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noctis-kingfisher · 5 months ago

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Blue Hour (i) ⁞ Isagi Yoichi

i. Flowers and Fostered Reminiscence

SYNOPSIS -> Your life finally settles after a rough divorce, and all you want is to run your flower shop in peace, but when 20-year-old Isagi Yoichi starts working for you, the summer might get hotter than anticipated. INFO -> Isagi x reader, afab!reader, flower shop au, Summer Solstice Point au. WARNINGS -> 18+, NSFW, age-gap romance, reader has vaginismus, reader is 28, Isagi is 20, eventual smut, eventual questionable dubcon but not with Isagi, divorced!reader, sexual exploration, pov changes(?), she/her pronouns are used briefly for reader, canonverse despite some age disparities and how that affects the canon timeline (just don't think about it), no use of y/n, tags are subject to change. WORD COUNT -> 2k

Minors and empty blogs will be blocked.

-> masterlist -> next

The soft tinkling of the little bell hanging over the door follows on the summer breeze as Isagi steps inside the flower shop, wiping the sweat from his brow. Heady aromas of flora and cut greenery flood his senses.

The shop is pleasantly cool, not as conditioned as he expected a flower shop to be, but familiar. He reaches the front counter when she pops in from one of the two back rooms, and his heart picks up at the sight.

“Hello, I’ll be right with you,” the woman greets, her movements quick in disappearing to set down the bouquet she was working on to take position at the front register. She gives the young man a pleasant smile and wipes her hands down her apron as she asks, “Are you looking for anything in particular today?”

Isagi blinks back into the present moment, embarrassment rising to his cheeks. “Let’s see… I am, actually. Do you have any lilacs? Oh, and plum blossoms?”

“Oh, wow,” she says with a huff, “you’re in luck. I was worried no one would ask for the last batch of plum blossoms we got in. You saved me today.”

He smiles bashfully, eyes sparkling. “Really? Call it fate.”

“I’ll say. So you’re looking to get a bouquet with lilacs and plum blossoms,” she repeats as she types in the information. “Do you want a small, medium, or large set?”

Warmth rises to his cheeks when she looks back up at him. “A… a large is fine, if you have enough plum blossoms.”

“Boy, do I.” She gently laughs and types some more. “And what name will this be under?”

The air in his lungs stills as he gazes at her, the sunlight filtering through over her hair making the airborne dust look like sparkles. “Isagi. Isagi Yoichi.”

Typing in the rest of his information, she accepts his credit card, and he has to keep himself from white-knuckling the countertop when their fingers brush each other not once but twice when she hands it back. His heart fully skips a beat when he notices she isn’t wearing a ring on her left hand.

“Alright, give me around thirty minutes. Is that okay? Or do you want to come back for them?”

Isagi shakes his head. It’s gotta take longer than that, he thinks. “I’ll wait, it’s no problem at all, really. Take your time.”

He has to reel himself in with a hand over his heart once she heads back to start on the bouquet. After a deep, centering breath, he fills his time by looking around the store. There’s a cooler with glass doors against the wall housing pre-made bouquets and shelves by the windows of potted plants and flora. He walks along the rows of metal shelves on the center floor showcasing baskets of fake flower arrangements for graves, he assumes.

A dinging notification catches his attention.

“Mm—” Isagi slips out his phone to see it isn’t his. Catching movement to his left, he’s able to peer inside the floral room where she’s standing. He instinctively moves to step out of sight to maintain her privacy, another flush of warmth rising to his cheeks, but stops when he sees the phone in her hand.

From this distance, he can’t make out the details but can see the opened messaging app. And she hasn’t responded. Her shoulders sit visibly slumped while she stares at the screen as if a dark cloud has appeared above her.

He could guess who it was from. The thought sours his mood in her stead. But he quickly gets back to looking around when she abruptly sighs and sets back to work. Passing in front of the counter again, he notices a paper and pen with something written down: “Part-timer wanted. Weekdays 1:00-5:00 p.m. Inquire for positions.”

His eyes glimmer.

Her sudden entrance with the bouquet catches him off guard. It’s only been twenty minutes. “Alright, it’s all done.” She puts on that same smile as before, proud of her work.

The sight of the full bouquet has him beaming. “Whoa—it looks amazing! Thank you for this. I uh…” He scratches the back of his neck. “I also noticed you’re looking for a part-timer.”

“Oh, are you interested?”

…

The interview for the position is done in the adjacent lunch room. A counter top lines the side wall, which holds a mini fridge and coffee machine that brews everything but.

You hand Isagi a matching black-cat mug of milk tea, fit with two ears pointing from the rim and green eyes painted below them, as you sit across from him at the table for two. His vase of lilacs and plum blossoms takes up most of the table space.

“Thank you,” he says softly, smiling at the cute mug before taking a sip. He hums in appreciation.

There’s been a soft yet unmistakable blush to his cheeks ever since he followed you to the back, and you’d be a fool not to notice the reaching behind his gaze the moment you met. It doesn’t help you either with how he sits into himself shyly yet filled out as if he’s had years of life beyond his young age, you assume just starting college. It makes you wonder what made him this way.

“Ah, may I remove this…?” Isagi reaches to slip off his open flannel shirt, and that’s when you notice the sweat on his collarbone.

“Oh, by all means. My apologies. I keep it kinda warm back here. I can turn it down if you’d like.”

Isagi shakes his head and continues with taking the flannel off, leaving him in his white t-shirt. “It’s fine, really. I don’t mind.”

I do mind, you say in your head as your eyes flit over his exposed neck, down his broad shoulders, and his arms.

Still, you conduct the interview; your current employee will be leaving soon, and there aren’t many people lining up for your small shop. Should Isagi initiate anything unprofessional, you could simply fire him, you conclude.

The hard beat of your heart calls your bluff.

You clear your throat and hope the clarity reaches your head. “Alright. To start off, do you have any prior experience working at a flower shop?”

“Er, no…” Isagi scratches the back of his head. “But I watched a few documentaries on florists and floriculture before. A lot of effort and creativity goes into this specialization.” He smiles boyishly and scratches his chin with his index finger. “You’re so cool, Ms. Sato.”

“Really?” The effort is appreciated if you’re to believe him. “That’s sweet, thank you. The position doesn’t require you to make arrangements, but if you’re interested in it, I could teach you over time.”

“I’d love that!” Isagi says with a determination that surprises you.

You smile and then continue. “You’d mainly be up front to take orders, and that includes over the phone. The front and back of the building need to remain clean too, but I usually sweep since I’m the one making most of the mess—”

“I can clean it all, Ms. Sato.” Isagi nods emphatically, and you can’t stop your mind from taking his words in a different light.

You mentally chide yourself and sweep the thoughts under the rug while you write in your notebook.

“And as for transportation,” you change topics.

“Ah, I don’t live far, actually. I could even walk here with no problem.”

You nod and write some more down. “Alright. And I’m sure you read the flier, but the shifts are from one to five on the weekdays. You won’t have to help me close, but you’d need to make sure you clean the desk before leaving your station. Will this get in the way of any schooling?”

“Er, no, it’ll be completely fine. I only stayed for one year…” Isagi says a bit reluctantly but quickly amends it by saying, “But I can start as soon as tomorrow—or right now if you need a hand.”

“Can you write your number here?” You hand over the notebook and pen to him, which he takes with a slight bow of his head, slightly dejected.

“Of course.” He hands it back to you when he’s done.

You nod. “Don’t worry about today. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Ms. Sato.”

You watch him take his vase of flowers and flannel over his shoulder before he leaves. It’s only when the bell hanging over the front door signals that you look down at your name tag. It only reads your first name.

With a sigh, the weight of social interaction finally slips from the corners of your mouth, and you stand to return to the next room over to work on the bouquet you had previously.

“Sorry I’m late, Ms. Sato!” Your current part-time employee, Mei, startles you before you can step out the door.

“Ah, that’s alright,” you say, patting over your heart. “It wasn’t busy.”

“That guy had a pretty big bouquet. You did it this morning?” Mei asks as she settles her things down.

You look over to the window absentmindedly as if he’d be there if you looked. “Yes. But it wasn’t bad. Only lilacs and plum blossoms with some fillers.”

Mei whistles. “He must like someone.”

Her words give you pause before you resume your way back to the floral room. “You think so?”

“First,” Mei starts as she tidies her space at the front counter, “he’s buying flowers. It’s for someone. Second, flower language of course. He’s totally got a crush on somebody. Maybe he’s confessing today? Oh—” She notices the hiring flier. “Do you want me to hang this up on the door?”

You stare blankly at the in-progress bouquet of yellow hyacinths on the wooden table. “Ah, no, that’s okay. We actually don’t need it anymore.”

…

“See you tomorrow, Ms. Sato! I promise I won’t be late next time!”

You wave Mei goodnight at the door before locking up for the evening.

You’ve called the second story of the flower shop your home for the past eight years since you bought the place. After cleaning around the store, you make your way to the lunch room where the stairs lie hidden behind the back wall.

You stop at the table when you see the cat mugs of tea still sitting there, and memories of the interview spill back into your mind while you spill the cups into the sink.

“He’ll be a good addition…” you speak aloud to yourself in the dim silence. The words themselves don’t drown out or convince the weird feelings from the day any more than you. But you still try. “He’s strong, so he can lift and carry things I can’t. He’s friendly and polite… so… he’ll be good with customers.”

The convincing follows you up the stairs.

You click the door closed behind you with a sigh and are immediately hit with a familiar voice.

“You can’t just leave the air conditioner on, can you? Tch...”

Ice shoots down your spine. You rush a hand up to flip on the lights to reveal the empty apartment. The memory melts away as soon as it arrives, and relief takes its place.

It’s been over a year since you divorced your husband, and the whale fall has yet to clear, you suppose.

“Divorcing him was good for you. Twenty-eight is still young,” you hear your friend group’s words in mind.

Yes. It was for the best.

“You didn’t need him anyway. He had it made but still mooched off of you.”

“We tried to tell you. Nothing good would come from him, at least not long term.”

“Men like him don’t know how to settle down. You’d think rich would stay with rich, but no.”

You swat the thoughts away and trudge into the kitchen, feeling heavier now from the day. It’s true that you wanted for nothing. The perks of being born into a wealthy family meant you could pursue your love of flowers however you saw fit. It also meant you could settle down whenever, and that you did.

Setting a pot to boil, you warm your hands over the rising heat. Even though the air conditioner is set so high it rarely comes on, you still catch chills so easily.

The heat hugging your hands reminds you of the way he used to complain, but those thoughts slowly replace with those of a flannel being removed politely.

“Ah, I’m hot…”

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Thanks for reading, and if you enjoyed, please reblog! I'd love to know your thoughts so far!

Reposted from @ceruleansol-archive since I've moved blogs.