florian Princevill

florist by day stranger at night | belongs to sinners square

[ofhighrises]

Breslin watched with mild curiosity as the other seemed to consider this for a moment, his attention on the comically large stuffed bear that sat near the back of the booth. At his question, her eyebrows raised and she straightened, then grabbed one of the plastic rings and twirled it around her finger as she took a step nearer to the game itself before she explained.

"You get three rings, and the goal is to get them to land on the bottle," she explained, tapping one of the assortment of bottles with one finger. They were arranged in a tight collection atop a large table, all of them glass but heavy so as not to fall easily should they be jostled by a careless attendant or a particularly strong ring-throw. "The rings are a little larger than the bottle opening and they bounce, so it's not quite as easy as it sounds. The big bear is for managing to get all three rings onto bottles."

[florianprincevill]

Florian watched Breslin intently as she explained the rules of the game, his head tilting slightly in concentration. It certainly didn’t seem simple—just as she had warned him. The rings were heart-shaped, adding an extra layer of difficulty, and the target sat farther than he would have liked. Precision and luck would both have to be on his side.

Still, the challenge only made him more determined. His eyes flicked to the prize display, landing on a particularly large and ridiculously soft-looking bear. That one. That was the one he would win, no matter how many tries it took.

He took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders, and lined up his first throw. It missed by an inch. The second one bounced off the rim. The third landed in the wrong spot entirely.

“Yeah, yeah. Just you wait, I’ve got this.”

And so the game went on—each miss fueling his determination, each near-win making him grit his teeth and try again. By the tenth attempt, his jaw was set with fierce focus, his hands tightening around the rings.

Finally—on his fifteenth try—the ring landed with a perfect toss. It slid around the peg smoothly, settling in place like it had been meant to be there all along. The small bell above the booth chimed, signaling his long-awaited victory.

“Yes!” He threw his hands up in celebration, beaming like he had just won the lottery.

“That took forever! But totally worth it.”

He glanced at the bear for a moment, then grinned.

“I know just the person to gift this to—”

His voice trailed off slightly, anticipation flickering in his gaze.

[geministargazing]

florian’s fingers brushing his, then curling in like it was nothing. like this was normal. like he hadn’t just crossed some invisible fucking line nero didn’t even know existed until it was too late. his eyes dropped, scowl pulling in tight, observing it like those long fingers weren't intertwining with his own. hand-holding? the fuck was this he didn’t hold hands, he wasn't fucking twelve.

he shifted his weight, tongue clicking against his teeth, keeping the easy smirk on his face like he hadn’t just short-circuited. played it cool, ‘cause that’s what he did. always. but his gaze stuck on their hands for a beat too long, like his brain was still trying to process it like a foreign object.

soft. warm.

then florian shifted—just the slightest move, maybe adjusting, maybe nothing—but nero’s fingers clamped down tight, automatic. like his body got the memo before his head did. fuck. he loosened it half a second later, smoothed over like he meant to do that, but the damage was done. his grip had said it all—don’t let go.

he forced his eyes back up, sunglasses hiding whatever the hell was probably flickering there. "good," he said, voice low, smooth, not missing a beat, even if his chest was still playing catch-up. "i’d hate to think i had competition." the smirk was back, sharper this time, but his thumb brushed over florian’s knuckles. once. slow. like it had a mind of its own. nero let his gaze flick past florian, over the sea of hell—too many eyes. too much noise. the ferris wheel called to him, creaking slow against the skyline, and more importantly, private.

he tipped his chin toward it, thumb still dragging lazy over florian’s knuckles, a whole other problem he’d deal with later. “let's get outta the crowd,” he said, “ride the ferris wheel—unless you’re scared of heights?” the smirk pulled back onto his lips, but the real play was in his eyes, even behind the shades. he was already steering them toward it, hand still locked with florian’s, grip firmer than he needed. yeah, letting go wasn’t on the table.

[florianprincevill]

"Competition?" Florian echoed, a smirk tugging at his lips. The thought was almost amusing—since moving to this town, he hadn’t needed to turn anyone down. No one had caught his interest in a way that made refusal even a possibility. But Nero… Nero was different. He was something else entirely.

An Adonis in his own right. A masterpiece sculpted with deliberate precision, yet carrying an effortless allure that felt almost unfair. He was the kind of beauty that made poets pick up their pens and artists lose themselves in brushstrokes. And to Florian, he was more than just pleasing to the eye—he was intoxicating. His favorite meal, a carefully curated composition of danger and desire, one Florian never even knew existed until now.

The night air was crisp, filled with the distant hum of valentine chatter, but all Florian could focus on was the warmth of Nero’s hand in his. The Ferris wheel line moved quickly, much to his relief, but what truly brought a smile to his lips was the simple fact that Nero hadn’t let go.

A part of him had wondered—had worried—that maybe he’d overstepped, that maybe his touch was unwelcome. But just as his fingers twitched, as if considering retreat, Nero’s grip tightened, subtle yet firm, a silent insistence that sent an unexpected thrill up Florian’s spine. The quiet confirmation made his chest tighten with something he wasn’t quite ready to name, and before he could stop himself, a chuckle escaped his lips.

The guy was adorable. Dangerously adorable.

When they finally stepped into the small carriage of the Ferris wheel, Florian hesitated for just a second. The space was intimate, the kind that left little room for uncertainty. Should he sit next to Nero? Give him space? Any rational person might have played it safe.

But Florian was not a rational person—not when it came to him.

Instead, he slid into the seat beside Nero without a word, his body angled just slightly in his direction, close enough that their shoulders brushed. He didn’t force the closeness, but he didn’t shy away from it either. If Nero wanted space, he could claim it himself.

Yet, despite his usual confidence, Florian could feel the weight of the moment settle between them. His gaze burned with quiet longing, but he held himself back. He wasn’t going to act on his desires just yet.

No—he wanted to see if Nero would make the first move.

Because for all his bravado, for all the cocky remarks and sharp smirks Nero wielded so well, Florian had a feeling he wasn’t the only one struggling against the pull between them. And he certainly wasn’t about to give Nero the impression that he wasn’t in control here.

So he waited, heart steady, eyes watching, anticipation curling in his veins like a slow-burning fire.

Would Nero take the bait?

Or would Florian have to tip the scales himself?

[ofhighrises]

LOCATION: Heart Toss TAG: open! @sinnerssquarestart Over the course of her shift at the heart toss, Breslin had become pretty adept at the game in her downtime, which grew to greater and greater lengths as the sky darkened and the children in the crowd became more sparse. A solid twenty minutes without anyone attempting the game meant Breslin was half-perched on the table at the front of the booth, one leg crossed over her knee as her foot bounced in an attempt to keep the evening chill at bay. She scrolled idly through her phone, her focus drawn so completely that she missed the movement of someone at her back and startled when she finally caught it.

"Hey, sorry--" A sheepish grin drew the corners of her lips up as she shifted from foot to foot. "Here to give it a go? Nobody's won the big one yet," she continued as she motioned to the fluffy white polar bear holding a satin-looking red heart in its arms. "Here to try to impress someone special?"

[florianprincevill]

"Oh—" Florian paused, his gaze settling on the plush polar bear sitting alone on the prize shelf. It looked almost forlorn, as if waiting for someone to take it home.

His fingers tapped idly against his side as he considered it. "What do I have to do to win them?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. Was it one of those games where you had to land a ball in a certain hoop? Knock over a pyramid of bottles? Or was it just a matter of handing over an ungodly amount of tickets, forcing his wallet to suffer in the pursuit of a grand prize?

A part of him didn’t really care about the specifics. What mattered more was the thought of winning it—not for himself, but for someone else.

His thoughts flickered to Nero, and an amused glint danced in his eyes. The image formed so easily in his mind: Nero, walking around with the oversized bear in hand, looking utterly ridiculous—no, ridiculously cute. Florian could already imagine the contrast, the way Nero’s usual composure would be undercut by the sheer absurdity of carrying such a thing. It was enough to make him smirk, his determination solidifying on the spot.

"Sure, I’ll give it a go—" he said, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for a challenge. Whatever it took, he was willing to try. @ofhighrises

[ofhighrises]

LOCATION: balloon darts, cupid's carnival TAG: open! @sinnerssquarestart

Admittedly, Elena had little interest in the array of pastel pink and red stuffed animals that lined each booth as prizes despite her skill with most of the games dotted throughout the carnival grounds. Shithead activities in her early-twenties meant she'd spent a lot of time honing her abilities with these sorts of things, only to unleash them on the nearest stranger who fell for a smile and big brown doe eyes. Once her turn came around again, she aimed and intentionally missed the first two darts, then popped a pink balloon on the third.

"I think this is rigged," she complained with a heavy sigh, then twirled another dart between her fingers and eyed the next person. "Are you any better?"

[florianprincevill]

"I certainly doubt I'll hit anything," Florian admitted, his voice carrying a note of quiet resignation. He glanced at the dart in his hand, turning it over between his fingers as if familiarity might somehow make him better at the game. But deep down, he knew—he had never been good with darts, never had the precision or the patience for such things. And as for guns? He had never even touched one in his life, let alone aimed at anything with the intent to hit. It simply wasn’t in his nature.

He had always been drawn to the delicate things, the quiet, intricate arts that required a different kind of precision—one of care rather than force. Arranging flowers in the Japanese art of ikebana had always felt more like his calling, where every stem, every petal, every intentional space between them told a story. He liked that. He liked creating something that could move people, something that spoke without words.

But in the end, flowers were just flowers. No matter how carefully he arranged them, no matter how much thought or feeling he put into their placement, they always withered. Even with the gentlest hands, the most careful touch, they faded, petals curling inward, color draining away, slipping between his fingers like something never meant to last.

And maybe, in some way, he had made peace with that. Or maybe, he just wished he could.

@ofhighrises

[geministargazing]

he wasn’t looking for trouble.

just a little sugar rush to make this shitshow bearable.

the paper bag crinkled in his grip as he plucked another piece of candy from inside, rolling it over his tongue. citrus. sharp, sweet. didn’t completely drown out the headache forming from all the pink, the balloons, the couples draped over each other like they were starring in some rom-com. place was overdressed in reds and pastels, all that cheap gloss trying too hard to sell a feeling.

he wasn’t.

sleek reddish-brown leather jacket, relaxed fit, worn open over a plain white t-shirt, soft and clinging just enough to show the shape of his muscles. dark blue jeans, sitting low on his hips, casual but clean. black converse sneakers with white accents, classic, unfussy. the kinda look that didn’t need to beg for attention—it just had it.

someone bumped against his shoulder, not hard, but enough to pull him outta his head. 

he turned, already halfway to a glare behind dark sunglasses—

—and then he saw it.

not the face. not yet.

the smile.

disarming, the kinda thing that landed before his brain even finished processing the rest. and that was all it took. whole body locked up for a second, something sharp and quiet running through his chest. then it was gone, masked under the slow roll of his shoulders.

florian.

fuck.

he’d been doing so good. hadn’t looked into him. hadn’t let himself wonder. kept it light, detached.

now?

now the universe was laughing in his face.

nero barely heard him. still catching up, eyes dragging over florian’s face, sharp and soft in all the right places. standing here in the middle of this bullshit carnival made it feel even more surreal. he forced himself to break the stare. quick scan—checking if florian was alone, if there was some date lurking around the corner. he clicked his tongue, lips curving up slow, the first real reaction finally settling in. so that’s how he wanted to play it.

“can’t be a bad habit if you’re still smiling about it,” nero said smoothly, voice dipped in something light, something playful. “but if you insist on a fee—” a corner of his lip curled up, and he let the sunglasses slide down enough to show the mischief in his gaze. “—i’d consider taking you for a ride.”

the smile widened as, after an instant, he gestured vaguely toward one of the amusement rides.

“unless you got someone else to go with?”

[florianprincevill]

"Do you mind it, me smiling about it—" Florian asked curiously, tilting his head slightly as he regarded Nero. That was always the thing when it came to Nero—the curiosity. The way it lingered in the air between them, a quiet hum beneath every interaction, a silent question always waiting to be answered. Florian could never quite tell if it was something intentional on Nero’s part or simply the way he existed, drawing people in without effort, like the tide pulling the shore closer with every wave.

There was a slight longing for more, always more, an unspoken pull between them that never seemed to settle. And when Nero offered him the ride, it felt like a once-in-a-lifetime kind of offer, something rare and fleeting, something he couldn't bring himself to turn down even if he tried.

He stumbled forward, not out of clumsiness but as if drawn by something unseen, something inevitable. Like a moth caught in the glow of a flame it couldn't resist, he reached out, fingers brushing against Nero’s before finally gripping them. There was a warmth there, steady and solid, and for a brief second, Florian let himself linger in it. The touch sent a quiet thrill up his spine, something electric humming just beneath his skin.

A chuckle escaped his lips, light and easy, though there was something beneath it—something teasing, something testing. "Someone else?" He echoed the thought as if turning it over in his mind, rolling it across his tongue, stretching out the moment just a little longer. Then, with a shake of his head, he let a grin slip onto his face, effortless yet deliberate. "Nothing of that sort," he assured, his voice smooth, his words laced with amusement.

His smile widened, playful yet certain, as he let his fingers tighten just slightly around Nero’s. "I'm here on my lonesome," he continued, letting the words hang between them for just a breath, just long enough to mean something. Then, with a glint of something unreadable in his eyes, he added, "And I could certainly take a ride."

[florianprincevill]

[closed starter for @nerodifiore - event thread 001]

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite customer.”

Florian’s voice carried a teasing lilt as he smirked, stepping back after colliding—quite literally—into Nero. The unexpected encounter sent a small jolt through him, though he recovered quickly, straightening his posture with a casual ease.

Nero was hard to describe. He wasn’t just a presence; he was a force. He carried himself with an air of quiet authority, a mix of something untamed and utterly intoxicating. The scent of spice and danger clung to him like an invisible signature—warm, heady, and undeniably alluring. It was the kind of scent that lingered even after he was gone, much like the impression he left on people.

And yet, despite everything about Nero that screamed stay away, Florian found himself doing the exact opposite. He couldn’t seem to look anywhere else.

“You should really watch where you’re going,” he added with a playful smirk, tilting his head. “Then again, maybe I should start charging for these little run-ins. You do seem to have a habit of appearing when I least expect it.”

His tone was light, but his gaze lingered a fraction too long, betraying his curiosity—and maybe something more.

@nerodifiore

[andthesunrisesagain]

Jonathan Bailey + diamants

(Jeu Faceclaim + theme + je me suis forcé à faire du NB uniquement. J'ai essayé de bosser sur les reflets/effets scintillants/éclats et le côté "ciselé" du diamant, sauf sur le dernier où j'ai dérivé loin du thème.)

[florianprincevill]

At the barbers

The low hum of clippers filled the barber shop, blending with the faint chatter of customers and the rich scent of aftershave. Florian sat comfortably in the chair, one leg lazily crossed over the other, his usual smirk in place as the barber worked skillfully along his jawline.

“You’re new in town, yeah?” the barber asked, tilting Florian’s chin slightly. “Haven’t seen you around before.”

Florian chuckled. “Guilty as charged. Figured I should look sharp before making a lasting impression.”

Just as the barber was about to respond, a sudden commotion outside shattered the easy rhythm of the shop. A sharp yell, followed by the unmistakable screech of tires against pavement, cut through the air. Florian’s gaze flicked to the window, where a blur of movement caught his eye—someone sprinting down the street, chased by another figure moving just as fast.

The barber paused, clippers hovering midair. “Huh. That’s not something you see every day.”

Florian arched a brow, his curiosity piqued. “Well,” he mused, sliding out of the chair and brushing a few stray hairs off his shoulders. “Seems like today just got a little more interesting.”

[denvilleneuve]

Johnathan Bailey as Anthony  BRIDGERTON (2020–) #2.07 “Harmony”

[florianprincevill]

florian went on his own, but dressed very gentlemanly - he likes the old english vibe ~

[morningsmistya-deactivated20250]

★ open starter capping at 5 ( 3/5 ) ★ muse : abby ★ location : any location with a pool table

Billiards was admittedly not her specialty. She did her best, but she tended to lose more than she won. She was practicing, but it wasn't like she had ample amounts of time to do so while establishing her fashion empire. It was a little embarrassing to lose, sure, but she'd endured worse experiences in her younger years. She could handle a loss like this. "Okay, fine. I'll play one more, but you can't make fun of me, okay?" She stated, laughing softly. "I'm a woman of many talents, but this just isn't one of them. Be mindful of your words ... I'm sure there are plenty of things I could outperform you on."

[florianprincevill]

"Well, it’s all about winning and losing, after all," Florian remarked as he strolled over, his voice carrying the effortless charm of someone who thrived on easy conversation. With a drink in hand and a confident smile on his lips, he lowered himself onto the seat beside her, his posture relaxed yet poised, as if he belonged anywhere he chose to be.

He let his gaze drift toward the game in front of her, a playful glint in his eyes. "Who knows? Maybe I’ll turn out to be your lucky charm." He took a slow sip of his drink, letting the warmth of the liquor settle before flashing her an amused look.

"Name’s Florian," he added smoothly, offering his free hand in a casual but inviting introduction. "And I have a habit of showing up just in time to turn the tide—though whether that’s in your favor or not, well… I guess we’ll find out soon enough."

Leaning slightly forward, he tilted his head in curiosity, his smirk deepening. "So, tell me—are we playing to win, or just here for the thrill of the gamble?"

[hayesarcher]

open starter | @sinnerssquarestart (3/4) Location: highest score arcade

"I've told you so many times now if you fuck off and wait for a second you can have the machine. God people really need to learn some fucking patience." Hayes muttered at who he assumed who was the person who'd been harassing him for the past half hour. When he glanced to the side he saw that was not in the fact who had appeared next to him. "Oh shit sorry. I thought you were some annoying kid that wont leave me alone."

[florianprincevill]

Florian let out a laugh, the sound light and unbothered. Now, that was certainly an interesting greeting. Considering he was new in town, he hadn’t even had the chance to “harass” anyone yet—though from the way the other spoke, it seemed there had been some sort of misunderstanding. Someone, likely a child, had clearly made an impression, and Florian had been mistaken for them.

He lifted his hands in mock surrender, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “No, no, I assure you, I’m far older than a child,” he said with a chuckle, shaking his head. “I just wanted to stop by, say hello, and introduce myself. Figured it’s best to get ahead of the rumors before they start flying.”

Tilting his head slightly, he allowed his usual easygoing charm to seep into his voice. “After all, it’s never too early to make a few friends, right?” His smirk softened into something more genuine. “New town, fresh start—I’d rather people know me by name than by some wild story that might start spreading.”

With that, he leaned casually against the nearest surface, waiting to see how his words would be received, curiosity gleaming beneath his relaxed demeanor.