#charlotte posts fic

[iamanartichoke]

Don't mind me, I'm just gonna re-post some of my old fic, bc I've recently been skimming some of it and yesterday I actually gave this particular fic the time and attention-span to re-read it carefully and, yknow what, this is some good fucking fic. If I do say so myself. Sooo ... yeah.

Edit: I wasn't ready to post this yet but it posted as soon as I inserted the link, so. Brief summary - Endgame!Thor seeks out Loki's body in order to give him a funeral, and is shocked by what he finds.

TW: suicidal ideation, suicidal thoughts, self-harm, depression, alcoholism, death, internalized fatphobia, questionable jotun biology, thor crying a lot, the author is seeking validation.

[north-noire]

henry emily and the puppet-girl (charlie)

[yourteght]

» EXPRESSO DE LEMBRANÇAS — pedido pessoal

⟅22.07.2024 — pq não me disseram que fazer capa não é só tacar coisa e tcharam, ta pronto! Num gostei :') sair do bloqueio criativo está me custando meus últimos neurônios e o pouco de sanidade que me resta e não ta tudo bem kkkkk brincadeira gente (não a parte do bloqueio) eu amo fazer capas inspiradas em bebidas, sendo as minhas favoritas: chás e diferentes tipos de processamento de café :3 sou apaixonado por bebidas quentes (por mais que eu deixe ficar morno por ser muito fresco) e essa daqui eu confesso que me inspirei em um latte (!) o nome ta expresso, eu sei MAS olha que LINDINHA QUE FICOU :3 o processo dessa capa foi uma das que mais me deu trabalho pq corta o png do katakuri levou toda a dignidade que eu tinha (e pior, nem parece que deu trabalho pq mal aparece os recortes que fiz :')) mas eu amei essa daqui, senti um cheiro de café e depois dessa capa, eu estou com muita vontade de um latte.

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Wildflower

What should Ghost give during Valentine's Day to Jade when she's an actual florist who sees flowers literally every day?

Pairing : Simon “Ghost” Riley x Charlotte “Jade” Le Jardin (OC) Word Count : ~ 6.4k words Warning : Full on fluff-fest, a slight angst, and the good o'l cursings.

Title and story inspired by the song 'Wildflower' by Clay Finnesand and 'La Vie en Rose' by Louis Armstrong.

February 14th. 

Fucking Valentine’s day - a day full of love, they said. 

He never really celebrated or cared about any of those kinds of days where people commemorate shit like love. For him, it's just like any other day. He woke up today and did his workout before he went on jogging.

However, that day is different as he saw countless red and pink decorations in every store in his apartment neighbourhood, offering Valentine's day discount for couples. He swore he saw more couples walking down the street than usual, that he even saw a man propose to his girlfriend when he was jogging. 

Looking at them, Ghost remembered,

He already confessed to Jade during the New Years. 

Yep. He did.

Across the London Eye, when the fireworks painted the infinite black, the chimes of Big Ben rang throughout the Thames River, he said it to her, 

‘I think I’m falling in love with you.’

Only to disappoint her again by saying, ‘But I don’t think I’m ready yet.’

Had he been a coward for not being ready to commit yet? Jade was a shining light in his life. She knew of his struggles, and she treated him with kindness and fondness no woman ever did to him. All his life he never thought to fall in love with someone, yet here he was. 

He wanted to be in a relationship with her. Fuck, he wanted to. But she deserved the world. She deserved certainty and stability while his job was nothing but that. He could get deployed out of the blue anytime – die anytime. He had a lot of things to sort out first.

He saw tears in her green eyes despite the smile. She only hugged him in response, saying, 

‘I love you, so I’ll stay right here.’ Jade muttered shakily while pressing her body to his in a tight hug, her fingers grasping the back of Ghost’s jacket. 

‘When you’re ready, I’ll be here.’

‘Let’s be friends, yeah?’ She had added, to which he answered with a smile. “Yeah. We'll always be friends.”

That was New Years. 

It'd been two months since then. Ghost and Jade had been texting each other regularly all the while continuing their lives. They met occasionally for a food tour as Ghost was a food enthusiast. Their chat was full of ‘Let’s try the new Korean BBQ around the street’, ‘You ever tried a fried ice cream?’, ‘There’s a new movie about a lady becoming a superhero across multiple universes’, and more casual stuff like those. Meanwhile Jade would take him to physical activities such as take him to a zoo, hiking, and even go to arcades. 

Johnny had been such a tease on it. He’d been bothering Ghost the whole time in the base as the Lieutenant looked at his phone and typing away on it more frequently than ever. ‘Yer’ lookin’ very happy these days, Sir.’ , ‘How’s Jade doin’?’, ‘Another ‘meet-up’ with Jade?’, 

‘Yer’ so full of rubbish. That’s called a date.’ Soap had said. 

'Shut your gob. We’re just friends, Johnny.’

‘Friends who go on dates together.’

Soap ran away before Ghost could smack the shit out of him. 

But was it really? Ghost and Jade frequently walk together, as friends, Eating at places together, as friends. Watch movies together, as friends. 

But seeing that one guy propose to his girlfriend lit up a spark in him.

That's when Ghost texted her for a meet-up somewhere, Jade replied back with,

‘I would LOVE to if it's not the busiest time of the year T_T and every Valentines we'd open from early morning to midnight, so I'm really sorry. We have all our employees working, but it doesn't seem to make any difference.’

He forgot that Valentine’s day is literally the most important day for a florist. Fucking idiot.

Ghost sighed as he looked up from his phone, right in front of the Le Jardin floristry. He wore a black hoodie and a face mask, the black face paint absent from around his eyes as he was on leave, a rare occurrence from his line of work. Inside the garden was an organised chaos, to say the least. Ghost saw at least 6 customers inside the garden, around 4 employees going around the shop to accompany them. Even as one person went out after buying a flower, two people would enter the shop to replace them. The place was positively crowded.

He looked far and wide for Jade inside among the sea of people, until a woman with ginger hair came out of a room with a big rose bouquet, giving it to a man in an expensive suit that was tailored to perfection for his figure. The man paid for the humongous flowers and left the shop with a nervous face, meanwhile Jade instantly attended to another customer. He could tell that she's a leader based on how she commanded her employees with such confidence and authority, yet still had that kindness and gentleness in her way of talking. Her legs brought her around the shop with utmost speed and precision, not a single step was wasted on her feet.

He could only smile proudly beneath the mask. 

For about 15 minutes he observed the shop, until a truck pulled up in front of an alleyway right beside the floristry. Didn't have to wait long to understand that the vehicle was meant to pick up flower decorations for a wedding as an old man came out from the alleyway (presumably connected to the backdoor of the shop) brought out a very big, white bouquet in his arms, which size was so big it concealed his head - surely he couldn't see where he was stepping. Ghost noticed that he was struggling to lift the giant decoration onto the truck, his knees looked like it was about to tumble, until his prediction turned into reality.

The old man's knees failed him, and the big white flower decoration would turn into a mess on the ground, if not for Ghost, who quickly leaped in and held the flowers from falling. Ghost huffed in relief that he jumped just in time. 

The man leaned to the side of the decoration to see who had just saved him, and saw a big, tall man dressed in a black hoodie and jeans, whose face was concealed by another black face mask.

Regardless, the elder smiled wide, "Oh good heavens! Thank you so much for the assist! My knees aren't as strong as they used to." The old man said as they both put the white decorations into the truck box. "Ah~ being young is so much easier innit?"

Ghost only nodded, avoiding eye contact to hide his identity. Why'd he help him? probably just from reflex, but then again, how could he just leave an old man stumbling to his fall?

"I'm really sorry for the trouble. I wish I could repay you." The old man's expression was so kind it's almost blinding. He wasn't that short or frail for a man with entirely white hair, probably a 5'9". Judging by his quite muscular arms from his rolled sleeves, he could tell that he's not weak, his knees just betrayed him at a bad time. 

Ghost didn't say anything to the man as he was about to walk away to avoid more interaction, before a familiar feminine voice called.

"Papa! Are you okay!? I saw you trip!"

Both men turned their attention to the shop, where a woman with braided red hair and dark blue apron was talking from the main doorway. 

"Don't worry, Lottie Dear. I got it, but only thanks to this young lad right here." He gestured to Ghost, where he stood right on the elder's left. "If not for him, we'd have to replace all the flowers." 

Fuck.

The old man is her father. 

It's Mister Le Jardin. 

Her green eyes caught the sight of a man whose built and sense of fashion she would recognize from a mile away. "Wait... Ghost??" Jade exclaimed, her face filled with surprise, "What are you doin' here??" 

The SAS lieutenant looked up to her with a tinge of panic on his concealed face, while Mr. Le Jardin observed him up and down. "Oh? You know him?" 

Jade nodded slowly, still shocked, "Yes... he's uh… he's a friend from work." 

He never intended to be noticed by Jade, afraid of disturbing her work, let alone meet her father out of all people. 

The father noticed that word. 'From work'. 

"Really now? What's your name, young man?" Mr. Le Jardin asked, his voice went higher in delight. 

He lowered his head to bow a little, before answering, "Simon... Sir."

"Ah. Nice to meet you, Simon! I'm Eli, owner of Le Jardin along with my wife Gracie – she's inside dealing with the clients." He introduced himself with a handshake, which Ghost reluctantly accepted. 

"Sir! Where're the rest of the flowers?!" The truck driver shouted as he got off his vehicle, prompting Eli to walk to the back door through the alleyway, leaving Ghost and Jade at the front of the shop, her face still painted with shock. A lady walked in front of Jade to enter the shop, so she made some way for her and approached Ghost. 

"Hey Ghost." The red-head started, happiness filling her voice. 

"Hey." 

"So… What brings you here?" She surely knew that he wasn't there just because he 'happened to be in the area', so he deleted that reply in his mind. 

"I wanted to see you."

Jade's eyes widened, surprised at his straight-forward answer. "Oh." 

"Your old man lost his balance loading this decoration into the truck, so I helped him." 

"Oh." Still with the same answer, Jade couldn't tell him how fast her heartbeat was, as her father just came in contact with Ghost, the man she fell in love with.

He looked inside the shop, observing the clients and employees walking around. "Busy day innit?"

"Yeah, it is. To be honest we've been busy since the last 3 days. Had to pick up tons of fresh flowers from our fields back in Norfolk, then arrange them for this day. Today's the busiest day, so it's an all-hands-on-deck situation. Also a big wedding is coming up tonight, and we have to transport these humongous flowers to a hotel ballroom for decorations. Biiig money. This is the third truck." Jade explained as her father and the truck driver walked out with two exact copies of the same white flower decor, lifting them up into the truck before immediately running back in. Third truck? The client must've had too much money on their wallets.

Seeing the scene that's happening in front of him, Ghost took a deep breath and blew it out. 

"Seems like your Da can use an extra pair of arms and younger knees." His deep voice suggested, making Jade's eyebrow rise. 

"Oh? Are you willing to help us out?" 

A nod was all she needed as a confirmation. "Got nothin' else to do or to be."

A wide grin fell on her lips as she grabbed Ghost's right hand and pulled him into the alleyway and to the back door of the shop, where a vast storage room was packed full of flower decorations similar to the ones that were being lifted to the truck. There were only flowers where the eye could see, save for the door that led to the front shop. There were huge boxes and boxes of flowers that had big 'Ian & Gia 14/02's written on them.

Ghost turned to the woman beside her. "Big money, eh?"

"Suuuuper big. Businessman and a big shot pianist. Wanted all the jasmines of blue white and red, and we gotta lift them all to the truck." She explained smiling to him, "Think you're up for this?"

"Won't even break a sweat." Ghost began stepping into the storage room, lifting three big boxes at once in his arms. Jade was left impressed by his show of strength as he ran to the truck at an impressive speed, before coming back and picking up more boxes like a machine, his hoodie still up and his mask still on. 

Jade scoffed at his feat, as her father came to pat her shoulder from behind, "A soldier huh?"

"...Yeah."

"It's basically written on his whole figure and posture. Is he any special in his regiment?"

The daughter could only let out a light laugh, "Very, very much so."

"Get out of here." His father looked at her in disbelief, "SAS?" 

"Yep. One of the strongest, and I'm not even exaggerating." 

His loud laugh filled the alleyway as Ghost ran back and forth lifting the flower boxes without a second wasted and tiredness showing. Jade smiled before heading into the shop to aid her mother and her co-workers with the regular customers. 

------

“Chacha, the pink wrapping paper and white 2.5 is out! We need more from the storage, please!” shouted Fiona, her co-worker and best friend of southeast asian descent, who mainly works in the front counter, preparing the flowers right in front of the visitors (which worked as an added value to attract more people). Her wrapping skills were second to none in the shop, even to Gracie, Jade’s mother, who sat right beside her counting the incoming revenues and accepting orders by call. 

“One minute!” Jade shouted back from the studio room, which was right behind the wall of the main display room while her hands also swiftly moved to arrange roses inside a heart-shaped box. The order had come in pretty fast; she had to make three of them at a time, and now she had to go up to the second floor to get the items Fiona requested. 

“Let me get it.” A deep voice came from behind her, making Jade flinch and look back to the source of the voice, where Ghost stood. 

“A-Are you done with the loading?” Jade asked him with a start, as it was not even 20 minutes since he started to help her father lift all the flowers inside the truck. 

“Just finished. Truck left just now with your dad to arrange the decorations in the ballroom.” 

“Oh.” Jade leaned back to take a glimpse of the back storage room, and true to his words, it was empty. “Wow.”

“Where are these… pink wrappings and the ‘white 2.5’s’?” Asked Ghost with a tone of confusion in his words. Jade could only giggle as she never thought she’d hear the word ‘pink’ out of his mouth. 

“Okay, so go to the second floor. On your 3, duck down and the pink wrapping is on the 3rd shelf from the bottom - take 4 rolls of ‘em. ‘White 2.5’s’ means the white-coloured satin ribbon with a 2.5 centimetres width. Don’t mistake them for the rest as there are the .5, 1.2, 4, and 5 centimetres as well. From the shelf go to your left and there should be a high rack and you can find the thingy there. Take two rolls. Don’t forget to close the door before you go down.” 

Ghost stood in silence as he processed the information.

Before Jade could ask him if he remembered all that, he answered: “Affirmative.” 

The man walked to the side stairs and stepped over 2 stairs, disappearing from her sight to the upper floor. Jade scoffed at the sight before going back to her handiwork. When else can you command an SAS officer like this?

----------

“Chachaaa~ Where're the pink wrappings and white 2.5s?! I need ‘em no–” Fiona noticed the new pink wrappings and white ribbons on the table as she worked. That was fast. 

She then looked up, expecting to find her red-headed best friend who was shorter than her, only to find a big, tall man dressed in a black hoodie and a face mask instead, who exudes danger in the way he stands. Fiona, Gracie, and the clients looked him up and down with mouths agape, as they never saw this giant man around, ever. The scene looked too damn comical for his liking.

“...Is this correct?” Ghost started with a voice lower than the depths of hell, which surprised the whole room. Fuck. Being looked at by people was the one thing he wanted to avoid, but here he was.

“Lottie dear, Who’s this?” the old lady beside Fiona asked Jade with a quite high volume, who was still inside the studio arranging the heart-shaped roses.

Judging by the nickname and those braids in her gray hair similar to Jade's, this lady could only be Gracie, her mother. 

Mrs. Le Jardin. 

“H-He’s a friend from work! I called him up here to lend a hand!” Jade shouted back from the studio. Even with the answer, all the people were still staring at him, especially Jade’s mum, and it felt like having ten laser sights aiming at him.

He swore he saw a smirk from Gracie.

So before he attracted more attention, Ghost repeated, “Is this correct?” 

“Y—yeah.” Fiona answered nervously, meanwhile her mother was still eyeballing him like she found a leprechaun. Upon hearing that confirmation, Ghost left the items in the counters and fast-walked back to the studio where Jade was, disappearing from sight. 

-----------

“Chacha, are you serious? ‘A friend from work’?” Fiona asked her best friend as she threw a piece of french fries into her mouth. The Le Jardin floristry was currently having a lunch break, and most of the employees went out to get their own meals, while the two stayed inside to talk about the man who was currently sweeping the floor of the studio alone, silently.

Fiona stared at his back from where they were eating at a counter, chewing at her fries. “Are you saying that you have a friend built like that with a voice like that working as a volunteer in the orphanage dealing with kids???”

“Nooo no no, that’s not it–!” That was where Jade messed up. She forgot that neither her best friend, nor any one of their employees know that the Le Jardins used to be MI6 black agents, except the fact that Jade was adopted. They both started to become friends when Fiona applied for the job 3 years ago, right when Jade just retired from MI6. All that she knew was the fact that Jade only had two jobs: Floristry on weekdays and in the orphanage for weekends. She never mentioned the other work that she did for the last two decades of her life. “I didn’t mean from work, I mean I met him when I was at work.” 

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.” 

“When and how did you meet him? Heck what is his name?” Shit. She needed to make up stories about him at this point. But what?! Jade hated lying. Sure it’s super easy to manipulate people by changing reality, but she didn’t want to lie to her best friend! Fiona’s the one who’s been helping her adjust to the life of being a florist and a normal life for the last three years (after saying that she’d been living abroad). 

However, how can Jade just say, ‘oh so actually I was an MI6 agent. Both of your bosses were too, actually. Not only agents – we were black agents who were trained since we were not old enough to make our own decisions to do the illegal stuff! I retired three years ago and that's when I met you, but they called me back again, and that’s when I met that guy who happened to be an officer of one the most elite task forces in the world!' 

That’s just absurd!

How did she meet him? How did she meet him?! 

"Ja– I mean Midg– I mean Lottie, where do I put these–"

The two women turned their heads to Ghost, who came out of the studio with the broom and dustpan in his hands. Looking at the two women's expression, he knew he fucked up. He didn't know what to call her outside of work. Her call sign 'Jade' was directly tied to her work as an MI6 and he couldn't know for sure if Fiona knew about that name. 'Midget' was the name he called her regularly, but he thought it was too harsh in front of her best friend, while 'Lottie' was…

"Why did you call her that?" Fiona asked him while chewing her fries, suspicion painting het face, while Jade sucked her lips and widened her eyes in shock.

Fuck. He thought right. It's a pet name used exclusively by her parents. 

"Wait. No way." She turned to Jade and Ghost back and forth before standing up abruptly, startling Jade, meanwhile Ghost stood calmly, still holding the cleaning tools in his hands.

"Chacha… is he your secret boyfriend?!?" 

That sentence shocked both of them as Jade quickly denied in panic, "No! No, he's not!! Just– sit down will you?" 

"That name is exclusively used by the bosses, ya know." She started walking towards Ghost slowly. 

Jade followed her from behind, trying to hold her friend back. "Fiona, he isn't! I swear!"

"No, seriously. How did you meet her? When?" She started closing in on Ghost excitedly, looking up at him. "What’s your name, by the way?"

“Simon.” Ghost answered deadpanly, as the last question was literally the only question he can answer casually. As long as he didn’t give out his last name, it’d be fine. “Name’s Simon.” 

"Ooooooh so he's the reason why you've been going out a lot after closin' up! You've been on dates!!" 

"NO!! We haven't–" 

"Yes."

Ghost's deep voice interrupted the two girls' argument, making them look at the man. 

"We've been on dates." 

Jade's face turned as red as her hair, and her heart beat so fast and so hard she swore Fiona and Ghost could hear it. Why was he suddenly doing this??? All the while, Fiona's jaw dropped to the floor, eyes glaring at her best friend in shock. 

Jade glanced at Ghost, but that damned hoodie and face mask did not help her at all. "I KNEW IT!!! I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU'VE BEEN DATING BEHIND MY BACK??? I mean– I am happy for you, Chacha, but WHY ARE YOU HIDING IT FROM ME???" Fiona excitingly chimed to her best friend, grabbing Jade's shoulders before shaking them like she's a ragdoll. 

"Wait– Fiona I can explain–"

"Okay! Explain then! Tell me everything! And don't you dare try to hide anything from me." That's right. She deserved to know. Fiona had been with her for the past three years. She's her first best friend ever. Jade knew she could trust her.

Jade relented with a big sigh and glanced at Ghost with a questioning look. He caught her cue before he himself took a deep breath. "As long as she can keep her mouth shut."

Fiona turned to Ghost, "Wh-what? What is this about?"

"Fiona. My dear best friend. My very beautiful friend that I trust. I love you, so, so much, so I will tell you the truth." Jade started before Ghost cut her again. 

"Jade where do I put the broom and the dustpan."

"Owh just put it on the side there yeah. Thanks."

"Who's Jade?"

—------------

"Okay. So let me get this straight." Fiona clapped her hands together in front of Ghost and Jade, who were sitting on the chairs behind the counter together while Fiona was standing up. Jade sat like she was being interrogated, while Ghost folded his arms in front of his chest.

"You, Chacha, had been working as an MI6 black agent for the last twenty years, since you were a wee kid, and then retired three years ago." Jade nodded.

"But two years ago, they called you back to this city called… Verdansk, and that's where you meet… Simon." She gestured to Ghost, who nodded.

"You only met briefly, until last October, you got called back from retirement again, and that's when you met him for the second time. But this one was special, as you guys started to develop feelings for each other, am I right?" Both of them nodded. 

"GOD this sounds like a Wattpad type of shite!!" Fiona grasped her hair from frustration, "And you're an MI6 BLACK AGENT??? REALLY???"

"Was. Papa and Mama were, too, actually." 

"Oh my Dear Lord in Heavens. THE BOSSES WERE BLACK AGENTS TOO?????" Jade nodded again. Clearly she didn't have any single clue of the burden that came with the words 'MI6', 'agent', especially with the added word 'black' in front of it.

"And you, Simon. So you're a soldier. Which one are you from? Navy? Is it the Royal Artillery? Or is it Life Guards like James Blunt?" Fiona asked with her very limited military knowledge. 

"You promised to keep your mouth shut so keep your promise." That voice came out harsher than he intended it to be, prompting Fiona to be taken aback.

"SAS."

The black-haired woman gasped so hard, covering her mouth in shock. "...like Bear Grylls?"

Jade couldn't help the giggle, as Ghost was utterly flabbergasted at her reaction as that was the first thing that came to her mind from the revelation. "...Yeah. Like Bear Grylls. And no I don't know him."

"Wow. Okay. So why the face mask? Does this have anything to do with secrecy and stuff?" Fiona asked him again as Ghost still had the hoodie up and face mask. She hadn't seen his face at all. "Am I not allowed to see his face? Wait Chacha you have seen his face right?"

"Of course I have! What do you mean by that!?" Jade countered, clearly overwhelmed by the barrage of questions. "Ghost. it's up to you."

Ghost huffed, lifting up one hand to the upper hem of his face mask. Fiona observed as Ghost pulled down the mask for a good 3 seconds, catching a glimpse of his strong jaw, his light brown stubble, the faint scars on his face, before putting the face mask back into place again. "Happy now?"

"Oh. Wow. Okay. I am happy." Fiona confirmed with start, turning to look at Jade again, "Chacha you hit a jackpot on this one – so you guys are a couple, right?"

The man and woman looked at each other for a long time, Jade bit her lower lip as her expression fell. Ghost could only close his eyes in regret. 

"Wait, no way you guys aren't a thing already. Whaaaatttt?" Fiona expressed her confusion because, for the last two months, Jade had started to buy more makeup and clothes, and the sudden interest in her looks had made Fiona suspicious. She really thought her best friend was dating a man secretly, but now that he's right here, both of them could not say that they're in a relationship?

"Look, Fiona… it's complicated, okay? We're just taking things slow right now. Our… jobs have their own risks, and we're just trying to enjoy things as they are now." Jade tried to explain with a bit of a sad tone to her voice. 

"So… you guys are friends, who happen to go on dates occasionally?" Fuckin' hell. Ghost thought. How could she say the exact same thing as Soap? Was it really weird? For two friends to just go together doing whatever they liked? 

After both of them nodded for the hundredth time that day, Fiona sighed in acceptance. "Chacha, Luv, I might not understand what you guys are going through right now, but Simon," she turned to Ghost, who lifted his head to see her clearly. "You better not make her cry." 

The man glanced to his side, where Jade silently sat on the chair. He knew she'd already hurt her feelings by saying he wasn't ready for a relationship yet, but if he wanted to be honest with himself, was ‘scared’ and ‘afraid’ the right word for it? As Soap and Fiona said, they’re literally doing what couples do. 

He’s just afraid to put a name on it. 

“I’ll try.” 

—------------

Jade had texted him earlier that during Valentine’s, Le Jardin’s floristry would open until midnight. Ghost wondered why as it had been a while since the employees had gone home, including Fiona (who told her that they were going to have a long chat on the phone) who had to go home and have dinner with her family. The sun had long drowned, replaced by the moon that accompanied the cold winter of London. Warm lights from the shops and a few street lights were the only thing lighting up the streets - one of them coming from the floristry. 

The sales peaked around 6 PM to 9 PM when people finished their work to be with their loved ones. Ghost had absolutely no skills in flower arranging or wrapping, so he did all he could to help the other employees to pick tools or items from high shelves, and even change the lightbulb when one of them died. Ghost didn’t mind it one bit as he found simple domestic things like this relaxing compared to what he did in the military - full of pressure, stress, and blood. 

Meanwhile, the utmost form of stress in Le Jardin’s (at least what he saw today), was a customer who kept changing the flowers that he wanted, and then lashing out at Fiona when his bouquet wasn’t tied the way he wanted to. Ghost almost wanted to step in, drag him out of the store, and throw him out to the streets, but Jade stepped in and calmly asked the customer for references, dealing with the situation one at a time, and finally, the man stomped out. Ghost knew that there were more variety of problems in retail, but at least he got to experience one today. To be honest that was probably the least angry person in London. 

That was 3 hours ago. Now, there’s only the Le Jardins and Ghost; the father had come home at around 4 PM after finishing the decorations. He took a photo of the ballroom and showed it to his family and Ghost, who was quite amazed at the old man’s sense of composition and aesthetic. 

The four of them were all in the front room, Gracie counting the revenues, Jade tidying up the display flowers, Eli wiping the windows, and Ghost sweeping the floors (again). The clock showed 00.23, the shop was empty, and even the cafe opposite them was already closed. As Ghost finished his chore, he put the cleaning tools to the side before approaching Jade.

“Are you not closin’? It’s past midnight.” He muttered to her, who was tidying up the edelweiss display. 

Jade smiled, “We usually extend about an hour.” 

“Why?” 

“You’ll see.”

Just as he was about to question it, the phone rang besides Gracie, who picked up the call immediately,

“Le Jardin Floristry. Yes, we are still open. You might be our last client, Sir. We do have tulips available. What colour? Red and pink, got it. The bouquet will be here when you arrive. Yes. We’ll be here, Sir, don’t worry. Thank you!” After confirming the order, Gracie smiled towards Ghost as she put the phone back. “That’s why, Simon Dear.”

About twenty minutes later, a man entered the shop in a hurry, dressed in a dirty fire brigade jacket. He clearly just finished his work and then drove to the floristry immediately after he extinguished whatever fire broke out somewhere. The moustached man approached the counter, where Jade had his order ready. “I’m here for my tulips?” He muttered, clearly tired from the way he panted. 

“Here it is, Sir. That’ll be 18 pounds.” 

“Thank you so much. You guys were the only shop open at this time. I’m forever grateful. I already told my wife and children that I’ll be late, but I truly felt bad.” He pulled out his wallet before putting a 20-pound note on the counter. 

“A pleasure for us, Sir. Have a good night!” Gracie chimed as he took the tulips in his hands, exited the shop and finally drove off. With that, Eli flipped the ‘Open’ tag to the ‘Closed’ tag.

“Delightful! Now.” Mr. Le Jardin put his hands on his hips, “Let’s have dinner.” Once Ghost heard that, he immediately planned his escape from the floristry like he needed to escape an enemy’s vicinity. 

“Simon Dear, you’re joining us, aren’t you?” But after hearing the gentle yet commanding tone coming out of Gracie, he decided against it, as what he heard in his ear was, ‘We’re going to have a conversation about you and my daughter’. 

—-------

“So, Simon Dear.” Gracie's voice startled Ghost as he was cutting the carrots for the chicken soup they're making, all the while Gracie was stirring the ladle on the pot. His hood was still up on his head, but he's taken off his mask to smell the chicken broth in front of him. He figured that if there's a civilian he'd let see his face, it's an ex-MI6 whose daughter he loved.

It was only the two of them in the kitchen on the third floor as Eli and his daughter were still tidying up the first floor. “Are you Lottie’s boyfriend?” 

Fuck. There’s the question. “No, Ma’am." He replied slowly, "Not yet."

Ghost expected a questioning look followed by a 'why', but instead she gave him a light nod. “She’s very fond of you, I think you should know."  That one caught Ghost's attention, briefly slowing down his slices. Did Jade talk to her mother about him?

"The way she talks about you, I know how deeply she really cared for you. She saw her future with no man, at all, until she met you. Had to do with 'understanding one another' she said." Gracie put in more black pepper into the pot.

“May I know, what stopped you from committing to her?”

More questions to answer, but this one, he didn't know how to answer. 

“...I don’t know, Ma'am."

Not long, Gracie muttered with a tone he almost forgot. Motherly. “...Are you afraid?”

And that's when he found himself so vulnerable, so open. And the weird thing was, he only felt like this when he's with Jade. He thought Gracie's her adoptive mother, but this magical familial trait where people could instantly open up to them was almost scary. 

Was it a yes? No, he's not afraid. He just thought that if they started dating, she might be wasting her time with him. Well, he's afraid that all this love that he's feeling and all these moments with be for naught if he's just dead after a deployment gone wrong. He can't promise anything to her. Ghost knew how serious Jade was about a relationship. She wanted a long-lasting one.

Ghost didn't mutter a word out of his mouth. Only continuing his work. He could feel her gaze on him, but he still chose to stay silent.

He expected judgement, but what came was a light smile. “You remind me of Eli and me, back when we were still with MI6."

"He was afraid of the life we’ll lead. Constantly running, followed by death everywhere we go. Stability and domesticity was a dream impossible to achieve.” As Ghost listened and wondered how the fuck did she read his mind, he lifted the cutting board and poured the cube-cut carrot into the pot. 

“However, I can tell him anything, he can tell me anything.” Gracie continued, looking up at him. Her gaze was as soft as Jade's, grey eyes softly gazing into his soul. “Eli had his own problems, I had my own, but what mattered was the fact that we both tried to be better, for my own sake, and for his sake.”

“He was my best friend, and I was his. It was a leap of faith to be together.” She said as her palm tapped his shoulder firmly.

“I’m saying this as her mother. If you love her, then go all in. She deserves all of you.”

---

Dinner was eventful, to say the least. The Le Jardins, plus Ghost, ate their dinner together in their house on the third floor. Chicken and vegetable soup accompanied by warm cups of tea was enough to fill their stomachs. Ghost, of course, had to take his hood down and took off his face mask to eat with the three of them.

It felt odd. 

When was the last time he had a family dinner like this? Eating a delicious meal without having to find a place where there's no other people? A place where he could freely show his face to others, the warmth of a family? 

It didn't take long for Eli to finish his meal, as he stood up and put on 'La Vie en Rose' by Louis Armstrong on the classic gramophone. Gracie scoffed loudly, stood up, and took Eli's hand in hers. 

"Heeeere we go." Jade rolled her eyes, seeming like she had to watch this for the thousandth time.

As Louis Armstrong started to sing, the two old couple put out an amazing slow dancing show in front of Ghost and Jade. Seeing them so unashamedly happy, and the fact that both of their eyes only stared at each other with so much love, Ghost unconsciously smiled.

And when he turned to look at Jade, there was she, two hands holding her phone horizontally, taking a video of her parents, grinning ear to ear while her eyes gleamed with joy.

It's such a warm scene to witness. 

He only hoped it was him and her in place of Eli and Gracie.

—------------

The time showed 02.13. Ghost and Jade were standing in front of the shop, a long scarf wrapped around Ghost's neck as the cold was harsh that time of the day. Jade insisted that he wore them, or she said he would catch a cold. 

"Thank you, Ghost. For today. My dad had been having regular trouble with his knee, so thank you so so much." Jade started, cheeks blushing that was certainly not because of the February winter. 

"Well, I doubt that, considering how well he danced with your mum." Ghost replied, making Jade laugh. Her smile was a sight he'd never get tired of seeing. “Are you going anywhere tomorrow?” 

That question quite surprised her. “Well… Tomorrow my shift starts at 3 PM. So I'm free in the morning. Why?"

“I want to make do for today. We haven’t had a proper… date. Yet. I honestly had wanted to bring you flowers, but I remembered you're a florist. So I felt like a prat.”

Her face turned as red as tulips at that. “Honestly, you helping out in the shop was more romantic than anything you could ever give."

"Oh yeah?" 

"Yeah! So… what are you thinkin’ for tomorrow? What do you wanna do, Ghost?”

“What do you wanna do?” He asked back.

“Oh? W-well… Hmmm." Jade contemplated, pouting her lips, glancing at the moon high in the sky. "Ice skating. And then Korean barbecue after.”

“I-Ice skating?” Ghost stuttered, not expecting that answer. 

“Yeah. What, you afraid you’re gonna fall?”

“I have no clue what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll hold you if you do.” 

He wanted to say something along the lines of 'fuck-off' or 'sod you'. But he deleted that reply before it came out of his mouth, instead saying, "Please do."

Jade grinned ear-to-ear at that response. She was anticipating a clap back from him, but it was such an unusually warm reply that she couldn't help the blush in her cheeks.

No matter how much she wanted him to stay close to her, he had to go, and Jade said her goodbye. "Thank you for today. See you tomorrow, Simon."

Still standing still, Ghost muttered, "It was fun."

She thought he was going to start walking away towards his apartment, but instead, a glimmer of light reflected on his brown irises, still gazing at hers with such hopeful and wistful eyes.

And before she knew it, Ghost leaned in closer to her face, and placed a soft peck on her cheek.

As he stood back, Jade saw that his face burnt red, seeming like what he just did took great courage and resolution. His face still so close to hers, Ghost left her speechless.

And before she could say anything, he said his last words to her that night,

"See you tomorrow, Lottie."

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

Hope you like it! (❁´◡`❁)

[eleajay]

Pls don’t hate me I’m not pedo irl :’)

Yes I ship charcifer/morningstarcest pls don’t hate me

[baddybaddyadardaddy]

how have i written 11,000 words of AU adar angst/smut??? how on EARTH did this happen????

i... want to be free of this.

ANYWAY, for those who wish to partake, here is what's published thus far. i sense a move to Ao3 coming, peeps. this thing has plot now and supporting characters.

*heavy sigh*

[dfastback68]

Dude at yoga tonight had half his head shaved like King, so fuck it, modern AU kataking:

Let’s also say this is midlife crisis Alber. Maybe he’s had a falling out with Kaido, maybe Kaido keeled over of a heart attack or something, who knows. Alber is trying to figure out what the rest of his life looks like after 47 years old. He’s done karate or kendo or something his entire life, but he needs to try something new. So, he gives yoga a shot. He gets into it. He REALLY gets into, and next thing he knows he’s leading a few classes a week at his fav studio. He’s not sure if his life is fixed yet, but he sure feels better.

The studio likes to do combo or outreach classes. Maybe they host tai chi, or partner with the senior center, and offer low pressure, fun classes for working parents and their kids. Alber usually does intermediate or ‘serious’ classes. People like his style but he’s not the nicest yogi in the building. 

One night one of the other instructors is in a bit of a panic. She was supposed to lead tonight’s class for a group from another local gym, but something came up with her kid and she has to leave. Alber agrees to host in her place. How bad can it be?

It’s not just any gym group: it’s the broiest bros from an MMA group, the least flexible meatheads this city has to offer. The class is probably a joke to them, a team building or bonding opportunity where they might learn something new to incorporate into their exercise routine. It’s probably funnier when the class is led by an instructor that’s the stereotypical woman of ninety pounds of wispy muscle. They don’t quite know what to make of Alber.

Alber does his best to keep them on task, but the dudes are having fun giving each other shit when they can’t make a pose. Even if he keeps it simple. Some of them are more flexible than others, so he assumes thsoe ones actually give a shit about their exercise routine beyond bulking up. He does have to admit it is funny when one of them topples over or elbows their neighbor. They’re not suited for this, but he supposes he’ll give them points for trying.

There is one guy, though, at the back of the class, that’s been quiet and mindful the entire time. He also seems to know what the poses are before Alber explains them, and he can stretch farther than anyone else. He’s got bright hair and a black mask covering his face; it’s flu season, so that makes sense. He seems friendly enough with the others, but otherwise focuses on the practice.

Their eyes meet a few times over the course of the hour, and there’s a quiet intensity to the man that Alber finds very attractive. 

By the time the class ends, most of the dudes are complaining about being sore where they didn’t know they could be sore. Alber takes that as a win, because now they’ve learned some begrudging respect for yoga. They thank him for the class and the workout, and one by one they leave. The quiet, intense man lingers.

“You’ve done yoga before,” Alber says.

The man nods. “My sister used to drag me with her, but she moved away a few years ago and I stopped. I should get back into it.”

“You have good form. And balance.”

“Thanks,” the man says, then sticks out his hand. “I’m Katakuri.”

“Alber,” he responds, and tries very hard not to melt at how firm Katakuri’s grip is. Katakuri’s definitely got the body of a fighter, and Alber gets momentarily distracted by the way his shirt strains around his biceps. “I usually lead the evening intermediate classes. If you’re interested.”

“Yeah,” Katakuri says, tone soft, then he straightens: “I mean, yes. Definitely. Are you –”

“Katakuri!” someone’s voice booms from outside the studio. Two of the other dudes wedge into the doorframe. “We’re waiting on you, let’s go!”

“‘C’mon man, flirt with the yoga guy later, we’re gonna be late.”

Katakuri’s face turns beet red behind the face mask. His friends laugh to themselves as they head back out. 

Alber smiles, as best he can. “I don’t want you to miss your ride. But you’re welcome back any time.”

Katakuri thanks him again, bids him goodnight, and then hurries out after his friends. 

Really, Alber would find it more endearing if he didn’t know how screwed he was, too. Because he really should have gotten that man’s number before letting him leave.

[lgbridgertonqa]

LGBridgerTonQA Week 2024

It's that time of year again - happy pride, Bridgerton fandom!

We invite you to join us from JULY 7TH - 13TH 2024, to celebrate all queer Bridgerton content, canon or not. For the third year in a row, all week long on our twitter we will be posting queer headcanons, fics, edits and art about all of our favourite Bridgerton characters, as well as posting fun activities for you to all join in the fun - and we would love nothing more than for you to be a part of it. Any creativity is welcome!

As part of our introduction to our theme this year, we received help in the following mysterious letter from Sir Philip Crane...

We invite you this year to be inspired by the language of love through flowers! And if you're looking for some inspiration through prompts, look no further: below is our daily schedule for characters, tropes, songs, themes, and most importantly flowers, to help inspire you to get involved somehow.

These are all obviously just a guide or a starting off point for anything you might want to create. If any characters you want to create something for aren’t featured, or you want to use a theme for a character on a different day - don’t let that limit you! Post as and when you please - just be sure to let us know with a tag or link of some kind so we can boost you!

Come join us in the garden - love is in bloom!

Important Links: - Our Twitter Account - Our About Us Page - Our ask box - Our Ao3 Collection for LGBridgerTonQA Week 2024 - Our Ao3 Collections from previous years and celebrations (Gay Week 2023, Gay Week 2022, Gay Bridgerween 2022 & LGBridgerTonQA Holiday Gift Fic Exchange 2023)

[messysketchyobeyme]

Hazshit Hostel fans when they realize that demons are not an original concept and therefore other pieces of media can have characters called Lucifer, Asmodeus, Mammon, etc…!

[themalhambird]

The world is not real: Charlotte cannot touch it. This -news-, this tragedy  is not real either, and it cannot touch her. There’s too much cotton in her ears, there’s an endless, keening chime slowly boring through her skull- in at one temple, out at the other- a continuous line, all the way through…

She is sitting on the sofa. There’s a cup and saucer cradled in her hands. She doesn’t remember picking it up, but the steam is ghosting over her face. It’s fresh. (Her husband is dead). Polly must have given it to her. (Her husband died at his own hand.) They have a visitor, she ought to be showing more hospitality. She wonders if there’s any of that fruitcake left. (Alfred confessed to murder. Alfred confessed to murder,  and then Alfred murdered himself)

“Mama?”

Polly’s voice, soft and tentative as it is, makes her jump. Tea sloshes, spills over, pools in the delicate saucer. She shakes herself and focuses her gaze on Sir Julian. “That’s not,” she tries, but the sound barely forms. Charlotte pauses, swallows, tries again. “That’s not right,” she says, unsure if she’s really addressing Sir Julian Harker or merely facing his direction whilst trying to bargain with a Higher Power. “That’s not- none of this is right, Alfred wouldn’t- he wouldn’t do any of it, any of this…” But he has. He has, he has, he has, and when he comes home she’s going to skin him alive. “What will we do?” she asks, as the first beginnings of fear worm their way through the numbness of shock. “The disgrace of it-”

“Mama!” Polly cries, indignant. “At this moment, of all moments, your thoughts cannot be of what other people will think- what does that matter, what do any of them matter!”

It matters because they have never been reckless with money, but savings will not last forever and Charlotte doesn’t know if the widows of Police Inspectors who confess to capital offences and then take their own lives qualify for any sort of pension. It matters because the disapprobation of society in any circumstances can be death by a thousand cuts, whereas the widow who has the sympathies of her community has a better chance at maintaining a somewhat genteel situation. It matters because the infamy of the father will cast a shadow over the life and the character of the daughter- the best chance for Polly, now, is marriage, but what respectable, decent man would want a father- in- law six feet deep in unconsecrated ground?

“Mrs Hillinghead,” Sir Julian says solemnly, “I wish to assure you that you and your daughter will have the fullness of my protection. The events of the last twenty four hours- they will not reflect on you, nor on your daughter. You have my word.”

She acknowledges his words without really understanding- it will not be until much later, lying in a too-empty bed and staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep- that Charlotte will consider that Harker told Polly about Alfred’s death before he told her, that he stood as close to Polly’s chair as proprietary allows for, that he has seemed- these past few weeks- to admire Polly: her beauty, her music. And perhaps nothing will come of it but friendship- , but the friendship of a man that powerful is not an asset to be scorned. And if it turns into anything more…

They were nineteen, she and Alfred, when they married- they had been friends their whole lives before that. And she had known about him:  years before they had married, she had known that  his desires steered his eyes not towards the ranks of giggling, frivolous girls who batted their eyelashes at his well built figure and handsome face, but to other members of his own sex. And she had ignored it, because she knew him: he was too good a man to act on those desires. And he was kind, and gentle, and they were friends, and a husband who would be perfectly happy to conduct a marriage with minimal activity in the matrimonial bed suited Charlotte. She had courted him as much as he had courted her, really, although whether he ever realised that…

And he’s dead. Her best friend of nearly forty years. The murder confession, she has already written off- she neither knows nor cares about the details. If it was a false confession, then he confessed to try and protect someone- probably that journalist, given the confession it prompted to her, and she is furious at him. She is furious at him for not protecting his wife and child, and for not letting the journalist face whatever justice he merited- unless, of course, the man threatened to reveal Alfred’s inclinations, and take the Inspector who had detected his crimes down along with him. That seems, to Charlotte, the most likely explanation. And if the confession is- was- true, then Alfred must have had good reason for taking another man’s life: she has seen him carry spiders in the palm of his hand to release them outside, rather than squash them underfoot; she has listened to him vent his frustrations about officers being too heavy handed with their arrests at more dinners than she can remember. Taking another human life…it must have broken something in his mind, which would explain being in such a state that he would…. It does not matter. Alfred is dead, either way- she is a widow, either way. And she will encourage Julian Harker’s friendship, because if Polly can catch him she will have a comfortable home, and a husband who seems a good hearted and generous man. And she, Charlotte, will grieve Alfred Hillinghead. But if his death unravels into the scandal she fears, then she will take care to grieve him quietly. She will survive this. She has to. She has to survive this so that there’s someone who remembers that Alfred Hillinghead played cricket as a boy and took two sugars in his tea.

[dailyhatchetfield]

day 50 - goodnight, kyle

a link to the fic this is based on is under the cut

[oh-stars]

Duck!

D is for Duck

Ohstars Alphabet Prompts | G | 667 words | cw: N/A

---

“We don’t get here enough,” Steve says as he pushes the stroller. 

Robin hums. “No, we don’t.” She tugs down the visor on the stroller to hide Charlotte from the sun more. “I’m surprised their parents let you take them.” 

Steve’s eyes count each kid again, all seven accounted for, as they head to the next exhibit. “I think the Feds’ story about me helping get them out of the fire really put the final nail in the ‘Steve’s a Competent Babysitter’ title. Kind of hard to come up with an excuse why I can’t take them somewhere when I saved their lives.” It's not that simple, he knows that, but he’s proven time and time again that he’ll do what it takes to get those little shits out of harm’s way. 

Erica stops in the middle of the walkway and points to the ice cream stand with a raised eyebrow. Their deal still rings in his head. 

“Fine,” he calls, “go.” He can’t deny her anything, especially not when it’s as hot as it is out here. They hadn’t really taken into account the August heat when they made the last minute plan for a day at the zoo. 

She holds her head high as she passes the others and heads for the stand. 

By the time Steve and Robin make their way to the stand, the others already have their ice cream cones – arguing over which flavor is supreme. They’re all wrong, nothing beats butterscotch, but Steve doesn’t have the fight in him to get in the middle of that. He pays for everyone and takes Charlotte over to a nearby table so he can share the cup of ice cream he got for them. 

She’s been grumpy all day. He’s pretty sure it’s the fact he won’t let her down to run around, not with the cast still on her leg. He’d love nothing more for her to be able to play like she should, but he also needs her to heal right, so stroller jail it is. 

“C’mon, Lots,” Steve says, holding out the spoon for her to take a bite. 

Charlotte pushes away the spoon with a mighty, “No!” 

Steve sighs and takes the bite for himself. 

“I thought she liked the zoo,” Dustin asks, pointing to her. 

“She does,” Steve says. “She’s mad at me.” 

“How do you anger a toddler?” Mike asks, a snotty little eyebrow raised. 

Steve just shrugs. His patience is thinning and as much as his little girl lights up his life, right now, he needs a goddamn break. He keeps trying to feed her, every few bites, while the kids decide where they’re going next. The reptile house seems to be their next hit. 

Suddenly, Charlotte lights up, straining against the seatbelt on her stroller. “Da-ee! Duck!” she cries, pointing past him. 

He looks over his shoulder and, sure enough, a few ducks are waddling through the gate toward the tables. Huh. Steve sets down the cup of ice cream and quickly pulls Charlotte out of her stroller for a better look. “You see the duckies?” 

“Duck,” she says, toothy grin wide as she carefully watches them. 

They drove all this way to see cool animals and spend the day together, and the one thing that puts a smile on her face isn’t even a part of the zoo. 

The ducks quack as they get closer. Steve knows he shouldn’t encourage them, but he reaches into the diaper bag for some of Charlotte’s crackers so she can feed them. It’s the least he can do to make this day better for her. 

“Gentle,” he says, helping her scatter the cracker around. 

She giggles, squealing with delight as one of them investigates her cast. “Duck! No!” she says, reaching down to shoo the duck away. 

He looks up to see the kids all done with their ice cream and ready to move on. “Go on,” he tells them. “I think we’re going to be here a minute.”

---

Thank you to @lady-lostmind for beta reading!

Ao3 Link

[lilolilyr]

1k, rated G, no warnings, AU meet-cute

Thanks for the inspiration, @berenaadvent! <3

Spoilery summary below the cut:

Back from her last deployment and in the middle of a messy divorce, Bernie tries to appease her daughter by buying her favorite fruit: tangerines. Meanwhile, Serena has just unwittingly bought the last ones at the market right before Bernie can ask for some - but of course, Serena is willing to help out a fellow mother of a difficult teenage daughter! That Bernie is nice to look at doesn't hurt, either...

My Berena tag list, lmk if you want on/off it: @sapphicdbc @akaanonymouth @starfleetwitch @madam-wakefield @shippingsincebeforeyouwereborn

[lifesizehysteria]

Tending a Garden in Bloom | A Violet Bridgerton Fic

Fandom: Queen Charlotte/Bridgerton (TV)

Rating: M

Summary: A one-shot of self-discovery and sexual re-awakening

A/N: There was going to be a part one to this in which Violet processes her grief and confusion about moving on from Edmund in her sexual reawakening that was based on that small scene in episode 5 of Queen Charlotte where we see her alone in bed. Unfortunately, I just was never able to capture it the way I wanted, and decided to go ahead and publish this on its own. Perhaps I'll be able to get it right in the future, but for now I'm happy with this. I fell in love with Violet's sexual reawakening and the complicated feelings that must come with it, and wanted to explore that without throwing her into relationship. This one-shot is the result of where I thought the private discussion between Violet and Lady Danbury at the exhibition was going to lead, but even though the show didn't go there, I still felt compelled to give it to Violet, anyway.

~

Violet stared up at the canopy above her bed, her blankets pulled up to her chin while the dwindling fire cut dancing shadows into the sapphire blue glow of the moon. Lady Danbury’s words still echoed in her mind, hours since leaving the exhibition.

It is alright to want it. 

It felt like a revelation. Permission she had not yet been able to grant herself. She loved Edmund, and she always would. As long as she lived and for eternity after. However, loving him did not keep her from being lonely, and remaining devoted to a man who was no longer able to return her love only made her loneliness inevitable, and utterly inescapable. It was her who remained. Her who walked the earth, living, breathing… wanting.

Sunlight. 

Air.

Touch. 

She closed her eyes. Images from the exhibition conjured before her—bodies lounging, open and bare, limbs tangling together, and hands. So many hands… 

At the time, surrounded by the crowd and still clinging to denial about her feelings, she had refused to allow her imagination to wander beyond the static figures. Now, she made no such effort. They came to life before her and she watched, enraptured, as two lovers moved together, consumed entirely by one another. As their passion reached its climax, her own heartbeat quickened in her chest, and she threw the blanket off of herself, sure she would overheat despite the chill in the air.

She tried to think of something else, anything else, but her mind was persistent. For weeks prior she had been desperately avoiding it, because if she did not think about it, she could not want it. But now that she had thought about it, and she did want it, imagining it was not enough. Quite the opposite, in fact. She needed more. She needed to feel it. She needed…

Featherlight, she touched the backs of her fingers to her cheek; it was hot beneath them. She turned over her hand, feeling the pressure against her face as she leaned into her palm. It wasn’t quite the same as being touched by another, but still, it made her skin tingle. She dragged her fingers over her lips, and down the length of her neck. At the base, she could feel the rapid pulse of her heart when her finger slipped into the hollow spot there. It beat harder when she imagined lips being pressed against it. She let her mind dwell there—lifting her chin and extending her neck, feeling her belly tighten at the thought of being kissed. She wished she could remember what it felt like, but she had pushed those memories away for so long that her body had not stored them. Now, for the first time since she lost Edmund, desire coursed through her, and she wanted to remember it. She wanted to remember everything.

She raked her fingernails gently across her chest, one finger dipping just below her neckline. Her hands slid down over her bosom and across her stomach, gripping the cotton of her nightdress as she pressed her fingers down into her belly beneath. It was soft from age and growing babies, but also sensitive, twitching beneath the slight roughness of the fabric. When her hands continued lower, she pulled her knees up, causing the hem of her nightdress to fall into a pile around her hips. As she slid her hands up towards her knees, she squeezed her thighs together, tightening her inner muscles against the pulse that had so persistently ached there. Of course, that only resulted in it pulsing even harder.

With her knees pressed together as tightly as her eyes were closed, Violet inhaled slowly. It felt like she was standing at the doorway to the future, but was unable to open it and take the first step over the threshold. She could stop. She could lock that door and remain where she had been all those years…

It is alright to want it.

She did want it. She wanted it so desperately that she was sure her want would burn her up from the inside out if she did not satisfy it. Touch. That was what she craved. A lifetime had passed since she had felt the touch of another, since she had felt another’s flesh against her own, and although she had thought she would never have such desire again, now she wanted, more desperately than she had wanted anything in a very long time, to be touched. 

Violet opened her eyes. Looking down over the curves and slopes of her body, she took another deep breath before letting her knees fall open. She slid her hand down the inside of her thigh. Her skin was smooth and supple beneath her fingers. Pausing when her hand reached her mound of curls, she hovered for a moment before slipping her fingers, shaking slightly, down into the folds beneath. 

She explored tentatively, reacquainting herself with the feeling after not being touched there for so long. She had never done anything like this before. Everything was slick and warm and soft, and just the light pressure of her fingertips made her ache for more.

Her fingers moved instinctively towards the source of her pulsing need. She thought it might be difficult to find, since she’d never touched it herself and only had her memories of Edmund doing so to guide her. However, she knew she’d found it when her breath caught in her throat from the sensation. Sliding her finger over it again sent a ripple of pleasure up through her body. She licked her lips, catching her bottom one with her teeth to keep herself silent as she did it a third time and her toes curled into the mattress.

It felt as if that one tiny spot was connected to every nerve in her body. She moved her fingers across it in various directions, until finally determining that slow, rhythmic circles were most pleasurable. 

For a moment, as the sensation deepened and began to spread, Violet wondered if it was improper, which caused a flutter of anxiety to tighten in her chest. It was not as though she was a virgin, some unmarried young girl who knew not of marital relations. Her husband had touched her this way. It had never felt improper then. Of course, that had been intimacy between a man and his wife, and this was… Well, she didn’t know what this was, but if it was alright for a husband to do it, then surely it was not so different for her to do it herself. Besides, it felt good. So good, in fact, she believed that stopping now might cause her, quite literally, to perish.

She pushed the thought aside. It did not matter. What mattered was the way her skin burned as if she laid bare beneath the high summer sun. How her breathing turned to gasps like rushing wind through her parted lips. How every stroke of her fingers washed over her like lapping waves at high tide. 

Sunlight. 

Air.

Touch. 

She pressed her hips down harder against her hand, intensifying the sensation until her eyebrows furrowed in concentration and her legs began to twitch. She could feel herself building towards an edge that had once been so familiar, but now felt strange and new. Her heart beat like a storm against her chest. She grasped at her pillow, turning her face into it to muffle the cries she was unable to contain any longer. Pressure built until her back arched and white-hot lightning streaked through her body while she crashed like thunder over the edge, feeling as if she had become one with the heavens. 

She felt herself sink back down into her trembling body, and for a moment, she didn’t dare move. Her chest heaved with every breath, and her limbs felt both weightless and leaden as the tension melted out of them. After another minute, she straightened one leg and turned her hips so her other leg fell over it, her knee resting against the mattress. Her nightdress was still gathered in a pool around her hips. Unwilling to let go of the moment just yet, she laid with her eyes closed, listening to her barely slowing heartbeat rush in her ears while relishing in the sense of relief. Physical, yes, but also more than that. She hadn’t known it was possible, that she could do that herself. For weeks she had been tortured by desire, wrestling with guilt and confusion because she thought that the only way to satisfy that unrelenting need was to remarry, or, heaven help her, take a lover. But now… This discovery that she could satisfy her own physical needs granted her the precious gift of freedom. Freedom to make the decision that was right for her, on her own time, without fear that her physical desires would rush her into a choice she would later come to regret. 

She was not yet ready to consider another marriage. Violet had known great love, and she did not take for granted the blessing it had been, nor was she foolish enough to believe she could ever find another like it again. The most she would hope for from another marriage would be companionship, and even with the kindest man, marriage would undoubtedly bring significant change, and loss of control that she was not sure she wanted. Aside from this most recent development, her life was rich and full, and she was quite happy.  On the other hand, taking a lover certainly had its advantages, allowing her life to remain virtually unchanged. However, as a woman, especially one of her status, it required secrecy that came with great risk and potential for scandal that could lead to ruin for not only her but for her entire family. 

Now she had the freedom not to choose until she was ready, or in fact, not at all. She could go on with life as it already was and, at the very least, have her most urgent physical needs satiated. She did think she would want more in time. Even now, she still ached to feel another’s touch—to be held, to be kissed, to be desired. But knowing she didn’t have to choose, and that her mind was finally clear enough for her to trust her own judgment, was immensely freeing. 

Turning onto her side toward the fire, she nestled down into her pillow, feeling practically giddy. She did not know what the future held in store for her, but as she considered the possibilities, she had to cover the grin growing across her face as mirth bubbled out into laughter. One thing was for sure. Whatever else happened, it seemed she would be taking up gardening, because Violet was most certainly in bloom. 

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

You’re probably asked this all the time, but how far along are you in the Cold Heart Fics. No rush at all if they are still going, but I literally eat those fics up. You truly are just an amazing writer. Also completely understand how hard it is to find time to write them or do the art especially with everyone having their own lives lol.

Hello! (｡･∀･)ﾉﾞ

Contrary to what you said, people have actually been very kind and... rarely asks about the Cold Heart fics! It's actually quiet relieving and you guys have been very patient and kind. I know I've been very very slow and stuff not only because of academic reasons but also some family stuff that requires long-term adjustments 😔.

However, I promise you guys I do not forget about it at all! I write every single night, be it one paragraph or a whole outline of a scene. I want it to be consistent and sticks to the timeline of the MWII campaign. There're lots of scrap outs and rewriting, so that's also one of the cause.

Cold Heart fic EXISTS GUYS IT DOES.

I'm actually kinda insane about it I made a whole chart depicting the time difference between campaign missions and the time difference between Las Almas, Spain/Amsterdam, Al Mazrah/Urzikstan, and Chicago so I can fit in some important scenes for Ghost and Jade's development 💀.

I'm literally the embodiment of ☝️🤓 emoji at this point but IMAGINE THE POSSIBLE ADDITIONAL SCENES WITH ALL THESE UNUSED HOURS 🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌

Anyway, thank you so much for checking up Anon, and thank you guys for the patience! 🤗

[thecodeveronica]

OH HEY I reached 200 hits now on my first Burnfield fic!!! (which was also the first fic I wrote at all in a long time and tbh I functionally consider it my "first" fic)

That may not sound like much to more prolific writers but it's A LOT to me when I truly didn't expect anyone to read it when I posted it, so I'm kinda over the moon :') It was kind of the impetus for several more positive things in my life so I'm quite fond of it for that reason too

Sooooo anyway I drew a quick, crappy little celebratory drawing which I'm NOT tagging lmao