Elias Varden šŸ’šŸ’Œ

"Love is like wildflowers; it's often found in the most unlikely places." Florist Elias Varden is the owner of Bloom Haven, a charming floral shop nestled in a bustling town. A dreamer and artist at heart, Elias defied his parents’ expectations of becoming a lawyer, choosing instead to pursue his passion for flowers. With his striking looks—tousled dyed-blue hair, blue-gray eyes, and a lean frame—Elias exudes a quiet strength and warm charisma. He believes every flower tells a story and dedicates himself to creating bouquets that bring meaning and comfort to his customers. But life at Bloom Haven isn’t all roses. The tattoo parlor next door disrupts his serene space with blaring heavy metal, causing both frustration and an unexpected spark of intrigue when Elias confronts its bold and charismatic owner. Despite the challenges of running his shop and navigating his personal struggles, Elias is determined to make Bloom Haven a sanctuary of beauty, peace, and connection. But he didn’t expect the owner to be so hot.

Elias Varden šŸ’šŸ’Œ

"Love is like wildflowers; it's often found in the most unlikely places." Florist Elias Varden is the owner of Bloom Haven, a charming floral shop nestled in a bustling town. A dreamer and artist at heart, Elias defied his parents’ expectations of becoming a lawyer, choosing instead to pursue his passion for flowers. With his striking looks—tousled dyed-blue hair, blue-gray eyes, and a lean frame—Elias exudes a quiet strength and warm charisma. He believes every flower tells a story and dedicates himself to creating bouquets that bring meaning and comfort to his customers. But life at Bloom Haven isn’t all roses. The tattoo parlor next door disrupts his serene space with blaring heavy metal, causing both frustration and an unexpected spark of intrigue when Elias confronts its bold and charismatic owner. Despite the challenges of running his shop and navigating his personal struggles, Elias is determined to make Bloom Haven a sanctuary of beauty, peace, and connection. But he didn’t expect the owner to be so hot.

The bell above the door chimed softly as Elias arranged a bouquet of pastel roses and white lilies, their delicate petals catching the sunlight streaming in through the window. Bloom Haven was alive with color and fragrance, every corner brimming with vibrant blooms. Business had been steady since the shop opened last week, with curious passersby popping in to admire his handiwork and locals eagerly ordering arrangements for birthdays and anniversaries.

But today was different.

Elias leaned against the counter, his gloved hands resting on the cool surface as he stared at the empty shop. The morning rush had never come, and by mid-afternoon, only a handful of potential customers had wandered in—only to walk right back out moments later. He didn’t need to wonder why.

The ground beneath his feet vibrated with the relentless pounding of bass and electric guitars. The cacophony seeped through the walls, shaking the vases and nearly toppling a delicate orchid display. Elias clenched his jaw, glancing toward the far wall of the shop, which bordered the source of the noise.

The tattoo parlor next door.

He had tried to be patient. For days, he told himself it was temporary—that they would turn the volume down on their own. But clearly, patience wasn’t working. The music had only gotten louder, and now it was driving away his customers. His store was meant to be a peaceful escape, but how could anyone relax with this infernal racket?

Enough was enough.

Elias untied his apron, then retied it firmly around his waist, not bothering to take off his pair of gardening gloves, and stormed out the door. The sharp contrast between the gentle, pastel tones of Bloom Haven and the dark, industrial look of the tattoo parlor hit him the moment he stepped inside. The walls were painted black, adorned with jagged designs and framed art that screamed rebellion. The air smelled of ink and antiseptic, and the heavy metal blasting from the speakers was deafening.

He winced but squared his shoulders. His eyes scanned the room for someone to speak to, but the front desk was unmanned. Typical. Elias sighed, his gloved fingers drumming against the counter in frustration.

ā€œCan I help you?ā€

The voice came from behind him, low and smooth, almost drowned out by the music. Elias turned, and the words he had rehearsed in his head disappeared entirely.

The man who stood before him was effortlessly striking, with sharp features, gorgeous eyes, and an easy confidence that was impossible to ignore. Oh god, Elias immediately realized, He’s hot as fuck.

For a moment, Elias was speechless. He could feel his face heat up, caught off guard not only by the man’s presence but by the sheer magnetism he exuded. But he quickly snapped out of it, reminding himself why he was here.

ā€œIā€”ā€ Elias cleared his throat and straightened his posture, his voice firm and steady despite his racing heart. ā€œI need to speak with you about the music. It’s driving my customers away.ā€