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bunnys-kisses · 14 days ago

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heirloom tomatoes

simon "ghost" riley

tags: smut/pwp, farmer!au, romance/intimacy, size difference/kink, proposal, fruits and vegetables, sweet & gentle sex, slice of life

a/n: i've been playing too much stardw valley... (there may be more to this)

wilby port was there you got sent to. you had been living in england for some time now, but you were used to the hustle and bustle of london. the constant grind of the day to day. and now you were grabbing your two suitcases off the bus to the small harbour town.

the little house near the edge of town was your new home after your great aunt passed away. you know you could've sold the house and the land around it. but, after years of working so hard in the city. the idea of an escape felt exciting. so you took it as a chance and ended up in the quiet town.

that was where you met simon riley.

the first spring in the town, you had to figure out how to kill time. you had tried a few hobbies here and there, but with the season in bloom. you wanted to try gardening. and while you could've planted strawberries or even some peppers. you decided on heirloom tomatoes, and with poor internet connection in the town and an excitement that left you with little patience.

you had to ask those in town.

johnny shrugged, "i'd say go to ghost." he placed both hands on the bar and leaned forward to look at you, "he lives closer to the river. i'd say be careful. he likes to bite." the snapped his jaws playfully before he laughed.

"ah, ghost." price said when you asked him, "yeah he'd be your best bed." as he had the cleaver in one hand, "quite man, but if you're direct in your questions he'll give you everythin' ya need." then chopped at the meat on the table.

kyle replied when you asked him while he was doing research at the beach, "i'd say ghost, honestly. he has some kind of green thumb that i couldn't imagine. you know it's possible to kill a cactus." he laughed as he got more of the sand into the test tube, "your best bet would be him. ghost."

it left you with one question, who the hell was ghost?

it took a little while before you found ghost's house. you don't know why you expected to find a haunted house at the end of your adventures. something to match this so-called ghost. but instead you found a small farm house, crowded with various plants.

while it was in abundance, every plant looked healthy and well maintained. this looked like someone who would know how to grow heirloom tomatoes. you knocked on the door and when the door opened, you took a step back from the man who answered it.

he stood over six feet, he was broad all over. he was in a red long sleeve shirt with the sleeves rolled up. as a result you could see his arm full of tattoos. it made you swallow as you tried to maintain eye contact with him.

"can i help you?" he asked as he eyed you up and down.

you swallowed, "um hi! i was wondering if ghost was here?" it sounded weird in your head but you straightened up a little, "i was told by others that he could help me grow tomatoes."

the man looked intimidating. he was curly blond hair, dark brown eyes, his nose was crooked probably from multiple breakages. he had tattoos and scars that lined his body. his voice was a rumble as he replied, "name's simon. no need to call me ghost." then held out his hand. you smiled and shook it.

what you thought would have been an easy few tips turned into a pretty hard-core lesson about not just heirloom tomatoes, but all tomatoes. you tried to take notes on your phone, but ended up having to go old school and writing everything down by hand with a notebook and pen that simon gave you.

"no one usually listens this long." he chuckled a little as he took a sip of his water, "likes of johnny get bored after about five minutes." he crossed his strong arms and you felt something quiver inside of you.

you replied, "well, i want to do it right. it's not fair to the plant that i kill it." you tapped the pen against the paper, "so what was that about cherry tomatoes." and you watched him smile a little.

while you didn't have a huge piece of land like simon. but you had enough to build your little garden. it felt weird rewarding as the seasons changed, it grew warmer. and simon came to visit you more often to check on the plants.

johnny made a joke that simon was your shadow now, even referring to him as "the shadow" and you tried not to think too hard about it. simon was just a good friend.

when simon caught wind of this, he had to be a little more forward. over the time you had spent together, he had grown fond for you. so one sunny summer's day, he picked up flowers from the local shop and went to your house.

when you answered the door, you looked at him. and he looked at you. you were in a purple checkered apron with flour on your face.

"what are you doing?" he asked as he looked past you into the house. he could see the mess in the kitchen and the smell of cookies wafting in the air.

you looked at the bouquet of tulips in his hand, "what are you doing?"

"i was bringing you flowers.. to ask you out." "i was making cookies... to also ask you out."

you both looked at one another in the eye before he handed you the flowers and you looked at them then him again. you felt a leap in your chest and felt a heat in your cheek.

in unison you both said, "will you go out with me?"and then both of you smiled at one another. simon gave you that quiet smile he had and you broke into a wide grin. next thing he knew, you were pulling him into the house just as the timer went off for the cookies.

they were your attempt at shortbread cookies in the shape of hearts. but simon thought they were delicious. especially when you sat in his lap and chased every bite of a cookie with a kiss. simon soon learned that he loved your kisses.

"how does it taste?" you asked as you leaned in a little closer.

"perfect." he placed his large, rough hand on your soft cheek and leaned in to kiss you on the lips. you melted a little at the feeling. you felt comfortable with simon.

he was a protective force in your life. he didn't make you feel small, in a bad way. there was an obvious size difference so you were physically smaller. but simon would never make you feel weak. after that, simon was over every day.

he brought vegetables and fruits from the farm. sometimes he'd bring wild flowers from around the property and on weekends eggs for breakfast.

"simon! simon!" during the middle of a warm summer, you called your boyfriend frantically. he instantly was on high alert from your tone. when he asked you what was wrong, you replied, "the tomatoes! they're here!" and as soon as simon hung up the phone, he instantly was getting his boots on to head to your home.

you waved him over when he got there and he saw them. he saw the heirloom tomatoes, his eyes went wide at the sight of them before he pulled you in close to him. you two looked at each other before you leaned up towards simon and kissed him deeply on the lips. you held onto the front of his black t-shirt .

you pressed your face against his chest soon after and said, "thank you so much, simon." you felt heat radiate through you, a deep love for your partner. simon held you close and peppered your face with more kisses.

the kisses got a little deeper and simon held you closer. you smiled against his lips before you pulled away. he looked as red as the tomatoes you were trying to grow.

he swallowed, "as much as i would love to make love to ya out on the grass. i don't think ya want grain stains on everything."he chuckled as he held you face once more in his large hand. he watched you shift a little before you got out of his grasp and took hold of his hand.

once again you were leading him into your home. and simon barely had time to kick off his work boots before you were kissing him passionately on the lips. his arms wrapped around you as he pulled you up against him. your hands in his t-shirt as you both tried to navigate through the small house towards your bedroom.

eventually you pushed you much larger lover onto the bed and he hastily took off his shirt. you had seen him nude before. both in intimate photos he sent, and also when he'd walk out of the shower with just a towel around his waist. but to see his heavy cock one he got his bottoms off and exposed his heavy cock to you.

you licked your lips at the sight of it and got out of your clothes. before you could get onto the bed, he placed a hand on your lower back and pressed his scratchy cheek against your middle. he sighed, visibly relaxing.

"so soft." he said, as he groped your ass. you giggled and combed your fingers through his curled hair. eventually you ended up on top of him in bed. you helped remove his clothes as well, his socks and t-shirt. and you ended up in bed with you. his broad hands mapped your body perfectly, he wanted to feel every inch of warm soft skin.

you looked beautiful when you eventually ended up under him. your head in the pillows and simon was between your legs. his hefty cock was at full attention as he gazed lovingly at your figure. how could a woman so beautiful want to date a man like him? but,he realized a long time ago not to question you. if you wanted to date him, then he'd happily accept your love.

but only if he could give it back in a tenfold. he rubbed his achy cock up against you. it was painfully stiff and he loved the sight of it up against your smaller slit. he was so big compared to you, a fact that turned both of you.

simon had to admit as he sank into you, he liked feeling like a protector. to know that you were safe because of him. that nothing would hurt his darling girl. it made him feel a tug of pride as he slotted himself into your cunt.

the feeling made him shudder for a moment and the stretch made you arched your back a little. he watched your nipples grow hard which only made his cock twitch with lustful want.

he placed his hand over your chest for a moment, but didn't apply much pressure against you. his palm over your heart as he said, "your mine and i'm yours. you, me and all the tomatoes." he smiled down at you before he leaned in further to kiss you square on the lips. his words made you core feel gooey, you felt his love for you in your blood, raising the temperature of it.

he kissed you as he put both hands on your hips and moved against you. he was cautious about hurting you, causing you pain as his cock nudged against you. you moaned against the heated kiss, you shifted a little and he pressed further into you.

when the kiss broke, you looked at one another while the air in the room grew warmer. you felt the heat between your legs as he moved. his gaze was hungry as he moved against you. he admired every inch of skin he could. he couldn't deny it, he never could, but you were the most beautiful woman he ever had the pleasure to love. he wasn't known for being a lady's man, but to know that he had you. he didn't need anyone else.

when perfection was in front of him, he'd never waste you. the pace continued as did the pleasure. the heat between you two as he moved against you. you tightened your legs around him and reached out for him. you were soon chest to chest with simon making sure that he wasn't crushing you.

the last thing he wanted was to hurt you. it would be like crushing a flower, it would break simon. but you soothed any anxiety as you held his face and kissed him passionately with each of his movements.

the pleasure bloomed through both of you as the two of you continued to move against one another. you started to pick up his pace and the kisses became deeper. it felt amazing, you felt like you were on cloud nine thanks to his pleasure. there was something undeniable about him. there was something heated and needy about his movements as you pushed up against him.

"glad i fit." he remarked, "was worried for a moment that she wasn't gonna fit me." he patted your middle for a moment, the action made you squirm and clench around him a little tighter his heart hammered in his chest the more he moved against you. there was a slice of heaven under him and he wanted to make sure his girl felt good.

you giggled a little, "you're not that big. nothing i can't take. i'm strong enough." and let out a sharp moan when simon pressed into you further which made you feel snaps of pleasure in your head.

he chuckled and held onto you a little tighter, he pushed himself further into you and let himself enjoy the sweet, tender feeling of his beloved. he loved you, it was clear from the moment he asked you out. his affection for you only grew with time, he needed you daily. he was constantly around because you made him feel needed and wanted. you were perfect for him.

he kissed you once more and continued his hold on you. he rocked against you sweet cunt and felt the wraps of pleasure in his core. he loved the feeling, being so close to climax with his beloved under him.

you deepened the kiss and threw your arms around his shoulders. he thrusted up into you, his pace steady but not too rough. once again, the idea of hurting you, even by accident, pained him. he never wanted that, he only wanted your sweet moans in his ear and your smiles to brighten up his day.

you two moved against one another, the pleasure continued to course through you. the two of you made love on your creaky bed, but enjoyed each other's gentle company. you tensed up a little bit as you felt the heat of climax was over you. you moaned into the kiss, and quietly said 'i love you' under your breath as orgasm took hold. the thump in your chest made you feel hot all over.

"i love you too.' he said softly as he continued to move against you. you clenched onto him and he loved the feeling of your nails against his skin. he felt extremely hot as he bucked his hips against you. the hammering in his chest only fueled his want for you.

he soon climaxed and felt the shudder through his body. the blossom of heat in his core as he finished inside of you. with a few more heavy thrusts, he slowed his pace to a stop to catch his breath. however that was made hard because you pulled him in for another searing kiss.

you both got under the covers and kissed deeply with one another. you felt connected to him, so close to him. so loving for him. you moaned into the kiss and simon cuddled up against you.

you said i love you to each other many times as you laid comfortable in each other's arms. the love flowed between you two. simon knew and you knew that you'd be together for a long time.

simon looked at you as you laid there comfrotably. you looked like someone special to him. you looked like the future mrs. simon riley.

it was a hot summer day two years later, you had come by to visit simon and found him working away at the blueberry plants on the farm. eventually you got him back inside his home. you moved around the kitchen like it was your own home.

you were giving simon a stern talking to while you got him a glass of water to help cool down. simon just watched you from his spot at the kitchen table.

"and you know what happens if you don't drink water! i don't need you passing out and crows peckin you-", when you turned around you noticed a small box on the table. the glass of watr almost fell out of your hand as he opened it. shock marked your expression and he chuckled.

he took a hold of the velvet box and opened it with a smile on his lips. your scarred, famer's tan having boyfriend with a love for heirloom tomatoes, was proposing to you.

"will you-"

"yes!" you squeaked before you quickly put the glass down and went over to him. he grabbed you and seated you on his lap. you held his face for a moment to look into his brown eyes before you laid a kiss on his lips.

he only pulled away to slip the ring on your finger (it was a big too big, but that could be fixed). you looked at the emerald in the ring and felt tears in your eyes. you kissed him once more.

you had everything, a home, a husband and heirloom tomatoes. <3

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resident-dumb-fuck · 1 month ago

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richard iii dashboard simulator. i thought it would be funny and here we are

🐗halfhearteddickjoke

what if i caused problems on purpose <3

0 notes

🐗halfhearteddickjoke

oh no... i cant believe the king is having my brother killed... oh noooo

#FUCK YOU GEORGE

3 notes

💥ladyanne Follow

man i miss my husband and father in law

🐗halfhearteddickjoke

hey

💥ladyanne

shut the fuck up you literally killed them??? get off my post

🐗halfhearteddickjoke

can i try rizzing you up

💥ladyanne

um. sure?

🐗halfhearteddickjoke

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE

💥ladyanne

i can't believe i'm saying this but this is kind of working.

🧍‍♂️gentleman-retainer

anyone else in this thread smoke weed

958 notes

🌹lancaster-official Follow

you all suck.

@/elizabeth-woodville your son will die and you will be deposed and youre gonna die SAD and ALONE.

@/river-severn @/dorset-sheep and @/billhastings you're gonna get executed

@/halfhearteddickjoke hm. FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU. nobody hang out with this conniving bitch i hate him i hate him so much and i am three seconds away from killing him constantly.

🐦fuckinghim Follow

get off tumblr margaret we're in court

🌹lancaster-official

he's not gonna want you as his boytoy forever

🐦fuckinghim

WE'RE NOT EVEN IN A RELATIONSHIP??????

🌹lancaster-official

i've seen you talk to him. i know what you are

5000 notes

🗼mr-london-tower Follow

just heard george duke of clarence say "snork mimi" aloud i'm gonna [remembers that suicide jokes do nothing for my mental health] request to be moved away from guarding his cell

🗼mr-london-tower

update: so it turns out the malmsey wine is unusable, for related reasons to this man.

#fuckin. dead body in the malmsey. cant have nice things around here #i hate my job so bad

94 notes

eddie-baby-deactivated

yayyy everybody is friends now :)

🐗halfhearted-dick-joke

dude you literally killed clarence??? you cant be having other people making friends youre a murderer

eddie-baby-deactivated

WHAT THE FUCK I THOUGHT I CANCELED THAT ORDER???

🐗halfhearted-dick-joke

you killed that guy man what the fuck. you cant be doing that

764 notes

👗elizabeth-woodville Follow

I regret to inform you all that the king has died.

5 notes

✨cecily-not-sicily Follow

dude my sons GOTTA stop dying. this is so fucked.

3 notes

🐗halfhearteddickjoke

i do so love to cause problems on purpose :)

#sorry to any family members of lords rivers, vaughan, and grey. um. you will not be seeing them anymore! <3

1285 notes

🐦fuckinghim Follow

preteens are so scary for no reason??? had to interact with two for work and like. they suck so bad. "i fear no uncles dead" shut the fuck up you smartass little shit. also had to explain to them the history of the tower of london which. i don't fucking know that shit! i don't know who built the tower of london! it sure as fuck wasn't julius caesar!

7 notes

#️⃣billhastings Follow

SOMEONE has got to stop waking me up in the middle of the night to hear their dreams

#️⃣billhastings

oh what the fuck.

607 notes

🍓bishop-ely Follow

crazy day at work today

#never go outside to get strawberries worst mistake of my life #came back in the room and they were accusing hastings of witchcraft. like sure yeah i guess

20 notes

🐦fuckinghim Follow

richard duke of gloucester should be king because not only are edward v and richard duke of york illegitimate but also so was edward iv. also richard duke of gloucester is just. kind of an all around good guy! as opposed to edward iv who ah. how do i put this in a manner that isn't horribly offensive. yeah okay figured it out. not a great person! unpleasant to be around!

also if you wanna know what was up with hastings he was a traitor don't worry about it.

954 notes

💥ladyanne Follow

RICHARD. RICHARD WHEN I CATCH YOU RICHARD. WHAT DO YOU MEAN KING OF ENGLAND

2 notes

🐦fuckinghim Follow

shit dude that one vine wasn't lying. what the fuck richard

#i have to leave immediately. jesus fucking christ man.

500 notes

🐗halfhearteddickjoke

yay king of england :) i will be very good at this i feel

#everybody's always like "what the fuck richard you can't kill two kids" or "why would you do that" and never like "was it fun having those preteens killed. it looked fun"

0 notes

🌹lancaster-official Follow

@/halfhearteddickjoke FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

submitted by @/elizabeth-woodville

90 notes

🐗halfhearteddickjoke

wow everything is going so bad. what the entire shit @/fuckinghim

2 notes

🐦fuckinghim Follow

ughhh margaret was right. NOT ABOUT THE BOYTOY THING

307 notes

®️henry-twoder-or-something Follow

hi ive been here the whole time. ive done the math and i do technically have a claim to the throne :)

83 notes

🐗halfhearteddickjoke

i cant believe im saying this but i did just have an ebenezer scrooge moment. god i hate it here.

#maybe i am a bad person

54 notes

®️henry-twoder-or-something Follow

wow richard has died :) i cant believe i am the king now! yayyyy

2 notes

🚣‍♂️resident-dumb-fuck Follow

final message from op! sorry everyone. im so annoying about this forever

#richard iii #unreality #sorry everyone!#shakespeare #long post #like. so long that i sent this to my friend who didn't have a tumblr and halfway through tumblr was like “no you need an account”

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thetravelingtyper · 9 months ago

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Our Shattered Heart (Part 1) (GN! 'Heart' Reader x Taskforce 141)

After an injury and recovery, the men of the force find themselves acting a little differently towards you.

Inspired by the Smiths and Cage the Elephant.

Warnings: a building falls, use of song lyrics, protective 141

Part 2, Part 2.25, Part 2.50, Masterlist

SO I POPPED OFF at like 1 am with three shots of brandy lmao

The strings of a bass echoed into the open night. Electric steps, iron bridges, the river. Central town spinning away into the flurry of the night. You were running from phantoms, what had you done but cried into the night? Your phone long since turned off you were afraid to return to the safe house. Made up as a civilian you blend smoothly in, but the oppressive nature of their stares made your eyes water so you took your chance and bailed.

Even in your distress, you admired London proper. You wipe your tears and stop your swift walk. You could hear music? There was a well-lit area a dozen or so yards, (Metric Sergaent) You frown as your Lieutenant’s voice echos in your head naturally. You grit your teeth. Nothing you did was right. In training he’d catch every little mistake, poking out your weaknesses without telling you how to better your stance.

What of Soap and Gaz? Your fellow Sargents and supposed friends. One moment they had your back then after your injury they joined Ghost. Soap would pull you aside and scold you for using your ‘bad leg’ or your hits were too low or high. Gaz just commented after you healed up against you even serving. It took three weeks for you to have enough.

You turn on your phone to check the time, and it rings with a skull icon, you answer it as you can pick up the music.

“Fucking hell Sergeant where are you.”

“Doesn't matter Ghost, Fuck off”.

“Wait, Lo-”

You hang out and toss your phone into the river. You smirk, a sense of relief flooding your tense body. What had your valiant captain done about your concerns? Immediate relocation to a safe house for surveillance, with said team. Nothing of “I’ll talk with Simon” No you got the “You could be a liability so let us have three grown-ass men babysit you in the middle of the city.” You went to protest but he shushed you with a disappointed look that made you reel back.

You weren't British, maybe you didn't meet his standards. He's the one who requested an outside operative all those months ago. You performed top of your class and threw your body and heart into the job working your way into being the face of the team. It was you whom they sent to comfort those who lost loved ones as collateral. Everything changed when you broke orders to save a child.

“Heart, Ghost, Soap Clear Out Now! That is a direct order!”

The building rumbled and air support had’nt arrived. You had about a minute until the whole place collapsed.

“Affirmiative, Sergeants move out!”

Ghost ushered you in front of him and Soap was already running through the dust to get out. But as you turned to run you caught movement.

“Ghost there is someone in there!” You try to trace the movement but Ghosts gloved hand yanked you back as he started towards the entrance.

“No Heart-”

You gasped, there was a girl pinned under rumble! Your instincts take over and you shove out of his gasp with more strength then you ever though you could muster, Ghost stumbles and you book it back as he yells after you.

“GHOST, HEART OUT NOW THE BUILDING IS COMING DOWN!”

He had no choice but to leave you as you threw yourself over the girl. There was a loud rumble then black.

You huff, odviously you had survived and the little girl you pulled out from the rubble survived as well. After the dust cleared the next day, you had lugged a beam off her and you and hobbled her out to seek medical attention. Once the mission had finished Price and the others had rushed back to find empty rubble, it was a joyous mother who led the foreigners back to their Heart. And there you were, in some small village a hero treated to the best they could. All you could offer despite the pain of your leg was a small smile towards to girl who clung to you like a baby.

Soap had about given out before he rushed you with curses, poking and prodding like a mother hen. Gaz laughed, a wholehearted sound like melted caramel and quipped about surviving the sky falling. It was Price and Ghost who were not too keen, but you had a back up. The leaders of the village, who’s daughter and grandaughter you had saved, had what turned out to be excellent intel that you handed to Price with a smirk on your face.

“Fucking Hell.” Was all you gotten from Ghost and his head in his hands with a deep sigh.

What you didn't realize was how big of a deal it was to the Captain and Ghost. Once you got back to base and were put on a 3 month leave was when things soured. You were able to use connections in the village to work intel, something Laswell was grateful for, But Ghost took this personally, giving you almost a disapproving sneer when he would see you out of bed. Price was silent. No yelling, no scolding just silent. Some storm brewed and once you fully healed and went back to training it seemed Ghost tainted Soap. The Scot became overbearing, making less hurtful comments. A Gaz, once level headed, turned into Price’s little shadow, you could tell from their glances they were communicating.

After three weeks of being stationed with them, fully healed mind you, you had enough of walking on egg shells, being the subject of Ghost’s anger and Gaz’s twists and turns. You didn’t snap until Soap had risen his voice after your pacing.

“ENOUGH HEART.”

It caught Ghost and Gaz off guard in the small apartment as you turned wide-eyed. His eyes were stormy, set off by something you couldn’t identify.

“Johnny-”

“No LT. They need to learn their place”

Your hackles rose, you tried to calm the rage, how dare he?

“And whats that MacTavish? You four have been acting like I’ve been a virus since the day I came back! I worked my ass off to help you and this is how you asses repay me? Im not a fucking toddler you can drag around.”

Gaz went to speak but the glare you shoot him is venemous,

“No you don’t get say anything Kyle. You’ll just go running back to Price and prolong this little ‘vacation’ Im sick of being treated like a child.”

“Sergeant”

“Oh rich from you LT” You feel your nerves bristle as Ghost steps forward in challenge. Despite him towering over you, you bite back

“You can take your Sergeant and Stuff it. You have acted like an asshole through these past 4 months and I’m sick of it! You three are grown ass men acting like children. Run back to Price and bully someone else I'm sick of this shit.”

And with that you grabbed your bag and stormed off, disappearing into streets of London the three men stunned at your outburst.

---

You enter the lit area to find a band and civilians listening to, was that the Smith’s? You relax to the familiar music. The main singer is a handsome man, dark eyes raking the crown with a calm smile before you lock eyes and he winks. Unexpecting, you blush and turn into the crowd. He begins to sing with a voice of silver and honey.

Take me out tonight

Where there's music and there's people

And they're young and alive

Driving in your car

I never, never want to go home

Because I haven't got one

Anymore

There is a little irony as you take a seat at the bar. Over the past two years, before your four odd months the taskforce had become home to you. You settled in quite fine, either bickering along side Soap, joining with Ghost or helping Price and Gaz with their reports. Seeing your personal skills Laswell insisted on you staying.

She smiles when you enter in under the arms of Gaz and Soap.

“Hey kid, good to see you.

You nod at here before Price enters, he passes you three a look before ushering the three of you out of the office.

“Come on you two, the parents gotta meet now.”

You giggle as Price rolls his eye as you turn you catch a knowing look from Laswell to Price and as you head out the door, but being dragged to lunch, you miss the fond look he shoots you.

You order a bourbon neat, as you take a sip the chill of the night hits a little deeper and you frown behind your glass watching couples get up to dance. You remember that mission with a fond sigh, the bourbon reminding you of your tall and often mysterious Lieutenant.

Take me out tonight

Because I want to see people

And I want to see life

Driving in your car

Oh, please don't drop me home

Because it's not my home, it's their home

And I'm welcome no more

You tilt your head down, that mission oh. Something in your chest ached.

You entered the room in a shuffle, the trails of your outfit not what you were used to, but a mission like this called for finery. You stumble but pale hand’s catch your arm and tucks it in under his. You turn to the perpetrator but find dark eyes quietly regarding yours and you jump.

“Ghost!”

“Call me Simon at this point Heart”

You manage a quiet yes sir. He watches you with softer eyes before there is laughing down the hallway.

“He’s a lucky bastard is what he is, getting to take Heart all dolled up.”

Johnny’s voice has your eyes rolling. After a few months of your service the Scot had accepted you with open arms, and the flirting, my god the pick up lines. You sigh fondly into your drink.

“I mean you could just ask them-Lt! You’re early.”

Simon doesn’t offer more then a raised brow as he and Soap meet eyes and Soap turns away.

“Kyle please can you help me with this,” You lift the tails of your outfit in a huff.

The man chuckles and nods, it was his idea anyway. His dark eyes meet yours with soft smile that makes you swoon. He offer you a hand and you go to take it but find resistance.

“Simon?”

“Hurry Love. We ship out in 10.” And with that he lets you go. Kyle’s hand is warm and rough and he twirls you to adjust the back of your outfit. Soap turns to Simon,

“The mask?”

And to your surprise, Simon looks to you and nods before slowly removing the balaclava. Soap and Gaz seemed unfazed but you were surprised. A year in you had yet to see more then his lips from a smoke or a drink, but the soft blond hair and scars found you staring at him. He watches you but when you meet his eyes you give him a soft encouraging smile. And his lips quirk up as Soap fusses with his mic and collar. Simon just grumbles at him and you laugh, a chiming sound that has all the men smiling.

You peer back through the crowd, how long had it been since you’d been out? You tip back the the rest of your bourbon and set the glass down feeling the sting. Fuck it. You drop your back and relax into the seat, the singer’s eyes meeting your with a smile as he continues to sing. You sway in your seat to the music.

And if a double-decker bus

Crashes into us

To die by your side

Is such a heavenly way to die

And if a ten ton truck

Kills the both of us

To die by your side

Well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine

You and Soap tumble together, hitting the ground before rolling. The impact steals the breath from your lungs as you grasp at him making sure he was alive.

“Never though i’d get ye like this Heart.”

You sigh, he was fine, despite just saving his ass. He rolls over so his weight isn’t on you more then it needed to be. You are sitting almost on his hips, he grins at you cockily with a raised brow.

“Stuff it Johnny, I just saved your ass.”

“Aye and I gotta thank you for it.”

And in a sudden sweep he pulled himself up and presses a soft kiss to the side of your lips.

“Thank you Love.”

Your face lifts a little at the memory and your heart skips a beat. Your eyes close an you bask in the warmth of the crowd. Following that moment the taskforce changed.

Take me out tonight

Take me anywhere, I don't care

I don't care, I don't care

And in the darkened underpass

I thought, "Oh God, my chance has come at last"

But then a strange fear gripped me

And I just couldn't ask

You hop off the stool and head into the crowd, heart aching for comfort and the hands of others.

First it was soap, falling into your shadow, after the kiss your heightened senses saw his eyes on you everywhere. With other soldiers? One of the members of 141 was there, or he was, hands across his chest, standing guard.

You were training with members of KorTac. The largest fellow, König had taken a keen interest in you due to your language skills and you found a calming friend in the man. Masked like your Simon you felt more comfortable with him. So when he had you pinned you squirmed and broke free.

“Good”

His voice is soft, pale eyes meeting yours as you roll up onto your feet. You run at him before he can get up, but he shoots up and grabs you with a little yelp escaping from your mouth as you are then thrown a few feet onto the soft mat. You roll onto your back, the breath knocked out of you and the ceiling spinning slightly.

“That’s enough!”

Garrick’s sharp voice surprises you as his form appears in your settling vision. He’s quick to kneel down and check you out.

“I’m fine Kyle, just a bit of the rough and tumble.”

His soft lips frown disapprovingly,

“I don’t like you wrestling with him.”

He helps you up and you see König’s form looking out for you. You give him a small wave.

“Sorry Schatz” The nickname pauses you as you stand, Kyle’s arm around you guarding.

You blush a little and smile at the tall man before a gruff ‘Sergeant’ calls from the edge of the room. You find Ghost leaning against the wall, arms crossed, glaring at König before he calls you to him. You nod a little dumbfounded and before you can pull out of Kyle’s grasp the man presses a kiss to the side of your head. Then lets you stumble into the waiting grasp of the Lieutenant.

You shake off the memory and your heart murmurs, but you ignore the hurt. For one night you were free from the confusion and rejection from your team. The crowd, seemingly sensing this welcomed you into their sway. A few single ladies sidled up you with wide smiles and pulled you into their group. You knew how to dance, you learned young, this skill pulled you into some interesting missions. As you sway with the ladies you recollect as the singer watches you.

Take me out tonight

Oh, take me anywhere, I don't care

I don't care, I don't care

Driving in your car

I never, never want to go home

Because I haven't got one, la-di-dum

Oh, I haven't got one

Oh, oh

Simon’s arms were steady around you, Price’s voice in your ear letting you know about the target. You had gone undercover as a couple to infiltrate a drug smugging ring. The leader was hosting a gala at a large mansion in the mountains. And seeing as Kyle and Johnny were on a mission that left you three on your own. You nod silently to Price. Simon pulls you closer and then spins you out on your heels.

“Who knew you could dance?”

You quip up at him, but he only nods, umber eyes taking in your form. You looked breathtaking and it stole the words from his lips.

FIrst Johnny then Kyle. You wondered as you looked up at Simon, handsome as ever in a dark black suit.

“Are you ok Simon?”

He hums, the sound deep in his chest, then in a moment he pulls you flush against him.

“Target on the move lovebirds.”

Price’s voice sound in your ears in a chuckle.

“RIght Captain.”

You sigh but Simon pauses in his movement, and you look up at him in confusion, you call his name but he just stares at you.

“We need to move Lt.”

Nothing, but his hand raising from your side to your face as he leans down and kisses you. After a few seconds he pulls a way and finishes with a

“Affirmative.”

Before leading your frozen self away.

You lose yourself in the music for a moment, rotating partners in innocent sways, just treasuring being lost in the moment, But this song of course must end.

And if a double-decker bus

Crashes into us

To die by your side

Is such a heavenly way to die

And if a ten ton truck

Kills the both of us

To die by your side

Well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine

The voice is much closer and you soon find yourself face to face with the mysterious singer. He smiles as he sings and it reminds you of the final piece of the puzzle.

Price had fallen asleep at his desk, again. You sigh fondly and set a cup of warm lady earl grey aside. You move over to him as he mutters something in his sleep. You felt bad waking him but you knew you needed to before he slumped over.

“Captain”

Nothing, even as you call it 3 times. Finally desperate,

“Johnathan Price!”

He shoots awake, eyes darting around tensely before he finds you and softened immediately.

“You can’t be doing that to a man love.”

“You were falling asleep again, how many times do I need to get on you about that Cap? “

The man regards you and chuckles before he sees the tea. You notice this and turn to grab and hand it to him. When you you turn back around the man is standing regarding you. The moment then feels intimate and you flush a little, stepping back.

“Sorry I’ll just leav-”

“No love it's fine, and please if it's just us call me John.”

He reaches for the tea taking a sip while his ocean eyes watch you. There is something there and you can sense it. After nearly two years of serving under him you grew to know him pretty well, there was fondness in his gaze for all his soldiers. But this was something softer.

“John, I…”

He finishes the cup and sets it down, listening wholly to you and you find the attention has your heart stammering.

“The others have-”

“I know love.”

There it is again and you find yourself pausing as John leans forward, taking your hand in his, rubbing comforting circles into.

“What do I do?”

“Up to you love. I am here for you regardless. You need to get some sleep.”

With this he presses a soft kiss to the palm of your hand and lets you go.

The next day your deployed to the small village and the following four months are hell.

You shake off the feeling. After your injury they treated you like a child, like a burden to be kept locked away. You sigh, pausing, feeling alone in the middle of everybody again.

Oh, there is a light and it never goes out

There is a light and it never goes out

The singer finishes with a frown. The crowd cheers then standard music plays and the moment is broken. The singer passes the mic to his member then turns to your pondering self.

“Are you alright Love?”

His voice is soft and he stands a respectable distance away. One of the members of his band takes the mic and begins with Heaven knows I'm miserable now, continuing the Smiths theme. You almost want to laugh a smile lighting up your face at past (bad very bad) Karaoke attempts with Soap and Gaz.

“There’s a smile.” He smile down at you and offers a hand, you take it introducing yourself. He raises a hand to the crowd and your new girl friends cheer you on as you allow the stranger to pull you into a dance.

The next hour passes with another drink with your new friends and opening up about yourself. Nothing about missions nor sensitive information, but finding yourself in a strange position with the four men of the 141. A little looser you describe them all with a few giggles in response as you recount their crazy tactics. It was nice and you settled into the easy arm of the singer. His arm laid only on the back of your chair but under the watchful eyes of the girl group you got comfortable. At the end of the hour, approaching 3 in the morning the singer was called back on to stage.

A new base line and you swooned as something a bit more American played. The singer nodded his acceptance to the bassist and began to sing.

Sun went down, sun went down over Pompeii

On both sides, the vow was broken

Oh my my, I'm the one, tryin' to hide this damage done

One day, all our secrets will be spoken

He looked at you and gave a wink and the girls cheered as you threw back a beer. Fuck it. You allowed them to pull you into the ever thriving crowd. Your group drew into the heart of the crowd right up in front of the stage.

As we slow danced, I became your statue frozen

Times I wonder, are we just a puff of smoke? Yeah

Underneath this bed of ashes, still withholding everything

Like we were never close

The singer surprised you and under a breath he hopped down from the stage to join the crowd. He approached you with a sway and a open offered hand. You looked into his eyes with a twinkle in yours. The girls cheering you on, you took his hand and swung into the music.

Don't you worry, baby, no sense tryin' to change it

I'ma strike these matches, never had control

I'm ready to let go, no, was I foolin' myself?

I'ma spread these ashes, never had control

I'm ready, I'm ready

I'm ready to let go

Here you were free to experience life, a break from the bullets, free from the heated stares of the 141. Well, at least for a while. You would go back eventually, you bag had enough supplies for a few days. As you spun in the singers free arms flashes of green, blue and brown spun through your vision. You were a little under but still alert, but with the music you let it all go.

Sun went down, sun went down over Pompeii

On holy ground, our vows were broken

We met up, we broke bread, I was blue, your dress was red

Ain't it strange? We both knew this day was comin'

As we slow danced, I became your statue frozen

Times I wonder, are we just a puff of smoke? Yeah

Underneath this bed of ashes, still withholding everything

Like we were never close

He pulled you closer in then, even if for a fleeting moment you felt your heart skip a beat. His eyes were obsidian, reflecting the lights like stars and he sings until he’s breathless. You wondered for a moment what could happen.

Don't you worry, baby, no sense tryin' to change it

I'ma strike these matches, never had control

I'm ready to let go, no, was I foolin' myself?

I'ma spread these ashes, never had control

I'm ready, I'm ready

I'm ready to let go

But as you dance the more of alert of the ladies elbows another, her head tilting subtly towards the entrance of the outdoor bar, where a familiar new set of men appeared. The girl went towards getting you but her friend stopped her as four sets of eyes found you then split up. She sent the girls a look.

Let’s see what happens.

Meanwhile you know the song is finishing and you find yourself taking the hand of the singer and he pulled you into a light embrace and spun you out as he finished breathlessly

Don't you worry, baby, no sense tryin' to change it

I'ma strike these matches, never had control

I'm ready to let go, no, was I foolin' myself?

I'ma spread these ashes, never had control

I'm ready, I'm ready

I'm ready to let go

He stops with a hum as the music continues for a few paces then goes out with the cheering of the crowd. You spin on the pads of your feet with a whooping feeling light in your chest, but you then bump into someone. But before you can apologize you are turned around in their arms and your breath hitches as Simon is staring down at you with dark eyes. It is then you sense another presence behind you and between you and the singer (whose hands are up in surrender) is Johnny.

The sounds of the band drown out with the depths of Simon’s eyes. There is too much there for you to comprehend. His sudden appearance breaks up the alcohol burning in your system and you stand up straighter. Emotions swirl underneath his balaclava, that alone a straight giveaway to his identity. There is anger yes, that much is evident, but you see the stinging presence of worry and something much deeper you dare not name. You turn your head away, the weight of the emotion pulling your heart back from the sky.

The singer shifted looking a little concerned, but Soap was a wide wall of muscle and kept himself close enough to brush your back from within Simon’s arms. The girls however outnumbered the men and give you a knowing look, you nod and they pull the singer away as he nods. You see Soap loosen immediately before turning and forcing your eyes into his.

Stormy blue oceans, the depth of which scare you as he nods to Simon towards the empty bar. You sigh and force yourself to loosen in Simon’s arms. He passes you to Soap and the men pull you gently to the bar where you are especially ashamed to see not only Kyle with your stuff, but a in the corner of the venue, out of noting eyes was John. Gaz with your bag, drew towards you and the four of you reached the awaiting Captain.

Johnny stood at your right, Kyle moving to your left and Simon towering over you like a vengeful wraith, and Johnny still had not let you go. You move to pull your arm from his, but he gives you a stern look, something of a overprotective mastiff.

“MacTavish”

“Captain-”

“Johnny.”

Simon’s deep voice rumbles from behind. Johnny hands trace down yours slowly before he takes your hand with a sigh, the tension finally releasing as his pinky takes yours in a final embrace before he finally lets go of you. He huffs and turns away in a slight pout that warms your heart and you find yourself taking his pinky back with yours. It’s a small show but the way his eyes light up behind the worry makes your heart melt. The other men trace the action, Kyle’s eyes meeting Price’s in silent communication. You all stand for a moment longer, not daring to speak, but when the wind causes you to shiver, alcohol in your system reddening your cheeks, its the weight of Simon against your back that surprises you, his arms, minding Soap’s hand, come under yours and wrap around you, his warmth melting into yours.

“‘Were worried Dove.” He leans down over you until his chin rests in top of your head and you can feel the rumble of his voice in your soul. It’s Kyle that speaks next.

“That was one of the stupidest things you’ve ever done Love.” The man frowns, but his eyes move back to the singer and the group of girls, then he eyes you again sharply.

“What if something had happened?”

Its hard to move with Simon's weight on you but you shot Kyle a withering look.

“Nothing happened, I happened to be having fun.”

“But he had his arms-”

“Kyle”

John’s voice finally speaks up and the man turns away to glower at the crowd, then he reaches a hand for your free one and meets your eyes. There you see a storm of concern, a deep fondness and a bit of protectiveness.

“We need to talk Love, about the past months.” John takes command again, something deep in his soul calm again seeing his team together. But there was time in the morning to talk. He could see the exhaustion of the day creeping into as did the other men.

“In the morning, John” SImon’s voice rumbles feeling your form sway.

“Right Simon” he nods but before turning John steps forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. The action jolting your heart awake and leaving you flushed.

“John?”

“It’s ok sweetheart, sleep, we’ll get you home.”

With that he turns as Kyle and Johnny reluctantly release your hands. This leaves you and Simon as the men wait.

“Si-?” You are suddenly lifted, strong arms finding your back and under your knees to lift you bridal style. You look up at him with wide eyes and he chuckles,

“I think I like the sound of that Love.”

And with a final turn to the crowd you manage a wave to the girls and the singer who shoots you a wink that causes a huff from simon before the man turns to follow the others.

Time to go home and as they walk, joking amongst each other with Simon’s soft voice luring you to sleep, You feel the loving eyes of the four men on you as you fall asleep.

----

End Part One!

Taglist! @ghostlythots

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sleepynegress · 2 months ago

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Black actor who faced abuse over role in Romeo & Juliet calls for industry-wide action

Francesca Amewudah-Rivers, who played Juliet alongside Tom Holland’s Romeo, says racist abuse went on for months

The actor Francesca Amewudah-Rivers, who received a barrage of online racial abuse after being cast in a production of Romeo & Juliet this year, has called for industry-wide action to protect black and brown actors.

The abuse aimed at Amewudah-Rivers began after the Jamie Lloyd Company theatre group announced the cast of its production in April, with Amewudah-Rivers to play Juliet and the Spider-Man star Tom Holland playing Romeo.

Amewudah-Rivers has revealed she also received hate mail, and that she did not feel safe while working on the play, her West End stage debut, at the Duke of York’s theatre.

“There were many days where I didn’t know how I was going to get through it,” she told the Stage. “The flurry of abuse was sustained throughout the whole job. I received death threats, hate mail sent to the theatre. I didn’t feel safe at work.”

‘Too much to bear’: Black actors condemn racial abuse of Romeo & Juliet starRead more

The 26-year-old, who was nominated at this year’s Black British theatre awards, said the minimal set and closeup camerawork of the production made her feel “very exposed” on stage. “Off the back of the abuse, having to stare down the camera lens and have my face be blown up in this theatre was really tough mentally,” she said.

Amewudah-Rivers said the harassment also affected her family and friends, as well as the show’s cast, crew and producers at the Jamie Lloyd Company, who condemned the initial abuse in a statement on social media at the time and said further harassment would be reported.

The incident led to an open letter of solidarity with Amewudah-Rivers being signed by more than 800 predominantly black female and non-binary actors – including Lashana Lynch, Sheila Atim, Marianne Jean-Baptiste, Lolly Adefope, Freema Agyeman, Wunmi Mosaku and Tamara Lawrance.

Amewudah-Rivers described her experience as an “incredibly tough” induction into the West End. She said: “I know what it means to move through life in a black body. Racism is something we have to navigate every day, so I was very aware of the potential for something like this to happen.

“I think what I was unprepared for was how long it went on for, and also having to navigate it while doing the job. It was four months of battling against this energy, and it’s something I still have to deal with. I really had to reckon whether it was worth it, this sustained feeling of duress.”

The actor called for “broader conversations industry-wide” about the protection of global-majority actors and said it was “not enough to represent our communities on stage, there also needs to be an infrastructure of support”.

“Safety has to be at the forefront. We can’t do our best work if we don’t feel safe, if we don’t feel held, if we don’t feel understood,” she said. “I think more needs to be done, especially because I know I’m not alone. I know other actors who have had similar experiences, more recently, too.”

According to Amewudah-Rivers, the response to her casting showed how the UK theatre sector was still lagging behind in terms of onstage racial diversity.

“For it to cause such outrage that I was cast in this role means we have a long way to go. Theatre has a legacy of community, it should represent society. Especially in London – there’s a big black British community here and in the UK. It shouldn’t be a surprise. Our histories as black people have been erased. It’s about re-education. I’m not the first black Juliet, and I won’t be the last.”

#francesca amewudah rivers #racism #bullying #romeo and juliet

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sleepyconfusedpotato · 2 years ago

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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! (❁´◡`❁)

#WHEEEEEEEWWWW #if I can draw more scenes I would #but I'm just so PACKED #might draw more and add them to this post in the future #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw #cod #simon ghost riley #charlotte jade le jardin #cod mw22 #call of duty modern warfare 2022 #art #ghost x oc #ghost x jade #valentine fic #valentines day fic #eli garnet le jardin #gracie ruby le jardin

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too-many-rooks · 1 month ago

Text

What's the deal with Patrice?

Patrice is such an intriguing but enigmatic character in season four the show; I ended the season pretty fascinated by him (and how he fits into a certain type *cough* Yassen *cough*) so flocked to the books for more details. In ‘Spook Street’, he's one of our POV characters, so we get a much more internal perspective of his thinking, his character, and his history at Les Arbes.

So I've collated some quotes from the book that I think shine an interesting light on him, for general information, and as a fic writing resource.(please please write fic about patrice pls pls pls)

Under the cut are some book spoilers from 'Spook Street'. I've not yet read past this book, so there are no further book spoilers, and nothing here spoils major plot points that you won't already know if you've seen season four, though I highly recommend the books!

This is broken down into sections about...

His relationship with his mother and his father (Who is not Frank in the book,)

His attachment to Bertrand, (And how that connects to his interactions with River,)

His general character traits,

His indoctrination and relationship with Frank.

General Character traits.

One of the things that particularly struck me about Patrice, is how normal he's described as being, at least on the surface. He is careful, measured, and rational. He's clearly very good at what he does, but doesn't seem to derive too much pride from his skills, he wants to complete his targets, report his successes, and move on.

Starting with a more generalised collection of quotes, these passages give insight into his thought process, perspective, and relationship to his work and general character.

In pretty stark contrast to River, who spends most of his time flailing about without a clue what's going on, especially during his time in France -

'He knew precisely where he was-wouldn't dream of setting foot on hostile land without memorising routes-' p.223

His connection to his cold body, Paul Wayne, is something ingrained in him from his earliest memory; Paul doesn't seem to be a persona or someone with a notably different character and behaviour; Paul both is and isn't Patrice. Also, he can speak without a French accent.

“None of which was news to Patrice. Who wasn’t Patrice today, but that was hardly news either. His passport proclaimed him Paul Wayne, and this required no mental adjustment: Patrice had been Paul Wayne for as long as he could remember. And Paul Wayne was as much at home in London, even the bad parts, as anywhere in France; could order a drink either side of the river, and nobody would bat an eye. Because Paul Wayne didn’t just speak English, he spoke English English, the same way he spoke French French. He’d have tied Henry Higgins in knots, and if that wasn’t enough to piss Higgins off, Paul Wayne could have gone on to kill him with his bare hands in about fourteen different ways, because that, too, had been part of the training that had been taking place every moment of Patrice’s life. Patrice’s life was about being Paul Wayne. And today Paul Wayne was taking one Sam Chapman off the board.” p.279

In a fight, he's able to keep his head, and stay focused on the facts. In the garage when he's trying to kill Sam, he manages to take down -

“Two of them, and both down. It had taken seconds. There was no pride in the thought. He was simply monitoring the situation.” p.306

We see again his calm, unemotional response to combat during his attack on Slough House.

“He sensed that the woman’s gun was empty, because there was fear in her eyes, and she did not look like someone who would be scared holding a loaded gun. Microseconds, these thoughts took. Less. It was part of what he’d learned at Les Arbres, in its woods and in its cellars; that you measured a situation in the moment you became part of it, and that what you did next was less action than response—you became part of the inevitable: that was what he had been taught. What would happen next was fixed from the moment he’d kicked the door down. All that remained was for the bodies to hit the floor.” p.455

Natasha and Yevgeny.

In the book, the woman from Les Arbes that River meets, Natasha, is a bit different. Instead of Bertrand's mother, she's Patrice's. Similarly, Natasha was a local girl, who was impregnated when she was around 18, by an older man from Les Arbes, though in the books he's a character called Yevgeny. Deviating from the show, Natasha doesn't seem to have any particularly negative feelings toward Yevgeny, though she recognises their age gap, and how constricted her life would be if she stayed with him.

Yevgeny is Russian, 'of course', (p.256), a former KGB spy who had worked at the Russian embassy in London. (p.320). In his interrogation, Frank mentions a KGB member 'who specialised in what Harkness called mental calibration.' (p.495) It's unclear exactly what this means, but seems to suggest Yevgeny played a pretty central role in forming the minds of their home-grown assassins.

Natasha and Yevgeny meet in a bar, in the summer of 1990, and she eventually becomes pregnant.

'"My parents are very angry with me, and with Yevgeny too. He was much older than me. In his thirties." "And how did he react?" Her eyes became faraway again. "He is happy. He say he will be good father, and we will live happily ever after."' p.257.

Aware that this version of a happily ever after constricts her world to the two bridges that mark her village, and the next one along the river, Natasha feels constrained. She wants to go to Paris, wants to see the world - but doesn't seem to want to leave Yevgeny, instead, she wants -

'"Yevgeny to take me away. Not keep me here." "Did you have the baby?" "Yes. A boy, Patrice. And he does what babies do, which is cry a lot, and I was just eighteen... So one night... I leave the house with some money I have saved and I catch a train to Paris, which is how I get to see parts of the world which are not between these two bridges."' p.258.

During this time in Paris, she became a prostitute. She comes back to the area, after ten years or so, because her father has died and she's able to come back.

'“All that time Yevgeny has [Patrice], at Les Arbres. My parents never see him, my father because he does not want to, and my mother because my father. But Yevgeny sends her photographs. I have these pictures still. I will show them to you.” “I went there, of course. To Les Arbres. But they do not let me in. Yevgeny, he comes out. He tells me I am not welcome, that I am no longer Patrice’s mother. That he has a family, and does not need me.” “I’m sorry,” River said. “I too. Because I know he is right, I am not Patrice’s mother. I give him birth, that is all. But still, I want to see him, I demand to see him, and then Frank comes, and Frank, he is very clear, very direct. He tells me that unless I leave, he will have police arrest me. He will tell them that not only am I a prostitute but a drug addict also, and other things like that. Threats.”' p.260.

Yevgeny sends Patrice's grandmother pictures of him until she dies when he is ten. This is the last photo she has of her son, and the last time she has seen him, but she seems keen to be reunited.

‘“If you find my son,” she said, “you will tell me, yes? You will tell me where he is?” River lied to her, as sincerely as he knew how.’ (p.265).

Later, after being taken captive by him, River mentions both of his parents to try and sway or disrupt Patrice.

During the initial assault on the convoy, when he's about to shoot Flyte, River repeatedly calls him by his name, and tells him "It's not what Yevgeny would want." (p.359.) This is enough to make Patrice pause, not shoot Flyte, and question who this guy is.

River gets kidnapped, and him and Patrice have a weird date (which we will go into in more detail about below), and as he's taking him to Frank, River goes for another attempt at using his family to throw him off.

'“I met your mother today,” he said. “Natasha.” Patrice said nothing. “She misses you.” Patrice shook his head, but still said nothing. “She wants to know you’re all right. It worried her, when Les Arbres burned down. Any mother would worry.” “I have no mother.” “She didn’t abandon you, you know. Or at least—she came back. She wanted to see you, to be with you. They wouldn’t let her.” “I have no mother,” Patrice repeated. “She was there for years. Never far away. In case you needed her.” Patrice looked at him and said, “Those things never happened. Stop talking.” “I will if you want. But I don’t think you do.” As casually as if he were swatting a fly, Patrice reached out to slap River’s cheek, but River had been expecting this, or something like it, and blocked the blow. But not the second, which was aimed at his throat. Patrice pulled it at the last second, or River would have been laid out on the pavement. Patrice said, “Stop now. Or I’ll make you.”' (p.406)

From this, we can understand that any mention of his mother wanting to be re-united was kept from him. His insistence that he has no mother, seems to suggest he was told nothing about her at all, other than that she abandoned him, not even Frank's story of her being a drug-addicted prostitute.

Patrice is unwilling, or unable, to consider that his mother was so close all that time, and still wants to see him and cares about him. He defaults to violence to make River stop voicing these challenging ideas.

His connection with Yevgeny is less clear, but what we hear of him is interesting. His wanting, and being excited for a child, which might have been him fulfilling Frank's orders, keeping Natasha away after she abandoned them, again fits with Frank's wishes to keep the mothers away, but possibly reflects a genuine sense of betrayal, and belief that he is giving Patrice all the family that he needs.

And the pictures; taking a picture of his son every year to send to a woman he doesn't see, who doesn't approve of him, but who is also so clearly in her husbands's control that she wouldn't be in much of a position to kick up a fuss about it if he didn't, creating a potential security risk in circulating evidence of them all together, of the children all together, it's a hell of a thing to do. It introduces this really compelling nuance about how much, if at all, the men at Les Arbes loved their children.

Bertrand

In the pictures Yevgeny sends Patrice's grandmother, sometimes he is in the company of the other children raised at Les Arbes. The book tells us -

“The eldest two, they were at Les Arbres from the beginning. I do not remember their names. And here,” and she plucked a photo from the pile of her son at five or so, with another boy, slightly younger, “this is Patrice with Bertrand. Bertrand is Frank’s son.” “There are six or seven children in the end. All boys. The first two, and then Patrice and Bertrand and two or three more.” p.261

This seems to suggest Patrice and Bertrand were born at a similar time, and possibly constitute their own age group separate from the older two, and younger two(or three).

It's clear that Patrice and Bertrand were close, and he's upset about the likelihood of him being killed, and the possibility of him being taken captive by Mi5, but he can rationalise his death, based on the mistakes he had made. He feels his emotions, expresses them, and then moves on.

'Patrice loved Bertrand like a brother, but facts were facts; Bertrand had been known to falter at critical moments.' p.223 'Squirting cleanser onto the wind-screen, he watched as the wipers smeared the seagull's mess into a grey film. Another clean-up job that made things worse. Then he cried, very briefly, for Bertrand, who was probably dead; squirted more cleanser, and ran the wipers again.' p.225

When River comes back to London using the Adam Lockhead passport, unlike in the show, in the book Patrice thinks it might be Bertrand; here his connection to Bertrand, being the only emotional connection he has left, is displayed again.

"Attachments were encouraged only because without them, there was nothing to purge. Bertrand, though, had been the attachment Patrice had never purged himself of. If Bertrand was alive they could complete this mission together and get the fuck off this godforsaken island.” p.350

Re-uniting with, or freeing Bertrand, finishing their mission, and leaving the country is therefore a top priority.

“Life at Les Arbres had taught him to grasp what needed doing, which here meant reaching St. Pancras before the action moved on. If Bertrand’s passport was flagged, there’d be security waiting. And of all the things that couldn’t be allowed to happen, Bertrand falling into the hands of MI5 ranked way up high.” p.351

Attacking the convoy and discovering the prisoner MI5 have isn't Bertrand, is evidently an upsetting experience for him.

“Because he wasn’t Bertrand, but in that first moment, Patrice thought he was: they had the same features, almost; the same hair. Eyes. Something was going on; crawling under the skin, like a worm inside an apple.” p.350

“Who are you?” Patrice repeated. “Adam Lockhead,” River said. The name cut a groove through Patrice’s expression. “No. Where’s Bertrand? And why . . . ” p.360

And thus kicks off Patrice and River's weird little kidnapping date, a sequence that is significantly longer and juicier in the book than being shoved in the back of a stolen car.

River

River and Patrice have a really interesting dynamic. They're both clearly fascinated by the other, and want to know what's going on. Patrice has technically kidnapped him, and is threatening and hurting him, but River's not exactly trying too hard to run away.

During the attack on the convoy, Patrice tells him they will be leaving together.

'Patrice spoke so calmly he might have been choosing fruit. “We. You and me. Or I’ll kill you here.”' p.361,

River tries to punch him, but he's not totally opposed to the idea -

‘Last thing he was doing was leaving Patrice’s side; not until he’d had a chance to question him about Les Arbres, about the commune, and about why Patrice’s comrade-in-arms had come to kill the O.B.’ p.387 “Not quite a prisoner, then, though hardly an accomplice, he stayed by Patrice’s side." p.387

The two travel by tube, where phone connection means any news about the attack on Pentonville Road would travel slowly, and anyone who thinks they might recognise them easily dismisses it. Also, Patrice pretends to be River's boyfriend.

“Patrice stayed close; one hand on River’s shoulder, as if for balance.” p.387

“Patrice hit him so quickly that nobody saw: not the passers by, hurrying through the rain; not the fellow travellers still sheltering from the downpour. Certainly not River. First he knew about it was, Patrice was lowering him into a sitting position, murmuring calm words. “He’s okay.” This for the benefit of those nearby. “He gets claustrophobic, that’s all.” To River: “Maybe put your head between your knees?” Somebody said, “Are you sure he’s all right? Should we get help? “He’ll be fine. I’m always telling him, we should take taxis. But no, he insists on the underground, and here we are again.” “My boyfriend’s just the same.” Any other time River might have protested the emphasis on My, but at the moment he was coping with a lot of frazzled nerve ends, as if Patrice had laid into him with a cattle prod rather than his little finger, or whatever it was he’d used to do whatever it was he’d done.” p.389 “Patrice maintained the fiction established for them by sitting next to River and putting his arm round his shoulders. He leaned close, as if whispering sweet consolation, and reminded River: “That required no effort on my part.” River said, “Last time someone hurt me like that . . . ” He paused for breath. “Yes?” “I knocked half his brains out with a length of lead pipe.” Patrice made a show of looking here, there, in front, behind. “Don’t see any lead pipe.” “You won’t.” Patrice’s phone chirruped. “Do you mind? I really ought to take this.” He stood and walked a few paces off. River looked around for a length of lead pipe, but his heart wasn’t in it.” p.389

Patrice and River's weird dates continues on to his meeting with Frank, River leading the way when he knows the destination, on a boat painted to resemble dazzle boats from the first world war.

“Patrice said, “That’s something.” River, as if explaining an object of national pride to a tourist, said, “They were painted like that to confuse submarines. It made it harder to sink them, to pinpoint them as targets.” “And that worked?” “Well, this one’s still here.” p.404

Meeting with Frank, Patrice gets some kisses and a pep talk we don't hear, then comes back to say goodbye to River and tell him how they ought to do this again sometime, and melts away into the rain to go murder all his friends & and his Grandpa.

“Patrice paused, then leaned forward, hands in pockets, and kissed River on the cheek. One cheek only. He said, “We will speak again soon.” Then he walked back the way they’d come; just a man hurrying through the rain, eager for the next place of shelter.” p.409

Frank

Patrice's most notable moments of internal fucked-up-edness come from when he's reflecting on his past, his education at Les Arbes, and his connection with Frank. His loyalty is unshakeable and goes as far as hurting himself when he thinks critically about him.

What we learn about a childhood (or the absence of one) at Les Arbes, is also very notable.

Like Patrice, like Bertrand, like all of them, Yves had had his childhood removed even while it was happening, and replaced by qualities Frank favoured: obedience to him, and reliance on no other. p.350

We can see this focus on total obedience to Frank being ingrained very early on, with orders, or 'instructions', being performed without question.

“And an instruction from Frank, who had been giving him instructions since he was a toddler, and who had ensured, way back then, that there was no question of Patrice not carrying them out.” p.428

And then there's the cellar.

“For one brief moment, he remembered the cellar. Each of the boys, on their twelfth birthday, had been locked in a cellar at Les Arbres, with no natural light and just one candle. Every morning, a single bread roll and a beaker of water was delivered. And every morning, they were told they would be released as soon as they asked for their freedom. Bertrand, Patrice remembered, had lasted just seventeen days before asking to be released. Patrice remembered Frank’s look of disdain at his son’s reappearance, as if it were an act of cowardice, or betrayal. Patrice himself had lasted a full month: at the time, a new record. Yves had lasted two.” (434)

I'm fascinated by the cellar. I'm fascinated by how long a boy is supposed to stay in the cellar. Bertrand, at seventeen days, clearly does not last long enough. Before Yves, no one had done better than Patrice's record of a month.

(Also, a brief note bc I spent too long fretting over it when I was writing my fic but; just one candle? How are they meant to light the candle? Is there a way to start a fire in the basement? Do they need to ask? Is asking for light also a reflection of weakness?)

From this passage, we can infer quite a lot about these three boys. Bertrand, who had been 'known to falter', does poorly, with his seventeen days, and Frank is clearly very disappointed in him.

(Diversion again bc I'm curious if this sets a trend for the rest of their relationship, where in conversation with River later on, he's able to discuss his son's death very unpersonally, their connection being as vague as "Someone he shared a lift with once," being dissapointed that he'd managed to let the an old man get the best of him, "It's like, lesson one. Don't let your guard down just because the target appears harmless." p.410 He tells River he's 'screaming inside', and hurting over Bertrand's death, but needs to focus on the mission, and that mission having pivoted recruiting River, is also cracking jokes about doing his whole 'I am your father' speech in a Darth Vader voice. (p.425, p.410)

Back to the cellar and Les Arbes. Patrice sets a record; lasting a whole month is evidently seen as an achievement, and doesn't seem to earn any of the scorn and disappointment Bertrand does.

Yves two months, though, is apparently somewhat alarming - from the books we learn that Yves was basically too into everything at Les Arbes, and took his terrorist training too literally, too extremely. Natasha is unnerved by her memories of him, and singles him out from the others as being creepy, looking at people 'like they are a different species... Like they are insects, or worse. Lower than insects.' p.264

We see Patrice's opinion of Yves carried on in this extract, when he talks about on his seventh birthday, being handed a photo of his mother who he'd never met, staring at it for five minutes, and then being handed a box of matches by Frank, and burning it with no hesitation, and 'glee in his eyes.'

"Patrice had been frightened of Yves, a little. He sometimes wondered if Frank had been too." p.350

Reflecting on their time in the cellar, Patrice briefly thinks about how...

“Frank should have known that there would come a time when Yves’s desire to prove he could go further than any of them would see him step over each and every line there was.” p.435

This thought, that a child-soldier radicalised from birth and pushed to the edge in every conceivable way, might end up going a bit far, and the all-knowing figure of total obedience in their life should have realised that, requires instant self-inflicted punishment from Patrice.

“But this thought, that Frank should have known, demanded punishment, and Patrice submitted to the moment, lashing out at the pebble-dashed wall, then licking the resulting blood from his knuckles. He had deserved that. Nobody could have known where Yves’s demons would take him. It was this place that was breeding such ideas: rainy London, its blues and greys seeping into his soul. Well, Patrice wouldn’t be here much longer. This last task done, he and Frank could vanish back to the mainland: Les Arbres was smoke and ashes, but they’d find somewhere. And the others would return—except for Bertrand, of course; except for Yves—and life would start again.”

Here, we have this moment of self-flagellation for thinking critically about Frank, which seems so instinctual I have to believe it's another thing drummed into them from an early age, also backed up by Patrice hurting himself again during his assault on Slough House -

“Deliberately, he banged his head against the wall, twice. Clarity of a kind returned.” p.450

In addition, we also see how Patrice can rationalise Frank's failures as not his fault. It wasn't Les Arbes that corrupted Yves, but London, and being in London was corrupting him too. He can't escape with Bertrand, and the only home he's known is gone, but he wants to reunite with the others and have his life start again.

But we all know that never happens.

#Slow Horses #Patrice #Slow Horses Patrice #Patrice Harkness #Patrice Fedchenko #I don't know how to tag him #Slow horses season 4 #slow horses s4 #Spook Street #Les Arbes #Frank Harkness #Bertrand Harkness #River Cartwright #Slow horses meta #meta #long post

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donotnomi · 2 months ago

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WIP Wednesday Monday

Guess who's the genius who decided to make Wednesday her publishing day—on the same day as WIP Wednesday? Yep, that’s me.

So, I'm jumping the gun a little here. Thanks @london-cowboy for tagging me—I really needed an excuse to share a sneak peek from not one but two WIPs!

For all MOTA readers, here's a little snippet from Chapter 2 of Stripper, Occasionally Hooker aka the MOTA Lap Dancer AU. Still in the middle of revisions, so keep that in mind!

“Six whiskeys and a ginger beer, miss,” Fukunaga called out, clearly excited. Bucky turned sharply toward Gale, draping an arm around Fukunaga's shoulders as he eyed the glass in front of Gale. “Someone here doesn’t drink on the job.” Gale couldn’t resist correcting him. “Someone here never drinks.” Bucky took it in stride, slipping two fingers into the pocket of the delegate on his left, pulling out a golden cigarette case without even looking. Gale was speechless. Bucky flipped the case open with a snap, took out a cigarette, and only then turned to the Japanese man for a nod of assent. The man, his face flushed, offered him the entire cigarette case, likely made of gold. Bucky placed it back in his pocket after taking out a second cigarette. He put one between his lips, and at that moment, five lighters flicked open. The entire Japanese delegation paused for a second in a Western-style standoff. Then, four lighters retreated. The head of the delegation leaned in. Without leaving Fukunaga’s lap, Bucky craned his long neck toward him, locking eyes as he brought the cigarette to the flame. Half the room was watching. Bucky leaned back, resting completely against Fukunaga’s chest, letting his head fall onto one shoulder as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. Gale observed his broad, powerful neck stretch impossibly, much like it likely did in other acts. He felt the need to look away, aware that Bucky’s robe was beginning to slip off the sides of his body.

For Slow Horses readers, yes, Paris Rules will be back soon, next Sunday I hope, with a massive new chapter. Again, it's a draft.

He needs to vanish from anyone who might review the footage later, in case someone starts tracking him. That’s why he’s already got a second hat stashed in his pocket—a different color, a different style. As he exits the station, of all things, it’s Spider’s voice that guides him. Spider, lying lifeless in one of the city morgues, his body no less cold than the metal cell he now occupies. Not now, River mutters to himself. “Style and taste, Cartwright, don’t depend on money but on intelligence. You, for example, couldn’t dress to save your life even with the royal family’s budget, whereas I, with 25 pounds and a Salvation Army store, could easily pass for one of them.” River hoped the store was still there, the one they ducked into to see who would win that bizarre bet. Just a few weeks before Stansted, River had willingly accepted Spider’s challenge, fully aware of his own weakness in that area. Their relationship had felt strained, both knowing how strong River was in the skills that mattered for their work, their internal competition. River had deliberately exposed his vulnerable side, choosing to take a hit to the gut rather than extend a hand and embarrass them both with the implicit, mutual acknowledgment of the imbalance between them.

Just realizing it's the first ever relevant appearance of Spider in one of my fics. Crazy! Tagging @middlingmay @c-goldthorn @whirlpool-blogs @soliloquy-dawn @angelfruittree @joeyalohadream

#donotnomi writes #donotnomi wips #mota wip #MOTA lap dancer AU #slow horses fanfic #SH This time they fuck WIP

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hd-wireless · 4 months ago

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📻🎶 H/D WIRELESS 2024 - WEEKLY WRAP-UP #3

The third week of posting has come to an end! Enjoy catching up with this week's selection of wonderful works.

There's a work for everyone in this fest (and if you haven't found what you're looking for yet, we're not done with posting).

As always you can listen to the prompted songs for the works we post on two playlists:

Click here for Spotify (many thanks to @evaeleanor for helping us out there) ❤️ And here for the YouTube playlist.

Please enjoy this week’s entries below the cut:

🎶 H/D Wireless Art 🎶

📻 A Quiet Life [T, Digital art]

🎵 Song Prompt: A Quiet Life by Teho Teardo & Blixa Bargeld 🎵 Summary: After their relationship becomes public knowledge; after being hounded by the paparazzi; after Draco says enough is enough and leaves London; Harry’s more than happy to follow. After all, a quiet life is all he’s ever wanted.

🎶 H/D Wireless Fic 🎶

📻 I made loving you a blood sport (so let's play) [E, 3,032]

🎵 Song Prompt: Blood Sport by Sleep Token 🎵 Summary: They sat in an odd kind of silence, comfortable in its discomfort. In the predictability of its recklessness. The thing between them was as palpable as the thick smoke in the air, consumed with every breath, and likely just as bad for them.

📻 Everything that can go wrong will go wrong [T, 5,178]

🎵 Song Prompt: If You Were Mine by Leon Bridges and Miranda Lambert 🎵 Summary: “You can move in with me!” Shit. Apparently there was still a possibility to make a fool out of himself to his crush despite his best efforts at minimizing contact. Draco and Andromeda looked at him in record speed, showing their own expressions of confusion. Maybe at his appearing out of nowhere, maybe at his panting that made it seem like he just ran a marathon for some reason, or maybe at his abrupt and impulsive suggestion. Shit. Teddy wasn’t even here to take off the edge—Harry was completely alone in this one. After a pause, Draco fully turned to him with a manner that definitely showed his opinion of how stupid Harry was, and asked, “What?”

📻 Antelucan Ruins [E, 29,453]

🎵 Song Prompt: Ghost by Justin Bieber 🎵 Summary: From the bloody Prophet, Draco discovers Harry Potter’s death splashed in grey ink printed on the front page. Potter is dead before Draco gets to see him again to fulfil a half-spoken promise. And yet, these days Draco has the power to bend the world to his heart’s desires, and that includes fucking Harry Potter even after he personally saw Potter’s pale, lifeless body lying in a coffin before it got buried under the soil. "Do you realise that you're just as pathetic and insane? You're so hung up on the idea of me that you'd fuck a ghost, Malfoy. You risked your life for it." Draco puts an arm around Potter's body, "Whoever says I am sane? Certainly not me. It's calculated risk with more success rate than failure. And you are dead, Potter. You refuse to move on to the next realm because you crave for my cock."

📻 I've Been There (sitting in that same chair) [Gen, 2,212]

🎵 Song Prompt: The Village by Wrabel 🎵 Summary: People keep knocking on Draco’s door. Draco just wants to read his book (he doesn’t mind, really). Or: Draco gets to be the supportive queer person he’d wished for when he was younger.

📻 Lonely Rivers [M, 7,370]

🎵 Song Prompt: 'Unchained Melody' by 'The Righteous Brothers' 🎵 Summary: Six years after the end of the war, Harry takes care of Teddy Lupin and has started to learn guitar. Hermione negotiates with foreign powers. Draco's a trainee Healer with a glam karaoke routine. And when Ron and Parvati decide to get married, they find a job for everyone...

📻 How to Begin [E, 8,478]

🎵 Song Prompt: Blush by Orville Peck 🎵 Summary: Harry is completely, pathetically besotted with his flatmate, Draco. Fuelled by liquid courage, he finally makes his move when he's absolutely sozzled. What could possibly go wrong?

📻 Oneiros [E, 13,125]

🎵 Song Prompt: Enter Sandman by Metallica 🎵 Summary: When contact with a weird vase traps Harry in his nightmares, it's Unspeakable Draco Malfoy's task to rescue him. In order to do so, he will have to face his past and his family history and win a duel of wits against a Morpheus and try to be better than his father each step of the way...

📻 Say When [E, 24,545]

🎵 Song Prompt: Undisclosed Desires by Muse 🎵 Summary: When Auror Harry Potter is sent in undercover to determine if Draco Malfoy is laundering money through his BDSM club, will he be able to keep up the ruse and close the case? Or, more to the point, will he keep from falling in love?

🎶 H/D Wireless Podfic 🎶

📻 [Podfic] Case of You [E, 11:48:56]

🎵 Song Prompt: Case of You by Joni Mitchell 🎵 Summary: Draco was doing just fine working as an Unspeakable in Paris, hanging out with his living and ghostly pals, inventing new spells, and definitely not thinking about Potter. Then, Lucius just had to break out of prison and turn his world upside down. Now, Draco has to return to England, where he is forced to confront how family ties bind us—and one infuriatingly fit Harry Potter.

#hd wireless #hd wireless 2024 #drarry #drarry art #drarry fic #drarry podfic #weekly wrap up no 3

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thefisherqueen · 4 months ago

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I came across the surname Baskerville in a text completely unrelated to Sherlock Holmes (in a book about wild camping), and it's gives some really interesting insight into the history and present state of UK inherited titles and landownership so thought I would share!

'William the Conqueror invaded England in 1066 and then made himself king. It was like any other invasion of conquest, in any other time or realm. King Harold the Second was dead. Long live the King. Life goes on. But there was a difference. New laws saw all of the land seized by the Crown - a relatively unique development in the history of conquest. Sasxon barons were replaced by the Norman lords and their allies. The Domesday Book - the most definitive land registery document every devised - was produced on William's orders in 1086 to identify the new owners and their land holding and what they might owe, in tax, favour and loyalty, to the king: the sovereign Landlord.

Landownership had worked broadly in the same way ever since our ancestors abandoned the nomadic life, and took up the shovel and plough about 10.000 BC. What the Normans changed in Britain was the communal right of access over the land. That system of non-communal access is still very much in force today amoung the modern-day descendents of the Normans. Which is why William's 1086 census - the Domesday Book (and its modern version, the Land Registry) - remains so important. It serves as a legal document that established ownership by the legal holder of the title.

My research into where I could roll out a sleeping bag today meant looking at landownership. I discovered that very little had changed sinde the Norman invasion. Just 0,6 per cent of the population still owns 50 per cent of the British land, and most of this elite are the descendants of the 11th-century Norman aristocracy.

A report - "Who owns Britain?' - by Country Life magazine in 2010 was said to be the most detailed survey of its kind in over 100 years. The research claimed that just 1200 aristocrats and their families own 20 million of Britain's 60 million acres of land. The top private landowner in Europe was the Duke of Buccleuch and Queensberry, who owned 240.000 acres in England and Scotland. Research by the London School of Economics in 2013 claimed that the Normans who conquered England - with surnames Baskerville, Darcy, Mandeville and Montgomery - still dominate the student rolls for Oxford and Cambridge universities, still make up a large proportion of the elite that holds the prime positions in professions such as medicine, law and politics. They also control a good number of the political agencies, public bodies and charitable organisations that oversee rules regulating land management and access.

But 1066 was about more than Saxon lords losing their holdings. It was how it affected the peasants that mattered most. The common rights over common lands like Sherwood Forest and the Kentish Weald were gone. Those rights included the right to roam over woodlands, marshes, moors and coasts of many common areas; to graze animals, collect wood for fuel, tools and buildings, to eat fruits, to collect water from rivers and streams, to catch fish and generally to do all the things that made it possible to live off the land."

From: Wild camping. Exploring and sleeping in the wilds of the UK and Ireland, by Stephen Neale, page 29

I've been to the UK several times for hiking trips, and I remember being puzzled by the system of access to nature at first. It is quite bewildering to be just walking on a perfecty good path, only to suddenly find it fenced off, with aggressive signs warning walkers to KEEP OUT!!! Why are hikers treated with so much suspicion even in areas famous for its good hiking? And what do you mean by Right of Way? How come there's major roads and motor cross terrains within a national park? (turns out they are largely privately owned). Myself, I've never been shy to climb the occasional wall or fence, and pitch my tent somewhere even on private lands. I consider it my own gentle way of resisting the very idea of private property, which creates so much inequality. I've never yet faced any trouble for it, by the way. Turns out land owners have little desire to actually hike on their lands, especially in rain or cold or darkness, and the people who work for them are usually not payed enough to care about a lonely hiker who is causing no disturbance or damage whatsoever xD

#letters from watson #sherlock holmes #the hound of the baskervilles #history #land ownership #wealth inherence #uk #common access laws

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scotianostra · 4 months ago

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The leading Scottish suffragette, Evelina Haverfield, was born at Inverlochy Castle on August 9th 1867.

Evelina’s birth is recorded as ‘Honourable Evilena Scarlett’, she took the name Haverfield from her husband. Her childhood was divided between London and the Inverlochy estate. In 1880 she went to school in Dusseldorf, Germany, after which she married Major Henry Haverfield at the age of 19., who was 20 years her senior. The marriage is said to have been a happy one they had two sons together, The Major however died in 1896. Evelina married again two years later, a another military man, Major John Blaguy. This was not a happy union and after some time they drifted apart. The rest of her life was informed by devotion to a cause.

She became an enthusiastic supporter of the suffragette movement and was arrested during suffragette demonstrations in London for hitting an escorting police officer. Her only regret was not hitting him hard enough, promising to bring a revolver next time. During that heady time she met Vera Holme. Their companionship was to last the rest of her days.

At the outbreak of the First World War the suffragettes supported the war effort by founding a Women’s Voluntary Emergency Corps and a Women’s Voluntary Reserve Ambulance Corps. Evelina became commandant in chief of the latter, looking, it was said, every inch a soldier in her khaki uniform, although she later left after a disagreement of an undisclosed nature.

Evelina joined the Scottish Women’s Hospitals and devoted the next two years to overseas service with them. She served in Serbia with Elsie Inglis, as a hospital administrator and was part of a small group taken prisoner when the armies of the Central Powers overran Serbia in October and November 1915.

Under appalling conditions of poverty and military oppression, Evelina and those with her, struggled heroically through the winter to provide food and basic care for their wounded Serbian patients and some of the local civilian population. In the spring of 1916, Evelina and the other 'Scottish Women’ were released through the International Red Cross and returned to England.

In August 1916 Evelina went to Romania in charge of 18 ambulance and transport vehicles as part of two units of the Scottish Women’s Hospitals. These units were in support of Serbian soldiers fighting on the eastern Allied front. The stronger enemy invading armies drove the Russian, Romanian, and Serbian defenders out of southern Romania and north of the Danube river delta.

During this two-month retreat by the Allied forces, Evelina and the transport drivers were working non-stop under constant enemy fire, in desperate situations, while rescuing wounded soldiers and driving them to safety.

By early 1917, with the fighting on the eastern front over, and unable to return to Serbia because of the enemy occupation there, Evelina returned to England, where she remained until after the Armistice of November 1918. In England she raised money for clothing and canteens for Serbian soldiers, gave public speeches on behalf of Serbian relief, and helped to found a Serbian Red Cross Society in Britain.

After the Armistice she returned to Serbia to supervise the distribution of much needed food, clothing, and medical supplies. When this was done, in 1919, she made plans to found a home for Serbian war orphans in a Serbian mountain village. It was there, in Baijna Bashta, that she contracted pneumonia, probably brought on by overwork and fatigue, and died prematurely at the age of 52, revered and honoured by the Serbs for her five years of humanitarian work on their behalf. The Serbs issued a stamp commemorating this remarkable women in 2015, a woman few Scots have even heard of…….

Buried in Serbia today, Evelina’s gravestone reads:

‘Hear lies the body of the honourable Evelina Haverfield youngest daughter of William Scarlett 3rd Baron Abinger and of Helen ne Magruder his wife of Inverloky Castle Fort William Scotland who finished her work in Bajina Bashta March 21st 1920 through the war 1914-1920 She worked for the Serbian people with untiring zeal. A straight fighter as traight rider and a most loyal friend. R.I.P’

In 2015 Evalina was one of five Scottish women and one English women, who worked as doctors, nurses and drivers honoured on a series of stamps in Serbia, the others were Dr Elsie Inglis a campaigner for women's suffrage and the founder of the Scottish Women Hospitals in Serbia. Dr Inglis was one of the first female graduates at the University of Edinburgh.

Dr Elizabeth Ross, one of the first women to obtain a medical degree at the University of Glasgow. She travelled to Serbia as a volunteer and tragically passed away during the typhoid epidemic in 1915.

Dr Katherine MacPhail OBE, involved in humanitarian work in Serbia throughout WW1. She is remembered for opening the first paediatric ward in Belgrade in 1921.

Dr Isabel Emslie Galloway Hutton who joined the Scottish Women Hospitals as a volunteer in 1915 after she was turned away by the War Office in London. She served in France, Greece and Serbia until 1920.

The sixth was English woman, Captain Flora Sandes, who was the only known British female to bear arms during WW1.

This may have been seen as a great adventure for many, but as with all wars there was a price to pay, some of the women ended in desperate tragedy. A total of 21 died in Serbia, many after falling ill with suspected typhus.

#scotland #scottish #history #strong women #ww1 #suffragette

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focusfixated · 5 months ago

Note

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤

thank you for this! i think my favourite fics i've written are the ones that are basically like. my thesis statement. if you ask me about these characters, i will slide you one of these fics and say: here's my dissertation on the subject. everything you need to know about how i feel is in there.

can't get a life (if my heart's not in it)

libertines rpf | peter/carl | M | 20.9k

When Peter came to London, Carl was waiting for him under the hanging clock in the middle of Waterloo station. It had been romantic, in the way that Peter saw all their meetings as a little romantic – a song in the making, all Terry meets Julie and a sunset over the river. Or: the early days of Peter & Carl's love affair with London - and each other.

note: i wrote this one during my first year moving to london. inhabiting this story with these people and their music helped me settle there. this was also my way of taking every insanely romantic and toxic thing peter and carl did or felt about each other in those early years and weaving it into one point of reference.

on the wings of a nightingale

good omens | aziraphale/crowley | E | 11.1k

Aziraphale liked his body. He liked the shape of it, the way it moved and touched the world, a type of sensory feedback that made him understand the shape and extent of his corporation. Like he wasn’t just an ephemeral vessel. Like he was flesh. Or: Aziraphale gets a tattoo. Crowley is an accessory to this crime against good sense. Everyone’s kinks are very poorly disguised.

note: i think this is the one where i really got to grips with my authorial obsession with bodies, embodiment, sensation as existence. it's probably one of the most personal things i've written, too, in terms of its dissection of touch, and espousing thoughts on faith as tangible feeling vs abstract thought. this is the aziraphale that exists in everything else i've written in this fandom.

i hope i find my home

it chapter 2 | richie/eddie | E | 53k

The peak of summer is long gone, if it ever came, but the funk of stagnant air still hangs low over the suburban streets. Richie Tozier – sallow-skinned and puffy-eyed, wearing a too-small denim jacket that smells of sweat and mildew – hasn’t slept in several days, and he's trying to remember how he got here in the first place. Or: Coming back to Derry, Richie hadn't expected to live. Eddie hadn’t expected to die. In the aftermath of Neibolt, they’re both confronted by another shot at life.

note: possibly actually my favourite thing i've ever written out of all of these. features this ongoing obsession with bodies, though this is from a more confrontational perspective than the good omens one - there's an element of body horror, a sense of fear and discomfort about the body, and grapples with embodied repression. took me two years to write this one. it was a labour of love and hard work, and a proof of my commitment to getting this story about survival and recovery told.

le temps qu'il faut

disco elysium | harry/kim | T | 5k

Snow blows in from the east. It falls on Martinaise, thickening the frigid air like cornstarch, thick enough to chew on. Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi stands – quiet, watchful, an oddity placed at the centre of a racket – collar turned up against the weather. Or: winter is tough and so is Kim, but a lot can change in ten days.

note: a story where i feel like i got the closest to capturing the mood of the original media. it was such a fucking pleasure to write something that was almost pure atmosphere. felt right that the poetry came out of this cold and battered landscape, and really solidified my interest in capturing environments. (who needs plot when there are buildings and lakes covered in snow).

when we fight about love

our flag means death | multi | E | 41.2k

Bonnet took a dainty sip of rum, then put the mug down with a fussy finality. “Look, I’m not interested in deals and riches and who gets what from who. I want to find Ed, that’s it. You’ll come with us, and you’ll guide us to the Revenge, and when we’re done, you can have my other ship to do with what you like. Sell it, sail away, set it on fire, I don’t care. Do we have an accord?” Bonnet held out a hand. His nails were ragged, and there were blisters on his fingers. Somehow, he still smelled of lavender. With all the recalcitrance of reaching towards an open flame, Izzy shook it. (Or: after brokering an uneasy peace, Izzy Hands, Stede Bonnet and the rest of the Revenge’s depleted crew are thrown together for a mission: find Edward, snap him out of his terrible madness, and then – and then.)

note: this is the one. the story that sums it all up. "how do you feel about izzy? what do you think was going on with him? how would a coherent version of him, flaws and all, realistically interact with the people most important to him during this time?" well: like this. focuses on repression, again, a key theme for me. though the repression here is not just physical, but mental, too. this was an exercise in finding a way to present a dislikeable, misguided, unreliable narrator as a point of view character and still finding meaning and empathy in his perspective. one of the most satisfying things i've ever written.

#my fic #ofmd #good omens #it chapter 2 #disco elysium #the libertines #writing

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thetravelingtyper · 9 months ago

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Our Shattered Heart

141 x reader (Teaser)

NOW POSTED! :)

Something cooking in my brain (Not sure about the pairing quite yet) At least 141 x reader platonic at least with protective Simon and Price. Heavily inspired by the Smiths

The reader is written GN with the callsign Heart!

Master list here FULL PART ONE HERE

Even in your distress, you admired London proper. You wipe your tears and stop your swift walk. You could hear music? There was a well-lit area a dozen or so yards, (Metric Sargent) You frown as your Lieutenant’s voice echos in your head naturally. You grit your teeth. Nothing you did was right. In training he’d catch every little mistake, poking out your weaknesses without telling you how to better your stance.

You turn on your phone to check the time, and it rings with a skull icon, you answer it as you can pick up the music.

“Fucking hell Sargent where are you.”

“Doesn't matter Ghost, Fuck off”.

“Wait, Lo-”

You hang out and toss your phone into the river. You smirk, a sense of relief flooding your tense body. What had your valiant new captain done about your concerns? Immediate relocation to a safe house for surveillance, with said team. Nothing of “I’ll talk with Simon” No you got the “You could be a liability so let us have three grown-ass men babysit you in the middle of the city.” You went to protest but he shushed you with a disappointed look that made you reel back.

Link to Part 1 here!

Will reblog or post the entire, not sure if it'll be a short series.

Should I make it poly IDK comments are appreciated

#simon riley x reader #cod mw2 2022 fanfic #simon ghost riley #soap and reader #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain johnathan price #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #john price #captain price #price x reader #poly 141 #call of duty #gaz x reader #gaz x you #price x you #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader

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bloofinntoona · 2 years ago

Text

Dear Sebastian

Word Count: 1.9 k

Themes: fluff, hurt/comfort, a little angst, sebastian sallowxf!reader

Summary: every summer, you and sebastian write letters to each other.

Summer of Year Five

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Dear Sebastian,

I do hope you are faring well. To be quite honest, I was worried about you. I know the situation is not easy right now, but I believe that things will slowly get better.

The professors had me stay in Hogwarts for another week after the term ended. Headmaster Black was dumbfounded that such repository existed just under the school. My, I wished you’ve seen how stressed that made Gladwin Moon. He forgot about the Demiguise monkeys, and now he keen on learning more about the secrets of ancient magic. They decided to keep this a secret from the ministry. I think it’s for the best. I also promised Professor Fig that I would keep it locked inside.

My father asked me to stay in London during the summer holiday – he said not having me around these past months was rather odd. I’d say it was because nobody helped him prepare his supper after work. Sleeping in my own bedroom felt empty after being with friends at Hogwarts. I missed the shenanigans that I witness at school, and I do miss going on adventures with you.

I would love to hear back from you.

All the best,

[Y/N]

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Dear [Y/N],

I’m doing better, thank you for checking in on me.

Apparently, the people at Feldcroft told me that Anne decided to stay at St. Mungos. At least I know that she is cared for and safe. I still hope that there is a cure, and I will keep trying no matter what. The house never felt this vacant, even after my parents passed, I still had Anne by my side. Thankfully, one of my neighbours took pity and let me stay with them. If I help them with chores, of course. Better than empty house and cold nights, I suppose.

I can’t lie but I kept having nightmares about the cave. I kept seeing my uncle’s body on the ground again and again. Even worse, I saw the horror on everyone’s face after. I can’t seem to shake it off my head.

Thank you again for writing. I haven’t talked to Ominis again. I might have severed whatever bond we have left.

I wished I could visit London.

Best regards,

S.S

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Dear Sebastian,

I’m sorry to hear about your nightmares. I too kept replaying my fight with Ranrok in my head, and just how I wasn’t able to save the Professor that I look up to. Before I left, the professors gave me several bottle of Dreamless Sleep potion. I’m sharing a few bottles for you.

You would love London. I will take you to all of the bookstores here. I visited my favourite, just in front of the River Thames. That being said, I picked up a Herbology book for you. I remember you brought Shrivelfig Fruit to Anne that one time, maybe this book would help you learn more about other types of plants out there. I hope the owl delivers the package to you in one piece.

I also just received my O.W.Ls grade, and I scored an E. Not bad for a new student, eh? I had a hard time remembering all the charms, which means I really need to lay off from using my ancient magic. I rely too much on my power.

I sent a letter to Ominis as well. He also wished the sixth year can come sooner. The Gaunts House sounds dreadful. Oh, he visited Anne as well. He said she is doing better. She has you in her thoughts, but I told Ominis that you were taken care of, and she should focus on recovering.

Best,

[Y/N]

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Dear [Y/N],

You are far too kind. I don’t know how I could repay you. It brings me ease to hear about Anne and Ominis. It does give me a glimmer of hope that I can reconcile with them, in due time. The potion works wonders. I was finally able to have a decent sleep after months.

I have read the book. I can’t believe there are no sentient plants in the muggle world. How do they fight off their foes? I don’t understand. I might try to make some of the remedies written here and give them to Anne when I get to see her.

My O.W.Ls are not as great as I hopped. I passed, but the whole ordeal took the toll on me. Professor Weasley sent me a note that she is ‘disappointed’ because I’m a ‘bright student’. But worry not, I shall do better at my N.E.W.Ts.

By any chance you write to Ominis again, please tell him that I missed having him around. And I wished that we can talk again if he is ready.

Although I have to do this sodding farm work everyday, I was surprised to see the plentiful yield we got this year. I’ve sent you back some Dittany Leaves I personally planted myself – hope it helped you brew more Wiggenweld potions for your adventures.

I’ll see you soon at Hogwarts,

S.S

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Summer of Year Six

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Dear [Y/N],

What a school year it has been! If I may, I shall start this letter by saying thank you for being there for me. I don’t know what I would do without you. I hope your trip with Poppy to her grandmother is going smoothly, please do write back whenever you can.

I wanted to let you know that Anne wished to spend time with me this summer. I am overjoyed, packed my bags in a jiffy and went straight to St. Mungo’s. Anne never looked better, she said that the wizards who work there were able to create a spell that let her supress the pain. It still comes in bouts, but it wasn’t as painful as it was. She decided not to continue her studies in Hogwarts though, so I plan on sneaking more books, perhaps from the restricted section, to her when we are back.

I hope the injury that you sustained after your first Quidditch match is better. That daft Leander, knocking you from your broom just because he couldn’t keep his eyes away from you. I bet you ten galleons he has a crush on you. You should keep an eye out if he gives you anything edible, I’m sure they will be laced with Amortentia.

I look forward to hearing about your adventures.

Warmly,

S.S.

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Dear Sebastian,

What a year indeed. My arm is far better right now. And Leander got his punishment already from having his house score deducted. I think the hatred from Gryffindor students are enough. I shall keep note of not taking any edible presents from him.

Poppy and her grandmother are very pleasant hosts. I think I ate my lifetime worth of pumpkin pasties. I wished I can send you some, but the owl will surely eat them before they get to you. They took me to a Hippogriff den that she just discovered near the coast. You should see how adorable Hippogriff babies are, I just wanted to hug them all! Her grandmother graciously taught me how to approach magical beasts better, not just by floating them mid-air and stuff them in my bag. And guess what? I saw a black Hippogriff, just the one you said you’d like to fly on one day. Here’s a feather for proof.

I’m glad to hear that you can spend some time with Anne. Please tell her that I hope she is feeling better, and I do wish I can meet her again.

I am a bit worried about my N.E.W.Ts studies though, kept having dreams about failing it. I didn’t realize just how much I have to catch up again.

Thinking of you,

[Y/N]

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Dear [Y/N],

Such majestic feather – if I was there, I swear I will jump on its back and fly around the hills. Maybe I can have you flying next to me? I would love to fly around the highlands with you. I can show you this small forest that my parents used to take me. We would harvest many unique magical plants that you can’t find anywhere else.

If you’d like, I would love to help you study. We always have the Undercroft for ourselves and the Room of Requirements too, if Deek isn’t there to talk about the potions you’ve brewed. Call me your own personal tutor.

The big news that I have, is that Ominis finally went to visit Anne and I. As you knew, Ominis and I were able to chat and even joke around now. I told him that the was he looked gaunt after spending time with his family, and he didn’t appreciate that one bit. Anne seems happy to have him around. Frankly, I find it weird if Ominis has romantic feelings to my sister, but deep down I know he will truly cherish her. For that, I shall not intrude. Now it felt like things were back before the curse, but I wished you are here to join our little trio.

I don’t know if you have visited the hospital, but there are little shops just next to it. I saw this dragonfly brooch and thought of you – apparently the shop keeper said it meant happiness and new beginnings. How fitting. Hope you like it.

Yours,

S.S

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Dear Sebastian,

The brooch is beautiful, I immediately pin it on my jacket and wore it to an outing with Poppy and her grandmother. We had delicious dinner and butterbeer. They teased me for smiling whenever I look at it, but I am glad to have a piece of you wherever I go.

I can’t believe you had the gall to make fun of Ominis. Even I found that joke terrible, you egg. I’m happy to see you happy, Sebastian. And I shall take you on that offer to study together, Merlin knows I need it.

I shall travel back to Hogwarts with Poppy just few days before school starts. Looks like they just built a new train station and I’m able to be one of the first passengers – how lucky am I! Before we have to pack up, her grandmother took us to see Thestrals. I am sticking to my opinion that these are beautiful creatures, and misunderstood. I managed to feed and even pet them, they are such gentle creatures.

Everyday I hoped I can share these experiences with you. I cannot wait to see you again very soon.

All yours,

[Y/N]

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Summer of Year Seven

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My Dearest [Y/N],

Words cannot describe how much miss you. I'm writing to you back at my home in Feldcroft. The house is still empty, but I’m holding on to the memories that we made during the years in Hogwarts. I can’t believe it took me all this time to finally confess that I am utterly in love with you.

I know that you will do well in your future endeavours. All of your hard work in classes will be fruitful, especially since you achieved an amazing score at N.E.W.Ts – might I add that I contributed as your personal tutor? The ministry will be lucky to have you as an AUROR. I thought about doing the same, but looks like I can’t shake the thought of embarking the same journey as my parents to become a professor. Who knows, maybe I can actually find a cure for Anne in the future. Just promise me that you will be safe, as I don’t know what I will do if I lose you.

Nobody stood closer to me when I was in distress. Even when Anne and Ominis pushed me away, you believed in me. You made me realize that I can live a better life, and I will continue to do so. For you. With this letter, I vow to be a better man for you, a man that can stand next to you and you can depend on.

I’m glad you came to Hogwarts.

Forever and always,

S.S

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A/N: Aaaaah sorry for not updating as much these days! I'm having a writer's block especially thinking about the sequel to 'cross your heart'. But I appreciate all the support i get everyday <3

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x f!reader #letters #hogwarts legacy #hl #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow fanfic #fluff fluff fluff #hurt comfort

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