#posy vase

[kristinchen]

Die Rosen fangen an zu blühen und doch bist du nicht hier. Da wo du es mir versprochen hast du bleiben.

[officeflower]

Say hello to summer with this beautiful and special set of flowers in a glass jar!💕

👉 Office Flower's Native Posy

[fictionismyreality3]

Flowers and First Dates

Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, home invasions, allusions to violence

Notes: this is the longest fic I’ve written in so long and now my fingers hurt 😞

Whoever was crashing around in your store downstairs really wasn’t going to find much. It was 4am, and you had long since put away any profits for the day. Which is why it took your sleep drunk brain, eyelids heavy with a forgotten dream, to realize this was actually happening.

The sharp cracking of what you’d long since memorized to be the sound of a flower pot breaking stirred you out of your frozen terror.

Springing up from your bed, your flung the covers off in a panic, a jolt of sheer dread going down your spine when you heard a set of heavy, lumbering footsteps climbing the stairs that connected your flower shop to your flat. To you. Stumbling blindly in the dark, you pushed away the urge to turn your beside light on.

Somehow in your panic you had enough foresight to try and deceive your would-be thief into thinking you weren’t home. With shaky hands, you unlocked your phone, hitting the call button for one of your newest contacts without thought.

Price was happy for Kate. Really, he was. But the warmth and open love he saw in the eyes of her and her wife did nothing to stop the growing sour spot in his chest. And when they’d announced their plans to have a baby, even if it was just told to the small inner circle of the team, it dug the knife in John’s gut deeper.

Pushing open the door of the nearest place he could find to buy flowers, he brushed his shoes on the mat, fixing the collar of his coat in an attempt to pacify his gruff appearance.

The sound of the bell jingling brought your vision from the invoice book you were filling out.

"Hi, what can I help you with?"

Jesus fucking christ.

All the air got knocked out of Price's lungs, his mouth opening and closing as he stood there like a gaping fish. You were like a ray of sunshine. All bright smiles and dainty hands, elegant movements that he couldn't help but follow with his eyes.

And fuck, that sundress you were wearing, a pretty yellow that he was sure would be permanently burned into his eyelids. Yellow was his favourite colour now.

Running a hand over his beard, John let out a huff of air, a tortured feeling screwing itself deeper into his chest. There were posies or some shit dotted along the fabric of your dress, the dress that had his hands twitching at his side as he itched to rip it off of you. He almost forgot he was supposed to be looking at flowers for Kate, not at the flowers covering your pretty little-

"Is there something in particular you're looking for, sir?"

Sir, sir, sir, sir, sir, sir, sir-

Trying not to look like a creep, John cleared his throat, a sheepish smile on his face. "Just lookin' for some flowers for a collegue of mine, luv."

Luv, luv, luv, luv, luv, luv-

Plastering on a polite smile in an attempt to hide how your cheeks were heating up in a blush, you stepped out from around the counter, brushing the dirt off your hands. Helping him search for the right combination, you plucked out some myrtle, yellow roses, and daffodils. As you placed each one in the vase, you went over the meanings, unaware of John's intent gaze on your face.

He had no clue what a begonia was but god did he like hearing you talk.

By the time you were done putting together the bouquet, John seemed unable to wipe the smile off his face, his eyes on you the entire time. It was only when you started ringing up his total that he realized this interaction would remained entirely transactional unless he did something about it.

"Say, luv, y'got a lad waiting for you at home?" It was blunt, but he figured it better to rip the bandaid off, spare him the torture.

Your hand stilled over the buttons of the register. "Uh, no. I don't." A nervous chuckled burbled out of your mouth, cutting through the air.

"Y'want one?"

Shit.

The words seemed to catch in the air, lingering tauntingly between the two of you as Price kicked himself for not keeping a better hold on his tongue. Sparks of uncertantity fluttered in your chest. The piercing blue eyes staring back at you gave no relief, especially when they held just as much embarrassment as yours.

"Are you-"

"Do you want-"

Both of you spoke at the same time, John lowering his head and huffing out a chuckle. He cleared his throat, looking at the way your pretty face was heating up in a blush. He could ask a girl on a date. He'd done harder things. But with the way his tongue felt like lead in his mouth, it seemed a miracle he got any words out at all.

"Look, sweetheart." He sucked his teeth, eyes darting to where you were white-knuckling the counter.

"Y'seem like a lovely girl. And I'd love to.." Why was he sweating like a teenaged boy?

"Do you want my number?"

Sucking in a breath, John met your eyes with a sheepish smile. For such a soft looking thing, you had more guts than most of his rookies.

He left your shop with a bouquet and a smile.

They were fiddling with the doorknob to your apartment now. The jangling of the metal stabbed another bolt of fear in your chest. You couldn't get to the bathroom to hide. It was across the hall and you weren't really in the mood to dart out and get spotted.

The dial tone kept rumbling through the speaker of your phone. You checked the lock on your bedroom door again.

John's head was pounding, the scent of cigarettes, rum and cheap beer punching him in his throat. With a groan, he sat up and ran a hand over his beard, the sound of his phone ringing cutting through his grogginess.

"Hmm? Wha' is it?"

A sigh of relief whooshed out of your lungs, but when you went to take a breath again, all that came out was this tortured choking noise.

Eyes darting to the time, Price glanced around the rec room at his team's sleeping forms. Nobody had his phone number aside from the people he trusted, and they were all passed out in various states of drunkenness.

"Who is this?"

His voice was raspy, weathered by his constant cigar smoking. You latched on to the sound. "J-John?"

Jolting upright, Price snapped wide-awake at your panicked tone, getting up and kicking Ghost's leg to wake him up. He was already grabbing his beat-up flannel, mind running through possibilities and reasons for your distressed voice.

"What's goin' on, luv? Talk to me."

Your lip wobbled, eyes catching on the doorknob of the closet you'd locked yourself in. You could hear them in your apartment now, drawers opening and closing as they rustled around in your kitchen.

"There's someone in my h-house."

Price grabbed the keys to his truck, molten anger beginning to bubble in the center of his chest as he let out a curse. Ghost was the first to rouse, eyes snapping open in an automatic response of hypervigilance. Spotting his captain already walking out of the door, he shook Soap and Gaz awake.

"Wha'? Was try-"

"Get the fuck up, Johnny. Something's wrong."

John didn't have to look back to know his men were follwing him as he stormed through the halls of base and out to the parking lot. He didn't have to bat an eye as he tossed Gaz the keys and barked an adress at him, not bothering to explain to you how he knew where you lived.

"John? I can hear them g-getting closer." You squeaked out, picking a a hangnail to focus on anything else.

"Luv, I need y'to listen to me, alright?"

"Alright."

Gaz started the truck, pulling onto the empty 4am roads. "Take a breath for me, sweethear'.' Your lungs sucked in air regardless of your panic. "Y'somewhere with a locked door?"

"I... I locked myself in my closet."

The sniffle in your voice tore through his heart, his fists already clenching as he thought about getting his hands on whoever was stupid enough to cause you distress. "Good girl."

Gaz shot him a look.

"Jus' keep talkin' to me, yeah?"

"Please don't hang up."

Something fell with a loud crash, a whimper caught in your throat as you pressed a hand to your mouth to muffle your sobs. You could hear them getting closer and closer and soon they would-

"Darlin'?" A whiney noise came out of you. "Breathe f'me, luvie."

"John-"

Barking at Gaz to drive faster, Price countined to mutter praises into his phone, trying to keep you talking and out of the spiral of panic he could hear you slipping into.

"Ken y'tell us what's goin' on, Cap?" Soap was the only one still a little too sloshed to have put the pieces together. That, and he was a little dense sometimes.

"Someone's in my girl's house."

Johnny didn't crack a joke like he wanted to, closing his jaw that wanted to hang open as he caught the tightly contained venom in his captain's voice when he pushed Gaz to drive faster, faster. None of them had to ask for instruction. This was their captain's girl, even if they hadn't known she existed. This was personal.

Gaz shortened the 20 minute drive into 5. He could deal with the ticket later.

You were crying now, hot tears running down your cheeks as you tried to keep yourself as quiet as possible. Heavy boots stomped closer to your room. Someone was trying the doorknob. John was still talking, his husky voice running into your ear, but you couldn't hear him anymore. Not really.

You were too focused on the sound of glass shattering, a small part of you wondering if your favourite mug would survive all this. There had to be at least two people, that much you were sure of with the way the footsteps seemed to split, each pair going off to cause their own path of destruction.

"Someone's banging on my door!" You gasped, tucking your knees up to your chest. "Oh, god. John they're gonna-"

A low groan of agony morphed into a cry of anger, splitting the air. Your fear muddled mind desperately tried to catch up. They were fighting each other. Why would the theives be fighting each other?

A soft knock on your bedroom door tore you from your spiral, gentle, but loud enough for you to hear it even where you were hiding in the closet.

Blinking, the sound of John's voice brought your attention back to your phone.

"What?"

"I'm here, luvie."

What?

"Open the door, sweetheart."

"But.. but I.. you don't.." Your mouth felt dry, the words stuck like sandpaper on your tongue.

"Open the door, sweetie. Let m'see you're safe." With wooden joints, you pushed yourself off the floor of your closet, walking robotically towards the door of your bedroom. The doorknob sat mockingly.

"What if they're still there? What if they-" He cut you off with a soft shushing noise. "You trust me, yeah?" You couldn't hear the crashing or banging anymore.

"..yes." You whispered.

"Open the door."

Shaking, your fingers met the cool metal of the doorknob. You hit the lock, and before you could swing the door the rest of the way open, John was pushing his way into your room. Walking by you, he starting scanning around all while you stood there dumbfounded. Tears still drying on your face, you watched in rapt confusion as he checked the closet you were just hiding in, moving to the window and pulling back the curtain to look outside.

"John?"

Oh, you poor, sweet girl.

He pushed urge to rip the heads off the men who Ghost and Soap were now tying up in your living to the back-burner, crossing the room in two long strides. He didn't wait to take you in his arms, pulling you flush to his chest and tucking your head under his chin.

John smelt of cigars, woody and strong, the tinge of gunpowder that seemed to linger on him caused you to wrinkle your nose. His arms were around you and he kept a hand on the back of your head, preventing you from looking anywhere but his broad chest and just like that you were crying again.

"Shh.." He cooed. "I know, I know, sweetheart."

God, he hated this. Just a week. All it took was just a week and getting your phone number for you to get caught up in the messy world of his work. There was no doubt in his mind that the men who'd attempted to ransack your apartment were part of the group Laswell had the 141 hunting for the last few months. The tattoos on their hands confirming his suspiscions.

But, he didn't give a fuck about work or unraveling how they'd got close enough to find you through a phone number he got on a stroke of luck. Letting out a heavy breath, he stroked the softness of your hair, almost to reassure himself that you were safe.

"M'gonna take you with me, yeah?" With bleary eyes you looked up at him, all sniffles and sugar and he was just about ready to go stop Ghost and have a chat with the men who'd-

"I'm still... I'm still in my pajamas." Your voice was airy, trembling, something that John had seen all too well in shocked civilans. "My clothes... my.. my.." You couldn't seem to think about anything aside from how you were wearing your pajamas, your mind forcefully ignoring the state of your apartment and everything that just happened.

"S'okay, sweet girl." Glancing down at the state of you, John felt a pang in his chest. You were wearing an old t-shirt and some sleep pants with little bunnies printed on them. "Let's get you out of here, yeah?"

Opening your mouth, you tried to respond, but all you could muster was a noise of agreement.

"Jus' look at me, yeah?" Steering you out of your bedroom, John kept your shaking frame tucked carefully into his size, holding your gaze with a hand on your cheek.

"Eyes on me."

He wouldn't let you see the state of your apartment, the glass and broken furniture littering the floor.

Wrapping his flannel around you, Price drew your attention with a poorly executed joke, keeping you from seeing the bloody and battered bodies Soap and Ghost were cleaning up.

As you got to the bottom of the stairs and outside, you passed by a man with a friendly looking smile and worn baseball cap.

"M'takin her. Call Kate and let 'er know 'bout the situation. She'll send you a car."

"Right, sir."

You didn't argue when he guided you into the passenger seat of a red truck, buckling you in and going over to the driver's seat himself. You didn't argue as he started the engine, pulling onto the road and taking you somewhere else. He kept a hand on your thigh, the rough pads of his fingers rubbing soothing circles onto your skin.

Through the thick haze of your tears, you found your voice.

"Hell of a first date, huh?"

[brummiereader]

PREVIOUS PART

Hopelessly Devoted (PART SEVEN/ FINAL CHAPTER)

Summary: After Tommy's apology you find yourself back at Watery Lane with the intention to thank him for the flowers he had left you when the eldest Shelby brother unintentionally breaks a tender moment in a bid to help reunite you both, doing more harm than good. Will you and Tommy finally rekindle your strained relationship or is all hope lost?

Warnings: Language, angst, fluff, smut (Minors DNI)

Authors note: In this final chapter there is a small cameo from a four legged darling dear to my heart. My dog. A few weeks ago my sweet boy passed away at the old age of thirteen. This way my way of saying goodbye to him through the words of our dear ol' Arthur.

Walking down Watery Lane a feeling of hesitancy overcame you. You never thought you'd step back onto this street, not after you and its most infamous resident who just so happened to be the man you had been hopelessly devoted to for the past five years had a blazing row in front of everyone in the very same spot only a few weeks ago. But here you were, and as you eyed up the betting shop in the distance a ball of nerves started to bounce unforgivably around in the pit of your stomach making you feel less than confident about your descion to turn onto the notorious road. You couldn't quite pinpoint why you felt so anxious, you was supposed to be hating the man who had broken your heart more times than you cared to admit. But since that day when he had unexpectedly turned up at your front door, since he had willingly admitted to his wrongdoings, since he had left the posy of flowers on your bedsit stairs that were sitting in a vase on your kitchen table resembling a rather miserable bunch of weeds than the sweet handpicked arrangement of foliage he had left for you, something had changed. You had desperately kept the small bouquet alive for as long as you could, afraid that the sentimental gesture and the meaning behind it would die along with them. Was it a fluke? Did Tommy mean every word he had said? You thought to yourself as you approached the door with the intention to thank him for the flowers and the phone call he had placed to the manager at the Post Office in regard to the job interview he had for all intents and purposes, sabotaged. Admittedly, after everything he had done and put you through he didn't deserve a thank you let alone one in person. But in a turn of events and unexpected forgiveness on your part your anger towards him suddenly didn't hold weight any more. You found yourself wanting to see him, wanting to be near him as if the past five years hadn't happen, as if this was the very moment you had been desperately holding out for.

" Is Tommy about?" You asked as you walked into the busy betting shop. Monaghan boy was set to race later that day and half of Small Heath had scrambled into the small converted terrace house eager to place their bets on what was set to be the biggest race of the month, one Tommy had undoubtedly fixed in his favour of course. With no answer and not one single Shelby in sight you headed behind the curtains and made your way up the old rickety staircase. It had been so long since you had ventured up to the second floor of Watery Lane. But even now you still remembered where and where not to step on the creaking wooden steps from the countless times Tommy had sneaked you up to his room to spend the night. And just as you did all those years ago you found yourself biting your bottom lip in anticipation that at any moment Polly would shout down from the top of the stairs at Tommy to stop corrupting any innocence you had left, the memory of the days when your biggest worry was not getting caught making your stomach fill with a youthful fluttering of butterflies you never thought you'd experience again. " Tommy?" you called out as you stood in the hallway when you turned your head to the sound of his bedroom door opening.

"Hey" he said putting his head through his white under shirt, pulling his suspenders over his shoulders as he walked out into the landing. It was nine in the morning. Tommy was known to get up at the crack of dawn, had he just woken up? "Had a lie in" he said, surprised by his own omission as he reached for his back pocket for a cigarette. " First time in years" he added placing it between his lips as he lit a match. First time in five years to be exact or to be even more accurate, the third time since he had turned up at your place. Tommy had, for the first time in years slept the whole night through. His worn body aching for the extra time he had let himself have, for the time you had let his restless thoughts unburden themselves of the regret and guilt he had been carrying around for the past five years. Shaking the flame from the small stick of aspen he looked over at you, a faint smile playing on the edge of his lips at your flustered face. Flustered was an understatement, you looked like a dear caught in headlights. Not only was you mentally unprepared to see him half naked after all these years, you couldn't remember the last time you saw him so...relaxed. You had become so accustomed to his usual tightly wound up demeanour that he had unexpectedly caught you off guard making you loose track of what you had planned to say.

" Is everything alrig..."

" I wanted to say thank you" you blurted out cutting him off as Tommy furrowed his brow in surprise.

" Thank you? For what?" he said stepping closer as your eyes briefly darted up to meet his before returning to look at the floorboards beneath you. You felt like a teenager again, and like any teenager standing in front of whom they believed to be the love of their life, the nerves currently coursing through your body seemed to have stopped any previous ability you had to talk let alone think. You had become a fumbling mess, and it hadn't gone unnoticed.

" Y/N?" Tommy said as he ducked his head down trying to catch your line of sight when you failed to elaborate.

" For the post office job" you replied as he looked down at you watching him roll his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger.

" You would have had that job if it wasn't for me" he acknowledged, exhaling a cloud of smoke up to the ceiling.

" And for the flowers" you said finally making eye contact as you lifted your head.

"Flowers..." Tommy replied, suddenly remembering the small bouquet he had thrown in a panic after seeing, was it Harry or Henry? God, the date was such a bore you still wondered if the whole evening had be a figment of your imagination.

" Oh fuck..Tommy they weren't for me were they? I just thought with the note, with the .." you trailed off into a incoherent mumbling of words you and nobody else could understand as you covered your eyes and turned for the stairs. Your humiliation never ceasing to make itself known by your increasingly reddened cheeks.

" Y/N wait" Tommy said grabbing your arm stopping you and your attempts to flee the awkward situation." Of course they were for you" he smiled as his hand rubbed up and down your arm in a bid to reassure you. "What other woman in Small Heath let alone the whole country likes a bouquet with only three flowers eh? " he chuckled trying to ease the pressure that had suddenly encapsulated you both.

" I do" you said as you looked up into his crystal blue eyes, finding yourself slowly getting lost in his gaze.

" You do" he smiled closing the gap between you both as his thumb came up and tenderly brushed along your check. " I should have given them to you in person" he said as he cupped your face, your fingers finding their way up his chest, turning one of the buttons on his cotton shirt as you looked up at him through your lashes. Apprehensively leaning into you, Tommy's lips ghosted over yours, his thumb still stroking gently against you skin as you both waited for the other to make the next move when a heavy footed second Shelby came stomping up the stairs breaking the long awaited moment between you both.

" Right. I've bloody had enough of this I have" Arthur said as he stormed up the stairs, throwing open the closet door next to you, pushing you both inside and locking it before either of you had the opportunity to react." 'Bout time you both sorted out..." Arthur said as he waved his hand in front of the door, his face scrunched up in deep concentration as he tried to look for the missing word. "... well, whatever this is" he finished as he nodded his head, satisfied with his spontaneous plan of action, one he would later learn did more harm than good.

" Arthur open the fucking door! " Tommy shouted as he rattled the handle, the distant sound of his brother whistling merrily as he made his way down the stairs only infuriating his efforts.

" Did you set this up? " you snapped stood back as you shook your head, a scowl settling on your face as the tender moment you had both shared mere minutes ago started to fade into what was set to be another match of bickering. This is definitely something those two little shits would have conjured up. You thought to yourself as you glared at the only other person in the cramped space, all your anger now directly aimed at him.

" Me?" Tommy scoffed as he reached into his back pocket pulling out his pack of cigarettes only to find he had already smoked the last one. " Only that daft bastard downstairs could have thought of doing something like this" he huffed throwing the empty carton on the floor as he leaned against the door.

" Well.." you said motioning behind him.

"Well what?"

" Aren't you going to get us out of here?" You replied moving him out the way as you gestured at the lock when a small laugh caught in his throat.

" I've gone legitimate darling" Tommy said as you crossed your arms furrowing your brows. " My lock picking days are over" he reiterated as he leaned back against the door giving into the situation he's idiot brother had put you both in. There was no way of getting out of this, not unless you had a spare key hidden in that ample cleavage of yours that was now pressing against his chest. Tommy thought to himself as the temptation to look down was almost too much for him to refuse.

" Pull the over one Tommy" you frowned rolling your eyes at his chilled state. Anyone would think he was happy about this, and to some degree he was.

" So what do we now?" you said as you moved back the few centimetres between you and the metal shelving behind you, shifting your arms back and forth in attempts to put some space between you both.

" Well, I'm guessing we wait" he said as his eyes darted around the dark room that looked suspiciously like the one you had both found yourselves in ten years ago.

" Fuck sake" you mumbled under your breath as you looked up at him, still convinced this was his doing. "You're suffocating me, move back" you sighed blowing the lone strained of hair in front of your face away from your eyes as Tommy let out a loud huff in response, silently cursing his brother for managing to ruin the very moment he had been envisioning for the past five years, and your lesser than pissed off mood with him.

" Tighter squeeze than it was ten years ago" he said as he cleared his throat, a cocky smirk playing on the corner of his mouth.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" you asked, daring him to say what you already knew he meant as you crossed your arms in front of you, forming or rather forcing a barrier between you both as Tommy grunted at the sudden impact, your own subdued by the cushioning of your assets. The very same assets Tommy wished he had never mentioned now your elbows were digging into his chest.

" I'm only teasing Y/N" he surrendered, a sudden sense of seriousness over coming him after seeing the frustration rising in your face at the unexpected predicament. In any other circumstance he would have been more than happy to be stuck in a closet with you again. But the scowl on your face said enough for him to not worsen the situation with any more jokes. Instead he attempted to change the mood with a different subject of conversation and break the awkward silence that had descended on you both. " Your mum keeping well?"

" My mum?" You laughed, surprised be the very question you thought you'd never hear leave his lips considering their mutual despise for one another. " Well thanks to you she had a visit from Father Wells"

"From St Mary's ?"

" Yeh. Oh, didn't you know? She's been named the wicked witch of Small Heath" you said as Tommy furrowed his brow in confusion. " You told Finn she was a witch. Finn told every living person he could find, which caused a small gathering of panicked old ladies to demand Father Wells pay her a visit and cleanse her mind, body and soul of evil" you said as Tommy let out a scoff of a laugh at the idea his tall tale had caused quite the commotion with the senior citizens of Small Heath. "Anyway" you said letting your own amusement slip in the form of a small giggle as you looked around the room, a sight Tommy never got tired of seeing, his fingers itching to trace the curve of your smile, desperately wanting to repeat the broken moment you had shared.

" Have a look in there for something, to pick the lock with " Tommy said clearing his throat as he nodded towards the small box precariously sitting on another large stack of cardboard boxes in attempts to snap him out of his day dream your small giggle had let him wander in to. Manoeuvring your arm between the tight squeeze of your bodies pressed together you looked through the small box pulling out a book on the poet " Sir Edmund Spence" as you turned to face Tommy with a look of confusion on your face at the strangest discovery you had ever made in the Shelby home.

" Arthur reads, apparently" Tommy said, as you turned your head back to the box of items, a smile on you lips at your endearing affection for the eldest Shelby and his ever growing list of new hobbies when you leaned forward and a sharp tug on the back of your head had your wincing in pain.

"Great... My hairs stuck" you whined reaching behind your head trying to loosen your locks from the metal shelving pushing into your back. " Tommy! My hairs stuck!" You reiterated, when he didn't automatically jump to your add.

" Bloody hell. Stay still" Tommy said as he reached behind you pressing his chest into your face.

" You're squishing me " you said looking up at him as his eyes stayed fixed on the task entrusted to him. With his attention else where you took the opportunity to take in every small detail of his face you had been missing for the past five years. Each freckle you used to spend countless hours counting when he'd sleep, his long lashes every girl south of Sparkhill envied, his plump lips that..."Ouch" you shrieked when he pulled harder than expected on your recently coiffed locks.

"Do you want my help?" He replied cocking a brow as he continued to unhook your hair from the shelf you had managed to get it knotted in.

"Just pull it out" you huffed wriggling in place.

" Fuck sake Y/N, I would if I could but it's stuck. If you'd stop bloody moving I'd be able to slide it out"

" Tommy..." you whined getting progressively inpatient as he loomed over you, increasing the already stifling heat your two bodies had managed to create in the small cramped space.

" Keep that whining up and you'll attract the rats"

" What rats?!" You yelped as your eyes darted around the room when Tommy finally unhooked your hair and sent you a wink, your face quickly dropping from a panicked wide-eyed stare into a small smile. Thank god you fell for that one, Tommy thought to himself. Watery Lane had become a new home to half the rats of Small Heath no thanks to Finn and his adamant goal on training them to do tricks for the small rodent circus he envisioned them performing in, much to Polly's dismay.

" Thanks" you said smoothing down your hair as Tommy moved his hand around from behind your head, his fingers lingering on the side of your cheek as he brushed the few whispers of hairs away from your face.

"Y/N..." He sighed cupping your cheeks in both his hands as you stood there patiently waiting, expecting him to pick up where things had ended out in the hallway. Had he lost his nerve? What was it about closets that always had this man lost for words? Either way you was not going to wait any longer to find out.

" Fuck it" you said pressing your lips to his as Tommy instantly dropped his hands to your hips pulling you closer into his hold.

" I've missed you" Tommy mumbled between breaths not wanting to part with the embrace any more than essentially necessary, the intensity of the moment catapulting you both back ten years as if you was kissing for the very first time. And just like all those many moons ago the years of suppressed need and desperation for eachother was making itself known quickly, very quickly.

" Tommy please..." You breathed heavily against his mouth as you pulled his suspenders down his arms, both lost in the moment of finally feeling each other, holding each other. As you both fumbled to undo his suit trousers a strained gasp left Tommy's throat when you slid your hand down into his briefs, the sudden feeling of your fingers wrapped around his hard length causing Tommy to stumble forward as his hand reached behind you grabbing the shelf to steady himself from the intense feeling of your touch.

" Fuck...I can't wait any longer" Tommy moaned as he reached under your dress moving your underwear to the side, his fingers ghosting over your wetness as he teased the entrance, making your head spin with desperation to feel him inside of you. Quickly pushing his trousers down, Tommy hitched up your dress as you wrapped your arms around his neck, his darkened stare filled with lust and need catching your eye as you hooked your finger into his briefs and pulled them down.

" Tommy, I..I need you..." You trailed off at the feeling of him grinding his length slowly through your wet folds as he looked down at the very sight he had spent nights fantasising about, trying with all his will power to not cum right then and there. It had been too long, too fucking long since he had last felt you.

" Fuck sweetheart" Tommy moaned, spreading your legs further apart with his knee as he lined himself up and push the head of his length inside of you." Holy...shit, you feel just as I remembered." Tommy breathed out as he pressed his forehead against yours. "Been thinking about this every night for five years" he groaned against your lips, his eyes squeezing shut as he pushed even further when his words suddenly snapped you out of the intensity of the moment.

" Wait stop, stop!" you said pushing him out of you as Tommy groaned at the loss of your heat around him, inches from being fully bottomed out.

" What...what's wrong?" Tommy breathed heavily as he looked at you pushing your dress down.

" This was a mistake." You said straightening out your clothes as his words ringed in your ears. He'd been thinking about this every night, even when he was with her, Grace. He had been wanting you every night but went to her instead. You wasn't naive enough to think that they had never had sex, but you suddenly felt sick at the mere thought of it.

" A mistake? Y/N, talk to me, what's going on?" He said pulling his trousers up as he stood behind you confused as to what he had did, what he had said.

" Every night you thought about me, every fucking night!" you cried as you slammed on the door. " Arthur open this fucking door!"

" Of course I did. What the fucks wrong with that? Didn't you think about me ?" He said trying to turn you around to face him.

" I did but not with someone else laying beside me Tommy!" You cried as you pushed his hands of you. "Did you fuck her thinking of me?" You sobbed disgusted by your own question, one some might be happy to hear that even whilst he was with another woman his thoughts were with you. But it seemed to have the opposite effect on you, you was revolted by the image of you on his mind as he fucked another woman, the same woman that had done nothing but belittle and humiliate you. Was you being irrational, were things moving to fast? Or were you trying to find a reason, any reason to halt your fragile relationship from rekindling, afraid the past would repeat itself?

"Jesus Christ" Tommy huffed as he pinched his brow at the sudden change in mood.

"Well?"

" Of course I fucking didn't! She meant nothing to me, I regretted it the momen..

" Only after then " you said cutting him off not wanting to hear anything he had to say about his time with her.

" You're twisting things" when had he become so bad at formulating the right words. He was beginning to think it was a skill he had perfected only for you.

" Arthur!" You banged loudly on the door, desperate to be the furthest you possibly could from the very man you had dropped everything to go and see that day.

"What in seven hell was that?" Polly said as she walked into the living room pulling the pin out of her hat as she placed her bag down onto the coffee table.

" Y/N and Tommy are working through their... differences" Arthur replied sat in an arm chair with the mornings paper on his lap.

" Oh Arthur what did you do? Actually don't tell me, I already know. You locked them in the bloody cupboard didn't you?" Polly replied as she looked up at the ceiling, your banging on the door rattling the paper thin walls.

" It's for their own good"

" Arthur, did it ever enter your new founded brilliant mind that they were actually on the right path? Tommy had apologise to her you berk! "

"How was I supposed to bloody know, I've been in London haven't I. I can't keep up, their spats change with the bloody wind! Arthur huffed throwing the Birmingham Gazette on the table in front of him.

" Jesus Christ, why do I live in a house of bloody halfwits?" Polly said shaking her head as she clutched the cross around her neck." Give me the key else we'll be calling the undertakers within the next ten minutes"

" Tom would never hurt her"

" It's not Tommy I'm worried about" she said as she hurried up the stairs holding the bottom of her dress.

" Y/N would you calm down" Tommy pleaded as you continued to hysterically pound at the door when the lock turned on the opposite side and you pushed it open, running past Polly and down the stairs out onto Watery Lane.

" What did you do now?" Polly said quirking a brow as she stood in front of the door with her arms crossed.

" At this point, breathed" Tommy huffed as leaned against the shelving in the small closet looking up at the ceiling as he finally puzzled everything together, the sudden realisation as to what his words may have meant to you, words he would have reacted as equally as angry to if he had been on the receiving end of them. It had been a one time thing, a drunken mistake he had regretted instantly. Not that his confession would ease the disgust you now felt for him. Even though you weren't together at the time, he had in that very moment when he sat at the end of the bed felt like he had cheated on you. Betrayed every declaration of love he had ever made to you, leaving him feeling physically sick with guilt as he bolted away and out the presence of the very woman he had just been intimate with.

" Penny for your thoughts?" Arthur said as he turned the corner onto the back alley of your flats a few days later.

" You don't want to hear my thoughts Arthur, and they're definitely not worth a penny" you replied sitting on the brick wall along the path, biting into an apple as you watched your freshly hanged laundry dry. Riveting.

" Why are they naughty? " he grinned as you scooted over to make room for him to sit down.

" No, murderous"

" These murderous thoughts wouldn't happen to be about a beloved brother of mine would they?" He laughed taking the apple from you as you rested your hands on the brick wall, swaying your feet back and forth as Arthur took an abnormally large bite from the last of your lunch leaving nothing left for you." Go on, tell old Arthur all about it" he said mouth half full as you scrunched your brow in amazement watching him eat down to the very core.

" Tommy's been looking for me and I've been avoiding him" you replied tucking your hair behind your ear as you looked down at the ends of your shoes.

" And why's that ay?" He asked already knowing your likely response.

" Because what's the point Arthur? We're never going to get back to how we were, back to being madly in love. Too much has happened. He did too much" you said turning your head sniffing back your tears.

" Are you pulling my leg? Back to being madly in love...you are madly in love! " Arthur chuckled as you snapped your head to him.

" I'm not joking Arthur, there's nothing left to fix" you pouted as you blinked away your tears, refusing to admit to yourself that the love you had for him was as strong as it was back then. Albeit an angrier close to committing murder kind of love.

" Ay, come on you" he sighed putting his arm around your shoulder as he watched your white linen table cloth blow in the gentle afternoon breeze. " Never seen two people in love as much you both. Even after five years of putting all us through the ringer with his bullshit Tommy never went a day without mentioning you Y/N, even if half the time it was him whinging about how you broke his poor old bloody heart first" Arthur said rolling his eyes at the very words you were convinced Tommy never went a day without letting you hear.

" Well I'm glad I wasn't the only one that had to hear that for all those years " you sniffed as a small laugh escaped your lips.

" He loves you Y/N. He's just been shit at showing it" he said as you looked up at him smiling back to you. "Please, put us out of our misery ay. I don't think I can do another five bloody years of this" he said as he squeezed you into his side rubbing your arm up and down like he was trying to start a fire with his bare hands. It was blunt, but it was to the point. Making more sense to you than the countless hours you had spent mulling in self-doubt and pity. Arthur was right could you go through another five years of this?

" Ello mate, where you been then? Out chasing rabbits old boy" Arthur said, both of you welcoming the change from the heavy conversation you'd just had as he dropped his hand down to a black and white dog slowly approaching him, his muzzle greyed by the years he had gracefully earned. " Begging now are we?" Arthur added as the four legged animal sat down in front of him, lifting his muddy paw whilst he eyed up the apple core in Arthur's hand. " Ere, you scruffy mutt" Arthur chuckled as he threw it to him, the dogs aged reflects seemingly unaffected when it came to all things edible. " Gone on, I'll see ya later" Arthur said nodding to the empty path as the dog trotted off, content with his late super firmly grasped within his mouth.

" New friend ?" You asked as you watched Arthur smooth down his stache, a smile poking through the whispers of hair.

" Gave him some leftovers few weeks back, now he won't leave me alone. Gangly looking thing ain't he? All legs and big ears" Arthur said as he watched the dog make his way down the alleyway, the sun setting down at the end of the cobbled path reflecting off the small puddles his four legged friend tip toed nimbly around.

" Bit like you then. No wonder you get along" you laughed as you looked up at the blue skies, nearly two months worth of rain finally easing up.

" Cheeky mare" Arthur said nudging his shoulder with yours as he rolled his eyes.

" How old is he?"

" Well I've counted the spots on his back, but he looks like he's been dipped in paint so I don't know"

" Arthur, he's not a ladybird"

" You're too easy Y/n " Arthur chuckled, thinking he had fooled you with his joke you was sure he had been waiting to make the moment he had conjured it up. "Nah, he's alright. He's a good boy" Arthur sniffed looking down to the end of the path as the dog stood there patiently waiting. " It's alright boy, you can go" Arthur called out with a quick nod of his head, reassuring his furred companion he'd see him again soon as he watched him walk over the small hill into the sunset disappearing from sight. " Right. Come on you. No more faffing about, let's go have a cuppa while we wait for Tommy ay? " Arthur said jumping off the wall putting his hand out for you to take as you both made your way through the alleyway, hopping over the puddles as you both giggled like two children making their way home before dark, the welcome heat of the fading sun beaming on your faces.

All day, all bloody day he'd been looking for you. Tommy thought to himself as he walked past the Garrison, the smell of beer and liquor tempting him to drown in his sorrows and abandoned any hope of finding you.

" Still breaking my Y/N's heart" he heard a voice call out on the opposite side of the street as he turned the corner onto Watery Lane, the same voice he'd been intentionally avoiding at all costs for going on five years.

" Don't you have a broom to catch?" Tommy replied as he slowed his pace, keeping a safe distance between him and the fire breathing dragon you just so happened to call mum.

" Trouble, I've been saying it for years " your mum scowled as Tommy eyed up the tea towel sat on top of her weeks shopping in the woven basket resting on her forearm, knowing his turn to feel the back of it was long overdue.

" I hope your dealings with the devil don't run in the family, because I plan on marrying your daughter and I don't fancy having to deal with her temper when it's a full moon and you lot come alive. Tommy said with a chuckle as your mother's eyes widened at the sheer cheek of the boy she'd been trying to keep you away from for as long as she could remember, for when you were together you were an unstoppable force she had no hope of winning. " Ta ra!" Tommy waved above his head as he opened the door to Watery Lane leaving your mum standing there, damning the day you and him had met.

"Two peas in a bloody pod" she huffed as she marched off down the street a small smile making itself known as she looked up at the sky. "Isn't that right my love..."

"Ay up" Arthur said over his tea cup as Tommy came stomping through the front door of Watery Lane, hair disheveled a look of shear frustration on his face as you looked up from your lap.

" Been giving me the runaround all day eh?" Tommy said as he threw his cap on the table, brushing his hand threw his hair with the other.

" I don't know what you're talking about" you replied complacently as you leaned back into the plush armchair whilst Arthur stood in the corner, a smirk on his lips as he watched the drama about to unfold over the warm cup of tea in his hands.

" Right. Enough" Tommy said pointing his finger at you as he marched over. " Stand up, come on, up" he said pulling you to your feet by your arms. " I'm sorry alright, I'm fucking sorry. For all of it" he said cupping your cheeks in his hands as he dipped his head down to look directly into your eyes. " Just one more chance ey? God knows I'm a miserable bastard without you..."

" Ain't that the bloody truth" Arthur interrupted rolling his eyes as he poured two fingers of whisky into his drink.

"... sweetheart, please" he said rubbing his thumb across you chin as he leaned in and rested his forehead on yours. " I can't do this without you Y/N " he said quietly squeezing his eyes shut as he waited for a response, feeling like it was the longest wait of his life than the few seconds it actually took for you to respond.

" One more chance " you replied as Tommy's eyes flew open.

" Yeh?"

" Yeh" you smiled as Tommy crashed his lips onto yours holding you tightly in his arms.

" 'Bout bloody time" Arthur cheered raising his tea that contained more whisky than it did anything else into the air.

" I love you Y/N Y/L/N"

" I love you Thomas Shelby" you said wrapping your legs around his waist as he lifted you up into his body, lips intertwined in an unstoppable embrace.

" Right, I'm off out then" Arthur said raising his brows as he downed his drink as quick as humanly possible " Make sure you turn that gramophone on ay, nobody wants to hear five bleeding years of making up" Arthur chuckled as he scrambled for his coat and hat heading for the door having already seen enough of your and Tommy's passionate display of reconciliation. Together at last. All it took was five years and some wise words from a gangly Shelby who had made it his life mission to not only never let your smile fade but to bring you and his baby brother back together, even if it did mean locking you in a closet.

" Tommy" you said, your head resting against his bare chest and his lazily stroked up and down your back.

" Mmm?" He hummed, his eyes shut, a content smile on his face as sleep beckoned him. He wasn't a young adult anymore, five years of making up had exhausted him. He was convinced he had beat an all time world record in the past twenty-four hours something he was now secretly proud off, maybe his greatest accomplishment yet. At Least now he could say his little white lie ten years ago had been achievable.

" What do you think we'll be doing ten years from now?" You said as Tommy opened his eyes turning his head to you.

" How did I know you was gonna ask me that ey" Tommy replied, brushing his nose with yours as he cupped the side of your face.

" Tommy.."

" The same thing sweetheart, cross my heart and all that" he said feeling his eyes get heavy with sleep again.

"I'm serious Tommy"

" So am I. No more looking back eh? Only looking beside me, you next to me holding my hand like it should've always been. I promise you that" he said pecking his lips to yours as he brought you further into his body, not only promising to you but himself to never let the past repeat itself. Thomas Michael Shelby, the man who had enough stubbornness to endure five years worth of self-inflicted heartache finally felt at peace, the one person he had dreamt to hold in his arms again now permanently by his side. He may not have shown it how he'd intended to do to, but he had always, and would always be, hopelessly devoted to you.

The End.

There we are everyone, we've come to the end of the story for Y/N and Tommy. As always, I want to thank you all for the love you have shown this series. I know I say it all the time but you have blown me away with your incredible support, I appreciate it more than you can imagine. I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments on the ending of this rollercoaster of a story. Thank you to each and every one of you, my lovely readers.

Brummie xxx

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[littlealienproducts]

Sun and Moon Face Ceramic Posy Vase by LisaAngelLtd

[mikavlcs]

Flowers

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Summary: Wednesday’s plan to court you is thwarted by an unforeseen issue.

Warnings: allergies(?), an inability to write good kiss scenes, the tone for this one is kinda all over the place tbh but it’s just fluff

Word count: 2.5k

Notes: this is a request for my mother, hope you enjoy<3 (also i know nothing about flowers, all information is from google. hopefully i didn’t piss off the gardening fandom lol)

Masterlist

Frustration was nothing new to Wednesday.

To her woeful dismay, she experienced it almost constantly. During the day when imbeciles in the halls with no concept of an indoor voice spoke loud enough to be heard by the entire school. In the evenings when Enid’s obnoxious pop music was loud enough that she could hear it through her headphones. When she was on the cusp of solving another mystery and suddenly her leads went cold.

No, Wednesday was no stranger to frustration. But the type of frustration she was feeling now was completely new to her.

Because, usually, Wednesday could find a reason for her frustrations.

Her fellow students acted idiotic because they were Neanderthals. Enid, though a werewolf with heightened senses, was unaware of just how loud her music was at times. Periods of inactivity during a case typically either meant that she was missing something (unlikely) or that she needed to wait for her target to make their next move.

There were always reasons. Cause and effect. A perfect balance for her logical brain to understand—even if she didn’t like the answers in place. But no, not this time.

This time, there were seemingly no reasons for what you were doing. No matter how much she thought about it, no reasoning that her mind put forth made sense. It was simply impossible. Like trying to solve a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle in the dark.

And it was especially maddening because, by all accounts, she had done everything right.

Wednesday had plans to court you. She was initially going to do something traditional like hand-deliver you the heart of one of your enemies, but Enid was repulsed when she found out about these plans. Instead, her roommate insisted that flowers were a much better substitute.

Initially, Wednesday thought it was the dumbest thing she’d ever heard, and she still thought the idea of a “secret admirer” was moronic at best. But the idea of expressing her revolting feelings through the language of the Earth’s flora…undeniably enticing.

So she begrudgingly began to put together a plan.

(Wednesday did not, however, inform Enid of this. She refused to give the werewolf the satisfaction.)

She was originally going to start small. A posy of Black Dahlias, maybe, or a small vase of Hydrangeas. But she supposed she got a bit…carried away.

It was demeaning honestly, how much effort she was putting into something so stupid. Getting seeds from her mother, finding a secluded place to plant and tend to them, breaking into your locker during the early hours of the morning so no one could witness just how low she was stooping for you. She put weeks into this nonsense.

And all of that time and effort culminated in you throwing the flowers away.

Every. Single Time.

Actually, no—it was worse than you just throwing them out. Every time you opened your locker and saw the flowers, you leaped back as if you had found a bomb amongst your things. You immediately, without even inspecting them or trying to decipher their intended message, took the flowers and disposed of them in the nearest trash can.

She didn’t understand it. Whatsoever.

Especially because they were good flowers. Expertly grown and cared for, picked in the early morning to make sure they stayed fresh for as long as possible. She even made sure they had contextually appropriate meanings to try and get her emotions across without words.

Her first foray into this madness was a bouquet of black roses, to tell you that she would die for you if given the chance. Then the next day, an arrangement of orange lilies to represent how she was willing to humiliate herself for you (clearly). The next, a black vase of Deadly Nightshade, simply because it was a personal favorite of hers.

There was an array of others as days passed—the aforementioned Black Dahlias and Hydrangeas, black petunias, red tulips, and yellow carnations. There was a superstition that Chrysanthemums brought bad luck and terrible nightmares, so naturally, she gave you those as well.

(She had considered giving you Aconites to signify the hatred that wished she felt for you, but given the fact that they were poisonous, she decided against it. As much as she yearned to poison someone in this godforsaken school, she didn’t wish to see you suffer that fate. Yet.)

Hell, she had even turned to the likes of red roses and sunflowers when she saw the negative reception to her first picks, but they all ended up in the same place: the trash can at the end of the hall.

It was torturous. Because Wednesday knew you returned her affections, she had known for a while. She originally thought it a burden, a weakness for her to potentially exploit until she made the startling discovery that she returned your wretched feelings.

So the idea that she might have misconstrued something she thought to be incredibly obvious made her physically ill. The implication that she was…incorrect tormented her.

There were few things Wednesday hated more than being wrong.

But one thing she was beginning to despise more was the feeling in her chest whenever she saw her flowers in that trash can. You were making her feel something she prided herself on never feeling: defeat. And she was tired of it.

Wednesday refused to sit by and allow you to make a fool out of her from the shadows for any longer. Enid’s stupid plan be damned.

She was going to find you and she was going to get answers. Whether it was quick and easy or slow and painful was entirely up to you.

-

Finding you in the Nevermore library was unsurprising.

You went there often to read and recharge your “social battery” when needed. And it seemed like now was one of those times. You sat silently with your eyes trained on a book in front of you, the headphones covering your ears turned up so loud she could hear the faint hum of your music from across the room.

It was clear that you didn’t want to be disturbed. Unfortunately, Wednesday did not care.

She stalked up behind you quietly, resting her hand on your shoulder once she was within arm’s reach of you. Wednesday took far too much joy in the way you quite literally jumped out of your seat. The sudden movement sent the chair backward into Wednesday, who easily caught it and settled it back into its original position.

Breathless, you spun around, eyes widening when you saw who it was.

“Wednesday, wha-“

“Why do you always throw them away?”

You blinked owlishly. Once, twice, then spoke. “What?”

“The flowers,” she clarified, impatience creeping into her tone, “why do you always throw them away? Did you not like them?”

Wednesday could tell you wanted to ask why she wanted to know about this, but thankfully you were smart enough to answer her questions before asking any of your own. 

“Well, n-no. I didn’t dislike them. They were pretty flowers.”

The admission did nothing to comfort Wednesday, whose patience was running incredibly thin. Still, she kept her tone as neutral as possible.

“Then what was the issue? Why throw them out?”

“Well-it’s just…” you paused, cheeks darkening as you mumbled something incomprehensible. Wednesday blinked.

“What was that?”

You sighed.

“I’m allergic.”

Oh.

Well, she supposed that made sense. It certainly explained why you reacted the way you did whenever you saw the flowers in your locker. Her prior anger melted away, understanding slowly replacing it.

She thought back to her earlier musings, the dark irony nearly made her smile. The flowers really were, for all intents and purposes, an allergen bomb. 

Wednesday noticed a moment later that you were still speaking.

“-not technically life-threatening or anything. I just get itchy and my eyes water, although my throat does start to close up if I’m around them for too long, but it’s usually pretty manageable. It happens around most plant life. That’s why I transferred out of Botany class. Principal Weems thinks it might be a pollen allergy but I’m not sure-“

Your rambling would be (barely) tolerable under any other circumstance, but right now Wednesday just wanted to express the feelings that had been plaguing her for months on end.

“It was me.”

That effectively shut you up. She watched patiently as the gears turned in your head, the words that came out your mouth not quite keeping up with the realization she saw in your eyes. “What?”

“I put the flowers in your locker. To inform you of my…feelings,” she said, disdain creeping into her voice at the end.

You looked positively devastated. “Oh, Wednesday, I’m-I am so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to look like I didn’t like the flowers or didn’t appreciate the gesture. I like you, Wednesday. I really do. I-“

With a sharp inhale, you cut yourself off and look away. Concerned, Wednesday’s brows furrowed. Before she could properly investigate the issue, you looked back to her, a question in your eyes that she couldn’t decipher before you said it aloud.

“Can I hug you?”

The smaller girl blinked. She, admittedly, wasn’t expecting that to be your question.

Wednesday wasn’t one for physical affection, but she found herself stepping forward before she could think better of it. And when she felt your arms settle around her, gently pushing her against you, she couldn’t muster even an ounce of regret.

She didn’t return your embrace—she had a reputation to uphold, after all—but she did lean into you, turning her face into your neck and closing her eyes for the briefest of moments.

“Your apology is accepted,” she whispered against the nape of your neck. Your shoulders relaxed against her, but your grip tightened.

“I still feel really guilty.”

Wednesday tilted her head up slightly to meet your eyes, brows furrowing. “Guilty for what? I practically tried to kill you.”

“Unknowingly,” you added, a smile pulling at your lips. “Though, it would have been fitting for you.”

Wednesday’s lips twitched.

“What can I do to make it up to you?”

Wednesday stepped back, eyes traveling down to your lips. A split-second decision was made, the words falling from her lips before she even realized what she was doing.

“Kiss me.”

Part of Wednesday wanted to be laid to rest right then and there, the humiliation she had felt before returning with a vengeance. But another part just wanted you to comply, to sate the curiosity she’d been fighting for months now.

Somehow, you managed to look more shocked than she felt.

“W-What?” you stuttered, eyes wide and mouth partially agape as if what Wednesday just said was the most preposterous thing you had ever heard.

“I said kiss me,” she stated with a confidence she didn’t fully feel. You swallowed.

“I-uh, are you sure?”

You shifted on your feet, still unsure. Wednesday nearly sighed again.

“I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t.”

That seemed to be enough for you to finally act. Timidly, you brought your hands up to cup her face, your touch lighter than a feather on her skin. Your wide eyes never strayed from hers and she stared back in hopes of speeding up your glacial pace. To her chagrin, it seemed to have no effect.

You leaned in agonizingly slowly, likely to give her ample time to pull away if she changed her mind. But Wednesday didn’t have the patience for your kindness. So she took the initiative to lean up and pressed her lips to yours, her eyes fluttering closed upon contact.

It was both everything and nothing like Wednesday thought it would be.

Kissing you wasn’t anything like the dumb things Enid said to describe kissing Ajax (she loathed the fact that she even knew any of that in the first place). There weren’t any fireworks or godforsaken butterflies or any other insipid romance cliché her roommate was obsessed with.

It was soft, slow, and utterly addicting. Even more so than she predicted it would be. She knew long before this moment that the press of your lips to hers would be her downfall, and like usual, she was correct.

Everything about your kiss was ethereal—the warmth that encompassed her from head to toe, the tenderness in the way your lips moved against hers, the feeling of your thumb lovingly stroking her cheek. She knew that she would crave it from this moment forward.

In mere moments, her senses were completely overtaken by nothing but you. It was overwhelming in the best way possible, and she savored it for as long you would allow.

Wednesday stepped back only when air became an unfortunate necessity for the both of you. After a long moment, she dared to open her eyes and look at you. Your eyes were still closed, lips slightly parted as you regained your breath. A light flush crept onto your face, tinting your skin a light shade of red and though Wednesday didn’t care for color, she liked the way it looked on you.

“One more thing,” she muttered when she finally regained a fragment of her composure. You blinked back into awareness, a sweet smile tugging at your lips, complimenting the light blush on your face quite nicely. 

“What’s that?” you whispered into the space between you.

“You must go on an…outing with me.”

“An outing?” Your face scrunched lightly. Then you gasped softly, eyes alight with something far too exuberant. “Do you mean a date?”

Wednesday cringed, breathing a quiet sigh through her nose. She stepped back to fully look at you, and you let her, dropping your hands back to your sides. Momentarily, she mourned the loss of your touch.

“You may call it whatever you want as long as I get to choose the location.”

“Alright, and where do you want this date to take place?” you inquired, smile a little too sly for Wednesday’s liking. But she simply grinned.

“The morgue. I’ve been itching to perform a proper autopsy lately. It’ll be nice to have a partner with all of their limbs.”

She watched the color drain from your face with a bit too much amusement. To your credit, you regained your composure faster than she thought you would.

“Ok, y-yeah, sure,” you stammered, eyes darting around the library. Wednesday’s eyebrows shot up.

“Really?”

“Yeah, totally.” You straightened up, taking an audible gulp as you tried your best to look unbothered. Her grin grew at the sight.

“Then I will pick you up from your dorm at 9:30 tomorrow night, got it?”

“Yep.” You nodded. She turned to leave but stopped.

She knew she should leave but…

Turning back on her heel, Wednesday grabbed your blazer and pulled your lips back to hers for one more kiss. This one was harder than the last, sure to noticeably bruise, but it was no less satisfying. Actually, the feeling of your body pressed flush against hers made it even more pleasant, she decided.

She allowed herself a moment to revel in your warmth, your taste again before stepping back and meeting your dazed eyes.

“See you tomorrow.”

Without another glance, Wednesday exited the library. The small smile on her face didn’t waver the entire journey back to her dorm. Not even when she passed the trashcan with all of her flowers.

If anything, her smile only widened at the promise of what was to come.

[m-ayo-o]

gardening

⋆⁺₊⋆ garden fairy ⋆⁺₊⋆ x 21+ boyfriend Yuji Itadori wc 200 version one | version two [nsfw] selfshiptember; 14 [1/2]

Tending to your garden is enjoyable, but hard work. However, all of the time and effort spent is completely worth it when you can make beautiful, hand picked bouquets using your own wildflowers.

Today you have plenty to spare, so you think of making some for friends, and you happen to be seeing your boyfriend, Yuji, later.

Feeling a little silly, you arrive at Yuji’s apartment holding the prettiest posy you could make. You’re really not sure if he’s going to like it, thinking the gift would be a bit feminine, perhaps, or that he’d just turn up his nose and say, “what am I supposed to do with those?”

You enter, presenting your gift, “Sorry– um, I don’t know what the male equivalent of giving flowers is, so…” you trail off, not knowing what to say.

Of course, Yuji returns his bright, happy laugh, “It’s giving flowers!”

He beams, thanking you for the wonderful gift, your worries put to rest when he finds a tall glass to put them in (lacking an actual vase).

“I love them so much, you’re always working so hard in your garden,” he gives you a peck on your cheek, “thank you, sweetie.”

yuji | m.list

selfshiptember 14!!

likes, comments + reblogs appreciated! <3

[shewhoworshipscarlin]

Posy vase shaped like a top hat, 1880-1900, Wordsley, England.

[bumblebeeappletree]

Australian native flowers are in high demand for cut flowers, and can cost a lot in the shops, so why not try growing a few of your own? Clarence suggests some top varieties to try.

But first a word about what is an Australian native - we’re talking here about plants that are from Australia originally, not their ancient Gondwanan relatives such as proteas and leucadendrons, which are native to southern Africa.

Banksias: there’s one for nearly every corner of Australia and they make great cut flowers.

Hakeas also last well in the vase and, while some can be a bit spiky, H. francisiana and H. bucculenta has softer foliage and spectacular flowers. The woody seedpods also look great afterwards. When cutting back, make sure you don’t cut back to bare wood - the stem is more likely to grow back if it still has some foliage on it.

Waratahs are truly spectacular but need shelter, consistent moisture and good drainage so they won’t grow just anywhere. But you could always try a pot using good quality potting mix.

Grevilleas - many hold well in a vase but the sap of some grevilleas in a common allergen so use gloves and eye protection and place them somewhere indoors where they can be admired but not touched.

Short-lived annuals such as Pelargoniums are lovely in a vase, too, and will generously self-seed in the garden.

Kangaroo paws are a classic cut flower, but beware of the hairs on the flowers, which can be an irritant.

Everlasting daisies will grow almost anywhere in southern Australia and their papery flowers dry beautifully as well as bringing colour to a traditional posy.

Foliage - don’t’ forget some grey and green leaves to offset the colour, and growing a few at home can save you a lot of money.

Grasses - their soft, elegant foliage and seedheads can add interest to any bunch.

Picking is a good form of pruning, so don’t be afraid to cut!

How to arrange:

If in doubt, pick a central stem as the main focus, then slowly build up around that, turning the bunch as you go and adding another stem at each point as you turn.

Featured plants:

Protea (Protea sp.)

Leucadendron (Leucadendron sp.)

Firewood banksia (Banksia menziesii)

Coast banksia (Banksia integrifolia)

Grass-leaf hakea (Hakea francisiana)

Red pokers (Hakea bucculenta)

NSW waratah (Telopea speciosissima)

Austral storksbill (Pelargonium australe)

Kangaroo paw (Anigozanthos sp.)

Rosy everlasting (Rhodanthe chlorocephala subsp. rosea)

Paper daisy (Xerochrysum bracteatum ‘Dargan Hill Monarch’)

Kangaroo grass (Themeda triandra)

Filmed on Dharawal Country in Heathcote, NSW

[hopepaigeturner]

An Offer From an Avid Reader: The Sofa Scene. Part 1.

This is part 1 of 2, for part 2 fits in more with #benophieweek 2023 prompt for the day.

✨The Context:✨

Benedict has found out about Sophie being the Lady in Silver. 

As I detailed in my Benedict Bridgerton post, he is at first furious and takes this out on Genevieve. (“How could you not tell me” vibes). And rightly, Geniveve sets him straight, letting him know how heartbroken Sophie was and it was for ehr safety that she was tight-lipped. 

This leads to a scene between Will and Benedict, where Benedict is given the final push he needs to follow his heart. He goes back to his studio to think but all he does is paint…

Concurrently we have Eloise. 

Throughout the season Eloise has been writing a column, a little Whistledown–esque, but not as popular. (I shall expand on this in a later Eloise post).

Therefore Eloise has been spending the series running around London with her two trusty, albeit exasperated, servants–Sophie & John the footman. 

Sophie and John are doing an errand for Eloise but their sneaky sneaky plan goes awry and they get separated. Unable to find John, Sophie decides to walk back to Bridgerton House.

And just as she is turning the corner on the edge of Mayfair she hears a voice like honey dripped over knives…Araminta. 

Que book scene: Sophie is having a panic attack as she listens, frozen in her hiding place.

 The scene flashes between a hyperventilating Sophie and flashes of moments from the morning Araminta found out Sophie had attended the ball.

How the scars on Sophie’s face are from Araminta’’s nail scratches; how the scar on her temple was caused by Araminta throwing a vase at her head; and how the scar running along her throat occurred when Araminta put a broken shard of vase against it till it bled red before throwing her out of the house by her hair. The flashbacks stop and the present returns–just as a figure spots Sophie. A woman who lifts her black veil to reveal a round face with a wine stain birthmark. “Sophie?” Sophie is frozen. Araminta calls for Posy back into the carriage. Posy nods and rushes back. 

In the aftermath, Sophie is still gripped in a silent panic attack, dissociating and shaking uncontrollably. And even as the carriage rolls away she stays there. 

And so, without further ado…

✨The Scene✨

Scene cuts to Benedict, striding along the street, muttering under his breath the apology he wishes to give to Sophie, and how he will broach the subject of her being the woman at the masquerade.

Then out of the corner of his eye he spots something–Sophie.She is still at the wall, still dissociating, still shaking. 

Benedict rushes over and tries to rouse her, but Sophie barely responds. Benedict tried again then, with a snap, Sophie clutches his sleeve in a vice-like grip. Stricken, Benedict gently coaxes her to come and rest at his studio.

Benedict leads Sophie, into his studio sweeping disarrayed clothes and sketches off the chaise lounge so she can settle. All his motions are soft as, for a moment, all his yearning, swirling emotions fade away to leave only one desire—ensuring Sophie’s wellbeing.

He cups her face and whispers her name and when that does not work, he grabs a paintbrush, (slightly damp from the water), and draws patterns over her arms, allowing Sophie to use the pressure to ground herself.

Sophie’s hand loosens slightly, indicating that she has returned.

“Benedict?” she whispers.

“You are safe—you are safe here,” he hushes. Sophie exhales shakily and leans into him. But after a moment she regains her senses and jerks away. 

“I should leave.” She scrambles up. 

“No—Sophie.” Benedict tries to follow but she whirls away.

“I should leave right now.” 

“Sophie, I need to talk—”

“I think that would be a bad idea.” All too easily she can see his shocked expression at that nursery door when the truth finally revealed itself. An expression that could be nothing less than horror and anger. She starts towards the door but Benedict jumps in front of her,

“Sophie, please, at least allow me to walk you home.”

“It is merely across the square, I shall be fine.” She tries to brush past him but he stays one step ahead.

“And if that ‘old mistress’ of yours returns to petrify you? What will you do then?”

“Why would you care?”

Benedict looks visibly hurt.

“I care, you know I care—you are many things, Sophie, but you are not blind. I care for you, I have cared for you for years—”

“Oh really?” She cries, her own suppressed feelings over the months finally spilling out of her. Her usual self-control completely worn out. “That night was so special that it took you months to recognise me?”

“That is not fair. You are the one who should have told me. Why did you not? To spite me? To torture me with the dream of you? You were not fair!”

“No, Benedict Bridgerton you do not get to tell me what is fair,” Sophei steps up to him, fury and heartbreak mixing in her eyes, “not after the life I have led, not after the months I have spent nursing heartbreak that the man who saw my soul could not see past a maid’s uniform!” She cries. “Admit it, Benedict, I was a flighty fancy who was replaced the next evening by another pretty face. A memory that you banished to the recesses of your mind. That is who I was to you, Benedict. Another conquest, another muse—”

“You have no idea what you meant to me,” Benedict cries, his voice wretched. “ I knocked on Penwood’s door the very next morning to find you. I spent months attending balls and soirees and pointless parades desperately searching for you. I meant every word I said on that terrace, including my promise to you.You have haunted my every dream and echoed in my heart every day for the past two years. You stole my heart with a dance and a kiss and I have spent the last two years stumbling around this world trying to fill the void that you left behind. That is heartbreak. That is why you should have told me.”

“And what?” Sophie replies,  “What difference would that have made? I am not a lady, I am a maid. Even if you had known back by that lake, you would have asked me to be your mistress regardless. Am I wrong?”

Benedict quietens, retrospection highlighting his troublesome behaviour. With a quieter voice he replies,

“You are not wrong, and for that I must apologise, for forcing your hand because I could not bear to let you go.”

“Thank you,” Sophie shakes herself, “but it does not change—”

“It would have been different.” Benedict continues.  “I would not have tormented myself about betraying that memory for the reality in front of me. I would not have waited. I would not have hesitated to accept the undeniable truth that I belong with you, forever and a day.”

Sophie is stunned, then scoffs.

“Now, you are being fanciful. I am a maid”

“No, you are not.”

“Benedict—”

But Benedict continues unperturbed,

“You are not a maid. That night you spoke with the perfect airs and graces like any other debutante.”

Sophie’s stomach starts twisting around and round as she starts spiralling.

“You would be surprised how far learning an accent like this benefits employment—”

“You know French and latin.”

“The lady at the house—”

“Phaeton lessons? Pianoforte lessons? Long hours to read a surprising breadth of literature?”

“Oh I see. So it is only aristocrats who have the capability to enjoy literature then?” Sophie fights back, desperate to cling onto her fantasy, the nice fantasy of Sophie–not the ugly one. Benedict continues, 

“No. But servants do not have time, access or means to enjoy such a variety of literature that you have read. I wager editions of Mallory’s Morte D’Arthur cannot be purchased on even the most generous of salaries.”

“Believe what you may.”

“I will and that is why I believe you to be an illegitimate child.”

The fantasy crumbles, leaving Sophie scrambling, falling, with nothing to cling onto.

“I do not—I do not…”

“It would explain your level of education and refinement, but also your current predicament. I assume the lady of the house did not look too kindly on another woman’s child?” Benedict’s eyes soften, “Even though that is no excuse for treating you so poorly in ways I can only fear.”

Araminta’s words start whispering as Benedict continues. 

B—--d child. B—--d child….

“It would explain how you do not wish to talk about your family, but there is always a shadow lingering in your eyes when the topic arises. It would explain why you have so many secrets and why they burden you so…”

“You do not—”

“Was your father the deceased Earl of Penwood, Sophie? Is that why you wore the Penwood crest on your gloves that night?”

Sophe stays silent, eyes brimming with tears. Because she knows what will happen next. She knows that, like everyone else, Benedict will retreat from her shameful truth, try to hide his disdain before walking away.

 “Are there any other dirty little secrets of mine you feel entitled to? Hmm?” she asks. 

“Sophie, I—”

“What? You want more?” Her voice rises with her emotions. For if he is going to walk away he might as well know all of it. Every shameful, disdainful part,

“I just want the truth—”

“Fine, have it all!”

As she speaks, flashes of the past play on the screen of every person stepping away from her; the staff upon opening the door to find 3 year old Sophie; her father when he saw her natural smile and Araminta on their fateful first meeting. 

“Yes, yes, you are right! I am the child of a nameless maid and the late Earl of Penwood, a scourge on its hallowed name, an abomination—a b—--d—as my stepmother would remind me every day of my childhood and every day that I scrubbed floors and pinned her daughters’ hair. That is who your precious Lady in Silver is. A fraud. An impostor. A girl in dress-up doing a friend a favour who stupidly allowed herself to imagine that for one moment, one tiny moment that she deserved such a life.”

“Sophie—”

“That is who I am, Benedict. I am the b—--d child of a—”

Benedict steps forward and pulls her into his arms and holds her tight.

And Sophie freezes, unable to comprehend the moment. A moment where someone embraces and comforts her even with all the terrible, barbed parts of her exposed. But ever so slowly Sophie softens, closes her eyes as the tears seep out, and rests in that embrace.

After a few moments, Benedict pulls back but keeps her close, so she can see the sincerity in his eyes and words.

“You are Sophie. You are a woman who is kind and compassionate even after a life of hardship that would bow or break even the strongest of men. You are a woman who stands by her convictions no matter how many people try and sway you, no matter how many lashes you endure or even if the other road is easier. You, Sophie Beckett, are brilliant, in mind, heart and soul. I am inspired by you; I am humbled by you, and I am honoured to be in your presence and awed by every facet of your being. That is who you are, Sophie.” His voice rasps slightly, as if he is on the edge of speechlessness. “That is who you are, Sophie.”

“I do not…I—”

Benedict tenderly wipes away her tears.

“There is no need to say anything. Just know that every word I have said to you past and present have been the truth. You have stolen my heart Sophie. You stole it on that moonlit night and you stole it once more over these last months.”

“Your heart?” 

Benedict smiles slightly.

“Let me show you.”

And he moves her into the main studio. It is a cluttered room of artistic mess, piles of sketches on every surface and pinned on the walls–all of them sketches of her. And there on the easel is the painting Benedict has worked all night on.

It is her, Sophie, as the Lady in Silver, her skirt moving like liquid moonlight, her hair awry around her face. And like every one of Benedict’s paintings, he has captured the moment and emotion. So, she feels it all. Feels the awe in the way Benedict has painted the highlights. She can feel the beauty in the features—even her face with her scars present. She can feel the love in every brushstroke and every layer.

She turns to Benedict.

“I love you,” he states.

No fanciful words, no poetry. The undeniable truth.

“You love me,” Sophie replies, voice breathy, but not in disbelief, “as much as I love you.”

And then Benedict is kissing her, and she is kissing him back. The torrent of their love overflowing into their kisses.

They whisper those three important words as they stumble until they hit the wall. And when they finally break for breath Sophie whispers,

“That night from the moment I put on the dress to walking across the hall, my heart hammered against my ribcage. But as soon as I stepped into the room, even before I saw you, I felt you.” Her fingers gently trace his features. “Anticipation. Magic.  And when I turned around and I saw you, my heart settled into a rhythm at once new but also familiar. Because it knew,” she takes his hand and places it on her heart. “It knew that it would only ever beat in this rhythm for you, it would only ever love you. Forever and always.”

Benedict opens his mouth, as if to say something, but no sound comes out.

The poet is speechless.

He kisses her again, slower, reverentially. The type of kiss that infuses in your bones and your blood. Sophie softens, so Benedict pulls her into him…

*~*~*~*~*

Now, I’m terrible at smut scenes and I don’t really want to do one due to professional and personal reasons. So…I’ll leave it up to your imagination.

HOWEVER a couple things:

1.NO penetrative SEGGSY.

This might be unpopular but I was really uncomfortable that Sophie had this very legitimate reason for not wishing to have sex, a boundary built on a significant amount of trauma, yet Benedict Bridgerton pops along and his smile bulldoes that barrier away. Today I know that this had to happen because of the very prescriptive publishing criteria of the romance genre, but still.

I don’t have a problem with Benophie becoming sexually intimate, just not penetrative sex. The show has already shown that you can have a steamy, romantic love scene without it. *cough* Kanthony *cough*. 

Creativity people! Because we all know there are many ways to pleasure that do not risk an illegitimate child situation…

2. Sophie is in control.

Sophie has not had a lot of control over her life, in any arena particularly. However, sex is a completely new category, and I would love it if Sophie takes the opportunity to be in control. (Also, as I have pointed out in a prior post here, the show has shown that Benedict likes being bossed around in bed).

3.   Potentially Benedict realising where Sophie’s scars come from.

In my opinion another way they could sell the whole ‘Benedict not recognising Sophie’ is if she has some scars that weren’t there. Even if this is not the case, I think Sophie in her lifetime has sadly accumulated scars. I want Benedict to realise what happened on that morning when he visited the Penwoods. I want him to kiss her scars, call them beautiful and when Sophie squirms he whispers…

“Your scars are beautiful because they are markings that you survived. Testaments to the strength you had to pull yourself through the burning trials of life and emerge with your heart blazing. That is why I call them beautiful.”

I just think that would be uber romantic.

4. Scene ends and fades out. Only to fade into the will reading of Grandma Alexandra…

*~*~*~*~*~*

END OF PART 1

Part 2 will come this evening and link in with Benophie week 2023. 

As always I’d love to hear your ideas/corrections/opinions and always open to chat or requests.

So, check out the list here, for more of my ideas.

Or check out the general arcs of my prospective S4 here.

[togetherasone]

IMPERAPARTY . TERZO OR COPIA

Pairing: Terzo x Fem!Reader or Copia x Fem!Reader, you choose *wink wink*

Summary: The Ministry bustles with activity. The Impera Release Ritual has just finished and such a special occasion deserves a celebration. And, well... You aren't denying yourself a glass of wine. Nor the approach of someone. Or the one where you have fun with one of our beloved Papas!

Word count: 980

Notes: Oh, hello! This is a repost since I moved from an old to a new blog! Also, this is a "choose your adventure" fan fiction, so choose which Papa (or both, no one is stopping you!) you want to have fun with! I hope you enjoy! Keep in mind that English isn't my first language. Sorry in advance for any mistakes.

Warnings: There will be smut in any of the paths you choose, so, minors, don't overstep any boundaries. I can't stop you from reading this introduction since it doesn't have any mature content, but DON'T proceed any further. Please, this is for your own safety.

If you want to take a look at my other writings, here they are!

“Cut!” Sister Imperator shouted to the camera operators amongst the noise reverberating off the marble walls and echoing around the vast corridor of the Ministry. You stood almost beside her, two Sisters of Sin separated you from her, and you flinched slightly at the shout.

The IMPERA Release Ritual had just finished.

People clapped enthusiastically as soon as Papa Emeritus IV sang the last verse of "Spillways", one of the new songs that had grown on you lately, and the YouTube transmission was interrupted.

Copia maneuvered around the microphone stand and looked from side to side as he waited for the Ghouls to join him. They held their hands and bowed altogether. The dying round of applause sprang to life again. The noise, a mix between the round of applause and the hubbub, was almost unrearable, but you smiled at the band and continued to clap until they had dispersed.

Sound technicians unplugged instruments, and camera operators pulled cables as people slowly walked and chirpily talked. Men in fancy suits made a beeline for the improvised stage, moving in the opposite direction to the mass of people. You had never seen them around. Your eyes curiously followed them as you patiently waited on the spot you had occupied during the last hour for the Sisters of Sin around you to join the mass of people, which moved to the Great Hall, where the after party would be held.

Sister Imperator, as the men in fancy suits, made a beeline for the improvised stage. Because of her priviledged spot close to it, she needn't struggle with the mass of people. She ran towards Copia and swiftly grabbed his head between her hands, squishing his ears and kissing both of his cheeks. Her voice reached your ears, and she congratulated her "golden boy, C., I'm proud of you!".

When Copia saw the men in fancy suits approaching, he quickly disentagled himself from Sister Imperator. It was impossible to listen to their conversation. It must have lasted a minute. They shook hands with Copia and the Ghouls who caught the conversation in the middle, and that was that.

The Sisters of Sin around you started to move, and you followed them. The mass of people swarmed the Great Hall. Most of its furniture – lounge chairs, armchairs, sofas – had been reorganized around coffee tables by the walls, which were covered by dark wooden panels, except for the wall above the fireplace, which was covered by a mirror. Red candles burnt steadily on the mantelpiece of the fireplace. The intricate details carved on the golden frame of the mirror danced under their flickering light, which added a mysterious glow to its surroudings. A thurible had been placed between the candles and its smoke lazily floated in the air in round puffs.

The long wooden table around which the Sisters of Sin gathered for meals had been replaced by a round wooden table. It had been positioned exactly underneath the chandelier, and a tall crystal vase of roses had been positioned exactly in its middle. It was surrounded by golden trays of varied dishes, at which you salivated.

Standing wooden tables had been scattered across the room. People had already occupied most of them when you entered it. The air was thick. The smell of roses mixed with the steam rising from the dishes and the smoke rising from the thurible. The firewood burning in the fireplace maintained the room cozily warm.

You quietly observed the people. Your sisters, scattered around the room, talked, laughed, drank and ate. The ghost of Papa Emeritus Nihil, sat on an armchair by the fireplace and talked to Mr. Saltarian and other men, certainly Mr. Saltarian's guests. Primo and Secondo, gathered around a coffee table at the farthest corner of the room, played cards. They had managed to attract a small crowd.

"C'mon," one your sisters wrapped her fingers around your wrist and pulled you towards one of the console tables bearing golden trays of varied drinks. Crystals glasses had been filled to the brim with wine, champagne, and water. She grasped two glasses of wine and handed one to you. "Let's get the party started."

And it did. Three glasses of wine and one glass of champagne followed the first. Your stomach happily digested the food you had snatched from the golden trays on the round wooden table in the center of the room. The atmosphere had shifted as soon as alcohol invaded bloodstreams. The air was still thick. But, now, the smell of roses mixed with the sweat emanating from the drunk bodies and the scent of alcohol. But, now, the firewood burning in the fireplace maintained the room lustifully warm.

From an armchair beside Secondo, you hazily observed the people playing cards. The players alternated at each round and it had gotten interesting since a "new" rule – ahem, a rule that attended every party at The Ministry whenever people started to get drunk –, one which obligated the losers of the round to undress, one piece of clothing at a time. Two of your sisters had already lost their veil, their coif, their scapular, and their belt. Their tunic was the only piece of clothing hiding their sins.

A bunch of grapes rested on your left hand and you lazily ate it. The dizziness caused by the alcohol had started to wear off. Although a fourth glass of wine rested in front of you on the edge of the coffee table, it had been there for more than an hour. You pulled it to your lips and savoured another sip of wine along with some grapes.

"Oh, no!" one of your sisters mirthuflly exclaimed at one of the guests as he abandoned the cards in his hand on the coffee table.

Another round had ended. The crowd mercilessly teased him, for he would have to take his button-up shirt off, which would leave him shirtless.

Terzo pulled a couple of grapes from the bunch that rested on your hand.

Out the corner of your eyes, you observed Copia.

PLEASE, CONSIDER REBLOGGING THIS AND/OR GIVING ME FEEDBACK, I WOULD APPRECIATE IT A LOT!

[sudsana]

Queen Victoria was an incredibly talented painter.

As reported in the Surrey news, two original paintings by Queen Victoria were discovered among a treasure trove of family heirlooms at a cottage in Surrey. The large oil paintings depict vases of flowers and are believed to date back to the second half of the 19th Century.

One of the works features purple irises in a green vase, with a posy of small flowers and other items placed in or around the container. The other depicts a vibrant mix of pink, yellow, orange and white blooms in a blue vase resting on yellow fabric. Hydrangeas dominate the composition while a posy of flowers rests at the base of the vase.

[lilacflowershop]

Lilac Flower Shop provides flowers of your choice for your wedding.

Roses Regardless of the situation, roses are the ideal traditional flowers. They truly do have something for any wedding style because they are romantic and available in a multitude of colors. One of the few flowers you can always find are roses. Most of them are adapt well to many different conditions and really hearty.

Roses work well in bouquets as well as elaborate installations of all sizes. They're less expensive overall, especially when purchased in large quantities.

Pick from traditional rose varieties in shades of pink, white, and red. Whether you want a single rose or an arrangement of roses, or to combine a few, garden roses are also a lovely choice. The higher-end variety of roses are called a garden rose. They're one of my favorite flower types to include in arrangements because they're lovely, soft, and have a lot of movement to their stems.

Peonies Without a doubt, peonies are the most preferred springtime wedding flower. These huge, uniquely textured blossoms have various textures on their petals. They come in a variety of colors and variations, and each has a unique petal structure. Larger spaces or statement pieces like an all-peony bouquet work well with peonies. Because of their size, fewer stems are needed to fill in a given area.

Peonies are such a striking flower that it's impressive to use even a single stem in a bud vase.

Lilies Lilies have magnificently big petals and are a classic, beautiful bloom. They come in a variety of hues, including as orange, red, yellow, pink, purple, and white. Since they blossom throughout the summer, using them to provide a romantic touch to an outdoor summer wedding is ideal.

Lilies are a larger flower, so they can stand alone as a bouquet on their own or as a little posy with just one stem combined with baby's breath or foliage. They can also be added to more elaborate arrangements with plenty of other flowers.

Hydrangeas Hydrangeas are very well-liked because of their striking yet delicate appearance. Despite being composed of tiny petals, the clusters have a significant effect. In addition, they come in a range of hues, including as white, pink, blue, and purple. For ceremonial arches, hydrangeas work well.

Hydrangeas can also be combined into a dramatic bouquet or utilized as gorgeous single-flower centerpieces. You definitely don't need as many stems to make an impression because of how big they are!

Sunflowers Sunflowers are a popular option for wedding flowers, and it's easy to see why with their cheery yellow color and billowing petals. Sunflowers provide every scene a striking burst of color and texture. You can arrange single stems on their own, combine them into a centerpiece, or match them with other smaller flowers.

Since sunflowers are edible, they're a great option for cake toppings or for finishing the outside of cakes with pressed, dried petals. Although yellow sunflowers are the most common type, various kinds of this bloom can give an arrangement hints of orange and crimson. Sunflowers are a gorgeous option for summer to early fall weddings, and they are most easily accessible while they are in season. San Diego Wedding Florist.

[talkfastromance4]

Spa day at home—Luke&Lily oneshot

Just a little Mother’s Day snippet.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

It was as if the doctor’s recommendation and Luke’s words of precaution really went to your body because it was like a switch flipped. The newfound energy you had amid your pregnancy had now turned to exhaustion so you had no problem taking it easy by laying on the couch or staying in bed.

The last month of your pregnancy really set in by giving you low back pain, swollen ankles and making frequent trips to the bathroom. Thankfully, you haven’t had any more contractions, or fake ones.

So you were surprised when you were stirred awake from soft whispers and giggles, also the soft grunts from Petunia and little chirps from Philbert.

“Shh, shh, we have to wake mama up gently, remember?” Luke says in a hushed voice.

You feel the bed shift three times then a small hand on your cheek.

“Wake up mama,” Lily whispers.

You open your eyes slowly then smile at seeing Lily and Posy staring at you with bed hair. Their eyes are excited and Oli claps his hands.

“Mama!” he squeals.

“Well, good morning,” you smile at them all.

“Happy Mother’s Day!” Lily and Posy shout before coddling you in hugs and kisses.

“Is it?” You laugh glancing at Luke who nods with a small smile.

“It is, lovie.”

“Wow, I forgot about it,” you sigh hugging your girls back. You sit up a little straighter then Oliver crawls next to you, placing his thumb in his mouth.

“We made you breakfast!” Posy says.

“You did? What did you make?”

“Dada and I made blueberry pancakes with eggs and ham,” Lily says.

“And I made honey toast!” Posy says.

Luke presents the tray on your lap with a pink lily, a peach posy and a sprig of baby’s breath for Oliver in a small vase. There’s four envelopes underneath the flowers and the food looks so delicious.

“This is so lovely, thank you,” you kiss the top of Oliver’s head and affectionately pinch Lily and Posy’s cheeks. “Will you all eat in here with me?”

“Yes! I’ll go get my plate!” Posy scrambles off the bed with Philbert chasing after her.

“I’ll go help,” Lily slides off slowly following her sister.

“Did you really forget it was Mother’s Day?” Luke asks hopping on the bed next to you, he pulls Oliver onto his lap.

“Yeah, I’ve been so tired and thinking of other things I guess. This is so nice, thank you.”

You lean over to give him a kiss then the girls are back clambering on the bed to eat with you. You teared up at all of your cards, especially Luke’s because he wrote new song lyrics just for you on the inside of his card.

After breakfast you were ordered to stay in bed while they cleaned up but then Oliver needed a diaper change so you went into his room.

“We have something else for you downstairs,” Lily says in the doorway, an impish grin on her face.

You follow her downstairs then gasp at what you see. There are tons of flowers all over the kitchen and living room and also a set-up for manicures and pedicures. Members of Luke’s glam team are smiling at you.

“What’s this?” you ask, Luke is quick to take Oliver from you.

“Thought you could use a nice spa day at home. I know your feet have been killing you so Jeannie knows to spend extra time on the foot massage,” Luke explains.

“Come, sit, sit!” Jeannie gestures you to one of the chairs.

Lily and Posy sit in their chairs and soon you’re all getting your nails done. The chair you’re sitting in is heated and includes a back massage so you are in heaven. Luke keeps Oliver and the animals occupied. Afterwards, you end up falling asleep on the couch.

For dinner, Luke is preparing your favorite meal with the help of the girls again. The day ended with a warm fire on the patio and s’mores. All three children fell asleep cuddled up next to you on the outside couch. Luke takes each one by one to their beds then joins you back on the couch.

“Thank you for today,” you tell him snuggling against him. He wraps the blanket around the both of you. “It was wonderful.”

“You’re welcome. You’re the best mother, wife, partner, woman…I wish I could pamper you everyday.”

“Go for it, I’ll quit my job,” you giggle.

“Okay,” he laughs.

The two of you sit as stars start to peek in the sky. Luke hums your song while playing with your fingers, and you feel your baby kick, one more Mother’s Day wish.

[9thbutterfly]

45 min to closing, and those are all the cut flowers I have left.

Or rather: I got interrupted before posting, it's now 30 minutes to closing, and the pink and yellow posy is gone too.

Happiness is a pile of empty vases.

[downtoearthmarkets]

As a farmers market shopper, you are most likely familiar with the ‘Slow Food Movement’ that emphasizes the mindful consumption of unprocessed, seasonal foods that are locally grown and prepared using culturally traditional cooking techniques. It goes without saying that our farmers markets act as hubs for connecting people with all the ingredients they need to foster a healthy, slow food lifestyle and its thoughtful approach to eating. But did you know that this concept – and the larger ‘slow living’ umbrella that it is part of – has extended into many arenas of everyday life, including the purchasing of decorative, cut flowers? In fact, the very same principles that apply to the consumption of ‘slow foods’ also apply to the intentional choices we make when selecting fresh flowers to buy for ourselves and others. 

Adorning one’s living space with colorful, sweetly scented flowers or gifting someone with a beautiful fresh bouquet is one of life’s simple pleasures that is accessible to most everyone. But behind those innocent-looking blooms sometimes lies a little-known dark side. Just as with modern-day industrial overproduction of food, the large-scale production, shipping and packaging of commercially grown cut flowers exacts a huge environmental toll that most consumers are generally not aware of. To address these issues, the slow flower movement encourages the sustainable, responsible and mindful consumption of decorative flowers. Along those lines, here are some things to keep in mind the next time you are looking to replace the desiccated, wilted stems in your hallway flower vase (hint: head directly to your local farmers market this summer). 

Seasonal flowers When you purchase fresh flowers in the dead of winter here in the northeast, such as buying a dozen red roses for your Valentine in mid-February, it’s a safe assumption that those blooms were not grown anywhere nearby. In fact, the majority of cut flowers sold in the U.S. are grown in far-flung warmer climates that allow for year-round production, such as California and South America. Happily, the arrival of summer to this region brings with it an influx of fresh produce into our farmstalls along with displays of fresh flowers, from sweet posies of wildflowers to sturdy bunches of sunflowers. Unlike industrially grown flowers, farmers market flowers are only available when the growing conditions allow for their production in harmony with nature’s rhythms. Whereas commercial growers routinely spray their crops with copious amounts of chemicals such as pesticides, herbicides and fungicides to ensure a constant yield, the seasonally appropriate production of local flowers requires fewer inputs and synthetic applications. 

Refrigeration and transportation After industrially grown flowers are harvested from fields and greenhouses, they are stored in chilled warehouses to preserve their freshness before being transported via refrigerated trucks to the airport where they are then flown to their various destinations via cargo planes. Upon arrival, they are transferred back into refrigerated trucks and driven to retailers and other commercial distribution centers. The long-haul transportation and extended refrigeration of these flowers before they reach their point-of-sale requires an enormous expenditure of energy that balloons the size of their carbon footprint. Alternatively, the farmers market flowers that you see have been grown locally and have made only a short trip from the field to the marketplace. They’ll be fresher by the time you get them home and your purchase helps support a small farm or flower vendor versus a large faceless corporation. 

Native flowers The range of exotic blooms you’ll find at a commercial florist or supermarket are typically not indigenous to the northeast, having been grown in different countries and warmer states. Amongst the cheerful posies of fresh flowers populating the farmstalls, you’ll find a preponderance of native plant varieties that have been growing in this area for thousands of years. These native flowers are uniquely adapted to thrive in the specific growing conditions of this region and have co-evolved alongside our local pollinators and wildlife forming a beneficial symbiosis and helping to promote biodiversity. For instance, Rudbeckia (aka black-eyed-susan or coneflower) is an herbaceous perennial native to North America that is prized for its showy golden yellow flowers that are being sold in our farmers markets right now. The nectar and pollen its flowers produce feeds native bees, butterflies, and other pollinators and it is also a larval host plant for Silvery Checkerspot (Chlosyne nycteis) caterpillars. Sticking within the yellow flower theme, all 52 varieties of sunflowers (Helianthus) are indigenous to North America while their seeds have formed a staple part of the American Indian diet for thousands of years. 

Packaging Unlike the bouquets sold by commercial florists and retailers that are often heavily packaged in plastic cellophane, when you purchase a bouquet in the farmers market, it may come wrapped in kraft paper or simply bundled up, ready to be tucked into your shopping tote. Whereas plastic film is hard to recycle and adding to our planet’s ongoing plastic pollution problem, paper is biodegradable and can be tossed in the compost along with your cut flowers once they have reached the end of their useful life. 

And there you have it! We wish you a very happy summer season of ‘slow food’ AND ‘slow flower’ shopping in our Down to Earth farmers markets.