#waitlist: the fluff machine

[mspeevee]

it really is your routine and chores that save your mental in your most horrid chaotic hours

[amongemeraldclouds]

not being romantic

Jess Mariano may be cute, possibly charming, but he is most definitely annoying. He certainly can’t hold a candle to your secret pen pal who’s smart, loves books, and aspires to be an author. Or can he?

Jess Mariano x f!Reader

Warning: no use of y/n, mostly fluff, some angst, cursing, suggestiveness. This fic is set after he left Stars Hollow.

✿ Masterlist | 3.3k words

The cafe buzzed with the rush of customers lined up for their afternoon caffeine fix. Coffee machines droned on churning coffee as sunlight streamed through the windows and the smell of baked goods wafted through the air.

You smirked at Jess Mariano before you called the customer to hand them their drink. You proceeded to add another point to your scoreboard, waving your arm for emphasis. He rolled his eyes at your dramatics and hurried up, adding whipped cream to the drink he was preparing. 

Everything was always a game with him. Who could get the highest amount of tips? Who could guess the new customer's coffee order? Who could make the most convincing foreign accent?

Today’s game was: who could make the fastest coffee order?

“You’ve gotten better,” he observed as you grabbed a cup for the next customer. “Aren’t you glad to have had an incredible instructor like me?”

You scoffed, “more like an incredible loser if you don’t hurry up with that order. Just because you taught me, doesn’t mean I’d go easy on you, Mariano,” you taunt, narrowing your eyes for emphasis.

He shook his head with a smile, “I expected nothing less from you.” He made his way to the other end of the counter to call the customer and handed them their drink.  

Another busy shift flew by and before you knew it, it was time to close down the cafe.

You grabbed the scoreboard, beaming with pride. “I won! You can now call me the Queen of Speed, Barista Extraordinaire. Bow down before your queen.”

Jess looked up from where he was wiping the counter with a flat expression. “I’ll call you the Queen of Clean if you help me with these last few tables?”

You frowned at him and stuck your tongue out, of course he had a whole arsenal of retorts with him at any given moment. You grabbed the towel and disinfectant spray from behind the counter and moved to wipe down the tables. “You’re no fun, but I’ll let it slide since you now owe me a favor.”

“As long as I don’t have to help you dispose of a body then it’s fine,” he replied, eyebrow raised. 

You rolled your eyes, “if I ever need to dispose a body, it would probably be yours.”

“Are you confessing to something you’ll commit? I don’t think that’s very wise.”

“I’m not planning anything,” you sighed, pinching your nose. The conversation was getting more and more off topic by the second. “You, however, will be the dea*h of me.”

“I’ll add you to the waitlist,” he nodded as he set aside the towel and grabbed the key, ready to close for the evening. Of course that wasn't the first time that line was directed at him.

“You’re just trying to avoid what you owe me. Stop deflecting, Mariano,” you accused, heading towards him to return the cleaning materials. “I need your help with my toaster, it stopped working and I can’t afford to get it fixed or replaced. Can you help me with that?”

“Of course, anything for the Queen of Speed,” he replied.

“You forgot Barista Extraordinaire,” you added helpfully.

Jess just shook his head as if to say, I can’t win with you. He fought the smile that threatened to break across his features. Perhaps you too had your own arsenal of comebacks.

With the final turn of the key, the door swung in and you and Jess headed into your tiny apartment. It was a studio that’s three steps away from the kitchen, five steps away from the bathroom, and ten steps away from the bed. You liked to keep it simple, minimalistic. It definitely had nothing to do with the cheap rent.

“Welcome to my apartment. It’s not much but it’s home,” you said, gesturing around the place.

“It’s cozy and it’s very you,” he remarked.

You folded your arms and stared at him, “I can’t tell if that’s an insult or a compliment.”

“Let me see. Second hand furniture, potted plants around the area, and the artwork looks similar to your napkin doodles. Don’t think I didn’t notice them. It’s a mosaic of different things, but you managed to tie it all together and make it work. It’s just like you to make good out of a potentially bad situation,” he observed.

“Slow down there or you’ll end up hosting shows about house tours,” you teased. “And hey, I’ll take the compliment. Who knew Jess Mariano could be nice?”

He shrugged, “I just call it like I see it.”

You took the three steps necessary to reach the kitchen. “Here’s the troublemaker, by the way. Not you, well, aside from you,” you amended and pointed to the toaster. “Not sure what’s wrong, it just stopped working.”  

He approached you and it struck you just how small the kitchen was, certainly not big enough for two. When you turned to speak to him, all the words left your mind as you realized you’re only inches away from him. Heat crept up your cheeks and you blinked.

Jess smirked at your reaction, keenly aware of the effect he had to you. That cocky bastard. He leaned in a bit closer and your breath hitched. “You know, if you just wanted me over at your place, there’s a lot of other fun things I can help you with.” You scrunched your nose and took a step back, immediately transported to the area you considered your bedroom. “If that’s your way of confessing your feelings for me, it’s not very romantic at all. Thought you’d have more game than that, Mariano,” you hedged.

“Oh, that’s because I’m not trying to be romantic. If I were trying....” he said, taking a step forward, closing the distance you tried to place between you. He brushed the hair away from your cheek, the touch so unexpectedly tender coming from Jess. You took in how soft his lips looked up close.

When he touched the side of your face, your attention returned to his soulful eyes. “...I’d do something like this,” he concluded, his breath against your lips like the ghost of a kiss. That’s all it took for him to steal the breath from your lungs.

You’re disoriented when cool air greets you again as he took a step back and the only trace left is the fading warmth from where his hand caressed your cheek. “But like I said, I’m not trying to be romantic,” he shrugged.

You cleared your throat, brushing off the lingering heat of the interaction. You ignored the pang of disappointment that hit you. Besides, someone else already had your heart, this was nothing but a silly little crush. “Well can you please try to fix my toaster?” you asked, trying to stay on topic as always.

“Sure, I have tools at home. I can take it with me and bring it back when I’m done.”

You nodded, “okay thank you. Let me just grab a bag you can carry it in.”

He scanned the room while you opened the cabinet to grab a reusable bag.

“Why do you have lots of mail?” He asked, thumbing through the pile of opened envelopes on your kitchen counter.

You mulled over the question, unsure how much you wanted to share with Jess Mariano and risk a round of his teasing. Then again, you could handle Jess. “Well, there’s this guy I really like. We send each other letters. If you really want to know what romantic is, Mariano, it’s hand written letters. No one bothers to write them anymore. There’s something sweet and sincere about it.”

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

“I’m not really sure. I got his first letter from the bookstore I frequent, the employee handed it to me and I asked him to hand back my reply. We just kept going from there, I think the mystery just adds to the romance.”

Jess shot you a worried look. “You mean to say, you’re corresponding with a complete stranger? For all you know he’s hiding his identity because he’s a stalker or a serial killer.”

“Please, he is not. He is smart, funny, and he’s writing a book. I just don’t feel like he’s that type of person.”

“You’re going off this based on your feelings? I don’t think that’s wise or safe.”

“Jess, it’s fine. There’s nothing to worry about,” you replied, having had enough of him for the day. After handing him the bag with the broken toaster, you shoved him towards the door and out from your apartment, wishing him a good night.  

“That was quick,” you said as you headed out of the cafe and walked towards Jess’ apartment to retrieve your now functional toaster.

Jess shrugged, “it was no big deal, just had a few loose screws to reattach. Speaking of loose screws, how about that imaginary boyfriend of yours? Finally decide to reveal himself?” 

You sighed, Jess had been on your case the whole week since you told him about your mysterious crush. Needless to say, you regretted telling him about it. “No, but he hasn’t written to me recently,” you pondered. “He must be busy writing his book.”

“Or planning your untimely demise,” he retorts.

“Jess, I swear,” you grit your teeth, “I’ll be planning your untimely demise if you don’t drop it. Why do you care so much? Are you jealous? Is that what this is about?”

“Well I’m trying to look out for a coworker, why does this have to be about me? But hey, I’ll drop it,” he relented. “Besides, I won today so you owe me a favor.”

You groaned, but don’t say anything further. He won fair and square, you were ready to accept your fate.

Jess continued, “My uncle sent some food last night and I have a lot more than I can finish myself. Help me with that before you leave with your toaster?”

“Jess Mariano,” you narrowed your eyes at him, “are you asking me out for dinner?”   

“No,” he quickly said and then caught himself. “We’re not going out, we’re dining in. Besides if I were being romantic, I might bring you flowers, pick you up, take you somewhere nice. So this,” he said, pointing between him and you, “is not me being romantic.”

“And there goes Mr. Defensive,” you smirked. Of course he was not being romantic, not to you. He had a hundred and one ways to tease and annoy you but never to charm you. Still, you couldn’t help the way it killed you just a little inside.

“I swear if you tell me this is where the magic happens, I will smack your head,” you deadpan as Jess opened the door to his apartment.

“Why does that turn me on?” He teased. Your face twisted in confusion and disgust and Jess laughed triumphantly, having drawn out a reaction from you. You had no idea you were adorable, he thought.

“Just welcome to my home then,” he said. 

You stepped in, admiring his cozy space. You imagined a messy home with leftover containers and soda cans strewn about reeking of old laundry and faded furniture. You had little to no expectations at all.

Instead what greeted you was a small space, similar to yours. The bed was made, blanket tucked in neat corners and the furniture, while undoubtedly secondhand, was well maintained. If anything, the mismatched pillows against the pale blue sofa and the sanded down wooden table gave it personality. It smelled like subtle household cleaners and carried the scent that is so distinctly Jess, a mixture of soap and sweat, plus a hint of cologne he would never admit to wearing.

“It’s very you,” you remarked, “and I don’t mean that as a bad thing.”

He shrugged, handing you your toaster, “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“Thanks again for the toaster. Now there’s only one troublemaker here in this room,” you quipped as you move towards his kitchen to help him set the dinner table.

“That’s definitely you,” he replied, handing you the plates and utensils while he moved to heat up the food from the fridge. “Hand me the glasses over there?” He asked, pointing to the drawers on the opposite end.

You nodded, setting down the plates on the table and headed towards the drawer. “Well, I’ll let it slide just this time because you’re feeding me and I can’t say no to free food. Thank you Jess,” you said, a small hint of affection blooming in your chest.

You opened the first drawer and found only papers. You were about to close it to check the next drawer when the familiar edge of stationery caught your eye. It was exactly the type of paper you smiled at for hours on end, trying to memorize each word. Curiosity got the better of you and you lifted a half written letter to your eyes. A half written letter addressed to you.

A storm of emotions struck you then: confusion, hurt, and anger. All this time. The boy who weaseled his way into your heart, who called you cute in his first letter and wanted to get to know you. Who charmed you into the romantic idea of secret identities like spies undercover. Who shared your love for books and had the best recommendations that made you feel seen like no one ever has. Who spoke about his love for writing with a passion that inspired you. 

All this time it was Jess Mariano.

All this time it was a lie.

Just another one of his games.

“What about those gla—” he stopped mid-sentence when he turned back and saw you reading his letter.

“Fuck,” he exhaled softly as heat crept into his cheeks.

You looked at him, fire burning in your eyes. “Is that all you have to say, Mr. Fantastic Writer?” You huffed, trying to quell the tears that threatened to choke you. 

Jess opened his mouth and closed it, wanting to say a million words and failing. You watched the war raging in his head.

“Well then indeed, fuck!” You exclaimed in frustration. “And fuck you too. I know you love your games Jess, but you can’t just go around playing with other people’s feelings.”

You retreat and grabbed your things, shaking your head. “God, I feel like such a fool.”

You threw the door behind you and was a few steps away when you realized you left your toaster. Shame and betrayal marched with you as you opened his door again and found him still frozen where you left him.

“I’m just here for my toaster, which I actually need. Unlike you, I don’t need anything from you, Jess. I’ve read and heard enough,” you said, your voice wavered at the end and tears spilled down your cheeks.

You turned away from embarrassment, toaster in hand, and ran the rest of the way home. He didn’t deserve to hear your sobbing. He didn’t even deserve any of your tears. He was just a stupid boy that your stupid heart fell for. No big deal.

The next week passed in a blur. Unable to switch shifts with anyone else, you called in sick at the cafe and lived life between your university, the library, and your apartment. Never mind that you needed the pay, you could drown in instant noodles for all you cared. It didn’t matter anyway. A broken heart never cared for a full stomach.

That Friday, you were about to call it a night when the doorbell rang. The was odd, you thought, you weren’t expecting anyone. 

“You’ve got the wrong—” you stopped mid-sentence when you saw the last person you ever wanted to see, Jess Mariano holding a bouquet of flowers and books. If it were any other day, it might have sent butterflies to your stomach. Now all it did was fan the flames of your anger because it was much easier to be angry than hurt.

You slammed the door close but Jess stopped it with his outstretched arm. “Are you trying to get yourself injured?” You accused and you hated it, how much you still cared.

“Please, I just need to talk,” he said, pain and sincerity etched in his handsome face.

You sighed and let him in, not wanting to cause a scene at the hallway. “You have five minutes,” you held up your hand for emphasis.

“Fine, five minutes,” he breathed, steeling himself. "Here’s a story for you: I met this girl working at a cafe. She’s smart and quick witted, she never runs out of comebacks. Her smile makes my day and I needed to see more of it so I came up with these games. And damn it, I looked forward to going to work every day because of her.

There was a nagging at the back of my mind to get to know her better. I wanted her to get to know me too, but I have a track record of screwing things up so I sent a letter. Just one couldn’t hurt, right?

Clearly, I underestimated her. One letter was never going to be enough. I loved hearing about her dreams, her stories, the inside jokes we created along the way. Without meaning to, I fell for her. I fell for you. It was never a game for me, all of it was real. Is still real.

When I heard you liked your secret pen pal too, I didn’t know if I should reveal myself or just disappear, let you forget me. Of course, I screwed things up again. I’m so sorry, I never meant to hurt you but clearly I have. Would you give me a second chance? I’m not good at this but I want to try."

He’s breathless by the time he ends his speech and you take a moment as the words settled in. No wonder he discouraged your interest in your secret pen pal, which also turned out to be him.

You sighed, “you really screwed it up.” Your heart broke all over again only to come back whole together because he did like you. All those silly gestures he brushed off really did mean something. And the boy you loved through letters and your cafe crush turned out to be the same person.

You pondered his question. The way he went about it was all wrong, but a second chance might be worth a shot. “Fine, we can start over, but you’ll have to make it up to me. You owe me unlimited favors.”

“I'll fix all the toasters you need,” he said, presenting you with the bouquet of flowers and books.

“Oh you’ll have to do more than that. I have a broken bulb on the ceiling, the heater needs fixing, and the microwave will definitely break tomorrow,” you taunted him, accepting his bouquet nevertheless.

He just smiled, “I have a lot to make up for, but I’ll do it for you.” He moved closer to you, bringing the bouquet to rest on the kitchen counter, so he can wrap his arms around you. “You’re worth it,” he whispered in your ear and you hugged him back, fighting off the delicious chill that ran through your back from his words. Being in his arms felt so right.

“You like me,” you sing, teasing him like a child and you enjoy the way his chest rumbles against you as he laughs.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” he said, kissing your cheek. “Besides, you like me back.”

You removed yourself from his hug, already missing his warm embrace. “I never said I liked you,” you teased. 

Mock hurt danced across his features, “what’s not to like?”

You laughed at his arrogance, the need to touch him overwhelming everything else. “Fine,” you relented, “we can call it even.”

You closed the distance this time, “just to be clear, this is you being romantic?”

He smirked, wrapping his arms around your waist again. “Yes, this is me being romantic and I will show you so much more,” he said, bringing his lips to yours with a thousand unsaid promises you were about to discover.

✿ Masterlist

Author's note:

✿ When I came across a Jess Mariano fic, I just knew I had to write one too. Jess and his sarcastic ass in a (sort of) rivals to lovers trope, heck yes. ✿ Thanks to my lovely wife @pizzaapeteer for encouraging me to write this all those weeks ago ♡ ✿ Published this fic from a cafe, very on brand for the story.

[teacasket]

kiss kiss, fall in love

genre: fluff au: academy au, light academia au warnings: swearing word count: 1k   pairing: gn!reader x kim seungmin

Seungmin, to put it mildly, is fucking rich. To be fair, about 99% of the students attending the prestigious Clé Academy are, but as the heir to a pharmaceutical conglomerate, he’s the top one percent of the one percent. Every time you buy cold medicine or even socks from the market in the cheaper part of town, you’re reminded exactly how much money he has in comparison to you.

You’re here on scholarship; nothing more needs to be said. 

Despite the differences—and background resentment of how fucking wealthy and entitled the student body is at times—you find yourself mostly okay with Seungmin. Due to seating arrangements in biology class, he winds up being your lab partner and by proxy, your study partner as well. Kind and intelligent, he’s better than a lot of your previous group members. He pulls his own weight and is punctual with the lab reports, so he gets your stamp of approval, though his privilege does show with the occasional out of touch with reality comments. No, not everybody has a family lawyer on retainer. But again, to be fair, 99% of the students do, so you’re sort of the one who seems out of touch with reality. Their reality.

On the morning of November 11, you are once again confronted with that reality. He interrupts your early morning review session inside the library with a white pastry box from a bakery that you know has an extremely long waitlist for desserts.

“Happy Pepero Day,” he says as he sits in the chair across from you. “This is for you.”

“Happy Pepero Day,” you reply back. You didn’t foresee this happening, so you don’t have any available boxes to give him. “Thanks, but I don’t have anything for you.”

“That’s okay. Open it.”

Your stack of notebooks and flashcards form a dividing line along the table, so you have to awkwardly stand up and reach for it. Under his anticipatory gaze, you pop open the lid of the box to reveal some very adorable macarons. At first, you think that the baker made a mistake, but you quickly realize that the four interconnected circular shells imitate Pepero sticks. They’re all in various pastel shades and have animal faces, and you have never wanted more to melt into a puddle. Telling Seungmin about your love for all things cute, was a mistake.

“Do you like it?” he asks when you can’t do anything else but stare at how darling the macarons are. “I didn’t know what you would want, but I guessed vanilla, strawberry, and lavender from your favorite ice cream flavors.”

Fuck Clé Academy for having soft serve machines available at lunch.

“Thanks, but I…”

Can’t accept this because I will feel indebted to you even though this is just a token of appreciation.

“I’m allergic to gluten,” you decide.

A second passes before Seungmin laughs and says, “No, you’re not. I see you stealing non-gluten-free cookies and sandwiches from the cafeteria all the time. Besides, even if you were, macarons don’t have gluten. Try again.”

Fuck Seungmin for being so attentive.

“They’re expensive, okay? It feels weird to me to accept it, especially since we’re just lab partners.”

“Just lab partners?”

“Friends,” you amend. “Look, the point is, this is really nice of you, but this box probably costs the same amount as our tuition, and I’m not comfortable with that.”

“What if I was your boyfriend? Would that make you feel better?”

You can only blink at the audacity. If you had this much confidence, you would have taken over the world by now. “Well, you’re not. And no, it wouldn’t. Seriously, what are you trying to get at? I banned Chaeryeong, one of my close friends, from giving stuff like this to me. You’re not exempt from this rule.”

For some strange reason, Seungmin laughs. You’re fully flushed from embarrassment or mortification or plain anger because why is this hilarious?

“Did you read the note?” he asks, stifling a grin.

“What note?” You check the box again, but it holds only pastries. “Was there supposed to be one?”

His face drops alarmingly quickly, so you spin the box around him so he can see for himself. This time, it’s Seungmin’s turn to be flushed. It’s not a delicate rosy pink blush that you expect all “well-bred” individuals to have but an uncontrollable wildfire. It’s almost endearing to see it on Seungmin, the most composed person you know.

“Close your eyes,” he says as he holds up a blank pink flashcard. “Also, can I borrow this?”

You resist the urge to tease him in this crisis. You told me to close my eyes. I don’t know what ‘this’ is. “Sure.”

You hear the click of a pen and then some scratches on paper. After a minute, Seungmin tells you to open your eyes.

The pastry box has changed—there is now a pink flashcard with the words “Can I be your boyfriend?” on top.

“I just told you that it wouldn’t change my mind,” you say while you figure out an appropriate response. Fuck. You don’t like him that way, but you can’t risk hurting his feelings. You’re lab partners. What if he suddenly decides he’s so offended that he stops doing his share of the lab reports?

“Is this a rejection?”

“Try again next year,” you distantly say as you gather your things, being sure to leave Seungmin’s gift behind. “See you in bio.”

Both of you are great at pretending everything is fine because you manage to remain friendly with him and he treats you in the same manner as before. The following year, you have honors chemistry with him and become lab partners again. To your terror, everything becomes not fine when you catch yourself staring at his profile during a midterm review session. You can rationalize it all you want, but you can’t ignore the sudden onslaught of butterflies you get when he listens intently to your explanation of magnets.

Fortunately, on November 11, Seungmin does, in fact, try again, this time with a simple pack of strawberry Pepero and a lot less presumption. And this time, you accept him and the excited kiss he places on your lips.

[hinasouda]

omg I love your fics so much so here’s another saimota prompt if you wanna do it!: flowers

oh my, thank you v much!! these are for u:💐💐💐

saimota / fluff / 1.8k / college au

[AO3 link]

Spring finally bloomed on Hope’s Peak academy, the sun peeked out from behind the clouds, and exams were right around the corner.

Shuichi was studying over lunch with a few of his friends.  He, Kaito, and Maki shared a table with Korekiyo and Rantaro in the busy dining hall - Kiyo was lecturing no one in particular about his current favourite topic of anthropology.

“While its fame is accredited to the English Victorian era, floriography has been practiced in many different cultures for thousands of years, taking root in the Ottoman empire. Even today, flower arrangements are used to convey messages, most often romantic in nature…”

Rantaro nodded absently, and Kaito seemed deep in thought, probably working through his astronomy textbook. Shuichi tuned out the rest of Kiyo’s lesson, unwilling to let himself think on romantic matters while studying. He and Kaito had returned to their usual easy friendship - Kaito’s sidekick, any other feelings or flirting forgotten.

But sometimes, Shuichi still found himself wondering…

Kaito shifted beside him and Shuichi ignored the flutter in his chest as their knees brushed for a second. He smothered that line of thought. The notes in his book suddenly became the most interesting thing in the world, focusing on an example case, taking notes, and nothing but studying. It almost worked.

*

Shuichi found the first flowers as he left his room the next day. Tucked into his newspaper box, three short, delicate white and lilac flowers, and one yellow flower with a thick stem.

At first, he wondered if they were for his roommate, Ryoma. He left for his class two hours ago - he probably would’ve taken them or mentioned it, at least. It’d be worth asking him later. Was this the act of a secret admirer?

Then Shuichi remembered yesterday at lunch, when Kiyo had been talking about flowers for a whole hour. Maybe it was a coincidence, but Shuichi was still curious. Before plucking them from the box, he took a picture, and sent it to Kiyo. Thankfully, he responded soon.

10:31amShuichi: hey sorry for the random text - do you know what these are?Korekiyo: Those are flowers, detective.Shuichi: ok, yeah, they areShuichi: do you recognise which kind they are?

10:33amKorekiyo: From my textbook, you appear to have violets and a crocus.Shuichi: thanks :)

10:36amShuichi: do they have a special meaning or anything?Korekiyo: Crocuses are very positive flowers. They can mean happiness, cheer, and a wish for success.Korekiyo: Violets depend on the colour. The white means innocence, while the purple means you are in someone’s thoughts.Korekiyo: I have to wonder, are you sending these to a suitor? Perhaps I could help you define a better meaning.Shuichi: oh, no, i found them outside my door this morning. was just curious. thanks again, kiyo!

He chewed on his lip. It was even cheesier than he expected, and Shuichi almost regret asking. Based off his reaction, he could clear Kiyo from the current list of suspected senders. Unless it was a stranger, or someone else who studied anthropology, then he guessed it was one of his friends. More likely, someone sat with him yesterday

That meant Rantaro, Maki, or Kaito.

Shuichi couldn’t imagine Kaito or Maki to be the type to send flowers, especially to him. Maki wasn’t the romantic type, and Kaito would just say what he wanted to say, without some cryptic present.

For now, Rantaro was at the top of the suspect list. He’d ask Ryoma about it, too, just in case. Shuichi left the flowers in a coffee cup filled with water before heading to his class.

*

Shuichi found the second flower during a lecture. He was copying charts from his textbook, when Rantaro tapped him on the shoulder from behind.

“Hey, Shuichi! How are you doing?”

He had to turn all the way around to face him. “I’m alright, thanks… Do you, ah, need something?”

“Do I need something…?” Rantaro tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Uh, yes! I need a hand with the problem we’re working on. I don’t understand this, um, equation stuff.”

He opened a page in the textbook, leaning over, and pointed at an equation. Rantaro ignored Shuichi’s suspicious look. Every time he went to turn back, he quickly asked another question. He wasn’t happy until Shuichi explained everything twice.

“Thanks, Shuichi, I get it now.” Rantaro had a somewhat-nervous grin. Shuichi nodded, narrowing his eyes at his friend.

When he looked back at his notes, there was a single yellow daffodil resting on the page. Everything else was the same; no one was standing nearby, the lecture was going on as normal. He shot a glance at Rantaro. He was avoiding his eyes, apparently completely focused on the lecture.

Shuichi picked up the flower and twirled it in his fingers. That narrowed his list of suspects some more, as Rantaro had a strong alibi. At least he was sure what kind this was.

The search result gave him a few words: admiration, vitality, and new beginnings.

Rantaro caught Shuichi smiling right up to the end of the class.

*

Shuichi didn’t find the third flowers until after his classes the next day.

In the morning, he got up early with a feeling of anticipation. It was no guarantee that he’d receive any more flowers, but he kept his ear out for anyone outside, and decided on how to further find the culprit. Only Kaito and Maki were left.

“Jeez, what’s got you up so early?”

He startled as he was making tea. “Ryoma! I-I’m just waiting for something.”

“Like a parcel?” Ryoma pulled his hat on, readying to go to his morning class.

“Well, remember I mentioned those flowers yesterday? I thought, if that person comes by again…”

“You’ll catch em in the act? Heh, you’re the detective, I guess…”

Shuichi pouted. “What would you do?”

“Talk to them. Don’t give me that look, I know you probably know a few people it could be… But I think you’ve got a pretty good idea who it is.”

Ryoma chuckled as Shuichi finished pouring his tea in silence. Out of the final two suspects, neither seemed likely. He wanted it to be Kaito. Was he letting his feelings interfere in a case? No, he’d prove it today.

“…Thanks, Ryoma.”

“Yeah, no problem, kid. I’ll see you later.” The door shut behind him, and Shuichi slumped into a chair. He spent a little time thinking if there was possibly anyone else who’d send him flowers, before drinking his tea and going back to bed.

He caught up with Maki later, between lectures. Time for the last step in his plan.

“Hey, Maki. Do you know if there’s a florist, or like a botany lab near the campus?”

She raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. “I have no idea. Do you think I’d know where something like that was?”

Shuichi couldn’t help beaming at her, feeling light in his step.

“Ah, that’s a shame. Say, do you know where Kaito is?”

“No,” she narrowed her eyes at him. “Why, are you buying him flowers or something? What’s gotten into you?”

He remembered to breath. “Nothing! No, that’s… I’ll tell you later, okay?”

Maki only rolled her eyes and watched him practically skip to his next class. Unfortunately, that good mood didn’t last much longer. Shuichi saw no sign of Kaito all day, nor of any new flowers, and he was starting to think he’d gotten his hopes up.

Only as he returned to his room, trying to hide his disappointment, he saw two flowers sitting in his newspaper box. A red tulip and a yellow tulip - another of the few flowers he knew on sight.

Shuichi’s heart soared. He added them to the coffee cup with the rest, which was beginning to look like a bright bouquet. Shuichi was too occupied thinking about how to bring up the flowers with Kaito, and neglected to research their meaning.

*

The fourth flower took Shuichi by surprise. He bumped into it on the way to the library.

“Oh Sh-Shuichi!” Kaito was stunned, one hand hidden behind his back.

He kept a cool face. “Hey Kaito. Where’re you headed to?”

“Ah, nowhere really, just taking something somewhere, y’know…”

Shuichi thought he looked like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, his face flushing bright red. It was kind of adorable.

“Well…I just thought I’d tell you…” Shuichi broke into a grin, “my favourite flowers are actually lilies.”

For a moment, Kaito was going to protest, but he laughed instead. Rubbing his neck nervously, he kept his other hand behind his  back.

“So the jig is up, huh? I should’ve known the resident detective would figure me out easily.”

“What- why did you…?” At this point, Shuichi wasn’t sure what to say.

“Why’d I do it? I got the idea from Kiyo, and I thought…it’d be fun, and you’d get a puzzle to solve. I, uh, like seeing you smile.”

Now Shuichi was blushing furiously, as well as Kaito.

“Damn it, Kaito, you’re too…cute…” He brought his hand to his face, muffling the last word.

Kaito ducked his head. “Hm, what’d you call me?”

“I said you’re too cheesy.”

“Guess I got that coming,” he chuckled. “Sorry if it came off as creepy, or anything.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s made my week, really.” Week, month, year, who could say?

“Oh! Here.”

As if remembering, Kaito pulled his hand from behind him, and stepped forward to present Shuichi with a small bloom of pale pink rose-like flowers. He glanced around, checking they were alone, and gently pressed them into Shuichi’s hand.

“They’re no lilies, but they’re my favourite flower. Might as well finish the collection, right?”

“Y-yeah…thanks…” Shuichi felt like he might keel over any second.

“Are you alright? Was it too much? Sorry, I guess I got carried away and…”

Shuichi shook his head. “I-I’ve just never been given flowers before. They’re, um, really nice.”

“I’m glad,” Kaito sighed in relief, then took a step back. “I should get to class.”

“Kaito. I am really happy.”

They shared a flustered smile as people started to move through the corridor. Shuichi clutched the flowers, and Kaito spoke in a low voice.

“I’m happy when my best friend is happy. Remember, I’m always here for you. If you wanna…talk.”

He felt his palms sweating and his head buzzing. He could do it right now… But what if that ruined everything? Shuichi only nodded. Kaito gave him a thumbs up with a dazzling smile, then went to his class.

Back in his room, Shuichi kept the all of the flowers in the coffee cup for as long as he could, changing the water everyday. They wilted eventually, but he had almost made up his mind.

[hello! thanks for reading! please like/reblog if you like! my other saimota fics are here.]

[i won’t be able to work on any more until next weekend bc work, but keep sending prompts!! i love em]

[the tulips mean ‘confession’, and the last ones are lisianthus - i’ll let u guys figure that out ;p ]