If you're reading this, hi :D!! You can call me Mimi, I'm a fanfiction author and AO3 volunteer. This account and my AO3 are new, but I've been reading x Reader fanfiction for over a decade and I've been writing it for about 8 years. I've had multiple accounts on Tumblr as well as AO3 during this period, so there's a non-zero chance you've followed one of my past blogs ^^! I have a bad habit of wanting to start over with an online identity once every couple of years, not gonna lie.

“Are you sure you haven’t played this before?” You ask Flowery who’s sitting on your right. 

Flowery never slips up, not even when he removes pieces that are far from the easiest. It’s obvious he’s just showing off, pushing the pieces out with a single, forceful tip of his index finger. He doesn’t immediately respond to your question. Instead, he removes another piece from the tower. You hold your breath as it teeters for a few seconds but it doesn’t fall. Flowery beams.

“No, never.” He nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders. “I guess I’m just berry good at whatever I put my mind to, huh?” A small gust of wind blows through his hair.

“Sure you are,” you say, rolling your eyes without actual annoyance. 

You lean forward as you consider your own options, gaze travelling up and down the tower as you look at the perfect piece to push out. There. You press your finger to the wood and are just about to carefully about to push it out. At that very moment, there’s a blur of yellow in the corner of your eye as something soft brushes against your cheek. A loud ‘MWAH’ sound effect plays as Flowery’s lips brush against your cheek. 

Your hand jerks forward and the tower collapses, wooden blocks scattering all over the table and floor. You stare at the mess in stunned silence, your hand moving up to touch your heating face. On the exact spot he kissed, your fingers find a stem leading up into a flower head.

“Uuu?” Aqua drawls from the sidelines. She’s seated behind a pile of wood scraps left over from creating the pieces. Cutting them into shape with her knife had been her favourite part, and she’s continuing to make them even though you already have enough. “We can do that?”

“NO, we can’t!!” Seth immediately exclaims, waving your rule list in the air. Their eyes dart from you to Flowery, and back again. “It’s not in the rules… Right?” 

Green, seated next to them, holds a hand in front of their mouth, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. 

“Well,” Flowery says, “does it say anywhere that it’s not allowed?”

Seth balks and leans over the paper again, using a finger to trace the few lines you’d written on it. 

You’re still a bit disoriented. You pull on the stem sprouting from your cheek and it pops free with little resistance. The flower’s petals are golden, Flowery’s face smiling up at you from its middle. Your face is warm underneath your fingertips, your traitorous heart speeding up before you will it to slow back down. He’s just messing with you, teasing you as usual. It’s the way he is. Your brain focuses on the conversation again.

Flowery is shaking his head. “You snooze, you lose, Seth. M’afraid it’s just a loophole, and I didn’t break any rules.” He elbows you lightly in the side and you jump. “What’s the expert’s think?”

“Uh… Sorry, what was the question again?”

Flowery laughs and quirks an eyebrow. “Wow, you had your head way up in the clouds, huh? Because of me?”

“You wish,” you tell him, forcefully pushing past your shyness and leaning into humour to brush it off. “Keep dreaming.”

“I’m adding a rule! Th-that’s okay, right?” Seth calls out from the other side of the table.

You nod, and they immediately pull out a pen to add ‘NO DISTRACTIONS’ in a big, furious scrawl.  

“Ooo, ooo, can I add a rule, too?” Aqua skips over, only for Seth to hold both the paper and the pen above their head. Out of reach until Aqua floats effortlessly up in the air to snatch them away, giggling.

“Aww, that’s too bad,” Flowery muses from besides you, turning his close-eyed gaze in your direction. The corners of his mouth curl up a little higher. “I was looking forward to a bit of payback.”

Your cheek tingles again and you snort, averting your eyes away from. You twirl the flower in your hands and open your mouth to retort when Aqua’s feet just barely graze over the top of your head. You duck down, covering the top of your head with your hands.

Flowery is distracted by the bickering between the two other flowers and you’re a little relieved as the weight of his attention moves away. As he’s trying to determine a small rule Aqua can add, you drag the chair closer to the table and help Green rebuild the tower for the next round. They’re still smiling as they look at you and you can’t help but huff out an amused breath in response. 

“Shush, you.”

Even long after the game has long since finished, Flowery lingers on your mind more so than usual. More strikingly, the occasional flower still sprouts from your skin. You have the urge to scratch right before it happens. It’s annoying, though not a huge problem. It’s painless to remove them and, when you return to the Light World, all signs of them disappear.

 Still, whenever you return, the issue crops up again. You get stuck in a loop where, because of your silly little crush, you’re already thinking about him more than you should, and now every minuscule itch on your body is reminding you of him, too. Which then makes more flower bloom.

You’re not stupid. There’s a decent chance that, with the way he acts towards you, that your feelings are returned, at least to an extent. Or maybe you’re just being full of yourself. You’ve never seen him interact with any other Lightners, so what do you know? 

It doesn’t really matter. You have to be realistic. It isn’t like you can get together with him and you shouldn’t feed into this. For one, there’s quite a few reasons why you shouldn’t be trying to date a literal flower. Even disregarding that, you’re simply not the kind of person that’s made for relationships and you know it. 

‘You need to love yourself before someone can love you’, and all that. The sentiment’s been proven to you before. None of that means you’ll stop visiting the flowers. They’re your friends, their world is beautiful, and you care about them. You’ll shoulder this discomfort for them.

Today, you’re sitting in to watch one of Blue’s shows. He’d invited you, assuring you that he’d been working on a new move, and you’ll be sure to adore it. You enjoy his shows. Blue’s heart is always in it and, tonight, he’s woven in his blue roses into the show, spinning and fluttering with his wings as he lands ‘on top’ of them, barely brushing over the petals. 

You and the rest of the audience are enraptured until the very moment the show ends. Blue receives a standing ovation from you and you’re not the only one who gets to your feet to show much you loved it.

After his bows, the applause, and the bouquets of flowers tossed his way, Darkners file out of the room as the lights are flicked back on. Blue tiptoes over to you while the room empties out. His wings disappear the moment he touches down in front of you.

“Oh, there you are! I am delighted you could make it tonight.” He clasps his hands together in front of his chest. “What did you think?”

“It was wonderful!” You tell him with a big smile. “Like all of your shows. I loved the way you incorporated your blue roses tonight… It really added a, uh, touch of elegance!”  Being around Blue always makes you want to speak in more fanciful ways as well. 

“I am so glad to hear that. Speaking of flowers… You are supposed to gift those to the performer during their applause!”

At your non-comprehending look, Blue points to your arm. You lift it up in front of your face. Poking out of your sleeve is an all-too-familiar flower.

“Oh, uh, that’s…” You try to laugh it off and pull your sleeve back over it. The stem is so long that the flower’s Flowery head still peeks out. 

“…One of Flowery’s flowers, is it not?” A slight wrinkle appears in Blue’s brow. “But he wasn’t at my performance tonight, of that I am certain. Have you been keeping it there since he grew it for you? Oh, you two are so—”

“I didn’t!” You sputter in response, a tad too quick and bit little too loud. “These have just… They’ve just been kind of growing. Randomly. It’s no big deal.” 

Blue puts his feet flat on the ground, his toes still pointed outwards. He opens his eyes and stares at your arm. 

“That is very strange.”

You shrug your shoulders and wrap your hand around the stem. “It’s fine, I can just pull them out. Look.”

Contrary to all the previous times that you’ve plucked these flowers, there’s resistance now. You open your mouth and inhale sharply. The jolt of pain straightens your back and Blue gasps, covering his mouth with his hand. You could feel it. The roots getting pulled up as you yanked on the stem, travelling through your flesh.

Nausea coils tight in your stomach as you pull up your sleeve with trembling fingers. There’s a literal hole left on your skin. It doesn’t hurt as much as you think it should, though it definitely still hurts. It oozes a trail of cartoonishly vibrant red blood down your arm. It’s a brighter colour than any blood you’ve ever seen before. 

Blue snaps his fingers. A small rain cloud materialises into existence above your arm. You hiss when the first droplets ease your arm, the tension in your muscles easing as the pain ebbs away and the skin stitches itself shut.

You’re about to thank him, when Blue promptly grabs you by the shoulders, turns you around, and pushes you in the direction of the nearest chair. 

“We need to talk about this,” he says firmly. 

“No, no, no— No, we don’t,” you babble. “It’s, literally, only a weird Dark World thing, isn’t it?” Blue doesn’t halt for a moment and you don’t resist enough to prevent yourself from being pushed into the chair.

“Tell me when this started.”

You sigh and put a hand to your face, dragging it down your cheek. No. You need to stop. He’s only trying to help and you’re making yourself look like a child right now. You drop your hand to your lap and straighten your back. 

“Flowery did make a flower grow once, just like this. More of them have been popping up when I, uh…” You trail off and Blue motions for you to continue. “When I think about him. Basically.”

“Blue bouncing butterflies…” Blue mutters underneath his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose in between two fingers. “You are absolutely hopeless. Both of you, even. Why are you so intent on acting out a tragedy?” 

You don’t respond, staring down at the table. He sighs. 

“Tell me this, and be honest: you know that your every breath carries love for him, and that he—”

You flinch as if burned. “Stop. I don’t want to hear it, I don’t… I don’t want to talk about this. Please.”

Blue sighs out your name. “At least let me say this, then. After what happened last time, Flowery won’t be as quick to spell his feelings out for anyone… Though I will say that, in my opinion, he’s been quite clear.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you mumble bitterly.

“You’re hurting yourself. Flowery knows far more about this world than I do, but I know enough about love, and I can understand this much… This pain must be your own inner conflict made manifest. It won’t be assuaged until you make a decision. …And you already know what the right choice is, don’t you?”

“I’m not saying anything. I just won’t.” You speak faster, raising your voice. “I don’t want to and, and, you can’t make me do anything.”

Once again, you feel unbelievably childish. You really don’t want to say a thing though. You won’t, you refuse to, you…

You gasp for breath as your rib cage constricts around itself, the space that had always been effortlessly enough now crushing. Your hand reaches up for your throat as it rattles with a cough and, when it passes, a single, golden flower petal balances on your tongue. You swallow it. Blue doesn’t have to see that. 

“If you won’t, I will,” he says. 

Your mouth falls open and you let out a disbelieving, short laugh. “You wouldn’t. Blue. You wouldn’t.”

Blue stares you down for a few seconds and then takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. 

“…No, I won’t. But I can tell you this… I care about you, everyone here does. I won’t allow you to treat yourself this way. You’re not the only one impacted.” He stands up from his chair, wings sprouting into existence and fluttering restlessly, agitated, behind him. “I will take action if you do not do it yourself.”

You sit there for a while after Blue leaves. He doesn’t understand. You can’t expect him to, but then he shouldn’t be telling you what to do, either. You sigh and slump in your chair. It’s unfair to think that, considering you don’t even know why you feel the way you do half the time. It’s already hard enough to talk about innocuous things. Something as personal as being honest and open about your feelings in a genuine manner makes you want to violently explode.

‘Crushes’ have never been without fear for you, and the times where you thought it would get better, when you had acted on them… You always ended up letting your worst impulses take over.

You’d run and hide, figure out what they might do to get you back if you disappeared. You’d avoid them, allow texts to go unanswered for weeks at a time while simultaneously obsessing over what they were doing without you. Without fail, and understandably so, when they’d lose interest, you’d felt a mixture of hurt and relief. Like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders or a chain severed.

Perhaps you’ve changed since then. You struggle to be able to tell and refuse to blame teenage emotions alone for the ups and downs of your juvenile relationships. You haven’t bothered to try since.

You’ve come to this conclusion: A person like you isn’t meant for relationships. You’re never able to help yourself.

As time passes, the symptoms increase in severity. You’re hardly able to go a few minutes without sprouting new flowers, and you start needing to excuse yourself to run behind the nearest tree and cough so hard you nearly throw up. The petals start being spat out speckled with blood, tears streaming down your face as you have to reach into your mouth to pick up the ones stuck to the roof of it. Suffice it to say, it makes spending time in the Dark World a whole lot less enjoyable. And more difficult.

You can’t exactly say that you’re looking forward to being so miserable again. Having to hide it to the best of your abilities is even more of a struggle. That’s why, though you usually visit every other day, you allow a gap of a couple of days to fall prior your next visit. In the end, you do return, because… They are your friends. And you miss them.

You always land at about the same patch of grass when you enter the Flower Kingdom and, this time, an envelope has been left there with your name write on it in green ink. 

Come meet us at the cafe. 

When you arrive there, you can just about make out the tail end of a conversation between Yellow and Blue. 

"No, no, dear. They're not a criminal, I promise. I simply misspoke. The fact that they're both refusing to address their feelings to this extent, is criminal."

Yellow scratches the side of his head. "Uh.. So are they a criminell, or not?"

"They're not, dear. You know what? Don't worry about a thing."

You're hesitant to enter the cafe. A couple of tables have been pushed together in the middle of the room, all the flowers seated around them. All of them, except for Flowery. Only a single empty seat is left at the table. You don't like where this is going. 

"Uh... Guys? What's all this?" 

Blue hops up as soon as he spots you, waving you over.

"Oh, there you are! I'm so glad you could make it. Have a seat, have a seat." 

Hesitantly, with short, slow steps, you make your way to the table and sit down. With a smile, Green puts down a plate of your favourite food down in front of you. With an apologetic smile, you shake your head. 

"I'm not really hungry bright now, but thank you." 

The truth is, it's been getting harder and harder for you to eat in the Dark World. You never have an appetite and, when you do try, it’s genuinely difficult to swallow anything. You really don’t want to be rude. This situation is simply already nerve wracking, making it more difficult to eat.

Aqua is standing on top of her own chair. She’s on your left side and leans over to whisper in your ear. 

“It’s about the flowers inside you,” she tells you. “I don’t really get it. We all have those, right…? But maybe I could cut you open to get them out?”

Of course that’s what this is all about. 

“That’s a good suggestion, but let’s wait and see if there’s anything else we can try out, okay?” You keep your voice steady. If anyone’s to be blamed for putting you in this position, it’s definitely not Aqua. 

You look at Blue across the table. “…So? Is he coming?”

“No, of course not,” Blue immediately responds. Your shoulders sag with relief. 

“This is merely a means for us to express our own feelings about the situation.”

“Well? What do you all think?” You ask. 

Green holds up a sign. We all think you should tell him <3.

You put your elbows on the table and bury your head in your hands, groaning. A pang of pain shoots through your chest. You really don’t want to be talking about this right now, but… What choice do you have? If you don’t humour this right now, they might actually get up and tell Flowery for you, right now. He’s practically their ‘leader’, after all. That outcome would be far worse. If you are going to tell him, you at least want to do it on your own terms.

“Of course you do… Am I that transparent, or did you tell everyone, Blue?”

“It’s pretty obvious,” Seth informs you and you snort. God. 

“Thank you, very helpful. Anyone else in the room have any input on my love life? Now’s your chance.” 

You should’ve expected this, but you’re then treated to a bunch of confession or date ideas from the different people around the table. It would’ve been funny if you weren’t so profoundly uncomfortable, if every idea didn’t make you run through a hundred scenarios where you’d make a fool of yourself. 

The feelings build until you can’t hold them back anymore. You lean forward, cupping a hand over your mouth to catch the petals that leave your lips as you cough and wheeze. Your eyes remain glued to the tablecloth. You ball your hand into a fist and shove the petals into your pocket.

“All we want is for you to stop being in pain,” Blue says gently. 

“YEAH!!” Orange calls out, too loud, clearly out of her depth. “Flowery isn’t MEAN!!! If you told him, I’m sure he’d be nice!!”

You’re about to open your mouth and explain that, guys, this is nice and all… But it’s entirely possible for you to think that he’d be nice about it, that he might even return your feelings, and that you still have absolutely NO desire to talk about them. Then, a voice behinds you rings out that makes your blood run cold.

“Who called?”

Flowery’s there, entering through the door behind you with a gust of wind. The entire room falls silent at once as Flowery floats into the cafe. He wouldn’t be here, he shouldn’t be here. That’s what the note said. Looking at Blue, he doesn’t look too happy about it either, so whatever distraction he must’ve cooked up for him didn’t last long.

He laughs at the sudden silence. “Wow, you guys exchanging secrets here without wanting me to know?” You refuse to respond. You never asked for this to happen, so why should you? “…Wait, really? Hah!”

You want to sink through the floor. Why isn't there a way for you to return to the Light World whenever you want? That way, at least you wouldn't have to be sitting here right now.. Your face is burning up, one of your feet tapping nervously on the floor u underneath the table.

It’s Seth who ends up breaking the silence.

"Flowery," Seth starts. "If a human started suddenly growing flowers on their body, what could be the cause?"

You want to glare at them so badly. You don't, though. Despite them being around as long as Flowery, they're a lot more child-like than him, and you’re not about to start picking a fight with a kid that’s trying their best to help you. Even if you would’ve liked them to keep their mouth shut. Well, maybe it’s not immediately obvious that it’s you who’s being talked about. Everyone in this room considers themselves humans.

...Who are you kidding. Of course it's obvious that it's you.

"Hm? A human, you say?" You can practically feel his eyes boring holes into your back. You don't move a muscle. 

"Well, Lightners in the Dark World manifest their SOULs strongly. So if no one's casting any magic on them, and that's still happening... It probably has something to do with that. A misalignment between the two of them, perhaps?”

His shoes click on the floor behind you. You keep your head in your hands as his presence stands still behind you.

“How’s it growing, buttercup? I haven’t seen you in a little while.”

“I’m fine,” you say and don’t move a muscle. “Just a little under the weather.”

Flowery hums in response. “You do sound like you have a sore throat.” You laugh at that, and making the sound hurts. 

You can practically feel the unspoken questions hanging in the air. And he’s exactly the type of person who’ll poke and prod you until you spill it all out. It’s too much for you all at once. The presence of all the other flowers, and Flowery, too, the fact that it’s so obvious what you’ve been suffering from… 

You push your chair back. It knocks into Flowery’s legs as he lets out a little ‘oh!’ and jumps back. You don’t turn around, head angled towards the ground. 

“I’m just… Going to use the bathroom.” You scurry off as you wonder if there even are any bathrooms here. Have you ever had the urge to use one? 

Flowery doesn’t follow you right that second. An explosion of chatter rings out behind you, multiple flower’s voices overlapping, but you ignore it all. You slip out the backdoor and pick up the pace, coughing and leaving a trail of bloodied petals behind you wherever you go. 

There’s no time to hesitate. If Flowery wants to catch up with you, he can do so within seconds, and you’re not ready to have that conversation right now. Not at all. You just want to go home again.

You’re right in front of the portal back to the Light World when he calls out tp you. 

“Wait!” Flowery tells you. Your hand is extended towards the light. It only takes the slightest brush of your fingers against it to be sucked upwards, to disappear far away from here. 

“We don’t have to talk about it right now,” he continues. “But your friends haven’t seen you in a while. Won’t you stay a bit longer? Friendship is a power on all it’s own. It’ll help you feel better.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, the head of a flower falling from your lips, and you leave. You sit on the floor in Asgore’s store for a little while after that, ignoring the corner of pure darkness in the room that leads to Flower Kingdom. On trembling legs, you catch your breath and head back home before Asgore can see you and ask what’s wrong.

You avoid the town’s flower shop for more than a week after that. With every day that passes, it gets easier not to think about it too much. Ever since going there for the first time, you’ve never been away for this long.

They’ll be fine, you tell yourself. The flowers have each other, plus a whole world to entertain themselves in. Over time, the thought crystallises in your head that they probably don’t even care that much that you’re gone. It’s easy to slip into such thought patterns when there’s no possible way for any of them to disprove you.

Selfish as it might be, the clear division between your world and theirs has always been one of its main draws to you. If you really wanted to leave, if something bad happened or simply anything that made you want to create distance, you could do it without any effort on your part. With distance, everything that happens there seems little more than a dream.

Still, when you pass by the store you can’t help but stare up at the upper floor for a few seconds before moving on. It’s one of those times that Asgore catches you looking. Your eyes lock and you can’t simply pretend you didn’t see him. He swings open the door and waves you inside.

“It’s you! Could you come in for just a second…?” You hesitate for a moment and Asgore catches it. “I know you’ve been busy lately. It’s important.”

For a moment, you allow yourself to believe that it’s just about his store. Ever since… Everything that happened, you’ve felt bad for Asgore. He’s never been anything but nice to you. You’ve helped him out with some basic technological stuff for the store, and tried to help him keep up with his finances. (Ever since seeing it’s always in the red, you have, on occasion, also had groceries delivered to his doorstep.) Of course you’d know if a whole new world cropped up in the Flower King.

“It’s about the flowers,” Asgore tells you as he steps inside. “You know, you visit them more than I do, because… Well.” He scratches the back of his head, smiling sheepishly. 

“I’m taking care of them like I always do but the golden— Ah, Flowery, hasn’t been looking his best lately. Can you go and check up on him for me? …I’m not sure seeing me would improve his mood any, if I’m being honest.”

“Y-yeah, of course!” You might have your own issues, but there’s no way you’d want for Flowery to be hurt. It probably doesn’t even have anything to do with you. Your pain will vanish as soon as you leave again.

As you fall down into the Flower Kingdom, you close your eyes, wind rushing past your whole body. Miraculously, you land firmly on your feet. As far as you can see, nothing has changed around here. You pace back and forth for a good minute before gathering the courage to speak up. 

“Flowery?” You call out across an open field. “It’s, it’s me. I’m sorry I haven’t… Been around in a while.” He doesn’t have the ability to keep track of everything that’s going on in the kingdom, but if you call out to him like this, you’re sure that he’ll hear you.

 Your hands shake in fearful anticipation of the pain that’s certain to blossom. You stuff them into your pockets. A little ways away, Flowery steps out from behind a tree, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, as he usually does. 

His entire body looks… Washed out. His golden hue has turned more sickly, even his clothes don’t seem to be the exact same colour as they used to be. The spiked tip of his hair, usually pointed to the side in a way that defies gravity, droops down a little. 

“…Heh. You’re really here. I wasn’t sure if I’d see you again.”

“Are you okay?” You rush over to him, stopping only a step away. You reach out for him, though your brain stops you before you actually touch him and your throat squeezes shut. You weren’t even really sure what you were going to do. It drops back down uselessly by your side. 

Flowery opens his eyes. With his half-lidded gaze, golden pupils stare you down. “Isn’t there something you wanted to say to me?”

“That’s, that’s not important right now!” You cry out and he laughs. “Don’t just start laughing at me. Flowery, you look awful.” 

He gives you a lopsided grin. “Well, there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?”

You ball your hands into fists in your pockets. “This really isn’t funny.”

“…I know. You’re here now, aren’t you? I’m already feeling better.” He does a silly little spin and a bow, but it doesn’t manage to quirk your slips up in the slightest.

You stare at him for a few seconds in muted silence. “You’re saying that you were pretending?”

“Not at all.” A bush pops into existence underneath him, roughly chair-shaped. Flowery sits down. “Why should you be the only one who gets to feel sick because of your feelings, huh?”

You hang your head. Your hands relax in your pockets and you swallow, your saliva making a slow, painful descent down your throat.

“You want to hear me what I have to say?” You say, tremor in your voice. “I don’t think… I don’t think that I should be coming here anymore. That’s what I think.”

Flowery gives you a close-eyed, sad smile, his head lowered a little. “Troubled flowers have bloomed for both of us, I see. …At least sit down and have a final talk with me, then.”

You guess you can owe him that much. Your arms and legs are itching and you’re desperately ignoring the urge to scratch at them. Your pants leg swells with the flowers sprouting from your skin pushing against the fabric. You lower yourself to the ground, only to find that he’s already grown a little stool for you as well. 

“Do you have any dreams, buttercup?”

Your brow furrows. “…What?”

“You heard the question.” You cup your hands over your face for a second and sigh, then drop them back down in your lap.

“Is that really what you want to be asking me right now?” Flowery doesn’t say anything, only tilts his head a little to the side. “…Not really. I’ve always been more of the realistic type, I guess. I don’t really see— I guess I just want enough money to live comfortably, time to enjoy my hobbies. That kind of stuff.”

Flowery hums in response, nodding. You lean forward a bit. “What? What is it?”

“Nothing. That explains quite a lot, that’s all.”

You slump back in the stool, branches snapping under the force of your movement as you  collide with the backrest. “Just tell me what you want to say. Please.”

“You should let yourself dream. You refuse to, because you don’t believe you can achieve anything that you really want, don’t you? It’s not a bad shield. …But does it still serve you?”

You don’t want to begin to try and unpack that. You didn’t come here to be psycho-analysed by Flowery while your body revolts against itself, pain flashing through your limbs. Sucking in a deep, harsh breath, you yank up your clothes to the knee, revealing the flowers sprouting from your skin, the roots feasting upon blood and flesh. 

“Are you just going to sit there and spout bullshit like a self-help book,” you say, voice cracking. “Or are you going to do anything to actually help me?! It’s not that I want this, it just… It hurts…” 

Flowery’s smile falters, but he doesn’t look surprised. The others must have already told him about this. You hold your breath as he reaches out for the flowers growing from your skin, the ones that bear so much resemblance to his own. He touches them. A faint glow emits from his hands. Nothing happens. 

“These seeds have sprouted from the own unease in your SOUL. I can’t do anything about  them myself.”

Your mouth twitches in a humourless grin. What’s the point of hiding any of this anymore, then? You let your chest rattle with disgusting-sounding coughs, bending forward to spit out blood-soaked petals in the gap between your two chairs. One of them sticks to the top of Flowery’s shoe. 

Bloody phlegm glues multiple petals together and you chew on whole flower heads before spitting them out on the ground. There’s a rebellious, sick satisfaction in finally showing how fucked up you actually are, how his expression falls any further. Tears stream down your face as you wheeze. They dangle from your chin for a perilous moment before dripping down into the mess you’ve made. With every breath, razor blades are dragged over the inside of your lungs. It hurts sosososososo MUCH. It’s never felt anything like this before.

“Nobody told me it was this bad,” there’s a slight tremor in Flowery’s voice. He reaches out to touch you and, the very moment the tips of his fingers brush against your shoulder, you jolt away as if burned.

“Don’t, don’t touch me!” You scream, your voice cracking. “This is all— This is all your fault! I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t be like this, if, if…!” 

You bend over again, another wave of petals crushing your words into silence. Fire lashes through your arms, legs, chest. You close your eyes and when you open them again the mere flowers have transformed into thorned vines that have ripped through your clothes. They’ve lost all previous resemblance to Flowery’s creations, they’re purely your own.

 They stretch out further from your own skin, dangling in the air and swaying, seeking something, before turning towards yourself and curling around your body. They leave light scratches that ooze more bright red blood. You’re shaking uncontrollably. Your previous words are like ash on your tongue. Is it his fault? You should’ve never come here again. Look at you now. Downright monstrous. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” you sob out, making yourself as small as possible. You wrap your arms around your lower legs, tuck your face against the top of your thighs. The vines curl closer around you. Most of the pain has ebbed away, though you’re still bleeding. You’re dizzy.

You sit there, in silence, for what feels like an eternity. It can’t have been more than two minutes. You lift your head up and look up. Flowery hasn’t left. He’s still there, eyes half-open, holding one of your vines in his hands. It’s curled around his hand. The thorns draw his blood as well. Golden little streams run down his hand. He rubs the pad of his thumb over one of the thorns.

“These, too… They must’ve done their job protecting you, yeah? But I’m not, we’re not, here to hurt you.” Flowery says softly. “You can let us care about you.”

“Why aren’t you… Why aren’t you mad?” You say, voice a little more than a whisper, bordering on accusatory. 

“I don’t see the use in telling you the same things you’ve already said to yourself a thousand times before.” He smiles, just a little. “Contrary to popular belief, I can be nice, you know.”

“I’ve never said you weren’t nice. I’ve only called you annoying.” You sniff and wobble out a poor excuse for a smile as Flowery, similarly, laughs. It’s nowhere near as loud as usual.

You inhale a stuttering breath. The vines pulsate around you in time with your heartbeat.  Your chest feels lighter than it has in weeks, and yet.

“You should just let me leave,” you croak. “It’s ob, obvious. I’m not an easy person to care about.”

“The fact that you’re even asking me to do such a thing… Means  you don’t actually want to.” Flowery slowly, gently, moves his hand closer to his face. He presses a feather-light kiss to the surface of your thorned vine and a violent shudder runs through your body. As he lowers his hand again, he continues, flashing you a grin that shows a hint of teeth.

“Heh… Who are you to tell me what to do, huh? I can make decisions on my own, thank you very much.” Your nerves expand outward, through the vines. It’s a strange, indescribable sensation, tendrils of feeling that extend past your own body. His warm breath brushes against the surface of them. 

“I don’t think you’re difficult to be around at all.”

The word hits you somewhere deep, a chink in your arm, a patch of unscarred flesh. They make you cry once again as you curl back down. Ugly, snot-filled sobs ring out as a handful of petals climb their way back up your throat.

“It’s unfair,” you murmur. You voice is muffled by your sitting position, slurred from the petals weighing down on your tongue. The past is on your mind.

“It’s so, so unfair. People can just… They can hurt you, they can you fuck you up, and the one who has to deal with it for the rest of their life— Is still just you. It, it never fucking ends.”

“It’s unfair,” Flowery agrees above you. “But I still think you can change. You can still become happier. That’s what you deserve.”

“A happier me…” You push yourself back up a bit, though you still shy away from Flowery’s gaze. Your smile is sad. “I have no idea who that is. Who that person could be.” You suck in a quick breathe and continue.

“So many people, they, like, have— There’s a ‘before’ and an ‘after’, you know? They know what they were like before ‘it’ happened. I don’t… I don’t have that. I’ve only ever been exactly like this.”

“I know I would like to meet them.” You finally gather the courage to look up. You must look like a complete and utter wreck, but Flowery’s smile remains there in the face of you. “And I’d like to help. The others, too.”

You huff out a breath. “You’re always like this. You make everything sound so easy.”

Flowery shrugs his shoulders. “Believing in myself is all I can do. I’ve always tried first before making up my mind.”

“I’ve tried. It’s still not that easy,” you snap at him, head jerking up. The urge to apologise wells up inside of you immediately, though Flowery only smiles wider.

“I’m certain you have. But have you already tried with the support of seven very kind, if I do say so myself, flowers by your side?”

“…I guess not.”

Is this really okay? You’re still a bit sceptical. It really can’t all be that simple. The easiest solution would be just to leave right now, to go home. Flowery’s warm gaze hasn’t once strayed from your face though, his hand still bleeding underneath your thorns. You can’t just leave. You try to reach a hand up to wipe at your face and you hiss at the thorns tugging at your skin. 

“Allow me,” Flowery says. 

He seems to pluck a handkerchief out of nowhere. The fabric is a soft green shade with golden flowers printed on it. Using it, he dabs at your face until it’s clean. The vines curled around you have already started to brown and wither, though the thorns are still buried into your skin at points.

“Somehow, I would’ve expected you put your own face on it.” 

Wordlessly, Flowery puts it on the ground besides his shoes and your… Gross mess of petals. A second handkerchief appears, this one, yes, with his face on it. You snort, an ugly noise. It’s really not that funny.

You don’t really think about saying it. Perhaps that’s the reason why you can get the words past your lips.

“You know, after all this, it feels a lot less scary to say that I’ve, well, had a crush on you for a while now.”

You wait through a few seconds of painful silence and then look up. There’s a bright pink blush on both of your cheeks. He starts talking the very moment you let out a little laugh at the sight.

“Aww, you’re saying that all of that emotional anguish wasn’t all about me?” Maybe it’s a distraction from his own embarrassment, maybe he’s hamming everything up to make you smile. Either way, you’re encouraging his behaviour, because it does crack you up. 

“What? How are you joking around before even telling me how you feel?!” There is no rancour in your tone. You already know how he feels. You reach out for one of the vines around you. “Don’t forget I’m armed.”

The dry, thorned vine breaks off easily in your hands. They’re all slowly turning to dust. You look from the vine in your hand to Flowery, and promptly begin lightly hitting him with it in the leg. He lets out a loud, exaggerated ‘OW!’ with every ‘hit’. If he wanted to, he could easily defend against it. He doesn’t move a muscle. 

“Wasn’t making me bleed once enough?” He asks, the vine that he’d held before already returned to dust. Your arm stills. “Okay, okay— I care about you just as much. Flowers of love sprouted in my heart a long time ago.” A little tune plays out of nowhere, rose petals fluttering down from the sky from seemingly nowhere.

“I didn’t want to be seen as too pushy again, y’know? It twisted my stem to hear last time, when I was told that all of my affections were… Unwanted.”

“They’re not unwanted to me,” you say quietly, face heating up. There’s a beat of calm quiet between the two of you.

“Would you like me to get those vines off of you?” Flowery asks and you nod at once.

“Yes, please.”

Flowery is careful as he removes the remnants of the vines, pulling the last bits out from your skin. He casts healing magic and it works, albeit more slowly than usual. The pain from before has all but ebbed away.

“I can’t promise nothing like this won’t happen again,” he tells you. “But you shouldn’t hide it anymore.”

“I’ll try not to.” He raises an eyebrow at you. “Fine. I won’t hide it anymore.”

By the time that you’re all cleaned up, Flowery makes a hole appear in the floor where all of the bloodied petals disappear into. He gets up and offers you his hand. Your fingers remain interlaced even after he has pulled you to your feet. You don’t pull your hand away and neither does he. 

“So, we’re dating now, aren’t we?” You choke a little at his direct question. 

“Uh…” 

“I know that’s how it goes. You spend time together, you confess your feelings and, then, when both of you feel the same way, you’re dating!” He seems a bit proud of himself for knowing all of that.

“That’s how it usually goes,” you admit. Flowery squeezes your hand. 

“But?”

“I, I mean,” you sputter. “I’m just not… Sure. If it’s a good idea? Even, even if we feel the same way, we live in different worlds, and,” your voice turns quieter. “It’s not going to last forever, is it?”

Flowery is silent for a good few seconds. He doesn’t let go of your hand entirely, but his grip does slacken.

“You don’t have to tell me that. I know it better than anyone.” He turns his head away, staring somewhere off into the distance. “Still… Doesn’t that just mean that we should enjoy this to the fullest, while we still can? Flowers, and the Dark World, no, they don’t last forever. But neither do you. Everything is bound to end eventually.” 

Flower turns back towards you. “I don’t think that’s a reason not to be the happiest we both can be, while we’re still here.”

“…Okay,” you say slowly. “Okay, yes.” Maybe this is okay. Maybe you can do this. 

“Yes?” Flowery echoes and then beams, his usual smile brighter than ever. You yelp as he pulls you into the sky by your arm, the both of you flying off of the ground. 

“Let’s tell everyone the good news!” He exclaims. 

“What?!” You cry out frantically as you’re pulled alongside him. “No way. I’m not talking about my feelings again for at least another two days.”

“Haha! Well, don’t you worry, buttercup. I’ll just do the talking.” 

You should’ve expected this, but you’re then treated to a bunch of confession or date ideas from the different people around the table. It would’ve been funny if you weren’t so profoundly uncomfortable, if every idea didn’t make you run through a hundred scenarios where you’d make a fool of yourself.

The feelings build until you can’t hold them back anymore. You lean forward, cupping a hand over your mouth to catch the petals that leave your lips as you cough and wheeze. Your eyes remain glued to the tablecloth. You ball your hand into a fist and shove the petals into your pocket.

“All we want is for you to stop being in pain,” Blue says gently.

“YEAH!!” Orange calls out, too loud, clearly out of her depth. “Flowery isn’t MEAN!!! If you told him, I’m sure he’d be nice!!”

You’re about to open your mouth and explain that, guys, this is nice and all… But it’s entirely possible for you to think that he’d be nice about it, that he might even return your feelings, and that you still have absolutely NO desire to talk about them. Then, a voice behinds you rings out that makes your blood run cold.

“Who called?”

Flowery’s there, entering through the door behind you with a gust of wind. The entire room falls silent at once as Flowery floats into the cafe. He wouldn’t be here, he shouldn’t be here. That’s what the note said. Looking at Blue, he doesn’t look too happy about it either, so whatever distraction he must’ve cooked up for him didn’t last long.

You drain the last sip from your cup and stare down into the glass. A few droplets of orange-golden liquid still cling to the sides.

"It's not… Actually your flesh, is it?"

Flowery looks up. He'd been swirling the cup in his own hand so that the liquid sloshes around in circular motions, never spilling, no matter how close it gets to the edge.

"Hm? Oh. Yep, it definitely is."

"You've got to be joking."

You stare back down at your glass. You're not sure how to feel about your 'favourite drink' now…

Flowery lets out a short laugh. "You really think anyone without maximum statistics would taste so sweet?"

You jerk your head up, about to retort with a phrase along the lines of 'NO, actually???', but are halted dead in your tracks. Flowery's eyes are partially open, his head tilted a little to the side. His eyes drift down slowly to your lips and back up again. The movement is so slow, so purposeful, that your lips part and heat rises to your face at once. He closes his eyes again.

"I get it. You wanna have some straight from the source, huh? Don't be shy, Princess." A winking sound effect plays, a high-pitched ding, though he doesn't actually move his eyelids.

You freeze like a statue as he flips his hair with one hand, the other starting to undo the top few buttons of his shirt. It exposes more of his golden skin. You can't help but stare. The area around his collarbone is perfectly smooth, honestly, a little too much so. It's entirely unmarred by anything. Even though you just finished your last drink, your throat feels awfully parched.

You swallow thickly. "…Are we really doing this?"

Flowery shrugs with an air of nonchalance, tugging the fabric a little wider.

"That depends on what you want. I'm offering, aren't I?"

You sit there for a good few seconds. Your brain has flatlined. Not a coherent thought is being formed in there. It's a testament to how big of a crush you have that, after a few seconds, you slowly stand up and move in closer. You refuse to look at his face. There'll be a smug expression on there unlike any other.

"Heh. Knew you wouldn't be able to resist." In the end, it doesn't really matter, because it drips off of his every word.

In response, you grumble something incoherent. It only makes Flowery laugh. You rub at your cheek and the side of your neck with your hand. Your face gets impossible hotter when he spreads his legs and pats the spot in between them.

"Well? Sit down."

You kneel in front of him, your eyes darting away. Up this close, he even smells faintly sweet. You jolt as his hand comes to rest on your lower back. Flowery nudges you forward with a single finger. In your mind, you've already come too far to back out now. That's what you try to tell yourself at least. The reality is that you… Really want to do this.

A shuddering breath escapes your lips as you lean forward. When you bite down on his collarbone, it's with far too much pressure. Flowery stiffens beneath you. He looks human enough that, at times, it slips your mind that he's anything but. Your teeth sink through his skin with frightening ease, his chest jitters with a sudden, shaky inhale. Something soft brushes against your cheek. In the corner of your eye, you can barely make out a swaying little flower that's sprouted from his chest.

Flowery's skin is too soft. It's practically velvety as it brushes against your lips, a little difficult to keep steady in between your teeth. You slacken your jaw and pull away. Flowery's hand moves up to the back of your head and applies pressure. He doesn't force you against his chest, but it's enough to prevent you from moving further.

"You're not backing out now, are you?" Go on, you won't get a taste like this." He pushes you forward a little.

"Doesn't it… Hurt?" You sputter out.

"Aww, are you worried about me? Don't you worry, buttercup. You're just tickling my petals a little, that's all."

Whether you go through with this or not, he's going to tease you about the rest of your life. You just know it. So you might as well go through with it… Right?

You lean back in and the pressure on the back of your head disappears at once. Then, you bite down a little harder and squeeze your eyes shut.

The layer underneath his petals is harder to get through. Sinewy, almost, and it's warm. You have to relax jaw and bite down again with more force. It slips in between your teeth, a spray of sweetness sprays on your tongue. The juice borders on saccharine, it's fruity, a little warm and yet refreshing. You moan at the flavour before you have the chance to suppress the noise.

Flowery's hand lands back on your head again. This time, his fingers thread through your hair. He doesn't tug. Instead, his fingers scratching lightly at your scalp. He doesn't say a word, just puffing out a breath when you release your grip only to bite down a little harder.

He tastes so good that you can't describe it. That you can't help yourself. It's scratching an itch that you never knew you even had and you press your face closer to the wound, lips smooshing against his skin, as you swallow another mouthful. Sweet, golden nectar dribbles down the side of your mouth and leaks down to soak the front of your clothes.

Your hands and feet are starting to tingle. Your tongue is heavy and warm in your mouth,head lolling to the side as you practically collapse against him. Flowery wraps an arm around you and steadies you with ease, petals floating in out of nowhere to support your body from all sides.

"Woah, that's— That seems to be enough, buttercup."

You whine as he pushes on your shoulders and makes you unlatch your mouth. Your head sways back and forth, eyes snagging on where you'd been sucking on moments prior. There's practically a hole left on his previously-perfect skin, teeth marks surrounding it. More nectar lazily drools from the wound. Small flowers are already starting to sprout inside it, stitching it shut little by little bit. Flowery's head is turned towards you, a frown on his brow and the corners of his mouth turned downwards.

"S'yummy…" you manage to slur as you stare up at him. "Thanks…"

"Berry good, berry good," Flowery responds absentmindedly. He lifts a hand to your forehead and immediately jerks it away. "You're burning up. We need to get you somewhere to rest."

He holds onto your wrists as he slowly gets up, attempting to get you to your feet alongside him. Your legs shake uncontrollably and as soon as you try to put weight on them, you stumble forwards, crashing right into Flowery.

"No walking for you either, up you go."

Once again, petals float up to support your body. You giggle as you're lifted off of the ground, feet kicking in the air, and are then promptly deposited bridal style into Flowery's arms. You let out a little 'oof'. Your temple knocks into his head with a thud.

"How are you feeling? I didn't think that it would have such a strong effect on you…"

"Warm…" you mumble, wriggling a little in his hold. Your eyes flutter open and, just above your head, more of the liquid continues to soak into the front of Flowery's shirt. You strain your neck to try and reach it, parting your lips, and—

Flowery pushes you back down with a single finger to your forehead. "No, no, no. Not a chance." He lets out a sigh. "Whatever shall I do with you? It's not very polite to try and feed on someone without permission, you know."

His expression softens. "…But I suppose you're not all there right now, are you? I'll just have to forgive you." He snaps his fingers.

"Here. Have this instead." A vine slithers up his arm, the tip of it pressing to your parted lips.

It doesn't taste nearly as good. It tastes like nothing at all. You grumble into the plant, but can't do much. Your limbs grow heavier and heavier by the second, your brain fuzzy, thoughts impossible to slog through. A sheen of sweat covers your skin underneath your clothes and you shiver. You curl up a little closer to Flowery and chew on the vine in your mouth.

You grow dizzy as soon as he starts to move, the darkness twisting and morphing around you so fast that you squeeze your eyes shut.

Seemingly in the blink of an eye, you're being lowered on a soft bed, the petals of the flower pillow underneath your head brushing against your cheek. You let out a slow sigh, shifting around a little to get more comfortable.

"You stay put, alright, buttercup? I'll have this sitch solved in a jiff, just going to get you some water." A cold breeze brushes over your wind, over and over again, helping to make you feel the slightest bit more cool.

"Try and see if you can take a little nap, won't you? I'm never far."

"Wa, wait, no, no, no," your voice cracks and tears immediately spring to the corners of your eyes. You sniff loudly through your nose, a distressed whimper sounding from the back of your throat. Flowery hangs his shoulders and turns around.

"Ple, please stay."

He drops to his knees besides your bed and grabs hold of one of your hands, interlacing your fingers.

"Sh, I get it— I'm not going anywhere. Just close your eyes for a little while, okay?" You let out a sigh and do as he says, allowing your eyes to slide shut. You can hardly lift your arm and yet you focus your energy on your fingers, squeezing his hand.

"…You don't have to try so hard, buttercup. I really am staying right here." Little by little, your fingers relax.

It settles you somewhat to lay there with your eyes closed, taking deep breaths. Flowery wipes the remainders of your tears off of your cheeks with his thumb. Time passes and keeps passing. Though keeping still helped at first, now, your condition keeps worsening. The fabric of your clothes clings to you because of your sweat, your body trembling and shivering in a desperate attempt to soothe what's ailing you. You wheeze out a breath through your lips.

The most pressing thing of all, however, is the incessant throbbing in between your legs. Slick has gathered there and soaked through your underwear. It's only because of how unwell you feel that you're not rubbing your thighs together. If you were capable of moving freely, you'd long since stuffed a hand down your pants and touched yourself. Now, you can only make the slightest movements with your hips. They achieve little more than making the bed creak.

"Are you…" Flowery trails off and you turn your head towards him, panting from the heat. You can hardly see his face to the haze of his tears, can only whine out his name.

"I'm a gentleman, buttercup. I'm not going to do anything like that when you are so clearly… Incapacitated."

But you only feel worse and worse by the minute, breathing turning laboured as you start to sob with little hiccups from the discomfort. You just feel really, really bad.

"Flo, Flowery…" you whine again, drawling out the final syllable. You try to move the hand he's still holding in the direction of your crotch. He lets out a shuddering breath.

"It isn't fading on it's own, is it? …I'll do it. I'll help." He goes quiet for a moment. "Flowers don't really do this, not like humans, so you'll have to tell me… Oh, you're not listening to a word I'm saying, are you?"

He lets out a soft, short laugh, hardly more than a puff of breath. "Heh. I'll just have to pay close attention. I'll do my best to take good care of you, okay?"

You can only manage to murmur out a string of 'yesyesyes', your overheated brain somehow managing to pick out a phrase it likes among what he's been saying.

Flowery doesn't reach out a hand to touch you. Instead, vines start to slither up the bed frame from underneath. He continues holding onto your hand and dabbing sweat away from your forehead, murmuring comforting nothings that go in one ear and out the other.

The vines are completely smooth, a dark green without any protrusions. Definitely no thorns, but nothing like leaves either. You squirm as they glide over your body. They're colder than your skin and provide a modicum of relief. The vines don't remove any of your clothes, merely sliding underneath them. Your hips jerk forcefully upwards as one of them grazes over the front of your soaked underwear.

Flowery hums in response. "How was that? Right there?" It takes a few seconds until it brushes over your clit again and you gasp, mouth hanging open as you breathe through the sensation.

"There we go." The tip of the vine slips underneath the wet fabric, prodding at your swollen clit.

Besides you, Flowery's staring at your lower body with a furrow in his brow. Each of the vines movements is calculated and he tries out different movements until settling on one that draws the most responses out of you. Every nerve in your body is alight with pleasure. You pull your head up ever-so-slightly, only to throw it back down in the pillow, as the vine curls around your clit, moving it up and down. You arch your back, hot puffs of breath passing through your open mouth.

"Thank you, thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyou," you babble uselessly and then, without warning and much faster than ever before, an orgasm crashes into you.

Your pussy clenches down around nothing and more arousal leaks out of you, dirtying your underwear further. Another two tears leak out of your eyes. Flowery doesn't stop moving his vines for a second as the mind-numbing bliss just about makes your brain leak out of your ears until the pleasure fades away and oversensitivity takes its place.

You twist away, rubbing your head side to side on the pillow, shoulders pulled up high in discomfort. The vine immediately stills.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," Flowery sounds a little out of breath himself. "It was— I thought it was good."

"Great, yes, it was great," you gasp out, your reason returning to you in bits and pieces. "Just… Too much. Was good."

You take another few deep breaths. You feel a tad better, though you're not there quite yet. The fever has loosened your tongue.

"Lower, can you…?"

"Of course."

Flowery immediately listens, diverting the vine's attention away from your clit and moving it further down along your wet folds. You shudder as it brushes over your entrance and he takes that as an invitation, nudging the very tip of it inside. When you don't cry out in pain and buck your hips towards it instead, he pushes the vine further and further inside of you.

It's thin enough that it's barely a stretch as it moves inside you. That doesn't mean there's no such thing as too deep. Your teeth audibly clack together as it gets too close your cervix, and you wheeze in a breath through your nose. It immediately moves away and your body relaxes once again.

Your brain grows fuzzier and fuzzier again. Flowery, as he did before, gets bolder and experiments. Multiple vines are inside of you now, wrapped around each other into one bigger appendage that has you mindlessly drooling all over yourself with a lopsided smile on your face.

He's able to move the vines much more precisely than any cock or toy could be moved. Flowery pokes and prods your insides, slides in and out, tries to find a spot that'll elicit a particularly strong response from you. It's only a matter of time before he brushes against your g-spot.

"Oh, oh—" you gasp out, and that's all it takes to have Flowery focusing on that spot.

Once again, you're shaking all over, overwhelmed in both the best and the worst possible way. You feel so good and so awful at the same time. The conflicting feelings, alongside the thousands of neurons firing off inside your brain, overwhelm you until you're crying again. Flowery lets go off your hand, wrapping both of his arms around your upper body instead and cradling you against his chest.

His chest vibrates with comforting words that you can't make out over the blood roaring in your ears. The pressure of his chest, his hands squeezing your shoulders, it's still comforting. It's the only thing that seems to ground you to reality. Once again, you're pushed over the edge sudden and all at once, like getting struck by a bolt of lightning.

You're full-on sobbing again when it hits, body convulsing and clinging to Flowery like a lifeline. Black spots dot your vision. The vines inside you slow down as your pussy spasms around them and, before you fully realise what you're saying, you're gasping out the words:

"Thank you, I, I love you, love you so much, thank you—"

And then you promptly pass out.

When you wake up again, you feel like you got hit by a bus. Every muscle in your body is sore, your throat is parched, your clothes are sticking to your skin. You pat the area around your crotch and your face scrunches up as you immediately feel a sizable wet spot on your clothes.

Flowery is holding a leaf to your lips, feeding you clear, cool water.

"Welcome back. I went out to find the freshest morning dew I could find… How's it growing?"

It's clear he's trying to add some levity to this profoundly awkward situation. You don't really have the energy for it.

"Can I kill myself now?" You groan and push yourself up on shaky arms, throwing your similarly-unsteady legs over the side of the bed and sitting there, turned away from Flowery.

You're burning up again. Not with fever, like before, but nothing but unbridled humiliation. That whole thing would've already been bad enough, if you hadn't said… That. Or maybe you hadn't actually said it?? Maybe you only imagined that you did it?? God, you hope so.

"Never." There's no humour in Flowery's voice when he says it. You laugh awkwardly and you brush some petals off of your clothes, leaning on the frame as you get up from the bed.

"Okay, yeah, bad joke— I know, I know you don't like it when I say stuff like that." You shake your head as if that'll help clear your mind. "But, uh, I gotta go."

"Don't be silly. You're not going anywhere. You can barely stand." Wind blows in your face as soon as you take another step. A vine snags around your ankle.

You smile wryly to yourself. You hope that's a different one from the five or so that were crammed inside you approximately half an hour ago.

"You sure you don't want to talk about this? …You might regret it."

You grit your teeth. Well, there goes any hope of him not having heard your horny love confession. Fingernails dig into the palms of your hand. You'd much prefer it to never think of this again, much less address it out loud.

You've spend enough time around Flowery to know that he's always like this. To everyone. You're not special. And if you have to sit here and pour your heart out… You don't think you can handle him laughing, or some stupid quip. You've always known he's waaaay out of your league. He didn't do anything wrong. You're the one who got in over your head and caught feelings.

"…I don't think there's much to say."

"Heh. You were awfully chatty before." You raise your shoulders.

"I just— I don't think I can tell you! You'll just… You'll just laugh at me, won't you? Or have some funny response. I can't… I can't do that right now."

Flowery is silent for a moment. Then a few seconds longer.

"…You really think I'd do that? If you were honestly telling me about how you feel?" His voice is soft, quiet. There's an edge of hurt there that makes your chest grow tight, crushing your heart.

He lets out a sigh, the vine around your ankle tugs a little. "Won't you look at me?"

It takes you a few moments to muster the courage to turn around. You aren't sure what you had been expecting. The smile on his face is soft around the corners, his eyes half-lidded, revealing the golden gaze fixated on you.

Flowery extends his arm forward and does a little bow, though he keeps his distance from you. He straightens up again and opens his mouth.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, buttercup. I thought I had been clear enough, but… I'll tell you outright: Love in heart bloomed for you a long time ago." He tilts his head a little to the side. "I love you too."

You don't think he's joking. Or making fun of you. Not even when he does a dumb, stupid little twirl, the wind carrying flower petals in circles around him as his hair flows beautifully in the wind.

Slapping a hand over your mouth, you stare at him in silence for a good few seconds. Then, laughter bubbles up from your throat.

"You didn't just… Are you being serious right now?! You… You!!" You laugh again, a mixture of relief and pure joy and you plop down on your knees on the bed again.

"Yep, knew that would work. You're such a predictable creature." He's teasing, but there's also a clear amount of affection in his tone.

"You're awful." And then you're giggling again.

"…Buuuut? Isn't there something you wanna say to me?"

You've already said it once. How hard would it be to do it another time. Your face is burning up.

"…I, I love you, too."

Flowery's smile turns into a full-on grin and he laughs. Before you can even blink, he's on you, squeezing you against him in a tight hug. There'a blush on his face. The bright pink is in stark contrast to the rest of his skin, a couple of freshly-bloomed flowers peeking out from the collar of his shirt. He pinches your cheek between two of his fingers and tugs.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?"

You laugh, trying to brush his hand away.

"I'm sorry about that… Just now. I was rude, and I don't know… Scared, maybe?"

Flowery hums in response. He brushes his finger over the spot he just pinched you, soothing the skin.

"Mm, apology accepted. I can be a little bit nicer to you."

"Just a little bit?"

He pokes the tip of your nose. In your fantasies, he'd always been entirely composed during any type of confession, but he's clearly overjoyed. A flower sprouts right then and there from your skin, mirroring his own bright smile.

"Shush, before I change my mind."

You stand there, luxuriating in the warmth of your happiness, the closeness of Flowery. You laugh again, you simply can't help yourself.