His Little Flower Novels & Stories

he says and I just shrug, I'll try. We went back to his office, and they started to talk about littles, other littles, but I'm a little, and I'm their little, what other little are they talking about, I had a big pout on my face now, by the time they were done, I could understand that we're meeting with other littles soon.

"The serving girl who brought it would not say." Elowen took the small parcel between her hands. It was very light. She untied the small piece of pale brown twine and unfolded the clean white linen. Inside was a single white flower. It had been pressed flat between two pieces of thin parchment, the way a careful child presses a flower at the end of summer to keep through the winter. It was small. It had perhaps eight petals. It was the colour of fresh cream and the very centre of it was the soft yellow of pollen. It was the kind of flower that grew in the small careful corners of an old garden in the late summer of any year, and Elowen, who had walked the half-wild garden of Ironbough at eve

He whispered in my ear "I know, but you didn't," I said "I love you so much, Flower," "I love you too,"

"Yes, little songbird. May I enter?" "Please." He opened the door, stooping slightly to enter, handing her the drink. "Lemon and honey tea. Good for the voice." He offered. She smiled shyly, taking it from him. "T-thank you, Mr. Hades." He nodded. "So, How is the perch, little songbird? Better than with the poet, I assume." She paused. "Say it," he urged. She looked up. "What?" "Whatever you just stopped yourself from saying. Say it."

He walked out of the room not bothering to wait for him. Feng Shao huffed and followed him to the hall. He could see beautiful flower beds on the sides of the pathways which he was walking on. He could also smell the calming fragrance. And some medicinal herbs used merely for the purpose of decoration. The sun was shining so brightly with a wonderful breeze accompanying the heat that was making multiple hazes on the soils. It was a wonder as to why those flowers were thriving nicely in such a weather. "We're here." The little boy announced in a bored tone.

The second voice sharpened. "There's something nearby." "You're imagining it." "No. Listen. Past the water. Small heart. Scared." I stopped breathing. "Goddammit, Hart. We leave. Now." "We're not doing anything wrong. Just a stroll under the pretty moonlight." A pause, long and deliberate, long enough to rewrite everything I thought I knew about the shape of the world. "Hunting little children." The whistle cut through the dark. High and sharp, from somewhere across the clearing.

“You’re close, aren't you? If I dipped my hand down there, I just know I’d find you soaked.” More moans spilled from my lips, shameful and sweet. “Do you want me to make you cum?” I wanted to scream yes. I wanted to beg him for it. The orgasm was approaching like a freight train, and I knew it would be earth-shattering. And then his words struck me. ‘Little Hunter’. The fog snapped. I shoved off him with a burst of hysterical strength, my heart stuttering as I spun around to face the male who’d almost brought me to climax.

“Do not mistake my patience for weakness. Antonio is a loose thread. I’m simply choosing when to pull it.” “Thank you for the flowers,” Milan appreciated, her voice dripping with a mock sweetness that made him pause. She looked at the lilies, then up at him with a small, twisted smile hanging on her lips. “But you know, a few gifts here and there aren't going to make me forget Mateo.” The air in the room instantly turned frigid. She’d meant it as a barb. A joke designed to make him pissed off, and it hit the mark perfectly.

I wasn't about to wreck a home. "So dumb." I wipe my eyes on my knees, but the tears don't stop. I look up and can see people making their way through the trees towards me. I sniff and rest my chin on my hands. My eyes trail down, and through my blurry vision, I can see dozens and dozens of flowers blooming around me. I furrow my brow, wiping at my eyes again and moving to sit on my knees and crouch over the flowers. I hadn't wiped my hands on the ground, but they were still blooming. Pink ones, purple, white. Still smaller than a quarter, but slightly bigger than the last ones I made bloom. And there were a lot more of these too. They continued to appear around where I sat as I watched.

I looked at Isa, who was standing beside me feigning innocence. “Is it?” I asked cautiously. “It is now,” Isa replied with a smile. The girl handed me the flowers. They were white and small, with a pearly sheen. They had bloomed near the shadowy forest after the restoration. People called them "rest flowers" because they only opened when the fog descended quietly, without hunger. I accepted the flowers as if they were a crown. “Thank you,” I said. The girl looked at me with pride. “You’re already a great Luna,” the girl said before leaving.