red primroses

The Blue Princess and her Red Rose

Pairing: Jungkook | Reader
Word Count: 34.8k (ooops someone’s got a bit carried away hehe)
Genre: PrinceJungkookAU, Angst, Fluff & Smut.

A/N: This is the first story of the five “short” (if you can call them short lmao) stories about Greyria that I’ll be posting during summer. Probably I won’t be posting the next one until a couple of weeks from today, because I have the idea of them all, but none is completely written yet.
I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think of it! 
Because It’s really long, I fear you won’t be able to read it from your phone or tablet, sorry :(

Summary: After all, he was her red rose, while she was just another one of the many blue roses that grew in the dying gardens of Greyria. 

Tales of Greyria

The best stories - those that speak about past lovers, about untold stories and broken hearts, about beautiful promises of future and happiness that got lost in the wind; those that make you feel happiness, loss, hurt, love, hate, fear and sadness all at once; those that live in your heart for the rest of your days - always have sad endings, my love,” her grandma had always told her when she was just a little girl in a baby pink dress.

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It’s not that Ronan never sleeps, but that he never sleeps around Adam. Not anymore.

Adam caught him sneaking off to one of the smaller storage barns before, probably to take a nap in the alfalfa hay if he could go by the telling slump to Ronan’s shoulders. There was a time when he’d even spotted him sprawled out on the roof of their house, a 1986 issue of Time magazine open and laying over his face. It was cloudy enough for Ronan not to burn, so Adam left him alone and didn’t say a thing when his boyfriend appeared three hours later, slightly pink.

At first, Adam didn’t notice. He was busy with school and friends and a part-time job; he didn’t have time to really think about it. Ronan still replied to all of his texts, always answered his phone calls every Tuesday and Friday, still greeted him with the same shoulder bump and sly smile when they saw each other on long weekends and breaks. Everything was how it had always been.

Adam would fall asleep to the pulsing bass from Ronan’s headphones and wake up to an empty bed, the smell of breakfast in the air. It was normal, it was them. But then Adam’s eyes started snagging on the thin blanket on the dorm room couch, or on the single pillow left in a corner of the farm’s milking parlor. He’d notice Ronan excusing himself: “I’ve got things to get caught up on” when what he really meant was “I need some sleep.”

Everything was not how it had always been, after all. Guilt had brewed in Adam’s gut for days after realizing it. He remembered falling asleep with Ronan during the summer before he’d left for school, waking up in the middle of the night to him snoring softly, then waking again in the morning to him reading whatever book he’d found laying around. Ronan had no problem sleeping beside Adam before. What had changed?

So now here Adam lays, in his dorm room’s twin-sized bed with Ronan pressed close and their blankets thrown on the floor. There’s a box fan propped against the wall, to keep them cool since it’s a tight fit and their bodies are natural furnaces. Adam’s thoughts are a mess in his head, a tangled web of certainties and uncertainties, but he needs to know what’s wrong. He knows how to fix every car problem known to man, but he doesn’t know the first thing about fixing relationships. “Don’t break him, Adam,” Gansey’s voice rattles inside of his skull.

Adam rests his hand on Ronan’s bicep, splaying his fingers.


Ronan’s eyes are closed in the darkness of the room, but he’s far from asleep.


“Is there a reason…” Adam pauses, frowning. He doesn’t like how uncertain his voice sounds. “Is there a reason you don’t let yourself sleep around me?”

There’s a moment of silence between them, filled only with the sound of a car door slamming shut outside, but then Ronan does his smoker’s breath and turns over so that he can face Adam properly. They’re so close that Adam can make out Ronan’s long lashes in the darkness of the bedroom. Neither of them say anything for a long time, and then Ronan’s slender fingers twine with Adam’s on his arm.

“I keep having nightmares,” he admits.

Adam understands immediately. He knows what kinds of monsters lurk inside of the other boy’s head; the hellish things he tries not to bring into the waking world. Nightmares. It’s enough of an answer for him and he squeezes the hand in his. Guilt gnaws away at him. For not noticing, for being relieved.

“The whole guilty thing is not a good look for you,” Ronan snorts. “I didn’t want you to know, okay? It’s not like I haven’t had nightmares before and I wasn’t going to risk you getting mauled to death by one of the fucked up figments of my imagination.”

Adam props himself up on an elbow.

“Is that what you dream about? Monsters?”

“Demons,” Ronan hesitates. “Demons that always get to you before I do.”

The imagery that one sentence paints puts Adam’s stomach in knots. He scoots a little closer to the body next to his and hunches over until his forehead is firmly pressed against Ronan’s. They curl into each other, clasped hands and shared breaths.

“Why?” Adam’s lips brush across skin. Ronan understands.

“You left Henrietta. We text and call each other, but I never fully know if you’re okay until we see each other. Before, Cabeswater kept an eye on you and all of us were always together so it was fine. In the summer, even after my mom died, you were still always right there and I didn’t have to worry something would happen to you too.”

Adam’s chest aches for the loyal, fierce, and loving creature beneath him.

“When you left,” Ronan continues, “I kept thinking about my parents. Then I kept thinking about you. You were alive and I was afraid it wouldn’t always be that way. That shit happens to me, you know. The people I care about die.”

“You’re afraid,” Adam croaks.

“I’m terrified,” Ronan corrects.

There are words forming in Adam’s head, a confession for a confession:

“I love you,” he says.

Immediately, Ronan’s free hand is tangling into his hair and dragging him down into a kiss. It’s all blooming heat, like hundreds of flowers unfurling within his chest all at once. He’s lightheaded in the best of ways, drowning in a feeling he wants to experience for the rest of his life. Being in love with Ronan Lynch is like nothing else he’s ever felt before.

Ronan pulls back just slightly and they look at each other in the darkness, really look. Something seems to unwind within the dreamer and he exhales a long breath. His smile is soft and easy, and Adam can’t help but lean in for another kiss. It’s languid and sweet, but spreads a different sort of heat through him that he thinks is inappropriate for this particular moment. He’s the first to pull away this time.

“Do you think you’ll be okay tonight?”

“Yeah,” Ronan licks his bottom lip, eyes lidded.

They give up on not cuddling since the space is so small, so Ronan ends up with his head cradled near Adam’s shoulder and an arm flung over his bare chest. The heat isn’t so unbearable with the box fan on beside them, so it’s easy to get comfortable. It only takes a few minutes for Adam to notice the other’s breathing evening out and he finds himself lulled to sleep by Ronan’s quiet snoring.


In the morning, when Adam rouses from sleep, he quickly notes the smell. It’s a mix of fragrances that remind him of the flower shop he used to pass on his way to school from St. Agnes. He opens his eyes, takes in the plethora of colors around him, and then sits up so abruptly his vision swims.

Flowers. There are flowers everywhere. Ambrosia, azalea, red carnations, primrose, red roses, white heather, forget-me-nots. Adam isn’t versed on the meanings of flowers, but his cheeks warm and he feels he has an idea what Ronan’s trying to say. Or rather, what he’s trying to say in return.

The spot beside him is empty, but Adam can smell bacon and eggs underneath the scent of flowers and his stomach growls with want. He climbs out of bed and is about to head toward the kitchen, but pauses in the doorway as an idea forms.

It doesn’t take long to collect enough flowers for a lush bouquet and then Adam is leaving the bedroom with an impish smile on his lips.

Fairytale Tattoos and Magical Flowers

A fic for @blaane. Who wanted a tattoo/florist dennor AU. Hope you like it!

(On AO3 too!)

The street was a quiet one, despite being the main shopping street in the town. No cars drove through, only the occasional bike or small motorcycle.

Changes weren’t done overnight.

So when his tattoo parlour was to get a neighbour again, he didn’t expect it to come so quietly.

Preben first noticed that the “for sale” sign in the empty shop disappeared.

Then over the weekend the shop got a paint job. Gorgeous dark green instead of the rather drab and faded grey.

Then one morning there was a sign.

“Magical Flowers” the gold lettering read, beautifully painted on top of a matt black background.

Preben had to stop and stare for a moment. He had an urge to revamp his own sign now.

The coming week he sometimes spotted movement inside the shop, but the blinds remained shut and all he heard was the unmistakable sound of hammering and sawing.

And Magical Flowers proved to be just that.

At least seemingly.

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eccentr1city  asked:

out of curiosity, what goes in your PMS tea blend when you can make it?

The three major ingredients are red raspberry leaf, evening primrose, and rose hips. I can technically get the ingredients and mix it myself, but I miss being able to go out into my parent’s garden and just make it. I think there are some PMS teas out there that have some of these ingredients. 

I might have put some dried dandelion root in there, but I forget. 

On its own, this tastes kind of awful, so I usually mix it in with a different blend. A favorite for this is a mango-chili green roobios. Also appropriate is a pomegranite white tea my mom gave me for Christmas once. 

Science Fair part 7

Originally posted by seabasschino

Bucky high school AU request, where he and the Avengers are basically the popular crowd but not arseholes and the Reader is kind of nerdy and just keeps to herself and her small group of friends but catches his eye? xxx - anon

Tagged: @brooke-supernatural16 , @guiltyissues, @pickylittlebitch, @barnes-and-noble-girl, @katiekitty261, @blueswallow5, @captainmqmeep, @abigumpble, @paolapr96, @linsteadandchicagopdarelife, @sebstan01, @natashaashleyhopemikaelson, @lelewright1234 , @julynineteenninetyseven, @juliagolia87, @maximoffstud, @breathingvapor, @maece-rette, @vierchenmiro, @thatisstilltheterm, @anonymous1917, @despondencey-of-despair, @alphaabucky, @ladyc-thehunter, @shadowsofdarkness27, @ria132love, @the-girl-with-no-plan, @finding-lory, @tremilyteapot, @hello-hotcakes, @technicallydopellamauniverse, @newyorkrebel, @bad-wolf87, @jasmins3, @climaxcal, @bucky-maximoffff, @strangecoincidencesoccur, @outerspacedcallum, @caughtupinthelionsden, @imgettingmarriedtobuckybarnes, @pumpkinspicebarnes

A/N- Disclaimer: Westerburg is the high school in Heathers, and no, I did not come up with the pep rally chant.

Part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6

You got to school early as usual, you made your way through to your locker barely even paying attention to where you were going as you knew the route like the back of your hand. It was muscle memory by now. With a yawn you reached out and turned the dial on your locker to the right code and pulled open the door.

It swung open and suddenly you were onslaughted by what must have been hundreds on pansies falling out of your locker. You gasped in shock as they spilled out onto the floor of the hall and even more remained piled inside, there were pansies in as many colours that you could think of - yellow, orange, primrose, red, blues and purples.

A stunned smile came  onto your face as you marvelled at the flowers before you, the stalks had been cut just below the head so they could all fit into your locker, you briefly wondered how somebody had broken into your locker but you knew that your school hadn’t invested in them because they were good lockers and more for convenience.

Reaching out into your locker your fingers glided through hundreds of soft petals whilst you routed around for your books that must have been hidden underneath them all, even more flowers cascaded out of your locker and fell gently to the floor. Your fingers finally touched your books and you pulled them all out to the best of your ability.

On top of the books was a small card with a handwritten note in a messy cursive, I’m really sorry, please let me make it up to you. Bucky <3

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