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moonmaiden1996 · 22 days ago

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Goddess in the Garden

Another Idea going round my head

Rupert had never been one for sentimentality. He had his obligations, his duties, his amusements, but concern? That was for softer souls. And yet, here he was, standing outside Charles’s modest little townhouse, its high walls wrapped in creeping ivy like an old secret. The street was quiet, the crisp winter air carrying the faint scent of damp earth and distant chimney smoke. A place like this, so unassuming, felt alien to Rupert—no grandeur, no pretension, just a home tucked away in a city that never truly rested.

Gerald had managed to track down information from the hospital with some well-placed calls and a little arm-twisting. Charles had been discharged the very next day with a prescription for a mild tranquilizer. Panic attack—nothing serious. Taggie, ever the bleeding heart, had been quietly worried ever since. Worrying as gnawing on her bottom lip in that adorable way she did. It was enough to prompt him into action. After all, he had posed for those damned photos, earning him a stern telling-off from dear old Maggie, but the damage had been erased in a day, conveniently overshadowed by one of the opposition being caught romping with a male gigolo.

He rang the doorbell, half-expecting no answer. He would say he had come, make his attempt, and chalk it up to one of his fleeting flights of fancy. When no response came, he turned on his heel, ready to leave. He had done his due diligence and could wash his hands of the whole business, preferably back in bed—with good company. If Charles wanted to wallow, that was his business.

Then he heard voices. Coming from the back of the little home.

A female voice. Clear and familiar.

Rupert, never one to ignore his instincts, edged past the back gate and a particularly vicious rhododendron, careful not to snag his coat. Peering through the carefully maintained greenery, he caught sight of the little O’Hara orphan.

You were seated on a green filigree iron chair, your hands folded in your lap, your plain dress fanning out against the abomination of garish florals that adorned the garden furniture—something that looked like it had been pilfered from a grandmother’s attic. Yet, somehow, it suited you. Your curves were plush, the fabric stretching just so over soft thighs and a generous bust. There was a fullness to you, an undeniable presence, something solid and warm against the stark fragility of Charles, who sat slumped across from you.

Opposite you, Charles leaned forward, his elbows braced against his knees, his red hair unkempt, his shoulders heavy with something Rupert had never quite seen on him before—defeat.

“You can’t keep doing this,” you said softly. “On your own. You could ask for help. There are district nurses, services… you’re not alone, you know.”

Charles let out a bitter laugh, wiping at his face roughly. “I am though, aren’t I?” His voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “Mother barely knows who I am anymore, and the only person I ever loved wanted to marry a woman—not me. And Tony—fucking Tony—called me a liability. Demoted me.” His voice hitched, and for the first time, Rupert saw something raw in him.

You hesitated for only a moment before speaking. “No, I don’t know exactly how that feels. But I know what it’s like to be alone in a room full of people. To feel completely alone in the world.”

Charles scoffed. “How could you possibly?”

“Did you know I have a huge family?” you asked. “Grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, second cousins, even thirds. When my parents died, not one of them gave a damn about what happened to me.” You let out a humorless laugh. “But the O’Haras wanted to help. Declan was my godfather. He saw a girl who had no one and decided that was enough reason to take me in.”

Rupert felt something claw at his chest. He hadn’t known that. He had never given it much thought, really. You had always been there, on the fringes, a quiet presence in Taggie’s world. A friend, perhaps. A distant relative. Hell, for all he knew, you could have been the help.

“That was kind of them,” Charles murmured.

“It was,” you admitted. “It’s complicated, though. Maud thinks… it doesn’t matter what Maud thinks. It’s messy. It’s not the same, but I understand what it’s like to be so fucking lonely. To feel like you have nowhere to turn. To miss something that’s gone. I miss my parents like you miss your mother. It’s hard. Sometimes, you just need someone to see you. I see you. And that’s why I need you to know you’re not alone. Please, let me help.”

Your voice was soft and sad, and you reached across the table and circled your own hands around Charles’s.

Charles’s sobs echoed across the garden, his figure shaking as his grief filled the space, completely ignored by the old woman dozing in the sun in the furthest corner of the garden, oblivious to the weight of the conversation before her.

Rupert studied the scene, his sharp eyes flicking between you and Charles. Through the obnoxious foliage, he saw you frown, and it didn’t fit your face. It was the kind of face that should always be smiling—not grinning like an idiot or offering one of those sultry smiles women and men flashed him when he walked into a room, but a serene, knowing smile, like those in the great romantic paintings that graced his home. With another round of sobs, he watched you shift, dress hitching to reveal a sliver of thigh as you rounded the table, taking the poor wretch into your arms, soothing him like a mother would a child. Your features were goddess personified, your skin glowing in the winter sun, smooth and warm despite the layers of wool you had wrapped around yourself.

“Let’s get you inside,” you cooed.

“But Mother…” he protested softly.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get your mother after we get you settled.”

Rupert flinched. He would help. But he couldn’t bear to take his eyes off you. Like some sort of mythical goddess descended from Olympus to tend to lowly mortals. Rupert’s gaze only tore away as you disappeared into the house.

Cigarette smoke curled upward, lazily dissipating in the cold air as Rupert stared at the polished door. The top of his convertible was down, despite the chill of January. The sun, deceptively warm against his face, cast a soft glow, but the breeze still cut through him, sharp and biting. He didn’t mind it much—his woolen jacket kept the worst of it at bay—but there was something about the stillness that gnawed at him. The quiet was unusual. And it felt wrong. Like something he couldn’t quite grasp was lurking just beneath the surface, waiting to make itself known.

He should have left by now. He should’ve driven off and called it a day. But he couldn’t. Something about the scene unfolding before him kept him anchored in place. Charles, pitiful and blubbering, clinging to you as if you were the only thing that tethered him to reality. His tear-soaked face buried itself in your shoulder, desperate, and for a moment Rupert felt a sharp flicker of irritation. But you—you—you were different.

You were calm. Poised. Beautiful even in the middle of this mess. It wasn’t just that you looked good. It was the way you moved. There was a kind of ease to you, something almost ethereal. The way you stood, the way you smiled—real, genuine—not the kind of smile that people give out of obligation. You didn’t try to placate or comfort. You just were. And that made Rupert feel... unsettled.

You weren’t just offering sympathy to Charles. You were offering something more. Something deeper. But what? He couldn’t quite place it. And that irritated him more than it should have.

You didn’t need anything from him. You didn’t need anything from anyone, really. That was clear the moment you pressed something small into Charles’s hand and turned to leave, your body gliding with a quiet confidence, like you weren’t just walking down a street, but somehow commanding the space. Rupert’s eyes followed you, but it wasn’t just your figure he tracked—it was you. That strange, magnetic aura you carried, something untouchable, that made him feel small, out of place, like he didn’t quite belong in the same world.

He hated how much it affected him.

The cigarette between his fingers had burned down to nothing. He flicked it out the window, cursing under his breath, sinking deeper into the plush leather of the seat. He tried to clear his head. Damn it, he couldn’t get you out of his mind. You were a woman, sure. But not like the others. Not like the ones who chased him, desperate and eager. No, you didn’t need him. You weren’t even trying, you didn't even know he was there. Maybe thats what made him so intrigued. A little bit of voyeurism was good for the soul. And that—that—was what made him want you.

He tried to reason with himself, tried to talk sense into the gnawing curiosity that seemed to claw at him from the inside. Women like you didn’t just stumble into his life. You didn’t want him. You didn’t need him. Hell, he didn’t need or want your type either. But here he was, thinking about you in a way he didn’t think about anyone else—intrigued, maybe even a little turned on, but confused.

A line from a Sylvia Plath poem came to him, one he hadn’t thought about in years, but it was a line that had always lingered in the back of his mind. "Pure acetylene virgin attended by roses." That was it. That was you. Untouchable. Otherworldly. A goddess—something that didn’t belong in his world. It reminded him of fleeting moments he had caught of you around the Priory, kind, helpful, but distant. Like you existed in a different realm entirely. And that unnerved him.

It was maddening. He scoffed under his breath. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to care. He didn’t care. He didn’t chase women. That wasn’t his thing.

His thoughts raced, spinning out of control. What would it take to make you notice him? To drag you into his world, even just for a moment?

No. He shook his head, pushing the thought aside. This wasn’t like him. He didn’t get tangled up in this kind of mess. He didn’t chase women, his conquests were a dance of two partners, circling each other.

Maybe—just maybe—it wouldn’t hurt to see you again. To invite you to dance.

Rupert clenched his jaw, staring again at the polished door. His mind swirled with the thought of you, the unease building with every passing second. This was ridiculous. He was losing his grip over something he barely knew. He had seen it all before—women with soft smiles, big eyes, desperate for attention. But you? You didn’t need him. You wouldn’t want him. And for some reason, that bothered him. Rupert cursed again, more forcefully now, fingers tightening around the steering wheel. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. But no matter how much he tried to shake it off, that nagging thought refused to leave. You weren’t just another woman. You were something—someone—he couldn’t quite figure out. And for the first time in a long time, Rupert wasn’t sure he even wanted to figure you out.

#rupert campbell black x reader #rupert x reader #rupert campbell black #taggie o'hara #charles fairburn #rivals #rivals fanfiction #rivals 2024

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stnkiconverse · 7 months ago

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you're going to do it, and you're getting away with it. you know that.

Ch.1 - The Calm Before The Storm

Next ⇢

genre: psychological horror (in a way), creepypasta, supernatural thriller (in a way)

pairing: none. (yet ;) )

wc: 1.5k

content warnings: echoes in the static contains scenes and themes that may be disturbing or triggering to some readers, including: graphic violence and murder, mental illness and psychological distress, suicide and self-harm, domestic abuse and strong language.

Reader discretion is advised.

Yes this has to do with Creepypastas. Yes, Creepypastas wil pop up and make appearances, it's basically a reader insert into the Creepypasta word.

do not repost my work anywhere, I only post in Tumblr.

The small city of Greenville, Alabama, was waking up to another mundane day, but not you. Not today. Today was different. The peaceful façade of your life as a fresh college graduate working in a tiny flower shop was just that – a façade. Behind it lurked a storm, one that had been brewing ever since your mother’s death.

Greenville was a quaint place, where everyone knew everyone else, and secrets were hard to keep. But you had a secret, a dark one. Your mother’s tragic end had shattered your world, and the man responsible, your stepfather, continued his life unscathed. He was a police officer, respected by many, but you knew the truth. He was a monster, and you’re going to stop him.

---

The flower shop was your sanctuary. “Petals and Posies” was a small but charming establishment, filled with the fragrance of fresh blooms. You lost yourself in the simple tasks of arranging flowers and tending to customers. The shop's front area displayed packets of flower seeds, inviting customers to start their own gardens. Along the side walls, ready-made bouquets sat in neat rows, a burst of colors and fragrances that never failed to lift your spirits. Customers could choose to customize their bouquets with the help of one of the two employees, either you or your colleague, Lisa.

Lisa was a warm and friendly presence in the shop, always ready with a smile and a kind word. You appreciated her company, though you often found solace in the quiet moments when the shop was empty, and you could immerse yourself in your work. Next to the employee desk stood a stand with various bouquet wraps, allowing customers to add a personal touch to their floral arrangements. The shop was small, but it had a steady stream of clients, enough to keep it alive and provide you with a modest living.

Your apartment was just a few blocks away, a small but cozy place that you had made your own. It was a simple one-bedroom unit, but you had decorated it with care. The walls were adorned with framed prints of your favorite paintings, and the shelves were filled with books that offered an escape from reality. Your bedroom window overlooked a small park, and you often found yourself gazing out at the trees swaying gently in the breeze, finding a momentary sense of peace.

---

Weekends were spent visiting your mother, a routine you cherished. She lived with Frank in a modest home on the outskirts of Greenville. It was a place filled with memories, both good and bad. Your mother, Anna, had always been your rock, your confidant. She was a kind and cheerful woman, always seeing the good in people. You admired her strength and the joy she brought into your life. During your college years, she met Frank, a man who seemed to offer her the love and companionship she deserved. They married while you were away at school, and for a while, it seemed she had found happiness.

Your mother’s house was warm and welcoming, a stark contrast to the man who lived there with her. The living room was filled with family photos, mementos of happier times. The kitchen was Anna’s domain, where she spent hours cooking and baking, her laughter filling the air. You loved these visits, the chance to reconnect with your mother and escape the loneliness of your apartment.

But the happiness was short-lived. It was during one of these visits that you first noticed the bruises. They were faint, barely visible, but they were there. As you helped your mother prepare dinner, you noticed the slight wince as she lifted a pot, the dark shadows on her wrists that she tried to hide with long sleeves.

---

“Mom, what happened to your arm?” you asked, trying to keep your voice casual, though your heart was pounding.

Anna glanced down at the bruise and quickly pulled her sleeve down. “Oh, it’s nothing, dear. I just bumped into the doorframe,” she said with a forced smile.

Before you could press further, Frank walked into the kitchen, his presence immediately changing the atmosphere. He was a tall, imposing man with a perpetual scowl etched on his face. The air seemed to thicken with tension whenever he was around.

“Everything okay in here?” he asked, his voice gruff.

You forced a smile. “Yes, just helping Mom with dinner.”

Frank grunted and walked to the fridge, grabbing a beer before heading back to the living room. You watched him go, a knot forming in your stomach. There was something off about him, something that made your skin crawl.

You decided not to push your mother further that evening, but the image of those bruises stayed with you. Over the next few weeks, you visited more often, trying to spend as much time with her as possible. You suggested outings, hoping to get her away from Frank’s oppressive presence. Sometimes she agreed, and for a few hours, you saw glimpses of the cheerful woman you knew. But other times, she declined, her eyes filled with a sadness she couldn’t hide.

---

It wasn’t long before things took a turn for the worse. Your mother stopped answering your calls. When you did manage to see her, she looked more tired and emaciated each time. The once vibrant woman was now a hollow shell, her spirit crushed under the weight of Frank’s abuse. She had stopped eating, her clothes hanging loosely on her frail frame. Her eyes, once full of life, were now dull and lifeless.

You tried to talk to her, to get her to open up about what was happening, but she remained silent. The fear in her eyes spoke volumes, though, and you knew she was hiding something terrible. Frank’s behavior grew more erratic, his temper flaring at the slightest provocation. You witnessed him yelling at your mother, his face twisted in anger, while she stood there, her head bowed, taking the verbal abuse without a word.

One day, you arrived at her house to find it eerily quiet. Your heart raced as you searched room after room, finally finding her in the bedroom. She was lying on the bed, her face pale and lifeless. An empty bottle of pills lay on the nightstand, and a crumpled note was clutched in her hand.

With trembling hands, you unfolded the note. It was brief but devastating: “I can’t take it anymore. He’s taken everything from me. Forgive me.”

---

Your world shattered in an instant. The grief was overwhelming, but what fueled your rage was Frank’s reaction. He showed no remorse, quickly moving on as if your mother’s life had meant nothing. The day of her funeral, you saw him laughing with another woman, and something inside you snapped. The seed of revenge was planted, and it grew with each passing day.

---

The day of the funeral was overcast, fitting the somber mood. The cemetery was filled with friends and family, all gathered to pay their respects to your mother. You stood by the grave, numb with grief, as the preacher said the final words. You barely heard them, lost in your own thoughts.

You recalled the earlier years with your mother, the warmth and laughter that once filled your home. She had been your everything, the one person who understood you completely. As you stood there, the memories of her gentle touch and kind words played in your mind, a stark contrast to the cold reality of her absence.

As the service concluded, you watched the mourners drift away, leaving you alone by the freshly turned earth. Your mother’s coffin was lowered into the ground, and you felt a part of yourself go with her. The weight of your grief pressed down on you, but so did something else – a cold, calculated resolve.

You watched as Frank, dressed in his police uniform, walked towards his car. His face was a mask of indifference, as if the death of his wife meant nothing to him. A woman was waiting for him, someone you didn’t recognize. She smiled as he approached, and your stomach turned.

Frank got into the car and leaned over to kiss her. The sight was like a punch to the gut. The betrayal, the callousness, it was all too much. You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms as you fought to keep your composure. But inside, something snapped.

It was then that you knew, with absolute certainty, that you were going to get rid of him. He didn’t deserve to walk away unscathed. He had to pay for what he had done to your mother. And you were going to make sure of it.

As you turned away from the cemetery, a new resolve filled you. This was just the beginning. The storm was coming, and you were ready to unleash it.

banners by: @drizztdohurtin

Taglist is open, ask to be added.

🏷️: @mimmickmouse @stranger-of-the-internet

#creepypasta #fandom #slenderman #slender mansion #creepypasta fic #creepypasta x reader #new fic #horror #psychological horror #supermatural #supernatural thriller #jramblesaboutsoap #j’s fics!

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mistydeyes · 2 years ago

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perfumes i think the 141 boys enjoy

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summary: Scent is one of the most powerful senses, so what kind of fragrance do the 141 boys + Alejandro like on their significant other?

pairing: 141 x Reader

warnings: none

a/n - i also work for a perfume company so I've had a couple of ideas about what scents the boys like :)

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price - loves expensive, smokey scents on anyone. imagine the scents of a fresh cigar-that's what price wants in a fragrance. notes like pepper, leather, tobacco, cedar wood, and iris will make him crumble.

masculine

oud wood - tom ford notes: oud wood, sandalwood, chinese pepper

osmanthe kodoshan - maison crivelli notes: leather, tobacco, sichuan pepper, apricot, peach

functional fragrance - the nue co. notes: cardamom, iris, palo santo, cilantro

unisex

hinoki fantôme - boy smells notes: tobacco leaves, oak moss, and smoked leather

jazz club - maison marigela notes: pink pepper, rum, tobacco

lumière d’iris - veronique gabai notes: rose, iris, cedarwood, amber

feminine

baccarat rouge 540 - maison francis kurkdjia notes: jasmine, ambergris, saffron, cedar wood

cuir béluga - guerlain notes: leather, powder, vanilla

platinum 22 - floris london notes: rose, violet leaf, blackcurrant, oat, black tea

soap - woodsy, floral scents are soap's surprising pick. it brings back memories of the scottish countryside, adventuring in the woods and smelling the fresh flowers his mam had. notice notes of herbs (sage, rosemary, mint), lavender, and violet.

masculine

sauvage - dior notes: pepper, amberwood, bergamot, powder

h24 - hermès notes: clary sage, narcissus, rosewood

new york wall street - bond no.9 notes: sea kale, cucumber, lavender, ambergris, vetiver

unisex

voodoo chile - dries van noten notes: rosemary, patchouli, hemp

libre - yves saint laurent notes: lavender, musk

dirty grass - heretic notes: black pepper, lemon, hemp, violet

feminine

melancholy thistle - jo malone london notes: thistle, english ivy, cool wood

portrait of a lady - frédéric malle notes: frankincense, black currant, raspberry, patchouli

la tulipe - byredo notes: tulips, cyclamen, fressia, rhubarb

gaz - FLORAL CITRUS will make this man fall in love with you. it reminds him of a warm summer day sitting in the grass and smelling flowers. look for summery fragrances with notes of citrus, lemon, sage, and fresh herbs.

masculine

bleu de chanel - chanel notes: citrus, labdanum, sandalwood, cedar

polo black - ralph lauren notes: iced mango, lemon, tangerine, sandalwood, sage, patchouli

l'homme - yves saint laurent notes: bergamot, ginger, cedar wood, vetiver

unisex

cactus garden - louis vuitton notes: maté, bergamot, lemongrass

velvet cypress - dolce & gabbana notes: pine, lemon zest, bergamot, clary sage

eau de campagne - sisley notes: grass, citrus, herbs, jasmine, lily of the valley

feminine

brazilian crush cheirosa 62 - sol de janeiro notes: pistachio, almond, sandalwood, heliotrope, jasmine

her blossom - burberry notes: mandarin, plum blossom, sandalwood

flora gorgeous jasmine - gucci notes: mandarin, jasmine, magnolia, sandalwood

ghost - likes a light, musky scent! he loves when a scent adds to a person's natural smell (he hates sugary, gourmand scents). ingredients like musk, ambrox, pepper, sandalwood catch his eye as he pictures fresh sheets and a rainfall in a forest.

masculine

geranium pour monsieur - frédéric malle notes: mint, aniseed, sandalwood, geranium, frankincense

atlantis - blu atlas notes: orris, oak moss, violet, musk, ambrette seed

gentleman - givenchy notes: pear, lavender, patchouli

unisex

glossier you - glossier notes: pink pepper, iris, ambrette seeds, ambrox

not a perfume - juliette has a gun notes: ambergris

santal 33 - le labo notes: violet cardamom, cedar wood, iris, ambrox

feminine

missing person - phlur notes: musk, bergamot, jasmine, neroli, sandalwood

golden nectar - nest notes: florals, orchid, amber, musk

apollonia - xerjoff notes: white floral, orris butter, white musk

extra! alejandro - if ghost likes it simple and light, then alejandro is the exact opposite. he loves when he can smell someone's fragrance across the room. focus on bold fragrances with spicy notes of nutmeg, myrrh, and rum that is mixed with the gourmand of vanilla, almond, and tonka bean.

masculine

the last day of summer - gucci notes: cedarwood, cypress, nutmeg, patchouli, vetiver

bibliothèque - byredo notes: peach, peony, violet, leather, patchouli, vanilla

london myrrh & tonka - jo malone notes: almond, vanilla, myrrh, lavender, honey

unisex

tobacco vanille - tom ford notes: tonka bean, vanilla. cacao

dark rum - malin + goetz notes: anise, plum, leather, rum, patchouli, amber

tao dao - diptyque notes: sandalwood, cedar, cypress, myrte

feminine

lost cherry - tom ford notes: black cherry, tonka bean, almond

brazil aroma - costa notes: white jungle flora, orange oil, pink pepper, bourbon, vetiver, patchouli

babylon - penhaligon's notes: saffron, nutmeg, coriander, cedar wood, vanilla, cypriol

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starboishifting · 1 month ago

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°🌿₊˚ ⁺₊⋆♡ || my waiting room!

in my waiting room, the world belongs to me. i get anything i want, whenever i want it, without question or problem. everything is free and limitless, and i can do and go anywhere i want whenever i want. it's a haven, a safe place in the multiverse where i can go to calm down or relax.

the front of my house (a three story brownstone belonging to me and andy) opens into a beautiful walkable city with avid and thriving flora and fauna. bookshops and cafes on every street, thrift stores and antique shops on every other. it's heaven, and it's so soft and peaceful and filled with love, everyone is always kind and soft and gentle. there's a farmer's market every day, and you can find damn near every plant in the floral shops or even in the streets. it's exquisite, and my favorite place. the back of my house opens into a wide open flower field, wild and untamed and filled with sunlight and joy. just past the field is an endless, winding forest teeming with wildlife. deer and birds, foxes and bears, predator and prey, living together in a beautiful harmony. they love me, all of them, and it makes me so happy that i can just go into the woods and play with and love on them.

inside my house is a world built just for us, with flowers and plants and pretty, lovely things. stained glass and bones and paintings on windows and walls. fine china that washes itself and big windows that take in all the sunlight and throw rainbows around the rooms. quilts and pillows on every chair and couch, fairy lights in every corner no ceiling lights at all, only soft, dim lighting that makes everything feel soft and cozy. everything is soft, and warm, and filled with life and love and color. it's the safest and happiest i've ever been. our front garden is lovely and cozy, with a cat-shaped picket fence and flowers spilling everywhere. there's a rocking chair and a swing in a tree, which is a massive weeping willow that blooms tiny flowers in a lovely shade of orange. our cats run all around and through it, enjoying the company of bunnies and strays alike. we also have two german shepherds, anubis and cheyenne, and leopard geckos named loki, sigyn, and becky, who all coexist beautifully and safely.

my wardrobe is endless and warm, filled with browns and oranges and greens, gentle earthy tones that make my heart feel full. every piece of clothing, every pair of shoes or piece of jewelry i want is in my closet, which is worse than barbie's. it's perfectly organized and i can always find what i'm looking for the second i want to. i also steal andy's clothes, because that's what a good boyfriend does. they also steal my clothes. it's very joy-inducing. i love andy. i love andy so much. andy makes me so happy. they're so pretty. thank you for coming to my ted talk.

little things:✧ wonka's chocolate factories (both from willy wonka and wonka) exist and are real and near my city. not within walking distance, but close enough for me and andy to take either andy's ugly ass car or my motorcycle to go and visit. there are no unwanted or unsavory side effects of the candies, it's just good fun. ✧ public transit is amazing and fast, but i also have a motorcycle i can take if i want to, or andy's fucking skoda octavia, which is the single ugliest car i've ever seen, but they love it and i love them, so i never complain (i'm lying, i complain constantly). ✧ we don't age or grow old; i'm 19 and andy is 23 forever and ever and ever. ✧ our home is constantly filled with fresh baked goods and sweets, lovely and beautiful things that make us happy, because we always need to stay happy. ✧ it never rises above 75 degrees fahrenheit (23.8 celsius) and never drops below 30 degrees fahrenheit (-1 celsius), because then it's never too hot and never too cold, but we can still go swimming and play in the snow! ✧ i can go anywhere in the world in a second with a snap of my fingers. ✧ no periods or cramps for anyone at all. ✧ there is a universally available transition centre where you can walk in one sex and walk out the other. not all trans people use it, though, because some are very comfortable in their birth-bodies, and some still use more typical methods, like surgeries and/or hormones. ✧ there is no racism, or homo/transphobia, no ableism, no religious bigotry, or really any kind of bigotry. ✧ there's a theatre near our house that shows any movie we want, whether it exists or not. any book, manga, webtoon, dream i want, it's on that screen. memories i've lived through in that reality or any other, entire days andy and i want to relive. everything is on the screen. ✧ i can screenshot with my mind, and then those images go immediately to my phone, which has infinite storage.

foods

#star boi's drs ⋆｡°✩#reality shifting #shiftblr #shifter #shifting realities #loablr #loa tumblr #shifters #shifting community #desired reality #shifting blog

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rainforestakiie · 8 months ago

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hello everyone. i don't know what i am doing. haha.

here is a small one-shot of Adamasapple. omega x omega. based in Eden. an au.

english is not my first language, so i'm sorry for any mistakes in this...

Nest of the Damned (Omegaverse Omega/Omega) Part 01. Part 02. Part 03. Part 04. Part 05. Extra 01.

Full Version

Omega Lucifer X Omega Adam

There was an ineffable quality to today, a subtle shift in the atmosphere that Adam couldn't quite place. He sat ensconced within the heart of Eden's rainforest, his apple-green eyes wandering over the vivid tapestry of blossoms and verdant foliage. The air carried an unusual sweetness, tingling against his skin in an unfamiliar way. With a frown, Adam leaned back against his favorite tree, seeking solace.

This tree was magnificent, a towering sentinel adorned with cascading clusters of purple flowers. The blossoms, ranging from delicate lavender to deep violet, bloomed with an enchanting beauty. Each cluster was a dense array of tiny, pea-like flowers exuding a heady, sweet fragrance. The pinnate leaves, a bright green mosaic of smaller leaflets along a central stem, created a lush, vibrant backdrop for the floral display.

Whenever the unsettling sensations within his chest became overwhelming, Adam would retreat to this tree. Today was no different. The moment he felt the peculiar prickling in his chest, he instinctively sought the tree's refuge. Hidden among its blossoms, he felt safe; his so-called 'wife' never ventured this far, and he preferred it that way.

Adam's skin felt unusually warm, a discomfort exacerbated by the sweat that perpetually beaded on his forehead despite his attempts to wipe it away. Something was amiss. A disquieting voice whispered in his ear, reinforcing the sense of wrongness. An inexplicable warmth churned in the pit of his stomach, growing more intense with each passing moment. Pressing himself against the tree's bark, Adam drew his knees close to his chest, his nails digging into the tender flesh of his kneecaps in a futile attempt to ground himself.

His entire body felt alien, a departure from its usual state. The absence of anyone to ask for help deepened his anxiety. Seeking assistance from his 'wife' was out of the question; she terrified him, and her recent unpleasant odor only added to his stress.

With a hiccup, Adam buried his face in his knees, scratching lightly at his legs and arms. It had been so long since anyone had been by his side, someone who would gently explain everything, who would tell him what he was feeling, and help him understand and resolve it. The changes within his body frightened him deeply.

"Adam?" A sudden voice called, sending shivers down his spine.

Adam emitted a low groan, his arms constricting around himself, nails digging deeper into his skin until it stung. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, biting into the sensitive flesh of his bottom lip.

"Adam, where are you?" The voice echoed through the air.

Adam retreated further into the shelter of the tree, hoping its majestic branches would shield him from the intrusive Archangel. Lucifer, the Morning Star and Adam's guardian Archangel, seemed oblivious to Adam's loneliness due to the angels preference for the company of the other human in Eden. Their relationship had soured over time, leaving Adam with little desire to engage with Lucifer.

"Adam?" Lucifer continued in a coaxing tone. "Come out, come out wherever you are~ You know you can't hide from me~"

The forest fell silent, interrupted only by a warm breeze fluttering through the purple blossoms. Adam shivered as the breeze caressed his overheated skin, its gentleness a brief comfort. The quietness suggested Lucifer might have moved on to trouble the other human in Eden.

"Adam, you smell sweet," Lucifer remarked, his voice softening. Adam sensed a new presence approaching the garden, their footsteps barely audible on the grass just beyond the wall of flowers. "Is this where you've been hiding all this time?"

"Go away," Adam growled, his teeth almost bared. An unexpected surge of aggression rose within him, fueled by a protective instinct over his flowery sanctuary. "You're not welcome here."

Adam's defiance did little to deter Lucifer. The Archangel ducked beneath the wall of flowers, entering the shaded enclave despite Adam's silent protest. Adam kept himself curled up, refusing to acknowledge Lucifer's presence, hoping his standoffishness would convey his wishes.

"Whoa, this place is beautiful!" Lucifer exclaimed softly, a gasp of admiration escaping him. "No wonder you like to hide here!"

When Adam remained silent, Lucifer turned towards him, his six fluffy wings twitching involuntarily as he struggled to keep them neatly folded against his back. A potent sweetness emanated from Adam, causing the Angel to gasp softly.

"Adam..." Lucifer whispered, drawing nearer. "Adam, are you feeling alright?"

Lucifer wore a troubled frown, his cherry-red lips downturned as he observed Adam. He fidgeted with his robes awkwardly, unaccustomed to being ignored by Adam. The silence and Adam's refusal to meet his gaze stung Lucifer with a pang of melancholy. He didn't like it when Adam ignored him. Yet, the sweet fragrance that enveloped Adam troubled him even more, hinting at his darkest suspicions.

"Adam, please tell me if you're feeling... unwell..." Lucifer breathed out, lowering himself to his knees and cautiously inching closer to his precious human. "Are you feeling hot? Itchy? Sweaty?"

Adam clenched his eyes shut tighter, attempting to block out Lucifer's voice. He fought against the urge to throw himself into the Archangel's arms. Lucifer's presence had always stirred a flutter in Adam's stomach, but now it felt different—unsettling, almost as if he was melting from within, discomfort prickling under his skin.

"Adam~" Lucifer sang softly, his voice even more gentle. He settled beside Adam and leaned in, his face nearing Adam's exposed neck as he inhaled deeply.

The sweet aroma was unmistakably emanating from the first human—so honeyed, yet uniquely wild, reminiscent of fresh rain and earthy wildflowers. It was Eden itself, embodied in scent.

"Hey, why are you ignoring me?" Lucifer cooed softly, raising a calming hand. "Ad-am~ Didn't you miss me?"

The moment Lucifer's fingers brushed Adam's exposed shoulder, Adam jerked away. His head snapped up, green eyes glassy and unfocused, his skin an unnaturally pallid hue.

Lucifer's breath caught in his throat as he met Adam's frantic gaze, his heart skipping a beat, echoing in his skull. Heat pooled deep in his gut, urging his wings to unfurl and shield Adam from prying eyes.

"Adam, are you presenting?" he managed to utter, his mouth suddenly dry. Lucifer coughed, swallowing hard, shifting awkwardly as he sat on his ankles, struggling to contain his body's response to Adam.

Adam blinked at the question, puzzled. Presenting? What did that mean exactly? Before he could ask, he remembered his anger towards Lucifer and clamped his mouth shut, shooting a dry glare at the Archangel, turning his back.

"Don't touch me," Adam bit out, his back still turned. "Leave me alone."

Lucifer gaped in disbelief, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. His wings bristled in shock. Adam had never rebuffed him like this before! He knew Adam might be upset, but this was beyond anything he expected. Surely Adam couldn't be this angry with him?

"Adam?!" Lucifer exclaimed, attempting to maneuver around him to catch his eye, but Adam immediately turned away again. Lucifer couldn't believe it. "Adam! Stop that! Come on, talk to me! We can't fix anything if you keep doing this!"

Adam scoffed. "Fix what? I don't want anything fixed. I don't even know what's broken. Just go away."

"No," Lucifer grunted as Adam turned his back once more.

Lucifer huffed and crossed his arms, his wings trembling with annoyance. Only Adam could make him feel so upset, hurt, and irritated all at once. Adam knew exactly which buttons to press. If only he understood Lucifer's motives! There was a purpose behind everything he did, goals he aimed to achieve.

Adam cautiously glanced over his shoulder, finding Lucifer still seated behind him, intensely scrutinizing him, studying the exposed skin stretched over delicate muscles up to Adam's neck. Suddenly, Lucifer froze, horror seizing his entire body.

There on the back of Adam's neck were scratches.

"Adam! Have you been scratching your neck?" he demanded, grabbing Adam's arm in an attempt to turn him. But Adam, stubborn as ever, tried to wrench his arm free from Lucifer's grip.

"What's it to you?" Adam cried out. "Why does it matter if I do or not?"

"It's extremely important, Adam. I need to know if you're presenting," Lucifer insisted, inhaling the lingering sweetness surrounding Adam. That alone was a telling sign. "It's important for your safety."

Adam frowned, shooting the Archangel a frustrated look as he struggled to pry Lucifer's iron grip from his arm once more, but failed. Adam marveled at Lucifer's strength; the Archangel, despite his slight frame, wielded power beyond what Adam expected, unlike the lions of Eden.

"I don't have to tell you anything!" Adam snapped. "Why don't you go bother Lilith! We both know you like her more!"

Lucifer's blue eyes widened in surprise, blinking as realization dawned. While he suspected Adam was upset over his time with Lilith, he hadn't imagined Adam thought he favored her.

"That's not true," Lucifer countered gently, inching closer to the distraught human. He inhaled Adam's scent, feeling his own control slipping. "You misunderstand. I had to spend time with her. It wasn't my choice."

"What?" Adam frowned deeply. None of Lucifer's explanations made sense. Adam had seen how happy and affectionate Lucifer was around Lilith. There was no way Lucifer didn't prefer her.

A strange, bubbling sensation erupted in Adam's stomach, urging him to seize the Angel and take him somewhere, though he couldn't fathom where. Coldness gripped the back of his head, an icy sensation spreading across his skin. He had missed something important, something he should have prepared. Adam should have gathered something to soothe himself, and to take Lucifer, but he didn't know what.

"I'm so confused," Adam murmured, struggling to find comfort within himself.

Lucifer brushed his fingers up Adam's side, purposefully tracing his veins. "Have you been feeling like there's a fire burning inside you? Enough to... want to take me away and create something?"

Adam leaned forward, hanging on Lucifer's every word. "Yes! That's it! I want to gather things, like leaves, petals, even your robes and feathers!"

Lucifer hummed softly, a sparkle in his eyes. "I understand, Adam. You want to build something, but you don't know why."

Adam gasped, his heart skipping a beat. "Yes, Lucifer, exactly! But I don't know how! It just came over me, and I don't understand why I'm feeling so... so... I don't want you spending time with Lilith anymore!"

"Alright, as long as you stay away from her too," Lucifer said seriously. "I've worked hard to keep her from noticing you. I can't risk you revealing yourself when I'm not around."

Confusion clouded Adam's expression as he tilted his head, a broken whimper escaping him, a sound unfamiliar to his own ears. "You kept her from me? Why? Do you really like her that much?"

"No, Adam. I like you," Lucifer sighed, a blush coloring his cheeks. "She's an alpha."

Alpha? The word echoed in Adam's mind, discomfort prickling his entire body. Lilith was an alpha? What did that mean? Why did this revelation unsettle him so deeply? His mouth went dry, his tongue suddenly feeling too large for his mouth. All Adam wanted was to run and hide now.

"It's okay," Lucifer whispered lovingly, cradling Adam's face in his hands, nuzzling against him. "You'll learn to control your scents. But Adam, you need to calm down. You're releasing a strong scent of distress right now."

"I-I am?" Adam gasped, seeking more comfort in Lucifer's embrace. "I'm so confused."

Lucifer's wings finally unfurled, wrapping around Adam, feathers brushing gently against his skin, soothing him.

"I know you are, but that's why you have me. I'm your guardian Angel," Lucifer smiled, tilting his head to meet Adam's gaze. "I think you're finally presenting. We knew you'd be a late bloomer. Lilith presented two summers ago."

Adam frowned, his attention now fully on Lucifer's magnificent wings as his fingers traced the soft feathers, eliciting a soft moan from the Archangel.

"Lucifer, you smell sweet too," Adam observed, blinking at him. "You smell really good. I've only just noticed it."

A proud grin spread across Lucifer's face, puffing his chest out boastfully. "Of course I do! I'm the best thing you'll ever smell, I guarantee it!"

"I don't understand," Adam pouted. "Explain it to me. Why would I be presenting? And Lilith has presented? Have you presented? What does presenting even mean?"

Chuckling softly, Lucifer nuzzled his face into Adam's throat, his hands sliding up Adam's back to delicately touch the sore patch on the back of his neck. Adam gasped at the tenderness, feeling the roughness of his skin.

"Has it been bothering you?" Lucifer whispered, his fingers brushing lightly over the irritated area. "Has it been itching?"

"Yeah," Adam murmured with a tremor, his cheeks flushing deeper under Lucifer's gentle touch. "Is something wrong with it?"

Lucifer shook his head reassuringly. "No, Adam, it's normal. Your glands are beginning to form. Just try not to scratch them, alright?"

"What's happening to me, Luci..." Adam whimpered, clutching at Lucifer's robes, suddenly fascinated by their softness and the lingering scent of the Archangel. He suddenly had the strong urge to take the robes and hide them away, so he could use them when he was building…whatever it is that he needs to build.

"You're presenting as an Omega," Lucifer explained gently, continuing to stroke Adam's neck until the tension melted away. "Lilith presented as an Alpha, so it's risky for you to be around her... at all."

It wasn't entirely untrue. Lilith and Adam were destined by Heaven to mate and become the progenitors of mankind, an expectation they were created for. Initially, both were like betas when they first awoke in Eden—closed off, scentless, with equal power dynamics. However, Lilith's transformation into an Alpha had changed everything.

Lilith had been harmless toward Adam initially. Lucifer had even encouraged their interaction. But when Lilith had presented as an Alpha, Sera had been thrilled—it marked the beginning of their grand plan. Lucifer, however, had felt a pang of disappointment. He had always imagined Adam as an Alpha, perhaps even his Alpha. Both Sera and Michael had continuously told him not to get so attached to the first human, but Lucifer did. Lilith's transformation had meant Adam would be an Omega, and Sera had instructed him to keep his distance from Adam.

He had obeyed, until he noticed Lilith's growing interest in Adam. Lucifer had felt a surge of possessiveness and jealousy he couldn't ignore. He knew his actions were wrong, going against divine plans, but the thought of Adam mating with Lilith as an Omega enraged him.

So, he had intervened, distracting Lilith away from Adam. It had been easy to steer her focus elsewhere.

"I'm an Omega too," Lucifer admitted softly. "That's why... Lilith was fond of me."

Adam's green eyes dimmed, and he slouched back, a reaction that nearly caused panic in Lucifer. "But I'm going to be an Omega too. She won't like me?"

"Do you want her to like you?" Lucifer asked harshly, his anger slipping through despite his efforts. He didn't want to share Adam with anyone, especially an Alpha.

Adam pondered Lucifer's question, oblivious to the Archangel's tension. After a moment, Adam hummed thoughtfully, tapping his chin. His expression twisted in confusion. "Lilith is an Alpha... and Alphas are supposed to be with Omegas?"

Dread knotted Lucifer's stomach. He wanted to deny it, to reassure Adam that it wasn't true, but he couldn't lie. With a soft sigh, Lucifer nodded reluctantly. "Yes, that's correct."

"And you're an Omega?" Adam asked quietly, his voice tinged with sadness.

Lucifer clicked his tongue irritably. "Yup."

"I'm lost," Adam whimpered softly, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I don't want to be with Lilith, but I'm angry with you. And I'm confused because I'm an Omega? Am I supposed to be with Lilith? I just don't know."

Lucifer studied Adam thoughtfully, imagining how Sera would handle the situation with her gentle touch and reassuring words. She would likely blame Lucifer for influencing Adam and then whisk him away to Lilith. The thought displeased Lucifer, his lips curling in disdain.

Adam clearly harboured feelings for him; Lucifer wasn't naive. Being the only Omega Archangel, he understood the intricacies of their nature better than anyone, despite what Sera might believe. When it came to Omegas, Lucifer trusted his own instincts above all else.

"Adam," he murmured softly, lifting Adam's chin gently to meet his gaze. "I understand you're confused, but you trust me, don't you?"

Adam's emerald eyes widened, his breath catching. "Y-Yes, of course! I trust you more than anyone, Lucifer."

"Good boy," Lucifer purred, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he leaned in closer, brushing them teasingly against Adam's. "Now that you know I'm also an Omega, you can trust me even more. We're the only two Omegas in existence; we have to stick together, or they'll try to control us."

Adam shivered at the intimate contact, his fingers gripping tightly onto Lucifer's robes. "Th-They will?"

"Absolutely," Lucifer assured him, running his hands tenderly up Adam's sides, his touch gentle yet possessive. "They're already trying to force you into a bond with Lilith. You don't want that, do you?"

Adam shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "N-No... I don't want to mate with Lilith. She's... she's cruel and intimidating, and she doesn't smell... nice."

Lucifer's smirk widened, showing all his sharp teeth. "Exactly. You deserve better."

"Y-You?" Adam gasped as Lucifer enveloped him in his arms, guiding him down onto the lush grass of Eden.

Lucifer hovered over Adam, tracing a delicate finger along his body, his gaze filled with intensity. "Why don't we bond, Adam?"

"Us?" Adam's eyes widened in surprise as Lucifer leaned in to brush his lips against his once more. "But... we're Omegas. And Sera said..."

Lucifer silenced him with a gentle finger against his lips, his smirk turning more mischievous. "Sera doesn't understand Omegas like we do, Adam. She's a Beta. She doesn't comprehend Alphas, let alone Omegas."

"But... we're..." Adam's voice faltered as Lucifer's hands began to explore his form.

"Does that really matter?" Lucifer whispered reassuringly. "You said I smell good, right? That's reason enough for us to mate?"

Pressing himself down upon Adam, Lucifer released a rumble himself. It felt so good to be pressed to Adam like this. His possessive side was beginning to show itself. The part of himself that Lucifer had worked to control and began to slip between his fingers.

“The truth is Adam, I don’t want to mate with Lilith. It’s never been Lilith.” he whispered, running his tongue up Adam’s throat. “I wanted you. I want you so badly. I wanted you to present as Alpha, as my Alpha, but alas you’re an Omega. No matter, we can still mate~”

A shuddering gasp escaped Adam as Lucifer grinded down upon him. The Archangel made sure to push his hips firmly to Adam’s, grinding their Omega-hoods together. Lucifer couldn’t help but wonder if Adam’s Omega-hood had formed fully yet or not. He wanted to see for himself, to touch, to caress, to lick, to rub, to ride and pleasure his human.

“Adam~” he leaned fully over Adam, his blue eyes appearing more menacing as he gazed down at him. “Let’s become mates~”

Michael, Sera, Heaven and his father be damned. Lucifer wanted Adam. He wasn’t going to let anybody get in the way of that. They both were Omegas but Lucifer will learn how to make it work, he’s sure it’ll feel just as good anyway.

“Don’t you want to see my Omega-hood?”

Adam trembled in awe.

#fanfic #a03 #au #hazbin hotel #fanficiton #adamsapple #lucifer x adam #guitarduck #omegaverse #omega lucifer #omega adam #omega x omega

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crystalbeetle888 · 11 months ago

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Voyage into the Unknown Pt.8

Master List Pt.7 - Pt.8 - Pt.9

The elf man leads me through lavish halls filled with fresh floral arrangements and beautiful maids fluttering frantically around, trying to organize dinner. Finally, we stop “Here is your room M’Lady” Lindir says, holding the door open for me. I thank him and enter, a large bed lays in the center of the right wall, thick embroidered canopies framing it. On the left, the wall is curved with large arching windows, overlooking the palace gardens. “I’ll send for some maids to draw you a bath” he places my bag beside the door before bowing and leaving. I wander into the room and approach the open windows, leaning on the bannister. I gaze out in wonder at the mystical place “It’s like a dream” I whisper to myself in awe.

“What’s like a dream?” I turn to see a young, beautiful woman holding a woven basket filled with fabrics and bottles. I flush at her sudden appearance “Oh, I was just thinking of how beautiful the view is” I smile awkwardly at her. “It is quite wonderful isn’t it” she smiles back, “My Lord Elrond has been the keeper of Imladris for quite some time” She walks across the room and through a door I hadn’t noticed before. I followed her “Oh yeah? How long is that?”. In the center of the room was a large claw-foot tub, to the right, a vanity sink and mirror with a cushioned stool. The lady set the basket down on the seat before turning the bath faucet on. The rushing water is loud “Well, Lord Elrond established Rivendell in the Second Age” She explained, pouring one of the bottles contents into the bath. I nod “And when was that?” “Around five thousand years ago” She says casually, turning off the tap. My jaw drops in shock “Well…he looks great for his age” The lady giggles before walking out the room towards me “Bathe, then I’ll help you dress for dinner” she says walking out of the bedroom and closing the door. I strip down and hop into the hot bath, the smell of lavender and roses fills the air. The pain in my knee and back melts away as I slip deeper into the water. I scrub my skin and hair clean before a gentle knock on the door breaks the silence “Hello?” I called out. The door cracks open and the elf maidens face peaks in “Dinner is almost ready, so we should get you dressed now”. I nod and reluctantly stand, wrapping myself in the towel she had laid out for me before hopping out. She averts her gaze “There are undergarments and a slip in the basket, once you dress in them, I’ll help you into your dinner dress”, she closes the door behind her.

Drying myself off and putting on the strange clothes, I walk back out into the main bedroom, the elf maiden holding up a beautiful deep green, suede dress. “Come here, arms up”

I do as she demands, and allow her to shimmy the dress over my head and down my body. She pinches and pulls at the fabric until she's' satisfied with my appearance. She then wraps a golden cord around my waist, and steps back to view me. I stand there awkwardly, hoping to get this over with. “Okay, sit down and I’ll do your hair”. Sighing in exhaustion I sit on the corner of the bed with my back to her. She begins to gently brush the knots out of my damp hair, the soft rocking sending me into a sleepy trance. Before long, she taps me on the shoulder “I’m all done if you’d wish to see?” I nod and take the mirror she offers me. My hair is artfully pinned back and braided into a crown, the length flowing down my back, and two long braids hanging in front of my ears. “Wow, It’s lovely, thank you” I praise her. She smiles back “Now, let’s get you to dinner or you’ll be late”

Swiftly walking through the hall, she guides me over to the open patio where the company was waiting, quite impatiently, for their food. She lets go of my arm “I hope to see more of you Miss” She bows briefly before turning and leaving. I flatten my dress nervously, ‘Here goes nothing’ I think to myself. Walking up the steps and into the open, I make my way over to the company's short table. A low whistle sounds over the chatter “Well look at you bonnie lass, Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” Bofur calls out causing the company to turn and look. My face heats at the attention “Thank you Bofur” I say. He winks at me in response and I sigh.

Scanning the companies’ table I don’t see an open seat “Lady Y/N, if you’d care to join us?” Lord Elrond asks from his seat at his own table with Gandalf and Thorin. Walking over, Lindir pulls out my seat and I sit down across from Elrond, “It's good to see you’re feeling well Lady Y/N, please help yourself” He offers, directing his hand towards the platter towers of food. “Thank you” I say, pulling aside the long flowing sleeves of my dress, I scoop some of the salad onto my plate. Lindir, approaching my side with a decorative wine decanter, and offers to pour me a glass “Oh no thank you, I don’t drink” I say, voice muffled by the food stuffed in my mouth. Thorin turns to look at me skeptically “I don’t… behave well, when drinking” I smile shyly at him. He gives me raised eyebrow and a tightlipped smile, like he was trying not to.

Dinner continues without a hitch, the elves play the harp and some sort of string instrument in the background. The men converse and complain about the food as usual, getting progressively drunker, and Thorin argues with someone about who knows what. And I've stuffed myself full with salad, berries, egg and little tiny sandwiches. I huff and rub my belly soothingly, the cool breeze tickling my exposed neck and collarbone. The scenery is tranquil, and I close my eyes to relax… Then Bofur begins to sing

“There is an inn, a merry old inn, beneath an old grey hill. And there they brew a beer so brown, That the Man in the Moon himself came down, One night to drink his fill.” Bofur hops on top of a pedestal in the center of the room, singing and stomping his foot. The company chanting and banging their hands on the table in laughter.

“The ostler has a tipsy cat, that plays a five-stringed fiddle; And up and down he runs his bow, Now squeaking high, now purring low, Now sawing in the middle.” Bofur acts out the lyrics and the company hollers, throwing onions and bread at him. The elves looked around at one another in confusion and shock, and I sank into my seat in embarrassment.

“So the cat on his fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle, a jig that would wake the dead: He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune, While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon: 'It's after three!' he said.” I turn in my seat and look over my chair in disappointment, the company cheering loudly and throwing their salads in the air. Most disappointingly, Thorin stands with them cheering and encouraging them along. “What a disgusting waste of food.” I remark bitterly. Just as I finish my sentence a bread roll flies across the room and hits the statue on the boob, next to Lindirs' head. Swinging my head around I spot Kili with his arms up smiling triumphantly. His grin falters as our eyes meet. I shake my head in disbelief and stand to leave. Leaning over to Elrond I whisper to him apologetically “I’m so sorry for their dog crap manners, I quite enjoyed dinner thank you” I say briefly before strutting away. “Y/N wait!” Kili calls outs from behind me. I continue to walk out the room ignoring him, and the company Ooohs loudly.

Kili trips over himself, drunkenly trying to keep up with the taller woman. “Wait” He says breathlessly as he grasps onto her arm, spinning her around. “Excuse you!” she says angrily, swatting his hand off her. Kili raises his hands in defeat “I’m sorry, You were just- Where are you off to?” he huffs flustered. Despite the annoyed look on her face Kili couldn’t help but gaze at her warmly, unintentionally ignoring her ranting. The setting sun casts a golden light over her complexion. Her pointed gaze sparkles, her crossed arms adorned with that perfectly fitted dress stirs something inside him, her artfully braided hair frames her angry looking face.

��Shit, she’s looking at me, I should say something’ 'Have I told you how bewitching you look tonight?” he smiles cheekily at her. Y/N smiles in defeat “Thank you Kili” she whispers. A blanket of silence envelops the two as they gaze at each other affectionately. Y/N coughs breaking the moment “I should get to bed, it’s been a long day” she trails off nervously, anxiety beginning to creep its' way into her mind. Kili perks up at the opportunity “I’ll walk you” he offers his arm enthusiastically which she takes. As the two walk and talk together a warm feeling begins to grow inside each of them. A feeling that excites him, but scares her.

But alas, they arrive at her room for the night “Perhaps I can accompany you tomorrow for breakfast?” he suggested, eyes hopeful. She laughs “Sure, but good luck trying to wake me up”. He chuckles in response before gazing up at her again with those deep brown puppy dog eyes. “Well I’ll see you tomorrow” She says, hesitantly taking her arm back from around him. “Yeah…” he trails off, slowly walking backwards. “Goodnight!” he calls out giddily, “Goodnight” she replies finally closing the door slowly.

I sigh against the closed door, my heart pounds against my chest. ‘That was close’ I think to myself, ‘I’m getting too close’ I breathe out shakily. Rubbing my arm anxiously, I graze over the rough skin. My mind floods with fearful thoughts. What if he’s just trying to use me? What if he tries to hurt me later on? My head swarms as I strip from my dinner dress, and crawl under the cover. Sniffling meekly as I cry myself quietly to sleep.

Meanwhile, Kili wanders back to where the company has set up camp, his head filled with hope. She looked absolutely radiant tonight, even when she was mad at him. That dress just hugged her in all the right places 'If she looks like that in an Elvish dress, I wonder how good she'd look in a Dwarvish one?' Kili thinks dreamily to himself, a smile spreading across his face. He couldn't believe how lucky he'd gotten, out of all the handsome dwarves in their company, who's beards are longer and who's muscles were bigger, she had only shown interest in him. This had never happened before, usually dwarrowdams take one look at his brother and instantly lose interest in Kili 'It's those damn moustache braids' he ponders to himself 'They're irresistible'. But much to his surprise, the strange human woman didn't care much for them. Kili wanders through the camp, the company's jokes about him flying straight over his head as he lays down on his bedroll, head already full of dreams.

Master List Pt.7 - Pt.8 - Pt.9

Authors Note: Here is your crumb of content. I will be back soon <3

#fili and kili #kili durin #kili x reader #the company of thorin oakenshield #the company x reader #the hobbit #thorin

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reasonsforhope · 1 year ago

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Catherine Borowski has always had an active imagination. As a child, she dreamed that the car park on her north London council estate would be transformed into a garden. The reality was quite different. “No one had a car, so it was empty, grey and depressing,” she says. Now a sculptor and event producer, Borowski has made it her mission to fill unloved urban spaces with flowers – albeit virtual ones.

She and her partner Lee Baker are the founders of Graphic Rewilding, a project to install huge nature-inspired artworks into the urban landscape. “Where real rewilding isn’t possible, our goal is to inject the colour and diversity of nature into rundown spaces, urging people to notice – and find joy in – the world around them,” says Baker.

The pair believe that flowers possess serious powers, even when they’re not real. “We know that spending time in nature is good for us, but studies show that even pictures of plants have a positive effect on the mind,” says Baker. He cites research published in The Journal of Alternative and Complementary Medicine, which found that imagery of plants in hospital waiting rooms can help reduce feelings of stress in patients.

Baker, a painter and music producer, has long understood the benefits of biophilic design. Having suffered a breakdown 10 years ago, he found that drawing flowers was the only way to soothe his buzzy brain. “I would set out to draw dystopian landscapes, representative of my state of mind, but I’d always end up drawing flowers, which uplifted me,” he says.

It was around this time that Baker met Borowski, joining her production company as creative director. The pair have collaborated ever since, launching Graphic Rewilding in 2021. Since then, they’ve installed floral murals at locations including Earl’s Court station, Lewes Castle and Westfield Shopping Centre in Shepherd’s Bush – all hand drawn by Baker. “We love galleries, but we focus on public art,” he says. “This way, our work is out there for everyone to enjoy.”

This year the pair have grand plans to create a series of stained glass pavilions (think greenhouses with colourful floral-themed panels), which they hope might find homes at Kew Gardens and the Eden Project. “The way light shines through the glass is magical,” says Borowski.

Even so, they concede that art is no match for Mother Nature. “Some people have suggested that our project detracts from real rewilding efforts. But both can co-exist,” says Borowski. “Of course we want more green spaces.” adds Baker. “But we aren’t gardeners. We’re artists. In the absence of nature, we want to create inspiring spaces through art.”

Overall, the response has been hugely positive. “The joy that these artworks bring is palpable,” says Baker, highlighting an early project in Crawley, West Sussex. “Many people in the town were employed by Gatwick airport and Covid had taken its toll,” he recalls. In a bid to spread some joy, the duo painted brick walls, billboards, benches and even bins with their signature floral flair. “Peoples’ reactions were heartwarming. There were so many smiling faces,” he says.

Elsewhere, in Earl’s Court, the pair transformed “a ratty piece of tarmac” into a modern-day pleasure garden, which is now often filled with children dancing and doing cartwheels on the way home from school. “Putting art into a place that previously felt unloved feels like cultivating joy where there was none,” reflects Borowski. “If something like this had been installed on my estate when I was a kid, it would have been a dream come true.”

-via Positive.News, November 6, 2023

#art #public art #mural #muralart #street mural #muralpainting #england #rewiliding #solarpunk #evidence based #stained glass #glass art #activist art #good news #hope #positive psychology #london #uk #public housing

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rashoumon-homo · 1 year ago

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"You want to kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid." - SKK Valentine's Week Day 2

Prompts used: Camellias | Floral Troubles | “You want to kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

The cubicle Dazai was paid to sit in from 9-5 every weekday was in a cluster of identical cubicles, of which there were a dozen or so clusters on his floor– floor eight of twenty-something in the particular office building he worked at. His desk held his computer, his plain blue mousepad, a pad of sticky notes, and a cheap, dime-a-dozen ballpoint pen. If he had it his way, the three and a half flimsy gray walls he was surrounded by for the majority of his time on earth would be decorated with photos, artwork, or at least a wall calendar. But, as outlined in the employee manual shoved deep in his desk drawer, “Alteration or decoration of your assigned workspace is strictly prohibited.” In his first year working at the company, he’d made the mistake of hanging a mini wall calendar– each month displaying a picture of a rare flower along with fun facts about it. His boss had assured him he wasn’t in trouble, necessarily, just that he should consider their meeting a verbal warning and that he would do well to re-read the manual to avoid further issues. And, of course, remove the calendar from his cubicle. Immediately.

His only solace from the monotony of work was coming home every evening to work on his garden. He’d spent years gathering an impressive collection of rare and interesting plants which now filled every available space in his backyard. Each one required specialized care, the details of which he’d memorized along with every interesting fact there was to be learned about them. The overall look of his garden was, well, complete chaos. The colors and styles clashed ridiculously, and since he rarely planned out the layout of the outdoor space before bringing home a new plant, they were gathered in random clusters with absolutely no organization in mind. It was his personal heaven. Personality oozed from every square inch of the space; a complete contrast to his sterile work environment. It was here that he could truly express himself.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway next door put a damper on his mood only slightly. He and his neighbor had only one thing in common: a love for gardening. After that, the similarities ended. While Dazai’s garden was a sanctuary of personality and intrigue, his neighbor’s was as boring and flavorless as it could get. The rose bushes were meticulously groomed to the shape of perfect cubes, all set in rows that reminded Dazai of the cubicles at work. The colors of the roses in each bush formed a gradient, with each manicured block hosting a slightly lighter shade. It was disgusting how perfectly the garden conformed to the “ideal” suburban look. Honestly, who was he trying to impress with all that?

Meanwhile, next door, all Chuuya wanted was to get out of his scrubs and take a long, long shower. He’d been on shift for 12 hours at the emergency room, one of the busier days he’d seen. The whole day was just a constant influx of patients, and as the charge nurse, he was expected to direct all of that. Not to mention they’d had a teen admitted who was badly injured in a car crash— he ended up passing away during treatment.

In his line of work, everything was constantly chaotic and out of his control. Even with his best efforts, he failed to save patients from time to time. A job as stressful as his would be unmanageable without some kind of escape, so he’d thrown himself into gardening shortly after taking the job at the ER. He’d come to love the meditative, repetitive actions involved in growing and pruning his roses. It was something he could control— the effort he put into their care had a direct effect on how they looked. On the harder days (like this one), even a quick glance at his garden was enough to boost his spirits a little.

Chuuya dropped his keys and his bag heavily inside the door. One quick look at the garden and some deep breaths, then he’d head up to shower. But when he opened the blinds over the kitchen sink, he saw something that made his blood boil.

He stormed outside and crouched by the rose bush to look closer at the offending item. It was a camellia, red and stubborn, rooted firmly in the dirt next to the path. He ripped it from the ground and stood up, trying to calm his breathing. This was fine. It was just one weed amidst a garden of hard work. Not a big deal in the grand scheme of things.

But then he spotted another, just a few feet away. This one was younger, barely a bud. He let his eyes roam over the garden and was infuriated to find camellias everywhere. Fully bloomed, tightly coiled buds, and sprouts alike; all over his sanctuary.

The sound of a plastic container being opened drew his attention to the backyard next door. Dazai stood near the fence, feeding his Venus fly trap dead flies with a pair of forceps.

“You!” Chuuya hissed, marching over to the fence.

Dazai glanced up, surprised. “What are you wearing..?” he asked.

“Hah? I’m a nurse, dumbass. We’ve been neighbors for years, how did you not know that?”

Dazai shrugged and fed the plant another fly.

“What the fuck is this?” Chuuya demanded, shoving the camellia in his fist across the fence.

Dazai wrinkled his nose. “How should I know? I don’t plant boring shit like that.”

“It’s a camellia,” Chuuya sneered. “And I know you hate my roses. You’ve probably been looking for an excuse to mess up my garden since I planted it.”

Dazai put the lid back on the container of flies and rolled his eyes. “It’s ugly as hell, yeah, but you overestimate how much I think of your boring-ass flowers.”

“You’re a horrible liar,” Chuuya said, then pointed over Dazai’s shoulder. “You’re growing camellias right over there.”

Sure enough, there was a small cluster of the red flowers next to the fire lilies. Dazai scrunched his brow. “Huh? I didn’t plant those.”

“Suuure,” Chuuya said sarcastically. “And you didn’t plant them in my garden either.”

“I didn’t!” Dazai insisted. Against his better judgment, he muttered, “Your stupid garden could use a little personality, though.”

Chuuya grabbed Dazai by the front of his shirt and pulled him forward harshly. “And yours could use a little uniformity, but you don’t see me complaining,” he hissed.

To Chuuya’s surprise, a grin spread across Dazai’s face. “Oh I see what’s going on,” he said. “You created this whole fight just so you’d have an excuse to talk to me. Planted some seeds in my garden while I was at work, then in yours too so you could blame me.”

“The fuck?”

“Just ask for my number. You don’t need to do all this, chibi,” Dazai teased.

“Wanna say that again?” he growled, instantly bristling at the nickname.

“You’re even pulling me in by my shirt,” Dazai said with a laugh. “You wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

Chuuya narrowed his eyes. “Do you try to get out of all arguments by flirting?” he deadpanned.

“Only ones against cute guys.”

Chuuya hated the flush that rose in his cheeks; hated that he broke eye contact for just a moment.

“Is it working?” Dazai murmured.

“You asshole,” Chuuya grumbled, then yanked Dazai the remaining distance. Their mouths collided harshly, teeth clacking. Chuuya kissed him angrily; desperately. It apparently amused Dazai to no end, as he smiled against his lips while holding him close with a hand on his neck. When they pulled apart, Dazai tugged Chuuya’s bottom lip between his teeth slightly. He was still grinning as Chuuya failed to hide his blush behind his hand.

“Shut up,” Chuuya muttered.

“I didn’t say anything!” Dazai said defensively.

“Well… stop thinking then.”

Dazai laughed then, and it was a crime how cute it was. “Wanna come over for dinner?”

Chuuya sighed. “Fine, let me shower first. And take back your dumb flower.” He shoved the camellia into Dazai’s chest and started walking back to the house.

“Chibi gave me a flower!” Dazai yelled happily, twirling in a circle and waving at a scowling Chuuya. “See you tonight, my love!”

A strong breeze blew through the early evening air, past the cluster of industrial buildings in the city, over the wheat fields by the high school, and finally through the flower fields less than a mile from the neighborhood Chuuya and Dazai lived in. Small red flowers bobbed in the wind, scattering their seeds where the wind blew them. The camellias looked beautiful this time of year.

@bsdfanweek Read this work on AO3

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#rashoumon writes #bsd #bungou stray dogs #soukoku #skk #skk fanfic #soukoku fic #soukoku fluff

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gumballavocadoharry · 7 months ago

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A bed of roses:

"Oh my gosh Leah, it's beautiful!" Yn's friend had flashed the beautiful rock on her finger that was propped on top of a thin silver band. "Thanks Yn. I couldn't believe it when Damien finally proposed! It was on the cliffside of Yellowstone." Yn was beaming inside for her friend. After all, she had loved Damien for a very long time and it was a dream come true for them to finally be Mr. and Mrs. Cruz. Although content with her singleness, Yn couldn't help but feel a certain tug inside her that nudged her in the right place. It was a hollow feeling; one she would rather battle to suffocate down and win than lose and go home feeling forsaken. She knew it was a dumb equivocate ponder as she had a few good friends whom she could count on. But still.....something was missing. Her family was of no use.

Peter and Ada. Yn's parents were the last two people who could understand what real love was. They argued and screamed at each other and Yn for nothing. Calling their daughter every name in the book, being as emotionally broken to her as they could present themselves like a cheap gift shop present that had no value even through the eyes of the squintest. The battle ground they made their home into when Yn announced her departure from the family home. Misery loves company- which with such cynical reasoning- her parents threw a fit and it took a police escort to keep things settled. Yn changed states anyway. She left behind the old life of her broken dreams and jumped head first into a new one without any tethers holding her down. Yn took courses at local school in art. She owned a job at a bakery not too far from her apartment that sheltered her and a new kitten, Salmon.

Yn would put her sketches on some of the cakes and cupcakes that she would be assigned to decorate. In the meantime, Leah had put Yn on the job of collecting flowers for the upcoming wedding that was scheduled in the next two months. "Sure that sounds great!" is what Yn had said despite feeling completely blindsided by the sudden task. Mabel's Florals. That was the first shop that had caught the young woman's eye upon all the internet searching. The shop was sealed with tan clinker bricks and had a door frame of a chestnut brown. It was decorated old fashioned; an 1800's flower shop that sells flowers on its last leg. The woman; an older woman was very kind....but a bit too determined. Creepy in some type of way that Yn really couldn't contort her mind to linger on. But maybe, she had too. "Hello honey, are you finding everything alright?" Her voice, sweet, happy, but misleading. Something sinister sneered itself into the pits of Yn's stomach.

"Oh fine, thank you...." Yn could feel the lady staring. Her voice trailed off a little more than she would've liked. Could the lady sense she was creeped out a little and had this nagging dread feeling of something wanting to crawl out from the old brick walls of this innocent flower shop. Yn quickly left the shop, without giving so much as second glance. The flowers weren't even pretty; robbed of its usual naturalistic glow that was gifted to them from the seams of the earth. Yn's feet flickered against the sidewalk. Her mind lost for where she should start in finding a bunch of peonies for the wedding. Her eyes happened to explore over towards the corners of the wide ally. The ivy. Yn stopped and stood; scanning the structure of the building. It was cheery enough, set up in the way a large garden would be. The flowers that were outside the little shop were what caught Yn's eye the most.

Orchids, the flowers that Yn for some reason associated with death and funerals, were now made into this beautiful bouquet with the brightest light shining around them. It was the sensual glow and warmth of the shop that moved Yn's paralyzed feet to the front door. The light brown wooden door was open already; inviting the town inside to see the unique styles of flowers around. The shop was made in stone with a little apartment at the top. "Must be where the owner lives." Yn thought. Vines with bright artistic flowers hung from the outside around the shop. The windows were glass and outside stood some wooden buckets of flowers and a small table and chair set cafe style.

Yn went inside, stomach still in a knot from the last shop she visited. But this was different. The vibe was more pleasant and happy. Shelves of freshly watered flowers were lined on either side of her. And the place smelled like a garden, not a musty old haunted flower graveyard. A sign conspicuously captured Yn. A sign pointing towards the greenhouse that was out back. The place was much more than some grandma flower shop.

The greenhouse was breathtaking. It had a dome roof for sunlight to get in, but bugs and overbearing amounts of rain showers were blocked. The path was this cute little paver pathway that had this little river in the middle. The little bridge had this fence like railing; all while you could see the most beautiful flowers that only come once in a lifetime. They hung from different angles and some were even in the little river.

"Ello miss, looking for something?" A pommy accent caught Yn off guard. She turned around to the most vivid emerald orbs she had ever seen. They matched the aesthetic of the adorable flower shop. The man had big thick chocolate brown locks styled in a short haircut, deep dimples and focused eyes with cherry pink heart shaped lips. Yn gulped and threw on her most professional smile. "Uh, yes.....I was looking for....well, there's this wedding coming up and my friend requested peonies. And I was wondering if I could order them in large quantities?" The man smiled, wiping his hands on the big brown apron he had on. "Of course, in fact...I could even put a name on them for you if ya like?"

"Oh thanks!" Yn followed the clerk to the cash register where he typed something into the computer. "Can I have your name please?" "Yn." Something sparked inside the man, like he was amazed at the name like it was something that was never spoken off anyone's lips before. His tag read, Harry. Yn raised an eyebrow. A sensation shivered through her like a spirit. "Are these addressed to you?" "No, It's for Leah and Damien Cruz." Harry gave a small chuckle before flashing those deep dimples again, but in a smile this time. "They're lucky...." he finished signing the tag, "These are some beautiful flowers. They were some of the best in the season." Yn gave a small laugh, an amused laugh like she found him more than just kind.

"Alright Yn, your flowers will arrive in a couple weeks." Harry printed out a receipt. "Thank you for shopping with us, have a nice day," He said before handing the little piece of paper to Yn. "You too, thanks. She shoved the receipt in her pocket before heading out of the store. Harry couldn't help but keep his eyes memorized on Yn's walk. Such posh and elegance. He had to be snapped out of his thought when a venus fly trap ate a fly that was buzzing around Harry's head. Turning his sight toward the plant, a smirk crawled over his face. "Naughty little fella."

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

Yn kept the flowers cared for. Watering them every day, feeding them sunlight, blanketing them in soil and shading them when a thunderstorm would jolt over suddenly. She couldn't afford for anything to forsake them- the wedding was the very next day.

Smoothing out the little wrinkles of her yellow dress, Yn gathered the flowers into her car and drove down to the banquet hall. "Yn! You made it!" Leah looked down at the big bouqet of flowers in her hand. "Oh they're so pretty!" Yn blushed. "They really are beautiful Yn.... where'd you'd get them?"

"It's a place called 'The Ivy'. It's a nice british man who owns the shop- he sold these to me." Leah smiled, but let it shift towards one corner of her face. A furrow arched across Yn's eyebrows, but she shook it off and instead helped set the peonies over the hall and then mounted herself with the other bride's maids at the altar.

Yn waved Leah and Damein off as they got into their car and drove to their honeymoon destination.

After cleaning up, Yn checked the clock. Almost 7 o'clock. Yn settled into her car and drove down the brick streets that led to her apartment. A small but spacious pastel lavender hubble with Salmon waiting for her, peched on his playground. Meow! "Oh Salmon, mommy's tired right now..." Yn kicked off her heels and flopped down on the couch. "As it is... I'm going to order a pizza for dinner. Remember the pasta mommy made didn't turn out right?" As if Salmon could understand, he nudged his head against her thigh. Yn laid back and stared back at the chalky colored celling. Despite the ache of hunger lingering around her, one thought still loomed through the back of her brain.

The british flower salesman.

He was kind. His eyes didn't seem to waft the importance off of her. Even with the simple sell of peonies, his sweet smile made the final charge on Yn.

Hutton? Holden? Harold?.... Harry.

Harry begin to live inside her mind. He somehow floated through her dreams, her thoughts, her time. But hunger ached again. Sitting up, Yn reached for the phone that was sat beside the couch on the little side table with french wirering decor. She scanned the living room, then the kitchen, then around the corner towards her bedroom. Any corner where a vase filled with flowers could go. Yn had spotted the perfect coners. One perched against the jam of the front door, one neighboring the corner where the cookie shaped cookie jar stood and one in the corner towards the vanity and the closet.

The phone still in her hand, Yn held it to her ear after pressing the last two buttons. "Hi, this is going to be for delivery."

A smile crept across her face. Tomorrow morning, Yn would visit the shop again. She didn't know the flowers that she particularly had in mind, but she did know what she was looking for.

Harry. A name that somehow tattooed itself into every corner of her brain and into the deepest nocks and crannies of it. A seed had been planted, and Yn knew what to water it with.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles and yn #florist harry #harry troupe #troupe harry #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry one shot #harry ❤️ yn #harry x yn #harry and yn #flower shop #flower aesthetic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles love #harry styles fic

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pinkydevil16 · 2 years ago

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Benedict Bridgerton x reader: part 3

Part 1 Part 2

Benedict was in pieces as he gripped the paint brush, replaying the events of each encounter with Y/n. Each detail working it's way into his painting as he sketched her at lunch, the dark blue dress against the floral garden, her hands lightly holding a plate with a little cake on. His hands coated in charcoal and red raw from drawing and erasing over and over, the light not perfect or the colour not bright enough. His annoyance spiking as he pushed his hand through his hair, letting out a puff of air before dropping into his seat and staring at the painting. Surely this was a form of torture, to constantly be harassed by his mind and body to draw her, to sketch her into existence when the day before she'd been so close he could smell the scent of her perfume. Never feeling like it was enough, every detail was too blurry, not clear enough that he could reach into the canvas and pull her out. He wanted to watch it come to life as his muse became more life like yet never correct, he was a tortured artist like so many before him yet he was sure he was the only one to feel this way.

"Benedict! We must make haste!" He jumped as Eloise seemed so close but he could hear her voice echo off the walls as she screamed at the base of the stairs, his body feeling exhausted as he covered his art and left the room. Leaning against the stairs as he looked down at his family, Anthony and Daphne arguing over her choice of suitor whilst their mother told off Eloise for screaming and being unladylike.

"I apologise however i cannot attend tonight Mother, send my apologies." Benedict could feel the dark circles under his eyes, his fingers cramping from the lack of took between them, the exhaustion hitting him as he barely held himself up. It had not been 48 hours since he had seen her and it felt like he hadn't slept for 12 years, the life had been sucked out of him as she left with a small goodbye.

"No! You get your butt down here right now!" Eloise stomped her foot as she spoke, she despised balls and with Penelope unable to attend she needed Benedict to be her buffer from other Mama's or god forbid a potential suitor to speak to her. Benedict gave her a lazy smile as he shook his head, Anthony now paying attention as he scowled at his brother.

"Yes, get dressed we are almost late." Benedict went to argue but Colin was quick to shake his head as he drank from his glass, Benedict sighing as he entered his room.

"No, no, no! This is not nearly the correct colour for tonight Y/n. You have a suitor now, and he must be unable to look away. No dark colours, how about this?" Y/n looked away from the window to where her Mama held a pale pink dress, her nose scrunching up as she looked at the embellishments.

"I prefer blues and purples Mama, pink is beautiful however you once told me it washes me out under the lights." A gasp came from the older lady as she recalled the mild insult, nodding as she tutted at the hand maid pushing the pink dresses into her arms as she began sorting through the purple dresses. Y/n looking back towards the window as her Mama fussed, setting out a new dress along with a necklace and matching earrings, humming to herself as she smiled at her vision.

"Come, try this on and let me see. Oh i do hope he asks you to dance again, a Bridgerton! It is such an achievement, although most Mama's would not be happy about the second son but he is a handsome man." Y/n stood, allowing Maria to tighten her stays before placing the baby blue dress over her head and begin to button the back, her Mama speaking as she was pulled tight.

"Mama, he is a friend." Y/n's Mama waved her off as she continued speaking of how handsome and gentlemanly Benedict Bridgerton was, how sweet his mother was and each comment made Y/n's mind swirl. She liked Benedict, enjoyed his company and loved his art but she didn't want to marry, she wanted to do as much as she could before she would be sold off to some Lord or old man who wanted her to birth his babes. Her Mama, much like Violet, believed in love matches however she wasn't such a patient woman, she wanted to a love match to happen instantly and for her daughter to be wed by the end of the season. Any Mama's dream, a practical dream which suited the societal pressure of women.

"Has this gown gotten lower?" Y/n mumbled as she looked in this mirror, Maria pinning her hair back as Y/n frowned before her Mama waved Maria off and began placing jewels in her hair.

"I had some modified, it is nothing to be blushing about, i have heard of the Bridgerton men and how their eyes wander. I am simply ensuring that his eyes stay on you, do not give me that look. When i was younger women wore full corsets and their busts were barely contained." Y/n rolled her eyes as she adjusted her dress, her Mama lightly hitting her hand before Maria informed them of the time.

"Ahh! We cannot be late, come come." Y/n sighed as she followed her chaotic Mama, her Father standing by the door with a whiskey as he waited. Smiling at his wife and daughter before being hurried to the carriage by the older woman.

Benedict stood next to Eloise, a drink in his hand as always during a ball however now his eyes darted between the dancing couples and entry way, every minute ticking by making his hands grow clammy.

"You look tortured brother. Do try to not act so love sick around her." Eloise commented as she scowled at another man, making his eyebrows raise before turning away and hurrying back where he came from. Benedict almost choking on his drink before covering it with a cough, Eloise grinning as she watched her brother turn red.

"I am not love sick, the only one love sick around here is Daphne unless you count Anthony being sick of love." Eloise rolled her eyes as she leaned agains the wall, looking at her eldest Brother as he once again interrupted Daphne and the Duke.

"I do not see the interest in being married or being a show pony for the ton." Eloise sneered as Benedict rolled his eyes taking a drink.

"I agree, it truly is awful being poked and prodded." Benedict once against tried not to choke on his drink as Y/n appeared next to Eloise, a grin on her face as she watched Benedict, his neck and ears still bright red from Eloise's comment.

"Finally someone who has a brain!" Eloise almost shouted, watching Y/n as she grabbed a drink with a small eyebrow wiggle to Benedict to mock him.

"If i am the first person you've met with a brain then you should get better company Eloise." Benedict playfully shook his head as Y/n stood between the siblings, the heat of her body seeping into his as he contained the urger to shift and touch his covered arm to her naked one. Although it was warm he could see the small goosebumps along her arms from exiting the carriage, the slight blush to her skin from the change in temperature and windswept hair which looked beautiful against her skin. His eyes suddenly drawn to her chest as he watched her breathe, the dress tightening against her breasts with each inhale, his mind racing as he was sure it was lower than before. He was staring again, but he couldn't stop himself, his eyes slowly covering each part of her body until she spoke and broke his trance.

"Is Cressida glaring at me or you Eloise?" Benedict turned his head to see Cressida glaring in their direction, although he could see her glare was more on Y/n, most likely for being able to find a suitor compared to the blonde girl whose Mama seemed to scare any man away.

"I believe she glaring at you, it makes a change from the constant glare i receive." Y/n let out a snort making Eloise giggle as Benedict tried to contain his blush, everything she did was like the best drug to him.

"Hmm well it will be interesting to see how much she will glare when Benedict asks me to dance." Y/n turned to Benedict as he placed down his drink, a big grin on his face as he held out his hand.

"Would you have this dance with me Miss L/n?" Y/n gave him a playful grin as she took his hand, the pair gliding onto the dance floor for the third time since they'd met, and now it was easy, his hands didn't hover or waiver as he confidently placed them against her waist. Her hand fitting against his as he pulled her closer, reminding himself of the proper etiquette although he wanted to feel her pressed against him.

"I can feel the angry eyes of Mama's and daughters putting holes in my head." Y/n whispered, making Benedict laugh as he looked around seeing Cressida and her group of ladies all watching and whispering, although he could see the jealousy. It wasn't because she was dancing with him, it was because she was dancing with someone for the third time unlike many of the other ladies of the ton who had debuted this season.

"You should try feeling the glares from the men who you turned down last season, i sometimes think i'll be set ablaze by the looks." Y/n let out another snort as she playfully rolled her eyes, making Benedict grin as he watched her, amongst the glares and burning jealousy was Violet and Mrs L/n who were gushing over their children. Two happy Mama's who were conspiring to encourage the pair to admit feelings only one was sure they had, whilst the other was adamant not to feel it. As the dance came to an end the pair bowed, Benedict offering his arm which Y/n took with a small smile, collecting a drink each as they walked around talking quietly. Benedict taking in every little comments, each smile and laugh as well as each quirk of the brow or twitch of an eye. Almost cataloguing her movements to keep in his mind when he wasn't near her, drinking in everything he could.

"I need some air, i shall meet you in a few moments." Benedict nodded as Y/n walked through the double doors, her glass half empty as she placed it on a tray and disappeared from his sight. Forcing himself to stand by Eloise as he stopped himself from following Y/n and drinking in how she looked under the moonlight. It was heavenly in his mind, but he knew it would be ethereal in real life, potentially maddening.

Y/n let out a sigh as she leaned against the garden wall, the cold air helping her hot body, when she had been dancing it was like she was on fire. His hand on her waist was burning through her fabric and making her skin, but she didn't want to pull away, she wanted to be closer. Shaking her head Y/n played with her necklace, pulling it side to side as she calmed her nerves. She had danced with many different people and yet none had made her heart pound or body heat the way Benedict did, infact no one had ever made her feel so out of control.

"Miss L/n, are you alright?" Flinching slightly Y/n turned to see a previous suitor who she could not recall, placing a smile on her face as she nodded and moved slightly away from where he stood too close.

"I am fine thank you, a bit flustered from all the excitement of dancing. Excuse me." Y/n went to pass as he side stepped her, forcing her to stop as he blocked her way, a grin on his face as he looked down at her.

"You look beautiful tonight, the gown is exquisite, a lovely cut for your body if i might say." She could feel her lip twitch at his comment as she tried to keep her polite smile although she could see his eyes were only staring down at her chest and she cursed her Mama inwardly for modifying it to entice such men like the one before her.

"Thank you for the comment, i should get back before my Mama becomes concerned." The man didn't move instead he stepped closer, Y/n stepping back as she felt the cool garden wall against the back of her legs, her hands coming to steady herself as she gripped the wall to stop herself being rash.

"I am sure if a Mama allows their daughter to wear such dresses she would not mind you being here." The man stepping even closer so his chest almost touched hers as she dropped her polite smile and glared up at him, her hands fisting against the wall as she stood proud.

"A gentleman would never be so inappropriate, i suggest you step back sir." The man let out a laugh as he quickly looked over his shoulder before leaning down to place his hand on her waist, her hand coming to grab onto his, her nails in his skin as he let out a small hiss but didn't remove his hand. Matching her glare as he stared down at her with a sneer.

"You don't even remember my name, i tried to court you for weeks, i sent you flowers and each time i was turned away. Now you're entertaining a second son, an artist whilst i am cast aside. I am owed Miss L/n, and i intend to collect." Y/n closed her eyes as he got closer, her nails breaking the skin of his hand as he pressed into her waist, the alcohol on his breath making her want to gag.

"Marcus! Get the hell away from her." The man was pulled away, leaving scratches along his hand from where her nails had dug in, Benedict pushing his back as the pair glared at each other.

"Ahh if it isn't the lucky Bridgerton." Benedict stood in front of Y/n as she collected herself, watching the door as she feared this becoming a scandal, which would not only ruin her but her whole family.

"You reek of alcohol Marcus, leave before i knock you to the ground." The man let out a laugh as he shook his hand, small droplets of blood coming off as he did making Benedict smirk slightly before stepping forward as the drunken man stepped back.

"She's not worth all this. Don't worry Benedict you'll get knocked down once she throws you on the streets like the rest of us." Y/n could feel tears in her eyes as Marcus walked off, his hand hidden in his pocket before Benedict stood in her line of vision. Squaring her shoulder Y/n nodded and moved to walk around him, Benedict turning and grasping her arm gently as she did, her body turning towards him as he looked down at her.

"You're shaking, please just take a moment Y/n. Are you alright? I'm so sorry i should have come with you." Y/n shook her head, she could feel her hands shaking as she avoided Benedicts eyes, his hand barely holding her arm as he moved to touch her cheek softly. Flinching away from his hand Y/n finally looked up, she could see his heart break as she pulled her arm free and stepped back slightly.

"I am fine Mr Bridgerton, thank you for helping me but i really must return to somewhere far less private. This has already been a close call for a scandal and i do not wish for it to be found out." Benedict wanted to pull her into him and hold her until she didn't feel so afraid, her whole body shook gently as she took a shaky breath, his hand stayed close to her skin before he took a small step forward.

"Take a deep breathe in." Y/n nodded as she followed his instruction, his hand making contact with her skin as she closed her eyes, feeling him closer to her as he moved a step forward. His other hand taking hold of her cheek as he held her face, her eyes closed as he stroked her cheeks helping her to calm down.

"And breathe out." Again she followed his instruction, her body warm from his touch as she moved her hands to hold his wrists, opening her eyes to stare up at him.

"Good, just breathe okay? You're safe with me. I would never...you're safe." Y/n nodded, his thumbs brushing over the apple of her cheeks as he pushed a tear away, her hands barely holding his wrists as she inhaled deeply, holding it before letting it go. Benedict let his eyes drift from her closed ones, dropping to her lips as he continued to caress her face, his thumb moving to touch her lip as her eyes opened. His thump grazing across her bottom lip as he made eye contact, watching the emotion flash across her eyes, concern, fear, want. The latter made his heart skip as he leaned forward slightly, barely an inch but it was close enough that he could hear her inhale sharply, see individual lashes and how they sat along her eyeline. His thumb now moving across her bottom lip to the corner as he cupped her face and moved another inch closer, transfixed by her doe eyes and how her mouth opened a fraction to allow a gasp to escape. Her hands suddenly tightening on his wrists as she pulled away, stepping back and holding his hands away from her face, her lip between her teeth as she took a deep breathe. Cheeks red and hot although in the moonlight he could barely tell the difference, her eyes wide and filled with an emotion he couldn't understand.

"Thank you Benedict." Without another word she was gone, back inside where the music suddenly seemed to deafen him as he leaned against the garden wall, letting out a shaky breathe as he thought about how close he had come to kissing her. He'd been truly possessed, unable to pull away and he was sure if she had not moved he would have kissed her until her lips were red.

part 4

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton is a gentleman #bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #bridgerton benedict #bridgerton fanfiction

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zweetpea · 1 year ago

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The blue roses adorning his eyes (TBRAHE) Chapter 1 The Anniversary

Content warning: pg13 Swear words, talking about groping (once), infidelity, arranged marriages, read at your own risk

Let me know if I missed anything

The sun shone brightly through your window, as a knock on the door sounds throughout the room. “Your highness! Are you up? You have a lot of work to do today!”

“Come in Addie!” You shout. A nice lady about 18 or so comes in. She has short blonde curly bob, parted at her left, and dark blue eyes.

“How are you today your highness?” Addison smiled at you, as she brought you a tray of tarts.

“You can be casual with me Addie. The past 2 decades haven’t changed; we’re still friends and we always will be.” You snack on the tarts.

“I know, it’s just a bit awkward to call you by your nickname ever since you became queen.”

“That was two years ago. If the others in the palace can’t get it through their thick skulls that you’re special to me then they’re not worth the effort to explain it.”

“What if the king says something?”

“Then I’ll pick him up and throw him into the wall with my cursed technique.”

“What?! You can’t do that! He’ll have your head on a platter if you do that!”

“He’d have to get a blade through my neck to do that though.” You smirk knowingly at her. “So, what should I wear today, Addie?”

“How about the dress your father bought you recently?”

“The blue one?” You grimaced.

“Well, it is your 2 year anniversary; and it would match your husband.”

“That’s what I’m apprehensive about.” You said as you grabbed the dress from your wardrobe and walked into the bathroom to get ready.

After a bath and Addison helping to tie up your hair in a bun you exited your room in your new dress. White sleeves, a sapphire blue low cut bodice corset, a white skirt and a matching blue waist cape belt. “Y/n, wait! You forgot your jewelry.” Addison clipped a sapphire necklace, with silver flowers, on you; and finally placed a gold crown embedded with rows of sapphires throughout. “Cheer up, Y/n. I hear your husband has a surprise in the works for today.”

“If he has a surprise ready, it can’t be anything good.”

“I know that he’s a bit of an… eccentric man, but please, for the sake of the whole kingdom, try to trust him.”

“Okay.” You wouldn’t admit it to Addison but you’d try to get along with the boar that was your husband if it’s for her happiness.

You walked through the halls to your office and did some paperwork until noon. Noon was tea time and that’s when you’d be hosting a party for your anniversary. All of your and Satoru’s friends would be there.

“Y/n, It’s nearly time to go.” Addison reminded you.

“Addie… would you do me a huge favor?”

“Of course, your highness.”

“No, not as an order. I’m asking as a friend.”

“What do you need of me?”

“Could you accompany me to the party?”

“But, there’ll be so many nobles there! I’m just a simple maid, I can’t be a guest at your party! Plus I don’t have anything to wear, and I won’t know what to do or say.”

“I won’t know anyone else, there. You don’t have to dress up, but please come with me.”

“What if I embarrass you?”

“You could never embarrass me. You’re the most wonderful person in the entire palace. If I had you there it’d be a lot more fun.”

“Okay, if it makes you happy, I’ll go.” You smiled, hugging her while squealing your thanks to her over and over.

The garden was beautiful. A floral arch opened the garden, fountains on all four corners, every kind of rose lined the wall (a personal touch of your), and in the middle was several circular tables. At the table in the middle sat Shoko and Suguru. You and Addison walked over. “Is this where the king and queen plus company sits?” You asked. Shoko nodded inwhile Suguru rolled his eyes. You smiled politely at the two and sat down with Addison next to you. There was one more open chair next to her and you were grateful you wouldn’t have to sit next to your husband. Honestly if he didn’t insist on bringing his two lackeys everywhere then you probably wouldn’t even remember their names.

A little while into the party a woman came over to the table. She was in a short cyan mermaid dress with poofy sleeves. She had long blonde hair and gray eyes. “Excuse me, you’re in my seat.” She said to Addison.

“Huh?” Addison asked.

“This is my spot, it’s next to the king. Move. Now.”

You shot out of your seat. “Excuse me? How dare you speak to Addie like that!”

“Why is a stupid maid even at this party? It’s for important people… oh yeah, and the queen.”

“You insolent tramp! Don’t you insult the queen!” Addison spoke up.

“Do not raise your voice against me! Do you know who I am? I can have you drawn and quartered for your disrespect.”

“Have you gone mad? I am the queen and Addie here is my honored guest. Guards! Take this wench to the dungeon!”

“Hah! Like they’ll listen to you!” She mocked.

“Sorry ma’am but we can’t do that.”

“Why not? I am the queen!”

“Why is the harpy shouting?” The king entered the garden and several of the nobles snickered at his comment about you.

“Babe!” The floozy ran over to the king, jumped into his arms and kissed him right on the lips. “The queen is being so mean to me.” She pouted faking distress.

“Satoru, what is this?”

“She is my lover Marrisa. How could you be so heartless as to hurt her?”

“How could I? HOW COULD I?! YOU BROUGHT HOME A WHORE ON OUR WEDDING ANNIVERSARY!! Do you have any idea how humiliating this is for me?! Here! Take the stupid seat! Take mine too! Addie and I aren’t going to watch two sluts grope each other while the rest of us try to eat!”

“Your majesty, you disgust me. I hope and pray that these buffoons come to their senses and leave as well.” Addison remarks to everyone around and wrapped a protective arm around your shoulder.

Back inside your bedroom you sobbed into your pillow. “What am I going to do now Addie?”

“I don’t know; but I know that whatever happens I’ll be right next to you. We’ll get through this together.”

“Thank you for always being there for me. That’s one of the many things I love about you, Addie.”

“Thank you, your highness. I care very deeply for you and your wellbeing.”

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adureus · 1 year ago

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At his heels lie beds of near every hue ( pampered, thriving ), though their floral collection is limited. It's not for lack of ambition, or a lack of labour. Nay ⸻ the Blight has robbed the land of much. In that quiet morning, his only company is the babble of rills throughout the backyard's nursery, an echo of a lifestream in all sense. Not too long ago, this sight was consigned to fantasy. During their nascent years, they had naught ⸻ no seeds, no preparations were salvaged since Kupka's assault. All which remained would serve as monuments, mementos, proof of an existence lost to time and dust. He bristles at that. They need not desecrate memory with a want so trivial as a sample of a wildflower. Would he have thought the same of this passing request, some moons ago, regarding the harvesting of Snow Daisies and their seed ? Their temperamental needs were attributed and tailored to their environment. To mimic these conditions would normally be considered a trivial use of resources already strained thin. Once vernal lands choke on hibernal corruption, half-buried dreams, and an unprecedented scarcity both flora and humans alike must face. Yet their gardeners had achieved the impossible. Despite the odds, despite the difficulty. In secret, they'd mottled what they could. A modest patch, tended and nurtured. And now, their patience is rewarded, with the added boon of resilience.

Daisies aren't a common choice, but they embody a particular beauty. Refined, reticent in their presence, yet deadly. As is one Jill Warrick. Horticulture wasn't his forte, though he'd been informed of their toxicity. A fitting comparison perhaps, considering her skill with a blade. Roses, while cliché, deliver messages of affection effective and clear. Though, he gathers them this day not for the uniqueness of the arrangement, rather for a union of loyalty unwritten. Both flowers serve as vestiges of home, bundled in delicate parchment, suspend the glory and essence of nations beloved and bold. Rosaria and the Northern Territories, respectfully. Now they rest as bitter shells of yesteryear.

It’s a small, meaningful lull to days of activity and no pause. He’d even gone as far as inscribing words of appreciation onto paper ⸻ far from a letter of love ( and uncharacteristic ), he’d never been the sort to find himself fanciful with language. But she needed to know her importance to him : her contributions, his pride in seeing her grow and heal, and her ascension to personhood ⸻ unfettered, she climbs closer to the fruits of freedom.

The quill pauses then.

In youth, following her arrival, she held a predictable reticence. Yet, she also lacked a certain regality about her ⸻ no pretension or haughtiness embittered her words. The Princess of the North graced them all : a sharp interruption within the walls of Rosalith. So different. So stark. Blue to red. Red to blue. The Rosfield heirs welcomed her as any other, lacking prejudice and honouring her origins. It wasn’t long before she established roots for herself, now warmly settled despite her apprehension. And as they grew close, he’d learned much from her. With her, she'd brought wise perspectives, intentional words. Emotion guided her, true, as it did all youth ( before logic and maturity stunted their wonder of the world ), but she enlightened him with what many would consider an ancient wisdom. Perhaps the conflict had acquainted her with worldly knowledge, of lessons seldom taught so early. But war was not courteous enough to spare anyone. She’d protected him, cured him of indiscretion and lapsing confidence, remained realistic. She'd kept his expectations within the realm of man, constrained and attainable, promoted his success. Even at an age so tender, she carries words so wise. A song honed through generations, as though the Queen of Rime sung them within her ear, imbued through slumber. She’d done much for him ( down to catering to his own hound ! ) and in return, he’d incurred naught but debt ⸻ debts she futilely reminded he need not pay.

He’d insist.

During one of his father's annual tours, he'd reciprocate. Once they'd broken from the procession, exploring field and wood unseen, he'd aimed to surprise her with sights wild and wonderful. It would not be. The heavens wept, drowned his hopes, and earned her a nasty cold. Yet, she laughed nonetheless. Laughed lovely and sweet. He apologized post-haste. Bashful. Ashamed. Still, she forgave him. In retrospect, that’d been the day he’d come to love her much more than a friend. But fate is not so forgiving, and their separation stung deep and malignant as a wound ⸻ perhaps more so. Physical wounds mended with time and patience. The brunt of emotional wounds had a lifetime to foster their potential. And it’s precisely what he’d feared would happen. Once reconciled some thirteen years later, she forgave him. And again, he requests a pardon. It’s naught but apologies which he gifts her, or torment, or eves marked by worry. She gives unconditionally. He wishes to do the same. It took their reunion to rend him from a myopic, transactional relationship to war and destruction and a devilish temper.

To him, love is not overt. It’s intentionally unassuming, expressed through touch. The sweep of a strand too keen upon her brow, or a reassuring stroke to the small of her back. It's delivered through questions regarding her well-being, through attentiveness, through notes of her preferences. It's expressed through a protective glance in battle, or an assist ( akin to a dance. Poetic, albeit macabre, but harmonious nonetheless ). It's through the way he trusted her wholly with his affairs, both personal and professional. While she supports, she also challenges his ire, grounds him, reminds him of the alternatives. He needn’t be so headstrong, and throughout the years, she has reinforced his empathy, strengthened and nourished his soul.

The letter is completed, with melted wax to seal. It's melded with the pigments of woad and rouge leaning stains, not quite overtaking the default alabaster in its bleed. Two fingers press to lips, fall downward, impress atop parchment. Unseen, as an incantation, yet present. It’s the gesture which mattered most. He'd likely find her hovering about the map table of their shared chambers ⸻ her routine was predictable. She’d sift through newly delivered missives and glean any urgent matter. If she hadn’t dealt with them then he would upon his return. In that time, he hopes she will appreciate the gift in full, in the peaceful hum of shared company and thought. And, as predicted, as he emerges from those oaken doors, he is greeted by his beloved and a silken hello. She is usually the first to initiate, but he’d done so first, sinking into her approach, leaning, pressing lips flush and wanting into her own. It’s comforting. It’s sanctuary. The flutter of lashes tickle cheeks, as does her giggle ; in times like these he doesn’t feel so scorn. As they retreat to their short distance, fingers entwine with the bouquet and foreheads press. They fall into step naturally, recalling bygone days and the countless lessons for galas they never wholly got to appreciate. It’s only the creak and whispers of the Hideaway which serve as their tune. He didn’t mind. It’s a comfortable silence, a comfortable appreciation of the company they kept. He needn’t honour a day to show his gratitude, but at times he needs an arresting realization to slow down. He didn’t just live for himself anymore.

𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫. @nievea

#nievea #⸢ HERE happy valentine's let them be stupid and in love. ⸥#⸢ Me finding out Snow Daisies are poisonous like yeah that checks out ⸥#— 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘. ╱ missives. ❜

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password-door-lock · 2 years ago

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From the pale pink wallpaper to the rose gold chandelier, everything looks deliberate, as if the room were decorated just for you… or, at least, as if it were cleaned very thoroughly immediately prior to your arrival. Before you can stop yourself, you run a tentative hand over the shining accents on the walls, lips parting in silent wonder as you attempt to determine whether the panel molding is plated with real metal leaf or just shiny paper. Either way, someone has clearly gone through a great deal of trouble to coordinate the metallic trim with the freshly-polished light fixture in the center of the room. A row of black and white photos hang in dark wood frames above the bed; upon inspection, you recognize only the Eiffel Tower, but imagine that the rest depict famous landmarks as well.

And the bed itself… you know you would stick out like a sore thumb if anyone could see you testing it out. You’ve never laid on anything so luxurious before, and your oversized hoodie and jeans feel out-of-place and scratchy against the impressive linens. The mattress makes you very aware of just how old the one you have at home is— if you had the budget to splurge on something new, this is what you would get. You make a mental note to ask Ray to refer you to his mattress supplier after you finish testing the game. The pillows are beyond plush; they seem to rise and meet your head as you sink back into them. The misty rose bedspread must be made of silk or some equally exquisite material, you decide as you raise yourself off of it. You can only imagine that the sheets will be just as comfortable, but you know that if you tuck yourself into bed now, you may forsake any further exploration in favor of sleeping.

The runner at the foot of the bed features bubblegum flowers against a blush background, a perfect complement to the delicate floral upholstery on the chairs at the center of the room. These, with their golden frames, sit on opposite sides of a small round table with a vase full of flowers positioned atop it. Your limited knowledge of flora in general and your inability to identify the blooms on the table (or the ones by your bed, for that matter) do nothing to stop you from admiring the purple flowers, and then the white ones in turn. They all look so beautiful that, were it not for the Eastertide scent that they project throughout the room, you would be inclined to believe that they were made of plastic.

You push aside the gossamer curtains for a moment and find, to your delight, that your room overlooks a sprawling garden, complete with hedges and floral awnings, which blooms with a vengeance across a series of plots and planters. It is wild and tame at once, nature bent to the will of some very talented gardener and their precise aesthetic vision. No wonder the flowers in the vases are so well-formed… they must have come from outside. You wonder, momentarily, what a game development company could possibly be doing with such an extravagant garden: but the answer occurs to you as quickly as the question did. It must be to boost the morale of the workers, since just looking out the window is having such a positive effect on your mood. You make a mental note to ask Ray about it, anyway— maybe if you bring it up, he might invite you out to get a closer look, and a little extra information wouldn’t hurt. Clearly you have a lot to learn about the world of game design: before this morning, you had no idea that companies hired random strangers to live onsite and test their games!

You imagine that Ray must have come across your resume online and decided that you fit the bill, though you have no idea where to even begin with what the bill might be for a mobile game app tester. Or maybe you’ve played one of his games before without even knowing it, and he figured that his new project would be something you’d like. Shaking your head, you allow the curtains to close, willing yourself away from the window and over to the closet at the opposite end of the room. Before leaving home, you shoved a few spare outfits into your bag, but you’d admittedly been more focused on rounding up such necessities as your toothbrush, wallet, and phone. In the closet, however, you find a seemingly endless supply of clothing; each extravagant garment seems well-made and impressive in its own right. Everything bears a strong floral scent, as if it had just been washed, though you figure that a good deal of the shirts hanging in front of you must be dry-clean only. They are organized by color, and although many of the pieces are a bit extreme for your tastes, accented with outrageous ruffles or perplexing combinations of ribbons, puffs, and lace, nothing looks as if it would be particularly unflattering on you. You can’t say that this wardrobe was curated with your personal style in mind, but you understand immediately that it was brought here for you. Does this game development company employ a team of stylists, too?

You pull a few shirts out of the closet, careful not to damage their elaborate accent pieces, and determine that each of them is roughly your size, with a negligible amount of variation between them. You would expect such fancy clothes to be stiff, but like the bed linens and the curtains, everything in the closet is pleasant to the touch, soft but sturdy. You replace the shirts and redirect your attention to the impressive dresser, which is of antiquated style and features not only drawers but a hat box. One of the drawers is empty— Ray and his contemporaries must have expected you to bring a few things of your own— but the other three are filled with pieces as exquisite as the ones in the closet and a few slightly less-decorated nightclothes, all of which still feature at least a subtle hint of lace. They remind you of the costumes from a period drama, or what a character in a fairy tale might wear— whoever left these things here for you evidently had a certain aesthetic in mind. You blush at the thought that Ray, with his tailored jacket and antiquated waistcoat, might have had something to do with this. Surely he would be too busy to go to so much trouble just for you.

You really do feel like royalty when you open the hat box and discover that it contains not hats but spools of ribbon, along with an ornate jewelry box in the same shade of pink as the wallpaper. You fiddle with the golden latch for a moment before the box springs open; you slam it shut and force the closure nearly as quickly. Surely that pearl necklace, those silver earrings, and that bejeweled bracelet must not be for you? You’re willing to believe that the game developers have supplied you with clothes, but fine jewelry… that seems a little much. You realize with a start that you’re still wearing your shoes and quickly toe them off, carrying them back over to the closet and setting them on beside the others on the shoe rack. You hadn’t noticed it before, but now the five odd pairs of shoes are obvious to you… they’re all very nice, ranging from silk slippers to leather loafers, but none are very practical. Your own sneakers are probably some of the only ones on the rack that would be able to handle getting wet, though it does not escape your notice that everything appears to be your size. How on Earth did anyone get ahold of that kind of information? Maybe you should start actually reading the terms of service agreements associated with the games you download.

After inspecting the fine white carpet for anything you might have tracked in (thankfully, despite their years of wear, your sneakers were relatively clean when you arrived), you make your way to the ensuite, which is just as magnificent as the bedroom is. The cool porcelain tub could be a work of art, with its elaborate clawed gold feet and spacious off-white body. Not for the first time, you wonder whether the gold is real or just for show. The vanity, in white marble with gold accents, looks equally as impressive, and out of the same curiosity that has gotten you this far, you cannot help but open the drawers. The first contains basic products— cotton swabs, toothpaste (in the brand you normally buy, no less!), a hairbrush, and deodorant (also in your typical brand). Your tastes must be so basic, if your hosts just happened to buy everything you normally use. But maybe that’s a good thing— after all, you wouldn’t get it if you didn’t like it, and you’ll admit that you were worried about not having your normal toiletries during your extended stay away from home.

The second drawer is stocked with skincare: the cleanser, toner, moisturizer, and scrub are all the same as the ones you use at home, but there are also several other products you don’t recognize, each with a function more mysterious than the last. You’ve never gotten into skincare enough to understand gels or serums, but the masks look like they would be fun to try if you have any downtime in between playing the game and chatting with Ray. The last drawer contains even more products, including but not limited to a package of very fancy-looking French soap and a few bottles of salon-quality shampoo and conditioner. The razor, securely placed in a travel-safe container, is the same as the one you have at home, but the shaving cream beside it looks a little bit out of your price range. Even the cleaners under the sink look high-quality, with labels professing their all-natural gentleness. Not that you need them right now, anyway— the place is spotless, from the shining mirror to the marble countertops to the pale pink bath mat.

Once you run out of places to explore, you return to the main room and take a seat on the bed, mind racing even more than it was when Ray left. By now, you’re certain that the company you’re testing for must be responsible for some very popular games, if they can afford all this. Do all the employees here live in such luxury? You decide that they must— after all, you’re nothing special. But even so, now that you’ve seen where you’ll be staying, you’re excited to get to work testing the game… and to spend more time with the game developer who invited you to do so.

#mystic messenger #another story #mint eye #is this a drabble or a oneshot I genuinely do not know #there's no plot it's just room #everyone's favorite part of mystic messenger #a location #but this concept has also been living rent free in my head for days

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