#lots of blooming gardens huh

[swedenis-h]

A new light

[mediumgayitalian]

part three

———

The first step should, in all likelihood, be the easiest.

(“I’m not sure this is something you can really plan,” Annabeth had suggested gently, “as much as my mother would disown me to hear it. I mean, everything I did with Percy kind of just…happened.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure the five years of pining misery and fighting off several other people — one of whom was literally me — was a real walk in the park for you.”

“…Plan on.”)

It is not the easiest.

“You’re telling me the flowers…say things.”

If Nico reaches back into the farthest recesses of his memory, as in things that are shoved somewhere between his sister’s soft sobs the one time he got sicker than he’d ever been and has ever been since and the time he’d walked in on Alecto skinny dipping in the Phlegothon, he can vaguely remember a lengthy rant from his stepmother on something called the language of flowers. He had, at that time, assumed she was simply trying to convince him that everything had voices again, and ignored her.

“Yes,” says Miranda from Demeter Cabin patiently. “Every flower has an assigned meaning. More than one, usually. You can say very rude things with flowers.”

Nico perks up, intrigued. “How do you say ‘you’re a fucking c—”

“Okay,” Jason interrupts, plastering a strained smile on his face and slapping a hand over Nico’s mouth. Nico bites him, hard, and the smile becomes even more strained. “We are actually looking for much nicer things to say with flowers. Kind things. Appreciative things. Feelings, you know. Nico?”

He lifts his hand, looking at him in warning as if Nico is going to be quelled by his Stare of Judgement, of all things. Nico stares back at him until he starts to look appropriately cowed, satisfyingly afraid of the horror that lives inside Nico’s eyes, except he — doesn’t.

He doesn’t look scared at all, actually, which is — which.

Nico takes all thoughts pertaining to the issue and shoves them away.

“I need,” he says haltingly, looking back at Miranda. She looks at him encouragingly.

She doesn’t look afraid of him, either, although she glances quickly down at the circle of grass he’s killed by virtue of standing on it and says, politely, “If you could maybe stop that, I would appreciate it.”

Nico swallows, stepping back. “Sorry.”

“No worries.” She swoops down, hands outstretched, murmuring something too soft for him to pick up. Under her gentle fingertips, the grass blooms slowly back to life, tiny strands uncurling and swelling with virility, stretching towards the sun. Even the dirt smells sweeter, like churned garden soil rather than graveyard dirt.

Something dark and bitter crawls up Nico’s throat — he will always need people to clean up after his messes. No matter how hard he tries. Miranda with the plants, Solace with every one of his endless injuries, Bianca with — everything. She cleaned up after him a lot.

She was only twenty-seven months older than him. He wonders how she would have liked being fourteen, and has to choke back the sob that tries to claw its way out of his trachea.

“Not a lot of people have flower language memorized,” Miranda says, dragging him roughly back to the present. Her large brown eyes are back to focused on him, so he forces himself into normalcy and stares back. “And it’s kind of vague, so I need something to start with. Who’s it for?”

“Classified.”

Nico considers, once again, opening up a chasm beneath his feet. His geokinesis is no bene so he’d probably take Jason and Miranda down with him, but. Necessary sacrifices, et cetera.

“Understandable,” Miranda responds without so much as a beat. Huh. Suddenly, he feels bad for considering her collateral. “Just this then: friend or foe?”

Nico looks at Jason. Jason looks back at him, like, dude, seriously. Nico scowls at him and his uselessness.

“Friend,” he says begrudingly. “…More.”

Miranda nods in understanding. “Ah. Will, then.”

Nevermind. Chasm it is.

“Man, I hoped you guys would finally do something,” Miranda continues, oblivious to the ground trembling slightly under her. (Jason, however, appears alarmed, so Nico summons a tiny skeleton hand to grab his ankle in revenge.) “I love Will to pieces, but there are only so many times I can hear him wax poetic about you before it starts to get embarrassing. When we were twelve you saved his life and he actually cried because he didn’t know how to form the words. Just weeping everywhere about your sword and your hair and how you look a little crazy when you smile in battle. Did you know there are, like, a million syllables for brown? I do. He thinks your eyes are a tie between moonstone and agate, in case you were wondering.”

“I have actually heard that,” Jason mumbles, as Nico’s brain whites out and leaves him, tragically alone, to suffer. “I thought he was just super into geology.”

“Oh, he is. He’s a little into everything. There’s a bi joke, for you.”

“Oh, ha, I get it.”

Is that his body, stranded somewhere below him? Hi, body. Good to see you. You look like hell. Feel free to summon your soul back into yourself at any time, that’d be great.

“I am generally bad at functioning,” he admits, once his essence has begrudgingly reattached itself to his cells and his blood stops ringing quite so loudly in his ears.

Miranda shrugs. “I think you’re pretty okay. Once Percy had to get five stitches on his lip because he was half asleep and mixed up his plate and pizza and bit clean through his plate. It only really needed four stitches, but Will laughed so hard he couldn’t focus right and tore the wound a tad before fixing it. By accident.”

Nico tries very hard not to picture that laughter, not to remember the first time he heard Will laugh, not the hundreds of times after; a loud sound, a musical sound, despite his insistence that he has no talents. Laughter like olive oil laughs in the pan, like wind laughs as it rushes through the poplar trees.

Jason nods sympathetically. “Mondays are hard.”

“Please,” Nico begs the both of them. The nerve he’d summoned after the encouragement of his friends is slowly leaking out of his eyeballs and soaking the ground. “I just need —”

He can’t finish that sentence, either. I need to give Will flowers so he knows I have….intentions, with him, is the most embarrassing sentence ever to be conjured by man, and if he has to say it aloud he knows his father will smite him out of pity, as is their deal. It must only be implied, and even then, he could get egged by any member of Cabin Eleven and turn into a breakfast buffet, his face is so godsdamn hot.

“Will, is, like, unbelievably dense,” Miranda says, taking pity on him. She waits for Nico to finish choking, patting him firmly on the back before continuing. “I guess that’s not fair. He can be quite observant, he just has worse self-esteem than you, even, no offense, so if you are trying to seduce him you’re going to have to be very obvious.”

The wheezing that she has just circumvented starts all over again. This time, Jason joins him. Miranda has no qualms or shame — fitting, since Nico has met her mother, who also has no shame about anything. Nico will never be able to forget that she is the goddess of fertility.

“Who the fuck said anything about seducing,” he manages, finally, lungs chilling somewhere on the grass.

Miranda ignores him. “I would usually say something simple like daisies, but they can be representative of friendship and he will for sure assume they are friendship flowers. Hyacinth can communicate a much deeper breadth of emotion, but, uh —” she glances at the Apollo cabin — “I would avoid Hyacinth.”

Nico sobers. Yeah. That would be wise.

“I think roses send a little too strong of a message for your purposes, so I’m thinking carnations. Pink ones.”

Recovering from the implications of the roses — he’s a little out of time, not stupid, he knows what they mean — he looks at her curiously. “What do pink carnations mean?”

She shrugs. “Love and affection, really. Sometimes gratitude, and in some poetry their colouring is compared to a pleased flush.”

Although he expected much more agony in this particular step of the journey (not that their wasn’t a good, healthy amount; can’t feel good feelings for too long if you’re Nico di Angelo, Cursèd, Son of Hades, Prince of the Underworld, Ghost King, Et Cetera, Et Cetera), pink carnations seem surprisingly…right. Love and affection, he can handle that, and if there’s one thing he always is, regarding Will, it’s grateful. Maybe the whole damn camp should be giving him pink carnations.

“Here.”

Sensing Nico’s hesitant acceptance, Miranda swoops down to the ground, digs around a second, shoots a quick prayer to her mother, and waits. A moment later, several blush-pink flowers shoot from the dirt, along with — Nico squints to read it — a book about the history of grain cereals. Miranda looks confused about one of those two things.

“I am constantly plagued by the Ancient Greek Theoi and their various whims,” Nico explains.

“Your life confuses me,” Miranda responds. She hands him the book and the flowers. For once, Demeter’s gift seems to be the less volatile object of the two. “I’m going to go meditate about it.”

“Good call,” says Jason.

“Thank you,” Nico calls, belatedly, to her retreating back. He glances down at the flowers in his hand. “Jason,” he says, voice strained.

He sighs. “Oh, here we go.”

“Jason, I have to move.”

“You’re fine here,” Jason says patiently. He places a hand on Nico’s shoulder and begins to steer him towards the Big House. Nico, distraught, refrains from judo flipping him into a tree.

“I ruin everything I touch, Jason.”

“You helped out with the strawberries just fine last week.”

“Strawberries are not people, Jason.”

“The kids seem to like you. You let them keep weird skulls and rocks and shit they find in the woods, and they like that.”

“Children are not completely incomprehensible sons of the sun, Jason.”

“Will likes you. By his own admission. He thinks — and I’m quoting here — that you’re gorgeous, even when you’re glaring at him and rueing your own existence.”

Nico has nothing to say to that, because he still can’t quite believe that’s true. It’s — surreal. He had no arguments against it, because he knows, objectively, that Will was not lying, and he can see, with his eyeballs, that Will smiles every time they make eye contact, unless Nico did something stupid in which case Will is huffing and muttering about patients and demigods and how increased power is directly correlated with increased stupidity.

Mostly smiling, though.

At Nico. With love and affection and oh, gods, he is going to ruin things so bad.

“Look,” Jason says, stopping them in front of the porch. Nico takes the pause with equal parts relief and panic, turning to him with the flowers clutched to his chest. “You have — issues.”

Nico blinks, waiting for more sentence. Surely that cannot be all of it.

“…Yes,” he acquiesces, when no sentence is forthcoming. “I am an interloper in this timeline. I am an omen of death. I am —”

“Gods, you’re dramatic.”

Nico agonizes.

“You will be fine, Nico, please, I don’t even know what the hang-up is. He said he likes you, there is literally not a single soul in this camp unaware about how much he likes you. Right?”

The rickety screen door of the infirmary bangs open, slamming against the frame, startling them both so hard they cause a slight earthquake.

“Oh, you got them, you got them!”

The overworked and overstressed whirlwind known as William Andrew Solace bursts out of the infirmary, tripping over his own shoes and nearly landing on his face had Jason not caught him.

“Woah, dude,” he says, steady hand on his waist. Nico reacts to that totally normally and Jason’s shadow does not at all try to swallow him. “What’s wrong?”

Will barely responds. “Nico, you are the best, I owe you forever —”

Stumbling out of Jason’s hold, he lunges over to Nico, plucking the flowers out of his hand and spinning right back to the infirmary. In total bewilderment, Nico and Jason follow him, watching as he tosses the bouquet in the air, hands glowing golden, and mutters a quick hymn. The flowers begin to droop, then wrinkle, then fully shrivel up, totally dead as they land back in his hands.

“What the fuck,” Jason whispers.

“Sun-dried is better, but I don’t have time,” Will frets. “Son of sun will have to do. Ha. You, and you, over here.” He points to the nurses desk with the yellowed stems, no trace of a question in his voice. The two of them scramble to comply, ducking under the half-door and standing awkwardly behind the counter as Will clears it off.

“That stupid prank — remind me to kill Cecil tomorrow, Nico, if you don’t mind — has three whole cabins covered in skin welts. I don’t have enough beds for them all, and they need to be quarantined, anyway. I haven’t had time to go get more ingredients in between cabins, let alone time to make more ointment.” Two massive stone mortars slam the counter, making both of them jump, followed by pestles with blunt heads roughly the size of Nico’s fist. “Pulverize the petals as fine as you can.” He splits the dead bouquet in half, handing them each six flowers each. “Petals only, no stems or seeds. I’ll be back in twenty minutes to gather it. Oh, and Nico —”

He pauses for a moment, taking a breath. Hesitantly, Nico reaches out and places a gentle hand on his wrist. Instantly, the worried line between his eyes melts away, and he smiles; tired but radiant.

“I owe you one,” he says softly. “You always know just what I need. I’ve been using rose, ‘cause that’s what we have, even though pink carnations is better, but we ran out an hour ago and I’ve been freaking out cause I —”

“Solace,” Nico interrupts. He squeezes gently. “Breathe.”

He does. Inhale, hold, exhale, breath tickling the hairs in Nico’s arm, causing goosebumps to bristle all over his skin. (The grateful smile pointed towards him at full power has nothing to do with that. Obviously.)

“I’m good. Just — thank you, Nico. You knew exactly what I needed.”

A loud groan sounds from somewhere to the east, in the vague direction of Cabin Ten, and Will rushes off without another word, medical bag stuffed to bursting. There’s a thump, and a quick, “I’m good!” and then the sound of running in flip-flops. Nico ducks his head to hide a smile, turning to the dried flowers.

“Well,” says Jason after a moment. “You tried.”

Nico shrugs. He starts plucking the petals off and dumping them in the mortar, Jason quick to follow his example.

“I’ll just have to try harder next time.”

———

part five

[bonny-kookoo]

Bonny!! Can we please get more Lo:Yoongi and OC? Like maybe her transition into being Queen/ or him courting her.

Him courting her is so cute honestly haha

All the workers at the palace are talking about you.

Mostly, because ever since the King had chosen you, he himself has been slowly changing. And while a lot of people were worried he might become weak after what happened during the fight with Jungkook, it's clear now that that's not the case at all.

He's just a lot calmer now, having realized that he has now a person he can find some quiet company in.

You don't expect anything from him at all- you cared for him when he was injured with hands so gentle, and you're always understanding of his rough tone and even rougher ways of handling the palace and it's daily tasks. Even though your kind despises violence, you accept that his does not, and actively uses it to solve their issues.

Yoongi, at the end of the day, is a king who earned his crown through bloodshed and death. And one day, his own will be taken the same way.

But until then, he will let himself enjoy those tender moments you're gifting him- just like today, as he has his head in your lap, both of you sitting outside in the palace gardens, birds flying overhead across the skies while the fountain runs a few meters away from you. He's rarely ever felt this calm before, your hand on his shoulder, while you let him rest for once.

Yoongi has never wanted his spot.

With his father forcefully challenging him when he was just about old enough to be considered somewhat of a man, he had no choice but to see it through- killing his father that day, cries of his mother forever edged into his mind. He doesn't know where she is today- most likely passed away already, though even if not, he'd never be able to see her again.

The partners of Kings who lost their crowns are exiled, after all.

"I'd like to offer you something." Yoongi says, eyes still closed as he speaks.

"..huh?" You wonder, unsure what he means. "Like a present?" You ask, and he nods.

"Yes. A gift." He clarifies. "I have yet to properly court you."

"Oh that's not.. that's not necessary at all." You giggle. "I'll stay with you either way, for as long as you'll want me." You tell him, and at that, his eyes open.

"I know." He responds. "But you live here now, amongst my people. And it is my people's way to properly court a partner." He explains.

"Alright, I'll accept it then." You agree, and he quiets down at that, before he moves, face turning to look up at you.

"What would you like?" He asks. "I just.. realized I do not know what you.. like, and what not." He explains, eyes moving away from yours in thought. "I should most likely.. have more conversations with you.." He mumbles to himself.

"I mean, we're talking right now?" You say, and at that, he looks at you again, before he moves to sit up next to you, seemingly searching for something in your face.

"We should.. talk more often." He says. "I enjoy talking to you."

"Me too." You say, smiling at him. "Oh, you have a petal there-" You say, moving closer to blow a stray petal from the blooming trees off of his hair- and when you move back to tell him it's gone, you're met with his eyes wide open, staring at you. "-uh.. did I do something wrong?" You ask, unsure, your words making him snap out of whatever trance he was just in.

"Are you trying to play with me?" He challenged, eyes narrowing as they stare you down.

"I- no? I just blew the petal off-" You explain yourself, when he cuts you off.

"I know that humans show affection by kissing their partners." He tells you, and at that, you realize what he probably thought you were leaning in for.

"Oh- Oh, no, I wouldn't-" You start, and his head tilts to the side at that.

"You wouldn't kiss me?" He asks, amused by the way you seem to get shy now.

"No! I would but-" You continue, and suddenly, you can make out the hint of a smirk on his lips.

"Then what is speaking against it right now?" He asks. "We are partners. I believe that this gesture is more than appropriate right now." He tells you, before he leans in now, coming closer to you. "Or maybe that could be my.. gift to you?" He proposes, and you swallow thickly, thinking about it.

You do like him. And he's right- nothing speaks against it.

"I think.. it could definitely be considered.. a gift of sorts." You say, and he smiles a little more now.

"Well then?" He says. "I need an appropriate.. demonstration." He tells you, and at that, you gather all your courage, and move forward to just peck his lips-

but he makes it clear right away, that a quick little peck was not what he was looking for.

[vagabond-umlaut]

parterre

Lord Nanami is a knight, yes. A very esteemed one at that. But does anyone know he is an impressive gardener too? Well, he is— for he is the one, who caused these many flowers of these many hues to bloom in the landscape of your heart— so much so that you've not the slightest idea on how to manage them all well.

▸ knight!Nanami x lady-in-waiting!Reader; Historical AU; Tons of Tooth-Rotting Fluff; Crushes; Pining [is it mutual, however?]; Jealousy; Misunderstandings; Teasing; Did I already say this is so sweetly fluffy, you might end up with cavities? Oh. Okay. Cool :); Reader is so terribly down bad for Nanami, it's become a matter of mild concern; She is called a harmless little nickname by the princess here; THIS FIC WAS WRITTEN AS A LITTLE CELEBRATORY GIFT TO NANAMI NATION, AFTER THE FEAST THAT JJK 2.12 WAS FOR Y'ALL ;))

▸ Behold, the thesis I mentioned to you last night, Julie my sweetest pie. 🤭🤭🤭 Hope you'll enjoy reading this! 🫶🫶 @nanamikentoseyebags

▸ I don't own the characters or image used. Divider is by @cafekitsune. Please don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. Enjoy reading! ❤️

Nanami Kento is no simple man. He is one crafted wondrously by the heavens. A veritable evidence, if there ever were any, of the existence of some greater being— powerful enough to make a man such as the knight. Merciful enough to make him live in the same time frame and place as you do.

A wistful sigh falls past your lips as you begrudgingly tear your focus away from the training grounds and direct it to the scalding coffee at hand, though it takes but two mere two seconds before you find your eyes darting to the open window yet again– skimming over the many heads out there– wanting to find only one blond head– heart beating far too many beats when you hear the name of its owner being yelled out once again—

The utterance of your title in court drags you away from your frantic search, to the mildly smiling face of the princess: Sleepy, yes– But a lot more awake than she was five minutes ago. You rush to offer her your greetings, only to stop when she lifts a finger and tilts her head to the side, brows furrowed a pinch.

"That was Kento's name being hollered, wasn't it, Petals?"

You aren't certain which infuriates you more— that the princess used your childhood nickname well into your adulthood– or that she called Knight Nanami by his first name, a privilege he is known to grant to a very select few—

Compelling your face to shift into a smile, you nod. "I'm afraid it was, Your Highness."

"And was it yet another lady cheering for his victory in a match, huh?" she queries, kicking the covers off her feet and landing onto the floor with a loud thud. Wincing lightly, you quickly shake your head 'no'.

"It wasn't, Your Highness. The voice sounded much like Lord Haibara."

A quiet hum comes in response to your observation– soon shadowed over by the off-key singing of rather... indelicate songs, you're certain no one of an upbringing as royal and guarded as your princess should know— before the lyrics pause– all of a sudden– the moment she sits down at the table and looks out the window.

At the ongoing duel between Nanami and Geto, swords clanging and their bare chests shining in the early morn sun.

The very sight making every drop of blood in your vessels to rush to your cheeks, flooding them with colour– whilst your gaze roves with no trace of shame over the well-built physique of the solemn blond– lingering in particular on the toned muscle of his arms and forearms, flexing and extending as his fingers grasp the hilt of the weapon and the muscles in his legs strain against the tight fabric of his slacks, as the knight moves in a spell-binding dance of danger and tact against his opponent.

A huff of a chuckle escapes you when the former lands a solid hit on the latter; no one can match him in his prowess at wielding a sword; making a tendril of pride unfurl in the centre of your chest, only for it to shrivel in the heat of envy the princess' chortle ignites in that very same place.

You make no efforts to stop the words tumbling out your mouth next. Nor the tense frown which nestles into your tinted lips, throwing your face into lines and ridges.

"Is Lord Nanami courting you, Your Highness?"

"What!?!?" Not even an instant elapses before the exclamation leaves your listener. You continue, pretending to be unperturbed by the way innumerable shades of shock and incredulity colour her countenance.

"I mean, you call him by his first name, and he too does the same for you. Besides, the both of you have often been spotted to be strolling in the gardens together, easily chatting and smiling... not to mention the ball held last winter solstice when you two entered the ball, side-by-side— it is not only me who me who wonders so, milady," you add when you notice her back straigthening and she returning the cup to the saucer, "The court is rife with suppositions, on the nature of your relationship with Lord Nanami."

A beat passes in tense silence in response to your expressed musings— before the hush is disrupted by a very grave-sounding query, from the lady across. "What do you look for in a future life partner, Petals?"

"Me?" you ask, index finger pointed at yourself.

The princess gives a nod. "Yes, you, Your Grace."

Your nose wrinkles at such ill-considered usage of such high-ranking titles— nevertheless, you find yourself brushing those concerns away to mull over much more important matters...

A good while passes before you form a reply. Focus zeroing on a tiny coffee stain on your dress, you begin.

"Someone who is calm and collected, stoic and serious. He should be strong too, not just in brawn but in brain and matters of heart as well. He must be strict and disciplined, but must have a gentle, caring side to him too. Won't hurt if he's a traditional romantic, giving me flowers and sweet compliments instead of the terrible comments men say to the ladies these days. And..."

You trail off, losing yourself in your mind, before resuming, in a muted murmur this time, "It might be really nice if he lets me be of those few who can call him by his name– and he becomes comfortable enough, to call me by my name. And accompany me on walks in the garden in the afternoons. And perhaps, even, ask me to the balls where we may wear matching outfits, and present ourselves as a couple before all."

A hand comes to rest over your folded ones. You look up to find a bit too wide smile resting on the princess' lips. She offers your hands an easing squeeze.

Little does she know it does little to ease your turbulent emotions— a feeling which worsens with the observations she voices to you next.

"I was terrified your beautiful mind was tainted by the disease of idle inquisitiveness, as happens to most in this world with age, you know," she hums, standing up and making you sit in her chair, "I'm very glad to conclude, that's not quite the case. However– I cannot say your so lovely mind is disease-free either, my sweet Petals."

Your brows gather together in confusion as you peer at her, eyes in a narrow stare. She continues– smile growing a touch of tenderness.

"Your mind has been afflicted with the awful ailment of lovesickness. And–" she says, putting greater emphasis on her syllables, when you attempt to protest her statement, "it is usually incurable, unless very great feats of bravery are performed by the patient themselves, or in the off-chance, the fates decide to be helpful and the person behind the mess makes the first move— but I must say, Your Grace, you are very lucky to have me as your consulting physician— for I know what will provide you interim relief until either of them happens— want to know what it is?"

You take a moment to consider before returning a slow, unsure nod.

The princess beams. "It's the knowledge of the fact, there's someone who matches every criteria you mentioned, to a T— and that– he has his eyes reserved for none, except one beautiful lady-in-waiting, who stares at the training ground from the windows of the princess' room every single morning— looking as fresh and vibrant as the nickname, the princess insists on calling her."

Your friend pauses for a beat— not that you really notice it over the thrum of your blood in your ears and your heart in your chest— she inquires, "You understood the prescription, didn't you, Petals?"

A high-pitched squeal– so unseemly, so embarrassed, so jubilant– is the only response you manage, retreating into the cushion, hiding the warmth of your face and the stretch of your smile behind your palms.

▸ masterlist

[hisui-dreamer]

some more taisho jade thoughts!

in relation to this post!

notes: reader has a supernatural ability to grow any plant and make them thrive no matter the conditions, plant and fungi are kinda loped together here sorry biology people i know they're different kingdoms ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠⊙⁠_⁠ʖ⁠⊙⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

jade is super intimidating when you first meet him, you were tending to your flowers when his shadow loomed over you

when you look up, he has a closed-eye smile on his face, but you don't feel any warmth from it at all

you soon learn, after he basically hurled you up into your new life as his gardening assistant, that the young master is rarely seen showing genuine emotion, always wearing that same plastered smile on his face

and if he's not smiling politely, then he's smirking in sadistic glee

it can't be because he's a merchant, since his twin brother is all about wearing his feelings on his sleeve, so you just decided your new master was weird

i mean, what sane merchant would provide housing, food, and pay to a random florist??

but your view of him changes when you successfully propagate a new fungi that he bought in

turns out he's been struggling with propogating and germinating a lot of his purchases, so he's a bit lost as to what he's doing wrong

he's almost given up on them thinking the climate just isn't right for them to grow

but when you show him how the fungi has propogated, there's a childlike glee on his face unlike anything you've seen before, his cheeks are flushed, his eyes are sparkling with joy, he's dancing around the pot all giddy and excited, and it catches you off guard

huh, so he can make a face like that too

you find yourself more at ease with him from then on, knowing deep down he's just really passionate about his greenhouse and kind of a dork about it

as you start taking care of more and more plants, you learn so much more about the medical capabilities that the plants have

yes, that ugly root over there has insane healing properties that can restrengthen someone's immune system

when you voice your desire to tap into the medical field and help people who are suffering from health issues, jade is a bit sad but immensely proud

you were just a little flower when he met you, small but delicate, immensely pleasing to look at, and all for him to admire

but now you've grown and bloomed so beautifully that he'll have to share you with the rest of the world

nonetheless, jade is a man of weakness when it comes to making you smile, and he very quickly arranged for the leech family to open a medical department with herbal experts and doctors

the experts dry and prepare the herbs so yo won't have to worry about the processing part

it's not very businessman of him, but he makes sure the prices are reasonable and accessible to the public as per your wishes

you're grateful to the core of your heart that you met jade

after all, your special ability has finally been put to use in a way that helps a lot of people, while also keeping you relatively safe from anyone who'd take advantage of you

so you off-handedly mention to jade one day that you're incredibly grateful that you're born with your green thumb, since you met him because of it

you were too focused on trimming the plant in your hands, but if you looked up, you would have seen jade leech, the merchant that so many business partners would still get chills from with just a glance, was flushed pink completely, and not even his gloved hand covering his face could hide the sight

the very next day, he gives you an intricate hairpin, saying it reminded him of you :)

Masterlist

[missredherring]

A Flower in February

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: T

Word Count: 2k

Summary: When he’s finished cleaning the scrapes on your face his thumb swipes tenderly over the curve of your chin once.

“I'll take care of it.”

Contents: Boston QZ!Joel. mugging. hand-to-hand violence. whump. wound cleaning.

A/N: This is a my Secret Valentine gift for @hoeruiner.

I hope you like this, Sarah! I tried to keep it in line with the info you gave.

Thank you @covetyou for reading over this. <3

You only notice the date because you glance at the calendar to check when your next shift is on your way out of work. The calendar is old and yellowed, from before when holidays were still celebrated as special occasions and not memories. The red of the “14” is faded too, but the color still draws your eye and sparks recognition in your brain. 

February 14th. Valentine’s Day. Huh. It’s depressing that your plans haven’t changed after 20 years and an apocalypse: going home after work with a good chance of spending the night alone. 

The ration cards stuffed in your jacket pocket cheer you up a little. Payday hasn’t changed either, and the ability to trade for questionably fresh groceries at the market tomorrow is something to look forward to. You head out into the dark streets of the QZ towards your apartment.

It’s fucking cold this time of year. The temperature barely rises even with a full day of sun, and it’s windy tonight too. There are piles of snow caught in the nooks and crannies of buildings and alleyways, radiating even more cold air. At least it isn’t tinged the same dirty gray-brown shade from before, with car exhaust and dirt kicked up by tires discoloring everything it touches. You’ll still find some of that on the main road, but not here in the backways that twist around the city. 

A gust of wind blows through and goes right through the heaviest jacket you own, chilling you to the bone. You grit your teeth and hunker down, trying to cover as much exposed skin as you can. That’s the only way you see it: the flash of vibrant color so out of place in a city that only has faded colors available. 

There, sticking through a chain link fence bordering what must have been a parking lot at some point but has grown over into a meadow, is a purple bloom of a flower. You take a few steps closer to get a better look. You’d crouch down, but with this cold seeping into your joints you might not be able to get back up, so you bend over awkwardly and try not to lock your knees. 

It’s dark, but there’s just enough light from a streetlamp in the distance that you can make out the shape of the petals. They’re too sharp and close together to be a pansy, and facing up instead of down like a snowdrop, not to say anything of it being purple and not white. So… most likely a crocus, you think. Being able to identify the small bloom brings a happy feeling, with the bittersweet memory of when you had time to indulge in a frivolous activity like flower gardening. You could pick it and bring the spot of color into your apartment. It’s a happy thought that dies and quickly as the flower would.

“Idiot.”

It’s the only warning you get with the wind howling in your ears masking the shuffled steps behind you. They’re right: you’re an idiot for standing in an alley looking at a flower alone at night.

You aren’t the only one happy about payday.

At least they’re quick about it. You don’t know how many there are, but one grabs you from behind and another delivers a fast, brutal punch to your middle. While you heave and gasp they rifle through your pockets and take your ration cards. They give you a few more hits for good measure, and it’s not the blows to your face that does it; it’s the momentum with which they send your head smacking back into the brick wall that makes your vision swim and dim. 

At first all you can make out is ratty shoes and pants with more holes than them, but then you force your eyes up up up when all they want to do is close and you catch glimpses of their faces in the same weak light that had bounced off the crocus and caught your attention. The QZ is a contained area with a small population, and they aren’t even wearing anything to cover their faces, just worn beanies tugged down low. You don’t know their names, but you recognize the faces of the group of thugs who like to crowd people at the market and intimidate them into giving up whatever they have to leave them alone. You still can’t hear them when they run away, the ringing in your ears is loud until you finally give in to it and pass out. 

You don’t know how long it takes for your body to shake itself back to consciousness. Taking stock of your body as you get up is easy: everything hurts, but nothing hurts more than everything else. You don’t give the flower another look as you start to drag yourself home.

The wind is quiet now and you hear the heavy footsteps coming this time. Fear zips through you, freezing you in place; had they come back to take even more from you? But then your name is called out in a voice that makes your body start moving again. That voice means safety and warmth and you’re stumbling towards it on shaking legs until you crash into Joel Miller’s solid body. 

He grunts as he absorbs your impact and his hands come up on your shoulders to keep you standing.

“What’re you still doing out here?”

You open your mouth to answer him, but your teeth are chattering too much to get anything out. Great clouds of hot breath steam out of him as he jerks his head back towards your building.

“C’mon.”

Joel’s dark form is easy for your aching eyes to focus on. It’s a mindless act: following where he leads. Your feet could follow his lead in your sleep, so being cold, beaten up, and maybe concussed is no problem. 

The lights are on in your apartment when you get in. You’re pretty sure everything had been off when you left, and wonder how long Joel had been here, waiting for you. You sit down at the kitchen table and close your eyes, safe in this room with him.

The sounds of Joel moving around the kitchen are nice. You play a little game, trying to ignore the throbbing, painful points on your body by guessing what he’s doing based on the sounds he’s making. 

Water from the faucet filling the dented kettle and the clank of setting it on the burner. The click of the stove knobs as he turns it on. The creak of his weight on the floorboards as he waits for the water to boil. His hum at the creaking cabinet door when he reaches in for the bottle of alcohol he keeps there. The slosh of the bottle as he takes notice of how much has been emptied since he last poured himself a drink. If he asks, you can account for every swig you’ve taken on the nights when you want to dull your senses, on the nights when he’s not with you. 

The noises are domestic and soothing, but the kettle’s whistle is like another blow to your temple and you can’t smother the noise of discomfort you make. 

Joel’s footsteps pause, but then the noises of him pouring you a mug of the hot water continues and those footsteps continue until you can feel him in front of you.

You let yourself have the few extra seconds it takes for him to set the mug on the table before you force your eyes open and look at him. 

He’s already frowning, suspicious about the entire situation, but he gets his confirmation when you have to tip your head back to make eye contact and your face is illuminated in the harsh overhead light.

His big hand is on your jaw before you can blink, but his grip gentles when you wince and he gently turns your face this way and that to see the extent of the damage. His eyes trail down your neck and across the stretched out neckline of your shirt, all the bare skin he can see, and his jaw rocks hard enough to capsize a boat on a turbulent ocean.

“What happened?” 

There’s no getting out of this. The demand in his voice and the anger sparking in his eyes makes you feel warm for the first time that night. It stokes dark emotions, the ones you don’t like to dwell on too much, and the first thread of satisfaction unfurls in your belly. You know giving him names will mean bad things for those men, but you can’t find it in you to care. Maybe they knocked it out of you with their fists. 

So you tell him, giving him the identifying features you remember. He’s quiet as he lets you talk uninterrupted, but the emotions that cross his face are enough to give you an idea of his thoughts. He snatches a clean washcloth from somewhere and wets it with the alcohol, the fumes curling into your nose when he presses it to your cheekbone.

His brows furrow when you mention the flower, and you’re thankful that you can use the firm press of the washcloth on scraped skin to camouflage the wince at the reminder of how unsuited you are for a world like this. 

When he’s finished cleaning the scrapes on your face his thumb swipes tenderly over the curve of your chin once.

“I'll take care of it.”

You don't even have the urge to protest, to tell him he doesn't have to. You want him to take care of it, to take care of you. You want someone to care. And while it’s not bouquets of flowers and candies that melt in your mouth, the warmth from the mug is seeping into your hands and his touch wipes away the violence that clings to your skin. He’ll take that violence and return it tenfold, you know it. 

His movements are filled with purpose and he only pauses with his hand on the door to give you a stern look.

“Lock up behind me.”

The next day is just like the one before it. Unable to do anything else without a fresh supply of ration cards, you go to work and try to ignore the pain that has settled in your body. You don’t even mind it that much, it’s nice to feel something else. 

You’re not stupid though, so when your shift is over you make sure to leave from the front entrance when a few others are heading out as well. It’s a small group, but they scatter and go their separate ways, their steps quickening after they notice the figure leaning on the corner of the building. From that spot he’d be able to see both exits, and when he sees you he pushes off to stand tall, waiting. Your feet move on their own before you completely register the surprise of his presence, falling into place beside him and matching his uneven stride. 

A nudge at your hand snaps you out of your whirling thoughts and makes you look down. His hands are always ruddy from the cold, but now dark purple joins the red and there’s a couple of places where the skin broke over the hard bone of his knuckles. The stack of ration cards trembles just once in his grip, maybe from the wind or a movement of his muscles, but you take it from him and stare down at it. There, tucked into the string securing the cards together, is the crocus blossom. A droplet of moisture that had clung to the snapped stem transfers to your fingertip when you touch it. He must’ve done it while he was waiting.

“Thank you, Joel.” 

Joel is watching you when you look up from the cards. His dark eyes are calm, his jaw moving as he takes in your expression. He chews on the sentiment he sees there as if working it over will make it more palatable, something easier to swallow, and you hope he doesn’t spit it out.

[watchmegetobsessed]

TRADITIONS

A/N: it was definitely time to bring our fav duo back and they are making a comeback with a very emotional little scene! special thanks to @harrysblackcoat for always brainstorming with me when it comes to this universe!

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

SUMMARY: Your family is expanding, but Harry fears Nan won't approve it.

MORE FROM THE NAN&HARRY UNIVERSE

“H? Harry? Babe?” you call out to Harry several times before he gives sign of even hearing you.

“Huh?” he hums, eyes glued to the road ahead of him.

“Your fingers will fall off,” you say with a soft smile.

“What?” His eyebrows knit together as he glances down at his hands and realize what you were talking about. His knuckles are turning white from how tight he is gripping the stirring wheel. He loosens his hold, but you can tell he is spiraling in his head. “Sorry, what were you saying?” he clears his throat.

“Babe, why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” you chuckle, placing a gentle hand to his thigh and his hand instantly moves to grab yours and lace your fingers together.

“I’m just… nervous.”

“For what exactly?”

“I’m scared what she’ll think. I don’t… I don’t want to disappoint her with our decision, you know?” He glances at you shortly and you catch the doubt in his eyes and you wish you could just take it all away so he could finally relax.

“You should know by now you could never disappoint her, she loves you like you’re her grandson.”

“That doesn’t matter, you can still disappoint a family member.”

“Why do you think she’ll get mad?”

“Because we are messing up the order of things.”

“There’s no order.”

He gives you a look that says ‘Stop gaslighting me, it’s not the right time’ and you give up with a sigh.

“To our generation there might be no right order, but what if she’s a lot more old-fashioned?”

“It’s gonna be fine, I promise,” is all you can say. You know whatever you’d bring up he would have a hard time believing you so he won’t relax until he hears it from Nan.

He pulls up to her house and when you get out of the car he grabs your hand and holds it tight as you walk up to the front door, ringing the bell. You didn’t tell Nan you’d drop by, you wanted it to be a total surprise, though the bomb you’re about to drop on her is a lot bigger than your unannounced visit.

The front door opens and there she is, in her flowery apron, her grey hair hidden under a colorful scarf. She looks like a real life fairy godmother straight out of a fairytale.

“Oh my God! Hi!” she beams when she realizes who’s on her front steps, holding the door open for the two of you.

“Hey Nan, sorry for the surprise, hope you’re not in the middle of something important,” you chuckle as you greet her with a hug, then Harry does the same.

“No! I was just about to make banana bread, but that can wait. Come on in! You want some tea?”

It’s an oddly warm day so you settle in the garden, Nan whips out her cute little teapot with the matching cups. Her beautiful cherry tree is already blooming, pink petals shower you every time a breeze runs through the branches. The garden looks just as fabulous as always, you’ve told her many times she should take photographs and put it online, people would love them.

“Our impromptu visit has a reason Nan,” you start, Harry’s hand gripping yours tight in your lap, his nerves are on the verge of snapping, you can tell.

“Oh, I’m listening!” she smiles and you turn to Harry, silently asking if you should say it or he wants to do the talking. He nods, clears his throat and takes a deep breath as he looks at Nan.

“Um, we have decided not to have the wedding this year,” he announces and his voice lacks his usual confidence.

“Really?” Nan blinks in surprise. “Why? Is there something wrong?”

“No,” you shake your head with a genuine smile. “There is nothing wrong.”

“It’s just that… We want to have it later, because we want another person to attend.”

You chuckle softly at Harry’s shady wording, because you know Nan won’t understand it, so either way, he’ll have to say it out loud.

“Is it a friend of yours, Harry? Someone famous? When are they going to be free?” she asks, so pure and innocent.

“No, it’s not a friend. This guest we want to be there is… our… baby.”

You can tell he is holding his breath staring at Nan, waiting for her reaction as his words sink in for her, complete shock taking over her face seconds later as she clasps her hands over her mouth with a shriek.

“Oh my Lord!” she gasps and Harry is still gripping your hand, because he can’t tell if it’s a positive reaction or not. Then she jumps to her feet, her hands falling from her mouth and the widest smile spreads across her face. “A baby! You’re having a baby!” she throws her arms into the air, like an excited little child as she rounds the table to hug you and you hear Harry finally letting out the breath he’s been holding.

“Yes!” you laugh, locking her in your arms.

“Thank God! What a blessing!” she laughs with you before letting go of you and turning to Harry, who is standing there, like a lost little kid, but the moment she hugs him as well, you see him melt into her embrace. It might be the hormones or just your usual emotional self, but you need to wipe a few tears away seeing the two of them. Harry has been so stressed about sharing the news with Nan, afraid what she might think about breaking up with the traditions and having a baby before getting married. He didn’t believe she would be thrilled anyway, but now he knows he has nothing to fear when it comes to Nan.

When Nan sits back you realize all three of you have teary eyes and you can’t help but chuckle when Harry circles his arm around your shoulders and kisses the crown of your head as you lean against him.

“How far along you, Darling?” she asks, wiping her eyes behind her glasses.

“Eleven weeks. So don’t tell anyone else yet, only the closest family knows.”

“Ah how exciting!” she claps.

“So you’re not upset? About the wedding?” Harry asks, just to be sure.

“Upset? Why would I be upset?”

“It’s not quite traditional to have a baby first and then get married.”

“Traditions serve the bonding between generations. You know what’s the greatest bond to happen in a family? A new member. A baby is always a blessing and all they need is love. We have lots of love around here and that’s all that matters.”

“Nan, don’t do this to me,” you chuckle through tears, because you did not expect this answer from her.

“Get married whenever you want, Darlings. Or never. It doesn’t matter as long as you love each other. I just want to see you happy.”

“We’re happy,” Harry smiles down at you and you nod, reassuring that the feeling is mutual.

You sit there talking until the tea runs cold and the Sun starts to set over the horizon. You tell Nan about how at first you wanted to have the wedding anyway when you found out you were pregnant, but then you had a dream where you held your baby in your arms in your wedding dress and you both took it as a sign that you should wait until your family expands. Having your baby there with you would make the moment even more special. She claims she knew something changed about you when she saw you, but you know she had no clue, but you don’t go against her.

You muse about names and Nan tells you what other names she had in mind when she was having your mom, some of them catch your attention and you add to your list too.

“Nan, we have a very important task for you,” you tell her before you’re about to leave.

“Oh! Do tell me!”

“We want a gender reveal party, do you know what that is?”

“Is it a party when you tell the gender of the baby?”

“Almost,” you chuckle.

“It’s where we find out. There are some fun ways, but the most common is when they order a cake that’s neutral on the outside and the filling is either pink or blue so when they cut into it they see the color and that’s gonna be the ender of the baby,” Harry explains to her.

“That is very clever!”

“Yeah, and we want you to make our cake,” you tell her. “That means you’ll be the first person to find out the gender.”

“Oh my God! Really?” she gasps.

“Yes,” you smile at her as she pulls you into another hug.

“Only if you take this very important role,” Harry adds.

“Of course I will! You can have the party here! I’ll set everything up!”

It was the original plan too, to gather at Nan’s, a cute, intimate party with your loved ones to celebrate the new addition to your growing family.

Harry promises Nan to drop by later in the week to talk more about how gender reveal parties work and help her start the planning and then you’re on your way home. The mood in the car is noticeably lighter, Harry’s body is relaxed, he keeps one hand on your thigh, gently squeezing it every so often. You don’t talk, but the silence and the stolen looks speak for you, Nan’s words hanging there between the two of you. You can’t help but cup a hand to your stomach that’s barely showing, thinking about how loved this baby already is.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[saetgvia]

spark | wriothesley

in which you and wriothesley find an unlikely spark.

CHAPTER TWO: ARRANGED

prince!wrio x fem!noble!reader, invented country au

✧ genre: fluff, angst...? maybe...? if you squint...?, arranged marriage trope

✧ tw: usage of damn, if you see anything else lmk <3

✧ word count: 456 words (i'm SO SORRY EWOIHSFOSDL)

✧ playlist: spark - taeyeon, radio - lana del rey, deja vu - txt, darl+ing - seventeen, invu - taeyeon, agora hills - doja cat, killin' me good - jihyo, i like you (a happier song) - doja cat & post malone, fever - enhypen, eleven - ive, hype boy - newjeans, hard to love - rose, sour grapes - le sserafim, oh my god - adele, my head & my heart - ava max, nonsense - sabrina carpenter, the feels - twice, might as well - wayv

✧ pre-reading note: yo uh there might be inconsistencies between this chapter and the last one, the idea for some of this came AFTER the publishing of the prev chapter so uh yeah!

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ii. arranged

He strides in, holding a pot of tea on an ornate silver tray that gleams in the warm light.

'Oh, no!' the queen chuckles. 'He's our teaboy. He quite likes to dress up, my ladies in waiting tell me he's quite the charmer.' You let out a shaky breath. You like the queen, she's sweet and seems to have an excellent relationship with her people. The king, too, is nothing but jovial. If you're to marry Wriothesley, at least his family is nice, and the rumours say he is too.

'No, that's Wriothesley.'

He's more ethereal than you ever could have thought. Ebony hair streaked through with silver and wearing a grey suit accented with a crimson tie, he was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen. His smile, radiant enough to light up the whole kingdom, and his sweet dimples that just made him seem all the more handsome. Black studs glinted in both of his ears, giving off the impression of someone tough, but with that grin you couldn't see him as anything other than the sweetheart everyone said he was. And he's walking over to you. Uh-oh.

He takes a seat next to you on the couch, chuckling softly and aplogising for being late. He looks even more ravishing from here, and as he turns to you, you quickly turn around, suddenly very interested in your tea.

'Hello darling. Thought I was going to have to remind you to close your mouth.'

The side eye you give him was devastating. He snickers quietly at your switch up, then speaks in a rich, deep tone.

'Mother, Father, Queen Eliana, King Richard. May I take me bride-to-be on a little walk?'

Your mother giggles daintily, and your father nods his approval. As quickly as he sat down, Wriothesley stands back up and offers you a gloved hand. You take it, and your mother shoots you a glance that's both a warning and a knowing smirk at the same time.

'Shall we?'

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The garden is absolutely dreary. Winter has hit Emeia hard, and the leaves have abandoned the fingers of the trees which arch longingly for summer. Icy white roses still bloom in early winter, and you admire their sweet aroma as you stroll around the path with Wriothesley. He's surprisingly easy to talk to, and you find yourself laughing a lot more than you thought you would, ladylike manners and covering your mouth be damned. It starts getting dark and the cold caress of the breeze makes you shiver. Wriothesley, being the gentleman he is, notices, and offers you his coat.

'No, I'm okay thanks. I think we should head inside then. And... thanks for tonight, Wrio.'

He smiles.

'Wrio, huh? I like that name.'

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a/n: i am so so sorry that this is insanely short but i'm running low on motivation :/ i promise i'll get more out soon even if there's a bunch of short parts pls don't hate me :P

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taglist: @reimiiko, @whiskey-19

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please like and reblog my work! tumblr relies on reblogs to function, so help my work be seen by more people <3 my spark taglist and overall is now open, drop an ask if you want to be added! just specify which one.

© saetgvia 2024. do not copy or repost.

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Ikemen Villains - Elbert Greetia

These translations are not intended as a replacement for the game. Please support Cybird by buying their stories. Expect grammatical errors. Not 100% accurate.

Kate: "Oh, those rosebuds over there are blooming already."

Elbert: "It's pink. I thought it was white."

Ellis: "It's true. It's beautiful."

Elbert and I were having tea in the garden with Ellis, who invited us.

(Time seems to flow more peacefully when I'm with these two.)

I sipped the warm cup of tea and was enjoying a peaceful afternoon, but一

Elbert: ".........."

Ellis: "El, do you want it? Should I cut everything like I did the last time?"

Kate: "What? Cut?"

(I take back what I said before. It's not peaceful at all.)

For unknown reasons, Elbert enjoyed collecting beautiful things.

His desire to collect was so weird that he would even strip this garden into nothing without hesitation.

Ellis: "As long as it makes El happy, I'm fine with it."

Kate: "But it just bloomed so beautifully."

Elbert: "Would you be sad if it got cut off?"

Kate: "Yes, I'll be sad."

Elbert: "I see."

As I anxiously watched Elbert gazing at the roses with hesitation, a black figure suddenly appeared from behind, surprising me.

Victor: "Hello, my beloved cursed ones. Kate, you're as enchanting as ever!"

Kate: "Victor? Aren't you supposed to be working at the palace today?"

Victor: “Of course, I’ve already taken care of it. I rushed here to be a part of this beautiful outing. Yup, I really am talented!”

Victor hugged Elbert’s shoulder with his right arm and Ellis’s shoulder with his left arm.

Elbert & Ellis: “........”

(Both of them are skilled at evading. I wonder if that's just the usual for them.)

It was kind of cute to see him hugging them.

Victor: “Ahem! Setting that aside, I actually have something important to discuss.”

Kate: “Discuss?”

Victor: “There’s a rumor going around among lovers in London about an organization called Amour.”

Victor: “They say that if you join the organization and have a wedding ceremony at their church, you can make your love eternal.”

Elbert: “Eternal love?”

Ellis: “That’s a beautiful claim.”

Victor: “Indeed. However, it’s concerning that the lovers who were supposed to pursue eternal love haven’t returned.”

Kate: “Huh?”

Victor: “The police speculate that the leader and several executives of the organization are most likely involved in some criminal activity.”

Victor: “The number of missing persons is too large for the size of the facility to be considered under the line of brainwashing or confinement, so they have most likely been killed.”

Elbert: “So you want to discuss the infiltration?”

Victor: “Exactly! The infiltration has been tricky, and the police investigation is facing difficulties, so Her Majesty wants the Crown to resolve the matter quickly.”

Kate: “Why is it tricky?”

Victor: “They need a couple getting married to infiltrate the organization.”

Victor: “I heard that the leader doesn’t show up unless it’s in the middle of a ceremony.”

Kate: “I see. So in order to catch the main culprit, it’s necessary to pretend as lovers and have a wedding ceremony.”

Victor: “Yes. And it looks like they need to do a lot of flirting to convince them to hold the ceremony.”

Elbert: “Flirting?”

Victor: “Demonstrating love by hugging and whispering sweet words to each other.”

Victor: “I heard that the cops who tried to sneak in were rejected after failing to do so.”

Victor: “There’s only one woman who can help us expose the true nature of Amour and bring the culprit to justice, and that is you, Kate.”

Kate: “----!”

Victor: “And the only one available right now is you, Elbert.”

Ellis: “What about me?”

Victor: “Jude told me not to include you on the mission because you have an important business meeting.”

Ellis: “I see. That’s too bad.”

Victor: “So, I’m asking you, Elbert, and Kate. What do you think?”

(I’m not sure about the “flirting” part, though.)

Kate: “If it’s a mission where people’s lives are at stake, then there’s no reason for me to refuse. I will do my best.”

(We have to do something about it.)

Victor: “Are you okay with this, Elbert?”

Elbert: “A little.”

Elbert: “Let me talk to Kate about it.”

Kate: “Elbert, what do you want to talk about?”

Elbert: “If we’re going to act like lovers, I thought it’d be better to touch you and see if it would make you uncomfortable.”

Elbert: “Once I agree, I can’t take it back, so before I do, I need to be sure.”

(Does that mean we’re going to touch each other?)

His tone seemed so casual, and he didn’t seem to have any ulterior motives.

(He withheld his response out of concern for me.)

I was surprised to see him empathize with people’s pain and grief.

Kate: “Thanks. You, too, feel free to tell me if you don’t like it.”

Elbert: “Yeah, got it. Go ahead and touch me.”

Kate: “Okay. Then if you don’t mind.”

(I knew we would do this eventually, but I didn’t expect it to be this soon.)

I wasn’t mentally prepared, but I didn’t want his concern to go in vain, so I nervously reached out my hand.

Kate: “We’ll likely hold hands, right?”

Elbert: “Yes.”

Elbert’s hand felt smooth and strangely cool to the touch.

Elbert: “We may also link arms with each other.”

I slid my hand upward, and he accepted it without flinching or resisting.

(And then, if it’s a wedding...)

The thought of kissing flashed through my mind, and I reflexively looked up.

Elbert: "----?"

(It's a fake wedding, so I'm sure things won't go that far.)

Just imagining the touch of those perfectly shaped lips made me lose my composure, and I hurriedly erased it from my mind.

Kate: "You didn't hate it?"

Elbert: "It's okay. I don't mind you touching me."

Kate: "I see. That's good."

Elbert: "Then I'm next."

Kate: "Okay. Go ahead."

Elbert placed his arm around my waist. The moment his large palm touched me, my body jumped involuntarily.

Elbert: "Did you not like it?"

Kate: "I-It's not that. I'm just nervous and sensitive."

Kate: "Please continue."

Elbert: "Okay. If you don't like it, you can always tell me."

I held my breath as he put his other hand on my cheek.

(............)

I couldn't help but notice my heart making funny noises when his jewel-like eyes looked at me up close and gently touched me as if I were a fragile thing.

Elbert: "How do you feel?"

Kate: "I'm fine."

I nodded, and he gently moved his palm away from my body.

Elbert: "Good. Then I'll let Victor know that I accept the mission."

Kate: "Yes, thank you."

(I'm glad he doesn't mind me touching him.)

(Also, I...)

I recalled him touching me and almost felt weird, so I hurriedly shook my head.

(I guess I wasn't "fine," after all.)

A few days later, we visited the church, which served as the headquarters of Amour, and the cultists reacted to him the same way other people would when they saw him for the first time.

Cultists: "........."

They were entranced by his beauty as if time had stopped.

Elbert: "Sorry, we're here to make our love eternal, but are we in the right place?"

Cultist: “A-Apologies! Welcome! Please, let us carry your bags.”

The cultists hurriedly took our bags from the carriage and carried them into the building.

(Huh?)

Kate: “Did we bring those black boxes?”

Elbert: “Yeah. It’s my stuff. Don’t worry about it.”

Cultist: “Those who wish to be married here are invited to join us for a joint garden party to confirm their love.”

Cultist: “It’s about to start, so please join us and enjoy!”

They led us to a small garden in front of the church, and we saw several lovers chatting with each other, drinks in hand.

Kate: “What do they mean by confirming their love? Are they making sure we’re not just getting carried away?”

Elbert: "Could be."

As soon as we entered, I broke out in a cold sweat at the stares directed toward Elbert.

(I hope the lovers do not break up.)

While praying for such a thing, I looked around, taking in my surroundings, and suddenly came back to my senses.

Although most people here are couples, this garden was filled with beautiful and captivating women.

(He's obsessed with beautiful things, so perhaps he's attracted to other women too?)

The words "mission failed" flashed through my mind.

(Praying for them not to break up as if it were someone else's problem was not really the time for that.)

Kate: "Elbert."

Elbert: "Hm? What is it?"

Kate: "Make sure to only look at me, okay?"

Elbert: "........."

Elbert: "That's what I intend to do."

Masterlist┆ Part 2┆Premium End┆Epilogue

[sattlersquarry]

white lilies (steve harrington x fem!reader)

part one of the bloom series. series masterlist

Summary: In the summer of 1987, you and your mother travel to Hawkins, Indiana to plan the event of the season: the Byers-Hopper wedding. (garden center!steve x wedding planner!reader)

Word Count: ~0.9k

Warnings: no warnings for this part, just Steve being cute and clueless about flowers.

white lilies: purity, rebirth, rejuvenation of the soul

🌸🌸🌸

You stand in the Hawkins Garden Center, staring at row upon row of plants, and you have no idea what you’re doing here.

Your mother, wedding planner extraordinaire, sent you here and tasked you with buying all the white lilies you could find. However, on the drive over, you found yourself spiraling about why the hell you agreed to work for your mother post-graduation, and why you agreed to spend four weeks of the summer in bumfuck-nowhere Indiana (also known as Hawkins) to plan a wedding for her childhood friend, Joyce.

You’re wallowing about your choice and your future and plants, and suddenly a voice snaps you out of your self-pity reverie: “Anything I can help you find?”

The young man standing by you is handsome, very handsome. He’s about six feet tall with brown hair pushed back, except for one pesky curl bouncing over his forehead. His nametag says “Steve H.”

Under his employer-sanctioned blue vest, Steve wears a yellow t-shirt that says, “Grow at your own pace” with a smiling cartoon daisy printed on it. It’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. He’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Lilies!” you blurt out, kicking yourself for foregoing any semblance of small talk. “Uh, I need lilies. White lilies, if you have them.” “Yeah, totally!” Steve says. He smiles at you, and you melt from more than the oppressive July heat. “Right this way.”

You push your cart along and follow him through the lot, mentally running through your checklist of what else you need to do today.

“Here we go!” Steve says, gesturing to a sea of lilies in black plastic buckets. Most of them are yellow or pink, but you count five white ones. “How many do you need?”

“All of the white ones, if that’s allowed,” you say. You cringe. Of course it’s allowed. Why wouldn’t it be allowed? What garden center has a limit to how many flowers you can buy?

“Totally,” Steve says. “Here, let me help.”

He helps you lift each bucket into your cart, despite the fact that you could probably do it yourself. You don’t mind, though, because it means you can watch his biceps flex under his shirtsleeve…

Focus! you think, looking away. You’re not here to ogle. You’re working, and so is he.

“All set!” Steve says. He grins again. “Anything else?”

“Uh, yeah, actually,” you say. “Are these annuals or perennials?”

Steve’s smile drops. He blinks once, twice. “Uh, what?”

“Do they bloom for just one season, or more than once?”

Steve’s glazed-over expression is almost humorous.

“Oh,” he says. “Um, well, I—I’m not the lily expert here, Robin is. Hey, Rob!”

He waves a girl with sandy blonde hair over to you two and says, “This lovely customer has a question about how often these bad boys bloom.”

“Sure, I can help!” Robin says. She notices how many you have and says, “Whoa, lilies are your favorite, huh?”

“Oh, no,” you say. “These aren’t for me. They’re for a wedding my mom is planning. Er, that we’re planning together.”

“Is it the Byers-Hopper wedding?” Robin asks, eyes shining. You nod. “No way! We’re friends of the family, so we’re going to that. Well, I’m definitely going. Not sure if Hopper likes Stevie enough to give him an invite.”

Robin claps Steve a bit too hard on the shoulder, and he grunts.

“Anyway,” Steve says, giving her a look. “Uh, what was your name?”

You tell them.

“Well, nice to officially meet you.” He turns to Robin, repeats and tells her you want to know, “…if these lilies are annuals or periwinkles.”

You bite back a laugh and correct him: “Uh, perennials.”

Steve’s cheeks bloom pink, just like the peonies to his left.

“Right, that,” he says with a snap of his fingers. “Rob, I have to go…um…yeah.”

He beelines away, leaving you alone with his coworker.

Robin snickers and watches him go.

“Sorry about him,” she says. “He’s sweet, but he knows nothing about horticulture. Now that the dingus is gone, let’s talk lilies.”

🌸🌸🌸

After Robin answers all your questions, you push your cart to the checkout and she rings you up. In the parking lot, you struggle to fit all five lilies in the trunk of your mom’s car.

You curse to yourself when you drop the last one, dirt spilling across asphalt.

“Need some help?”

You turn and see Steve jogging your way, one hand lifted over his eyes to block the sun. You can’t stop your heart from fluttering at the sight of him again.

“If you don’t mind,” you say sheepishly.

The two of you crouch down and scoop dirt back into the pot, before playing Jenga with the other lilies to make room for all five in the trunk.

“Thank you so much, Steve,” you say with a smile. “I appreciate all your help.”

“Anytime,” he says, hands in his pockets. “Seriously, anytime. I’m happy to help.”

The two of you stand and smile, unsure of what to say next. If you weren’t such an awkward mess, maybe you’d know just the right thing to say to flirt with him.

Your pager beeps on your hip. You glance down at it and sigh.

“Shoot,” you say. “Mom’s sending me on another errand. I have to go. But thank you again!”

“Of course,” Steve says. He clears his throat and, with a hopeful gleam in his eye, adds, “Maybe I’ll, uh, see you around Hawkins some more?”

“Yeah,” you say, beaming. “I’d like that.”

🌸🌸🌸

A/N Truthfully, I had a completely different fic idea planned. Something very angsty and depressing, inspired by Noah Kahan's "Orange Juice." I love Noah to pieces but my mental health just can't take that right now, so instead we're going with self-indulgent flower-and-wedding-themed fun.

This is so different than my usual writing, I'm hesitant to tag any of the people I usually tag! But if you'd like to be tagged in the future installments of this mini series, please let me know 💖🌸

SPECIAL SHOUT-OUT TO THE FOLLOWING STEVE LOVERS FOR BRAINSTORMING THIS VERSION OF STEVE WITH ME. I ADORE HIM AND ADORE YOU ALL: @quinnkeerys @spicysix @keerysquinn @sunshinesteviee @inkluvs @stevebabey

[twst-drabbles]

Riddle 15

Summary: Riddle has taken to making little creatures for the garden. One of them being the hedgehogs he's spotted at one point.

It was a small little thing, little more than beetle sized. So small you could easily crush it in your palm and completely ruin Riddle's work. You would never do such a thing, but the fragility of this creation, and the fact that its been placed in your hand made the thought pop up for just a second.

It was a little plant hedgehog, at least, Riddle's recreation of it. Little leaves for feet, and a bundle of mini pink roses all blooming, all pressed together to replace the spikes, and a tightly closed rosebud weirdly shaped enough to resemble a head. The little thing had black dewdrops for eyes. Felt like it could start walking any second, honestly.

"You made this all on your own, huh?" You nudged Riddle as he stood on your knee, "It's cute. Nice job."

Riddle tilted his head up high, the dews on his rose petals practically sparking with the prideful way he held himself. It's as though he was expecting the compliment. He probably worked real hard on this little number. Well, it's nice to see that.

You patted the little back of the fake hedgehog with your thumb. If you pressed any harder, it would probably end up squished.

Riddle tapped your fingers.

"Hm?"

Riddle stepped back, putting his hands on his hips before closing his eyes. His face got all scrunched up, the petals of his dress ruffling up with the strength of his concentration.

"Don't blow blow yourself up, Riddle. You know you get sick easily." The first few days out of his rose and into the role as the lead flower, he practically terraformed your mediocre garden into the lush place it is today. The week the rolled after, Riddle was face planted into his rose, absolutely knocked out and unable to properly absorb water with how overworked his body was. Luckily that was a lesson learned.

You felt a slight tickle from your palm. Looking down, you saw the little rendition of a hedgehog take a few steps. It didn't move it's head or sniff at the air like the animal would, but it walked in the way a chubby creature would. It is wasn't perfect, but it was endearing.

When it stopped moving and held itself stiff once more, Riddle's body defaulted with a sigh. He held onto your fingers for balance.

You patted his head.

"Good job. Though, you might want to wait a little before doing that again." He's still young after all. He's got a lot of growing to do before he can't start making little creatures to add to his garden.

[not-5-rats]

I need you guys to tell me if you don't wanna be tagged in these anymore cause I know I post lots of them and I don't wanna bug anybody (hehe bug)

...anyways moving on from that

Questions for the bugs!!! :DD

1) Does your bug dream often? Or do they not usually have dreams?

2) Would your Bug prefer a large group of distant friends or a very small number of close friends?

3) How good is your Bug at rerecognising their emotions/ feelings towards others?

4) What's your Bugs worst/ most harmful coping mechanism?

5) Does your bug have any characteristics that could be considered toxic or rude?

6) Scenario :D

It was late, the kind of late where you don't really have any idea what the actual time is you just know you should be asleep. So why wasn't Bug asleep?

Well they had been asleep until a couple of minutes ago, they had heard a voice-like sound from outside and couldn't get back to sleep until they figured out what it was. They hurriedly got dressed before heading out the door, the carried a torch with them and as they went deeper into the garden the voice became louder and clearer until Bug spotted the source of the voice

"...Chez?"

Chester was sat on the grassy ground, a florist guide on one side of him and a journal on the other. He glanced up at Bug, the bags under his eyes deep and defined

"Huh-? Oh *Bug* it's just you, what are you doing out this late?"

Bug explained that they heard him from inside before turning the question on him, asking wtf he was doing out this late. Chester's head dropped in embarrassment as he realised he had woken Bug up

"Ah...sorry *Bug*, didn't mean to awaken you. You see these flowers have been growing for ages and now they've finally bloomed! And I have to get a report written on them straight away, otherwise my results won't be as good as they could be!"

Bug tries to reason that it's way too late for Chester to be out here on his own and that it was obvious he needed sleep, but Chester simply shrugged off their concerns saying that he was fine and needed to finish his write up

What does your Bug do?

Tags -

@rozeliyawashereyall @willowve01 @asmrbrainrot @kaiamtt @iistxrmyskyii @insignificant-anarchy @stxph-artist @aspenm00n @keyaartz @fangsshadow @rustycopper4use @piffany666 @dreamyshape @idontevenknow7878 @lunaritychuwolf @littlesiren79 @castbracelet240 @strayharmony943 @proxdragon @tiefling-chaos @threeweekinsomnia @recated @wilderrorcard @diamondzoey @fennaboysenberry @lunnats @lightdragon789 @pinkcocopuff-aqualoid @itsargyle @astralbulldragon13 @ccstiles @puffin-smoke

[dinodontwait]

Mismatched Mails

Pairing: Lee Seokmin x fem!reader

Trope: The Boy Next Door

Genre: Fluff Fluff and Fluff cause our happy virus is full of LOVE

Summary: Y/N, intrigued by a misdelivered package, encounters Seokmin, the boy next door. As they navigate the mix-ups of the mismatched mailboxes, a charming friendship blossoms. Their shared journey includes reviving a neglected garden, late-night conversations, and laughter-filled moments.

Word Count: ~1.8k

A/N : IT OUR SUNSHINE'S BIRTHDAY!!!!! I wish him all the love in this universe!!!!! Just one smile from him brightens my day I love him!!!

The unexpected package sat on my doorstep like a mystery waiting to be unraveled. Its label revealed that it was meant for Lee Seokmin, the boy next door – a neighbor I had barely exchanged more than a passing greeting with. This mishap felt like the perfect excuse to finally break the ice.

Summoning courage, I picked up the package and approached Seokmin's house. A nervous excitement tingled in my fingers as I knocked. The door opened, revealing Seokmin's warm smile. "Hi, I'm Y/N. This was delivered to my place by mistake. It's for you," I explained, extending the package toward him.

Seokmin's eyes widened in surprise as he accepted the box. "Y/N, right? Thanks a lot! I wasn't expecting anything today," he said, a grateful smile playing on his lips. It was the first time I had seen him up close, and his easy going demeanour made me feel oddly comfortable.

As he inspected the package, my eyes couldn't help but wander to our mailboxes. His, a faded red, stood next to the charming blue of mine. "Our mailboxes are quite a mismatch, huh?" I remarked, hoping to keep the conversation going.

Seokmin chuckled, a playful gleam in his eyes. "Yeah, they are. My grandpa gave me that old red one when I moved in. I always thought it added character," he shared, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

Curiosity sparked, I probed further. "Any particular reason for the blue one?"

He scratched his head, contemplating the question. "Honestly, it was the only one left at the hardware store when I moved in. Guess fate brought us these mismatched mailboxes," he mused, and our laughter echoed in the hallway.

Before I knew it, we were talking about everything from favourite books to childhood memories. As we chatted, the awkwardness dissipated, replaced by a growing sense of connection. As Seokmin closed the door, I couldn't help but smile.

The days that followed were a delightful blur of intentional mix-ups and newfound connection. Each interaction with Seokmin left me craving more, and it seemed he felt the same. Late-night conversations on the porch became our sanctuary, the only place where we could be completely ourselves.

One evening, after another successful mail exchange, we found ourselves sitting on the porch steps, surrounded by the soft glow of fairy lights. The air was filled with the subtle scent of blooming flowers, and the mismatched mailboxes stood as silent witnesses to our growing camaraderie.

Seokmin leaned back, his eyes scanning the night sky. "You know, Y/N, I never expected misdelivered mail to lead to such interesting conversations," he confessed, a playful smile playing on his lips.

I chuckled, feeling a warmth spreading through me. "Life has a funny way of bringing people together, doesn't it?"

As we continued talking, I couldn't help but notice the genuine curiosity in Seokmin's eyes. It was as if every word I said mattered, and his laughter made me feel like I was part of something special. The mismatched mailboxes became our shared secret, a symbol of the serendipity that had brought us together.

One weekend, as we tackled the neglected community garden, Seokmin's hands dirtied from planting flowers, he turned to me with a mischievous grin. "You've got a little dirt on your face," he teased, reaching over to wipe a smudge from my cheek.

I couldn't suppress the laughter that bubbled up. "Thanks, gardener boy. You've got a little something, too," I replied, returning the favor.

As we worked side by side, our laughter echoed in the garden, blending with the rustling leaves and chirping crickets. With every shared joke and every stolen glance, the connection between us deepened, like roots intertwining beneath the surface.

In a quiet moment, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Seokmin looked at me with a sincerity that took my breath away. "You make everything feel lighter, Y/N. This garden, these moments – they mean more because you're a part of them."

His words lingered in the air, and I felt a flutter in my chest. The garden, once neglected, now flourished – a testament to the beauty that could emerge from collaboration and care.

As the days turned into weeks, and our garden project flourished, Seokmin and I found ourselves drawn even closer. The mismatched mailboxes, once a source of amusement, now stood as silent witnesses to the blossoming connection between us.

One lazy afternoon, as we sat in the shade of our flourishing garden, Seokmin's fingers idly traced the patterns of the mismatched mailboxes. "You know, we've put so much effort into this garden. Maybe it's time to give our mailboxes a little makeover too," he suggested, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "A makeover for our mailboxes?"

Seokmin nodded, a playful smile playing on his lips. "Why not? It's a fun way to mark the growth of our friendship."

And just like that, we decided to switch the mailboxes – a symbolic gesture of unity and the beginning of a shared journey. As we unscrewed the mailboxes from their posts, Seokmin spoke, his voice carrying a sense of quiet excitement.

"You know, these mailboxes have seen it all – the misdelivered packages, our late-night conversations, the birth of our garden. They've been witnesses to the story of us," he said, his gaze locked with mine.

I couldn't help but smile. "Our little mismatched mailboxes have become a part of our narrative, haven't they?"

With the switch complete, the charming blue mailbox now stood next to the faded red one. It felt like a visual representation of our intertwined lives. Seokmin grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "There we go – a match made in mailbox heaven."

As we sat on the porch, admiring our handiwork, Seokmin turned to me, his expression softening. "Y/N, from mismatched mail to a shared garden, you've made every moment brighter. I cherish the memories we've created together."

His words hung in the air, and I felt a warmth spreading through me. "Seokmin, you've brought so much joy into my life. I couldn't imagine this journey with anyone else."

In that quiet moment, with the mismatched mailboxes standing as a testament to our unique story, Seokmin's hand found mine, fingers intertwining in a gentle, reassuring grip. Our eyes locked, and I could sense a vulnerability in his gaze that mirrored my own feelings. His voice, a mere whisper, carried a weight of emotions. "Y/N," he said, his breath warm against my skin, "from the first misdelivered package to this very moment, every step with you has been a treasure. I don't want to imagine this journey with anyone else."

My heart fluttered in response to his sincerity, and as he leaned in, the world around us seemed to fade away. Our lips met in a tender kiss, a fusion of shared laughter, late-night conversations, and the unspoken confessions that had shaped our connection. In that intimate embrace, the mismatched mailboxes became more than a quirky detail – they became the symbols of our journey, our resilience, and the beautifully imperfect love that had unfolded.

As our kiss lingered, Seokmin pulled back, his eyes searching mine for confirmation. "Y/N, I don't know about you, but for me, this feels like the beginning of something extraordinary. What do you say we let our story continue?"

A surge of affection overwhelmed me, and I nodded, unable to find words that could encapsulate the depth of my emotions. Seokmin smiled, a soft and understanding expression, and with our hands still entwined, we sat on the porch, the mismatched mailboxes behind us, illuminated by the soft glow of our garden.

"Here's to the future, Y/N," Seokmin whispered, his voice filled with hope and promise.

"Here's to the future," I echoed, and in that moment, beneath the stars and surrounded by the symbols of our unique love story, we embarked on a new chapter that promised laughter, shared dreams, and the beauty that comes from embracing the unexpected.

BONUS

Our home was a lively swirl of laughter and chatter as friends gathered to celebrate Seokmin's birthday. Soonyoung and Seungkwan, the dynamic duo, were in the middle of their classic bickering routine, providing the background music to our joyful chaos.

"Soonyoung, if you eat another slice of cake before the birthday boy, you're in trouble!" Seungkwan playfully scolded, brandishing a spatula as his weapon of choice.

Soonyoung grinned mischievously. "Can't resist the temptation, Seungkwan. It's for quality control purposes! Tiger never fails to check!"

Amid the banter, I searched for Seokmin, who was surrounded by friends, a warm glow in his eyes. When he noticed me approaching, a grin stretched across his face. "Hey, beautiful. What's the plan?"

Leaning in, I whispered into his ear, "I have a surprise for you. Follow me."

Curiosity sparkled in Seokmin's eyes as I led him to a more secluded corner. With a mischievous smile, I placed his hand on my stomach. His eyes widened with realization, and a mixture of emotions danced in his gaze.

"Happy birthday, Seokmin," I whispered, a teasing smile playing on my lips. "Looks like we're going to have a little someone joining our story."

His eyes filled with tears, and he pulled me into a tight embrace. "Y/N, this is the best birthday gift ever. I can't believe we're going to be parents."

As we shared the news with Soonyoung and Seungkwan, the atmosphere shifted from playful banter to heartfelt congratulations. Soonyoung's eyes widened, and he exclaimed, "Whoa, a mini-Seokmin on the way! We're going to have so much fun spoiling that kid. We can name them BooSeokSoon or better Horanghae~~"

Seungkwan giving BOObamstic a side eye to Soonyoung and his tiger agenda, added with a grin, "Congratulations, you two. Parenthood – the grandest adventure of all."

As the party continued, Seokmin couldn't stop smiling. He held my hand, his thumb tracing small circles over my fingers, a silent acknowledgment of the new chapter unfolding in our lives.

Underneath the fairy lights and surrounded by the warmth of friends, we celebrated not just Seokmin's birthday but the beginning of a journey into parenthood. As the night unfolded, I stole a moment to look outside our home. There, illuminated by the soft glow of the garden lights, stood the mismatched mailboxes side by side – a quaint symbol of the journey that had led us to this magical point in our lives. As Seokmin joined me, our fingers intertwined, we gazed at the mismatched mailboxes, a silent acknowledgment of our shared story and the beautiful chapters yet to be written. The promise of a growing family, laughter echoing through the halls, and love that would continue to flourish just like the garden we had nurtured together.

[jujumin-translates]

Event | Act 3.5 Event - NEW ERA GARDEN | Chapter 8

*Contains spoilers for Act 12 - eternal moment*

Hiro: Are we really performing here?

Kasumi: It feels kind of strange. And it’s quite spacious.

???: …Hey, it’s been a while. How’s it going, man?

Yukio: Wahh! Serizawa-san! It’s been a while!

Serizawa: I hear my grandson is now bein’ taken care of at your daughter’s theater company.

Yukio: Ehehe. He’s in my daughter's hands now.

Yuzo: You just acceptin’ it in your old age now?

Syu: Maybe he’s forgotten how to do it for himself.

Serizawa: Oi, you guys just can’t keep your mouths shut, can ya?

Kasumi: It’s good to hear that you’re doing well, Serizawa-san!

Zen: It’s like all of the original members are bein’ gathered one by one.

Serizawa: Pretty bold of ya to not have any sorta set up, though.

Yukio: I wanted to show the raw, bare state of this new theater as it was being built.

Yukio: Besides, I didn’t want to overshadow this garden, where the new flowers of the future will bloom, with a set for a play.

Yukio: So I’ve decided-- to convey the story only through the actors’ performances and the power of lighting.

Yukio: We do have a little surprise in store for the end. We wanted to do a play that was clean and simple at the very least.

Serizawa: At the very least, huh…

Yukio: The stage, the actors, the audience. Theater is possible with only those three things. I wanted to face that again…

Serizawa: Huh. Did you have some kinda change of mindset or something?

Yukio: I guess it’s just my return to work. But I was also influenced by the live delivery of the newborn troupe’s Fleur Special Award.

Yukio: Just the actors standing on stage and talking about their thoughts about their respective plays can move a lot of people’s hearts… mine included, of course.

Yukio: It kind of made me feel like I just didn’t want to lose.

Serizawa: You’re a hell of a director, as usual. That’s just who you are.

Yukio: You’re probably wondering how a father could be so easily influenced by his own child’s work, huh?

Serizawa: That’s just how things work. I’ve still got a lot to learn by watchin’ my grandson do the stage lighting.

Serizawa: Throw away your dignity and pride as a father. If you’re both in theater, there’s no such thing as being higher or lower rank.

Yukio: That’s true.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Yukio: Can you adjust that a little more, Serizawa-san?

Serizawa: Like this?

Yukio: That’s great! Perfect even!

Reni: …

Reni: (When he’s standing on stage… I can’t help but be reminded of that.)

Reni: (...Back then.)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

MANKAI Company’s opening performance with the members Tachibana assembled--.

The performance was a huge success for the first performance, and there was a full house for the finale.

I was moved when I was surrounded by the warm applause under the lights at curtain call.

I was filled with an all-encompassing feeling that we had finally made it this far, that we had finally made it to the starting line as a theater company.

I looked offstage and saw Tachibana giving us a round of applause with tears in his eyes.

I’m sure that Tachibana was sharing in my joy at that moment.

But then something occurred to me.

Tachibana should be the one receiving applause, not the one giving it.

I felt like grabbing Tachibana’s arm and dragging him to the center of the stage right at that moment.

Why are we the ones standing on stage, basking in the dazzling spotlights and the applause of the audience?

He has to be the one who has the most talent out of all of us.

My irrepressible sense of frustration and impatience that I felt at that time continued to grow and grow during the short time I was at MANKAI Company.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Reni: …

Reni: (I was so naive back then…)

Reni: (But his stubbornness was also considerable. And as things are now, I’d hate to just go on and grow up and give up on him now.)

Reni: (...Unrehearsed, a one-time-only performance.)

Reni: --Hmph.

Reni: (He should get a taste of what it’s like to be on the receiving end of things for once.)

Reni: …However, there are things we have to do first.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Yukio: Well then, that’s about it for today’s rehearsal-- good work, everyone!

Syu: Good work.

Reni: Good work.

Yukio: …Hey, Reni. How about we go out for drinks today? Just the two of us.

Reni: I never thought my turn for an interview would come around.

Yukio: Isn’t it necessary? You’re an actor too, Reni.

Reni: …Let’s go out. I’ll invite you, not the other way around.

Yukio: Great!

Yukio: How about we make it a rule to each take a shot of whiskey any time we end up arguing?

Reni: What kind of drunkard’s rule is that?

[ ⇠ Previous Part ] • [ Next Part ⇢ ]

[dweakbinnie]

The Royal Game - chapter two

Hyunjin is a prince. Felix is a prince forced to be raised as a princess by his mother's wish for a daughter.

At a ball, the two meet, and Hyunjin falls in love at first sight. Hearing about their encounter, Felix's mother forces him to try and win over the Prince's approval. What will happen when Hyunjin finds out Felix's secret? Will their wedding go ahead?

Genre; romance, royalty au, fluff & angst, slow burn

Warnings; forced feminisation, gender identity issues, sexuality issues, narcissism

Chapter.List

White roses symbolise purity, youthfulness, innocence, young love, and loyalty. It is the day before the ball, Hyunjin’s last day being nineteen, the last day of his youth. I also chose it to show Hyunjin’s relationship with his cousin, Princess Hwang Yeji.

Word Count: 3.5K

Under the early spring’s mid-day sun, Prince Hyunjin sat with his cousin, Princess Yeji, under a gazebo in the royal gardens. The high winds of the past few days had weakened to a slight breeze, it was enough to keep the clouds drifting without giving them goosebumps while sheltered in the shade. A pot of tea and a selection of sweet snacks had been displayed across the glass-top table between them.

Princess Hwang Yeji—like Hyunjin—had yet to find a suitor, however, even though she had a lengthy list of suitors come to her, her father was still choosing which man he would accept her to marry, while also letting her have her own opinion in the matter. Due to Yeji being his only daughter, he had a strong bond with her and didn’t want to risk sending her off to a man he didn’t feel was worthy enough. Yeji agreed, wanting to be able to enjoy the years of her youth without worrying about starting a family.

Yeji had made her debut two months after Hyunjin, in which he waited to start his military service so he could celebrate it with her. Since the cousins only had two months between their birthdays, the two were brought up almost as siblings, spending many of their younger years together. For the civilians living in the Summer Court, the cousins were the celebrities of the royals. They could say, do, or wear something and it would become the next trend, even for the older generations.

As they’ve grown older, their time together became less frequent due to growing responsibilities in their own regions. Yet, their relationship never weakened. When Hyunjin was completing his military enlistment, it was his cousin to whom he sent the most letters. Yeji’s parents ruled a western region of the Summer Court called Dusk for its unforgettable sunsets. While Hyunjin’s parents ruled in the eastern coastal region, the capital of the Summer Court, Dawn.

Growing up, the cousins lived together in the capital and would go visit the Dusk region for holidays. Many holiday nights would be spent on the sandy shores watching as the sunset transformed the way the water glistened. Yeji’s parents saw Hyunjin as a son as did Hyunjin’s parents see Yeji as a daughter. They were a tight-knit duo who promised to always be there for each other. 

There was a third cousin, Prince Nishimura Riki. His mother was the younger sister to both their fathers’. Though, due to her marrying a King from overseas, and Riki being six years younger, he wasn’t as close as Hyunjin and Yeji were. He’d come to visit about once or twice a year, more often if there were special family occasions.

“Tomorrow’s the big day, huh?” Princess Yeji said, looking at Hyunjin over the rim of her teacup as she took a sip.

Hyunjin hummed in agreement, a not-so-excited expression on his face. In a few hours, he would start to get ready for one of the biggest events in his life. Being at the top of the social class, finding a suitor was very important as it could change the relationship between his family and the other parties—especially, as he was the Prince of a Court’s capital.

Yeji looked out over the gazebo’s banister to the nearby bed of jasmines starting to bloom. “Aunty seems a lot more thrilled.” It was a simple observation as Hyunjin’s mother had taken the reigns for most of the ball’s planning.

“I’m not surprised,” Hyunjin said, nonchalantly. Taking a bite from one of the vanilla cupcakes set out for them, he swallowed before continuing; “She’s been planning since I told her I wanted to complete my military service before marriage.”

Yeji chuckled. “You broke so many girl's hearts when the news got out after your debut. I bet many of those girls will be attending tomorrow. Saying that--” Yeji grinned as she outlined Hyunjin’s physique, “I think they’ll be drooling at the mouth when they see how the military changed you.”

“Are you trying to say I wasn’t good-looking two years ago, cousin?” Hyunjin snickered.

“Hah, of course not. It’s just that you look more manly now with all the muscle you’ve gained, whereas before, you still had that young-boy chubbiness to you.”

Hyunjin’s jaw dropped, “chubbiness?” A scoff came from behind the Prince. “Jisung!?”

“Sorry, Your Royal Highness, you were never chubby.” Jisung, Hyunjin’s personal steward, quickly replied.

Yeji raised a hand, wafting it as she spoke. “What I meant was that your face still had its… how do I put it? It’s just that you were still young and finishing going through puberty. You’ve changed a lot more physically in these last two years, though I can’t say the same about your mentality.”

Hyunjin cocked a brow, only letting her off because she’s his cousin. “I’m glad to know you love me so much.”

Yeji took another sip of her tea. “Hey, be careful. I’m here to help you find a suitor. As a woman, I understand a lot more about how my gender thinks. You’re going to have a lot of desperate women attempting to throw themselves at you tomorrow.”

“How joyful.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “I do wish I could delay this ball for longer. I’m sure you’ve been hearing the same rumours as I have.”

Yeji set her teacup down with a clink, crossing her arms over her lap. “Sadly, as the only children to the most important families in the Summer Court, we have a duty we cannot deny as much as we want to. Once you’re married, and your wife is pregnant, you’ll be able to go back to the military. Until then, it’s smiles and balls.”

Hyunjin shook his head. “Right, enough about me, how is finding a suitor going for you? Uncle has been very thorough by the looks of it.”

Yeji’s smile faded slightly at the talk of her suitor. Sighing, she leaned back against the chair. “Honestly, it’s been boring. Father has been having me meet some of the men who were brave enough to come forward at my debut ball, but there has been nothing special to them. I can’t marry a bland man. No, that’s a lie,” Yeji thought, tapping a finger to her lip, “there was one man from the Winter Court, Lord Choi Beomgyu. I did enjoy my time with him, though since he’s from the Winter Court it’s a few weeks travel for him to come down. However, Father did say that if the Lord is willing to travel all the here for me again, then he’ll set up a second meeting.”

Hyunjin leaned forward, his interest piqued. “I don’t think I remember any mentioning of a Lord Choi Beomgyu from the Winter Court. Do I mean nothing to you, to only be hearing about this man now? Enlighten me, cousin.”

“He made his debut after you’d gone to the military. If I remember correctly, he will have had his nineteenth birthday just a few days ago.” Yeji poured herself another cup of tea in an attempt to be too busy to talk more about the Lord who may have made her heart flutter.

“Then, how did you two meet since he wouldn’t have attended your debut ball?”

Only once someone reaches the age of eighteen are they able to attend all social events. Beforehand, they are usually kept out of the public’s eye. Though some like Hyunjin and Yeji would sometimes be more present.

“Well, we had never actually met in person before the first time he travelled down to meet. He did come with a wonderful selection of gifts.”

Hyunjin side-eyed, wanting her to stop wasting time by blabbering. Prince Riki had asked him to practice sword fighting later that day.

“Oi, you,” Yeji bit back, “He saw me when I was attending Prince Yang Jeongin’s debut ball. He wasn’t of age yet but apparently he attended for a while at the beginning because he and the Prince are close friends. Anyway, not long after his debut, he sent a letter to me and Father, asking for permission to court me. Father was going to deny it at first since the Lord is younger, but I managed to convince him to let me meet the Lord since none of the other men I’d met had hit expectations.”

“Prince Yang Jeongin? That’s the capital of the Winter Court’s oldest, isn’t he?” Hyunjin asked, the name sounded familiar.

Yeji nodded. “Yes. He has two younger brothers, only one is biological. The other is a cousin, but due to circumstances, he was raised as another sibling.”

Prince Yang Jeongin was the oldest child in the Moon region, the capital of the Winter Court. His debut was one of the most important on the Starean Isle, holding the same social status as Hyunjin. Prince Jeongin had one biological younger brother, Prince Yang Jungwon who was currently sixteen years of age. The other “brother”, Prince Park Sunghoon, due to make his debut in four months, was one of two cousins.

At seven months old, Prince Sunghoon’s parents died after their carriage fell off a cliff while travelling in a storm. His father was brothers with Jeongins, so he was taken in. It was also not long after Jeongin’s mother had a miscarriage and having the baby helped to ease her mind and body from the stress. Thus, Sunghoon was raised as a brother to Jeongin. Due to the rulers of the Aurora region passing, Jeongin’s father took control for the time being, saying that when Sunghoon came of age, the land was rightfully his to take back. Not many Princes were able to say that they became Kings at eighteen—at least not with a happy story.

The other cousin was Princess Song Yuqi of the Starlight region. Her mother was a sister to the Yang brothers and had one of the most notorious marriages. It was later found out after Princess Yuqi’s parent’s wedding that the two had been secretly courting before their debuts. To some it was seen as very romantic, knowing they married for love. Others found it to be disorderly and wondered what else they had done before marriage as Yuqi’s birth was exactly nine months after.

“I overheard my dad saying something about the second’s oldest debut being soon. I think he wants me to go and attend.” Hyunjin looked down as he thought. “You should go too, cousin. You might be able to see that Lord of yours again.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Yeji sighed. She wouldn’t deny that she wanted to see the Lord again. “Nothing is official between me and Lord Beomgyu. Father hasn’t even agreed to let him court me. We’ve only had one meeting.”

“And a series of letters shared.” Yeji’s handmaiden, Ryujin, added from behind, stood next to Hyunjin’s steward, Jisung. Yeji turned to her, shocked as Ryujin tried to hide a smile.

Hyunjin glanced up with a curious expression, Yeji had also kept that piece of information quiet. “So, cousin, while I was away doing my due diligence in the military, I sent you frequent letters. I told you everything about what I was doing, from when I woke to when I slept. Yet, I sit here to be finding out about this mystery Lord from the Winter Court, now? And that you were sharing letters, from your handmaiden?”

Yeji opened her mouth to defend herself when she spotted a figure walking towards them through the tulip beds, a devilish smirk on her face as she nodded towards them. “It seems that it’s time-up for our gossip with afternoon tea to be over as cousin Riki is here. It’s such a shame I can’t explain more.” Yeji stood up, patting her dress down for any possible crumbs. “I do hope you enjoy showing off your swordsmanship while I go help the Aunties with the ball’s final preparations.”

“Cousin Hyunjin. Cousin Yeji.” Prince Riki bowed as he greeted the two from the front step of the gazebo. “I’m not disturbing you two, am I?” He held a cautious gaze, not wanting to be disliked by his Starean cousins.

“Of course not.” Yeji placed a hand on the younger cousin's shoulder as she walked past. “I believe cousin will enjoy getting some energy out after sitting down with me for a boring conversation over afternoon tea and biscuits.” She winked back at Hyunjin’s glare. “I’ll see you two later then. Ryujin.” Ryujin followed Princess Yeji, making their way back into the castle. 

Hyunjin scoffed as he watched the girl’s for a second before turning his attention to Riki. “Let’s see how much you’ve improved since I last saw you two years ago.” Hyunjin patted Riki on the back as they headed towards the training grounds.

“I was twelve then, I’m fourteen now,” Riki said while walking ahead, striking through the air with an invisible sword. Making noises of his sword swishing and clashing.

Hyunjin smiled. In the two years, Riki had already grown a lot, yet he still held the same youthful behaviour from before. Seeing how Riki’s frame was long and thin, he wondered how the boy’s puberty years would treat him. He worried that his cousin could outgrow him.

“Do you want me to try and look into Lord Choi Beomgyu?” Jisung whispered while Riki was in front.

“Not for now,” Hyunjin replied, “I trust cousin Yeji.”

Jisung nodded, falling behind. “As you wish, Your Royal Highness.

Riki spun around with a toothy grin. “Cousin, why can’t I attend this ball? I know I’m not eighteen, but I’m family.”

“Exactly,” Hyunjin ruffled a hand through Riki’s hair, “it’s because you’re not eighteen. This ball will go past your bedtime, and it is about me finding a wife, so it won’t be very interesting for you. Plus, there will be alcohol involved and we don’t want what happened at Christmas to happen again, do we?”

Riki’s shoulders slumped. “It’s not like I’d be drinking it again. I’ll be responsible,” he whined.

“No can do, I’m afraid. You’re growing now, so it’s most important you get a good night's rest.”

Riki groaned, “you sound like Mother.”

“That’s because she’s right. You will have plenty of time for balls and other parties once you’re eighteen. However, right now, I want you to disarm me at least once.”

“Don’t go easy on me then.” Riki smiled, wide and proudly.

Hyunjin jabbed Riki in the rib for the cheeky comment. “Oh, I won’t.”

“Mother,” Prince Hyunjin exclaimed as he walked into her private dining room, joining her for a dinner that he originally planned to enjoy with Princess Yeji, “you look lavish.” His mother had suddenly called for him to see her, which sometimes didn’t mean anything good was to come.

His mother, Queen Hwang Hyosook, paused with her fork hovering in front of her hungry mouth. Setting her fork down, she took no time in getting to business—not even letting Hyunjin get settled in his seat. “Tomorrow is a very important day, not just for you, but also me, and your father. You cannot delay finding a wife any longer. Your mandatory military enlistment is finished, so you have no other excuses. You can spend as long as you want courting these women, I’m sure no parents would reject you, but you have to have marriage in mind. While you were away, some speculated that you do not like women because you went to the military, training with men, before finding a woman. Don’t give me that look, I know it’s not true. However, it only takes one person to say something then it’s passed around, and details get changed. Also, please don’t have a dance with Yeji tomorrow—the same thing, I don’t want people misinterpreting your relationship.”

Hyunjin choked, almost spitting out his wine. “Mother,” he sighed while dapping at the corners of his mouth with a serviette.

“I know, I know, but do you understand what I mean?” Hyunjin nodded. “Good. I will be watching, so try and make sure that the women you dance with are ones you see potential in. Many Princesses and Ladies from across Starean will be here, and a few from overseas too. However, with the rumours you’ll have heard these past few months, me and your father think it may be best you marry someone from Starean. That’s more talk for another time, is there anything else you’d like to discuss about tomorrow?” She said, picking her cutlery back up.

Hyunjin shifted in his seat. “Actually,” he started, “have you heard of Lord Choi Beomgyu from the Winter Court?”

Queen Hyosook threw her head back in a roaring laughter. “I’m guessing Yeji finally told you today,” she said, wiping a tear away from under her eye.

“You know?” Hyunjin asked, half-surprised, half-offended.

“Yes, while you were with Riki, I was hearing everything about him from Yeji and her mother. I was originally told by your father, anyway. After the Lord went to visit Dusk, your uncle wrote a letter to your father about it. The Lord seems like a gentleman. Why? Do you not like him?”

“No,” Hyunjin shook his head, “I was surprised that even though it happened months ago, cousin told me today.”

“Yeji was probably worried about how you would react; marriage is no small matter. At least she seems to have her head screwed on, probably because she hasn’t been knocked off as many horses as you.”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“I’m only joking, dear.” His mother smirked, whispering under her breath; “I’m not wrong though.”

“Okay, how about this conversation topic, are there any princesses or ladies you have in mind? Like ones you already think I may be interested in?” Hyunjin was willing to hear it then instead of later. It would also give him some extra time to think, and insight when entering the ball.

His mother raised her brows, “I didn’t think you would ask that.”

“Well, is there?” Hyunjin relaxed back into his seat.

She hummed in response, finishing her mouth full. “There is. Lady Hwang Eunbi, she’s almost two years older, which four years after debut for a woman isn’t always a good sign, but she did come forward at your debut. As you will know she’s from this Court, so it is possible she could’ve been waiting for the opportunity.

“Another is Lady Lee Soojin from the Spring Court. A few months she made her debut, though I don’t know much else about her, other than she’s very pretty. However, I was surprised to hear back from the Queen of the Spring Court’s capital that her daughter, Princess Lee Felicia is attending. However, she’s known for often being ill and rarely seen outside of her home, so I don’t see her to be a good fit for you.

“Third is Princess Seo Soojin from the Autumn Court, she is also a few years older but is known for enjoying getting involved in swordfights, and drinking, a lot of drinking. She’s not a very princes-sly princess, nonetheless, I do have her as a high contender as you want to return to the military. I don’t think anyone from the Winter Court caught my eye, which may be a decent thing if Yeji and that Lord works out. Yet, things may change during the ball.”

“You seem to like the name Soojin?” Hyunjin was able to say after his mother’s rambling.

“It does mean excellence so I might as well. Obviously, these are just suggestions, you are free to choose whom you want to marry as me and your father trust you. These names are simply to help you find a starting point.”  

Hyunjin hummed, the two falling into silence as they finished their meal. He thought about the women suggested to him. Lady Hwang Eunbi, having tried to be courted by him before, had Hyunjin a little cautious about how she may behave tomorrow. He hoped that no women would get drunk enough—or the courage while sober—to literally throw themselves at him. It wouldn’t look good for either party. His mother did not say much about Lady Lee Soojin so it would be right to try and have a conversation with her, a dance too would look good. The Princess from the Spring Court sounded like she wouldn’t approach him, at least not without her mother. A Court’s capital child would be best as their social status stands highest against other royals, however, with her often being ill, maybe not so. Then Princess Seo Soojin was also someone he would make an effort to approach. It sounded like she had similar hobbies to his own, those would work as a friendly conversation starting. The Princess was also another dance partner contender. 

Time would only tell who Hyunjin fell in love with.

Author Note; thank you for making it to the end of chapter 2. please like and comment if you enjoy this fic.

Chapter.List

[psink]

Gothic - Rifuta Imu 1/2

[source]

Rifuta Imu: Kokomi-senpai~♪ Good morning!

Rifuta Imu: (Offu... She's great, perfect and beautiful today as well☆)

Teruhashi Kokomi: Good morning, Imu-chan.

Rifuta Imu: Se…Senpai, um, if it's alright with you, there's this event my friend invited me to~

Rifuta Imu: Would you please come with us!?

Teruhashi Kokomi: Eh~...Would it be okay for me to go... (What kind of event is it?)

Teruhashi Kokomi: But I already have plans for the weekend…

Saiki Kusuo: Good grief, there's a lot of noisy thoughts this morning.

Rifuta Imu: Oh! Saiki-senpai, please come too! Please!! Pretty please!!! 

Rifuta Imu: (If I can get Saiki-senpai involved, then Kokomi-senpai will surely join too...!) 

Saiki Kusuo Pretty please? No, that's impossible. This weekend, I'll be at home playing the new Asobi Boy VR game...

Rifuta Imu: At the event, they'll serve English tea and special sweets!

Saiki Kusuo: ............

???: Fufufu... A gothic event, huh? Sounds interesting.

Saiki Kusuo: It's so hot, dressed in all black…

Saiki Kusuo: What on earth is this...

Rifuta Imu: This is commonly known as "GoGoGo”.

Rifuta Imu: This event is the "Gothic Fans' Grand and Gorgeous Afternoon Costume Show & Joint Photo Session for Gentlemen and Ladies".

Rifuta Imu: It's abbreviated as "GoGoGo".

Saiki Kusuo: That's a lot of "Go"s.

Teruhashi KokomI: Sorry to keep you waiting! This is a bit...embarrassing.

Cameraman 1: Ah, excuse me! Could you please...look this way for a moment!?

Cameraman 2: Ah! Here too!!

Cameraman 3: Over here, over here!!! Huh...Maybe I used too much flash... I can only see the light source.

Teruhashi KokomI: Ahaha...(smiling) (Geez...I can't talk calmly to Saiki like this.)

Rifuta Im: Hmph... Saiki-senpai, you can go home now.

Saiki Kusuo: Huh? She invites me to this nonsensical gathering and then tells me to leave...?

Saiki Kusuo: I'll head home in a second if you give me those damn sweets right now.

Rifuta Imu: A single rose of light blooming in the English garden. Kokomi-senpai's white skin… The pitch-black dress that contrasts it perfectly…

Rifuta Imu: Sigh~ I'm already prepared to fuse with Kokomi-senpai.

Saiki Kusuo: Fusion? Like a combining robot or something? I can't deal with this at all…

Saiki Kuusuke: Fufufu. Having an elegant English-style tea time without me? I can't over look this.

Saiki Kusuo: Here comes the evil demon king.

...Continued in the 2nd half