids of flowers, not needing glasses yet wearing them for fashion, stacks of books that were actually used and read, a hot cup of starbucks coffee, plants scattered throughout the bedroom, walking through trails, a person reading alone in a library, being the wallflower at a party
most of her style is denim and plain-colored tops. her closet also consists of mainly neutral colors. she tends to leave her hair longer than her shoulders and either leaves it down or in a ponytail
she has three types of favorite places. gardens, libraries, and coffee shops/cafes
her go-to starbucks order is honey almond milk cold brew with a banana nut loaf
she has this tattoo
her future plan and hope is to expand her florist shop throughout america
her whole apartment is filled with plants, real and fake
labels that can define her: the anthomaniac, the recluse
#♡ ━━━ musings › i’m colder than this home.#♡ ━━━ visage › the best thing that never happened to you.#♡ ━━━ interactions › midnight whisperings.#♡ ━━━ inbox › you've got mail.#♡ ━━━ messaging › call me beep me.#♡ ━━━ social media › no thoughts. head empty. only memes.
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Muay Thai: 1.03
Read from start | Read Ahead | Home Site
The florist down the street was a peaceful place, even if walking in the front door was a little like being punched in the nose. They had a scent pump hidden in a hanging pot by the front door—Nairi wasn’t entirely certain why they needed to spray heavy fragrance oils inside a place filled with flowers, but she’d never managed a flower shop herself. Maybe they were trying to hook pedestrians.
The college kid manning the counter waved in recognition, already turning to fetch her order from the shelf. “Back again?” he said cheerfully as she approached, setting her wrapped cuttings on the counter. “I shouldn’t really discourage repeat patronage, but you know these suckers are pretty easy to grow yourself, right?”
Nairi shrugged, handing her card over as he rung up her order. “I’m pretty bad at keeping plants alive.”
He gave her a rueful grin as he handed her the chip reader to finish the transaction. “I get that—I used to kill cactuses before I started working here. The nurseries we order from have some pretty fierce gardeners on staff though, got me sorted very quickly.”
“Mhm.”
He nodded and kept talking despite her disinterest. The Thursday morning flower rush clearly didn’t provide enough opportunities for socialization. “Yeah, they’re all local places who go all in on small seasonal batches and heritage seeds. The bigger commercial suppliers don’t really have the same kind of knowledge base, it’s very cool.”
Nairi gave him a polite smile as she pocketed her card and picked up the greenery. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“Have a great day!” he called out as she left through the flowers. She sneezed when she stepped into the fresh air outside and rubbed at her nose. Hopefully orchids would go out of fashion soon; she was rapidly coming to hate the smell.
It was a nice day, and she lingered for a moment before heading back inside the dojo. Sun streamed across the front room and she hesitated before leaving the door unlocked. She was close to her opening time anyway and if someone came in early the bell would ring. She tucked her wallet and keys into the desk drawer with the lock and crossed to the back room, leaving that door open behind her.
The second room had a viewing gallery rather than floor markings, and it was raised off the ground as a little balconette. It ran the length of the back wall with a built-in bench and was accessible by a stained wood step ladder; a very pretty feature, the real estate agent had said. Nairi had set her shrine at the far end of the balcony, on a little nook inset to the wall. It had had dividing shelves installed, probably for bags or shoes, but she’d pulled them out to make room.
She’d cleaned her vase that morning to replace the plants, filling it with clean water before she left. The kid at the florist’s hadn’t really reacted when she’d placed her weekly order for just green plants rather than anything with flowers, but she supposed she didn’t actually know what was considered ‘odd’ to buy from a florist.
Everything else was set up, so she lit the incense and knelt.
A few minutes later the bell rang. Nairi stared at the shrine in front of her for a few moments, then blinked and climbed to her feet. Halfway down the ladder someone called out her name, and her confusion only rose as she stepped onto the mats and crossed back to the front room.
The hooker from the night before, Cherry, was standing in the doorway. She was still half outside, door propped open with her hip, one hand behind her in the sunlight with a lit cigarette smoldering in her fingers. Her other hand was a bit closer to her body, probably to balance the cardboard tray with two coffee cups in it. Her expression brightened when she made eye contact with Nairi, and she smiled. “Oh, there you are! Wasn’t sure I had the right place.”
Nairi stared at her blankly. In the daylight Cherry looked like almost an entirely different person—slinky dress and soft make up gone, traded for faded and worn cutoffs and tank top with half laced docs. Her bare arms had tattoos of fire circling her wrists, tongues of flame licking up to her elbows and her clean face was rounder and freckled.
“Why are you here?” said Nairi blankly, staring at her.
Cherry grinned, juggling the cups between her elbow and shoulder very carefully. “You saved my ass and bought me dinner. I’ve been on dates that aren’t that nice, babe, I wanted to say thanks.”
She dropped the cigarette on the concrete and crushed it under the toe of her boot before stepping inside properly. The bell jingled again as the door swung shut behind her, and she blinked to adjust to the light inside before taking the few steps to close the distance between her and Nairi.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked,” she said, tugging one of the cups out of the tray and offering it to Nairi, “so I just picked the most inoffensive thing I could think of.”
Nairi took the cup after a moment and had a quick sip. Foamy, bitter coffee filled her mouth and she tried not to grimace as she swallowed. “Thanks.”
The corner of Cherry’s mouth twitched. “Not a latte kind of girl?”
Nairi winced. “I don’t drink coffee,” she admitted, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Sorry, it was really nice of you.”
“Can’t win ‘em all,” said Cherry, still smiling at her as she plucked the cup out of Nairi’s hand. “Do you like mochas, or teas or something?”
“Uh, I mean, tea usually, I don’t—caffeine gives me headaches—”
“Do you have some time before you open this place up?” asked Cherry, gesturing around the dojo.
“I guess, yeah, I scheduled for twelve, but no one shows up for—”
“Great!” said Cherry brightly. “C’mon, I don’t know how fancy Starbucks gets, but there’s this little posh place on the corner that looks like they’ll sneer at you for using teabags, lemme get you a pot?”
Nairi glanced at the clock over her door. There were fifteen minutes til she was scheduled to open, but, well, no one had booked or called about the noon session. “Okay,” she said after a moment.
Cherry grinned, raising the second coffee to her lips and sculling it in long gulps as Nairi slipped her shoes on. She dropped the coffee cups in Nairi’s wastepaper basket and reached out, grabbing Nairi by the wrist to tug her onto the street outside. Nairi took a second to lock up with the chain while Cherry tapped a toe impatiently, and when she turned back Cherry was watching her curiously.
“You have a problem with break ins?” she asked as Nairi stepped back next to her.
“No,” said Nairi, glancing at her. “Why do you ask?”
Cherry shrugged, hooking her hands into the back pockets of her shorts as they walked. “Heavy duty locks for this part of town, s’all. Though, I’ve lived in some pretty interesting places, and then college towns like, totally fuck with your perception of that stuff, so I’m probably not the best judge of what’s like, a ‘good area’ or whatever.”
Nairi hummed noncommittedly, keeping her gaze ahead of her. She could feel Cherry’s eyes on the side of her face and tried not to think too hard about what it was she was seeing.
The café Cherry took her to was on the other end of the street to Nairi’s building, and it was small and picturesque. It had low armchairs and beanbags dotted around the open air front space, and as it transitioned into the café proper the walls were lined with tall shelves sporting thick, coffee-table books and lush, overflowing ferns. Low chatter and the steaming of coffee machines filled the sparsely occupied room.
Cherry went straight for the counter, tugging Nairi along with her. “Hey there!” she said in a friendly tone, flashing a bright smile at the bearded young man behind the counter. “Do you guys have any like, fun teas?”
He nodded, leaning over the counter to point at the chalkboard wall with the marker he’d been turning over in his hands. “Sure do. We’ve got all of these guys, plus, you know, like English Breakfast and stuff. The Sinnamon’s new, and Rose and Shine is very popular with soda and ice as a morning mocktail.”
The other teas on the menu were called things like ‘Rooid Boi’, ‘Lemon Aid’, ‘Raspberry Remnant’, and ‘Tea Thyme’ with the ingredients listed in a nigh incomprehensible chalked cursive. Nairi stared at them blankly.
Cherry squinted at them, mouth open slightly. “….Did you just forget to write the raspberry in on that one?” she asked, pointing at ‘Raspberry Remnant’.
“It used to have raspberry leaves in the blend, but we had some issues. We liked the name, so we kept it,” he said, shrugging.
Nairi ignored the wall and turned to address the guy instead. “Do you have anything with oolong?” she tried.
He nodded, pointing at a couple of the marked teas again. “Yeah, the Roasty Posie is oolong with mixed floral overtones, and Save the Teas uses an oolong base as well. If you’re looking for a gentler caffeine experience, then Rose and Shine uses white tea.” He grinned, leaning on the counter with his elbows. “Also, we do a uh, ‘house special’ with the Serenity Chill where we add booster shots of oolong and white tea—we call it ‘Aunt Mableton’s Icicle Situation’ after our manager’s cat.”
“Good to know,” said Nairi after a moment. “I’ll have a pot of Save the Teas, I guess?”
“Sure,” he said, leaning back and pulling the cap off the marker to write it down directly on the polished steel countertop. “Can I grab anything else for you ladies?”
“Can I grab an iced mocha,” said Cherry, turning her head and pointing at the glass case. “And like… one each of the fruit muffins?”
He nodded, adding them down as Nairi tugged out her wallet to pay. Cherry smacked her hand away and handed the guy some cash in exchange for the little table number, giving Nairi a wry grin. She stuffed the change into the tip jar and tugged Nairi over to a tall table by a bookshelf.
“You didn’t have to,” said Nairi as she shifted to take a stool on the far side so that the wall was behind her.
Cherry shrugged, dropping her wallet and phone on the tabletop before sitting across from her, kicking her booted feet back up onto the stool’s brace bar. “It’d be a pretty shitty way to pay you back for dinner, making you put out for brunch as well,” she said, poking her tongue out at Nairi.
Nairi wasn’t sure what to say to that and she fiddled with a loose thread in her cuff for several long moments. Eventually it got too awkward for her to bear, and she shifted. “Makes sense.”
“Aren’t you hot in that?” asked Cherry, crossing her arms on the table in front of her. Weirdly enough the only jewellery she was wearing was a small gold cross on a chain, no rings or bracelets. If Nairi had taken a second to think about how Cherry would dress off the job, this wouldn’t have been it.
She shrugged instead of answering the question.
“No, seriously,” said Cherry, her grin twitching a little at the corners. “I know it’s still a bit windy after midnight, but it’s still July, it’s like a hundred degrees out right now! How are you in long sleeves?”
“I just prefer it,” said Nairi, shrugging again. She felt an itch in the middle of her back, right between her shoulders, the way she did when someone was staring at her. There was only wall there. She resisted the urge to turn around and check anyway. “It’s light, you know, whatever.”
Cherry looked like she was going to push a little harder, but thankfully their food arrived and cut her off. Did it still count as brunch when it was nearly noon already? Either way, Cherry was thoroughly distracted, smiling sunnily at the cheerful girl with dreads and facial piercings who set their order across the table. Nairi had been given two glasses; both thick and squat, one filled with ice in deference to the weather.
Cherry sliced open one of the muffins, blueberry, and picked up the butter dish, waggling her eyebrows at Nairi over the mason jar that contained her iced mocha. “This place is a little… more than I was expecting.”
“It’s very… lush,” said Nairi, flicking her eyes to one side to give a hanging fern a deliberate look.
Cherry stifled an ugly snort, her head ducking as she pushed the muffins towards Nairi. “At least it’s interesting,” she said, hooking a hand around her jar of coffee. “Come on, tell me how the hippie tea is.”
Nairi poured a small cup of it out and took a careful sip, raising an eyebrow. “Organic,” she said. It actually wasn’t bad; a little woody and over steeped, but she was used to that at least.
Cherry took a long sip through her straw, eyebrow arched in return as she looked at Nairi through her eyelashes, then grimaced, leaning back. “Oh, that’s soy milk and straight cacao, I think this might be a vegan place.”
“Good to know,” said Nairi, smiling a little without thinking about it as Cherry picked up her half of the blueberry muffin.
“Are you vegan?” asked Cherry, tearing the muffin into chunks. “Or do you just like veggies for tempura?”
“Just vegetarian,” said Nairi, drinking more tea. “Don’t like meat. Milk and stuff is fine.”
“Don’t like violence against animals but you’re perfectly happy doling out a little of your own in the dark of the night?” teased Cherry, washing down her bites with more mocha.
“I have the black belts, I may as well put them to good use,” said Nairi with another awkward shrug, wishing she could get comfortable.
“’Belts’, huh? You know other stuff, not just Judo?”
Nairi hummed. “Krav Maga and Muay Thai as well. Belts or rankings and colours aren’t universal in different arts, but more people know what they generally mean, so, you know. My Muay school used armbands.”
Cherry nodded, one of her legs kicking the air under her stool. “Yeah? Do you teach those too or just Judo?”
“All three. I only have real students for Judo, though.”
“What makes someone a real student?”
“Showing up?”
Cherry snorted again, her hand flying to her mouth but not quite managing to hide her grin. “You don’t pull your punches anywhere, do you?”
Nairi shrugged again, not really sure how to take that.
Cherry seemed to find it an acceptable response anyway, openly watching Nairi with a fascinated expression. “Can I ask you something weird?”
“Sure,” said Nairi. It wasn’t like she could get more uncomfortable.
“So, like, ‘Nairi’ isn’t a super common name, and you seem proficient and reasonably scary,” said Cherry, peeling the paper away from another muffin as she watched Nairi indirectly. “And like, I keep my ears to the ground you know—or, well, fuck, okay, I occasionally end up in bed or working with people who have, uh, other hobbies cops might be interested in—”
Nairi wasn’t a hundred percent certain where she was going with this, but she tensed regardless, her expression relaxing into cool neutral.
If Cherry noticed, it didn’t stop her. “—Anyway, you wouldn’t happen to be the same Nairi who scared off the guys making meth a couple of blocks from here, would you?”
…Well, that wasn’t good, but it was leagues away from the worst thing she could have said. “I think I had a conversation with them,” she said politely, eyes flicking down to watch Cherry’s hands on the tabletop. She took a moment to consider and then added: “Sorry if that’s made one of your… ‘hobbies’ more difficult for you.”
Cherry snorted again and shook her head, looking distinctly unbothered. “Nah, not for me. I have a hard enough time making rent without that shit.”
She was still smiling.
Cherry swallowed her muffin and took a more gratuitous sip of her mocha, shifting how she was leaning on the table and looking up at Nairi properly again. “So you’re like, new in town right? Don’t know a lot of people yet?”
“What gave me away?” said Nairi, blinking at her.
“Just a feeling,” said Cherry, her cheeks dimpling as she polished off her drink. She climbed to her feet, tucking her wallet away, but flipping open her phone. “Do you wanna do this again some time? Like, I mean, tomorrow even if you want. I can come by earlier so we don’t run up against your opening, or we could grab food after you close for the day?”
“I—sure?” said Nairi, her mouth answering for her while she tried to process the abrupt change of gears. “I mean, what?”
“Catching up, getting to know each other, being friendly?” said Cherry brightly, shifting a little closer to Nairi. “You’ve got your dojo to open today and I need to clock some time at my day job, but I’d love to get to know you better, show you round town, introduce to some friends, even?”
Nairi only just managed to swallow the ‘Why?’ that was about to trip off her tongue. “Okay,” she said slowly. “I’d uh, yeah I’d like that?”
“Great!” said Cherry, holding out her phone with the screen open to a ‘new contact’ entry. “What’s your number?”
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Summer.
EXO - magical (flower shop + café)!AU (incl. Kim Junmyeon, Zhang Yixing, Byun Baekhyun, Do Kyungsoo, Kim Minseok, Kim Jongdae, Kim Jongin)
S - part 1 / S - part 2 / F - part 3 / W - part 4
word count: about 2800
@kafkascupcake @katjanara and everybody else who liked part one of this - i proudly present: part two with the title Summer (what else could come after Spring xD). I hope you enjoy this part as much as I enjoyed writing it <3
Summer. The days have become warm and bright and the rain that has kind of shaped the spring this year laid upon the city for a few days only now. Sitting on your balcony, surrounded by all your old and new plants, reading a book or just enjoying the sun climbed quite high on the ladder of your favourite activities during the past weeks and you were doing, in fact, exactly that when you had what felt like the best idea you had in decades.
Sunflowers. You just knew that you needed sunflowers here. Those tall, yellow plants, turning their blossoms right towards the sun just like you did with your face seemed to be the only thing missing to make your balcony the best place on earth. Or at least close to best. On second thought, you had your doubts it could be as impressive as New Zealand or similar countries with breath-taking flora and fauna. But it was the best place in attainable proximity, and it was enough to keep you happy and content despite mosquito bites and you thought that this definitely wasn’t something you could say about many places. So, sunflowers it was.
The debate whether to go immediately to get them was rather short. Quickly you grabbed your purse and put on your shoes to go and find the little flower shop from the last time again. Flowery Friends hadn’t left your head since you’ve been there the first time and honestly? You were dying to go there again, to take all the colours in and to feel like the time would stand still for the time you stayed and watched. That shop has been a truly inspiring and enchanting experience for you and now you had the perfect opportunity to have that again. And like that, without any hesitation, you left home for some urgent flower shopping.
It was like your feet had already memorized the way to the shop after being there only one time, so it didn’t take you long to reach your destination. Only once you stopped on your way, trying to catch the attention of a cat that played around under trees close to the sidewalk. But of course the chirping birds hiding in the branches were a bit more interesting to the animal than a human making weird noises in public, so quickly you remembered your initial mission and continued the way to a certain green wooden door.
You could basically smell the shop already before you even entered the street. Fresh and sweet and … like pastries? Undeniable – that smell that mixed so unusually but still very beautifully with the smell of plants was freshly baked cookies. That realization may or may not have quickened your walking speed and if it did then only because of your own curiosity, really. Not because you had a weakness for cookies, no, never. The familiar green door was already open this time and you could hear voices from inside the shop.
Even if you didn’t like it: that kind of slowed down your enthusiasm a bit. Not that you wouldn’t be happy for the cute little shop becoming more and more popular, but you felt like it was your little secret flower shop. More customers would destroy the feeling of intimacy you had the last time you went there. But you pushed these thoughts away, focusing on enjoying every second you would spend at that lovely place again.
With that mindset you slowly entered Flowery Friends, ready for the intense green, for the amazing smell, for the calm atmosphere only to find… the three shop owners discussing something with another man about their age, holding a hug box filled to the brim with cookies. Which would explain the stunning smell.
The one you remembered as Junmyeon was trying to explain that they “still had leftovers from last week’s cake”.
“I don’t care! Jongin and Jongdae prepared way too much dough and now we have way too much cookies! We already hand them out as free gifts for the customers but there are just too many. Please! Take! Them!” Baekhyun took the man you didn’t now by word and grabbed a cookie from the box and put it into his mouth immediately.
“Wou fouldn’ hab web dwuem infu dwue gwuidchen.” Silence followed to his comment and you could only imagine the look Baekhyun must have gotten from the stranger in that moment.
With a sigh Yixing took the box with the cookies and the plate with the small pieces of cake into a room in the back of the store and the other man tuned with a muttered “Thank God!” around only to notice you. “Oh, I think you have a customer. Feed her cookies, ok?” With that Junmyeon’s and Baekhyun’s eyes focused immediately on you.
“It’s lavender girl!” Baekhyun exclaimed and you were mildly confused. By the way he grinned at you, you knew it had to be something positive, but still you insecurely brushed some locks of your hair behind your ear so the tips you recently dyed in a beautiful lavender shade didn’t fall in front of your eyes anymore. Maybe you’ve been a bit inspired by the beautiful plants you bought that couple of weeks ago when you chose the colour at your hairdresser’s.
Now it was Junmyeon’s turn to sigh. “Please, excuse Baekhyun. We called you lavender girl because you bought extra lavender the last time you were here and because we didn’t know your real name of course. But we are really happy you are back. We were actually asking ourselves when you would come back” Junmyeon explained with his smooth, friendly voice.
“Even though I love lavender, you can call me (y/n)” you said shyly, not quite believing that you had actually been topic of conversations between the three of them.
“Well, (y/n), the guy next to you is Kyungsoo, a friend of ours, who runs a café not far from here. The food and coffee is really great there – and this is my unbiased opinion” Baekhyun introduced the man, who had been standing next to you near the entrance to the shop, ready to leave after the cookie delivery.
“I take the praise for the cooking, but my man for coffee is Minseok. He can basically tell what type of coffee your favourite is by taking only one look at you. Maybe I’ll see you there one day, but I really have to get going now before Jongin and Jongdae bake another round of cookies or biscuits.”
With these words Kyungsoo made his way out of the green door and you had the slight feeling he started running towards his café as soon as he was on the street, in fear of what his presumably co-workers could be doing while he was gone.
“So, (y/n), how can we help you today?” Yixing, who had returned with a plate filled with cookies, asked me while putting the food on the little table where also the cattle with tea was placed. “I thought about something fitting to the warm weather. I’d love to have some sunflowers on my balcony” you told them the reason for your visit.
“Sunflowers… no problem! Baekhyun, would you be so kind to…?”
“Sure, I’ll be right back” Baekhyun smirked at his co-workers and took another cookie from the plate while he was getting you the requested plants.
“Anything else we can bring you?” Junmyeon now chimed in.
“Actually-“
“How about some bluebells and another bunch of lavender?” The way the shop owner smiled, his eyes forming crescent moons, made it impossible to say no to that. Just as Yixing who was already heading to get the additional flowers Junmyeon suggested.
Silently, you chuckled at the nice gestures of the sweet men running this shop. They really seemed to be thriving in what they did and that wasn’t too bad for the plants themselves either. Again, you wondered how the flowers in a small store could look as alive as if they were blooming in the nature. And again, the only word you could find fitting was magical.
Seeing two figures approaching you let you snap out of your thoughts. “Here you go!” Baekhyun said happily and handed you a paper bag from which blossoms of sunny yellow and blue like the sky shined at you. Just like the last time it was Junmyeon who charged you and yet again he gave you the bunch of lavender for free.
“You are lavender girl now, especially since your hair is quite fitting now. And of course, we cannot charge lavender girl for lavender. That’d be ridiculous” Junmyeon explained with a serious tone but an unmistakable mischievous spark in his eyes. That made you grin widely, and you thanked him again sincerely for everything to which he responded with a polite “My pleasure!” before he, Yixing and Baekhyun waved you good-bye as you left the store – but not without handing you as many cookies as you could carry on your way out.
Because the thread of one of the delicious-smelling cookies falling down on the street was so big and because you really wanted to have a taste, you put one in your mouth the second you passed the prominent green door. It was like tasting a piece of heaven, or what you thought the taste of heaven could be like. The sweetness softly melted in your mouth without being too strong or too weak. It was just the most perfect and ideal cookie you’ve ever had, and it was that exact moment you knew you had to find that little café and check out the other pastries.
Finding a café was easy. You only had to follow the sweet smell of cookies, cakes and tartes and it led you right to the street corner where it was located. But you were a bit unsure if it was actually the café you were looking for. Compared to Flowery Friends, this shop was downright inconspicuous. Only when you recognized the man behind the counter as Kyungsoo you could be sure and enter.
“Oh, you already came!” The happiness Kyungsoo’s voice flattered you a bit. You didn’t even know him or the florists that well, but they treated you with so much kindness that you slowly began to feel like a special customer. Maybe you were really the only one who discovered the flower shop in first place, and they were just so nice because you were their only customer? But somehow that thought felt wrong – it couldn’t be! They needed to pay rent, to get all the supplies for running their business and buy food for themselves. They had to make money somehow, so of course they had to have customers.
Your chain of thoughts was interrupted by a voice you hadn’t heard before. “Oh, Kyungsoo, is that lavender girl?”
Oh well, that’s a nickname I should get used to, I guess, were your thoughts when a waiter came from the back where the kitchen must have been. He had a plate with little fruit tarts and a huge amount of the same cookies you still carried around in his hands and waited either for Kyungsoo to confirm or to tell him where it was best to put the pastries. The café owner did both.
“Her name is (y/n), Jongdae. (Y/n), that is Jongdae, one of my waiters and guilty of making an irresponsible amount of cookie dough.”
“It was Jongin’s idea in first place! I don’t know why you keep on blaming me – I just wanted to make sure he did it right and didn’t burn the kitchen!” the guy who was introduced as Jongdae began to complain with a whiney voice.
Judging by the look on Kyungsoo’s face, it wasn’t the first time they had that conversation, so he just took the plate from Jongdae’s hands and put them behind the counter, at a spot that was very visible from outside of the shop.
“What’s with me?” Another new face stumbled into the main room of the café. Probably Jongin, you figured.
“Nothing” Kyungsoo sighed “Please, go and ask if anybody wants another cup of coffee or any cookies. (Y/n), please take a seat and you’ll get some coffee too. Jongdae can also bring you one of my famous strawberry tartes. Baekhyun would definitely recommend them.”
You did just that and chose a seat near a big window that granted you a beautiful view up to the sky where only little white clouds in funny shapes rolled by, reminding you of the bluebells waiting in the bag you put next to you when you sat down.
“So, you are lavender girl, huh?” It was Jongin who approached you with the coffee pot in his hands. “Junmyeon, Yixing and Baekhyun talked a lot about you, so it’s a pleasure to meet you!” he told you with a smile on his face.
You didn’t have the chance to ask why it was such a pleasure to meet you though, because somebody rushed into the shop.
“I’m back and I brought fresh strawberries. Honestly, Kyungsoo, if these are the wrong ones again just go and run your errands yourself.”
Apparently, this wasn’t necessary because it took Kyungsoo only a quick taste to nod and leave to take the strawberries into the kitchen.
“Minseok, look, this is lavender girl. Her actual name is (y/n)” Jongdae pointed at you while he gave you the name you connected with the coffee master Kyungsoo mentioned when you met in the flower shop.
“Oh, how nice to meet you! Do you already have a cup of coffee or do you want a special type?”
“I’m all set” you replied happily and gestured towards the plate and cup in front of you. Minseok responded with a thumbs up and devoted himself to his work, while Jongdae and Jongin served the other customers with many bright smiles and kind words.
How could all of them seem to be such sweethearts? you asked yourself before you took a bite from the strawberry tarte and every other thought was erased from your brain. The only words and sounds left where “good”, “mmhhh”, “delicious” and “heaven”. You probably never had a strawberry tasting that fresh and sweet as the ones on top of the tart did. You were almost afraid to try out the coffee, afraid you might actually start to cry because you didn’t only find the perfect flower shop but also the perfect café. But you couldn’t resist the smell and took a sip.
Well, you could pull yourself together and didn’t cry in front of the other guests but internally you were totally sobbing. How would you resist the urge to spend every day of the rest of your life here? The whole place had such a comfortable feel to it – you didn’t know if it was some sort of magic or just a really good interior designer. No matter what it was, you needed to get that too, for your inner peace and longing for aesthetic.
You ended up drinking another cup of coffee and eating the left-over cookies handed to you by the Flowery Friends staff and a blueberry tart before you paid and left the place with the promise to come back soon on your lips. As it seemed, you still haven’t met all of the people belonging to their larger group of friends and if you trusted Jongdae, the others were dying to meet you too.
On your way home, you had finally the chance to think about all the questions you asked yourself today once again and you just couldn’t lose the feeling that there was more behind the all the kindness the men faced you with. Faintly, you remembered the peculiarity you witnessed when you met Baekhyun, Yixing and Junmyeon at first and tried to draw connections between that and Jongdae’s electrifying smile, Jongin’s swift movements, the cool breeze that seemed to surround Minseok and way Kyungsoo carried around plates and cups and trays with all kinds of pastries without showing any signs of exhaustion.
But every time you felt like you were close to the answer, it slipped from your mind and you had to start over. Eventually, you gave up the thinking for the day and decided to take in the nice weather on the rest of your way home, where you would start to take care of your freshly bought plants right away. Going for sunflowers has been a good decision, that much you knew – even when their vendors were a mystery yet to be solved.
#exo#exo fanfiction#exo scenario#exo drabble#exo m#exo k#suho#kim junmyeon#baekhyun#byun baekhyun#lay#zhang yixing#d.o#do kyungsoo#xiumin#kim minseok#chen#kim jongdae#kai#kim jongin#flower shop au#coffee shop au#magical au#exo are fairies or sth like that#summer#sommer aesthetic#my writing#by starchild#kpop#exo l
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the pages of summer
Prompt: Romance 101: Y/N is participating in a study abroad program for school when she meets Harry; who is in the same place writing his new album.
This is prompt 12 of @always-jackedup Sarah’s 25 days of summer challenge. This is my first time writing a y/n blurb! Here is what I came up with! Do give a click to the other prompts done by the talented authors who are apart of this!
word count: 9k
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Studying abroad for a semester was Alice’s idea. She was the loud-mouthed girl who had taken the empty seat beside you in your freshman Intro to Asian Civilization course. You’ve been super glued at the hip for as long as you can remember; she’s the first number on your speed dial, the only one who can make sense of your nervous ramblings. The building blocks of this friendship stacked up one after the other, from stressing over impending midterms to complaining about shitty boys, and of course, empty tequila bottles.
She was the type of girl who thought going to the movies alone was embarrassing, so it wasn’t a surprise when she claimed she needed someone to go halfway across the world with.
“Think of it as a grad trip!” she exclaims with arms thrown in the air, her eyebrows almost touching her hairline.
The carpet on the floor is itchy against your bare thighs from where you’re sitting on her bedroom floor, legs pretzled. Your finger twirls the loose fray of your denim shorts.
Alice has a huge rectangular cardboard display in front of her, the type students used for science fairs, but without the flaps on the right and left. It’s no longer the plain white that you remember it being when she bought it from the dollar store years ago. Instead, it’s full of cut outs in all different shapes and sizes; you particularly like the tiny airplane stickers dotted at the right corner. Your eyes catch a magazine article clipping—Travel on a budget now!—and a picture of some exotic beach; the highly saturated water meant she pulled it off of google images. This moodboard has been a work in process for as long as can be.
Alice started it as a motivator to get her through the times where she desperately wanted to drop out of university. She’d always said that she would reward herself with a trip at the end of her studies.
“We’re not graduating for another semester, Alice.”
“So what? Let’s call it a pre-grad trip! We owe it to ourselves!” She gathers her pin straight hair an inch below the crown of her head before fastening the shiny black strands with an elastic from around her wrist. “You’ll be off to law school and I’ll be starting a full-time job. We can’t really push it to after graduation now, can we?”
A gust of air leaves your lungs in a sigh. She’s right, there is no denying it. Who knows what flexibility your schedules will allow if you delay this into the future. You recall back to the relentless hours you spent in preparations of your LSAT exams. You had deprived yourself from a social life for months, studying for the most important test in your life did take off some years of your life span. Now that your acceptance letter came in you think you can treat yourself to jetting away for a semester with a great friend. You’ve earned it, you tell yourself.
Alice is looking at you with expecting eyes. The anticipation that gleams in her eyes is childlike, the look is enormously similar to a little kid about to open a christmas present they’ve been yearning for.
As a smile slowly crawls on your lips, her eyes double with realization. You agree. The rate at which she jumps up and throws her lanky arms around your neck suggests someone lit a round of firecrackers under her. Her high pitched squeals leave your left ear ringing.
You roll your eyes and laugh into her bony shoulder. “Alright, alright! Let’s bring the globe.”
***
The reason why Alice and you get along so well is because you agree on the same things. You’ve decided to stray away from common study abroad places such as London, New York, Toronto, for your semester. You want to experience life somewhere completely different. Also the fact that those placements have already been snatched up by other students narrows down your pool of options by quite a bit.
You both settle on the city of Tariz. It is a secluded area with a decent population, not large enough to be a well known staple city, but enough to have a bustling sense of community. Their language is a mix of Turkish and broken English.
The brochure you are given and the exploratory google searches here and there only feed your excitement.
Most of the architecture of the city is ancient. High arches and intricate stones decorate multiple streets. The streets are more like tight valleys, the rusted bricked walls of neighboring houses and stores transport you into another time period completely. There is even a dated sculpture planted in the middle of the town circle, it’s details are so well preserved that it seems life like—you’re dying to feel the smooth stone under your fingertips.
Your laptop displays all the potential flight times and costs. With a tap of your finger, the plane ticket is confirmed.
***
The first words you learn are Kirree and Poffasa.
Kirree is local drink of Tariz. It’s a bitter coffee with a splash of milk and two drops of essence that smells like roses. You prefer to sweeten it with honey, rather than sugar. Poffasa translates to please. The combination of these words are used every time you step into the corner shop located on Cardin Street.
The bell clanks above you and signals the worker behind the counter of your arrival. A welcoming grin pulls at his lips, you’ve come in enough times for him to remember your name. He knows to talk to you with more hand gestures and use short words.
You found this family owned cafe on your second week here. It’s situated beside a book store and a florist. There is an open patio outside which you take advantage of every once in a while when the humidity won’t poof up your hair. When the wind blows your way, it carries a strong scent of light florals—it’s quite poetic. It’s also only a ten minute walk from the university you are taking your courses at and two streets down from the apartment Alice and you rent.
“Kirree?” The man behind the counter—Amjad—inquires with a raised brow.
“Poffasa.” You smile.
He taps your order into the system and you drop some copper coins in the cup of his palm. Amjad moves with ease behind the counter, his fancy coffee machine makes a churning sound as he holds the rim of a cup to its long narrow mouth. He stirs milk and essence in a way you’ve seen him do countless times. Although you miss seeing a Starbucks within every ten steps, you’re grateful that you are able to experience a sip of someone else’s culture.
Amjad passes you the drink, it’s a simple latte cup with a bleach white plate at the bottom. Another smile is exchanged between you two, this is usually where the conversation stops.
“Tib tu,” you say. It’s a casual thanks people say to one another, you had picked it up recently.
Amjad’s eyes brighten up instantly. His smile becomes impossibly wide in a way that tells you he’s proud of your slowly developing ability to communicate. You can’t hold a fluent conversation just yet, but enough to keep a casual one going.
“Tib tu!” He laughs and wipes the counter with the rag previously rested on his shoulder.
You are engrossed into your course review settled at a circular table. Your laptop informs you of the requirements for the essay due next week, you crack open the novel and highlight potential quotes to help support your thesis. It is a simple Wednesday afternoon, business is slow, which is ideal because it doesn’t interrupt your concentration.
Hours pass by and you bob your head every once in a while to the soft radio filling the small shop. Neon yellow ink bleeds over a particular line you find interesting when the bells above the door chime and bring in a gust of humid air. Your upper lip curls in disdain momentarily because of the thick sticky air cuts through the coolness of the AC. You lick the pad of your index finger and flip the page.
The steady thump of boots against the floor gets louder as the person nears the counter to your right. Amjad had ducked in the back a moment ago so the customer waits patiently. This would’ve been fine, but then they begin to whistle a tune under their breath. Your focus on the essay in front of you shatters like delicate china.
You look up to see the artist behind this pesky noise. From your position, you are granted the view of his side profile and your eyes widen gradually. Sharp jaw, wavy hair, high cheekbones. He is cute. Something about him screams so familiar; maybe it’s because he has the same build as your ex or maybe the tattoo on his arm is close to the one Alice has. Your brain tells you you’ve seen him before, but you can’t quite put your finger on it.
Amjad comes out from behind swinging doors and your head drops back to your books.
“Zerki! Tim tu ga?”
“I’m sorry—English only.” It’s a British accent, the words are timid and he blends the first two together.
“Ah!” Amjad nods quickly with a wide, understanding smile. You can tell he is excited because this is a new customer. Although this cafe isn’t a tourist location, the university located near it brings in countless study abroad students. You assume he is another student somewhere from Britain.
Amjad swipes a plastic menu from behind him before placing it in front of the customer. You remember him showing you this on your first day here. The descriptions didn’t help much because it wasn’t in English, but the corresponding pictures did clarify some fog.
He puckers his lips and the deep frown between his brows is enough to say he hasn’t been in this city for more than a couple days. His index finger taps a picture and he looks up expectantly to Amjad. You pick up bits and pieces of the conversation. He is trying to ask a question about an ingredient, but Amjad thinks that’s what he wants to order. There is a lot of hand gestures and frowns and crumpled brows as they try to understand each other. This goes on for about five minutes until Amjad looks around the shop with a sigh. His eyes land on you and he instantly brightens up.
He calls your name and your head shoots up. “English? You English speak?”
You remember giving this information when telling Amjad what you’re studying in uni. Your eyes bounce back from the customer to Amjad before slowly nodding. He wants you to briefly translate something for him. The legs of your chair screech against the tiles as you get up and walk towards them.
When you come to stand beside the customer, you can smell the shampoo he uses. The citrus wafts into the air and when mixed with the smell of fresh brew, it is an odd yet pleasant scent. “What are you trying to ask?”
“I just want him to take the sweetener and milk out of this.” He points to the image on the laminated menu.
You raise a brow. “You sure? The Kirree is going to be really bitter, like worse than black coffee.”
“Yeah, that’s what I like.”
You give him an odd look but turn towards Amjad. “Kirree, na sarr, na dou.”
“Ah!” Amjad nods right away, plucking a cup from a tall stack before grabbing a marker. “Nama?”
You meet the green of his eyes. “He’s asking for your name.”
There is a pregnant pause in the air. It lasts long enough for you to second guess if you said your sentence loud enough. Then you see the beginnings of a smile ghosting his lips, the corners are upturned, but barely. Like he knows something you don’t.
He brings his index finger to rub horizontally below his nose. “It’s um, Harry.”
The scratchy sound of Amjad scribbling letters on the cup fills the silence. He turns his back to prepare the drink at the counter.
“Thank you,” Harry says.
“‘Course, it’s no problem.”
You occupy your previous spot and get lost in developing the arguments for your body paragraphs.
***
It’s childish. A part of you prides yourself on the fact that you are a regular at the cafe. You come here so often that you can find your way even if you were left blindfolded on the street. Amjad and you have gotten to know each other so well that he doesn’t have to ask for your order anymore. Hell, the table that you religiously sit at probably has your name neatly engraved on it. It is your quiet cafe.
Then you see Harry. You don’t think much of it when you see him after a week. Then he comes once again, four days later. Then again, two days after that. The days between his visits get shorter and shorter to the point that he is here everyday. You feel the crown that you’ve titled yourself with slowly slipping off your head.
He doesn’t make much noise because he reads—a lot. His designated place is at the table on the other end of the shop, you catch yourself stealing glimpses of him. Sure, it’s attractive that he’s a cute boy who likes to read, but what really gets you are his expressions when he finds a specific line or passage interesting. You’ve seen his brows draw in when he is upset. You know the two deep dimples that poke his cheeks when he finds something witty. You’ve witnessed his lips part slowly when he reads something poetic.
Right now, his chest vibrates and the corner of his eyes crinkle as he shakes his head. He is wearing a plain black sweater. A string of planets coloured in pink, blue and yellow, start from one shoulder and end at the other. You want to drag your finger over the knit material.
It’s slow. The swirls begin in the pit of your stomach and gradually increase in size. The last time you felt something develop this quickly was when you were in grade school, toes hidden in hot playground sand and eyes fixed on to your crush. You could’ve sworn he had an ever present halo hovering above his head. You still have one thing in common with your eight year old self, you both admire from afar and never build up the courage to go after what you really want. One sided pining and yearning is all you know.
Your attention gravitates towards the window when you become numb to the words on your laptop screen. You allow yourself these little breaks to lessen the stabbing strain your eyes develop. You lean back into the chair, from this angle you have a perfect view of the fountain outside. A butterfly flaps its wings insistently to keep its little body afloat, it circles the pointy tip of the structure. The water sparkles under the setting sun, it looks like a picture cut and pasted out of paradise. You wonder what it would be like to thread your fingers in its ripples rather than gripping a pen to your notepad.
You entertain this daydream for a moment longer. Then something pricks your skin, like a million tiny thumbtacks. The feeling of being observed passes over you; it’s silent and formless. You tear your eyes away from the scenery and your line of sight reflexively falls on soft green eyes. They are already focused on you, imploring and bated. A jet of warmth shoots down your spine.
You bite the inside of your cheek and deliberate looking away, but there is something magnetic about holding his stare. It’s playful, yet holds a pulling weight. He isn’t giving up either, hasn’t made one effort to try to blink away. It’s like you both hold one end of a rope, challenging tugs are given from each side to see who will break first.
A smile spreads across his lips, it’s slow like dripping molasses, and suddenly the butterfly isn’t circling the peak of the fountain. It has made a home in the pit of your stomach, thrashing wildly against your ribcage.
The bells clank above the door as a new customer walks in, and like a delicate twig under a heavy stomp, the moment is broken. It’s a middle aged woman with a toddler balanced on her hip. You blink away quickly and pretend to type a sentence on your keyboard. An Indian summer heat bites at your cheeks.
The sigh you release is deep rooted in your belly. The moment you shared was like clutching a fistful of sand. The grains quickly slipped from your hold and before you know it, you’re left with dry, empty hands.
***
A bead of sweat drips down the nape of your neck and trickles down your spine. Your cheeks are splotched red and baby hairs are matted to your forehead. The humidity levels are sky high today. The short walk from your lecture to the cafe is equivalent to a small marathon. You take a right at the intersection and the figure walking in front of you looks disgustingly familiar.
It’s Harry, and he is also walking towards the cafe.
He wears a simple black cotton t-shirt which shouldn’t make your heart skip like a stone over water, but it does. His shoulders slope in humble curves, but hold strength. The material moves with each step he takes and clings to his shoulder blades. Your mouth goes dry from the way his muscles flex under the fabric.
Your gaze flickers down to his left arm, it’s covered in detailed ink whereas his right arm is more sparse. A particular floral tattoo grabs your attention, the petals of the expansive rose begging to be traced. In his palm he clutches a worn leather journal, a long tie of the same material wraps around it multiple times. You’ve seen him spend hours with hunched shoulders and a pen pressed tightly to the papers, you wonder what secrets it wraps. In the same hand, he holds some sort of novel, you see a dog ear folded near the first few pages. You don’t have the opportunity to analyze a title because he is pulling the heavy glass door of the cafe.
The door doesn’t open fully, it stops awkwardly at a forty-five degree angle when he catches your image reflected in the glass. You don’t miss the slight jump of his brows when he first notices that it’s you.
He shuffles to the side with his fingers still wrapped around the handle of the door. With his movements, the door opens wider. The crisp, conditioned air flutters from inside the cafe and goosebumps pimple the skin on your forearms. It takes you a second to realize he is holding the door open expectantly.
“You first.” He cocks his head towards the shop.
You press your lips together to hide a budding smile.
It’s just a door, you tell yourself. People hold open doors for others all the time. It’s a common courtesy. Nothing extravagant. As you step in the space, you can’t help the warmth that slowly spreads in your chest—like a drop of watercolour staining a white sheet.
You don’t have time to overthink this simple act of kindness, you take in the shop you notice it is brimming with people. Kids and teens sip colourful refreshers and lemonades and almost everyone has an iced drink to combat the heatwave passing over today. As you notice most of the tables are being taken up, your eyes immediately pull towards your designated table. A relieved breath escapes your lips as you see that it is the only vacant spot. Your feet rush to it in a hurry and you drop your bag on the chair to stake claim.
You make eye contact with Amjad and gives you a nod, as if saying he’s already in the middle of preparing your drink. Harry is the second person in line and browses the pastry options while scratching the scruff on his face. You take this time to get situated by pulling out your agenda, laptop, and a textbook.
You’ve opened up your last draft and skim over some lines to jog your memory of what you left behind. You had grown accustomed to the quietness of the cafe, but today, the lack of it makes it harder for you to focus on the words in front of you.
The wave of light citrus in the air causes you to halt your typing. Your eyes catch the plaid printed trousers that taper in at the ankles from the corner of your eye. You lift your line of sight to see a simple blank shirt tucked in at the waist. Higher are the ringed fingers which grip two plates that are topped with Kirree cups. Finally, you look up to see it’s Harry, a journal and novel is tucked under his armpit.
His eyes are a muted green, framed with thick lashes. Reading glasses are perched on his head, they keep the few disobedient curls from sweeping over his forehead. You know he gets annoyed by them when he reads or writes, especially when they poke his left eye.
He releases his bottom lip from behind his teeth. “Amjad sent this over.” The Kirree in his right arm raises towards you.
You quickly reach forward to take hold of the plate, making extra sure you don’t let the steaming liquid trickle over the rim, or even worse, accidentally brush your skin against his. You’re positive the latter would leave a deeper burn. “Great, thank you. You didn’t have to bring it over.”
“S’alright. I was headed here anyway.”
You tilt your head to one side, silently urging him to continue.
He scratches the back of his neck, the curls at the nape of his neck shift. Harry’s neck cranes as he looks around the shop. His jawline sharpens when he looks completely to the left. Today everything is bustling. A kid pulls the hem of his mother’s dress with a deep frown to get her attention. Two little girls with matching pigtails fight over a specific coloured crayon two tables down from you. A group of students fill up the remaining tables; from their flashcards, it seems as though they’re conducting a study group. The whole town has chosen this cafe to seek refuge from the brutal heat.
The time he takes to analyze the buzzing environment, you press the rim of your drink to your lips.
“The only other empty chair is this one.” His eyes flicker to the simple white plastic from across you. The tips of his ears are impossibly red. “Mind if I sit?”
You almost choke on your sip, but you contain the liquid from spluttering out by downing the scalding gulp. “‘Course.” The urgency behind your immediate reply makes your face hot.
He lifts the chair slightly before pulling it from the table. The small courteous act of avoiding the ugly screech against the floor sends your heart flooring.
You think your heart would tire eventually, but the annoying thing continues to jackrabbit even after a solid ten minutes of him being seated across from you. Your palms are sweaty and your brain is firing up with a thousand different thoughts every second. How long had you wanted him to sit across from you? How long had you wanted him to exchange more than a smile with you? You’re getting words from him. He’s actually talking to you. It’s all a bit overwhelming.
Hours later, you’re fed up with the mundane reading. You had set a goal to read 800 pages, but you can make it barely through the 200 mark. It stares back at you from your laptop screen, challenging and daunting. A deep defeated sigh leaves your lips and your shoulders sink.
“What are you reading?” He asks, his eyes trained on the novel in front of him.
“It’s a reading for my modernism course. I rather individually pluck my eyelashes out.” He purses his lips to suppress a smile; A candlelight flame dances in your chest. You squint at the cover shielded behind his fingers, but you can’t quite make out the picture or title. “You?”
“Bukowski.”
Your lips part slowly. “Oh.” His eyes follow your movements when you raise a hand to gently tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. “Sorry.”
“No, no it’s okay—it’s hard to see because the cover is well loved.”
“No, I meant I’m sorry that you have shit taste in books.”
His face is blank for a minute, not giving away anything as he mulls your words over in his head. Then the corners of his lips poke up. When you see the dimple is more prominent on his left cheek, you almost let a strangled, breathless Fuck slip out. “You think so?”
You scrunch your nose and nod.
“You should try something by Murakami.” Multiple titles run through your mind and you purse your lips as you mentally browse which one to offer. Something about recommending a book, a song, or another piece of art, can be so vulnerable because people only like things they can see themselves reflected in. You pray to whatever higher powers that exist that Harry won’t think twice about it. “Have you read Norwegian Wood?”
He wets his lips with his tongue. They become a vivid pink, like fresh peonies or a sickening sweet birthday cake frosting. “I’m afraid I have not.”
Your fingers dip into the slit of your bag and before you can register what is happening. Your copy of the novel is slightly curving at the corners and feels more weighted from when you first bought it. This is because countless sticky notes and page markers you’ve stuffed in between the front and back cover. You can’t believe you’re freely handing over your annotated book, it’s full of all your thoughts and views and it seems intimate to give him access to that. You think to take a moment to rip out all your work, but your arm is already extended and he clutches the other end of the book.
***
“He held a door for you,” Alice notes.
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“He sat with you. For hours.”
“—Because the place was full.”
“You caught him staring at you! This sounds exactly like a dreamy movie!”
“It’s not, it’s just—” Your palm gestures vaguely in the air. You’re at a loss for words because if you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t know what this is. What you do know, is the childlike glee you get around him and the stolen glances you pocket away and the shy smiles you exchange. “—Harry from the coffee shop.”
Alice stresses your name in a pointed tone. “Please.” She drags a tiny brush over the sparse area of her toe nail, the fushia pink compliments her newly tanned skin. The smell of polish and acetone is poignant in the living room. “We both know you’re clueless as can be about these things.”
Your jaw meets the floor as you prop up your weight on the cushion of the sofa. “Am not!”
“Are so!” Alice twists the cap on the nail polish tightly. She flips the small bottle and shakes it to insure it won’t drip. “You need people to literally spell out if they like you or not!”
“Being clear is a good thing!”
“But… where’s the romance in that?” You should’ve known telling Alice about Harry would get twisted into something. Alice is adamant that he has a thing for you, but you can’t connect the dots. You thought asking for an unbiased perspective on this situation would bring some clarity, but all Alice knows are the countless rom coms on Netflix and the wall full of cheesy lovey dovey novels she collects. “From where I see it, you both are longing from a distance. How long has this been going on for?”
“Like almost two months.”
Her eyes double in size. “Jesus!”
“I know, I know.” A palm comes to rub over your face to hide the red colouring your cheeks.
“Before we leave you need to do something about him.”
“What do you mean?”
“Find a moment, grab him by the shoulders and lay one on him. It’s not like he’ll see you again.”
You roll your eyes.
***
Harry doesn’t sit alone at his table like he previously used to do. After that day you gave him the novel, he has glued himself to the seat across from yours. It’s nice. You both work in amicable silence together with occasional conversation; you switch between your laptop and novel and he scribbles some words in his journal. It’s not a stream of consistent thought, the words are broken and spaced out and formatted differently. You assume he writes poetry.
It’s an unspoken rule that you’ve both made together. Every week you pick something new off the chalked menu items and alternate buying. Today you pick a slice of carrot cake. You remember him saying in passing that he was fond of it and wondered how different it would be from traditional American or European cake.
The plate sits dead center of the table, a fork at each end. You dig the metal to the pointy end of the cake and cup your palm underneath the utensil when you bring it to your mouth. Harry does the same except he doesn’t use his palm. It’s endearing that a crumb is stuck to the left corner of his top lip. You make deliberate eye contact while you both chew slowly. A rating becomes more clear in your mind as time passes and you see the same behind his eyes.
“Love it,” he concludes.
You continue chewing your bite for a little longer, he’s waiting, expecting to keep this conversation going. Harry scans your features as you derive your final thoughts. He doesn’t realize this, but his eyes have a weighted tenacity that you find yourself squirming under. It’s not uncomfortable, more so intense—He makes you feel like you’re an exceptionally important person. You run a tongue over your teeth before letting yourself speak.
“It’s good.”
“Just good?”
“Good,” you confirm.
He has gotten a sense of your rating scale without you defining it for him. He remembers the coconut slice was mind blowing. The strawberry was amazing. The peanut butter, nutella and banana was exceptional. He recalls you closing your eyes briefly because they rolled back in bliss. The indulgent moan you let slip through made his brain short circuit. The high points of his cheek were the same colour as the cherry drizzle that topped the rhubarb cake.
He digs his fork once more to grab another bite. You refrain.
A sweet smile dances on your face as you tuck your chin in the palm of you hand, your elbow anchors your weight on the table. You don’t know when to tell him that with each bite he takes, he adds on a couple more crumbs to his face. A part of you doesn’t want to tell him at all because it’s so adorable.
“What?” He prompts when he sees you observing him.
“You’ve...” You trail off, but then roll your eyes last minute, deciding not to let him in on it. It’s a miniscule thing. “Nevermind.”
“Now you’ve got to tell me.”
“It’s fine.”
The sinking feeling in his stomach knots his intestines together. A plunging fear of his identity being revealed is something he doesn’t know that he’s ready for. You had asked him what his name was for Amjad to write on the cup. You clearly didn’t know anything about him. He wanted to see how long the cloak of invisibility spell would last on him. There’s something about meeting someone without them having preconceived notions set about him. It’s rare and refreshing for him and he wants to prolong this with you. He gnaws at his lip momentarily, do you know?
“Did you google something?”
You splutter a confused laugh. “What?”
“It’s—I” He threads his fingers through his hair. A panic bounces in his eye. He knows the inevitable, you will find out sooner or later. Should he just tell you now? “Did you—”
Before he gets a chance to finish his sentence you crumple a napkin in your hand and lean slightly across the table.
He is taken aback by your sudden closeness, but relaxes his tense shoulders when the floral notes of your perfume floats around him.
You drag the napkin at the corner of his mouth and collect the persistent crumbs. You feel his eyes trained on one side of your face. There is a charged intimacy in the air that both of you don’t acknowledge. This innocent act speaks louder than any words between you two could. You tell yourself that maybe this feeling is one sided, a complete travesty, but then you see his adam’s apple rise and fall has he swallows a nervous gulp. It’s enough to let you know he feels it too. To keep yourself from doing something you might regret, you pour all your focus to the task at hand. This moment lasts for a couple seconds at most, but the fervor behind it could outlive even the oldest stars.
“There,” you say, your back meets your chair once again. “That was all.”
***
“How much have you gotten through?”
“I’m at the halfway mark. A few scenes have stuck out to me.”
“Oh, yeah?” Your eyes immediately flick up meet his. Curiosity and anticipation pull at each end of your lips to form a smile. Your wrist finishes jotting down the last of correction on your essay, the red pen in your grasp moves on autopilot because Harry has once again captured all your attention. He’s done it numerous times before, it’s just something he is good at. “Which ones?”
There is a soft grin on his lips. “When Toru lets go of the firefly on the roof.”
“Why did you like it?”
“It was such a simple act, but probably meant so much more.”
“You’re right, it did.” You nod. Red ink strikes out two sentences, but your ears are still perked up. “What else?”
“Naoko’s birthday.”
“Really?” The pitch of this word is higher than your previous ones, you’re surprised. You once had a conversation with someone who passionately claimed the scene should’ve been ripped out Norwegian Wood. You stop writing completely and give him your utmost undivided attention. You elbows press to the surface of the table as you lean it slightly and drop your volume to an octave lower. “Is it because they fucked?”
“Yeah,” he nods after a moment of contemplation. You shoot him a look, not because of his scene choice, but his lack of explanation, and he backtracks immediately. It would be awfully disheartening if that is all he had to say about that. “No, no, no. It’s not what you’re thinking. It was just so sad and lonely and—” He takes a deep breath and his nostrils flare. “I really felt for Naoko. It’s an oddly relatable thing—being in that state of mind, feeling that, all while giving yourself to someone. I don’t know, it’s just—”
His words hang in the air, but from the crumpled look on his face, you know exactly what he wants to communicate. The impervious silence between you two stays for a moment.
Talking about books with him was something you look forward to. He likes when you push him to read certain books. He admits once with a bashful look that he was intimidated by you. Your list of recommended books—it only went up to five, ink scratches on tissue you handed him one night before parting—made you seem very well read in his eyes. You dismissed it quickly with a wave.
A smile quirks your lips. “That was one of my favourites too.”
The praise balloons a feeling in your chest that would only contribute to one-sided feelings. You told him your list is no match to what is really out there; your goal isn’t to be a pretentious well-read girl, but it’s to find more titles that make you feel a spectrum of emotions.
He takes a minute to absorb your words. With an understanding nod he goes back to writing in his journal. You think you pick up on a musical note or chord, but you can’t be sure.
***
The blanket of humidity suffocating the town finally breaks on a Friday. In the wee hours of the early morning, you hear the clap of thunder rip through the clouds and pour down a bucket of water. It transitions into a romantic drizzle as noon rolls around.
It was one of those odd days where you are at the cafe before Harry. Your plain black umbrella sits in his chair, drops of water fall off the pointy tip and splatter against the floor.
“What’s this?” Harry grips the hooked handle of the umbrella as he lifts it up. The folded flaps of the fabric move like the arms of a ceiling fan before hitting against each other. “You’ve replaced me already?”
He has a pleased look on his face, clearly too proud of his joke.
You drop all traces of expression from your face and force your eyebrows to curl in a deep, confused frown. The slight tilt of your head to the left completes the faux look. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”
He rolls his eyes, pinching his lips to on side in an effort to subdue the smile you both know is about to flourish. “Funny.”
You laugh under your breath. He wipes away the remaining droplets of water on the chair before taking his seat. Fingers comb back his hair, you notice it is a darker brown, a wet curl curves at the shell of his hair in a perfect swoop.
Like always, hours go by without you noticing. The sun has long bid its farewell. You’ve shared casual conversation, another slice of cake, and another book recommendation.
Amjad begins to flip the stools upside down on their respective table, the sound makes you look up. The lights are toned into a dim buttery yellow rather than the stark white you’re used to. He’s closing up for the night. It’s just you and Harry in the space, both of you begin to collect your belongings. You tuck your laptop into its sleeve before plucking your highlighter and pen into your bag. The novel you used is carefully bookmarked and pressed into your tote bag.
“Shit,” Harry hisses. Through the glass window you see the sky is an angry black, flashes of white remind you of when you had taken your high school graduation pictures. The rain is no longer a shy drizzle, it’s a wrath coming down so hard as though it seeks age old revenge.
You are thankful that you’ve brought your umbrella, but Harry can’t say the same for he is looking at the scene in front of you while scratching the back of his head. As he turns to you, you can see the same thought floating in his head.
“It’s alright, I’ve got one.” You wave the umbrella in your hand as you hike up the straps of your bag to your shoulder.
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” you nod. “We’re headed the same way anyways.” You know your stop comes before Harry’s, it’s only a short walk from the cafe, you plan to pass the umbrella to him so he can continue his path back home.
As you near the door, you call out a farewell to Amjad. “Ta ra!”
“Ta ra!”
The sound of rain drowns out the clanking of the bells as the door shuts behind you. You quickly press a hidden button and the metal arms of the umbrella spread wide open. You shelter yourself under it and shuffle so Harry has enough room under it.
“You’re good at it, you know?” He says as you both begin the trek. The raindrops make a muted pattering against the material of your umbrella.
You face him and raise a brow. “What?”
“Just—living here, communicating, and all that sort. I would’ve never guessed you weren’t from here until I heard you speak English.”
“Yeah?” You breath in the smell of fresh rain, the wind mists some water on your face and a calmness seeps into your bones.
Harry shoves his hands into the pockets of his trousers, his shoulders cave inwards. “Would’ve probably just sat at my table like a fool and wonder why you come here so religiously.”
A smile pulls at your lips. “You would wonder about me?”
“Maybe.”
You laugh at his reluctance to say a proper yes. You know it’s a solid yes. Your eyes focus on the potholes in the sidewalk, rain water creates puddles and you strategically place your steps. “I would too—about you.”
“Now, you’re just saying that.”
“No, I’m serious.”
“Sure,” he hums.
A cool breeze circles the lonely streets, the thin hair on your arms stand up tall. The silence that makes itself prominent is comfortable. You decide this a perfect moment to tell him. You can’t begin to imagine the hurt on his face when he steps foot into the cafe and you’re not there. You’ve been practicing a speech in your bathroom mirror for two weeks now, trying all sorts of combinations to find the right words. Nothing has stuck so you bite the bullet and blurt the first thing that comes to mind.
“I’m going home.” Your heart is in your throat. Your voice is no where near bold and sure as you’d like it to be. It’s a timid whisper and you’re just thankful you haven't stuttered from the bundle of nerves in your gut.
He doesn’t reply immediately, you begin to ponder if the sound of rain submerged your sentence.
“We both are.” He gives you a weird look.
“No—I mean, I’m leaving Tariz. My semester here is ending, for the study abroad thing.”
Though the humidity in the air is long gone, you feel a thick heaviness in it.
“Oh.” The tone of the word suggests that he wasn’t expecting this. Harry scratches the back of his neck looking down at the pavement. “When’s your last day?”
The silence speaks for you.
His eyebrows jump. “Really?”
You roll your lips together before replying. “I’m afraid so.”
“Well, did you like it? The experience.”
You grin. Of course he could ask you this. You haven’t given much thought to this question up until now. You know when you go back home this will be the first thing people ask you, you take the opportunity as a way to practice an answer.
“Loved it,” you say without a shadow of doubt. “It went beyond my expectations.”
Harry gives your hand that fists the umbrella stem a push from below, urging you to raise it slightly higher. When you look up to see him, you realize the material grazes the top of his head. You mumble a quiet sorry before complying, he ignores your apology by prompting another question. “Favourite part?”
“There are loads. But the Kirree, the culture—”you take a brief pause, it builds the anticipation. “Amjad.”
“Amjad?”
“Amjad,” you confirm. It takes so much from you to not laugh at his ridiculous tone. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” The shrug of his shoulders is anything but casual. “I just thought, nevermind.”
You chuckle, shaking your head while trying to keep your smile at bay. “You’re so obvious.”
Wet hair strands glue to your face with the help of the rain. Your fingers peel them from your skin before tucking them behind your ear.
A deep sigh leaves him.
“I am, aren’t I?”
You both stop at the abandoned intersection. A red palm glows from the other side of the road, halting you from taking a step. You both could make a run for it because no cars are zooming the streets at this time, but you don’t. You feel the heat lift off Harry’s shoulder, there is something so intimate about being under the same umbrella on an empty street with him.
A sigh slips through your lips. You’re going to miss him the most. The routine, the secretive smiles, the tension. Alice’s words inject into your skin like a long needle. Do something.
“I liked meeting you too, for the record,” you say after a moment.
“Yeah?” His nose scrunches up as he looks to you. The traffic light above waves from the wind, a colourful glow lights up his profile emphasizing the sharp cut of his cheekbone and jaw. “It was good, seeing you every day at the cafe. Liked it—quite a lot actually.”
The sentence would’ve been fine as is, but the last four words he tacks on the end adds a double meaning. They put a tangible definition to the feeling that you both had been dancing around since day one. A painful silence settles between you two, it’s razor sharp and so prominent. You both know that it’s something you can’t avoid for any longer.
It’s a brush of fingers at first. Innocent enough to be an accident between strangers on the subway or two people walking in opposite directions on the same side walk. Then it happens again. This time his fingers slot between yours. The silver metal of his rings are frigid against your heated skin. You hope the relentless pattering of rain against pavement masks the boistourius thumping of your heart.
You think you’re imagining it all, but then he shifts his body towards you. His towering height looms over you and he leans in slightly. His breath is warm as it puffs on your cheek, a dizzying contrast against the cool drops of water that rest on your skin. Your lips slowly part in awe and his eyes immediately flicker to them.
The sharp tug he gives your hand is enough to pull you in a step closer, chests press against one another. The touch makes you tighten the grip on the handle of your umbrella, your knuckles become a snow white.
“This okay?” He asks softly. It’s a whisper, silvery and light, but flares a torrid heat in the pit of your stomach.
A stated latency is introduced into the wet atmosphere around you, it traps your bodies into a secluded bubble. His thumb brushes a long stroke from the diviot where your thumb and index meet all the way up to the tip of your pointer finger. The slow, tender pace of it almost makes you whimper.
Only when he sees your chin move in a nod does he press the tip of his nose to the skin of your cheek. You almost cry then. It’s a cruel, calculated torture for him to drag his nose from your cheek to your temple. Your fingers slip from his in favour to clutch the fabric of his sweater. You pull the threads closer to you, a silent plea to move his lips near yours. You feel his smile press against your temple. His palm rests on your hip then gradually slides to your lower back. Your lashes flutter momentarily before resting on your flaming cheeks.
His lips brush the smooth, thin skin of your eyelid twice, he plants a gentle kiss at the corner of your eye. He moves down to the apples of your cheek, the cupid bow of his lips lovingly traces the skin there. Your fingers crawl up from his chest and rest where his shoulder and neck meet. As he continues his innocent torment, the pad of your thumb traces the bump of his adam’s apple.
He brings his free hand to tilt your chin up, he aligns his forehead with yours. You both stay there for a moment while taking calming breaths. You notice his skin his warm under your fingertips and the rise and fall of his chest isn’t steady. You never put sugar in your Kirree, it’s always been honey for you. This is because the grains don’t fully dissolve and sit stubbornly at the bottom of your drink. As you crack your eyes slightly open, you see he has something golden on his lips. Shiny, sticky, inviting.
“Please,” you breathe.
His lips are warm, slick, and sweet against yours. You’d seen them quirked up in a smirk, in bashful smiles, in teasing grins. You wonder what they look like pressed so delicately against yours. The pads of his fingers dig into your flesh as he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth. His tongue laps in just the right way—slow, with the tiniest bit of pressure. You cradle his cheek and follow the line of his jaw with your finger.
When you sigh into his mouth, he lets out a tremulous whimper. Harry was like a cup of freshly brewed coffee; scalding hot and tempting. The steam dancing above the rim would blister your mouth, but you took a sip of him anyway. You know when weighed, all the benefits surpass the costs. You’d rather feel him on the roof of your mouth all day than never at all.
His arms snake around your waist and hold you in place. Your lips part for the length of a blink, the glistening of his mouth is mesmerizing under the light of the lamp post hovering above. You can only draw half a breath before he’s leaning in once more. This time his lips are ferocious. The iron grip you have around the nape of his neck pulls tightly at the curls resting there.
Every nerve ending in your body is screaming, ablaze with the same intensity of molten lava. Your mind is swimming with too many emotions, you don’t begin to label what they are, it will be useless in your dazed state. Your palm presses flat against his chest, you feel his heart jackrabbit through his sweater. There is a tingling sensation in your palms that shoots sparks up your arms.
When you both finally pull away, he doesn’t let go of you. He keeps you close to resume his light brushes; his lips against your cheek, chin, temple. It’s when the tip of his nose bristles against the bridge of yours, your shoulders sag with a deep sigh.
“We...” the word wavers when you say it.
“Yeah?”
You gulp. “We missed our walking signal.”
The slow grin that crawls on his face says he is willing to miss a million more.
***
“Aww,” Alice coos towards her laptop screen. A dopey grin splits her face in half. It tells you she’s either looking at the current royal wedding pictures or reading another one of her romance novels. “That’s so cute, she must be so lucky.”
“What are you on about?” You inquire from your position on your bed. Although you had no complains while studying abroad, you firmly believe there is something so delicious about sleep in your own bed.
“I’m reading the Rolling Stone article about Harry Styles’ new album,” she says without turning back. He is her newest celeb obsession, you think it will pass over in a month. Alice has her laptop situated on your work desk that you’ve placed in the corner. From her position, her back hides the screen she is reading. “He said he wrote a song about a girl who he met in Tariz when working on his new album. Isn’t it crazy how small the world is, like we were there just last year.”
“We were,” you agree from behind a parted novel. It’s another Murakami novel. You woke up today and your fingers had a mind of their own when they plucked him off your reading shelf. Something in your bones was begging you to read it. “I’m glad you took me.”
Alice ignores what you say, she’s too busy gushing over the guy on her screen. She is speaking way too fast and going off in a million different tangents all fueled from her excitement. You think you hear her say something about psychedelics and sex. You shoot her a worried look and before you know it, she’s pushing the device onto your lap.
“Here, just look!”
The fans of the laptop start up and blow a gust of heat on your thighs. As you blink to the article pictures in front of you, your heart drops to your stomach.
“Alice,” you say breathlessly as if you’ve just seen a ghost. You blink quickly to help clear the image, maybe you’re seeing things. But the longer you stare at it, you become more and more sure of the face staring back at you.
“What?”
Sharp jaw, wavy hair, high cheekbones.
“Oh my God.” Your mouth is dry. “Oh my God.”
“What! What is it?”
You point an accusatory finger in the direction of the webpage. “It’s him! That’s him!”
Alice’s forehead wrinkles. “I don’t follow.”
“The guy I snogged from the cafe in Tariz!”
Her eyes become the size of Saturn. “No...”
“Yes...”
As the confirmation is uttered in the air, a stillness floods in. You both stare at each other, blinking slowly with blank faces. The suspended silence makes it harder for you to draw a breath. You see the gears turning and locking in place behind her eyes as she grasps onto this new piece of information.
The high pitch squeal that comes from her wind pipes can be easily mistaken for a hyena sound effect. “Fuck!”
“I’m—” Your face is burning and your palms have a sheet of sweat, but your neck and chest is like ice. You fan yourself with your palms. “—I think I’m having hot flashes.”
“I would too if I snogged Harry fucking Styles.”
Blood rushes to your face. “I didn’t know!”
“How did you not know?!”
“Because I live under a rock, you know this. I just thought he was another study abroad student like us!”
“This is so fucking funny.” Alice is howling with laughter. She clutches her stomach and leans forward without any shame. You can’t blame her though, if the tables were turned you doubt you’d react differently than her.
“Fuck, he wasn’t writing poetry.” The inside of your palm slaps your forehead. You feel a sharp throbbing pain pulse at your temples, so you clutch your head and clamp your eyes shut. “Those were probably songs, oh my God, I am so stupid!”
“Babes, babes.” Alice drags the pad of her thumb under her eyes to catch fallen tears. “We’re buying tickets.”
The pillow you throw at Alice lands with a loud smack.
“There is no fucking way I’m going to another study abroad thing with you—ever again.” Your arms limply flail about. “Look what this first one made me do.”
Alice scoffs. “You made out with a rockstar.”
The pointed look you shoot has enough strength to bring down civilizations. “Not the point.”
“Well, I wasn’t insinuating buying a ticket to another place.”
Your lips part with confusion. “Then what?”
“We’re going to catch his show.”
————
Don’t ask me where the city of Tariz is in the world, I made it up. Also all of the language is made up. So is the drink. Lol. Can you tell I didn’t want to do research? My mc is dumb, that scene in NW was ass. Anyway, let me know your thoughts?
Thank you for amina @harrysdodgyankles for editing the moodboard
My wonderful betas are the best. Thank you so so so much to @drivingmekiwi @midnightcities @shelvesandwhelves @fireawaynjh
#1dff#harry styles fanfic#harry styles prompt#harry styles blurb#harry styles fanfiction#self insert#y/n fic#harry styles writing#one direction fanfiction#harry styles one shot#harry styles#let me know what u think?#summer
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Lily and Daffodil
Ship: Shinsou X Kaminari
Warnings: uhh prolly just cursing and a bit of fluffiness (but not alot)
A/N: It's 2:33 and I just finished this so I'm sorry for any grammatical errors :'). I know it's not that (you'll see what I mean) time yet, but I hope you enjoy nevertheless
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Dying flowers were many of the painful things that Shinsou looked at, and recently they became more and more frequent. Honestly, even after two years of learning about smaller types of herbalism and plants, he didn’t know what to do.
His window sills were decorated with sigils of pots filled with the soil that brought him a peace of mind, the earthly smell waking him up everyday with early scents that sent his mind into a frenzy, releasing endorphins like never before and, to be honest, he could say at this point the waft alone was a drug to him all-in-one, intruding it’s way into his nostrils without a care in the world while his cat brashly scratched at the pots and – more than once – tried and successfully knocked them over, which then ended in two ways.
One was a mess on the floor, usually looking like someone had stepped in with mud whipped boots after being out in the rain and aimlessly standing in a puddle while waiting for a miracle to happen, getting cold feet and trying to find their way out of a tongue twister like an utter fool, while the other reason was pretty much simple; falling over the balcony brim and staining the hanging, usually white clothing of his neighbour, Katsuki Bakugou, who mostly directed sentences not appropriate for the children living below him, and his own roommate which was a green haired, freckle nosed attentive named Izuku Midoriya, the one that usually took care of the person below who, in return to the good old one-two his cat gave to the bombarded bastard’s clothing, reverberated shouting and snarly comments on and on about how he was going to murder his precious pet and choke it to death, or shove the dirt of his plastic pot down his throat and grow plants in there himself.
If Shinsou didn’t know better than to immediately judge people, he’d assume more than once that Bakugou's hobby was mass murder and the achievement of threatening people in ways that shook them to their very core was to leave them sobbing in a dark corner and think about the day they crossed him. Not Shinsou. He, simply and easily, didn’t care. The only time he did was when his cat was almost stepped and rolled over by the ash blond – now that was the very end of his patience, and he decided to move them inside.
However, when it came to his plants meeting their demises without him being able to click on a tool of the search bar in the application called Internet, and his mind went blank the moment he tried to find the words, he knew, he was pretty much fucked, and beyond that, he couldn’t get out of his room when he found out that the owner at the flower shop he worked at, Aizawa Shota had to take vacation because his daughter, Eri, got chicken pox for the first time, sure, he knew how it felt, since he shared his own phase of annoying little red dots, so he understood, but what really, really, shook him up was the fact that he had to run the shop by himself now. Him, a seventeen year old student on his way to starting summer break, taking care of a flower shop, all alone?
Sure, the honour was there, but, why?
Why?
“Why..?” he stared at the flowers that laid limp in his hands, the pot at it’s peak of breaking from the roots, getting it’s fair pay of getting bumped and falling over because costumers weren’t 'watching their step'.
He sighed and curled his index finger under the falling flower, setting it aside as the doorbell above the glass door rang a sweet, high pitched melody.
The glass of his greenhouse standing tall and proud, sun smiling down at all the other healthy flowers made him blink twice, eyes adjusting to the light quickly to be present for the costumer, while in the meantime, he ran his hands on the pastel, coffee brown apron on his body and pulled down his white button up shirt.
“Welcome,” he sent a lazy smile up at the beaming man with light orange hair, a black stripe visible on the side of his head, messily running down a sideways undercut he styled his hair into.
His grin shined pearly white as he waved at the man and looked around silently, his gaze running over all the other flowers that were erect pridefully in their beauty from around the room, arduous honey-like smell injecting his nostrils and brain like gasoline. It was almost sickeningly sweet for a newcomer, and by the way his face scrunched at the horrendous sweetness, he was most definitely a stranger – or, maybe just the fact Shinsou never saw him before – a smile like that doesn’t just pass by and his clothing style was also rather amusing to the eye. Comfortable, per se, he rocked a simple white shirt and black pants with a yellow jacket that tightly closed itself around his narrow hips, and Shinsou eyed him head to toe, intrinsically curious about the casual, but new fellow.
“Hey man,” he spoke amiably, “I’m looking for uh... Lily and Daffodil?”
Shinsou squinted his eyes, before a snort came out from between his lips, and he had to put his black gloved hand up to them to keep himself from chuckling at the youngster.
“Lilies and daffodils, got it,” he cleared his throat, a lopsided smile taking over his lips, “do you want them individually or in a bouquet?” he asked, stepping away from the counter and hiding the shattering pot under it, rounding and guiding himself towards hourglass vases plopped upon a collection of side view shelves from where he usually stood, flowers with neatly cut stems stuck in yesterday’s water, all waiting to be bought and given, if for oneself or for other.
“Uh..” the lost man tucked his hand into the low pocket of his jacket and pulled out a piece of paper, staring at it intensely, “Do you have hand tieds?” he questioned, reaching out his arm to hand the paper over to Shinsou, who took it and the gloriously sunny man stared back at the florist, who raised his eyebrows slightly and nodded intently, following along the vases until he came to a draft of three mahogany matched platforms and mixes of flowers, each organized along eachother, the spaces between them almost perfect.
He was aware of his boss's precision, but it sometimes drove him crazy when he got death glares for even slightly nudging a flower pot in it’s place if the others wanted something to buy. Otherwise, he’d say the job was a whole lot more relaxing than he thought it would, and his boss was more of a mentor upon nature rather than a prejudicial, pigheaded asshole.
“Uh-huh,” he hummed and picked the tied bouquet, carefully taking it towards the counter while eyeing the still pulchritudinous plants grown by non other than himself. He was a fan of herbs, but flowers were something that held a soft spot in his heart.
He set them down on the counter gently, content with the idea that they’d finally go out to see the rest of the world, even if temporarily and only as far as a few blocks from his greenhouse.
“Ten daffodils and five lilies, that’ll be four thousand ninety five yen,” he slipped the flowers into a paper wrap to secure they wouldn’t fall out, the crackling of paper as he genuinely tried to create none but an unwrinkled piece showing within the smooth surface of the sheet, as it ringed the flowers like a shell for protection and he waited as the man before him fumbled with the zip of his wallet and handed him a five thousand yen note.
He exchanged the currency that was left to go and handed him both the flower and the coins, watching the man’s eyes twinkle with joy as he cradled the flowery stems in his hands like a newborn baby.
Shinsou smiled, enjoying the view and the sudden affection the man showed towards the piece warmed his heart and made the tips of his pierced ears tint a glowy pink, internally simmering with pride.
“Thank you,” he grinned form ear to ear, turning around and stammering his way towards the door, sparing Shinsou one last glance, and an attempted wink.
The indigo haired insomniac stood and watched as he began to disappear behind transparent crystal walls, looking down at the paper that remained in his hand, a digit of numbers pessimistically written downhill on the paper with a small heart at the corner of it, and he couldn’t help letting out an amused hum, slipping the sheet into the back pocket of his black jeans.
Suddenly, his phone buzzed in his side pocket and he quickly yanked it out - a new notification popped up at the very top of his other messages and alarms - whilst a deep, growly chuckle from further amazement erupted from his chest.
|Calendar 12:00 |
|JUNE 1st Pride month|
|Midoriya Izuk... 10:38|
|Boss: what's a be.. 4:56|
|Neighbour: Why is your fucking cat meowing on my balc.. 6:16|
×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××
Thank you for reading <3
#bnha#shinkami#it's late help me sleep#wake me up#wake me up inside#i cant be pan enough#cat#flowers#big gay
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Oakley Greener’s Little Role
Oakley was 18 and lived alone. Her house was full of windows and plants of all kinds! Everyone in the small city of Solarus knew her. The bakers bought her fruits, she was the local florist, her herbal remedies not only worked but tasted great and she still recommended actual medicine for anything beyond the abilities of plants, her food was heavenly, and she made everyone smile! Her home had a space built in that acted a s as small shop the size of a corner cafe. People called her home The Green House and her shop was The Greenery, both a play on her plants and her last name, Greener.
She was a kind soul, a gentle person, but if need be she would ABSOLUTELY break your arm. She always looked out for other people and helped in any way she could.
You’re being chased? “Come inside, have a drink and some food on the house, I’ll call the cops and if they show up I’ll bash their knees.”
You got kicked out and need a place to stay? “There’s a guest bedroom upstairs and to the left, make yourself comfy and help yourself to any food and drinks you like!”
It’s raining so hard that driving’s dangerous and you can’t make it home? “You can stay the night, all my services to you are free! I can also buy you a train ticket if you want, but I’d recommend you have some warm food before anything!”
Oakley was a knife, and she chose which side of the blade you were on. People liked her for that.
What most people didn’t know about Miss Greener was that she was a witch. A green witch. Her magic revolved around plants and nature, which is why she made her house ideal for plants. The house was built for her by her father, a man who would be considered rich by some but was actually just very well off. The project was launched on her seventeenth birthday and was scheduled to be finished before her eighteenth so she could move out like she wanted directly into the house of her dreams.
Oakley profited well from her fruits and foods, so she had a good amount over enough money to care for her basic needs. Extra money was used to support her shop and witchcraft. Some of her plants which were undocumented and unheard of were extremely rare, so she stored them in a secret room at the top of her house. If you looked in form the outside, You would see a cozy roof covered by a glass dome. But that was an illusion, done by her illusionist friend Janice. The room was actually thriving with rare magic plants that Oakley used in her magic.
Powdered Nebula petals in the soup she gives to the homeless in winter so that they may stay warm long after they leave the shop of finish consuming it.
Angelvine stalks liquefied into juice and baked into pastries and desserts for people having a bad day so they have a little bit of a pick-me -up.
Solarine tree leaves boiled in water and left to steep for a while for tired people ordering coffee or tea for the purpose of feeling energized. The tea-like water is strained and used in place of normal boiling water.
Little things like this to make people happy. Little things like this to brighten someone’s day. Little things like this to take the stress off their plates. Oakley knew her role in her city, and knew it was a little one. It was simple, nothing extravagant, but it was more than good enough for her! Seeing their smiles, knowing she could help, and being certain she could help some more? It filled her heart with so much joy and her life with so much light!
To make people happy. That was Oakley Greener’s little role. And she didn’t care that it was little. But to the people she’d helped, her role was so much bigger.
#story#long post#green magic#green witch#green witchcraft#green witchery#witchblr#ficton#fictional story#fantasy#cozy#fluff#fluffy story#cute#my post#my story#mine#candy's writing
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On an island where it seems lockdown has only increased her feeling that she knows absolutely everyone, and nothing interesting will ever happen to her again, Lulu Cabot [Florence Pugh] meets a face and a pair of eyes over a mask she cannot place--or seem to forget.
Chapter One of “Untitled Jersey-based RomCovid”
I. Her
Lulu Cabot reminded herself she was an Olympic-caliber liar. It was a talent she had necessarily chosen to distance herself from as she grew into adulthood, but her skills remained sharp. Probably not surprising for a girl growing up with two amazingly wonderful parents trapped in a truly unfortunate marriage. It proved a basic survival skill to trick herself and others into believing tall tales about what her homelife was really like, to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes—especially her own.
But she had grown up, her mum and dad had parted ways—mum leaving Jersey, and Lulu and dad on the island for an English life across the Channel—and lying just…hadn’t been as needed anymore. She continued telling herself tales, of course. But no longer overwriting facts. Tales of what was to come, tales of her future, not only growing her father’s family’s hobby nursery into a bona fide location to supply her own, future florist’s shop, but adding to the plants it grew—not only just the standard roses and alstroemeria--but acquiring new flora as unusually and as exotically as possible.
And now it was 2020, and her future was more than here, and it had arrived in a mask and gloves and the startling, unthinkable passing of shelter-in-place orders. And here she was, on her way to the Sand Street Alliance Tesco where she had had to pick up some hours working under her aunt in order to make money during a pandemic
where she wasn’t even allowed to sell the usual flowers and small trees and bushes from their nursery as a supplier—much less move forward in the process of opening her own shop, long ago dubbed The Global Gardener.
And it was time for a lie—to herself. A lie promising that she did not look as much a disaster as she felt. She hadn’t worn her spectacles in simply years, but she’d torn the last contact she had, and had no way of getting more as her prescription was too old to refill, and the optometrist wasn’t seeing patients that weren’t emergencies at present.
Well, she could have very well and good convinced Dr. Pope that this was an emergency. The heavier plastic frames saddled her nose like an overweight rider on horseback, the lenses—always strong—magnified her eyes to the point she felt like a pop-eyed Black Moor fish. But the worst had to be the combination of those specs and the mask she was obligated to wear while stocking shelves and working at the grocery. Her breath fogged them. The mask trapped the heat of her exhale, the plastic frames slid like skiers attempting a long jump off her nose.
No. She wouldn’t have it. She looked perfect. And intelligent and composed, she lied away to herself. No doubt her innate dignity and grace shone through like a streak of sunlight on a cloudy day. Glasses added gravitas to anyone’s face. And even so, who cared? She saw the same people day-in day-out. They, everyone of them, had known her since she had been in nappies or even in-womb. Who had she to worry about impressing? It was Tesco, after all, not Bond Street.
She rounded a display of feminine products (a much-wanted item to stockpile at present), and headed for the loo roll shelves, guiding the large, low wagon filled with rolls to stock. She had nearly cleared the corner of the feminine product display when she clipped it by an inch or less, and the display’s boxes came tumbling down on top of the loo rolls, the wagon, and the floor. She sighed and attempted to push her spectacles back up onto her nose with her wrist in the hopes of circumventing the touching of her face.
She was still down on her knees when she heard a customer’s voice, somewhat distorted through the cloth of their mask, ask her a question. “What’s that?” she asked, poking her head above the mass of fallen items and loo roll.
Far above (at least from her kneeling position he seemed far above) she saw a man’s hands clutching one of the small baskets that almost certainly identified the person carrying it as a single living alone, a masked face, and a pushed back shock of hair that looked like it could use a cutting. “Coffee filters?” he asked.
“This is loo roll,” she heard herself say—though she couldn’t have said why. Did she think he had been trying to identify the mass of products she was attempting to re-position?
“Well, not all of it,” he replied, and she saw his left eyebrow tease at arching, having noticed the capsized display of feminine products.
“Noooo,” she said, agreeing, pushing herself up off the floor where she had been kneeling, her brain cycling through everyone she knew, and the coming-on suspicion that his eyes were unfamiliar. She stood a moment too long examining them. He was tall, not just a trick of her kneeling below him. Still, she could see (with her powerful prescription) that there seemed to be a fleck of brown high in his left eye, in the otherwise sea of matching blue. Like an island, she randomly thought, resting in a calm sea.
He reached out toward one of the loo rolls that had fallen off onto a rack of paper towels, and handed it toward her. “I can’t seem to find coffee filters,” he said, and then, as if he needed to apologize, “I did look.”
Instinctively—she didn’t really need his help in the matter—she took the roll package offered. “We’re out,” she told him. “People have been buying them to put into masks as a filter. Time to go back to your percolator, I guess.”
The man didn’t move, and his lack of motion kept her at a standstill as well. A second ticked past, then two. She noticed the brown in his left eye, again. “Can I help you with anything else?” she heard herself asking.
“No, I-uh. That’s clever,” he said. “Coffee filters. I never would have thought of that.”
She could feel herself looking at him as though he had erroneously assumed it was a clever stratagem she, herself, had come up with. What he could make out of her expression, though, she couldn’t have said, her lower faced masked, her spectacles shielding the rest, even as they threatened a second slide down her nose. “Who could have ever thought of any of this?” she heard herself ask, and she also heard an exasperated edge to her voice, its color coming from the frustration of the mess she’d made and her own, complicated feelings about life ending up on unannounced pause.
He hadn’t seemed to notice her tone. If he had, the sound of his reply didn’t match hers at all. “Well if I had thought of it, I would’ve—” he didn’t finish the sentence.
A voice crackled over the inter-store intercom, using Lulu’s staff ID number, and the code requesting her to the front till. “Excuse me,” she said, thoughts of islands resting in calm seas, the ongoing frustration of being in lockdown, and fallen feminine hygiene products banished from her mind. “I have to go—”
Later, she could not recall if he’d replied, or if he had, what he had said. Some forty-five minutes after, when she returned to continue re-stacking and re-stocking the items she’d knocked over she’d found them miraculously put away, though the store was short-staffed and she knew what every other person was meant to be at doing. In the moment she was surprised, but it was not until later that night, after her shift, sitting at the edge of the family nursery in her own garden, free of her mask, that she began to wonder if it was him she had to thank for it.
...to be Continued in Chapter Two: II. Him
#coronavirus fic#romcom#florence pugh#henry cavill#covid fic#what to even call this?#jammeke should know#i mean other than my brain chasing silly thoughts#remember The BabyMakers?#yeah#that was a thing#romcovid#we'll get you a title soon#lil fic
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