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stnkiconverse · 5 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.

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#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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rainforestakiie · 5 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 · 9 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 · 10 months 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

Back to Masterlist

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

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gumballavocadoharry · 5 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 · 10 months 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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stormxpadme · 1 year ago

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Whumptober 2023 No. 19 - Floral Bouquet

Scogan Bingo challenge Poppy (Red) - Pleasure

The damn flowers should have been the first sign that today wouldn’t be going as expected, in hindsight.

Scott had everything planned out – of course, he did, organizing came as naturally as breathing to him and obsession was his second name. He'd arduously preached himself patience for the perfect date though he'd been sure for a few months already that he was going to ask Jean. The ring, she'd basically chosen herself, pointing it out in a shop window on a grocery run a couple of weeks ago. He'd roped in Hank to cancel one of the lectures for the current further training Jean was undergoing together with her old friend so that she could sleep in, and Jubilee was happy to help him out with breakfast because Scott simply sucked in the kitchen. Actually, nothing about this could go wrong. Yet as the sun started to come up, something Scott had not even needed to set an alarm for because he'd been too damn nervous to fall asleep all night, he saw with dismay a message on his cell phone telling him, the flowers wouldn’t be here in time. He'd placed the damn order two months ago; this was outrageous. Sure, it was Valentine's Day and car accidents happened; he wouldn’t be that asshole, writing the company a shitty Google review but … This was bad news, this was really bad news. With a curse, as silently as possible, he writhed his way out of bed, for once relieved that Jean hadn’t really been the cuddly type since her and his rebirth after that whole Phoenix drama, because of recurring nightmares on both sides. Meaning, he somehow managed not to wake her. With what was all but lighting speed, he reached for the next best pair of pants and shirt and raced into Ororo's garden behind the house, hoping his friend wouldn’t take his head off with the help of her morning teacup, for stealing a few of her precious flowers. He almost – almost – made it back to the teacher floor in time.

Except when he just wanted to step into the elevator, one of the little ones came up running behind him for a daybreak hug, and thanks to only just recently growing paws instead of hands and feet, the girl's balance was terribly off at the moment. So she promptly stumbled and fell, bruising her knee on the coarse carpet.

Until Scott was finished comforting the little one and came up with a Spider-Man band-aid from some First Aid Kid nearby to dry the last tears, the sun was already bright in the sky, classes were about to start, and his mood was threatening to drop below zero. If he was unlucky, Jean would already have left their apartment for some workout or one of those meditation sessions Charles and Emma had ordered her after that whole possession catastrophe … Scott sighed a breath of relief when he came all but running back to their door and saw the food tray Jubilee had prepared for him still standing right outside the door. Which meant, unless Jean had taken the window for some telekinesis training, he hadn’t fucked up yet. Balancing a whole board full of coffee mugs and plates filled to the brim with all of his girlfriend's favorites, like salmon sandwiches, strawberries, and chocolate croissants, still being quiet was a mission lost though.

Luckily, Jean still looked sufficiently sleepy when he carried that thing towards the bed, blinking at him with a yawn and a surprised smile that he'd very much come to miss since that catastrophe of her demon that had not only almost ripped them both from their lives but damn near set the whole world on fire. "To what do I owe that effort?" Brushing her adorably messy red tresses from her face, Jean sat up to take a closer look at that tray, only now spotting the hastily-picked flowers placed on its side. A confused look at the calendar on the wall finally had her eyes go wide, a chuckle breaking from her lips. "When did you start being a romantic?"

Huh. So the occasional anniversary gift, mixtapes for common training, cute sticky notes on Jean's scientific papers, or city sightseeing trip together in the course of some missions weren’t enough in terms of attention. Well, there was always room for improvement. "A guy can learn. Besides …" With the whole proposal-at-sunrise-script already ruined anyway, Scott decided to waste no more time. Putting the tray down carefully over Jean's half-naked legs, he knelt down next to the bed, feeling himself blush, his hands slightly shaking as he reached for the snow-white box he'd just barely remembered to store in his shirt pocket before storming out. "I thought maybe we should be doing Valentine's properly this year …" All those lengthy words, put down on a dozen drafts and all blasted to pieces because none of them seemed to do it justice, how important that woman was to him and how happy he was that he'd been given this new chance of a life together with her … All of that weighty reminiscing, declarations of affection and promises were suddenly nothing but a blank page in Scott's head when the color drained from Jean's face as her gaze fell on the ring.

Indeed, she promptly almost dropped the coffee cup she'd already reached for. Had he read it that wrong how much she'd held on to him since they'd returned to life? Maybe she just wasn’t that far yet in her readjustment to life, just like Emma had warned Scott. Maybe her mind wasn’t stable enough yet for big decisions, for changes in her life …

The last thing he should be doing was putting pressure on her, making her feel like he wouldn’t wait patiently for her to really commit to stuff like formalities and planning their own little family together, forever if he had to … It must be showing in his face that he was rapidly contemplating all the excuses he could come up with to put that ring right back where it belonged, play it all down, acting like this wasn’t what it looked like at all, just to not make things awkward between them.

Before he could pull his hand with that box away, Jean gently held it tight with an invisible grip around his wrist. By now, Scott had somehow learned not to startle anymore at such of a touch of her power, in spite of having been at the lethal receiving end of it not too long ago. An enchanting smile chased such memories quickly away. "Well, come on then, say it. I know you've been dying to make that speech."

"How about we cut this short and you just say Yes?" Scott suggested, rubbing the back of his neck in growing panic because he still couldn’t remember for the life of him what he'd meant to say, and taking a look at said notes in his bedside drawer was obviously out of the question …

Smirking, Jean leaned across the tray for a brief, sweet kiss and then reached out her hand to him so that he could finally slip that ring on. Maybe that was all the answer needed already.

*****

As much as Scott would have loved to stay, with all those delays, he had no choice but to leave for his own morning duties. He only just made it to change into a workout shirt and shorts before the well-known sound of an adamantium-steeled fist almost knocked their apartment door from its hinges. "Coming!" Scott rolled his eyes behind his glasses and quickly gave Jean another kiss before all but floating outside, his half-empty coffee mug on his lips. "It's five to eight, Claws. No need to get impatient."

"I'm not." Logan shrugged, never horribly verbal before his third coffee, and hurried ahead to the stairs toward the cellar. "Just thought you could use a distraction, so wanted to make sure you don't forget that sparring session."

"Distraction …?" Scott tilted his head at his teammate questioningly, only now realizing Logan was looking back and forth between him and the closed apartment door as if he knew something about what had been planned there this morning.

"Heard ya order the flowers in the control room a couple of weeks ago." Logan shrugged, apparently not ashamed about eavesdropping. "Just figured, you might need a bit of battle adrenaline if she …"

"She didn’t." Scott was quick to allow that grin back on his lips when he finally got what his friend was thinking.

Of course, he was. After all, Logan and he were the persons who'd been closest to Jean after her resurrection, and Logan had played an important part in putting Jean's soul into balance before taking a step back which Scott was still very grateful for. It was only natural for him to be skeptical, probably.

Even when there was no more need to. "It's all good, she said yes."

"Huh. That's great, bub." The surprise in Logan's narrow hazel eyes almost felt insulting, but then there was a smile on his lips that looked like it was sincere. Logan even went as far as pulling Scott in a quick half-hug which was arguably the most one could expect from someone emotionally so constipated in terms of an enthusiastic reaction. And also the closest they'd been outside of training ever since calling this whole weird, interesting but ultimately just too unconventional thing between the three of them off two months ago.

Scott found with a hint of patient resignation that the so very distinctive scent of a good stiff drink and half-smoked cigars always surrounding Logan's stocky shape still didn’t leave his hormones entirely cold. Nothing that counted any longer though. "You're gonna be my best man, right?"

"I wouldn’t dream of it," Logan replied brusquely to his disappointment before carrying on to the elevator as if nothing had happened, punching the button that would get the cabin straight to the Danger Room. "I plan to spend that day as far away as possible from this house."

His stomach suddenly in an even worse knot than before the proposal, Scott waited until the door had closed and there weren’t any possible listeners nearby to a conversation he'd hoped he'd never have to have again. It hadn’t been exactly a secret what had gone down between the three of them after the Phoenix crises, but neither Logan nor he were keen on having their love life plastered all over the blackboard. Especially when there was apparently another episode of that unworthy soap opera in the making. "I thought you said, you no longer wanted to be part of us."

"I don't," Logan said calmly, with so much sobriety in his gravelly voice that Scott decided to believe, that subject was indeed closed for good. Not least because he was determined not to let it destroy this wonderful day.

****

They had a good spar after that, strengthening their partnership in the field in a bloody but successful simulation against Sabretooth and Mystique at Magneto's old headquarters on Genosha. Scott was even successful, not glancing to the neighboring shower stall a single time when they brushed off sweat, a few shallow cuts and abrasions, and the last of battle adrenaline afterward. After today, such annoying, childish desires for something no longer relevant in his life should be a thing of the past for good. It had been fun while it had lasted, sure, but in the end, he'd always been Jean's, and Logan had seemed honest about being good on his own just as well. Neither their plans for life nor their temper were even close to being a good match, so whatever attraction might occasionally still be simmering between the three of them, with time, it would surely fade. Scott would turn his full concentration to the woman he was in love with henceforth, and thinking about it … For someone he was now engaged to, he'd not seen said beautiful redhead for far too long … Sadly, teaching days at Mutant High always meant a packed schedule, so Scott hadn’t even really finished the thought yet that he could stop by in the sick bay where Hank and Jean were working on Jean's ambitious current science project for her studies before Jubilee caught Logan and him off outside the Danger Room.

"Professor Summers? Do you have a minute for tutoring before math classes start? Me and statistics aren’t gonna be friends anytime soon." The girl rolled her pretty almond eyes at her admittedly really quite lousy last test results in her hand. The teenager was apparently so busy with her worries about the upcoming finals that she'd already entirely forgotten again what she'd been paid some extra allowance this morning for.

"Sure, let's find an empty desk." Scott said goodbye to Logan with a quick nod and went ahead to the elevator, throwing Jubilee a broad grin. "Breakfast was delicious by the way. I'd say that swayed the odds in the right direction."

"She said yes?" Jubilee sounded as if Scott had just asked her to hold the upcoming class for him but quickly lightened up when Scott couldn’t quite hide an offended grimace on his lips for the second time within an hour. "I mean, of course, she said yes, how could she not, with all the preparations? You and I make a great team. And don't you forget that when the next negotiations about free spots on your team come up, Professor Summers." Jubilee's smile looked almost a little too bright and enthusiastic now, but Scott decided, when it came to such a wonderful subject, maybe that wasn’t even possible.

There wasn’t a lot of time to dwell on his confusion anyway because some teenagers in this house and math, that was worlds colliding, and they were short on time, as usual.

****

"Aren't we waiting for Jean?" Scott interrupted Ororo before she'd done more than take a breath to start the weekly teachers meeting. So far, he'd been waiting for the spot on the sofa next to him in Charles' office in vain, but it wasn’t exactly unusual for his girlfriend to be late, especially when she was immersed in her test tubes and files together with Hank.

"Uh, I didn’t send her an invitation this time." Ororo gave him a look from over her notepad that Scott didn’t see for the first time today, and that was really starting to get on his nerves. She apparently didn’t notice the way Logan was more or less inconspicuously signaling her from the other side of the room to shut it, while Charles over there at his desk looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here right now. "There's nothing we need to talk about with regard to her subjects, and I thought, maybe you two could use a few hours apart after … uh …"

"After what?" Scott snapped at her, harsher than he should but what every person in here seemed to think about his relationship was quickly becoming depressing. Maybe that was what just happened when the last attempt at said relationship had ended with the woman in question tearing you into neat little particles unwillingly. Which was exactly why he wanted to get the damn ceremony planned as quickly as possible now, so people would finally realize, Jean and he were just fine. "Since gossip already seems to be spreading in the halls, maybe you should be listening better, 'Ro. She said yes, and we already got plans for the appointment. It's heartwarming to see how much faith you all have in us."

Ororo held up her hand in surrender, visibly feeling bad for the slip-up, a brief white shadow over her dark pupils, a strong gust of wind outside revealing she was upset. "I'm sorry, Scott. I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought, maybe she wasn’t ready yet, you know?"

"Well, she was." Still grumbling a little, Scott turned to his notes for the conference but found he couldn’t quite follow the conversation quickly ensuing. His thoughts were with the scene in the morning, with that brief look almost of terror on Jean's face, with the many whispers he'd heard behind his back in the course of the morning, and few of them had seemed exuberant.

Had he made a mistake? Was it too early to ask Jean to act like she hadn’t almost torn the universe apart like she wasn’t still in weekly therapy and having mental sessions with Charles and Emma to make sure her soul was now protected from that damn demon? Of course, his lover had a lot to deal with, of course, she would always have to fight, especially people's prejudices against her person and to keep control over her now so powerful gifts …

But shouldn’t it be Scott's job as her partner, supporting her in that, being there for her as much as he could instead of walking on eggshells around her all the time and often allowing their relationship to be on the back burner just to go easy on Jean? Suddenly he was filled with so much restlessness himself that he could hardly wait for the meeting to end and went straight back to his apartment instead for lunch afterward, not even quite sure exactly why. The excuse to drop the damn flowers there that had finally been delivered by now was as good a reason as any to sit down and think for a moment why nothing really worked the way it should on this day that should have been such a happy one … And then he walked inside the bedroom door and finally, finally got it.

Jean looked up with a startle from the two suitcases she was busy packing, obviously not having expected him. Immediately, she went pale again, her lower lip quivering as her cheeks flushed. "Scott …"

"Really. Really, Jean?" Much too dumbfounded to even become angry, Scott dropped on the bedroom bench, that stupid bouquet still in his hands, and tried to find anything to say in vain, something angry, something hateful maybe even. The worst about all this, maybe, was that he couldn’t even be surprised. Jesus, how blind had he been in the last few months?

"I tried, Scott. I did." Jean quickly came around the bed, sitting down on the floor in front of him to try and catch his gaze, but somehow, she'd forgotten how to do that through the obstacle of his glasses since her rebirth. "It's not that I don’t care about you, you know that. But I'm not good for a relationship with anyone right now, and I didn’t realize that this morning."

"Shouldn’t you let me decide that? If I can't deal with it or not?" he asked, with numb lips, not hoping to convince her even … He just wanted answers. "Why run immediately? We can work this out, Jean. I'll be there for you. If I went too fast with this whole thing, that's not a problem. We can wait …"

"You don’t understand. You know what I did after you left?" Jean stared down at her hands dully as if the glistening of a certain piece of jewelry there made her uncomfortable. "I called Emma. But not to tell her that now she'll definitely never have a chance with you again but to ask for an emergency session tonight. Just because for a second, I could swear I heard Phoenix laugh in the back of my head when you came in here with those flowers. I can't do this, Scott." Jean closed her hands gently around his face, and ever since dying by Alkali Lake, he'd never felt so much like shying away from her. "You did nothing wrong. Anyone should fall on their knees and pray to have someone like you as their partner. That's exactly why I won't be an obstacle in your life any longer. I can't give you what you deserve, and I'm not sure that's ever gonna change. I need to be my own person first and foremost before I can share this new life of mine with anyone. And I don't want you to wait for something that might never happen." After a last sad glance down on her finger, she pulled her ring off and thrust it into his hand. His was shaking. Hers wasn’t. "Sell that thing and buy a couple of rounds for Logan and you in your favorite joint. I got a feeling, he's waiting outside already."

"Guess I'll leave you to it then." Scott pushed himself up again, still far too alienated even for reproaches, no matter how justified they might have been. Useless, and apparently it had been so from the start, no matter what he could have tried. At least about that, he wanted to be sure. "Did you ever mean it? When we woke up inside those clones back then and you said you wanted to give us another shot? When you said yes today?"

"I wanted it more than anything when we started over back then." Jean swallowed hard, wiping her reddened eyes with the back of her hand. "But all that goodwill and wishful thinking wasn’t enough. The moment I accepted that ring this morning, Scott … I guess I already knew that I didn’t want that attempt to fail either. Do you really want a girl who's fearing a divorce already before you've even tied the knot?"

Scott didn’t.

*****

Logan was already waiting in the hallway, and for some reason, that made Scott far more pissed than no longer having the girl he'd been with ever since turning 18.

Because if there was one thing Logan's rugged face was not showing when he saw Scott step outside that door with that huge, expensive bouquet in his hand, it was surprise. Instead, he just thrust a cigar into Scott's hand uncompromisingly, took him by the elbow almost gently, and led him straight to Logan's apartment at the end of the floor, locking the door behind them. That was apparently it with any kind of duty for today. "Charles and Ororo know. They'll do your classes."

"So that, you all can believe, huh? That she dumps my stupid ass on Valentine's, that seems perfectly normal to you." With a bitter laugh, Scott dropped down on Logan's sofa, just throwing those damn flowers somewhere on the ground. That money, he really should have spent on a good bottle instead.

"I'm a feral, Slim," Logan reminded him, still conspicuously softly, already busy with some whiskey and glasses, judging by the clanking and rummaging from his kitchen corner. "My amnesia rendered my instincts worth shit back then and I'm still relearning how to read the world around me right. But sometimes I get a hunch from what I can sense in people, and those are usually not that far off."

"A hunch." Scott only too gladly reached for the drink he was offered though he felt sick already. "You're telling me I'm sitting here with a hole the size of Texas in my heart because half the people in this house had a hunch that Jean long stopped wanting me but no one bothered to tell me."

"They probably hoped for the best, just like I did." Logan took the spot next to him, so close that when the sofa dipped under his weight, their legs touched in a maybe not coincidental gesture of comfort that Scott couldn’t bring himself to pull away from. "People in this house love you a lot, you know. Should have noticed that when they moved literally heavens and earth to bring you back at the time. Would've been a beautiful story, you and Jeannie." Logan knocked back his own drink in one go without batting a lid, a hint of bitterness and never-forgotten longing in his drooping shoulders, his weary voice. "But with what she is now? Don't think that's gonna happen, Slim. Wish I had better news for ya, believe me."

"Just give them to me sooner next time," Scott hissed, only his voice lacked a lot of energy, and the alcohol tasted stale in his mouth. When Logan wrapped his arm around his waist in another unexpected close gesture, he could finally allow the tears to fall.

*****

Scott wasn’t sure for how long he'd been drowning Logan's sweater in salt water but it was dark outside by the time, he fell asleep for a few badly needed minutes of rest on that damn sofa that was actually far too short for his exaggerated height. He awoke with a grimace and back pain promptly, but also to the delicious smell of pasta from that kitchen corner. He was surprised to feel he was actually hungry. "You seriously cooking for me right now? That bad conscience really kicking, huh?"

"Got none. And I was hungry." Unfazed, Logan handed him a plate filled to the brim with the empty carb kind of spaghetti, far too much cheese, and enough ball peppers to burn his mouth out, probably. It was the best goddamn thing Scott had eaten in months.

After Logan had also coaxed a whole bottle of the healthier stuff into him while they were eating, over only the sound of some baseball rerun on the TV, Scott didn’t feel that off anymore. He had no plans of returning to his apartment as he usually would have at this time though, knowing he'd been greeted by a half-empty cabinet and missing pictures on the walls. As he put down his plate to the ground – one of these fine days he'd buy Logan a damn coffee table, he thought dully – his sight fell on that heap of leaves and glitter and petals on the carpet. Not even sure why, he picked it up, with tight lips, ripping off the greeting card still attached to the cord. A weak grin on his lips, he held it out when he heard the very well-known snikt of an extending claw next to him and watched the paper tear to pieces on an adamantium tip. It was strangely satisfying. "That arrangement got a nice color at least? I'd hate to have wasted a whole night shift bonus on an ugly non-engagement gift."

Logan made a non-committed grunt in the back of his throat, maybe just glad Scott was no longer crying his eyes out on his shoulder. After Alkali Lake, and now this, that should have been the last time this happened over the same damn woman. "Almost the shade of your glasses. Bet the designer wanted to bone you. Let me see that." Logan fished for the inscription card still attached to the flowers' cord whereupon Scott's and his hand briefly touched which had them both startle, now that the instinctive, amicable closeness from earlier had faded. For once it was Logan, scooting away with a look on his face Scott couldn’t quite place, a snort on his lips when he read the information card. "Told ya. It's poppies. This says their color stands for pleasure. Guess they thought you had big plans with your girl tonight."

Scott's embarrassed chuckle turned into a far more cynical sound halfway. "Yeah, well, no such luck. We didn’t make it past holding hands since you no longer came by. She said she didn’t trust her mind enough yet," he tiredly added when Logan made a surprise noise. "Because of Phoenix. You know how jealous that cosmic bitch was … is, whatever. She offed me at the time because she wanted to have Jean on her own. With you in the room with us, she felt safe, she said, but …" Scott lifted his shoulders in exhaustion, no longer sure he even wanted to think about if all those explanations for the lack of intimacy between Jean and him lately had in fact not rather been excuses. "Let's be real, Jean stopped physically being into me the day she saw you shirtless for the first time. I tried what I could but …"

"That's the problem, Slim, you tried and tried and forgot to look out for yourself. Always told you, you're too damn good for this world." Logan threw the ruined bouquet somewhere behind them and turned to his side on the sofa, propping his legs up on Scott's as if he had a right, a half-opened bottle in his hand that he stared at so intently as if the answers to all questions that had never been quite solved between them, could be found at the bottom. "You know why I didn’t tell you when I realized what was up with Jean? Or why I quit you? Please don't tell me you bought it that I didn’t want you anymore. Come on, you're smarter than that. You're seeing sharper than that, poppy glasses or not." When Scott still just stared at him quizzically, Logan let out a deep sigh and reached for his hand with his free one without much ado, and Scott did no longer have it in him to wonder why he didn’t pull away. "Every time we did this thing … whatever it was, the three of us … I can't remember you enjoying yourself a single time. You were all about her. When I tried to make it good for you, you always sent me back to her. You spent so much time since she came back making sure she was alright that I was beginning to think, that was what you needed. That this was what made you happy. I just wanted you to be fine after what happened with Phoenix, because you deserve that. Thought you two could manage that better when I'd be out of the picture. Should have known that only meant, there was no one to care about you left at all. That's what I feel shitty about. Not that you're finally free of someone who never deserved you."

Only now Scott's hand did something, trying to tug away from that tight grasp, surely … It was surely only some accident that instead, he let himself be pulled down on that damn sofa, halfway onto Logan's broader, muscular shape … It was also definitely only that too spicy food burning under his skin suddenly, not the vague question flashing through his mind if Logan's lips would still feel the same. And what it would be like, actually giving in to the wish of experiencing all that this man had wanted to do to him back then already but for which there somehow, never really had been time. "You realize I've only just been left alone, right?" he murmured half-heartedly, inches away from those broad, tempting lips. A last bit of resistance at least to that damn attraction between them that had never gone away even after calling their poly constellation quit. Maybe, Scott finally had the answer why. He just wasn’t sure he could let it into his heart yet, not after that clusterfuck that had been this Valentine's. "You deserve better than me throwing myself mindlessly into the next adventure just to numb the pain, in case what we have is not enough."

Logan shrugged, in that unimpressed half-sided way that Scott only could believe from this man was actually sincere. "I'm used to pain. And I ain't saying I do anytime soon, just so we're clear, so no harm in fooling around for a while, Slim. As long as you don't wake me up with breakfast a year from now, we'll be just fine."

"Oh no, never would," Scott deadpanned, just to annoy Logan a little because he was pretty sure if he allowed the guy to kiss him now, he'd be naked within 10 seconds. "I hate repeat performances. For you, I'll save the serenade and serving you donuts on my dick."

Logan didn’t even flinch – someone was in head over heels, definitely. Reaching between them unblinking, he drew a strangled moan from Scott's lips, pawing at the quickly growing bulge at the front of his jeans. "Think I can eat that up just fine without any chocolate or sugar." Before Scott had decided if that was a threat or a promise, Logan kissed him, finally, letting go of him to his disappointment in favor of wrapping both arms around his hips, pulling Scott fully on top of him, a combination of a longing sigh and a turned-on growl vibrating against his lips.

It wasn’t too comfortable because of their height difference and that damn sofa still being far too short and yet Scott didn’t want to miss a single second of that hungry touch of a greedy tongue slipping into his mouth, or those large hands slipping under his shirt, slowly rubbing up and down his back, keeping him close in this long-missed embrace so that he couldn’t even try and give some of those patient caresses back. That wasn’t what this was about, he quickly realized when they ended up in Logan's bed soon, both half naked, panting in growing excitement. They'd never done this in here before but with that well-known, earthy smell suddenly all around Scott, crumbled sheets instead of the impeccable tidiness of his own place, a couple of empty bottles on the nightstand being a proof of the inner demons his old-new lover, too, was always battling … There was suddenly no place he rather wanted to be. Maybe it didn’t even matter much if this would be temporary or not if they would ever be anything close to what he'd once hoped he'd become with Jean. Maybe all that counted was how much he suddenly felt wanted. Scott couldn’t remember when he'd buried his hand in Logan's thick, wild hair for purchase but whenever he tried to let go, to at least peel that guy out of his shirt, Logan did something especially wicked with his tongue where it was busy, following every ridge and line of Scott's quickly heaving chest, and he forgot about it again.

From the couple of rather sober touches in their bed of three at the time, he expected roughness, maybe some of those kinks Jean, in particular, had been into, and maybe they'd get back to exploring those at some point … But for now, Logan seemed entirely satisfied with driving Scott crazy with his slow licks and kisses, just an occasional harder tug on his nipples when he came back up for more of those deep kisses again and again. It was only then that Scott could feel his lover be just as turned on, thick hardness grinding into his own under those tight jeans, but whenever he tried to sneak his hand between them to get at least a button or a zipper open there, it was caught in a firm grasp and pushed back under some pillow without Scott having to feel restrained in a way he wasn’t sure he could have handled, not yet.

Only when he thought, he couldn’t take that tension anymore, when he was arching up against Logan's stomach with every sharp nip to his oversensitive nipples, every strong, massaging caress up and down his willingly spread thighs … Only now, that skilled mouth finally went lower on his body, the open halves of his pants pulled aside, his briefs out of the way just as quickly before velvety hotness wrapped around the head of this cock. Scott instinctively took a hand in front of his mouth to stifle a groan that he didn’t want to make it past the thin walls on this floor to certain neighboring apartments. His hands were still smelling of those damn flowers, one of the oval petals caught in those stupid cufflinks he'd put on this morning for the special day. He didn’t think he would be wearing cufflinks again anytime soon but at that moment, he really did start warming up to the sweet intensity of a certain flower the same color that he was forced to see the world in most of the time, in that first real night together with someone he'd never thought was even really interested in him. Someone who almost made him come into his damn pants with just his lips and tongue. The flower of pleasure indeed. Scott plucked the petal from his sleeve with a smile and used it to tickle Logan's neck, grinning when his lover scrunched his nose at him. No, neither of them would become a real romantic anytime soon, and seeing where the Eiffel tower, love letters, and flowers had gotten Scott last, that was probably for the best. But what they did share … Scott actually wanted to share that, indeed. One-sided, he'd had long enough. "Let me touch you? Please?"

Logan shuddered in a way at that one last word that had Scott suspect, maybe it wouldn’t even take that long before they'd be back to a little power pay and submission in bed, from time to time. "Jesus, Slim, how anyone can let your hot ass walk away from them is beyond me. Second round is all yours, don't worry. Right now, I just …" Lowering his head again, without letting go of Scott's gaze, he slowly circled the head of Scott's cock, licking off a few thick drops of white, with a hum of enjoyment as Scott bucked up and groaned against his palm again. "I want to make you scream so loudly, no one's gonna need telepathy to hear. Hold still."

It came too softly to be an order but Scott followed it gladly anyway when Logan thrust his head down onto him once more, sucking him in inch by inch until his lips were flushed with Scott's body and the pure strength of his throat muscles swallowing all around him almost made Scott come on the spot. With a curious, gentle fingertip slipping between his ass cheeks on top, slippery enough from saliva and precum, the next assault of that kind was sure to break his last restraint. When Scott squeezed his eyes shut with Logan's name on his lips as he emptied himself down his lover's throat only seconds later, he could still see nothing but poppy red, and for once, it was not his mutation to blame.

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