#in season 1 she was still asking her mum to pLAY WITH HER BEST FRIEND ACROSS THE STREET

[dollypopup]

if you're out here thinking colin took 'too long' to 'notice' pen (untrue because he is arguably one of the only people who actually sees her for HER, but i know y'all mean romantically, which is not the only way to notice and appreciate someone but i digress) or to court her or whatever, please keep in mind she has literally only been eligible for marriage for a grand total of two years, and one of them was when she was forced into it early as a 17 year old

i have *socks* older than the time he's had to legally start a romance with this woman

let's maybe slow our roll here

[outsideratheart]

Reunited (Aitana Bonmati x reader)

Based of this request

Aitana Bonmati would always hold a special place in your heart. As your childhood best friend you would spend every minute of your spare time together, most of that time was spent on the run down pitch that was near the street where you lived. You both dreamt of being professional football players even though back then it seemed highly unlikely. 

You loved your life, that was until your parents got a divorce and you had to move to England with your mum. You were 14 years old when you had to leave your old life behind and sadly that included Aitana. A long distance friendship proved too difficult and as time went of the two of you drifted apart and soon the phone calls between you ceased to exist.

When you started playing professionally you made the conscious decision to go by you mother’s maiden name, wanting none of your accomplishments to be linked to the man you once called dad.

Almost 10 years later, you made your return to Spain when Atletico Madrid signed you from Arsenal. You missed out on your inaugural season due to an horrific ankle injury sustained in a pre season friendly. Now a year later you are finally making your debut, against none other than Barcelona, against the girl who was once your favourite person.

The game is 65 minutes in when the board goes up, showing your number.

The crowd errupts, despite not yet playing for the club, you were a fan favourite and a lot of people have been waiting to see you play.

“I’ve never heard the crowd make this much noise for a sub” Patri tells Aitana.

They both look around the pitch and atleti team and even some Barcelona players are giving you a round of applause.

“Even Alexia is joining in” Mapi says now joining in on the conversation. 

As if she hears her name been called, the captain walks over to her team mates.

“She is a young kid that they signed last season but she got injured before she could play. From what Lola tells me it was pretty bad and she has been working her butt off to get back on the pitch” 

The girls are in shock to Alexia been so nice about an opponent during a game.

“She has also told me that she is a machine, so stay alert” 

And just like that their captain was back.

It took minutes for you to ring Lola’s word true, you took a shot from outside the box, Sandra only just getting her fingertips to it, sending the ball over the crossbar. Atleti manage to get a goal back from the corner, a pin point header from you.

Barcelona reset but still Aitana watches you celebrate and she recognises the celebration straight away but refuses to believe what she is seeing.

“Y/N” she whispers.

“What?” Patri asks as they get back in position.

“Nothing” Aitana tries to push her thoughts to the back of her head but it doesn’t work. 

Even whilst playing Aitana keeps her eye on you as she tries to work out it you are in fact her best friend from childhood. She watches your mannerisms and every so often you would do things that brought Aitana back to the pitch all those years ago. The way you would stroke you tummy twice when you were thinking or the way you talked, the voice she hears send her back to her childhood.

The match ends 1-1 and still Aitana fails to break her gaze. Her mind is running a hundred miles an hour.

“Has Aitana got a little crush?” Jenni nudges the small midfielder.

The forwards words fail to register.

“Tana!” Patri all but shouts making her jump.

“What!” Aitana snaps, slightly frustrated that her friends won’t leave her be.

“You’re staring and you are making it really obvious”

Heat rises to her cheeks upon hearing that her glances are not a subtle as she hoped. Still her eyes remain on you as you talk to Carmen.

“Go to her” Jenni says.

“Who?” Aitana asks now really listening to what the others are saying.

“Number 15”

When she hears your number another pin slots into place. The girl she knew always wore 15 joking that she had to always one up Aitana with her being 14.

“Do you know her name?” Aitana asks.

“No” Both Jenni and Patri say in unison. 

“But I know who will!” Jenni adds.

The forward shouts of the team captain.

“Do you know what number 15’s name is?” Jenni asks Alexia.

“Only her last name, Y/L/N”

“No shit, we know that. It’s on the back of her shirt” Jenni shoves the captain.

Aitana thinks for a moment, it wasn’t the last name she knew but it did sound familiar only she didn’t know where from.

“I only answered your question” Alexia answers innocently “Why?”

“Aitana has a crush”

“I think I know her” 

Aitana’s words intrigue the three women.

“Think? How do you think you know someone, either you do or you don’t” Patri says slightly confuses.

“She reminds me of someone I knew when I was younger”

Alexia goes to talk but Aitana cuts her off.

“Wait!” She says as she walks closer to you, her friends following in suit.

You are talking to fan who had a sign asking for your shirt, Aitana watches the interaction intently knowing that this could be her only shot at knowing without asking your directly.

“Why are we watching 15 take her shirt off?” Mapi joins her friends.

“She was in a car accident when she was 7”

“Who wa—“ Patri slaps her hand over the defenders mouth.

“She had to have surgery on her spine, the scar was big”

The group of players watch you, trying to see the marking but someone blocks their view.

“Lola!” Alexia says just now realising how invested she had become.

“What?” Lola say not knowing what she has interrupted.

The goalkeeper gets pushed out the way but is too late as Aitana sees a member of the coaching staff hand you a warm up shirt, now your back was covered.

“Thanks Lola” Aitana says in defeat.

“I didn’t do anything. I only came over here to tell that some of us are going to Sibuya and I wanted to know if you were going to join us”

Jenni looks at Aitana, how her head hung in defeat, a light bulb going off in her own head.

“Will Y/L/N be there?”

“You mean the player who just made her debut and scored, no I think she will want to go home and spend the night alone” Lola replies, her voice filled with Sarcasm.

The other players stand there, waiting for the goalkeeper to reply seriously.

“María Dolores” Jenni warns her friend.

The goalkeeper hold her hands up In defence “Yes, she will be there”

“Looks like you will be able to ask her yourself” Patri tells her friend.

With that the girls agree to meet at 7.

*************************

The Barca girls arrive and they are told that the rest of the party are in the private room upstairs. As they reach the top they see the players that mere hours ago they considered their enemy. Aitana searches the room but she cannot find the person she is looking for.  

“Lola said she will be here, relax” Jenni rubs Aitana’s shoulders before pushing her towards a seat. 

The table converse for around half an hour before the waiter arrives, ready to take everyone’s order. 

“Is it ok for you to come back, we are still waiting for some people to arrive?” Aitana asks as she looks at the two spare seats. 

“No, no. You can order, they texted Carmen what they want” Laia reassures the waiter. 

“So they’re still coming?” Alexia asks knowing it’s what Aitana wants to know. 

“Yes. Y/N and V are on their way” Lola confirms. 

Aitana freezes upon hearing your name. Could this be a coincidence or is she really going to see you after all this time. 

“They tend to lose track of time when it is just the two of them. They both had media after the game, everyone wanted to speak to Y/N and V didn’t want to her to be alone” Carmen tells the table.

“Honestly they are inseparable” Lola rolls her eyes thinking of the antics the both of you have been apart of. 

For reasons she doesn’t fully understand, Aitana had an uneasy feeling in her gut. The thought of you been with someone else didn’t sit well with her. Yes, she understand that nothing ever happened between the two of you, you were only young when you left and she didn’t expect you to wait for her when she gave you no reason to but still she is jealous at the thought of you and V together. 

“Aitana, I have a question for you. What’s your obsession with her?” Lola asks referring to you. 

At first Aitana doesn’t know how to explain the current situation she faces, truth is she had been trying to figure out since she saw you on the pitch. 

“Let me” Patri says confidently “you see Tana here had a best friend when she was younger and for some reason she thinks that your number 15 is that best friend.“

The rest of the table hang of Patri’s every word as they become invested in the possible reunion. 

“Then we watched as she took her shirt off” 

“You did what!” Carmen asks in disbelief. 

Aitana is about to speak but Laia cuts her off. 

“Nice of you to finally join us” Laia says when she sees you and V coming up the stairs 

But catches Aitana’s attention is how your fingers are interlocked with V’s. 

“Don’t blame me. I had to wait till Y/N came down from her adrenaline high, she wouldn’t sit down, picture a kid on a Sugar rush” 

“Hey! Don’t be mean, you know you love me” you pretend to act offended. 

“That I do” V kisses your temple. 

The Barca girls watch the interaction before looking at their friend. Although Aitana never talked about how deep the connection between the two of you went, they figured she had feeling for you, they could see it in her eyes. 

You and V take your seats and by luck you are sat opposite Aitana. The first course comes and they two of you are yet to talk. 

“How about we play truth or dare?” Lola suggests. 

“No” Carmen is quick to answer knowing that Lola will have an alterer motive.

“Don’t be so much a bore Car” Lola playfully slaps her girlfriends thigh “it’ll be fun, Y/N you can go first” 

You give Lola a look, one that translates into what are you up to. 

“During Christmas break you stayed over, what happened to my blender, actually let me rephrase that, who broke my blender?”

Your eyes goes wide as you look around the room, more specifically to V and Carmen who are the only ones that know the truth

“It was—“ you are on the verge of confirming Lola’s suspicions when Carmen cuts you off. 

“Don’t crack”

“We made a promise” 

 Your two Atleti team mates cut you off. 

Looking around you see that all of the table are staring at you but your focus in on the girl opposite. You send her a playful wink, one which causes Aitana to blush. 

“You’ll never know” you smile smugly at the goalkeeper. 

“Fine by me, now your dare is” Lola taps her chin as if you doesn’t already know your fate “take your shirt off” 

“Lola you know I won’t do that, why would you ask me that, here of all places” you are slightly annoyed by her dare, not expecting her to ask this of you. 

“I’m sorry, it just that—“ Lola knows she went too far.

“Forget it” you end the conversation on the spot.

Feeling the tension between you and goalkeeper, the rest of the table begin to make small conversations between themselves. The only person still looking at you is Aitana and you can see the curiosity in her eye.

“T” you say barely a whisper, still a bit shaken.

Hearing the nickname only you have called her all but confirms her theories. If not, the look in your eye does, she would recognise it anywhere. In that moment she sees the 7 year old who would obsess over the scar on her back, who would try to cover it with make up because she didn’t want people to stare. 

“Y/N” Aitana says barely a whisper. 

“Took you long enough. Now I can take my shirt off if you need to see it but—“

“No, I don’t need to see it” Aitana says referring to your scar. 

The two of you are lost in the moment, only breaking away when you hear someone clear their throat. 

“So you do know each other?” Patri asks. 

All of sudden every one starts asking questions. 

“How did you meet?”

“Why did you leave Spain?”

“Why didn’t you tell Aitana you were back?” 

“Do you wanna?” Aitana tips her head in the direction of the stairs. 

“Yes” you push your chair back, your standing form quiets the table. 

Without saying another word, the two of you leave and are soon out on the streets of Madrid. As you walk in silence you feel lighter than you have in years and you know that is because you have Aitana by your side. 

“I did want to reach out when Atleti signed me but then I got injured and well I wasn’t exactly the best company. V only put up with me because she didn’t have any other choice” you tried to explain your reasoning. 

“You and V, are you?” Aitana feels the jealous rise within her. 

You swear you could see the green in her eyes. 

“We’re just friends. We met in a time where we both needed each other. I would go with her to her treatment and she would keep me company during physio, when she was feeling well enough”

“No need to be jealous” you nudge Aitana’s shoulder with your own. 

“Why Y/L/N? It would have been so much easier if you kept your other name”

“That was dad’s name, after the divorce I wanted nothing to do with him. Now I go by Y/L/N, to honour my mum” 

“That makes sense” Aitana replies.

“What made you you think it was me on the pitch?” Now it is your turn to ask a question. 

Aitana replayed the game in her head as she tries to pin point the exact moment. 

“The way you walked, how you used your hands when you talked to Carmen, you always were gesticulative but the moment when I really thought, that’s my Y/N, was your celebration, you never changed it”

It takes you a moment to realise that she has finished talking. The way she said my Y/N gave you butterflies. 

“You mean this?” You dramatically do your celebration. 

“That’s the one” Aitana says between laughs. 

“In the end you thought the only way to now for sure is to watch me strip?” 

Aitana buries her face in her hands with embarrassment “you saw that?”

“Four Barcelona players watching my every move, kind of hard to miss”

The two of you discuss all of the big and small things that has happened over the years and soon enough you reach your destination, the beach. You take a seat on a bench that looked out over the ocean, Aitana sits next to you. 

 “You can see it if you want? I didn’t wanted everyone else to see it, it only leads to questions and I don’t like talking about it” 

You can her hesitating as she thinks about it. In the end you make the decision for her. You turn so you are facing away from her as you lift up the back of your t-shirt. You feel her trail her fingers along the scar then you feel her warm breath on your back before you feel her kiss the top of it. 

Suddenly feeling very vulnerable you pull you shirt down and quickly adjust your position so you are once again facing Aitana. Only she doesn’t move, if anything you could have sworn she moved closer, so much she that her face is inches away from yours and in a quick swift motion her lips are on yours. 

The kiss ends just as quick as it happened, much to your disliking. 

“Jesus T, take a girl to dinner first” a smile tugs at your lips as you tease your best friend. 

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” Aitana asks. Her tone filled with confidence knowing that you didn’t push her away when she kisses you. 

“Of course I will” you steal a kiss before standing, holding you hand out for Aitana to take. 

The two of you spend the next hour or so walking down the boardwalk as you reminisce about old times and plan what you will do together in the future.

[yamaguccitadashi]

I posted 1,673 times in 2022

That's 773 more posts than 2021!

23 posts created (1%)

1,650 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang

@myonepiece

@notonepiece

@rozcdust

@mimeen

I tagged 21 of my posts in 2022

#tokyo revengers - 7 posts

#one piece - 5 posts

#anime - 4 posts

#kokonoi hajime - 4 posts

#rindou haitani - 3 posts

#ran haitani - 3 posts

#portgas d ace - 2 posts

#akashi takeomi - 2 posts

#bonten - 2 posts

#spoilers - 2 posts

Longest Tag: 49 characters

#i cant wait for more volumes help im going to die

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Me: *calls mum* MUM THE TOKYO REVENGERS SEASON TWO TRAILER CAME OUT

Mum: oh good! When is it coming out?

Me: January, I sent you the link, you gotta watch and see my husband

Mum: another one?!

Me: common mum you know I have like 500 billion husbands

Mum:

12 notes - Posted November 2, 2022

#4

Do I want to be called his 'good girl'? Yes.

Do I want to be called his 'whore'? Also yes.

16 notes - Posted December 7, 2022

#3

Playing Sims and my main Sim is dating Ran Haitani, went to prom together, he invited her to the nightclub at 8am, always trying to get her to ditch school to woohoo, yk it's pretty wild.

Her best friend is Rindou, and I checked social bunny and low and behold, Rindou tagged her in a flirty post and keeps messaging her in flirty posts and inviting her out, OML

I asked my housemate who she should date and he said "well there's enough room on the couch for 3" BOY WHAT

I guess my Sim just out here living all my dreams oml 😩😩😍😍

18 notes - Posted August 1, 2022

#2

Can we just talk about how hot the characters from KHR... LIKE LOOK

😩😩😩😩😩

42 notes - Posted January 19, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Idea based on this video I found

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSdcn73ok/?k=1

‼️sort of manga spoilers, be careful ‼️

To Hell and Back for You

Y/N: so what, you're just gonna take his word over mine? That's it?

Mikey: Sanzu treats me like I'm somebody...

Y/N: And I don't?! Would he love you if you were nobody?

Mikey: Nobody loved me when I was nobody.

Y/N: I did!

Mikey: ....

Y/N: Before Bonten. And before Kanto. Before the darkness. To me, you were a somebody, Mikey...Now you're nothing but a murderer.

You always talk about how the only person loyal to you is Sanzu...I stayed with you from before the darkness.

Mikey: ...I-

Y/N: Y'know.. I never liked hurting people.. I wanted to become a nurse.. something that helped people.. but I chose to stay with you, follow you into the darkness and I never..I never wanted to see or do most of this..other stuff.. and I can never forgive myself for doing it..but I still did it.. I did it all cause I didn't want you to be alone and cause I loved you

I'm not so good at this sort of thing, I was just laying in bed, sleep deprived and watching Tik Tok's when I stumbled upon the video that I linked up top and then my mind took charge, creating this...if someone has written something like this or if you write something like this, please tag me! I'd love to read them!

57 notes - Posted June 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[my-friends-in-bantry]

Cory McBrown: Year 2-Chapter 1 (Chapter 2 to follow shortly)

To Adam, Jesse, and John. A little bit of each of them went into Cory’s dilemma. But most especially, to my little self, who makes her way into more of my writing than I realize.

13th of December, 2002

I look in my bedroom mirror. I’ve grown something like three inches since last year. My chest has grown. My favorite jeans are 5 centimeters too short. I’m torn between looking forward to growing up and feeling like growing up sucks. How many favorite clothes have I lost to a growth spurt?

Oh, yeah, I forgot to reintroduce myself. My name is Cory McBrown. I am 13 years old, and I live in Bantry, County Cork, Ireland, with my mother, my 17 year old brother, Bart, my little sister Jenny, and my stepdad Edward O’Donoghue. My friends Sam and John live two doors down. You may remember the story I told last year. Mum and Bart weren’t getting along. Bart didn’t like the way she had handled telling me about what happened when our dad left, now seven years ago.

I finish looking at myself in the mirror, change into clothes that fit, and go downstairs. Mum is feeding Jenny, and Bart is putting his coat on.

“Where are you going so early?” I ask him.

“Mary’s meeting me at Box of Frogs for breakfast,” he says.

Mary is his girlfriend. They have breakfast at Box of Frogs a lot. I told him one day he’d turn into a frog if he kept eating there, but I don’t think he believed me. I can’t exactly play jokes like that on Bart cause he’s four years older than me. He’s well past the age of gullibility, and I would feel mean if I did that to Jenny.

I eat a breakfast of honey toast and strawberry yogurt and then grab my backpack to go meet Sam and John.

Mum puts a banana in my hand as I leave. “Here. I’m afraid you’re gonna get too hungry before lunch.”

I take the banana. “Thanks Mum.”

She hugs me. “See you after school. We’re gonna go get our tree.”

“Sounds good.” I say.

I go out the door and meet Sam and John on the sidewalk. The twins are dressed like Christmas elves.

I have to laugh. “What are you two up to?”

“’Tis the season,” Sam says.

Obviously, I think.

“Isn’t that against the dress code?” I say.

“Explain to me why an Alternative Education Academy has a dress code in the first place.” Sam says.

She has a point. But all the schools in Ireland have uniforms.

“What I want to know is why we have only have four days before Christmas with no school.” John says. “That’s not enough time to get all the baking I want in.”

I give John a mock look. “Exactly how much time do you need for all your baking?”

John thinks about this for a moment. “Well, he’s already talked about making plum cake, sugar cookies, spice cake, candy cane cake-“

I interrupt at Sam. “Candy cane cake?”

“I saw it in a cookbook.” John defends.

“Was it Willy Wonka’s cookbook?” I tease.

“Make fun all you want, but I think it’ll be the best cake you’ve ever had.” John insists.

Actually, the best cake I ever had was when I turned ten, and we iced a vanilla cake with peanut butter and jelly. That was a birthday cake.

We get to school just in time for the bell to ring. Like always, English is our first class of the day. Thankfully, Sam and John are 3rd years, so they’re still lower classmates, and at this school it means they’re still part of my class. To my surprise, the teacher doesn’t seem to care that Sam and John look like they just arrived from Santa’s workshop. Either that or they don’t notice their outfits. But there’s only ten students in our class, us included, so that can’t be true. We sit down to class, but no sooner do we sit down does a boy behind me tap me on the shoulder. I look at him. It’s Daniel Hewson. I’ve been in classes with him since 3rd class (3rd grade for my American readers). He hands me a note. I take it and read it.

You got cute over break, it says.

I frown. I’m not sure how to feel about that. I don’t think I want attention from boys. Ever since Sam entered puberty, she’s told me one day I would get it (and she likes boys and girls). I just don’t. I’ve never had a crush on a boy, and I can’t imagine I ever will. Most of them are so annoying, except John and Bart. I even find Sam’s boyfriend, Harry, annoying. Besides, I’ve seen enough relationships fail that I know it’s not something I ever want to get involved in. I’ve already been left once, and that was enough. I don’t want to go through that again.

Besides, what the heck does he mean “I got cute over break?” I mean, I know he’s referring to last week when I visited my cousin in Minnesota. But what about the cute part? Does he mean I got cute cause I developed more? Does he mean I got cute because I got taller? What does that even mean?

I just put the note away and pay attention to the rest of class.

After class, I tell Sam and John about the note. “Well, it’s obnoxious and lame, but I’m not sure if it qualifies as much to worry about.” Sam says.

“But what does it even mean? Like I’m only pretty cause I developed? Cause that’s just dumb.” I say.

“Boys are dumb.” Sam says.

“That’s why I will never date one.” I say, walking down the hall.

“All I said was they were dumb, as a species. But they’re not all like that,” Sam clarifies.

John frowns. “Species? We’re a separate species now?”

“Somewhere on the level of chimps.” Sam teases.

John gives her a mock look. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t crush on one. Are you still convinced you will never have feelings for anyone? Forget boys for a moment.” Sam says.

“I am. I just don’t think relationships are worth it. They always end in heartbreak. Remember Orla Devon? She left Bart for a 5th year when they were 3rd years. Bart moped around for weeks.” I tell her.

“And you’re basing relationships on Bart and Orla?” Sam is aghast. “All they did was hold hands and exchange furbies.”

“It’s not just Bart and Orla. Mum and Dad broke up.” I insist.

“Because he was alcoholic who wouldn’t get sober.” John reminds me.

I nod. “Aye, I’m definitely not falling for an alcoholic.”

Sam nods. “Alright… If you insist.”

“Aye, I do.” I say, as we get to our next classroom.

After school, as tiny snowflakes spit down from the sky, we pile into Mum’s car to go and get our tree.

“How was school?” Mum asks.

“Good. Where’s Bart?” I ask.

“On an errand you’re not allowed to know about.” Mum tells me.

I nod. Bart must be Christmas shopping. I didn’t really put much on my list this year except the Nintendo GameCube, and the game Luigi’s Mansion. I just know that’s gonna be a cool game and I’m gonna ace it! I don’t know if Bart will be in charge of getting that, but you never know.

We go to the Christmas tree farm and get our tree, which has to be delivered to us. That thing won’t fit into Mum’s tiny car.

But the person from the tree farm follows us home and we haul it in.

John scratches himself on the needles. “I wonder who it was that decided one day that these scratchy things were good to decorate with.”

I keep my mittens on, so I don’t get scratched. “It comes from the ancient festival Yule. In the winter, coniferous trees are the only ones that still had remaining greenery and were thus able to bring beauty and brightness to the dark winter homes of people.”

“I can understand that,” Sam says. “They are pretty, they’re just scratchy.”

John rubs his hands. “Tell me about it.”

With the tree all up, Mum makes us some hot chocolate while we do our homework. As if I thought math was bad last year. Now I’m learning the formula for the slope axis aspect or whatever it is. If anyone knows what this means, I’d appreciate the help.

Bart comes home soon after with a box full of stuff. “What is it? What’d’ja get me?” I tease him.

“Never you mind. And don’t come into my room until I say so,” Bart says, going upstairs with the box.

That night, Sam and John stay for dinner cause its Friday. Every week we do Friday night pizza.

“So are you still all enjoying school?” Edward asks.

“Um… School, yes, except for math… But… I have been getting more… attention lately.” I say.

“What kind of attention?” Mum asks, concerned.

“A boy told me I got cute over the break. Whatever that means.” I roll my eyes.

Bart frowns. “What boy?”

“I’m not gonna tell you. You’ll pick a fight, and he’s only a 2nd year.” I say.

Mum looks at me. “Well, this boy sounds like he’s trying to come up with some cool line, but is there anything wrong with getting attention, as long as it’s appropriate attention?”

“What do you mean by appropriate?” I ask.

“I mean, no one’s harassing you. Cause I will call the school and raise hell if that happens. But showing interest seems normal for your age.” Mum says.

“Well, maybe I don’t want to be normal. Maybe I want to grow up and be a hedgewitch in Brú na Bóinne.” I say.

Sam laughs. Bart frowns. “Why would you want to do that?” he asks.

I shrug. “To confuse people.”

Mum smiles. “Well, honey it’s your choice whether you want to interact with people that way, but I’d still encourage you to keep an open mind. You may find someone wonderful.”

I nod. But that someone wonderful could also leave me, I think.

I don’t think about it anymore and I just go back to eating.

[ginnympotter]

call it even

Chapter 1: you’ll always know me

A/N: This is the first chapter of a 2 (or possibly 3? who knows) chapter Muggle AU fanfic inspired by tis the damn season and dorothea by taylor swift hehe hope you like it :) You can also read it on AO3 here.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and took a deep breath. It was way too early in the morning, she had just gotten off a long flight where she barely slept a wink, and she just didn’t have it in her to talk to any fans without the coffee she was impatiently waiting for at the LAX Starbucks.

But she turned around anyway, bracing herself, and then saw a face that jolted her so much she supposed she wouldn’t need the coffee anymore. “Harry?”

“Hey, Ginny,” he smiled. Harry Potter was standing in front of her for the first time in almost a year, looking as handsome as ever. He was tired, his green eyes looking glazed behind his glasses, his hair pointing in all directions- though she could tell he didn’t try to comb it- wearing the grey-blue sweater she knew her Mum bought him years ago.

Without really thinking about it, she moved forward and hugged him, throwing her arms around his neck, and he put his around her waist and hugged her back, but he also let go first.

“What are you doing here?” she asked incredulously, trying not to think too hard about him breaking the embrace before she could.

“My students had a tournament against a school out here,” he explained. “We lost though.”

“I’m sorry,” she offered.

“Oh, don’t be, I don’t mind. But the kids all seem like they’re going to jump out of the plane before we can make it home. I was up until 2am consoling the quarterback. My assistant coach is talking them all down now out there while I grab us coffee.”

She nodded, biting her lip. And then blurted out, “Why didn’t you call?” At Harry’s confused look, she added, “to tell me you were in L.A.?”

He cleared his throat, and Ginny saw a light blush creep up his neck. “Well, I knew you were away for your match. I caught some of it, you played great, as always.”

“Oh,” she responded, feeling stupid. She sometimes forgot that as a member of the U.S. Women’s Soccer team her schedule was often public knowledge. She felt a tug at her heart thinking about Harry still supporting her after all this time. “Right, thanks. I wish I could’ve shown you around the city. Did you like it here?”

He shrugged. “Not bad, but big cities aren’t really my style. You know that,” he ended, a solemn note in his voice. “Have you been enjoying it out here?”

She mirrored his shrug. “It’s fine, I suppose. I like the weather, if that counts.”

“Nothing else?”

With most people she’d probably just lie and say she loved it, but with Harry she had a bad habit of always being blunt. “The traffic here is worse than what they warn you about, and honestly, it’s hard to make friends when it seems like everyone just wants to use you for your fame- or for the more famous people that you know.”

“Well, if you’re ever tired of being known for who you know, you know you'll always know me.” Harry offered her a sad smile. “I’m always a call- or a FaceTime- away. Not that a tiny screen is my ideal way of seeing you, but better than nothing.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond right away, as she could feel her whole body burning up and her throat closing. There was so much in the air between them. But the barista called out a cold brew, and at the same time they both said, “oh, that’s me,” then looked at each other and laughed. The first one had Ginny’s name on it, the one that followed five seconds later had Harry’s.

They walked away from the coffee pick-up area together, and Harry checked his watch. “Well, we have to board soon. I’m sorry this is the only way we got to see each other.”

“I’ll be home for Christmas,” Ginny told him in response. She originally didn’t plan on reaching out to him when she got back home, because she knew her brother and Harry’s best friend Ron would just tell him, and if he wanted to see her he could make that decision for himself. But suddenly this became information that she couldn’t hold in.

“Oh,” responded Harry, running his free hand through his hair. Her heart fluttered at that motion, as she knew what it meant- that he was nervous in a good way. “Well, that’s great! Let me know when you plan on getting in, I’d love to catch up, properly.”

“Yeah, me too,” she said, the sincerity spilling out against her will. She never could truly play it cool with him, not even when they were kids. She hugged him again, smelling home lingering on his sweater. “I will. Have a safe flight, Harry.”

His grip on her was tighter this time, even with coffee in hand, than the last. “You too,” he replied. And then stiffened and let go. “I mean, you already had your flight, so that made no sense. Have a safe...cab ride home, I suppose?”

Ginny laughed at his stumbling. “I’ll do my best.”

He smiled, raising a hand in a small wave as he walked back towards his students. “See you later, Gin.”

She returned the smile and watched him reach his students. She noticed one of them looking at her as if they recognized her. She saw him nudge Harry with his elbow before she turned around and began walking to find her cab driver. As she continued to stride forward she faintly heard him ask, “Mr. Potter, was that just… Ginny Weasley? Do you know her?”

***

It was her fault for thinking her brothers would give her some indication that Harry would be there. They knew she still had feelings for him, no matter how much she denied it and how many times she tried to move on, and yet they couldn’t even give her a heads up.

When Fred and George saw her exasperated expression, they rolled their eyes in unison as Fred put his arm around her. “Are you reverting back to your 11-year-old self, little sis?”

“Fuck off,” she said, shrugging out of her brother’s embrace. “You could have at least warned me.”

“I thought you were bold, or whatever,” said George. “Wasn’t that one of the three qualities you used to describe yourself in People Magazine?”

Harry began walking over to them. She mentally prepared herself as he hugged Fred and George and congratulated them on the joke shop’s expansion. As he turned his attention to Ginny, the twins quickly left to talk to other guests. He didn’t smile.

“Hi,” she said nervously. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Hi,” he replied, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his drink. “Ron told me you landed three days ago.”

She gulped, feeling his hurt absorb her. “Well, I just got settled in and recharged, you know. I- I was going to text you.” Which was true; she did intend on keeping her promise to Harry at the airport, but didn’t know when the appropriate time would be- how do you know the right time to text your ex and first love to casually catch up?

He hummed, taking a sip of his beer. She absolutely despised cold Harry, she could feel it emanating off of him. “It’s fine,” he said, ostensibly lying. “I was catching up with some other people from school anyway. Remember Cho?”

Oh, he was cruel, bringing up his ex like that. “Obviously,” she almost spat. As if she could forget.

“Saw her and Neville, Hannah and Luna the other day.”

She had half a mind to mention Dean Thomas, her boyfriend right before Harry in her sophomore year, reaching out to her asking to go for a drink, but couldn’t find it in her to do it, so instead she just mirrored his cool and pretend unbothered tone. “I don’t remember asking, but thanks for the information.”

Harry’s frown became more clearly defined. “Fine, sorry to bother you.”

She felt a chill as he walked away from her, a familiar ache pooling in her abdomen. They were fighting like they were teenagers rather than grown adults. It was unlike him to start it- it was usually her- but she couldn’t really blame him, though. She knew at the end of the day that she was the main culprit, that she made him ache the way she did because she didn’t know how else to hold it on her own.

She watched him return to her brother Ron’s side and take another large sip of his beer. Ron’s wife and one of both Ginny’s and Harry’s closest friends, Hermione Granger, gave Harry an appraising look and then walked over to Ginny. Hermione gave her a short hug and then said, “Alright, which one of you said something stupid this time?”

Ginny scoffed, pulling away from her friend. “Oh, it’s nice to see you too, Hermione.”

“I saw you yesterday. So which one of you started it?”

“Obviously he did! He had the audacity to mention hanging out with Cho Chang to me.”

Hermione gave a look of utter exasperation. “That’s a new low for him.”

“I know!”

“But I’m assuming you replied with equal spite?”

She sputtered, crossing her arms. “Maybe so.”

“Well, you should have texted him, Ginny.”

“He should’ve texted me! ” she whispered sharply.

“But you told him at the airport-”

“No, I know that, but- I mean, he should have texted me after…” she trailed off, feeling ashamed of herself for being this upset. “After your wedding last year.”

“You mean after you two slept together again after my wedding last year.”

“Well, yeah. Once I got back to L.A. at least. But nothing.”

“You could’ve texted him then, as well.”

“Whose side are you on, anyway? I know Harry’s been your best friend forever and everything but I’m your sister-in-law! Doesn’t family by marriage mean anything to you?”

Hermione shook her head and rubbed her temples. “You two really need to sort out your issues on your own. But if it helps to know, he wasn’t really ‘hanging out’ with Cho. We were out with him and the others as well, Cho wasn’t in our group, she just happened to walk in with Michael Corner and they stopped by our table and said hi for a quick minute.”

“She’s dating Michael? My ex-boyfriend Michael?”

“Oh, yeah, they’ll be engaged any day now,” Hermione informed her.

“That lying piece of-”

“You’re both to blame here,” Hermione declared, using her I’m Putting My Foot Down voice. “Just act like adults for once and sort it out. Properly.”

Guilt enveloped her throughout the rest of the night and she hated how such a small exchange could do this to her, as she had to act like everything was okay, be happy for her brothers and talk about her life in L.A. and as a famous soccer player and sell the life she was living as one she was satisfied to have.

By the end of the evening, before he could leave, she found Harry by himself sitting and reading something intently on his phone. She took a deep breath and walked over to him. “Mind if I sit here?”

He looked up for a second, shook his head, and continued staring at his phone. She eased up just a tad, as she could tell his silence wasn’t his I’m Ignoring You silence, but rather his I’m Deep In Thought and Concentration silence. “Everything okay?” She asked, and when he glanced her way she gestured to his phone.

He gave a half-laugh, half sigh, looking back at his screen. “Yeah, it’s just some of these parents have no boundaries… emailing me during the holidays- on a Friday night no less. I’m just reading through them to decide if any of them are worth responding to outside of my automatic away signature.”

“Is this for the football team kids, or your English Literature students?”

“My Lit students, but there is some overlap. I have this one student, Danny, who’s a really great kid, and his parents are real dickheads, and they’re mad that he got a B+ instead of an A, despite me telling them last quarter that a B is a great grade, and Danny’s already self-conscious as it is and could use encouragement rather than nitpicking over bullshit-“

He caught sight of her face and quickly cut himself off, a blush spreading across his cheeks. She realized she was smiling- it was always nice to see Harry talk passionately about something- and quickly adjusted her facial features. He cleared his throat and closed his phone. “They can probably wait until after the holidays for me to repeat myself, I suppose.”

“I think that’s the right call,” she assured him.

He exhaled, running his hands through his hair and then over his face, trying to wipe off his exhaustion with it all. “Thanks.” He put his hands on his lap and looked at her fully, as he refused to do a couple of hours ago. “Ginny, I’m sorry-“

“No, I’m sorry,” she interjected. “I told you I’d let you know when I’d be here and I didn’t. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I let my frustration get the better of me,” he said with a sigh. “Classic Harry for you.”

She laughed, folding her legs into a pretzel in her seat. “Can’t blame you, really, as I’d probably behave the same.” She let out a breath and continued on. “Look, I did mean to text you and tell you I was back. I just… I don’t know, I was stupid, I thought it had to be the right timing, but I guess that doesn’t make much sense.”

“What, were you waiting for a sign or something?” he asked. He was joking when he asked, but as he processed the look on her face he rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Wow, Gin. You never stop amazing me.”

She blushed and laughed nervously, thinking of all the times in the past Harry had said something like that to her. She wanted to hear more of it, over and over, even when he’s saying it in jest. “That is what I do best.”

His features sharpened a bit and he leaned forward. “Well, how’s me asking to see you tomorrow for a sign?”

She put her hand on her chin and pretended to think about it. “A pretty good one, I’d say.”

[balillee]

im talking about euphoria again bc I NEED TO but i understand not everyone is comfy with it so it's under the cut

s2 had a rocky fuckin start, but the back half of the season is DAMN GOOD.

the one thing i wanted to talk more than anything about is cassie.

god, she is a shadow of the girl we saw in season 1. she's still kind of a slut but that's it. cassie has changed A LOT, and the latest episode (s2e7) is a big highlight of that.

when maddy was with nate, she rocked mostly co-ords, lots of heavy makeup - that sort of thing, and now in season 2 she still looks distinctly like herself but more comfortable. she's away from her abuser and she has the space to be a little more confident elsewhere when her boyfriend isn't slamming her against the side of a truck and telling her she looks like a hooker.

cassie never straightened her hair. her hair was always kind of naturally blonde and beachy - sometimes she had bangs - but she always had some level of natural to her look. it was still signature euphoria with the glitter and the crystals and the magic and the neon lights, but cassie looked human. not to say maddy doesn't or didn't, but there was an air of artificiality to whoever dated nate jacobs, mainly because he values them as his property more than his girlfriends, or now ex-girlfriends i guess.

in episode 3 there's a scene which explores how despite the fact that cassie is going behind her best friend's back not only by trying to get with her ex boyfriend, but her old abuser, she has become completely and utterly obsessed with him in almost an innocent, devoted way. she wakes up every morning at 4am, spending 3 hours getting ready (sidenote: my favourite thing about this is that she uses a lot of depuffing creams and rollers which she wouldn't have to use if she got regular amounts of sleep, and the camera shaking becomes more erratic the more obsessed with him she becomes). cassie tries a bunch of different looks, trying to look attractive for nate who, as per rue's narration is 'pretending not to notice her' (although that's hotly debated). it's only when cassie dresses up exactly like maddy would in season 1 - co-ords, high ponytail, cute handbag, down to the fucking BABY HAIRS - is when nate finally notices her for a second and cassie visibly looks happier than she's ever been. maddy seems weirded out by the fact that cassie has emulated her in such an obvious way, but cassie runs off to class and the scene ends there.

cassie's shit gets aired by rue in episode 5. rue asks cassie how long she's been fucking nate, and maddy gets angry to the point of threatening violence in front of the group (which, mind you consists not only of maddy, cassie and rue but also lexi - cassie's little sister - cassie's mum, kat and rue's mum). cassie in the previous episode tried blackmailing nate into a relationship with her, stating she was crazier than maddy (a bold fucking claim to make), but when confronted with maddy's anger she freezes and she flees to her bathroom. it's shown in episode 7 that maddy didn't actually get physically violent when her and kat chased cassie upstairs, only that she banged on the bathroom door and begged for cassie to tell her that it was worth it - it wasn't about nate, it was about cassie and whether or not it was worth it to throw away their years of friendship and care for each other, something that was highlighted in the play to the point that cassie stormed out for a moment, just for some dick from the man who had abused maddy to the point that she got involved with the police (albeit unwillingly). maddy asks, 'when does it end?' . the abuse continues not directly from nate, but from cassie this time, a girl who she loved with all her heart and soul. kat then encourages maddy to leave, and they leave together.

i think this season does a great job of showing maddy's softer side, too. in season 1 she was a bit of a god damn girlboss. she called nate's mum a cunt right to her face, she threatened to fight a police officer, and in season 2 it's shown that maddy does get physically violent with people enough that it briefly makes cassie scared for the consequences of her actions before she deems herself crazier than her. but then you see glimpses of maddy being gentle with others. especially you see her relationship with the boy she babysits and how friendly and kind she is, you see how giddy she gets about the dresses in samantha's wardrobe, how despite samantha admits to being like cassie in highschool, they are good friends and samantha even gifts maddy one of the dresses she liked. maddy shows clear care towards lexi and is much gentler with her knowing that lexi is a bit more introverted, she's friendly with jules, maddy kisses theo on the head goodnight, she shows vulnerability about her parents fighting and when nate plays russian roulette ON TOP OF HER. maddy cares deeply under all that confidence, and it's showing especially without the presence of nate constantly in her life.

it's what makes the parallel so heartbreaking. in episode 1, cassie and nate are hooking up in the bathroom at the new years party against the door when maddy storms over, demanding nate opens the door because she needs to pee. it's played off as both tense and comedic, and that's where you get the iconic photo of cassie in the bathtub covering her mouth. maddy is banging on the door, being loud and confident and cocky and an asshole to nate, accusing him of taking a mean ass shit.

then, cut to the flashback in episode 7 when you see maddy banging on cassie's bathroom door, crying almost hysterically under the realisation that what nate does to people won't end and his abuse continues through cassie like a catalyst. there is no nate to speak for her and protect her this time, there is no bathtub to hide in, just maddy asking for the truth, and cassie, once again, being completely silent and complicit, guilt strewn across her face.

in episode 6 cassie is having a full on breakdown. her family don't trust her anymore, her mother is particularly angry with her, and lexi has had enough of her shit. it gets bad enough to the point that cassie accuses her mother of saying she doesn't have any self-respect (wow, cassie, maybe it's because you don't. ever thought of that my love?), tries to harm herself with a corkscrew, claims the trauma of her dad leaving her is worse than the trauma of rue's dad dying (comparing trauma is a fucking no-go, cassie, especially when SHE IS A RECOVERING DRUG ADDICT GOING THROUGH SEVERE WITHDRAWAL), and the second nate calls her, she packs her bags and leaves the home, staring her mother in the eye as she does it, a confirmation that her daughter truly does have no self-respect just to drop everything in her life for a man. the episode even ends with cassie admitting to nate that she 'ruined [her] entire life for [him]'.

the first thing you notice about cassie in episode 7 is that she's straightened her hair. she's wearing much heavier makeup with a darker lipstick that doesn't really suit her and some bright pink shadow. she doesn't look like cassie anymore. she looks like a barbie doll, which is kind of nate's exact image of the perfect woman. we get it layed out in season 1 - he likes hairless beach models who present themselves in very exact ways, and cassie has styled herself to fit nate's standard. there's even a very creepy scene where cassie literally submits herself to nate. she says that he now controls what she wears, what she eats, who she talks to and that she basically exists as his servant now that she's literally got nothing left in her life. maddy even comments seeing cassie for the first time post-cassie moving in with nate that she 'fits the part' of being nate's girlfriend.

she didn't do this with mckay, just FYI. this is a nate thing. like cassie and mckay weren't good for each other, and there was even a moment where mckay suggests cassie wear something a little less suggestive to the college party they're going to which is a point of contention, but it was better than THIS.

during the play, lexi adds the part where maddy's parents are fighting so often that cassie's mother lets maddy stay at their place until things get better. lexi is in her bed, cassie in hers, and maddy is sleeping on some kind of makeshift bed on the floor, and cassie lets maddy sleep in the same bed with her and maddy cries herself to sleep about it. in the play, it's portrayed as lexi getting to know the softer side of maddy that she feels a lot less intimidated by, because a lot of the play is just lexi's perspective on literally everything - even the perspective of the backstory we got for cassie in season 1 but from lexi's perspective, memories which, to her, were not so fond. but cassie didn't really give a shit.

this is when cassie storms out. nate doesn't go with her to comfort her, but she goes to the bathroom to calm herself down from crying. she fake smiles to herself, and wordlessly, she says so god damn much. 'i'm still cassie!'. no you're not. you have no friends, you left your family for some abusive, closeted gay boy and you don't even look like yourself. 'don't feel so guilty, you have everything you ever wanted!' - she's clearly guilty of being so horrible to maddy, covering it up with her idea of this perfect relationship with a man she loves because she craves a masculine figure in her life that won't leave her. then, when nate storms out following the gayest presentation of his life he feels humiliated, and, knowing the play was written by lexi, breaks up with cassie and wants her out of his house. cassie seethes, and storms back to the door. that's where the episode ends. she doesn't get angry at nate, presumably at lexi for putting the play on in the first place, but i see it as her not blaming the men in her life for leaving, but the people who made them leave. i think cassie holds a little more resentment for her family than she lets on because she loved her dad that much.

their formal relationship didn't last a full week. it didn't even last a full episode, and i think that's testament to how truly pathetic and unfulfilling this endeavour should be for cassie. she cut off ties with all of her friends, repeatedly antagonised rue, walked out on her family, just for some dick that didn't even last a week. to answer your question, icon legend superstar maddy perez, no it was not worth it. AND YET, you see miss booboo the fool, the single most wet and pathetic girl in existence, seethe and walk up with steam coming out of her ears to the auditorium doors because when you strip everything else away from cassie, all you have left is someone so deeply traumatised by her dad's departure that any attention from a man makes her more and more infatuated than the last. she's hypersexual, she cheats, she backstabs, she submits, and she serves men. and when she doesn't even have a man to love her, there is literally nothing left but pure resentment for everything around her. you strip away who you think cassie is and she shows her true colours. someone who may in fact be a little more crazy than maddy.

[jedivszombie]

Okay gang, since there are a bunch of anons going fucking wild across the dash tonight about some joking posts about Mark Webber and Ann Neal - that were someone’s shocked reaction to the age difference between them. I thought it would be interesting to go on a little journey together. 

This little journey is the story of how Ann and Mark met, and will hopefully give you guys some insight as to why the ‘sexism’ and ‘ageism’ arguments you are currently using are bullshit - and why using these words in such a buzzword way actually is not the kind of critical thinking you think it is. And why this situation is more akin to a student and teacher starting a relationship - which I think we can all agree is not advisable, even if you don’t know why.

Below the cut is going to be a little discussion of Mark and Ann the early days; the reason the age difference is iffy at best and fucked up at worst; and, a little discussion about how these situations require nuance and the ways in which f1blr often likes to blow situations out of proportion. 

I have split it into three parts:

Mark and Ann: The Early Days (1994-1997)

Nuance, my old friend. Anon hate, my enemy. (tw: for racism here, be careful)

The pitfalls of discourse and the importance of looking after yourself.

A little disclaimer for you guys: I do not pretend to know anything about this relationship, other than what is readily available to learn about it from what they themselves have put out about it. I am just providing a timeline and some facts. Whatever conclusions you draw from it are your own.

Feel free to come for me if you so desire. 

Mark and Ann: The Early Days (1994-1997)

We start our story in Australia in February, 1994. Mark is competing in Australian Formula Ford Championship and Ann Neal is the new media and PR officer for the category. This is their first meeting. Just so we know what’s up here Mark was 17 at the time, and Ann was absolutely an adult (apparently there is a 13 year age gap, which may not sound like much but we will get onto that later, which makes her roughly 30 when they first met). 

Some key things to be aware of from this first meeting: 

Mark is 17, Ann is about 30. Mark is a young racer, Ann is the media and PR officer for the category he races in. 

In an excerpt from Aussie Grit, p. 57 to be exact, we get to find out what Ann had to say about the first time they met: 

“She thought I was a bit of a smart-arse when we first met. ‘But I liked how bold and cheeky he was,’ she says, ‘and how mature he seemed. When I asked someone how old he was, I was shocked when they said 17 – he was confident beyond his years.’”

In another excerpt from Aussie Grit, p. 61, Mark tells us other things Ann remembers about their first meeting:

“Ann remembers our first meeting and my opening remark about her being so important. She can even remember what I was wearing – a stripey green and red top, one of those United Colors of Benetton things – so that was pretty prophetic, as things turned out!” 

Now this may sound extremely cute to some of you, like they’re just having a normal ‘aww remember how we met’ moment. But let me please re-direct your attention back to the fact that Mark is 17 (and still not an adult yet if this is what you are gonna nitpick about) and Ann is very much an adult, in a position of power. 

So, a teenager makes a quip about how important you are and you commit to memory what he was wearing the day it happened? 

Now let’s bring in the first quote I put up there where Ann herself was recalling the first time they met. I would like to draw your attention to the following sentence: ‘and how mature he seemed. When I asked someone how old he was, I was shocked when they said 17 – he was confident beyond his years.’

Hmmmm, where have we all heard language like this used before? If, like me, you have some experience of adults trying to start inappropriate relationships with you as a teenager then you will be very familiar to this sort of language. The emphasis is on how mature he seemed, is what’s sticking out for me here tbh.

Now, if this had been a fleeting meeting, and they had met again a few years later, I would be more on board for whatever justification some of the anons have been trying to use. However, it wasn’t. 

Again from Aussie Grit, p.61:

“After that first meeting we kept in touch. My family sometimes met up with Ann and Luke for weekend get-togethers, and I ensured she got her motor-sport fixes by dragging all my old F1 tapes out. By way of revenge she would bring down all her British Formula Ford tapes for me.”

Oh cool, so she gained the trust of his family and Mark was hanging out with her son. This is so sweet Alexa, play Chosen Family by Rina Sawayama. Real talk though, again if this is how it had ended - with them just being family friends - then we would not be having this conversation. 

BUT, we all know how this little story ends so onwards we march. We shoot forward to late 1994, Mark has done okay in Formula Ford but his Dad is no longer able to fund him. SO, he turns to their old pal - the ever present and super helpful Ann, bless her heart - to try and drum up some sponsorship for Mark so he can race. 

Little background on why Ann was chosen to try and help with this, I’ll give you 3 guesses and only one of them is correct. Yes, that’s right, it’s her experience - which she has managed to get by being 30 and having a background in motorsports. She started out as a motorsport journo and ended up dealing with press and PR for Paul Warwick (Derek Warwick’s brother). In 1986 she started dealing with Johnny Herbert’s media before working for Formula Ford in Europe in 1991. 

Ann begrudgingly accepts and draws up plans with Mark, which leads him to a Yellow Pages sponsorship for his next season in Formula Ford, and beyond - how sweet, how nice, they are #winning! We stan teamwork besties! And Ann started working with Mark and his family to further his career. 

Ann had a plan for Mark, as outlined in Aussie Grit, p.69-70:

“By the end of 1995 Annie told me, in no uncertain terms, that – and I quote – I had to get my arse out of there. She didn’t just mean Australian Formula Ford, either: she meant Australia. She thought it was time for me to go and have a crack at some of the big guys, and she proposed to help me go about it in a serious, business-like way.

‘How the f#*k are you going to get to Formula 1 coming from Queanbeyan?’ Anyone who wants to trace my journey should start with a piece of paper that Ann drew up on 6 July 1995.”

So, now Ann has outlined her hopes for Mark and a glimmering career in motorsport. I would like us to know that at this point in time Mark was the ripe old age of 18, going on 19. 

In 1996 Ann and Mark moved properly to the UK so Mark could drive in the British Formula Ford Championship - at this point Mark is still 19. At this point he is living in the UK with Ann and her mother, and Ann’s son. 

So this is probably sounding pretty okay so far and sure it’s just a business relationship with a business set up, like no real cause for concern. But then we discover that this business relationship had turned into a relationship-relationship pretty damn fast. 

From the horses mouth himself, Aussie Grit, p.87:

“Back in England, Ann and I moved house to Aylesbury in Buckinghamshire, on the edge of motor sport’s equivalent of Silicon Valley. We had started out as teammates and friends on a mission but over time our friendship had deepened into something else. I enjoyed spending time with her and we felt entirely comfortable in each other’s company. Moving to England was a huge step for me and I think it was a case of us needing one another and that’s how the relationship was formed.”

Okay, okay, okay so I know at this point Mark is 19/20 he’s an adult right? He can make his own choices. But, can we please admit that at best it’s an iffy situation because of the position of power and authority she was in? In his life? For his career? 

There are a few other excerpts I found particularly interesting, about Mark’s family’s reaction (all from Aussie Grit, chapter 3):

“My parents came over to the UK in the English summer of 1997. While they were thrilled about how things were developing for me in racing, they’d been less thrilled by the romantic relationship that was developing between Annie and me....”  “...Annie was bitterly disappointed at my behaviour. Her plan to take me to the highest level of motor sport was starting to go horribly wrong, so she left Australia earlier than planned and headed back to Europe. My family arranged for Alan Docking to collect my belongings from the house we had been sharing and the one and only car Annie and I had at that stage...Campese Management told her that they had been instructed by the Webber family to terminate her role as my manager and that Campese Management would be taking over all aspects of my career, including the negotiation of my driving contracts.“

“While I knew Annie provided the support and guidance I needed in my racing career, I was missing her in so many other ways too. We were such a dynamic force in every sense; we could make things happen when we were together. We were teammates, soul mates, call it what you want.“

“As to Mum’s concern about our age difference, that has never been a factor for us. When we began to be more open about being together, perhaps the top end of the age gap shocked a few people. In those days people were less accepting of a big age difference between partners, especially when it’s our way round. It’s not such a big deal nowadays and it makes us laugh when so-called celebrities reveal they’re dating an older woman or younger man!“

While the Daily Mail is trash, the beginning of this video is very revealing to me - particularly Jackie Stewart’s comments from 00:12.

Obviously you can make up your own conclusions from all of this information, and I would once again like to point out that none of us - not me, not the anons, not you - actually know the nature of their relationship. They have been together for 24 years - good for them! Whatever they have going has obviously worked for them, this is not me trying to shit on that or anything, and I’m gonna be real I’m not the biggest Mark Webber fan. 

Nuance, my old friend. Anon hate, my enemy.

All I want to do is add some nuance to the conversation, an overview of the timeline, an understanding of what the facts are. So that some of those cowardly anons (or anon) can hop off their self-built thrones and get a grip. The sexism and ageism argument literally does not apply here, for all of the evidence and reasons listed above - if the situation was flipped we would still be calling it out. The only difference is you guys would probably be on board with it being called out. 

So Ann is a woman? So, what? Do you think she’s above reproach? You think one person’s 50 note post on this site is gonna rock the foundation of a relationship that has been 26 years in making? If you have answered yes to any of these questions then you are either: a) Mark Webber himself, or b) delusional as hell. You really think that responding by sending anon hate to a teenager, who btw only made a post calling out the age difference because she was shocked and had just discovered it, is the right way to go? 

You really think that sending me this message, attacking other people in such a vile and racist manner is okay?

So you don’t like Nehir and Sera? Good for you, go block them, if you follow them, unfollow them. Those options are free and readily available to you. 

For me, it’s so funny to see you hiding behind that little Anon mask spewing this vile shit. The commitment you have to proving that you are just a cowardly person with nothing better to do than rag on a bunch of different people for reblogging a post, that in the long run is not going to reach the people it’s about, is outstanding. I really hope you pat yourself on the back for this one. 

The pitfalls of discourse and the importance of looking after yourself.

There has definitely been a spate of ‘conversations’ that have been happening recently that have very much been straying into the land of discourse, over very small comments or posts. I think that some people need to remember that we’re all here for our own entertainment and as soon as it stops being fun - you are allowed to log off; you are allowed to block people; you are allowed to unfollow people. 

Sending anon hate is so counterproductive to whatever conversation you think you are starting or having with a person. Also guys, sometimes it’s not that deep - sometimes jokes are just jokes, sometimes someone finds out something they didn’t know about a driver or an ex-driver and they make a joke post about it. That does not give you the right to send them hate, or to make racist comments in other people’s asks. 

Sometimes these discussions require a debate and sometimes discourse can be good - but honestly? I’m worried about some of you guys, it is not healthy to get so angry at other people for the things they post on their blogs that you are not obligated to follow or interact with at all. 

I am also worried about people who turn every little thing into something discoursey. There are causes and issues to care about in this sport and community, for sure. But sometimes you also have to pick your battles - especially when I know a lot people in this community have fragile mental health. I do not say this to patronise any of you but to just provide a reminder that you do not need to engage with everything that makes your blood boil, and furthering some of these conversations sometimes is not doing you guys any good. Burnout is real. 

Please take some time to take care of yourselves, the pandemic is doing a number on all of us and I know being online gives you a gateway to being connected to people, but sometimes you just have to walk away from a discussion. Sometimes you have to just go and reblog something unrelated, or stare at a photo of your favourite driver, or listen to some angry music. Anything else to process your knee jerk reaction, to give yourself time to figure out how you feel about something and whether it’s worth engaging in or not. 

[oddaodd]

Request: it’s before season 1, The boys not long come back from the war and y/n has been friends with the Shelbys as she’s also a gypsy, her, tommy and Finn live in there own house, (y/n is like a mother to Finn and tommy and y/n are really close) y/n is coming to the end of her pregnancy but there is a storm and they can’t call for help and doors need to be blocked with sandbags to avoid flooding and y/n’s waters broke so tommy had to help deliver the baby and Finn was helping as moral support, and tommy was just telling her to trust and listen to her body, a few hours later the baby is born, Finn has been sent to bed and tommy and y/n are relaxing with the baby and they talk and they confess feelings and tommy agrees to be the babies father (the biological could have died from war or left or anything else, it’s up to you). A few days later the storm passes and the Shelbys come and see them to check if there ok and they see tommy helping y/n getting the baby to latch to feed and Finn is playing or reading and there just happy and fluffy 💙💙 kind of long and it’s okay if you don’t want to write this, I’ve just never seen someone wrote something like this and thought it would be interesting ✨✨ (I’m also not the best at spelling and gramma so if anything is wrong or doesn’t make sense I’m sorry ❤️❤️)

Stormborn 

· Tommy helps the reader give birth ·

warnings: mentions of pregnancy.

Author´s note: I don¨t know much about childbirth or children in general but I did some research and this is what i came up with. Hope you like it ✨

It was a tempestuous evening in Birmingham when a very pregnant Y/n helped little Finn and Tommy barricade the windows and doors in the house against the latter´s complaints against it. Thomas had become very overprotective as Y/n´s due date neared and didn’t want her making any unnecessary efforts. She found his concern sweet but didn’t want to just sit there doing nothing while the storm which according to the newspapers was to be the wildest of the century raged outside. So she helped handing them nails and wooden planks. The nature of the whole situation was concerning. They didn’t know how long the storm would last and she feared something would happen to her and her baby.  

Finn was terrified of storms and clung to y/n´s skirt whenever thunder hit. Y//n soothingly rubbing his back as he did. Finn´s fear and her own making her feel specially pregnant in all the worst ways possible. She tried to not let it get to her and bent down to grab a wooden plank to hand to Tommy when she felt water running between her legs. This can’t be happening now. 

“Tommy?” She asked trying to not let the panic she was feeling show. 

Judging by the speed in which Tommy turned to look at her, her efforts to hide her fear were vain. He instantly noticed the pool of water under her y/and his eyes widened in panic too. Her mouth opened in hesitation before letting out a cry as she felt her first contraction. 

Tommy immediately rushed to her side and led her to the bathroom, helping her sit inside the tub before filling it with warm water, an alarmed Finn following close by. 

“Y/n!y/n! Are you ok?” Asked the boy, concern evident in his young features.

“Im fine Finn ,don’t worry…” she started trying to reassure him but was suddenly interrupted by another contraction. 

Tommy saw his little brother’s terrified face and kneeled down beside him.

“She´s fine Finn, its just her baby” he said partly to calm the young boy and partly to calm himself. 

Another piercing scream rang through the bathroom walls as she held on to the brim of the tub. 

“Why don’t you go get the towels and the medicine cabinet from the kitchen” Tommy suggested. 

Truth was, Tommy was terrified, he knew nothing about births aside from his mother´s screams when his younger siblings were born, but he knew he had to remain collected for Y/n´s sake.

The little boy rushed out of the bathroom and came back seconds later, handing Tommy what he asked for and placing his little hand on top of y/n¨s one trying to be of comfort. 

Some minutes passed by as her contractions increased in frequency and pain. Her screams matching the intensity of the storm outside. 

“I can’t do It Tom” she cried as she felt a tearing pain. 

“Yes you can, love, you’re doing so well. Just keep breathing” he said and moved over to the end of the tub rolling up his sleeves before submerging his arms in the water and feeling for the baby. 

“I can feel it´s head Y/n, just keep pushing” he urged 

Y/n moved her head in negation, tears in her eyes and her face red “I can’t” 

“Just listen to your body love, one more push” Tommy said.

Y/n continued crying “you can do it Y/n” came Finns voice. 

She felt another contraction and with an agonizing scream pushed one last time. Finally giving birth. 

She passed out seconds later to the sight of Tommy taking the baby out of the water and wrapping it in a towel handed to him by Finn. 

——————

She woke up hours later in her bed, her body still tired and in pain. She looked  at her surroundings and saw Tommy sitting in the rocking chair she kept by the tiny fireplace with a bundle of blankets in his arms. 

“Tom?” She asked, her voice barely there, weak and raspy from her screaming. 

He turned to look at her and smiled when he saw her fully conscious, before getting up and walking to her bed. “Ready to meet your daughter?” 

Y/n prompted herself up so she was sitting and took her baby in her arms when Tommy handed her to her. Her eyes welled up in tears as she saw her looking deeply into her eyes and then she could see all the pain she went through completely justified. 

The circumstances in which she had gotten pregnant weren’t ideal to say the least. Her boyfriend at the time left her when she told him she was pregnant, her mother kicked her out of the camp  when she too found out and having no place else to go, she found herself living with Tommy ,who welcomed her with open arms, and his little brother Finn. 

She turned to look at Tommy and let her emotions and tears run freely as she saw him looking at her adoringly. She had always been in love with him but never confessed anything, convincing herself he didn’t feel the same when she saw him going out with other girls. But when he looked at her like that it made her question everything. 

Tommy wiped away some of her tears gently and put an arm around her, letting her rest her head on his chest. 

“Have you thought of names?” He asked.

“Rosemary” she said after a second ”It was my grandmother’s name” she whispered taking her baby’s little hand in hers. Marveling at how small it was. 

“Its a beautiful name” he whispered pressing a kiss to Y/n´s temple. 

Y/n moved a little to look at his face “Thank you Tommy… For helping me, helping us… for everything” 

He cupped her face “ You don’t have to Thank me, Im always going to be here for you and for little Ro“

She smiled at the nickname and held one of his hands, just relishing the moment and then  without really thinking about it she confessed “I love you”  

A flash of panic ran through her insides the second she registered what she had said. Would he leave her too? 

But all or her concerns were dismissed when Tommy leaned in, softly kissing her lips. “I love you too. Always have and always will. 

————

After a week of constant rain and gushing winds, the storm cleared out. Finn was playing in the parlor with some toy horses as Y/n sat in a sofa breast-feeding Rosemary and singing her a Romani Lullaby that her mother had sung to her when she was a baby, and that her grandma had sung to to her mother when she was baby, and that many other Romani women before them had sung to their children.  

Tommy then walked into the room with Polly following close by. The woman’s eyes widened when she saw Y/n rushing to her side. 

“When Thomas told me he had delivered your baby I couldn’t believe it.” She admitted sitting next to Y/n. 

Y/n smiled at the woman and gently handed Rosemary to her. Covering herself with a quilt. Polly admired the baby with adoration, reminiscing about the time she had had her babies before they were taken away from her. 

“What’s her name?” She asked with a coo. 

“Rosemary” Y/n sighed happily as Thomas walked to her side and placed a hand on her shoulder, her own hand going to grab his. 

“Rosemary Shelby” Pol confirmed “she’ll be a strong woman, just like her birthday´s storm and her Mum” she said, handing Rosemary back to Y/n with a smile. 

And in that moment all was well. 

@captivatedbycillianmurphy

[jupitermelichios]

On a more possitive note, I’ve started watching Sword Art Online. It’s one of the worst things I’ve ever seen (and the last film I saw in cinemas was Cats to give you context for the scale i’m working on here) and I kind of adore it in much the same way I love garbage like Smallville or Twilight. It’s so stupid on so many levels. You could challenge someone to write the worst anime, and it would almost certainly be better than SAO. It’s almost hypnotic how terrible it is.

No one should watch this terrible terrible show so I therefore don’t feel at all bad that I’m about the spoil absolutely everything, but honestly if you do also hate-watch this please come talk to me about how terrible it is. I don’t know anyone else who watches it.

Highlights of Season 1 include:

everyone is trapped in an MMO, and if you die in the MMO you die IRL. but if you were a beta-tester you’re probably fine because they just let them keep all their levels and items from the testing, so they’re all massively OP and everyone just accepts this as a normal and non-game-breaking thing

it’s a fantasy MMO but there’s no races, no magic system, no weapons except swords and maces, and not even an option to dual wield - literally all you can do in this fucking game is stand in front of an enemy and mash the attack button. I’m pretty sure they’re trapped there because the devs realised no one would play this post launch-day otherwise because it’s boring as shit

when the villain traps everyone he also just changs all their avatars to look like they do IRL for absolutely no reason, like actually none, he doesn’t even say he thinks it would be funny, he just does it and no one questions it and it is literally never mentioned again because this is the worst TV show ever animated.

in the second episode the main character deliberately witholds information about how to defeat a boss, indirectly causing multiple deaths. there is absolutely no reason for him to withhold it, he was just being a jerk because he doesn’t like people

in the third episode they reset his entire personality and he’s now a selfless hero pretending to be a lower level than he really is so people will find him more relateable and be his friend because all he wants is to help people. this is not a consequence of episode 2, they just decided they didnt like the character as he’d previously been written.

he makes some new friends who are all objectively terrible people who have decided for no season that the twelve year old who doesn’t really know how to play and keeps having anxiety attacks about the very real possibility of death has to be the guild tank. the MC is high enough level to be functionally immortal in like half the levels, but doesn’t tell anyone this he just lets them go on bullying this child

none of his friends survive that episode, in the game or IRL. which is also a christmas epsiode. a child dies in battle because she’s a terrible tank and then a man commits suicide out of guilt, so then the main character murders santa to try and bring them back from the actual dead but it doesn’t work because again, this is a video game and they are dead IRL, so then he walks off into the snow alone. Christmas!

we meet the best character in the entire show in episode 4, Rosalia, who has gone evil and started just straight murdering people because she’s sick of being an attractive adult woman who can’t get a date because she’s surrounded by lolicons who are only interested in the preteen characters (not a joke, that comes up, the show is firmly on the side of the lolicons)

in the same episode we get an extended bra and panty sequence staring an actual fucking child, like canonically this character is maybe 13 at best. this is one of only 2 occaisions when they feel the need to undress a character and it’s the fucking 12 year old, it’s so gross it reads like a parody of itself

literally every single named female character aged over 8 who talks to the MC falls in love with him after like 5 minutes (and in season 2 this includes his actual sister). he shows absolutely no interest in any of them (including his sister, thank god) until...

the main character gets engaged to a girl he only knows from an MMO after a virtual single date (he doesn’t actually win her in a PVP match but only because he looses the match, he 100% canonically tries to win her in a match, which she is apparently fine with). he then doesn’t bother to ask for her real name until the final episode, he just calls her by her screen name

(that’s okay though becuase it turns out that this moron of a love interest used her real name, on a local server, in a game where your character looks like you do IRL, because apparently getting doxxed is her hobby)

they then get in-game married off screen. there’s not even like a still of a wedding photo. nothing. the main character proposes and then the show immediately jumps to the honeymoon, it’s fucking bizarre.

they find a creepy child dressed all in white with no memory alone in the woods a week into their honeymoon who starts calling them mommy and daddy literally seconds after they first meet her, and they don’t suspect anything suss is going on and adopt her

for hilarity bear in mind the main character may only be 15 at this point (he says he’s only just turned 16 in the last epsiode, but his actual birthday is never mentioned), and his virtual wifu is 16, but no one ever questions the marriage or the adoption, even though ‘hey marriage in a video game is as important and meaningful as marriage in real life’ is an actual conversation people have multiple times. also they think the child they adopt is an actual IRL 8 year old who thinks these randos she met in an MMO are her mum and dad and everyone just goes with that like it’s a totally normal thing

a character called ‘Thinker’ agrees to meet an enemy faction leader for peace talks. the “peace talks” take place in a high level dungeon and he is told to come alone with no weapons and no fast travel. he does this. no one ever comments that his name is ironic, and in fact they seem to think that being betrayed and trapped in a dungeon with a boss is a totally unexpected turn of events Thinker could never have planned for

they take their new baby into the dungeon to rescue thinker, because they went to the jean grey school of baby rearing, and she imediately reveals that she’s actually a magical maggufin with infinite power, murders the grim reaper, and then dies. In literally the second episode she’s in

after she dies the MC hacks the admin account of the game, converts her corpse into an in game item, and saves to the local storage on his console, with the intention of bringing her back to life as a robot once they’re saved from the game. I’m not joking, that’s an actual thing that happens.

the fact that the main character can just access the main admin account and make massive game-breaking changes isn’t used again in that game and he never thinks to try and use it to force log people out or give himself infinite life so he can just rush the game and free everyone. nope, convert a corpse into an item and then never think about it again.

there’s an entire episode where all they do is go fishing. its the only filler episode in the season, and it immediately follows the death of a small child. it’s the most tone-deaf beach episode in writing history

it turns out this game, this game where they didn’t bother coding in any difference races, weapons, or any kind of magic system, was intended to have fully sentient AI therapists, because why the fuck not at this point honestly

oh also the game has PVP and you can trick the game into thinking a sleeping player is in PVP with you in order to actually murder a real person without it flagging in-game as a murder making the crime impossible for the real life legal system to investigate even though you just murdered a person. and they expect us to believe this game had actual beta testers. at least cyberpunk wasn’t played on microwaves you connected straight to your brain (also not a joke, the VR consoles canonically work by sending microwave radiation into your brain, no wonder VR never caught on)

the set up for the show is that they have to reach level 100 of a dungeon in order to win. At level 75, the writers got bored and the show just ends.

it turns out the power of love allows you to just break the fucking game and the main villain literally has a line about how ‘love allows you to remove debuffs, huh, we didn’t think to plan for that’ because again, there’s no metaphors in this show, everything is 100% literal including the fact that falling in love with another player means you’re immune to the paralysis status effect

power of love also allows you to very briefly become a poltergeist after being killed, but only for like 2 seconds. again not a joke or a metaphor, main character is killed but then gets to hang around as a ghost for a little bit to enable him to defeat the boss. he also doesn’t die in real life despite that being the entire fucking premise of the show, again because power of love.

the bad guy literally has no plan, he’s just doing shit for the sake of having something to do. His actions directly cause the deaths of more than 4,000 people, and it’s not even in aid of anything. they ask him why he trapped 10,000 people in an MMO and allowed them to slowly die, and he’s just like ‘huh, i forgot i did that, random’ and then just fucking peaces out

the fact that he committed one of the largest mass killings outside of war never really comes up again, as far as we know he doesn’t even go to jail. i think the show actually kind of thinks he’s a good guy, which is a fucking WILD moral stance to take on the deaths of 4000 completely innocent people for absolutely no reason

If this sounds hilari-bad but you don’t want to invest the time to watch a show which is objectively garbage, it has an abridged series which is famously better than the show it’s parodying (i’m dead serious, people have character arcs, the getting married after one date thing is properly addressed, the mc has to deal with PTSD because of all his friends dying in epsidode 3, they don’t immediately follow the death of a child with an extended fishing montage, the villain has an actual plan). It’s mostly actually pretty good, but this is the internet and it’s an abridged series, so while there are a lot fewer yikes moments than most it still has enough that I’m not comfortable recommending it without the caveat. that said I still enjoyed it a lot, although possibly not at much as pointing and laughing at the garbage that is the actual show.

[theshelbyclan]

King

Summary: The youngest Shelby keeps getting in trouble and is worried about her position in the family after getting scolded for it. Luckily, each family member has their own way of reassuring her (part 1)

A/N This is the first part of a fanfic I’ve written about a year ago. I’m really nervous about posting this, but curious to see what you think! I’m following the episodes of season 1 in this, with the addition of a younger Shelby sister, who’ll be ten Saturday. Enjoy and let me know what you think! Part 1/ Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10

Words: 2971

***

Birmingham was a city built on smoke and grime. If you could look past it all, it was a pretty place with an old centre to it. If you couldn’t, you were in Small Heath. 

Through the mud a black horse came trotting gracefully. On top of the horse was a man, feared by all, but beautiful to see. A cigarette was dangling from the corner of his mouth and it seemed almost like he wasn’t even really there. 

The streets he entered were grey in colour, but shouts and laughter had filled the air moments before. Children of all ages were playing, mums were hanging out their washing and the constant banging of the factory machines was the rhythm of life in the background. All these people scattered when horse and rider approached. Women fell silent, the factory sounds became noticeable all of a sudden and children hid.

All children, except one.

As a Chinese girl was doing her powder trick, a little girl stood out amongst the others. Her friends were all hiding, trying to see what was happening while making themselves invisible, but she wasn’t afraid. She climbed on top of wooden overhanging landing to get a better look and watched while the ‘witch’ chanted her magic. 

Thomas Shelby called out the name of the horse and one of the boys turned to the girl on the roof, “What does it mean?“

She squinted, “Tommy’s in charge now.” 

“Does this mean we should lay a bet as well?” another boy piped in, after the leader of the Peaky Blinders had left. 

“What’s this money you got lying around that you haven’t told me of?” the girl demanded at once.

“I haven’t got any left. You won it all off me,” he replied sadly.

The girl climbed down the roof, tearing her stockings in the process, “I’ve got to get back before Tommy gets home.”

Yet another street urchin turned to her, “What’s the point in being a Shelby when you can’t even do whatever you want?”

“Dunno,” she shrugged, “But at least I’m not hiding like a coward, now am I?”

***

It was key to get back into the house on time. The youngest Shelby sibling knew Finn would’ve stayed put, as he usually did, but she was supposed to be with him. John would be busy with the books, he probably hadn’t notice her absence. Arthur was mad about something, so he had his mind on other things. Ada couldn’t care less, so that left Aunt Polly and Thomas. Coincidentally, these two had done most of the raising of the youngest two Shelby siblings, and both were very strict. Last week’s swats by Aunt Polly and Thomas’ lecture were still fresh in her mind, so she climbed the drainpipe quickly, hoisted herself through the open window, practically jumped down the stairs and ran straight into Thomas’ arms.

“What are you up to?” he asked her at once.

She tried to put on her best angelic face, the one that had gotten her out of trouble so many times, but seemed to fail her when she needed it most, “Nothing.”

“Theodora…” he said, cold and threateningly. She hated it when he used her full name, but it got her attention all right. She much preferred Teddy, as she was usually called. 

“I was just looking for something to do upstairs.”

Her big brother was making his way through to the kitchen, where Finn finally provided the distraction she needed. 

He, in turn, tried to accomplish the same, “Arthur’s mad as hell.”

Thomas smirked, a sign that he was in a good mood after all, “What does a ten year old know about hell? Eh?” he asked him, as he crouched down to his level.

The little boy scoffed a little and said, “I’m eleven Sunday.”

Thomas turned around to open the doors into the betting den, only to turn back to his youngest brother for a second, “Keep an eye on your sister. I need to have a word with her about doing as you’re told, but for that, I need her to stay put.” 

Said little sister gulped, mainly because he hadn’t addressed her directly, but evidently would in a few hours.

***

The two siblings quickly found better ways of occupying themselves. Finn would indeed turn eleven on Sunday, but Teddy would turn ten on Saturday, which was a much grander affair in her opinion. They were both growing up.

“Let’s play grown-ups,” Teddy suggested.

“Can’t,” Finn said, “Tommy told us to stay put.”

“Tommy’s got business, we’ll be back in time.”

And just like that, Finn was convinced. Playing grown-ups meant pretending to be their brothers. Finn found John’s gun on the sideboard and Teddy nicked another two cigarettes from Arthur. Near the Cut, both troublemakers pretended earnestly. 

Teddy climbed up onto an old barrel, faced the water with a dramatic look on her face, smoked her last cigarette and whispered, “In the bleak midwinter…” But just as Finn was about to shoot her, fag dangling from his mouth, their older sister approached the scene.

Looking chic and cool as always, she bellowed, “What the hell do you two think you’re playing at?”

Spooked by the sudden noise behind him, Finn dropped the gun. It went off.

***

A few hours later, the family meeting was in full swing. Teddy was rubbing her ear where Ada had dragged her off, but her good ear was against the door to listen in. Next to her, Finn was doing the exact same thing. 

“Aunt Polly’s late,” he whispered.

“She’s never late.”

“Think Ada told her?”

“Nah, Ada’s got stuff on her mind.”

Finn turned to her, “Like what?”

“Like women stuff!’”

“What does that even mean? You don’t know what it means, you’re only nine.”

“I’m ten Saturday!”

In the meantime, they could hear Polly had joined the meeting. They were going on about something in Belfast and factory workers. Arthur still seemed mad as hell.

Finn was silent for a little while. “Think Aunt Polly will kill us?”

Teddy shrugged again, “She’ll kill John first. Besides, you were the one who nearly shot Ada.” 

“Did not!”

“Did too! You were supposed to shoot me, remember?”

“Should’ve…” Finn sulked.

Teddy looked at her brother confidently, “Second time today I got away with it.”

“Like hell you did.” Before Teddy could look up at the face that had just spoken to her, her ear was again twisted and dragged upwards.

“Aunt Pol…” she ground out, “I didn’t mean to…”

“Didn’t mean to…what? Steal a gun, get your brother to tag along with your crazy plans or get caught?”

Teddy thought it best to keep quiet, tears welling up in her eyes. Next to her, her brother was going through the same ordeal.

Aunt Polly continued, “I’ve had it with the both of you. Finn, if I ever catch you or hear of you smoking again, it’ll be you on the spit roasting by the fire. And if you ever go near a gun again, a sore ear will be the least of your worries!” Finn whimpered as their aunt pulled just a little bit harder at that statement.

“But, John…” he protested. 

“I’ve dealt with John. Now I’m through with you. Bed, now!” Without a second thought, Finn hurried out of her sight. 

Teddy, however, was still locked in Polly’s iron grasp and fearfully looked up towards the mother figure, whom she admired so much, but feared greatly in this moment.

“In your own words, what part did you play down by the Cut?” Aunt Polly asked her calmly. 

“Nothing! I only went there because Finn wanted to play and I didn’t know…”

But Aunt Polly cut her off quickly, “That boy never does anything without you and it’s usually you who comes up with the ideas.” They looked at each other for a little while, Teddy with her head still in a strange angle to spare her ear.

“Pol?” A deep voice behind them demanded all of a sudden, “Let her go.”

Teddy looked up, relieved, and decided to go for a pleading look, locking eyes with Tommy.

Thomas seemed to be ignoring her though and addressed Polly instead.

“This afternoon, I rode Monaghan Boy through the laundry.”

Teddy frowned involuntarily. She was there and he hadn’t been at the laundry. She’d been watching him from the roof, at Garrison Courts…

He continued, still ignoring his little sister, “I also saw Finn there, playing with the Chinese kids, out on his own.”

“Finn wasn’t at the laundry,” the urge to defend her brother took over.

“And how would you know?” He quickly stared at her with pale blue eyes, “I was at the laundry myself and saw him.”

“No you weren’t, you were at…” Teddy stopped talking, realising what had happened, but it was too late. 

Thomas smiled coldly and put out his fag slowly. Then he beckoned Teddy to come over. She had no choice, so she walked up to him. 

“ ‘Second time today I got away with it’ “ Tommy repeated her words back to her, his face inches away from Teddy’s.

Fuck. Teddy Shelby was only nine years old, but ‘fuck’ was still the first word that came to mind. Her face went red and she looked up at Aunt Polly, suddenly feeling very small and not at all as confident as she’d felt moments before.

He pointed at her, daring her to look away, “You lie to me again, and I’ll wash your mouth out with soap.”

Teddy nodded quickly and feverishly.

“As for you leaving the house on your own and playing with guns near the Cut, I’ll let your aunt deal with you.”

Teddy felt two pairs of eyes now drilling holes into her, and nodded again.

After another long pause, he said, “Can’t be part of this family if I can’t trust you, eh?”

Then he stood up and walked away.

Somewhere inside, Thomas Shelby was torn. He wanted Teddy to behave, he didn’t want to have to waste his time on her, but he knew his sister was never one for meekly following orders. He wasn’t either.

***

That night, Teddy lay in bed, teary-faced and bruised. Aunt Polly had certainly ‘dealt with her’ and it still hurt. Part of her was full of indignation: why was she always getting the blame for everything that happened with her and Finn? Part of her was angry: why would she behave at all, if they were just going to be mad at her all the time? Most of her was incredibly sad: what if she really had to leave the family, like Tommy said? 

“Teddy?” Tiny feet had crossed the room and Finn sat down on her bed next to her, “Are you okay?”

She didn’t want him to see her cry so she turned away, “I’m fine.”

“I should’ve taken that beating,” he said determinedly, “I’m the older brother.” 

“Less than one year.”

“Tom always says I’ve got to protect you and I didn’t,” Finn sounded genuinely disappointed in himself.

“Hey Finn, if I get kicked out of the family, will you still be my brother?”

He laughed, “ ‘Course. What’s the point in being a Shelby if you’re not a big brother?”

Teddy grinned back at him. But for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out what the point in being a Shelby was when you’re only nine and a girl.

***

The next morning, Teddy crept down to breakfast, preparing for yet another lecture. John was already sitting at the table.

“Teddy-girl, what have you done now!” he joked.  

“Sleeping?” 

“Come here,” he grinned, dragging her onto his lap, “I think it’s time for you to talk to Tommy. Seems you got him all riled up once again.” 

“Why?” Teddy questioned earnestly, “Why is he always mad when I do something?”

John gulped down his tea, “Because you’re his princess, that’s why. Because he wants you safe.”

Teddy pulled an indignant face, “I’m no princess. I’m a Shelby.” 

Somewhere in the kitchen, Ada and Polly burst out laughing, “That you most certainly are…”

“Does this mean you’re no longer mad, Aunt Pol?”

“No sweetheart, I’m not mad,” Polly took her chin in her hand and lifted her face up, “But you better behave for a couple of days, just to earn back the privilege you enjoy within this family.”

Teddy thought about this for a while, but couldn’t really understand it. 

“Tommy’ll come around,” John assured her with another smile, “and if he doesn’t, you’re still my princess. My troublemaking princess, notorious plague of Birmingham, filthy feet and uncombed hair-ed princess.”

John always managed to cheer her up, even when everything seemed dark and unhappy. He was like her happy place.

No one had noticed the fifth figure that had joined them in the kitchen.

“Teddy, come with me.” 

Her face fell when she heard her brother’s voice, but she stood up obediently to follow Thomas into his office. Looking back, she saw John winking at her.

“Sit down,” he ordered her once in the office.

Teddy went over to one of the big chairs and dangled her feet over the edge, feeling too small for the chair and feeling to tiny for her brother’s gaze.  

“Tommy, I’m really sorry…”

He held up a hand, “You were at Garrison Courts.”

It wasn’t a question, so she didn’t reply. 

Tommy leaned back onto his desk, hardly moving, face unchanging. Just for a moment, Teddy could swear a small smile flickered behind those piercing eyes of his. 

“Now, what on earth made you think I wouldn’t notice you up there?” 

“I just thought…” she stuttered. 

“You thought you could get away with it, twice.”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t.”

She sighed, “No.” 

A small smirk started to pull at the corner of his mouth, “Tell me how I could ride down a street and everyone would be hiding, and not notice the one little dark-haired girl who didn’t hide, but instead climbed up onto a roof? ”

He was met with eyes full of opposition, but she didn’t say a word.

“Go on, say what’s on your mind. You usually have a lot more to say, eh?” Teddy now recognised his playful tone of voice and dared herself to smile back at him.

“I almost got away with it, didn’t I?”

Tommy laughed out loud now and lifted her out of her seat, throwing her into the air and pretended to drop her again. He wouldn’t, of course.

Teddy leaned into his shoulder for a while, “Tom? Are you still mad?” 

Eyes joyful, he pointed directly at her, “If there was ever a girl in Birmingham that could drive me mad, it would be you!” 

“Tommy?” 

He picked up his cigarette case with his spare hand, “Yes, princess?” 

“You heard that too!?”

“I hear and see everything.”

“No you don’t…” Teddy threw back, confident of their relationship once again, “You just pretend so people get scared. Is that why people hide when you and the pretty horse come walking?”

“Maybe,” he cocked a single eyebrow.

Teddy thought about it for a little while, “I don’t want to be a princess, Tommy, I want to be a Shelby.”

“Come here,” Thomas said gently and he walked around with his sister on his hip, “See all this? This house, this business, this family? It’s all yours.” 

Teddy giggled, “No, it’s not.” 

“It will be. All of this is for you, because you are a Shelby and you’re smart. And because you are not afraid of me. All those other people are afraid of us, even people within this family are afraid of me, but not you.” 

“I’m still a Shelby?” Teddy asked softly.

Thomas assessed her for a moment, “You’re a Shelby. And I wish I could keep you sweet and safe forever, but you have got a mind of your own!” 

Tommy planted her feet first onto his desk. He took a few steps back and rubbed the cigarette against his lips a few times. “If you don’t want to be a princess, you can be a queen when you grow up.”

“What if I want to be a lady?”

“You’ll be a lady.” 

Teddy thought about it for a moment and a mischievous gleam came into her eyes, “What if I want to be a king?” 

Thomas grinned again. He leaned back, lit his cigarette and watched his sister for a moment. Dirty feet and uncombed hair, but piercing eyes that never once looked away. He’d give up his whole kingdom for her.

“You can be king.” 

Teddy smiled back at him, obviously revelling in her new position within the company, “What about you?”

Thomas shook his head, “I’m no gentleman and I don’t pretend to be. But I am your brother and as a family we need to stick together. Family’s all we got and we need to be able to trust each other.” His tone was serious once again, “And that’s why I need you to listen to me.” 

Teddy nodded, but frowned, “All the time?” 

Tommy tried to look strict, he really did, but his eyes failed him. Teddy noticed at once and smirked, so he lifted her roughly off the desk and threw her over his shoulder.

“Put me down!” Teddy laughed, and added cheekily, “When I’m king, you’ll have to put me down when I tell you to!”

Tommy simply waltzed her back into their kitchen, where the rest of the family looked up with puzzled expressions.

“You’re not a king yet sweetheart, just a muddy Birmingham gypsy with a temperament to match. Just like the rest of us.”

So that was the point in being a Shelby when you’re almost ten and a little girl.

Brothers.

***

Masterlist

[celestialpearls]

➱ love in seasons

➱ Yoon Jeonghan x reader

➱ slice of life, fluff

➱ 2288 words

➱ Love is reminiscent of the four seasons. It blooms in spring. It shines bright under the hot sun. It offers comfort in the winter. It is nurtured in shades of yellow and orange. 

➱ Happy birthday to the 🍓 strawberry🍓  lover! Hanniehae to all of you! 💗

Fondness covers its earnest arms around you, with growth and various colours making their welcomed appearance. Surrounded by blooming plants in many colours and shapes, it should be a given for visitors to have their sights trained on teeming nature. It is partly true in your case at least, as your boyfriend is incomparable to these things. You couldn’t stop thinking about the childlike glow in his gaze regarding the botanical garden, hand rubbing his neck. 

“Let’s see it together,” his voice was soft, uttered on a still afternoon at your shared apartment. And how could you say no? 

His legs are clad in navy blue, a loose beige shirt floating delicately on him. His hair has grown quickly and the onyx strands are in slight waves. Your thumb swipes across the photos you’ve taken of him and you place your phone inside your handbag. The sun’s rays wash the garden in butter yellow, enhancing the allure of your boyfriend. 

You wrap your arm around his waist as you put your cheek on his back. He rubs circles on the skin of your hand and gently pulls it apart so he could have you in front of him. He takes you into his arms, your ear pressed against his chest as he kisses your forehead. Jeonghan pulls away for a moment, an eyebrow raised, “where were you?” 

“Was taking photos of flowers while you were preoccupied here,” you respond.

“So, your phone is filled with photos of me then?” Jeonghan cups his face, and your full laugh causes his heart to stutter. Causes his heart to cartwheel in utter joy. He loves seeing you like this and being one of the reasons for your tinkling laughter. As much as he wants you close to him, he opts to intertwine your fingers together. But you don’t budge as you only tighten your embrace. Another kiss is placed on your forehead. 

“Let’s go, angel. We have more to see,” he plucks the eyelash under your eye.

Your mouth forms an ‘o,’ eyes brightening at the sight behind him. He turns his head, a pebble-grey waterfall standing proud in the middle. It is surrounded by seaweed-green bushes trimmed to a circle, bundles of snowdrop flowers lining the bottom of the bushes. Behind the waterfall displays a floral wall, flowers in its variety spelling out ‘ROYAL’ and butterflies residing on petals. A circular, umber bench is placed a meter away from the waterfall, as he asks, “you want to take a photo?”

You nod eagerly, “of us.”

A grin paints his lips at your apparent enthusiasm and he takes out his phone from his front pocket. Jeonghan reluctantly approaches a couple to take your pictures, to which they agree with. He guides you to stand in front of him as he dangles his arms loosely from your neck, your fingers filling the gaps flawlessly between his own. Unaware, the couple with Jeonghan’s phone share a smile at your interactions as one of them counts down to take the photo. They know that the finished product can only capture a part of the genuine and tender love that is clear between both of you. But at least these photos will serve as a cherished memory formed during the season of bloom. 

“3, 2, 1. Smile!” 

You snort at the nth exhale of impatience that came from Jeonghan as you walk out of the bedroom.

 “Y/N, I’ll literally freeze without you!” 

“I’ll be quick!”

You chuckle and reprimand yourself to get everything that’s needed so you don’t have to go back out. Just as he was about to press play on the TV remote, you had shot out from bed because you forgot the hot chocolate. Disbelief had carved itself on his face as you wiggled away from his embrace. You add the marshmallows for the finishing touches and make your way back to the bedroom. Jeonghan is cocooned under the thick, olive green duvet and the sleeves of his hoodie are pulled to his fingertips. Your heart is close to imploding from how effortlessly handsome your boyfriend is.

The soft thud of your footsteps makes him look up, forgoing his phone as finally - well hopefully - you won’t be getting up from the bed any time soon. You give him his mug as he places it on his bedside table and he opens his arms, kissing his cheek as you cuddle up to him. The heater is on but the shared body heat does wonders to satiate the cold settling on your figure. Jeonghan taps your nose, mirth lacing his tone, “you’re not going to shoot out of bed again, are you?”

He takes a sip of the hot beverage and it takes you a while to answer for him for two reasons. Firstly, the sunrise orange that is emitted from the standing lamp next to him gives him a delicate glow. It highlights his eyes, swirls of gold and soil that catch your attention. Secondly, he was just too attractive for your own good in his most casual clothing.

Jeonghan notes your silence, a soft grin pulling at his lips at your gentle gaze. He sits up and leans close, his gaze trailing from your eyes and down to your lips. His tone is low and soft, “can I kiss you?” And you don’t need to be told twice, the duvet falling away as you sit up, your hand cupping the underside of his jaw. He tasted slightly of the warm beverage, all sweet and warm as he gently lifts you on to his lap. You pull away, albeit hesitantly as you peck his upper lip, foreheads pressed together. 

He kisses your cheek and ushers you back on to your side of the bed. He lifts up his arm as you lean your head on to his chest. Before Jeonghan could press play, your lips softly touch his again and the love in his heart spills as you giggle at his surprised expression. He chuckles at your actions and presses play at your urge that both of you should finish the drama soon. Winter brings the both of you closer, and it does nothing to tamper the warmth you both share. 

“Hurry up, angel! Cheol already saved a bench.”

You huff as you check that the power outlets are off, feet about to take you into the kitchen only to recall Jeonghan has already placed the stuff for the picnic in his car. Jeonghan looks up from his phone when the door lock clicks into place and smiles at how you look cute in your outfit. You scrunch your nose when he places his red snapback on top of your head, the brim facing backwards. He puts his arm around your shoulder and adjusts his hat on you, “ready to go?”

You take the elevator, aware of the time and the food that was prepared. The car ride to Serenity Park was smooth and the conversation would lapse into comfortable silences. Jeonghan would occasionally take your hand while driving only for you to reprimand him to concentrate on the road. But of course he doesn’t listen, and instead says holding your hand makes him feel good. And whenever Jeonghan says anything of the sort, you can’t really deny him of anything so you intertwine your fingers together. 

He parks the car and you open the boot to grab the picnic blanket plus the woven basket of food. Jeonghan takes the basket in one hand and goes to grasp your hand, but he feels a slight wind when you run.

“Soonyoung!”

He sees Soonyoung stagger back in surprise, but the latter returns your hug. Nina waves at Jeonghan with Seungcheol, Seokmin and Chan shouting his name.

 “There they go again,” Seungcheol sighs. 

Jeonghan follows his best friend’s gaze directed at you and Soonyoung. The blue frisbee flies through the air and into your hands clumsily as Soonyoung teases you. Your laughter is clear and joyful, the sun giving you a vibrant glow. 

“Whipped,” Seungcheol mutters.

“Maybe if you confessed to Nina…” Jeonghan trails off, a yelp escaping him when his best friend slaps his arm.

Seokmin calls you and Soonyoung over to eat, with Jeonghan scooting over on the bench to make room for you. You feel your boyfriend’s arm snake around your waist and though you’re sure you won’t fall backwards, his gesture still makes your heart flutter. Jokes and laughter fill up your conversations, and it was fun despite the day slowly starting to heat up. You and Jeonghan exchange glances as Seungcheol fills up Nina’s plate first before his. 

After everyone eats, you’re left on the navy blue picnic blanket laid out on the grass. The other five start a game of frisbee while you scroll on your phone, very content with just laying down. The smidge of sunlight that was protected by your sunglasses is completely blocked by Jeonghan. You lift up your glasses and raise your eyebrow, “can I lay on your lap?” 

You grab the pink towel and place it on your lap, tapping it so he can lay down. “Tired already?”

He makes a sound in assent and guides your hand to his chestnut brown hair. Your eyes look pretty, eye makeup enhanced by the sun. You look at him with so much gentleness, then and now, and his heart can’t help but quicken. Jeonghan brings your other hand above his heart, where it beats just for you. Your fingers brushing his strands cause his eyes to droop and he feels you poke his cheek. 

“Sleep,” you state. You kiss his forehead and continue to brush his hair back. The slightly cool breeze makes up for the golden star, her rays making your boyfriend more enchanting. He kisses the inside of your wrist, “like it when you brush my hair. Keep doing it, please.” 

Summer keeps the love between the both of you bright, alive and tinged with light. 

“Y/N!”

You’re met with soft, chestnut brown hair against your cheek as Jeonghan’s younger sister hugs you. He pokes his sister’s forehead, “excuse me. I’m your brother, remember?” 

You and her share an eye roll but your heart warms up when she kisses his cheek. You hang up your black coat on the stand near the door, Jeonghan holding you steady as you take off your shoes. She loops her arm through yours, making her way to the dining area where Jeonghan’s parents are. His mum lights up seeing the both of you, taking the bag of food from you and ushering you to take a seat. 

“Are you sure you don’t need help, Mrs. Yoon?”

“I told you to call me mum, sweetheart,” she corrects you and waves you away, her smile cheeky. 

You hug his dad, his eyes crinkling at the sides and he excuses himself in case his wife needs help. Jeonghan calls your name, dragging out the syllables and you find him in the living room. He pulls you to sit next to him on the couch, your arm around his waist and his as a pillow for your neck. 

“My sister is forgetting that she has a brother now because of you,” he rubs circles on your hands. 

“She likes me more than you,” you tease. 

You really should be used to his unexpected, yet sweet remarks by now. After all, you’ve been together for three years. But to no avail because your heart flutters away from you. He smiles softly and the look in his eyes is loving, “impossible. I like you more.” 

The door opens again and Jeonghan squeezes your hand before he stands up to greet your parents. You do too and you grin instantly with the way your parents treat your boyfriend. Your dad pats Jeonghan’s back while your mum cups his face in her hands. Your mum’s gesture is identical to what you do when he’s sulking and he notes the similarity fondly. 

You hug both of your parents and they go straight to the kitchen to greet the hosts. Jeonghan places his chin on your shoulder, arms around your waist as he sways the both of you.

 “You and your mum do the same thing with me,” he says. 

You turn in his hold, putting your arms around his neck as you raise an eyebrow. “Do what?” 

“You both like cupping my face.” 

You mirror your mum’s action and reassure him, “that we do. It’s because my mum and I are fond of you.” 

The smile that paints his lips is beautiful, radiant; the light in his eyes from your comment radiant. You being one of the most important people in his life telling him that your family likes him makes him feel inexplicably joyful.  He strokes your cheek, “I’m glad that that’s the case.”

Mrs. Yoon’s voice is clear when she calls the both of you for dinner. Everyone catches up and his younger sister makes you promise that you both should go out soon. Just you and her, she emphasised to Jeonghan who overheard your conversation. Conversation is easy and smooth, with Mr and Mrs. Yoon being amazing hosts. The gathering wasn’t planned for anything grand, both families had wanted to catch up, hence here you are. 

Jeonghan feels incredibly lucky that his family loves you. Just like him, it was only a matter of time before they warmed up to you and he was over the moon. You were charming, kind and easygoing - it’s not hard for anyone to fall for you. Falling for you was was as natural as the attraction of butterflies to colourful petals.

Autumn colours your love in honey yellow and bronze; it’s refreshing and thrives in growth. 

[hslllot]

Part I. Draft Day

fic masterlist | rated: m, mature | word count: 4.6k content/warning: hockey harry, nosey family members, a very brief mention of anxiety, overzealous hockey stans. 

DRAFT REPORT: The 411 on Harry Styles by John Michaelson for Sportsnet

There’s this kid named Harry Styles. He plays hockey. Ever heard of him? 

At this point there’s not much else to be said about the british Fighting Hawks’ centre, a lock to be the No.1 pick in the 2015 NHL Draft. 

Dubbed a generational talent, Styles’ abilities are at a level typically only seen in video games. We all know the Edmonton Oilers will select him with the first overall pick on June 26. In years to come, hockey fans from around the globe (but especially Oilers fans) will be on the edge of their seats, watching to see if the phenom can develop into a future Hockey Hall of Fame talent the way Wayne Gretzky and Mario Lemieux did. 

Here’s what you need to know about Harry Styles: 

Age on June 26: 19 Birthplace: Redditch, Worcestershire, England Current team: University of North Dakota Fighting Hawks  Position: Centre Shoots: Left Height: 6-foot Weight: 190 lbs NHL Central Scouting Rank (North American): 1st

Harry Styles is a franchise-changing player in every sense of the word. He looked like a pro player even before he flew across the pond at a young age to play in the Canadian Hockey League. This has been a long time coming but the future is finally here.

He is talented beyond his years and always has been… Styles has played against older competition his entire career. Growing up in the small village of Holmes Chapel in Cheshire, England, the options for minor hockey teams were limited. Styles struggled to find a team in his age group that matched his talent level and was forced to play with older kids - and even then his talent was unmatched. Like the two other players from the UK currently playing in the NHL, Styles eventually had to leave home and play junior hockey in Canada, where he still had to play up a year against Canadian kids that grew up in a country that eats, sleeps, and breathes the game. 

He should have been drafted 1st overall last year… Styles shocked the hockey world in 2013 when, instead of declaring for the 2014 NHL Draft, he announced he would be attending the University of North Dakota and lead the Fighting Hawks to an NCAA Championship. Styles, ever the media-trained athlete, dodged questions about why he chose to go to university for a year before joining the NHL, simply stating “University was always a part of the plan, no matter what happened with hockey.” The hockey community let out a collective sigh of relief when his agent, Jeffrey Azoff (whose father was, coincidentally, Wayne Gretzky’s agent), announced shortly after his championship win that after one year at UND, Styles would be declaring for the 2015 Draft. 

His trophy case is full... Harry Styles has won pretty much every individual hockey award he could possibly win in his career so far. During his CHL career with the Vancouver Giants he won Rookie of the Year, multiple MVP awards, the award for most goals, assists, and overall points, and scholastic player of the year. During his short-lived NCAA career with UND, he won Rookie of the Year, the Hobey Baker Award as the top men’s hockey player, and was named to the Academic All-American team. Unfortunately, Great Britain’s ice hockey team will not be qualifying for the Olympics or the World Championships any time soon, so unless Styles applies for Canadian citizenship, international trophies and medals will be difficult to come by. Regardless, I have a feeling that there will be many Stanley Cups in his future. 

He really hates underperforming… The kid puts a lot of pressure on himself. As we have seen with many successful athletes, an insatiable inner drive to compete can lead to greatness. Styles has that drive to be great and can be his own worst critic. “When I was growing up, my mum was worried about me because I was a bit of a perfectionist.” Styles told The Hockey News back in December. “When I had a bad game, I would get so upset about it. It’s just how I am and how I think every athlete should be. Good is never enough. It’s important to always keep learning and growing to better yourself.”

He is excited to play for the Oilers… Not that he would have anything bad to say about any of the 30 NHL teams, but the Oilers do hold a special place in Styles’ heart. “It’s a great hockey town with fans that are super passionate about the game.” He told The Hockey News. “They’ve been on a bit of a slide the last couple years but the team has a great history. Not many people watch the NHL where I’m from, but my dad was always interested in it and that’s how I got into the game. He was an Oilers fan during their dynasty years with Gretzky and Messier… So if they do end up drafting me first overall, I’ll feel honored to be a part of the team, and it’ll be a nice tribute to my dad.” 

Be sure to catch our live 2015 NHL Draft coverage on June 26 starting at 5pm EST/2pm PT only on Sportsnet.

“With the first overall pick in the 2015 NHL Entry Draft the Edmonton Oilers are proud to select, from Holmes Chapel in England, Harry Styles.”

The room erupted in loud cheers and applause as the Edmonton Oilers drafted the National Hockey League’s newest and most sought after commodity. 

Y/N’s closest friends and extended family roamed around her parents’ living room, congratulating one another with hugs and handshakes like one of their own family members was just drafted. That wasn’t the case though, they were all just deeply invested in the hockey team and the boy from England that was meant to turn things around after so many years of losing. They were so invested, in fact, that the family organized a gathering similar to something you might see on a holiday, like Thanksgiving or Christmas.

While it was not a normal holiday, for Y/N’s family it was just as significant. It was Draft Day. And every hockey fan in North America wanted Harry Styles to play for their team.

“That’s quite the suit, isn’t it?” Her uncle Will pointed to the television where the young man is dressed in an ornate red floral suit and black dress shirt. The suit was flashier than what most hockey players would wear, but it’s clear that Harry Styles is not like most hockey players. The camera panned to him as he stood up from his seat and hugged the two brunette women sitting next to him. He stuck out like a sore thumb among a sea of other young hockey players all dressed in variations of black and grey as they patiently waited to be drafted from the stands of the BB&T Centre in Florida. It was clear to Y/N that, much like his hockey skills, Harry Styles’ fashion sense was superior compared to his peers.

There was an air of excitement in the room as the draft party, all clad in blue and orange jerseys, watched the generational talent walk down the stairs of the arena and make his way to the stage. They collectively held their breath, the room becoming silent, when he arrived at the stage where both the owner and general manager of the team were waiting to greet him. Harry shook their hands before they handed him his own blue and orange jersey. As he slipped the jersey over his head and posed for a photograph with the executives, the silence in the room broke and excited conversations and speculations for the upcoming season continued. Y/N couldn’t help but feel a stir in her belly and a sense of anticipation for what the upcoming hockey season would bring. 

Her thoughts lingered on the man on the screen, wondering what it might be like to meet him, when her brother pulled her out of her reverie. “Can you believe you’ll be working with the Harry Styles?” 

No - she couldn’t quite believe it. 

In fact, everything happening in her life right now seemed a bit too good to be true.

Set to start her third year of university in September and having to complete mandatory practicum hours in order to graduate the following year, she somehow managed to secure a placement with her favourite hockey team. The Oilers were only taking three students from the university program and everyone in the program wanted one of those spots. 

The application process was incredibly stressful for Y/N. One telephone interview, one in-person interview, and a practical session where she had to demonstrate her athletic therapy skills to the team’s head trainer. She did well with the phone interview, given that they weren’t able to see her. She was able to look down at the talking points she wrote in her notebook and pause to take a couple deep breaths without making it obvious that she was reeling on the inside. Her anxiety got the best of her during the in-person interview though, freezing up when they asked simple questions like “why do you want to work for the team?” and “what experience do you have working with sport teams?”

She left the interview feeling embarrassed, but instead of taking the time to wallow and feel sorry for herself, she went home and spent hours upon hours taping her brothers’ ankles in preparation for the practical session the following day. There was no way she was going to let the opportunity fall through the cracks. Her dream of working for the Oilers was the whole reason she decided to go to school for athletic therapy in the first place. She was never any good at playing hockey but she knew in her heart that, someday, she would work for the team she loved so much. At the end of it all, she reckons her taping skills saved her, so she took her brother out to his favourite restaurant to thank him for letting her use his ankles for practice.

Fast forward a few months and she’s now stood in her parents living room thinking about how in three months she could be taping Harry Styles’ ankles.  

At the time of her application, no one knew the Oilers would be picking first in the draft. The aura around the team was a bit negative at the time (because of all the losing) and there were rumours circulating the city that some of the star players were rude to the support staff and liked to party a little too hard at The Ranch (which contributed to said losing). 

When she first decided to apply for the position her father warned her, “there’s a saying that you should never meet your heroes. What if they’re all a bunch of assholes and you end up hating the team you’ve loved your whole life?” 

Y/N ignored her father’s warning but silently hoped that others would feel that way, narrowing down the applicant pool. However, the rumours circulating the team had no effect on the amount of students applying for the job. The fans were loyal in Edmonton (a city not known by many around the world unless you follow hockey or are compelled to visit North America’s largest shopping mall) and although the team was losing, every kid studying athletic therapy wanted a shot with their favourite team. Y/N knew of at least fifteen students that she beat out for the position. 

Now, it’s late June and there is a general hype surrounding the team, as if Harry was about to come in and shine a light on the Decade of Darkness (a term Oilers fans use to characterize the recent years in which their favourite team hadn’t made the playoffs). That’s a lot of pressure to put on one person, but Y/N supposed that he’s been dealing with this kind of pressure since he was sixteen, maybe even younger. 

Everyone at her family’s draft party was, yet again, watching the television intently while Harry gave his first interview as an official member of the Edmonton Oilers hockey team. While Y/N normally loved watching these types of interviews, she was a bit zoned out- mesmerized by the look of him. The suit, the wavy chestnut hair, the dimple in his left cheek, the accent. The accent. She had never really been that attracted to hockey players, which many people found hard to believe given that she’s such a fan of the sport. All of the guys from her high school who played minor hockey were rotten and thought they were better than everyone else. She did have favourite players in the NHL, players that she loved and admired, but they were her favourites because she loves how they play the game, not because she wants to fuck them. 

There was something different about Harry Styles though. Not necessarily that she wanted to fuck him (especially since she recently signed an employment contract that would forbid it), but she was certainly feeling intrigued by him. He doesn’t look like the boys she went to high school with. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s British, or that he opted for a suit that set him apart from the rest of them, or maybe it was the duality of the way he held himself with unshakeable confidence in his floral suit, his gaze set intensely on the person interviewing him, posture strong and dominant, while simultaneously speaking so softly, his words laced with kindness and gratitude.

“When do you start working with the team, Y/N?” Her uncle Will asked from across the room, prompting everyone to look in her direction waiting for her response. 

The news that Y/N would be working for the Oilers this season shook the family. As soon as her dad shared the news with his brother, she started receiving messages expressing congratulations from her many aunts, uncles, and cousins, shortly followed by messages asking if she would be getting free tickets to games. 

“Um, mid-September, for training camp.” 

“You get to meet Harry Styles?” her 9 year old cousin, Billy, asked. 

“I do. I will be one of the team’s trainers.” The young boy held a look of wonder on his face, as if realizing for the first time that that his oldest cousin was actually kind of cool. 

“Do you think he’s single?” Her aunt Maria asked with a smirk on her face, turning to the television to look at Harry Styles. Aunt Maria doesn’t care much for hockey but she never failed to mention which players she believed to be handsome. She was also the nosey type of aunt that liked to inquire about Y/N’s dating life. “Maybe you two will hit it off.”

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes at her aunt, waving off her comment. But before she could retort, her father chimed in. “Ha! Yea, right! That’s not going to happen. She’s not allowed to date anyone on the team, it’s the rules. Plus, Y/N knows better than to get involved with any of these guys.” 

Her father was right. It is the rules. Y/N thought back to when she went into the Oilers headquarters back in April to sign her employment contract. She asked a lot of questions, making sure she understood everything about the document she was signing. 

“Personal relationships? Even friendships are forbidden?” she asked the head trainer, TJ, for clarification. 

“It depends. You can be friendly, sure, but I would avoid spending time with the players outside of training and game times. Could be seen as unprofessional.”  

Y/N understood why such rules were in place, and she had no issue with it at the time. A woman securing a position on a professional sports team was rare, let alone a woman securing a position with a professional men’s team. She knew when she chose this career path that it would always be an uphill battle and that she’d have to work harder and be more strategic than the men in her field. She wanted- no, needed to excel and prove that she could be a talented athletic therapist and a valuable member of the team, so she had no intention whatsoever of messing that up with any type of personal relationships. She also understood the power dynamic between the professional athletes and the support staff, the different ways in which power can be abused, and how personal relationships could complicate things. It all made sense to her. Plus, she was happy enough with just becoming friends with the other trainers and she probably wouldn’t have a lot of free time, anyways, balancing her practicum and her school work.

Today, however, she couldn’t help the very slight pull on her heartstrings at the thought of not getting to know Harry Styles on a more personal level. 

As if he’d even be interested in the first place.

In a hotel restaurant in Sunrise, Florida, a few hours after the draft, Harry Styles sat with his mother Anne, sister Gemma, and agent Jeff, celebrating his newly drafted status over a bottle of champagne. He knew he should be feeling elated, like it was the best day of his life, but all he felt was exhausted. The conversation at the table happened around him while he sat in his own head, unable to think about anything but what it might feel like to be tucked into his bed in his childhood bedroom in Holmes Chapel. 

The weeks leading up to the draft were an absolute circus filled with interviews and talking to the media nearly every day (he hates talking to the media), shooting promo for all of his endorsements (he’s thankful for the money they give him but he knows he is an excruciatingly terrible actor), and flying around North America to visit all of the potential cities where he might be drafted (it was a pointless tour because everyone knew where he was going to end up). 

He had only tonight to celebrate with his family before it was all set to start again. Him and Jeff will fly off to Edmonton tomorrow morning for a week to speak to the media there, meet the teammate he’ll be living with, and do a surprise skating session with some kids at a summer camp. Meanwhile, his mum and sister will fly back to England.

“Any idea where you’ll live then?” Anne asked her son, pulling him out of his thoughts and back into the conversation. 

“Hm?” He hadn’t a clue what his mum just asked him but he’d hate to admit that rather than listening to anything the three of them had been talking about for the last hour he’d been thinking about how he’d rather be sleeping “Sorry, I think the champagne’s got to me a bit.” 

“The team’s got him living with one of his older teammates and his family.” Jeff stepped in, knowing Harry wasn’t fully paying attention. “They do this with the young guys to get them used to living on their own. Teach ‘em how to cook, do laundry, and keep ‘em in line. He won’t be partying every night and bringing girls back to his place if he lives with the guy’s wife and kids.” 

“Oh please,” Gemma chimed in. “Not like any of that would be an issue for Harry. He’s been away from home for years. And he’s hardly got time for partying and dating.” 

Harry shot Jeff a look warning him to keep his mouth shut. When Harry found out about the living arrangements the team had planned for him, he was less than pleased. After all, he’d just spent the last year living in a dorm room at the University of North Dakota where he had complete freedom. Gemma was right, he didn’t have much time for partying and dating. But he liked having his own space, and he really liked being able to invite someone over after a game, either to celebrate a win or relieve some stress after a loss. 

“You never know, some of these young guys get their first big pay cheque and a taste of the big leagues and it can go off the rails pretty fast.”

“I like to think I raised my baby to know better than to get caught up in a pay cheque.” Anne placed a comforting hand on her son’s shoulder and he quickly reciprocated, reaching up to place his hand over hers.  

Not liking where this conversation was going, Harry finally cut in. “You did. And Jeffrey, you know I’m not that kinda guy. Either way, none of this matters if I don’t make it past training camp. For all we know I could be going back to the juniors for the season.”

“Doesn’t matter who you are or what kinda guy you are, H, it’s just what the team does. It’s tradition. And c’mon, I know you like to keep your expectations in check, but the team’s made it pretty clear that you’re gonna be in the starting lineup come October.” 

Jeff was right. The team had all but promised that he would make it past training camp. The question wasn’t if he’d make it past training camp, but in what shape he’d be in and how long it would take for the team to start winning games.  

“The coach said I’m small and need to bulk up, especially since I’ll be playing against older, more experienced men.” Harry could feel the weight of his mum’s gaze as she gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’m not quite where I need to be yet, but I’ll get there.”

Harry and his family were stood in the hotel lobby with Jeff, convening on plans for the morning when he felt a small tug on the hem of his red floral suit jacket. He spun himself around, ready to confront the individual bold enough to touch him without his consent, to find a young girl, no older than five years old staring up at him. 

Harry looked at her, a bit taken aback and undoubtedly with a bit of confusion written on his face, and then spotted, a few feet behind her, two individuals who were most likely her parents. Suddenly, he realized that he may have actually had a few too many glasses of champagne and immediately tried to compose himself, standing straighter and trying to will away the exhaustion in his eyes and the haziness in his mind. 

“Oh - um, hello there.” He cleared his throat before using the soft voice he reserves for adorable, small children like the one stood before him. 

“Are you Harry Styles?” She asked with wide eyes and a small, timid voice.

“I am, sweetheart. What can I do for you?” 

A bright smile etched itself onto her face. But instead of answering him, she looked back at the adults standing behind her, motioning for them to help as she was too shy to proceed on her own. The man, who Harry presumed was her father, moved to stand beside her. 

“This is Millie. She wanted to say hi to you because she’s a big fan of yours.” 

Harry lowered himself in front of the young girl so that he was crouched down and eye-level with her. “Hi Millie, it’s a real pleasure to meet you.” He reached out to shake the young girl’s small hand. “Have you got anything that I could sign? Or I suppose we could take a photo if you’d like?” 

The young girl removed her hand from Harry’s, nodding her head eagerly. She began to unzip her jacket, revealing a bright orange Edmonton Oilers jersey underneath. 

“Oh? Look at that! You’re an Oilers fan. In Florida?” Harry lifted himself from his crouched position and directed his question toward at the girl’s father.

“Yes, well, we actually travelled here from Edmonton, to watch the draft in person.” Harry raised his eyebrows in shock. He knew that the flight from Edmonton to Florida is long, and likely expensive. The tickets to attend the draft live probably weren’t cheap either. “It’s not every day your favourite team picks first overall! Let alone gets to pick a player like you. We were so excited so we decided to make a family trip out of it. Turn around, Millie, show him the back!” Millie’s father handed Harry a sharpie as Millie turned her back to Harry. 

It was at that moment that Harry started to understand the weight of the moment. The name ‘STYLES’ was embroidered on the back of Millie’s Oilers jersey, above the number ‘15’ indicating his draft year. He was speechless. This was, after all, the first time he was seeing his name in the classic Oilers’ orange and blue colours adorned on a fan’s back. 

The feeling was different from earlier at the draft when they presented him with his own jersey. This one belonged to someone else. Someone bought his jersey before he’d even ever played a single minute for the team. They flew across the continent, from Edmonton to Florida, just to watch him get drafted. It was a lot for his hazy, champagne-diluted mind to take in.

Realizing he’d just been standing there staring at the jersey, he cleared his throat once again in hopes that he could hide the unknown thoughts and emotions he was trying to reconcile. “Wow, um, I didn’t realize you could get these already.”

Millie’s father laughed, “Man, they’ve been selling these in Edmonton since they announced we’d be picking first in the draft.” Again, the feeling was overwhelming for Harry. 

We’d be picking first in the draft.

To this family, and probably others in Edmonton, the Oilers were “we”. They win together, they lose together. If the Oilers pick first in the draft, they all pick first. It was their team. And now he, Harry, was a part of that “we”.

Harry reached down to sign the jersey on Millie’s back, quickly scribbling his autograph on the left side. As he straightened himself, he felt Anne move to stand beside him, apparently having sensed her son’s unease and unconscious need for his mother to join him in this moment.

“Hi, I’m Harry’s mum, Anne. Would you like me to take a picture of the four of you?” Millie’s father eagerly handed his phone to Anne and waved his wife over to be in the photo. Several photos of Harry and the family were taken, followed by a few of just Harry and Millie. 

“Would you mind if I took one of Harry and Millie on my phone as well?” Anne asked as she snapped the last photo. “This is the first time Harry’s met a fan wearing his name on an Oilers jersey. We’d like to remember it.” 

The family was more than happy to oblige so Anne took a few more photos on her phone, including one where Millie’s back was to the camera and the ‘STYLES’ name in full view. 

It was so like his mum to understand how special the moment was and to come in and save him. He couldn’t quite articulate what he was feeling in that moment, as understanding emotions and sentimentality were not his greatest strengths, and he most definitely never would have asked to take a photo to keep for himself had she not done it. 

The obvious feelings were joy and gratitude. Every day he was thankful to play the game he loved, to be successful, and to have fans that loved and supported him. It didn’t always make sense that complete strangers paid him so much attention just for playing a game, but he accepted it and always tried to show those strangers kindness in return. However, there was another feeling lingering, one that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Looking at his mum, he knew that she knew what it was. She always knew. And certainly she would make him talk about it later.

As they separated from the family and walked toward the hotel elevators, where Gemma and Jeff were waiting, Anne grabbed onto her son’s arm, holding him close as they walked side by side. 

“Do you see that they love you already, my darling?” She asked. Harry raised an eyebrow at his mum, unsure of what she was going on about. “I know you. I know that you care what people think and that you are scared to disappoint them. You just need to step out on the ice and be yourself. Just be Harry. They already love you and this is only just the beginning.”

WOW! OK. I know it’s a bit of a slow start, but I wanted this chapter to be more of an introduction to harry and the mc and to the fan culture that harry is about to experience!! I’ve already started on the next part so that should be up before Christmas! If you’ve made it this far, all I can say is that I love you and appreciate you. If you liked it, please let me know. I debated not posting this so many times (and I might even regret it later) so feedback will certainly ease my troubled mind!! I ALWAYS LOVE YOU, BUT ESPECIALLY TODAY!! xx Shan. 

Harry’s Draft Day Look

talk to me about generational | fic masterlist

[fundielicious-simblr]

(Valentina’s POV)

Happy Harvestfest! I volunteered to host this year, meaning we had 21 people descend on our quiet little cottage out here in Brindleton Bay. I loved having my parents, all my siblings, and all my nieces and nephews around and filling up the house, it definitely brought be back to growing up at home with all 10 of us before we all got married and moved away. My mum said it was nice to have a change of scenery and be out in the countryside for Harvestfest, whilst Newcrest where we live is itself already outside of the commotion of the city since my grandparents wanted to raise their family away from worldly influences, out here where we live it’s truly the countryside where you can appreciate nature.

The family is under the cut! 

Ryan (56) and Clare (52) Paulson

My wonderful parents are still so in love with one another with this year marking 32 years of marriage for them, 10 children and 9 grandchildren later and you’d think they were still newlyweds! Dad is still working in tech programming and at this point has helped create many Bible and devotionals apps that help other Christians get closer to the Lord, his current plan is to work until he’s 65 then he can retire and support the family with the pension that he’s earned as well as the money he gets from the apps. When she’s not homeschooling my youngest brothers (the only two left being homeschooled), my mother is either writing or teaching music. She helps coordinate the music at church, with the Winterfest nativity play music being her current project, and whenever the band/orchestra play she’s usually the one that has arranged the music, as well as guiding the players through the song. In the new year Newcrest Baptist is running a music camp, so she’s been preparing for that mainly; my cousin Zoe and I will also be teaching at camp so we’re all looking forward to the new year. 

The Paulson Family - Carter (30), Madelynn (27), Lester (6), Fitzwilliam (1)

Carter and Madelynn have their 2 boys and right now are enjoying the different experiences that come with having a child and a toddler. Madelynn is homeschooling Lester as well as having him to go a christian homeschool co-op in their area twice a week, to further enhance his learning. Fitz is a year old and so just tags along with whatever Lester does, Madelynn goes through the toddler basics with him, but mostly focuses on Lester right now. This winter they’re going skiing with Madelynn’s family, her father is supporting their local conservative candidate in the election and the fundraiser is being held at a wonderful ski resort in the mountainous region.

The Townsend Family - Eric (32), Valentina (29), Aria (8), Ansel (6), Asher & Abbott (2)

We’re all good over here! I’ve started the school year with Aria and Ansel and both are progressing wonderfully, it’s amazing how much these kids love learning and I’m encouraged by their enthusiasm! I’m starting a rudimentary course with the twins to get them hopping on the learning train, they’re so interested in what their older siblings are doing that I thought it best to jump right into school with them. Eric and I have been thinking about getting some farm animals, we took the kids to the farmer’s market the other day and they were enraptured by the chickens, goats, cows, and sheep. It would be great to have the animals, we’d get fresh animal produce that’s homegrown to add to our fruit and vegetable garden produce, as well as a learning opportunity for the children to learn about animals and to learn the responsibility that comes with taking care of animals. This winter, other than learning about plants that flourish in the winter, we’ll also be focusing on learning all about animals and how we care for them. We want to be ready to welcome any animals that we might get onto our little homestead in the coming spring. I’m also working on what I’ll be teaching at music camp hosted by Newcrest Baptist in the new year, when I think of opportunities like this I can’t help but thank the Lord for my parents, had my mother not poured into us and taught us how to play instruments then I’d never be blessed with this opportunity to teach others.

The Paulson Family - Alan (28), Tessa (21), Charity (1), Edgar (6 weeks old)

Alan and Tessa have had the most recent addition to the family, 6 weeks ago Tessa had their second child, a boy they named Edgar! Tessa truly inspires me, she barely had the time to recover after having a baby before loading up to travel down here with everyone! She’s such a blessing, I was talking to her on how she handled travelling with a 2 children under 1 and she made it sound so easy! If they keep going at their current rate then they’ll have another baby by next Harvestfest - how wonderful! This winter they’re travelling to Sulani with Tessa’s family, they’re excited to have the sun and the ocean instead of frigid air and snow as they celebrate the birth of our Lord! 

The Crocker Family - Gregory (28), Kristyn (25), Kayla (1)

Kristyn and Gregory are enjoying life with little Kayla, they’ve had a wonderful time adjusting to her joining and family and love it. She’s the first granddaughter on their side of the family as Gregory’s sisters have had all boys, so she’s definitely being spoilt at home! Kristyn has always had a great love of children, and she’s been open with us sisters about praying for another child soon. They’re staying in Oasis Springs this winter and celebrating Winterfest with Gregory’s family.

The Crawford Family - Tucker (26) and Sabrina (25)

The newlyweds have been loving this new season of life together! Sabrina called me and told me that she’s been loving married life way more than she thought she would. She and Tucker honeymooned in a little cabin tucked away in the woods up by Granite Falls; after a couple gets married and goes from limited physical intimacy to being married and being allowed to do everything, it is quite an adjustment to get used to. It’s good for them that they got that time together because they’ve got a packed schedule soon after this. They’re travelling with the Crawfords to sing at churches in the area for the winter, and after that they’re back on the farm for the springtime harvesting and to prep for the summer harvest and their summer tour. It’s been great to have my sister living in the same area, during times when they are home we try and coordinate when we can see each other.

Jarrod (21) and Madison Jenkins (19)

We’ve also got a newly engaged couple on the block! Jarrod proposed to Madison when he was on a visit to see her in Evergreen Harbour, they had just finished church when he got down on one knee and asked her to marry him! They’re planning for a winter wedding, meaning that they’re also planning around our cousin Charles and his wedding; hopefully they can nail down dates so that we can all make it to both weddings. With a family as large as ours, it’s definitely going to be interesting to see how the rest of the singles do it when it comes time to plan their weddings, since Celeste is the last girl left my parents only have one last time to be the wedding hosts.

Celeste (27), Zachary (19), Conner & Jarrett (16)

Celeste is truly thriving in her singleness, when she’s not at home serving others she’s travelling around visiting those of us who moved away and investing in the lives of her nieces and nephews. She also spends time investing in the lives of those around her, she travels with our cousin Macie to different young ladies’ retreats and they both counsel and guide young ladies on how to better their walk with the Lord. This winter she’s joining Macie and a few other youths from our Newcrest Baptist on a missions trip to Selvadorada, so that’s another thing to add into our families already hectic winter.

Zachary is also enjoying his new status as an adult, he’s started working part time for a lawn services company run by a member of the church and a friend of the family. He’s also joining Celeste on the missions trip to Selvadorada this year, it’ll be his first time out of the country so he is very excited!

Conner and Jarrett are enjoying their time as the youngest kids in the family, they’re quite self sufficient at school meaning that they’re working through it quite quickly and are on track to graduate early! It’s always great when we get to see the boys, Ansel is old enough for them to bring him along when they go on outings, so it was great to have them here together.

[byorder-fanfic]

Heaven Hears

Summary: After coming home from war, John has a second share of pain when Martha dies. Hopefully, his little sister can try and help.

Word count: 1759

Warnings: Death, grief, Christianity (is that a warning? I dunno I’ll keep it)

Authors Note: I’m sorry. This one is a little bit sadder than my others, but I SWEAR it has some fluffy bits in it! This is set in early 1919, so before the events of Season 1. Thank you so much for your continued support, I appreciate and LOVE you all for it xx

War was Hell, but the aftermath wasn't much better. For John, he wasn't sure if he'd rather crying in the trenches with his wife's letters pressed closed to his chest (to keep them safe from bullets and water) or now. With a soft sigh, he brushed his shaking finger over the creased paper. The ink hadn't worn away, still looking as fresh as the day they were written and, despite the wrinkles that embedded in it, the letters still survived, longer than the woman who wrote them. Martha. Each time he remembered her name, a new wave of grief and wanting hit him. Even in the bitter winters without thick clothes, huddled up in mud and men, his arms had never felt so cold. Pain seared through his throat but no tears rose. He had been crying solidly for a few weeks now. It seemed as if he's run out. His house was too quiet. Ada had taken the kids out for the day, giving him that longer-than-usual-"I'm sorry for your loss" kind of hug he was getting far too often before she took Jack and Katie's hands, letting his eldest Louise hold onto little George. Katie looked just like Martha, and Jack kept on asking when mummy was going to come home. And John was breaking. Coming home was supposed to be a celebration, and it really was for a while. He had his kids in his arms, wife by his side, and nothing was gonna stop him. Suddenly, a rapid series of knocks on his door forced John out of his thoughts. Stumbling a little, he made it to the porch, swinging open the door to reveal Polly. Her severe expression was immediately replaced with concern. John didn't look good: his hair was a mess, face so pale she could swore his freckles had darkened a few shades, his clothes wrinkled and stinking of whiskey. "Have you seen Y/N?" Polly asked, looking down at her nephew's raggedy appearance with a furrowed brow. "Nah," he said, suddenly feeling a jolt of worry displace his misery. "Why? Is she missing?" Y/N was only ten years old, and more protected by her brothers than the King of England. If she managed to slip away, the whole of Birmingham would be called to the streets soon. That is, if Polly didn't find her first. "She said she was going to see you." Polly's pursed lips reminded John of a simpler time, when she'd scold them for playing too rough with Michael (just a baby then!), and lecture them all when they got into fights. Or, more recently, when the two Shelby twins made mischief in Small Heath. In an instant, John grabbed his coat from the hook and pulled it over, somewhat hiding his dishevelled clothes, and obscuring his unkempt hair with his Peaky cap. "Let's go looking then," he said simply as he shut the door behind him. Polly held her hands up, forcing him to pause on his rampage. "I can find her by myself, you need rest." He hadn't heard that since he got the flu at fourteen. The same age he met Martha, the bitterness soon settled back in. "I need to find Y/N," John tried to stop himself from sounded stroppy, looking at Polly with conviction. "And I need a distraction." With a sharp huff, Polly grabbed onto the crook of his elbow as the two ventured down the grimy streets of Small Heath, listening for the girl's squeal of laughter and quick footsteps, looking in every corner for a hint of the troublemaker John called sister. They looked in all the usual places: the Cut and the stables were empty, neither Uncle Charlie or Curly had seen her, the Garrison hadn't had a Shelby in it all day according to Harry (much to both of their surprise), and she wasn't hiding away at a friend's house. Accepting defeat, the two decided to trudge back to Watery Lane to tell Tommy and Arthur that they couldn't find Y/N and thus force every Peaky Blinder awake or otherwise to join a search party for her. Until, Polly stopped in front of the Church, forcing John to stop in his tracks too.  "What the Hell, Pol," he began before turning to follow his aunt's gaze. In the steps in front of the Church sat a familiar figure. Thirteen year old Isaiah Jesus was hunched up, a cigarette loose in his hands and smoke surrounding him. Both the Shelbys walked up with kind smiles, always happy to see the preacher's boy. As soon as Isaiah heard the familiar march of Polly's heels, he stumbled to stand up, dropping the cigarette and stamping it out. He brought his sleeve (that was getting shorter on his long arms every time they saw him) up to rub his nose, a motion that irritated both of their parental instincts. With a small sigh, he waved at them. "Hello Mrs Grey," he said politely, although a little hoarse. Getting closer, they could both see his eyes were slightly pink, his dark skin shining with recent tears. It seemed as if he didn't just come away from his father's view to smoke. "Are you alright, Si?" John asked softly. Isaiah pressed his lips together, preventing the tears in his eyes from spilling in front of them as he gave a hesitant nod. "Yeah, um, Y/N is in there," he swallowed thickly, pointing behind him. He refused to meet their eyes. "She's talking to my...my mum, and uh Martha too." John froze at the name. He hadn't heard it spoken in so long, except for the incessant chanting in his head. But Isaiah wasn't afraid to say her name, he knew all too well about grief. They remembered how much smaller he was then, his black sleeves and trousers needed to be rolled up as he walked alongside his mother and baby sister's coffin. In an instant, John walked into the Church. The sound of the door made Jeremiah, sat in the back pew, turn around. With a warm smile, he brought a finger to his lips, then pointed ahead of the three of them. In front of the altar, Y/N was sat on the floor - despite the multitudes of empty chairs surrounding her - as you looked up, illuminated by the light. Although the Birmingham sky was perpetually grey, the stained glass window shone in gold and pinks. "God, I think it must be nice for Mrs Jesus to have Martha," your voice rung through the stone building, as you chattered on, as conversationally as you would speak to Finn. "I mean, little Delilah must be..." you paused, and John knew you were doing that scrunched up face you and Arthur had when you were trying to do sums. "Five? I think. Well, Polly said we were all a right menace at that age, so Martha'll be there to help her." John looked from Jeremiah's joyous expression to Polly's uneasy one, not sure which side he related to more. "Martha really was the best mother." You said it a little bit sadder. "The kids all miss her, and John's..." He took a step forward, craning to hear what you had to say for him. "He's in so much pain, and I don't know what to do. God, please give me some of it for him. He's already got so much going on in his brain, and Polly said that I've got an empty head, so I wouldn't mind carrying some of it for him. I know Tommy or Arthur would do the same, but their heads are still messed up from the War, and I guess John's is too. He just has more important stuff to think about." For what felt like the first time in a while, John smiled. He walked down the aisle and placed a gentle tap on your bent head. Startled, you looked up. Seeing John, you gave him a big grin as he came to come sit down next to you, cross-legged as if he was back in school and Mrs Changretta was reprimanding him again. He supposed that's what the presence of God felt like to him- a disappointed authoritarian. He held onto his sister's hand, as you looked back up to the intricate window. "Martha, I'm gonna hug John for you now." You moved over to wrap you arms around him, only reaching up to his shoulder as you nuzzled your head against his coat. He knew it was itchy for you, so he pulled you into his lap like he'd do when you were so much younger. Smiling wide, you rested against him like you were still that toddler.  "Hey Y/N-" he didn't get to finish his sentence, as you gave him an annoyed arch of your eyebrows as you brought a finger up to shush him. Sitting up, she looked back up to the window. "Sorry God, I'm going to speak to John now. I'm sorry I got mad at Finn this week, and mum I swear I didn't mean to push him in the Cut, please help me make everyone smile again, and..." you gave a look of pure concentration as she held onto your hands tighter. "That's it! Amen."  You snuggled back down into John's arms, looking at him expectantly. "You can talk now," you told him sweetly. Despite himself, John laughed loudly, giving you a toothy grin. "Oh, can I?" He sounded teasing, and it made Polly beam at Jeremiah as they saw, for the first time in weeks, his happiness that once radiated from him. "Well, Y/N, I just wanted to say it's sweet what you said the big man about me, but you don't have to take on my pain for me." "I don't have to," you repeated sternly. "I choose to." "Even so," John smiled again, the feeling somehow foreign on his face. "The pain I feel is just a reminder of how much I love her." He couldn't say her name, it choked in his mouth, but you understood, nodding your head dutifully. "And it will get easier to handle with time." He looked up to the window, the eyes of a Biblical hero he couldn't name, that seemed to listen to each word. "And, Martha, when that happens, the kids' and I, we'll smile every time we think of you cause of how much we love you, right?" "Amen," Y/N said softly.

[captainjanegay]

someone holds me safe and warm | Stucky | Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergent, Timelines, 4+1 | 5.4k words | Ao3

Summary:

Four times Steve was sick or hurt and Bucky tried his best to care for him and one time the roles were reversed.

A short trip through Stucky timeline with loads of softness and care on the way.

A/N: It's here! My Secret Santa gift for the loveliest @snarky-drabbles​ ♥ I was so worried I won't be able to finish it and it turned out much longer than I wanted it to be but I really hope you'll like it :') I was so happy when I've heard you wanted some nice and soft sickfic and I hope I was able to provide you with exactly what you wanted ♥ I wish you the happiest holidays season, love! Despite the stressing, it was such a pleasure to write it for you ♥ Also big thanks for @metalbvcky​ for hosting this event, it was so much fun :’) And thank you my sweetest Luisa @its-tortle​ for giving it a read and being your incredible, supportive self :’)

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1. December 9th, 1928

The snow has been falling all night. Bucky’s mum had to almost forcefully drag him away from the window, because Bucky couldn’t stop looking at the tiny snowflakes making layers over layers of fluff on the ground. If he could, he would stay up all night, just to make sure the snow won’t disappear before he wakes up. The only argument that eventually makes him go to sleep is the threat his mum makes, saying that he won’t get to go out with Steve tomorrow if he doesn’t make it to bed in the next 20 minutes. He makes it in 15.

When his mom finally lets him go to the Rogers’ house the next day, it’s well past 11 o’clock. Luckily, the snow is still there and Bucky’s pretty sure there’s more of it than he remembered. On one hand he wants to take the longer route so he can spend more time kicking it up in white, fluffy clouds, jumping into snowdrifts or making snowballs. He doesn’t throw them at anyone, his mum raised him better than that, just drops them back onto the ground. The most fun was in creating a perfectly round ball anyway. But on the other hand, he wants to get to Steve’s house as soon as possible, so they can go out and do all of those things together. Eventually, he decides to take the shortest route possible but he kicks the snow around even more to make up for it.

Ten minutes later he runs up the stairs of the old tenement house and knocks on the door. Two slow and three rapid taps, as always. Bucky bounces on the balls of his feet, waiting for Steve to run to the door to let him in, as always.

But this time it’s not Steve who opens the door. It’s Mrs. Rogers, her face pale and with dark circles under her eyes. But as soon as she sees Bucky a big, genuine smile brightens up her face. It’s the exact same smile Bucky has seen on his friend many times.

“Good morning, James,” she says. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Good morning and likewise, Mrs. Rogers,” Bucky grins, taking off his cap. “Is Steve here? It’s been snowing all night and I was hoping we could go play outside!”

Mrs. Rogers sighs, her smile getting a bit sad. Bucky senses that something’s wrong, and his excitement melts like the snowflakes he tried to catch on his tongue.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Mrs. Rogers says. “Steve’s sick. He won’t be able to go outside for a while. I guess you’ll have to face all this snow by yourself today.”

Bucky's face falls upon hearing that. He was really excited for today and he spent long minutes before he fell asleep last night thinking about all the fun he and Steve could have. But Steve’s sick and the idea of doing all of them alone doesn’t sound fun at all. So instead of saying goodbye and heading home, Bucky looks at Mrs. Rogers with hopeful eyes and asks, “Would you mind if I came in and stayed with Steve for a while?”

The warm smile is back on Steve mother's face as she ruffles Bucky’s hair in an affectionate gesture and steps to the side, letting him in. “Of course, I don’t mind. Steve will be so happy you’re here.”

Bucky quickly shrugs off his coat and kicks off his shoes. Just as quickly, he apologises for all the snow he’s brought inside and picks up his shoes to put them on the rag by the door. Mrs. Rogers only waves a hand at him. Instead of running straight to Steve’s room, Bucky follows Mrs. Rogers to the kitchen when she asks for some help. Tongue sticking out in concentration, Bucky takes a careful hold of the bowl of hot chicken soup and slowly walks after Mrs. Rogers who is carrying an armful of meds and a glass of water.

As soon as they enter the other room, a small, blond head peeks out from under a mountain of blankets. As soon as it notices Bucky, a smile splits its face.

“Bucky!” Steve says, his voice all raspy and weird.

Bucky only grins in response, sending a quick look Steve’s way before he focuses back on the bowl in his hands. Only when it’s safely set aside on the bedside table, Bucky jumps towards the bed. Mrs. Rogers stops him when he tries to give Steve a hug, saying he might get sick, too, so it’s better if he keeps a bit of distance.

Steve's smile falters. He tries to convince Bucky that he should go so he won’t catch anything from him. In response, Bucky calls him a dimwit and drops onto the floor next to the bed. 

Mrs. Rogers checks Steve’s temperature, rubs his back with something with a very strong smell and gives him some medication. Steve looks miserable and a bit embarrassed through all of it. Seeing his friend’s discomfort, Bucky tactfully looks away and starts babbling about the snow, about mean Mr. Flanagan slipping on the icy pavement in front of his house today and falling onto his butt while shouting obscenities. He tells Steve how pretty the park looks with trees and bushes all covered in snow. He asks if Steve would be able to draw them if Bucky describes it to him with all the details he can remember. When he glances up at his friend, Steve’s eyes are finally bright and happy again, and he’s really excited to try. 

Mrs. Rogers leaves a few minutes later, dropping a kiss to Steve’s head and ruffling Bucky’s hair before she walks out of the room. Steve adjusts his pillows so he can sit more upright and takes a small sketchbook from the bedside table. Bucky rests his folded arms on Steve’s bed and places his chin on top of them. As soon as he starts talking about the snowy park, Steve starts drawing. It looks just like the real thing. Soon enough, Bucky starts making up details, at first some believable ones but then he comes up with more and more ridiculous things. Giggling, Steve dutifully puts them on paper. It’s really nice, knowing that Bucky managed to make his best friend laugh despite the misery and terrible cough that escapes his mouth every so often.

The snow might be nice but there’s still plenty of winter left, so Bucky’s sure he and Steve will have a chance to play outside soon. Bucky is more than happy to sit by Steve’s side if it means he can save him from boredom this way.

Besides, their version of the snowy park is so much better than the real thing.

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2. December 14th, 1936

It’s cold. The old stove is not giving as much heat as it’s supposed to. They’re slowly running out of things to keep the fire running and Bucky should probably check if there are any old wooden crates or something he could take from the docks tomorrow. It’s not freezing yet, but the nights are supposed to get even colder. He has to do something. The coughing fit from the other side of the room makes Bucky take another log from the quickly disappearing pile in the corner, before he goes back to stirring the soup.

He didn’t make it, just heating up a portion of what his mom gave him when he came by for a quick visit earlier today. It’s better than anything he could make, but it’s not as good as Mrs. Rogers’. God, there’s no way anyone could compete with her in terms of cooking or baking. Bucky was pretty sure her chicken soup had some actual healing powers, considering how quickly it was able to get Steve back on his feet.

It’s easier to think about Mrs. Rogers' soups and their magical properties than the fact that each time Steve gets sick, it seems to be worse than the last time. Thinking about that won’t do anyone any good. And Bucky would rather swallow a log than let Steve see how worried he gets sometimes. 

So he stirs the soup extra vigorously before pouring it into a bowl when it gets nice and hot. It’s filled to the brim, so Bucky furrows his brows in concentration as he slowly makes his way across the room.

When he’s halfway there, he hears a laugh from the pile of blankets on the bed. It’s a bit wheezy but it’s a laugh nonetheless. When he looks up, Steve is already looking back at him with a soft smile on his face.

“What?” Bucky asks defensively, feeling flustered all of sudden.

“Nothing,” Steve says. He looks tired and pale but his lips stretch in an even bigger smile. “When you’re concentrating on something, you still stick your tongue out. Just like when you were a kid.”

“Oh fuck off, Rogers,” Bucky mumbles, placing the bowl on a stool that serves as a makeshift bedside table. “You’re not getting any of the soup for being an asshole.”

“How am I an asshole?” Steve asks. “I just think it’s cute that you still do that.”

Feeling that his blush is only getting worse, Bucky turns around and pretends to be very busy putting away the food from his mom. After taking a deep breath, he gets a grip on himself and walks back towards Steve.

As he approaches, Steve tries to slowly pull himself up into a sitting position, his arms shaking with effort. When Bucky reaches out to help him, Steve sends him a warning look so fierce that Bucky just raises his hands in surrender and backs away. He sits on the chair by the small table, stacked with books, old newspapers, letters, some of Steve’s sketches and who knows what else. While Steve eats, Bucky tries to tidy it all up, putting it all into nice piles and filling the quiet with mindless chatter. He tells Steve about the new Christmas tree they’ve put up at the docks, and about Becca’s new guy who seems decent enough to get Bucky’s approval of going out with his sister. Every once in a while, he throws Steve a quick glance. He tries not to sigh at the sight of Steve’s shaking hands or at the fact that he needs to take a little break every few sips as if even eating tired him out. Bucky doesn’t offer help, no matter how much he wants to. Steve would probably strangle him with his bare hands if he did, even in his current weakened state.

So Bucky doesn’t say anything about that, just keeps babbling nonsense, getting an occasional hum or a chuckle out of Steve. After a few more minutes, Steve buries himself back under the blankets.

“It’s very tasty but I’m full,” he says. “Give your mom my thanks when you next see her.”

“How do you know I didn’t make it?” Bucky asks in mock offense, putting away the leftover soup. “You were asleep for most of the day so you can’t be sure.”

“You’re a decent cook, Buck. But that’s way out of your league. You’ve reheated it like a champ, though!”

Bucky narrows his eyes at him and shakes his head. “You’re such a punk, Rogers. Now scoot over - for such a small person, you’re taking an awful amount of space. I’m cold and you have all the blankets.”

They both know it’s just a guise. There’s a perfectly good cover on Bucky’s bed on the other side of the room. Steve doesn’t protest though, just move forward a bit, leaving space for Bucky to slide between him and the wall. As soon as Bucky’s settled, Steve’s body goes lax next to him and he presses his back closer to Bucky’s chest. Automatically, Bucky wraps his arms around Steve’s middle. He rests his head on top of Steve’s, the soft fair hair tickles his cheek. Soon enough Steve’s breathing evens out. Bucky closes his eyes, but it takes him a bit longer to drift away, as he anxiously listens to all the hitches and rumbles in Steve’s breathing. At some point, still deep in his sleep,  Steve in his sleep wraps his long, delicate fingers around Bucky’s wrist. The touch soothing enough to let Bucky calm down and allow the sleepiness to finally take him.

As long as he holds Steve close to his chest, nothing bad can happen.

.

3. December 20th, 1938

There are blood stains on Steve’s white shirt. Some around his collar and some on his cuffs, which means that he managed to pack a punch or two before he got beaten up by whomever he started a fight with this time.

Bucky’s lips are set in a thin line as he tries to get a better look on Steve’s face to assess his injuries. Which wasn’t that easy considering that Steve is currently looking anywhere but at him. 

“Oh, for God’s sake, can you just—,” Bucky says angrily, gripping Steve’s chin and turning his face up. He might be furious that Steve has gotten into another fight, but his grip is gentle. The last thing he wants is to cause Steve more pain. But God knows how badly he wants to punch that reckless punk himself, sometimes.

Steve jaw is set and at first, he looks like he wants to free himself from Bucky’s grasp. Changing his mind, his eyes gaze right into Bucky’s, a challenging expression on his face. Bucky would laugh if it wasn’t for the state of said face.

The blood is most certainly coming from Steve’s split lip. Or maybe it’s from the deep cut on his left cheekbone, surrounded by a darkening bruise. There’s some dried blood under his nose, too. He doesn’t have a black eye this time, so that’s good. Although by the way Steve flinched when squaring his shoulders to look up Bucky thinks it’s a safe bet he got punched or kicked in the ribs. Bucky prays none of his fragile bones are broken.

The anger he felt dissipates, at least a bit. What’s left is worry — which Bucky tries to hide, knowing that Steve would just get annoyed at that – and affection. He stopped trying to hide the latter ages ago.

“Who was it this time?” Bucky sighs, absentmindedly swiping his thumb across Steve jaw, careful not to put pressure on any of the bruises.

“Some asshole, as always. He was shouting obscenities at a girl who didn’t want to go dancing with him or something and he tried to follow her home,” Steve says with a shrug, followed by a wince.

Bucky can’t stop another sigh that escapes his mouth. He really wishes the world would be a better place. A place where people weren’t harassed for no reason, so Steve didn’t feel obligated to help them. Damn Steve Rogers and all his righteous anger and his heart of gold.

“Sit down. I’ll clean you up, punk.” Bucky puts his hand down and takes a step back. When he sees that Steve opens his mouth — to protest, most likely — Bucky points a finger at him. “Don’t argue with me. I will kick your ass. Don’t think I won’t.”

Steve rolls his eyes but there’s a hint of smile tugging at his lips before he turns around and walks toward the bed. Bucky goes to get something to clean up Steve’s cuts.

“I can do it myself,” Steve says when Bucky’s back, reaching out for the wet cloth Bucky brought.

“Oh, I know you can. Just let me be useful since you’ve stolen all the glory, being a hero who saves ladies in distress and all,” Bucky responds, taking a gentle hold of Steve’s chin again.

“If getting beaten up and kicked like a dog is glorious, then yes, I guess I have. You’d be more of a help than I was, if you were there.” Steve’s smile is full of irony as he tries to look away but Bucky’s hand keeps him in place.

Bucky drops the hand that was gently wiping at the cuts on his face and waits. Eventually, Steve’s eyes land on him, probably wondering why Bucky stopped.

“You are worth dozens of men, Stevie. Dozens of me. You’re half my size but you saved so many people already. You’ve stopped that asshole from doing who knows what to this girl and gave her time to get home safely,” Bucky says, his voice steady and sure and his eyes never leaving Steve’s, no matter how Steve wants them to. “You always know the right thing to do, and I swear your heart is made of pure gold. If that’s not glorious, I don’t know what is. You’re incredible, Stevie and help me God, I’ll beat the shit out of you if you keep putting yourself down like this.”

Steve chuckles at the last part and opens his mouth as if to respond but closes it a second later. The smile he gives Bucky is shy and soft. Bucky’s heart aches to just lean down and close the remaining space between them. Instead, he lets go of Steve’s cheek and goes to wet the cloth again. It’s not necessary, but he needs to take a grip on himself before he does something stupid.

A few moments later all the blood is cleaned from Steve’s face, his nose turns out not to be broken this time and most of his cuts have mostly stopped bleeding. Bucky counts that as a win. 

“Take your shirt off,” Bucky says, trying not to blush. “Gotta make sure your ribs are in one piece.”

“Just admit you want to get me naked,” Steve replies without missing a beat. When the words leave his mouth, his eyes widen in shock, as if he wasn’t expecting to say them out loud. “I mean— I didn’t—,” he stammers.

Seeing how the blush colours Steve’s cheeks, still visible despite the bruising, and travels down Steve’s neck and past the collar of his blood-stained shirt, Bucky admits to himself that he is not as strong-willed as he liked to think. Sliding his hand down, Bucky traces Steve’s delicate collarbone with his thumb.

“To be honest, I’d prefer to do that for purposes other than checking if your ribs are intact,” he hopes he sounds nonchalant, but he can feel his cheeks are heating up. 

“Oh really?” Steve asks, cocking an eyebrow up. The challenging look is back, and Bucky is going to lose his mind if Steve doesn’t stop looking at him like that. All cocky and sure of himself, like his face is not beet-red at the moment.

Bucky clears his throat and picks up the cloth. “I guess we have to wait until your cuts and bruises are healed and check.”

Steve laughs, gripping a handful of Bucky’s shirt and tugging him lightly. “Can you— Just come here, you jerk. I’d get up but it really hurts, I think you should kiss it better.”

And Bucky does. He kisses Steve’s split lip and then very gently swipes his mouth across Steve’s cheekbone and jaw to go back to his lips a moment later. A giddy laugh escapes his mouth and he thinks that there’s no other thing he’d be doing. He is not naïve enough to believe Steve will stop coming home with bruises of all sorts, but Bucky will always be there to kiss them better.

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4. December 1st, 2024

The room is quiet. Or relatively so, considering that Brooklyn rarely gets completely silent, even at night. But it’s quiet enough for Bucky to hear the change in Steve’s breathing, where he lays asleep next to him. He opens his eyes and turns around. Soon enough, Steve starts tossing and turning, his breathing becomes more erratic. All those sleepless nights, spent on anxiously waiting for Steve’s next breath, praying the next one would come are flooding Bucky’s memory. He’s not sure if it’s better now. Steve might not be physically fighting for his life now, but the night terrors that haunt him, certainly make him feel like he does.

Carefully not to startle Steve, Bucky places his flesh hand on his arm. He squeezes lightly and whispers Steve’s name. When it doesn’t help, he tightens his grip for a moment and speaks a bit louder. Steve breathing hitches and he goes still for a moment. But then a strangled cry escapes his lips and he tosses hard enough that it wakes him up. Immediately, he sits upright almost knocking Bucky down in the process and he pants heavily, looking around the room with wide, terrified eyes.

"Steve," Bucky says, trying to keep his voice calm. "It's OK. You're OK. We're in Brooklyn. It's 2024. You're safe, we're safe. Everything's fine, Stevie."

It's like a mantra that Bucky keeps repeating until Steve is able to take full, big breaths again. When he finally turns his head to look at Bucky, he looks scared and lost and it breaks Bucky's heart into pieces. Bringing his hands up, Bucky wants to stroke Steve's cheek in a comforting gesture. But before he has a chance to do that, a grimace crosses Steve's face and he quickly gets out of bed and rushes towards the bathroom. Bucky sighs at the sounds of retching he hears a moment later. He gets out of bed and follows Steve. With a voice no louder than a whisper, he repeats over and over those little affirmations he knows Steve needs to hear and believe anew as he gently rubs his back. 

It doesn't take long for Steve to calm down, but Bucky would gladly sit there all night if needed. Soon enough the dry-heaving stops and only a tiny sob comes out of Steve's mouth.  Bucky helps him to brush his teeth, since his hands are shaking so much it makes it impossible to get the toothpaste out.

After that, Bucky tangles their fingers together and walks out of the bathroom. Instead of going back to bed back to bed, he leads them to the kitchen. He turns on the small lamp by the couch as they pass it,mostly for comfort, since with their respective shares of the serum, navigating in the darkness is not much of a problem for them. The dim light softens the dark edges of the living room and open kitchen space.

Bucky puts the kettle on, his hand not leaving Steve's for a second. He smiles — a bit sadly — as Steve comes closer, and plasters himself to Bucky's back, wrapping his arms tightly around him.

Steve hides his face in the crook of Bucky's neck, right palm coming up to lay flat on Bucky's chest, right over his heart. Bucky takes slow, deliberate breaths, knowing that his calm will help Steve. So without a word, he lets Steve see and hear and feel that they're both alive and safe. That whatever haunted him in his nightmare is not real. At least not anymore.

Bucky brings Steve's left hand, the one he's still holding, up to his lips and places a kiss after kiss on  each of his knuckles. More reassurances are whispered right into Steve's warm skin. 

It's hard to tell how long they stay like this. The water starts boiling and the electric kettle turns itself off at some point but none of them as much as flinch at the sound. It could be hours and it could be mere minutes before Steve's muscles relax and his breathing finally steadies. While he doesn't let go of Bucky, he doesn't cling to him like a lifeboat anymore.

Slowly, Bucky turns around in Steve's arms. His hands gently cup his face and he rests his forehead against Steve's. 

"You're here," Steve says. The statement is just a shaky whisper and Bucky's not sure what to make of it, but he gives a small nod.

"I am. And I'm not going anywhere,"

"It's—," Steve starts, and then swallows. "You were— I thought—"

Leaning away just the slightest bit so he can look at Steve's face, Bucky shakes his head. "Shhh, Steve. It doesn't matter. It wasn't real. Don't torture yourself, love. We can talk about it in the morning if you want to, yeah?"

After a second, Steve gives a small nod. Even though the unease still hides in his eyes, he tries to muster a smile as he shifts his head and presses a kiss to the inside of Bucky's palm.

"Now, I'm going to make you a cup of tea because as Mrs. Rogers used to say—," Bucky says.

" 'A cup of Earl Grey always does more good than harm'" Steve finishes and closes his eyes but the smile grows a tad bigger.

"Bless her Irish soul," Bucky says with a smile of his own. "So I'm gonna make some and then we'll go back to bed. Or cuddle on the couch, or take a walk or whatever you want to do, OK?"

Steve looks up at him, his hand stroking lightly across Bucky's cheekbone. "I love you, Buck. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"And you'll never have to know. I'm not going anywhere, my love. I'll be right by your side for the end of time because that's where I belong. And we've proven enough times that there's not a damn thing that could change that.”

.

5. December 5th, 2025

Bucky was never the one to get sick. When he was a kid he had a bad cold maybe once or twice but it was all forgotten within a week or two. Which is pretty surprising, considering that he was hanging with Steve all the time but never managed to catch anything from him. Later, he has gotten the serum so getting sick stopped being a real issue for him.

So why does his throat feel all scratchy, his nose is too stuffy for him to take a single breath and he feels both hot and cold at the same time?

It's because the world hates him, that's why. There's also a teeny tiny chance that it has something to do with his and Steve's last mission.

They were trailing someone who aspired to create a biological weapon, as one does. It wasn't hard to locate this mad scientist's secret lair or to capture him. Overall it was a pretty simple mission and it was going really smooth. At least until they were to extract the highly reactive bio-bomb that — quite literally — blew up in Bucky's face. It was good he was alone in the room when that happened because as the Avengers-issued doctor has later told him, the substances implicit in the bomb would be lethal to regular people in the dose that attacked Bucky. But to someone enhanced the worst case scenario would mean a heavy case of flu that the organism would be able to fight, eventually.

So, of course, the worst case scenario is exactly what is happening now. Every single muscle in Bucky's body is aching, including the ones he wasn’t even aware existed. The sheets are drenched with sweat and he's still shaking under his layers of covers.

"Steve?" he calls miserably. His voice feels like sandpaper in his dry throat.

Not even a second passes before he hears footsteps and Steve enters the room.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks. There's a worried wrinkle between his brows.

Instead of answering Bucky let's out a little whine and pouts, looking up at Steve from where he's buried under the covers so only the upper half of his face is visible.

And what Steve does? The fucker laughs at him.

"Aren't you supposed to be taking a nap?" Steve asks, looking amused.

"I can't sleep," Bucky rasps out. "I'm uncomfortable and everything hurts and can I just die already?"

Steve laughs. Again. Really, Bucky can't fathom where people got the idea that Steve Rogers is all polite, nice and righteous all the time. He's the biggest asshole Bucky ever knew. 

"I figured you'd be dramatic when sick, but I didn't expect that," Steve says as he sits on the side of the bed. He reaches out with his hand and places it on Bucky's shoulder. It's pleasantly cool against his skin and Bucky closed his eyes and sighs.

"You're a dick," he mumbles. "Absolutely no compassion for the weak and hurting, I don't know how you can live like this."

As Bucky says that, Steve leans over and peppers his face — or at least the part not covered by the duvet — with little kisses. It's nice but Bucky's point still stands. Steve's a monster.

"You need anything?" Steve asks, gently stroking Bucky's hair.

"Yes." When Steve makes a questioning sound, Bucky continues, "the sweet relief of death, please."

Steve sighs heavily but when Bucky opens his eyes and looks at him, his face is both amused and fond. 

“I’m gonna make you some tea and soup, how about that?”

“Huh, so you are going to kill me?” Bucky raises an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t go for poisoning but if that’s—”

Not letting him finish, Steve just gets up and leaves the room. Bucky tries calling after him but he doesn’t get any response and he has a coughing fit after raising his voice, so he gives up.

.

This time Bucky might have actually fallen asleep. He’s not shaking as much so he figures the fever must’ve gone down a bit but now his head is throbbing so he’s really not sure which option he preferred. When he confusedly looks around the room, his eyes land on Steve. He’s back, sitting on the bed by Bucky’s side.

Did Steve wake him up? Now that Bucky thinks about it, he vaguely remembers someone shaking his arm. His point about Steve being a monster still stands.

“Why d’you wake me up?” Bucky whines. “You said I need sleep and now you won’t even give me fifteen minutes.”

“You’ve slept for over two hours, love,” Steve points out, his hand on Bucky’s cheek. “I’m only waking you up cause you’ve barely eaten today and I’ve made some soup.”

Bucky narrows his eyes at Steve. He looks at the clock on the bedside table, but since he has no idea what hour it was when he last talked to Steve, it’s pretty useless. He’s not really hungry, but he figures it’s a reasonable thing to do. So, with a loud groan, he pulls himself up into a sitting position. The monster beside him chuckles at that but actually helps him arrange the pillows so Bucky can sit comfortably and places the small bed tray in his lap.

Despite what Bucky said earlier, the soup is good. Recipes are probably the only rules Steve knows how to follow so he’s a decent cook and knows his way around the kitchen if needed. Bucky gladly eats the whole bowl, enjoying the way it soothes his sore throat. 

When he’s done, he thanks Steve, who takes away the bed tray and gets up, probably to take it to the kitchen. Before he can get up, Bucky grabs his hand.

“Stay with me for a bit?” he asks.

Steve’s face softens. He puts the tray down on the floor and gets in bed, lying on top of the covers next to Bucky. Soon enough Bucky is tucked safely into Steve’s arms and under his chin and he lets out a content sigh.

“You’re feeling any better, sweetheart?” Steve asks.

“I don’t know, I’m so miserable and tired all the time. I hate it so much,” Bucky whines. “Is that what you’ve been going through every time?”

“Mostly. I guess I was too used to this to complain much.”

“And too stubborn. You’ve never let other people see how bad it was,” Bucky points out.

“That, too,” Steve chuckles, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s forehead. “You always were able to make it easier, though.”

Bucky smiles, tucking his face further into Steve’s chest. He feels sleepy again but this time the warmth he feels is not caused by the fever. He mumbles into Steve’s shirt, not sure if the words his brain is trying to communicate are the same ones that his mouth says out loud. But judging by the way Steve’s arms tighten around him and by the “I love you, too” whispered into his hair, Bucky thinks they are. 

[meganhoa]

We Met Poppy Clarke in Season 1 (PART 2)

PART 1: WHO’S THIS MYSTERY GIRL?

PART 2: WE OFFICIALLY MEET POPPY

In 2x02 House of Dolls, we meet a girl with a low pony tail, a gray sweater, and a pleated skirt. (Sound familiar to this girl from the auditions in Season 1?):

We don’t know anything about her except that Jerome is trying to avoid her for some reason:

And she’s blackmailing him (note that Jerome was wearing his jacket in their previous encounter - ooc for him in the series - and now she’s wearing hers too except now Jerome isn’t wearing his anymore):

For three 11 minute episodes, this girl doesn’t have a name. Let me repeat...we don’t know who she is for three episodes. Remember what I said in (part 1) about the mystery girl being nameless to prevent a spoiler? I think this is all a continuation of that scene that they first asked us to notice her in.

After some bickering, Jerome challenges this girl to do her worst because he’s not going to play her game. Only then do we finally get the reveal from the girl herself.

Jerome is her brother:

Let’s talk about the biggest photo Poppy chose to display in the school.

Jerome: “Poppy!” Poppy: “Oh hi, Gerbil, remember the time you dressed up as a girl?” Jerome: “They made me do it! They made me do it! It was a school play...”

If it was a school play...wouldn’t everyone in the hallway already know about it? Wouldn’t they have already seen him in the costume? And then there’s the bit about “they made me do it”, who is “they” if Mr. Winkler was the only drama teacher? And if he auditioned for a part in the play, how is it that “they” MADE him wear the costume if he knew what the part was going into it?

I would argue that this is supposed to represent a picture of Jerome from season 1 in the ballerina blow up suit and they just didn’t have one on hand. I would argue that the dialog supports that because in the canon of the show, that’s the only time we know of that Jerome has dressed up like a girl and is the scene your mind immediately goes to. “They” would then be Winkler and the 7th graders (Poppy’s class) and since I believe she was there, it checks out that she would have the picture on her phone (where we know the pictures were since Jerome took it away). That would also mean that no, the rest of those people in the hallway hadn’t seen him in that outfit before (exception: Alfie). And since the whole scene in season 1 revolved around the play, Jerome wasn’t completely lying.

The fast paced bickering between them in this scene is also what I was comparing Jerome and the mystery girl to in part 1.

Now the heart to heart that ties this whole thing together:

Poppy: “I can’t believe you deleted all my photos!” Jerome: “I had to take action.” Poppy: “You’re evil! Those photos are mine!” Jerome: “Why do you want photos of me on your phone anyway, Poppy?” Poppy: “I- like them...” Jerome: “...loser.” Poppy: “They remind me of when they were taken. Like...my recital. Mum dodged it but.. you came.”

Where do I start?

Let’s talk parents. We know that Jerome’s parents sent him to school at 5. In Jerome’s own words they “left him to rot” so I’m going to go out on a limb and say that means he never leaves the school and/or Trudy & Victor’s care. He dodged Mara’s question about seeing them during holidays. Poppy says that Joan didn’t come to her recital and John has been in jail so long she doesn’t even remember him. So that’s both Clarke kids implying they never see their parents. I’m going to go ahead and assume that Poppy never leaves school either. I think that’s backed up by her knowing all the ways to sneak around Anubis House and the property...how does she know so quickly if she’s completely new? That means, it’s reasonable that she’s been in other parts of the school building this whole time and could’ve absolutely came to the auditions in season 1.

Let’s talk recitals. What a coincidence, it is canon that Poppy can either sing or dance and Jerome knows it. He’s even attended her recitals. Of all things he could’ve supported her in...it matches S1 mystery girl perfectly. Poppy couldn't have been an artist or an athlete or something instead? Let’s go back to the mystery girl in season one. Yes, I framed it that she came to annoy him. But with new information, you could also argue that she was grinning because she was about to showcase a talent for her brother who she assumed would be proud of her. That girl practiced for hours...maybe she was just excited to show a new number to the one person in her life who has ever shown her that they cared. Also something else to consider...if Poppy is a dancer, there is a possibility that she would have to dance with boys sometimes. And remember who Jerome said was worse than terrifyingly soul-witheringly bad (yikes??) even though he wasn’t? It was the boy who could dance. Maybe he’s had to watch that boy dance with his sister and he didn’t like what he saw?

(Side tangent: How did Mick hear about Alfie and Jerome’s whole plan failing before they even got home if it was just the two of them, Winkler, and the 7th grade? Remember, he laughs about it as soon as they walk in the door. I would like to propose that soul-witheringly bad dancer boy could also be Mick’s little blonde brother. After all, Mick has moves you’ve never seen, so maybe they took dance to improve their sports game. Jerome has issues with Mick, it would check out.)

And finally...Winkler. If we’re assuming that the Clarke’s never leave school, wouldn’t that mean Poppy would have to be doing some of her recitals through school? And that probably goes through Winkler in some capacity? So he would KNOW. He got super mad for some reason when he’s let a lot of shady stuff fly. And once he got involved, that’s when mystery girl got all of the focus for the rest of the scene.

Let’s talk clothes. In this heart to heart scene, they are finally wearing a matching gray uniform (remember when I told you in part 1 to remember that they matched in that scene). Poppy was playing jacket tag the whole time leading up to this and now they are matching. Matching for the scene that; we learn how close they actually are, how much they care about each other, how much Jerome is there for her, and how much Jerome means to her...she adores him. I think it would make perfect sense for her to want to be like him, to look up to him (after all - Jerome tells Mara that he trained Poppy himself). Maybe this is just something I’m picking up on as a little sister that has a big brother who is my best friend that I can’t quite explain to you but it stood out to me immediately.

We don’t really have a solid timeline as far as when the events within season one took place. We don’t know when the audition scene or the play was in relation to the school year. Even if it was about halfway through the year like it was about halfway through the season, that would still give us 7-9 months between when we see these girls. Plenty of time for Poppy to get taller (her family is TALL, she would shoot right up) and start wearing a little makeup. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the first time we meet her she’s dressed exactly like the audition girl right down to the hair...not even a little bit. There’s too many uniform combos for that and we go on to see Poppy’s hair in all sorts of styles.

So um...yeah, we met Poppy Clarke in season 1 and didn’t even know it.