#my mum’s just being his number one supporter as always

[ofqueensandwitches]

After watching this week’s episode, my dad was like “if Buddie doesn’t become endgame, I’m joining you to protest. Because what’s the use of making Buck bi if they don’t make Buddie canon? They already have plenty of great queer characters (Hen, Karen, Josh, Michael, David) before Buck and Tommy. Like, Hen is a main cast like Buck, and Michael is just as manly as Buck. So, if the excuse is just to give representations, that’s such a waste of a great chance to make one of the best and popular ships canon.”

And the whole time my mum was looking at him besottedly as if he was preaching some profound philosophy or something lol

[jude-duarte-wannabe]

boyfriend material

so to keep my formula one girlies satisfied and fueled, i put this together until i can get my non formula one requests finished, i was hoping to have them done by now but i keep getting called into work, i'm sorry my lovely's <3 i'm also working on another one of these for sir lewis hamilton titled husband material, it is based on my other smau series billion dollar baby.

pairing; charles leclerc x marceline bennett [original character]

blurb; this is a list of cute things boyfriend charles leclerc and his girlfriend marceline bennett do in my smau series that i'm working on called the broadway bug, this story features a original character but for your reading pleasure, i've used 'you' and 'y/n' in this little snippet <3

currently playing; monaco by mkto "i'll go wherever you go, chase you through the streets of monaco, i'll run wherever you are"

when it comes to your jobs;

you are a broadway actress and charles often finds himself just watching you hum the lyrics to a song you have to sing in a show or tap a beat on your thigh as you walk through the paddock together.

speaking of broadway, charles makes sure to go to every single show that he can, just like you try to make it to every single race that you can.

when at charles's races, you stay in the ferrari garage, your often caught on camera jumping up and down excitedly and screaming "that's my boy!" or "go baby!"

when charles got p1 in monaco and monza, you completely ignored the barriers and ran for him as soon as he was out of the car, he'd luckily gotten his helmet and balaclava off in time to catch you, pick you up and kiss you right there on the track.

charles gave you a necklace with his race number on it saying "i'm giving you my number until i can give you my last name".

charles didn't release his music too often but when he did you always made sure to listen to it on repeat.

you could spend hours just sitting and listening to charles play the piano, it was your safe place, just you and charles together in your own little world.

charles loved catching you humming a tune he'd played on the piano earlier in the day while you were brushing your teeth or making coffee, he loved the simple things you did.

no matter where you are in the world, you always make sure to support charles.

and one time when you were in rehearsals for a show and charles was off racing somewhere in the world, there was a moment with one of your co-stars that led to you posting a video on your instagram story that would soon go viral - it went something like this

"hey my little broadway bugs" you couldn't keep a straight face while talking to the camera "so i'm currently in rehearsals right now" you flipped the camera to show the theater stage and most of your co-stars just chilling before flipping it back to face you "but this one right here" one of your co-stars pops into the frame "this one just came sprinting across the stage screaming 'y/n! y/n!' and keep in mind i thought she was dying" you hold up a magazine for the camera to see "but she just wanted to show me this and god do i love her for it" you giggled.

just cute couple stuff;

when you two first started dating you loved to listen to charles talk, he could talk about anything and you'd listen, he eventually noticed and teased you by saying "the accent got to you, didn't it".

charles mum; pascale basically insisted that you call her maman when she saw how happy you made her boy.

when your out to dinner or at an event together, your feet eventually get sore from standing around in heels all night and so you eventually go barefoot and charles just wanders around carrying you heels.

you and charles call each other all kinds of nicknames with his favorites for you being; ma cherie [my darling], mon ange [my angel], mon coeur [my heart], ma meilleure moitie [my better half] and of course mon amor [my love].

your favorite nicknames for him are; mon joli garcon [my pretty boy] and mon nounours [my teddy bear].

in fact the very first time you ever called him mon joli garcon, he looked at you surprised and muttered "did you just call me pretty boy" and you merely corrected him before going about your day "correction.. your MY pretty boy".

charles also calls you baby but only ever when he's sleepy and you try to get out of bed early, he just reaches out to wrap his arm around you and pull you closer muttering "baby.. no.. you stay put" in his sleepy voice that drives you insane cause it's so cute and raspy.

and you guys are the kind of couple that after being intimate you pillow talk in french with charles mumbling "si jolie comme ça" [so pretty like this] as he tucks a strand of your messy hair behind your ear as you giggle against his chest.

charles calls you the best thing that's ever happened to him.

and this man blushes and has the biggest goofy smile on his face whenever someone says your name or an interviewer asks about you.

charles takes photo's galore of you and even some of the two of you together and shamelessly posts them on his instagram / instagram stories - like this.

you are the kind of girl that could eat pasta for every meal for the rest of your life, you love pasta so much that you and charles now have a saying where you say "your the pesto to my pasta" or he'll say "your the pasta to my pesto".

charles tried introducing you to new foods including foods from both french and monegasque cuisine like stuffed peppers which you were a fan of but when he tried to fed you escargot you freaked out, which led to arthur now having a video of you running away from charles who held a snail on the end of his fork while yelling "never! keep that nasty ass snail away from me!"

charles is also the kind of boyfriend that would memorize your coffee order.

he sends you this text or something similar to it whenever your in the same place as one another.

charles doesn't hide how badly he needs you, he'll just straight up tell you, he doesn't care if anyone sees the texts he sends you while he's horny, your texts to each other basically look like this all the time.

cute couple stuff involving your pets;

leo loves you more than he loves charles but he doesn't complain because coming home to see you snuggled up in his bed with leo curled up against your side just makes him melt.

your cat however absolutely hates charles with a passion and charles tries so hard to get your cat to like him but it never happens, all of your photo's with your cat; clementine look like this

all the photos you have of charles with clementine picture her practically begging you with her eyes to get him the hell away from her.

two of the most iconic moments of the charles and clementine feud was when they first met.

it was charles first time in your apartment and while he knew you had a cat, she was no where to be seen at the moment, you and charles were standing in your kitchen leaning against the marble island, hands linked and resting on the bench as you talked, charles had leaned in to kiss you which you gladly excepted, lips locking with his in a soft kiss.. you loved kissing him and he loved kissing you even more but unfortunately he had to pull away with a hiss, seeing your cat on the counter having appeared out of thin air "she just bit me" he complained and while you kissed his hand better she simply hissed at him before running off.

and the other was when in the you two were in the heat of the moment, clementine just had to cock block him.

the temperature in your room was hot with your body pressed against charles's with your lips locked in a sloppy kiss, your kisses began moving down his neck, you loved to hear the whimpers that escaped him whenever you kissed at the soft spot behind his ear but that didn't happen instead you heard him mumble "i can't do this.. not with her watching" you didn't understand what he was talking about until you followed his gaze and what you saw had you laughing until there were tears in your eyes and you held your sides in pain "ouchy.. stitch" you complained to which charles simply responded "serves you right" the memory of clementines face and the side eye she gave charles still makes you laugh today.

cuddles, kisses and hand holding;

charles's love language is 100% physical touch at least i think so, this boy loves cuddles and there is only really one form of cuddle this boy will ever settle for and it's the one where he can lay in your arms, head pressed to your chest listening to your heartbeat as you run your fingers through his hair.

cuddles like those are his favorite especially when he's had a long day racing or has been away from you for weeks.

he's also notorious for falling asleep in your arms when you cuddle like this.

but he's also one for simplistic intimacy like when your together in the paddock, in line at the supermarket or just stationary while talking to friends, his arms are wrapped around your waist and his head is tucked into your neck.

and when it comes to falling asleep or even just napping, he is the little spoon mostly cause he just likes having you hold him and partly because he just feels safe whenever you fall asleep together like this.

and don't even get me started on the kisses that this man would give you; forehead, cheek, neck, belly, thighs or lips, if you name it he'll kiss it, charles loves kissing you and you love kissing him.

there was moment when you were doing an interview for with the cast of hamilton over zoom and this boy while you were in the middle of answering a question found that he couldn't stop staring at your lips so he just walked up to you, grabbed your face in his hand and kissed you, it lasted about 10 seconds before he pulled back and walked off, leaving you dumbstruck and just staring at your laptop screen unsure of what to say.

there was another moment when you said goodbye to him about ten minutes before a race and gave him his good luck kiss but when you went to walk away, he grabbed your hand and pulled you back to him mumbling "where you going, we're not done yet" before kissing you again.

charles would smile against your lips while you kiss

your favorite way to wake charles up is by kissing him, you start peppering kisses up his and across his shoulders, moving up his neck, across his cheek and then finally connecting your lip to his and while it may take a few minutes, he'd eventually wake and roll over so your trapped beneath him unable to escape his kisses.

being trapped like that often leads to his hands wandering up your sides and despite knowing that you were ticklish, he loves hearing you giggle.

your giggle is one of charles favorite sounds in the world and so he often just attacks you with tickles "give me a minute, i need to tickle the shit out of you".

whenever you two walk together, he's always holding your hand and leading you safely through the paddock or big crowds of people, especially paparazzi.

or if your just out and about you'll walk with your ring fingers wrapped around eachothers.

you'd somehow convinced charles to get matching tattoo's, just small ones on your ring fingers and that's pretty much why they are always linked when you walk.

eventually when he proposes you add to those tattoo's by getting another set of matching ones.

they are in his color too.

you two don't fight often but when you do, it's normally over something small and insignificant.

but when it does happen you get banished to the backseat of the car while carlos sits in your seat as passenger princess.

but within five minutes charles had forgotten all about it and reaches back to hold your hand, it's his way of saying i'm sorry.

time to get down and dirty;

a turn on for you is when charles stretches his arms above his head causing his shirt to raise and it gives you the most beautiful peek at his chest and v-line, he also lets out a little moan every time he does it. [can you imagine it... like my god!]

this boy doesn't believe in quickies unless he gets to eat you out, this boy just lives for it, he'll drop to his knees just about anywhere; your apartment kitchen, his drivers room, a club bathroom... literally anywhere.

both you and charles have praise kinks, he loves hearing you whisper "un si bon garçon" [such a good boy] in his ear and you live to hear him whisper "c'est ma gentille fille" [that's my good girl] while he thrusts in and out of you like a rabbit in heat.

this boy whimpers when the pleasure gets to much.

and when you decide to be naughty and not listen to his instructions, those whimpers turn to growling demands.

you and charles had decided that kids were something you both wanted and so when he gets you pregnant after like two tries, he's fucking proud, walking around wearing a cocky little smirk on his pretty face.

and to finish it off; instagram stories

just a few instagram stories you've posted of your beautiful boyfriend and his responses to them.

charlesleclerc; do you enjoy embarrassing me y/n.on.stage; fuck yeah i do, it's my job charlesleclerc; since when? y/n.on.stage; since the day you asked me to be your girl, you did this to yourself joli garcon charlesleclerc; god dammit

charlesleclerc; your not going to get one amor y/n.on.stage; and your not getting head tonight, win or no win charlesleclerc; baby i'm sorry let me explain *read* charlesleclerc; baby please y/n.on.stage; too late leclerc charlesleclerc; not the last name.. baby i'm sorry! y/n.on.stage; the number your trying to reach is currently unavailable

charlesleclerc; always mon ange <3 y/n.on.stage; you say that but there's still no ring on this finger charlie

charlesleclerc; baby you can't post shit like this, my mother follows you! charlesleclerc; but yes, you can have them y/n.on.stage; correct answer leclerc

leclerc_pascale; grandchildren? y/n.on.stage; working on it leclerc_pascale; that's my girl

charlesleclerc; BABY! where are you.. y/n.on.stage; you'll never find me.. hehe charlesleclerc; *view attached photo* charlesleclerc; you were saying y/n.on.stage; FUCK!.. i wanted to scare you.. once i was finished with lunch charlesleclerc; can i have a bite? y/n.on.stage; no

charlesleclerc; my eyes will always find you mon ange for you are the most beautiful thing they have ever seen y/n.on.stage; you want head? your drivers room in ten charlesleclerc; i'll be there in five y/n.on.stage; god i love you <3

a/n; so..... it was a bit more than a snippet but i was having to much fun to stop, can't wait to start officially writing this series <3

[i4bellingham]

LOVESTRUCK : jude bellingham x fem!reader

synopsis: in which you and jude reveal your relationship for the very first time during one of his games. // not proofread + english is not my first language so please bare with me :> WORLD CUP ENDS TONIGHT AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

As the whistle blew for the last time indicating England’s win, the crowd of white and blue erupted in jolly cheers filling the entire stadium with their merriment celebration for their team’s gratifying win.

The guys huddled close in the field, hugging and celebrating with wide smiles some with teary-eyed gaze that glistened amidst the stadium lights before they thanked the fans for their support.

Proudly wearing the England NT jersey with Jude’s number and last name, you couldn't be any more proud to see his growth and success reach new heights as you cheered and clapped at the seating area.

There had always been worries coming from his side, certain insecurities that often clouded him in a glum haze before you're there easing his worries down and making him remember the level of football he's managed to be at in such a young ageㅡ with a successful career at that. He's always got something in mind, nitpicking certain things that he could've done better at every game until he's drowning and overthinking his entire career, as if he's not a starter and a star player of the England National Team in the World Cup, in addition to his success as Dortmund’s most recognizable rising star players.

It was so easy for him to lose himself in his thoughts, but it was just as easy for you to pull him out of his drowning self-doubts so to see him shine, all smiley and happy in the pitch with his teammates after an excellent game and a good win, it brings a proud warmth to your chest. Standing next to you were his parents who stared at their son just as proud.

You watch for a few more moments as the boys celebrated before they're approaching the bleachers where the team’s family are seated.

You catch Jude’s eye before he's even walking in your general direction. He blows you a kiss, mouthing ‘I love you’ before he turns to his parents to do the same.

After that they were ushered to do cool-downs before being escorted back to the locker rooms, some of the NT’s staff being held back for interviews as the boys filed to enter the tunnel with their loud chatter.

　　　　　　　　　　ㅡ ♡ ㅡ

“Ah! There’s our boy!” Jude hugs his father first before he does the same to his Mum. He's already got changed into a fresh England Strike Drill top with shorts and his sock-clad feet in slippers, freely wrapping each of his parents in a hug without needing to worry about his sweat or the grime and dirt that usually clung on his jersey shirt.

His Mum pats his chest, beaming a proud smile before planting a kiss on each of his cheeks, telling him how proud they are of everything he's achieved.

You simply sat by their side, watching with a content smile on your face before his Mum turns around and makes way for Jude to reach you. You see her shoot you a cheeky wink before she's ushering her husband to sit a little bit further than where they were previously seated.

You stand up to meet Jude, expecting just a simple hug as a form of greeting because after all, you haven't really revealed the status of your guys’ relationship. Everyone knew you as ‘Jude’s best friend’ but not yet as ‘Jude Bellingham’s girlfriend’. And with the number of camera snapping photos almost every second in the stands, you couldn't help the gasp that leaves your lips when you're being pulled by your lovely boyfriend as he gives you a kiss on the lips.

With wide eyes, you tap his arm in panic.

“Cameras!” You tell him. He pays them no mind before he's dragging you to sit down and almost having your entire left leg over his lap, an arm thrown over your shoulder before he gives your cheeks a kiss each.

“Jus ignore ’em love, been buggin’ me for so long I forgot they even exist sometimes.” You knew Jude didn't even care for them, much less for probably giving them something to post and write about the exclusivity of your relationship with him. Instead, Jude leans his head on your shoulders, adjusting his arm to loosely hang on your waist. “’m so happy you're here.”

And with that, he's successfully able to deter your attention from having your relationship outed to the public with such a simple statement.

You flick his other hand that was on your lap before he latches onto it, holding it against in between your’s and his thigh.

“Of course I’d be here... you’d given me the tickets haven't ya?”

Jude scoffs at your jab, pinching your side that almost made you squeal.

“Now don’t be a smartass,” he tells you, voice donning a tired edge yet he still entertains your remark. “Who else was I s’posed to give ’em anyways... my brother can't come here with us.”

Hearing the mention of his younger brother, you perk up. “Speaking of Jobe, I got him some things while I was out yesterday... I know he doesn't need the boot but I got him another pair in his favorite colors.”

“You got my brother somethin’ but nothin’ for me?” Jude asks, feigning a shockㅡ an overdramatized one that he uses ever time he’s being a tease and playful. “Are ya playin’ favorites now?”

“If I had to pick a favorite between the two Bellingham brothers then I’d chose Jobe. A right choice isn’t it? He did get me my favorite ice cream flavor right that one time...”

“Babe it was one time!”

You gasp, “Jude Victor William Bellingham we’ve been dating for a year and a half during that time! Was only right for you to know my favorite ice cream flavor, no?”

Jude sighs dramatically, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck. “To be fair you do tend to pick random flavors based on your mood, that’s my only defense for this case.”

“... alright then, fair enough.”

He raises a fist, weakly uttering a ‘yes’ before he's back to leaning against you, head nearly against your chest.

“Tired?” Jude nods his head silently. You guide him to lay over the remaining unoccupied seats, seeing that his parents were nowhere in their spot that they had previous scooted into.

You let your boyfriend lay his head over your lap before you're reaching over for your coat inside your bag. You drape it around his dozing frame, pulling the edge around his ankles where his socks doesn't reach and running your free hand through his curls, the other being cuddled against his chest as he slept.

Jude places a kiss on your knuckles, muttering the same three words against your skin that he mouthed not even an hour long ago, completely disregarding the eyes and cameras that had long fixated their attention and lenses on the both of you.

Unsurprisingly, the both of you reached multiple media outlets the next day. Articles after articles, photos after photos and a ton of both short and long video clips taken by some fans bombarded the internet enough to get the thought across.

Jude Bellingham was off the market and was very much evidently in love with you.

a/n: my tumblr glitched three times i thought i lost this entire piece thank fuck for the restore button 😭

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 20)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (20)

Masterlist (other parts here)

YFN had just received an email from the company she now worked for, Lumos. She tried to research the company and the first thing that popped up was a popular charity, followed by several other companies sharing the same name. Eventually she found her company which had nothing beyond a basic internet site and new social media accounts, so she knew they were being honest when they said they were brand new and starting up.

The salary they’d offered her was already high, with the promise of increase based on performance, both hers and Lumos’. The amount of money they were putting into the business and expenses were also much higher than she expected. Someone really wanted this to work.

She looked over at Lucy who was making her own sandcastles and smiled. Once the email had come through, Lucy had insisted she read it and took her time to mull it over. YFN loved that she was doing anything she could to let her make a future in the country, and especially around her profession. That was her Lucy. Always three steps ahead.

She took her phone out to film a little snippet of her as she made her giant sandcastle. She couldn’t help the smile on her face looking at how happy she was. Lucy’s big kid was shining through. She looked up and saw YFN filming her and grinned, gesturing to her sandcastle as if to show it off. YFN ended the video and put it away, looking at Lucy sitting in the sand, a leg either side of her creation. She was wearing black shorts, her whole body tanned from Spain, abs shining with the sunscreen YFN put on her, regardless of the clouds. Her heart felt full just watching her.

“Admiring the view?” Lucy grinned.

YFN felt her face reddening, though she didn’t know why. She wasn’t ashamed to look. She nodded, pressing her lips together to hide a cheeky smile.

“Can you send me that video, little one?”

“Yes ma’am.”

She sent the video and went back to the email on her laptop. The email was promising, and she found herself excited at everything she read.

Her phone rang and she looked at the number, Lumos. She answered it, putting it on speaker, knowing Lucy would be interested.

“YFN speaking.”

“Hi YFN, it’s Joe, how are you?” She sounded lovely, like a mum.

“Hi Joe, lovely to hear from you again. I’m great, just at the beach soaking in all of the sunshine the UK has to offer.”

She laughed. “I dare say it’s nothing compared to what you’re used to in Australia. I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.”

“No, not at all. I was expecting this today, I’m free to chat.” She smiled at Lucy who gave her a supportive thumbs up.

“Excellent. Okay, well I thought we’d just go through the basics of what we’re hoping to accomplish as a company, our goals and along those lines. If you have the email open, we’ll just run through it together. Also, how’s the work Visa coming along?”

“Perfect, I have it open now. I’ve also spoken to my Visa agent and he’s confident they’ll have it approved by tonight. They’re happy with the contract and 6-month minimum guarantee that you’ve sent through.”

“Outstanding, that’s what we want to hear! Just send that through as soon as you receive it, or if you need any other information. Fingers crossed! Okay, let’s get started. So firstly, as you know, I’ve wanted to start this company for quite a period of time. I have a lot of friends and acquaintances in and around the industry, and we’re not seeing the movement in female football that we’ve wanted, so Lumos is a plan to change that. Now, the World Cup has been brilliant for progress, and we plan to latch onto that and keep the momentum building. Over the past year and especially the past few months, I and my friends in the industry have put our feelers out, gotten some feedback and have established interest by a lot of the players. Now, I understand it will start slow, but we’re willing to put the work in and definitely also put the funding into it.”

Lucy looked impressed, nodding as she was talking.

“That sounds fantastic, Joe..”

“I’m glad you agree! To be quite honest with you, YFN, you’ve been the lynchpin I’ve been looking for. I’ve been looking for someone with your experience and after reading your columns and seeing the interviews you’ve conducted, I’m beyond impressed. The research you put into your work, and the way you speak and ask questions to your interviewee’s are smart, and incredibly respectful. I can see that’s important to you, and it’s very important to me. We shouldn’t be asking the same boring questions, or we’ll get the same media trained answers.”

“Oh I completely agree. I was a bit worried at first that this job would encourage me to ask those simple and sometimes far too personal questions, so I’m really happy to hear you say that because people don’t realise that we can go beyond the norm of interviewing, and still remain just like that. Respectful. Not only that, but players will be more willing to open up, accept interviews, and request us if they’re comfortable around us. They’ll also want to use us to get their messages across and I know that if we do this right, the momentum will build and more players will be using us to fulfil their media duties.”

“Outstanding, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear! We’re so, so lucky that you happened to meet Katie so she could recommend you to us. We’ve been looking for you for quite a while.”

YFN was a little embarrassed, she didn’t know how to accept compliments and blushed. Lucy reached over and squeezed her leg in support. “Thanks Joe, that’s lovely to hear. I hope I can live up to your expectations, and I’m excited to get started! It’s a blank slate which means so much opportunity for the company.”

“100% agree. Any chance you’ve found our website and social media accounts?”

“I did just before you called..”

Joe laughed again. “Of course, you have. Straight into work! Excellent. We’re going to get along so well, I already know it. Our IT guy is Noel, and his contact details are in the email. Right now I’ve asked him to make the accounts all bare minimum, as I imagine you’ll want to create a theme to follow..”

“Yes! Absolutely, so I plan on organising a meeting with the whole team for Monday, I just wanted to make sure you were happy with that first..”

“Yes, please! And just for the future, this is your team, your baby. Anything involving the creation of this, meetings, team logistics, etc, all of that is yours. Obviously I’ll still like to be kept up to date with the progress and the plans, but to be completely fair with you, YFN, I run several businesses so I’m quite busy. This company is still in its start-up stages, so I’ll have much more time for it, and I do have a soft spot, this is always going to be one of my priorities, however I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page with this.”

“That’s perfect, I’ll send you through weekly updates and expenses, planning, coverage and everything we change or create along the way. I appreciate the honesty and the communication also, I think until we establish that solid footing, you and I will have to be in a lot of contact to ensure we’re achieving the expected goals, and keeping everything in budget.”

“You don’t know how much this is music to my ears.”

YFN laughed, feeling positive and happy with the plan thus-far. Joe seemed perfect, offering her everything and having the blind faith in her to start up the business almost from the ground, up. “I think we’re starting at a good time, though. We’re catching the start of the seasons, so it gives us time to iron out any issues before the finals for both the WSL and the Conti Cup. A good timeline will be for us to have full coverage by Round 5 on the Conti Cup, and January for WSL, covering both through to the Final. Then we should be fully prepped and running smoothly for the UEFA Women’s Champions League.”

“That’s a very respectable timeline and exactly my thoughts. January will be perfect if we can have full coverage by then.”

“I think it’s achievable, I’ll have a better idea after I research a bit more and talk to the team. I’m sure everyone’s keen to get started! Also, it’ll be quite a heavy work period as we start up, and then when we finally start to get footing, we’ll be expanding to make sure we have the people to cover all games and the email also says you’re hoping for international team and coverage of the other leagues in Europe?”

“Yes,” Joe sounded a litte sheepish. “I know, I know, it’s quite a high expectation, but we’ll get there eventually. Let’s start with the WSL and Continental Cup. Definitely want to be all over the UEFA Women’s Champions League, that’s the first major goal. From there, you and I can talk about expanding to cover Tier 2. Then, depending on the timeline, we want to cover Tier 3 and Tier 4 so we can encourage grassroots and young girls upcoming through the leagues. Then we want Liga F, Serie A, Feminine, etc, also following the national teams, NWSL in the US, A-Leagues in Australia and onwards.”

“Very large goals! That’s great, a lot to look forward to and to aim for. We’ll make sure to split the goals up to feel more achievable for the team, but I think if they know the long-term goal, it’ll make everyone determined and ready to settle down into the job.”

“That’s exactly what we want. The team building and team trust in each other is vital to make this business a success. Anything you need, let me know and we’ll work through it together, that includes extra positions or professionals. I imagine a recruiter may become useful if you become inundated with the logistics.”

YFN nodded, even though she couldn’t see her. She was taking notes eagerly, excited by the conversation as she responded, a little distracted as she typed. “I’ll definitely let you know if we need anything to help us expand..”

“I heard you’re meeting some of the players, also?”

YFN stopped typing and tilted her head. Lucy groaned. She looked over at Lucy who had a frown on her face, gesturing to the phone. “Um… Joe I have Lucy close by who wants to say something I think?”

Joe was aware that YFN was dating Lucy. YFN had made sure she’d told Joe, fearing a conflict of interest, especially with the need to visit Spain. Joe had had the opposite reaction. She thought it was great that YFN was so involved in the industry, knowing that dating Lucy made her closer with the inner circle of football than just being part of a media group. As for Spain, she’d encouraged her to go, offering to pay for flights and knowing that the more she was involved with Barcelona, the easier it would be to expand into Liga F and onwards. She was particularly interested in Alexia Putellas and Aitana Bonmati as they had so much influence in the sport. Joe’s ambition was multi-faceted, but positive on all fronts. She wanted to encourage the young female footballers of tomorrow, give women strong rolemodels to idolise, and to bring much needed attention to all of women’s football in general, all around the world. Popular footballers like Lucy, Alexia, Aitana, could help expedite their growth and influence.

“Of course! I assumed she was there with you and then Lucy’s post confirmed it.” She laughed.

Lucy’s post? She looked at a now cheeky looking Lucy as she passed her the phone and stole Lucy’s to check on said “post”. She’d posted the video of her building sandcastles on the beach and grinning at the camera, but more importantly, she’d posted a selfie Lucy had taken of the two of them, YFN sat in-between her legs and being pulled back by Lucy who was kissing her cheek as she smiled. Her mouth dropped open. Hard launch. She looked at the caption.

“Happy place with my happy little Australian” *red heart*

She’d tagged her and YFN looked at the phone in Lucy’s hand, unsure how it hadn’t blown up from all of the notifications it must have had. Lucy winked at her as she moved next to her, resting her hand on her thigh and stroking her thumb there.

“Hey Joe, it’s Lucy.. funny you should mention that, I actually hadn’t told YFN that just yet..”

“Hi Lucy… oh, I’m sorry! I’d heard a few little whispers from a few friends..”

Lucy laughed. “That’s okay, she had to find out eventually.” She looked at YFN who looked curiously at her gorgeously tanned athlete. She couldn’t help reaching out and playing with a few strands of Lucy’s hair that were wildly playing in the wind. “I might as well tell you both.. YFN said a while ago that one of the first things she’d want to do is to have a get-together with a few players to ask them what they want, their likes and dislikes and to start building those relationships.” YFN’s fingers stroked down the side of Lucy’s face from around her temple, down to her jaw as she watched her speak. Lucy leant into her as she did. “So a few of the girls and I made a few phone calls to get some players together for dinner tonight.”

YFN’s fingers paused on her jaw, her eyes softening and heart filling. How did she get so lucky?

“That’s fantastic! A very strong start to everything! Relationship building is the most important thing for us, we want to build and maintain those special relationships with all of the players, so this dinner tonight is going to be the perfect start for that. I speak for our whole company when I say a big thank you to you, Lucy. This is just… beyond the start I was expecting.”

“You’re welcome, and to be fair, I know a lot of the players are excited for this. As you said, word has been spreading for a while now and heating up in the last few months so we’re all excited to see this come to life. The girls I’ve spoken to have been so under represented and misrepresented for so long that they’re excited for this to happen. YFN’s going to have a lot of work, but I know she’s going be the most amazing asset for you and create magic, like she does with everything else.”

YFN’s hand dropped and she looked at Lucy with an embarrassed but thankful expression. Lucy touched that little dimple, her eyes unable to leave it. She handed the phone back to YFN who was almost crying. So much work. She wondered how busy she would be in 13 days when she needed to head to Spain. Joe was aware of it, of course, and immediately approved, reminding her that she didn’t need her permission.

They spoke for a little while longer, talking about the email and the team members they had. The call ended and YFN folded up her little note taking book, pulling the band over it. Lucy’s mouth on hers was surprising, but not unwelcome. She kissed back eagerly, tilting her head and their tongues meeting. It grew a little bit more desperate as their hands tangled in each other’s hair, and Lucy pulled her on top, straddling her in a sitting position. YFN groaned into her mouth at the feel of Lucy’s body against hers. Then her phone rang again.

She jumped, assuming it was Joe calling back and looked at the phone.

“Nan calling. Baby bro calling.”

“Oh shit, Joe really distracted me.” She answered the phone on loudspeaker, sliding off of Lucy, noticing her confused expression. “Hi Nan, hey bro.”

Lucy understood and settled herself behind YFN, legs either side of her and pulled her back to lean on her body. She pulled a blanket around them.

“Hello!”

“Hey sis.”

They changed to Facetime and it was impossible for them to not see Lucy. YFN’s nan adjusted her glasses to better see and her brother looked surprised and unbelieving.

“Oh shit, you weren’t joking.” He choked.

Lucy laughed. “Hi! It’s nice to finally meet you both. I’ve heard so much about you two.”

“Oh, YFN, she’s stunning.” Her nan said, making her choke out a little of the water she was sipping. Lucy and her brother laughed as she coughed the water out of her lungs.

“It’s not just about looks, nan!”

“No, but it certainly helps, doesn’t it?” She laughed.

YFN could feel Lucy’s whole body vibrating as she laughed behind her. She rolled her eyes knowing that Lucy loved compliments.

“Oh and I saw the photos online, very nice!”

Her nan was far past retired, she was a pensioner who spent most of her time playing games on the iPad YFN had bought her, and looking through Instagram and Facebook she’d installed on there for her. She had no idea how to use them and only had a few friends and followers, but that’s all she needed. After that, Lucy took out her phone and followed them both, making sure it was okay first and warning them about random follows that would ultimately pop up.

They spoke for a while, Lucy immediately loved by both, of course. Everybody loved Lucy. Lucy and her brother clicked surprisingly well, perhaps even better than YFN did with him, though she suspected a part of it was his idolisation of athletes and Lucy was nothing if not an athlete. She felt Lucy’s abs against her back, her strong biceps cradled around her own arms and she held her and laughed with her family like this wasn’t the first time they’d all spoken. God, that woman.

By the end of the phone call, Lucy had already managed to convince them both to come over and watch a game, offering to pay for their flights and accommodation. YFN made a mental note to argue with her about that later, or pay before Lucy could. Somehow she’d even convinced her nan who had always said she was too old for flying, Lucy managing to sweet talk her about first class and how much room and food you got. She was excited at the prospect of seeing them both. She’d seen her nan only a few weeks before, but the distance was cruel. Also, she hadn’t seen her brother in 8 months as he was living in Japan, exploring and doing god knows what.

They ended the phone call after a good period, both agreeing to come and watch England play at some point in the near future. She was excited at the thought of seeing her family soon and wriggled back into Lucy to show her happiness.

When the call disappeared from the screen, she saw the notifications and groaned nervously. She opened the post.

*Lucy Bronze MBE tagged you in a post*

*Caitlin Foord liked a post you’re tagged in.*

*Caitlin Foord commented on a post you’re tagged in.*

*Jordan Nobbs liked a post you’re tagged in.*

*Jordan Nobbs commented on a post you’re tagged in.*

*Alexia Putellas liked a post you’re tagged in.*

*Ruesha Littlejohn liked a post you’re tagged in.*

*Millie Bright liked a post you’re tagged in.*

*Ridley liked a post you’re tagged in.*

*Ridley commented on a post you’re tagged in.*

*Leah Williamson liked a post you’re tagged in.*

*Mariona Caldentey liked a post you’re tagged in.*

*Katie McCabe liked a post you’re tagged in.*

*Katie McCabe commented on a post you’re tagged in.*

She didn’t finish reading the notifications before she cleared them and put her phone away. She’d look later. Right now, she was with Lucy, and she was more than aware that she only had her for one more day. Lucy hummed her approval and kissed her temple.

“Busy third date, hm?”

“Cute lunch, majestic sandcastle, exciting work call, successful first meeting with my family… I’d call that a brilliant third date.”

Lucy nodded against her. “It’s getting late, little one. We need to go; I want us to get unpacked and showered before we go out for dinner.”

“Okay…”

“What’s on your mind? I can hear you thinking.” Lucy nuzzled behind her ear.

“I was just thinking about how I need to say goodbye to you in a day..”

“Don’t think about that.” She whispered. “Let’s enjoy it.”

“I am. My heart is starting to feel sad already though..” She turned slightly to look at Lucy. “Also, just out of curiosity, are we going to not have sex tonight, or just be quiet so Jordan doesn’t hear us?”

Lucy’s head fell back as she laughed. It was one of YFN’s favourite sounds. “Oh, we’re having sex tonight. As for the noise… I’m going to make sure you’re thinking about it for the next 13 days so… good luck staying quiet.”

[agendabymooner]

closure ! max v. x ofc (hearth sister!ofc)

“it wasn't right—the way it all went down. looks like you know that now.”

summary: sylvie just wanted to prove that she was good enough for the red bull racing team, but everything that had to do with her history with max seemed to get in the way of her determination— and she made sure that he knew that.

content warning: panic attack (and its triggers), use of explicit language, mentions of absent father figure, j*s verst*ppen 🤢, christian horner, frenemies to lovers (ish), confrontational text messages (max and sylvie), max being oblivious to her mental state, mentions of max’s childhood (not detailed)

note: as someone who struggled to find peace at certain situations, I know what it’s like to struggle in asking for help. please remember that there are people that are more than willing to give you the support that you need.

(i may not be able to update any of the smau works for the next two weeks as i am out of town and i only have my ipad with me. i normally do the layouts on my computer. i’ll try my best!)

enjoy xx

masterlist

2016 Spanish GP

If fate worked like this all the time, she might as well jump off the cliff if any of her peers asked for it.

She had been pulled out of her lectures for the week only for her to sit and watch how the racing teams operated. She could only roll her eyes when Christian Horner recommended she should have her presence be known in the paddock and the track as she prepared to work in an F1 team.

Sylvie already knew how everything worked; she was going to be a driver, for fuck’s sake. She had been trained for it. She grew up attending the race weekends because of her father and grandparents. She knew everything now. Hell, she even had Toto Wolff for an in-law (practically). He could just rerun everything to her if she needed to remember.

Christian Horner clearly had a different intention towards her visit. He claimed that she needed to relive the experiences in the garage, the media pit and the hospitality. But she knew the truth.

She had a rapport, her history in the academy was obviously discussed to Christian at some point. How Christian never mentioned anything about her departure from the program to her sister, who now held parts of Red Bull and the other two teams, she never had an answer for. It wasn’t a secret to most. At least to those who were there the day she left.

Tilly was in the Mercedes area, leaving her little sister in the Red Bull hospitality as she listened to nothing. She felt so alone and isolated, her urge to go to Mercedes was overwhelming. But it wasn’t as if she could; Christian had already told her off about her role and position in the company.

It didn’t help that Max Verstappen, donning his number 33 shirt, was in the same building. He was quite adamant on keeping her company but she constantly avoided him, slipping out of his sight as soon as his eyes settled on her.

She found excuses, most of which had something to do with Daniel Ricciardo. The Australian hadn’t minded though, knowing that she felt uncomfortable being around other people especially around Max. Daniel never minded her excuses, instead making up a lie that’s believable to others. Just so she could escape.

Max’s family was there that weekend. Obviously, she knew his mother and Victoria, his sister. Max and Sylvie, the two 18 year olds, were practically soul twins. Born on the same day, grew up together, and had been attached to the hips since the day they could crawl— they were friends, no one just knew what had happened. His mother had always asked Sylvie’s mum about her and how she’d managed to let her friendship with Max dissipate like that. Victoria missed having Sylvie over for tea whenever she visited the Netherlands, asking Max about what he had done to let Sylvie go like that.

Jos Verstappen was a different story. He never liked Sylvie, only holding a certain amount of respect for Julius Hearth and Blanche Ford Hearth. He always wanted Max to be successful at motorsport and this meant that nobody could be as equally good as his son. Not especially when Max’s ability matched Sylvie’s. He always claimed that hanging out with “that girl” will simply distract Max.

Even if he nodded at his father’s direction, Max continued to be friends with Sylvie, spending more time together whenever she and her family would fly and meet with his family.

At the ripe age of 12, Max admitted to her that she’s the closest thing that he had to an imaginary friend. Like he was forced to grow up before he could even walk. She was the one who would pull up the PlayStation whenever he failed to please his father for the tournament of that time. Jos never liked her, but he didn’t know exactly what could’ve made him dislike her. Sylvie didn’t like him, either, because she couldn’t believe that she was the one who’d have to give Max the childhood that he deserved. There are times when she wished she could simply spew out the foulest words and lump him with her own father. Well… she had already considered him a shitty father, and there’s no changing of opinion now.

So for Sylvie to see Jos in the paddock, basically keeping his eye on his son like a pestering hawk? Yeah, she turned away from their direction.

Then another group of people came, the same arrogant smile all over their faces. They taunted her.

She could remember her last week at the academy, when she had enough. These boys questioned her abilities on the track as soon as she started, trying to get her to quit as soon as she could. She didn’t care about them, because whenever they’d race she remained on the top of their level. They hated her because of it. Then on her last day, she was left to be called a name that didn’t even fit her…

“Snake Sylvie!” Matt Bauer was what she called Max’s bitch. He never liked Sylvie and had always wanted to be in Max’s family’s good graces. Alongside him were Max’s two other friends. These three were the same incompetent fucks who never ended in Formula 2. Thus, ending their racing careers early. They were doing fuck knows what these days. Which was quite hilarious, if you were to ask Sylvie, because they were the ones who kept telling Max to “Keep working” or “toughen up and get the first place.”

She couldn’t remember their names when she met them again that weekend, her eyes were already blurry from the tears as she shoved her way through them. “Where are you going?! We’re just going to catch up, babe!”

She didn’t even stop, her feet speeding up as she attempted to wipe her tears away. Her lips let out a stutter of excuse me as she pushed her way into where the Mercedes garage was.

Second free practice didn’t start anytime soon and Sylvie was thankful for that. It, however, never stopped the camera by the engineering station from capturing the sounds of a sobbing girl and an image of her nearly soaked Red Bull shirt as she ran inside. Had she been stronger than this, she wouldn’t have ran to Toto.

As if he knew someone was coming his way, Toto Wolff immediately took his headphones off and turned. His face etched with worry as Sylvie wrapped her arms around his broad figure. She was hysterically sobbing and shaking, her tears almost soaking his white shirt as she kept her head tucked in his chest.

“Can we stop the camera? There’s an obvious situation going on in here and we need a moment,” Sylvie couldn’t hear his voice as it was something more of a rumbling noise. Meanwhile Toto’s stern expression made the cameraman do as he was told. “Hey, schwester, are you okay?”

She was relentless, sobbing as she kept her head down and her arms tightly wrapped around him. She couldn’t speak. Not breathe for that matter. It felt like the last day of the academy all over again. Having no voice felt like she was just as defenseless once more.

“Sylvie, do you want me to take you to your hospitality?” Her bloodshot red eyes, still tearing up, stared into his dark ones as her lips quivered and her head shook left and right. “Do you want your sister?”

Toto knew that the Mercedes hospitality was nearer to the Red Bull area than the Mercedes garage. So for her to go this far just for comfort… something told him that she didn’t want to stress out the pregnant woman and that she needed more than her sister.

He pursed his lips, feeling helpless as he kept an arm around her shoulder as they walked out of the garage. He nodded at his engineers as if he was letting them know about leaving for a moment.

He did his best at comforting her. Rubbed her back, shushing her quietly and gently leading her to the hospitality. People outdoors had gotten a glimpse of her situation and began to speculate, which forced her to hide her face once more as Toto glared at them.

“Come on, schatzi,” inside nobody had batted an eye on her. And instead of speculating, certain people merely looked at the two with concern. What the hell happened, they probably asked themselves.

She was too busy crying and hiding her face away that she hadn’t realized Tilly was already approaching the two. Sylvie didn’t look up until she heard, “What happened, bello?”

“She came to the garage,” Toto said quietly, looking down at his in-law with concern as he said, “she couldn’t say anything because she’s having a hard time breathing.”

“Oh, lovie,” Tilly whispered empathetically, her delicate figure reaching out to hug her little sister, “I’m sorry to hear that. Come, let’s sit down, yes?”

Sylvie could barely think throughout the process of moving from one place to another. They reached the Mercedes motorhome and found themselves in a private room, Sylvie’s lips were swollen and her tear-stained cheeks were red.

She wasn’t even aware that Toto left until his tall figure returned with two bottles of water in his hands. He simply placed it down on the empty table and exchanged looks with his girlfriend. They couldn’t even find a way to help her out of this.

“Listen, Sylvie,” the girl’s sobbing subsided for a moment as Toto said, “I will come back. Okay? I will check and make sure that you’re alright, but I have to go.”

“Yes, go,” Tilly nodded at him, “I’ll be here. Thank you for taking her to me, mon amour.”

“Alright, I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Toto murmured as he leaned down and pecked Tilly’s lips. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” Tilly smiled ruefully, her eyes trained on her little sister as Toto moved to stand and hug Sylvie. Sylvie could only hug his waist, not wanting to let go but had done so anyway.

“Take some time to breathe, lovie,” Toto said for the last time before he left hesitantly.

Nobody but the two were inside the motorhome, thankfully. Sylvie would be so embarrassed to cry in front of other people— as she had done so ten minutes ago. The silence was interrupted by Sylvie’s sobbing. Tilly couldn’t help but wrap her arm around Sylvie’s shoulders, trying to occupy as much space as a pregnant woman could. God, this was the only thing that she didn’t like about her pregnancy. She wasn’t able to comfort her sisters or anyone as much as she’d like to do.

The model couldn’t even think or try to let out a single word, only crying in her sister’s arms as she listened to her shushing. It didn’t take long until the tears dried up. Her energy drained from crying too much over some fuckers who couldn’t even make it to the podium. Them, and that one person would be able to do that on Sunday.

With exhaustion washing over her, her sniffles turned into something more silent as she shut her eyes. It didn’t take long for Tilly to notice this as she stood up, giving more space to the girl on the couch. “Get some rest, lovie,” Tilly said quietly, brushing Sylvie’s hair away as the girl drifted off to sleep.

She really didn’t like being here in Spain.

—

Argument just outside the motorhome was what had woken her up. It was normal to have frustrated drivers or team principals throw a bitch fit, but hearing an argument was a different story.

Her eyes stung from opening after her post-crying nap, her feet meeting the floor as she popped the lid of the bottle open, her parched body taking in the water that she swallowed.

She liked eavesdropping, she really did. She liked to provide her own input even if it’s not needed— she was nosey and everyone knew that. But what she had gone through just about an hour or so ago made her lose the energy and motivation to be her usual self.

It didn’t stop her from walking closer to the door and listening in to whatever argument was going on.

“She’s here to observe and work, she’s not here to spectate,” that was Christian Horner.

“But she’s not feeling well, Christian, she has to rest,” now that’s her favourite in-law. Not really in-law.

“Look, I get that you’re looking out for her but you have to understand,” Christian hissed, “she’ll be signing with Red Bull as soon as she graduates. I cannot have her working with the team if you’re constantly mollycoddling her just because you’re the closest that she has to a father figure. This is a professional work setting, Toto, and she needs to be disciplined to be a part of it.”

“Disciplined, in what way?” The sternness on Toto’s voice could kill, unless you’re just as stupid as Christian as Sylvie heard a scoff coming out of the Red Bull team principal’s mouth.

“Everybody’s going through tough times,” Christian said, “so what? Most of us are moving along anyways. Don’t treat her like a child and make exemptions. She’s never going to learn how to toughen up from it.”

“Hey!” Another voice rung out as the door opened slightly, making her step back as she heard an exclamation of, “That girl was distressed after she left your area— the place where she’s supposed to feel comfortable working in. It’s not her responsibility to bear the problems that are clearly happening within the area of your control, so don’t you tell us how to accommodate if you can barely take care of it. Alright?”

“Fuckin’ prick,” the door slammed shut as Sylvie’s figure remained frozen, her eyes watching as they met Lewis’ dark ones. He smiled gently and asked, “Hey. Are you feeling better now, sweetheart?”

She didn’t respond for a moment after she heard Toto say, “Just give it a rest. She’ll work on what she has to do, just let it go for now. Speak to Tilly, if you would like.”

“Don’t worry about them,” Lewis pulled her back to the couch and sat with her. He leaned back as he joked, “Lovers’ quarrel is what’s going on between the two.”

She chuckled quietly, unable to keep her facade. The laughter fell eventually as she muttered, “I didn’t mean to create such a scene. I’m sorry.”

“What? Hey, girl, no,” Lewis felt his heart break at her words as he reached and rubbed her shoulder for comfort. “Don’t be sorry for snapping. It’s brave of you to keep it together in the first place.”

“I really didn’t mean to make a big deal out of it,” her voice cracked as she tried not to cry. Thinking about it was exhausting and saddening. “It’s just— there’s—“

“It’s okay, take a deep breath,” Lewis told her softly. She did as she was told. Many would say that it’s a rare thing to happen but Sylvie listened.

“There’s just people,” Sylvie explained quietly, not looking at Lewis as she murmured, “I haven’t seen them for a while and… I felt so uneasy. Like it’s the final nail in the coffin. I didn’t want to make a big deal because it was at Red Bull. Nobody’s in there. Toto, you and Tilly are in Mercedes.”

“Sorry we couldn’t be there,” Lewis told her sympathetically. “But it’s a good idea that you went to the garage as quickly as you did. Now look, even Christian’s facing Toto’s wrath.”

“I don’t want to think about it anymore,” Sylvie whispered shakily, shutting her eyes close as she sighed, “I just want some closure.”

The next few days were dreadful. She hadn’t wanted to go back to England as much as she did that weekend.

The people she never wanted to see were there. The sad part of it was the fact that Max would continue to be a part of her life and job, whether she liked it or not. She’d have to tolerate him, no matter how much shit she had gone through because of him and those people around him. This was the second time she had seen him and felt so angry. It was like her life was a race. It starts out very well, with her at the pole. But then she crashes the moment she tries to take advantage and overtake.

On Sunday, Max landed in P1. Sylvie watched him pop the cork of the Moet out and showered his fellow podium winners with it. The text that she then received and sent spilled everything that had nothing to do with champagne. But rather explained how she ended up leaving the academy after that damn open tournament four years ago.

Max complains a lot, he could admit, but he never felt so guilty as much as he did when he practically berated her through a series of text messages. He always demanded answers to things that he believed had explanations, and he wouldn’t stop until he got it. But sometimes he wished his relentless demands were silenced by his conscience.

He felt extremely guilty and upset. It wasn’t because Sylvie Hearth refused to give in to his demands, but rather because her answers explained her hatred and anger. It wasn’t just any anger. It was an ounce of hatred and a lot of anger directed towards him.

Because really, he was the reason why Sylvie never turned out to be the first woman to become a Formula One driver. She never got the seat in Red Bull Racing and Max had gotten it instead. Now he understood why she would refuse to speak to or look at him as if they were childhood best friends and act like they were strangers.

[watchmegetobsessed]

❄️DEAR HARRY❄️

A/N: how crazy that we are on week 3 already?? i hope you guys are seriously getting into the holiday spirit!!

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

SUMMARY: You become penpals with a cute boy in middle school. You fall for him while he becomes an international rockstar, but will you ever actually meet him?

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

This fic is part of ❄️ FANFICmas 2022 ❄️ Read more about fanficmas here!

“Y/N! You got a letter!”

You have never sped down faster than at that moment. You’ve been anticipating that letter more than anything and quite frankly, you never thought receiving a letter would ever feel this exciting.

But it does. And it’s all because of a boy you have never even met.

“Gimme!” you exclaim as you run up to your mother, grabbing the letter from her before she could even hold it out for you and you are already on your way back to your room to read it and probably memorize every word of it.

Throwing yourself onto the bed you take a look at the handwriting on the envelope, your smile growing wider before you open it and pull out the paper.

Dear Y/N,

I have news for you! But I will only reveal them to you at the end of the letter. And don’t cheat! Don’t read ahead!

This week has been boring so far, we had a math quiz and I didn’t do too well, but it’s okay. If only you lived here, you could tutor me, but I’m left with my sister who is definitely not fit to be a teacher. She is so impatient and gets angry when I don’t understand something.

How did you do on your science project? I bet yours was the best and I’m convinced you’ll be a scientist one day. A scientist with a coffee shop. That’s an awesome pairing, don’t you think?

It’s been raining a lot here so I haven’t been out that much. Mum said it probably won’t change for a while.

And now the exciting news… Drumroll please! Are you ready?... I’m going to be on the X-Factor! Crazy, right? But I finally applied and I got a date for my first audition. It’s not the one you see on TV just yet, I only get there if I pass this first round, so wish me luck. Don’t worry, I won’t stop sending you letters even when I’m a big star. You’ll always be my favorite penpal!

I can’t wait to read your next letter!

Love, Harry

You read it over and over again until you can recite the whole thing almost word to word. Then you grab a paper and write your letter right away, putting it aside when it’s done so you can neatly fold Harry’s letter into the box that has all his previous ones. Eighty-seven, to be exact.

You’ve been penpals since last year. Your teachers were friends in college and they loved matching up their classes every year, turning them into penpals and making them send a few mails as a task so kids experience what it was like when there was no internet. You didn’t think much of the task and never expected to make a friend out of it.

But then you got paired with a boy named Harry, who lives in Holmes Chapel.

The first few letters were awkward and both of you just wanted the task to be over. But then you started sharing more and more with each other and kept up with the letters even when the task was over and they haven’t stopped, not even over a year later.

You have no idea what he looks or sounds like, you haven’t exchanged phone numbers, you both agreed you wouldn’t do that until your 100th letter, which is now approaching. Still, you feel like he is your best friend, better than the ones you see every day. And maybe it’s starting to feel more than a friendship, but can you fall for someone you have never even met?

 

You finish the drink in your hand, wait for the girl next to you to get to the end of the story she’s been telling your group. You came down to this little dorm party willing to socialize and make new friends, but you feel like a total outsider and you really don’t want to stay any longer. There are other things you’d rather do right now. Or at least one thing.

Trying your best to stay unnoticed, you slip out of the basement where the party is being held and head up to your room on the third floor. Your college experience hasn’t been like the ones you saw in movies, if you’re being honest, but you’re hoping it will get better in time.

The building feels empty outside of the basement, everyone is down there, having a blast while you can’t wait to return to your room. You’re roommate is either at the party too or maybe she is out with her friends, whichever it is, she’s not there when you get back to your room.

Throwing yourself down to the bed you grab your phone and type out a quick message to the only person you always want to talk to.

Y/N: What time is it where you are? Are you up?

You don’t expect him to answer right away, but his reply comes just moments after your message.

HARRY: Call?

You smile at how he ignored your questions and then start a call. He answers after the first ring.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at a party?” he asks instantly.

“I didn’t like it,” you shrug.

“You said that about the last three parties you went to. You’ll never meet people if you just sit around in your dorm room, Y/N.”

“Didn’t know I called my mother,” you mumble under your breath, which makes him laugh.

“Sorry… I’m just… worried. I want you to have fun.”

“Let’s talk about the fun you’re having. Tell me, where are you today?”

“New York. But I’m leaving tomorrow to LA. And don’t think you successfully changed the subject, we’ll get back to your social distancing.”

“LA, wow!” you pretend to be so into it, even though he’s been there a million times before. “Work stuff?”

“You could say that. There is this thing…”

You listen to him talk, he could be saying anything and you’d have him talk for hours, you wouldn’t get enough of his voice. After all, he’s a singer, it’s no surprise his voice is so soothing, though deep down you know you like it for a different reason.

It’s kind of ridiculous. You’re in love with a guy you’ve known since you were fourteen, but you’ve never met and in the meantime he also turned into an international rockstar, so the whole world knows him. It took the two of you almost two years to have your first phone call instead of sending letters. You still remember the first time you heard his voice over the phone, how he said your name and how you could barely get a word out at first. Now you text and call all the time though you’re still yet to meet.

You like to say it’s just how things turned out so far, that you could just never match a date to meet up, but in reality, you’re too scared to meet him, it would make it all too real and you fear he wouldn’t like you if you stood in front of him. So you remain in this bubble, where he is your friend far away who is also a celebrity. But to you, he’s just Harry, your old penpal.

“Promise me something, Y/N.” His tone turns serious and you bite your bottom lip before answering him.

“Okay.”

“Make at least one friend by the end of the semester.”

“Is that my homework?” you try to joke.

“I’m serious,” he breathes out. “I hate knowing that you’re there all alone.

“I do have friends. You’re my friend.”

“But I’m not there. You need someone to go to the library with, have lunch together and all that stuff. Please, promise me you’ll try, okay? Or I will have to take matters into my own hands.”

“Uh, what’s that supposed to mean?” you frown.

“I will fly over to you, no matter what and show up with you so people will want to get to know you.”

“Oh, so you’ll use your fame to get me friends who are only interested in you?” you laugh.

“Exactly, so you better get a friend yourself!”

“Okay, you got me. I will… try.”

“That’s good enough. I gotta go now. Talk to you later?”

“Sure. Call me whenever your schedule loosens up,” you tease him, hearing his laugh on the other end of the call.

“Will do.”

 

“Are you sure you’re okay? Because I could come over, make a woodoo doll for Mark and poke the shit out of him.”

You chuckle at Hilde’s suggestion as you sink further into your couch.

“I’m sure. I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“Okay, but I’m taking you out for lunch tomorrow. I’m not letting you lock yourself up in your cave just because a dumbass with a receding hairline dumped you.”

“God, Hilde, will you ever run out of the mean comments about him?” you laugh in disbelief. You knew she wasn’t too fond of him, but she’s been extremely, aggressively mean towards him since the two of you broke up two days ago. You can’t believe you thought her to be an angelic, shy girl when you met her in college. It must have been those Scandinavian features, her blonde hair and blue eyes tricked you for sure when you sat next to her at the cafeteria. Hilde is the friend you made because Harry forced you to meet someone and you hate to admit it, but your life wouldn’t be the same without her. She’s the only friend you made in college and luckily, she’s still in your life, three years after graduation.

“I have a whole notebook full of them,” she proudly says. “Alright, I have to go now, but call me if you feel like you want to cry after Mark. He doesn’t deserve your tears, so we have to prevent that.”

“I promise,” you smile softly.

“I’ll be at yours tomorrow at one. Bye!”

The smile fades from your face as soon as the call ends and you settle back into your loneliness. If anyone saw you, they would think it’s because of the breakup, but deep down you know it’s not the reason.

Yes, it’s shitty that you dated someone for almost an entire year and they dumped you over the phone, but that’s not what hurts the most. You’re alone. Well, Hilde is always there for you, but you can’t turn to the person who was your biggest support in the past decade. Your failed relationship is just a reminder that you will never have the same kind of feelings for anything like you had for Harry. No matter what went down with Mark, you always knew he wasn’t the one.

Because he wasn’t Harry.

Unlocking your phone you scroll down in the messages until you find the last one you sent to Harry. It’s been over a year and you still miss him.

There was no fight, no one hurt anyone, you just had a fall-out around the time he started dating some model. The messages came less and less often, he missed your phone calls and took a long time to respond whenever you sent him a picture of something you thought he would appreciate. His actions spoke loud and you didn’t want to be the annoying friend who doesn’t get a hint. He just started his solo career, things were going great for him, he didn’t have time to keep in touch with the penpal he had when he was a teenager.

So you stopped trying and eventually, everything stopped.

And you miss him probably too much, but you can’t help it. You keep catching yourself wondering if he thinks about you too, if he sees something and it reminds him of you, because it happens to you all the time.

You’ve wanted to text him a million times since the radio silence has started, but talked yourself down every time. He is a celebrity, he has way too many things to do than to catch up with you, that’s if he even answered your message. His number might not even be the same.

You regret never meeting him. Now you’ll never know what it feels like to hug him, to see him smile in real life, to smell his scent. He’ll remain just his letters you still have under your bed and the memories you have of your phone calls.

Seeking closure you grab a paper and pen and write one last letter to him.

Dear Harry…

 

You can’t mask your shock as you stare down at the letter you just took out of your mail box. You recognize the handwriting right away, but you never thought you’d ever see it again, not on an envelope at least.

It takes you several minutes to snap out of your initial shock and rush up to your apartment, holding the letter to your chest as if it was your most precious treasure and in the meanwhile you think back at the date you sent out that last letter to Harry.

It’s been six months.

It took him six months for him to reply to a letter you didn’t even think he would ever read. What happened? Did he only get it now? Or did he hesitate for this long before deciding to reply? You have so many questions and you might get a few answers from the letter.

You drop down to your couch and open the envelope with shaking hands, pulling the neatly folded paper out.

Dear Y/N…

 

“You look disgustingly happy, have I told you that?” Hilde comments and you roll your eyes at her.

“Yes. Like a million times before.”

“Okay, then I will just keep saying it.”

“I thought you’d be happy to see me like this, you’ve been nagging me about him for years!” you tell her off teasingly.

“I am happy! But I didn’t think you’d radiate like this! Though I should have expected, you are so hopelessly in love with that man,” she sighs. “I can’t believe it took you guys fourteen years to finally arrange a meeting, what the fuck?”

“It’s not that dramatic,” you tell her, finishing up putting the mugs away. It’s the 23rd of December, you’re just an hour away from closing up so it’s just two customers and Hilde left in the café. Soon everyone will be gone and Harry will arrive to meet you for the very first time in real life.

It’s been a long journey up to this point. After your farewell letter you didn’t think you’d ever talk to him, but then six months later you got another letter from him. Since then, you figured out what took so long. You sent the letter to his old address, but his mum has moved away for a while now. Luckily, the new owner was kind enough to track Anne down and give her the letter, but it took some time for that to happen. Then it took about two months for Anne to give it to Harry, she kept forgetting about it until he was finally home and she could just hand it over when she remembered she still had it. Then came some hesitation, but it was just a week before Harry decided to write to you.

And then you started talking again.

He apologized for being so distant, he said his then girlfriend didn’t appreciate the tight friendship he had with you and it didn’t take long to get back to where you were before the fall-out.

Now it’s been a year and the moment has finally come. It’s time to meet in person and you feel better about it than ever. Probably because the two of you have definitely passed being just friends.

The flirty texts started about a month after you reconnected and they’ve been building up ever since. All your doubts that Harry could never see you as more than just a friend has vanished and now you’re just patiently waiting for the big moment to happen.

“We can’t change what happened now,” you shrug.

“Yeah. Now he’ll have a great story to tell at talk shows about how he met his girlfriend!” she snorts out a laugh.

“I’m not his girlfriend!” you protest, but your heart skips a beat at the word.

“But you will be when you leave this place tonight, hopefully with him, heading up to your place to make up for all the sex you missed in the past decade.”

“Hilde!” you chuckle, throwing a rug at her.

Soon the café empties out, Hilde helps you closing and she heads out to give you some peace before Harry is set to arrive. As you’re left alone, you take a look around the place and you can’t help but feel content with your life.

You opened the café last year, an old dream of yours that’s now finally reality. It’s small and took almost all of your savings to start the business, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. It’s decorated with Christmas lights and ornaments, one of your employees, Krissy did it, she’s obsessed with the holidays so you let her go all out. Now it looks like a tiny winter wonderland, setting the perfect mood for your first time meeting Harry.

You can’t help but feel nervous. What will he think of you? Will he think you’re just like on the photos he’s seen of you? Or are you different? Is he nervous too?

You arrange a little setup on one of the tables, some freshly baked cookies and two mugs of hot chocolate. Everything looks perfect and he could be here anytime.

A car pulls up in front of the building and your heart skips a beat when you see him get out of it with a bouquet of roses in his hands. He doesn’t notice you through the windows, so you can have a good look at him before he comes inside.

He seems to take a few moments to himself, checking his hair in the mirror before taking a deep breath and nodding to himself. Seeing him like this, nervous like you makes you smile.

Then he turns to face the café and he spots you through the glass of the door and your eyes meet for the first time. For a few seconds you just stare at each other, bask in the moment before you both break out in smiles and he walks inside, stopping by the door, a few feet away from you.

“Hi,” he breathes out and you swear his voice sounds a million times better than on the phone or any video you’ve seen of him.

“Hi,” you chuckle and your legs start moving before you could even think.

You throw yourself into his arms and he catches you with ease, holding you tight and suddenly, you know this is where you belong.

“God, it’s so good to hold you, Y/N,” he chuckles, burying his face into your neck. You want to say the same, but it’s so overwhelming that you can just laugh and hold him tighter.

You have no idea how long you stay like that, wrapped up in each other, hours could have passed by and you wouldn’t have noticed. All you feel and see is Harry.

“It’s really you,” he chuckles when you pull apart at last and he can take a better look at you.

“I should be saying that, I was the one talking to a celebrity! You could have been a catfish all along!” you laugh as you soak him in, standing in the middle of your tiny café. “Um, come sit. I made cookies and… hot chocolate.”

“And I brought you these,” he holds out the roses for you that you take with a lovesick smile, placing them onto the counter before the two of you settle at the table you set.

You sit and talk and talk for hours, tell each other everything you’ve written about and the things you didn’t. Words and stories flow so easily, it’s like you’ve spent every waking moment by each other this past fourteen years. You cherish how you’re able to touch his arm and hand and he barely looks away from you, as if the sight of you has put a spell on him.

“Oh wow, it’s past midnight,” you snap out of the bubble you’ve been sitting in, realizing just how late it has gotten.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstay my welcome.” His eyes widen, but you just chuckle, shaking your head.

“You didn’t. It’s just that I have to be here by six thirty to open.”

“Oh shit, then… we should get going?” he suggests. “I can drive you home.”

“That would be great, thank you. Let me just bring these back to the kitchen,” you gesture at the empty mugs and plates.

“Let me help,” he offers, but you shake your head no.

“It’s alright, I can do it.”

You stack them all together and then bring them back, just tossing them into the sink. You’ll deal with them in the morning. When you walk out, you find Harry inspecting the place with a tiny smile.

“You really made this happen,” he says. “I remember when you wrote about wanting to start your own business when we were sixteen.”

“Well, it took me over a decade, but yeah,” you chuckle softly.

“I’m proud of you,” he says, his gaze meeting yours as he steps closer to you. “You’ve achieved so much. I just wish I could be next to you on the way.”

You catch a hint of disappointment flashing through his expression, but you don’t want him to blame himself. The fall-out might have been his fault mostly, but before that, it was you who avoided meeting him at any cost. Maybe things would have turned out different if you just met as soon as possible.

You’ll never know. But it’s alright, because you have a second chance now.

“You can be here from now on,” you quietly say and you can feel the atmosphere change in an instant. “If… If you want to,” you add.

Harry steps closer again until there are only inches parting you from him. He reaches up and cups your cheek in his hand, his eyes snapping down at your lips when they part.

“There’s nothing I would want more,” he replies, his lips pressing against yours finally.

Suddenly, you’re a curious teenager again, whose heart threatens to jump out of her chest seeing a new letter. The excitement of opening the envelope, reading his words and then writing back to him as soon as possible, it’s all here now that there’s no distance between the two of you.

You belonged to him even before you met and you belong to him now that he is closer to you than ever before.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[spoilmesweetieforficssake]

Hi can I please request a Melissa x reader where Mel is meeting the readers parents for the first time and perhaps the reader doesn’t have a good relationship with her mom and her mom keeps making snarky comments about the age difference and that rlly upsets Melissa and the reader can tell so the next time the readers mum does it she shouts at her mom and they end up having an argument and then the reader grabs Mel and they storm out and maybe when they get home the reader breaks down at Mel comforts her. Also based of what happened when I took my bf home 😂😂. Tysm

You've been very patient with this request - which has been loitering with intent in my inbox for a while now! As promised, it was not forgotten. I hope this was what you were hoping for and that you enjoy it!

~*~

You’re both nervous.  You’re trying your best not to let your own nerves show, but you know by the supportive smile being aimed at you that you’re failing badly.  You know Melissa is trying just as hard to hide her own nerves by the way she fidgets, toying with anything in reach from the napkin to her necklaces to your bracelet. 

The restaurant is neither of your favourites, and chosen for that reason specifically.  You know there’s a good chance tonight isn’t going to go down well and you don’t want to ruin one of your favourite places to eat with bad memories.  You hope it won’t.  That your mother will see how happy you are with Melissa, and maybe just for once, she’ll play nice.  You’re not counting on it though.

You’ve warned Melissa multiple times tonight might not end well.  You’ve apologised for feeling as though you have to warn her.  Every time you’ve told her, she’s been nothing but patient with you, telling you she understands difficult family dynamics, reassuring you that whatever happens she’s not going anywhere. 

Seeing your mother enter the restaurant, you take a deep breath, motioning to Melissa as she approaches.

“Are we still waiting for your girlfriend?”

You frown at the greeting, as you stand to meet your mother.  Turning towards Melissa, you find her halfway out of her own chair.  She’s blatantly at the same table as you, and hasn’t yet run for the hills so why…

“Oh sweetheart, she isn’t a girl,” sneers your mother.  “She hasn’t been a girl for long time.”

Your mouth opens in shock.  You hadn’t exactly expected hugs and kisses, but this?  “This is Melissa.  The woman I love,” you manage, through clenched teeth as your hand finds the red head’s arm, a silent plea for her to stay. 

“You’ve never exactly had the best taste,” quips your mother as she takes the seat opposite you.

Half sitting, half falling back into your own seat you offer Melissa an apologetic look, your fingers gently brushing over the exposed skin of her forearm.  You can see your mother’s comments have riled her, but you also know her well enough to see that behind her stern expression, there’s hurt in her eyes too.

The age gap between you isn’t inconsiderable, and you know it sometimes plays on the red head’s mind.  For you, it’s never been all that much of an issue.  Since the day you met her you’ve always found her the most beautiful woman in any given room, and when she finally let you get to know her, you realised you found her personality just as attractive.  You love her.  All of her. 

For her part, Melissa tries her best to suppress the urge to lean over the table and unceremoniously drag your mother across it by her neck.  You had told her, quite a number of times, that this might not go well, but she hadn’t expected your mother to be quite to vicious right off the bat.  Come to think of it, she wishes she had one of hers. 

*

You had hoped that after your mother’s horrid opening gambit the evening might improve.  Instead, it only gets worse.  You’ve barely even ordered and already you want to cry, scream and inflict serious bodily harm with the cutlery. 

Melissa excuses herself to the bathroom.  She flashes you a quick, forced, smile before she does, honestly not wanting to leave you to face your mother alone, but needing a moment to collect herself.  She wants to scream and shout and raise her fists, but she won’t.  She knows your relationship with your mother is tenuous at best and she won’t do anything to make it worse.  That doesn’t mean that every awful comment aimed at you that she doesn’t shoot down doesn’t cause guilt to build in her chest.  It also doesn’t mean that the barbed comments aimed at her don’t hurt. 

She glares at herself in the mirror, trying by sheer force of will to stop the tears falling from her eyes.  She knows you don’t believe any of the words coming from your mother’s mouth.  She does know.  She knows because she knows you. 

She’s watched tonight as you’ve tried to be patient.  As you’ve quietly countered every insult thrown at her, trying not to make a scene but making it clear that you’re firmly with Melissa and no amount of derogatory comments is going to change that.

She manages a small smile in the mirror.  You love her.  You’ll get through this.  A little bruised and sore, sure, but together.

Exiting the bathroom, she’s within hearing distance of the table just in time to hear your mother throw out her latest taunt; “Sure you don’t want to check she hasn’t broken a hip, the time she’s taking?”

Pausing, she takes a deep breath, biting down the retort that threatens to spill from her lips.  It’s during this moment she sees you stand, planting your hands on the table.

“You know what?” you shout, no longer caring about making a scene.  “I don’t have to sit here and listen to this, and I should never have subjected Melissa to you!”

You promised yourself you wouldn’t make a scene tonight, but that was before you realised your mother seemed intent on insulting Melissa at every opportunity.  “I hoped you’d see her the way I see her, as a beautiful, funny, supportive and kind girlfriend.  That you might even be happy for me but all you’ve been in mean and hurtful and she doesn’t deserve that.  She deserves the fucking world and that doesn’t include you!”

You toss your bag over your shoulder, yanking yours and Melissa’s coats from the back of your chairs before leaning down to grab the red head’s handbag.  Without looking at your mother, you turn to go and find Melissa, only to find her a few feet away, looking stunned.

Still fuelled by anger and adrenaline you stride over to her, catching her hand with your own and leading you both out of the restaurant.

“We can’t just walk out!” she hisses, not wanting you to hurt your relationship with your mother by ending tonight on such bad terms.

“We damn well can,” you tell her as you push open the door, leaving the sounds of the restaurant behind.  “I’m not sitting there listening to her insult you with every other breath!”

As you reach the parking lot, you’re beginning to run out of steam, your anger faltering as tears of frustration start to gather in your eyes.  You let go of her hand, pacing as you take a number of deep breaths, trying not to cry. 

You stop as Melissa catches your hand as you pass her once more.  “I’m sorry tonight was so shitty,” you offer, your voice barely a wobbly whisper.

“You warned me it might not go well,” she shrugs, though you know she’s trying to play it down.  You know tonight has been just as horrific for her as it has been for you.  That she’s tried to be on her best behaviour for you and you hate yourself for it. 

You let out a sigh, turning to face her, managing a sad smile as she takes your other hand and tugs you close, wrapping her arms around you.  “I didn’t think it would go quite that badly.”

Resting your head on her shoulder, you loop your arms around her waist, breathing her in.  “Can we just go home?”

-

You pull up outside Melissa’s apartment.  Home, you realise, with a small smile.  Turning to face the woman in the driver’s seat, you take a moment to just drink her in.  It’s a habit you have no intention of breaking any time soon.  “I don’t deserve you.”

She turns with a lopsided smile.  “You put up with plenty.”

So does she, you think.  Tonight more than ever before.  You start to tear up again as the evening’s events play through your mind.  “I’m so sorry about tonight.”

“You couldn’t have known she was going to say those things,” Melissa says softly.

“I shouldn’t have let her!” you quickly reply, angry with yourself all over again.  “I should have left when she made that first snarky comment!”

“You didn’t just leave when I made my first snarky comment,” smirks the red head. 

You manage a watery smile at that.

 “Come on, lets get inside and drink good wine and forget about bad people.”

You reach across and put a hand on her arm before she can leave the truck.  “You know what she was saying was all nonsense, right?”

The smile being aimed at you is forced.  You know Melissa too well not to see it. 

“Mel, seriously,” you tell her, your thumb stroking over her forearm where your hand still rests on her arm.  “You’re the kindest, bravest, more passionate woman I’ve ever known, and I love you.  I love every bit of you.”

“I love you too,” she replies, trying not to let her own tears fall.  She quickly wipes her eyes with her free hand.  “Come on, the neighbours don’t need to see us crying in the car.  They’ll think we’re breaking up!”

You’re not letting her away so easily.  “But we’re okay?  You’re okay?”

She smiles at you.  A proper smile this time.  “Yeah,” she nods.  “We’re okay and I’m okay.”  With a squeeze of your hand, she slips out of the car, coming around to your side and opening your door for you. 

“Well if it isn’t the hottest couple on the block!”

You both turn at the cheerful greeting, waving back at the elderly gentleman who lives across the street.  He’s known Melissa as a neighbour for decades, and apparently approves of you more than he has any of her previous partners.  He likes to playfully flirt with you every chance he gets, always chuckling at the raised eyebrow from the red head and winking at you when she gets possessive. 

Melissa takes your hand and grins.  Your mother might be your flesh and blood, and there’s going to be some healing from this evening on both sides, but she’s one single, small minded woman.  There are bigger, better and happier things to focus on.

“And good evening to you too, Mr Rees.”

[ffb6c1lover]

The Madrigals and Anxiety

so, I think it's not a controversial statement to say that anxiety runs in the family... what I find oddly cute is that a lot of nervous ticks or outbursts are very similar to those of other family members, but let's proceed with order.

Alma, Isabela

Alma had it hard. I think homegirl is the culprit, but she probably had an anxious gene in her before everything.

do we need to explain what her anxiety looks like? absolute perfectionism to the point of insanity so people won't turn on her, constantly making Bruno check the future for possible dangers, self-soothing behaviours (asking Pedro for help, wearing the mourning shawl), always needing to keep a watchful eye on everyone, you name it.

The perfectionism moved straight through to Isabela. There's a whole song about not meeting expectations, so I don't think I need to go fruther into it.

Pepa

Pepa is another obvious one. Her anxiety is palpable throughout most of the movie and it is, unlike her mum, mostly related to things that are not life-or-death situations (Antonio's party needing to be perfect).

She is constantly seen spiralling and using self-soothing rituals (hair touching, "clear skies"), often to no avail.

Her mood swings and irritability outbursts are also proof of anxiety.

Bruno

Before you come at me!! He clearly has OCD... It's in the script so it was meant like this. And I know people say he was just superstitious, but I come from a very superstitious culture and it's not like that 😭

I can prove it!!

Throwing salt. It is usually done after you have spilled it. Bruno had not spilled any salt before the throwing over the shoulder. It is an act that is meant to cancel bad luck from an extremely specific action that he had not done.

Knock knock knock knock knock knock on wood. You are supposed to knock twice, say it once, only after someone has said something good you don't wanna jinx or bad you wanna prevent. Bruno hasn't been talking to anyone in 10 years, it's just a ritual to him at this point OR it's a reaction to his own thoughts. Superstitious people don't do things based on their thoughts: that's OCD. Also the number of knocks and the one on the head is oddly specific and not related to any superstitious beliefs as far as I'm aware.

Fingers crossed. Again, you do that when you are hoping for something good, but nothing happened he might want to cross his fingers for, it's just another ritual. Also, all of these rituals are kind of contradicting each other (hoping for something/trying to prevent something), he's just trying to bring as much good luck as possible.

I'm not saying he is not superstitious, he very much is, but his superstition pathologized to the point of becoming an illness. This is not how someone who's simply superstitious acts.

He also has a generally nervous attitude and lots of self-soothing movements, like the rubbing his arm we'll get to later.

The only other explanation could be that he thinks he is the bad luck, but that still does not explain things like the crossed fingers.

Julieta, Camilo, Mirabel

They don't look like they struggle a lot with anxiety (I am only talking about the actual condition, not genuine worry that has a reason of being like Casita breaking or not receiving a gift). They are all very accustomed to dealing with anxious family members though and they are good at it.

Mirabel is probably the more anxious among the three, but she is also an incredible supporter for Toñito, who's not getting his own section simply because his fear was very much justified, but for a literal 5yo his anxiety shows great promise of becoming just like his mum's.

Honourable mention in this section goes to Félix and Agustìn, we stan some supportive husbands and fathers.

Luisa

My baby. The first time we see her as being relevant plot-wise is literally because her eye was twitching. Her character arc is learning to chill. I rest my case.

Dolores

Now, Dolores is a bit trickier, because she is not as loud as the rest of her family. She does always seem to be extremely on edge though and she is often doubting herself (she stopped believing someone was in the walls despite hearing Bruno for 10+ years because they told her it was not possible).

I don't know whether it's canon or if I've read too much fanfiction, but her room is supposed to have some degree of soundproofing, that she doesn't use because she needs to hear if her family needs help (Luisa's eye twitch).

Finally...

The similar twitches and anxious responses

The arm-rub of Luisa and Bruno (+ supportive sisters <3<3<3<3<3)

The hand movement while screaming, like mother like daughter

[fushigidane]

Personal skills for the awakening kids

i wish awakening had personal skills SO BAD it's not even funny.

anyway. i thought up some personal skills for the 2nd gen. these are all made within the context of 3h as that's the au that's been swimming about in my head for several weeks hence any reference to those mechanics but pls enjoy :) :)

lucina

gee, lucina, how come mum lets YOU bring the overpowered game mechanic to other games--

basically just the engage chain attack feature as lucina there is The Chain Attack Emblem. killassisting killstealing left and right. would serve really well with 3h's love of chunky hp monsters. the weapon durability aspect is kind of incentive to always have her equip falchion (3h regalia should NOT have limited durability and in THIS essay i will--) or a forged training weapon as the damage is fixed.

this probably could transfer to fateswakening where this would proc on top of normal dual strikes, but another option i thought up for her would be the ability to dual strike for anyone as long as the targeted enemy is within her movement range (i.e. she can dual strike without being adjacent to an ally)

owain

i wanted to make the fateswakening trio's skills distinct from their fates counterparts... though i wouldn't be able to use aching blood in a 3h setting anyway as it has no weapon naming feature. truly tragic.

this is probably self-explanatory: owain does extra damage when using any attack that has a name bc He Gets Excited. it would apply to each individual strike rather than the total damage number, and part of me wonders if this would make 3h-astra actually viable.

also, rip to like half the crests in 3h which have this exact effect but separate and worse since they're a non-guaranteed proc. we honour your sacrifice so owain could rise

inigo

3h's authority makes rally skills pretty easy to get, but the fact they only affect one unit means i barely use them and it makes me sad. inigo deserves his funky little rallies and he will GET his funky little rallies.

this skill would also apply to the stat boost from special dance (though not the dance effect itself).

not much else to say. i just think this skill is neat

brady

this is basically the skill stealth, which is otherwise exclusive to the thief/assassin/trickster classes in 3h. it puts the unit at the bottom of the priority list for enemy attacks so they will only be attacked if there are NO other viable targets.

great for a healing brady. i always put him in a support role so this is perfect for me. less great if you want brady to be a combatant as it limits what you can do on enemy phase, but you could still use it to your advantage

i just have this image of enemies seeing a healer on the battlefield, going to attack them, and then being hit by this Stare of Promised Violence that makes them back off and decide to attack,, idk. fucking dedue instead. and brady is sitting here confused bc he didn't do anything (it's just his normal face)

kjelle

She Will Not Be Knocked Over. armour too strong. 10/10. truly a GET DOWN MR PRESIDENT skill of all time, as she has earned

this skill means she takes the damage but doesn't get movement sealed or debuffed or anything after being hit by a gambit. Not Even The Force Of Ten Dozen Men Charging Will Faze You.

a fateswakening equivalent i considered would be preventing specifically armour-effective damage i.e. from hammers or armourslayers, so they just deal normal damage instead (or, in fates' case, the weapons get hit with the non-effective target debuff).

cynthia

basically a stronger but more situational variant of elise's and flayn's lily's poise. all about protecting the vulnerable, plays into her more sensible (read: comparative to owain) idea of heroism.

i personally like this a lot bc i always always go falcon knight cynthia (it feels better) and cynthia with a healer flavour... mwah.

i'm generally a massive fan of aura skills (i.e. buffs to allies within a certain range of a unit) and this is the type of skill that could definitely save your units after an unfortunate mistake

severa

THE COUNTERPART TO BERUKA'S PERSONAL THAT SELENA SHOULD HAVE HAD. NO I WILL NOT TAKE CRITICISM they did her SOOO dirty with her fates personal--

aside from being perfect personality-wise (she WILL prove she is better than others--), this also syncs well with most classes severa will find herself in. swords are pretty much wholly 1-range weapons, so are usually facing a counterattack, except the levin sword...but nobody is rushing to give her that. (she has a 10% MAG growth in awakening, which is quite literally the lowest available...)

i wanted to name this competitive but apparently that's takumi's personal skill name. so rude of him

gerome

local teenager fixates on dragons, more at 6

he's studied dragons + minervikins so hard he knows how to fight beside them in a way that lets them fight to the fullest. also he gets so secretly happy (and it is secret do not tell a soul) to be next to a dragon that he too fights better.

this would apply equally to wyvern units and units that are dragons in non-dragon classes e.g. a mage nah.

gerome <3

yarne

the original name of this skill was sudden brevity until i realised brevity does not mean what i clearly thought it did when i wrote it.

an improved version of strong riposte from fates. poor yarne spends so much time wanting to hide on player phase that any damage he is directed to deal is only mediocre, but when enemies attack HIM on ENEMY phase, he's like oh shit gotta survive--

DONT MESS WITH A BUNNY indeed :)

laurent

3h's limits on spell learning means this basically has a cap of +10 in the late game, but even that is still mega broken. this skill would serve as a really strong incentive to train his reason/faith in the early game and the extra power you get from learning spells would scale well as you progress further.

now that the meta is out the way, this skill is like when a character (not necessarily a fe one) gets a new skill in a game and there's this super exaggerated powerup sound effect and a victory quote, and you're just like... 'all you learned was how to wear heavier armour' but with THIS skill it's actually VALID

knowledge = power and also justification for laurent joining the cast of fodlan characters found near exclusively in the library

noire

it's a little criminal that awakening wasn't able to give us something that reflects noire's blood and thunder state in combat aside from her crit quotes, so this is what i came up with.

the more she fights, the more BLOOD AND THUNDER she gets.

it makes the most sense that her offense would be the one boosted, and even though she's an archer she can fill a good role as a mixed attacker (i WISH awakening had a shining bow), hence STR/MAG being boosted. i briefly considered SPD, but noire has one of the best base speed growths in the game anyway (before growth inheritance; she's on par with lon'qu and a speed-boon robin, and weirdly only beat out by PANNE with 55 base speed for some reason) so it'd be a little redundant when she already doubles everything

nah

this is based off that odd quirk of nah's where she always forgets she can turn into a dragon. i think of her support with f!morgan all the time, where she spends ages trying to learn how to catch a wyrmslayer and in the end realises it was a wasted effort bc she doesn't even fight in her human form and her dragon arms are too small to do what she learned.

"until engaging in combat" applies to combat initiated with nah on either player OR enemy phase. you'd have to have her avoid combat completely for this skill to build up. it would apply to offensive non-damaging magic e.g. silence, but wouldn't apply to healing, so nah could spend her time doing that.

this is a skill you need to dedicate yourself to using yourself, but in the hypothetical scenario where she's a boss, this skill is absolutely terrifying. especially if you took all the limiters off. it would actually make for a very fun map i think--the best fe maps are those that make you go on the offensive IMO, but that's not exactly what this post is about, so i'll move on.

f!morgan

i've made separate skills for the morgans because their supports are different enough that they feel like different characters to me, even if just slightly. it's why i always like them as twins.

what i wanted with the morgans is a skill that hints at what they were before losing their memory and joining the shepherds. for this one, though she is a wyvern lord in future past 2 she is a malig knight in my heart. they just hadn't yet invented malig knights when they made her. this skill is based on its lvl15 skill, savage blow. (to be clear, the 5 extra damage would also apply after combat).

this is a fun one that's good for crowd control and mopping up large groups of enemies, especially with the existence of 3h canto where you can just swoop out of enemy range after obliterating their movement.

it's a very fitting skill if you have morgan in, say, a wyvern class or even dark flier. but if you put her in a dainty little base pegasus knight class... the image of a fragile little pegasus that will fall to like two axes hunting people down is kind of hilarious. sorry morgy

m!morgan

last but not least, the son himself... likewise to f!morgan, i wanted this skill to reflect who he was before the shepherds. he's a sorcerer in the future past 1, which is why i wanted this skill to be dark magic based. both morgans having skills that debuff enemies is another intentional choice.

it's loosely based upon the -taker skills. this skill isn't as powerful as them (you get less stat per proc and the cap is smaller) but you can gain the boosts without delivering the killing blow and you have more variety in what boosts you can get. morgan tends to be a jack-of-all-trades like robin, so an all-round boost is good for him.

past morgan was probably pretty scary with this, but present morgan without a hint of memory now just goes around Yoinking enemy stats. Morgan Says Teehee Mine Now. as he should :)

[x-emeraldsky-x]

The sun was blinding from where they were sitting, the rooftop of the academy holding little protection from the harsh rays. The trees were a cut too short, the clouds straying clear from the burning star, not even the neighbouring buildings helped.

Three newly graduates sat waiting, hiding away behind their hands or arms, the heat tingling their skin as an indication that they'd start to burn soon. One was scowling, cursing under his breath at a man he didn't even know yet. Another was pouting, trying to keep his cool guy facade in front of his peers. The last one sat while holding long hair away from her neck, slumping over with her chin on her hand.

A puff of smoke broke them out of their bored misery, the three of them rushing to look presentable. This was their sensei after all, someone who'd teach them to be Shinobi, and even Sasuke wanted to make a decent impression.

When the smoke cleared, they saw a man who stood proudly on the railing. He wore the same uniform as any other Jounin but he had his left eye covered, the right side of his face was scarred terribly, leading down the exposed part of his neck and carrying to his forearms. He'd look intimidating if it weren't for his gentle smile.

He jumped down and greeted them loudly, his voice was deep but clear in tone. He behaved quite similarly to Naruto when he was excited. He introduced himself as 'Uchiha Obito'.

Upon hearing that, Naruto and Sakura turned to their third, like many kids would. The surname Uchiha wasn't very common anymore. Obito laughed as Sasuke turned with a huff.

"He's my little cousin!" He said, quite cheerfully too. He was very proud of his little Sasuke. "I practically raised him, so I asked the Hokage to let me be his teacher. Much to Sasuke's disgust."

Obito poked his tongue out playfully, recieving an embarrassed glare after Sakura and Naruto giggled.

"I know all about Sasuke, but," Obito kneeled down in front of the trio, focusing on just two. "I don't know much about you two. How about we take turns introducing ourselves. I'll go first!"

He smiled with closed eyes, oddly soft with his expressions considering the trauma on his skin.

Obito went through a list of all sorts of things. Things he liked and things he didn't, his favourite foods and his favourite hobbies, even his favourite type of chakra nature. All were hidden examples of what he wanted to know about them.

Naruto went next, eager to share.

"My name is Uzumaki Naruto! I'm the son of the fourth Hokage, but that's not very important. Uhm, I like a lot of things! I like ramen, I like cooking with my mum, and I also like to train with my dad! I don't like thunderstorms, they scare me, but I love to write!"

Naruto beamed with excitement, much like his mother would when she herself would talk. Obito chuckled at the nostalgia, Kushina was always a highlight to his training.

Naruto raved on for a while longer, seemingly wanting to cover all his bases before he lost them. Obito made mental notes on everything he could keep up with. Sakura listened quite intently too, smiling softly at Naruto's excitement.

When it came to Sakura's turn, she initially missed the cue due to her focus on Naruto. She scrambled to find her words.

"Oh, uh, I'm Haruno Sakura! I like reading, and studying. Not a big fan of spicy food, it rarely tastes good, but I love eating fruit! I'm not very good at ninjutsu, but I want to help people as a ninja!"

She fidgeted a little with her hands as she spoke, her tone carried a hint of nervousness as well. Obito suspected she wasn't used to being at the forefront of attention. He related quite a bit, he himself was often overlooked by his peers due to being a late bloomer.

"Well," Obito smiled assuringly to both of them. "I'll make sure I can give you the best support I can to help you with your dreams!"

He stood from his crouching position, stretching out his legs to ease the tension, and smiled widely.

"Tomorrow, meet me at training ground number 7! 8am! Oh, and you might want to skip breakfast. The first training sessions gonna be brutal!"

Naruto smirked. "Bring it on, I can handle anything you throw at me, Dattebayo!!"

[skzoologist]

My mooties

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⤐ @dmnksrt - One of my irl best friends, you guys can thank her for so much, because she is my number 1 fan and keeps cheering me on. Without her, I wouldn't have written this much. She's a victim of accidentally being converted into a kpop fan, purely because I was also dragged into the fandom. Even though she stans another group and man (Suga), we still ramble to each other for hours easily. Once she gathers the courage to post her own fanfics, you can be sure I'll be there to support her immediately. Her brain is wonderful, just like her, I wouldn't hesitate to commit arson for her sake. Her tag is 'my Darling', no, we aren't dating, in case any of Nat's anons come here asking that.

⤐ @nerenbe - Well well well, if it isn't my menace herself. This lil gremlin is the sole reason I am in this fandom altogether, since she just kept singing 'Star lost' while we were in the Christmas market in the year 2023. I guess this is what I get for dragging her into so many animes and manhwas, haha. She isn't really active here, but know that she loves to murder me with pics and memes of my bias and wrecker. Truly, she lives up to her nickname.

⤐ @shetherocket - The last of my irl best friends, the poor one who isn't in the kpop fandom and has no idea wtf I am saying to her, ever. It's really funny actually, as she just nods as I speak, no clue about anything. But she likes Felix! Loves his softness and sunshine self, so I sometimes spam her with him lmao. I am never going to be sorry for that :D

⤐ @thightswideforhanin - First ever person to loudly admit Bae wrecked her, and hard. I always enjoy her reblogs, she was one of the first ever active members of my blog.

⤐ @michelle4eve - A shy follower of mine who gathered enough courage to speak to me, and would you look at that, we speak more regularly now :) She's very sweet, which is why I just call her my Sunshine.

⤐ @jinnie-ret - Jinnie-ret, Jinnie-ret, the person who started it all. She was the first skz writer who noticed me and decided to raid my blog, quite literally. She recommended my work on her blog and I got a big influx of people, making me breach the 100 followers threshold. I still can't believe she'd followed me back, when I've been her silent follower for months by that point. While we don't speak a lot, as she is busy, I know she's very welcoming and kind (also my brit mum, because she decided to adopt me lmao).

⤐ @atinyniki - Niki, my precious little pocket pookie who just loves to pester me and absolutely shower me in love, no matter how hard I keep pushing it away (this is the norm for me and my friends). She's absolutely sweet and so strong, I look up to her in that sense to this very day. We easily start gushing about ATEEZ or my husky puppies for a good while, or even start planning some gut-wrenching fics together xD I am so happy she wrote to me, even if she keeps insisting I am cute, falsely.

⤐ @writingforstraykids - Nat, my talented menace! I love her art, oh my god, I cannot wait for her to draw more, even if that is a year later or more. And her soft thoughts? Hell yes! She's the one who usually gets to see my own random thoughts about the boys (hence our collab), because she's my mootie and they get VIP services :) I am forever afraid she's gonna do what my menace does and send me pics of the boys... I would straight up die on the spot.

⤐ @cheesemonky - Leisel! While we don't talk a lot (timezone differences and my depressed, anxious self), she's cute and so supportive. I just know if we would talk more, our chat would be filled with rambles and thoughts about TXT, haha.

⤐ @yangbbokari - Mumu, the chaos child. We didn't get to know each other well yet, but she loves to say random shit and cause mayham xD Very maknae line coded.

⤐ @lilmisssona - Sona, my sweet sonata, who is so sweet and supportive of me despite barely knowing me, it gives me diabetes. I already love her works, her AUs are very interesting. She also loves my two puppies, and I am only glad to provide her with photos and videos of them.

⤐ @minholing - Jenny, my lil biologist sprout. While she left, I will await her return here. Who knows, maybe by then I'll be able to accept her hugs more easily.

⤐ @kimistorm - We don't really talk, but we occasionally tag each other in some games. Her works are really nice and sweet, I wouldn't be surprised if she is like that too.

⤐ @miuracha - Miu, the legend amongst us. I haven't really gathered the courage to talk to her yet, but I do know she is an absolute sweetheart who only deserves the best. I hope life finally gives her a break, and very soon.

⤐ @silverstarburst - Silver, my star and guardian wolf, thanks to her protective nature over her friends. Our friendship started with her tagging me in a Jisung photoset, completely unprompted. That was a sign, so true that we now regularly talk here or on discord. Bless her and her gif/photo sets.

⤐ @galaxycatdrawz - A very active moot of Nat, someone who gave me even more meme ideas when I started memeing Nat, being the menace he is. Thus, he shall be named my official meme partner. While we don't talk regularly, that doesn't mean he isn't fun to be around.

⤐ @thatonedemigodfromseoul We haven't really talked a lot so far, but that is how it is when you just meet someone.

⤐ @dean-a-mean-tae Ah, yes, sweet Ronnie, who likes to sing my praises, even though I am average at best. No, please, don't look at me like that guys, I'm sorry- We have this mouse and cat game where we compliment the other in an endless cycle. Also let me tell you, when I first saw that they mentioned me, saying how good my silly fics are, I just sat in front of my screen like a confused and emotional dumbass. Definitely will remember that day for a good while, haha. I look forward to getting to know them better, if life allows it.

If I didn't tag you here, that either means I am way too nervous to do so (you're probably a big writer blog), or I just straight up forgot with my smooth, pea-sized brain. Please do reach out to me, I assure you I didn't mean to somehow offend you.

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[theweedisasterxoxo]

Hi, hon! I saw your recent post you just made, and just wanted to say a few things!

First off, I’m so sorry to hear you’re going through a rough time right now. I can’t say I understand specifically what you’re going through, but I do know what it’s like to be in those rough episodes, and I will say it’s not great. I really hope you’re taking the time to take care of yourself. You are your number one priority🩶

Second, low engagement truly can be very disappointing, and I’m sorry it’s not hitting where you’d like it to be at. Tumblr is honestly so weird. A while back, I don’t know what or why, but they started limiting how many blogs you could tag? This started when I was first writing, and oh my goodness. My engagement took a while to build. Idk if the tag limit is true still, but I’ve still been experiencing that tagging doesn’t even send notifications anymore. There’s so many posts that I end up scrolling past only to find out that I was tagged all along (oh gosh especially in tag games, I’m either always so late to those or I don’t even see them😭)! I don’t understand!! But if my time on tumblr has taught me anything, and I wish I was told this when I first started out, I feel like (for my personal experience) tag lists might be the least helpful way to truly boosting any posts out there for a much wider audience to see. What’s worked for me though is focusing what actual hashtags at the very bottom of the post that I use, and also posting at a consistent time (I always post around 12pm my local time🤣 - I literally don’t know why I chose that time, but the consistency has worked wonders for me!!!) 🙂‍↕️

Also - and this is just me personally - but I limit my time on this app crazily now. I’ve also turned off mobile notifications. This isn’t because of anyone or anything in regards to tumblr, but it is simply for the sake of my own mental health🩶 I fully understand your anxieties about people being annoyed and whatnot, but it is truly nothing personal with me if I tend to overlook a post🩶 and I hope that can ease your mind a little bit because I know just how persistent those voices in our head can be.

Lastly, just wanted to mention that you are so so so interactive and one of the sweetest that this community has (and needs a bit more of if we’re being honest). Your comments and the rocks 🪨 you give me truly brighten up my day.🫶 I think I can happily speak for several when I say we appreciate you more than you know.🩶

Some rocks for u, fren🩶🪨🪨🪨🪨🪨

Hi, my love! I am SO sorry for how long it has taken to reply to this ask. My notifications on Tumblr for likes and asks have been so dodgy; I wasn’t ignoring you, pinky promise!

Firstly, rough episodes are awful and I’m sorry that someone as lovely as you has to go through them too. It can be disheartening to experience especially if you’re alone or don’t have a good support system in place. That being said, you are so sweet and I’m eternally grateful to be on the receiving end of it.

Secondly, I didn’t realise that tagging for other people wasn’t working either! I also still have some Tag Games to post, holy moly. But in terms of the lack of engagement, while I do feel a little disheartened sometimes that people don’t really interact with my stuff, I realise that it’s more to do with me knowing that I don’t have a super wide reach over this platform. I think that a lot of it is because I don’t write graphic smut, and I’ve definitely noticed that there are different levels of interaction between smut fics and more ‘tame’ fics, whether they’re angst or fluff. I will most likely never branch into writing that style because I read most of my works to my mum and I am absolutely not reading Joel getting diddly with the reader to my sweet, Christian mother. Though, to reference another point you made, I will definitely keep it in my mind to expand my hashtags and make a more strict posting time!

Third, I absolutely get the reason for limiting your time on this app and the notifications on it due to how overwhelming it can be to be on Tumblr, especially with the level of interaction you get! I’m barely on this app at this point — partly due to a lack of motivation to post anything, partly because of how negative and triggering the community on here has been recently — so I promise I don’t take it as a personal offence if you don’t interact!

Lastly, but not really because I still have other stuff to say, I try hard to show people the appreciation and love on the things they post that they deserve! After being on Fanfiction sites for almost nine years now, starting on Fanfic.net and then moving over to Quotev, Wattpad, AO3, and now on Tumblr, I’ve always strived to leave a positive comment on what I’ve read and interacted with because I’m a firm believer that if you like something you should leave a little positive comment behind to tell the writer that you like it! I know I get giddy when the few people who read what I post leave a comment or reblog so I enjoy to spread that same joy to other people!!

I appreciate your loveliness way more than I can hope to explain, L, and I’m grateful for the reminder that other people appreciate me because it’s felt like the world has been sitting on my face with no signs of standing up any time soon. Now, I’m not religious but to be known and spoken to by you fills me with such light that it’s like receiving a revelation by the most loving deity. You have a gorgeous soul, my love.

Here are some rocks for you too!! 🪨🪨🪨🪨🪨🪨🪨🪨🪨🪨

[chelseachilly]

king of my heart - pt 9

don’t read the last page but i stay when it’s hard or it’s wrong or we’re making mistakes

pairing: reader x ben chilwell summary: in the aftermath of you and ben’s fight, you call your mum for some much-needed comfort and guidance warnings: none :) word count: 1.9k

see my masterlist for previous chapters

You’re sobbing so hard you can barely see straight by the time you make it inside your flat, hastily tearing off your rain-soaked clothing and changing into pyjamas.

You peer into Charlotte’s room, but there’s nobody there, so she must be working or at Mason’s.

Every harsh word Ben said to you replays in your mind as you pace the hardwood floors.

For the first time since you moved to London, you find yourself incredibly homesick. All you want is to be curled up by the fireplace with your parents and brother, chatting and listening to music or watching football, knowing everything will be alright.

But your dad is gone and your mum and brother are two hours away in your hometown. You have to work in the morning, and it’s too late to drive there and back in one night.

Desperately needing some comfort, you dial your mum’s number and are relieved when she picks up right away.

“Y/N, dear, is everything alright?” she asks.

You feel guilty that you don’t call her enough - you were closer with your dad growing up, but she’s still your mother. She’s always supported you in every way she can, even in the midst of her own grief when your dad died.

“I-I don’t know,” you answer shakily. “Ben and I got into a big fight.”

You’ve updated her via the odd text about how Ben’s been doing since the injury, but she doesn’t know all the details or the emotional toll it’s been taking on both of you.

“About what, love?”

“He thinks I’m being overprotective,” you say. “Honestly, it’s probably more that he’s scared about what’s gonna happen and projecting it on me, but he’s never spoken to me like that before.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” your mum says softly. “Are you back home now?”

It’s a complicated question - this flat never really felt like home to you, neither does London in general. Truthfully, the only place you ever truly felt at home since your father’s death was wherever you were with Ben.

But you know she means home in the physical sense, as in the place where you pay rent, so you answer accordingly.

“Yeah,” you respond. “I stormed out of there before I could say anything I would regret or before he could…”

You trail off, sitting down on your couch and burying your face in your hands.

“Before he could what, darling?”

“Before he could end things,” you answer honestly. “I…I’m so terrified of losing him, Mum. I love him so much, and after losing Dad, I just…I can’t lose anyone else.”

“Oh, darling, you’re not going to lose him,” your mum says soothingly. “From everything I’ve heard from you and your brother, he’s a good lad who loves and respects you. He may be hurting right now and saying things he doesn’t mean, but I’m certain he already regrets it.”

You let out a heavy sigh. You know that Ben loves and respects you, you just don’t know if it’s enough. This is a major life and career setback for him, it would be challenging for any couple to navigate, and the two of you have been together for less than six months.

“I don’t know, Mum,” you murmur. “What if he doesn’t want this anymore?”

Before your mother can answer, you hear a knock at your door.

“I’ve gotta go, there’s someone at the door.”

“Alright, just call me back later if you want to talk,” your mum says. “And honey, try not to worry too much. Ben loves you. I’m sure you’ll be alright.”

“Thanks, Mum,” you respond, hanging up the phone.

You have no idea who might be at the door, as Charlotte isn’t here and you aren’t expecting anyone, but you quickly wipe your tears away and march over to open it.

You definitely aren’t expecting to see Ben, soaked from the rain and standing on his crutches, looking even more distraught than you feel right now.

“Ben?”

Despite how angry you were with him less than an hour ago, you can’t help but crumble under his gaze.

“Y/N,” Ben breathes, his eyes scanning your tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. “I am so sorry.”

You can tell how sincerely he means that - if his tone and mournful expression aren’t enough, the fact that he made his way over here in a rainstorm and on crutches certainly proves it.

“Ben,” you sigh. “It’s okay-“

“No, no, it’s not okay,” he objects, shaking his head. “It’s not okay for me to speak to you like that, not ever. I was taking my own shit out on you, and I’m so sorry. There’s no excuse for it.”

“I know you’re hurting, Ben,” you say softly. “I just need you to let me help you. I’m not trying to baby you or be too overbearing, I just-“

“You aren’t, babe, not at all,” Ben says quickly. “I’m so grateful for all your help, really. This would’ve been so much harder without you. You don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

You can see so much pain in his eyes, all of the stress of the past month weighing on him. You hate seeing him like this, you just want to make it go away.

He seems to be physically struggling, too, obviously feeling the pain of his premature workout today. He’s wobbling slightly on his crutches and his brow is furrowed.

“I understand if you need some time away from me after I was such a prick to you,” Ben continues. “I can just go-“

“You’re not going anywhere, come here,” you say softly, taking a step toward him and pulling him into your embrace. He can’t really hug you back properly with the crutches, but he buries his face in your neck and inhales your scent. You card your fingers through his hair for a moment and press a light kiss to his forehead before pulling away. “Go sit down on the couch, I’ll be right back.”

Ben obliges and makes his way over to your sofa, and you note the way he winces as he props his bad leg up on the sectional. You grab a few things from your bedroom and the kitchen before returning.

“Let’s get you out of these wet clothes,” you say, passing him a grey hoodie and joggers, both of which belong to him.

“You thief,” Ben chuckles. “You don’t have enough access to my clothes at my place? You had to hoard some here?”

“Well, it’s come in handy, hasn’t it?” you respond, helping him take off the trousers he already had on.

Once he’s all changed, you gently place an ice pack over his knee and give him some ibuprofen.

“Thank you so much, love,” Ben says, breathing a sigh of relief and leaning back against the cushions. He turns his head to face you and grabs you by the hand to pull you into a gentle kiss that makes your heart soar. “Again, I am so sorry.”

“I forgive you,” you murmur, squeezing his hand. “I know you didn’t mean it, and it’s been a tough time. I just want you to open up to me instead of keeping it all inside and blowing up like that.”

“I know,” he whispers. “I want to open up to you too, it’s just been…harder than usual.”

You nod, running your thumb over the back of his hand in a soothing motion and urging him to continue.

He’s never been shy about his feelings with you before, but obviously this time is different.

“I’m just scared,” he admits. “Some people never recover from injuries like this. And I’m so sick of missing all these important moments in my career because I’m out injured. It doesn’t feel fair.”

“It’s not fair,” you agree, your heart aching. “I’m so sorry you’re going through his, Benji, and you know I would take it all away if I could. But you’ll bounce back again, just like you have before. It just might take a bit longer than you’re used to.”

“Yeah,” Ben sighs. “You’re probably right. It’s just been a lot to take, you know?”

You reach out to cup his cheek, brushing away a stray tear that fell there. He leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

“Of course it has, baby,” you say. “Have you thought about making a therapy appointment?”

He hasn’t gone since the injury, and you know how important those sessions are for his well-being.

“Yeah, I’m gonna go next week,” he confirms, much to your relief.

“Okay, good,” you say with a small smile, curling a strand of his hair around your finger. He’s let it grow out slightly longer lately and hasn’t been using gel, as he’s been home most of the time, and you’re definitely a fan - you love running your hands through his soft waves. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, darling,” Ben smiles, staring at you with so much awe in his eyes. “God, I don’t deserve you.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “Don’t be silly, Ben, of course you do.”

“Not a chance.”

“Ben-“

“I don’t, and you’re not allowed to argue with me about it anymore because I’m hurt and I get to play the injured boyfriend card, alright?”

You can’t help but chuckle at the ridiculousness of his argument, but you let him win nonetheless.

“Fine, any more demands from my poor injured boyfriend?” you ask playfully.

“Yes,” Ben says immediately, leaning in close and pressing a quick kiss to your lips with a cheeky smile on his face when he pulls back. “I want cuddles.”

You definitely won’t deny him that request. You promptly grab a blanket and throw it over both of you before settling into his side and draping one leg over his good one. His arms wrap around you as your head finds its place on his chest. A sigh of contentment leaves your lips as Ben begins to trace shapes over your back and press kisses to the crown of your head.

It feels so good to be intimate with him again after he’s been icing you out the past couple weeks. Not only have you missed his touch, but you’ve been yearning to comfort him and it’s been a challenge to give him space while he’s clearly hurting.

“How’s your knee feeling?” you ask after a couple minutes, pressing a kiss to his chest.

“It still hurts, but it’s faded a bit,” Ben says. “I guess I may have overdone it a bit today.”

“Hmm, maybe you should listen to your doctors and super-smart girlfriend more often?”

“Yes, yes, point taken,” Ben rolls his eyes. “I promise I will not work out again until I am cleared to do so.”

“Good boy,” you smile, ruffling his hair and pecking his nose. “I love you, Benji. And I’m here for you, no matter what. We’ll get through this together.”

Ben’s face melts with adoration for you, his eyes slightly watery as he looks into yours and nods.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, resting his forehead against yours. “I love you too.”

You spend the rest of the evening cuddled up like this, watching a film and enjoying the closeness that both of you have been desperately needing.

By the time Charlotte gets home, shortly after ten, you’re fast asleep and still wrapped up in each other on the sofa. She smiles at the sweet sight and leaves you be, draping one more blanket over your sleeping figures before retreating to her room.

-

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a/n: hope you enjoyed the return to our regularly scheduled fluff!! more struggles to come but loads more fluff as well ❤️

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[weepingfromacedartree]

Ten Milestones: Hopes & Dreams

Hi friends! Chapter 5 is now available!

TW: drug and alcohol use

When Colin’s eyes scan over the next milestone, his face lights up in that aggravatingly adorable way it always does when things go exactly his way. 

“Oooh,” he gloats. “This is a good one.”

“What?” Penelope asks, impatient. He’s sitting just close enough that she could steal the phone out of his hands if she wanted to, but she resists the urge. 

“Number Four: Sharing Your Hopes and Dreams. Before you and your partner make the commitment to share a life together, you must first share what each of you wants out of that future. This conversation is important — not only will it teach you about each other as individuals, but it will also give you an understanding of how you fit together as partners. A strong partnership is made up of two people who support each other’s goals.”

Penelope doesn’t say a word. She simply smiles. 

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

Nine Years Earlier: December 23rd, 2014

Relationship Status: Good Friends

꙳

December 24th, in Penelope’s opinion, has to be one of the worst days a person can be born on. (Third worst to be exact, narrowly being beaten out by December 25th and February 29th.) Every year, the celebration of your birth is overshadowed by the eve of someone else’s birth. Your birthday presents double as Christmas presents. Your friends are too busy with their own holiday plans to celebrate your birthday with you. Hell — most people forget your birthday exists in the first place. 

December 24th is a rather shitty birthday for one to possess. But in all the years she’s known him, Colin has never been one to complain. 

It helps that the other Bridgertons always make an attempt to separate his birthday celebrations from the holiday he just so happened to have been born on. That’s why these sorts of parties are always held the night before his actual birthday. 

Daphne took the anti-Christmas strategy to a whole nother level this year. Invitations went out two weeks ago with a disclaimer at the bottom. 

Red and green garments are strictly prohibited on the premises. 

Penelope originally wanted to wear a velvet burgundy dress that she found on Dover Street tonight, but the garment has since been banished to the back of her closet. Instead, she’s wearing a dress made of a softer shade of pink. 

Now, 57 minutes into the very-much-not-a-holiday-party party, Penelope stands above the Bridgerton foyer with a dark red drink in her hand. Eloise is beside her, grumbling about the many “unique” choices made for this event. (Including her required attendance.)

“I know Daphne banned holiday music, but surely she can play something better than Coldplay.”

“I like Coldplay,” Penelope mutters defensively. Eloise does not seem to hear her above all the other noise in the room.

“Have you seen the birthday boy anywhere? It’s his party and I have not seen him all night.”

“No. I haven’t.”

They’re standing on the second story landing, above the front entrance and foyer where most attendees mingle. This should be an optimal vantage point to look for Colin, but when Penelope scans the crowd, she comes up empty. 

“I’m usually the one to pull a disappearing act at this sort of thing, and even I wouldn’t dare do so at my own party.” 

Eloise’s words temporarily break Penelope out of her premature worry. She giggles. 

“Weren’t you three hours late to your last birthday celebration? Something about needing to go downtown to visit a certain —”

“That’s different!” Eloise cuts in. “That was a surprise party — how was I supposed to know?!” 

“Didn’t your family —”

“I thought I was delaying a casual birthday dinner with my mum and seven siblings. Obviously I would have been on time if I knew there were a hundred people crouched in the dark, hiding behind potted plants and couch cushions, just waiting for my return.” 

Penelope’s giggles do not let up.

“Is that what you think happened while you were gone?”

“I don’t know.” Eloise literally waves off the question, gesticulating her hands so ardently that she nearly spills all the wine out of her glass. “I’m more concerned about Colin’s whereabouts at the moment.” 

“Is something wrong?” Penelope asks, worry rising up in her chest again. It’s squashed just as quickly. 

“No. But if I have to suffer through this party, so should he. It’s his fault we’re all here in the first place.” 

Penelope scans the crowd once more. Yet again, nothing. 

“Knowing Colin, he’s probably in the kitchen.”

“Oooh.” Eloise’s demeanour changes immediately. Her scowl pulls into a smile. “That also happens to be where they store the one thing that could actually make this party enjoyable.”

Penelope lifts an eyebrow, fighting off another bout of giggles. 

“And what might that be? Good conversation? An old friend? The ghost of not-Christmas pres—”

“No. Liquor. Perhaps after a few drinks, your jokes will start to sound funny.” 

As one final round of giggles bubbles up in Penelope’s throat, Eloise loops their arms together and leads them towards the stairs. 

“And after a few more drinks, perhaps Coldplay will start to sound like actual music.” 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Twenty-one minutes later (and half a vodka cranberry later), Penelope walks out of the kitchen by herself, realising that she has seen every Bridgerton at this party except Colin. 

Violet and Daphne had both greeted her at the door. She spoke to Francesca while waiting for the loo. She walked in on a fist fight between Gregory and Hyacinth. Anthony brushed past her to break it up, barely managing to prevent Hyacinth from knocking Gregory’s front tooth out. Benedict was in the kitchen, where he and Eloise are currently having a spirited (but hushed) debate over what Christmas movie to watch tomorrow night. 

Glass in hand, condensation already dripping onto her fingers, Penelope walks the Bridgerton halls.

There are people everywhere she turns. Some she knows from her lifetime in Mayfair or from her extensive experience at Bridgerton events. Some she vaguely recognizes from Colin’s social media or from her sporadic trips up to Cambridge. Some she doesn’t recognize at all. 

As her footsteps trail forward, Penelope resists the urge to look and listen. To keep listening. To peer into the conversations of these strangers and acquaintances, all while she remains unnoticed. 

 It’s a game she knows well, but still she resists. She looks for a face far more familiar than these. 

Just before her feet can step into the foyer — into the heart of the party — they stop short. Her body moves to the side, leaning rigid into the wooden doorway, hidden beneath the cover of a shadow. On the other side of the room, Colin stands with his back against a wall and his arms crossed in front of him. Clearly, no one informed him of the dress code for his own party; he’s wearing an emerald green cable knit sweater. 

(He’s also wearing a light blue birthday hat atop his head — one she can only assume was hand-crafted by Violet Bridgerton.)

He isn’t alone. Daphne stands beside him, body facing him, arms at her sides. They’re talking. Penelope couldn’t even begin to guess what it is they’re talking about, but she can tell from the other side of the room that Colin isn’t happy about it. 

He isn’t saying much; Daphne is doing most of the talking. 

After a stranger brushes past her, Penelope raises her glass to her lips and takes the smallest of sips. Her mind briefly considers walking over to the other side of the room, but her feet remain firmly planted in her spot in the doorway. She feels a peculiar, paralyzed sensation up and down her legs as she watches their conversation unfold from afar. She can’t help but worry and wonder why Colin looks so defeated at his own party. She also can’t help but deem this conversation too dangerous to peer into uninvited. 

“Oh, Pen! There you are!” 

Automatically, Penelope’s head turns in the direction from which her name had been called. Eloise is excitedly walking (basically skipping) down the hall towards her.

“You’re coming over tomorrow night, right? Ben is still advocating for Elf, but with your vote I think I can swing us back to the far superior Nightmare Before Christmas.” 

“Oh! Yes, I think so. By the way, I found —”

Penelope turns her head, expecting to find Colin exactly where he had been not twenty seconds prior. But he isn’t. Neither is Daphne. 

“What?” Eloise asks, now standing in the doorway beside Penelope. 

“Nothing.” Penelope shakes her head, then shoots back the rest of her drink. “And just for the record: Benedict is right. Elf is easily the superior Christmas movie.”

Eloise’s jaw goes slack.

“You traitor.” 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

All night, the only thing Colin wanted was to disappear from his own party. He is aware of how bad that sounds — how he sounds like an ungrateful child instead of a man on the cusp of twenty-two. But even then… 

No one can plan for their birthday. He didn’t choose this to be born on December 24th. He didn’t want to have this party to begin with. He couldn’t have predicted that tonight would land in the middle of one of the most uncertain, precarious, bad-mood-inducing phases of his life. It’s not his fault that he’s currently in one of those moods — one that makes the happiness of others feel like a personal attack on you specifically. 

A party was the last place Colin wanted to be tonight. Now, he finds himself in a room situated in a more private wing of the house. He’s out of view of the random, too-happy people filling the halls, but close enough to hear the remnants of faraway music. He’s sitting in front of the giant oak that used to belong to his father, arms crossed in front of him and eyes trained on the door to his left. Anthony’s on the other side of the desk, donning an expression that makes Colin wish he was back in the heart of the party. 

“Must we have this conversation now? I’m fairly certain mum’s downstairs lighting candles on a cake as we speak.”

That look on Anthony’s face — equal parts annoyance and amusement — does not let up one bit. 

“I’ve been trying to have this conversation with you for weeks. It’s not my fault that we had to throw a party in your honour just to keep you at home for more than fifteen minutes.” 

“That’s —” 

Colin doesn’t finish that sentence. He could attach a million different adjectives to the end of it that would (rightfully) attack Anthony’s character, but none of them would make his words untrue. 

“I’ve been busy,” he says instead.  

“Clearly.” Anthony puffs out an audible breath of air from his nose as he leans back in their father’s chair. “Seeing as you can’t even make the time for one single phone call.”

For the first time in several minutes, Colin’s arms uncross. His hands move to the arms of the chair, ten fingernails biting into its vinyl surface. 

Contrary to Anthony’s claims, they’ve actually had some version of this conversation several times over the last few weeks. Over those weeks, Anthony had suggested, reminded, then demanded that Colin reach out to an old friend of their father’s — one who just so happens to be the head of English Literature at Oxford. Also during those weeks, Colin reminded his older brother that he has no intention of doing so, but such details always seem to fall on deaf ears. 

Also contrary to Anthony’s claims, Colin does have plans — or at the very least, dreams for what to do after he graduates from university in the spring. His aspirations simply have nothing to do with Oxford or any other form of higher education. His dreams — 

“Is this about Marina?” 

Those words break Colin out of the thought spiral he hadn’t realised he had fallen into. They leave him feeling even more annoyed and misunderstood than he had just a moment ago. 

“Excuse me? What exactly —”

“This. This insistence to avoid real life. To sulk around and avoid your responsibilities.”

“I am not —” 

“It’s fine, if it is!” Anthony offers, sarcasm not lost in his tone. “I get it. Your first real breakup can be hard. But at a certain point, you have to —” 

“That was months ago. And I don’t see how a silly little breakup has any bearing on my career aspirations.” 

It isn’t until those words leave his lips that he realises how potently they taste of bullshit. 

No, this is not about Marina or the ultimate demise of their relationship. Obviously, she has no bearing on any of his future plans. But to refer to their breakup as “silly” or “little” feels dishonest. (On his end, at least. The words are probably more fitting for Marina’s feelings on the matter.)

In truth, Colin had been in a perpetual bad mood since she ended things between them back in August. They only dated for six months, but that was approximately five and a half months longer than any relationship he had held previously. He thought Marina was the love of his life; after their breakup, she admitted that the only reason they ever dated was to make her ex-boyfriend jealous. 

At least the relationship had been successful for one of them. 

“‘Career aspirations?’” Anthony mocks, pulling Colin out of yet another thought spiral. “Is that what we’re calling them now?” 

Now, Colin wishes for nothing more than to strangle his older brother. Instead, he lets go of his tightening grip around the armchair. 

“Once again — can we table this conversation for another day? Daphne will kill me if I kill you and thus, ruin her party.”

Anthony rolls his eyes, but nods. 

“Fine. But isn’t this your party?”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

Anthony immediately stands from his chair, but Colin remains sitting. His gaze turns to the left again, pointlessly pointing at that big brown door — wishing against all reason and logic for someone to walk through the precipice. 

Just as he always does on nights like this. 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

At approximately 11:33 PM, after cutting the cake, after dodging more of Anthony’s questions, after acting like an ungrateful, bad-mood-wielding ass at his own celebration, Colin sits alone. 

He’s in the drawing room, perched precariously on the edge of a windowsill. The room is dark, lit by one dying bulb in the lamp by the door. There’s a hastily-rolled joint (a birthday gift from Benedict) between Colin’s thumb and index finger. There’s a cloud of smoke sitting on his tongue and a bitter December breeze drifting in from the open window beside him. 

The party he left behind is probably wrapping up right now. People are probably looking for him. He should probably go say goodbye (or even “hello”) to them. He shouldn’t keep himself here, secluded in a well of his own misery. But just the thought of going downstairs and speaking to one of those random, too-happy people fills him with a misery that —

Shit.

The door to the drawing room starts to creak open. Before it can open all the way — before he can even turn his head to identify the perpetrator behind that noise — Colin flicks the joint out the window. When he finally does look over to the entrance across the room, his panic starts to settle. 

“Sorry. I thought you were someone else,” he says, just as Penelope says, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Even in the dim lighting — even from across the room — Colin can see her cheeks flush pink as she laughs nervously and steps across the precipice. Thankfully, she shuts the door closed behind her.  

“Sorry,” she says again. “Hope I don’t disappoint.” 

“Not at all.” He shuts the window before standing from his spot. He meets Penelope halfway on the light blue couch in the middle of the room. “Quite the opposite.” 

As she walks closer, her cheeks grow just a little more pink. The nervous smile drops though, her face settling into a look Colin has become quite familiar with over the years. He knows there’s a question behind it — something gnawing at her insides, begging to be asked aloud. Given his admittedly odd behaviour and the fact that this is the first time they’ve spoken all night, he feels rather confident about what question he’s about to be asked. 

But he’s wrong.

“What happened to your birthday hat?”

“Fucking hell,” he unconsciously mutters. The words slip from his lips as his hands raise to the crown of his head. “Forgotten by a tray of eclairs. I think.” 

That gnawing expression on Penelope’s face drops. She giggles. 

“Shall we go look for it before your mum catches on?” 

“No.” It isn’t until that word shoots off his lips that he realises how deeply he despises the idea of being anywhere except this spot on the couch. “Mum will forgive my carelessness.” 

Penelope nods, a soft hum of agreement on her lips. 

“Is there a reason you’re hiding up here instead of by that tray of eclairs?” 

Colin’s first instinct is to deflect. He opens his mouth to do so — but before he can say anything, he’s suddenly hit by a wave of clarity that doing so would be wrong. That Penelope already knows something is up with him and lying to her would do neither of them any good. The epiphany is almost certainly a consequence of the weed he inhaled approximately 60 seconds ago, but still…

“Just in a bit of a shit mood. Which — I should really apologise for. To you and the hundred other people held hostage by said shit mood all night.”

Penelope’s face flashes with an expression different from inquiry, but just as familiar to him after all these years: worry.  

“Don’t apologise.” 

Maybe it’s the joint currently burning a hole in his mother’s lawn. Maybe it’s the deflection finally breaking through. Maybe it’s his inherent need to pull the worry off Penelope’s face, but Colin cannot help but smirk. 

“Sorry. I’ll try to remember to stop doing that.” 

“Why are you in a shit mood?” she asks, seemingly unphased by his facetiousness. 

Colin shrugs. 

“Not in the Christmas spirit this year, I suppose.”

“I don’t see how that’s of any relevance, considering the fact that this is not a Christmas party. In fact, I believe any mention of said ‘Christmas spirit’ has been banned entirely.” 

“Bloody hell.” 

Colin runs a hand across his face, literally wiping away that smirk. 

“I told Daphne to relax on the ‘rules’ for this thing. Actually — I told her to skip this party altogether. To just tack on a birthday cake to the usual Christmas Eve celebrations tomorrow. Unfortunately, I don’t believe my input is of much relevance on the subject.”

Penelope remains quiet for a second longer than Colin feels is necessary or comfortable. In those few seconds of waiting, she sports a new expression on her face. This one is harder to read than the ones that came before. 

“Is that why you two were arguing before?” she finally asks. And when Colin simply gives her a look of confusion, she clarifies, “I saw you two talking in the foyer earlier tonight. You looked a bit… I don’t know. Cross?” 

Once again, Colin feels himself hit with a desire to drop his faux-nonchalance and charming deflection. To speak plainly. If there ever were a person to be candid with, surely it’s Penelope. Throughout the entirety of their friendship, she has only ever regarded him with an open mind. All his life, she has been so constant and loyal. If there is anyone he should be discussing matters such as this with, surely it’s her. 

Surely. 

“No, that wasn’t what we were talking about. As silly and unnecessary it may have been… You know how excited Daphne gets about these parties. I didn’t want to complain. Not that directly, at least. We were, uh —” He clears his throat. “We were actually discussing my post-uni plans.”

In the relative darkness surrounding them, Penelope’s eyes light up with eager curiosity.

“Oh?” 

“Yeah. Anthony has been on my ass for weeks regarding the future — which is completely out of character from him, I know. But I… I don’t know. Anthony isn’t exactly the easiest person to talk to about that sort of thing and I… I thought it would be easier to talk to Daphne about it, but…”

The longer he speaks, the more apparent it becomes that his usual capabilities for completing sentences have seemingly slipped away from him. It’s probably the weed, but…

“What are your plans?” Penelope asks, filling the interim silence. “It’s fine if you don’t know yet, of course. Not everyone has to know exactly what they want to do after uni, but —”

“No, I do have plans,” Colin is quick to clarify. “They’re just a bit… mad. According to Anthony, at least.”

“Oh.” Penelope shifts in her spot, sitting up a bit straighter. A wicked smile creeps up her lips. “Well, that’s much better than no plan at all.” 

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “I guess so.”

“So what are these mad plans, exactly?” 

“Well,” Colin can feel his body sink just a little bit deeper into the couch cushion as he continues, “you know how I’ve always wanted to travel?”

“Of course,” she says, a softer smile suddenly appearing on her lips.  

“I always thought of that as some far away dream. Like, once I become an actual adult and have my life figured out, then I can take time off from my ‘real life’ to go see the world for myself. The only problem was…”

His voice trails off again, still unsure of what words he could use to best describe what lies in his heart. Thankfully, Penelope describes it for him.

“You never had any dreams for your so-called ‘real life?’”

“Exactly.” 

Though the window has since been shut tight, the air in the room remains quite cold. And yet, Colin feels a sudden warm sensation in the center of his chest; he does his best to ignore it as Penelope opens her mouth again.

“So you want to make a career out of travelling the world?”

“Something like that,” he mutters, his shoulders unconsciously shrugging upwards. “Though, when you put it like that… maybe I can understand Anthony’s reservations on the subject.” 

“Don’t say that,” Penelope insists, a gentle breath of nervous laughter on her lips. “Lots of people’s jobs revolve around travel. There’s nothing wrong with that.” With another tiny laugh, she adds, “And I’m sure a business degree from Cambridge will be useful in securing those future plans.” 

“I don’t know how true that is,” he admits, the words tasting sour on his tongue. 

In truth, Colin had no idea what he wanted to study or work towards when he first started at Cambridge at eighteen. He had chosen to study business simply because it seemed like the rational choice to make at the time. Unlike his older brothers, both of whom knew exactly what they wanted to do with their lives before they hit secondary school, Colin was late to such a realisation. It wasn’t until very recently that his hopes and dreams for the future started to solidify. 

“What do you mean?” Penelope asks.

“Well, obviously any degree from Cambridge will be useful for my future. I just meant…” He sucks in a cold breath of air. “If I were to go back in time and do it all over again, I wouldn’t have chosen business. I think I would have, uh, chosen something more in line with English Literature.” 

Once again, Penelope’s face lights up in the darkness.

“You want to write?” 

“Yeah.” He chuckles again. “I think so.” 

“Colin, that’s —” Penelope’s hand, which had previously been sitting limply in her lap, moves as if she’s about to reach out and touch his shoulder. It doesn’t in the end. It now rests on top of the couch in the space between them. “That’s a great idea. Truly.” 

That warm feeling makes a sudden reappearance in Colin’s chest. Again…

“Really? You’re not worried about what will happen if you’re no longer the only writer in this friendship?”

“No,” she insists, almost sounding defensive. “The world needs more good writers.” 

“Well, I don’t know if it’s fair to say —”

“You’re a good writer, Colin.” 

At her words (and the adorably serious manner in which she spoke them), Colin cannot help but laugh. 

“And you know this based on what? A few emails?” 

To claim Penelope has only received a “few” emails from him feels disingenuous. But still, he struggles to see her point. 

He sent the first email in January, shortly after returning to Cambridge from winter holiday and approximately six weeks after Penelope’s father passed. The email wasn’t about her dad or uni or anything in particular. If anything, it was a compilation of random thoughts (and several puns) he had collected in his brain in the five days that passed since they last spoke. 

He sent that first email on a Friday. She responded on the following Monday. He sent another on Friday. She responded again —

Suffice to say, a pattern emerged. Both of them missed a few Mondays and Fridays over the last eleven months (especially around the end of the spring term and the termination of his relationship with Marina), but even then… 

Penelope has read more of Colin’s writing than anyone else. More than even his professors at Cambridge.

“Yes, based on a few emails, Colin,” Penelope insists, rolling her eyes lightly. “Really, you are such a terrific writer. It doesn’t matter if it’s in an email to a friend — or in a term paper or a book or whatever it is that you want to do. I can tell that you like to write, and that’s really the fundamental requirement for becoming a writer.” 

That warm feeling in Colin’s chest is back and it feels like it’s about to leave a rash on his skin. 

Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Colin sighs and leans a few inches away from Penelope. 

“Well… Thank you. But I believe Anthony would protest that last point.” 

“What do you mean?” Penelope asks, similarly drawing a few inches backwards. Her left hand falls back into her lap from the couch cushion. 

“Anthony is of the mindset that liking something isn’t enough of a reason to upend your life for that thing. He thinks the idea of me running off to another country after graduation and writing about my experiences is ‘silly.’ That if I want to be a writer, I should stay put, apply for a graduate program, and actually learn how to become one. Which…” 

His voice trails off, because saying it all out loud makes his own plans sound a lot more “silly” than he had originally thought. 

“Well…” Penelope starts. “In fairness to Anthony’s perspective, you can’t wake up one day, decide to be a lawyer, then go litigate a murder case at the courthouse down the street. But becoming a writer… It’s different than becoming a lawyer. Maybe Anthony isn’t the best person to talk to on the subject.” 

Colin nods, a vague hum of agreement on his lips as he thinks over her words. 

Maybe not so silly, after all.

“And Daphne? What did she say?” 

“Oh.” 

He had almost forgotten why they’re having this conversation in the first place. 

“She was more supportive than Anthony. I think I was just a bit frustrated because she didn’t seem to fully understand what it is that I want to do. She thinks I just want to fuck off for a year, then come home and figure out what to do with my ‘real life.’ Attend postgrad, get a job in an office, do… Do whatever it is that real adults do.”

Penelope doesn’t say anything right away. She’s looking at him in that way that makes it clear that she has a lot to say and is still figuring out how to say it. Before she can, he opens his mouth again.

“I shouldn’t be cross with her. Or Anthony, even. I just think — for my own sake — I need to commit to the idea. To go out and try to make something of myself without having a backup plan to revert to if I don’t succeed within a year’s time.” 

“Then you should go for it.” Her words come out quickly, in one determined breath — like she needs to get the words out before he continues rambling. “Anthony will come around. He probably just needs some time. And perhaps some perspective.” 

“Yeah, may—”

“What is it that you want to write, by the way?” Penelope asks, interrupting whatever further deflection he was surely about to throw her way. “A book about your travels?”

Colin considers the question. 

“No, I was thinking more in terms of a blog. Or,” he laughs, “a magazine, if they’d hire me. But I do like the idea of writing a book one day. Not any time soon, but once I’m older and wiser and have lived a little more, I think I’d like to have some written recollection of my experiences to look back on. That’s sort of the magic of writing, you know?” 

Penelope doesn’t confirm that last bit. She stays quiet as she gives him a look that says, “keep going.” 

“Like… When I was at Aubrey Hall last summer, I got bored one day and went snooping through my grandfather’s old study. When I did, I found this cardboard box in the back of his closet. It held all these little mementos from when he was on tour back in the forties. He kept so many journals from that time — all filled with these little details about what his life was like. Leaving England for the first time. Seeing the Eiffel Tower. Eating strudel in Vienna. Skinny dipping in the Danube. Wa—”

When Penelope lets out a surprised giggle, Colin can’t help but laugh, too. The bad mood that had been plaguing him all night has long since been forgotten. 

“Anyway… I read through approximately five years worth of those stories in one afternoon, and I just — I couldn’t help but think about how lasting the written word is. My grandfather died before I was born, and yet I learned so much about him just because I happened upon those old journals. Just because he sat down one afternoon seventy years ago and decided to write about the time he and a bunch of his army buddies stripped naked and jumped into a river.”

Penelope laughs again. So does Colin. 

“I just — I like that idea. That —” He inches forward to grab a little white napkin from the coffee table. “I could grab a pen, write about all the delectable food we ate here tonight, hide this in an archaic book on the shelf over there, then seventy years from now, my grandson could find it and understand just how ardently his grandfather loved eclairs.” 

Penelope laughs again. This time, the laugh is strong enough to make her lose a little bit of her resolve; when she tips forward, her forehead lightly brushes against his shoulder. 

“But like I said…” He says, only once Penelope has returned to an upright position on the next cushion over. “I think I need to live a little more before I even think about writing something as definitive as a book.” 

“Well… Whatever you end up writing, I’ll read it.” 

Colin laughs again. He can’t help it.

“You know — you’re quite the loyal reader, Pen. First you put up with my weekly long-winded, rambling emails, now you’re —”

“I don’t ‘put up’ with anything, Colin. You’re a terrific writer. I always enjoy reading your emails. Even if they almost always include one too many puns.”

“That’s debatable,” he mutters defensively, only able to cling onto those last few words.

“Even with the jarring amount of puns in your work —”

“Hey!”

“— your writing is good. You obviously have a passion for it, and that matters a hell of a lot more than a lit degree.” 

Penelope takes a breath. Speaking a bit more softly now… 

“Possessing a passion is important. It will fill your hours with a sense of purpose. When others doubt you or success seems illusive, that passion will drive you to keep going. To achieve something definitive — something you can look back on decades from now and be proud of.”

When Penelope stops speaking, Colin is reminded of that inability he possessed just a few minutes ago — the one that made it impossible to finish his sentences without trailing off into oblivion. It definitely wasn’t the joint. (The more he thinks about it, the more apparent it becomes that Benedict’s “present” was nothing more than a few grams of oregano rolled into a little white paper.) 

No. A few minutes ago, Colin was unable to properly put his hopes and dreams into words without trailing off or sounding like an arsehole — just as he has been unable to do for several months now. But now… 

Now he can. Now it all makes sense. 

After thanking Penelope for her kind, insightful words, Colin decides it is time for this discussion to alter course.

“And what of your dreams, Pen?” 

Penelope doesn’t answer right away. Though the room around them is still rather dark, Colin’s eyes have adjusted enough to see the blush that quickly forms on her cheeks. 

“You know I’m studying to become a journalist,” she says, which is more of a protest of his question than an actual answer. 

Of course he knows that. Unlike Colin, Penelope knew what she wanted to do with her life long before she began attending university. But despite their increased correspondence over the last few months, Penelope never really talks about why she made that choice. 

“Obviously. But what is it that you’re so passionate about? What fills your hours with purpose?” 

She considers his questions.

“I don’t know. I always loved reading, and that just naturally bled into a love of writing.” 

“Okay,” he says belatedly, not initially realising that was her entire response. “But why journalism? Why not fiction or poetry or —” Colin chuckles. “Travel writing?”

“I don’t know,” she says again. “I just — I’ve always been interested in people’s stories. Real people’s stories. One day, I might wake up and suddenly want to write a romance novel or a children’s story, but right now… Journalism feels like the right fit for me.”

After another prolonged silence, Colin asks, “What interests you about real people’s stories?” 

“I don’t know,” she says for a third time. “People are just so… complicated. Everyone has a million stories inside of them. That’s the fun part of interviewing people — finding ways to get those interesting, hidden details into the light.”

In the back of his mind, Colin wonders if Penelope has been practising that particular skill on him during this conversation. He waives the thought away before it can fully develop. 

“Is there an area of journalism you’re specifically interested in?”

Before answering his question, Penelope scrunches her nose, then lets out a forced breath of laughter. 

“Colin, I don’t know why you’re getting so caught up in the small details of it. What my dream is now could be different than what it is ten years from now — or even two years from now. However I choose to spend my hours, I just hope that I have a purpose to drive me. Something satisfying and fulfilling. Something that will challenge me to be brave and witty. Something to propel me forward and set me free.”

It takes Colin a moment to realise that he has been stunned into silence. Thankfully, he’s able to pull himself out of the daze with a little effort. 

“What could possibly measure up to all of that?” 

She shrugs. “I suppose we’ll have to wait and see.” 

They sit in a shared silence for a moment. Colin wishes he could hear what is going on in Penelope’s head; his is filled with her voice. 

Something to propel me forward and set me free.

“I think it’s amazing that —”

“Oh, stop,” she says, another forced laugh on her lips. Though she remains rooted in her spot on the couch, Penelope’s face turns away from Colin and towards the nearest door. For the first time in several minutes, he remembers that there’s still a party going on downstairs. His party.

“It’s late,” she says. “Don’t pay too much mind my silly little words.” 

“I think your dreams are bigger than you let on, Pen.” 

She turns back towards him, eyes meeting his again through the darkness. 

“Weren’t we discussing your dreams?”

Yes, but he much prefers this subject.

“I —” 

“What’s holding you back? Is it just your siblings’ reactions?” 

“No,” he admits. “There are certainly bigger obstacles than Anthony’s lack of enthusiasm.” 

“Such as?” 

Colin doesn’t respond right away. While his concerns may be easier to conceptualise than his hopes or his dreams, they’re harder to speak aloud. 

“Well… Working as a travel writer would also mean spending the majority of my time away from home.” 

For the first time tonight, a strikingly sad expression flashes on Penelope’s face, as if it is only now that she realises the consequences of Colin’s dreams coming true. It’s only a flash, though. Her smile makes a quick reappearance, even if it isn’t quite as bright as it was before. 

“You already spend the majority of your time away from home.”

“Yeah, but Cambridge is only two hours away. Plus, Eloise is there to annoy me if I’m ever feeling homesick. If I’m off in a different timezone the majority of the year…” 

His voice trails off again. This time, Penelope doesn’t jump in to fill the lull.

“Is it awful to say I’m worried that life will move on without me here if I’m away?”

“No, it’s not awful.” Penelope’s smile looks even sadder than it did before, but it doesn’t drop. “I think a lot of people worry about that, regardless of their career paths. I think that’s just part of growing up.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean…” 

Her voice trails off as she looks away from him and towards the ceiling, seemingly racking her brain for the right words to use. It only takes her a few seconds to find them.

“When you’re growing up, your world is pretty small. You have your siblings and your neighbours and your friends at school, and for the most part, that world is stable. Some people move away and you lose touch with others, but most people remain a constant. But then as you get older and leave for uni or work or wherever it is that life takes you, the world is suddenly really, really big. 

“Those people who made up your entire world when you were younger are still there, but their lives aren’t intertwined with yours like they used to be. It’s more like they’re running parallel. Like… you know all those emails we send back and forth?” 

It takes Colin a rather long moment to respond, and all he can muster in the end is a single nod. 

“We’re still in each other’s lives, but the stories we share with each other are… separate.”

It takes him even longer to respond to that last part. 

“Pen… Was that meant to be reassuring? That was the most depressing thing I’ve heard in my entire life.” 

“Oh stop.” Penelope laughs half-heartedly. “It’s not depressing — it’s just life. Actually, it’s a bloody miracle. We should be thankful that our friendship has lasted so long, despite how much our worlds have changed over the years.”

After another extremely long beat of silence, Colin musters what little energy he has left to draw the faintest hint of a smirk to his lips. 

“So, what you’re saying is… You will not miss me if I disappear to a different country every week?” 

Penelope’s forced smile finally drops. She rolls her eyes. 

“Obviously, I’ll miss you. But that’s no reason for you to stay home and prevent yourself from reaching your full potential.” 

And just like that, Colin is eighteen again, not seconds away from turning twenty-two. He and Penelope are on Fife’s rooftop, not on the couch in his family’s drawing room. He’s hopeful for the future, not scared that their friendship won’t survive this next phase of life. 

“I —” Penelope starts, back on the couch in his family’s drawing room. Colin has no idea what it is that she is about to say, because he leans in and hugs her, incidentally muffling her words with his cable knit sweater.

With his lips practically in her hair, he whispers, “Thank you. For being so supportive.” 

Penelope doesn’t respond until approximately 25 seconds later, after she breaks the embrace apart and looks him in the eye. 

“You don’t have to thank me for my silly little words.” 

Before Colin can find an adequate response to such a ridiculous statement, Penelope removes herself from his touch completely. She stands from her spot on the couch and looks down at him as she continues speaking. 

“It’s getting late, I should get…” 

Her voice trails off when her eyes land on her phone. She smiles. 

“Look,” she instructs, holding up the screen for him to see. 

12:01 AM. 

“Happy Birthday, Colin.” 

Now standing beside her, Colin takes the phone from her hands, smirks, then throws it gently onto the couch. The cushions are still indented in the spots they sat together. 

“Merry Christmas Eve, Pen.” 

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

“No debating that one, I suppose. What’s next?” 

[resident-gay-bitch]

My Handsome Boy

ASK: "hi… it’s me again, sorry :) i was wondering if you could do eddie x ftm reader where the reader gets bullied by jason and jason says stuff like “she’s not even a real boy” or idk and it’s just eddie comforting the reader, thank you sm i love ur writing <;3" - @ilovejquinn

pairing: eddie munson x ftm!reader

summary: Jason Carver is a transphobic asshole who decides to openly attempt to humiliate you in the middle of school. no matter how low the jock makes you feel, Eddie’s always there to pick up the pieces. your number one supporter, right from the get go.

warnings: Transphobia, use of transphobic slurs (‘tranny’ & 'hermaphrodite’)

Reader Description: trans f to m, Y/N = your name, L/N = last name, D/N = dead name. 

The thing about Eddie is that he didn’t care about people’s differences. He was different himself. It’s why you initially took such a liking to him. It was way back in middle school, before you had even realised who you really were, when your hair still hung long, when you’d still put on pink shiny lip gloss in an attempt to fit in, when you still wore dresses and skirts everywhere you went. You remembered, it was right after the talent show, another student had just been booed off the stage for their ventriloquy act. You found it rather amusing, actually, but this kid had thick framed glasses, he was book smart, he always wore superhero shirts to school, and during his act he matched his outfit to his puppet and made jokes about sci-fi and fantasy books. The jocks didn’t like that. So they booed him off, none of them suffered any consequences of course. But you remembered, you were walking around the back of the school to your mum’s car, and you saw Eddie and his old buzz cut with a soft hand on the crying boy’s shoulder, his other hand cradling the puppet. You remembered over hearing what he had said when you walked past, 

“I loved the joke you made about The Hobbit man, I love those books so much. My uncle got me the hard backs for my birthday. Maybe you’d like to borrow them some time, if you don’t mind my drawings and little writings in the margins.” 

“You mean it?” The boy perked up.

“Hell yeah.” Eddie smiled. 

“You can borrow my director’s edition of the Starwars films sometime, if you like that stuff too.” 

“No way man! You have those?” Eddie grinned, “I’m jealous. How do you get this puppet to speak like you do? I think it’s really cool.” He tried to move its mouth with his hand. 

“It’s– it’s pretty stupid.” 

“No it’s not.” Eddie spoke with full sincerity, a wide smile spread across his face, “It looks really hard to do. You must have, like… magic or something to make it work. Are you a wizard or something?” 

You thought he must have been the sweetest boy alive, because you knew damn well that he didn’t even see that boys whole act. He was backstage himself, practising for his own set. His band got booed off stage that day too. Yet, no one comforted him. So the next day back at school, you fought down all your nerves and walked right up to him at lunch. His table went quiet, eyes all dead set on you. No one dared ever talk to them, they were the freaks… the outcasts. But deep down, you knew you were one too, and you didn’t want anyone to feel as alone as you did. 

“Uhm…” you started, and neither of them blinked, “I just wanted to say that… I– I thought your song was really cool yesterday. Did you write it?” 

Eddie laughed, he full on laughed, rolling his eyes and shaking his head, “Why don’t you just fuck off instead of making more fun of us?” 

“What?” your words caught in your throat, you didn’t understand why he was being so mean. 

“Your song was so cool.” he mimicked in a high pitched preppy voice, “We get it. Satan’s music. Whatever.” 

“No, I-” you swallowed the lump in your throat down, “I mean it… it’s not exactly my taste, but I still thought it was cool. Did you write it, or was it a cover? You said it was called Wicked World or something.” 

Eddie’s face turned red, “You– you mean it?” 

You just nodded. 

“Ye-” He cleared his throat, “We– It’s a cover. From Black– Black Sabbath.” 

You nodded, “I just wanted to tell you that someone thought it was cool.”

“Thanks.” He smiled sheepishly. 

“I like your guitar too… It looks so cool.” 

He beamed up at you, those big brown eyes looking deep into your soul, the slight pink in his cheeks. That’s when you knew you had a crush on him. 

You were invited into his friend group after that, and after a couple months, you finally felt like you belonged somewhere… like you fit in. It took you a few more years to figure out that you weren’t actually a girl. And the first person you told was Eddie. You were terrified. Absolutely the most scared you had ever felt in your entire life. The first thing he said to you, after you explained your situation to him, was something you never expected, 

“Do you want me to cut your hair? Or do you like it long, like mine?” 

You looked at him, awestruck. Not a single response comes to mind. 

“You want to look more like a boy, right? Or am I getting confused?” 

“No, I-” You shook your head in disbelief, “I do want to look like a boy- I am… I am a boy.” 

“Yeah.” He smiled, jumping to his feet, “If you want some boy clothes, you can have some of mine. Come on, let’s pick some out for you.” 

Once Eddie helped turn you into you, you decided to face your parents. Eddie right beside you as you did. Your father didn’t really understand, but he tried his best and respected your choices. He slipped up a lot, but you knew he was trying, and that was all that mattered. You mum however, needed a little more time to come around to the idea. She left to live with her friend for a while, but when she was ready to return, she handed you your first binder. Goodbye bandages! Thank You mum! 

You had your first kiss at seventeen. It was during a game of spin the bottle with Hellfire, plus a few stray outcasts from around the school that Jeff had invited along to his birthday party. The rules were simple, if it landed on the opposite gender, you had to kiss right there, if it landed on the same gender, you had to tell them a deep dark secret. When it was Eddie’s turn to spin, it landed on you. That struck a problem, no one really knew what to categorise you as. It hurt. 

“He’s a boy.” Eddie said in full confidence. 

“Yeah, but-”

“He’s a boy.” He smiled at you, standing on his feet and reaching his hand out to you, “Come on Y/N, I got the perfect secret to tell you.” 

It was really the bare minimum, but since Eddie was the only one to give you that, it made your heart soar. He took you around the corner, the designated secret sharing spot, and smiled at you softly. 

“You okay?” 

“I am now.” you smiled. 

“Good.”

“So, what’s your secret, Edward Munson? What have you been hiding from me?” 

“Well… I never thought I would tell anyone this… ever. But, since you told me the scariest thing about yourself, it’s only fair.” 

You nodded your head, smiling at him for assurance. 

“I’m–” He cleared his throat, “I’m gay.” 

Your eyes widened, your mouth hung slack for a moment. Your heart fucking skipped a beat. 

“Is that okay?” He looked at the ground instead of you. 

Obviously Eddie, you thought, “Why wouldn’t you be? Have you seen Robert Plant?” 

Eddie looked up at you, his head tipped slightly and he raised his eyebrows, “Yeah… yeah I’ve seen him. Are- do you see Robert Plant like that?”

You nodded your head with a soft smile, “So… you into anyone?”

He swallowed thickly, “Maybe.” 

You held your breath, “Who?”

Eddie looked back to the ground, his cheeks bright red, “Well… he’s really cool, he makes me smile a lot… he– he is super handsome, and probably likes my guitar more than me.” 

You couldn’t help the small smile that creeped onto your face, you bit your lip to hide it and shuffled in your spot a little. 

“Is that… okay?” He looked up at you slowly, “Do you mind?”

“Eddie,” you smiled softly, “are you that oblivious to the fact that I’ve had a crush on you since middle school?” 

Those perfect eyes stared right into yours, slightly alarmed, a little taken aback, but mostly burning with desire, “Apparently I am.” 

You laughed. 

“Can we totally fuck the rules of spin the bottle so I can kiss you anyway?” 

“When have the rules ever applied to us, Ed’s?” you smiled and pulled yourself a little closer. 

Since that night, Eddie would never leave your side. To everyone else in the world you were just a couple of inseparable best friends, and a couple of freaks. But to each other, you were everything. Behind closed doors you would hold each other close, and you’d kiss, and you let yourself fall in love. The only other person to know about the two of you was Wayne, because he picked up on everything. 

——————————————————————————

“Dude, no way.” you laughed, your voice deeper than usual, you had finally started on T a few weeks ago.

“Yes way.” Gareth smiled as you walked between classes, “I still can’t get over your voice man, it’s so weird.”

Your heart sank. 

“Not like that!” He was quick to say, “it’s just different. I’m used to your voice being higher, you know. It just catches me off guard.” 

A smile surfaced back to your face, “Yeah, I guess it surprises me sometimes too.” 

It was the first day back at school after spring break, no one but Eddie and his band members had been around you since your voice dropped. So it was safe to say you got a few weird looks here and there, a few odd questions about it Eddie was quick to answer for you whenever he was around. It felt good, to finally grow into yourself a little more, but the amount of attention it got you felt horrible. You felt like a walking target, bright blinking arrows pointed right at your head from every direction and honking noises came out of the ground with every step you took. You were just relieved no one had picked a fight with you yet. 

“L/N!” 

Yeah, I spoke too soon. 

“D/N L/N!” Jason Carver called out from across the hall. 

Only a small number of people called you by your real name. You were used to it, but it still cut like a knife, every goddamn time. 

“What?” you turned to him slowly. 

He laughed, “So it’s true. Your nonexistent balls finally dropped.” 

You rolled your eyes, “What’s it to you, Carver?” 

“Ohhh, someones feeling sassy today, isn’t she?” that wicked smirk on the corner of his lips dug deep into your soul. 

“He.” Gareth spoke up, correcting the jock.

“I hardly think so. She’s a fake. Not an ounce of man in her body.” 

“And you think there’s an ounce in yours?” you hummed. 

He glared at you, “Thats bold, coming from someone in your position, D/N.”

“Thats not my name.” 

“I. Don’t. Care.” he shook his head, a small chuckle erupting from his lungs, “Your still a freak. Who cares what the freak wants?” 

Your face started to heat. 

“Awh, look at that, the Tranny’s gonna cry.” 

You looked away, tears threatening to spill, “Fuck off, Jason. Don’t you have some balls to play with or something?” 

“Hey!” He snapped, learching closer till he was right in front of your face, “Don’t you dare speak to me with such disrespect, you piece of shit.” 

“Go away.” you whispered, eyes clamping shut as you tried to take a step back. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, “don’t want to risk catching the hermaphrodite disease.” 

He half laughed, half scoffed before walking back to his little parade of friends. Eddie came racing around the corner having heard about the previous interaction. He came to a screeching halt right in front of you, his hands landing on your biceps, his eyes scanning your red face, a certain tenderness in his expression that made your heart sink a little. 

“What did he say?” 

You couldn’t speak, you knew if you did you would only cry. He looked at Gareth who just slowly shook his head, sadness in his eyes. 

“Come on, we’re skipping.” He grabbed your hand, and took your books from you, leading you through the halls and out to his spot in the forest behind the school, “I got you, sweetheart. You’re safe with me.” 

You hurried along beside him, clutching onto his hand for dear life as you crossed the empty football field. When you arrived, he carefully sat you down on the picnic bench, pulling his jacket off and placing it down on the table before squatting down in front of you.

“You wanna tell me what happened? Or not yet?” his tone was soft, the gentle hum of his voice was the cushioning your heart so desperately needed. 

You looked at him, eyes glassy, your vision blurring as tears spilled out, “Am I a disease, Eddie?” 

“What the fuck?” a lump formed in his throat, “Did he say that to you?” 

You nodded. 

“No. no your not.” He grabbed your hands, “If you were, wouldn’t you think I would have caught it by now? You know… considering I’ve had my tongue down your throat and everything?” 

“Eddie!” You swatted his chest, a small laugh was shared between the two of you. 

“He kept calling me a girl.” you sighed, “Telling me I was fake and stuff. He made fun of my voice.” 

“Are you kidding me? How could he make fun of that?” He smiled, “It sounds so good already. Maybe he’s just jealous you sound more manly than him.” 

You half heartedly smiled, your hands still in his, tears still creeping their way down your cheeks. 

“You remember I only like dudes right? So if you were a girl, or a fake guy, there would be no way for me to love you, sweetheart.”

“But I don’t look like a boy.” 

“You do to me.” He smiled, “I think you are the most handsome boy I have ever seen… apart from maybe Robert Plant.” 

You bit your lip, how did he always make you laugh when you felt so glum like this? 

“It doesn’t matter what that fuckwad thinks. It doesn’t matter what any of them think, they’re all fucking losers. You, Y/N L/N are a boy, through and through, and I love you everyday because of it. Anyone who wants to disagree, doesn’t deserve to have you in their life. They don’t deserve to know such a beautiful person.” 

“You’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend.” You sighed. 

“So fucking what?” He scoffed, shuffling a little closer, “Shouldn’t that make it more meaningful? The people that love you, and accept you… those people mean the most, right?”

You looked at your hands as you played with one of his rings, “I suppose.” 

“I promise you, Y/N, you’re not fake. You’re just as real as I am.” He smiled up at you softly, “Yeah, you might have had to take a few more steps to get there, yeah… the postage company sent a few wrong parts-” 

You laughed, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment and you took a breath. 

“But that’s okay. Because deep down inside, you are a boy. You always have been, and you always will be.” He pulled one of your hands tight to his chest, leaning down to press a soft kiss on your knuckles, “I hate that there will be some people- a lot of people, that arent gonna like it… but none of those people really matter. None of those people mean anything. Me, your parents, the guys… we will always love you, and accept you, and let you be who you really are because you matter, and you are valid, and you are real.” 

You took a shaky breath, more tears threatened to spill, but this time they weren’t tears of hurt, “You really think that?” 

“Sweetheart, I know that.” 

You shut your eyes softly, a small tear slipped from the corner, and then another, and then another. Eddie kissed your knuckles again, a swift hand came up to wipe at your tears. His hands cupped your face gently, the calloused pads of his thumbs brushed over the undersides of your eyes and the high of your cheeks, now wet with your tears. He whispered sweet hums of reassurance and shushs as he let you catch up to your emotions. 

“I really love you, Eddie.” you whispered. 

“I really love you too, my handsome boy.” He smiled so softly, you thought if you started at it too long you would break. 

[time-is-restored]

ted lasso 3x11

got through the latest episode tonight, below are unassorted ramblings abt a kansas ending (which i, despite being almost certain is where the show is heading, am still ardently rooting against):

so i was talking a little with my family abt the extremely likely kansas ending*, and was mentioning how much i really don't vibe with it. i said smth like 'i mean, what's even there for him in kansas?' to which they said (fairly, and rightfully!) 'his son!'. like, that's a pretty bulletproof argument, so i guess im just writing this to figure out why i feel like even that isn't. idk. enough?

[*though if that is the ending, what's the point of the cliffhanger? it's the most obvious + expected outcome, how would it be a 'reveal'? idk, some part of me is still praying for one of those classic Twists™ ig]

like. we've known that ted has a kid since day one. we've known that he loves + misses that kid since day one. according to the text, the number one reason ted left kansas was as a last ditch effort to save his marriage, by giving michelle as much space as humanly possible. they were divorced by the middle of the season, and ted chose to stay at the end.

so like. idk. am i missing something? did he just stay bc he felt an obligation to the team? and now that they're doing well (absurdly, breaking the bounds of belief well), he feels okay moving on? like many ppl have already pointed out, that's a pretty standard plot line in these kind of stories: the mary poppin's style exit stage right. but, say ted goes home (potentially even without beard???? agh??). what's happened to him, these past few seasons? what's different now?

like, it kind of feels like im only gonna be hurt by reading in between the lines here, but kansas doesn't seem to hold a lot of good associations for ted w/o the bedrock of his + michelle's marriage. he's reduced to a morose, spaced out mess within 5 minutes of talking with his mother, he very nearly goes through the Extremely fucked up move of paying someone to spy on michelle after seeing her + jake together for an afternoon, and ofc if anything even remotely reminds him of his dad he gets triggered really badly.

and of course, maybe the idea is 'well, he's started to cope with that all now, and he's starting to talk openly with his mum + grieve his dad, so he has the tools to return' but like. does he???? his support system are EXTREMELY london based. setting aside sharon since he could always telehealth w her, all of the positive progress he's made in his 'home' life seem to exclusively come after he talks w his support group at richmond.

he ended up admitting he was mad at michelle after speaking with the diamond dogs, he was pulled out of his obsessive spiral by rebecca, and he was able to put words to his feelings abt his mum by talking w jamie. to be clear, those are all massively positive things for ted to have done, and i think they at least make a good case for ted progressive positively w his mental health (even if its all gotten a bit tell don't show in this last season). but like. what happens when all that's on the other side of an ocean?

to be clear, from the perspective of real life, it absolutely makes sense that ted would want to return to his son. but on a narrative level, im just. i feel like im being expected to take certain things about ted + henry's relationship for granted, when the text itself hasn't even tried to make those things apparent.

is henry miserable or even generally upset when he has to leave his dad/go back to his mum? not that we ever see! im pretty sure the only time we've seen henry explicitly upset is when ted was ignoring him while he was like five feet away which, yeah, mood! and last we saw, henry even sees more enthused abt richmond winning the whole thing than ted is, so its not like he thinks his dad is just going away to do absolutely nothing of import.

do ted and henry not spend a lot of time together/talk very often? technically we don't see enough of ted's daily routine to know for sure, but the casual mention of playing roblox seems to imply they spend a lot of time together! and ofc none of their phone calls ever have the vibe of 'i haven't spoken to you in ages, here's ALL THE THINGS you've missed!'. they're almost all abt stuff that happened that day.

is ted struggling with being away from henry? well... yes, duh, but i don't even think this season's done particularly well establishing THAT (incredibly obvious and free) piece of ted characterisation.

is ted capable of feeling anything other than vague nostalgia (ie: all of his annecdotes being set there) or extreme distress wrt kansas? apparently not! like, seriously, what is there for him? does he have any friends? a job? family that isn't his mother? where's he gonna live? does he miss the weather? his neighbours? like i am literally on my hands and knees give me ONE (1) concrete opinion ted has about the fucking place that isn't about its FOOD (<- ESPECIALLY coming off the back of an episode where ted was able to experience texan food So Authentic™ that it inspired a literal career-changing epiphany?? like HOW are we supposed to take that as anything other than 'ted is at his best when he acknowledges BOTH of his lives rather than cutting one out in favour of the other'???).

idk. i guess my real problem this late in the game is i can see so many POTENTIAL versions of this show, but what ive been given doesn't feel like it matches up with any of them.

i can imagine a story in which ted's avoidance + variations upon running-away tactics for dealing w conflict get thoroughly deconstructed and challenged while in london, so at the end of the show he's finally emotionally prepared to return to his life in kansas even though it's never going to be a fairytale picturesque no-problems-ever ending again.

i can imagine a story in which going back to kansas isn't good for ted, and will be a major sacrifice, but it's a sacrifice he will be making with the support of his new friends + family, and something that he is determined to make in order to be there w his son, all meaningfully juxtaposed w how he feels his dad 'quit' on him.

i can imagine a story where ultimately, the life that ted's made alongside richmond is just as important to him as his life in kansas, and so he + michelle work out a more equal and long-term custody arangement* with henry (it definitely seems like the 'you get him for the whole year and i get him on school break' was something haphazardly worked out while they were both still under the assumption he'd be in richmond for less than a year), and they alternate who goes to whose home for holidays and shit.

[*side note, why hasn't that come up at all? i'd personally think somewhere around the six month mark of working overseas i'd want to have a talk w my expartner + kid about a schedule that isn't so much of a 80/20 split? like, it's fine if henry moving isn't on the table at all for one reason or another, but at least take the time to actually SAY that??? like, what does michelle do for a living? why is SHE so happy to stay there? give me Literally Anything here gang!!!]

...but ultimately what ive actually seen on screen feels like it fits into none of those categories. eleven hours (in as many episodes!! HOUR! long! episodes!!!!!!) in and i feel like i know infinitely less about ted + his mental state than i did in s1. like, from episode to episode, the writer's aren't sure if he's stuck, or progressing, or going through that classic recovery 'one step forwards, two steps back' dance, or just completely and utterly depressed. there's no continuity. nothing that happens to him in one episode seems to have literally any bearing at all on the ted in the next episode. if u scrubbed all of the notable Ted Scenes™ of any overarching plot references, and shuffled them all up, i genuinely think you would end up w a plateau of scenes totally indistinguishable from each other!*

[*of course, this is my main critique of s3 for like. literally everyone, but it's paticularly damning when im left feeling this lost about the main fucking guy.]

i don't know. i guess after the past few weeks of being really genuinely hurt + angry + upset abt the choices made this season, the feeling im left with near the end of it all is. underwhelmed. and im really not sure what 3x12 could possibly do to change that feeling... even if i am still regrettably, but sincerely rooting for a last minute switcheroo.