Biting is Soshiro’s love language, and the marks littering your body proved it. One night, while cuddling underneath a blanket and sharing each other’s body heat, he gets a little carried away.
a/n — late christmas post woo!! I wasn’t going to post anything for the holidays originally, but oh well. I got a spark of inspiration and motivation and just started writing. So, this is kinda rushed (my apologies). Still, I hope you guys enjoy this cute little drabble and happy holidays to you all!
divider credits: @/saradika-graphics
You love winter.
Winter meant building snowmen, having snowball fights, and catching snowflakes with your tongue. Winter meant hot coffee in the morning and warm soup in the evening. Winter meant wearing cute sweaters and scarves—that you 100% steal from your boyfriend.
And above all, Winter meant cuddles. Oh, so so many cuddles.
Soshiro loved cuddles, because it meant being close to you. It meant being able to nuzzle your neck as you leaned into his warmth. It meant being able to nip at your smooth skin and litter it with his marks, without needing to worry if they’d show—you could always hide them with a turtleneck or a scarf anyway.
He was not an overly possessive person by any means, but hey, God gave him these fangs for a reason. They might as well be used.
You joked sometimes that Soshiro could be a vampire, considering how much he liked biting and nipping at you. He’d brandished the title proudly, even going as far as calling your cuddle time his ‘vampire time’, going straight for your neck the moment you’re both tucked in.
Today was another one of these vampire times.
You were snuggled up against Soshiro’s chest this time, though. Your neck was already littered with enough marks, and you just hoped that the new position would deter him from biting at you. At least for now.
But nope, you were wrong. After just five minutes of him barely holding back, Soshiro was now pressing kisses on your cheeks and forehead. You sighed but giggled anyway as he pressed a lingering kiss on your forehead.
“Soshiro, what are you doing?” You asked, a smile on your face as his lips tickled your forehead.
“Kisses.” He responded, and you can feel his lips stretching into a smile against your skin. He pulled away after a bit. “Since you won’t let me-“ His words trailed off, his usually narrow eyes widening as he stared at your forehead.
“Uhm. Darlin’…” He whispered, a sheepish look on his face. “You..” He cleared his throat, glancing down at you and your confused expression.
Your eyebrows were knitted together, eyes blinking slowly as you stared at him, “What?” You asked, your smile from earlier faltering a little.
Soshiro barely suppressed a laugh, biting his lip as he murmured, “You..you have a hickey.”
You scoffed in disbelief, because there was just no way he ended up giving you a hickey on your forehead. You grabbed your phone and quickly opened up the camera app, all while Soshiro kept trying to stifle his laughs, hand clasped over his mouth in his effort to stay silent.
You put your camera to selfie mode and craned your head up a little to look at yourself, eyes locking onto the dot of deep red on your forehead. Your smile dropped instantly.
Soshiro coughed out a laugh and rubbed your arms soothingly, as if he wasn’t the reason for you having a very clear hickey in the middle of your forehead. “It’s alright, darlin’. We…we can cover it up.” He had the audacity to smile, his toothy grin only serving to tick you off.
“Are you kidding me, Soshiro?!” You exclaimed, desperately rubbing at the mark on your forehead like it would magically go away. You groaned and threw your head back against the pillows, “Oh my god. I can’t believe you.”
Soshiro snorted and gathered you back up into his arms, kissing your cheek like nothing happened. “Come on, it’s fine. You can hide it under a beanie or something.”
“Soshiro! Still!”
“What?”
“I have a red mark on my forehead!”
“It’s a symbol of my love.”
He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your lips to shut you up before you had the chance to argue back.
So, yeah. Winter meant getting bitten and nipped to hell by your boyfriend, and having the same boyfriend buy you a bunch of beanies and scarves to hide the evidence of his crimes.
this is unhinged as a prompt but i suck at writing smut so this is just a crack fic idea in my head that’ll never see the light of day but does anyone ever think about the clapper lights and how they detect sound and use that as a cue to turn lights on and off and how that would be so funny if a couple was just going at it and the lights kept switching on and off because the microphone keeps detecting their fucking as claps? okay thanks for listening to my ted talk i guess
also yes next gojo fic is coming im so sorry i take so long writing fics bc i procrastinate 😢
synopsis. Satoru Gojo is a regular in your quaint little flower shop, a cocky, arrogant, ridiculously handsome womanizer with no respect for your craft and your art. You think you’ve got him all figured out, but through bouquets and coffees, you start to realize there’s more to this flower than just its petals.
contents. f!reader, florist!reader, pure fluff, gojo yearns, courting, soft romance, first date, first kiss, reader is overthinker, some banter, bouquet making (but all my knowledge is from google and youtube videos), flower language (but all my knowledge is from google), kind of suggestive(?), overall cute love
word count — 7.6k
a/n — this was supposed to be an angst fic w gojo buying flowers to put on geto’s grave and THATS why he needs to know all flower language stuff but….maybe too intense for a first post. i’ll let it wallow in my drafts for a while :) for now, yay cute gojo fluff! hope you guys enjoy! p.s. english is not my first language so please be patient with me!
divider credits (both): @/saradika-graphics
Satoru grumbled as he was, once again, forced to keep walking by a hand on his back—Suguru’s hand. “Flowers, again? I’m going to go broke from Utahime’s pointless tantrums!” Satoru complained, nearing a whine. Suguru just sighed, beyond exhausted from having this exact conversation a hundred times.
“First of all, we wouldn’t be in this situation if you stopped provoking her all the time by calling her weak. Second, you’re not going broke any time soon.” He replied, pushing Satoru to the door of their local flower shop—which had become a staple destination of theirs.
Suguru smacked his back, “I’m gonna get a coffee. Don’t make a scene.” He teased, before walking off and leaving Satoru behind to deal with the consequences of his own actions.
Satoru entered the shop and sauntered over to the counter, where you were in the process of wrapping up a bouquet of beautiful, bright red roses. He leaned against the counter and smirked, “Hey, sweetheart. Miss me?” He winked, and you felt a vein pop in your head.
Satoru Gojo has become somewhat of a regular of yours, although you were not at all happy about it. He only ever came into your shop to buy flowers to coax girls into forgiving him after his mistakes, having little to no care at all about the kinds of flowers he gets as long as they’re pretty enough to make the girl forget all about how livid they are. It irked you how little thought he put into the bouquets he was giving people, when it was your passion to create stories and paragraphs with petals and stems.
You set down the bouquet of red roses you were previously wrapping and looked at him with an unamused look. “Gojo.” You barely hid a snarl, “Come to request another bouquet to trick girls into giving you a second chance?” You quipped, and all Satoru did was laugh like you had just told a joke. It only irritated you more.
“Oh, sweetheart. The flowers don’t convince them, I do.” He winked, leaning onto the counter with a lax posture that made you want to shove him off your workspace. “I’m very good with my words…and my hands.” He murmured as he tilted his head down, sunglasses slipping to reveal his distinct blue eyes darkening—he even flexed his fingers as if to drive home the suggestive comment he was making.
You rolled your eyes, “Please.” you scoffed, crossing your arms, “I will never understand the women who fall head over heels for you, Gojo.”
Satoru’s eyes twinkled with mirth from your pugnacious attitude. “You want me to help you understand?” He smirked, leaning in closer. “Just say the word.”
You flicked a finger against his forehead and huffed, “Just tell me what the damage is already.”
Satoru rubbed the spot where your finger had made contact with his forehead and grunted, “Damn, sweetheart. You’re feisty today.” He chuckled, shaking his head and shrugging, “Just the usual. Utahime’s throwing a fit. I bet your usual will get her right back to paying attention to me.”
“Oh? So it’s not for your girlfriend whom you leave on delivered all the time?”
“Oh, her? I dumped her ages ago.”
“Really? Good.”
“Aww. You jealous, sweetheart?”
“In your dreams, Gojo. I’m just glad the poor girl got away from you.”
Satoru grinned, as if your consistent come-backs only served to further his motivation to torment you. “Always such a pleasure to converse with you, darling.” He said, tilting his sunglasses down to pierce you with his intense gaze.
You shook your head, “Can’t say I share the same sentiment.” You grumbled, moving out of the counter to grab some flowers from the shelves of boxes lining the store. He, of course, started following you like a leech you couldn’t shake off.
You didn’t talk, and thankfully, he didn’t try to start any conversations either. He just watched silently as you picked out flowers from the shelves almost randomly—to him, but you were actually picking flowers with deliberate and precise intent. The silence only broke once you were back at the counter and had laid all the flowers down on a newspaper.
“Why those flowers?” He asked, his tone forgoing the usual cocky lilt and opting for a more genuine curiosity. You took a second to process the sudden change in his demeanor and looked up slowly, staring at him for a good minute before you returned your gaze back to the task at hand. “Hydrangeas can represent apologies and gratitude, and yellow roses represent friendship. The daisies and baby’s breath are more fillers and to break up the colors.”
Satoru hummed, eyebrows raised. “…You think people can tell that just by looking at some flowers?” He sounded like he was genuinely wondering, and though his sudden interrogation caught you off-guard, you still answered. “I don’t think most people can tell what a bouquet means initially, but isn’t it more meaningful when you explain that a gift you’ve given has a deeper intention behind it?”
Satoru paused and stared at the bouquet you were wrapping up, “So you’ll have to explain it first for them to get it.”
“But explaining intentions is a perfect way to communicate, no?” You shrugged, “Besides, flowers are a beautiful part of nature. Sharing it with people is my favorite thing about this job, and the intention behind every bouquet is like a special letter from the giver to the receiver.” You smiled absentmindedly, until you realized who you were talking to.
You were just about to backtrack when Satoru leaned in real close, closer than he’d ever gotten before. You were silenced in seconds. His sunglasses were suddenly nowhere to be seen, and he was about 5 inches away from your face, leaning over the counter in a way only his lanky and ridiculously tall body would allow him to.
Satoru murmured, “A special letter, huh?” He smirked before he leaned back like nothing happened. “Interesting, sweetheart. I’ll look into that.” He grabbed the bouquet from your hands while you still stood frozen. He placed down a bill on the counter that was way over what that small bouquet would have cost him and left the shop with an imperceptible pep in his step.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
You started working at the flower shop a little after your grandmother passed and left the flower shop to your aunt. Your aunt couldn’t properly take care of the shop as she had work overseas so you stepped up to take over while your aunt sent you money from time to time to keep up on maintenance.
Your routine consisted of waking up at 5:30 am, making yourself breakfast, brushing your teeth, taking a shower, getting ready and then making it out of the house by exactly 7:15, giving yourself 15 minutes to get to the flower shop and 30 minutes to get to the shop ready to open by 8:00 am. You tend to your 10 or so customers in a day and close up shop by 4:00 pm, spending 30 minutes cleaning and then going back home.
That was your routine ever since 3 years ago, and you were quite content with your current lifestyle. Until Satoru Gojo came bursting into your life like a storm in a flower garden.
Suddenly, your quaint little shop was being disturbed every other day by a certain white-haired, blue-eyed nuisance.
“Hey, [Name]!”
You groaned, wondering if it was too late to hide under the counter and pretend you weren’t there. Your little scheme was interrupted, however, by Satoru dropping a basket of flowers onto your counter.
You paused, mouth locked open in disbelief. Satoru grinned and wiped some imaginary sweat off his forehead, leaning against the counter as he patted the basket. “Ready for my first lesson, sweetheart.”
“What first lesson?”
“Flower language, darling, duh.”
You stood behind the counter, dumbfounded. You spoke slowly, “I’m not, uh, offering any lessons. About that.” You said, still a little taken aback by his sudden urge to learn about flowers. “I’m not even a teacher.”
“I bet you could still teach me.”
“I’m not teaching.”
“I’ll be your first and very eager student.”
“I just said I’m not teaching-“
“I can pay you.”
“Are you even listening?”
Satoru smirked and leaned against the counter, “You should know by now that I don’t take no for an answer, sweetheart.” His voice dripped with honey, giving you a false sense of security that this bee didn’t sting. But you knew better.
“Gojo, I’m not teaching.” You repeated, staying firm. “Also, why do you suddenly want to learn about flowers? I don’t recall you ever being a flower connoisseur.” You narrowed your eyes, scrutinizing him with your gaze. He remained casual, unbothered by your stern looks. “I like to learn.” He shrugged, “And you’ve intrigued me with all that talk about flowers and their meanings.” He leaned in closer, his tall stature allowing him to lean over the counter, near enough that he could smell the scent of your shampoo.
“Take responsibility for the seed of curiosity you’ve planted in me, sweetheart.” He murmured, like his words were supposed to be just something privately for you.
You felt a shudder trickle down your spine from his tone, but you quickly shut it down. You couldn’t be feeling like that, not from him, not from this womanizer.
“Again, I’m not taking any teaching gigs.” You said again, incessant. “You can learn about flower meanings from the internet.” You reasoned, trying to deter him from this silly idea, but he didn’t budge.
“I’d rather it’s you teaching me than just some article, darling.” He replied, clearly stuck on this.
“It’s a no, Gojo.”
“We’ll see.”
Thus started Satoru’s brilliant plan of stopping by your shop every day just to annoy you and try to coax you into taking him in as your pupil. You’d reject him again and again, your tongue becoming sharper with each refusal.
But Satoru Gojo was not a quitter. No matter what words you spewed and disguised into blades to cut into his resolve, he wouldn’t be deterred. A few scratches, he decided, was worth your company.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
“Hey, sweetheart!” You heard the familiar lilt of his voice as the door squeaked open and the bell rang. It had been about a month since his first request to you, and he still hasn’t let up even once. A part of you admired his tenacity, and the other part wanted to strangle him with that same level of tenacity.
“Gojo, I’m still not doing classes. You know this.”
“Ah, ah. Look up at me and then talk, darling.”
You could practically hear the smug smirk plastered on his face, and you felt your blood boil a little. You very nearly plucked a petal off the sunflower you were handling, but whatever. You tilted your head up enough that you could glance at him, but the moment you saw what he was holding, your head snapped up.
A full bouquet of at least a dozen or more Ecuadorian roses.
Ecuadorian roses.
You were stunned, and Satoru grinned like a child on Christmas morning.
“You like them?”
“How..” The words died in your throat, the sheer amount of Ecuadorian roses he had in his hand probably valued more than the net worth of your shop in a single month. And your shop wasn’t exactly struggling.
Satoru shrugged and tilted the bouquet to you, “It’s yours.” He smiled, “I even got them in pink. Heard it means grace and admiration.” He looked proud of himself, taking off his sunglasses to appreciate the unaffected view of your pretty face. “I figured a beauty like you deserved a matching bouquet.”
“Why?”
“Do I need a reason to give a gift to a dear friend?”
You hesitantly took the roses, your eyes darting between him and the bouquet. Then you got an epiphany and realized that even if you were a florist, you’d never actually received a proper bouquet; this would be your first. Satoru Gojo, the man who used to buy random bouquets every other week just to please the ladies he kept around him, had just gotten you a bouquet—with a specific intent that wasn’t just blind coaxing. God, you felt like your heart was beating faster than it should be.
“…Thank you.” You mumbled and gently held one of the roses in your hand. You could feel Satoru’s gaze on you, but it somehow felt different from the manner in which he’d stare at you before.
His eyes were softer, his pupils gently tracing the curve of your jaw and the acne marks you had littering your chin from when you’d pick at them. It wasn’t intense, but reverent. Like you were a rose cultivated by the angels themselves, your beauty alone sustaining the lush garden surroundings.
You suddenly felt small, and tried to distract him to hopefully pivot his attention elsewhere. “Did..did you know Ecuadorian roses primarily symbolize luxury, beauty and admiration? They say that when given as a gift, these particular roses are used to express deep love. Regular roses usually represent passionate love and admiration, though it depends on the color.” You started prattling on about facts on roses and the different kinds of roses, but Satoru’s eyes stayed unequivocally onto your face, like he was memorizing, adoring, and admiring you all at once.
You felt your heart stir as you finally locked eyes with him. You looked away quickly, afraid that those sky-blue eyes would consume you entirely.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
After that day, you started to notice a few things. Your heart would randomly start beating faster throughout the day, you’d suddenly have the urge to smile despite nothing particularly enlightening happening, and you were starting to get clammy despite your shop being kept in perfect temperatures to keep all the flowers fresh. You weren’t exactly sure what was happening, but your symptoms only seemed to get worse every time you saw a flash of ivory hair.
Everyday, without fail, he’d show up at your shop with a pastry and two cups of coffee at half past noon. He’d started making your shop his safe space, leaning on the counter and just watching you make bouquets like he was studying. Sometimes, on less busy days, you’d invite him to go behind the counter to practice wrapping up a small bouquet.
“Am I doing it right?”
“Your bow is kind of lopsided and the flowers are arranged…interestingly. But it’s good.”
Satoru seemed to beam at your praise, his blue eyes brightening up like the ocean reflecting the sunlight. You felt your heart warming, and immediately started to wonder if you were catching something-
“I have a great teacher.” Satoru’s words cut your thoughts short, and you were left completely nonplussed. It took a few minutes for your brain to restart, managing to process some words. “You still have some things to work on.” You said, hiding the shake of your voice seamlessly under the tone of a strict teacher.
Satoru wasn’t dissuaded by your words, smiling casually and with an easy confidence that made your knees suddenly feel unstable. “I’m under your care, beautiful.” He murmured, and damn him, he knew exactly what he was doing.
Your firmly structured life started to slowly and carefully restructure itself around the man named Satoru Gojo, without you ever really noticing—until you caught yourself starting to glance at the door every few seconds the closer the minutes got to 12:30, until you realized that you’d begun to set aside small flowers for him to practice making bouquets with, until you started to associate the best parts of your day with shades of crystal blue and ivory white.
Your symptoms, your feelings, both connected through Satoru. My god, you were done for.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
“So, why the sunflowers and white roses?” He asked while munching on a blueberry danish he got from the bakery on the next block over.
You were acutely aware of his presence looming over your workspace like a cloud, but felt oddly comforted by it, like how a soft breeze letting clouds pass over the sun would calm you after a particularly hot and sunny day. You gently arranged the flowers on the wrapping paper and hummed, “The customer wants to have the bouquet say ‘congratulations, I knew you could do it!’ to their newly graduated daughter.”
Satoru nodded, looking genuinely interested in your craft as your delicate hands gently wrapped up the flowers and adjusted their petals. “So, they mean…?” He tilted his head, and you felt your heart warm at how curious he seemed to be about flower language. “Sunflowers mean adoration, loyalty and longevity, and also joy.” You gently taped the paper together, holding the flowers in place. “The white roses are for new beginnings, purity and innocence.” You held up the bouquet and presented it to him, “Tada!” You said cheerfully, “Pretty, right?”
Satoru looked at you, only you, and nodded. He had a soft gaze in his eyes and something else that you couldn’t—or wouldn’t—name. He smiled softly, “Yeah. Really pretty.” He murmured, his gaze still locked onto you.
You gulped and set the bouquet down, clearing your throat before you spoke, “Right.” You said, not really knowing how to respond to that raw slice of himself he just gave to you on a silver platter. He seemed to know what you were thinking, because he gently leaned in, speaking quietly as if any noise louder than a whisper would scare you into running off, “[Name].”
The way he said your name with such reverence, like you were a precious treasure that thousands coveted yet he was the one graced with your presence, it made your heart pound into your ears. You just nodded slowly to confirm that you were listening, not quite trusting your voice to not falter under his intense gaze.
He seemed to hesitate for a bit, like he was still trying to piece together the words in his head before he spoke, “Can I take you out tonight?” He asked quietly, trying and failing to keep up his usual arrogant appearance. You blinked, the back of your neck burning. You turned your head to the side and coughed into your hand, “Uhm…” You cleared your throat before looking back at him, “Yeah, sure.” You replied, trying to seem calm even if your heart was beating so loud you could hear it in your ears.
Satoru lit up like a little boy waking up on christmas day, “Really?” He leaned in a little closer and all you could do was nod and chuckle sheepishly, “Yes, Satoru, really.” You smiled, your nervousness flushing away from seeing the pure joy on his face when you said yes.
Satoru nodded, “Okay…okay! It’s a date. I’ll uh..” He grabbed his phone and checked on something before turning back to her, “You close at 4, right? How about 5?” He asked, gripping his phone tightly. You barely had time to nod when he turned around and called out to you, “I’ll pick you up at 5, sweetheart! Wear something pretty!”
Then, you were left alone in your shop, your heart racing and your palms sweaty. You sank down to the ground, your hands gripping the edge of the counter as you crouched and leaned your head forward to rest against your outstretched arms. You were going on a date with Satoru Gojo. God help you.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
So, here you were, standing in front of your flower shop wearing a simple black dress and black kitten heels. You fixed yourself up today, constantly checking yourself in the mirror before you left your apartment. You were a little nervous, considering you hadn’t gone on a proper date in months ever since you buried yourself into working in the flower shop and taking care of the business.
Before you could overthink yourself into just running back into your apartment and hiding out, a sleek black car pulled up in front of you. When the windows rolled down, you saw a familiar head of white hair, gaze intense even as he smirked casually. “Hey, sweetheart.” He opened up his door and walked around to let you into the passenger seat, opening the door for you. “After you.” He smiled, and you just sighed, “Such a gentleman, huh?” You chuckled, and Satoru just shook his head, “You deserve nothing less, beautiful.”
Satoru headed back to the driver’s seat after he shut your door, hopping back into place and buckling his seatbelt on with one hand. The drive to the restaurant was silent but not uncomfortable, like the days where he would simply stare at you creating bouquets like he was adoring your very existence. Except now, the roles had reversed. Satoru kept his gaze locked on the road, while you stared at him through your peripheral gaze, admiring his handsome face and attractive features. He was wearing a white collared shirt, two buttons undone from the top and his sleeves rucked up to his elbows.
The tight shirt did nothing but accentuate his physique, and you couldn’t help but stare at the visible veins crawling up his arm. He decided to forgo his sunglasses today, which gave you a clear view of his sky blue eyes that always made you seem like you were drowning in an ocean whenever he stared at you for a little too long.
Satoru noticed your staring, but didn’t comment on it, though you could tell by his grin that he was enjoying your attention. When he pulled up to the restaurant, you waited patiently in your seat for him to go around the car and open your door for you. He offered his hand and you paused before taking it, letting him pull you out of the car just so you could get a sense of how strong he was.
He seemed to catch on to your little scheme and smirked, “Testing my strength, sweetheart?” He cocked up an eyebrow, his hand still in yours. You froze for a second, and you knew you couldn’t lie. He just leaned in closer and whispered in your ear, “I’d love to show you just how strong I am.”
Then, as if it was just the wind, he pulled back and placed a hand on your back, pushing you toward the restaurant with an innocent smile on his face, “Come on, sweetheart.” With his hand guiding you forward, it didn’t matter that your knees were weak or that you were too flustered to even utter a word.
When you finally looked up and your brain processor finally booted up again, you saw a tiny little corner restaurant that looked like it could only house about 15 people at a time. Satoru smiled and his hand slipped down from your back to hold your hand, squeezing tightly, “They serve really good ramen.” He said next to your ear, his voice soft and fond.
Before you could reply, the sliding door opened slowly and an old lady with kind eyes and wrinkles that told you that she has been smiling all her life appeared before them. She took one look at Satoru and a warm smile spread on her face, “Toru, darling.” She grabbed his face and squished his cheeks, “My goodness! You’ve lost all your fat again. Come, come. You need to eat up and get some flesh on those bones.”
Satoru smiled and spoke, although it was muffled by her squishing his cheeks, “Baa-chan, I have a guest.” He said, tugging at your hand and pulling you into his side. He turned to you with a look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite decipher yet and introduced you, “This is [Name]. She’s a special friend of mine.”
You tried not to think too hard about the way he described you as a ‘special friend’ or the soft tone he used as he looked at you with those beautiful eyes that made you feel like the sun every time he stared, and you turned to greet the lady with a smile. “Hello there.”
The lady looked you up and down and smiled brightly, “Ah, what a pretty girl.” She let go of Satoru and rubbed your arms gently, “Nice to meet you, sweetie. Please, come inside!” She guided Asami into the small restaurant, “Toru, your usual table is all ready.” She led them over to a corner table and didn’t even bother taking their orders, just leaving to quickly grab them waters and telling Satoru that she’d serve them his usual.
You blinked and turned to Satoru, who just shook his head and shrugged, “I wouldn’t fight with her on that. She’ll just insist on serving us more food.” He chuckled, leaning on the table. You looked around and smiled softly at the cozy atmosphere of the restaurant, filled with old couples or little families slurping on bowls of ramen and laughing together like this little shop had its own world separate from the outside.
You hummed, “Is she your grandmother?” You asked, nodding over to the lady behind the counter cooking some noodles. Satoru smiled and shook his head, tracing the wood graining with his fingers as he spoke, “No…but she might as well be.” He laughed softly. “My family came here a lot when I was young, and I’d stay here after school when my parents would work late.” He smiled, “As a result, I used to have very chubby cheeks.”
You laughed at that, eyeing the sharp cut of his cheekbones, “You? Chubby?” You giggled. Satoru just nodded, smiling as your laugh surrounded him like a warm hug. “Believe it or not, sweetheart, but I was like a chipmunk. I just worked it all off when I hit my teenage years.” He traced his jaw, “Think it’s working for me.”
You smirked and nodded, “Uhuh. Working real well.” You tilted your head and propped your chin up on your palm. “So this is your comfort place?” You asked, looking around. Satoru smiled, his posture relaxed, “Yeah. You could say that.” He hummed and reached across the table to grab your hand gently, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles, “Thought I’d bring my comfort person to my comfort place.” He said, his tone teasing but his eyes held a seriousness to them that suggested he was the furthest away from joking.
You laughed, trying to deflect the nerves crawling up your skin. “You know me enough for me to be your comfort person?” You joked, trying to seem nonchalant when you were anything but.
Satoru simply laughed and overturned your hand so he could trace the lines on your palm. He spoke absentmindedly, “I know a few things.” He hummed, his eyes trained on your hand and his finger—which was now drawing random shapes on your skin.
“I know how you like your coffee, how your tongue starts to poke out from the corner of your mouth when you concentrate too hard, how you like keeping your workspace tidy in preparation for new bouquets you’re about to make, how dedicated you are to the success of your shop as you plan your course of action for every season…” He smiled, his eyes finally flicking up to look at your reddening face. “And I’d like to know more. So much more. If you’d let me.”
You gulped, your hand starting to get clammy in his grasp. You were about to say something when suddenly, the old lady came by and dumped a whole buffet spread of food in front of you. Gyoza, sushi rolls, karaage, ramen, kushiyaki, and more. The smell of the food made your mouth water, and your attention was immediately pivoted away from his somewhat confession.
Satoru didn’t say anything to get your attention back to what he had said prior, too busy staring and tracing your features with his eyes like you were an image he wanted engraved into his mind.
That was okay, even if you didn’t acknowledge his feelings right away. He’d wait for you, like a bee patiently waiting for the flower buds to bloom once spring comes.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Days have passed since that little date, and Satoru had not let up on his visits. It started to become routine to you, to hear the bell ring at 12:30 and see Satoru walking in like he owned the place.
Once the clock hit 4:00 and business started to slow, you’d invite him behind the counter to make bouquets with you. Some were wonky, others were definitely crumpled, and one was a terrible clash of flowers—but you didn’t care about that.
You cared about how focused Satoru seemed to be whenever he was trying to make a bouquet, hands gentle with the petals when he’d previously picked up bouquets from her store and waved them around like they were flags.
He was so much more different from the person he was just a few months ago, and you couldn’t help but admire his change. The cocky, arrogant, and careless man you had thought you already knew was actually like an onion, with all his layers and secrets that you were just starting to discover.
Now, he was gentle, vulnerable, sweet, and his crystal blue eyes held a brilliance that rivaled a cave of diamonds every time he looked at you. As you watched him wrap up a bouquet of tulips with a ribbon, you wondered distantly how exactly your perception of him had changed so drastically—like you had opened your eyes to something that you just didn’t see at first.
And maybe, just maybe, something was blooming between you two that wasn’t there before.
He held up the bouquet to you, ribbon near and perfectly symmetrical. He had a grin on his face that made your heart skip a beat, like he was so proud of himself. You reflected his excitement with your own smile, “It looks amazing, Satoru.”
You nodded, grabbing the bouquet and turning it around in your hand. “Could use some trimming on the ribbon.” You murmured absentmindedly, reaching behind you blindly as you fumbled for the scissors.
Suddenly, your hand slipped and you accidentally pushed the scissors off the counter. Satoru moved quickly, arm reaching out to grab the scissors. He caught it, but at the expense of pushing you against the counter and pinning you there with barely any space between the two of you.
Your breath caught as you were forced to tilt your head to avoid slamming into his chest. He stared down at you, frozen in place as he realized just how close the two of you were to each other. You could feel his warm breath on your face, smell the lingering scent of coffee in his breath. Your heart was racing a mile per minute as you stared up into his eyes.
His eyes that flicked down to your lips for a split second, the action only sending your heart spiraling faster. You almost thought he was going to kiss you, but then he pulled away and murmured an apology, handing you the scissors and rubbing a hand on the back of his neck.
You held the scissors in your hands, but somehow the weight in your chest was all you could focus on. You really thought he was going to kiss you, but heavier than the surprise of him not kissing you was the utter disappointment.
You felt a little shocked at his lack of initiative, when he had been so bold with his advances prior. Why was he shying away from this now, when he had already been sowing hope in your heart that his flirting this time was genuine and not like his casual comments about your beauty when you hadn’t properly known him yet?
Your heart felt dull as he made up some excuse that he had to leave and quickly scurried out of your shop, leaving you alone with a blackening hope in your chest.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
For the next few weeks after that incident, you tried to retain the facade that everything between you two was casual and normal, even if your feelings for him were anything but.
You wondered subconsciously if that date was just a fluke, just a hang-out, and you were mistaken to think it was anything romantic—but then Satoru would barge into your shop, pastries in hand with a smile plastered on his lips, and you’d feel your heart melt.
He’d serve you your coffee, catered perfectly to your tastebuds. He’d coax you out from behind the counter with a delicious pastry, and then he’d make you walk around the shop with him, just discussing flowers and their meanings.
He pointed at a little bundle of morning glories, “What about this, sweetheart?” He grabbed one and held it up to you. You smiled, “They symbolize a brief love and a bond of love.” You were just about to go more in-depth with what you mean when he gently leaned in and placed the morning glory in your hair, resting on your ear.
The sweet gesture stole your breath away, made your heart skip a beat, and forced the feelings you had buried away to resurface, stronger than ever. Your words died on your tongue as you stared up at him, his eyes a kaleidoscope of unspoken words, silent adoration, feelings they could—but would not—name.
You stared at his lips, half-expecting him to say something, or to press your lips together. Your heart raced at the thought of feeling the plush of his lips against yours, lips already tingling as if he’d already kissed them.
He leaned in, and you felt time slow down as he got closer. He adjusted the flower in your hair, and then—
—he pulled away.
You felt a sinking feeling in your gut, the disappointment like a rock in your stomach. Worst of all, Satoru looked completely unbothered, casual even. He continued walking, already talking about the next flower he was interested in like nothing had happened.
You wondered why he wouldn’t just lean in and kiss you already, after doing all that to take you out on a date. Why was he holding back after doing all of that? Why won’t he just kiss you?
It felt like there was a barrier around him that inhibited him from ever getting properly near you. Like your movements got slower every inch you neared, always preventing you from touching him.
You felt frustration curdle in your gut as you stared at his retreating back. The blackening hope in your chest going fully void.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
The next time Satoru showed up, you pretended to be busy with your backyard garden the entire time. He stayed, of course, watching you work and offering to help, but your curt responses kept him pinned in place. He looked a little nervous standing in the corner, watching you clean up your rose bushes.
Satoru stared at your practiced movements, trimming the leaves and branches of the rose bushes to keep them looking clean. He’s felt a sort of tension from you ever since yesterday, and he can kind of guess what it was due to, but he didn’t know how he could bring it up without you biting his head off.
You didn’t seem like you were in the mood to talk, judging from your snappy replies and strained tone. He watched you roll your shoulder, grunting from the lock between your shoulder blades from crouching for far too long. He slowly walked up to you and hesitantly gripped your shoulder.
You flinched, about to turn around and push him off when he started to massage right on the knot on your shoulder. You melted under his ministrations, leaning into his touch. “Uh…higher.” You murmured, and he pressed his thumb just an inch higher, making you sigh in relief.
“You’re too tense, [Name].” Satoru said softly, and only when you felt his breath against your ear did you realize how truly close you two were. You stepped forward to put some distance between you two, turning your head towards him.
You pushed his hand off, “Thanks. I’m fine now.” You said, starting to walk to the other side of the garden under the guise of wanting to tend to your sunflowers—you really just wanted to get away from him.
Satoru grabbed your wrist and gulped, “Wait.” He cleared his throat, “Wait, [Name], please.”
“Yes, Satoru?”
“You’re avoiding me.”
“I’m not.”
Satoru grunted, a little frustrated now, “Don’t lie to me, sweetheart.” He tugged at your wrist, “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”
You tensed and bit your lips, “It’s nothing, Satoru, really-“
“Stop that.”
You stopped in your tracks, the tone of his voice bordering on a desperation you had never imagined he’d actually stoop down to. He tightened his grip on your wrist, not tight enough to hurt but tight enough to let it be known to you that he was not letting go.
“I don’t like not knowing what’s wrong with you.” He traced the line of your jaw, noting how tense it looked. He frowned, “Talk to me, [Name].”
You stared into his eyes, the deep blue of his irises reflecting the depth of his worry. You gulped like you were gasping for air, like you were drowning in the ocean his eyes held, your own feelings washing over you like waves and keeping you under.
His hand reached up, hesitantly, slowly, to gently hold your chin between his thumb and index finger like he was handling a precious gem. It made your heart beat faster, pounding against your chest so loudly you were certain he could hear it.
“Did I do something? Or was I mistaken?”
“Mistaken? About what?”
“About…well, us.” He stared at you blankly. “I thought…I assumed we were doing…good.” He said, suddenly sounding unsure of himself. It made your heart squeeze with an ache in your chest.
“We…we were. Are.” You sputtered, clearing your throat, “It’s just…I mean, I don’t really know what you want from this exactly.”
“What I want?”
“Yes, Satoru. I don’t know what y-“
“You.”
The words make you freeze in place, his words going in one ear and drilling into your head. He kept his grip on your chin firm, making sure you remained staring at him.
“I told you, didn’t I?” He murmured, “I want to know you, sweetheart. Deeply. Wholly. Intimately.” He leaned closer with every word, so close you could feel the heat from his breath and smell the scent of his perfume.
He glanced at your trembling lips for a split, almost imperceptible second before he looked into your eyes and mumbled, “Did you think otherwise?”
You tried to avert your gaze, but the hold on your chin forced you to only look at him. You stammered, dropping the hedge scissors, “Uhm….maybe?” You scrambled, placing your hands on his chest to weakly push him away as you started to ramble, “You just…I’ve always known you as that player guy who only bought flowers to make girls forgive him since he always messed up and I know you’ve been trying to be more genuine but I was overthinking and-“
Satoru suddenly leaned in, his hand on your chin sliding up to cup your cheek to hold you in place as he pressed his lips against yours, stealing your words and your next breath.
His lips moved against yours, soft, coaxing, pleading, pouring all his feelings into one action as if this was all he had to convince you of his sincerity. You crumpled the fabric of his shirt into your hands, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened.
He groaned against your lips, dropping your wrist to grip your hips instead, pulling you flush against him as the hand on your cheek slid behind your neck and up to tangle in your hair. Your hands roamed his upper body, gasping as you traced his defined abdomen through the thin fabric of his shirt.
He shuddered as he felt your fingers trace his abdomen, licking into your mouth and sucking on your bottom lip. He pulled away slightly, still close enough to mix his hot breath into yours. “I’ve been wanting to do that ever since you first whacked me in the head after I said flowers were just pretty and had no substance.” He chuckled, the grin lifting up your spirits.
You tugged him closer, smiling against his soft, plush, kiss-bitten lips. “You did a horrible way of showing it.” You teased, rubbing your hands up and down his sides. He cupped the back of your neck gently, tilting your head up so you were looking into his eyes, “Then I guess I better make up for it.”
Then, without giving you time to even think of a proper response, he kissed you hard and desperate, but still with the lingering undertone of a romance he’d thought impossible. He didn’t let up until you were out of breath, panting heavily as he pulled the two of your apart.
“Still doubting my intentions, sweetheart?” He smirked, and you shuddered as you felt his in mouth curl up against yours before you even saw his smug expression. You sighed and gripped his shirt tightly, “I think I need more evidence…” You whispered, leaning in closer.
Satoru grinned devilishly, the hand on your hip snaking around your waist and hoisting you up like you weighed nothing, “With pleasure, darling.”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
A few days later.
“No peeking, okay?” You heard Satoru say behind you, along with the rustling of paper and cutting of ribbons. You chuckled and nodded, “Yeah, yeah.”
You were perched up on the counter, a soft cloth wrapped around your eyes as a makeshift blindfold to prevent you from seeing whatever it was Satoru was doing—though, you could already tell just from the sounds. You’d lived and breathed the art, after all.
He was making you a bouquet.
Satoru barged into your shop earlier that day, just before you closed, and demanded you close shop early. He took it upon himself to flip the door sign and saunter over to your work counter, placing you on the counter and insisting that he wanted to show you how much your bouquet lessons have taught him.
Only halfway did he really think to blindfold you, thanks to the discarded rag on the counter from when you were just about to clean before he burst in.
You imagined him now, tongue probably sticking out the corner of his lips as he concentrated on not jostling his perfect flower placement while he wrapped the bundle up. You smiled absentmindedly at the thought, your head warming at the image of Satoru in your head—focused and determined.
A warm hand on your thigh snapped you out of your thoughts, accompanied by the warm tenor you’ve come to adore.
“You can look now.” Satoru murmured, hand squeezing your thigh chastely before reaching up to gently untie the blindfold from your head. Once the fabric was off, you blinked a few times to adjust yourself to the light again.
In that period, Satoru took it upon himself to pick up the bouquet, as gentle as a lamb in the manner he handled it, and present it to you. He had a soft smile on his face, but his eyes betrayed a sense of anticipation for your judgement.
When your eyes adjusted, you finally got a good look at the bouquet and your heart melted.
Beautiful, full, scarlet red roses, arranged perfectly in a dome shape. There were no fillers, just an expanse of crimson petals that reflected the deep passion in Satoru’s heart. By the amount of roses in the bouquet, you were almost sure he’d likely used up most of your rose stock, but you couldn’t even be mad, not when he put so much effort into a bouquet specifically for you.
“Someone special to me mentioned that roses represent passionate love and admiration.” Satoru broke the silence, mentioning an anecdote of what you had said when he first intruded into your shop to offer you a bouquet. “That if you give them to someone, it means you’re in love with them. Especially red roses.” He smiled softly and handed her the bouquet, the silent confession lingered comfortably in the air.
I’m in love with you.
And although the reciprocal confession came a few minutes after, your own heartbeats had already spelled out the answer for you. You hugged the bouquet close to your chest and smiled, “Thank you.”
I’m in love with you too.
Satoru leaned in close and pressed his forehead to yours, inhaling deeply as your scent mixed with the roses. He smiled and looked into your eyes, “So, rate my bouquet?” He pulled back then, his smile morphing into a smirk.
You barked out a laugh and started to examine his bouquet, nodding firmly, “Excellent handiwork, I must say.” You tapped your chin, your lips tugging into your own little smirk, “Must’ve had a good teacher, huh?”
Satoru chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, “The best teacher.”
Sunlight filtered in through the windows and colored the room golden, basking the two of you in a warm embrace—though nothing could be warmer than the love that you had cultivated over pastries, coffee, and petals, all bundled together into the best bouquet you’ve ever made.
a/n: yayyy!! finished my first fic and first post! if you’ve made it here, thank you so much!! It’s kinda intimidating to post such a long fic for my first time…but oh well. I just started writing and couldn’t stop hehe. hope you all enjoyed!! more to come i hope :)
You get drunk during a celebratory party and, due to your alcohol-addled mind, dare Vice Captain Soshiro Hoshina to carry you all the way to the dorms. You never expected him to agree.
a/n — hey guys!! this isn’t proofread and i’m so sorry i take so long to upload fics 😭 school is kinda beating my ass rn and i do just generally take a long time to write because i’m a perfectionist. alsooo this was just something i wrote for fun cuz i love me some kn8 (esp soshiro hehe) AND i do have another satoru x reader fic in the works!! pls be patient w me 🫶 thank you all!!
divider credits: @/saradika-graphics
You were drunk, that much you were sure of. The bickering and conversations between your fellow officers fading into fluff in your head as the alcohol progressed through your bloodstream.
The Third Division’s most recent mission was a grand success, with minimal injuries and zero casualties; hence, the celebration.
You weren’t supposed to drink too much, but you let Furuhashi and Kafka drag you into a drinking game, and it was all over for you.
It truly was a mistake. Your body was already beaten and bruised for the week due to the Vice Captain’s ruthless training routine, and now your head was 100% gonna be pounding through your skull from the amount of shots you’ve had tonight.
Luckily, you managed to slip away from the party after Reno was forced into a layback shot and all attention was on him. You stumbled out of the restaurant, shivering from the cold air of the night. Your vision was starting to blur at the edges, and you were nearly toppling over when you heard a familiar voice come from behind you.
“Drink too much, officer?” Hoshina murmured, catching you by the shoulders just before you fell—and god, you could hear his smirk even before you saw it.
You turned your head and made a clumsy salute, “Vice Captain.” You murmured, trying not to slur your words too much. Hoshina simply chuckled behind you, letting go of your shoulders to shove his hands into his pockets, “At ease.” He looked you up and down as you turned to face him, “How much have ya had to drink, [Name]?”
“Uhh…6 shots?”
“In a row?”
“No…I took sips of beer in between.”
“So even more alcohol?”
“…yes.”
Hoshina sighed and shook his head, “Well, it’s a good thing there’s no training tomorrow.” He shrugged, “I’d be surprised if ya even manage to get up.”
Alcohol loosened up your tongue, as the next words you blurted out were, “Oh, thank god. I hate training.”
Hoshina’s eyebrows shot up at that comment, and you froze as you processed what you had just said to the Vice Captain, the man who makes the training regime and handles the workout sessions. The mirth in his eyes made your stomach churn.
“Is that so, Officer [Name]?” He grinned, tilting his head to the side. “Please, elaborate on why ya despise my regime so much.”
You were supposed to stop there, apologize and maybe grovel at his feet for forgiveness, but you had already dug your own grave anyway…and the liquid courage thrumming through your body was clearly clouding your judgement.
“Well…it is a tough regime, Vice Captain. And early in the morning too.” You tried to reason, and you immediately regretted it when Hoshina started leaning in closer.
“I used to train like that when I was a rookie. Ya gotta have what it takes to be a Defense Officer.” He raised an eyebrow, “Can’t take it?”
You bristled, a little insulted by his last comment. The words slipped out of you before you could stop them, “You think you can still do our training without breaking a sweat? You don’t exactly train with us.”
Hoshina blinked, clearly taken aback by your bold statement. You thought you were done for, already thinking of back-up accommodation and career plans if worst comes to worst and you’d ticked Hoshina off enough to kick you out of the Force.
But then, miraculously, astonishingly, all he did was laugh. He was bent over in laughter, clutching his stomach and almost tearing up. You stood there, completely bewildered by this reaction. Was it really funny that you had basically insulted his physical capabilities?
“Ah, haha! That’s a good one, darlin’.” He chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye as he straightened up, “I train just fine, thank you. I keep in shape.” He shrugged, stretching his arms behind him.
Your eyes trailed over his body shamelessly, and as he stretched—even through his uniform jacket—you could see the swell of his biceps and the definition of his torso. You bit your lips, trying desperately to get a hold of yourself and your filter.
Hoshina simply smirked, raising an eyebrow, “Cat got yer tongue, darlin’?” He chuckled, tilting his head to the side, “Ya weren’t exactly holding back with yer statements earlier.” He murmured.
Something in his words, his tone, his look; it sparked something within you. Something that threw rationality completely out the window.
“You didn’t train this morning with us, Vice Captain.” You raised an eyebrow, your arms crossed across your chest.
“You’re right, I didn’t.”
“How about tonight?”
“I-“
“Carrying me all the way to the dorms would count as training.”
Hoshina’s eyes widened, speechless for the first time in this entire interaction. He stared at you in disbelief for a few minutes before his signature smirk splayed across his face. “Oh? That is an interesting honor, m’dear.” He chuckled lowly, sending shivers down your spine as he stepped in closer.
“Alright. I’ll humor you.”
You didn’t have time to react before he bent down and scooped you up, throwing you over his head and lifting you like a sack of potatoes across his shoulders. “Hold on tight, darlin’.”
You yelped, grabbing onto his shirt and collar. “Oh my god! Vice Captain!”
“Ha! Ya wanted this, dear. Don’t complain now.” Hoshina grinned, lips splitting into a cheshire cat-like smile. All you could do was slump against his shoulders, since it was clear he wasn’t letting you go anytime soon.
When you finally reached the dorm buildings, Hoshina set you down on your feet and smirked down at you, his hand lingering on your hips. “Off you go, m’dear.” He patted your hips lightly, “Thanks for the workout.”
Just as you were about to whip out another snarky comment, he leaned in and whispered in your ear, “Get ready for training tomorrow, darlin’. Because I’m definitely doin’ that again.” He murmured, his breath warm against the lobe of your ear, involuntarily sending shivers down your spine.
He pulled away, the spots where his hands were burning like he had lit a fire on them. “Yer the perfect weight f’me, [Name].” He said casually, as if those words didn’t almost send you into cardiac arrest.
Hoshina walked away before you could even begin to utter a word, leaving you speechless, confused, and flustered beyond belief.
a/n — thank you all for reading this little drabble! this is a good time to announce that i will be writing for both jjk and kn8 ☺️ i might open reqs soon so keep your eyes open for that! likes, reblogs, comments and follows are always appreciated 💗 have a good day!
Didn’t think my first post would get that much traction LMAOOOO thank you for the 300+ notes!! I will have more coming up soon I promise 🫶 school is just beating me up rn 🥲🥲
synopsis. Satoru Gojo is a regular in your quaint little flower shop, a cocky, arrogant, ridiculously handsome womanizer with no respect for your craft and your art. You think you’ve got him all figured out, but through bouquets and coffees, you start to realize there’s more to this flower than just its petals.
contents. f!reader, florist!reader, pure fluff, gojo yearns, courting, soft romance, first date, first kiss, reader is overthinker, some banter, bouquet making (but all my knowledge is from google and youtube videos), flower language (but all my knowledge is from google), kind of suggestive(?), overall cute love
word count — 7.6k
a/n — this was supposed to be an angst fic w gojo buying flowers to put on geto’s grave and THATS why he needs to know all flower language stuff but….maybe too intense for a first post. i’ll let it wallow in my drafts for a while :) for now, yay cute gojo fluff! hope you guys enjoy! p.s. english is not my first language so please be patient with me!
divider credits (both): @/saradika-graphics
Satoru grumbled as he was, once again, forced to keep walking by a hand on his back—Suguru’s hand. “Flowers, again? I’m going to go broke from Utahime’s pointless tantrums!” Satoru complained, nearing a whine. Suguru just sighed, beyond exhausted from having this exact conversation a hundred times.
“First of all, we wouldn’t be in this situation if you stopped provoking her all the time by calling her weak. Second, you’re not going broke any time soon.” He replied, pushing Satoru to the door of their local flower shop—which had become a staple destination of theirs.
Suguru smacked his back, “I’m gonna get a coffee. Don’t make a scene.” He teased, before walking off and leaving Satoru behind to deal with the consequences of his own actions.
Satoru entered the shop and sauntered over to the counter, where you were in the process of wrapping up a bouquet of beautiful, bright red roses. He leaned against the counter and smirked, “Hey, sweetheart. Miss me?” He winked, and you felt a vein pop in your head.
Satoru Gojo has become somewhat of a regular of yours, although you were not at all happy about it. He only ever came into your shop to buy flowers to coax girls into forgiving him after his mistakes, having little to no care at all about the kinds of flowers he gets as long as they’re pretty enough to make the girl forget all about how livid they are. It irked you how little thought he put into the bouquets he was giving people, when it was your passion to create stories and paragraphs with petals and stems.
You set down the bouquet of red roses you were previously wrapping and looked at him with an unamused look. “Gojo.” You barely hid a snarl, “Come to request another bouquet to trick girls into giving you a second chance?” You quipped, and all Satoru did was laugh like you had just told a joke. It only irritated you more.
“Oh, sweetheart. The flowers don’t convince them, I do.” He winked, leaning onto the counter with a lax posture that made you want to shove him off your workspace. “I’m very good with my words…and my hands.” He murmured as he tilted his head down, sunglasses slipping to reveal his distinct blue eyes darkening—he even flexed his fingers as if to drive home the suggestive comment he was making.
You rolled your eyes, “Please.” you scoffed, crossing your arms, “I will never understand the women who fall head over heels for you, Gojo.”
Satoru’s eyes twinkled with mirth from your pugnacious attitude. “You want me to help you understand?” He smirked, leaning in closer. “Just say the word.”
You flicked a finger against his forehead and huffed, “Just tell me what the damage is already.”
Satoru rubbed the spot where your finger had made contact with his forehead and grunted, “Damn, sweetheart. You’re feisty today.” He chuckled, shaking his head and shrugging, “Just the usual. Utahime’s throwing a fit. I bet your usual will get her right back to paying attention to me.”
“Oh? So it’s not for your girlfriend whom you leave on delivered all the time?”
“Oh, her? I dumped her ages ago.”
“Really? Good.”
“Aww. You jealous, sweetheart?”
“In your dreams, Gojo. I’m just glad the poor girl got away from you.”
Satoru grinned, as if your consistent come-backs only served to further his motivation to torment you. “Always such a pleasure to converse with you, darling.” He said, tilting his sunglasses down to pierce you with his intense gaze.
You shook your head, “Can’t say I share the same sentiment.” You grumbled, moving out of the counter to grab some flowers from the shelves of boxes lining the store. He, of course, started following you like a leech you couldn’t shake off.
You didn’t talk, and thankfully, he didn’t try to start any conversations either. He just watched silently as you picked out flowers from the shelves almost randomly—to him, but you were actually picking flowers with deliberate and precise intent. The silence only broke once you were back at the counter and had laid all the flowers down on a newspaper.
“Why those flowers?” He asked, his tone forgoing the usual cocky lilt and opting for a more genuine curiosity. You took a second to process the sudden change in his demeanor and looked up slowly, staring at him for a good minute before you returned your gaze back to the task at hand. “Hydrangeas can represent apologies and gratitude, and yellow roses represent friendship. The daisies and baby’s breath are more fillers and to break up the colors.”
Satoru hummed, eyebrows raised. “…You think people can tell that just by looking at some flowers?” He sounded like he was genuinely wondering, and though his sudden interrogation caught you off-guard, you still answered. “I don’t think most people can tell what a bouquet means initially, but isn’t it more meaningful when you explain that a gift you’ve given has a deeper intention behind it?”
Satoru paused and stared at the bouquet you were wrapping up, “So you’ll have to explain it first for them to get it.”
“But explaining intentions is a perfect way to communicate, no?” You shrugged, “Besides, flowers are a beautiful part of nature. Sharing it with people is my favorite thing about this job, and the intention behind every bouquet is like a special letter from the giver to the receiver.” You smiled absentmindedly, until you realized who you were talking to.
You were just about to backtrack when Satoru leaned in real close, closer than he’d ever gotten before. You were silenced in seconds. His sunglasses were suddenly nowhere to be seen, and he was about 5 inches away from your face, leaning over the counter in a way only his lanky and ridiculously tall body would allow him to.
Satoru murmured, “A special letter, huh?” He smirked before he leaned back like nothing happened. “Interesting, sweetheart. I’ll look into that.” He grabbed the bouquet from your hands while you still stood frozen. He placed down a bill on the counter that was way over what that small bouquet would have cost him and left the shop with an imperceptible pep in his step.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
You started working at the flower shop a little after your grandmother passed and left the flower shop to your aunt. Your aunt couldn’t properly take care of the shop as she had work overseas so you stepped up to take over while your aunt sent you money from time to time to keep up on maintenance.
Your routine consisted of waking up at 5:30 am, making yourself breakfast, brushing your teeth, taking a shower, getting ready and then making it out of the house by exactly 7:15, giving yourself 15 minutes to get to the flower shop and 30 minutes to get to the shop ready to open by 8:00 am. You tend to your 10 or so customers in a day and close up shop by 4:00 pm, spending 30 minutes cleaning and then going back home.
That was your routine ever since 3 years ago, and you were quite content with your current lifestyle. Until Satoru Gojo came bursting into your life like a storm in a flower garden.
Suddenly, your quaint little shop was being disturbed every other day by a certain white-haired, blue-eyed nuisance.
“Hey, [Name]!”
You groaned, wondering if it was too late to hide under the counter and pretend you weren’t there. Your little scheme was interrupted, however, by Satoru dropping a basket of flowers onto your counter.
You paused, mouth locked open in disbelief. Satoru grinned and wiped some imaginary sweat off his forehead, leaning against the counter as he patted the basket. “Ready for my first lesson, sweetheart.”
“What first lesson?”
“Flower language, darling, duh.”
You stood behind the counter, dumbfounded. You spoke slowly, “I’m not, uh, offering any lessons. About that.” You said, still a little taken aback by his sudden urge to learn about flowers. “I’m not even a teacher.”
“I bet you could still teach me.”
“I’m not teaching.”
“I’ll be your first and very eager student.”
“I just said I’m not teaching-“
“I can pay you.”
“Are you even listening?”
Satoru smirked and leaned against the counter, “You should know by now that I don’t take no for an answer, sweetheart.” His voice dripped with honey, giving you a false sense of security that this bee didn’t sting. But you knew better.
“Gojo, I’m not teaching.” You repeated, staying firm. “Also, why do you suddenly want to learn about flowers? I don’t recall you ever being a flower connoisseur.” You narrowed your eyes, scrutinizing him with your gaze. He remained casual, unbothered by your stern looks. “I like to learn.” He shrugged, “And you’ve intrigued me with all that talk about flowers and their meanings.” He leaned in closer, his tall stature allowing him to lean over the counter, near enough that he could smell the scent of your shampoo.
“Take responsibility for the seed of curiosity you’ve planted in me, sweetheart.” He murmured, like his words were supposed to be just something privately for you.
You felt a shudder trickle down your spine from his tone, but you quickly shut it down. You couldn’t be feeling like that, not from him, not from this womanizer.
“Again, I’m not taking any teaching gigs.” You said again, incessant. “You can learn about flower meanings from the internet.” You reasoned, trying to deter him from this silly idea, but he didn’t budge.
“I’d rather it’s you teaching me than just some article, darling.” He replied, clearly stuck on this.
“It’s a no, Gojo.”
“We’ll see.”
Thus started Satoru’s brilliant plan of stopping by your shop every day just to annoy you and try to coax you into taking him in as your pupil. You’d reject him again and again, your tongue becoming sharper with each refusal.
But Satoru Gojo was not a quitter. No matter what words you spewed and disguised into blades to cut into his resolve, he wouldn’t be deterred. A few scratches, he decided, was worth your company.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
“Hey, sweetheart!” You heard the familiar lilt of his voice as the door squeaked open and the bell rang. It had been about a month since his first request to you, and he still hasn’t let up even once. A part of you admired his tenacity, and the other part wanted to strangle him with that same level of tenacity.
“Gojo, I’m still not doing classes. You know this.”
“Ah, ah. Look up at me and then talk, darling.”
You could practically hear the smug smirk plastered on his face, and you felt your blood boil a little. You very nearly plucked a petal off the sunflower you were handling, but whatever. You tilted your head up enough that you could glance at him, but the moment you saw what he was holding, your head snapped up.
A full bouquet of at least a dozen or more Ecuadorian roses.
Ecuadorian roses.
You were stunned, and Satoru grinned like a child on Christmas morning.
“You like them?”
“How..” The words died in your throat, the sheer amount of Ecuadorian roses he had in his hand probably valued more than the net worth of your shop in a single month. And your shop wasn’t exactly struggling.
Satoru shrugged and tilted the bouquet to you, “It’s yours.” He smiled, “I even got them in pink. Heard it means grace and admiration.” He looked proud of himself, taking off his sunglasses to appreciate the unaffected view of your pretty face. “I figured a beauty like you deserved a matching bouquet.”
“Why?”
“Do I need a reason to give a gift to a dear friend?”
You hesitantly took the roses, your eyes darting between him and the bouquet. Then you got an epiphany and realized that even if you were a florist, you’d never actually received a proper bouquet; this would be your first. Satoru Gojo, the man who used to buy random bouquets every other week just to please the ladies he kept around him, had just gotten you a bouquet—with a specific intent that wasn’t just blind coaxing. God, you felt like your heart was beating faster than it should be.
“…Thank you.” You mumbled and gently held one of the roses in your hand. You could feel Satoru’s gaze on you, but it somehow felt different from the manner in which he’d stare at you before.
His eyes were softer, his pupils gently tracing the curve of your jaw and the acne marks you had littering your chin from when you’d pick at them. It wasn’t intense, but reverent. Like you were a rose cultivated by the angels themselves, your beauty alone sustaining the lush garden surroundings.
You suddenly felt small, and tried to distract him to hopefully pivot his attention elsewhere. “Did..did you know Ecuadorian roses primarily symbolize luxury, beauty and admiration? They say that when given as a gift, these particular roses are used to express deep love. Regular roses usually represent passionate love and admiration, though it depends on the color.” You started prattling on about facts on roses and the different kinds of roses, but Satoru’s eyes stayed unequivocally onto your face, like he was memorizing, adoring, and admiring you all at once.
You felt your heart stir as you finally locked eyes with him. You looked away quickly, afraid that those sky-blue eyes would consume you entirely.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
After that day, you started to notice a few things. Your heart would randomly start beating faster throughout the day, you’d suddenly have the urge to smile despite nothing particularly enlightening happening, and you were starting to get clammy despite your shop being kept in perfect temperatures to keep all the flowers fresh. You weren’t exactly sure what was happening, but your symptoms only seemed to get worse every time you saw a flash of ivory hair.
Everyday, without fail, he’d show up at your shop with a pastry and two cups of coffee at half past noon. He’d started making your shop his safe space, leaning on the counter and just watching you make bouquets like he was studying. Sometimes, on less busy days, you’d invite him to go behind the counter to practice wrapping up a small bouquet.
“Am I doing it right?”
“Your bow is kind of lopsided and the flowers are arranged…interestingly. But it’s good.”
Satoru seemed to beam at your praise, his blue eyes brightening up like the ocean reflecting the sunlight. You felt your heart warming, and immediately started to wonder if you were catching something-
“I have a great teacher.” Satoru’s words cut your thoughts short, and you were left completely nonplussed. It took a few minutes for your brain to restart, managing to process some words. “You still have some things to work on.” You said, hiding the shake of your voice seamlessly under the tone of a strict teacher.
Satoru wasn’t dissuaded by your words, smiling casually and with an easy confidence that made your knees suddenly feel unstable. “I’m under your care, beautiful.” He murmured, and damn him, he knew exactly what he was doing.
Your firmly structured life started to slowly and carefully restructure itself around the man named Satoru Gojo, without you ever really noticing—until you caught yourself starting to glance at the door every few seconds the closer the minutes got to 12:30, until you realized that you’d begun to set aside small flowers for him to practice making bouquets with, until you started to associate the best parts of your day with shades of crystal blue and ivory white.
Your symptoms, your feelings, both connected through Satoru. My god, you were done for.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
“So, why the sunflowers and white roses?” He asked while munching on a blueberry danish he got from the bakery on the next block over.
You were acutely aware of his presence looming over your workspace like a cloud, but felt oddly comforted by it, like how a soft breeze letting clouds pass over the sun would calm you after a particularly hot and sunny day. You gently arranged the flowers on the wrapping paper and hummed, “The customer wants to have the bouquet say ‘congratulations, I knew you could do it!’ to their newly graduated daughter.”
Satoru nodded, looking genuinely interested in your craft as your delicate hands gently wrapped up the flowers and adjusted their petals. “So, they mean…?” He tilted his head, and you felt your heart warm at how curious he seemed to be about flower language. “Sunflowers mean adoration, loyalty and longevity, and also joy.” You gently taped the paper together, holding the flowers in place. “The white roses are for new beginnings, purity and innocence.” You held up the bouquet and presented it to him, “Tada!” You said cheerfully, “Pretty, right?”
Satoru looked at you, only you, and nodded. He had a soft gaze in his eyes and something else that you couldn’t—or wouldn’t—name. He smiled softly, “Yeah. Really pretty.” He murmured, his gaze still locked onto you.
You gulped and set the bouquet down, clearing your throat before you spoke, “Right.” You said, not really knowing how to respond to that raw slice of himself he just gave to you on a silver platter. He seemed to know what you were thinking, because he gently leaned in, speaking quietly as if any noise louder than a whisper would scare you into running off, “[Name].”
The way he said your name with such reverence, like you were a precious treasure that thousands coveted yet he was the one graced with your presence, it made your heart pound into your ears. You just nodded slowly to confirm that you were listening, not quite trusting your voice to not falter under his intense gaze.
He seemed to hesitate for a bit, like he was still trying to piece together the words in his head before he spoke, “Can I take you out tonight?” He asked quietly, trying and failing to keep up his usual arrogant appearance. You blinked, the back of your neck burning. You turned your head to the side and coughed into your hand, “Uhm…” You cleared your throat before looking back at him, “Yeah, sure.” You replied, trying to seem calm even if your heart was beating so loud you could hear it in your ears.
Satoru lit up like a little boy waking up on christmas day, “Really?” He leaned in a little closer and all you could do was nod and chuckle sheepishly, “Yes, Satoru, really.” You smiled, your nervousness flushing away from seeing the pure joy on his face when you said yes.
Satoru nodded, “Okay…okay! It’s a date. I’ll uh..” He grabbed his phone and checked on something before turning back to her, “You close at 4, right? How about 5?” He asked, gripping his phone tightly. You barely had time to nod when he turned around and called out to you, “I’ll pick you up at 5, sweetheart! Wear something pretty!”
Then, you were left alone in your shop, your heart racing and your palms sweaty. You sank down to the ground, your hands gripping the edge of the counter as you crouched and leaned your head forward to rest against your outstretched arms. You were going on a date with Satoru Gojo. God help you.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
So, here you were, standing in front of your flower shop wearing a simple black dress and black kitten heels. You fixed yourself up today, constantly checking yourself in the mirror before you left your apartment. You were a little nervous, considering you hadn’t gone on a proper date in months ever since you buried yourself into working in the flower shop and taking care of the business.
Before you could overthink yourself into just running back into your apartment and hiding out, a sleek black car pulled up in front of you. When the windows rolled down, you saw a familiar head of white hair, gaze intense even as he smirked casually. “Hey, sweetheart.” He opened up his door and walked around to let you into the passenger seat, opening the door for you. “After you.” He smiled, and you just sighed, “Such a gentleman, huh?” You chuckled, and Satoru just shook his head, “You deserve nothing less, beautiful.”
Satoru headed back to the driver’s seat after he shut your door, hopping back into place and buckling his seatbelt on with one hand. The drive to the restaurant was silent but not uncomfortable, like the days where he would simply stare at you creating bouquets like he was adoring your very existence. Except now, the roles had reversed. Satoru kept his gaze locked on the road, while you stared at him through your peripheral gaze, admiring his handsome face and attractive features. He was wearing a white collared shirt, two buttons undone from the top and his sleeves rucked up to his elbows.
The tight shirt did nothing but accentuate his physique, and you couldn’t help but stare at the visible veins crawling up his arm. He decided to forgo his sunglasses today, which gave you a clear view of his sky blue eyes that always made you seem like you were drowning in an ocean whenever he stared at you for a little too long.
Satoru noticed your staring, but didn’t comment on it, though you could tell by his grin that he was enjoying your attention. When he pulled up to the restaurant, you waited patiently in your seat for him to go around the car and open your door for you. He offered his hand and you paused before taking it, letting him pull you out of the car just so you could get a sense of how strong he was.
He seemed to catch on to your little scheme and smirked, “Testing my strength, sweetheart?” He cocked up an eyebrow, his hand still in yours. You froze for a second, and you knew you couldn’t lie. He just leaned in closer and whispered in your ear, “I’d love to show you just how strong I am.”
Then, as if it was just the wind, he pulled back and placed a hand on your back, pushing you toward the restaurant with an innocent smile on his face, “Come on, sweetheart.” With his hand guiding you forward, it didn’t matter that your knees were weak or that you were too flustered to even utter a word.
When you finally looked up and your brain processor finally booted up again, you saw a tiny little corner restaurant that looked like it could only house about 15 people at a time. Satoru smiled and his hand slipped down from your back to hold your hand, squeezing tightly, “They serve really good ramen.” He said next to your ear, his voice soft and fond.
Before you could reply, the sliding door opened slowly and an old lady with kind eyes and wrinkles that told you that she has been smiling all her life appeared before them. She took one look at Satoru and a warm smile spread on her face, “Toru, darling.” She grabbed his face and squished his cheeks, “My goodness! You’ve lost all your fat again. Come, come. You need to eat up and get some flesh on those bones.”
Satoru smiled and spoke, although it was muffled by her squishing his cheeks, “Baa-chan, I have a guest.” He said, tugging at your hand and pulling you into his side. He turned to you with a look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite decipher yet and introduced you, “This is [Name]. She’s a special friend of mine.”
You tried not to think too hard about the way he described you as a ‘special friend’ or the soft tone he used as he looked at you with those beautiful eyes that made you feel like the sun every time he stared, and you turned to greet the lady with a smile. “Hello there.”
The lady looked you up and down and smiled brightly, “Ah, what a pretty girl.” She let go of Satoru and rubbed your arms gently, “Nice to meet you, sweetie. Please, come inside!” She guided Asami into the small restaurant, “Toru, your usual table is all ready.” She led them over to a corner table and didn’t even bother taking their orders, just leaving to quickly grab them waters and telling Satoru that she’d serve them his usual.
You blinked and turned to Satoru, who just shook his head and shrugged, “I wouldn’t fight with her on that. She’ll just insist on serving us more food.” He chuckled, leaning on the table. You looked around and smiled softly at the cozy atmosphere of the restaurant, filled with old couples or little families slurping on bowls of ramen and laughing together like this little shop had its own world separate from the outside.
You hummed, “Is she your grandmother?” You asked, nodding over to the lady behind the counter cooking some noodles. Satoru smiled and shook his head, tracing the wood graining with his fingers as he spoke, “No…but she might as well be.” He laughed softly. “My family came here a lot when I was young, and I’d stay here after school when my parents would work late.” He smiled, “As a result, I used to have very chubby cheeks.”
You laughed at that, eyeing the sharp cut of his cheekbones, “You? Chubby?” You giggled. Satoru just nodded, smiling as your laugh surrounded him like a warm hug. “Believe it or not, sweetheart, but I was like a chipmunk. I just worked it all off when I hit my teenage years.” He traced his jaw, “Think it’s working for me.”
You smirked and nodded, “Uhuh. Working real well.” You tilted your head and propped your chin up on your palm. “So this is your comfort place?” You asked, looking around. Satoru smiled, his posture relaxed, “Yeah. You could say that.” He hummed and reached across the table to grab your hand gently, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles, “Thought I’d bring my comfort person to my comfort place.” He said, his tone teasing but his eyes held a seriousness to them that suggested he was the furthest away from joking.
You laughed, trying to deflect the nerves crawling up your skin. “You know me enough for me to be your comfort person?” You joked, trying to seem nonchalant when you were anything but.
Satoru simply laughed and overturned your hand so he could trace the lines on your palm. He spoke absentmindedly, “I know a few things.” He hummed, his eyes trained on your hand and his finger—which was now drawing random shapes on your skin.
“I know how you like your coffee, how your tongue starts to poke out from the corner of your mouth when you concentrate too hard, how you like keeping your workspace tidy in preparation for new bouquets you’re about to make, how dedicated you are to the success of your shop as you plan your course of action for every season…” He smiled, his eyes finally flicking up to look at your reddening face. “And I’d like to know more. So much more. If you’d let me.”
You gulped, your hand starting to get clammy in his grasp. You were about to say something when suddenly, the old lady came by and dumped a whole buffet spread of food in front of you. Gyoza, sushi rolls, karaage, ramen, kushiyaki, and more. The smell of the food made your mouth water, and your attention was immediately pivoted away from his somewhat confession.
Satoru didn’t say anything to get your attention back to what he had said prior, too busy staring and tracing your features with his eyes like you were an image he wanted engraved into his mind.
That was okay, even if you didn’t acknowledge his feelings right away. He’d wait for you, like a bee patiently waiting for the flower buds to bloom once spring comes.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Days have passed since that little date, and Satoru had not let up on his visits. It started to become routine to you, to hear the bell ring at 12:30 and see Satoru walking in like he owned the place.
Once the clock hit 4:00 and business started to slow, you’d invite him behind the counter to make bouquets with you. Some were wonky, others were definitely crumpled, and one was a terrible clash of flowers—but you didn’t care about that.
You cared about how focused Satoru seemed to be whenever he was trying to make a bouquet, hands gentle with the petals when he’d previously picked up bouquets from her store and waved them around like they were flags.
He was so much more different from the person he was just a few months ago, and you couldn’t help but admire his change. The cocky, arrogant, and careless man you had thought you already knew was actually like an onion, with all his layers and secrets that you were just starting to discover.
Now, he was gentle, vulnerable, sweet, and his crystal blue eyes held a brilliance that rivaled a cave of diamonds every time he looked at you. As you watched him wrap up a bouquet of tulips with a ribbon, you wondered distantly how exactly your perception of him had changed so drastically—like you had opened your eyes to something that you just didn’t see at first.
And maybe, just maybe, something was blooming between you two that wasn’t there before.
He held up the bouquet to you, ribbon near and perfectly symmetrical. He had a grin on his face that made your heart skip a beat, like he was so proud of himself. You reflected his excitement with your own smile, “It looks amazing, Satoru.”
You nodded, grabbing the bouquet and turning it around in your hand. “Could use some trimming on the ribbon.” You murmured absentmindedly, reaching behind you blindly as you fumbled for the scissors.
Suddenly, your hand slipped and you accidentally pushed the scissors off the counter. Satoru moved quickly, arm reaching out to grab the scissors. He caught it, but at the expense of pushing you against the counter and pinning you there with barely any space between the two of you.
Your breath caught as you were forced to tilt your head to avoid slamming into his chest. He stared down at you, frozen in place as he realized just how close the two of you were to each other. You could feel his warm breath on your face, smell the lingering scent of coffee in his breath. Your heart was racing a mile per minute as you stared up into his eyes.
His eyes that flicked down to your lips for a split second, the action only sending your heart spiraling faster. You almost thought he was going to kiss you, but then he pulled away and murmured an apology, handing you the scissors and rubbing a hand on the back of his neck.
You held the scissors in your hands, but somehow the weight in your chest was all you could focus on. You really thought he was going to kiss you, but heavier than the surprise of him not kissing you was the utter disappointment.
You felt a little shocked at his lack of initiative, when he had been so bold with his advances prior. Why was he shying away from this now, when he had already been sowing hope in your heart that his flirting this time was genuine and not like his casual comments about your beauty when you hadn’t properly known him yet?
Your heart felt dull as he made up some excuse that he had to leave and quickly scurried out of your shop, leaving you alone with a blackening hope in your chest.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
For the next few weeks after that incident, you tried to retain the facade that everything between you two was casual and normal, even if your feelings for him were anything but.
You wondered subconsciously if that date was just a fluke, just a hang-out, and you were mistaken to think it was anything romantic—but then Satoru would barge into your shop, pastries in hand with a smile plastered on his lips, and you’d feel your heart melt.
He’d serve you your coffee, catered perfectly to your tastebuds. He’d coax you out from behind the counter with a delicious pastry, and then he’d make you walk around the shop with him, just discussing flowers and their meanings.
He pointed at a little bundle of morning glories, “What about this, sweetheart?” He grabbed one and held it up to you. You smiled, “They symbolize a brief love and a bond of love.” You were just about to go more in-depth with what you mean when he gently leaned in and placed the morning glory in your hair, resting on your ear.
The sweet gesture stole your breath away, made your heart skip a beat, and forced the feelings you had buried away to resurface, stronger than ever. Your words died on your tongue as you stared up at him, his eyes a kaleidoscope of unspoken words, silent adoration, feelings they could—but would not—name.
You stared at his lips, half-expecting him to say something, or to press your lips together. Your heart raced at the thought of feeling the plush of his lips against yours, lips already tingling as if he’d already kissed them.
He leaned in, and you felt time slow down as he got closer. He adjusted the flower in your hair, and then—
—he pulled away.
You felt a sinking feeling in your gut, the disappointment like a rock in your stomach. Worst of all, Satoru looked completely unbothered, casual even. He continued walking, already talking about the next flower he was interested in like nothing had happened.
You wondered why he wouldn’t just lean in and kiss you already, after doing all that to take you out on a date. Why was he holding back after doing all of that? Why won’t he just kiss you?
It felt like there was a barrier around him that inhibited him from ever getting properly near you. Like your movements got slower every inch you neared, always preventing you from touching him.
You felt frustration curdle in your gut as you stared at his retreating back. The blackening hope in your chest going fully void.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
The next time Satoru showed up, you pretended to be busy with your backyard garden the entire time. He stayed, of course, watching you work and offering to help, but your curt responses kept him pinned in place. He looked a little nervous standing in the corner, watching you clean up your rose bushes.
Satoru stared at your practiced movements, trimming the leaves and branches of the rose bushes to keep them looking clean. He’s felt a sort of tension from you ever since yesterday, and he can kind of guess what it was due to, but he didn’t know how he could bring it up without you biting his head off.
You didn’t seem like you were in the mood to talk, judging from your snappy replies and strained tone. He watched you roll your shoulder, grunting from the lock between your shoulder blades from crouching for far too long. He slowly walked up to you and hesitantly gripped your shoulder.
You flinched, about to turn around and push him off when he started to massage right on the knot on your shoulder. You melted under his ministrations, leaning into his touch. “Uh…higher.” You murmured, and he pressed his thumb just an inch higher, making you sigh in relief.
“You’re too tense, [Name].” Satoru said softly, and only when you felt his breath against your ear did you realize how truly close you two were. You stepped forward to put some distance between you two, turning your head towards him.
You pushed his hand off, “Thanks. I’m fine now.” You said, starting to walk to the other side of the garden under the guise of wanting to tend to your sunflowers—you really just wanted to get away from him.
Satoru grabbed your wrist and gulped, “Wait.” He cleared his throat, “Wait, [Name], please.”
“Yes, Satoru?”
“You’re avoiding me.”
“I’m not.”
Satoru grunted, a little frustrated now, “Don’t lie to me, sweetheart.” He tugged at your wrist, “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”
You tensed and bit your lips, “It’s nothing, Satoru, really-“
“Stop that.”
You stopped in your tracks, the tone of his voice bordering on a desperation you had never imagined he’d actually stoop down to. He tightened his grip on your wrist, not tight enough to hurt but tight enough to let it be known to you that he was not letting go.
“I don’t like not knowing what’s wrong with you.” He traced the line of your jaw, noting how tense it looked. He frowned, “Talk to me, [Name].”
You stared into his eyes, the deep blue of his irises reflecting the depth of his worry. You gulped like you were gasping for air, like you were drowning in the ocean his eyes held, your own feelings washing over you like waves and keeping you under.
His hand reached up, hesitantly, slowly, to gently hold your chin between his thumb and index finger like he was handling a precious gem. It made your heart beat faster, pounding against your chest so loudly you were certain he could hear it.
“Did I do something? Or was I mistaken?”
“Mistaken? About what?”
“About…well, us.” He stared at you blankly. “I thought…I assumed we were doing…good.” He said, suddenly sounding unsure of himself. It made your heart squeeze with an ache in your chest.
“We…we were. Are.” You sputtered, clearing your throat, “It’s just…I mean, I don’t really know what you want from this exactly.”
“What I want?”
“Yes, Satoru. I don’t know what y-“
“You.”
The words make you freeze in place, his words going in one ear and drilling into your head. He kept his grip on your chin firm, making sure you remained staring at him.
“I told you, didn’t I?” He murmured, “I want to know you, sweetheart. Deeply. Wholly. Intimately.” He leaned closer with every word, so close you could feel the heat from his breath and smell the scent of his perfume.
He glanced at your trembling lips for a split, almost imperceptible second before he looked into your eyes and mumbled, “Did you think otherwise?”
You tried to avert your gaze, but the hold on your chin forced you to only look at him. You stammered, dropping the hedge scissors, “Uhm….maybe?” You scrambled, placing your hands on his chest to weakly push him away as you started to ramble, “You just…I’ve always known you as that player guy who only bought flowers to make girls forgive him since he always messed up and I know you’ve been trying to be more genuine but I was overthinking and-“
Satoru suddenly leaned in, his hand on your chin sliding up to cup your cheek to hold you in place as he pressed his lips against yours, stealing your words and your next breath.
His lips moved against yours, soft, coaxing, pleading, pouring all his feelings into one action as if this was all he had to convince you of his sincerity. You crumpled the fabric of his shirt into your hands, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened.
He groaned against your lips, dropping your wrist to grip your hips instead, pulling you flush against him as the hand on your cheek slid behind your neck and up to tangle in your hair. Your hands roamed his upper body, gasping as you traced his defined abdomen through the thin fabric of his shirt.
He shuddered as he felt your fingers trace his abdomen, licking into your mouth and sucking on your bottom lip. He pulled away slightly, still close enough to mix his hot breath into yours. “I’ve been wanting to do that ever since you first whacked me in the head after I said flowers were just pretty and had no substance.” He chuckled, the grin lifting up your spirits.
You tugged him closer, smiling against his soft, plush, kiss-bitten lips. “You did a horrible way of showing it.” You teased, rubbing your hands up and down his sides. He cupped the back of your neck gently, tilting your head up so you were looking into his eyes, “Then I guess I better make up for it.”
Then, without giving you time to even think of a proper response, he kissed you hard and desperate, but still with the lingering undertone of a romance he’d thought impossible. He didn’t let up until you were out of breath, panting heavily as he pulled the two of your apart.
“Still doubting my intentions, sweetheart?” He smirked, and you shuddered as you felt his in mouth curl up against yours before you even saw his smug expression. You sighed and gripped his shirt tightly, “I think I need more evidence…” You whispered, leaning in closer.
Satoru grinned devilishly, the hand on your hip snaking around your waist and hoisting you up like you weighed nothing, “With pleasure, darling.”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
A few days later.
“No peeking, okay?” You heard Satoru say behind you, along with the rustling of paper and cutting of ribbons. You chuckled and nodded, “Yeah, yeah.”
You were perched up on the counter, a soft cloth wrapped around your eyes as a makeshift blindfold to prevent you from seeing whatever it was Satoru was doing—though, you could already tell just from the sounds. You’d lived and breathed the art, after all.
He was making you a bouquet.
Satoru barged into your shop earlier that day, just before you closed, and demanded you close shop early. He took it upon himself to flip the door sign and saunter over to your work counter, placing you on the counter and insisting that he wanted to show you how much your bouquet lessons have taught him.
Only halfway did he really think to blindfold you, thanks to the discarded rag on the counter from when you were just about to clean before he burst in.
You imagined him now, tongue probably sticking out the corner of his lips as he concentrated on not jostling his perfect flower placement while he wrapped the bundle up. You smiled absentmindedly at the thought, your head warming at the image of Satoru in your head—focused and determined.
A warm hand on your thigh snapped you out of your thoughts, accompanied by the warm tenor you’ve come to adore.
“You can look now.” Satoru murmured, hand squeezing your thigh chastely before reaching up to gently untie the blindfold from your head. Once the fabric was off, you blinked a few times to adjust yourself to the light again.
In that period, Satoru took it upon himself to pick up the bouquet, as gentle as a lamb in the manner he handled it, and present it to you. He had a soft smile on his face, but his eyes betrayed a sense of anticipation for your judgement.
When your eyes adjusted, you finally got a good look at the bouquet and your heart melted.
Beautiful, full, scarlet red roses, arranged perfectly in a dome shape. There were no fillers, just an expanse of crimson petals that reflected the deep passion in Satoru’s heart. By the amount of roses in the bouquet, you were almost sure he’d likely used up most of your rose stock, but you couldn’t even be mad, not when he put so much effort into a bouquet specifically for you.
“Someone special to me mentioned that roses represent passionate love and admiration.” Satoru broke the silence, mentioning an anecdote of what you had said when he first intruded into your shop to offer you a bouquet. “That if you give them to someone, it means you’re in love with them. Especially red roses.” He smiled softly and handed her the bouquet, the silent confession lingered comfortably in the air.
I’m in love with you.
And although the reciprocal confession came a few minutes after, your own heartbeats had already spelled out the answer for you. You hugged the bouquet close to your chest and smiled, “Thank you.”
I’m in love with you too.
Satoru leaned in close and pressed his forehead to yours, inhaling deeply as your scent mixed with the roses. He smiled and looked into your eyes, “So, rate my bouquet?” He pulled back then, his smile morphing into a smirk.
You barked out a laugh and started to examine his bouquet, nodding firmly, “Excellent handiwork, I must say.” You tapped your chin, your lips tugging into your own little smirk, “Must’ve had a good teacher, huh?”
Satoru chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, “The best teacher.”
Sunlight filtered in through the windows and colored the room golden, basking the two of you in a warm embrace—though nothing could be warmer than the love that you had cultivated over pastries, coffee, and petals, all bundled together into the best bouquet you’ve ever made.
a/n: yayyy!! finished my first fic and first post! if you’ve made it here, thank you so much!! It’s kinda intimidating to post such a long fic for my first time…but oh well. I just started writing and couldn’t stop hehe. hope you all enjoyed!! more to come i hope :)
