#Clear Orchid Pots

[greenbarnorchidsupplies]

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[cosyvelvetorchid]

Bucktommy (any rating): Orchids

This was a lovely one to write, thank you 🩶

***

The day had finally arrived. After weeks of slowly packing up his things in between his shifts, Buck was finally moving in with Tommy.

There wasn’t really all that much to move in on the day - Buck had been taking a couple of boxes of stuff over to Tommys every time he stayed over, so all that was left was the the remainder of his kitchen equipment, toiletries and the washer and dryer which were far newer than Tommys who had agreed to donate his own machines to make room for Bucks.

In the two weeks of preparation Tommy himself had taken the opportunity to clear out some of his possessions and get rid of some junk. Mostly books he’d long since read and random tools and car parts.

Buck flopped down on the sofa next to Tommy with a grunt. Tommy wrapped his arm around his neck pulling Bucks temple to his lips for a kiss.

“You okay, baby?” He asked. Buck slid his hands around Tommy waist.

“Tired. But happy.” He hummed into Tommys chest. Tommy replied with a kiss to the top of his head.

“Not regretting moving in?” He teased.

Buck placed a hand on Tommys chest for leverage to push himself up to meet Tommys eyes. “Not in a million years.” He grinned.

“Good.” Tommy leaned in for a soft kiss to his lips. Buck settled back down onto Tommys chest. After a few moments he noticed a large black book on the coffee table.

“What’s that?” He asked through a yawn.

“Oh, I wanted to show you.” Tommy said excitedly leaning forward to grab it. “I found it when I was clearing out stuff for your impending arrival.” He placed it on his lap and Buck sat up a little so look. “It’s a photo album that belonged to my grandmother.”

He opened it up and slowly flipped the pages. She really was quite beautiful when she was younger and Buck could see the family resemblance in the eyes and the signature smile lines.

“How old were you when she died?”

“Uh, 20.”

“Tell me about her.” Buck said resting his head on Tommy shoulder.

“She was so much fun. Eccentric at times. A little impulsive. You remind me of her sometimes, ya know.”

“Yeah?” The thought made Buck feel warm inside.

“Yeah. God, she would have loved you. She loved shenanigans and she definitely wouldn’t have had a hard time roping you in on them.” He laughed fondly. “She was always smiling and happy. I can’t ever remember being mad at anyone or any thing.” He flipped the page to a slightly browning and dog eared photograph of her standing next to a table, on top of which was a tall orchid with a “1st prize” rosette stuck to it.

“That was her favourite hobby - growing orchids. She won so many competitions at flower shows. She probably spent more money than she won as prizes but she loved it so much.”

“I wish I could have met her.” Buck said softly.

“Me too.”

**

A week later and Buck was entirely unpacked in his new home. He came off a 48 hour shift a few hours before Tommys 24 ended. He’d tried to stay awake for him coming home but minutes after he’d sat on their sofa his slid down and fell asleep.

Tommy arrived home and kicked off his shoes and dropped his bag by the door. “Hey baby.” He called out. “Baby?” He repeated when he got no response. He walked along the hall and peered into the living room and his heart melted at the sight.

Buck, his hands tucked in underneath his chin as he lay soundly asleep sprawled along the sofa. Tommy quietly walked in the room and slowly pulled the crocheted blanket from the back of the sofa and gently draped it over him. He placed a delicate kiss onto his head and left the room for the kitchen.

As he entered the room he stopped dead in his tracks. On the centre of the kitchen island was a white ceramic plant pot with a beautiful bright blue orchid planted inside. He felt a rush of warmth fill every crevice in his body at the thoughtfulness of his boyfriend.

There was a time in his life not too far in the past when he didn’t think he’d ever find someone special, let alone someone as thoughtful and attentive as Evan. He smiled as a tear escaped his eye and snaked its way down his cheek.

He walked over and tentatively ran his finger along one of the petals.

“Do you like it?” A groggy voice came from behind him. He turned his head to see Buck, eyes slightly scrunched with sleep and hair disheveled. He fell in love with him just a little bit more right there.

He walked straight over to him, one hand grabbed around Bucks waist and the other the back of his neck and pulled him in for a firm kiss. Buck hummed in response and Tommys heart flipped in his chest.

“I love you.” He whispered releasing the kiss and resting their foreheads together.

Buck smiled happily “I love you, too.” He said. “And I hope your grandma taught you some shit because I have no idea how to keep this bad boy alive.” Tommy’s head leant back as he let out a loud laugh.

“I’m sure we can figure it out.”

[thevoidscreams]

Hello!

I would like to see something with Mortarion. Pre heresy when he's feeling unloved as he's not quite living up to the emperor's vision for him. He's supposed to be the second strongest Psycher of the Primarchs yet he Refuses to use his power.

Even pre monster form I've always loved the idea that Mortarion is gardener/herbalist in his spare time. Collecting plants from conquered worlds and giving them a home in a personal green house of sorts.

A servant who is commonly sent to give him messages/retrieve him when needed strikes up a bond with him over his eclectic garden.

They marvel at his plant expertise and abilities. They give him an outlet to talk about his special interest in detail. They support his passions and even offer understanding about why he's uncomfortable using his magic.

Overtime spent in that humid greenhouse, both start to feel it, the attraction. The brief glances or gentle brushes of hands as they talk and work in unison.

Mortarion has never really felt anything like this. And so strongly! It frightens him. Frightens him because he fears chasing this small glimmer of happiness away if he oversteps.

But oh...Oh he dreams of the alternative. Of bodies pressed into intimate warmth, of kisses stolen quickly or bitten ravenously while he towers over his sweet one. It feels like he can barely control himself, and it's only getting worse.

Little does he know his little honey bee is already swooned to him, but they too fear overstepping. They're a baseline human, and Mortarion is a demigod like figure. He'd never view them in such a way.

They shall be content being his mortal confidant, his sidekick so to speak. They've even acquired a special gift for him to show their care (and sooth the heartache for a love that they believe will never be.) A beautiful floral specimen from their own home world. In their world's language of flowers these blooms represent eternal devotion and love.

Its a subtle way to confess their feelings, and also find closure. After all they're certain Mortarion doesn't know their planet's flower language.

... Now what happens when he turns out he Does.

(For making press March if its not clear. You do great stuff btw okay byyyyyy)

Day thirteen!!!

Pairing Mortarion x reader

Warnings: Sex, first-time sex for Mort, and two idiots in love.

Mortarion stared down at the pots in front of him. His hearts hammering in his massive chest.

The plant's colorful petals shine especially bright among the other plants. They were gifts after all that made they special. Even among all the strange and alien plants he’d gathered over the years.

He’d collected you much the same way, once nothing more than a go for, a messenger who he enjoyed seeing. Until he could no longer bear to see you go, wondering when he would see you next. If he ever saw you again at all. So he took you, just as he did his plants. Pulling rank to have you reassigned to his conservatory. Where you’d expressed a good deal of knowledge about plants. He was certain it had been the right move as you had seemed to grow into the role naturally.

He’d even made changes for you. Something he’d done for no others. Such as adding several water features with live animals. It made the place hum with new life. Mortarion would watch you buzz from one task to another, bust like a bee. It was how he took to calling you his honeybee. His sweet little bee.

As he pondered, the last words you spoke to the primarch bounced around his head.

‘They reminded me of you when I saw them.’ You said, offering him the gifts. His hands brushing yours not so accidentally as he took them. Lingering a moment longer than was strictly necessary.

‘Is that so?’

‘Yep.’

‘And why is that?’

Your cheeks had tinged pink with a blush and it made him smile under his mask.

‘They just have a nice meaning.’ You told him quickly and ducked away to go prune some fruit trees.

His mind raced, a blue orchid, and a red rose. His mind pulled up the meaning of these plants but he was sure he must have misremembered. He’d gone to his study to find his old book about gifting plants and the symbolism of the colors and species.

He hadn’t misremembered. In fact he’d been spot on.

Orchids, the book had said, were a flower that could be symbolized by love, desire and sexuality. But could also be symbols of good luck, harmony, good health and good fortune. They were blue however. The rarest color form of orchid was blue and they were unique.

On its own the orchid wasn’t a dead give away and he could have pondered the meaning of it for a long time, with still no confidence to act.

But the roses. His hearts fluttered again. Roses had many meanings, all of which had multiple meanings. But red was impossible to mistake when given as a gift. They weren’t the pink of gratitude, or the yellow of friendship or even orange which could mean fascination.

You’d mentioned the meaning specifically when giving them to him.

And red, or at least in rose language, was meant to represent devotion, passion, romance, desire, and true love. It was a lover’s flower. Given to him by the one he loved so ardently it hurt.

He came back to himself as raindrops began to pelt the roof and shake him from his recollection. He stood lifting the potted plants and taking them to a place of prominence in his conservatory. Where all would see them and admire them.

He waited for you to return today. His thumb caressing the petal of the rose. Imagining it was your lip, soft and supple as you lay under his body.

He’d gone without his armor, only a mask to aid in his breathing.

HIs hands reached for a spade as he shook the images of you from his mind.

Instead he focused on his plants and their needs. Caring for them. Just as he would care for you. If you were his.

His mind continued to stir as he continued to plant, turning soil so that his lovely roses would be able to grow into a magnificent bush.

Would your love grow that way? Blooming as it took root and grew into something more.

The door to the flower garden opened and he heard you approach. He wondered if he should find you and confront you about the flowers you’d chosen.

He decided to let you work for a bit. Hoping beyond all hope that he wouldn’t scare you away. You were perhaps his only real chance at love.

He looked up at the glass windows high above and watched as the rain that fell in sheets across the glass.

The rose was planted and watered.

He would go find you now.

You had been trimming dead leaves from a butterfly bush. Helping so that hopefully the new growth would have a chance.

Mortarion had even said that he would let you have some butterflies to liven up the space once he was able to source them.

On the outside he was often grumpy. But inside you knew he was hurting. Despite that he took your help in the conservatory graciously and was kind to you.

Your hand stroked over one of the bicolored flower stocks. The purple and orange enchanting you.

Your mind drifted to the feeling of his hands on yours and the even rarer case of his hand on your back as he sometimes did to direct you.

They were so big, they’d easily be able to hold you. Easily cover your body as he… it felt like your face caught fire it got so warm.

You wished you could have just told him you loved him outright. But if he didn’t feel the same you ran the risk of his sending you away. Of him replacing you as his assistant and maybe.. Falling in love with the next one.

It hurt so bad to think about that you almost dropped your clippers. No, you would give him flowers, and keep the secret of your love in your heart. Where it would grow with every passing day till it consumed your whole self. LIke mint left unchecked, spreading to every corner of the garden that was your body.

“You’re here early.” The sound of his voice shocked you and you did drop your clippers. He reached out and snatched them, lightning quick despite his size. His font was pressed to your back and the heat of Mortarion’s body chased away the chill you’d gotten from the rain coming in.

“Yes. Thank you.” You turned to look up at him, slotting your clippers into your tool belt.. Eyes wide and warm.

“I was hoping to see where you put the plants I gave you.”

Mortarion nodded. “I just finished planting the rose.

HIs hand found its way to your back. GUiding you along and warming you. It felt nice and it made another wave of very unprofessional things come to mind.

He led you to the main display, which had been empty while the primarch decided what he wanted to put there. You gasped when you saw the rose. It was planted in the main display.

“I am still trying to find the best place to put the orchid. But I assure you it will be a main attraction as well. It is too beautiful to be off in some corner. Things that are beautiful should be seen and appreciated.”

His eyes were on you as he said the last part. Of course you didn’t see as you were breathless about how much he had enjoyed the gifts.

Mortarion swallowed and knelt next to you, even then he was an inch taller than you.

“I need to ask you something. And I want you to be honest with me.”

You turned to face him, his yellow green eyes meeting yours.

“Yeah of course Mortarion, what up?” You felt unusually nervous.

“Why did you pick these blooms?” He asked seriously.

You told him you wouldn’t lie.

“If I’m honest with you, and you don’t like my answer..will you make me leave?”

Your eyes got a bit blurry as you pictured going back to your old life. Running messages and being yelled at for things that were in them despite them not being your fault. Or even worse, going back to a life without him. You didn’t want to lose any of what this place had to offer, but losing him might as well have been the same as dying.

“You will not. I promise you. You are far too important here to be rid of without serious cause.”

You nodded, slightly comforted.

“I got them for the meanings they hold.”

“ANd you know what they mean. Do you not?”

“I do.”

Mortarion figured as much, but his hearts were racing, he needed to hear you say it.

“Did you mean it? When you gifted me these plants knowing what they symbolized?”

“I did.” You brushed your hand over your arm. Certain you’d at the very least be laughed at. Who were you to make moves on a primarch of all people? You looked away. Mortarion was trembling.

You meant it. You really meant it.

His finger touched the bottom of your chin and turned you back to face him. His other hand came up to remove his mask. “I love you too.” He said softly.

Your jaw dropped and you were at a loss for words for a moment.

“You do?” You practically shouted.

Mortarion smiled. “I do.”

He took your hands and held them close to his chest. “Will you be mine, Honeybee?”

Your eyes widened and tears of joy dripped from your eyes. “Of course.”

You leaned in and kissed him.

Mortarion wrapped his arms around you. Your lips were every bit as loft and warm as he’d imagined on all those cold and lonely nights.

You stayed in each other’s embrace for a long minute, kissing one another with as the longing you’d both possessed.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time.” You told him with a very dopey smile on your lips. Mortarion found himself falling in love all over again as he saw it and met it with one of his own.

“As have I.” the primarch told you.

“Well that and a few other things.” You admitted pressing your forehead to his.

“Such as?” He pressed, wondering if you were as desirous of him as he was of you.

Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained, you supposed.

“Things like feeling your hands on me. Or being laid down on the soft moss carpets in the other room and taken by a big handsome primarch…one like you.”

It was Mortarion’s turn to look at you, jaw dropped.

“Unless you don’t want to or don’t feel that way.” You amended quickly.

Mortarion just chuckled and kissed you again. He’d had that same fantasy, of taking you on the mossy ground next to the main water feature as the high waterfall crashed into the water below swallowing your cries so only he’d be able to hear you.

He pulled away slowly.

“There are many places in this conservatory I’ve daydreamed about teaching you a new way to ‘pollinate’ a flower.”

Your stomach did a little flip and you leaned into him.

“Well I always want to learn more. I’d be happy to learn whatever you will teach me.”

Mortarion stood and scooped you up into his arms. He had just the place.

He’d waited so long to have you. To love you. And now that you were his he was feeling rather uncharacteristically impatient to show you just how much he longed for you.

In the room with a pond of fish he’d had made for you, really he wondered how you hadn’t known he’d loved you sooner, there was an old willow, it was currently in bloom.

He took you under its branches. They draped around the tree like a skirt and completely blocked the view of the trunk from the rest of the room.

Mortarion set you down and kissed you again. “I would like to have you, fully. If that is amiable to you.”

“It is. I’ve had many daydreams under this tree.” You giggled.

“As have I.” He agreed. “I will start this, so that you know what I have to give you, and if it is not to your liking, I will understand.” There was an undeniable air of sadness about the statement but you couldn’t imagine not liking him in any capacity.

He raised his shirt and pulled it off. He was leanly muscled but very defined and your hands immediately went to his chest. He continued with his pants. Pulling them down to reveal his pale body in all its glory.

You were struck by how stark yet beautiful he was, not a single bit of hair on him aside from the long white locks on his head.

He stood waiting for your judgment.

You gave it readily. “You’re beautiful Mortarion. I’ve never seen anything like you. And I don’t think I ever will anywhere else. Your body is perfect to me. In all of its aspects.”

Your hands ran down his form, touching him in a way he’d thought he’d only experience in dreams.

“Then you are not repulsed by me?” The pale giant asked.

“No, I really like it.” You assured him immediately.

You took a step back as he knelt again waiting. Your hands tugging your shirt up, he reached out to unclip your belt of tools, setting them aside. He eyed your chest as you tossed the shirt over with his clothes and began on your pants. Pushing them down.

You were left standing almost naked before him in only a bra and panties.

His hands went to your hips and his mouth found your throat kissing the tender skin and making you shiver with delight.

You hooked your finger into your panties pushing them down and letting them fall.

Mortarion grabbed you, pulling you down into his lap as he sat.

He ran his hands up and down your body learning every curve and dip.

When his hands came back up you back he gently unclipped the bra. You pulled it away. Mortarion drew in a breath. You were the stunning thing in this conservatory, he was certain of that. And you were his, all his to have and hold and love.

He patted his lap. “Turn for me?” You did, sitting with your back to his chest as he reached down to stroke your damp lips. “You're absolutely breathtaking.” He sighed, rubbing the rough pads of his fingers over your impossibly soft pussy. Loving every inch of it as he did.

One finger probed your entrance and, finding it plenty wet, slid the finger in.

The action drew a moan from you and your head fell back on his shoulder. Letting him work. The finger brushed over a few sensitive spots, the primarch was watching, learning from each gasp and adjusting till he had you writhing in his lap from pleasure wrought by his own hands.

Every squeak or sound of satisfaction made him work his hand a bit harder. “I can take another.” You panted, yearning for more of him inside you. He gave it. His ring finger joined the middle and stretched you out more as he continued to observe, halting at any sign of pain, and waiting till you were comfortable before starting again. It was a process of stop and start that had you half mad with need. Once he mistook a sharp inhale of pleasure for pain and you almost screamed not to stop.

Whether he realized it or not his care for you was causing the worst case of edging you’d ever experienced. Drool dripped down from the corner of your mouth. Your head lulled to the side and a soft whine bubbled up from somewhere inside you.

“Please, just like that. Don’t stop.” Mortarion pressed a kiss to your forehead, happy to keep it up.

“How are you feeling my Honeybee?”

“Close.” You told him honestly.

“I want to feel you come.” He peppered a trail of kisses from your face, down your neck and nibbled your shoulder.

That sent you over the edge. You came hard on his fingers, and he worked you through it, steady and comforting.

His finger left you and he brought them up to his lips, he licked the juices off. The flavor made his cock all the harder. You slid from his lap, turning around to face him.

You reached for his cock and he stiffened. No one had touched him this way before.

He knew how this should work. Buth knowing and doing were two separate things.

He watched you stroke his cock curiously. Your eyes fixed on his as you bite your lip. It made him want to jump you. And as nice as it felt to have you touching him, he wanted me.

“I would like to have you, to fill you.” He rasped, his voice getting a bit hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“Please.”

He raised you back up into his lap as it felt right.

Lining up his leaking cock with your leaking pussy he was hopeful that it would suffice for making things easier.

It did, as big as he was compared to you, he pushed in and met no resistance. You’d been ready since you’d last cum. As good as it was, it wasn't enough, you wanted more.

Letting your weight aid you, you speared yourself on his cock till you couldn’t fit a single bit more. He was longer than he was thick, but that wasn’t much of an issue given the fact that even being on the thinner side it was still more than enough to stretch you. Putting mind numbing pressure on all those delicious places inside you.

“Will it be sufficient for the task at hand my Honeybee?” He breathed, his own head a bit fuzzy from the perfect warmth wrapped around his cock.

“Absolutely. Fuck even your cock is perfect.”

He hugged you close and pressed his face into your shoulder.

You both sat like that, intimately embraced and ready to finally make good on a fantasy you’d both had countless times.

You moved first, using your footing on the grassy earth to raise yourself up and then drop.

Mortarion's hands swiftly went to your ass and hips, helping you to move.

It was everything he’d reamed and so much more.

Soon enough your efforts were taken over by your lover, he raised you with ease and pushed you back down onto his cock with fervor.

That was just fine with you though. You kissed him deeply and allowed him to explore your mouth as he fucked you.

“Damn it all. Why didn’t I tell you sooner?” He asked with a bitter little laugh.

“Great question.” You told him moaning as his cock kissed your cervix gently. “I should have told you as soon as I realized.”

“And when was that?” The primarch asked.

“That first week I worked with you.”

Mortarion cursed in a language you couldn’t understand.

“We might have been married by now if that was the case.” He felt like such a fool, for the last few years you’d both been a source of love and light in each other's lives.

“I suppose we’ll have to make up for all that lost time then.”

Mortarion moaned and hugged you tight again, thrusting his hips up into you.

You came again, the already wet slap of skin becoming even wetter.

Mortarion fucked you a minute longer. His body grew hotter and the coil in his belly winding tighter as he got ready to cum inside someone for the first time. It was completely different from his hand. The thrusts grew sloppy and he groaned as he came. Pushing into you to make sure not a drop was wasted.

Mortarion laid back in the grass under the willow, you rested on his chest as his cock slipped out. You were both spent. But very satisfied.

“I love you Mortarion.” You yawned quietly.

He smiled, it was genuine and warm and he’d never smiled like it before, it felt good to smile that way.

“I love you too, Honeybee.”

[kumememe]

Hi if you have time could you do a Felix x male reader who works at a flower shop. Maybe the cattons use the store for all flower needs but maybe it’s lasso because Felix like to see the reader who works there. I read your fics today and they are amazing!!

fleur de lis (felix catton x m!reader [requested])

note: you are so sweet! thank you for being my first every request and i hope you enjoyed this story. i wrote it all in one go as i got inspired, so please be wary of any spelling mistakes. thank you! also ps: i chose that title because i wanted it to be fancy lol warnings: none, just felix being a soft simp for the reader. ______________________________________________________________

the wind chimes attached to the door of a quiet little flower shop do a little dance as it opens, their gentle melody greeting those who go inside. the enchanting smell of freshly cut stems and florals wafting through the air as felix made his way towards a certain aisle of white flowers. orchids, daffodils, tulips, and gardenia flowers stand up daintily in their pot, dripping with water as it seemed it was recently irrigated. at the back of the store, a variety of freshly wiped brown pots were scattered, and types of rocks, seeds, and dirt in small packets were nearby as well. as the six-foot-five male observed the type of flowers the store was selling, a tap on his shoulder startles him. he turns to see a shorter (skin color) male with beautiful (eye color) eyes, a green apron with a name tag reading 'y/n' covering his collared up shirt and fitted khaki pants.

y/n clears his throat, "nice to see you again, felix! may i help you with anything?" he asks with a small smile, hands behind his back as he looks up at him slightly.

felix felt his heart flutter a little at the sight of the shorter male, smiling as he nodded. "hello y/n, yes, i do need help." he said as he looked around at the array of flowers, "elspeth wants a bunch of flower arrangements for this fancy dinner we're having, and i'm not really good at picking so..." he trails off, hoping y/n got the gist. y/n chuckles as he pats him on the shoulder. the gentle touch sends shivers to felix's body as y/n spoke.

"don't worry, i can help." he reassures the taller male. "for starters, what kind of theme is the party?"

as felix started going through all the details, he couldn't help but feel his chest tighten as he watched the male talk about flowers, clearly showing his expertise and his interest in the topic as he suggested different bouquet types and sets. the tall male had always gone to this flower shop in particular for his family's flower needs, and whenever he needed help, y/n would always be there for him. the way y/n's soft short fluffy (color) hair swayed as he moved, his eyes blinking softly which showed off his long lashes, and his red lips stretching as he smiled, took the breath out of felix's mouth. for the record, felix wasn't the type to fall so easily, especially for someone as average as the small flower shop clerk. but there was just something about the way the latter would greet him with the brightest smile, his soft honey-like voice that made felix's skin get goosebumps as he spoke, and his bright personality drew felix in like bees to pollen. it was addicting. just to see that gorgeous smile come his way, his day would be left with replaying the moment in his mind.

"...lix? felix? hello, sir?" y/n gently shakes felix out of his trance.

"hm? oh sorry, i spaced out. can you repeat what you said?" felix cleared his throat, his face turning red slightly as he tried to maintain his cool. he was just caught dozing off, so he tried to mainatain his cool attitude.

y/n nods, "it's okay. so to summarize, the theme is great gatsby, and mrs. catton wants soft colored florals in big and small arrangements. did i get that right?" he asks, to which felix nods. "must be a really big party then, right?" y/n says as he writes it all down. felix finds the chuckling cute as he nods, leaning over a bit to see what y/n had written. "yes, that is right. oh! and the party will happen on friday, next week."

"i see, i see. will you pay it straight, cash or?" he asks, trailing off as felix nods. "i can do straight payment, yes." he says softly to the smaller male.

"got it, follow me this way." y/n said as he made his way to the counter, getting the card reader machine up and running as felix followed him. felix watched as y/n worked, the latter's head bobbing softly to the jazz music that played in the background. "cute." felix said without much thought, making the small male perk his head up to him with a small surprised expression. "hm?"

felix realized his mistake and cleared his throat, deciding to be bold and repeat what he said. he thought he might as well shoot his shot. "i said you're cute, y/n."

y/n's cheeks turn a pinkish hue as he nods shyly, "ah, thank you." he says quietly as he places the receipt down on the counter, asking felix to sign it. y/n watches felix sign the paper as he bit his lip, hesitating before he spoke. "the feeling's mutual, felix. you're pretty cute too." he flirted subtly, which makes felix grin as the tall male gave back the pen.

felix's gaze meets y/n's for a bit as he lets out a playful huff at the flirting. "the flowers will be most likely ready within two hours before the party, so you can come by and pick them up." y/n says, and felix nods. "cool, ill see you then." felix said as he was turning away. as he was about to make his exit out of the flower shop, he stopped. he knew he had an opportunity to ask the clerk out, and if he had run away from it, he wouldn't stop thinking about it.

felix turns back to the clerk, who was busying himself by cleaning up some of the papers on the desk. "y/n, I want to ask you something."

y/n's ears perk up in intrigue, "yes?" he asks with a slightly eager tone.

felix leans against the counter, biting his lip as bit as he whispers to y/n. "i was wondering you know, since i'm already here, if... we can go out sometime?"

y/n's face turn red as his mouth opens and closes, taken off guard by the sudden question. felix tries to remedy this as he starts to spill out words, a little flustered though he tries to act as nonchalant and cool as possible. "i've admired the way you work, and you're always so kind to me and my family. think of it as a 'thank you' gift from me- er, the family." felix said as he hoped y/n wouldn't catch up on his slip-up.

"n-no, i mean- i'd love to, felix." y/n said as he held onto felix's arm to stop him from rambling, which eases felix's lightly tense demeanor. "i just didn't expect it, that's all," he said timidly.

felix chuckles at the bashful reaction as y/n looks away. "good, i mean, i could pick you up after work if you want? we can get some coffee together."

"yes, that would be nice. my shift ends at three pm- i can text you if it ends earlier? you have my number." y/n said and felix nodded, grinning. "yes, yes, i do. i'll see you later then?" felix asked as he opened the door of the flower shop, looking back at the blushing male who nodded.

"mhm, see you, felix." ______________________________________________________________ hope you enjoyed this, even though it is a bit shorter than usual. i personally loved the idea, i feel like it would be a nice story for an actual book. rich guy meets quiet flower shop clerk, what a cliche. a good one, at that

[ainawgsd]

My blue iris today is Babbling Brook! Clear Mornin Sky looks like it should be blooming tomorrow.

The iris beds are looking great!

And I cut some iris and allium to take to my mother-in-law. The pots that my throw away orchids came in make pretty good vases.

[thelightsandtheroses]

Secret Smile: Checks and Balances (Chapter Three)

Secret Smile | Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: Before returning to Colombia to get things right this time, Javi’s childhood best friend asks him to keep an eye out for his sister while they’re both stationed in the embassy. Only you don’t need Javier to keep an eye you her. Your role as a new legal advisor is all about keeping an eye on him after all. Sparks fly, lines will be drawn and broken and there’s everything to lose. Word Count: 3.4k Chapter Warnings: 18+ blog, language, mentions of alcohol, reader has a nickname (Blue) but no physical descriptors used. Author Notes - Thank you for all your comments, reblogs so far - they mean a lot. As always your comments and feedback are deeply appreciated, I’d love to know what you think of the chapter and fic so far. There is a Narcos Easter Egg in this chapter and if anyone catches it, please please let me know by sending me a comment or ask - I am super curious to see if anyone notices it. The gorgeous banner is by @/wildemaven

Chapter Two| Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

If ten years ago you had told your younger self that you’d be working with Javier Peña to bring down a cartel while you were living in Colombia, you would have laughed.

You would have laughed a lot at the sheer absurdity of it all.

You might, however, have thought how great that scenario could be. While Javier was always your brother’s friend and not yours, ten years ago you liked him and would have thought that he’d make a good colleague. He was smart, he was funny and he didn’t make you feel awful every time Rafa also drove you to the mall at the weekend like most of Rafa’s friends did. His other friends acted like there was decades between you rather than just a few years.

If Javier actually wanted you here with him, was open to working with you, perhaps things would be different. It might even feel more like you could have imagined it would.

 He doesn’t want you here though; it’s clear he doesn’t want anyone in this role, but also that somehow it’s worse for him that it’s you.

You ended yesterday with a tentative peace but it feels so unsteady, so easily broken.

None of this is what you anticipated when you took this job. You were supposed to be escaping a difficult work environment by leaving the country in the first place. What you had told your friends was an adventure, an experience you needed to have while you still could, is actually turning out to just be a repeat of the same old challenges in a different setting.

The coffee and food’s pretty good though. You wonder if it’s worth it just for that.

Your coffee pot hisses on the gas stove as you make your way up to the kitchen to finish making breakfast. You barely slept last night so you’ve already been up for some time and are planning on getting into the office early.  

Your apartment is one of the many the embassy provides for its staff. It’s plain and the furnishings are basic, but you’re comfortable here.  You’re based on the ground floor, so you don’t have to worry about the stairs. The main living area walls are a little faded now and the paint colour falls somewhere between orange and peach. The apartment is surprisingly spacious though, however after living in such a small apartment in DC it could just be your perception.

You’ve tried to make it your own by swapping the two dog related sketches hanging in the hall that you couldn’t any make sense of with photos of your loved ones instead. You have a lot of questions for the person who lived here before. Were they dog people? Was it an inside joke perhaps?

If you could stop tripping on the split level, this place would probably be perfect.

The few personal touches you’ve either bought from DC or in your first week in Colombia have helped make it feel homely though. The patterned comforter on the faded leather couch, a few photos of friends and family scattered around, several orchids you fell in love with and foolishly thought would be easy to keep alive.

You take a large gulp of your coffee and take a bite of your eggs, turning the radio on while you finish eating.

You freeze as you hear the newsreader’s words, abandoning your breakfast instantly, before picking up your handbag and walking straight out of your apartment.

This is going to be a mess.

You’re already in Javier’s office when he arrives, sitting cross legged on the black Chesterfield couch, scanning through a file.

You had arrived at the embassy an hour earlier than you usually would. Most people were still at home or on their way in and you were looking forward to the quiet. You’d made a beeline for your office to get ahead of what had happened but Robert, one of the other lawyers, was also already in and you didn’t want him hearing everything.

You went to Javi’s office instead. Thankfully one of the janitors let you in and you had started building a response plan immediately.

This situation with Duffy and Lopez could definitely become the sort of mess you needed to help manage.

You look around at the papers strewn on his desk and you are slightly impressed by the amount of chaos you’ve caused in less than an hour.

Javi looks decidedly irritated by the scene in front of him. You quickly untangle yourself off your seat and stand up, guiltily picking your cup of coffee off his desk.

“Is this a treat I can expect every morning?” he asks lightly.

“Well, the early bird does catch the worm, Javier.”

“Apparently so.” For a second, he sounds so familiar. This isn’t the Agent Peña you met in the ambassador’s office yesterday. This is Javi, Rafael’s best friend. This is the same Javi who waited outside your school with Rafael when you were being bullied and the three of you would walk back to your house together.  There’s mischief in his voice and for a second, he sounds younger.

You can’t get lost in memories now though.

”Did you hear about Duffy and Lopez?” you ask, skipping straight to the reason you’re here in his office.

Javier nods, runs a hand through his hair. “It was on the radio as I drove in.”

“I’ve been on the phone already, that’s uh, why I used your office. Robert’s already in mine and I needed privacy. They’re furious, Javi. Please tell me that they notified the police in Cali this was happening. Please?”

“It was a fast-moving opportunity,” he says, wincing at the way your face darkens. “They didn’t. They wouldn’t. Historically we’ve also had issues with that sort of thing, people in other people’s pockets so - this is just how it goes. You’ll learn that along the way.”

“Shit. Okay, we can - we’ll uh, we’ll deal with it. It’s done, can’t change it now. I’ve got some ideas, it’s manageable.”

“So, what do we do here then, Blue? You gonna help me navigate this?” You raise your eyebrows at Javi’s tone. There’s annoyance in his tone but he says your nickname softly. He looks exhausted already, as though he’s been stationed here for a decade as opposed to a day. Perhaps that’s not so far from the truth though. He’s been here before, he spent years here.

“Why else would I be here?” you ask flatly. “I didn’t even get to finish my breakfast this morning. There’s a meeting - actually, you have a meeting in just over an hour with the Colombians and the ambassador. We need to be ready for it. You need to be ready for it, Javi.”

“So, we what? What’s the play? You said you had some ideas, I’ll all ears.”

“I think Duffy and Lopez’s visas are guaranteed to be pulled at this point. That’s probably non-negotiable. I think you’ll have to eat some humble pie, same with the ambassador but that should be enough. It’s the principle, they want to make it clear to both you and the ambassador that they’re running things, not us, okay?”

Javi exhales heavily. “Do you have a cigarette?”

“I don’t smoke. Much. More socially than anything. Rarely.”

Javi raises an eyebrow at you.

“I mean that I don’t have any on me.” You look at Javi’s dejected face. “I’m sorry!”

“This is going to be a great day, isn’t it?”

You smile widely. “That’s more like it, Javi. Keep up that winning attitude!” 

Javi walks into your office later that afternoon. After helping him prepare for the meeting with the Ambassador and Vargas, you’ve been pulled into your own meetings, handing off projects you’d started before you were allotted this special assignment.

Several of your colleagues look up at him with a range of expressions from curiosity and admiration to annoyance. Everyone else is packing up for the end of their day but you’re still at your desk. At first you weren’t sure what you were waiting for but now you know.

He looks dejected.  That’s the first thing you see. It’s as though all of the air has been sucked out of him; he’s flat. Even his eyes look lifeless somehow.; they’re dull, colder even.

You’ve never seen him like this before; you remember him so differently. He was driven and ambitious, yes, but there wasn’t this visible weight pulling him down. His smile met his eyes back then.

At least, that’s how you remember him.

Javi loosens his tie a little as he leans against your desk; you look at his tie, it’s blue and gold today.

“Rough meeting?” you ask politely, picking your coffee cup up and taking a delicate sip.

“They’re not letting me replace my team in Cali,” he says in a low voice, “Did you know about this? Was this one of your ideas>”

“Oh.”

“Look, it’s bad enough Duffy and Lopez are out. I get why, I’m okay with it. They’re telling me I can’t send any other agents out there though? How do I do my job because I’ve been back less than a week and my agents are questioning me already. Are you gonna help me navigate me that? That’s what I need from you.”

“I’m sure there are reasons,” you say gently. If Javi says the word ‘navigate’ one more time, you think you might kick him, or slap him, or spill your coffee on him. No, no, you wouldn’t waste your coffee, even if it is bad quality. 

“Yeah, the reason is that they don’t want any of this. You do realise what you’re here for, don’t you? This assignment, what they want from you … it’s to block me.“

You scowl. “I’m not blocking anyone, Javier. I’m just here to help and to ensure everything is by the books, watertight so that we have a strong case when we extradite them.”

“You actually believe that?” he asks, an incredulous expression on his face.

You falter slightly. You did believe that - you want to continue to believe that, but if you’re honest you’re not so sure anymore.

“I do,” you say, smiling tightly.

“By the book. You think they’re playing by the book? Do you know how all the checks and balances work down here? The Cali cartel are negotiating a surrender with no consequences. It’s a negotiation where they have all the bargaining power, that seem right to you?”

“You can’t pretend that rules don’t matter, that checks and balances are irrelevant. It’s not how it works.”

“I didn’t say that,” Javi says, shaking his head.

Rules matter to you. It might sound uptight and inflexible, but there’s a system for a reason. Your whole career has been about upholding standards, about ensuring that justice is obtained when rules are broken. You’re not quite as evangelical about it as some of the people you went to law school with, but this matters to you.

It matters because you know what it’s like when those checks and balances don’t matter; when rules are taken as loose guidance or stretched and exploited until they break. You carry those invisible scars from DC, coupled with the complete sense of failure that the rules hadn’t mattered. Not in that scenario, not when it what came to it.

Maybe Javi’s right.

“It’ll be by the book,” Javi says gently, looking at you with all of his attention. “But I can’t guarantee they’re out there doing the same thing.”

He’s standing so close to you right now. You can smell the sharp mint on his breath, either gum or those tiny solid mints you get a tin. You’re not sure which it is; which one of the two is most like Javi anymore. The mint is clearly to mask something, not alcohol, but you can just about make out lingering traces of cigarette smoke following him too.

“What do you mean?” you ask, a growing sense of dread constricting around your stomach like vines.

“What do you know about what’s happened in Yumbo?” he asks in a low voice.

There’s a small TV in the office. The local news plays in the background; the calm intonations of the newsreader fading into white noise.

You look over to see footage of Cali and walk closer so you can hear the report. This is the tragedy Javi told you about.

The cause was a gas leak?

No, because Javi told you that the journalist who approached him had indicated it was the Cali cartel. Why would the inspector say this though?

You left DC for a reason. For many reasons actually. If there is one thing that would affect you it’s a cover up, it’s deliberately concealing the truth. You can’t take watching a miscarriage of justice before you; that’s not why you got into law.

Javi’s right. The Rodriguez brothers, all of them, they need to be held to account, to justice.

You don’t want to be the blocker; you don’t want to be the person bought in to stop justice being served. You thought this role would be about ensuring a watertight case, one that would get justice.

No. No, this is not what you signed up for. This is not what you were promised.

Javi’s right about something else too - you’re naive. It surprises you. You thought the years of legal work, of life experience would have altered that, but clearly it hasn’t.

It’s time to change things.

You neatly stack the paperwork and lock it in your desk, before sweeping your Filofax and assorted pens into your handbag.

You need a plan.

You need to find a way to fix this.

You remind him of home.

Laredo hasn’t felt like home in years, but it transpires you can’t escape your hometown. Javi laughs bitterly; turns out that he can’t even escape his hometown more than two thousand miles away.

It’s not that home is Laredo. You don’t just remind him of there; you remind him of who he was before. Before the DEA, before Escobar, hell before Lorraine even.

It’s unspeakably cruel that you’re the one who has been bought in to ruin his chances of getting this one right.

Talking to Stechner in the bar made it clear; he’s here as decoration. Agent Peña; the man who helped bring down Escobar and will therefore add weight to the legitimacy of these negotiations. There’ll be no police work, no actual justice.

If there were any justice in the world, Javier, you’d be in jail.

Stechner’s words haunt him, continually replay in his mind. That whole exchange rendered Javi too much like his old self. Less than forty-eight hours in Colombia and he’d started smoking again, slept with an intern, all his plans lay in ash.

It became worse when he spoke to Martinez after the meeting about Duffy and Lopez. Martinez made it clear that he’d helped create this problem.

Javi lights a cigarette, moves from the couch to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water.

This is such a fucking mess already.

He’s taken aback by the sound of someone knocking on the door. Automatically he grabs his sidearm from the coffee table, holding it low as he moves to the front door.

“Javi?” a familiar voice asks.

Javi opens the door, placing his gun down on the hallway table.

“Really?” you ask, watching the scene from the doorway with raised eyebrows.

“How’d you know where I live?” he asks, returning to the doorway and tapping his fingers on top of the door jamb as he leans against the doorframe.

“I may have access to paperwork,” you say, a slightly shifty expression on your face. “They have a few of the attachés housed in this building, I think.”

“That is kind of creepy, Blue. Just turning up like this and looking at paperwork and -”

“Shut up. Please shut up.”

“If I just turned up -”

“I’m leaving,” you say, lips pursed together with annoyance or frustration.

Javi smiles in spite of himself, reaches out to touch your arm. He can smell your perfume; crisp and bright. Citrus and sharp notes rather than the softer vanilla and gourmand perfumes he’s used to. It suits you.

“It’s fine.”

He holds the door open for you, lets you walk right into his apartment. He notices how you scan the space around you, brush imaginary dust off your clothes.

You’ve changed since the office; you’re dressed more casually. A loose t-shirt with a band logo, jeans and sandals. You look younger, more how he remembers you. He’d always been Rafa’s friend, not yours, but sometimes you’d talk to him when he was waiting for Rafa or if you bumped into him in town.

You used to be like that; friendly. Your childhood nickname of Blue was a reference to the flowers you loved as a child, and it wasn’t just bluebonnets, it was any flowers at one point. It was a misnomer though, a joke on a joke, because you’d never seemed morose when you were young. You were always cheerful, optimistic, almost unfailingly positive. Even now, Javi sees that brightness in you, a little duller, a little dampened by time. It’s still there though, shining through layers of bureaucracy.

“So, what’s going on?” he asks. He wonders if you’ve heard about him sending that agent and his partner to Cali, if you’ve come all this way to admonish him.

He braces himself for the criticism, for the scolding at breaching processes, at not telling you. He had to do something though.

“You were right.”

Javi doesn’t skip a beat, manages to hide his surprise. “Obviously. So, you came all this way to tell me that?”

“I -”

“What was I right about again, cariño?” he asks, aiming for lazy disinterest but genuinely curious.

“They want me to block you. They’re working on the surrender and the gas thing - they just covered it up, Javi. People died. Children died, and hundreds got sick and it’s just swept under the carpet? The Cali cartel face no consequences for this? I - they just surrender and no one knows?”

Javi doesn’t say anything. He’s not entirely sure what your play is, if you’re testing him or if what you are saying is genuine.

You look wrecked though; he can see the frustration and despair in your eyes, a familiar expression he’s faced in the mirror more than once since he joined the DEA.

It’s real. It’s real, or you’re the best damn actress he’s ever met.

“You must hate me.”

“Nah, not really. It’s - maybe I need someone to help keep me in the lines.” If he had had you a few years ago, maybe Cali wouldn’t be in the same place right now. Martinez’ words earlier, the way he looked at Javi, repeat again and again in his mind.

When you sell your soul to the devil, you’re not allowed to ask for it back.

Javi needs to stop the Cali cartel, to arrest the godfathers, to prove it can be done and that justice, justice will matter. He thinks it might be the only way he’ll know peace right now. He’s trying, he’s trying so fucking hard to make it right this time.

If they let him. Hell, if you let him. They even chose a ghost from home to be the person who’s there to block him, stop him. Javi swears it’s deliberate.

“What did you say earlier? Checks and balances matter. That’s right too.”

“Oh, because I’ve been thinking and it’s all fucked up. I think we need to still - people need to see them in handcuffs, through the system, that’s what’s needed.”

“Okay,” Javi says, unsure of where you’re taking this, certain he’s misunderstanding the message between your words.

“And it does matter, doing this right does matter. You and me, we make this watertight, by the book, but we have to get them, Javi. We have to get them.”

Tag List

Secret Smile tag-list: @pedgeitopascal @sullyosully @catsickyellow @spishsstuff @casa-boiardi @living-for-jesus-and-telenovelas @pastelnap @babeincolor @iamskyereads

Everything Pedro tag-list: @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @hiroikegawa

If you want to be added to (or removed from) one of the tag lists, let me know or you can get notifications for @thelightsandtheroses-fics if you prefer. If you do not have an age or age range showing you are over 18, I will not add you to this list. I block ageless and blank blogs.

[fellow-travelers-fic-recs]

Fellow Travelers Fic Recs | Old Men in Love

A collection of Fellow Travelers fics set in the 1980s era… some fix-its, lots of sweet, domestic bliss and a few bittersweet endings. Because we love pain.

Be sure to show the authors plenty of love with your comments, kudos and reblogs!

💞 Books or Blowjobs by @timothydavidlaughlin | mauralabingi [E, 1K] Tim and Hawk get back home after a day of shopping.

💞 Let Me Shower You With My Love by @beyondxmeasure | Cyantific [M, 7K] Hawk helps Tim in the shower.

A 1986 canon divergent fix-it.

Sometimes it's worth the pain by @timothydavidlaughlin | mauralabingi [NR, 1K] Hawk wakes up in the morning in Tim's arms.

💞 Here We Are In Heaven by @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove (Bluebellstar) [G, 1K] Though it happened hours before, Hawk could see it so clearly now. That green space, lined in flowers. Marcus's proud smile. Jackson's hand, so steady as it placed that simple band of silver in Hawk's palm. And Tim.

A snippet of Hawk and Tim's reception.

💞 On a sunny day in San Francisco by @timothydavidlaughlin | mauralabingi [T, 1K] Tim and Hawk take a walk together.

💞 🪴His great consuming lovage*🪴 by @carnivalrow | nightfall_in_winter [T, 2K] Tim's potted plant has a story to tell...

💞 To Wrap Your Love Around Me by @beyondxmeasure | Cyantific [T, 5K] Waking up in Tim’s apartment, Hawk discovers Skippy's old robe, the same one from years ago, and the memories all come flooding back.

Tim doesn’t have much time left. Will Hawk be brave enough to stay?

💞 Tonight, It's Very Clear by @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove (Bluebellstar) [NR, 1K] This isn't the plan. Marcus should just be asking for Hawk's badge. Frankie and Jerome should be waiting by the back entrance. Tim has it all in his mind - this last perfect moment with Hawk. It had been agreed, his farewell to the man he loves. He has to say goodbye, to ask Hawk to let him go.

Or, Tim plans on letting Hawk go. Hawk plans on something completely different.

💞 Two Old Men at Grubstake on Pine by @vespersong | vespersong [T, 3K] Hannah's story of the two old men at Grubstake Diner, in 1980s San Francisco.

💞 Time passes by in the most cruelest of fashions by @fuddlewuddle | Fuddlewuddle [M, 2K] Hawk and Tim talk in his little apartment in 1980s America. Conversations between them have never been easy.

💞 You might not wear blue often, but it's still your color by @timothydavidlaughlin mauralabingi [G, 2K] Hawk is struggling. Then he gets a package in the mail.

💞 Don't leave it to the last dance by @fuddlewuddle | Fuddlewuddle [M, 2K] Tim is in hospital. Hawk brings him his mail. One letter is not like the others.

💞 Lazy Morning by @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove (Bluebellstar) [M, 785] Hawk and Tim share a morning together in bed.

💞 On the Street Where You Live 💠 by imstillinhellbtw [NR, 17K] Hawk has one week to make up for 30 years lost.

Or, the last 7 days he ever spent with the love of his life.

💞 Of Snuggles and Waffles by @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove (Bluebellstar) [G, 2K] It's a beautiful Saturday morning and Tim should be sleeping in. Unfortunately, Hawk has other plans.

💞 Stars fading but I linger on, dear by @cinnamoncountess | CinnamonCountess []E, 5K Tulips, roses, lavenders, daisies and orchids — Tim closes his eyes for fleeting seconds as he passes the bayside and takes in the wide-ranging scent wafting over from the flower sales on each side of the road, drawing into his nostrils where it mixes with the salty sea odor from afar. It is that day of the year again that always squeezes on his heart like a fallen wall of bricks, burying him underneath.

💞 With all due respect, fuck congestion by @timothydavidlaughlin | mauralabingi [T, 2K] Tim and Hawk are going through their closet to find some clothes to donate, but Tim isn't feeling great.

💞 Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps It’s Real 💠 by drabbleswabbles [NR, 35K] And then it happened. The metallic screech of the gate, the shuffle of men stepping out beyond the prison walls. And suddenly there he was. His hair was shorter than he’d ever seen it. And his glasses were different. But it was him. Their eyes met. Tim stared at him in wide-eyed shock before recognition melted his features into a confused outrage.

Basically, a fix-it in which Hawk finds himself back in the early 70s.

💞 The one I've left behind by @carnivalrow | nightfall_in_winter [T, 884] Hawk's belated confessions in the 80s.

💞 I have loved you my whole life by @carnivalrow | nightfall_in_winter [M, 1K] 80s Tim wanted Hawk to take him back to the top of the tower, where they parted in 1954.

💞 if i have to switch the lights off, i wanna switch them off with you by @startagainbuttercup | startagainbuttercup [T, 661] "I don't remember our last kiss," Hawk blurted.

Tim's face instantly changed as he parted his lips in surprise.

"The whole time you were there, with the doctors, I thought you were dying, and I couldn't remember when was the last time we kissed." Hawk's voice trembled a little. He looked at his lap. "There were so many, but I just couldn't remember the last one."

Or, a little scene after, "did you forget that I'm a convicted felon?"

💞 I'll have a Blue Christmas without You. by @in-our-special-place | Cupping_Cakes [M, 1K] He could almost feel his touch and hear his voice, and for a brief moment, the pain would ease. But then, reality would hit again, and Hawk would be consumed by the emptiness.

💞 Couldn't say it to your face 💠 by nataliaa [G, 1K] “I’m going to DC,” Marcus says, “next week. He’s fine,” he adds quickly. “As far as I know, anyway. But I just thought—”

It’s the most that Marcus has said about Hawk in years, and Tim instantly realizes that he hasn’t been fooling anyone, except maybe himself. Marcus knows that Tim has never stopped thinking about Hawk. Marcus has always known.

📖 More fic recs can be found at the fic register, here. Not quite what you're looking for? Tell us what you had in mind, here! -> 💌

💠 Authors: If you have a tumblr (or other socials) you’d like linked, let me know and I’ll add it. Or, if you're already linked and would rather not be, please let me know and I’ll gladly remove it.

[prince-liest]

Since you've gifted with so many orchid rambles, I've decided asking you will be a lot more fun thank asking Google lol

Are orchids difficult to take care of? :0 they've got a reputation for being a very persnickety plant, but I've heard somewhere that stores often put awful/incorrect instructions for how to take care of them, so their difficulty may not ~actually~ be their fault. Thoughts? 🤔

Hahaha, I fully support asking me over Google!! I've gotten a lot of my orchid information from various direct sources (feat. my mom, Aislin, Reddit, and MissOrchidGirl on YouTube) because you are extremely correct: the information that most shops give, especially grocery store orchid labels, is wildly inaccurate!

Personally, I find your usual grocery store phalaenopsis orchids to be one of the easiest plants to take care of, and also that they're bred to bloom repeatedly and prolifically. I have a grocery store orchid that's been holding onto the same flowers for nine months, which is abjectly ridiculous. My grocery store phals will bloom twice a year and typically hold blooms for 3-6 months. At long as you set them up correctly, they're very low maintenance!

The main thing is that while they're easy plants, they are also different from the houseplants that most people are used to and that's what trips people up. For example: they're epiphytes so you can't plant them in soil, it will eventually kill them! You also should not water them with ice cubes like some labels advise: they are tropical plants that don't appreciate a shock of cold water, and it's often not enough water. The other thing is that most orchids bought from grocery or big box stores are not set up/potted for success in a home environment. A lot of people bring orchids home only for them to die soon after, and it's often due to the conditions they bought the orchid in (or, uh, occasionally, thinking that the flowers fading is the same as the whole plant dying).

The basic three fundamentals of keeping orchids I like to espouse:

Repot them into a fresh orchid bark mix and a clear orchid pot with slotted sides (you can then put this in a prettier cache pot like I do) within a month of acquisition. This way you know they're not drowning in pure sphagnum moss, old seedling dirt plugs, or decomposing old bark, all of which may cause root rot and kill the plant. Repot once every 1-2 years. Here's a good video on it!

Water them by soaking the whole pot in room temperature water for 15 minutes or so. You know they're ready for water when the potted roots turn silvery rather than vibrant green (this is where the clear pot comes in handy), but usually about once a week is also good! You may also add orchid fertilizer into this water for greater success in growth and blooming.

Put them somewhere bright without direct afternoon sunlight. A north window that gets bright indirect light, or an east window that gets some morning sunlight. Harsh afternoon sunlight may burn them, but they do enjoy a lot of light when possible.

And that's it! Just the correct amount of light, water about once a week, and putting them in a better potting mix than what they came in. You can get more involved than that if you want, but for the average person I think this is really what it comes down it.

Now, I have more orchids than just phalaenopsis orchids (I have two oncidiums, one dendrobium nobile, one cattleya, and three phalaenopsis hybrids) that can require slightly different care, so if you get something different from the standard "moth orchid," it's a good idea to look up specific care requirements. But phals are generally really easy in my personal opinion!

[madarasgirl]

A Night for Hunting Ch.10 -What Makes a Meal?

T/W: Alucard (Ultimate) x F!Reader, sexually suggestive content, but also some fluff. Romance, Riocard, shapeshifting. Smitten human with a crush. Seductive vampire troll, ‘dating.’ Comedy but not really? (things are amusing for Alucard at least).  Words: 5026 On AO3 @alastorhazbin

Thank you all for the birthday wishes! 

This chapter ended up longer than anticipated. Guess I was having fun too! I think it’s needed before the plot gets a bit more serious later.

I received a new shipment of orchids to add to my modest collection and I’ve been obsessed, if you can’t tell with my plant references.

Please read the note at the end of this chapter.

Alucard insisted on taking your number before you left for vacation with your closest friends. It was only a short trip away from home, but it was what you could manage. You ended up travelling to Scotland and visiting all the attractions of interest to your group, including Edinburgh Castle and the Isle of Skye. The landscape at the Isles was truly the stuff of legends. The soft light of late winter painted the sky deep pinks and purples during sunrise, the dusting of frost atop mountains were glittering diamonds in the morning sun before it melted into a shimmery dew, a series of picturesque waterfalls cascaded into the crystal clear Fairy Pools. It was a land of magic and enchantment more suited for a world of fantasy than reality. You almost wished Alucard was there so you could show him the beauty of the land and those spectacular sunrises. You captured countless photos to preserve the memory.

During a hike, your group’s passage disrupted a colony of hibernating bats, sending them fluttering in a noisy, chittering swarm. You scuttered away with your friends, yet you grinned even while squawking as everyone else did. These bats, however, did not possess scarlet eyes. Neither did they want anything to do with roosting in your hands as another bat did. 

He was at the back of your mind the entire time. Ever since you accepted your attraction to your immortal suitor, you thought of him frequently in increasingly fond terms. He was absolutely charming. It was frightening how quickly he came to occupy your conscious faculties. You hoped he’d appreciate the small gift you were bringing back to him. 

The vampire phoned at night on several occasions. Unfortunately, he did not allow you to elude him with only texting, stating that it was no proper way of communication. Once again, you were pleasantly surprised by the conversation with him. He was the most attentive audience as you excitedly recounted the adventures of the day, then he agreed with your hotel roommate as she teased you about ‘your boyfriend’ in the background of your calls. Curse his vampire hearing. You trembled at the deep voice on the other end. Between them, they had you tumbling into a flustered puddle of stutters and you terminated the call, telling him to let you be and that he was being an idiot.

You fell back on the mattress and pulled the sheets over your head so your friend wouldn’t see the stupid grin on your face. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered again as you recalled the smile you heard in Alucard’s voice during the call. --------------------

At last you were home in England. Considering the circumstances on how you met, the eagerness with which you wanted to see Alucard might be astonishing. His dastardly ways were mostly unchanged, yet his hunting of you for sport was long ago. Your current relationship was decidedly warm. 

There was no way you could treat him to a fancy restaurant, so you invited him over for dinner. It seemed like an excellent choice of activity until Alucard expressed his excitement about the prospects of you feeding him, only for you to repeatedly remind him he was not drinking from you again.

Sweet, I have arrived.

You fumbled with the lid to the pot before catching yourself and safely setting it down. You rushed to the entrance with a huge smile and pulled it open, only to stop dead in your tracks.

Huh?

Your smile dropped at the bizarre sight. It was undoubtedly Alucard on the other side of the door. You would never mistake those fiery eyes, the immense stature, and arrogant demeanour for anyone else. Yet he was different. His thick tresses revealed his hairline and fell straight past his rear. He wore a tailored black suit that fit him to perfection and a conceited smirk that matched the enthralling sunset gaze. There was something about his appearance that made him feel more unsettling and dangerous than usual.

You knew the vampire was a shapeshifter, yet you edged backwards when faced with the unfamiliar. His eyes glittered with mirth at your hesitation and his fingertips landed on your cheek with a delicate touch.

“Surely you have not forgotten me in a mere week, Dear?” He jested, rattling you out of your stupor.

As if that was possible. You shut your mouth. Yup, this was certainly Alucard. “I –I could never.” You meekly stepped aside to let in your guest and stared at him as he strode in like he owned your home.

“This is a gift for you,” he pronounced, setting a basket of yellowish, fragrant orchids in your hands. “It is known as ‘The Lady of the Night.’ It suits you.” It was a living arrangement of the whole plant, not just the cut flowers, and you shook your head at the vampire’s double meanings with a sigh. 

“Thank you. They are lovely.” You accepted the gift graciously and took a quick whiff of the citrusy fragrance that was to die for. The door shut and locked behind the vampire.

Alucard was in excellent spirits. He scented your excitement from behind the door and in truth, he was equally eager to see you. It smelled divine, the aromas of home-cooking and your nervousness mingled to tantalize his senses. He took in the sight of you standing awkwardly beside him, wondering if you were supposed to offer to take his coat, and grinned fiendishly. How adorable without even knowing it.

“Sweet, you should know the physical form I assume is meaningless. I may appear as whatever I desire.” 

His handsome countenance suddenly melted into whispering shadows. You gasped as his snakelike tongue lolled before he warped into a bipedal horned monster leaking darkness. His body stretched and broke open to reveal smooth bone, before sinewy muscle fibres formed over skeletal limbs and were encased in fresh skin. Those overly long, disproportionate fingers dripped of the night and you held your breath. You weren’t sure if you were afraid, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the grotesquely fascinating transformation. 

The monster dropped onto all fours, the horns elongating into antlers and with a series of crunches, the beast moulded itself into a giant elk that took up all of your living space. The metamorphosis was disturbing, but Alucard remained the most majestic creature, even as the elk sprouted eyes along its snout and down its hide. It stared into you for the longest moment and you didn’t look away, then it shrank into a dog, though the extra eyes remained.

And suddenly he became your Alucard again. 

The jagged shadows lashed about before flowing back and forming his familiar face, the darkness rippling around him with a crimson glow. It seemed the magic show was over and you were both silent. You finally released your bated breath. Instead of feeling terrified by the gnarly sight of Alucard remaking himself as if he was liquid, you giggled, then laughed out loud in wonder. You approached him to caress his hands, inspecting the digits that were reformed without any sign they were any longer mere moments ago. You stroked his cheeks, then went to the top of his head. No remnants of horns either.

Alucard’s brow lifted at your reaction. You were…excited by the prospect of having your own petting zoo? Yet he was not affronted by your debasement of his abilities as a Nosferatu. He made you laugh again and he basked in the sound. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ears, his smile matched your own toothy grin that showed your canines peeking through, so tiny compared to his fangs. 

You kept giggling, tucking a strand of imaginary hair away, unconsciously mirroring his actions and your eyes glittered as you lunged to embrace him. Such an unexpected and gratifying response you welcomed him with. His expression softened.

“Welcome back, little one,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around your waist.

Your lips parted and then closed. And opened again. You buried your face in his chest. “I missed you too, you jerk,” you mumbled, burrowing deeper when you felt the vibrations of his laughter. “I have something for you too, from Scotland.” Holding out something furry with both hands, you presented to your vampire a little stuffed toy bat. 

His brows raised before the orange pools spun and the light caught their golden flecks. He took the bat and studied it with a toothy grin, flicking a fond glance at you before tucking it away in his duster. “Delightful.”

You beamed bashfully and pulled apart. “Come on in, vampire, dinner is ready.”

You led your guest inside and seated him at the table. The seats were set and everything was just about cooked. All that was left to do was to plate the dishes and pour the drinks. You excused yourself briefly to use the bathroom.

Alucard settled into his seat while you used the facilities, listening to the sounds of your bodily functions, enjoying everything that made you human. Everything that was a normal life. His eyes opened as you returned and finished your preparations, materializing beside you to assist with preparing the beverages and floating the entrees over, making you shake your head in glee at his ‘magic tricks.’

He tugged at a chair to slide it across the floor with a hushed whisper, then tucked you back into the table once you were seated. “Dig in!” You proudly announced, quickly layering your bowl with an assortment of goods. 

As you tore into the deer, you peeked up at him in confusion. He made no moves to serve himself. You almost snorted. He may be your guest, but was he so insufferable he was expecting you to serve him like he was a king?

“You aren’t eating? Go ahead.” You pushed a dish at him and dabbed at the escaped sauce from your lips, not missing the way those predatory eyes followed the movement. 

“I will eat,” the vampire replied cryptically.

“You should while it’s hot. It’s venison stew, perfect for this weather! It’ll warm even you up,” you snickered, plopping a sizable serving into his bowl.

He didn’t reply.

This was getting awkward. You tried to chew quietly as your head spun. Was this some archaic vampire ritual where he was supposed to allow you to finish eating before he began? Did you mess up the dish somehow? Perhaps he preferred his meats more undercooked, bloodier? You somehow doubted it was because he didn’t consume meat. There simply didn’t seem to be a hint of a vegetarian in Alucard.

“The meal is perfectly divine, little one.”

The reassurance didn't help. “Then why…” You trailed off. The vampire was enamoured by the process of you eating. You set down the spoon as you finished swallowing.

“Alucard, you’re getting creepy again. You were expected to eat too, you know, not just stare at me.”

He chuckled. "You still wish to feed me?" 

“That was why you were invited.”

“As you wish, little one, but you are not feeding me.” 

You fixed the flattest, blankest stare in his direction. The quietness was nearly deafening. You made him a feast that blanketed every inch of the table. What game was he playing at now?

Sunset eyes got brighter and that grin grew wide. 

“Oh hell no. You’re a grown ass man! I’m not spoon-feeding you like you’re a toddler!”

“That is the only way I will eat human food.” He licked his lips.

“Then don’t eat! See if I care!” You huffed in disbelief, shoving in another bite to chew angrily. All that time spent preparing this plethora of dishes to perfection for this uncivilized beast. More for you, whatever. There will be plentiful food for the week.

The minutes stretched as you ate in silence by yourself. Childishly, you sliced the already tender morsels with more force than necessary to make a point. Several times, your gaze flickered up to check what your infuriating guest was doing, whether he was bluffing or if he truly expected you to demean yourself. An uncanny stare scrutinized every aspect of the way you consumed your food and suddenly you couldn’t remember why you missed him.

Grinding your teeth, you at last threw your hands up in frustration. “You really are insufferable!” You scooped up a slice of deer and shoved it at Alucard’s annoying mug.

The vampire's grin split even wider with his victory and the meat slid into his mouth. He started purring. “Heavenly. Were I still living, I would have appointed you a chef in my castle.”

You rolled your eyes at his grandiose words of praise. Even if he was a Duke or a Count or anyone of enough importance to warrant living in a castle, his manners were clearly plebeian. His appreciation for your efforts would be more apparent if you didn’t need to basically beg him to eat it.

“Come here, sweet one.”

“I am here,” you deadpanned.

“Your obstinate struggles against my will, as entertaining as they are, will always be fruitless, little human. Come here.” He scooted back in his chair and placed a hand on his lap. 

The audacity! This was your home. 

You had half a mind to demand he leave, but what were you going to do? Try shoving him out the door? He’d just phase through and mock you, if he even let you move him. If sitting in an ancient vampire’s lap to feed him dinner was the only way to expedite the process, so be it. Begrudgingly, you grumbled and plodded over to drop onto one of his thighs, only for him to scoop up your legs and drape you sideways over his lap.

You pouted and glared at him to show your displeasure.

“You really are charming when irate,” he purred, sticking his nose to your throat to nuzzle it. He inhaled. “For the aromas.” He chuckled when you tensed. “I am ready to eat, Sweet.”

You leaned away while pushing at his jaw to create distance, feeling the twitch in the corner of an eye as you picked up the fork and lanced the first piece of deer from Alucard’s bowl before lifting it to his lips. They wouldn’t part.

Not like that. His voice appeared in your mind, immediately followed by an image of yourself holding the cut to his lips between your fingertips.

“You really are going too far.”

“Humour me and you will find your freedom sooner.”

Picking up a slice of stew meat, you shoved it at the beast as you blazed with fury. He accepted the offering instantly, cool lips closing around your fingers to suckle. You squeaked in horror and yanked your hand back while he swallowed what you gave him whole.

“What the hell?!”

He smacked his lips and leered at you through lidded eyes. “Next.”

Gulping down your apprehension, you raised the next piece to his mouth and looked aghast as that scandalous tongue made a reappearance. Alucard made a show of licking your hand, beginning at the palm with a tickle and wrapping around your sauce-coated fingers. He lapped slowly at your fingertips as his eyes flashed, before gingerly taking the deer between sharp teeth and sucking it back with a wet slurp.

The hair on your arms stood on end, making your skin tingle. Your eyes met and his hand tightened around your waist. The other stroked up your thigh and squeezed your hip. Something else like appendages rubbed your shoulders and feet and held you tighter to him. He crooned and licked your jaw before capturing your lips to nibble on. The lounging beast sighed happily as your eyes bulged and you squirmed with discomfort on his lap.

“For the added seasoning,” he murmured against your ear.

That was just rude! 

The vampire cackled and flicked at your bottom lip again, making you flinch. “There exists no seasoning superior to your own taste.”

Piece by piece, you fed the old vampire by hand while he held you hostage in his lap. Despite feeling thoroughly harassed, eventually you couldn’t help but feel slightly flattered about your culinary abilities that elicited a response like this. If he liked your food so much, you supposed you could just cook for him again but skip this degenerate’s feeding kink, although being perched on his lap was not too bad. Neither was his touch wholly unwelcome. 

You pet his cheek while he chewed, his expression the face of pleasure. Nuzzling into your palm with a moan, his eyes opened to slits when you brushed up one side to investigate the pointy earlobe. He kept purring as loud as an engine.

Your eyes focused on the dancing shadows that surrounded him. They floated and twirled and seemingly pulsed at times. So mesmerizing.

Your unoccupied hand dipped cautiously into the shadow tendrils flowing around Alucard. He shuddered and growled, so low it was nearly imperceptible. A single wisp wrapped around your hand and you held onto it. Making contact with it was the strangest experience. Alucard's shadows were just that –not really tangible, yet you were able to physically touch his darkness. It buzzed in your hand with arcane energy that rippled through your being and tickled your spirit. Finally, you let him go, unable to bear the sensation any longer, and dropped your head on his broad shoulder to rest.

The heat was probably too high in your apartment after so much cooking. Your shirt clung to musky armpits and you fidgeted on Alucard’s lap as the undead cat finished another bite. He inhaled deeply, heavy purrs rumbling through his chest and vibrating through you. What a pervert. Always too suggestive. Always too attractive.

You absentmindedly gave him another piece, nipping on your lips and staring everywhere except at him when he started licking again. Something hard slid against your finger, catching your attention. The goddamn vampire was dragging the side of a fang against your ring finger. You held your breath, but again, it wasn't fear you felt, only curiosity at where he was going with this when he plainly stated he had no intention of biting you.

You caught the wicked smirk and glint in his eyes, now a deeper shade than at the onset of the meal. Again with the teasing. The air was heavy, the aura of mystery and danger swirled. His hair was longer and the locks fluttered despite the lack of a breeze. The lights dimmed before coming back on, throwing contrasting shadows across the pale profile you enjoyed looking at so much.

This smug vampire knew he was magnificent.

Your body responded aptly. After being subjected to hearing and feeling him purr all night, as well as the sensation of having his hands on you all night, you fell victim to his allure… the devilish monstrosity was simply irresistible. It felt like you were sitting in a furnace when you lowered your gaze from his triumphant one.

There it was, the scent of arousal. Alucard inhaled loudly, nostrils flaring as he absorbed his victory, ensuring you knew he was fully aware of your state of restlessness. Human food may be disgusting, but the taste of your skin was sweet ambrosia. For it to be finally paired with this ravishing perfume? Alucard believed he would never have enough of this gourmet delicacy.

The vampire was rock hard. A stiff shaft prodded your rump, large enough to make an impression even through fine wool and the awkward positioning. Your wide eyes lifted slowly to meet his, your shock at odds with his amusement.

The hands returned, the touch now lewd compared to the gentle exploration earlier. A shadow hand massaged your breast, alternatively kneading the mound between its palm and fingers. He traced circles around the tip to create a pebble before he pinched it. Your guest took your lips, prodding insistently until you yielded to his demands. Cold muscle delved into your mouth and he growled as he slid around to conquer and explore. Something firm held the back of your head when you attempted to escape. Another hand. His hands were everywhere, stroking and grabbing until you writhed in his grasp.

Your musk got heavier as your underwear became saturated with fluid. Even you smelled it. Alucard keened and encouraged you to touch him. A strange energy embraced you, leaving you gasping and he smirked with satisfaction. 

Curiously, you rested a palm on his chest. He had no heartbeat. Your heart was pounding, but there was nothing beating in his, nothing to show that you weren’t the only one hot and bothered. A moment of trepidation flashed by and passed. Resting your forehead to his chin, you trailed down his torso to rest lightly on the front of his pants. It was held up with steel that strained the smooth material into an indecent tent. You cupped it width-wise, its girth taking up most of the curvature your hand created, and tentatively ran your palm down the length. Down and down and down your hand travelled, until the end ran under your leg and disappeared.

Sweet Jesus, how big was this monster?

He hissed in pleasure as he made another show of licking your fingers, sucking them into his maw one by one. The devil held you spellbound through glowing vermilion orbs. No…you searched within your consciousness…the ancient vampire wasn’t hypnotizing you. This was all you. The revelation was more frightening than anything.

You shivered.

“What say you? Shall we search for nirvana this fine evening for dessert?”

“E-excuse me?”

“As I proposed, I will mount y–”

“I know how the mechanics work!” You screamed, your face on fire as you suddenly found yourself free of your prison and you scrambled off of him in an uncoordinated tangle of limbs, tripping over yourself and landing on your rear by his feet.

Alucard threw his head back and roared raucously as he leaned back to watch you. Eyes opened on the ground and curled in laughter to join in. The extra extremities disappeared. As did your desire –in just these few seconds, your libido jumped off a cliff and died, to be replaced by total mortification.

Not knowing how to recover, you picked yourself up from the floor as the vampire shook his head and chuckled. Stomping down the hall, you turned and hollered, “Time for you to leave! I’m going to bed!” Nevermind the fact that you just ate. 

The door slammed behind you and you crumbled to the floor in a panting heap, the mind racing to process what happened. A vampire, you were about to lay with a marauding predator of the night. Sinfully beautiful, but a ruthless murderer nonetheless. You hugged your legs and tried to calm yourself.

It was futile. You too craved his presence.

“...”

You sat alone longer at the edge of a precipice, the distance providing some much-needed clarity, until you finally stood shakily with your fingertips lingering on the door knob, about to flip the switch when you stopped yourself. If you were to be honest with yourself, you didn’t detest this vampire anymore. You would not mind if he stayed the night. 

…The bedroom door was left unlocked.

-----------------------

You stirred, sticking out a leg and kicking over to the other side of the bed, the cotton sheets brushing softly against your naked skin. With an arching back, you stretched the entire length of your body, from the tips of your fingers to the bottoms of your feet, and yawned. The muscles in your legs cramped from being perched in one position last night. Your toes poked out from under the blanket.

“I bid you good morning, little human.”

You sat up abruptly and found the unblinking crimson set of eyes in the corner of the room. For a moment, fear shot up your spine, the terrifying recollection of being at the mercy of a red-eyed monster who wanted to rip into you on another occasion made your blood run cold. 

But there was no need for alarm this time. Your heart raced even as the fright dissipated.

There he was, sitting on the grey loveseat with his legs crossed and a frown marring his features, his fingers loosely intertwined. Shooting a panicked glance over to the window, you saw there was indeed light filtering around the edges of the curtains, illuminating the bedroom with the gentle rays of morning. But the sun! Why wasn’t he going off in flames? Did he just watch you sleep the entire night? 

“Why are you here?” You asked dumbly.

The frown turned upside down and the vampire cackled, two rows of jagged teeth gleaming like a bear trap. “You invited me in, little one.”

“But you stayed the night?”

“Watching you breathe,” he purred, “listening to your heart beat.”

Creepy, psychopathic behaviour, but then again, this was Alucard you were referring to. You held the sheets closer to your chest before remembering to check on your state of undress beneath. You were the same as how you went to bed, crotch still clammy from the devil’s seduction last night.

“I meant the sun. How are you alive? Shouldn’t you be a pile of ashes?” 

He smiled. “Your legends generally do not apply to a true vampire like myself.”

Indeed, Alucard actually looked fresh and well-composed, as if he didn’t spend the night sexually harassing a young woman and then ogled her as she slept. The fog in your mind slowly retreated. A true vampire… There was so much you didn’t know about the supernatural.

You rubbed your eyes and blinked at him. "So the sun doesn't hurt you?"

"No more than it harms you, though I may despise the day."

"Then how about garlic?"

He snorted.

"Crosses? Holy water?"

"Mere irritations."

"Silver?"

"Ah– that may cause injury." The vampire closed his eyes and snickered. "So curious about my existence, little one. You want me dead?" Hellfire bore through your soul.

Dead?

You froze, unsure of how to respond. Did you want him dead? Vampires were a menace to society, a scourge. Wouldn't the world be better off without demons like him wandering it? “You are already dead. But…I can’t say I want you gone for good anymore…”

Silence. The fire burned warmly in those molten pools. "You are such an intriguing creature," he murmured.

You shuffled in bed and propped up a pillow behind your back, being careful to keep the sheets draped over your chest, thoroughly conscious of your nakedness. A million questions bloomed in mind as you sat quietly across from this ancient creature a few paces away, who witnessed the eras come and go. Was it okay to ask now?

“So…how did you become a vampire?”

He sat back and tilted his chin up in thought before staring down his nose at you. “At the end of my human life, I chose vengeance and hate."

You perked up. To be or not to be. "So your sire gave you the option to become a vampire?" You recalled his reaction the last time you inquired about his sire. Hopefully vampirism wasn't a fate that was forced upon him.

Alucard didn't respond immediately. "I have no sire, little human."

You were mildly confused. That was how vampires were born though, wasn't it? Vampires created vampires, as they also gave rise to ghouls. Alucard himself told you so. It seemed the more you learned from him, the less you knew. There was always another secret.

You blurted it out, much more directly than the last time you broached this topic months ago. "...Do you ever regret it?"

He looked sad, wistful, and your heart churned for a demon. What was this feeling? His gaze dimmed, turning downcast as the frown returned.

"Cherish your humanity, child."

Not knowing what to say, you reached for him and he came to you immediately, kneeling by the side of the bed and resting his face in your hand. You ran your fingers through the silky hair you adored and the vampire sighed against your touch.

You pondered Alucard's words as you pet him. So many questions. "Then what about that vampire you shot? Is he like you? Are there other vampires like you who don't bite?"

Alucard tensed before smiling slightly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not something so vulgar and cheap. And I do bite.” A hand shot up to grasp your wrist by his face.

You were undeterred. You put your other hand to his chest and once more noted the lack of comforting beats. His touch wasn’t gross like with the other vampire. In fact, physical contact with Alucard no longer made you feel the need to shower. His aura no longer urged you to run and hide, or face mortal peril. Actually, this was quite pleasant.

His face came within inches of yours and you felt his icy breath as he spoke.

“If you can kill me, I would gladly die by your hands.” He purred at you, pressing your hand hard into his chest, leaning heavily into your touch and lowering his head to rub noses.

To be or not to be. You snorted, “As if that’s even in the realm of possibilities.”

“Only a human can kill a monster.”

“You are not making any sense.” You’ve seen what he can do. He had superpowers while you were a normal mortal. Kill him? What a joke.

Alucard chuckled, “No, I suppose not.” A gloved finger bumped softly against the tip of your nose and he closed the gap between you. Luminescent irises whirled, his gaze affectionate. You stared back into the balmy gaze as you let your lips and foreheads touch in a tender meeting.

Minutes had passed when you pulled apart.

“Okay, you got your show. Time for you to leave.” You sighed, brushing a thumb against his cheek one last time before dragging your sheets with you to keep yourself modest as you rose from bed to pull open the curtains.

He was gone from your room when you turned back.

~To be Continued~

Chapter 11: Interlude I Chapter 12: The Feeling of Safety

Notes:  For those of you not familiar with Shakespeare’s work, Hamlet, “To be or not to be, that is the question” is probably the most well-known line from his play. This infamous soliloquy is referring to the decision “to live or not to live,” something Hamlet pondered as he discussed how painful living is and how death may be preferable, if it weren’t for the uncertainty of what came afterwards. Hamlet was suicidal. It is deeper when Alucard said it because he wasn’t merely referring to his ‘cowardly’ decision to turn (“to be a vampire”), but also how by choosing ‘to be,’ he ended up damning himself to an eternity of unlife instead. Alucard wants to die.

While I think Alucard wasn't constantly shagging everyone prior to meeting us, I headcanon that he is normally open to sexual relationships with humans should they be interested (and if they interest him). And if Alucard is sexually interested in someone, he will certainly at least try to seduce them. Alucard is extremely suggestive, very sensual, and the type to take a mile if you give him an inch. If you let him in your pants once, he'll be seeking opportunities to charm them off again. He knows he's attractive, good in bed, and that we’re hot for him. 

So now I feel like I kind of lied when I said "no smut" in this story's initial tags (hey it was supposed to be a oneshot), but I think I actually can't avoid some racy content if we're to get to the point where we want to give Alucard all of ourselves. This fic had mature themes from the beginning, so I believe most readers won’t have too much issue with more sexual content, but explicit smut scenes will be mostly in the interludes from this point on. It is now officially “eventual smut/NSFW." Things will be spicier here and there. The Interludes can be skipped and readers will (probably) not miss too much. Just FYI, they eventually do pretty much everything except fuck “all the way,” ie. P-in-V sex. BTW, next chapter is an interlude. It features period blood and is really not for everyone (but hey, our dear monster is a vampire), in which case I hope you’ll enjoy Ch.12 more!

Above: Brassavola nodosa, The Lady of the Night. Not my orchid, but one I eventually want to add to my collection. I wasn't aware of this, but apparently in some cultures, it represents the connection between the living and the dead. Only at night it is fragrant, releasing a smell that is described as citrusy or like gardenias.

[daughter-of-lethe]

Back to December x Nessian

It's here! You can also read this on AO3:

Short OS full of Nessian fluff, I'm preparing something smutty too...

Nesta Archeron & Cassian

Fluff

Song: Back to December (Taylor Swift)

angsty confession

Nessian - Freeform

Love

they both love eachother

Domestic Fluff

Language:English

Nesta raised her fist to the black door in the marble white corridor, an invisible tug on her wrist kept her from knocking at Cassian's door, the fear of reciving a door slammed on her face was too much, but she knew that if she didn't do this now, she would never, so Nesta took a breath, atrying to focus on everything but the furious beats of her heart, she heard them pulsating in her ears. 

Inhale.

Nothing has changed in the building, that place screamed wealth, from the ushers at the entrance doors, to the pots with the cream-colored orchids on the forniture in that place, same color taken up by the walls. The elevator with an attendant inside who had looked at her blue wool coat in disgust when she had asked him to go to the top floor. As if he had not seen her before. Prick.

Exhale.

With the rhythmic heartbeats on her hear, she read again the card near the knob of her old appartment: Cassian & Nesta Archeron

Inhale.

She had not lived here for six months.

Nothing

She had seen the lights on when she was walking around in that part of the city, and told herself "now or never, I'll go there and I'll talk to him".

 Would he let her speak? Would he listened? Nesta would have understood the chains on his door, after having broken his heart at Christmas Eve and having disappeared from the city, she would not want to see herself, if she were him.

"You're the rock against which the surf crashes, you got this." she muttered to herself the motto of the self-defense course she had devised with Emerie, Gwyn and Cassian. 

Nesta finally knocked, ready for the worst.

A wave of warm air filled with chocolate struck her as soon as the door crack open, revealing a Cassian with only gray pants, messy hair and eyes wide in shock, as if he'd just seen her from the peephole and could not believe that she was outside his door.

"Nesta" Cassian chewed with full mouth, still wrapped in stupor. 

Nesta hesitated as if struck by a vision, how was it possible that in six months he had become sexier? 

Cassian swallowed the biscuit, and Nesta's gaze followed the throat knot in its movement. Realizing the direction of her thoughts Nesta cleared her throat, staigntening her spine.

"Do you mind if I come in for a talk?" 

His gaze went to her hand, mere inches from his mouth, from the chocolate crumbs at the sides of his mouth. Quickly she hid her hand behind her back, feeling her cheek turning red. 

Old habit die hard.

Cassian moved to let her in and as she walked in his-their old living room, Nesta didn't miss the slight shake of his hand when he closed the door.

"Can I offer you something to drink?" he said with courtesy while she stood there like a rigid salt statue, not knowing what to do, she didn't expect to get there, in fact she expected him to kick her out. but... The burden of the words she wanted to scream made her muscles heavier, or was it because she had been waiting in the cold hallway?

"Water is fine" Could he ever want her again? Could they get back together? Nesta found that a negative answer would hurt more than what she thought to.

Nothing has changed, even her books were still spread on the coffe table and some of them were open. On the cupboard near the sofa there were all the framed photos of their moments togheter. A tear escaped her, and she let it run all the way down to her cheek, the nostalgia of when for the first time she felt really happy ache her heart.

There was still the last book she was reading on the small end-table with the lamp - A court of Silver Flames- open, with the white bow bookmark still on the page. Nesta let the heat of the black stoned fireplace releving the numbness of her body while she sat on the couch near the fireplace, taking off her coat.

Cassian sat down on the sofa, after having put a tray with a glass of water, and a lot of chocolate cookies on the coffe table between Nesta and him. He took a sip of his coffee, still looking at her, not knowing what to say. 

"Tell me, how's your family?" Nesta tried to start easy, she just get back in town eager to know.

Cassian did't press her to go to the point, to the motive of her visit, he never did.

"Rhys and Feyre are doing good, they are very busy parenting Nyx, Elain's buisness with the Velaris's greenhouse is going great, she has a lot of requests for weddings and elite parties" Cassian paused for a chocolate biscuit, and Nesta found herself happy to hear about her sisters.  

"We have new members at the defense club" He smiled, knowing that this news would bring her joy.

"New members?" 

"Yes, we have so much of them that I had to drag Azriel to be a trainer"

Nesta smiled, with Emerie and Gwyn she decided to open this course and Cassian was more than glad to be a coach, to be part of something that brought Nesta joy.

"I'm glad to hear this" Nesta didn't miss that he choose not to talk about himself. His guard was up like a shadow darekening his soul, she couldn't stand that look, so she focuses on the pictures instead, her gaze fixed on her favourite one: the pic that shows them kissing on the beach, with the most beautiful sunset in the background, framed by the cliffs.

The memory of that day at the beach, one of the most delightful day of her life. Cassian and her had played beach volley, -he lost- they had swam between the cliffs, Nesta had never build a sandcastle and Cassian was more than glad to put a remedy at this. With the sun kissing his tan skin, he was beautiful in a way that had taken her breath away. 

Nesta never realized how much she missed licking that tan skin, tracing the tattoos with her delicate fingers, making him shiver under her touch. She couldn't help her cheeks heated at the memory of her counting his abs, going down more and more as the Cassian's breath became more and more difficult.

Nesta remembered the cold water splashing around her, the sun burning her skin, Cassian was jumping like a baby with a candy, gesturing at a small dark cave in a hidden stretch of the beach.

"Nes, Nes, come with me" he said, extending his hand, and the smile on his face warmed her heart in a way that had nothing to do with the sun. She took his hand and was lead into the darkness.

"Where are you taking me? " she worried, their breathing and waterdrops falling rhythmically were the only thing she could hear. Cassian's grip on her hand was firm, ready to grab her if she fell, which she almost did on a too smooth rock. "Can we please go back in the light? My hair is sticking to my neck from the humidity in here."

"Please Sweetheart, have some faith in me, we're almost there" Cassian moved with agility around the rocks and the falling water, guiding her throug the most impervious spot. "Look, Nes"

He gestured to a cone of light in front of him, and when Nesta looked, the breath came out of her. Her jaw dropped. 

There was a tree with a thick trunk and broad leaves, full of pink flowers, its roots sinked in a pond that surrounded all the tree. Small drops falling from the high rocks all over the three. It reaked so much quiet that everything in her mind stopped, a sense of pace so similar to her Mind-Stilling exercises.

"See" Cassian said, waving his hands as if to show her every detail of that lovely place "There's always light at the end of the dark tunnel" Nesta smiled at him gaining that lazy smile of him she loved so much, then crossed the pond, not wanting to show him how much those words had stuck with her. A soft carpet of green moss welcomed her feet, Nesta closed her eyes and breathe, feeling connected to that pure nature. The sun's rays gently filtered through an opening in the ceiling, between the stalactites, kissing her skin.

Nesta cracked an eye open to find her date beside her, his face beautiful like this place, there was a spark in those hazel eyes. "What?"

"That look on your face, you seem so paceful, so serene" he purrs in a voice that sent electricity through her veins. He brushed his thumb along her palm "I'd do deplorable things to see that face again, Sweethart". She kissed him deeply, wishing that world-burning feeling with him never end. "Do all of them". 

So Cassian did...

Nesta hold a special place in her heart for that summer, for all the things thay share and did, but it was in the fall, after failing an important exam that Cassian had taken her there again, he tought that she could feel at peace again, that the quiet of that cave would have made her look serene again, it was when he drove her home, his tan skin kissed by the last rays of the autumn sunset. His dark long hair painted with gold,  Cassian was laughing with her, all her shadows and sadness swept away, that she realized she would gladly give up her freedom in order to stay with him forever. To feel that light forever.

"I'm sorry" Nesta said as soon as the memory fade away and reality sunk in "for what happened in December" as the words came out of her mouth, a weight lifted from her heart, Nesta clenched her fingers into fists. "I was scared and I ran away because I was convinced that I didn't deserve a good and kind person like you, well I still am-" Nesta took a sip of the water. 

Cassian made to spoke but she halted him with a hand. He wanted to make Christmas special to her that year, he managed to  to find a limited signed edition of Nesta's favorite book. That night of december he was anticipating the moment he would give her his gift, the delicious expression of surprise on her face imprinted in his heart forever.  But things didn't go that way and he found himself with his heart shattered by her spiteful words.

In the following months, he had written her, millions of times, milions of texts, without reciving any answer,  but Nesta had simply disappeared from the apartment and the city, no one knew what had happened to her, well he suspected that Emerie and Gwyn knew, but if they did not want to talk he would not force them. Until he found her in front of the door that morning.

"When I realized that I was madly in love with you, that I was truly happy for the first time in my life, I felt so scared, as soon as I saw your friends and family, the way they looked at me I knew they disliked me. I started failing in studies and the more I felt sinking the more you were kind, always telling me that everything would be fine, somehow I started thinking that I didn't deserve that kindness, that I was a failiure!"

Cassian's face remained open, his features sad but he would let her finish.

She stood up, getting closer to the fire, needing that warm "I convinced myself that if I left you you'd be happier, I was so overwhelmed by all this that I couldn't take it anymore, so I did broke your heart and mine too, and I ran away, but it turned out I can't live without you" She bit her tongue forcing the words out of her throat "I messed up everything. Your friends were right, I did not deserve you!" Nesta lowered her head, her soul lighter. 

Cassian was beside her in a fragment of a second, enveloping her in a tight hug. Her sobs broke the silence between them like glass that shatter on the floor.

"Nes" His mouth kissed the top of her head before resting his chin over it, whispering her name over and over.

Surprise and confusion muffled her tears "If I could I'd go back to that day and change it I would- I swear...swear I'd turn around and make it alright.." She began to shake with the force of her confession "I'd... turn around and change my own mind" she murmured before letting go and rest her head between his tan neck and tattoed shoulder.

"I missed you, sweetheart, come back home" Cassian held her and Nesta never felt home like that time, realizing again what she had lost, what she wanted so desperately again.

She raised her head, finding his amber gaze lined in silver. "How can you be like this? Letting me in, forgiving me so easily, it-" she forced herself to swallow her emotion "It has been months-"

"I love you Nes, I've loved you from the first moment I saw you and I never stop-I don't want to" Like it was the answer to all her questions, like it was the great solution to everything: love.

"I don't understand, I-I hurt you, I don't deserve your forgivness-"Nesta placed her hands over his chest, letting his heartbeat stabilizing under her soft touch, calming her too, while all her fears were swept away by that melody, her favourite.

"You'll never find chain on my door" He kissed her forehead before adding "I've suffered because you were suffering, and I wasn't able to get you to talk to me, now that I know I can assure you that nobody's opinion can separate me from you" his gaze softened, but remained clear to her, "My love for you is stronger than time, than space, stronger than everything-" Cassian shook his head, his voice a whisper in this throat, and Nesta moved her hands up, brushing away the tears that had begun to fall on his cheeks "None of them hate you, and if they do, what's the deal? I don't care, I love you and that's all that matters" Cassian placed another kiss on her forehead "I do not want to hear that you think yourself unworthy of love, Nes" he manages to say, this words too important to let them unspoke "You are worthy of everything good in this world. You are worthy to be loved, Nes." Nesta smiled. Something crucial settled inside her.

Everything was going to be alright.

Both their hearts beated with one voice, a symphony only they could play, Nesta kissed him and felt as if life was blossoming again after a long and harsh winter. Cassian broke the kiss and smiled to her, holding her tight. "Welcome back home, my love"

[cynic-spirit]

Orchid Garden ii

Yn, with her gentle and trusting nature, eventually decided that she might have been overthinking the professor's sudden departure. Perhaps it was just a fortunate turn of events, a stroke of luck that he had left. She chose to accept the peace it brought and went back to her routine, her mind more at ease.

This return to normalcy brought a palpable sense of relief to John. He watched as Yn slipped back into her daily habits, the familiar rhythms of her life bringing a quiet joy to his heart.

Each morning, Yn woke early, her alarm softly ringing before dawn. She would stretch and yawn, blinking sleepily as she slipped out of bed and padded to the bathroom. John, already awake, would listen to the sounds of her morning routine: the splash of water, the hum of her favorite classical music station playing softly in the background.

After getting ready, Yn would head downstairs to the kitchen, where John had already prepared a fresh pot of coffee. She would smile appreciatively at him, her eyes warm with gratitude. "Thank you, John," she would say, her voice still soft from sleep. He would nod, a faint smile playing on his lips as he handed her a cup.

Yn would then settle at the kitchen table, sipping her coffee slowly. John, ever observant, noticed the way she held the cup with both hands, savoring the warmth. She would read through her lecture notes, occasionally puckering her lips in concentration, a habit that John found endearing.

By the time she finished her coffee, the sun would be rising, casting a golden glow over the garden outside. Yn would gather her things and head to the front door, pausing to check that she had everything she needed for the day. "Have a good day, John," she would say, giving him a small wave before heading out.

John would watch her leave, his heart swelling with a mix of pride and protectiveness. He admired her dedication, her passion for teaching, and her resilience. She was a beacon of light in his otherwise dark world, and he cherished every moment he spent with her.

Throughout the day, Yn's presence lingered in his thoughts. He found himself looking forward to her return, the sound of her key in the lock signaling the end of another day. In the evenings, she would often retreat to her study to grade papers or prepare lectures. John would bring her a cup of tea, placing it on the desk beside her without a word. She would glance up, offering him a grateful smile before returning to her work.

But it was in the garden that Yn truly found her peace. Each afternoon, she would change into comfortable clothes and head outside, tending to her beloved orchids and other flowers. John would watch from a distance, his heart lightened by the sight of her surrounded by the blooms she had nurtured. Her hands moved with a practiced grace, her eyes shining with contentment as she hummed a soft tune.

One afternoon, as John observed Yn in the garden, he saw her pause and close her eyes, inhaling deeply. The sunlight danced on her skin, casting a halo around her. For a moment, John felt a pang of emotion so strong it took his breath away. She had brought life and beauty into his world, and he was in awe of her.

That evening, as they sat down to dinner, Yn was more relaxed, the tension from the previous days having melted away. She chatted amiably about her day, sharing stories of her students and the progress of her research. John listened intently, his gaze never leaving her face. He was delighted to see her at ease again, her laughter filling the room with warmth.

In the quiet moments that followed, as they cleared the table and prepared for bed, John felt a profound sense of gratitude. Yn had unknowingly woven herself into the fabric of his life, bringing light to the darkest corners of his soul. Her return to routine was a blessing, a sign that she felt safe and secure.

As John lay in bed that night, he found himself thinking about the future. He knew he could never fully escape his past, but with Yn by his side, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. He would continue to protect her, to cherish her, and to find ways to express his love, even if he couldn’t yet put it into words.

For now, it was enough to see her happy and thriving, to share in the quiet moments of their life together. And as sleep finally claimed him, John whispered a silent promise to the woman who had become his everything: he would always be there for her, come what may.

The weekend had brought a rare tranquility to their home, a peaceful silence punctuated only by the turning of pages as Yn sat curled up in her favorite armchair, completely absorbed in her book. The hours slipped by unnoticed as she lost herself in the story, a smile often playing on her lips as she read. John watched her from a distance, his heart swelling with affection at the sight of her contentment.

As evening turned into night, John prepared dinner, setting the table for two as he did every evening. He glanced at the clock, noting the late hour, but he was reluctant to disturb Yn. He knew how much she cherished these quiet moments with her books. Finally, as the clock approached midnight, he could no longer ignore the pang of concern in his chest. Taking a deep breath, he approached her gently, almost guilty for interrupting her focus.

“Yn, dinner?” he asked, his voice soft but firm.

She looked up from her book, her eyes wide with surprise as if she had just been pulled from another world. “Umm... what time is it?” she asked, her voice slightly disoriented.

“It’s nearly 12 at night... you forgot dinner,” John replied, his words measured and concise.

“Oh... oh!!” Yn exclaimed, a look of realization dawning on her face. She closed the book, carefully placing it on the table beside her. “I just got lost reading this,” she explained, a sheepish smile spreading across her face. “Thank you, John, for reminding me.”

She stood up, her movements graceful and unhurried. As she passed John, she reached out and gently touched his arm in a gesture of gratitude. “I’ll go have it now,” she said, her touch light but warm.

John felt a jolt course through his body, a shiver running down his spine at the unexpected contact. It was the first time in months that she had touched him, and the simple gesture sent his heart racing. He stood frozen for a moment, watching as she made her way to the kitchen, the warmth of her touch lingering on his skin.

Yn moved to the kitchen, her steps light as she approached the dinner table. She glanced at the clock again, shaking her head slightly at how lost she had become in her book. She served herself a plate of the meal John had prepared, taking a moment to appreciate the care he had put into it.

As she sat down to eat, John followed her into the kitchen, his eyes never leaving her. He felt a mix of emotions—relief that she was finally eating, a deep affection for her, and a burning desire to express the feelings he had kept hidden for so long. But he remained silent, his presence a quiet reassurance.

Yn looked up at him, her eyes warm with gratitude. “You didn’t have to wait up for me, you know,” she said, her voice gentle. “But thank you for doing so.”

John simply nodded, his expression softening. “I didn’t mind,” he replied, his words few but sincere.

They shared the silence of the kitchen, the only sounds the clinking of utensils and the occasional rustle of pages as Yn had brought her book to the table. John leaned against the counter, content just to be near her, to watch her as she enjoyed the meal. The warmth of the kitchen, the intimacy of the moment, filled him with a quiet joy.

As Yn finished her dinner, she looked up at John, her eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and affection. “You know, John, you’re quite the enigma,” she said, her tone playful. “Always so thoughtful, yet so mysterious.”

John smiled faintly, his heart aching with the unspoken words that lingered on his lips. “I’m just glad you’re here,” he said softly, his eyes meeting hers.

Yn’s smile widened, and she reached out to touch his arm again, this time with more familiarity. “And I’m glad to be here, John,” she replied, her voice sincere. “Thank you for everything.”

The simple touch, the exchange of words, and the shared silence spoke volumes. For John, it was a moment of profound connection, a reminder of the deep bond that had formed between them. As they cleaned up the kitchen together, he felt a renewed sense of purpose, a determination to protect and cherish the woman who had become the center of his world.

That night, as they both settled into their respective rooms, John lay awake, the memory of Yn’s touch and her words replaying in his mind. He knew that his feelings for her were growing stronger, and he vowed to find a way to express them, even if it took time. For now, he took comfort in the small moments they shared, the quiet gestures that spoke of a love that was deepening with each passing day.

The evening had taken a turn for the worse, with the sky unleashing a torrential downpour. John stood by the window, his sharp eyes scanning the dark, rain-soaked landscape. His mansion, secluded and surrounded by trees, seemed even more isolated in the storm. A gnawing worry settled in his chest as he glanced at the clock. Yn should have been home by now.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the rain beat against the windows with a relentless rhythm. John’s mind raced with thoughts of Yn navigating the treacherous roads in such weather. He knew she was a careful driver, but the storm was fierce, and the visibility must be terrible.

Just as his anxiety reached its peak, he heard the familiar sound of her car pulling into the driveway. A wave of relief washed over him, and he moved quickly to the front door, eager to see her safe and sound.

The headlights cut through the rain as Yn parked the car and stepped out. She didn’t have an umbrella; the storm had come on so suddenly that she hadn't been prepared. She made a dash for the house, her laughter carrying over the sound of the rain. Her hair was plastered to her face, her clothes soaked through, but she seemed to revel in the moment, a carefree spirit in the midst of the storm.

John opened the door just as she reached the porch, her giggles filling the air. “It really is pouring today,” she said, shaking the water from her hair and looking up at him with sparkling eyes.

A rare smile tugged at the corners of John’s mouth as he watched her. Yn’s joy was infectious, her laughter a bright contrast to the storm raging outside. “You’re drenched,” he said, his voice soft but filled with an undercurrent of concern.

“I know!” she replied, still laughing. “I didn’t expect it to rain this hard. I left my umbrella at the college.” She shivered slightly, the chill of her wet clothes beginning to set in.

Without a word, John grabbed a towel from a nearby closet and handed it to her. “Here,” he said, his tone gentle. “Dry off and get out of those wet clothes before you catch a cold.”

Yn took the towel gratefully, her fingers brushing against his for a moment. “Thank you, John,” she said, her voice warm. She began to dry her hair, her laughter subsiding into a contented smile.

John watched her for a moment, his eyes tracing the lines of her face. She looked so alive, so vibrant, even in the midst of the storm. His heart ached with unspoken affection, but he kept his feelings to himself, focusing instead on her comfort.

“Go change into something dry,” he said softly. “I’ll make us some hot tea.”

Yn nodded, her smile widening. “That sounds perfect,” she said, heading toward her room.

John moved to the kitchen, his mind filled with thoughts of Yn. The storm outside seemed less fierce now that she was home, her presence a calming balm to his worries. He prepared the tea with care, his movements precise and deliberate.

By the time Yn returned, dressed in warm, dry clothes, the tea was ready. She joined him at the kitchen table, her cheeks still flushed from the dash through the rain. She wrapped her hands around the steaming cup, savoring the warmth.

“Thank you, John,” she said again, her voice soft and sincere. “For everything.”

John looked at her, his expression softening. “You’re welcome,” he replied. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, listening to the rain as it continued to pour outside.

As they sipped their tea, Yn began to tell him about her day, her voice animated as she recounted the events at the college. John listened intently, his eyes never leaving her face. He cherished these moments, the simple, everyday conversations that made him feel connected to her.

The storm raged on outside, but inside, the warmth of their shared space created a haven of peace. Yn’s laughter, her presence, had a way of dispelling the darkness that often lingered in John’s mind. He felt a sense of gratitude, a quiet joy, knowing that she was safe and here with him.

As the evening wore on, they moved to the living room, the storm outside a distant roar. Yn curled up on the couch with her book, and John sat nearby, content to be in her presence. The glow of the fireplace cast a soft light over the room, creating a cocoon of warmth and comfort.

John watched Yn as she read, her features relaxed and serene. The storm had brought her home safely, and for that, he was profoundly grateful. In that moment, surrounded by the simple comforts of home and the sound of Yn’s steady breathing, John felt a rare peace settle over him. The world outside might be chaotic and dangerous, but here, in this quiet sanctuary, he found solace in her presence.

As they sat together, sipping their hot tea and enjoying the cozy ambiance of the living room, Yn let out a small sneeze. The sound, though soft, immediately caught John's attention. He glanced at her with concern etched across his face, his eyes narrowing slightly. The thought of her catching a cold worried him more than he could express. He wanted to say something, to ensure she was warm and comfortable, but he held back, not wanting to seem overbearing.

Yn noticed his gaze and smiled reassuringly. “I’m fine, John,” she said, her voice gentle. “Just a little sneeze. The tea is helping.”

John nodded, but his concern didn’t fully dissipate. He took another sip of his tea, letting the warmth spread through him, and then Yn’s voice broke the comfortable silence.

“How was your day, John?” she asked, her eyes meeting his with genuine interest.

John's mind raced. He wanted to tell her everything, to express the emotions that had been building up inside him. He wanted to say, "I missed you. I wanted to hold you in my arms and never let you go. I spent the day thinking about you, worrying about you, longing for the moment you’d walk through the door and fill this house with your laughter." But the words lodged in his throat, too heavy and complicated to voice.

“It was good,” he said instead, his voice measured and calm. He felt a pang of frustration at his inability to articulate his true feelings. “Just the usual.”

Yn smiled, her eyes twinkling with a warmth that made John's heart ache. “I’m glad,” she said, her tone light. “It’s nice to have a bit of normalcy, isn’t it?”

John nodded, his thoughts still tangled with the unspoken words. “Yes, it is,” he agreed. But normalcy, he realized, had taken on a new meaning since Yn had entered his life. Her presence had brought a sense of peace and purpose he hadn’t known he was missing.

He watched her as she took another sip of her tea, her movements graceful and unhurried. She had a way of making the simplest moments feel significant, and John found himself cherishing these quiet evenings more than anything else.

Yn set her cup down and leaned back, her gaze drifting to the window where the rain still poured outside. “I love the sound of rain,” she said softly. “It’s soothing, don’t you think?”

John followed her gaze, the rhythmic patter of raindrops filling the silence between them. “Yes,” he replied, his voice almost a whisper. “It is.”

He wanted to tell her that she was the reason for the calm he felt, that her presence was more soothing than any rainstorm. But he remained silent, choosing instead to simply be there, to share the moment with her.

Yn's eyes drifted back to him, and she offered another smile, her expression soft and understanding. “I’m glad we’re doing this,” she said. “Having tea together, talking. It feels... nice.”

John felt a swell of emotion, his heart tightening with the intensity of his feelings for her. “I’m glad too,” he said, his words sincere. He wanted to reach out, to take her hand and hold it, but he hesitated, unsure if he could bridge the gap between them without revealing too much.

As the evening continued, they talked about little things—her day at the college, a book she was reading, the flowers in the garden. John listened intently, his focus entirely on her. He found joy in her stories, in the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about something she loved.

Eventually, Yn let out a small yawn, her eyelids growing heavy. “I think I might head to bed,” she said, stretching slightly.

John stood, ready to offer any help she might need. “Do you need anything?” he asked, his voice soft with concern.

Yn shook her head. “No, I’m good. Thank you, John,” she replied, her smile reassuring. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Yn,” John said, watching as she made her way to her room. He stood there for a moment, listening to the rain and the sound of her footsteps fading. He felt a deep sense of contentment, mixed with the ever-present longing he held for her.

As he cleaned up the kitchen, his thoughts kept drifting back to her. He knew that his feelings for Yn were growing stronger every day, and he vowed to find a way to express them, to show her how much she meant to him. For now, he took comfort in the small moments they shared, knowing that these quiet evenings were building a foundation for something deeper.

That night, John lay in bed, his senses on high alert as always. Years of living on the edge had honed his instincts to a razor-sharp edge, and any unusual noise in his home was enough to snap him awake. The house was usually a fortress of calm, but tonight, he heard something. A faint rustling, a soft clatter. His mind immediately leapt to the worst-case scenario—an intruder.

John slipped out of bed silently, his bare feet making no sound on the floor. He moved with the precision and stealth of a predator, every muscle coiled and ready for action. He reached under his pillow, where he kept a knife for such occasions, and gripped it tightly. His senses were heightened, every creak of the house amplifying his focus.

He navigated the dark hallway, his eyes adjusting quickly to the dim light. The noises were coming from the kitchen. He pressed himself against the wall, inching forward, his breathing steady and controlled. He was prepared to confront whatever or whoever had invaded his sanctuary.

As he approached the kitchen, he heard a familiar, soft humming. Confused, he slowed his pace, the tension in his body easing slightly. The humming was sweet and melodic, a sound that he had come to associate with Yn. He cautiously peeked around the corner, and there she was.

Yn stood by the refrigerator, illuminated by its soft light. She was in her pajamas, her hair tousled from sleep. She reached into the fridge, pulling out a container of yogurt, completely unaware of the commotion she had caused. She was humming a tune, lost in her thoughts as she prepared her midnight snack.

John's grip on the knife loosened, and a smile crept across his face. The relief was overwhelming, and he felt a warmth spread through him. He slipped the knife back into its sheath, his heart rate returning to normal.

Yn turned, a spoon in her hand, and froze when she saw him standing in the doorway. “Oh, John!” she exclaimed softly, her eyes wide with surprise. “Did I wake you? I’m so sorry.”

John shook his head, his smile widening. “It’s fine, Yn. I just...thought there was an intruder.”

She laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. “Just me and my midnight snack,” she said, holding up the yogurt container as if to prove her point.

John chuckled, the tension fully draining from his body. “I see that,” he said, stepping into the kitchen. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Yn shrugged, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “I was craving something sweet,” she said. “I didn’t mean to make so much noise.”

John waved off her apology. “No harm done,” he said. “I’m just glad it was you.”

Yn smiled, and for a moment, they stood there in the dimly lit kitchen, the air between them filled with an unspoken understanding. John felt a surge of affection for her, his heart swelling with emotions he couldn’t quite articulate.

Yn’s voice was soft and hesitant as she asked, “Would you like some?” Her eyes were full of concern, sensing something beyond the mundane—a flicker of unease in John’s usually composed demeanor. The casual offer of yogurt seemed to carry an undercurrent of genuine care.

John shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “No, thank you, Yn.” He tried to mask the tension he felt, a lingering trace of the Baba Yaga’s cold focus still clinging to him. The battle within him was intense, a part of him constantly at odds with the softer emotions he was experiencing.

Yn, perceptive as always, noticed the subtle shift in his aura. She took a step closer, her eyes searching his face for answers. The rain continued to batter the windows, a steady rhythm punctuated by occasional flashes of lightning and the deep rumble of thunder.

“Are you okay, John?” she asked, her voice a gentle whisper, filled with concern.

“Yes, I am,” he replied, though the reassurance in his tone was more for her sake than his own.

As Yn approached, the storm outside seemed to intensify, a sudden flash of lightning illuminating the room followed by a deafening clap of thunder. Yn flinched, her eyes widening in a mixture of surprise and fear. She had been so absorbed in the storm that its sudden ferocity took her off guard.

“Hey, it’s okay,” John said softly, his voice a calming presence amidst the storm’s chaos. He reached out, his hand gently rubbing her arms, a gesture of comfort and solidarity.

The warmth of his touch spread through her, soothing her racing heart. She could feel the tension in her muscles slowly easing as he continued to rub her arms, his movements tender and reassuring. The storm’s fury seemed to diminish in the face of his quiet strength.

“It hasn’t stopped raining since the evening,” Yn said, her voice almost wistful as she gazed out at the relentless downpour.

“Yes, they said it’ll stop in a few hours,” John said. “Probably by dawn.”

Yn nodded, though her gaze remained fixed on the storm outside. John’s presence next to her was grounding, a comforting anchor amidst the tempest. He watched her with a quiet intensity, his concern for her evident in his every action.

“Yn,” John said gently, his voice soft but deliberate. “Are you afraid of the storm?”

She looked up at him, her eyes revealing her vulnerability. “Yes, John,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing with a hint of embarrassment. “I am.”

John’s heart ached at her admission. The sight of her fear, so raw and genuine, stirred something deep within him. He took a deep breath, focusing on her rather than the chaotic thoughts swirling in his mind.

“Is that why you cannot sleep?” he asked, his tone as gentle as a whisper.

Yn nodded, her eyes dropping to the floor. “I just felt... uneasy. Yes, that’s why.”

John’s fingers continued their soothing motion, and he found himself increasingly captivated by the way she reacted to his touch. He wanted to shield her from everything that frightened her, to be the rock she could cling to in times of uncertainty.

“Hey,” John said, his voice firm but tender. “You’re safe here. The storm won’t last forever, and neither will this uneasy feeling. We’ll get through it together.”

Yn looked up at him, her eyes reflecting the storm’s dim light and the warmth of his reassurance. “Thank you, John,” she said softly, a faint smile appearing on her lips.

John nodded, a sense of fulfillment washing over him as he saw her fear ease. “Anytime, Yn,” he said. “You’re not alone.”

They stood there together, the storm outside continuing its relentless assault, but within the walls of the house, a different kind of calm settled. The intimacy of the moment, the closeness they shared, was a quiet reminder of how much they had come to mean to each other.

As Yn began to relax, the tension in John’s body slowly dissipated. He felt a profound sense of connection with her, a feeling that transcended the fear of the storm and the remnants of his former life. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to fully embrace the comfort and solace of her presence. The storm outside was no match for the tranquility they found in each other’s company.

John’s gaze softened as he watched Yn’s profile, her face illuminated by the faint light from the kitchen. The rain continued to pound against the windows, a rhythmic backdrop to the stillness of the moment. He noticed a stray lock of hair falling over her face, and an impulse, tender and unbidden, guided his actions.

With a gentle touch, John reached out and tucked the lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed against her cheek, his caress light and tender. The warmth of his touch lingered, and he felt her hold her breath, a subtle shift in her posture as if she were bracing for something. The air between them seemed to thicken with anticipation.

John’s heart pounded in his chest, every beat resonating with the intensity of his emotions. He had spent so many months wrestling with his feelings for Yn, convincing himself that this was merely a practical arrangement. But the depth of his affection for her had become undeniable. The sight of her, so vulnerable and trusting, was more than he could resist.

His face moved closer to hers, his breath mingling with hers. Time seemed to slow as he drew nearer, the storm outside fading into insignificance compared to the storm brewing inside him. Yn’s eyes fluttered closed, her lips slightly parted in a gesture that spoke volumes.

John’s lips met hers in a deep, fervent kiss. It was a kiss filled with the intensity of all the emotions he had kept bottled up—affection, longing, and a profound sense of connection. He held her face gently, his touch both tender and firm, as if he were afraid to let go of the moment but also afraid to break it.

Yn responded instinctively, her arms reaching up to wrap around his neck. The kiss deepened, and John felt a surge of passion and relief as he let go of the careful control he had maintained. The world outside ceased to exist, the rain and thunder becoming distant echoes compared to the closeness he felt with her.

When they finally pulled away, their breaths mingled, and John looked into her eyes, which were now filled with a mix of surprise and something softer—an emotion that mirrored his own. He could see the vulnerability and trust in her gaze, and it made his heart swell with a mixture of joy and protectiveness.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” John said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Yn’s eyes searched his, her expression a blend of wonder and uncertainty. “John...”

He placed a finger gently over her lips, silencing the question he knew she was about to ask. “It’s okay,” he said. “We’ll talk about it, but not right now. Let’s just be here.”

Yn nodded, her eyes reflecting the same emotions that swirled within him. The storm outside continued its relentless drumming, but within the confines of the kitchen, there was a new kind of calm. It was a calm that came from shared understanding and unspoken promises.

They remained close, their foreheads touching, sharing the warmth of their closeness. The storm would pass, but the connection they had forged in that moment was something that would remain with them long after the rain had stopped.

As the intensity of the storm outside heightened, a particularly loud clap of thunder reverberated through the house. The lightning flash was so bright it seemed to light up every corner of the room. Yn, already on edge from the relentless weather, reacted instinctively.

She clutched at John's T-shirt, her hands gripping the fabric tightly as if it were a lifeline. Her body flinched in response to the sudden, jarring noise, and she squeezed her eyes shut, her face contorted in a mixture of fear and distress. The storm outside seemed to invade every part of her, amplifying her unease.

John felt the sudden tension in her grip and saw the fear etched across her face. The sight of her vulnerability struck him deeply, and he immediately moved to reassure her. Without a second thought, he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close against him.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured softly, his voice soothing as he held her. He could feel the rapid beating of her heart against his chest and the tremble in her hands. He gently stroked her back, trying to offer as much comfort as he could. “I’ve got you.”

Yn’s grip on his T-shirt didn’t loosen, but her breathing began to steady as she felt the solid, reassuring presence of John surrounding her. She could feel the warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and it began to calm her.

John continued to speak softly, his words a steady anchor amidst the chaos. “The storm will pass,” he said, his voice calm and steady. “I’m here with you.”

Gradually, the intensity of the thunder and lightning began to diminish, the storm outside losing some of its ferocity. As the noise receded, Yn slowly opened her eyes, her fear slowly giving way to a sense of safety provided by John’s comforting presence.

She looked up at him, her eyes reflecting both gratitude and relief. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice still tremulous but sincere.

John nodded, his expression tender. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly. “I’m here for you.”

Yn relaxed slightly, her grip on his T-shirt loosening as she felt more secure. The storm continued its distant rumble, but inside, the atmosphere had shifted. The immediate danger of her fear had passed, replaced by a profound sense of connection and mutual support.

John held her a little longer, cherishing the closeness and the reassurance he could offer. The storm outside was a mere backdrop to the growing bond between them, a bond that had strengthened in the face of both emotional and physical storms.

Yn’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions as she clung to John, her fear slowly subsiding. The storm outside continued its relentless assault, but within the cocoon of John's embrace, she was beginning to process everything that had happened.

The kiss they had shared replayed in her mind, vivid and intense. She could still feel the warmth of his lips against hers, the passion of the moment lingering in her senses. It was a kiss that had stirred something deep within her, something she had been trying to understand.

As she pressed closer to him, she couldn’t help but marvel at his physical presence. The size of him, the strength that radiated from his body, became more apparent than ever. She felt dwarfed by his frame, his shoulders broad and solid against her. It was as if he were carved from a giant rock, every muscle and contour a testament to his physical prowess.

Yn had always known John was imposing, but tonight, she saw him in a new light. She couldn’t believe how she had missed the sheer magnetism he possessed. His physicality was both intimidating and incredibly attractive. The way he held her, the warmth of his body, and the strength in his arms made her feel both safe and intensely aware of him.

Her previous perception of John had been largely shaped by his quiet, reserved demeanor. But tonight, in the midst of the storm and their intimate moment, she saw a different side of him—one that was undeniably sexy. The way he had kissed her, the way he had held her through the storm, had made her see him as more than just a man who had helped her with her visa situation.

The storm’s rumble seemed to fade into the background as Yn focused on John, her thoughts racing. The tension between them, the unexpected kiss, and the emotional support he had provided had all combined to create a powerful, undeniable attraction. She wondered how she had never noticed how captivating he was before, and it made her question everything she had previously thought about their arrangement.

As she lay her head against his chest, Yn couldn’t help but marvel at the complexity of her feelings. The storm outside was still roaring, but within her heart, a new storm of emotions was brewing—one of desire, admiration, and a burgeoning sense of connection that she hadn’t anticipated.

John’s presence, his strength, and the tenderness he showed her in that moment were all intertwined, creating a powerful impact on Yn. She found herself questioning her feelings and wondering what this new dynamic between them meant for the future. The storm outside might have been frightening, but the storm within her heart was something far more profound and uncertain.

Yn’s mind was a tangle of emotions as she clung to John, her eyes tightly shut, the storm outside still raging. It wasn’t until John’s voice, gentle and soothing, broke through her thoughts that she became fully aware of her actions.

“Do you want to sit, Yn?” John asked softly, his tone barely more than a whisper, yet filled with the kind of reassurance she had come to rely on.

The question brought her back to the present, and she suddenly realized how tightly she had been gripping his T-shirt. She loosened her hold, her fingers reluctantly letting go of the fabric. Embarrassment flushed through her as she noticed the intensity of her grip.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice tinged with guilt as she smoothed the T-shirt with her hands. Her fingers fumbled slightly, trying to flatten the creases she had caused, though she knew it was a futile gesture.

John’s presence remained steady and comforting. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s just sit here until the storm passes,” he suggested, his voice calm and soothing.

Yn nodded, her cheeks still warm from the mix of embarrassment and relief. She settled down beside him on the kitchen floor, her movements slow and tentative. John sat close, his strong presence a reassuring anchor as the storm outside continued its relentless fury.

They sat together in silence, the sound of the rain and thunder providing a backdrop to their quiet companionship. John’s hand rested lightly on her shoulder, a comforting gesture that spoke volumes more than words could.

Yn’s initial embarrassment faded as she leaned into his side, finding solace in his proximity. The storm outside seemed to lose some of its power as she focused on the steady rhythm of John’s breathing and the comforting weight of his hand on her shoulder.

The intimacy of the moment—the closeness, the shared silence—was a balm to her frayed nerves. She felt a deep sense of connection with John, one that transcended the fear of the storm and the tumult of her emotions.

As Yn leaned into John’s shoulder, he wrapped his arm around her, holding her close. His fingers gently traced small circles on her arm, the motion both soothing and rhythmic. The warmth of her body against his and the steady rise and fall of her breathing created a sense of peaceful intimacy.

Over time, John became aware that Yn had fallen asleep. Her breathing had become deep and even, a sign of the comfort and safety she found in his embrace. He watched her with a mixture of tenderness and longing.

John’s thoughts drifted back to the kiss they had shared. The memory was vivid in his mind—the way her lips had felt against his, the passion and vulnerability that had accompanied it. He had never anticipated how deeply he would be affected by it, but now that he had experienced it, he found it impossible to ignore the intensity of his emotions.

His heart raced with a newfound fervor, an urgency fueled by the kiss and the way Yn had responded to him. He wanted to explore these feelings further, to express the depth of his affection and desire. The kiss had ignited something within him, a passion that he had kept in check for so long.

As he held her, the realization of how much he wanted her and how deeply he cared for her filled him with both excitement and uncertainty. He yearned to be close to her, to share more moments like this, and to build something lasting and meaningful with her.

John’s fingers continued their gentle caress on her arm, a gesture of both affection and contemplation. He took in the serene expression on her face, the way she seemed at peace in his arms, and he felt a powerful surge of love and longing.

He knew that their situation was complex and fraught with challenges. Yet, in this quiet, intimate moment, he allowed himself to dream of a future where their bond could be more than just a facade. The kiss had opened a door to new possibilities, and he was determined to explore them, even if it meant confronting his own fears and uncertainties.

For now, he simply enjoyed the closeness of the moment, the comforting presence of Yn beside him, and the promise of what might come next. The storm outside continued its relentless assault, but within the warmth of his embrace, John found a new kind of calm—one filled with hope, desire, and a deep, abiding love

John’s heart beat with a tender intensity as he gently lifted Yn into his arms, her body warm and relaxed from sleep. He carried her carefully to hER room, the quiet house enveloping them in a cocoon of stillness and intimacy.

He laid her down on her bed with the utmost care, making sure she was comfortable before he took a moment to simply observe her. The sight of Yn resting on his bed was both breathtaking and profoundly moving. Her presence there, so serene and peaceful, ignited a cascade of dreams and aspirations within him.

John let his eyes roam over her, taking in the delicate way she lay on the bed, the soft rise and fall of her chest as she breathed deeply. In that moment, he imagined all the ways their relationship could evolve. He envisioned how it would feel to hold her in his arms not just in moments of fear or uncertainty but in the tender intimacy of love.

The thought of making love to her, of finally expressing the depth of his feelings, filled him with a mixture of longing and hope. He could picture the quiet moments of tenderness, the shared smiles, and the unspoken connection that would blossom between them. The practical arrangement that had initially brought them together was now transformed into something much more profound and beautiful.

John’s mind wandered through the possibilities: the soft touch of her skin against his, the gentle exploration of their shared desires, and the emotional depth that would accompany their physical closeness. He imagined the conversations they would have, the laughter they would share, and the way their relationship would grow beyond the confines of their initial arrangement.

His gaze softened as he looked at Yn, his heart swelling with a sense of possibility and devotion. He knew that their journey together would be filled with challenges, but he also saw the potential for something truly beautiful—something that would make every struggle worthwhile.

With a final, lingering glance, John took a deep breath and allowed himself to savor the moment. He gently adjusted the blankets around her, ensuring she was warm and comfortable. As he stood by the bed, he made a silent vow to cherish and nurture the bond they were building, to make their relationship something that transcended the practicalities and became a source of joy and fulfillment.

As he quietly left the room, John felt a renewed sense of purpose. The future held uncertainties, but he was determined to embrace them, driven by the love he had discovered and the hope for a future filled with beauty and connection.

When Yn awoke, the lingering memory of their kiss felt like a warm ember in her mind. She blinked at the unfamiliar surroundings, her heart fluttering as she recalled the intensity of the night before. The sight of the room, now imbued with a sense of intimacy, only amplified her thoughts.

Quietly, she got out of bed, her movements deliberate and thoughtful. She was still processing the depth of her feelings and the shift in their relationship. As she walked toward the kitchen, she noticed John standing there, preparing a cup of coffee. The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the room, a comforting aroma that seemed to promise a fresh start.

“Good morning, John,” she said, her voice slightly hesitant but tinged with warmth. She was still a bit shy, her cheeks flushing as she caught sight of him.

John responded with a simple nod, his usual reserved demeanor intact. “Good morning, Yn,” he said, his voice steady and calm. He placed the cup of coffee on the counter and continued with his routine, focusing on the tasks at hand.

The morning unfolded with a sense of normalcy, but beneath the surface, something had undeniably shifted. John’s actions, though subtle, spoke volumes. As they went through their routine, John’s physical presence seemed more pronounced. He was now more open to touching her, his gestures filled with a new kind of intimacy.

Whenever Yn was near, John’s hands would linger on her shoulders, his touch gentle yet firm. His fingers would brush against her arm as he passed by, a lingering caress that felt both soothing and charged with emotion. These touches were no longer merely incidental; they were deliberate, expressing a depth of affection and connection that went beyond words.

Sometimes, his touches felt like pure affection—an unspoken declaration of his growing feelings. He would wrap his arm around her waist as they walked through the house, his touch reassuring and tender. Other times, his gestures carried a more possessive edge, a silent claim of the bond they were forming. The way he would cup her face when he spoke to her, or the intensity with which he would hold her gaze, conveyed a sense of ownership and longing.

Despite John’s reluctance to address the kiss directly, the physical closeness between them spoke volumes. Yn found herself responding to his touches, her own sense of affection and desire growing with each gentle caress. The lines between practical arrangement and genuine emotion began to blur, and she could feel the weight of their unspoken connection in every touch.

John, too, seemed to be navigating the complexities of his feelings. His actions revealed a vulnerability and longing that contrasted sharply with his usually stoic demeanor. The physical proximity he now sought with Yn was a reflection of the deeper emotions he struggled to articulate.

As they continued their daily routines, the atmosphere between them was charged with a new kind of intimacy. Their interactions, once marked by formality, now carried an undercurrent of warmth and closeness. The touches that John initiated were not just physical; they were an expression of the love and affection that had quietly taken root between them.

Yn, though initially hesitant, began to embrace the changes in their relationship. She responded to John’s touches with a growing sense of comfort and trust, allowing herself to enjoy the closeness they shared. The evolution of their bond, once born out of necessity, was now blossoming into something deeper and more meaningful.

The morning routines that had once seemed mundane were now imbued with a new significance. Each touch, each shared glance, and each moment of physical proximity became a testament to the evolving nature of their relationship—a relationship that had begun with practicality but was now blossoming into something beautiful and profound.

Yn and Diana were sitting in the college lounge during a break, discussing the day’s lectures and upcoming assignments. Diana, always perceptive, noticed that Yn seemed unusually tense and distracted.

“Girl, you need to get laid,” Diana said with a teasing smile, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re so wound up. It’s like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

Yn blushed slightly and gave Diana a playful shove. “Oh, come on, Diana. It’s not that bad. Just a bit of stress from work.”

Diana raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced but choosing to let it go. “Well, if you say so. But seriously, if you ever need to talk—or need some advice on how to relax—I’m here.”

Yn managed a small laugh, grateful for her friend’s concern but still feeling a bit awkward. “Thanks, Diana. I’ll keep that in mind.”

As they continued chatting, Yn’s mind wandered back to John. The physical closeness between them, the touches that had started out as simple gestures of affection, had ignited a tumult of emotions within her. She couldn’t help but replay the sensations of his touch, the memory of his kiss, and the undeniable attraction she felt toward him.

The more she tried to focus on her conversation with Diana, the more her thoughts drifted. John’s hands, the way they lingered on her skin, the feeling of his broad shoulders and muscular frame—it all created a confusing mixture of desire and longing. She found herself fantasizing about him, imagining his strong, reassuring presence, and feeling a deep, visceral connection to him.

With a mental shake, Yn tried to push these thoughts away. She needed to stay focused on her work and her life outside of this complicated relationship. The intensity of her feelings for John was a distraction she wasn’t prepared to confront head-on, especially in the middle of a busy college day.

She forced a smile and redirected the conversation with Diana, trying to engage in more neutral topics. However, deep down, the tension she felt was inescapable. The idea of John, so physically and emotionally present in her life, had become an undeniable part of her thoughts, and the sexual tension between them was something she couldn’t easily dismiss.

Despite her attempts to focus on other things, Yn knew that the connection she felt with John was real and powerful. It was an undercurrent of desire that she couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard she tried to maintain her composure and keep her thoughts at bay.

Yn came home from college, feeling the familiar mix of anticipation and nervousness that had settled into her routine. John was, as usual, waiting for her. He greeted her with a warm nod, his eyes softening as he watched her walk in. Yn slipped off her shoes and went to freshen up, following the same pattern they had established.

After she changed, she joined John in the kitchen, where he had a fresh cup of coffee waiting for her. She thanked him quietly, their interaction smooth but tinged with an undercurrent of unspoken emotions. She then moved to the garden, her sanctuary, where she tended to her beloved orchids. John watched her from the window, his expression thoughtful.

The kiss they shared still lingered in her mind, but Yn was too nervous and shy to bring it up. She wondered if it was just a momentary lapse, an anomaly brought on by the storm and the intimate atmosphere it created. Perhaps it was a one-time occurrence, she told herself, something to be forgotten and brushed aside.

John, however, saw things differently. To him, that kiss was a revelation, a clear sign that Yn belonged to him in a way that went beyond their practical arrangement. He didn’t believe it was a mere anomaly; it was a confirmation of the deep, possessive affection he felt for her. Even though their marriage started as a convenience, he was determined to make it something real and meaningful.

So John stayed close to Yn, his presence a constant and reassuring shadow. He found reasons to be near her, his touches and caresses lingering a bit longer each time. When she cooked dinner, he would stand close by, his hand brushing hers as he passed her ingredients. When they walked through the house, his arm would often find its way around her shoulders or waist, holding her just a little tighter.

He helped her wherever and whenever he could, anticipating her needs with a meticulous care that bordered on devotion. If she needed a book from a high shelf, he would be there to reach it for her. If she struggled with a stubborn garden tool, he would appear at her side, taking over with a gentle but firm touch.

Sometimes, he would stand close enough to her to catch the delicate fragrance she wore, a scent that had become intoxicatingly familiar. It wasn’t just about being helpful; it was about maintaining a physical connection, about reminding both of them of the unspoken bond that had formed between them.

Yn could feel John’s presence constantly, a comforting yet confusing mix of affection and possessiveness. His touches, though always gentle, carried an intensity that made her heart race. She often caught herself glancing at him, wondering about the depth of his feelings and what he truly wanted from their relationship.

Despite her nervousness, she found herself drawn to him more and more, the boundaries of their arrangement blurring with each passing day. The comfort she felt in his presence was undeniable, but so was the growing desire that simmered just beneath the surface.

For John, every touch, every moment spent close to Yn was a step toward breaking down the walls between them. He was determined to show her that their marriage could be more than just a practical solution. It could be a sanctuary, a true partnership built on love, trust, and an unspoken understanding that they were meant to be together.

As the days turned into weeks, the routine they followed became more than just a pattern; it became a dance of mutual care and growing affection. John’s lingering touches and Yn’s shy, reciprocating gestures spoke volumes, creating a silent but powerful dialogue between them. And though the kiss was not mentioned, its memory continued to shape their evolving relationship, setting the stage for a deeper connection that both yearned to explore.

John and Yn arrived at the exquisite Palm, a renowned restaurant nestled in the heart of the city. Palm was a place where the elite of both the legitimate world and the underworld came to dine, a sanctuary of opulence and discretion. It was necessary for the High Table to see John Wick, the retired assassin, living a semblance of normalcy.

Yn looked exceptionally beautiful tonight. She wore a graceful, deep green dress that hugged her figure perfectly, accentuating her elegance. Her hair cascaded in soft waves down her back, and her makeup was subtle yet stunning, highlighting her natural beauty. She understood the importance of these occasional outings, part of their agreement to present themselves as a normal couple, enjoying a date night like any other married pair.

John, dressed in a tailored black suit that enhanced his imposing presence, looked at Yn with a gaze that spoke of utmost devotion. His eyes softened whenever they rested on her, a rare gentleness replacing the steely resolve they usually held. To the outside world, they appeared as a perfectly matched couple, deeply in love and enjoying a night out.

As they sat at their table, the ambient lighting casting a warm glow over the elegantly set dining area, John’s attention was wholly on Yn. He pulled out her chair for her, ensuring she was comfortable before taking his seat opposite her. The soft murmur of conversations and the clinking of cutlery provided a backdrop to their evening.

John’s eyes never left Yn as they settled in. He observed her every move with a blend of admiration and protectiveness. He noted the way she delicately held her wine glass, the way her eyes sparkled in the candlelight, and the soft smile that graced her lips. To him, she was a vision of perfection, and he was determined to make this night memorable.

“Thank you for coming with me tonight,” John said, his voice low and sincere. “You look beautiful.”

Yn blushed slightly, her eyes meeting his with a mix of shyness and appreciation. “Thank you, John. You look quite dashing yourself.”

They ordered their meals, and as the courses arrived, they maintained an air of polite conversation, discussing mundane topics and sharing light-hearted moments. However, beneath the surface, there was a palpable tension—a mixture of unspoken feelings and the knowledge of their complex situation.

John reached across the table, his hand covering hers in a gesture of reassurance. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said softly, his thumb gently stroking her knuckles. “It means a lot.”

Yn smiled, squeezing his hand lightly. “I’m glad to be here too, John. This… it feels nice.”

Throughout the evening, John continued to watch Yn with an intensity that didn’t go unnoticed by the other patrons. His devotion to her was clear in every glance, every touch, every word he spoke. It was as if the entire world had faded away, leaving only the two of them in their intimate bubble.

As they continued their meal, Yn couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. But it wasn’t the kind of scrutiny she was accustomed to; it was something different, something that felt almost reverent. She noticed the glances from other diners, the way conversations seemed to hush slightly as they passed by their table. It was as if she had been elevated to a position of unexpected importance.

The waiter who had taken their order approached the table again, bringing their main course. He addressed her with a formality that caught her off guard. “Mrs. Wick,” he said, with a slight bow of his head, “your salmon. And for you, Mr. Wick, the ribeye.”

Yn smiled politely, her eyes briefly meeting John’s before turning back to the waiter. “Thank you,” she replied, her voice steady despite the odd sensation that had settled over her.

As the waiter left, Yn couldn’t help but glance around the restaurant. She saw the subtle nods and acknowledgments from other patrons, the way some seemed to give John a wide berth, but not out of fear. It was more like a sign of respect, almost deference. It dawned on her that being with John, even in a simple setting like this, placed her in a unique position within this hidden world she barely understood.

“John,” she began softly, “do you notice how people are looking at us? It’s... different.”

John’s eyes met hers, a knowing look in his gaze. “Yes, Yn. They’re acknowledging us. Acknowledging you.”

“Me?” Yn asked, puzzled. “Why me?”

John reached across the table, taking her hand in his. “Because you’re my wife. In their eyes, that makes you someone of great importance. They respect you because they respect me.”

Yn pondered his words, feeling a mix of pride and confusion. It was a strange feeling to be regarded with such respect, especially from people she didn’t know, people who seemed to belong to a world so different from her own.

She took a sip of her wine, her thoughts swirling. “I didn’t realize being married to you would come with... this.”

John’s expression softened. “I understand if it’s overwhelming. But know that with that respect comes a measure of safety. They wouldn’t dare harm you, not if they know who you are.”

Yn nodded, absorbing his words. It was a lot to take in, but she trusted John. She trusted his judgment and his ability to protect her. Still, it was an adjustment, being seen as someone significant just by association.

As they continued their meal, Yn began to feel a bit more at ease. She even managed to enjoy the delicious food, savoring each bite. But the feeling of being watched, of being respected and acknowledged, lingered. It was a reminder of the complex life she had stepped into, a life intertwined with John Wick, the man she was beginning to see in a new light.

When the dessert arrived, a delicate crème brûlée, she couldn’t help but smile at the presentation. The waiter, once again, addressed her with the same respect. “Mrs. Wick, I hope you enjoy this.”

“Thank you,” she said, her voice more confident this time. She took her first bite, the rich, creamy texture melting in her mouth. She looked at John, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “I could get used to this,” she said, half-joking.

John chuckled softly. “I’m glad to hear that. I want you to feel comfortable, Yn. To feel like you belong.”

“I do,” she admitted. “It’s just... a lot to take in. But I’m glad we’re doing this together.”

John squeezed her hand gently. “So am I.”

As they were finishing their dessert, a familiar figure approached their table. John looked up and smiled slightly, recognizing Aurelio. The tall, well-dressed man extended a hand to John, who stood up to greet him.

“Aurelio, good to see you,” John said with a nod, shaking his hand firmly.

“And you, John,” Aurelio replied warmly, before turning his attention to Yn. His eyes softened, and a genuine smile spread across his face. “And this must be Mrs. Wick.”

John nodded, gesturing towards Yn. “Yes, Yn, this is Aurelio. He runs the best car shop in the city.”

Aurelio stepped closer to Yn, taking her hand gently and bowing slightly. “It’s finally a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Wick. The words don’t do you justice, you are far more beautiful,” he said, kissing the back of her hand with a touch of old-world charm.

Yn blushed at the compliment, a soft pink coloring her cheeks. “Thank you, Mr. Aurelio,” she said shyly, her voice barely above a whisper.

John cleared his throat, a subtle but clear signal that did not go unnoticed by Aurelio. The car shop owner chuckled, a twinkle in his eye. “Don’t worry, big guy,” he teased, “she’s still yours.”

The interaction made Yn smile, and she deciphered from Aurelio’s relaxed demeanor and familiarity that he must be a close friend of John’s. It was rare to see John so at ease with someone, and it spoke volumes about their history and trust.

Turning back to Yn, Aurelio pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it to her. “If you ever have any trouble with cars, this is my card. For you, no charge.”

Yn took the card, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the generosity. “Thank you,” she said, her voice still carrying that shy tone.

As they left the restaurant, a chilly breeze swept through the street, causing Yn to shiver involuntarily. She tried to suppress the reaction, not wanting to appear vulnerable. But John, ever the attentive husband, noticed the slight twitch in her movements caused by the cold. Without a word, he slipped off his own jacket and gently placed it over her shoulders, making sure it was snug.

Yn looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise and gratitude. “Thank you, John,” she said, pulling the jacket closer around her. The warmth was immediate and comforting.

John simply nodded, his eyes softening as he looked at her. “I can’t have you catching a cold,” he said, his voice low and filled with an unspoken tenderness.

They walked to the car in a comfortable silence, the night air crisp around them but the warmth of John’s jacket and his presence keeping Yn cozy. As they drove home, Yn couldn’t help but reflect on the evening. The respect she had felt from the patrons, the genuine kindness from Aurelio, and the tender care from John all combined to create a sense of belonging she hadn’t expected.

John, on the other hand, was lost in his thoughts about Yn. Seeing her interact with Aurelio, noticing her blush and shy smiles, only solidified his feelings. She was becoming more than just a practical partner; she was becoming the center of his world. And as he glanced over at her, wrapped in his jacket, he felt a fierce determination to protect her and cherish her in every way possible.

The drive back to the mansion was quiet, but it was a comfortable silence, filled with the unspoken understanding that something had shifted between them. As they pulled into the driveway, the rain from earlier had ceased, leaving the air fresh and the night sky clear.

Yn glanced at John as they got out of the car. “Tonight was... different,” she said softly.

John nodded. “Yes, it was.” He offered his arm, and she took it, the simple gesture of closeness making her heart flutter.

Inside the mansion, they settled into their routine, but there was a new layer of understanding and connection between them. John continued to be more open with his affections, his touches lingering, his caresses becoming more frequent. He stood close to her, not just for the scent of her fragrance, but for the sheer need to be near her.

Yn, too, found herself leaning into his touches, finding comfort and solace in his presence. She was beginning to see beyond the practical arrangement of their marriage, feeling the stirrings of something deeper, something more profound. And as she prepared for bed that night, the memory of John’s devotion and care lingered, filling her with a warmth that went beyond the physical.

The following days saw the continuation of their routine, but with each passing moment, their bond grew stronger. The practical arrangement was transforming into something beautiful, something neither of them had anticipated, but both were beginning to embrace wholeheartedly.

Part 3

[hippolotamus]

Thank you for the tags @panbuckley @spotsandsocks 🥰

Have some more Bridgerton au. For context this takes place just before Eddie crosses paths with a certain Buckley while out horse riding.

The next morning finds Eddie awake far too early. Judging by the relative silence, the servants haven’t started their day yet. There aren’t any boots scuffling through the halls, muted clanging of pots from the kitchen, or muted conversation and giggling from the stablehands trying their best to flirt with the maids. He’s pretty sure they think he doesn’t hear any of it, but it’s difficult to ignore with his frequent restless nights. Everyone gets their work done, so it’s not like Eddie’s going to come down on them for trying to have a little fun. After all, somebody should be. He closes his eyes, willing his body to be overtaken by the warm, fuzzy tendrils of sleep. Instead, he’s continually greeted by the cherubs, orchids, gladiolus and myrtle painted on the ceiling in various shades of pinks, blues, greens and creams. Through the years he’s studied each petal and feathered wing enough times he could recreate them from memory. Well, if he could paint that is. The image has been there since the estate was built, watching over each generation as they married and grew their own families. One day the house and land will go to Christopher. Eddie can only hope his son is blessed with better fortune than he and Shannon were.  When, at last, faint gray morning light begins to creep between the curtains, Eddie breathes a sigh of relief and allows himself to get out of bed. Away from the scrutiny of angelic beings. Unfortunately it does nothing for silencing his mother’s voice running on a loop in his mind, playing back her demands from yesterday’s awful visit.  In a desperate rush to clear his head, he hurries through a perfunctory wash and pulls on his riding clothes. At least one of the horses should be ready to go by now. If not, he doesn’t mind doing it himself. Some people think being titled, and having wealth, are enough to be excluded from such mundane activities. Personally, Eddie’s always found it relaxing. Something about the routine of caring for animals that serve him through no fault of their own. They never asked to be here, pulling carriages and equipment. It seems like the least he can do.  “Morning, Henry. Emma.” Eddie chuckles to himself as the pair break apart and Henry jogs to catch up with him.  “Morning, sir.” “Just Eddie. Please.” “Right. Eddie,” Henry replies as if they haven’t had this same conversation dozens of times, and won’t have it ever again. “Will you be needing the carriage?” “Not until evening. Is Artemis ready?” “Yes, si- Eddie. She’s been brushed down and is ready to go. Will your young one be joining you?” “Just me this morning.” Eddie steps closer to the stalls, taking his time so as not to spook the mare. “Hello there, beautiful. How was your night? Hopefully better than mine.”

It's late, so no pressure @shortsighted-owl @alyxmastershipper @911onabc @buddierights @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @jesuisici33 @littlebitofdiaz @elvensorceress @monsterrae1 @stereopticons @megsvstheworld @the-likesofus @chaosandwolves @heartbeatdiaz @gentoodiaz if you wanna 💞

[solitaire-sol]

16: Cultivation

For: @prongsfoot-microfic

Month: August 2023

AO3: Link

Notes: The echobloom, also known as the echolalia orchid, is something I came up with, so don't look for it on an HP wiki. Welspryng Grange is my HC for a "Potter Manor," less over-the-top than most of those tend to be, with an agricultural focus given the Potters' apparent affinity for potions/growing ingredients; it operates as a commercial/research farm until Fleamont retires, with most of the adjacent land sold off over time. The springs that feed it are mildly magical and it's where Fleamont and Euphemia lived until it became clear they'd never have a large family, after which they primarily lived in the Godric's Hollow house until James and Lily married and moved in.

Some were surprised to learn that James Potter ranked among the best-scoring students in most classes, despite his disinterest in studying. Sirius was never surprised by James' talents, but he had been bewildered during their first Herbology lesson, where James had been volunteering answers and getting his hands dirty, in a very literal sense, once Professor Sprout allowed them into a greenhouse. Sirius, who had never felt a particular urge towards plants or potting soil, was fascinated by James' enthusiasm, watching James deftly replant lady's mantle sprouts, shaping protective mounds around the sprigs.

“Mum and Dad garden,” James had shrugged. “More Dad than Mum, but they both like it, so I wound up liking it, too.” Gardening seemed a mismatch for James, a poky pensioner's pastime for someone who seemed most at home going too fast, too high on a broom; but James' interest in growing things was more than that of a dutiful son, as Sirius learned the first time he'd visited the Potters at Welspryng Grange.

James led Sirius around the outbuildings, the tour frequently interrupted by James' recollections of 'those sugar shrubs have been there forever, they're the only things Mum bakes with' and 'I fell off that shed when I was five, stop laughing you nitwit, you're cracked.' "Welspryng is named for the, well, springs," James explained. “They go all through the estate from underground. Dad brewed the first cauldron of Sleekeazy's with that water!” James added proudly, and Sirius couldn't help a pang of envy, though it was forgotten as James took his wrist and drew Sirius towards an elegant building of glass and weathered iron.

“I've been growing something for you,” James announced, leading Sirius through rows of potted trees and blossoming shoots in planters, stopping before what looked like a white orchid on a slender stem. It might have been a Muggle flower if not for the faint magic it exuded, but it didn't look like anything they'd come across in Herbology.

“It's an echobloom,” James said, tugging Sirius closer. “When it matures, it captures the first sound it hears and stores it! Here, give a listen--” James indicated that Sirius should lean in, their shoulders bumping together, and James breathed a puff of air across the papery white petals in simulation of a breeze. The echobloom swayed a little, leaves and petals shifting, and Sirius' eyes widened as he heard James' voice emanate from the heart of the flower, saying--

Sirius felt his cheeks redden, the blush impossible to hide on his pale skin, and when he ventured a look at James, it was with a certain relief that he saw James had also gone pink. James was smiling, though, and Sirius found that he was smiling, too.

“You like it?” James asked, and his grip on Sirius' wrist was loose, but his hand was warm.

“Yeah,” Sirius replied, already figuring out how to get a china pot containing a three-foot-tall orchid past his mother and his mother's house-elves. “I love it.”

[malk1ns]

for your pleasure: it’s culturally said that Russian men never show up when meeting a women (whether business or pleasure) without a bouquet. Food for thought around your 1950s Geno fic lol

👀👀👀

Sid expects the flowers to stop after a while.

Geno brings a bouquet to every date, to the point where Sid runs out of vases and has to ask some of the WAGs where he can gets more that fit with his house's decor scheme. He buys flower food and a watering can and does his best to keep them alive for as long as possible, and then Geno starts bringing over live plants in pots and Sid falls headfirst into online research on how to care for all these living things suddenly in his home.

He maybe goes a little crazy on Amazon getting supplies. It's worth it when Geno sees how carefully arranged all his gifts are, how well-tended the blooms and leaves look.

That's normal early-relationship stuff, though, so Sid figures after a while it'll die down, and he'll maybe get a new plant for his birthday or something, to supplement the collection in the west-facing room he hadn't found a use for yet that's rapidly becoming a greenhouse.

It's when individual stems start appearing in his locker before every practice that Sid begins to suspect this might be more of a permanent thing.

The guys razz him, of course they do, but Geno just looks smug whenever Sid comes in and smiles over the new flower. Sid's not sure how much money he's spending on them, or where they're coming from, but he carefully gathers them and brings them home, and the biggest vase he owns, the one that sits on his kitchen island where he can see it as often as possible, becomes dedicated to the workplace gifts Geno seems determined to leave him every day.

"It's a Russian thing," Tanger says one day, examining the orchid bloom Sidney found before practice. "The men, they bring flowers for women when they meet them, even if they're just friends, even if it's work. I think it's safe to say you're getting what you wanted?"

Sid flushes hot. "How do you even know that?" he asks instead of acknowledging Tanger's question.

Kris smiles at him, all teeth and knowing eyes. "I called Sarge and asked what it might mean, if our little Geno was giving someone flowers every single day."

"Fuck, the whole goddamn league is gonna have a field day with this, you're such an asshole," Sid groans, kicking Kris in the shin hard enough to make him yelp and hop away. "And give me that, you're going to crush the stem."

Geno's waiting for him outside the locker room, slouched against the opposite wall and playing on his phone, chewing on his lower lip as he rapidly scrolls through whatever he's looking at. When he sees it's Sid coming through the door, orchid safely in hand, he straightens and slips his phone into his pocket.

"I think maybe you're lost," he says, smiling down at Sid and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Ready for go home?"

Sid settles into the warmth of Geno's touch, letting him steer them through the halls and out to the parking lot. Geno opens the passenger door to the car and waits until Sid's buckled safely in before shutting it and circling around to the driver's side.

"Do you think you'll keep getting me flowers forever?" Sid asks abruptly when they're halfway home.

Geno lowers the volume on the music and glances quickly at him, brow furrowed. "You're not like?"

Sid looks down at the orchid in his lap, touching the plastic water pick at the base of its stem. "No, I love it," he says, shifting in his seat. "It's just. I guess Tanger talked to Gonch."

"Ah," Geno says, fingers tightening a little on the wheel as he changes lanes to get off the highway. "It's okay?"

Sid knows what he's asking, knows what they're dancing around. It's something neither of them have been willing to actually put into words yet, even though Geno's behavior makes it crystal clear to anyone who's paying attention.

"It's more than okay," he finally answers, rolling his neck to try and ease a tight spot he hadn't been able to get fully massaged out at the trainers' after practice. "It's...you know. You know I like it."

Geno's shoulders come down from where they'd been climbing up to his ears. "Good," he says firmly. "Then we keep do. You like flower, you should get flower every day. I'm do this for you, I like it too."

"Good," Sid echoes. "What do you want for dinner? I think we have some of that chicken parm left, or I can make us pasta."

Geno looks over at him again, but this time his eyes are hot, and Sid squirms. "Think about dinner later," he says, hand landing high on Sid's thigh. "Have other thing to do when we get home."

[bumblebeerror]

I forgot I was going to update y’all on my orchid!

So this is how she looked when I got her:

I had to clip off some of the rotted roots when I repotted her, and then I ended up repotting her again into an orchid pot

So today she looks like this:

She’s got new buds forming on her flower spikes, and those ones looking a little sad are still the ones from months ago when I got her that are only now starting to wilt. Her air roots are way less shriveled, the house is a liiiitle too dry for her so I’ve just been misting them every now and then with a spray bottle and it seems to do the trick. I water her whenever the substrate seems damp instead of wet. my pot is clear, so I just pull it out of the decorative one and see if there’s condensation on the inside. If there isn’t any, I water thoroughly and let the pot drain for a few minutes before I put her back in her decorative pot :D

I haven’t run into any problems with her - I expected her to be much harder to take care of if I’m honest. Right now I have a very stubborn pothos that refuses to grow that’s being waaay more troublesome than her, to the point that I’ve had to put both cuttings in mini jar greenhouses:

Baby jail for stubborn pothos cuttings.

[omgpurplefattie]

for the character-centric stories prompts, Ye Baiyi and "What would happen to a houseplant in their care?" ♥

“She’s not going to kill you if they don’t all survive,” Rong Changqing had told Ye Baiyi after Rong-furen had finally stopped with her instructions, repeated instructions, and even more admonitions.

“Not so sure,” Ye Baiyi said, trying to commit to memory what the little yellow orchids needed. They wanted little water, right, but regularly, and they could never be allowed to remain standing in a puddle?

Compared to the orchids, the large pot of silvergrass was simple. The kitchen herbs were even simpler -- give them two ladles of water whenever they started looking a bit wan.

“Don’t think about the damn plants,” Rong Changqing assured him, “the main thing is you keep training Xuan-er and make sure he goes to bed before midnight. And don’t let him tinker in my workshop by himself. At least not after midnight. Please? Baiyi?”

If Changqing looked at him like that, with his beautiful smile and beautiful eyes, what else could Ye Baiyi do but grumble “I’ll try to” ungraciously, rather than smile back and reflect the things that Changqing made him feel. Every. Single. Time.

You’d think he would be used to it by now. For the Heavens’ sake, Xuan-er was already nine; the pain in those feelings should have worn down, become dulled and familiar. Perhaps it was the immortality that Rong Changqing had so unwisely cultivated and then dumped on Ye Baiyi; not only Ye Baiyi’s body, even his feelings were preserved forever unchanging in a block of clear ice.

“Don’t look so crestfallen, Baiyi,” Rong Changqing said. “It’s not even a month; we just have to be at the wedding of my lady’s youngest brother. We’ll hurry back as fast as we can. And Xuan-er can help you. If you’re really scared of what she’ll do to you if her chives have turned into hay, or the forge cats have peed on the basil.”

“I’m not scared,” Ye Baiyi grumbled. “I’m just offended that you wouldn’t even trust me with a fucking potted houseplant. I can feed the forge cats all right, and make sure that Xuan-er eats every day and sets nothing on fire. So why should I kill the damn orchids?”

“The forge cats,” Rong Changqing laughed, “will complain very loudly if you don’t feed them every day. Plants, however, just wilt quietly, and before you realize it, they’re dead.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ye Baiyi said, glaring up at Changqing, “I know what qi feels like, and I won’t let it falter.”

“Course you do,” Rong Changqing said, easily, but Ye Baiyi felt he still didn’t believe him. He made a face.

***

Two lunar months later, the Rongs returned, with a lot of gifts and good food for Xuan-er, and a few books they had thought Ye Baiyi might like, as well as a few bottles of syrup for him to flavor his snow with.

Xuan-er had built a box that would shoot crossbow bolts without the crossbow, steadily feeding them into the mechanism; he proudly presented it to his father, and they took quite a while to take it apart and then improve it so it would shoot even faster.

Baiyi went and had some snow with pomegranate syrup; it wasn’t bad, really. He perched on a rock and looked into the valley where he hadn’t been for so long, except in especially fierce winters, and then only for a little bit.

He didn’t know how he felt about Changqing and Rong-furen being back. Life with Xuan-er had been fun; they had trained every day, there had been no set bedtimes or mealtimes for either of them, and they had just ambled through their days in the snow. Xuan-er’s martial arts had taken leaps and bounds with nobody to interrupt him. He did look a little unkempt now, but really, all those hot baths were overrated, especially for a nine year old.

It was already getting dark when Rong-furen came out to get her husband and son from the workshop; the fire was going, and she had been cooking dinner.

“What have you done to my plants?” she asked, casually, as she passed Ye Baiyi.

“Nothing,” he said, “except what you’d told me. The forge cats were much harder to take care of; the calico brought out her kittens, and we kept running after them. Xuan-er shot at an eagle who tried to grab one. They’re all doing fine.”

“Don’t deflect,” Rong-furen said. “My plants have never been this lush and healthy. You have made cuttings from the orchids, and the roots are coming on fine; the basil is almost a tree now, and the other herbs fairly burst from their window boxes. I have noticed the kittens because they were playing hide-and-seek in the silvergrass and jumping up to catch the fronds. The lotuses in their basin and the peonies in their container are already flowering even though it’s early for them, this far up. You turned out to be an excellent gardener.”

“I just did what you told me,” Ye Baiyi said. “I checked every day, and made sure the forge cats didn’t pee on them. That’s all.”

He may have been feeding the plants a little of his qi, but hey, he was an immortal, he had the stuff to spare.

“Do you want to carry on doing it?” she asked. “I have seen the way you repotted the little blue orchids; there was so much care and attention in the work. You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

“Nah,” Baiyi said, “they’re your plants. I just didn’t want to be the one who killed them. Changqing -- well, he thought I’d screw up, so I wanted to show him I don’t. I’m no good at this, and the plants don’t really like me. I’m the last person you want as a gardener, really.”

“If you change your mind -- any time,” she shrugged, and went about her errand.

Changqing and Xuan-er emerged from the forge even before she had reached the door; they were holding out the kittens and talking enthusiastically while they walked back towards the house and their dinner.

“Good job, Baiyi,” Changqing said vaguely as he passed Ye Baiyi on his perch; he reached up to clap him on the upper arm, then went inside with his family, plants and Baiyi already forgotten.-