#more implications that Crescent Rose might be special...

[anthurak]

Interesting observation:

The ‘clock-fruit’ Jaune picked didn’t so much send him ‘back in time’, so much as it appears to have made time itself in the Ever After ‘role back’.

To the point of apparently resetting Ruby, Weiss, Blake, Yang and Neo landing in the Ever After.

Though curiously, not Crescent Rose. As CR apparently fell around the same time Jaune did, and he was able to FIND Crescent Rose years before everyone else landed.

Also I think we can confirm that the two blue lights at the start of the OP are meant to be Alyx and Lewis.

[skye-huntress]

RWBY V8 Finale “The Final Word” Reactions

Thus concludes the first Volume I get to watch as it airs week by week, and react to it

MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW! SERIOUSLY IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED THE EPISODE YET AND FOR WHATEVER REASON STILL SEE THIS EVEN WITH THE SPOILER TAG, CONSIDER THIS YOUR LAST WARNING

Sooo, I cannot not talk about this big one first because it gives me personal feelings. Penny is a character that is very precious to me, always has been. I binged the show up to Volume 7 last year so I didn’t have to go through years of new episodes knowing she was gone and then when she came back and throughout Volume 8, she cemented herself as one of my favourites, right up there with Ruby and Weiss. I even warmed up to Frosen Steel. I honestly did not think nor did I want to think that the show would kill her again, even knowing this was going to be a rough volume for her being the central figure in the whole conflict. The only consolation I have is that she died on her own terms.

While we’re on this note, my sympathies to Jaune for having to be the one to send her on her way. My sympathies to a lot of characters because whether or not Nuts and Dolts is platonic or romantic, she was particularly special to Ruby who once again was not there to save her.

Penny finally got her song, and it hurts

I could tell from the beginning that the Ace Ops were overrated. They seemed cool on the surface and as individual fighters they were probably up there, but I’m also sceptical of the ones that everyone (including themselves) called the “best” at anything. The reality is that they were a mess, they told to bury their feelings, and told to always accept their Jimmy’s judgment over even their own. Clover died a meaningless death because he ignored his own better judgment. That said, for Vine, the least expressive of the whole bunch to not only talk Harriet down but make a sacrifice for his team friends was not something I would have called. And yet I remember how he tried to comfort Elm, and how when Marrow was nearly killed how expressive he was in his shock and fear. Honestly, I should know better, as someone who isn’t able to express the full depth of my emotions very well, I should have known that Vine was probably the one who cared for his friends more than they ever realised.

Qrow was actually lucky for once. I have a theory. If Ren’s semblance can evolve from masking emotions to sensing them, maybe Qrow’s semblance could evolve so that he could change his or others’ fortunes for the better and not just for the worst. At the very least, rubbing the pin made him believe he could in fact be lucky, maybe that’s all he needed.

Harriet has a lot of issues to sort through, but maybe now without the toxicity of the military and Jimmy, she and her remaining friends can allow themselves to feel, grieve, heal and grow.

So we have Robyn, Qrow, Harriet, Elm and Marrow on a transport leaving Solitas through conventional travel. They probably can’t fly their transport straight to Vacuo so they may have to make some stops on the way, probably at Argus or Vale.

As for Ironwood, what a fitting end. He always saw himself as the hero of Remnant, the one with all the answers, the one who was always right, and who would save the day. But in the end, he wasn’t anyone even worth killing. To the villains, he was always a joke, someone to be used, and right when he is finally face to face with his greatest enemy, she never even looked at him once. In the end, neither he nor his precious Atlas proved to be very relevant or impressive.

Neo thought she was clever but she was a fool. That’s what happens when you let anger and vengeance consume you, it warps your judgment. Cinder was always using her, to get what she wanted, and as a means to get her own vengeance on Ruby.

Speaking of not letting not letting vengeance consume you, Blake. She saw how close she was to losing everyone else she cared about she switched tacts. I’m proud of her. And she risked the fall to save Ruby, unfortunately this risk was too great for her.

My WhiteRose heart cheered when Weiss went to back up Ruby. I assume Blake knew the partners could assist each other better than she could. It hurt that she had to watch the rest of her team family fall, to be the last one standing, using Gambol Shroud. And then she fell right in front of her sister.

Ruby really needs more practice with her eyes before she faces Cinder again. It was impressive though how she goaded Neo and knocked her over the edge. Unfortunately, there was more than one person there who really wanted her dead.

As for Ruby’s mental state, she never really had time to process anything that had happened, she was in survival mode the entire time. Falling into the same place as Yang did might give her hope that her sister is still alive and if she fell with Blake, all the better, then she won’t be alone. But like I said, Penny was very important to her, and this is the second time she has lost her. Just imagine though, if Penny’s body falls into the void with them and Ruby finds it, that’d be all the worse than just hearing about it from Weiss or Jaune.

Now, Winter, she is the MVP of this episode. Winter is now the Winter Maiden, not because Ironwood chose her to be or because she actually chose it herself but because Penny chose her. Penny believed in her friend. My love of Penny gives me a lot of conflicting feelings for this and the implications but it was satisfying to see Winter own Ironwood and hold her own against Cinder. And now she is the champion for Atlas’ refugees, but failing Weiss and Penny is going to have a significant impact on her. At least she’ll allow herself to feel and she still has some family left.

Now for the weapons. When Crescent Rose fell, it was like watching an entirely separate character fall as well. Gambol Shroud and Neo’s umbrella fell on their own, too. And Jaune’s weapon that was reforged with Pyrrha’s ruined weapon was destroyed by none other than Cinder. So basically the only ones still completely armed are Weiss and Yang, but of course the latter also has a concussion.

It wasn’t the complete victory she wanted but it was decisive. I figured a victory for Cinder would be getting both relics and she did. But I knew she wouldn’t get the Maiden powers, that’s always the part she fails at again and again. She tries to syphon a Maiden’s magic only to be interrupted. Every. Single. Time. Seriously, Cinder will just never learn from this mistake and its why she will likely never have more than one Maiden’s power at the rate she is going. But as decisive as this victory was, it will cost her in the long run. She needed help from Jinn, Neo and Watts in order to beat Team RWBY but they’ll come back stronger, smarter and more pissed off and Cinder won’t have all of that help next time. If anything, she might have put herself back on top of Neo’s shitlist.

Watts’ end is also rather fitting and also completely expected. Like Jimmy and Jaques, he represented a lot of what was wrong with Atlas, particularly the elite. How annoyed would Ambrosius be with Cinder though? “More fire, that’s it? This is my cosmic karma for being annoyed about being used by the same kids twice in a row.”

Atlas fell as I always knew it would, after all the relics exist to help humanity and a flying city did nothing but fuelled the egos of those who lived on that floating rock. Mantle was something to be proud of, but Atlas was a lie. Now Remnant’s “greatest kingdom in the world” reduced to ruin and it’s people refugees in a land their ancestors made a wasteland. This will have dire consequences.

So in the end, no help came for Atlas. Not surprising in retrospect. Atlesians didn’t have the best reputation to begin with, then Ironwood made a series of terrible decisions (that everyone around him strongly advised against), destroying Atlas’ relations with the other Kingdoms. Then came Ruby’s broadcast out of nowhere where she dropped some insane bombshells and then her message was cut off and global comms went down again. Few can vouch for Ruby’s character and even fewer can verify anything of what she said. I still believe it had an impact and we’ll see it as we visit other Kingdoms again, but the full pay off won’t be for quite some time. As I said before, the message was just the first of many, many small steps to uniting the world against Salem

So now for the detour, and that cursed image of Crescent Rose alone, slammed into the ground. It’s likely Volume 9 will focus mostly on our girls, Jaune and Neo, surviving in this strange environment and finding a way home.

Was that everything? Probably not. Now the mourning period begins as I try to process all of that.

[vannahfanfics]

Hello! For my final one-shot prize, may I have Sting x Yukino with the prompt "White"?

Thanks for your patience! Here you are~

Magnolia

Yukino’s toffee-colored eyes were scrunched up in nervous panic as she slowly poked her head into the threshold of the door to peer into the bustling party within. Lucy had been kind enough to invite her to the celebration of her publishing deal, and of course Yukino had elected to attend the fellow Celestial Spirit mage’s honoring of her momentous achievement. However, though she felt very comfortable around Lucy and her inner circle of friends- comfortable enough to have paid many visits to her apartment in the last several months- she was suddenly feeling a little out of place surrounded almost entirely by Fairy Tail mages. She wished she had at least brought along a plus one; Lucy wouldn’t have minded in the slightest.

Sting would have come with me… she thought with a blush creeping onto her cheeks. There was nothing for it now, however; she was all trussed up and at the venue, so she might as well give Lucy her congratulations. She sucked in a sharp breath through her nose and straightened up, making sure the flowy skirt of her long white dress contained no creases before confidently striding into the large hall.

A few of the mages gave her passing glances, and a few of the friendlier ones jovial waves and cheerful greetings, but for the most part Yukino was unnoticed as she proceeded into the crowd. She found the pretty blonde by the refreshments table chatting animatedly with a short, petite blue-haired girl Yukino dimly remembered as Levy. Yukino approached cautiously, not wishing to interrupt an obviously animated conversation, but the other girl noticed her incoming and pointed it out to Lucy. Yukino’s cheeks reddened a little as Lucy spun on her heel with an excited squeal and dashed right up to throw her arms around Yukino in a firm hug.

“Yukino! I’m glad you could make it!” Following the initial shock of the sudden embrace, Yukino relaxed and returned the sentiment.

“Of course. Congratulations on your publishing deal. I know you’ve worked very hard!” she said while patting the top of her head affectionally. Lucy pulled back to give her a beaming smile that scrunched her eyes up into little crescent moons. Yukino always had marveled at how the girl could smile with her entire being. Lucy’s face then took on a playful and almost mischievous grin.

“So? Where’s Sting?” Yukino released a very unflattering choking sound at the very brazen inquiry and the even more brazen implications. Despite herself, Yukino maniacally glanced around the nearby crowd to see if she could catch a glimpse of him; when she could not, she began to suspect that Lucy was cruelly joshing her and gave her a dour pout. “Don’t look at me like that! He’s really here; Rogue, too! Natsu invited them, supposedly.” Yukino knitted her eyebrows together critically. If he was invited, why didn’t he tell me? Sting had been nonchalant about approving her venture to Magnolia for the party and had made no mention that he would be attending. Surely they would have traveled together if that had been the case! What motive would he have had for not telling her? Lucy looked just as puzzled as she. “Wait… Did you guys not come together?”

“Ahhh, damn it. Now this is awkward,” Yukino heard a groan from behind her. Cheeks pink, she whirled around to see Sting meekly rubbing his neck with a discomfited smile. “I was gonna surprise you, Yukino…” Lucy squeaked and put her hands over her mouth in mortified guilt.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know!” Her apology was muffled by her interlaced fingers. Sting gave her that cocky smirk that made Yukino’s heart melt every time it graced his fine features and waved dismissively before sliding his hands into his pants pockets.

“Don’t worry about it.” Yukino compulsively straightened her back as his glittering gaze landed on her. He looked exceptionally handsome, dressed in a pair of black slacks, a matching black vest with silver adornments, and a white dress shirt underneath. As dapper as he was, he was still Sting; the man despised sleeves and so they were rolled up above his elbows, buttoned to hold them in place. Yukino was stupidly aware of how his biceps bulged underneath the taut fabric, and really couldn’t help but gawk for a few precious seconds. It was only a few seconds, but apparently long enough; when she finally willed herself to tear her gaze away from the rugged muscles and give him the proper courtesy of speaking to his face instead of his arms, he was smirking perceptively. She gulped loudly and felt the smoldering heat rising to her cheeks. Shit… “I’m here now, so that’s what matters.” Yukino knew he was talking to Lucy, but his eyes remained fixed on her, very much implying that the words were for her alone.

“Right! Thank you so much for coming. Enjoy yourselves; I’d better go make sure Natsu isn’t getting himself into trouble…” Though incorrigibly rude, Yukino couldn’t bring herself to look at Lucy as the girl dashed off into the crowd. She was still owlishly staring at Sting, who was still wearing that smirk like it was all he needed for currency. She couldn’t stop the jolt that jerked her body as he abruptly stepped toward her. Her heart had begun to hammer in her chest so hard that she just knew he could hear it. He could see and hear and know the things he was doing to her, simply by appearing before her like a cunning demon who could lay claims to her soul… If he’d only asked her for it.

Yukino didn’t know how long she’d been in love with Sting. It had just gradually grown over time, a seedling budding in the recesses of her mind until its flower bloomed with radiant brilliance to make itself known. It was a rose, devastatingly beautiful but rich with thorns of longing and pain; she treasured it immensely, watered it with her hopes, but found herself constantly pricked by its barbs of possible rejection. She dare not bring it forth and bare it to him, so there it subsisted in the greenhouse of her heart, shielded by blacked-out windows waiting for its chance to see true daylight one day.

“Yukino, you’re so spacey.” Yukino’s face blazed pink when she realized he was standing right in front of her and knocking on her forehead to bring her out of her thoughts.

“O-oh… Sorry…” she meekly answered while rubbing the small pink mark he had pushed into her forehead. He grinned radiantly and dropped his hand, pleased that he finally had her attention. She blushed darker when she looked at the collar of his dress shirt. “You, um… You look really good in white.”

“You think so? That’s good. I wore it for you.” Yukino squeaked as her heart rate rocketed into critical levels. She glanced up, thinking that surely he was messing with her, but the expression on his face was terrifyingly calm. “It’s your favorite color. I knew you were going to wear white, too.” Her teeth worried her bottom lip to channel her screaming anxiety when he reached up with light fingers to play with the satin straps of her sleeveless dress, which were looped loosely around her neck. As he played with the silky fabric, his fingers occasionally brushed against her collarbone and the surrounding area, sending electricity spiderwebbing through her nerves. “You look beautiful, Yukino.”

His husky whisper and the way he closed the miniscule distance between them to very purposefully bump his chest into hers sent her heart rate blasting into orbit. Her eyes were blown so wide the muscles surrounding them strained but she couldn’t help it; there was something so captivating and dangerous about him and what was happening right now. She simultaneously felt like a princess under his reverence and a captive under his control. Surely… Surely now is the time, she thought distantly.

She reached for the flower, marveling at how its petals had increased in sheen in the last few minutes, but the thorns sank deep into her palm.

“You shouldn’t tease, Sting,” she grumbled and pushed into his chest with the flats of her hands. The smirk finally fell from his lips, replaced by a befuddled frown. Sting was naturally flirtatious. She was no one special and believing anything but would only set her up for bitter disappointment. “I’m going to say hello to Rogue,” she huffed, trying to mask the hurt in her voice and turning her face as the tears stung her eyes. She quickly gathered her skirts and went to turn on her heel, but he caught her wrist in a tight grip- desperate but not painful. Sting immediately realized what he had done and hurriedly retracted, loosening his grip to slide his hand up to her elbow and pull on it invitingly. Eyebrows cinched in confusion and worry, he gestured with a jerk of his head to the side of the venue, behind a row of columns and curtains that would provide an ample amount of privacy.

Yukino felt bile bubbling up in her throat as her anxiety mounted; the wounds from the thorns still leaked red blood and she did not know if she had the courage to reach again. Her legs tensed, ready to bolt once more, but then he gave her the most sad, pleading look.

“Yukino… Please.”

She did not resist him as he tugged on her elbow more insistently, guiding her body. Her heels clacked unsteadily against the tile floor as her feet moved on instinct, traveling in the direction he willed her. Gently, keeping his troubled gaze on her all the while, he escorted her to the side of the spacious room. They tucked themselves away in the shady alcove, hidden. She was beginning to score the skin of her bottom lip with how much she was tearing into it; she watched him nervously as he checked to ensure no one would come after them before looking at her with incredulous hurt. “Yukino, I… What do you think this is?”

The poignant question threw her for a loop. She wasn’t sure what she had expected to come out of his mouth, but it wasn’t that. She opened and shut her mouth a few times, struggling to form words, before finally squeaking them out.

“I-I don’t know, Sting. I don’t know.” It was a pathetic answer perfectly suited to her pathetic self. Mortified, she hung her head to spare herself his likely scathing reaction. She had tried not to cry, because she would look frightful from her mascara running, but the black-dyed tears began rolling down her cheeks all the same. “I’m frightened of what it could be.” Her body tensed instinctively at the sound of his dress shoes striking the tile floor, and through her tear-laden lashes, she could see their shiny surfaces appear at the edge of her vision. It was disgusting, really. She was normally so confident and sure; however, she was everything but when it came to Sting. She never knew what to do, or what to say, because she was scared- scared, that it was all in her head and she would make a fool of herself.

Yukino had been humiliated once. It was the most awful experience, the lowest she had ever been wrought. She could never, ever feel such shame again. “I’m afraid you’ll make fun of me…” she admitted through a heaving sob and put her face into her hands. She knew she would smudge the black tears into her foundation, but it was better than them staining her pristine white dress. White, her favorite color. White, which he wore for her. The thought made sour acid spread over her tongue.

“Yukino…” His voice was so soft, so welcoming. She didn’t tense this time when his hands gently enveloped her wrists to pull them away from her face. He pulled them down to rest on his forearms before cupping her face on either side, catching her cascading tears with his thumbs. “I promised you that I would never let you be humiliated and laughed at again. Do you really think that I would ever make fun of you?” Yukino sniffed miserably in response. Of course he wouldn’t. It was stupid of her to think that he would; after all, it was Sting. Sweet, kind, supportive Sting. Timidly, she raised her face a little to look at him.

His sweet smile took her breath away. She had never seen him look so gentle and tender. His blonde hair bounced a little as he tilted his head and continued to stroke her cheeks with feather-light touches. “Let me tell you what this is, Yukino,” he purred, and the sound rumbled through her entire body, quieting every screaming nerve to awash her with tranquil calm and trust. Trust in his words, in that smile that was undoubtedly full of love. “I’m so in love with you that it’s stupid. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever had the privilege of meeting. I could try to compare you to the most beautiful things- angels, goddesses, queens- and they all fall drastically short of you. I should’ve said something sooner, but the truth is I felt so unworthy of you that the words never could come. Then tonight, you walk in here in that dress looking like the moon herself and I finally had the guts to tell you the truth. And now look…” She hiccupped pitifully as he brought his face closer, lips twisted into a miserable smile, “I’ve gone and made such a pretty girl cry. I really am hopeless.” Yukino couldn’t help but tearfully giggle at his self-deprecating romances.

“Don’t apologize… I shouldn’t have freaked out,” she sighed contritely. Really, she ought to be a blushing, stuttering mess at his entire confession, but she was oddly calm. Still trapped in that blanket of tranquility Sting had wrapped over her, warm and safe and at peace. It felt like she was bathed in sunshine and no shadow in the world could creep close. She licked her lips anxiously, then added in a meek voice, “I-I love you too, you know. Very, very much.”

“That’s good, else this would’ve been the most embarrassing day of my life.” They both laughed in ugly snorts and her head bumped against his as she looked down, shoulders shaking with barely-constrained giggles. Happy tears threatened to leak over the dam of her eyes, so she hurriedly pushed the base of her palms into them.

“I probably look like a frightful hag,” she laughed derisively, feeling more mascara smudge underneath her eyes.

“Nah. Still beautiful to me.” Yukino dropped her hands to give him a questioning smile, and he took advantage of the momentary drop of her guard. He swooped forward to claim her mouth in a searing kiss, and her falling arms settled around his neck as if they belonged there. She pushed herself up onto the tips of her toes as he tugged her against him by the waist, angling his head to kiss her with a ravenous hunger. Her fingers toyed with the ends of his spiky blonde hair, while his found purchase in the sweeping folds of her dress, digging into the fabric in an effort to bring every inch of her into contact as possible. Yukino felt like she was blossoming under his fiery touch, like a flower that had long since closed its petals to the darkness finally being graced with invigorating light. She was her flower of love incarnate, finally brought forth into the world by his words shattering the glass cage.

They kissed there for several minutes, in the secluded corner of the venue, before braking apart with flushed faces and ragged pants. Yukino laughed at the smears of pink lipstick across his face, and she had no doubt her make-up was effectively ruined now. Still, he was looking at her like she was the most radiant creature on Earth.

“A magnolia,” he said abruptly. She narrowed her eyebrows curiously, wondering if she had kissed his mad. He laughed at her incredulous look and pulled her close by the waist again, tucking a swathe of her light blue-white hair behind her ear. “That’s what you remind me of. The most beautiful magnolia.” Touched but also embarrassed, she snorted again and tucked her face into the side of his neck to hide her burning blush.

“You’re too good at the flirting thing…”

“I did a lot of practicing. Lector plays a very good Yukino; he blushes almost as much as you.” She didn’t know if he was serious but the thought of him flirting shamelessly with his Exceed partner made her begin to giggle hysterically. He enveloped her in his thick arms to give her an affectionate and crushing hug, all while nuzzling his chin along the side of her head. “He’s more of a dandelion weed than a magnolia, though.”

“How cruel! He’s way cuter than a dandelion weed!” she laughed while lifting her head. Seeing her happy smile made him grin, and he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to her lips. “… Thanks, Sting.”

“No need to thank me, darling.” The pet name sent all the blood rushing right back to her face. Sting grinned devilishly, an obvious sign that he had meant to embarrass her. With a squeal, she buried her face back into the shielding embrace of his neck. His body shook violently with his raucous laughter. “You’re so cute when you’re blushing! Come on, don’t hide, lemme see.” She squeaked protests and squished her face further into him, stubbornly to the point that it was hard to breathe through her nose. “All right, all right, I relent; please, Yukino, come on.” With a click of her tongue, she obediently retracted and looked up at him with a childish pout. True to his word, he no longer teased her, but offered the handkerchief tucked into the pocket of his face for her to wipe the make-up from her face. She took it gratefully and did her best to remove the ruined cosmetics, using her distorted reflection in the white tile as a mirror. “Whelp, Lucy’s calling for you,” he remarked as he peeked out from behind the curtain.

Yukino hastily removed the last streaks of the make-up from her face before straightening up and adjusting her disheveled dress. Before she could instruct Sting to stay a while to keep people from talking, he grabbed her hand and yanked her out from behind the alcove. A few people definitely glanced at them and grinned, which made Yukino’s face blaze the color of a rose.

“Sting! What are you doing?! People will talk!”

“Let them!” he grinned jovially and settled in beside her, lacing their hands and giving her that smirk, that one that was all he needed to get by. “Let them talk. I want the whole world to see just how much I adore my pretty magnolia.” Yukino flushed and cringed into herself at how stupidly sweet yet excruciatingly embarrassing the sentiment was. Sting called out to Lucy as she strode by in a tizzy; the blonde whirled around, about to say something, but froze when she saw the two holding hands. She then grinned knowingly and wiggled her eyebrows at Sting, pointing at his mouth. Yukino gasped and wiped at the smears of her lipstick still on his face, which she had neglected to remove, while Sting squirmed and protested at the harsh scrapes of her palm. She finished just as Lucy began to sidle up to them mischievously, and Yukino could only sigh and look at the grinning Sting.

If I’m a magnolia… Then you’re definitely the sun that makes me bloom.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork @searchfortheonepiece

[mayuuunaise]

fic post: a man for flowers (confession)

a/n: we’re here...we made it.... i hope i’ve converted at least a few of you :’3cc read on: ao3 | under the cut

Megumi thinks this new tactic of hers has been working like an absolute charm recently. Work hard and don’t think, attempting to put all her energy and time to make sure that any unnecessary feelings are pushed aside for after work hours when she’s home alone and curled up in her sofa with a random romantic comedy movie playing in the background. Sometimes she doesn’t even need the rom com, and Ryouko tells her she’s getting stronger each day.

But this time completely sends her on a ride she knows she isn’t ready for.

The twinkling of bells above the door tell her a customer has arrived. The time being a quarter until they close shop means this customer must be her favourite. Megumi looks up from tending to the ferns near the back and expects to be greeted by Isami’s familiar Cheshire grin. She falters a little when she notices it doesn’t quite reach his bright blue eyes, shoulders tense and steps unsure. He hangs around near the doorway in a daze, until Megumi clears her throat and calls his name softly.

Her voice seems to startle him into moving closer, posture stiff and steps heavy as he does so. Megumi frowns, question ready at the tip of her tongue until she second guesses herself once more. Ryouko has told her time and time again to quit being so nice, drown your tears with a few shot glasses, and move on to a better, stronger self. Yuki would tell her the opposite, ever a romantic; the wedding bells nearing doesn’t help her case at all and in spite of Ryouko’s cynical viewpoints of love, Megumi admits that Yuki’s musings hold more weight to them. She’s hopeless, the bartender would murmur, but Megumi remembers seeing a quick upward quirk of her lips when she rolls her eyes.

It shouldn’t matter if the person doesn’t like you back, she thinks. The important thing is that you like them enough to worry about them.

“Isami-san,” she starts out softly, attempting to weigh the words in her head before it slips out of her tongue unfiltered.  She settles on a sincere and quiet “Are you alright?” Megumi cringes at her words, cliched and sounding faker and faker the more she repeats it in her head. Isami pauses, and even if he smiles, she can see the strain in his bright blue eyes. It doesn’t quite reach them, and bright blue summer skies end up awkwardly transitioning to the foreboding blue before a storm. “I mean,” she attempts to save face, flushing when she realizes how absolutely foolish she must sound. “I, well, I know you’re not okay but, well… I, uhm,”

She swallows back stutters. Isami is kind enough to wait for her to finish her train of thought.

“I wanted, well, I wanted you to know that if you weren’t feeling very well,” Megumi fidgets with the knot of her work apron. “That is to say, uhm, I have peppermint tea in the backroom should you want any?”

Isami’s lips quirk upwards, amused. “Are we finally having the tea I offered so long ago?”

Megumi can feel her face flush at his implications, shaking her head quickly to dispel any unwarranted thoughts. She attempts to hide behind her blue braids, but is oddly relieved when she hears Isami’s familiar laughter.

Before she can defend herself, Isami finally sends her a smile that reaches his eyes. It seems whatever it is that has been bothering him has passed easily enough. The florist tells herself she’s just happy to know it isn’t serious enough to abate Isami’s incessant and lighthearted flirting. She watches his shoulders relax, and immediately seems so at peace as he motions to move back to his seat by her work table.

This all feels a little domestic; a part of Megumi wants to know if it would look like this after a long day of work and coming home to a cheeky little grin ready to make her day infinitely better.

Before she can let the thought fester she clears her throat and quickly moves back behind the counter. Perhaps the physical distance between them will make this easier. “So!” The florist cringes at how high and squeaky her voice sounds. Ryouko did say she could never lie to save her life. Megumi reaches under the counter for the new tools she ordered. “What’s the occasion for today?” she asks the brunette. She knows they’re around here somewhere, and she’s certain Isami would fawn all over the pastel flowery prints all over the handles. Ryouko found them online and wouldn’t let the florist say no to a little splurging.

Isami doesn’t respond right away. Megumi’s eyes brighten when she spots the mattering of daisies on the handle of her new branch cutter.

“A confession.”

Megumi’s head almost collides with the counter top at how fast she straightens up to look at him. Isami, in turn, doesn’t meet her eyes. He rubs the back of his neck, trying to look very interested in one of the hanging plants by the window. His ears are bright red though, and Megumi feels her heart sinking.

“A… confession,” she drawls out slowly. The words taste bitter on her tongue. Isami inclines his head into a vague resemblance of a nod, a little distracted, until his eyes shift back to her. He nods once more, a little more sure of himself as he repeats his words. Megumi can almost feel the bile building in the back of her throat as she nods stiffly back at him.

Her thoughts spiral out of control as her body moves on its own. She has done countless of bouquets for confessing one’s love, and her hands automatically gravitate to the bright, cliched, red roses. She grabs hot pink ones as well with a shaky grip, possibly out of spite even if the girl has no bone in her body for petty behaviour. Her pace to her work desk is stiff and hurried, as if she wants nothing more than to finish this bouquet as quickly as she possibly can (Megumi knows this to be the truth).

A confession.

The only time she has wanted information for his mysterious flower recipient had been back in November. And since then she has tried to subtly never let the topic rise up again, if only for her heart.

A confession.

She’s been working so hard too, trying not to think too much about it.

A confession.

“Tadokoro-chan?”

Her hands stop plucking the damaged petals from her pile of roses. They’re almost reduced to the buds. Megumi gasps, eyes watering at the sight of the flower in her hands. The florist’s face burns, eyes squeezed shut in a conscious effort to avoid Isami’s questioning gaze. She has a feeling that there is absolutely no possible she won’t be breaking down any moment should he even so much as ask her if she’s alright.

Megumi braces herself against the edge of her work table. Too much, too much, too much. She breathes in through her nose and exhales through her mouth, and counts.

Isami is by her side in an instant, brows furrowed with worry as he hovers over her. He isn’t quite invading her personal space, but it’s enough for her to feel suffocated and guilty. The florist stumbles back a few steps, holding her hands out to both steady herself and subtly ask him to keep away. The brunette seems to catch the message, but keeps his arms stretched still in case she trips over herself.

She looks up and lets out a shaky smile. “I’m okay,” she whispers softly. Isami doesn’t look like he believes her, and if she isn’t so shaken up, she would believe that he even looks a bit hurt at her quiet declination. She’s fine. If she repeats it enough, it wouldn’t exactly be a lie. “I’m sorry, I’ve been feeling a little dizzy lately.”

“It’s alright; please don’t say sorry,” Isami’s posture straightens, but the creases in his forehead from worrying remain intact. When she turns to him, curious, he continues his train of thought, “It’s not your fault, I meant. But, are you sure you’re alright? I can go back another day, you know; you don’t need to force yourself, Tadokoro-chan.”

Alarm bells ring in her head as Megumi somehow simultaneously feel elated at the thought of him postponing, and guilty for evenconjuring up a thought like that all at the same time. She feels absolutely mortified and quickly reaches out to stop him from moving (if she were calmer, she’d realize that Isami had absolutely no plans of walking away at the time and she might be just the teensiest bit overreacting).

“No!” She squeaks out. “I-! Please don’t,” Isami looks startled, before his sharp eyes flicker back from her hands curled around his arm to her face and back again. Megumi can only flush a deeper red before jumping back to give Isami his personal space back. She can still feel her heart hammering in her chest when she admits in a small voice, “I just, well, I want to help make it special.”

Isami blinks twice before his eyes crinkle into upward crescents. “I know you’ll do great with whatever you come up with, Tadokoro-chan,”

Her chest squeezes in the halfway between awkwardly uncomfortable and foolishly giddy. She likes him, so, so bad. It’s a horrible decision, really.

Megumi recalls Shinomiya telling her bluntly how stupid she is during his cigarette break while she tends to the plants outside. It’s unfortunately nothing new to her, but there’s a heavy atmosphere lingering when her manager takes a deep drag of breath before exhaling the smoke slowly out of his mouth. There’s no such thing as unconditional feelings, after all; he tells her how he could readily, easily call her for her bullshit of wanting what makes the patissier happiest.

Shinomiya knows he’s right and Megumi knows it too. She remembers awkwardly shuffling back inside then, leaving the watering can in her manager’s care as she speeds straight to their break room to calm herself down.

Megumi shakes the thoughts out of her head and moves with a newfound determination towards the rows of fresh flowers on the other side of the room. She supposes it’ll hurt, but perhaps this is the catalyst she needs in order to move on (she doubts it, very much). Isami, funny and kind and sweet Isami, deserves nothing less than her very best after all.

She traces the newly sprayed white gardenias, the dew from its petals dampening her finger. Megumi plucks a bouquet worth and moves to the next.

“I’m sorry for the long wait,” Megumi finishes up writing his receipt, doodling a small four leafed clover on the side to wish him luck. She supposes she won’t be able to say it in person, so this will have to do. Megumi picks up the bouquet of gardenias, specks of red carnations all over to add pops of colour to the otherwise simple but elegant design.

Isami doesn’t quite look at her as he takes his purchased bouquet from her daintier hands. Megumi is worried they aren’t to his liking. Her thoughts immediately drift into unwanted territory of negative thoughts: they aren’t his anyway, they’re addressed to someone else, someone who he’ll be confessing to. Someone who isn’t her.

“Is there anything wrong, Isami-san?” she asks, hands fidgeting with the sleeves of her sweater in a futile attempt to calm herself down. He shakes his head no, letting out a breathy laugh. She has never seen him so nervous, even considering that month Shinomiya-senpai kept deliberately hanging around the shop whenever he stops by to antagonize him to no end.

The person receiving this must really be very special, she thinks.

He finally seems to gather his thoughts and resolve, because when he looks up, Megumi sees nothing but determination and a strange sort of seriousness in his usually mischievous face. The florist is ready to bid him goodbye and a half hearted good luck when he proceeds to shove the bouquet of gardenias and carnations right under her nose. She squeaks out in surprise, entirely unsure and worried that they really aren’t to his liking, and -

“I like you a lot, Tadokoro-chan!” he blurts out in a frenzy. The tips of his ears turn a red that would make the roses she left behind on her work desk falter in vibrancy. Megumi is almost a hundred percent sure that her cheeks don’t look that far off. “Uhm, this might seem a surprise, and there really is no other way to handle this, but-” his hands are unsteady, the bouquet he holds shaking. “The grandma across the hall told her friends - merde - and Takumi has been so annoying recently, I just-” The rest of the words he says are said in a rapid fire jumble of mixed Japanese and Italian that she doesn’t quite understand, with inside information and jokes that she honestly doesn’t get (which probably says as much, considering her confused face).

Isami clears his throat, cheeks flushed as his eyes dart from side to side. “I’m rambling,” he narrates offhandedly, having the decency to look just a little more embarrassed. The brunette straightens his shoulders, rising to full height and standing almost a head taller than her. Isami breathes in through his nose and out his mouth, a familiar attempt to calm his senses down as he readies himself to speak again. Megumi doesn’t know if she can take another word. “I just, I needed to know. Would you like to go out to dinner with me? As a date?”

Megumi has always had trouble with confrontations. Confrontations with regard to anything remotely romantic are something that isn’t even in her vocabulary. The last time someone asked her out romantically it flew right above her head and she didn’t even realize it until Miyoko Hojo asked for a farewell kiss before she boarded her one-way trip to mainland China.

And then she remembers; remembers the flowers and bouquets that she has prepared for him for almost a year now. She remembers every single one, along with a vague recollection of the hidden meanings she has stowed away for him, unconsciously projecting her own feelings and hoping they reach him.

Yellow roses for a hopeful new beginning. White hyacinths as a sign of sincerity of affections. Star of bethlehems reflecting her pure intentions. Red zinnias to say she thinks of him almost daily. Purple hydrangeas to symbolize gratitude, of having had the privilege to know him. White gardenias her last line of defense, a confession of a secret love.

And for a split-second she feels so overwhelmingly happy she feels like she could cry. But then she remembers more, remembers that the bouquets were always meant for someone else, someone not her. And the split-second of bliss shatters as a harsh rush of reality sets in.

How selfish could she possibly be.

“I’m sorry,” she blurts out in a small voice. Isami’s face falls almost immediately after her hurried answer and Megumi needs every bit of will power in her tiny, fragile heart to bite her tongue. No, she has already made up her mind about this. She will not fall prey to those baby blues.

(She falters, with every passing moment)

“I, I-“ her words are caught in her throat, and she finds tears welling up in her eyes. Shinomiya-senpai has told her time and time again to give it to the young man straight, emphasizing on how she shouldn’t be the one apologizing for the mess he and his stupid flower flirting has created (his words, not hers; she wishes she could still voice it out though). And yet, as Isami’s hands shake a little at her blunt words, Megumi’s tongue only brings words of apologies.

His face shifts; all Megumi sees through her blurred vision is that of worry. He drops the bouquet somewhere on the floor, and rushes over to her side of the counter. It’s been twice today that she’s worried him and feels even guiltier at the thought. Megumi’s breathing starts to shorten, and although muffled, she hears him murmuring words of encouragement to her. She hears him assure her, that it’s not her fault, that she shouldn’t be obliged to go on a date with him. She hears him tell her he’s sorry for making a mess of things, and -

- No, no, no; he’s not supposed to be kind to her.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Isami’s touches are tentative, as he rests a warm hand on her head, stroking her hair gently with feather light touches. She doesn’t mean for the words to come out and let him hear, but they do anyway. She wants to feel mortified. Megumi wants to curl up into a ball and away from his kindness.

And yet, she finds herself leaning into his palm. Scared and anxious, her petite body attempts to seek his warmth almost instinctively.

She has trouble coming up with words, each time she opens her mouth there are hiccups that block her train of thought. Isami is patient, so patient as he tries his best to understand her between her tears. He doesn’t rush her, doesn’t ask for an explanation and instead encourages her with his soft voice, “It’s okay,” he whispers, gentle but firm, as if he’s well-versed with situations like these. “Just breathe, focus on your breathing. In and out, that’s good.”

It’s unfair, she thinks. All of this so unfair, and she doesn’t understand why.

It’s not as if she doesn’t have feelings for him. She could love him, even, if he would let her. But Megumi understands heartbreak, more than she’s ever thought it would be possible for someone who hasn’t explicitly gone through it. She remembers all the people coming into their flowershop bright and hopeful, only to return with red-rimmed eyes and a watery smile. The florist recalls so many moments she has had to close shop early, to allow these customers the privacy of crying by the side of colourful daisies in hopes it would alleviate their pain. And as much as she could love him-would love  him-her fragile heart couldn’t do that to another person -

“You have someone else!”

Isami blinks. Time pauses abruptly as the words leave her tongue. Megumi’s hands are clasped over her mouth, as if she has said something she shouldn’t mean; her impulsive reaction confuses her a little, she is only telling the truth after all.  The brunette’s brows are furrowed, creating deeper creases on his forehead at his confusion. Megumi wants nothing more than for the ground to swallow her right then and there.

Instead, she digs her hole deeper.

“Those, those flowers you always order,” she stammers out. “It must be for, for someone right? Someone special?”

“But, I don’t-”And then Isami’s sharp eyes widen in understanding before they narrow into upside down crescents once more. It takes Megumi a few moments to realize that the melodic sound is coming from the brunette in front of her.

(She doesn’t admit how much she prefers hearing his laughter over his attempts to apologize over and over again)

Isami is holding his sides now, little bits and pieces of words spilling from his mouth in the process. She doesn’t recognize most of what he says, most of it said in his mother tongue.

“Those were for my brother!” he exclaims in a rush. His grin is so bright and wide, Megumi thinks she’s seen the stars up close. The tension leaves his body as Isami lets out a deep sigh of relief, throwing his head back as his hands rest on his hips. “Sometimes they’re for his on and off boyfriend.” He explains. “My brother’s boyfriend, is allergic to most pollen. He once went to my shop panicking because he pissed Takumi off so much that my brother dumped a suitcase full of his stuff outside of our apartment.” Isami chuckles at the memory. “That was the first time I went to your flower shop; the telephone line was cut so we couldn’t order through the phone. My bakery is down the street, only a few blocks away.”

Megumi gapes openly at him, her mouth opening and closing like a lost little fish. Isami continues, a light dusting of red on his cheeks, “At first it really was for the two of them. But sometimes they weren’t in the mood for sappy flowers, but I…” the shade of red turns darker. Isami rubs the back of his neck, eyes flittering about before finally, shyly, settling down to look into her amber ones. “Well, I wanted to see the pretty florist who made running all the way down the street worth it.”

Megumi can’t feel anything but the hammering in her chest.

Isami takes a deep breath to steady himself, then brings his hand up to mess with his ridiculously and rather meticulously styled hair. He chuckles again in delight, handling himself in a way that feels as if a grand weight has been released from his shoulders. He mumbles something to himself in a string of Italian, it sounds so beautiful coming from him.

And then he looks at her, blue eyes filled with so much warmth and fondness that she finds herself frozen in place.

“So, you’re not rejecting me because you don’t like me,” Isami’s tone suggests it’s a question, but the slowly growing smile on his face say it is more of a clarifying statement. His cheeks are already dusted pink, Megumi wonders how red her face must be already.

“I-“ Megumi’s voice is caught in her throat. She isn’t quite sure what to feel about this sudden turn of events.

“You’re rejecting me because you think I’m already with someone else,” Isami takes a step closer to her. She steps back almost instinctively. Megumi doesn’t think he needs any answers from her as he looks entirely amused by the situation, lips turning into that familiar cheshire grin. “I’m not,” Isami almost cages her in. Almost. Although his voice and his face are confident, Megumi can feel his restraint with the way his hands remain clasped behind him. She belatedly notice he’s making room for her to run away from the whole situation, should she choose to.

“Oh,” is the only thing that comes out of her lips.

He waits for five beats. She chooses to shift a little closer, holding her breath. Isami’s hands find hers, they’re callused from years of perfecting his craft but warm enough to help her feel safe. He brings up one of her hands and presses a soft kiss to her knuckles, his next words a mere whisper between the two of them.

“I’m yours, if you’ll have me.”

(scientific name: gardenia jasminoides genus: gardenia colour: white meaning: patience; hard work;  a secret love)