start notes—

Adrien asks for very specific arrangements with very specific meanings, and Marinette is the only one who can somehow translate it into floral bouquets (but also, not really)

my tellonym: milkisande

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flower shop

i love you like,
a flower loves a spring.

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"HOW do you say 'I want to move out because you're suffocating me too much and I need my freedom but I still love you and hope you won't hate me completely' in flower?"

Marinette pauses, as she looks down at the— hundred dollar bill?!— on the counter.

Two things cross her mind at once:

That the person ordering the bouquet is very likely insane, and;

That said insane person is also very like the most handsome person she's ever met.

Her eyebrows knit together. "I'm… sorry?"

The customer doesn't even seem fazed by the question. "Sorry, did I say it too quickly?" He asks, tilting his head slightly. Cute. (But he must be strange if he thinks speaking too fast is the issue.)

"I was hoping for a bouquet that could say… this." He takes out a paper, scribbling down a few words before passing it over to her.

Yup. She definitely heard that right.

Marinette holds up the paper in her hand. "This is prettyspecific."

"Oh, is it too much? I could just shorten it if I—"

"No, no," Marinette interrupts, pausing suddenly. "It's, well, it's fine! You landed in the right florist's door, I know exactly what you need."

"Really?" He's almost beaming. "I went to a ton of flower shops before this and they all told me I was nuts and that no arrangement could make a message so specific."

She laughs. "That's just because they're not as good as me, 'cause I'm the best! Consider me an expert on the language of flowers."

"Great!" He responds brightly. "I was worried about how I was going to break it to him…"

"Who is this mysterious he, anyway?" Marinette steps outside the counter, circling around the shop a few times as she looks around the greenery, deciding on what to pick.

She spares him a passing glance.

Even casually leaning across the counter, he looks like he's been picked out of one of the fashion magazines for fun. (The sun shining from the open windows does nothing but highlight his figure, almost illuminating him to godlike status.)

Marinette gulps. "That is if you don't mind me asking!"

The customer smiles, completely unbothered (and oblivious to her panic). "It's okay," he replies easily. "... it's for my dad. I'm planning to move out and I just don't know how to break it to him." He smiles. "And I've heard that flowers are a great way to ease into conversation."

"Well," Marinette replies, carefully picking out a few plants and laying them on her arm. "They're pretty, at least. And everyone loves looking at things they think are beautiful."

She stares at him for a bit too long, before immediately stuttering to herself and heading back toward the counter, an army of flowers in hand.

"So I think we've got our flowers here," she starts, carefully laying them down on the table. "I'll just arrange and wrap it together, then we're all set!"

"Perfect," he says, observing her work through the plants. She's so focused that when he speaks up again, Marinette almost falls over.

"You're great at this."

She squeaks. "I— uh— thank you?"

"I can't do things like this," he explains, stretching his arms out to gesture at the greenery around them. "I have, like, the opposite of a green thumb. I kill every plant I touch." He drags his hands down his face, almost dramatically. "I have the power of destruction."

Marinette laughs. "I'll be sure to wrap it well, then." She smiles, before holding out the arrangement in her hands. "Can't have you destroying this before you get it to your dad, now can we?"

He doesn't speak when she shows him the bouquet, and Marinette finds herself worrying if he likes it at all.

Until he starts speaking, a sudden burst of words coming out all at once.

"This is gorgeous!" He exclaims, regarding the floral arrangement with awe. "Wow, you made this? I mean, I just saw you make it but…" he stares up at her. "What is it?"

"It's— uh, yellow carnations, lavenders, and lilies."

"Oh," he replies, the interest radiating off him in waves. "What does that mean?"

"Uh… just trust me!" Marinette finally says, after a brief pause. "I don't want to bore you with the details, the flower language can get a little too long…"

"Then, maybe next time?" He asks, hopeful, and she can't do anything else but nod. "This is absolutely beautiful, Marinette."

"Uh—?!" Her voice is bordering on hysterical. "I, uh, how did you know my name?"

The customer laughs, then points at his heart.

He loves her?!

"Nametag," he grins. "It's on your apron."

Oh. Right.

(Marinette, get your act together.)

"It's Adrien, by the way." He smiles. "No nametag, unfortunately, but I'm Adrien.

How could he have such a beautiful name?

"Adrien…," she repeats— almost starstruck.

Before remembering exactly what kind of situation she's in, and immediately pulling back, busying herself with wrapping the flowers together.

It's a silent few minutes, and Marinette can practically feel his curious gaze pinpricking her skin.

Warm, it makes her feel so, so, warm.

When she finally finishes, she's sweating. (And it's not from working.)

"Here 'ya go!" Marinette practically shoves the bouquet in his face. Great. Give the guy a face full of flower. Great job, Marinette.

But he doesn't seem to mind. Adrien only smiles, taking it from her— she can almost feel the electricity shocking her when their fingers touch.

"Thanks," he says. "I'm really glad I found your shop."

"I am too," she mutters— before immediately backtracking. "I mean, always great to help a customer in need!"

"Then, I'll see you again soon!"

"Yeah, see yo… wait?!"

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Marinette's surprised when he actually shows up again.

And again. And again.

And again.

The next time, he asks for flowers to say, "I'm sorry I accidentally broke your DJ setup thing because I spilled Coke on it I'll buy you new ones I swear". Then, "You're so great at fencing and my childhood best friend actually really likes you so maybe you'd want to go on a date with her some time? I swear her personality can be endearing." And yet another, "I'm sorry the apartment smells like camembert my cat's kinda obsessed with it and won't eat anything else".

With every insanely specific scenario, Marinette always manages to make the perfect bouquet to suit the occasion.

So he keeps coming back.

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It's a few months into their friendship when Marinette realizes that she slipped up.

"She got mad at me today."

Marinette looks up from the flower arrangement, eyebrows wrinkling together. "Who?"

"Chloé," he replies. "The one you made the bouquet for last week?"

"Ah, yeah," she vaguely remembers making a bouquet that meant something along the lines of, 'it's our one-year anniversary and I want to tell you I love you'. (She was only much too relieved to find out it was his friend's request, not his own.)

"The yellow roses. How'd that go?"

Adrien stares at her, expression almost scarily blank. "Actually, they had a fight."

"... oh."

Oh no.

"Yeah," he drawls on. "Kagami thought she was cheating on her."

"... is that so?"

Now she's done it.

"Turns out that yellow roses mean a decrease of love or infidelity." Adrien continues, definitely becoming aware of the sudden panic she's feeling. "Which I thought, weird, because the florist told me they mean true love."

"Haha…"

"So, any idea how that ended up?"

"Well…"

"Well…"

"So funny story— so maybeI'm not the flower language expert I claimed to be at the start…"

"Maybe?"

"Okay, not at all but…"

Cat's out of the bag now.

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Adrien hasn't visited in weeks.

As it turns out, her love story ends before it actually even starts. (Serves her right for lying, after all.)

Marinette sighs, walking up to the flower shop.

After Alya had found out about what she'd been up to, she insisted that Marinette show up early to check up on their stocks and clean up before opening.

"It's the least you could do after partially ruining our reputation."

Fair.

But what surprises her is someone waiting outside.

"... Adrien?"

He smiles, walking up to her. "Hey."

"What are you doing here? I thought you… I… not talking anymore…?"

"What do you mean?"

"You haven't visited in weeks! I thought you hated me."

"No," he explains, visibly confused. "I went to New York with my dad. I couldn't message you because I only had your number. But I messaged you before I left?"

"What? No you didn't—"

Marinette fishes out her phone, adamant on proving him wrong, when her messages betray her.

CUTE FLOWER BOY: Hi! I'll be out of the country for a bit, so maybe you could message me online? I think we still have a lot to talk about after how it ended up last time I went. :( Add me [here]!

"I— uh…"

"Cute flower boy, huh?"

"Wait, that's so embarrassing ohmygod…"

Adrien laughs, and Marinette finds that she's missed it. "I like it. I'm flattered, thanks."

"So…"

"So…?"

"What are you doing here?"

He looks almost nervous. "Well," he starts, before awkwardly coughing. "I was thinking about you the whole trip I was away."

"... huh?"

"Yeah," Adrien laughs. "I missed you a lot." He pauses, then reveals a small rose hidden in the palm of his hand.

"What's this?"

"A rose. The right-coloured one, this time."

"Wait, so…"

Marinette can't process this. She's confident that she's the color of the rose at this point; maybe even a thousand or more shades even darker.

"I'm not sure I understand…"

"Come on, I'm sure even you know what a red rose means."

"But I—"

"I love you." Adrien smiles, taking her hand and holding the rose between them. "And I'll gladly spend the rest of my life giving you every kind of flower that tells you how much you mean to me."

"No yellow flowers, though?"

He laughs. "Never yellow flowers." Then, Adrien looks into her eyes, filled with hope and love and sunshine. "So what do you say?"

Marinette doesn't speak.

Not a single word.

Instead, she tiptoes upward, all of a sudden pressing a kiss to his lips.

"I love you too."

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end notes—

i feel better now :-)) so here's some fluffy wholesome adrinette content ! (though ngl yesterday i was very much thinkin of d-wording the love square again ,, somewhere along the lines of buying flowers for her grave or smth - but o well the angst will not be missed !)

ive never gotten flowers :\\ people always assumed i liked chocolate more which was a bold faced LIE . give me a bouquet w corny flower meanings & i will 99% fall in love w you (as long as the meanings r nice and researched yk dont imitate marinette in this fic) anyway, az usual:

thank you for reading! ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～