#Mum flowers Sunday

[rabbitslikecarrots]

It’s that time of the week where I collect more seeds! Today is the turn of my sweet peas:

I found some pea moth caterpillars in some of the pea pods - I don’t mind, I have so many peas I’ve had to upgrade to a bigger jar, and it’s nice to have good biodiversity in the garden 😊

[thefloralstylistblog]

Hydrangea en Masse, in a vase - A favourite for Mum

Our hydrangea is looking incredibly beautiful at the moment. Locally grown in stunning Pink, Autumnal Blue and White/Green colour palettes, it is the pick of the season.

Bright blue is not available this week, we have a very beautiful soft baby blue.

Our talented florists will choose the best on the day and arrange in a vase.

Beautifully presented the Copper Beech way.

We include a vase as hydrangeas like a constant water source.

other additions are a beautiful candle to compliment and chocolates

[cumikering]

Neighbour Ghost x reader 8 (end)

1.6k | fluff The stray and his forever home (part 1)

“Bone apple tea.” You placed the cup of camomile in front of Simon.

“What?”

You pointed at your skull-printed shirt, the apple pie patch on his hoodie and the tea on the table. “Bone. Apple. Tea.”

He’d missed that brilliant smile too much. It was impossible to not want to kiss you. He chuckled as he pulled you to stand between his thighs.

That Sunday with your help, despite the pounding of his head, he packed the rest of his stuff and managed to move out. In the last few days he had before he left, he spent any possible moment with you, mainly eating his favourite Chinese takeout or cuddling on the couch.

Two months later when Simon came back, things crawled to how they were, with him visiting for dinner and leaving before midnight. Eventually, he stayed more and more nights a week, leaving more than a few of his shirts behind.

The divorce was finalised and his childhood home was sold. The city of Manchester didn’t mean gripping the straps of his backpack after school as he walked up the dreaded front steps anymore, nor sleeping restlessly lest someone barged in the door with another bizarre creature. The house was gone, along with the memories that breathed within the walls. He didn’t miss them.

His mum got a flat near Tommy’s and a job at a flower shop in the neighbourhood. ‘Not as nice as working with Ben’, she said. She had to buy her own bread, and none she’d found in the area tasted remotely close to how grand his were. She still cooked too much, but Tommy didn’t mind the extra whenever she dropped by. Little Joe always loved seeing his nana anyway.

Back from his next deployment, Simon held you at the door as he inhaled the warmth he’d missed terribly. After his shower, you showed him his shirts in their own drawer, not jammed between yours anymore. He smiled, pulling you in for a kiss.

In spring, he came with to visit your dad, insisting on wearing one of his dress shirts, even when you assured it was a regular lunch. He stood rigid on the porch, the neck of the wine bottle about to snap in his grip.

Your dad was taking too long. Was he arming himself before opening the door? Should he tackle and disarm him or take the shot like a man? He should have worn a tac vest.

“Si, relax.” You rubbed his back. “You’re already too tall. You’re going to scare my dad.”

Is that not a good thing?

Your dad (obviously unarmed) tried making small talk with him at lunch, but he sucked at it as much as Simon did, leaving you to do almost all the talking among the pauses. You only received short answers from the men who avoided each other’s gazes.

Also, who the bloody hell put the coriander in the chicken stir-fry?!

“Your dad hates me,” Simon declared as he drove home, the phantom taste of soap persisted on his palate despite the hours between.

“He doesn’t, I promise. He doesn’t even really like Chinese, but picked the place because I told him how much you love it. He really tried, but just doesn’t talk much with new people.” You stifled a laugh. “You should have cracked a few jokes.”

He gave you a deadpan look. “When we get home, I’m going to tickle you until you pass out.”

Home.

You’d made your flat Simon’s home too. You cleared another drawer for him, and another, and another, even when he didn’t have so many possessions. But you let him expand and take up the space he needed. He reordered a set of his ID discs for you to keep on your nightstand.

Things were… easy. Simple, like getting out of bed a little later on weekends. With his nose buried in your hair, arm around your waist pulling you flush to his chest, he held you in silence from dawn until you woke. Listening to your quiet breathing filled his chest heavy with warmth.

You’d asked multiple times if it bored him to be doing nothing, as if he didn’t lay prone behind rifle scopes for hours on end for a living. It didn’t, because being in your presence wasn’t nothing. You were real, and you were his.

You woke with a stir, a smile gracing your lips when you realised he was with you before your eyes opened.

“Good morning, my love.” He slipped the strap of your tank top off before peppering kisses on the nape of your neck down your exposed shoulder.

“Morning, Si.” You reached back to scratch his scalp.

He rolled you onto your back before crawling on top of you, kissing the column on your neck making you giggle with his weekend scruff. He pulled away to admire your eyes, always striking in the warm sun.

“Love looking at you.” You cupped his cheek, tracing the healed cut with your thumb. “You’re so beautiful, Si.”

He leaned in, and you stayed in bed a little longer.

In his shirt, you placed more toasts on the table.

“Two goldfish are in a tank…”

He handed you a buttered toast. “Don’t steal my jokes, luv.”

“It’s too lame to forget.”

“Yeah? ‘Cause I remember you howling at Tesco when I told it.”

“It was your first ever.” You smiled. “My favourite.”

“Why didn’t you tell me I was scary, luv?”

“I’m not sure they teach you to tell the scary bloke he’s scary in self-defence class.” You took a bite of the toast.

“Fair enough.” He shrugged. “Are you out of jam?”

“Forgot to grab some yesterday, but I didn’t forget your limes.”

Simon became a bit of a pie connoisseur. He figured baking was better than sparring with the intention of beating someone up to a pulp. He tried different fruits (even declared himself a pro at peeling) and techniques, and eventually other varieties. That late Saturday morning, it was key lime pie.

“Why’s the cat so small?” you asked as you tied your kitty apron around his waist.

“Why?”

“Because it drank condensed milk.”

He liked that you were becoming more like him. “You too, it seems.”

You mock gasped. “Rude! You know I can take you, Si.”

“Not in a fight.”

You slapped his chest playfully earning a hearty laugh from him.

Volunteering at the soup kitchen became a regular occurrence too, along with his sergeants. Sam ended up dating one of the volunteers’ daughters, the one he was introduced to. Unfortunately, his two other sergeants hadn’t had as much luck on their side. ‘Does your birdie have sisters or friends, sir?’ Eric joked, but it barely masked his hopefulness. You assured you’d ask around if they promised to keep each other safe while deployed.

It got hard at times, when things went sideways and the missions lasted longer, or when he had no way to contact you or wipe the tears off your face.

Somewhere along the way, Simon listed you as his emergency contact. You weren’t supposed to find out this way. Not this soon, not from his captain calling you about how he was unconscious, dying from blood loss from getting his leg slashed.

The first thing he did when he astonishingly woke was to call you. He could ignore the sear on his thigh, or the fact that his eyelids weighed like lead, but not the guilt that sank into the pits of him when you were in a mess of tears.

“I’m so sorry, luv,” he croaked out of his throat that felt like sandpaper. “I mean it. I’ll leave this all behind if that’s what it takes to keep you. You just have to say the word.”

“Si, you don’t... always have to bend yourself backwards for others. I chose you for who you are, and I will keep choosing you, as long as you don’t give up on this. On us.” You sniffled. “Please come home soon. I need you with me.”

Simon was glad you stood by his decision to stay, because that afternoon a year after, as the major pinned on the new insignia onto his uniform, he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face when the mass erupted in applause.

Captain Simon Riley.

Among the crowd, next to Tommy and Beth, her belly carrying his niece, you had your arm around his mum, Joe’s hand in yours. From across the room, your sincere eyes made him feel like a hero, the most desirable man. He knew he wasn’t, but you looked at him like he was sunshine, and maybe, he was to you a little bit.

Nothing changed. Simon was still fatherless, still missed out on the memories a child deserved to have, but was never granted. Still bound to a past that wouldn’t go, but he was more than that.

He thought his dad was the only thing standing in the way of happiness, whatever it meant. He knew now. It wasn’t what he thought he wanted, wasn’t what he imagined, but it was perfect. This was what it was supposed to be like all along.

“For you,” he mouthed.

Simon Riley never wanted to be an oil painting admired by many, but he was, and always had been, a love note sealed with a kiss.

Line art from part 4

Masterlist

Thank you so much for sticking around until the end :) I greatly appreciate the support and kind words this little story has received. Take care!

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@lyenera @kcmizzz @s-rinaldi-18

[fisshbones]

Hcs of some Hoyoverse characters!!

ft!! Heizou, Sunday, Scaramouche/Wanderer, Furina, Sampo, Xiao, & Pela

Genre: fluff/crack!! No warnings that I can think of besides of being mildly ooc and some being shorter than others. Could be read as platonic. Modern Au Gn! Reader.

Heizou ->

Has thousands and thousands of screenshots, pictures, and videos saved on his phone. Refuses to delete them because “you never know, they might come in use later.” Once in a VERY LONG while does his habit actually pay off. He’s paying for the cloud subscription service 1000% If he doesn’t his phone is borderline useless. If you go through it you’ll wonder how he finds jack sh*t in that phone, there’s no organization on/in that thing. That being said he doesn’t need to put things in separate albums because he had absolutely no issues with finding what he needs. (he’s literally me)

Sunday ->

Sunday likes to tend to his multiple gardens back where he lives. There’s two green houses back at his home. One is his and one belongs to his dear sister. If you want one too, he’ll gladly make some plans for yours next. When him or Robin can’t tend to the flowers, he has a gardener come tend to them in the meantime. While all of them brings joy to him he has a special soft spot for (white) calla lilies and spider mums.

Scaramouche/Wanderer ->

The definition of an annoying menace. He’ll put sticky notes with (sometimes with writing) on your back without you knowing. He used to do this to Childe too, only when it was Childe it would be way meaner. One fool read the ‘kick me’ note on his back and actually did it. Poor idiot guy learned a lesson that day. The worst he’s put on your back was a note with a stupid face on it. And if someone makes fun of you for it, he’ll give them a black eye! He’s the only one allowed to be an ass to you. :)

Furina ->

Does catwalk struts in her mirror when no one is home. She gets wayyyyy too into it. She’ll start on one side of the house and when she gets to her mirror she’ll strike a pose. One time you walked into her standing in front of the mirror doing pose 28. She couldn’t look into your eyes for a week afterwards. If you ask her to give her a lil show, she’ll do it but don’t laugh cause she might cry. lol. (she’s so me coded)

Sampo ->

He plays those driving games with the steering wheel and all. Sampo started streaming it too to make some hot cash$$ This man is DEDICATED to the act he preforms while streaming this game. If he gets into an accident in the game he makes it look like it happened irl too. He’s given himself whiplash from how fast and hard he slammed himself in his chair. think this.

Xiao->

BIG CONCERT FAN!!! Hates the crowds so much though (T ^ T) He’s so not a people person. Always manages to get great seats for you guys. He’s willing to see any performer if it’s for you, even if it’s not someone he likes. I personally see him as liking every genre of music, so there’s a fat chance he’ll still like the music being played. Xiao would put you on his shoulders if you ask him too. But I can’t guarantee you’ll be able to see any better this way because of how short he is.

Pela ->

Pela makes a crap ton of edits and fanfics. Any where between thirst edits and angst edits of anime characters. She’s got over 50k followers just waiting for her to drop the newest robin or satosugu edit. She’s also got of followers on the platform she posts her fanfics on. She’s big on x readers AND ship fics. That girl puts in work making sure both her edits and fics are absolutely perfect.

If you enjoyed likes/reblogs/replies are appreciated!!

fisshbones © 2024 do not repost or translate

[brummiereader]

PREVIOUS PART

Hopelessly Devoted (PART SIX)

Summary: Tommy has to reluctantly learn a lesson in boundaries after his heated confrontation with you about his foolish plan to get you to talk with him. Will Tommy finally throw in the towel and back down from his relentless refusal to let things play out at their own pace? Or will his stubbornness get the better of him once again?

Warnings: Language, angst, mutual pining, fluff

"Archie?" Polly said quirking a brow as she looked over the documents in her hand at the young boy stood at the betting shop door. " Finn's at school" she added as she turned in her chair, a tight smile gracing the corner of her lips as she beckoned him forward with her hand. " Does your mum know you're here bunking off?" She said removing his peaked cap as Archie looked down at the plate of shortbread next to the steaming cup of tea on Polly's desk. "Go on" she said nodding to them with a smile as his eyes lit up and he reached out for the biggest one on the small porcelain plate.

" Mum said I didn't have to go school today" he replied, mouth half full, his rosy red cheeks nipped by the bitter winter air ballooned with the entirety of the biscuit he had managed to fit in his mouth. "Doing deliveries for Mr Patterson at the flower shop, need the extra money now dad's been sacked by the rail works" he replied wiping his mouth as he looked down at his muddy boots, one missing a shoe lace, the other with a patched up hole on the side. Archie was one of many Small Heath children that had found themselves having to help provide for their families, forgoing education over the necessity to eat. The great war having taken the lives and jobs of many men of Birmingham had also taken the joys of childhood from their children too. Times were hard and sacrifices had to be made. Polly was not one to judge any parents decision to pull their son or daughter out of school, she only wished Archie and those like him had the chance to be children for a little while longer. For what was a summers days without the sound of kids playing outside in the street?

" Go on, have another" she winked as Archie replied with a grin that only deepened his enviable dimples whilst he picked out a second shortbread." Well I know I don't have any secret admirers Archie..." Polly said rubbing one of the rose petals between her fingers within the bouquet of flowers under the small boys arm."...so who's the lucky lady?"

" Mr Shelby" he replied brushing the crumbs of the newly stitched winter coat his mum had lovingly made for him.

" Tommy?" Polly said furrowing her brow as she looked over his shoulder to her nephew sitting at his desk in his office when Arthur and John walked in, slamming the betting shop door behind them. Five minutes peace, that's all she ever prayed for every Sunday at mass. Was it really too much to ask?

" Archie boy!" Arthur's voice boomed as he strode over, rustling the ten year old hair with his large calloused hands. " What you doing here ay? Skiving?" Arthur chuckled as he sat down on the edge of the desk pinching a biscuit from his Aunt, earning him a sharp glare and a irritated huff.

"Working" he replied standing up straight with his chin up. He was one of them now, a grown man or at least he thought he was, his muddy knees and youthful face begged to differ.

" Working ay, good lad" Arthur winked patting his shoulder as he reached for his Aunt's cup of hot tea, earning him a second glare and this time a smack on the back of his hand. No one was too old for a good hiding in Polly's eyes, something her grown nephews had learnt over the years as they continued to test her patience.

" Schools a bloody waste of time anyway Archie" John said turning his toothpick between his lips.

" Yes, a lot of good it did you and your crooked handwriting" Polly quipped back, a small smirk etched on the corner of her mouth as she returned her gaze to the documents on her desk.

" It's called doctors hand writing, alright?" John replied with a scowl on his face.

" Esme tell you that?" Arthur chuckled watching his brothers frustration at being the brunt of his families teasing.

" No it's, it's how doctors write. You know intellects" he replied pointing to the side of his head.

" Aright John boy whatever let's you sleeps at night" Arthur sniggered as he looked down at the bunch of roses in Archie's hand. " Who are these for then?"

" His Royal Highness" Polly said nodding to Tommy's office door as she picked up her now lukewarm cup of tea.

" Tommy ay? Come on then lad, let's not keep Mr Patterson waiting on any more deliveries" Arthur said as Archie nodded his head following him and John into Tommy's office.

"Arthur, John...Archie?" Tommy said, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth as he looked up from his desk, surprised to see his Finn's friend standing in the middle of the room with the bouquet he had picked out for you in his hand. And was that the card he had written for you, torn up? " She erh, she wasn't home? Tommy said clearing his throat as he stubbed his cigarette out, his eyes glaring at the handwritten note between the flowers. It was definitely ripped. Shit.

" She told me to..." Archie said as he looked to John and Arthur stood next to him trying to hold back their amusement. Their poor attempts not enough to stop the small snorts and sniggers they hadn't bothered to muffle from escaping.

"Yes?" Tommy said, his jaw tightening at the sight of his brothers clear enjoyment at the whole situation.

" ...to send them back" Archie said as Arthur John burst into a fit of laughs.

" Bloody hell Tommy, what woman sends flowers back? How many did you give her? John laughed as Arthur let out a loud snort.

" Seven" Archie quickly stated on behalf of him, not realising the further embarrassment it would cause the notorious gangster who had now sunk into his chair, his thumb brushing along his brow as the laughs of his brothers resonated through the betting shop.

" Alright, thanks Archie" Tommy said rubbing his hand down his face as the young boy left, leaving the bouquet of red roses with Arthur with a tip of his peaked cap.

" Seven bouquets ay" Arthur said inspecting them as Tommy looked out the window, his grandiose gesture now looking like a pathetic plea for forgiveness.

" She won't fucking talk to me will she" Tommy said lighting another cigarette as John and Arthur hunched over the table puzzling the pieces of card together you had ripped in a clear message directed at Tommy to fuck off.

" Roses are red, violets are blue..." John laughed before Tommy reached over and grabbed the note before his brother could read any more of his feeble attempt to be romantic.

" Sir Edmund Spense" Arthur said nodding to the card as he leaned against the wall, his thumbs resting in the pockets of his waistcoat.

" You what?" John said his face scrunched up as he turned to look at his eldest brother.

" It's a poem, by Sir Edmund Spense" Arthur sniffed as Tommy and John looked at each other, bewildered by the mere idea Arthur did anything other than beat their enemies within an inch of their let alone read or to be more specific read poems. Even Tommy hadn't scaled through a copious amount of books in order to find the romantic passage, the back of yesterday mornings paper had been enough. " I read" Arthur said as his brothers continued to stare at him, perplexed by what they had just heard." In me spare time"

" You're going soft" John said pointing to his brother as Tommy raised his brows shifting in his seat. " Never put Y/N down for a fan of poems"

" She's not, I was running out of things to say weren't I. Tommy replied looking over to the glass decanter of whisky calling to him. Was it too early to drown his sorrows for the billionth time that week?

" Yeh, wouldn't let her hear you say that" John chuckled placing a new tooth pick between his teeth, the other having been chewed to death by the ribbing he received from Polly and Arthur. "Why don't you just say I dunno, sorry. Like normal people do"

" She's avoiding me John, she won't give me a chance" Tommy replied as he looked out the window wishing himself into next week or better yet, next year. Maybe then you'd be more willing to talk to him.

" Well you're in luck Tom, 'cause here she is. With a face on her like thunder" Arthur smirked, nodding to the glass separating his office and the betting shop floor.

" Where is he, where is the rat bastard?!" You shouted storming through the building not stopping for anyone.

" Oh hell, what's he done now?" Polly said looking above her tea cup as you marched over to her, waving your arms erratically in the air, incoherent rambles leaving your mouth about her seconded born nephew as the three brothers watched on from behind the glass.

" I'd say you've got about five seconds" Arthur said as he looked out the window onto the back of the house.

" Jump and roll, don't land on your feet" John added to Arthur's observation as he peered over his brothers shoulder out the window.

" Else you'll do your knees in, but I reckon that's the least of your worries" Arthur said as he looked over to Tommy brushing his hands through his hair, bracing himself for the bollocking coming his way. "Shit, she's clocked you" Arthur announced turning around as your head snapped in the direction of the three of them. This was more than about the flowers, Tommy knew that. He had pried into your life for a second time. The only thing he could hope for was you didn't know about the first. And with the absence of a lethal weapon in your hand his hopes were optimistically high.

" Thomas fucking Shelby!" You shouted marching through his office, grabbing the flowers from his desk and launching them straight at his head, silently hoping Mr Patterson had left the thorns on. "You bastard! You bloody bastard"

" Look, I know you're angry but let me explain" Tommy said with his hand out as he watched yours clasp around the bronze sculpture of a horse sitting on his desk that was sure to knock him out if you threw it. After having a variety of household items thrown at him in in the past week he knew you wasn't bluffing, your face said it all you were pissed off, really pissed off.

" No I'm not angry Tommy I'm fucking furious!" you said, your face scrunched up in anger as you stared him down, waiting for him to admit what he had done.

" Arthur, John can you...can you give us a minute?" Tommy said as he walked forward only to stop when he saw your grasp on the bronze ornament tighten. " Lads, please" Tommy said gesturing to the door as he watched you in the corner of his eye. Sighing heavily Tommy turned to his desk as his brothers walked out leaving you alone together, leaving him to face yet another stupid idea he was responsible for. "Cigarette?" he offered holding his silver case out for you to take which you did, and then threw on the floor beside you. " Right" Tommy said as he sat down in his chair pinching his bottom lip together as he looked back at you, furious as the the night he had drunkenly embarrassed himself in front of the whole of Watery Lane. "You won't talk to me Y/N" he said lighting his third cigarette in the space of fifteen minutes.

" So you decided to force me to talk to you by sabotaging not one but three potential job offers"

" I didn't sabotage them. I merely informed them that you already had a job here, as my secretary" Tommy replied pointing his finger into his desk.

" But I dont do I Tommy? You fired me, remember?" You scoffed, a scoff you hoped would not only distract him but you from the tears welling in your eyes.

" Sweetheart look, can..." Tommy was about to say when your eyes narrowed in on him and he stopped himself before he infuriated you any more than you already was. " Y/N, can we talk as adults? Sit down without, throwing anything?" he said gesturing to your hand still resting on the statue.

" Are you patronising me?" You replied, your voice going up an octave at his suggestion you were being immature when for the past five years he had been far from mature himself.

" No I'm just...fuck sake, I can't win with you" Tommy replied throwing his hand up in the air as he leaned back into his chair shaking his head.

"No you can't, so stop meddling in my life Tommy. Stop ruining every chance I have to move on"

" And that's what you want? To move on?" Tommy reluctantly asked as he looked back to you, the uncomfortable weight now sitting on his chest making him wish he never asked the question at all.

" Yes" you replied turning your head, unable to face him and the truth that you couldn't and wouldn't ever be able to stop loving him, stop wanting him.

" You're lying Y/N, I could always tell when you're lying" Tommy said as he stood up slowly walking over to you like you would a wild horse.

"You need to let me be, let me move on" you sniffed back as your eyes cast down to the floor. " Isn't that what you've been doing, moving on? I gave you space Tommy, I gave you what you wanted for five years even though it was breaking my heart and all I wanted you to do was hold me in your arms" You said wiping your tears, furious at yourself for letting him see you this way.

"Then let me ey, let me hold you" Tommy said moving closer, his hand reaching out for you. " Sweetheart..."

"Stop calling me that!" You cried brushing his attempts away as you walked past him to his office door. You weren't his sweetheart, you weren't his childhood love, you weren't his girl. It was over, all of it over. " Boundaries Tommy, you need to learn some boundaries. Learn to leave me alone" you said opening his door looking back at the defeat on his face as you recomposed yourself. " And Tommy?" You said turning one last time before shutting the door. " If you call me sweetheart one more time I swear to god you'll find the sharp end of that ugly horse ornament aimed straight at your cock, and this time I promise you, I won't miss" and with that you left, shutting the door behind you as Tommy watched you walk past the glass on the opposite of his office, your head held high as you brushed your hair to one side not giving him a second glance. He had been told off look a naughty school boy, and just like a child he was in for the biggest lesson of his life, patience.

"I wasn't really going to throw it" you said sat beside Ada in the Garrison as she rocked Karl back and forth in his pram. "I mean, I was tempted" you added unable to hold back your laugh as Ada giggled into her glass of gin. " Ada I don't know what's gotten into me. I just want to kill him...all the time. And the worse part is I think he was trying to say sorry, and I didn't let him" you sighed bringing your hand up to your face as you closed your eyes, having recounted what had happened in Tommy's office and everything else in the past month to his younger sister at lightening speed. The rapid pace of your account of events clearly fuelled by the anger still lingering within you.

" Hey" Ada said moving your hand away, her face scrunched up with concern. "Nothings gotten into you, more like what's gotten out of you. Five years worth of pent up anger would drive anyone to the point of wanting to wring my idiot brothers neck" she said as she looked at the bags under your eyes, Tommy always did have a knack for making people feel as sleep deprived and knackered as him. "You've been bottling it up for far too long locked away in that flat.." she said as she raised her brow ready to give you a bitter reality check. "...not living"

" What...I've been living" you scoffed leaning back into your chair as you crossed your arms. " I'm breathing aren't I?"

" Right, tell me then. When's the last time you let your hair down and you know, had some fun?" she replied mirroring your actions, crossed armed ready for whatever lie you had convinced yourself of.

" Well, there's..." you said furrowing your brow trying desperately to think back to the last time you actually laughed, did Arthur's endearing jokes count? " Well I can't, can I? Not with him gallivanting about with god knows who stealing the fun from everyone else" you pouted, resolving to the fact you hadn't had a proper nights out in years.

" If you call moping about day and night complaining about you, then sure he's had as much fun as you" Ada replied taking a grizzly baby Karl out his pram as she lifted her blouse to feed him. " If it bothers you that much then kindly bugger off " Ada said turning to the group of workmen shaking their heads seated a few tables away as they took their glasses and moved to the bar. "And before you even say anything, that barmaid was all for show, he was angry. I'm sorry he picked the worse way possible of showing you babe" Ada said reaching her hand out for you giving it a gentle squeeze. " Why don't I set you up with someone, one of Freddie's friends, for a date" she suggested nudging her arm with yours, a mischievous glint in her eye.

" But Tommy...his your brother..I"

" Y/N stop. You're allowed to go out even if it's just for a bit of fun" She cut you off as she brought Karl up to her shoulder, gently patting his back.

" Ada Thorne, why do I get the feeling you just want me to piss him off" you squinted at her as a smile formed on the corner of your mouth. It wouldn't hurt to give him a taste of his own medicine. You thought to yourself knowing he had his henchman still keeping their eye on you.

" Hm, whatever made you think that?" she winked to you as the Garrison doors blew open and the very man who had been the topic of conversation for the past hour walked in. "Speak of the devil. Here he is, tail between his legs" Ada nodded to the door as she placed Karl back into his pram.

" More like a dog with a bone" you huffed as you turned to see him walking straight for you. God, what did he want now?

" Boundaries" Tommy said standing beside you as you sipped on your drink, crossing one leg over the other.

" Yes and? " you replied bluntly as you diverted your eyes elsewhere, the stained-glass of the Garrison windows for one.

"Well, I need some clarifications" he said as he walked around the table, now directly in front of you. Fuck sake.

" Clarifications, what do you want me to do write you a list?" You scoffed as Tommy carefully considered his reply. A list would make his life easier.

" Y/N, you gotta give me something. What do you want me to do?" he replied with a huff, abandoning the idea of a catalogue of what he could and couldn't do as he placed both of his hands on the table looming over you. Fuck you look tired. Was that his fault too?

" Fuck off Tommy, that's what I want you to do" you said scraping your chair back along the wooden floorboards as you got up and left the Garrison, leaving him for a second time that day clueless on what to do next.

"Oh Tommy, you won't be able to bring her around with your charm this time. I'm afraid this is something a quick fuck down by the cut won't fix. You need to try harder" Ada said as she stood up putting her coat on.

" I'm trying Ada, but she'll barely talk to me"

" Yeh I heard about your attempts to win her back. Seven bouquets of flowers, her place looked like a bloody graveyard Tommy, hardly romantic" she said rolling her eyes as she turned the pram to the door.

" How was I supposed to know she didn't like flowers any more?" Tommy huffed as he followed his sister out the Garrison. Maybe Ada knew something he didn't that would win you back...he hoped.

" You know Y/N better than anyone Tommy, you must have known she wouldn't have liked that tacky show of wealth. And don't even get me started on your attempts to get her attention" Ada said struggling to push the pram through the thick mud and dirt of Small Heath. " Do you not remember the flowers you used to pick her and how long you'd spend doing it?" Ada stopped, looking up at her brother as the realisation finally hit him. That over the top plea of forgiveness may have cost him a day's wages but only now did he realise how it must have come across. A cop out. And as Ada so rightfully said, tacky." She didn't fall in love with this Tommy, the Tommy that has to show everyone his worth, his status. She fell in love with this one" she said pulling out the gold pocket watch you had gifted him ten years ago from within his waistcoat that had been back in its rightful place for over a week. " Stop being the worst version of yourself and show her who's she been missing, who she fell in love with. And for the love of god stop being a bloody idiot" she said before turning onto watery lane as a glimmer of a smile played on the corner of Tommy's lips at his sister brutal but well-deserved parting words.

How many more people was it going to take before he let his stubbornness slide and took their advice. It would admittedly be the hardest thing he had ever had to do, no doubt driving him mad in the process. Tommy thought to himself deciding to call of his men from keeping an eye on you or as he corrected anyone who dared to challenge him on the matter, keeping you safe. If he was going to do this he would do it the correct way, without the grand displays or need of theatrics. For the first time in a long time Tommy was going let things play out at their own pace, relenting all control over the situation his was so desperate to resolve.

Tea why did you offer him a tea? You thought to yourself climbing the stairs with the friend of Freddie's Ada had set you up with. The evening had been a disaster. Henry, your date, had spent the entirety of the night talking about his one and only passion politics, something you had little to zero interest in. Opening the door to your place you mentally reminded yourself to have words with Ada about the complete bore she had set you up with and clarification as to what she considered a good night out, because this certainly wasn't it.

" Nice place" he said entering your small bedsit. Was he joking? It was the pokiest flat in Small Heath, nothing worked and you was pretty sure a small family of mice had moved in and made it their life's mission to steal any form of food you left out for more than five minutes.

" Thank you" you said gesturing for him to sit at the small table by your window as you turned to make the tea you was reluctantly going to have to prepare whether you wanted to or not. Desperate to get him to leave and as quick as possible you decided to forgo boiling any water and instead planned on making him the coldest brew of tea known to man. That would do the trick, wouldn't it? " Here" you said placing the small mug in front of him as your mind wandered to what had really been occupying your thoughts all evening. Tommy.

" That was quick" he replied scrunching his brow as he looked into the murky water, a few tea leaves floating on the top. "You not having one?"

" Oh no, not a fan of...that " you said twiddling your thumbs on your lap as you looked at the less than delightful concoction you had created.

" Did you even boil.." he started to say causing your cheeks to turn bright red as your brain scrambled to come up with an excuse when, as if you had been saved by a higher power there was a knock at that door.

" Excuse me" you said walking away, grateful for the opportunity to leave any further interrogations about your tea making skills. "Tommy..."

" Hey" he replied softly, a smile appearing on the corner of his mouth as you opened your front door. " You've company" he said clearing his throat looking over your shoulder to see a man sitting at your kitchen table as he threw the small posy of flowers he had been holding behind his back along the outer wall of your bedsit.

" Tommy, I mean Mr Shelby. I...I thought you two weren't erhh" he stumbled, fumbling to grab his coat, abandoning the cold cup of tea he was sure you didn't boil any water for. "Together" he said swallowing harshly as he stood at the door beside you both.

" We're no.." you replied before Tommy cut your off.

"We are" Tommy said moving out of the way of the exit as he gestured for him to leave, irritated by the mere fact he had taken one extra second to do so. With the biggest scoff you could muster you crossed your arms as you stared him down. We are...is that what the past five years had been then, a bump in the road a bloody break?

"Thanks for ruining my date" you said marching over to the cup and throwing it's contents into the sink as Tommy shut the door behind him.

" What with Henry Coggs? Interesting choice for a date. Did he not bore you to death with his political crap?" Tommy chuckled as he watched you potter around your place trying to avoid any conversation with him.

" No, I found it really interesting actually" you lied and badly. " Tommy what do you want? I thought I told you to..."

" Fuck off?" he said sitting on the edge of your table as you stood in front of him.

" Leave me alone" you rephrased as he cocked a brow at your forgetful or intentional lack of memory as to what your actual parting words were to him in the Garrison a few days ago.

" And I have. I wanted to come here and say that you're right that..."

" Oh so you don't have to be a complete drunk to admit when you're wrong" you cut him off, your guard up ready for an argument you was sure would happen.

" You really want to start?"

" Ok then, let's hear what Tommy Shelby has to say? Actually no, forget it. Please leave" you said turning to the door when he grabbed your arm and span you back around to face him.

"Y/N can you just.." Tommy huffed as he tried to keep you in place. " Will you just hear me out?" he added as he placed his hand on your other arm, holding you in front on him. " Please?" He said as you found yourself nodding, stumped for words, slightly taken aback by his willingness to open up. " I..." Tommy said wetting his bottom lip with his tongue, his mouth suddenly going dry. Could he really do this without drinking a whole bottle of whisky beforehand?

" I've been an idiot" he said pausing as you rolled your eyes. Well that was the biggest understatement of the year. You thought to yourself as you turned to walk away again. "I broke my own heart Y/N, you didn't do anything wrong, you never did anything wrong" he said the words you never expected to hear causing you to stop. " I've..shit, I'm fucking this up" he said looking up at the ceiling, shaking his head as his mind uncomfortably replayed all times he had hurt you.

" No you're not, keep going. Please" you said turning around to face him.

"I made your life miserable Y/N, all because I couldn't stand how miserable I'd made my own. Pathetic aren't I ?" he said placing his hand back on your arm his thumb gently rubbing over the soft fabric of your blouse. " I don't expect you to ever forgive me for the five years of hell I put you through, I'd be a fool to think you would. But I need you to know that I regret everything, everything I've ever done that's hurt you, that's made you cry. It's all been my fault darling, I should have never made you think it was yours " he sighed, the words he had been wanting to say for the past week if not the past five years spilling out of him as if they had been patiently waiting there, waiting for him to break down the iron wall he had built around himself. Speechless you stood there, not knowing what to say, what to do as you let his words sink in. This was possibly the first time you had ever heard Tommy admit to anything let alone his own wrongdoings. And yet he had, and as you stood there staring at eachother in silence you finally came to realise what the other had endured, had regretted. The heartache you had both thought was your own had been a heartache shared, one that was now enveloping you both in a warm hug as you finally understood each others pain. " Its getting late I should probably go" he said breaking the silence and the small bubble you had both momentarily found yourselves in. "Goodnight Y/N " Tommy said as he leaned forward pressing a kiss to your cheek, the small embrace feeling the most natural thing for him to do in the moment as his lips lingered on your soft skin for a few seconds longer in hopes you would say something, do something. But you just stood there, his unexpected confession keeping you frozen in place as a rush of emotions that you had pushed to the side for five years came hurtling towards you.

"...night" you managed to coax from your lip's as you turned your head to watch him leave, listening intently to the sound of his heavy footsteps walking down the stairs as you desperately tried to think of something to say. " Tommy wait" you called out as you ran to your door only to see he had was already left, the gate at the bottom of the stairs swinging open and close as a gust of wind blew a scattering of leaves onto the steps below you. Leaning against the door frame you brought your hand up to your head as you closed your eyes, pushing your thumb into the skin between your brows as you cursed yourself for not saying anything in response to his attempts at making amends. Was that all it took? Had you forgiven him already? You thought to yourself as you opened your eyes and looked down at the rickety wooden stairs to see a posy of flowers with a small card buried within them sitting on the weather beaten wood. Wrapping your arms around your body from the cold you sat down beside the small bouquet held together by twine. One, two, three flowers, you smiled as you counted them within the various leaves and foliage. How long had it taken him to find possibly the only three flowers still alive in Small Heath after the deluge of rain and bitter weather the whole of Birmingham had endured for the past month. You thought to yourself knowing exactly who had abandoned them on the steps in front of your home, the small gesture tugging at your memories of times before when Tommy had gone out of his way to do the very same thing. Pulling out the small card your heart skipped a beat, your eyes welling with tears at the two words staring back at you, the two words you never felt you deserved, that you felt worthy of from the very man who had written them.

"I'm sorry"

NEXT PART

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[imtryingbuck]

Possible Happy Ending

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, past Steve x fem!Reader

Summary: It’s been three years since Reader left Steve, after bumping into someone she might have the chance of a happy ending.

Word count: 1,156

Warnings: swearing, self-doubting. I’m pretty sure that’s it.

Masterlist

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Three years have been and gone since you finally decided to leave Steve it hasn’t gotten any easier but you’re doing okay. Your mum rang you a few days after you left panicking saying Steve had showed up that you and your stuff had gone. A month after you left Steve and Sharon went public with their relationship, you were devastated so you went to the local shelter and got two kittens why? You’re not entirely sure but you love them both so much.

Four months after you left, you’re walking to the local cafe when suddenly you bump into someone straight away your spluttering apologies when your name is suddenly said. Bucky is standing in front of you with a big smile on his face asking where you have been; how you’ve been. You both head to the cafe to talk and it’s going amazingly well. He tells you he missed seeing you around and that Steve looked for you everywhere. You exchange numbers with him promising not to tell Steve, even though he’s with Sharon now you don’t want him showing up as you just simply can’t deal with that anymore.

In the following weeks and months after meeting Bucky again he becomes your best friend (your only friend too) he comes to the apartment every Friday and even sometimes stays until Sunday. He truly is the sweetest man ever, his favourite thing to do is wind the cats up and getting them hyper just before he leaves. It drives you crazy you complain with a smile on your face as you can’t even imagine to be mad at him not when he has that stupid beautiful smile on his face. 

Now you’re not exactly sure when it started but the feelings for Bucky were starting to get out of hand, you knew yourself it would be so wrong to say anything to him about how you had this butterfly tingling feeling in your stomach which has now turned into pterodactyls trying to break out of your stomach every time he looks at you. It’s wrong. He’s your ex-boyfriends best friend. Plus he’s James Buchanan Barnes he’s not going to like you the only reason why he’s here at your apartment every weekend ordering pizza or Chinese and talking to you about anything and everything for hours is because he feels sorry for you. Idiot.

A year after you left it went public that the it couple known as Steve and Sharon had broken up. From what Bucky told you Steve apparently walked into the apartment he shared with you and caught Sharon cheating with a guy Steve had been suspicious of. According to Buck Steve was crying out your name and begging up at the ceiling for you to come home.

A few days after that Steve was seen with a new woman on his arm. Your sister.

Your heart shattered, ringing your mum she told you that everyone thought it was okay for your sister to date you ex because he was your ex. You hung up and cried. The tears didn’t last long though as Bucky let himself into your apartment and found you in bed crying so he climbed into bed with you and cuddled you. You’re pretty sure you both ended up watching The Big Bang Theory but couldn’t remember as you were too busy watching Bucky laughing and stroking one of the cats.

Your sister and Steve didn’t last two months because every time they had sex it was your name finally spilling from his mouth.

It’s your birthday and the plan was to have a nice hot relaxing bath then order yourself a Chinese and curl up on the couch with the cats and watch your favourite show. Simple and plain. That was until your favourite person knocked on the door with a huge bouquet of your favourite flowers, Chinese food and a bag with ‘happy birthday’ written across it. He tells you that you shouldn’t be spending your birthday on your own, so you point to the cats and with that he lets out that sound that makes your heart flutter. Halfway through the fourth episode of the series he suggested, you notice him looking at you, so you pull a weird face which again makes him let out that sound. You mentally scold your idiotic heart to stop fluttering.

“Y/n I need to tell you something” he speaks so softly and instantly you can tell he’s nervous.

“What’s up Buck” trying to hard not to stumble over three simple words.

“I-um w-well I need y I-I need to tell you s-s-something” he’s struggling and that gets you scared.

“B-Bucky you can tell me anything you know this” God if you’re real please kill me. Now.

Taking a deep breath, he says “iminlovewithyou”

“What? Say that again Buck but slower” did I just hear correctly? No. He didn’t just say that you idiot. Wishful thinking though pal.

“I’m in love with you. I have been since you stitched up my arm even though I heal fast six years ago. W-when he told me you two was dating, I was crushed and I knew it was wrong your was my best friends girlfriend but I couldn’t help it. You’re an angel absolutely perfect. When you broke up with him I was more devastated than him because I knew I wouldn’t get to see you again but then we bumped into each other a-and them feelings was still ther - oh shit Y/N shit I didn’t mean to make you cry im sor-“ he didn’t get to finish that word because you kissed him. 

You kissed him.

Holy shit. 

What do you do?

Do you stop?

Do you continue?

Oh. 

He’s kissing you back.

Took you long enough Bucky, jeez.

After what felt like an eternity you both pulled apart breathless with huge dopey smiles on your faces. 

“Are you sure Bucky? Are you sure that this is how you really feel?” Shut up! Why are you asking?

“Baby I’m in love with you. My heart aches when I’m not with you. You’re the first thing on my mind when I wake up and the last thing when I close my eyes and even then, you just follow me into my dreams” There isn’t any hesitation or hint that this could all be a wind up.

“I’m in love with you too. I know it’s terrible since who your best friend is but I can’t hel-“ this time he cuts you off with his perfect plumb lips on yours. 

Bucky picks you up like you weigh nothing and carries you to bed. He kisses every stretch mark, scar, beauty mark on your entire body as he makes love to you, he tells you how much he loves you. Laying in his arms sweaty and breathless you can’t help it when a few rogue tears slip onto his chest.

Tags: @bruher @cjand10 @themotherof10 @spngingerbread21 @behindmygreyeyes @hnnhbananananana @reguluscrystals

~ banners credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

[pfhwrittes]

okay this has sat in my drafts long enough so i'm posting it so i don't have to think about it any more.

everyone talks about how simon would be the biggest mama’s boy if his mum was still alive but what about captain john price?

captain john price who sets his mum up in a lovely little two bedroom accessible bungalow with a beautiful back garden and a well tended rose bush on the front lawn. 

captain john price who doesn’t dare swear in front of his mum because he remembers the clip round the ear he got at eighteen when he called one of his mates a fucking moron in her hearing. 

in that similar vein, captain john price who wouldn’t dare smoke in front of his mum. in fact on the days he drives over to her house he doesn’t touch a cigar, cigarette or vape once. admittedly he does have nicotine patches (yes plural) high up on his upper arm hidden from her shrewd gaze under the polo shirt she bought him for christmas last year. 

captain john price who is only ever called jonathan by his mum. or when he’s in the deepest of shit, jonathan andrew in a tone that he’s sure would cause even makarov to stop and reconsider his next course of action. 

captain john price who buys his mum flowers for every occasion. pink tulips for mothering sunday, yellow roses for her birthday, daffodils for easter, blue stars and forget-me-nots on the day of her wedding anniversary to his late father, sunflowers for his birthday, poinsettias at christmas. 

captain john price who takes his mum out to cafés or garden centres on sunday afternoons. captain john price who does any little job she mentions in passing. his dear ol’ mum mentions that the lawn needs mowing? on it. that the lightbulb in the hallway has gone out? on it. that the front door could do with a little spruce up? on it. 

captain john price who loves his mum.

[monbons]

Stitch/Six Sentence Sunday

Friends, I am back! Thank you to everyone who has been tagging me the last few weeks as I have mostly fallen off the face of the earth. School is now going strong and four of my five sections of freshmen are under control. (I will win the war against the fifth section. Fourteen year olds will not best me...)

Despite being terrible at outward facing fandom, I have been busy behind the scenes. I signed up for CORB and have started my art, although progress has been really slow. Here is a pair of sexy legs as proof that something is happening. Look at those feet... just so beautiful. Can you guess who?

I have also finished drafting "The Boy Next Door" (formerly known as "Baz in a Bubble"). This fic was a lesson in humility and perseverance. The premise--one of the characters can never leave his home--was far more complicated than I ever imagined. Drafting took three times as long as all three of my previous fics combined. But, in the end, I am proud to have finished. I think it's some very solid writing, and I cannot wait for y'all to read it.

A special thank you to my TEAM of betas: @thewholelemon, @hushed-chorus, @talentpiper11, and Mr. Bons (who has no tumblr but loves me so much he supports my SnowBaz obsession any way he can). Timeline wise, I think I may be ready to start posting by the end of September.

Want a peek before then? Find the first six (x2) lines of Chapter 1 and tags below the cut.

SIMON No one ever sets out to be a disappointment.  As a kid, I used to draw myself wearing a stethoscope around my neck, standing under a smiling yellow sun that was sporting sunglasses. Not sure why I was practising medicine outside in a field of flowers or why the sun needed accessories to shield against itself, but it made sense at the time.  You know who else was smiling in my little crayon doodles? Dad. Mum. Always smiling. Always holding hands. Each of us in our theatre blues. Dad hasn’t smiled at me in years. He certainly didn’t smile when he dumped me and all of my possessions off on Gran’s patio without so much as a goodbye earlier today. Just gritted out something that sounded like “sort yourself out” as he extracted the last of my boxes from his Range Rover and then sped away.

Hellos and high-fives: @bookish-bogwitch, @raenestee, @roomwithanopenfire, @cutestkilla, @emeryhall

@iamamythologicalcreature, @rimeswithpurple, @mooncello, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @noblecorgi

@artsyunderstudy, @aristocratic-otter, @arthurkko, @best--dress, @brilla-brilla-estrellita

@run-for-chamo-miles, @supercutedinosaurs, @whatevertheweather, @talentpiper11, @larkral

@shrekgogurt, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @youarenevertooold, @blackberrysummerblog, @messofthejess

@drowninginships, @valeffelees, @orange-peony, @facewithoutheart, @alexalexinii

@ic3-que3n, @skeedelvee, @fiend-for-culture, @beastmonstertitan, @melodysmash

@martsonmars, @katatsumuli, @comesitintheclover, @stitchyqueer, @erzbethluna

@palimpsessed, @ileadacharmedlife, @theimpossibledemon, @letraspal, @rbkzz

[headphonegrl]

“Here you go.” It’s late in the morning on a Sunday, and the sun is pouring through the window, casting honey-coloured light all over the living room. Jude’s half-asleep with his cheek squished against the cushion his mum bought him for a housewarming present, and the sudden sound of your voice startles him into full consciousness; all he’s heard for the last hour is the lull of characters speaking on the show he’s watching and that cheesy laugh track played on all nineties sitcoms alike. 

“What?” His words are half verbal and half a content hum through his nose. One of his eyes is closed and the other is squinting, trying to make out where you’re sitting in front of his coffee table with your legs tucked under yourself.  

“Put your arm out.” You shuffle towards him, your fuzzy socks gliding against the wooden floor. Months have passed of you trying to convince him to buy a rug, but still the space remains bare and shiny due to his indecisiveness. 

Jude pokes his arm out from between the blankets he’s had bunched up by his chin. Despite the sky outside being a stretch of clear baby blue, he’s dramatically complained all morning about his risk of getting hypothermia. There’s a mug of tea on the floor next to the foot of the sofa which you had made him earlier, and it sits there lukewarm because he’s afraid that once he moves all the heat will escape in one go. “It’s cold.”

“Here.” You stretch a bracelet over the back of his hand and onto his wrist; tiny blue and green beads placed perfectly in patterns of three, with a little yellow heart that you fiddle with so it sits flat against his skin. Goosebumps appear on his forearm and you try and rub them away with your palms, which are still warm from the little hot water bottle you’ve had sitting in your lap, the one Jude’s grandma had bought you for Christmas.

“You made it?” His voice is still hoarse from rest and he tries to clear his throat with a little cough, and then another when that one fails. Part of him is mad at himself now, he’s had his eyes shut all this time and missed the image of you adorably poking your tongue out in concentration. 

“It’s stupid.” You scrunch your nose up, murmuring something about how you made some over cocktails with your friends one night and bought a kit for yourself because you thought it was fun. A little patch of golden light is illuminating one side of your face and if his phone wasn’t sitting in the other room on his bedside table, Jude would be a very annoying boyfriend and insist on taking a photo. 

“No way.” The idea of you being paired with the word ‘stupid’ seems completely morally wrong, like two things that shouldn't exist in the same universe. It’s a firm belief of his that you should only be associated with all things sweet and kind, like old fifties love songs with trumpets in the back or those little flowers that appear at the beginning of spring after an awful winter.

“You don’t have to wear it.” You twiddle the beads around on the stretchy elastic, before moving your fingertips to trace the lines on his palms; the same thing you do when you’re sitting next to each other at dinner or on the train. “You can take it off later.”

“I’m not taking it off!” Jude snatches his hand away from where you’ve been holding it, and you let out a wheeze of laughter that sends a fuzzy rush of love to his heart. A feeling that he wishes he could catch mid-air and bottle up for when he’s far away and misses you so much that his chest aches like he’s pulled a muscle. 

“Okay.” You smile down at where you’re picking at a loose thread on the blanket, curling it around your finger over and over again. “If you’re sure.”

“Are you kidding?” To him, you must be. It’s already been decided: He’ll wear it to sleep and in the shower. He’ll tuck it under his sleeve so he doesn’t have to take it off during training. It’ll hang on his hook in the changing rooms during a big game like a little good luck charm. If it slides above his wrist, he’ll search frantically under the hem of his sleeves in fear he’s lost it. He’ll wear it even when all the colour rubs off the beads and they’re left white. He’ll keep it until it inevitably snaps and you have to make a new one, exactly the same. “It’s my most prized possession.”

[oreramar]

Florist Talk: a flower shop calendar

So I talked about the average day in a flower shop. Now it's time to talk about the average year (usual disclaimer: US-centric, small town sort of knowledge is to be found here. Adjust as needed for a different setting, whether real or fictional; these notes are merely meant to provide grounding or ideas for your writing).

So, Month By Month:

January

Business is basically dead for most of this month.

It's too early for springy colors but nobody wants the red and white Xmas color combo anymore. Floral limbo.

Prep for V-day begins in earnest sometime around here.

Earliest V-day orders might start coming in middle-to-end of the month. Sometimes people think ordering super early means they can get roses for cheaper. This is not the case; they will be charged the price of the roses they're gonna get, not the roses that exist a month before.

February

VALENTINE'S DAY ALL HANDS ON DECK OH GOD SOMEONE HELP US

A longer post will be dedicated to V-day itself eventually. For now, know that there's usually a lull in business immediately after the day itself.

There may be leftover roses. Nobody will want the leftover roses. If your Florbo over-ordered these supplies, they will have a difficult time shifting them. Write a fic and have them donate roses to an elderly care facility or something.

March

Kinda dead for the most part, aside from a little bit of prep toward Palm Sunday and Easter and Prom (see April)

I always make stuff for St Patrick's day but very few people want flowers for St Patrick's day so there's not much point. Maybe this could be different in a community with more people who go all in on St Paddy's.

When there are orders, this is when people start to ask for "springy" flowers.

April

If there are Christian Churches around they might want Easter Lilies ordered in for Easter, and Palm Branches for Palm Sunday.

Sometimes people will ask for flowering mum plants too, usually in white, yellow, or lavender. The wholesalers always seem to send way more lavender mums than any others, like they're trying to get rid of them.

Prom Season - technically can stretch from mid-late March through April. Depends on how many high schools are in the area. This means lots of corsages and boutonnieres. If there's a single big school that's very local then that means one very, very busy weekend spent doing nothing but assembling these things the day before and getting them picked up and paid for the day of. Might make a focused post on these one day.

Secretary's Day / Administrative Professionals' Day - late April. Technically there's a Day for this but it also covers the entire week of that day as well. Businesses and Bosses buy small flowers or maybe candy bouquets for their various Admins. Can get a little busy.

May

Teachers Appreciation Day / Week - early in May, lots of school deliveries.

Nurses Appreciation Day/Week - the next week in May, lots of hospital/clinic deliveries.

MOTHER'S DAY OH GOD OH - oh it's not quite as bad, actually. People get their Mother's Day flowers the entire week before so it's less concentrated. Still a big one.

US has Memorial Day right at the end. This means arrangements made for placing in the local cemetery. Can be busy but isn't usually too bad.

June

Dead business. So bored.

July

Dead business. So bored.

Attempt at July 4th table arrangements. Not many tend to sell.

August

Dead business. So bored.

September

School is back in session, which means that any student, teacher, or school admin staff who has a birthday or anniversary on a weekday might get sent flowers or balloons or candy bouquets or things like that, which means Flower Shop business.

Preferred floral designs shift toward "fall" and "autumny" colors and flowers somewhere between August and September.

October

Not a lot going on specifically, but business still tends to be busier than in summer. Also, despite all efforts, Halloween does not tend to involve a lot of flower orders, which is a real shame because you can do some real fun things with orange, purple, and bright green flowers, and with hot glue strands on twigs to make cobwebs, and with black painted bowl vases to resemble cauldrons...

November

US has Thanskgiving this month and some people want fancy flower and taper candle centerpieces for their tables. A responsible florist will include tags warning people not to burn those candles unattended because while the floral arrangement isn't going to be dry by any means, it is still technically flammable, especially if the candle has burned very low and for a very long time.

December

Christmas also involves fancy flower and taper candle centerpieces for tables. Also like 80% of all floral arrangements are being done in red and/or white.

And that's more or less it. Set your writing appropriately for how busy you want the Florbo to be with their flower job - if the plot demands Florbo have a lot of free time or be very very bored, look at the summer months, or the downtime of early January or late February. If you wish for them to be overwhelmingly busy, set it the week before Valentine's or Mother's day, or pick an April weekend for a local Prom and give them like forty corsages to make on a single Friday. A more moderate or variable day to day structure might be in May, or one of the Autumn months, when there's usually plenty of everyday type stuff to do plus the wild card busy days around big funerals or the like, with random dead days peppered in there.

Happy writing!

[writemekpop]

Get Lucky | Qian Kun

Summary: When things start to get sexy with your new date Kun, he gets scared.

Genre: Drunk!Kun, fluff

Word Count: 0.6k

“You know… I’m a teeny-weeny bit DRUNK,” Kun whispered, pressing his palms to his cheeks.

You looked at Kun’s glazed-over hazel eyes, his cheeky grin, the way his normally perfect hair was in disarray.

“No shit, Sherlock,” you said, laughing.

Kun leant down and captured his pink curly straw between his lips. He sucked long and slow on his pina colada, his eyes never leaving yours.

The way he looked at you made your entire spine tingle.

You fanned yourself. “Is it just me, or is it getting hot in here? What do you say we take this somewhere else… like my place?”

Kun stared deep into your eyes. He reached his hand forwards, and tentatively, touched your thigh.

You could have moaned in pleasure. This was your third date, and you’d only pecked him on the lips once. You were dying for more.

He smiled bashfully. “I have to admit, the thoughts I am having right now are not very... gentlemanly.”

You leaned towards him, smirking. “Good thing I don’t want a gentleman.”

Kun touched the hem of your skirt. He couldn’t meet your eyes.

“What do you say we…” he mumbled. But then a Rihanna song started playing, and the other people in the bar cheered so loud it drowned his voice out.

“What did you say?” You shouted over the thumping bass. “I can’t hear you!”

Kun looked around, as if contemplating whether to repeat himself. Then, he shook his head and stood up.

He pulled on his jacket. “I just remembered… I’ve got a very important meeting in the morning. I’ve got to go!” 

You frowned. “But tomorrow’s Sunday! Wait!”

But it was too late, because Kun had disappeared.

--

You stumbled into your apartment, alone, and even more drunk.

Your kitten, Baghira, mewled.

You knelt down and stroked her black fur.

“It’s just like my mum,” You sniffed. “Why does everybody leave me?”

Just then, you heard a knock on your door.

You pulled the door open and saw Kun. He looked handsome, with his deep dimples and plump lips. His face was tinged a deep red.

“Kun? What are you doing here?” Your heart started to pound.

Kun straightened himself up, brushing the dust from his jacket.

“Y/n, I’m sorry for running away like that. It was rude. I do want to be with you, it’s just… it’s just.” He sighed.  

Kun pulled his hand out from behind his back and gave you a bar of Twix. You looked at him quizzically.

He pouted. “I wanted to get you flowers, but the only thing open this late was the vending machine.”

You giggled, swooning internally. Then you remembered how he’d ditched you, and the feeling vanished.

“I really am sorry,” Kun said, tugging a hand through his deep black hair. “I left because… everything was happening so fast. I want us to be more than some random hook-up.” He met your eyes. “When I make love to you, I want to do it right. I want it to mean something.”

You nodded. “If we’re gonna sleep together, let’s do it properly. Girlfriend and boyfriend.”

Kun grinned. “So… can I come in?”

“I’ll give you one last chance – but only coz you’re hot,” you said, shaking your head. You stepped to the side to allow him in.

Kun walked in and pulled you towards him. He kissed your lips softly. “I promise you won’t regret this,” he whispered.

Your heart thumped. “I know I won’t.”

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[thefloralstylistblog]

Cyclamen

Our gorgeous potted Cyclamen in classic white, pink or red and are the perfect gift

Displayed in a glass vase with moss surrounding the pot.

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[mcufan72]

Sugar and Cinnamon

Loki x female reader (AU) / 18+

Chapter 2

Chapter 1 / Preview here

Warnings: none so far, contains fluff, angst, morally grey stuff and smut (eventually), it's a slow-burn love story

Loki didn't show much of a reaction towards your name which was obviously a stage name. You would never use your real name and you wouldn't reveal it either.

“Fine! That's a really…cute name,” and he couldn't avoid a small grin. “I'll see you then for my business dinner next week. Good night, Sugar. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“Good night, Mr. Larsson. See you soon.” you smiled brightly at him, bathing one more time in the stare of his amazing blue eyes. It wasn't easy to resist his obvious charm. He was the purest temptation and you couldn't understand why he would book an escort lady when he could have any other woman without paying for it. It shouldn't be that hard for him. Women loved to throw themselves on filthy rich and super sexy, good-looking guys. But it was none of your business and you wouldn't complain about him booking you. It saved your job and that was all you were interested in.

He drained his whisky and left. After you said your goodbyes you waited half an hour before you left the bar, too. You always did it this way just to make sure that your client definitely was gone before you left the nightclub yourself. It reduced the risk of your client following you and allowed Walker to keep an eye on the leaving client while he waited outside for you by the car. Also when Walker drove you home he always made a detour to ensure no one would follow the limousine. You never knew if a client had bad intentions or not and Walker would never allow something would happen to you or a client to find out where you live.

Back home you undressed and kicked your shoes off with a sigh of relief. Your feet were massively hurting from the fucking high heels and you would never understand why so many women wear this torturous footwear voluntarily and with pure joy. You were glad you had to wear them just for your dates and just for a few hours. You preferred wearing trainers. They were comfortable and fit any outfit. You headed to the bathroom of your small but cosy apartment and took a hot shower. After a date with a client, you always felt the urgent need to wash the evening off of your skin.

With still damp hair, dressed in a fresh sleep shirt and pyjama bottoms you lay down in bed but you couldn't fall asleep right away. Your thoughts always went back to him. To Luke Larsson. You stared at the ceiling, clawing your duvet and reviewed the meeting with him. You have met a lot of men in the last few months. They all had been nice and decent, most of them extremely good-looking, and they complimented you and enjoyed your company and some of them brought you flowers as a sign of appreciation for spending time with them.

But Luke Larsson was different. Dark, distant, cold. And so damn beautiful as if he were not from this world. You believed him when he said he wasn't interested in flirting with you. He made himself very clear and you definitely saw it the same way. And he would never bring you flowers. He didn't seem to be this type of guy. Nevertheless, you were afraid you could lose the professional distance to him. And curse on your weakness for tall men with broad shoulders in black suits. You growled angrily, put on your sleeping mask, turned to your side and fell asleep.

For the rest of the week, you were fully booked and it guaranteed your income. And it had to. Among other things, invoices were soon due. As arranged you had no bookings for the weekend and so you did the groceries, cleaned your apartment and you also did some work and research for your studies. You started studying again three months ago. You didn't understand anymore why you had given it up years ago but back then you thought you would do the right thing. It wasn't but you couldn't turn back the time. On Sunday you visited your mum like you did every Sunday and you loved nothing more than spending time with her together. You wished you could tell her about your problems and your job she definitely wouldn't approve. Not to mention the fear she would have for you. All of this would break her heart and you couldn't let that happen. And by the way, what should you tell her? ‘Hey Mum, your baby is an Escort now. Are you proud of me?’ You weren't even proud of yourself that you had ended up there so how should she? So you kept your mouth shut, pretending everything was fine.

The next days were business as usual. Studying in the morning, dates with lonely gentlemen and escorting them to events in the evening. Day in, day out until the day had come, you would accompany Luke Larsson to the business dinner he had booked you for.

You were nervous. Your hands were trembling and you had to renew your mascara twice because you weren't able to apply it properly. Why were you so nervous? It was an appointment with a client like any other. Why did he make you feel like this? He had no business to do so! How dare he? You made yourself smile with these thoughts. You fixed your hair in a tight hair bun with the knot deep in your neck and added a small black fabric rose at its side. You put on an elegant, flared and high-waisted black midi skirt which emphasized your waist perfectly, a golden sleeveless top with a cowl neck and small straps and your black high heels with the red soles. Finally, you applied some perfume to your neck and dark-red lipstick to your lips. And there she was, looking at you from the mirror: Sugar, ready to meet Mr. Larsson and his business partners.

************

“You can follow the rules?” he asked you and stopped abruptly before you two entered the restaurant.

“Of course, Mr Larsson. I'm sure I already know what you want to tell me. I keep quiet, keep smiling and I won't say anything. I'll just sit there, being your arm candy and enjoy the evening. Discretion is my job and you're paying me for it. Did I forget anything?” You smiled tantalizingly at him. Somehow you had fun teasing him. He rolled his eyes and the tiniest hint of a smile curved one corner of his mouth. He bit the inside of his cheek before he spoke again.

“ Perfect. Exactly what I expect from you.”

“Of course, Sir.” Loki raised his brows. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hear this word from your mouth. Maybe in another context…

“But there's one more thing to clarify…I can't introduce you as Sugar. Do you have a surname for me? “

“You can introduce me as Miss Black,” you replied objectively. A stage name, of course, but as black as your soul and your future.

The dinner was beyond boring and you didn't even listen anymore to the things the people, sitting at the dining table, were talking about. It was something about international and intergalactic security agreements. Even if you would listen, you wouldn't be allowed to participate.

Luke sat next to you and looked very stylish in his dark grey suit, the black shirt and the black silk tie. The suit looked fabulously good, fit like a glove and you could see every well-trained muscle of his gorgeous body flexing whenever he moved. His flawless, beautiful face was framed by his obsidian curls, barely tamed by some hair wax. You had just one description for him: a god in a suit. If there were a god in this world then you were sure he must look like Luke Larsson. No doubt!

The girlfriends, fiancés and wives of the other guests were chatting about designer labels, purses and gowns and where to get them in Milano, Rome, Paris, London or Los Angeles and how they would make the credit cards of their spouses burn. You didn't want to participate in their conversation. How conversations like this pissed you off. You've already had your fill of all of this in your life. You had been long enough a spoiled girl like them, dolled up for the man who pretends to love you. And all of it was meaningless now. It had nothing to do with love. All of it had been just material. But of course, you kept smiling, that was what your client expected from you.

You poked around in your food and you pushed your broccoli from one side of the plate to the other. You weren't really hungry tonight but when on a dinner like this with four courses, you hardly could escape from these dishes. But you got paid for it and so you wouldn't complain. You just had picked up some scraps of conversation when you casually said:

“Sometimes it's just the simple things and needs nothing else than a comfortable atmosphere and an ingenious marketing strategy to get what you want.”

All of a sudden it got quiet around you at the table and all eyes were on you. Loki gave you the death stare and you swallowed thickly.

“I mean…I didn't mean…I'm sorry “, you stuttered and you grabbed your glass of water. Your throat felt dry like a desert and before you could talk more nonsense you took a sip of your beverage. You felt heat arising in your tummy and your cheeks blushed because of embarrassment. You replaced the glass on the table and stared down at your plate, Loki's eyes still fixed on you, the expression on his face a mixture of astonishment and annoyance. You felt awful and you knew there would be consequences. You just knew it.

“Maybe you're right, Miss Black”, said the host of this evening who had been introduced to you as Mr. Miller. “I really should think about it. “

You gave him a shy smile but you didn't say anything. You had lost any appetite. After the last course had been eaten, a dessert you didn't even touch, Loki grabbed your arm and tugged you slowly towards him.

“We need to talk! Now!” he growled quietly into your ear and you nodded. You followed him to the entrance hall of the restaurant without hesitation. You knew what would follow now.

“Would you please have the kindness to tell me what that was about?” he asked you, slightly annoyed but still respectful.

“I'm sorry Mr.Larsson. It won't happen again. I didn't do it on purpose.” you answered apologetically.

“I hope so. I don't pay you for participating in my conversations. You're just my escort. Did I make myself clear?” his tone was strict but still calm.

“Of course, Mr.Larsson. I got it.”

“Good. Otherwise I have to tell your boss that you can't follow the rules.”

“Please, don't Mr.Larsson. I need that job. It was just…I'm familiar with some kind of negotiation strategy. Forgive me for being unprofessional. I'm genuinely sorry.” You said and held his gaze.

How could he not forgive you especially because you were right about what you said? He didn't want to harm you or intend to get you in trouble with your agency. He immediately felt bad when he saw your guilt-ridden face. He already knew he wanted to meet you again and escort him to his next event, whatever event it might be. You were clever, eloquent, and naturally elegant. Additionally your bright eyes, your lush lips, your soft, shiny skin, and your beautiful legs he wished you would wrap around his waist, got him all hot and bothered. A deadly mixture of intelligence and sexyness and definitely a turn-on for him. And regardless of whether he wanted it or not, he sort of enjoyed your company.

“It's alright, Sugar. But please don't do it again.”

“I won't, Sir." Nope, he didn't want to hear that word from your mouth, not in this context.

“Shall we go back to the event?“ he asked you.

“Yes, that's why we're here”, you smiled at him, still embarrassed that you made this stupid mistake. You believed him that he wouldn't tell Rhea anything about what had happened but you were pretty sure he wouldn't book you for a further event. What was a pity actually because you liked his charm and his respectful and forgiving behaviour.

As announced, after dinner everyone was invited to join the dance floor in the ballroom next to the restaurant. Drinks were served and a DJ greeted the guests with music from jazz to classic rock and pop songs and also love songs. Loki and you stood at the edge of the dance floor, already filled with dancing people, and watched them move to the music. The next song was a more romantic song and many of the dancers left the dance floor again. To the song that was played now, you could dance a waltz and when you heard the first bars of the song you began to swing to the music.

“Tell me, do you dance, Sugar? A waltz I mean.” and he looked at you. Flashbacks of Asgardian ballrooms came back to his mind when he was a mischievous, innocent young Prince, playing harmless, funny tricks on others, falling in love for the first time and many more times after that. The love had passed but his love for dancing remained and he hadn't danced for a very long time.

“I do”, you answered softly. His question surprised you. You didn't expect him to like dancing. He seemed to be too cold and emotionless for that but maybe you were completely wrong. You loved to dance, for you dancing was emotion, lightness and passion but you hadn't danced for a very long time.

“May I have this dance then?” He asked you politely and offered you his hand.

“Yes, of course, “ you said to him with a warm, bright smile.

He led you to the dance floor, put his right hand on the middle of your back and took your right hand in his left while you placed your left hand on his shoulder. Immediately you two formed a unit like you were made for each other and never before has someone danced with you in such perfect harmony. Your bodies close to each other, he floated with you across the dance floor. His posture was utter perfection, his muscles strong and solid and tightly pressed to your body. It felt good to be so close to him, too good but in his strong arms, tenderly holding you, you felt kind of safe. His breath fanned over your face and your cleavage and he smelled so good. You loved his scent, fresh and warm and spicy, something you still couldn't define. His embrace, even if it had nothing to do with sympathy or anything related to it, comforted you. A feeling you truly had missed. But you had to be careful, you really should keep a professional distance.

You felt so perfect in his arms. Soft, warm, fragile. The way your body melded into his and the touch of your hand on his shoulder, your other hand in his, evoked a feeling in him he thought was long gone. He wanted to protect you, and take care of you. Worse, he wanted to make you his. But that was a no-go. He had to keep this professional but it was so difficult not to be enchanted by your grace and your beguiling scent, that perfect mixture of your perfume and your natural scent. Why did you have to feel so damn good in his arms?

Too soon the song was over. You both wished it would just be the two of you, alone, dancing the night away. But it wasn't and both of you kept this wish buried deep inside of yourselves.

“Would you please excuse me, Mr Larsson? I need to go to the ladies' room, freshening up myself and my makeup“, you told him kindly, loosening yourself from his grip. He didn't want to let go of you but he had to.

“Of course, Sugar, take your time”, he replied and you left the ballroom.

You needed a short break. Your head was spinning and it wasn't just because of the dance. He had made you sweat. With the dance, the way he held you in his arms and his pure masculinity. You stood at a sink and opened the faucet to let some cold water run over your wrists. You had to stay focused on your job and the professional distance to him. You dried your hands with a paper towel, tossed it into the bin and decided to go outside for some fresh air on the location’s veranda before you would go back to Luke. You put your hands on the border of the terrace, kicked off your high heels and took some deep breaths to calm down your nerves and to get rid of the inner heat.

Loki wasn't sure if it had been a good idea to dance with you. He enjoyed it, indeed. Maybe way too much and he had a feeling that it could get very difficult to see only the escort lady in you and not the woman behind that facade. He knew there was more about you. Secrets, fears, rage, vulnerability. Your eyes gave it away. There was an indelible fire in them. But who was he to judge you? He had his own issues and was still working on it. Nonetheless, the urge to learn more about you grew.

He was still waiting for you but you obviously hadn't returned to the ballroom. It has been a while since you left and so he decided to look for you. You weren't inside the building but finally, he found you on the terrace. Alone and barefoot, your back facing him, your high heels laying right next to you. He grinned, amused and walked slowly toward you. Your sight touched his heart. You seemed a little lost.

“Here you are. I already missed you.”

“Now you've found me”, you answered smilingly, turning your head around to look at him. “I needed some fresh air “, you explained apologetically.

“It's alright, Sugar, I was just missing you. There's no reason for justification.”

He stood next to you now, looked down at your bare feet and the high heels on the floor and smiled at you.

“Do your feet hurt?”, he asked softly.

“Not in the slightest “, you answered ironically and laughed lightly at him. It made him laugh too. He loved your attitude and the sassy undertone in your voice.

“Sorry for being unprofessional again but yes…the little beasts are damn hurting me. They look good at our feet but they're pure torment”, you laughed lightly and wanted to put them on again.

“For me, you don't have to put them on right now. Give your feet some more rest. I adore your ability to walk and dance in them properly”, Loki answered.

“Aren't you freezing, with your bare arms?”, he wanted to know.

“No, I'm fine, thank you”, you replied kindly. It was just the half of the truth. You were freezing but somehow you enjoyed the cool evening breeze. It was refreshing and cooled your inner heat down and cleared your mind. Before you got aware of it, Loki was draping his jacket around your shoulders. It felt like a warm embrace and you truly appreciated his gesture. It has been a long time since a man paid this kind of attention to you.

“Thank you, Mr.Larsson. That's very kind of you”, you said gratefully.

“No issue. And call me Luke, please“, he replied softly. He observed you for a few seconds before he asked you carefully a question he didn't expect you to answer entirely.

“Why are you an escort lady? What made you choose this job?”

“Why do you care? Does it bother you?”

“It doesn't bother me. I'm just wondering. Please don't get me wrong, Sugar but you seem to not belong there, in an escort agency I mean.” Loki refused to imagine you with other men, wanting to touch you, lusting after you and perhaps sharing a bed with you, legs tangled under rumpled sheets. If something was bothering him, then that.

“The answer is a simple one, I guess. I got fired from my old job, I needed a new one quickly because I've invoices to pay and no chance to be picky so this is how I ended up here. That's life and shit happens. End of the story.” you answered quickly and without any ado. No one was to blame for the wrong decisions and faults you had made in your life and there was no need for pity or good advice. The tone in your voice made it clear that you won't tell any more details so Loki didn't ask you further questions about it. Also, you changed the topic immediately.

“I should have eaten dessert…now I'm craving it. Can we go inside and look for some dessert? Please!” you asked sweetly.

“Dessert! Seriously?“ Loki retorted wonderingly.

“Yes, dessert! Did you eat your dessert earlier?” you wanted to know.

“No! I hate desserts! “

“You don't. Who hates dessert? Everyone loves it!” and you smiled unbelievingly at him.

“I hate it,” he repeated.

“Liar! Come, let's go and look for desserts.” You put your high heels on and with his jacket still wrapped around your shoulders, you grabbed his hand and tugged him with you towards the restaurant. Loki shook his head in disbelief, grinning and he couldn't resist your incredible charm and adorable excitement for some dessert and let you drag him with you.

*************

After Walker had driven you home, you emptied your letterbox and took the stairs to your apartment on the second floor. You closed the entrance door, kicked your shoes off, gave the letters a closer look and opened them. You hadn't expected that, it hit you out of nowhere. How quickly tables could turn. And all of a sudden you were in a situation you never wanted to be in. You needed more money and you knew exactly what that meant. Bookings for the weekends and…

The sheer thought of it made you tremble. But that would be the very last option to get more money quickly, the very last thing you would do and you put that thought aside for now. And anyway, there was only one man imaginable for you, you would ask for it. But unfortunately, he had told you right from the beginning, there would never be more than escorting him to functions. Tonight you couldn't sleep because you didn't know what to do now and despair and fear came over you. First thing in the morning you called Rhea.

“Good morning, dear. How was your evening with Mr Larsson yesterday?” she wanted to know.

“Good morning, Rhea. It was a wonderful evening. Mr.Larsson is a real gentleman and it was wonderful to spend time with him. I had an enjoyable evening and I really like him. But this is not the reason for my call. Rhea, I've decided to accept your great offer and I'd like to get bookings for the weekends too.” This phone call wasn't easy for you.

“Great, dearest, but how come? The weekends are holy to you. Not that I would complain. It's solely your decision. I'm just curious,” Rhea said wondering.

“My landlord has increased my monthly rent,” you told her with unease.

“Mm-hmh, that sucks but sometimes I think you live in a Palace instead of a two-room apartment, dear. Is the rent increase really that high?” Rhea joked but her question was still one of concern.

“I wish I would, Rhea. But yes, I need more money now. It's not only the rent for my apartment …my mother's nursing home has increased the monthly accomodations- and maintenance costs, too. So I have no choice…I'm available for weekend dates now, too. I just wanted to let you know.” You swallowed down upcoming tears and the lump in your throat.

“I'm so sorry, dear. That's really annoying. I add you to the weekend appointments then... Oh and by the way… Mr. Larsson has booked you already for his next event. It seems he was very satisfied with your company, and I have got the impression he's very impressed by you. I'm delighted to have him as a new regular client for you." Rhea said.

“He did?” You couldn't believe it because you thought he would never book an escort again who definitely hadn't followed the rules and made stupid mistakes.

“Yessss…and it also seems he's just interested in you.” You could literally see Rhea grinning from ear to ear at the other end of the phone.

“Yeah, sure!”, you answered ironically.

“Maybeeee…he's your prince on the white horse…” Rhea couldn't suppress a chuckle.

She would love that for you like she would love it for any other of her escort ladies. But somehow you had a special place in her heart. Your whole attitude and your lovely behaviour whenever she talked to you, eye to eye or on the phone, made her think you didn't belong there. For her, you seemed to be too adorable and too decent for that job.

But you didn't need a prince on a white horse though. They didn't even exist. And if they existed you would go for a dark prince on a warhorse who would ride together with you through hell and back. But these were just dreams.

You needed money, lots of money. And in your job, there was only one way to earn more…and for you, Luke would be the only one you would dare to ask, the only one imaginable.

🌹🥂🌃🌹🥂🌃🌹🥂🌃🌹🥂🌃🌹🥂🌃

The song that inspired the dancing scene:

Tag list:

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[moody-alcoholic]

Special Delivery Service

Chapter 11 - The Funeral

AN: I have whatever the opposite of writers block is. I can't stop writing. I'm going to ride this wave as long as it lasts...

Summary: Simon x Reader, 3.4k words. You're trying to move on after your brothers death, that includes trying to overcome some fears, and learning to cope with new ones. CW: +18 MDNI explicit content. smoking, alcohol, mentions of fictional terrorist attack, funeral, mourning, hurt/comfort, smut, oral (F receiving), panic attack during sex, stopping sex, mentions of abusive ex, mental health, trauma.

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Enjoy <3

It’s not really a funeral, there’s no body, no coffin to bury at the end. It had been a week since your brother had passed. Your mum was a broken mess. She won’t leave the house, sleeps in your brothers bed, barely speaks. At one point it was like she was wasting away.

You’ve had more time on your hands recently with Simon going back to active duty. He’s been spending so much time away from home you’re lucky if you see him more then a few days a week. He’s here now though, arm round your waist as you suck on your cigarette under the tree. 

The Met needed Dylan’s body. Needed it for evidence, as soon as the machine was turned off and the life left his body it felt like there were already police there to take it away. Your mother screamed at them, bone chilling howling as they took him. Then she stopped talking.

You thought planning a memorial service would give her some closure. It distracted her at least for a few hours when you would visit, you would make sure she ate, fed her cats and help her decide which flower arrangements she wanted. It kept her busy, kept you busy.

It was a small gathering, at the church your mother goes to. This place has been a God send, literally. They’ve been looking after her, rotating round to see her, make sure she’s safe. The vicar is amazing, Sharron, she’s been getting your mother out the house at least a few times a week, definitely on Sundays for church.

There are about 20 people in total all turning up and making their way into the church. Your mother was already inside being comforted by friends. You rub the stub of the cigarette out on the tree, looking up at Simon. He looks sad, tired, you almost want to tell him to just go home and rest but selfishly you need him to be here. 

You take his hand slipping your fingers between his and walk into the church. You walk all the way down the centre aisle to take a seat next to your mother. You rest your hand on her thigh keeping your other hand in Simon’s grip.

You watch as Sharron reads from the bible, tells stories you and your mother had told her about Dylan. You look round, there are more then 20 people here, some are young sitting sheepishly in the back with stoic faces. They must have been his uni friends. The ones who weren't with him on the train, weren't killed along side him.

You wonder if they feel guilty, you feel guilty. You never confirmed with Simon, or John if the people in France where the same people responsible for the attack. If they were maybe you could have stopped them, maybe if you hadn't hidden in the bathroom, maybe your brother would still be alive.

You squeeze Simon’s hand and he squeezes back. Simon said he was going to get them. He said he would get you closure. You wish you could get your mother closure. You don’t even know what that means anymore. You lean your head on your mother’s shoulder as a slideshow starts playing with pictures of Dylan, some of them have you in, some your mum and dad. Sharron is still talking, it’s happy stories. Happy stories for a sad occasion, that’s how you want to remember him though. Your happy younger brother. 

 ——————————  

2 Weeks later. 

Simon is away again. He sprinted out the flat in the middle of the night and you haven’t heard from him in 3 days. That’s the worst part. He won’t talk about work much but you just let yourself be there for him when he needs it.

When he comes home tired you make sure he has food to eat and someone to cuddle up to. You hadn’t been at work since they went back to active duty there hasn’t been time. John told you he would keep you on payroll, it should only take a month or so.

You said you could get another job but he wouldn't hear of it insisting it wasn’t a problem and that you should take the time off to grieve. You spent most of your days waiting for Simon, watching TV and visiting your mum. She had a good support system from people, her church getting involved with looking after her. 

There’s a knock at your door. You get up looking through the peep hole. It’s Johnny you open the door letting him in. You were hoping it was Simon even though you know he has a key, its the longest he's been away. 

“Hey lass, Simon’s stuck doing paperwork, he told me to bring you food, and let you know he’s okay.” He says holing up a bag filled with what smells Chinese food.

“Sorry the place is a mess.” You say. 

“Ah, looks like my place after a deployment.” Johnny says. 

“I’ve been missing work.” You say going into the kitchen as Johnny takes his boots off. “What do you want to drink?” 

“Got any beer? I could use it.” You open the fridge looking at the beer you have for Simon, even though he never drinks it. You grab one and a glass of wine bringing it over to the coffee table as Johnny sits on the floor, back up against the sofa opening the styrofoam food containers. You hand him a beer can and he cracks it open watching the news on the TV. It’s been 3 weeks since the attack but it’s still all over the news.

“Guess you haven’t caught the bad guys yet?” You say sitting on the sofa and shoving a prawn cracker in your mouth. 

“Not yet lass, that’s why I’m here and Si’s stuck doing paperwork, instead of making up for lost time.” He looks back at you winking. You had still not had sex with Simon. It’s been almost 3 months, you feel guilty. Maybe this was good maybe this was healing, distance makes the heart grow fonder. 

“Think he’ll be back tonight?” You ask picking up a portion of noodles. 

“Could be, ‘pends on how long Price keeps him for. Mind if I change the channel?” He asks reaching for the remote. You nod at him, he flicks through until he finds something that isn't the news. Johnny sits their eating his curry as he answers the questions on the panel show. 

“Where were you?” You ask him, now seems like a good enough time then ever to snoop about their work. 

“Here and there.” Johnny says popping a chicken ball in his mouth. 

“Are you getting closer to finding them?” You ask. 

“Maybe, I reckon another few weeks and we’ll be hot on their trail.” Johnny says. You look over at the game show playing on the TV, it was nice having someone here even if it wasn’t Simon. It’s been lonely while he’s been away. 

“How is Simon?” 

“He’s fine, he’s always fine, sick and tired of being in meetings I bet.” Johnny chuckles dipping his chicken balls in the sweet and sour sauce. 

“I always imagined you’re out there shooting at some terrorists in Iran or something.” You say, Johnny looks back at you tipping his head to the side. 

“You’ve been watching too many films.” Johnny says turning back to the TV. He’s not wrong it’s not like you’ve had much else to do. No work, no Simon, nothing to do but sit around waiting for him to come home. You worry about him, worry he’ll get hurt, the thought of him dying makes you feel ill. You finish your glass of wine to squash the feeling. Simon is safe.

—————————— 

The flat door opening wakes you, you don’t remember falling asleep. You look over seeing Simon walk in. Johnny gets up off the floor and you look at the containers of food. Your belly is full Simon is back safe and the half bottle of wine you’ve had is relaxing you. Johnny pats Simon on the shoulder he looks over winking at you as he pulls his shoes on. 

“We’ve got food.” You say pointing at the table.

“I think LT wants to skip straight to the desert love.” Johnny says throwing his jacket on. 

“Go home MacTavish.” Simon says tutting and rolling his eyes. He comes over to you you tip your head back letting him kiss you on the forehead. 

“I’ve missed you.” You say breathing him in, letting the smell of cigarettes and gunpowder fill your nose. His arms travel down your body as hugs you from behind his strong arms wrapping round you. It feels good, feeling him touching you again, his strong heavy presence. 

“I’m sorry, hopefully this is the last time I’ll be away for this long.” He says moving into the kitchen. You get up walking into the kitchen wrapping your arms round his waist as he gets a glass of water. You press your head up against his back, you hum enjoying feeling him again. 

“You okay?” Simon says turning round and wrapping his arms round you. You smile looking up at him. He smiles back bringing his lips down to kiss you. You let him moving your arms round his neck. You relax into him pushing your fingers through his hair, it feels good his hair is thick it’s getting longer. You can feel him smile as he play with your tongue. You break away looking in his eyes, this feels good. You want to do this, you want to try. 

“Can we go to the bedroom. I want to try.” You say, stroking his cheek. He looks round your face for a second leaning down to give you a quick kiss on the lips before nodding.

You lead him into the bedroom. Don’t over think it, don’t over think it. You pull him over to the bed trying not to shake, gulping down the dread letting it sit low in your stomach. His fingers drop to your waist, his thumb digs below your waist band.

You let him as you move back up to kiss him. It’s long and slow, it feels good, you hold onto the good feeling as one of his hands goes up your top. You’re used to this feeling, he's touched your breasts before, it’s a familiar feeling, his hand is warm. His thumb brushes over your nipple. You pull away from the kiss. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

“I’m okay.” You say, you believe it for a second, you believe it. You hold onto that feeling. His smile makes you happy as he kisses your forehead. 

“We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready.” He says pulling his hand out from down under your shirt. 

“I’m ready.” You breathe, nodding. Don’t overthink it. You let him drop your sweat pants. It’s the first time you’ve been this exposed in front of him. The sudden cold on your thighs makes you shiver. His hands stay on your waist as you step out your pants.

His hands are slow, soft, resting on you as he guides you to the bed. You sit down when you hit it, he looks down at you pulling his shirt over his head. Your hand reaches up to his stomach running your fingers over his rugged skin.

Your hand reaches up and lands between his pecs you feel his heart thumping. You look up at him. He wants this, you have to be brave for him. You let him take your shirt off raising your arms as he pulls it off slowly. You sit there as he looks down at you smiling. You’re topless in front of him watching the smile fill his face as his eyes soak you in. 

“Lay down, I’ll go slow.” He says his fingers brushing your arms. You nod pulling your body into bed, he walks round to the other side, the side he usually sleeps on. He slips in next to you while you’re still looking at the ceiling. You feel his hands down your stomach to the hem of your underwear.

You hold your breath as his hand slips under them, he does go slow his hand is warm as his finger presses just past your folds. He stops as he brushes your clit. You let out a breath, he doesn’t move his hand any further. 

“What do you want?” he asks, you look up at him. 

“I don’t know, I want you to touch me. It feels good.” You say. He smiles as he starts rubbing little circles, it does feel good. Don’t overthink it. His fingers are warm, large, rough but gentle. 

“I’m sorry I’m not…wet.” You say feeling heat rush to your cheeks. 

“I don’t care, you feel good. Relax.” He says kissing your cheek. You tip your head back feeling him slip another finger through your folds. Your heart is pounding in your chest but he keeps his fingers moving. Before you can stop you spread your legs, parting your knees. It feels good, his fingers sure and firm as he presses down.

Your breath hitches in your throat it’s the first time in years you’ve been touched with such affection. By someone who loves you and cares about your feelings more then his own. Now is the time to be selfish, Don’t overthink it. 

“I want you,” you say, he looks over at you not moving his hand from your pants. 

“I’m right here,” he bends down and kisses you. His lips are soft, gentle just like his fingers. This is safe, you’re safe, don’t overthink it. His hand makes it down to your entrance. He just rubs over it, coating the tips of fingers in what little slick is there. 

“It feels good,” you say hoping it will make him relax you can feel his shoulders tense against you. 

“Yeah? You just want my fingers or I can make you feel even better with my tongue.” You look up at him, you can see the glint in his eyes. 

“Is your tongue is as soft as your fingers?” You say, a horrible attempt at dirty talk. 

“Softer.” He smiles. He pulls his hand out your pants shifting his body down so his head is parallel with your waist. You let him crawl over you hooking the sides of your underwear pulling them down. You let him moving your legs together so he can slip them off easily. He crawls back up between your legs as you spread them for him. He kisses your thighs, making gentle moaning noises as he works his way up, the throbbing between your legs is unavoidable.

You can feel his hot breath on your skin, each brush of his lips sends vibrations up your legs. The feeling makes you throw your head back into the pillows. You try to relax letting his tongue press over your entrance, it’s warm and just like he said soft. He moans into you, it feels like he’s drinking you up. 

“You’re doing great.” He says his mouth leaving you taking the opportunity to move up to your clit. His lips lock around it, wetting it with his tongue, it feels amazing, it’s like fireworks shooting up your body. 

“Simon..” You moan. His lips press around your clit so he can suck your sensitive bud in his mouth. His hands grip your waist holding you in place as he licks around you. 

“You feel good.” You breathe enjoying his face between your legs, his tongue is warm, slow, soft, just like he said. Your heart is racing, your breathing picking up. You trust Simon, this is safe, this is good. Don’t overthink it. You melt into the overwhelming feeling of pleasure, its a feeling you haven’t felt in years.

You almost don’t believe it’s real your breathing stops but Simon’s mouth doesn't, each press of his hot tongue against your clit makes you moan. Maybe you could cum but you don’t want something doesn’t feel right. 

“Simon-” Your voice catches in your throat. This feels wrong, you don’t know why. It’s not Simon between your legs anymore it’s your ex. His moaning, his grip. It’s not Simon anymore it’s suffocating. 

“Stop!” The word leaves your lips, you don’t even register it, it’s like you’re floating above your body. There’s nothing, just the pit in your stomach and the pain in your chest as your lungs burn. 

“Breathe, Baby breathe!” It’s Simon’s voice, his face is next to yours, hands on your face. You can’t see him the room is dark. There is a throbbing between your legs. Did he stop? You breathe out. You can feel a cold breeze between over your thighs, over your soaking clit, it makes you shiver. 

“You’re okay, baby, breathe for me.” Your body snaps up in the bed, Simon holds you up as your hyperventilate in his arms. You gasp into his chest, eyes wide, what happened? He holds you tight his arms wrapped around you, you hear his heart beating in his chest.   

“You’re okay, you’re okay, deep breaths, in and out...” It’s Simon’s voice, it’s Simon next you. Tears run down your face as you suck in breaths of air following Simon’s instructions. It’s Simon you’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay…

  —————————— 

You don’t remember falling asleep, your eyes flutter open. Simon is laid next to you his arm spread across your stomach. He’s sleeping peacefully. Guilt washes over you, you remember last night.

You made him stop, he tried and you made him stop. He’s snoring as you pull yourself from under his embrace. You tip-toe out the bed making sure you don’t wake him. You stand in the doorway as you watch him sleep.

You’re surprised he hasn’t woken up, then you remember how late he came home last night. You head into the kitchen filling the kettle. You open the fridge seeing the Chinese take away packed up in the fridge. He did that Simon did that, Simon took care of you. 

There are no bruises on you. There is nothing. You said stop and he stopped. You go back to the bedroom leaning in the doorway. You look at Simon sleeping, his arm stretched over the empty spot in the bed. It makes you smile. The kettle clicks and you watch as he stirs in the bed. He reaches out trying to feel for you, his eyes moving across the room as he lands on you. 

“Hey,” he says throwing the covers back and swinging his body out the bed walking round to you. 

“Hey, morning, I didn’t mean to wake you.” You say his hands wrapping round your waist. His lips press on your forehead.

“I’m sorry.” You say, he holds your shoulders watching your expression. 

“You have nothing to be sorry about.” His hands cup your face. 

“I’m so proud of you.” He says looking in your eyes. 

“You go away for so long, I don’t know if you’ll ever come back.” You say. He sighs pulling you into his arms. 

“I know, I’m sorry, It’ll be over soon I promise.” You wrap your arms round him. You want to believe him. He holds you like that and you close your arms enjoying the feeling of his body being pressed up against yours. His phone ringing breaks him away. You sigh as he walks over to the bedside table to pick it up. You leave him going out into the kitchen to make the cups of tea.

You know what his phone ringing means though he has to leave again, and you won’t know where or how long for. He’s barely been back in your flat for 12 hours and he’ll be going home to get ready to leave again. You hear him walk over to you he wraps his arms round your stomach kissing your neck. 

“When do you have to leave?” You ask stirring the tea. 

“We have to leave whenever you’re ready.” He says. You turn in his arms frowning at him. 

“We’re going to Manchester, I have a flat there you can stay at, I’ll be home every night.” He smiles kissing you on the nose. You smile back, that does sound nice, he’ll be working but you’ll get to see him.

“Why Manchester?” You ask, you don’t think he will tell you. Expecting him to go on a rant about confidentiality again. 

“That’s where their next target is.” He says as a matter of fact. The feeling of dread comes back the thought of him getting hurt rushes into your mind. He smiles rubbing your cheek. You turn picking up his cup of tea handing it to him.

Maybe you don’t want to go to Manchester, maybe you want to stay away, as far away as possible. The last thing you want to think about is Simon laying in a hospital bed like your brother was. You take your mug going to sit next to him at the table. You lean up against him and he puts his arm round you. 

“What to try again tonight?” You ask trying to lighten the mood. He kisses the top of your head. 

“Whatever you want, whatever you need.” It makes you smile as you slip your hand in his.  

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[theyrealllesbians]

Wedding Season- Chapter 2

James swung the front door open and called out. "Hello!"

Euphemia, his mum, came running from the kitchen. "Jamie, darling. It's so good to see you, it's been too long."

"Mum, it's literally only been a week. I also spoke to you on the phone on Wednesday." He laughed.

"Oh well that's far too long." Euphemia grabbed at his face and brought his forehead down to rest against hers momentarily before pulling back and kissing his cheek. James pretended to ignore the way that she had to go on her tip-toes to reach him, deciding to save the 'you'll always be my baby' lecture until it actually mattered. "Where are Sirius and Remus, I thought that they were coming with you?" She asked, turning towards the kitchen whilst wiping her hands on an apron James recognised from his childhood.

"They couldn't make it. They have some wedding stuff they desperately wanted to get done tonight. Booking vendors or cake tasting or flowers or something like that. Honestly, I can't remember." James had begun to tune Sirius out whenever he spoke about the wedding. It was a never ending rant about carnations and vanilla sponge, burlap or silk, fairy lights or lamps, martinis or an old fashioned and quite frankly, James could not listen to one more second. Besides, Sirius had a way of making every decision seem like a life or death situation. As a result, James would often than not end up getting yelled at when he chose the 'wrong' shade of white for the chairs. He loved Sirius more than anything, but in order to stay friends with him, James had made the executive decision to step back from all wedding decisions. Besides, Remus and the wedding planner told him everything he needed to know as part of being the best man. So he really wasn't missing much. It's not that he didn't expect Sirius to go full on bridezilla, because he did. It's just that he didn't quite realise how many little decisions went into planning a wedding. Since 'helping' Sirius and Remus, James has decided that when he gets married, it'll be a small affair. Probably in his parent's garden, with food that he and his mum cooked, flowers picked from his own garden and outfits that they'd both wear for anniversary dates time and time again. He wanted to be able to remember the love, not the little stressors that -at the time- would seem to derail the entire day.

"Oh, I remember those days. So exciting, but unbelievably stressful, be sure to send them my love. And I'll send you home with some bits and bobs to give them." By 'bits and bobs' James knew he'd be leaving with at least a months worth of food. He'd be playing tetris with his freezer tonight, he would never dare complain though, his mum's food was the best he'd ever tasted. Besides, he would never pass up the opportunity to not have to cook after a long day at work. Sirius and Remus would be endlessly grateful as well.

"I will do. Sirius is desperate to see you, so I'm sure he'll be here next week." James let his mum know.

"Oh well you know he doesn't have to wait till a Sunday to come see me. Even if he just wanted to pop in for lunch, I'd love to have him."

"I know, and he does as well. I think it's just slipped his mind because of how busy he is. I'll remind him though." Sirius had a habit of this, withdrawing whenever life got busy. He'd prioritise his work and keeping the house clean, often forgetting that he could also make time to decompress and see the people he loved. Luckily it only took James or Remus forcing him to leave his office for him to get back into a normal routine in which he wasn't being stretched unbelievably thin or being wound incredibly tight. James could never quite tell if it was some form of trauma response, or whether it was just the way that Sirius was wired. Either way, he's gotten better compared to when they were at school. During A-levels, James doesn't think Sirius left their dorm for anything other than food for at least 2 weeks. Despite the fact that at least 50% of the time, if someone checked on him, he wasn't actually doing any revision. James didn't really understand it. He pulled out his phone and added 'call Moony/ drag Pads out the house' onto his ever growing to do list.

"What can I help with?" James asked, rolling his sleeves up while walking over to the sink to start washing his hands.

"Oh, there's nothing really." His mum responded whilst opening the 5th can of what looked like crushed tomatoes. James looked around and spotted 3 pack of unopened whole chickens, a pile of uncut vegetables and several pots on the hob that were dangerously close to boiling over.

"Mum, stop lying. How about I break down the chicken?" He knew his mum didn't really like cutting the chicken. As she grew older, it just got harder and harder for her to break the bones and separate the breast from the thighs. He grabbed a knife and a chopping board from their respective drawers before she could even answer.

"Oh well, if you don't mind." His mum shrugged before turning round to face him and quickly rattling off a series of instructions. "Make sure you get as much meat of the bones as possible, I won't stand to see it wasted. But keep the bones in the thighs, you know it's your father's favourite bit. Oh, and don't throw away the wish bone. We can break it after dinner. Then I need the breast diced and adding to the pot at the back. The dark meat is going in a new pot. Everything else can get turned into stock. Oh, and be careful! Don't cut yourself!"

James huffed out a laugh, "I'm 26, I think I'll be fine."

"Oh, you never know. They're pesky little things, let me know if you need any help." James turned around to face the chopping board before rolling his eyes. Yes, he was 26, a full grown adult who was no longer living with his parents, but he would not be caught rolling his eyes at his mother. It was a death sentence.

"Will do. Anyways, how've you been?" James asked, unwrapping the first chicken.

"Oh, you know, same old, same old." His mum always said this right before delving into some local drama that was in fact not 'same old, same old'. "Your dad has been driving me mad asking what shade of red roses I want in the garden. And I just quite frankly, do not care. They will look lovely no matter what. Oh, but did I tell you about what happened with the Wilson's?" Here we go.

"No, I don't think you did. Are they the ones with the ginger cat?" James swears that cat should've died years ago. He remembers it from when he was a child. Remembers the way it would try and bite at his ankles any time he walked past.

"Yes, wretched thing. Anyways, apparently Richard tried to murder Margaret last week."

"What?!" James exclaimed, turning around to face his mum. She didn't move.

"Yeah, Judith got a call from him on, when was it, Tuesday I think. Or maybe Wednesday. And she came round and told me straight away. Apparently, Richard had gotten himself in a panic over the online banking as Margaret doesn't know any of the passwords and he tried to smother her with a pillow. The police came round and had to take both mine and your father's statements, even though your dad knew nothing of what was going on. They took him straight to a special care home and are talking about court dates. Bless them though, you never would have guessed it would you."

"No, I suppose not. He always seemed pretty decent. Always gave me the football back after I kicked it in their garden."

"Exactly, and that's what I said to the police. Never would think of him to even hurt a fly. I mean the amount of eggs I have borrowed from him, you'd think he'd want me dead. But no, he always said yes as long as I brought him round a slice of cake I baked, and you know I always did." James let his mother's voice carry him into a slower motion, letting his shoulders drop and jaw relax more than it had in the past week. Something about the smell of his parent's fabric softener and the spices slowly cooking drifted him into a dream like state. One where his own bones grew warm and his skin infinitely softer. He wished he could bottle this feeling and get drunk on it every night.

"James!" His mother yelled, smashing his peace into a thousand splintering pieces.

"What? What's happened?" He span around, eyes trailing over everything trying desperately to spot the danger.

"Nothing." He let out a sigh. "I was asking how you're week had been?"

"Oh, yeah it's been fine. Busy though. I've been working with this little girl, about 7, helping her walk again. She's making really good progress, but she's absolutely terrified. She had this pin through her foot diagonally, and her mum says she accidentally put her foot down quite a bit when she still had it in. Didn't hurt her much, but must've been a weird, uncomfortable sensation. I mean I got the heebie-jeebies just thinking about it. But yeah, it's been really nice seeing her get excited about walking again. Beats having to convince all the 17 year old lads that they won't actually be 'just fine' if they play for their club on Saturday." It's not like he had favourites, but it was easy to say that those who would greet him with a hug and tell him all about their teddies made his day just that bit brighter. James truly loved his job, he had to. If he didn't love it, he wouldn't be able to do it. He never intended to be a paediatric physiotherapist, he always wanted to go into rugby professionally. Ironically, it was Lily who was able to talk him into reconsidering his options, albeit not in the most conventional ways. She had said that he was 'too clever to let his brain get all mangled up, and that he was too much of a good person to let himself pick such a selfish career path filled with egotistical twats'. After a while, he did realise that he wanted to have a secure career and feel like he was making a difference in the world. He couldn't give up sport entirely though. So, during the week, he works for the NHS and in the evenings and at select weekends, he's the physio for the local rugby club. Seeing some of the injuries those players got helped him gain confidence in his decision very quickly.

"That's lovely, darling. Horrible thing for such a young child to go through, but I'm happy she's got the best helping her." His mum winked at him as she said that.

"I mean, it's not as bad as it sounds. She had corrective surgery, but it's meant that she hasn't been able to walk in around 9 months. So I reckon it'll take a while, but she's sweet and her parents are lovely, so I'm happy to spend as long as it takes helping."

"I'm sure that you are, love. You have always been so keen to help others. It is one of your better qualities." His mum grinned at him, suppressing a laugh.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" He asked, adding the chicken to each respective pot.

"We both remember how many phone calls I used to get from Minnie?" His mum says Minnie as, to James and Sirius's horror, she'd ended up becoming quite good friends with McGonagall. In fact, they try to meet up every month for tea and a catch up since they've all finished school.

"That's so not fair. I'm an adult now. I've grown up." James drew out the last syllable, quickly defeating his own argument by sounding like a whiny toddler.

"Yes, yes, of course you have, babu." His mum smiled at him again as she continued to tend to the food cooking. "Did you get the invite for Priya's wedding?" Priya was James's cousin on his mum's side. He actually quite liked her when they were growing up. She was only a year older than him so they formed a little alliance along with his other cousins of a similar age.

"Yeah, yeah I did. I think I got it a couple months ago." James had added it to the shrine of wedding invites adorning his fridge. "Yeah, it's at the end of August right?"

"The 31st, yes. Remember, a lot of family that we haven't seen in ages is flying over, so you better be on your best behaviour." His mum fixed him with a firm stare.

"Again, I am 26." He knew this would have little to no effect on his mum's conviction that somehow he'd become the family laughing stock in one singular evening.

"Okay. Still, make sure that you are letting everyone see how happy and successful you are. You know that I only want you to be happy, but my sisters aren't as forward thinking as me so be sure to mention that you are top of your field."

"Well that's a lie." James replied outright, furrowing his brows in confusion whilst laughing to himself. He'd only been in the field for 3 years, so he wasn't sure what his mum was on about.

"You've got the best reviews in your hospital." His mum replied matter-of-factly, as if they were at all comparable.

"Okay, yes, sure. I'll be sure to tell them about my career so that you can have bragging rights." He chuckled as he said this.

"James! Take this seriously!" His mum started waving the spoon she had in her hand in his direction. James was forced to take a step back to save his freshly ironed shirt from being stained.

"Yes, James, take it seriously!" His father added, walking into the kitchen while shaking his finger in a comedic manner. "You know how important it is for your mother to brag to others about our family. You can't let her down by underselling your achievements." His dad had a cheeky smile dancing across his lips showing that he didn't take it seriously either, but Fleamont Potter would never be caught, even in death, not having his wife's back.

"Oh, if you can, be sure to mention that Remus has just opened his own business and that Sirius wrote and directed the christmas nativity!"

"Will do." James and his dad reply in unison.

"Oh, and James? Are you bringing a date?" silver eyes flashed through James's mind, "I only ask because everyone has been asking me if you've met anyone!"

"I wasn't planning on it." James shrugged, trying his best to act nonchalant.

"You might want to rethink that kid. You know how your mother's family can be once they sense a bit of drama." James shuddered a little at the thought of answering a hundred questions about his love life after he'd drank a couple glasses of wine.

"Oh, come off it. My family is not like that. They all just care about James's happiness, that's all. Don't make it out to be something cruel." His mum sniped back. His dad only looked at James again, a long pointed look.

"I'll think about it." James said. Surely it wouldn't be too hard to find a date, if only for a couple weddings.

"Oh! Does that mean you already have someone in mind?" His mum swung her head round so she could look at James. Walking forward to grip his forearms.

"Mum!" He exclaimed, "I just said that I would think about it!" The feeling of fluffy black hair beneath his fingertips shot down his spine.

"Oh! You're blushing! There is someone!" His mum was practically jumping up and down with excitement.

"Mum…" James groaned, hanging his head.

"Euphie, leave him alone. If the boy says there's no one, there's no one. We have to believe what he tells us, otherwise we'll go insane." His dad placed a hand on his mum's shoulder and steered her away from James.

"Thanks. I guess?" James smiled at his dad. His dad simply grinned and winked right back. Great, so his dad did not believe what he was saying either, and his mum was clearly already planning his wedding.

Brilliant.

[pfhwrittes]

it’s mothering sunday today in the UK so i’m gonna pop down some thoughts about what tf141 get up to

(headcanons for gaz, price and soap’s immediate family below. ghost is the only one with a canon family so i’ll be sticking with that)

TW: light angst for ghost’s headcanon

price does his best to go visit his mum if he can. he’ll turn up with a fresh hair cut, his facial hair trimmed down to stubble, wearing one of the shirts she gave him for his birthday or a jumper that she says really brings out his eyes. he’s got her a box of her favourite chocolates, a bouquet of pink tulips and a tasteful card. you know this man has made lunch reservations at her favourite restaurant and he treats her like a queen for the entire day (no different from how he usually treats his mum honestly). if he can’t visit her, he’s ordered a frankly massive bouquet to be hand delivered to her with a card to apologise for missing her today. he’ll make it up to her the next time he visits. 

gaz, much like price, also tries to visit his mums if he can. he’ll coordinate the gifts with his younger brother (his brother chooses the gifts, gaz pays for them) before dropping round the night before with a huge bag of takeaway from two different places so both of his mums can have their favourite meals. he stays overnight at his mums’ house in his childhood bedroom so he can get up bright and early to make them both breakfast for mother’s day like he has done since he was 11. (he’s learned not to bring it into their bedroom now, he doesn’t need first hand evidence that his mums still enjoy a very active sex life)

soap doesn’t go up to visit his mum (and his horde of sisters and sisters-in-law) but he does spend a small fortune on flowers, gift cards, presents and cards. every single female relative of his is getting a present for mother’s day regardless of whether they’re mothers or not. he consistently out performs the other male relatives in his family (much to their chagrin) and he knows it. he’s definitely unbearably smug about it too. 

ghost would rather be left alone for mother’s day. he might go to visit his mum and beth’s grave and pop flowers on them. more often then not he just turns his phone off, ignores the telly running mother’s day adverts and reads one of beth’s favourite books. later on he’ll dig out one of the few photos he has of his mum and rubs his thumb very carefully over her smiling cheek before tucking it away somewhere safe.