#Wedding Flowers Sutton | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sussex-nature-lover · 2 years

Text

Sunday 5 March 2023

For Christmas I received a large and beautiful hardback book which contains a nature poem for every day of the year. I’ve got to admit that I’m not a poetry person and up to now at least, I’ve found the content extremely challenging, so the gift giver, Ms Nature Watch the elder, threw down the gauntlet and said, can you do better?

Well, I won’t say better, but I can do different, a present-day take on the same title and so I chose to write one poem for the birthday of each person close to me. The first in the year is my late father’s birthday.

Forever associated with spring, daffodils are a welcome sign that warmer days are ahead. An inspiration to artists across the centuries and entangled in myth and symbolism, there’s much more to these bright and cheery trumpets than meets the eye. I found an article with some fascinating and unusual facts about one of our most popular springtime blooms. It was published by the seed and bulb sellers, Suttons, so thanks to them for the following.

What do daffodils symbolise?

Daffodils are among the first flowers to appear as spring approaches, so it’s no surprise that they’re the birth flower for March as well as a symbol of rebirth and new beginnings. But daffodils have also represented many other ideas over the years. The Victorians, for example, considered them the flower of respect and friendship.

Traditionally given on a tenth wedding anniversary (I never heard that before) florists often add daffodils to these celebratory bouquets as a symbol of faith, joy and happiness. However, in days gone by, presenting someone with a single daffodil was seen as bad luck, while observing a bloom as its head drooped used to be thought to herald death. I never heard of that either, but then I’ve never known of anyone give a single daffodil to anyone.

That apart, daffodils remain primarily associated with hope. At the start of 2020 they were the inspiration for David Hockney’s daffodil artwork. Drawn on an iPad during the first COVID-19 lockdown, the piece was titled: ‘Do Remember They Can’t Cancel The Spring’. You can also see it here at The Art Newspaper.

Daffodils as medicine

Originating in the Mediterranean, daffodils are said to have been brought to the UK by Roman soldiers who used them for pain relief and wound healing. We know now that this is unlikely to have helped, as all parts of the daffodil are toxic and should not be consumed. Prolonged exposure to the sap can cause dermatitis.

That said, daffodils do contain the compound galantamine, which has been found to slow the progression of dementia symptoms. In certain parts of the UK, like the Black Mountains in Wales, daffodils are grown specifically to produce a treatment for Alzheimer’s. How incredible.

It’s very fitting that the daffodil is the national flower of Wales and is proudly worn on 1st March to celebrate St David’s Day.

Daffodils in poetry

We’re all familiar with the poem ‘I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud’, William Wordsworth, having taken a walk in the Lake District with his sister Dorothy, describes his feelings upon seeing ‘a host of golden daffodils’ growing at the edge of a lake. A lesser-known fact is that the poem was also inspired by his sister’s journal entry, and that the middle two lines of the final stanza were written by Wordsworth’s wife, Mary Hutchinson.

The Cornish daffodil industry

Bunches of daffodils have been sold in the UK for hundreds of years, but commercial farming of the flowers really took off in the late 19th century, courtesy of Cornish potato farmer William Trevellick. The daffodils around his farm on the Isles of Scilly bloomed much earlier than on the mainland, so he made use of the weekly freighter and the (then relatively new) Penzance to London railway link to get freshly-cut blooms to London within 48 hours of picking.

Island landowner Thomas Dorrien-Smith built on Trevellick’s idea by encouraging his tenant farmers to make bulb-forcing houses and transport boxes for the flowers, and also brought in different varieties to extend the flowering season. This in turn inspired mainland farmers to start planting bulbs, and the world’s largest daffodil grower, Varfell Farm, is still in operation today in Penzance, Cornwall.

Establishing the difference between ‘daffodil’ and ‘narcissus’ seems to cause confusion (throw ‘jonquil’ into the mix if you want to increase the head-scratching). To clear this up, daffodils and jonquils are the common names of spring-flowering bulbs that are members of the genus ‘Narcissus’ (the botanical Latin name for this group of plants)

Daffodils in Greek mythology

The name ‘Narcissus’ comes from a Greek myth about a hunter who spurned all romantic advances and then fell in love with his own reflection in a pool of water. Unable to tear himself away, he died and a narcissus flower grew where his body had been. The way that daffodil heads tilt towards the ground is said to mimic Narcissus dropping his head to gaze at his reflection. This story is also the origin of the term ‘narcissism’, which describes someone who is selfish, overconfident, and obsessed with their personal appearance.

Wild daffodils (Narcissus pseudonarcissus) are sometimes called Lent Lilies, as they commonly bloom and die back between Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday. There are over 50 species of narcissus in existence and thousands of hybrids and cultivars. They come in a wide variety of colours, shapes and scents and I’ve never met one I didn’t like. Our own are slow to bloom compared to other local areas. I’ve seen lots of vibrant patches along with the snowdrops and odd drifts of crocus. We’re officially in meteorological spring now, even if the weather doesn’t seem to agree with that. Roll on Spring proper please

#daffodils #flowers nature spring

1 note · View note

rosesandcloves · 2 years

Text

HENRY ~ Michael Gray x OC

Part six: My Mother's Wedding Dress

Warnings: mentions sex, angst, trauma.

Esther arrived back at Watery Lane thanks to Arthur and John taking it in turns to carry her. She was hysterical and in shock, she was shivering like a puppy left out in the winter.

As soon as the three of them stepped over the threshold Polly sprung into action. "Have a seat there love!" She pulled out a chair and sat Esther down in it. Her knees bashed together like a nervous child. "Esme fetch her a cup of tea!" Polly barked.

"Why do I have to -" Esme whined but Polly cut her off by raising a finger warning her to behave.

"Fuck that she needs whisky! That always stops the shakes." Arthur piped in.

"Don't give her any of that crap. Gin" she heard footsteps walking into the room. Then a hand pressing reassuringly on her shoulder. She looked up to see Michael in a half unbuttoned shirt, covered in blood stains. There was something in the way he looked at her that made her feel safe. She didn't notice herself stop shaking, but everyone else did. However they said nothing in fear she would start again.

"I told you to get that off else those stains will set in the cotton!" Polly got up out of her chair opposite Esther, and started unbuttoning Michaels shirt.

"Mum!" Michael sighed at her.

"Alright alright do it yourself and give it to me." She threw her hand in the air.

Michael unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and handed it to his mother who went into the kitchen to scrub it in the sink.

Everyone else had cleared out of the room now. Michael walked round and crouched in front of Esther's chair. Her eyes were still wide and frightened. He cupped her face with his hand. "Do you want me to walk you home Es?"

"You will stay with us tonight Esther." Polly sauntered back into the room, drying her hands from cleaning Michael's shirt. "It's not good to be on your own after something like that." Polly folded the cloth and layed it over the back of a chair to dry.

"Thank you," Esther smiled sweetly.

It was a short drive to Polly's house in Sutton. When they arrived Esther was reminded of the village where her and Michael grew up. The house was much larger however than their little cottages. With a large front lawn instead of a chocolate box garden with a winding path and wild flowers. Michael opened the car door for her and followed her into the house after Polly.

They were greeted in a large sitting room by a maid. "Please fetch clean sheets and get the guest bedroom ready." The maid nodded and headed upstairs. Esther sat down gingerly in the corner of the sofa. Polly sat opposite. Michael perched himself at the other end of the sofa.

Polly chuckled. "Fine pretend you don't know eachother I don't care. I'll fetch some tea." She goes over to a tea tray in the corner where hot tea is sitting in a tea pot and china cups and saucers are sitting ready. She pours the tea and then they all sit around drinking silently. The oral fixation of the hot tea focuses Esther's mind.

On the other end of the sofa Michael is quietly contemplating. The flowers on the saucer reminds him of a day they spent in a medow just outside the village.

They had run into the fields to escape their parents for a while. They were both sixteen going on seventeen. He remembers her that day vividly as if it was a painting in his mind. Her hair was tangled like a child's but her face was beautiful like a woman. A wildness to her. He remembers how she layed in the long grass, the evening sun shining off her face. "Make love to me Henry." She said innocently. Her plump lips still damp from swimming in the stream. This still made him shiver. He remembers that day he was filled with unexplainable anger. This was not how it was supposed to be. She was not supposed to be acting like this. She could do better, be better, be more than this. He laughed and kissed her on the forehead and walked her home. They never spoke of it again. Yet every time they saw eachother it hung in the air like cobwebs on a dewy winter morning. Stringing them together, glistening in the air.

After dinner Esther excused herself to her room. She was tired and Polly thought she could use the rest. The guest room was mostly used for storage. There were picture frames with paintings and photos of people. As Esther looked through them she saw a photo of a man who looked just like Michael, but older. That must have been his real father. There were boxes of old clothes and fabric, as well as a large collection of miscellaneous trinkets.

In the corner of the room there was a large wooden chest with brass detailing. Esther walked over and slowely undid the latch. Inside there was a huge cloud of white fabric. She pulled it out of the chest and tossed it on the bed she stepped out of her own dress and carefully draped the white lace and satin around her. She stared at herself in a floor length mirror.

Suddenly the door latch clicks and the hinges creek. "Esther?" She hears the floorboards creek under the carpet. She turns to look at him. Cobwebs hung in the air; a string connecting the two of them. Like a fishing line, with bait at both ends. "That was my mother's wedding dress." Michael doesn't take his eyes off her.

"Oh I'm sorry I'll take it off-" Esther reaches for the lace at the back to untie it.

"No-" Michael is so still, like he is scared to move as if he might wake up and realise this is all a dream. "I always tried picture how beautiful you would look on our wedding day, but I never could do you justice."

Esther stepped out of the dress. Folding it carefully and placing it back in the chest.

She walked over to him and stood there innocently in front of him. The moonlight shone through the window opposite her.

"Make love to me Michael."

#michael gray angst #michael gray smut #michael gray x reader #michael gray #tommy shelby #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinders #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #polly gray #polly shelby

71 notes · View notes

kipplekipple · 2 years

Text

On Monday, my very best friend in the world got married. I was unable to attend (it would've been a huge amount of travelling on a mostly inaccessible public transport system + I didn't want to add accessibility concerns), but I made her bouquet out of an old book, and made a ring box for the ring bearer to carry. She was an incredibly beautiful bride, and I'm so grateful I got to contribute something to the wedding ❤️❤️❤️

Anyway I'm pretty chuffed with how it all turned out, so:

[Image ID starts. Image one: A pile of items, including a tiara with pearls on it, a bouquet of paper roses, and a wooden ring box, the lid of which reads "Rachel and Loam Sutton." The flowers are made from an old book, so words are visible, and some of them are blue. The stems are wrapped in blue gauzy fabric.

Image 2: The inside of a wooden box, showing a small wooden frame. Inside the frame is a blue fabric with a short pile, which has two roses engraved in it. Two silver wedding rings are sitting in the centres of the roses.

Image 3: A closer look at the bouquet, showing some spirals of paper spacing out the roses.

End ID.]

38 notes · View notes

princessandpirateships · 7 years

Photo

it was perfect.

#wedding #karen willis holmes #rembrandt #montrose berry farm #willow flowers by design #hello sweetheart #navy suit #lace #bow tie #outdoor wedding #bridal #sutton forest #southern highlands #australia #australian wedding

11 notes · View notes

podcastenthusiast · 4 years

Text

Fic: Alstroemeria

Summary: Gertrude and Adelard investigate a series of mysterious deaths, commit arson, and do some self-reflection.

My fic for aspec archives week!

They meet up outside a small East London church on a bright winter afternoon. Gertrude and Adelard have not seen one another in person for nearly five months, as is frequently the nature of their work.

“Thank you for agreeing to help with this,” Adelard says.

“I suppose I do owe you after that little Desolation matter,” Gertrude replies.

“Mm. The burns healed very well, thank you for asking.”

That earns him the ghost of a smile from her. They all have to take a bit of levity anywhere they can find it, but it seems more and more elusive with each passing year.

Gertrude cannot recall the last time she set foot inside a church. A funeral, most likely. She glances at Dekker, who looks comfortable here even under the circumstances, like existing in this sacred space is second nature to him. Her friend’s faith will always be a mystery to her.

It truly is a shame that faith alone has never protected anyone from the Fears.

Lucilla Sutton—Adelard tries to make a point of learning their names—had dropped dead as she walked down the aisle during her wedding. This is the third incident of its kind in as many months. Possibly a coincidence, of course. However, Bianca had conducted Lucilla’s post-mortem examination and found that her body was in a very advanced state of decomposition, much more so than one would expect given her recent time of death. The other cases had all been the same.

They need to figure out why.

“I’m told the police are keen to avoid an official inquest whenever possible, so the scene should be largely untouched,” Dekker explains.

Indeed, it is. Still, this is also hardly the most interesting place of death either of them has ever seen. It looks like an ordinary wedding, if all the participants and guests had abruptly vanished mid-ceremony. The bland normalcy of their surroundings does make it fairly simple to identify anything strange, even without the background whir of a tape recorder in Gertrude’s bag.

Adelard stoops down, knees protesting—he really is getting too old for this—to get a closer look at the abandoned bouquet. This, he suspects, is probably the last thing that poor bride ever touched. He reaches out a gloved hand and retrieves the wilted peonies and roses. Every flower appears to be dry and discolored, and beneath them he finds a small puddle of some sort of dark, murky liquid that smells sickly sweet.

“Those should be burnt,” Gertrude says, handing him her lighter. It used to be his lighter and technically remains so to this day, but she borrowed it in 1989 shortly before one or both of them disappeared for a while chasing a lead.

“Yes,” he agrees, expression grim. “And we need to have a word with the florist.”

----

Now, night has fallen, and they are standing across the street from a flower shop. Its windows are bright with raging orange flames that consume everything within.

“Cigarette?” Gertrude offers.

“You know I quit years ago.”

“As did I, but it helps with the smell somewhat.”

He hesitates, but ultimately accepts. After all, almost anything must be better than the stench of rotting plants and decay that lingers long after its source is gone.

They smoke their cigarettes in companionable silence.

As the heat inside the shop rises, one of the windows suddenly breaks. It will not be long at all before a firetruck’s wailing siren completely spoils their nice evening.

“Have you ever considered marriage, Gertrude?” he wonders.

“I can’t say it’s been much of a priority of mine, no. There would hardly be time for such things, regardless.” Gertrude gives him that look, then, the one which means she is curious but does not necessarily want to ask a question and risk taking more than he might be willing to give.

“Nor me,” he tells her. “To be honest... I don’t believe I’ve ever felt it. That sort of affection, I mean. The inclination to be with anyone in that way, to date or marry; any of it.”

Friendship has always been enough for Adelard, and he cares for his friends fiercely, especially Gertrude. He cannot imagine telling anyone else this particular detail about himself anyway, although he wouldn’t be surprised if she already knows.

“I did some research once, and apparently there’s a word for that now,” he continues. “They call it being ‘aromantic.’”

“A romantic?”

“No. It's just one word. The Greek prefix.”

“Ah.” She nods, taking a thoughtful drag of her cigarette. “It seems there is a great deal of terminology to describe things we never could when we were young.”

“Quite so.”

“...Tell me more about this research of yours.”

Their lives are, due to the nature of the work they do, isolated in many ways. But it’s comforting to know that they are never entirely alone in all things. That even if the countless horrors they have both witnessed and experienced throughout the years surely left marks upon them, they were not born broken, nor are they incapable of love. It is merely a different kind.

#the magnus archives #tma #aspec archives week #adelard dekker #gertrude robinson #they're aro and badass

29 notes · View notes

allie1804-fan · 4 years

Text

The Middle of the Road (Chapter 14)

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 , 9, 10, 11 , 12, 13

Warnings Explicit content

On their return from what had turned out to be a momentous picnic, Emily grabbed a cold drink at the kitchen sink. Keanu wrapped his arms around her from behind

“I think it’s hot tub time” he whispered in her ear.

She turned in his arms and kissed him.

“Sounds good, champagne?”

“you’re on – we should celebrate our forthcoming nuptials!”

Keanu found champagne flutes in the cupboard and grabbed a bottle they had brought with them.

He set the bottle and glasses on the shelf on the outer side of the tub and turned on the jets. Back inside the cabin, they stripped naked then went out to the terrace and climbed in, giggling at the naughtiness of being naked outside and grateful of the privacy offered by the trees and the distance to the next cabin.

He popped the champagne cork and handed her a glass.

“So, we’re getting married” he grinned

“Cheers” they said in unison, full, delighted grins on each of their faces.

They leaned across to clink glasses and share a kiss before leaning back.

“Did you have, you know any daydreams as a teen or younger woman about your wedding?” he asked “mmm that’s a good vintage huh?” he added after taking a sip.

“mmmm” she agreed “depends on when you’re talking about. But it’s always had a British vibe. As a younger teen, it was Four Weddings style and then as I got to uni I probably had more of the simplicity of a wedding in a Thomas Hardy novel in mind, you know, riding in a horse drawn cart, wild flowers in my hair and maypole dancing! Later as a mature woman, it would just be, you know, the two of us, me and the love of my life in mind a la Jayne Eyre or Anne Elliot in Persuasion – didn’t matter about the wedding trappings”

“and what about now?”

“Oh definitely simplicity, no Four Weddings grandeur, no meringue dress but maybe some nods to the county wedding – but I don’t need to, you know, fly out to England and go to ‘Wessex!’. What about you? I kind of imagine you never thinking about it, what with your parents divorce and then your mom marrying again, what was it, 3 times?”

“yeah, none of them lasted very long apart from Jack and that was after I left home. Definitely not much of a template to learn from. I think I thought more about it in my 30s and 40s, especially when I did a film with a love theme like ‘A Walk in the Clouds’ or ‘The Lake House’”

“ahhhh, ‘Paul Sutton you are the most honourable man I have ever known - soooo dreamy”

Keanu giggled, putting his hand over his mouth.

“I forgot how much you love that film”

“I was a very impressionable 12 year old, remember”

“God, shhhh I feel ancient when you say things like that!”

“you shhhh, age doesn’t matter – anyway, shouldn’t we be taking advantage of this hot tub situation?”

Emily slid round to his side of the tub and straddled him. She could feel him, already hardening beneath her as she kissed him lovingly, pressing herself against him until she could feel he was ready. Then she held onto his shoulders and lifted up to enable him to line up with her entrance before she sank down gently and started riding him.

Holding onto her hips, he changed his angle seeking the best position for her pleasure.

“Let me know when ...”

“Oh god there it is keep it there!”

He had been going to say “when I hit the spot” but she interrupted him and he let out a low growl.

“God I love it when you use me like your human sex toy!”

“It’s your destiny Reeves!”

Emily’s breath caught as she used the edge of the tub for leverage so she could pull up almost to the point where they’d lose connection then push back down hard. She didn’t increase the pace, just savoured the rhythmic sawing of his cock against her g spot.

With each slamming together of their hips, Emily cried out and the water in the tub sploshed making them giggle, wondering if they might be overheard but not really caring as the glorious, shared moment of orgasm took them both over the edge. She pressed her forehead against his, sighing.

“thankyou”

“thank you, now let’s hope no-one’s hiding round the corner with a cell phone and quit while we’re ahead and go inside!”

Back in the cabin they dried off then got into bath robes - there was no need to get properly dressed. They snuggled together for a while before assembling a dinner of various tapas style foods – cold meats, stuffed mini peppers, olives, cheeses, crackers, a cold Spanish omelette Emily had made at home and a full bodied red wine.

They played music in the background and discussed their plans for the wedding which they’d likely do just at home in the garden with friends and family. As long as they had the right guests and a few wild flowers in her bouquet, Emily was happy. Keanu also suggested they have a big family dinner for Emily’s 41st birthday when they were back home. There had been no chance for a celebration for her 40th the prior year as she was 7 months pregnant with Hannah. They could use the gathering to announce their engagement.

On their second, and last morning at the cabin, Emily surprised Keanu with a request to be taken hard, noisily and vigorously from behind!

“I know it’s not exactly in keeping with the romance of our weekend but when do we ever get to just go for it and make a noise?”

“Whatever my lady wishes!”

He positioned her carefully on the bed and stood behind her. First he probed her pussy with his fingers to ensure she was ready - then he had an idea and dropped to his knees so he could dart his tongue up inside, swirling it round making her moan and cry out

“Oh good god!”

Then he stood and pushed in, taking it slow as she stretched around his stiff cock. He was very hard, the sight of her ass enkindling him. At first he leaned over her and fondled her dangling breasts, his strokes slow. She relished the slow pace, feeling every ridge as he stretched her. A long low moan escaped her lips as she started to quiver around him.

It was then that his pace increased and he raised up, grabbed onto her hips and started slamming into her over and over, his muscles taught and trembling with effort.

“Oh Jesus Christ I’m gonna come” she gasped, her face falling into the duvet, biting it, the habit of keeping quiet as she peeked returning.

“No don’t, I want to hear it, shout out for me”

“Oh god, oh god!”

For the next few moments, the room was filled with their cries of unbridled sexual release and then exhausted heavy breathing as they settled back to normal. They felt renewed and ready to embrace life back at home.

@penwieldingdreamer @fortheloveoffanfic @kindainlovewithkeanu @ladyreapermc @witty-wallflower @gatsbynouvel @bitchyslut99 @keanureevesisbae @omg-imagine @iworshipkeanureeves @fics-not-tragedies @ficsnroses @kindainlovewithkeanu @paperplanesandwallflowers

#keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu #keanu reeves #keanu reeves ofc

2 notes · View notes

let-it-raines · 5 years

Note

SIC prompt: I was re-reading the story for like the 20th time (seriously cannot get enough!!) and I had forgotten how much Emma loves Halloween. I would love to see some fluff and hilarity as the family gets ready for Halloween sometime in the future.

Nonnie, do you want to know the best way to get me to write a Second in Command prompt? Tell me that you’re rereading it for the 20th time. lol. That fills my stomach with all kinds of happy butterflies and gets the inspiration immediately flowing. I obviously love SIC. So here’s some family Halloween fluff for you. I tell you, it’s as sweet as candy 😘

Found on AO3: | Here |

-/-

“Emma, love, what’s happened to our bedroom?”

The bed is full of clothes, ones Killian recognizes as his own and others that he knows are Emma’s, the lace from some of her bras sticking out above the blue of his dress shirts, and if he had to guess, at least half of their closet is sitting on their bed. The two of them own more clothes than any two people have a right to – besides possibly Liam and Abigail – so it’s going to take a while to get all of this cleaned up. That’s assuming the closet isn’t also covered in clothes, but he’s sure that it is.

He may have very well just walked home to some kind of minefield, and he’s not too sure when something is going to go off.

He’s only been gone for two hours. He was eating lunch with his parents, and when he left, their bed was made, the white comforter smoothed over the mattress and all of the pillows stacked neatly in their places. He’s not entirely sure that the pillows are underneath this mess.

When he doesn’t hear anything from Emma, he walks toward the bed and starts shuffling through the clothes, picking up all of Emma’s jeans and trousers that he finds, quickly folding them as Indy walks into the room, her tail wagging ferociously before she jumps up on the bed and settles herself down on what he knows is an expensive gown. How does that dog always find the most expensive thing to sit on every single time? Between she and Andy, they can’t keep anything nice within touching distance of a two-year-old and a dog.

“Indy, get down,” he commands only for her to roll over on her back and stick her tongue out, pretty much begging for him to scratch her stomach. “Indy, darling, get off the bed.”

This time she listens, rolling back over and walking across the mattress until she hops down onto the ground, her nails clicking against the hardwood before she moves to sit on her bed on the floor. What a rare sight that she actually uses it. Honestly, he thinks Andy uses it more than the dog, and, well, that cannot at all be sanitary no matter how many times it goes into the wash.

After folding a few more of Emma’s clothes, he picks up the stack and walks through the bathroom to move into the closet, his eyes seeing the myriad of clothes on the bench and the floor before he sees Emma sitting on the closet floor with one leg crossed over the other and her lap full of what he thinks is a photo album. This makes less and less sense with every moment that passes.

“Love?”

“Hey.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sitting on the floor.”

He rolls his eyes before taking the few steps he needs to be next to her, sliding down against the cabinets until his ass is on the ground and he’s placing the pile of clothes on the ground next to her.

“Hi,” Emma greets him, flashing him a smile as she leans over to press a kiss into his cheek, her gaze barely looking away from the book she’s flipping through.

“You are distracted today,” he hums has he reaches over to fiddle with her hand, intertwining their fingers before he brings them to his lips so he can press his lips against her knuckles over her wedding ring. “How are my girls?”

“I’m fine. Sutton has decided that she needs several bars of chocolate.”

“Oh, did she now?”

“She did. She practically demanded it.”

“Seems pretty pushy for someone still in the womb. So we’re going with Sutton now? What happened to Annabelle?”

“Too many names that start with A in this family. I wanted to mix it up a bit. Do you like it?”

He weighs it on his tongue a bit. “I love it.”

“Good,” Emma sighs, twisting her head to the side and flashing him that bright smile of hers that makes everything in him pleasantly twist and burn and feel like he’s twenty-three years old again. “So I’ve been looking in this photo album – ”

Killian raises a brow. “I thought you were destroying the room by ransacking our closet.”

“That has to do with the album.”

“Of course it does,” he laughs, squeezing their hands and leaning over to get a better view of the photos she’s looking at. Speaking of him being twenty-three, there’s a photo of the two of them sitting in the pub, and judging by the lack of wrinkles on his face and the skin tight t-shirt that Emma has on, he’d guess he’s about that age there. They look so young, not that he thinks they look particularly old now that he’s approaching his mid-thirties, but there’s definitely an innocence of youth there. Emma practically looks like a baby, and now they’re about to have their second child together. “When did we take that picture?”

“I’m not sure. We look like babies in it though. Look at how tiny I am.”

“Look at how tiny I am.”

“My scrawny little boyfriend.”

“Oi,” he protests, squeezing her hand and leaning in to press his lips against her shoulder, touching the soft skin there as he inhales her scent. She smells like the flowers of her perfume and that scent that seems to follow Andy around after bath time. She must have bathed him before she put him down for his nap. “I was not scrawny. I was simply not as well built as I am now.”

“That’s certainly conceited to say you’re well-built now.”

“It’s amazing that you love me. I could never tell from the way you treat me.”

She scoffs, running her finger over the page and another picture that he knows is from their first date, the one where he took her up on the rooftop of the pub and she told him about her grandfather and life growing up and he fell in love with her a little bit more than he already was.

“I treat you wonderfully. I mean, you love cleaning, and look at the mess that I’ve left you to clean up.”

“The most considerate woman in the world. That’s who you are.”

“I know.”

“Can you explain the clothes thing now?”

“Oh,” she gasps, readjusting herself on the floor and scooting back again while she adjusts the book in her hands, placing it on her lap just in front of the curve of her stomach. “So I was actually cleaning up, believe it or not.”

“I don’t.”

“And I was cleaning,” she continues, paying no attention to him, “and I came across my box of old Halloween costumes. Like, all of the ones I’ve had as an adult. Mom and Dad still have my old ones. And I saw my Wednesday Addams outfit and got all nostalgic and was trying to find the picture we took that night when you had black lipstick all over you.”

“Because I was irresistible and you couldn’t help but make out with me.”

“Not gonna lie. That is the exact truth.” She leans over to him and quickly kisses him, not giving him enough time to move his lips against hers like he wants to. “I love this picture so much, babe. I need to get it on my phone. That was such a fun night. You got to be around me with no one paying attention and it was just so fun. Like, I love Halloween, and I miss it.”

“Sweetheart, that still doesn’t – ah,” he clicks his tongue, leaning his head back against the cabinet so that a handle digs into his neck. “You were looking for a last-minute Halloween costume, weren’t you? And that’s why our bedroom is destroyed.”

Emma releases his hand and puts the book down, the pages flipping open to several photos of them from that night, ones from down in the pub and another where Emma’s black lipstick is smeared all of his face. He smiles as he looks down at it, happiness settling in his stomach, before he looks up to Emma as she adjusts her leggings over her stomach and pulls her tank top down. Happiness settles in his stomach at that sight too.

“You’re a genius, obviously, because that’s exactly what I was doing. I’ve come up with an idea.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Jurassic Park, baby. It’s perfect. I found some of our clothes from when we went to Africa that I think will look really good for us. It took me forever to find a shirt that would fit my stomach and not give the biggest view of my boobs.”

“That’s a good view.”

“Shut up,” she laughs, holding her hand out so he can take it to get up even though he’s mostly pulling himself up by the muscles in his thighs. “I tried on so much stuff trying to think of all of this. I’m sorry about the mess. I really am. But I just got so excited because we can celebrate this year. And Andy is really into dinosaurs and is just going to look so cute in his little dinosaur costume.”

“Emma, where the bloody hell did you get a dinosaur costume on such short notice?”

“My mom.” When he raises a brow, she nods her head and opens her mouth as if to say something before her lips close again. He can barely imagine the gears turning in her mind right now. She’s already done so much in the two hours that he was gone, and he knows Emma. When her mind is set on something, she doesn’t stop until she gets it or is totally shut down. “I sent her to go buy one for Andy when I decided on everything. I would go get us stuff too, but we’ve only got until tomorrow. And it would just be too much to have to get both of us into a store to shop. Thomas would have a heart attack, and I’ve already given him a heart attack.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” he laughs, placing his hands on her shoulders and dipping his head down to look her in those beautiful green eyes that are full of excitement. “Why are you giving Thomas a heart attack. What have you done, my love?”

A smile starts on the left side of her lips before curving up so much that he can see nearly every tooth in her mouth, her eyes crinkling with her joy.

“We’re going trick or treating.”

-/-

His wife is walking around their now clean bedroom, every item exactly where it should be, working on braiding her hair back into something so intricate that he would never be able to do it. She’s not even looking into a mirror, only occasionally glancing into one of their windows that looks out onto the pool and the garden. She’s got on a pair of short khaki shorts, ones he knows are held together by one of her ponytail holders, and a blue camisole with one of his red button down’s tied over it. She looks every bit the character, if Ellie had been seven months pregnant, and he can’t help but smile at her and her little dinosaur shadow that’s following her around.

“Darling,” Andy says, his little kick of alternating between calling Emma Mummy and Darling still happening, “Darling.”

“What, baby?”

“I want water.”

“Ask Daddy.”

“I want you, Darling.”

Killian huffs to himself, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches Emma roll her eyes at their son. He’s a ridiculous little thing, always wanting Emma for things that Killian can very easily do, and as much as it annoys Emma, he knows that she wouldn’t have it any other way. Andy has her wrapped around every single finger that he has. Probably all of his toes too.

“Give Mommy one minute, and I’ll get you some water.”

Andy sighs, like every dramatic two-year-old does, before sitting down on the ground, having to pull the tail of his costume out from underneath his bottom. Honestly, Killian is shocked that Andy hasn’t ripped the thing off by this point. He seems pretty content in it, actually, his dark hair hidden under a green hood and his bright blue eyes shining under the dark of his lashes. Obviously, he’s biased considering this is his own son and that he could basically be his carbon copy, but damn did he help make a handsome little lad.

“I’ll get it, love.”

“He won’t take it from you.”

“I’ll try.”

Killian uncrosses his arms and walks over to Andy, bending his knees and scooping his son up under his armpits, holding him high in the air before placing him over his shoulders so that his legs dangle against Killian’s chest.

“Andrew, what does the dinosaur say?”

Andy screams, or shrieks really, what Killian assumes is supposed to be a roar. Whatever the sound was, it was not human. Or dinosaur.

“You’re getting good at that.”

“Papa taught me.”

“Of course he did,” Killian chuckles, removing Andy from his shoulder and placing him on the bathroom cabinet before he grabs one of the cups they keep in here for this exact thing, only filling it a little before handing it to his son, making sure that he doesn’t spill it and ruin his costume. This is the only one they have, and he is not going to be the one to dampen Emma’s spirit. If she wasn’t pregnant, he’d be sure that she’s had about seven cups of coffee right now with her energy level.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Is the baby going to come out of Mummy’s mouth?”

It’s more broken up than that, as all of Andy’s speech is, but Killian still gets the gist. He and Emma may be the only two people who can understand him, and damn are people missing out on some gems.

He could tell the truth and say that the baby is coming out of Emma’s vagina, but all that will do is have their kid walking around telling everyone about his mum’s vagina. There’s already enough talk about that.

“The baby comes out of Mummy’s tummy, lad.”

“How?”

They’ve already had this conversation once and yet here he is having to have it again. Why does Andy never ask Emma questions like this? The kid needs to figure out how to balance things out between the two of them.

“When the baby is ready to be born, it comes out of Mummy. Just like you did.”

“Look like me?”

“Maybe,” he sighs, taking the cup from Andy’s hand and placing it on the counter before he adjusts Andy’s hood. “Maybe it’ll look like Mummy.”

“Darling is too big.”

“Hey,” Emma scoffs, walking into the bedroom with her hair fully braided, “I am not too big. What kind of conversation are you guys having?”

“We’re talking about how the baby is going to come out of you.”

“Ah,” she sighs, coming to stand next to Killian. He can smell her perfume, and he lifts his arm out of instinct to wrap it around her shoulder, pulling her into his side and kissing her temple. “That seems like a conversation I’m glad I’m not a part of.”

He chuckles, unable to stop himself, before leaning into her ear and rubbing his chin into her neck since he knows that she loves the pinpricks of how his scruff feels. “Would you like to explain the miracle of childbirth to him, love?” he whispers.

“Absolutely not.”

“Mummy,” Andy whines, falling back onto the counter and slapping his costume tail against it. Damn does he love that tail. “You said I get candy.”

“That’s right, baby.” Emma claps her hands together and walks forward to pick Andy up, resting him on her hip. “Mimi and Papa are waiting downstairs, and we’re going to go get candy. Are you excited?”

“Yeah,” he nods, his lips parting into a bright smile that Killian swears is Emma’s. It has to be. His son is his clone, but that smile is all Emma. “I want candy.”

“That’s, like, the second-best part of Halloween.”

“What’s the first, love?” Killian questions.

“Your butt in those pants.”

She is one hundred percent lying about that, but he’s not going to complain as he follows Emma and Andy out of the bedroom and down the hallway to walk down the stairs where he sees David and Mary Margaret standing in their foyer. They have not been delegated to wear costumes, the two of them in jeans and sweaters, and he’s only a little jealous of them. But anything to make Emma and Andy happy. Besides, it’s not as if this is the first time he’s ever dressed up in a costume for Emma on Halloween. Granted, he used to do it because it would nearly always end in them sleeping together. Now that could happen, but he’s pretty sure Emma just wants the joy of having Andy celebrate and kind of know what’s going on.

Thomas had to talk to all of their neighbors yesterday after Emma got this idea, going over security protocols and waivers, and honestly, as much as Killian appreciates that for his family’s safety, he hates that they have to do that. They have good neighbors, ones that always keep to themselves when it comes to the press and who will come up and pet Indy when they happen to leave the property to walk with her. So he hates that they have to go through so much just so that Andy can walk around for thirty minutes to collect some candy. Honestly, Emma has little gifts bags full of sweets to give to everyone, and Andy could have gotten those while they stay in the house.

It’s obviously all about the experience.

“Are your parents coming, Killian?” Mary Margaret asks when he pulls back from a hug with her.

“Thomas nearly had a heart attack doing this for just us. I don’t think he could handle Mum and Dad coming by. We’re all going to Liam’s tomorrow so the kids can spend some time together. Emma has apparently caused everyone to be in the Halloween spirit.”

“Killian secretly loves this. Don’t let him fool you.”

“I won’t, sweetie,” Mary Margaret sighs to Emma before turning to wink at him. “Are you guys ready to go? David has a cute little surprise for Andy outside.”

The surprise is that his stroller now has little cardboard cutouts to look like a jeep from Jurassic Park, and Killian has absolutely no idea where this family came from. Seriously. If it’s Halloween related, the Nolans can get it done in a day despite having jobs and social lives and a million other responsibilities. It’s almost as if they’re magic. Or possibly fueled by sugar highs from candy.

Andy loves his new ride, insisting that he be pushed in it while they walk down the road to their neighbors. Thomas is behind them, trying to stay out of the way, but as always, Emma pulls him into conversation, asking if his kids are going to do this once he gets home this afternoon. They are, though only once it gets dark outside at their insistence, and the tiredness is evident in Thomas’s voice. Being the father of pre-teens is obviously taking its toll on him, and they’re making him go walking from house to house with their toddler.

Emma swings their hands between the two of them, and he taps his thumb against her knuckles while he moves the stroller down the road, Andy completely and totally focused on the little dinosaur shaped candy basket he has. Another Nolan find. Next thing he knows David and Mary Margaret are going to have somehow found a way to make dinosaurs roam the earth again simply so Andy may see one. By that point, he’ll have inevitably have moved onto the next obsession.

“Andy, we’re about to go see Mrs. Taylor. Are you excited?”

“Does she have candy?”

“Maybe if you ask like I taught you to.”

Emma twists her head to look at him, that beatific smile on her face once more, and he swears he gets actual butterflies in his stomach and his throat and all the way down to his toes. She’s so damn excited. He’d give everything for her to be this excited every day.

“Trick or treat,” Andy says, though it really comes out more like ‘twick or tweat’. How long exactly has Emma been training him to do that? It seems like more than a day. She was probably training him in the womb.

When they finally get to Mrs. Taylor’s house, he grabs Andy out of the stroller and releases Emma’s hand so that he can hold onto Andy’s, the three of them walking up to the cobblestone pathway until they’re knocking on her door. It takes less than fifteen seconds for Mrs. Taylor to come to the door with a bowlful of small candies, none of them hard which he suspects is Thomas’s doing, and a bright smile on her face.

“Hi,” Andy waves as he smiles. “Darling says trick or treat.”

“And who is Darling? Your girlfriend?”

“My mummy,” Andy shrugs, not at all caring for Mrs. Taylor’s suggestion that he has a girlfriend. Killian doesn’t necessarily love that either. He is not old enough to even be dealing with the thought of that. He’s supposed to have years. “Candy?”

“Say please, Andy,” Emma tells him, squatting down next to him so that they’re at eye level.

“Please.”

“You are the cutest little thing,” she sighs, reaching into her bowl and depositing a large handful of chocolates into his basket. The kid’s going to be eating well for days, weeks even. “I love your costume.”

“I’m a dinosaur.” He then makes that shriek sound again, and Emma nearly topples over at the force of it. Then again, that may just be her belly. “Are you a dinosaur?”

Heat immediately rushes to Killian’s cheeks, his ears becoming tipped in red, as he watches Mrs. Taylor blush as well, most likely more out of embarrassment than anything. Andy just called their eighty-year-old neighbor a dinosaur, and intentional or not, it’s not the best thing in the world. At least it’s not like how he told his mum that her arms were squishy. He and Emma still haven’t recovered from that one.

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Taylor,” Emma sighs, standing from the ground and handing over the little bag of goodies she brought. “For being so kind and doing this for us. It truly means a lot to me to get to give Andy days like this.”

“It’s no problem at all. I can’t wait to see what you all wear next year when it’s four of you.”

“Whatever Andy’s flavor of the month is, I’m guessing. We’ll see you soon.”

They all turn to walk away, Emma tugging Andy along as he looks into his basket, and Killian leans into Emma’s ear. “Darling, flavor of the month was probably not the best thing to say about our son.”

“Don’t be gross.”

“Too late.”

It goes like this at the next five houses they go to. Andy needs to be coaxed into greeting everyone, his eyes not lighting up until he sees candy wrappers, and then he and Emma thanking everyone for agreeing to do this. They cause their neighbors pain by living here instead of on one of his family’s estates, and they like to make it as easy as possible. Last minute Halloween celebrations when he’s pretty sure few people in this neighborhood celebrate does not exactly fall under that umbrella. But after they hit house number six, Andy asks to be put back into the stroller, and he’s out within a minute, snoozing away with the hood of his costume hanging over his eyes. He and Emma both agree that it’s time to go back home, and after the twenty-minute walk back, he takes Andy out of the stroller and moves up the stairs while Emma talks with her parents on the living room couch. Andy doesn’t wake as Killian changes him out of the costume, and he’s officially down for the count within minutes, a full hour before his bedtime.

After quietly closing the nursery – though it’s really not a nursery anymore – door, Killian walks the few steps down to their bedroom, opening up the door as he yanks the ascot away from his neck and starts unbuttoning the chambray shirt he has tucked into his khaki pants. Emma is sitting on the bed, her shorts visibly unbuttoned so that the skin of her stomach pokes out.

“Hey, how’d you get away from your parents? Are they staying for dinner?”

“They’re staying,” she yawns, turning to him with her hands covering her mouth. When she moves her hands down, he can see that her lips are covered in…black lipstick.

His wife is the most incredible woman on the planet.

And maybe the most absurd.

“Emma, what the hell is going on with your mouth?”

She shrugs, falling back onto the mattress and tucking herself into the pillow, very obviously exhausted. “I’m wearing some super expired lipstick because I found it while ransacking our house yesterday, and I figured today called for wearing it again.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I try.”

He walks over to her with laughter bubbling up in his throat as his heart beats a quick yet steady rhythm in his chest. Emma’s currently on the bed wearing unbuttoned shorts with her braid all a mess and black lipstick on her lips, and he doesn’t think she could possibly look more ridiculous. But he likes how ridiculous she is and that underneath the no-nonsense side of her is this playful side that comes out when she’s around him or Andy or anyone who she loves.

Carefully, Killian places his knees on the bed and crawls over Emma, making sure that he doesn’t crush her with his weight, as he dips his head down over hers and brushes their noses together before gliding his lips over hers and feeling the softness that always comes with that. He can taste the lipstick, the odd staleness of it, but when he tugs on her upper lip, she moans in that little way that she does and he gets the faintest whiff of chocolate.

“Have you been eating chocolate, love?”

“No,” she very obviously lies, digging her hands in his hair as she captures his mouth with hers again, hungrily swiping her tongue over the seam of his lips, and all of his blood rushes to his groin.

He can taste the chocolate without question now, the sweetness of it mixing in with Emma’s kiss. “Liar,” he grunts.

“I would never.”

“You would,” he confirms, trailing his mouth away from hers and sucking on the skin of her jaw before soothing it with his tongue. “You sent me to put Andy to bed so that you could eat all of his candy.”

“I was just, ah – ” He swipes his tongue underneath the shell of her ear as her hips cant up to his and his vision goes black for a moment. “I was testing to make sure it was all safe.”

“My little liar,” Killian sighs, pulling back from her to look down at her and the exposed freckles on her cheeks and her nose and the smeared lipstick around her mouth. He imagines the same is happening to him. “Are you going to share with me?”

“There’s some of those nasty malts in there that you can have.”

“I don’t want the candy neither of us like.”

“Too bad.”

He bends down to nip at her mouth again. “Let’s go eat dinner with your parents, and afterwards, we can steal candy from a baby like the good parents we are.”

“I like the way you think,” she giggles, smiling at him and making his stomach swoop. She’s damn good at that.

-/-

“Killian,” David sighs when they walk down the stairs five minutes later, his eyes squinting at Killian as he stares, “what’s that black residue around your mouth?”

“Trust me, Dave, you don’t want to know.”

-/-

@nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @kmomof4 @wellhellotragic @ekr032-blog-blog @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @kristi555 @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @dreadpirateemma @alys07 @andiirivera @emmas-storybook @superchocovian @in-spirational @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @shireness-says @jonirobinson64 @bmbbcs4evr @karenfrommisthaven @singersdd

#second in command #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic

68 notes · View notes

zenasflower · 1 year

Text

The Best Flowers in Liverpool

Lula Flower Shop provides a large collection of floral products with same-day delivery. Their products include flower gift bags, boxed arrangements, and hand-tied bouquets. They also have a number of gift sets for Mother’s Day, Valentine’s, and other special occasions.

Fishlocks Flowers has been in the industry for more than a century. They have been known for their ability to adapt and evolve with the changing trends in floral designs.

1. Mary Mary Floral Design

Mary Mary Floral Design is a florist with a unique style and a passion for bringing life to a room. From stunning wedding bouquets to touching funeral arrangements, their florals are bold and beautiful. Match their bouquets with a simple yet elegant Hay Bottoms Up Vase for a cohesive look.

With Mother’s Day approaching, this online flower shop is perfect for last-minute flower deliveries. They offer same-day delivery for orders placed before 1 pm.

They also have a wide range of Best Flowers in Liverpool that are ideal for different occasions and sentiments like birthday, anniversary, Valentine’s Day and more. Their flowers will surely put a smile on the face of your loved ones.

2. Penny Lane Flowers

Located in the heart of the Penny Lane of The Beatles fame, this small independent is more than just a flower shop. They stock a range of homewares, gifts and flowers plus offer takeaway coffee, fresh bread and pastries. They also sell refillable eco laundry and household products that look good and help reduce packaging waste.

Their flower arrangements are suitable for different occasions like birthdays, get well soon and sympathy flowers and they can be set and arranged in styles like aquapack, baskets, sprays, sheaves and posies. They also offer bespoke funeral tributes and are open for delivery.

They have a variety of bouquets to suit any occasion and have a collection that’s sure to please anyone. Their Eternity collection is especially popular and features roses paired with a simple British-made hatbox for a luxurious gift that’ll make any recipient swoon.

3. Flowerbug Floral Design

With an enviable five-star rating on Google, this Liverpool florist offers flowers and gift baskets for any occasion. Their Mother’s Day and anniversary flowers,

Valentine’s Day bouquets, sympathy funeral flowers, and birthday blooms are sure to please the ones you love.

Named after the Liverpool street they’re so eloquently tucked away on, this shop has been delighting customers for over three decades. A floral artisan at heart, this flower shop boasts rich understanding when it comes to different flowers and blooms.

Their bespoke wedding flower collection is sure to wow any bride-to-be. They also offer same-day delivery (if you order before 1PM), making them a prime choice for last minute Mother’s Day 2022 gifts.

4. Fishlocks Flowers

Previously located at a prominent spot in Florists in Liverpool castle street, Fishlocks Flowers has now relocated to a new base. The family-run flower shop continues to offer their popular bouquets, gift baskets, vases and floral arrangements but with a fresh new look.

They also provide bespoke floristry for weddings and other events. Their team will make registry offices, churches and hotels bloom with showstopping displays.

They offer same-day delivery within a 10-mile radius of their store, accepting payment via WorldPay and PayPal. Their catalogue includes a wide selection of seasonal arrangements and custom compositions. Pair your bouquet with the snazzy Hector vase from Broste Copenhagen for an eco-conscious floral gift. Their flowers are guaranteed to last for up to seven days. They come in a range of sizes, styles and colours.

5. Suttons House of Flowers

As the name suggests, this flower shop specialises in offering a full range of floral gifts that are fit for every occasion. They have bouquets and arrangements that are perfect for birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas, Valentine’s Day, and sympathy funeral tributes as well.

They are also known to offer bespoke wedding floral styling and have a rich understanding of flower breeds and blooms that can fulfill showstopping floral designs.

If you are looking for a unique and thoughtful gift for Mothering Sunday, then they have an exquisite collection of flowers that would look gorgeous in this aesthetically modern Lyngby Vase from Broste Copenhagen. They are open for deliveries and have a simple ordering process. Their customer service is prompt and professional as well. Their prices are competitive too.

#Best Flowers in Liverpool

0 notes

rowanthane · 5 years

Photo

ROWAN THANE + tattoos

i. rowan’s old lady tattoo. she got it when she was 24, just before her and andy’s wedding. it was last minute and rhea and reina had surprised her with the appointment, but it was something she had already been thinking about. she got the traditional primordial snake, but added the flowers for her own personal touch. it’s on her right hip and thigh.

ii. located on the left side of her torso. rowan got this tattoo on the one year anniversary of her miscarriage. it consists of a blue butterfly, a row of sunflowers and the name ‘madison rhea’ written above it in script text.

iii. the symbol for queen of clubs on her right wrist. she got it drunk in new orleans on andy’s 21st birthday. andy has a matching king of clubs on his left wrist. jack and reina, who were with them, have the king and queen of spades.

iv. on the left side of her collarbone she has a minimalist sun rise with the words ‘here comes the sun’ under it. she got it because it was her favourite song, and to this day still is. it was her first tattoo, she got when she was seventeen and her mother had a fit when she saw it. she was grounded for four months.

v. a band of flowers around her left ring finger. she got it when she and andy re-married in baton rouge. she loves her ring and still wears it most days but she also really likes having something permanent there, too.

vi. a stethoscope on the back of her neck. it’s usually hidden by her hair but you can see it when she wears her hair up. rowan got it when she finished pre-med with a couple of her friends she graduated with.

vii. two large sunflowers with a bee on her right forearm. there’s no real meaning behind this one, she just got it when she was in her early thirties because sunflowers are her favourite and she was bored one day.

viii. money, dick, power. rowan barely remembers getting this tattoo. it’s on her left ankle and she does her best to never acknowledge it’s existence. it was another drunken new orleans decision featuring reina, ramina and sutton. it’s in reina’s hand writing and supposed to be a reminder of the priorities in life.

ix. tree of life tattoo on her right arm, on the back of her bicep above her elbow. the tree of life is a symbol of a fresh start on life, positive energy and bright futures. she got it when she finally started feeling like herself again after the death of her daughter.

#this has been in my fucking drafts since JULY 14..................#breaking news: local plant bitch has plant tattoos #anyway part 2 potentially coming later #lomkchardev #( is this darkness in you too | aesthetic. )#( bloom with grace | character study. )#idk how to tag this........... as usual #mine.

7 notes · View notes

universalfanfic · 5 years

Text

*tears streaming down my face*

I ... did it. ... I wrote something. There is relief in my soul.

Here is my continuation of @gracieinanovel‘s Wedding Planner AU, because I love it and I needed to join in. :)

Cora belongs to her, of course.

Sutton froze over the table, fingers reaching, and Cora wasn’t sure if the woman had meant to try and flee the room or attempt strangling her. Her face was blooming the most vibrant red, and it appeared it took some effort to remove her tongue from the roof of her mouth.

“Steve!” Sutton finally managed to squeak. “Hi. I’m- I’m good. You? I mean, how have you been?”

“Good. Good.”

Cora almost felt bad about springing this on her. Almost. But if Sutton had gone the entirety of her Paris trip without contacting Steve, then this was on her. She obviously needed a push.

Steve still looked morose and longing as he shifted further into the room. It must have still been raining, because he looked just as wet as Cora did coming in.

“Perhaps Steve would like a drink?” Cora prompted.

Sutton jumped at the direction and opportunity to have something to do.

“Right; of course! I have some coffee. Coffee good?”

There was a coffee pot behind the counter; it was still half full and probably should be either poured out or drank before it burned.

“Do you want a sweet too,” she called out over pouring a mug. “I have a new cupcake-”

“Oh, just coffee is fine. Thank you.”

Steve rubbed his hand through his wet hair and pulled a chair over to their table. Sutton’s expression flickered before settling back on a forced smile.

“Ok.”

Cora internally groaned.

Watching them interact was like watching two junior highers dance around each other. She’d thought after Steve’s confession things would move forward between them, but Sutton’s doubts about his sincerity and then her internship felt like it’d dragged them three steps back again.

But there was time for the both of them later. Cora reorganized the paperwork she’d brought and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. This was still a business meeting, after all.

They ought to get something done.

Sutton sat awkwardly between Steve and Cora, unable to scoot her chair away from him without being obvious, and she passed over his mug as she cleared her throat.

“So, you probably know who the wedding is for.”

“I might,” he said. “But I might have also signed a non-disclosure.”

Both Cora and Sutton groaned in response.

“I suppose that just leaves us to figure out the details,” Cora relented. “So, which rooms will we be using, and what are our times?”

They discussed timing and plans and room ambiance. The wedding ceremony was going to be held on the main balcony overlooking the bay, with plenty of twinkling lights and foliage covering the space. The reception would be held in the estates most lavish room, fondly referred to as The Fondue Room due to the high rental costs.

Eventually, one of them yawned and they noticed the time. The rain had pittered to a spitting mist and the moon rose higher. Sutton collected their empty mugs while Cora collected her files.

“Well, that’s more progress,” she said, forced cheer in her voice.

Steve and Sutton both nodded, sneaking a look at each other before turning away again quickly.

“I guess we’ll see each other at the wedding.” Sutton glanced between the pair, rubbing nervously at her sore knuckles. “Unless Fury gives you a free moment before then,” she added hopefully, directed towards Cora.

“Oh, I wish, but I’m afraid I can’t count on it.” Cora smiled ruefully. “You know how Fury is, and with this wedding booked he’s been more frantic than usual. Obviously, because I’m here at this time of night.”

Sutton looked disappointed, but not surprised.

“I’m telling you,” she said, “you have to start your own business. You’ve got the talent for it, and it’s probably the only way you’ll get your freedom.”

Cora made a face and shrugged.

“I don’t know,” she said. “At the rate I’m working, anyway, it’d be impossible to find the time.”

Steve cleared his throat and Sutton finally looked at him, shifting on her feet.

“It, uh, was nice seeing you again too. Steve.”

“Yeah. You’ll have to tell me about your trip sometime.”

“Right, sure!”

Cora winced, but luckily the expression went unnoticed by the other two. She and Steve exited together and Sutton bid them both a goodnight, locking up before moving through the shop to prep for another early morning.

The quiet night air settled around them and Steve let out a long sigh as he ran his hand through his hair again.

“Well,” he said, “that… happened.”

Cora placed a hand on his arm.

“Hey, everything is going to work out.”

“Three months,” he said. “I just- is it because we-?”

“What? Went on one date?” Cora laughed lightly. “Steve, please. Sutton can just be a nervous person. She thinks-”

At her pause Steve looked over, his eyes prompting her to continue, and Cora shook her head.

“You both will have to talk if you want this worked out. Now, I better get at least a couple hours of sleep before Fury decides to blow my phone up again. I’ll see you at the wedding.”

Steve sighed and dug in his pocket for his keys.

“Drive safe,” he said.

He waited until Cora was in her car with the doors locked before he started up his own car. Their headlights disappeared into the night and the low lights in the bakery popped off shortly afterwards.

[]

The bell in the shop rung as Sutton pushed open the door to Banner’s Botanicals; the smell of soil and fragrant flowers were heady in the air.

“I’ll be one moment!”

“Take your time, Bruce.”

A head of dark wavy hair popped up from behind a shelving unit holding some sort of flowering cacti, and Sutton reached her hand up to wave.

“Long time, no see. Not going to lie. I thought you were really done for good this time.”

Bruce Banner pushed around some nearby ferns as he made his way to the front of the shop.

“Hey Sutton,” he said. “So did I. But apparently I can still be coerced.”

He frowned at that, and Sutton suppressed a wry smile. Bruce could be stubborn, sure, but he was also a bit of a peacekeeper. It took quite a bit to actually get him to explode.

“I’m guessing they at least weren’t asking for lil-” “Don’t.” He cut in sharply. “Don’t mention the lilies.”

Sutton held her hands up in surrender and chuckled.

“Ok. But I would like to see what they did ask for. I’m supposed to incorporate some floral aspects into their cake.”

He sent her a look before letting out a breath of air and waving her to follow him to the back of the shop.

“You and Cora,” he said. “You know there’s a thing called email? You can attach pictures? Or maybe even use google?”

“Sure,” said Sutton. “But this gets us out of our offices for a bit. And anyway, isn’t technology just ruining face-to-face interactions?”

Bruce rolled his eyes.

The further back in the shop, the more expensive the plants got. And for a man who’d sworn to only work with succulents from now on, he sure had a selection of flowers at his disposal.

“The bride wanted whimsical but elegant,” he said. “And for once, there was even a list of suggestions to work from. We decided on white wisteria, some assorted peonies, and a few gardenias sprinkled throughout. And greenery, of course. I’m thinking mostly ferns. Probably some Israeli Ruscus.”

Sutton ooh-ed over the samples and took out her phone to get some pictures. His selection of plants were second-to-none. No doubt that was the reason this mystery couple chose him. And they certainly had some cash on them, because he was making an example bouquet as well.

“Can I get a few small samples to take back? Are you still selling individual stems?”

“Do you have any samples?”

Bruce flashed her a cheeky grin and Sutton returned it.

“All my friends are opportunists,” she lamented. Still, she pulled a small paper box out of her purse and taunted him with it. “I thought you might like some inspiration as well.”

They exchanged goods, one looking a tad more excited than the other. Sutton sighed as she eyed the delicate petals and the complicated layering of the wisteria.

“I might be ordering some of these from you. Their order expressly stated little to no fondant on the cake. And these?”

She made a tsk-ing sound against her teeth and shook her head. Bruce spared her a pitying glance until he looked back to his set of cupcakes, and grinned.

“At least you know they have good taste. Fondant is gross.”

Sutton raised a stern pointer finger as she sucked in a breath.

“Ok, listen-”

[]

Cora nibbled at her bottom lip as she used a spare, quiet moment to do some personal research. It wasn’t that this particular wedding was giving her an odd feeling, she’d worked a few weddings that had demanded discretion, but generally she could accurately guess who it was for.

There wasn’t anything in the celebrity gossip tabloids that mentioned possible weddings coming up, no matter how thoroughly she looked. Boo. She supposed she’d just have to wait for the big day to find out the big secret. She pouted and drummed her fingers on her laptop as the digging stopped at a dead end.

Her notebook was just to the left of her computer and she could see that name amongst the rest of her notes.

Loki Laufeyson.

She still didn’t understand how one person could’ve garnered such a negative reaction out of Sutton, and so far she hadn’t had the opportunity to really pry into why. Cora cocked one eyebrow and tilted her head as her fingers danced over her keyboard.

Well, she still had a moment. Why not look?

His website was sleek and clean, with accents of dark green and gold adding a sense of wealth and elegance to the layout. He was the sort of wedding coordinator that you had to call to ask about his rates, which generally meant the average person shouldn’t even bother.

From his gallery, it seemed he’d been involved in some high profile weddings and other various events. Cora hummed. There wasn’t anything that she could glean from his about page to give her any hints.

Even if he was wildly arrogant and obnoxious, Sutton probably would have just said he was a character, or annoying.

“Are you sitting? At a time like this?”

Cora jumped at Fury’s voice as he swept into the room, camera bags and a tripod precariously cradled in his arms.

“Do you know how many jobs we have to complete? There’s the party on the seventeenth, the charity event coming up, and that mo-”

“Yes,” Cora cut in. “The wedding, I know.” She hopped up and closed her notebook, gathering all her things and making herself busy. “I have everything under control, sir.”

Fury shot her a piercing look, which was always impressive given he only had one eye.

“Under control isn’t good enough. This wedding could be what really launches this business into the public eye. Everything has to be perfect. Which is why you’re going to meet up with that Laufeyson and get all the details sorted out. Got it?”

Cora wanted to give him a flippant salute, but she still did need the paycheck. Instead, she grit her teeth behind closed lips and forced a smile.

“Crystal clear, sir.”

Well, perhaps she’d get some answers about this guy sooner than she thought.

#friends oc #oc: cora #my writing #oc crossover #wedding planner au #i hope you don't mind!!#I love cora and i feel so bad for her #poor babe #literally working night and day

8 notes · View notes

the-writerly-night-owl · 6 years

Text

Crashed the Wedding

Desire and Decorum/ MC x Mr. Sinclaire

Summary: there are some people preventing the wedding of Clara Mills to Duke Richards. It was pretty easy to stop the wedding before it started.

Authors Note: for the choice march challenge day one: wedding. This was fun! It’s long but it’s fun! I’ll probably do another wedding fic later too.

Tag list: @flyawayboo @cosigottahavefaith @countrymusicandncis-blog @fluffy-cat-whisper @melodyofgraves @symonde @paisleylovergirl @mariamulroney @queen-among-writers @am-i-invisible777

Clara felt that rock in her stomach grow as she glared down at the gown adorned on her body. It was extravagant with lace, satin, and silk. Bows and flower designs embroidered on the gown and her stays laced tightly. Next to her Duke Richards was practically yelling at everyone to hurry.

“Bishop Monroe you can see that I can’t marry this man,” said Clara through her tears. “He’s forcing me, I know that’s illegal to force someone into marriage.”

Duke Richards snorted as the bishop just looked sympathetic. “What do you know about laws?” asked the duke with a jeer on his face.

“I know that you can’t force me to marry you,” she said rounding on him, her voice hard. “Lady grandmother doesn’t give you permission and neither does Henrietta or Edmund. If my father was here you know he wouldn’t allow it either.”

“You still want Edgewater though and marrying me is the only way you can get it.”

“I’d rather give it all to Mr. Marlcaster,” she spat meaning it. “Besides I have these, this is proof that this marriage is a farce and it’s an unsuitable match.”

With that Clara pulled out the papers she had found the past several months. The Duke’s face paled before hardening as Bishop Monroe read the top paper. His own face practically white himself. This was talks of a revolution against the crown, a mutiny. By now everyone had cleared out of the room to finish prepping the church. Only Briar remained finishing the dress for Clara, her hands nimbly taking the copies out of sight.

“Listen here and listen well girl, I don’t know how you got those, but nobody would believe you if you showed people that. What’s your word against mine?” he growled pulling Clara in close. “Tonight you will be mine and I’ll do anything I want with you.” His eyes settled down on her breast as if he could look down her dress.

“People would listen to me,” said Bishop Monroe as he held the papers firmly in his hands.

The Duke only looked a little annoyed at this. “You wouldn’t refuse to marry us,” said Duke Richards with a smile on his face. “I have special permission from the queen…”

“That doesn’t mean anything if a legal guardian doesn’t approve,” said Bishop Monroe cutting him off. “The Dowager countess retracted her permission.”

“Even if she refuses, are you really going to refuse me? Think of stopping an engagement to the Duke of Karlington. That would by your reputation and Miss Mills’ reputation at risk. Who would want to marry Miss Mills if some rumors spread about her? Who would want to return to your parish? Besides imagine how it would be if every fund from this parish gets pulled. Or imagine a new better cushy position at a new parish…”

The Bishop looked stunned at what he was implying. He was trying to guilt him and bribe him from ever putting a stop to this engagement.

“You can’t bribe a clergyman,” said Briar suddenly. “It’s against the bible.”

Even more annoyed then ever Duke Richards rounded on her. A hand raised as he slapped Briar across the face. She cried out as a hand print burned on her face. Both Bishop Monroe and Clara gasped at his sudden act of violence.

“Don’t touch her,” said Clara before Duke Richards grabbed her by her arm.

“There will be more of that on you tonight where it really hurts,” he said digging in her arm. Tears stung her eyes as the Bishop’s eyes were watching them. “Your friend is officially dismissed after today. I expect you to be walking down the aisle in a half hour.”

He took her papers that she had found before ripping them up and throwing them into the fire. With that he stalked off out of the room satisfied with himself. Bishop Monroe patting Briar’s back as he looked sorrowful at Clara.

“I’m sorry Miss Mills; I have failed you, your father, and the church,” said Bishop Monroe. “Had I had known...”

Clara was about to say something but thought better of it. They didn’t have plan to keep the duke from spreading anything about either of them. “I have a plan,” said Briar as she straightened herself up. “He didn’t take all of those papers. Wasn’t Miss Sutton a gossip? Maybe if we tell her it will get all around the church and someone will call out no at the vows. This is bigger than anything he could say about you.”

“That could work,” said Bishop Monroe quietly. “The more people that know the better chance that it would be stopped, that’s an act of treason. The wedding could be stalled once people learn that the duke didn’t have permission.”

Clara gripped her hands as she threw off her gloves. Thankfully the Duke’s hands didn’t leave a mark on her skin. She thought back to Mr. Sinclaire’s will in her reticule. Ernest… She straightened up and put her back to Briar.

“I know one way to stall a wedding and that’s a run-away bride,” she said. “Unlace my dress Briar. I can’t tell you where I’m going but I’m going to disappear. I don’t care about my reputation anymore. I’m going to find Ernest and marry him if I can reach him.”

She nodded starting to unlace the gown.

“Miss Mills,” said Bishop as he turned his back for privacy. “I have given into temptations of corruption before and cannot any longer. I can’t stop your marriage to the duke, but I have my way of stalling. I will be resigning my position formally today. Don’t worry about where I will go, I need to care for my mother. By announcing to the crowd, there should be enough time to escape.”

With that the three of them hatched their plan. Clara was to use the service doors to get out to a horse. Bishop was going to make a show of resigning and explaining what he can while Briar spread the remaining papers and truth around the church.

“I also have this for you Miss Mills,” said Bishop Monroe. “This is a letter explaining the situation. How you were being forced into a marriage, what the duke’s plans are, and my permission along with grandmothers to marry Mr. Ernest Sinclaire if you should find him. It’s the least I can do.”

The door opened behind them as Clara ducked behind the screen. Briar splashed some of the wine meant for the service onto her gown. At least they could say they have a reason for her being unclothed.

“Miss Daly,” said Edmund as he peeked into the door. “I have something you might need for your plan.” She looked alarmed as she grew quiet. “I have overheard part of your plans and kept the duke from coming back. I told him that Clara had something on her gown and they were working on cleaning it right away.”

“And you might need Mr. Sinclaire,” said Mr. Woods from behind him. He pushed the man into the room to obstruct him from any line of sight. “The duke was going to force him to watch. I helped him back here and well…”

“Ernest!” said Clara as she ran to her real fiancé and threw her arms around him. They were hugging and kissing each other as fevered as ever. “How did you know?”

“We heard the duke yell,” said Mr. Marlcaster.

“And then slap someone. We knew it wouldn’t be you and thought it might have been…” said Mr. Woods as his eyes lingered briefly on Miss Daly. They were helping her to help Miss Daly. It was a bit backward but okay, thought Clara.

Using the service doors did Clara and Ernest make their daring escape. Gideon Payne was outside the doors keeping people from leaving and entering depending on who. Once they were far away and crossing into another shire could they breathe again. The next parish would surely marry them with the Bishop’s letter and special permission.

They had left the church buzzing with talk about the duke’s wrong doings. His fliers being passed around from person to person. The Bishop’s public resignation. Gideon Payne’s name in passing conversations and his former deeds. The bride missing wasn’t that big of a deal after realizing that the duke was going to stage a coup. The church in utter chaos.

Meanwhile Clara felt her heart pounding in her chest as she took a deep breath. She had decided to wear her pale pink dress that she wore at the garden party. It wasn’t that gaudy thing that the Duke had picked out for her. Behind her was four witnesses, four people she didn’t know. Their friends couldn’t be here since it would be suspicious for all of them to be gone, even Briar didn’t know where she was.

Next to her was Ernest as she gripped his hand, they had exchanged much kissing and words of love on the way here. In front of them the special license and the register book. This was it, they had already exchanged their ‘I wills’ and the truth would spread around London and society.

“Alright all we need is your names signed,” said Bishop Perry passing them the quill and ink. Clara leaned in and wrote her name in the register proudly. The columns perfectly lined and their signatures on the pristine pages.

Ernest Sinclaire. Clara Mills. She marveled at the certificate line by line at what they filled out. Name, spouse, the church, even her parents’ names had to be included. No matter as the witnesses came forward. Four random strangers that knew everything the Duke has done. Four random strangers that promised her happiness.

“Thank you,” said the bishop as the women smiled softly at them. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. By the Church of England, I now introduce you Mr. and Mrs. Sinclaire.”

With that Ernest took her hands before heading toward the doors. By now the others surely would know what had happened and where they had gone off to. The Bishop nodded at them to go ahead to the doors. The butterflies in her stomach exploded as they exited the doors of the church.

Once outside Ernest pressed his lips to her cheek softly.

“And where are we going Mr. Sinclaire?” she asked coyly as he opened the carriage door for her.

“Perhaps our summer cottage my angel?”

A wide smile formed on her face as she was just thrilled to hear the word ‘our cottage’ leave his lips. His childhood summer home by the sea would be their first vacation as a married couple. Ernest shut the door firmly leaving them alone for the first time in so long.

Unable to help herself she threw her arms around him and kissed him. The kiss was long, hot, passionate, and deep. Clara was tempted to let him take her now in the carriage, her hands eagerly undoing his cravat. Ernest kissing just as passionately back rubbing her shoulders down. She groaned into the kiss her body ready for him. Her limbs loose as she surrendered to the ache for him running across her body. He had successfully unpinned her hair as it lay in waves around her hips.

Clara had managed to undo the top half of her dress their kisses now faster and more furious.

A n hour later they heard a voice. “Wait! Stop!” However, the carriage as they just continued. “The Duke, he’s been arrested, you can stop the carriage please!”

They broke apart before Ernest knocked on the front of the carriage as they pulled apart. Cautiously, he gestured for Clara to remain low in case this was some trick. She sneakily peered out the window to see Briar on the back of Mr. Harper’s horse. How long did it take for them to be found?

“Mr. Sinclaire,” said Briar as she was panting slightly. “Please tell me Clara is with you.”

Ernest didn’t have to say anything as Clara sheepishly peered out of the carriage. Her unbound hair and the fact he didn’t have his cravat on seemed to say exactly what they were doing. From where he stood watching them, Mr. Harper averted his eyes. Briar hid a smile as best as she could.

“Did you two elope?” asked Mr. Harper a little surprised at that though.

“No,” said Clara. “Bishop Monroe wrote a letter to one of his colleagues at a nearby parish to marry us by special permission. He explained everything and we had a special license.”

At this Briar squealed in delight, to be married by special license was a huge deal.

“Wait how does that work?” asked Mr. Harper. “Even if the duke was arrested, nobody else knew about your marriage. What about your reputation?”

Ernest smiled gently at her putting a hand on her shoulder. “That’s something else Bishop Monroe and the dowager countess could explain as well. They’re going to explain that we wanted the marriage to be handled discreetly to keep the Duke from finding out, as we had permission from both.”

“Oh, this is so romantic,” said Briar.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t use any of you as a witness. To avoid suspicions we couldn’t tell anyone where I had run off to. It was better that nobody knew where we were. “What happened after we left? “

“I understand that,” said Briar. “The letters that we found circulated around the church. The prince regent’s guards surrounded the church and put him and Gideon Payne in chains after we kept him for there a while. Bishop Monroe admitted to everyone that he was bribed into marry you two. Everything was labeled illegal since he didn’t even have parental consent. Anyway, now that the duke is locked up, are you at least going to tell everyone good bye for now?”

“That was a brilliant move,” said a new voice.

“Once the rumors started I got Prince Hamid, Miss Parsons, and your family out of the church,” said Briar. “We figured that this was the county you could easily get to.”

The newly married couple flushed still aware of what they looked like. Clara still trying to fix her hair to be a little presentable in a simple bun. Ernest flattened his own hair and retied his cravat. The other carriage finally caught up to them to reveal their friends, grandmother, Edmund, and even Henrietta. Dominique looked rather mortified to see her granddaughter in a compromising situation yet still happy.

“Clara, I’m so happy for you,” said Annabelle running over and hugging her. “I’m glad we caught up.”

“That was a brilliant move in setting the duke up,” admitted Henrietta begrudgingly. “Now it means that I have to set up a new plan to…”

“There’s no need,” said Clara. “Once I get back from our wedding trip I’ll help arrange it for Mr. Marlcaster to inherit half of Edgewater and the title.”

She looked surprised and Edmund hugged her without it being too awkward.

“Thank you,” said Edmund, “I think I’ll get my lands back now, but we’ll find out soon enough.” Clara grinned and Ernest squeezed her hand.

“Let’s forget the formalities and get to the best part. Here’s my present,” said Hamid eagerly passing them a box. “Open it first when you get the chance.”

“And mine,” said Annabelle passing over one too. “Congratulations. I really wish I could have been there but I understand.”

“I will have something special planned for when you arrive,” said Domiique. “And I’m sorry about all the pain I have caused you two.”

Politely Clara nodded hugging her and waving their goodbyes. Edmund pulled her trunk onto the carriage before they drove off toward the east coast of the country. They had their sea side home to enjoy and each other for the next month together. Their location still a secret from most. Once their friends were out of sight once more, the pair turned to one another. Clara already untwisted her hair as it curtained her face.

Ernest pressed his lips against hers as fiercely as possible. Any remaining thoughts on what happened dashed for the hope of a new and better future together. Clara put a hand on his chest Ernest backed her against the carriage wall.

“Shall we finish what we started?” asked Ernest and Clara smiled knowingly.

“But of course, I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off of you for the next month,” said Clara dipping her fingers along his chest.

“And I you,” he said as they resumed their kissing until the inn they had to stop at first to really consummate their wedding that night. Now, this was the wedding that she always wanted - with the man she loved.

59 notes · View notes