#the ANGST concept we've all been waiting for!

[just-some-random-blogger]

Bright Eyes | 2

Part 1 2 3

Prince Aemond's marriage was borne out of necessity and political advantage. Let it never be said that he did not know duty, for duty was what kept Aemond Targaryen grounded. But in truth, the prince felt cheated by the match, for he felt his wife was getting scraps as her dowry. After all, she was chosen for him because of her family's wealth and resources. It was then rather scandalous when the icy prince became temperate to his bride.

Aemond Targaryen x Reader | 2k+ | cw: fem!reader, arranged marriage au, reluctant lovers ig, angst, family problems, typos, etc.

A/N: i'm finally posting the next parts because I finally finished p3 T_T HAHA This is part of the 'house of the dragon big bang celebration' that's also available on AO3 and my art was made by @ewanmitchellcrumbs <;3 yuh

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @slavyanskiyahui @thebullship @sa3losa @toodlesxcuddles @shygardengalaxy

I rap on Aemond's office door and rub my hands together as I wait.

"Enter."

I turn the knob and walk inside, "lord-husband."

Aemond lifts his gaze from his table. He spares me a second glance and turns back to his papers, "mmm."

I make my way towards him, hands clasped together in front of me. I stand there for a second, craning my neck to catch a glimpse of what he was doing. I could not make out his task and so I keep my silence, waiting for him to finish.

"Speak," he urges impatiently.

I flinch.

He apparently does not like that.

Aemond does not lift his gaze from documents.

I clear my throat, "I wanted to tell you that my mother and aunt will be visiting."

His brows furrow. He turns to me, "again?"

I lick my lips and rest my hands by my belly, "they've sent a raven. They are to bring me herbs to aid with conception, amongst other things. I suspect they wish to give me a lesson on mothering as well."

"Mothering?" Aemond's expression turns sour, "why in gods' name will they come here to do that?"

I purse my lips before answering, "it's been a month since we've wed. They were rather disappointed to know of the arrival of my womanly bleeding, and so they wish to help."

"And will they put a babe in you, wife?" Aemond raises a brow.

I turn to my feet then back to him, "they are concerned for me, my prince."

"Their concern is overbearing. They were here seven days ago," he gathers the papers and places them in a leather folder. He then stores the folder in his cabinet, "before they've even settled back in their houses, they've come again."

I release a breath and rub the back of my arm. That was the truth, plainly spoken. Still, I did not want to speak against my mother or aunt, nor did I want to stoke Aemond's annoyance. Instead, I smile and explain, "I will make sure to entertain them so not to interrupt you."

Aemond knits his brows and stands from his chair. The sound of it skidding back makes me cringe. He walks over to me as he says, "I've already been interrupted."

I suddenly feel guilty for bringing this up at this moment.

"When are they coming?"

I take in his annoyed features as he comes to my side. I rock on the soles of my feet and mutter, "later today."

Aemond's lone eye widens, "what?"

"They..." I sigh, "they did not yet leave King's Landing and booked lodging nearby."

Aemond's face falls. He releases an exasperated breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. He gives me a look, "and when did they send a raven?"

"... last night."

Aemond mutters something I've learned to be a curse word in High Valyrian, though I'm not sure exactly what it translates to.

I follow after him when he walks out of the room. I do not say anything, though I was rather agitated because of his reaction.

I wanted to explain to him that my mother and her sister has been this way since I was younger. They needed everything to be perfect, for wives had to be perfect. I grew up trying to uphold their standards, so the idea that I've simultaneously disappointed them to a point where they have to over and do something about it, as well as upset my husband because that they are coming to me, makes me want to retch.

"How long will this mothering lesson take?" Aemond asks.

I rush to his side and give him a look, "if I am careful not to trigger their sermons, an hour or two."

Aemond blows air out of his cheeks, "then I will go for a ride on Vhagar."

I purse my lips at the thought but nod, "I shall see you off."

"As you'd like," he mutters, not once looking at me.

"Aemond."

Aemond and I stop at the end of the hall.

I bow and smile at the man before us, "Lord Hightower."

"Grandsire," Aemond addresses.

Otto looks at the two of us and nods in regard, "I was heading to your office to see what's become of the plans I've entrusted to you."

I turn to Aemond when he does not respond immediately. I watch him purse his lips and huff through his nostrils.

"I'm nearly done. I simply wished to clear my mind a moment and get some fresh air," he motions to me, "my lady-wife is going to see me off on Vhagar."

Otto turns to me.

I offer his grandsire a smile, "he's been working tirelessly as of late. I think it will be good for him to take a break, my lord."

Aemond flattens his lips and nods.

Otto shifts his gaze back to the prince. He nods and gives a smile that does not meet his eyes, "I do hope you enjoy your ride, prince Aemond."

He nods, "thank you, my lord."

With that the two of us walk away.

Aemond sighs, "be sure not to trigger your mother and aunt's--"

We freeze when we hear women's voices laughing and chattering from afar. I turn to Aemond instinctively. He looks at me like he was ready to jump out of the window. My face falls when he actually walks towards the window and opens it. In my panic, I grab his arm and repel his movements, "my prince, please!"

Aemond shoots me a look then turns to his arm. He takes a moment before speaking, "what are you doing?"

I stare at him.

There is a sound of a passing carriage. Aemond's mind click, "I'm not going to jump," he says with annoyance.

Upon hearing this, I release his arm and take a step back from him.

Aemond shakes his head, "do you honestly think I would risk my life merely to avoid those women?"

I press my lips together.

He narrows his one eye, "you are aware I ride Vhagar, the largest dragon in all of the kingdoms."

I nod quickly, "yes. Indeed, my prince-"

"Then why do you insult me by insinuating I would jump out of the window to flee my-"

His words are cut short when he hears voices calling out my name. I stiffen and look over my shoulder. I reach out to Aemond's shoulders, urging him away. I turn to him and mutter, "you should go the other way."

Aemond raises a brow, grumbling, "and why would I do that?"

"You remember last time. They made you come with me to the maester and watch the whole time I was being examined."

"Well," he grunts, "that was a necessary occasion. I would not have known that you have unpleasant reactions to lavender and citrus had I not."

The thought gladdens me for a moment, but then I am overwhelmed by dread when I hear footsteps and louder calls of my name.

Soon enough, my mother and aunt are upon us.

We greet them, they greet us.

I allow them to coddle me then give me backhanded compliments. Aemond watches the whole time, then finally excuses himself, saying he had to attend to his dragon, but the ladies dug their nails into his arm, literally. I watched as the prince was cornered into staying with us. Mentioning that the Queen had endorsed this meeting really tied Aemond's hands behind his back.

Now, we were both imprisoned in the solar, listening to the two matrons muse about things that could help with conception, none of which were methods we had not already heard of from other people.

Aemond tuned out the blabbering, opting to stand by the window, looking out of the keep where he could have been right now had he just jumped from the window.

"And we've bought you some oranges," my mother says.

I watch as she motions to the last pouch on the table that I had not yet opened.

Aemond knits his brows. He remains leaned by the window but averts his attention inside the room.

I straighten from my seat and pour out the contents of the brown bag onto the table. There were various objects before me: teas, herbs, oils, clothes, toys, and now fruit.

I turn to my mother and smile. I say for the twentieth time, "thank you."

"It's all the way from Dorne, niece," my aunt says with a smile, "I saw them in the market and bought some for you. I remembered how it helped me during my time carrying your cousins."

I smile at her, "how kind of you, my lady."

Aemond straightens from his spot as the two older women begin to reminisce. He recognizes the story; it was one they had told the last time they were here. He watches as I smile and nod regardless of this. He wonder how many times this story must have been recounted.

I smile at him when he walks over.

My aunt's story is cut off short when Aemond reaches for a vial on the table. He uncorks it and gives it a whiff. He turns to me, "lilac?"

Before I can respond, my mother does so for me, "lavender."

Aemond turns to her and corks the vial. He places it back on the table and hums, "lavender."

We lock gazes for a second then he walks back to his spot by the window.

A whole hour passes before my mother and aunt leave.

When they do, I am wholeheartedly relieved.

"You're going to eat this?"

I turn to Aemond as he walks over to table and grabs the orange. I spare him a glance and begin to tidy the table, "no."

"Then why did you accept it?"

I knit my brows, "my aunt troubled herself in procuring it. How could I say reject?"

"How could you accept, knowing you body rejects it?" he places the orange down and motions, "and the lavender. From your own mother."

I instinctively take the vial and push it aside with the oranges, "she does not know."

"Then why didn't you tell her? What mother wants to harm her child?"

"She does not want to harm me. She did not harm me," I turn to him, "I'll simply give the oranges and the lavender away. It'll be as though I was never given it."

"But you were," he retorts, "and you did nothing. What if someone had done the same to our child? Would you not say anything then either?"

"That's not the same."

"If you can't protect your body now, how will you protect it when you're carrying my child, or when they are born."

I take in a breath, "evidently, I am unharmed, my prince. And even now you are here also caring for me."

Aemond scoffs, "you think I can coddle you like they do?" He leans down, "I have an entire kingdom to look after, and I do not have time to mother the woman who should be mothering my children."

With that, he pulls back and walks off. I watch him as he heads for the door, "where are you-"

"I wanted to ride Vhagar, and now I will," he mutters just before exiting the room.

I huff and turn my attention back to the table. I tidy everything up and place the oranges and lavender into a separate pouch. I gather everything and head to my chambers.

I stop when I hear my name get called.

I smile at the approaching man and curtsy, "my lord."

Otto walks over to me, brows furrowed, "what is all of that?"

"My mother and aunt brought them for me."

He raises a brow, "have the servants bring them to your room." He immediately calls out to the hall for a servant then turns back to me.

I offer him a smile and thank him.

"Where is your lord-husband?"

"He is... still on dragonback."

Otto looks at the pouches in my hand and takes them from me, "you wouldn't happen to know about the plans I tasked to him. I need them now, finished or not."

"He keeps them in a file in his office, my lord. Did you check?"

Before he replies, a servant girl comes forward. She greets us and Otto immediately hands her the pouches. Once his hands were free, he turns back to me and says, "I did, but I've not the patience nor the time to find which drawer it's stored. If you know where it is, I would appreciate it if you brought it to me."

I bow my head in regard, "of course, Lord Hightower."

Otto nods, "good girl," he walks off, "I trust that you do so in haste."

"Oh, my lord!" I grab one of the pouches from the servant and check its contents.

Otto turns to me.

I hand him the pouch of oranges and lavender, "I cannot have these, so you should have them instead."

The man eyes the pouch and takes it from me. He checks its contents then nods in regard.

I nod back and smile, "I will find your plans at once."

I instruct the servant girl to take my things to my chambers and I head to Aemond's office.

It doesn't take much for me to find the plans Lord Hightower required because I remember where Aemond stored them away.

I glance upon the files and realize it was a list of complaints from lords and what the crown would offer to do for them. Some of the proposals were rather farfetched, some of them were effective but expensive. I take a separate piece of paper and write down some of the solutions I could think of, especially in parts where Aemond did not put anything.

I do so as quickly as possible and head to Otto's office. Before I do, think of leaving a note in case Aemond heads to his office looking for the papers.

When I get to Lord Hightower's office, he was preoccupied with his work so doesn't spare me a glance when I come in. He does mutter a quick thanks when I give him the plans.

Later, when I was about to get ready for bed, Aemond finally comes back. He bursts into the room and immediately barks, "you gave my grandsire the plans?!"

"He asked for them. He said he needed them, finished or no-"

"But they were not finished!"

"They are finished," I correct.

Aemond is about to speak but then he stops himself. He shakes his head, "what?"

"I wrote some alternative plans on a separate piece of paper."

Aemond's eye widens, "you what?"

Before I can explain any further, he is out the door again. I huff and follow after him, "Aemond!"

"You meddled with official business of the crown," he hisses, "and you've posed as me while doing it!"

He quickly makes his way down the hall. I have to sprint to keep up with him and gather my skirts in my hand.

"Grandsire," Aemond calls the moment he opens the office door.

I release a breath and heave through my nostrils, following after my husband as he walks into the room. I watch as Otto barely lifts his eyes from his paper, "yes? Need anything?"

Aemond stops in front of his desk, "the plans. My wife said you asked her to give them to you, finished or not."

"Yes," Otto says simply, "they're here," he flips a page, "well done."

It takes a moment for those words to register, and when they do, Aemond's eye widens. He stands in disbelief.

I look at him and his grandsire. A moment passes and I decide to take his arm, muttering we shouldn't disturb Lord Hightower anymore.

"Wait, the plans were well done?" Aemond asks.

Otto stops what he was doing. He looks at Aemond then sighs, "they were rushed but better than what I've gotten from others."

Aemond's lips part.

Otto raises a brow, "do you expect a prize for it?"

The prince turns to me then back to the man, "I didn't do those pla-"

"Don't be silly!" I cut him off, "you did the plans as well as you could."

Aemond eyes me as I pull him close.

"Prince Aemond attended to a lot of husbandly duties, which was why he had little time to attend to that," I smile, "I am glad to hear that his plans are still well done regardless."

Otto turns to me, Aemond, then his papers, "you should continue to direct your efforts into producing children."

I give a chuckle that no one reciprocates. I tug Aemond back, "good night then, my lord."

Otto hums, once again not sparing us a glance.

I release a sigh once we exit the office.

"What kind of proposals did you give?" Aemond asks.

I turn to him.

I do not get to respond when he presses, "why didn't you let me say it was your doing?"

Though his questioning was rather hostile, I offer him a smile, "they were proposals you would have thought of anyway. Your grandsire was pleased. Why change that?"

Aemond pulls his arm out of my grip. We stop to stare at each other in the middle of the hall.

"Whatever it is you think you're doing-"

"I'm not doing anything besides doing my duty as your wife."

Aemond's jaw hardens. He looks me up and down, "what did you do with the lavender and oranges?"

"I gave them to Lord Hightower."

Aemond furrows his brows. He stares at me for a moment, debating my words as he did, then walks off.

I allow him a few paces head start before following after him.

[darkdarkstucky]

Enchanted, S. Rogers and C. Kent.

SUMMARY: In a world where Omega's were scant and decent alpha's even more so, you think you're one in a million to be in a relationship with Alpha's who not only take care of your every whims and need, but also love and respect you unconditionally. However, your marital bliss of two years is interrupted by the concept of ‘true mates’.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Clark kent.

Warnings: Cursing, Angst.

CHAPTER THREE

“Wake up, buttercup!” Natasha cheerily exclaims, clapping her hands together after successfully pulling back the curtains to let the sunshine in your desolate quarters. You groaned sleepily turning your head towards the other direction, until she peeled the covers back from you.

“Uh-uh, we are not letting you sleep in the bed for days on end again.” the red head tuts, pulling your limp arm and ushering you towards a seating position. “Today, we're going out and walking on sunshine vampy.”

“No. Let me wallow in doubt and sadness.” you whine, eyes shut. You were still in dreamland, nestled in the covers with the ac on full blast— and you could literally spend days in the bed it feels like. You were always so sleepy and tired.

Part of you blamed it on over-thinking. Your brain must have been fueling up for all of your racing thoughts. Or it was only during sleep that you weren't thinking anything.

“Can't. The sun is up and the day is to be conquered. Where's your fucking spirit?”

“Oh wait! I remember where i left it, let me check.” you wiggled, making her hold loosen before you dived back into the sheets.

Comfy. So so nice.. you rub your face in Clark's pillow, sighing out in bliss. Just as you were about to doze off again..

“Nat!” you bellow, feeling yourself get lifted off the bed and towards the en suite.

“We're going out and fucking things up dollface! No excuses!”

☁️

“I feel like richard gere and you're my bitch- well, technically not one, but you get my point.” Nat nonchalantly puts down the menu, staring at you from across the table.

There was an astounding array of shopping bags placed neatly along the floor, both of you going haywire on different shops and swiping daddy's plastics, and only when you calmed down did you realize how much clothes you bought.

You'd feel bad, yet both Steve and Clark had gaslighted you early on that it isn't real money princess. So you went on your merry way each time and thought as if you were only playing pretend.

“Why can't i be a bitch?” you mutter, inbetween bites of garlic bread, basically inhaling the small tray of decadent pastry. It was crunchy, and soft on the inside with hints of melted cheese. Ohmy, you wanted to gobble it up.

Nat looked at you as if you were stupid. “Because.. you're rainbows, and butterflies and shiny shimmering glitter.”

You made a face, “You're saying i'm made of nice things? Aww, naty.”

“Yes, and if i put you in my mouth, you'll melt like a cotton candy.” she flippantly voices, which made both of you stare at eachother— silent and intent gazes, before bursting into laughter. Giggling at the unknown double entrede.

“Hello, madamme.” Your head snaps towards a slightly familiar older man decked in a pristine suit, an easy yet flattering grin on his face. “How are you finding your lunch? Has anyone taken your order yet?”

“Oh, hey ben. It's pleasant, as it always is. We've actually just placed our orders,” You smile in response.

“Oh that's great! and you're here with Mrs. Barnes, i see.” He politely nods to the red head. “Will you be joining Mr. Kent at the second floor? He's got an entourage, but i doubt it's concerning business. It appears to be more casual.”

“Is that so? I mean, Clark did say something about a lunch. Who's he with?” Your mouth moves faster than you could think.

In reality, the only thing you've recieved from both of them were casual goodmornings and update as to where they were. Steve was in France, Clark said he was in Russia. Atleast, that was what they told you.

“The usual, madamme. A couple of security details, and a new secretary. She seems to be new, atleast from who Mr. Kent usually keeps in his payroll.” The host narrates, thinking nothing of it. Everyone was already well aware of how much you meant to your husbands— to the point where nobody would bat an eye if they were seen out with another woman. Nobody could possibly believe they would replace you.

And you hated to jump into conclusions, but why would he need to lie?

Your heart wanted to lurch out of your chest. Nat's clearing of her throat made you snap out of your spiral; and you schooled your features back into a cheery expression once again.

“Well, if Mr. Kent wouldn't mind our presence.”

☁️

“.. I was actually a scholar of Kent foundation. Can you believe it? Our fates, so intertwined. It was really as if we were meant to be.” Lois gushes, leaning over in her chair, looking at him as if she were about to jump his bones.

Frankly, it made him quite uncomfortable. Nothing about this - if you could even call it a date, it was more like a formal gathering or a meet of sorts that he was inclined to arrange- felt natural, nor right.

Clark wanted to rely on his base instincts for direction but he couldn't grope for a shred of connection. Not even a silver of fondness, which is strange, considering thag they were supposed to be compatible— the person oppsite of him bore the genetic compatibility, as per several tests.

Though, what she said piqued his interest. “Which part of town would you say?”

“Upper east side,” Lois responds. Clark shifted in his seat, a smile making it's way to his features which held a considerable sway in her judgement. He asks a few more questions in that honeyed voice of his, to which she absently replied at.

“Huh, would you look at that.” He leans back in his seat, gears in his head turning but he maintained an easy smile on his face, mirth dancing in the darkened blue of his eyes.

“How about i permanently move your residence in, say, one of my towers?” Lois' breath hitched at the proposal.

“I-i mean, sure if that's what you want.” she gathered herself for a while, before remembering to act bashful and blinking up at him rapidly, smiling coyly. “I'm yours afterall. Your mate.”

You can hear the jeers and the laughter, staying through the conversation, until you found yourself feeling literal pangs of hurt in your chest. Fuck. What does all of this mean?

“Let me kill this son of a whore,” Nat was about to angrily storm inside, but you managed to stop her, putting an arm out.

“Don't even bother.” you murmur, finding it hard to find your own voice. At that point, you felt almost numb— as if your brain was shutting down from what you've heard, finding it difficult to process at all.

You woke up with the hope of your marriage still intact. Thinking, rather stupidly, that this was just a rather difficult hurdle in your marriage. Thinking that perhaps, this was all just a big misunderstanding like what you were repeatedly assured of.

But this was beyond even your wildest dreams. Nothing made sense. It was as if your world was crashing down on you all at once. True mates? It mocks you repeatedly.

Steve and Clark told you that you were the one. You believed them, because why would they lie to you? They had no reason to!

To get in your pants, silly. The rational, or was it pessimistic part of you said.

You blinked away the tears, turning around, and indulging in the manical urge that clouded all your rationality— run.

So you fled.

[virgoilluminati]

World Class

chapter 1

next chapter

A/N: Hello, I know i have been absolutely M.I.A and again I apologise profusely. In all honesty, Uni life is beginning to take over all of my life and I have no idea how long it will be before I write again. However I thought I would post this before I go on a hiatus. Its a bit late but i am a massive MASSIVE fan of the englands football teams and i wrote a fic imagining that the reader was a female football player who is together with Jude Bellingham. This could honestly be a complete shambles and I wouldn't know, but enjoy 😊

Concept: Jude Bellingham x Reader, Platonic!leahwilliamsonxreader

Warnings: some angst but not really (ps this is with the girls football team that I wanted to happen, not the reality - so yes some people are on the team who weren't actually in it but sh, its a fic).

Word Count: 3.2K

@y/nmorrison_

Liked by leahwilliamsonn, judebellingham and 67,000 others

y/nmorrison_ Pinch me 🤏

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judebellingham Never been prouder 💕

leahwilliamson finally! You and me together! The duo we've all be waiting for.

lionesses: youngest ever lioness to date!

4 days ago

Since the earliest memories I could summon, I had been immersed in the world of football. It was a constant presence, an unspoken member of our family, binding us together in a shared passion. My dad’s unyielding devotion to our local football club, Brighton and Hove Albion, was something that bordered on the legendary. It began as a fondness and over time transformed into an all-encompassing obsession, one that cast its spell over our weekends and echoed in our conversations throughout the week.

As the club’s journey through the ranks of the footballing hierarchy mirrored its ascent in my dad’s heart, the rest of us became increasingly entwined in its narrative. Each weekend was a pilgrimage to the stadium, a sacred tradition that we upheld without fail. It wasn’t just a match; it was a spectacle of emotions, a symphony of chants, and a canvas painted with the vibrant colors of loyalty.

Even as a child, I felt the magnetic pull of the sport. It wasn’t just about the game itself, but the shared experience, the collective heartbeat that surged through the stands. As my family cheered, groaned, and celebrated along with thousands of others, I too found myself swept up in the ebb and flow of emotions that only football could ignite.

Perhaps it was the camaraderie, the sense of belonging to something greater, that had me captivated. Maybe it was the way the ball danced across the pitch, carrying with it the dreams and aspirations of players and fans alike. Whatever the reason, football wasn’t just a sport—it was a part of our lives, an unspoken thread that wove its way into our conversations, our routines, and our shared memories.

As the years rolled on, and the enchantment of those weekends at the stadium grew stronger, I began to realize that football wasn’t merely my dad’s passion—it was mine too. From the innocence of childhood to the threshold of adulthood, the love for the game had taken root in my heart, much like the Albion’s colors had embedded themselves in my dad’s soul. And as I stood among the fervent supporters, my voice merging with theirs, it was clear that my journey into the world of football was not merely by chance

*The cheers of the crowd blend into an exhilarating symphony as you stand amidst the throngs of fans, your heart pounding in rhythm with the chants. All around you, people are caught up in the energy of the stadium, united by a common love for the game that's being played out before them.*

*You watch with wide eyes, barely able to contain your excitement, as "Morrison" takes the field. The name echoes in your mind, carried by the fervor of the crowd. The sight of the player, skillfully maneuvering the ball, is mesmerizing. Every swift turn, every precise pass, every daring shot—it's a dance of artistry and athleticism that unfolds before your young eyes.*

*As you stand there, a spectator in the sea of supporters, something shifts within you. In that moment, amid the roars and cheers, you're not just witnessing a match; you're witnessing a dream taking shape. It's as if a door you never knew existed has swung open, revealing a world of possibilities you had never dared to imagine.*

*The air is charged with anticipation, the excitement palpable, as the football journalists seated nearby share their thoughts. "Look at Morrison," one of them remarks, their voice tinged with awe. "The way he navigates the field, it's like he's a step ahead of everyone else. His vision and control are simply extraordinary."*

*"Absolutely," another journalist chimes in. "His technique is impeccable, and he seems to have an innate sense of where every player is on the pitch. Morrison's ability to create opportunities out of thin air is what sets him apart."*

*As the match unfolds, "Morrison" continues to steal the spotlight, leaving the commentators and analysts in awe of his talents. "Did you see that pass?" one exclaims. "He threaded the needle between three defenders!"*

*"He's a true maestro," another adds. "A virtuoso with the ball at his feet. The way he orchestrates the game, it's like watching a symphony."*

*And amidst these exclamations of admiration, you stand captivated, your eyes never leaving "Morrison." He's not just a player on the field; he's a magician, a master of his craft. And in that moment, as the football world marvels at his prowess, a seed is planted in your heart—a dream to follow in his footsteps, to make your mark on the same field that's currently alive with his magic.*

*Unbeknownst to anyone around you, including the football journalists whose words paint a vivid picture of "Morrison's" talent, this moment will become a defining one for you. A seed has been planted, a dream sparked. The seed of wanting to step onto that very field, to wear the jersey of a national team, to dance with the ball just like "Morrison." And little do they know, the young spectator lost in admiration is you, Y/N, who will one day carry this inspiration into the very spotlight that now shines so brightly on "Morrison."*

From the age of three, you were thrust into the colorful tapestry of football. Those early memories are a mosaic of vivid sights, sounds, and emotions. You remember the thrill of entering the stadium for the first time, flanked by your brothers who were then 6 and 8, and your sister, who at 5, was as eager as any of you to be part of the excitement.

Back then, the Albion was more than a football team; it was a place where memories were crafted. It was the collective heartbeat of your family, the nucleus around which your weekends revolved. Each match day felt like a page turned in your shared story. The cheers, the groans, the jubilation—it was a symphony of emotions that resonated deep within you, leaving an indelible mark on your young heart.

As the years flowed by, you watched as the team underwent its own transformations. Players came and went, and the fortunes of the club swayed like a pendulum. And in parallel, you observed the changes within your family. Your dad, once a fervent and boisterous fan, began to carry streaks of grey in his hair, the marks of time etched on his face. Your brothers, who used to mirror the movements of their favorite players, gradually ventured into their own sports and pursuits, creating their own paths in life.

Your eldest brother, who was 10 when you were born, stood as a bridge between the older and younger siblings. He brought a unique perspective, having witnessed both the carefree days of his youth and the responsibilities that came with growing up. His presence, though more subtle, was a steady thread connecting your family’s journey through the years.

And then there was your sister, who had started off as a little football enthusiast, clad in Albion colors, with a keen interest in the game. However, as the years rolled on, her interests began to shift. The football craze was replaced by an infatuation with all things fashion and makeup. She became the embodiment of girlishness, a transformation that initially baffled and later amused the rest of you. The matches, which were once an arena for you all to bond over your shared love for the game, now seemed like a duty for her, a family commitment she fulfilled while mostly engrossed in her phone.

Amidst all this change, there were three constants that stood like pillars, holding up the spirit of your family’s connection to the football field—your dad, your eldest brother, and you. You remained the devoted trio, the ones who carried the torch of passion even as others moved on to different interests. Your dad’s voice continued to merge with the chants, your brother’s eyes remained locked on the ball’s every move, and you soaked in the atmosphere, cherishing the memories as they unfolded before you.

In many ways, the Albion was a mirror of your lives, reflecting the ebb and flow of time. It marked the passing years, the shifting priorities, and the evolution of your family dynamics. As the team battled on the pitch, you too navigated the journey of your lives, each match a chapter in the collective story that you shared.

When you turned 12, an opportunity you had long awaited finally arose—you could try out for the girls’ team at Albion. It was a chance to immerse yourself even deeper in the world that had shaped your upbringing. The girls’ team, although immensely popular, was fraught with challenges. The team often struggled with limited resources, and securing a spot on the roster was fiercely competitive. Despite the hurdles, you were determined to make your mark.

Multiple attempts were needed to earn your place on the team, a testament to the steep competition and the dedication required. The club, though underfunded and predominantly focused on the boys’ team, was a place of growth and transformation for you. Throughout your time there, you underwent a remarkable evolution in your playing style, transitioning from defense to attack.

In the initial stages, you believed that your place on the field was in goal, sheltered from the intense confrontations that often came with the front lines of the game. Being a goalie allowed you to focus on one clear objective: stopping the opposing team from scoring. It was a role that suited your aversion to confrontation and desire to contribute without being in the spotlight.

However, as you honed your skills and developed a deeper understanding of the game, your coaches began to notice your attributes. They saw in you a fast-paced player with a knack for accurate passes and a sharp eye for opportunities. Gradually, you transitioned from the backlines to the front, your role evolving to capitalize on your newfound abilities.

An unforgettable moment came during a match when you found yourself sidelined. A stronger goalie had been given the chance to protect the net, and it seemed like fate had other plans for you. Just as the game unfolded, misfortune struck—the star striker suffered a sprained ankle, leaving a void at the center forward position. With your teammates by your side, you assumed that one of them would step up to fill the gap.

To your astonishment, the coaches turned their eyes to you. The responsibility of leading the attack fell squarely on your shoulders. It was a moment that felt both exhilarating and intimidating. As you embraced your new role, the game took an unexpected turn. That match, the one where you were entrusted with the center forward position, marked a turning point in your journey.

The final whistle blew, and the score displayed a resounding 4:0 victory in favor of your team—with you netting a remarkable hat trick. It was a performance that left an indelible mark, a testament to your capabilities and the newfound passion that surged within you. From that moment onward, there was no doubt: you were a center forward.

During the tumultuous years of 17 to 19, when the threads of your family’s unity began to unravel, football emerged as your refuge. It was the sanctuary where you sought solace from the storms that were battering the foundations of your home. Amidst the chaos, you received a once-in-a-lifetime offer—a two-year loan transfer to Arsenal, a giant leap forward in your football journey. But that wasn’t the only challenge you faced; you decided to aim even higher and try out for the England U18 squad.

But the road to that dream was paved with obstacles, and rejection hit you hard. Unlike the other kids who were fortunate enough to receive a spot, your family’s financial constraints and commitments held you back. With limited means to facilitate the demanding training schedules and your parents’ firm belief in a solid education, the path to joining the U18 squad seemed like an insurmountable climb.

Still, you were determined to make the most of your opportunity at Arsenal. Commuting to London became a regular part of your life, and although you weren’t a regular starter, being a sub for the youth team kept the fire of your dreams alive. The echoes of your cleats on the field became a rhythmic reminder that your aspirations were worth the sacrifices you were making.

In the midst of this period, a familiar face emerged as a constant support. Jude, a friend who had been by your side since the days of diapers, became an anchor during this tumultuous phase. He and his younger brother, Jobe, had been selected for the England U18 squad—a success that both inspired and frustrated you. While you were thrilled for them, it was a reminder of the opportunities that eluded you due to circumstances beyond your control. Nevertheless, their achievements acted as a cushion against the sting of your own setbacks.

You and Jude had always shared a special bond, a connection that had grown stronger as you navigated the twists and turns of life together. It was a friendship that seemed unbreakable, a relationship built on a foundation of shared memories and mutual understanding. Yet, as fate would have it, your time away at England’s camp would become a turning point, reshaping the contours of your emotions.

In the midst of drills, practices, and long hours away from home, your perspective shifted. The camaraderie you had shared with Jude started to take on new hues. It was as if the spotlight had shifted, revealing feelings that had been waiting in the wings, yearning for their moment on the stage. The realization hit you like a bolt of lightning—it wasn’t just friendship that bound you two together anymore.

The long nights spent talking about football, sharing dreams, and laughing about the little things had sowed the seeds of something deeper. Your feelings had blossomed quietly, nourished by the unspoken moments that carried a touch of something more. The day came when you looked at Jude and saw not just a friend, but someone who stirred your heart in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

It wasn’t easy to come to terms with this shift, this change in the dynamics that had been woven into your lives since childhood. But in those moments of introspection, you realized that sometimes, the most meaningful journeys were the ones that led you to unexpected destinations.

The memory unfolded like a reel of precious moments, taking you back to a time when innocence mingled with the promise of what lay ahead. It was a day that had been marked with joy, hidden intentions, and the kind of emotions that only youth could amplify.

Jude had returned from his camp, a beacon of accomplishment and dreams, to a surprise party at his parents' house. As he stepped through the door, his eyes took in the decorations that adorned the living room—the streamers, the balloons, the festive atmosphere that awaited him. The room was alive with laughter, the chatter of friends and family, all gathered to celebrate his achievements.

*Amidst the crowd, his eyes locked onto you, a vision that seemed to shine brighter than everything else. Your face lit up with a radiant smile as you bounded towards him, arms outstretched in a hug that enveloped him in warmth. "Jude, welcome back!" you exclaimed, your excitement palpable.*

*He chuckled, returning the hug and taking in the familiar scent that was uniquely yours. "Thanks, Y/N. You didn't have to go through all this trouble, you know."*

*Your laugh was light, but your eyes held a knowing glint. "Trouble? Nah, it's all worth it to celebrate your success."*

*The surprise wasn't just in the decorations or the presents—it was in the way you seemed to radiate a special kind of affection. Your arms were laden with gifts, a display of generosity that caught him off guard. He knew the struggles you faced, the limited resources that often defined your choices, and yet here you were, offering tokens of your care and support.*

*He smiled gratefully, his heart touched by your gesture. "You really didn't have to do all this."*

*Your expression turned teasing. "Oh, come on, Jude. A little party never hurt anyone."*

*Throughout the night, the two of you exchanged subtle glances, a language only the two of you seemed to understand. Those glances held layers of unspoken emotions—friendship, understanding, and something deeper that seemed to stir in the air. It wasn't just the passing of time that had altered the way you saw each other. It was the transformation that adolescence brought—the realization that the feelings you had suppressed were now seeking to surface, too potent to be ignored.*

*As the hours wore on, he couldn't help but notice the way you had grown, your presence somehow more captivating than ever before. The red dress you wore seemed to accentuate every curve, every contour, as if it was tailor-made to captivate his attention. He had always seen you as beautiful, both inside and out, but now he was acutely aware of the woman you had become—a woman he wished he could have in a way that transcended friendship.*

*And as the night drew to a close, as the laughter began to ebb and the music faded into the background, he found himself grappling with emotions he had never dared to acknowledge. The longing in his gaze met the flicker of desire in your eyes, two souls standing on the precipice of something unknown, teetering between the comfort of familiarity and the allure of uncharted territories.*

*With the party winding down, the alcohol flowing freely, the lines between courage and inhibition blurred. The music's rhythm seemed to echo the cadence of his heartbeats as he finally mustered the courage to speak his truth. "Y/N," he slurred slightly, his voice tinged with a mixture of emotion and alcohol. "I've... I've always..."*

*You turned towards him, your eyes a mix of concern and curiosity. "What is it, Jude?"*

*He let out a deep breath, his words stumbling over one another. "I've always thought... I mean, I've always... liked you, Y/N. Not just as a friend, but... you know, more."*

*The weight of his confession hung in the air, a moment suspended in time. You looked at him, your heart racing in tandem with the beats of his. This was a revelation you had secretly hoped for but never quite expected.*

*A mixture of emotions crossed your features, but then you smiled, a tender expression that held a world of unspoken emotions. "Jude," you began softly, "I've felt the same way."*

*His eyes widened, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. The alcohol had stripped away his inhibitions, allowing his true feelings to surface. A mixture of relief, joy, and vulnerability washed over him, and he smiled, the weight of his secret finally lifted.*

*As the night drew to an end, you found yourself helping him navigate through the haze of alcohol-induced confusion. Guiding him to a seat, you chuckled softly. "You know, Jude, I think it's time to get you ready for bed."*

*He grinned sheepishly, his cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and happiness. "Yeah, I think you might be right."*

*With gentle care, you helped him remove his shoes and jacket, your fingers brushing against his skin in a way that sent shivers down his spine. As you guided him towards his room, his eyes met yours, a silent exchange of understanding passing between you. Despite the alcohol-induced haze, the truth had been spoken, and your hearts were now aligned in a way they had never been before.*

*As he settled into bed, he reached out, his fingers gently brushing against yours. "Thank you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity.*

*You smiled softly, your heart brimming with emotion. "For what?"*

*"For being you. For always being there. And for making this night unforgettable."*

*You leaned down, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. "Sleep well, Jude."*

*And as you turned to leave, the glow of his smile was the last thing you saw before closing the door, leaving you with the knowledge that the path ahead was one that you would walk together, united by a bond that had been years in the making and a confession that was long overdue.*

And from that moment on, the once unspoken feelings between you and Jude transformed your relationship into an unbreakable bond, seemingly unshaken by the currents of life. The subtle exchanges, the lingering glances, and the tender gestures evolved into full-fledged date nights, each moment etching a new chapter in your shared story. Your studies, once your primary focus, now had to share space with the whirlwind of emotions that came with being Jude's girlfriend.

It was a transition that felt as natural as the sun rising every morning. What had started as a friendship now blossomed into a romance that seemed to defy all odds. You found yourself immersed in the world he occupied, his dreams and aspirations becoming yours too. And in return, he was your anchor, the steadfast presence that held you steady through every twist and turn.

It was Jude who convinced you to take a chance on your own dreams, urging you to try out for the U21s group in England. His unwavering belief in you became the catalyst that spurred you to take the leap. His parents' financial support opened doors that had once been closed due to limitations beyond your control.

When the day of the tryouts arrived, you were a whirlwind of nerves and excitement. The magnitude of the opportunity weighed on you, the fear of letting down those who believed in you almost suffocating. The field seemed like a stage, and your every move was under scrutiny.

But as you stepped onto that field, something within you ignited. The whispers of doubt were drowned out by the beat of your heart, the passion that had driven you all these years. The ball felt like an extension of your being, and the rush of the game swept you into a current of determination. You gave it your all, every sprint, every pass, every moment of perfect synchronization with your teammates.

When it was over, and you caught your breath, you dared to look around. The faces of the selectors held expressions that revealed nothing. The uncertainty was almost unbearable, the minutes stretching on like hours. And then, the moment of truth arrived.

"You're in."

Those words, simple yet laden with meaning, sent an electric jolt through you. The elation that followed was as overwhelming as the realization that you had just secured your place on the U21s team. The sweat on your brow mixed with tears of joy as the weight of your achievement sank in.

As you walked off the field, a sense of pride and gratitude filled your heart. Jude's smile awaited you, a mirror of your own feelings. He enveloped you in a hug, whispering words of congratulations and pride. In that moment, you knew that your journey, both in football and in love, was one that was woven with the threads of determination, support, and an unyielding bond that would carry you through every triumph and challenge that lay ahead.

(Y/N's story)

As the sun's gentle rays pierce through your curtains, illuminating your room with a soft and golden glow, you feel a surge of excitement coursing through your veins. The anticipation of the day ahead hangs in the air, almost tangible. Your eyes immediately gravitate to the framed number 7 England Women's National Team jersey hanging proudly on your bedroom wall, a visual testament to your hard work and dedication. Amidst the posters of football legends like David Beckham and Messi, this jersey holds a special place, now more than ever. It symbolizes the culmination of countless training sessions, sacrifices, and dreams that have led you to be selected as a representative of your nation in the upcoming Women's World Cup.

A year had passed since the pivotal moment when you secured your place on the U21s team, a year that had been marked by leaps and bounds of progress. The pitch had become your canvas, the game your art form, and every match was a testament to your growth as a player.

Your journey hadn’t just stopped at joining the U21s—your career had taken on a life of its own. Arsenal had become your home, the field your sanctuary, and your skills had found a permanent place on the team. The path you had chosen was no longer just a dream; it was the reality you lived every day, a life woven with the threads of passion and sweat.

But there was a twist in this tale that you could have never anticipated, a twist that had elevated your achievements to a level that seemed beyond comprehension. The news that you had been chosen for the women’s senior team left you speechless, the gravity of the honor almost overwhelming. To think that you, a girl who had started her journey with a love for the game, were now a part of the pinnacle of football in your country—it was a realization that was as surreal as it was electrifying.

What made this achievement even more poignant was the synchronicity that seemed to be at play. Just as you received your call-up, Jude had received one too—for the men’s senior team. It was as if the universe had conspired to align your destinies, two childhood friends turned lovers now representing England on the world stage. The thought was as thrilling as it was humbling.

Just as you're lost in your thoughts, your bedroom door creaks open, and there stands Jude, your boyfriend, with a knowing smile on his face. In his hands, he carries a steaming cup of tea. The mug, adorned with the bold England colors, proudly displays your name in elegant lettering. It's a thoughtful gesture that warms your heart and brings a grateful smile to your lips. As you reach out to take the mug, your fingers brush against his, a small but deeply meaningful connection. The unspoken support and love between you and Jude have been a pillar of strength throughout this journey, and his presence now is a reminder of the incredible support system you have both on and off the pitch.

"How you feeling, dove?" Jude's voice is gentle, carrying a mix of concern and understanding.

"I'm alright," you reply, your attempt at reassurance tinged with a hint of tension.

"You don't have to lie to me, you know," he says softly, stepping further into the room. His eyes meet yours, a quiet understanding passing between you.

"Believe me, I was—" He pauses, searching for the right words, as if trying to bridge the gap between his own experiences and your current emotions.

"I know," you interject, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. "M'fine. Just a little nervous, that's all—" Your voice trails off, the admission hanging in the air.

"It's a big day," Jude finishes, his tone a mixture of sympathy and encouragement. He moves closer, his presence a comforting anchor in the midst of your jumbled thoughts.

You take a deep breath, your eyes briefly flickering to the number 7 jersey on the wall, a tangible reminder of what lies ahead. The weight of the day settles on your shoulders, and you feel a wave of nerves wash over you.

Jude reaches out, his fingers gently brushing against yours. "Remember why you're doing this," he says, his voice steady. "You're representing not just yourself, but every dreamer out there who's ever kicked a ball and dared to believe."

His words resonate deeply, a reminder of the significance of this moment beyond the pressure and the nerves. You meet his gaze, a silent connection that speaks volumes.

"I believe in you," Jude adds, his voice unwavering. "And I'll be cheering for you every step of the way."

A genuine smile finally graces your lips, and you squeeze his hand in gratitude. In this small exchange of words and gestures, you find a renewed sense of determination. The nerves are still there, but they're accompanied by a fire that burns brighter, fueled by the belief that you can rise to the occasion.

As your gaze shifts from the vibrant mug with your name in England’s colors to the jersey that stands as a testament to your journey, you feel a surge of determination mingled with nervous energy. It’s a feeling that you’re accustomed to by now, a reminder that every significant moment comes with its own mix of anticipation and excitement. But as you stand in your room, surrounded by reminders of the path you’ve walked, you know that this is where you’re meant to be.

Jude’s voice breaks through your thoughts, offering a comfort that only he can provide. “He’d be proud, you know.”

You turn to face him, your expression a mixture of gratitude and emotions you struggle to articulate. “Jude…”

He cuts you off gently, understanding the unspoken words that hang in the air. “I know you don’t want to mention him, but you have to believe that he would be proud of you.”

Your voice is barely a whisper as you admit, “I wish he was here.”

Jude’s gaze softens, his eyes holding a depth of empathy that only someone who truly understands can offer. “Y/N, he is here,” he says, his hand gently resting over your heart. “Your brother lives on in you, in your memories, and in the choices you make every day.”

The weight of his words settles over you, a reminder that the journey you’re on is not just yours alone. The dreams that had been ignited by a childhood hero had been stoked by your brother’s unwavering support, even if it was from a distance. As you stand on the precipice of another milestone, his memory serves as a guiding light, a reminder that your journey is as much about honoring the past as it is about embracing the future.

And so, with the weight of memories and the strength of your emotions, you step forward. The nerves still flutter in your stomach, but they’re accompanied by a resolute spirit and a heart full of love. As you make your way towards the field, you know that your brother’s presence is a part of you, propelling you forward, whispering encouragement in the wind, and watching over you as you chase your dreams.

“Right. No more soppy things,” Jude interjects with a playful grin, his voice lighthearted. “My girl is about to go to Australia and perform in the biggest competition in the world.”

You chuckle, your nerves momentarily forgotten in the face of his cheeky comment. “Wow, no pressure at all."

He nudges you gently, his confidence in you evident in his gaze. “For you, it’ll be a breeze.”

Your heart swells at his unwavering faith, and the affection in your next words is genuine and heartfelt. “I love you."

His response is swift and sincere, his voice carrying a depth of emotion that makes your heart skip a beat. “I love you too.”

As you bask in the warmth of your connection, the aroma of your dad’s pancakes wafts up the stairs, a reminder of the bustling life that surrounds you. Your dad’s voice rings out from downstairs, adding a touch of humor to the moment. “If you lot want pancakes, you better have them now because Eden is eating them all!”

Eden, your sister, once the quiet girl who kept herself occupied during your training nights, had now taken on a new chapter of life. Pregnant with her second child, her journey had led her down a different path—one that you couldn’t help but marvel at.

As you make your way downstairs, the scent of pancakes mingling with the laughter of your family, you’re enveloped in a sense of belonging. The love that threads through every interaction is a constant reminder that your journey is supported by the pillars of those who love you—each member of your family contributing to the mosaic of your life in their own special way.

And as you sit down to enjoy a meal together, the anticipation of the competition still lingers, but it’s accompanied by a sense of togetherness that soothes your nerves. With your loved ones by your side, your journey takes on an added layer of meaning, and you’re reminded that no matter where life takes you, the bonds that tie you to your family, to Jude, and to your own dreams, will always remain unbreakable.

You took a deep breath before making your way down to join your family at the dinner table. You smiled as you greeted everyone, but a subtle feeling of insecurity gnawed at you.

As the conversation began, your brother Rowan asked, "So, Y/N, how's your football season going? Still scoring those goals?"

Your face lit up, "Definitely! I've been training hard, and we have some big games coming up."

Your brother Marley chimed in with a skeptical tone, "I mean, isn't women's football way easier than men's? It's not like the competition is as tough."

Jude, sitting beside you, felt the urge to speak up but hesitated, knowing that you might not want him to intervene.

You decided to subtly address your family's misconceptions, "Actually, Marley, Arsenal is part of the Women's Super League (WSL), which is a very competitive league."

Your sister Eden raised an eyebrow, "But it's not like the Premier League, right?"

Just then, your dad walked in, and his presence seemed to shift the atmosphere in the room. He looked at you, his expression filled with understanding and support.

"Now will all of you stop getting her down," he said firmly, addressing the family. "It's a big day. She's got a lot on her plate, and I'm sure none of you will understand the amount of pressure she is under—"

Jude took the opportunity to change the subject, diverting the conversation to a less tense topic, like Australia as a whole. The discussion carried on for a while, shifting away from your football endeavors.

As dinner came to an end and you helped your dad with the dishes, you began to speak again, "thanks dad,, it's okay if they don't get—"

"No, don't," he interrupted gently. "Ever since your brother—" He paused, his voice faltering for a moment. "Ever since then, football has become like a swearword. You're the only one who shows me the light that comes with it. Your siblings blame it for what happened to Noah—" He paused again, struggling to continue.

Your eyes welled up with emotion, and you reached out to put a hand on your dad's shoulder.

"But don't listen, alright?" he continued, his voice stronger. "You're brilliant. And we'll be cheering you on—even if they don't get it."

Tears filled your eyes as you hugged your dad tightly, feeling the weight of his words and the immense support he offered. In that moment, you realized that even though your family might not fully understand, you had your dad by your side, standing as a pillar of encouragement.

@skynews

Liked by lionesses, leahwilliason, y/nmorrison_ and others

@skynews The women world cup is finally here, with many of us at home hoping that this moment at the euro's last year could potentially be recreated. Can the women bring it home once again?. Link in our bio for the full story

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fifaupdates This team was already brilliant, and now with new players such as Morrison, our new team is going to be so fun!

garyliniker with names like morrison added to this list, this should be a breeze for our girls. Come on lionesses 👊👊👊

As the car sped down the road, you found yourself lost in thought. The events of the evening replayed in your mind, the ups and downs of family interactions leaving you with a mix of emotions. The comforting presence of Jude beside you helped ease some of the tension, but you couldn’t shake off the unease completely.

Jude glanced at you from time to time, sensing your introspection. “You know, sometimes families don’t always understand the things that matter most to us. But that doesn’t diminish their significance.”

You nodded, appreciating his wisdom. “You’re right. I just wish they could see how much football means to me.”

Jude smiled warmly, his gaze focused on the road. “They might come around eventually. It takes time for people to change their perspective.”

You leaned your head against the window, taking in the passing scenery. “I hope so.”

After a while, Jude turned on the radio, filling the car with a soft melody. The atmosphere shifted, and you found yourself gradually relaxing. The tension that had been gripping your shoulders began to loosen, and you exchanged a small smile with Jude.

As you approached the airport, you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. The upcoming football event was a big deal, and you were determined to give it your all. Jude parked the car, and you both gathered your bags. Walking towards the entrance, you felt a reassuring squeeze of Jude’s hand, grounding you in the present moment.

I’m going to miss you,” he said, his voice genuine.

You smiled, touched by his sentiment. “I’ll miss you too. But I’ll make sure to give my best out there, for you, and for myself.”

Jude chuckled, “I know you will.”

At the security checkpoint, you turned to face him. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself while I’m gone.”

Jude’s eyes softened as he cupped your cheek. “Of course. And you better come back with a victory to celebrate.”

You both shared a lingering kiss before reluctantly parting ways. As you walked towards your gate, you stole a glance back at Jude, feeling a sense of gratitude for the person who had always stood by you.

(Y/N's story)

Just as you were about to enter the security gate, a familiar figure caught your eye. Leah Williamson, a fellow player from Arsenal, was making her way towards you with a warm smile on her face. She reached you in no time, enveloping you in a tight hug.

“Y/N! How have you been?” Leah’s genuine enthusiasm radiated as she pulled away from the hug.

You grinned, feeling an immediate sense of comfort in her presence. “Leah! It’s so good to see you. I’ve been good, just getting ready for the big event.”

Leah chuckled, giving you a playful nudge. “Of course you are. You always give a hundred percent.”

As you and Leah caught up on each other’s lives, Jude approached, and a warm exchange of greetings ensued. “Hey, Jude..” Leah winked at Jude, playfully adopting a protective stance. “Don’t you worry. I’ll make sure she doesn’t get into too much trouble.”

Jude laughed, clearly reassured by Leah’s presence. “Thanks, Leah. You’re the best.”

As the time to say goodbye approached, Jude gave you one final hug and a lingering kiss. “Go out there and give it your all, Y/N. I’ll be cheering you on from here.”

You nodded, holding back the emotions that threatened to surface. “I will. And I’ll be back before you know it.”

Jude squeezed your hand, offering his support one last time before turning to Leah. “Look out for her, alright?”

Leah grinned, her tone filled with confidence. “Don’t worry, Jude. She’s in good hands.”

With a final wave, Jude headed back to the car while you and Leah made your way towards the departure gate. As you walked side by side, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for Leah’s friendship and the bond you had formed during your time at Arsenal.

(Leah's story)

[bbobpul]

solemn ceremony — yjh

PAIRING. yoon jeonghan x reader SUMMARY. y/n, who was in a six-year relationship with jeonghan, has been attending so many weddings of her friends because they are already at that age to settle down. she starts to feel the pressure because in those six years, not once did jeonghan ever hint about wanting to settle down with her. GENRE. angst W/C. 1.8k NOTE. i miss you jeonghan (⁠ﾉﾟ⁠0ﾟ⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠→ my other works

'it's okay to outgrow those who don't know how to love you,' says bianca sparacino, and this has been the driving concept of every aspect of my existence. it's what i've committed to all my life. i've navigated this world using the catching and releasing mentality. i've felt the pain of losing friends, the missed opportunities, and the irreversible loss of precious time. yet, in all my years, i could never bear the notion of losing you.

i know deep inside me that it wasn’t easy.. but i did it. i outgrew you.

five years ago…

so, there i was, amidst the whirlwind of vows and joyful dances, attending my fourth wedding of the year. you know how it goes—happy times, smiling faces, and love all around. but within that sea of celebration, there was always this lingering question, like a bittersweet voice tugging at my heartstrings: "when will it be your turn?" or "has jeonghan popped the question yet?" those inquiries had a way of leaving me lost in a haze of uncertainty, carrying the weight of unfulfilled desires.

jeonghan and i, we've been on this rollercoaster of love for six whole years. it all started when fate brought us together on a construction project. can you believe it? both of us are architects, drawn to each other by our shared passion. it was during that time, though, that i was going through something tough—a deep loss that weighed heavily on my soul.

in those moments of solitude, i longed for someone to share my victories, to lighten the load of my accomplishments. it's like i was missing a missing piece in the puzzle of life, you know? but then, like a beam of light piercing through the darkness, jeonghan came into my life.

at first, i thought he'd be like the others—a temporary presence who'd leave once the project was done, fading into the background like a distant memory. but boy, was i wrong. he stayed. he became that person i could share my successes with, the one i'd call up at the end of a tiring day, just to share a moment. can you imagine? someone who truly understood and embraced all that i was.

yet, amidst the laughter we shared and the whispered secrets we kept, there's this lingering realization that the world out there doesn't quite get it. people with their curious glances and probing questions, they can't fully grasp the depth of our connection. behind closed doors, doubts flicker like fragile candle flames, casting shadows on the very foundation of our love. the big question looms over us: will jeonghan be the one to take that leap, to bind our hearts in matrimony, or will our love forever remain a fleeting masterpiece, admired but never truly possessed?

as i witness another union of souls, this subtle sadness washes over me, like a gust of wind blowing through abandoned corridors. i try to find solace in the fact that even without the grand ceremony and vows, jeonghan has become an integral part of my journey—a rock of strength amidst all the uncertainties. but deep down, i can't help but wonder if our love story will forever be suspended in the realm of what-ifs, an unfinished symphony waiting for its final crescendo.

the first crack on the glass

“your mom kept asking me earlier..” i started

jeonghan turned his gaze away from me, his eyes devoid of curiosity. “about what?” he asked, his voice void of any tenderness.

“about us, and marriage.”

his lack of interest cut through me like a knife, piercing my heart with its cold indifference. “hmm, and what did you say?” he inquired, still refusing to meet my gaze.

“i couldn’t say anything, and then she just laughed it off.”

“why?” he asked, still not looking at me.

silence hung heavily between us, suffocating the room with its weight. i mustered a faint smile, desperately trying to find the right words to bridge the growing chasm. slowly, i reached out for his hand—the hand that had held mine during moments of overwhelming loneliness, the hand that had offered solace in the face of my turbulent emotions. at the same time, i tried to lock eyes with him, to seek solace in the same loving gaze that had always made me feel seen and cherished. but tonight, those hands slipped away as he abruptly stood up and made his way to the kitchen. and those eyes, the ones that once held so much love and adoration for me, now seemed to avoid my searching gaze.

a sharp pang pierced my chest, a bittersweet ache that defied reason. i knew deep down that my feelings were irrational, almost childlike, but the weight of our six years together suddenly flooded my senses. memories, both joyful and painful, surged through my mind, each one carrying a sting of sorrow. six years of shared dreams, laughter, and companionship now felt like distant echoes, fading into a sea of uncertainty.

in that moment, the realization washed over me like a crashing wave—i could no longer deny the unsettling truth that we were no longer on the same page. our paths, once so beautifully intertwined, now seemed to diverge, leaving me adrift in a sea of questions and unspoken longing.

but i still tried to speak.

"why?" i confronted him, the raw anguish in my voice unable to be contained any longer. "you know damn well why. we've spent six long years together, and not once have you hinted at wanting to marry me. two years ago, when you said you weren't ready, i respected your decision. but now, we're in our thirties, for god's sake! everyone around us is settling down, starting families, and here we are, stuck in this limbo. what's the problem now? is it because of your job? jeonghan, we work in the same place, we have the same damn schedule. so tell me, what the hell is the matter?"

an uncomfortable stillness settled upon them as the weight of my words hung heavy in the air, smothering the room and freezing our souls. the unspoken truth, full of uncertainty and unfulfilled expectations, left a wide hole between us, a canyon filled with shattered dreams and unspoken wants. we stood in that deafening silence, two souls entwined yet miles away, our hearts throbbing with the unspoken knowledge that perhaps our paths had diverged, and the future we had once imagined together now stood on the verge of irreparable split.

for the first time that night, jeonghan's gaze shifted towards me. his eyes, once filled with warmth and affection, now carried a haunting emptiness, devoid of any flicker of emotion. a feeble smile graced his lips, but it held an underlying sadness that tugged at my heartstrings. with each step he took, drawing nearer to me, i could sense the hesitance etching its way across his face.

"we will get there soon, i promise," he whispered, his voice laden with a profound melancholy. his words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken uncertainties. and then, with a trembling confession, he continued, "i... i love you, jo"

the weight of those three words engulfed the room, casting a shadow upon our fragile connection. it was as if the admission carried a burden, a burden that threatened to drown us in a sea of unanswered questions. in that fragile moment, it became painfully clear that our love, once vibrant and resolute, now teetered on the precipice of uncertainty. how could you claim to love someone if you couldn't even see the pain they felt, their subtle unraveling? my face was pale, but you refused to recognise the sickness that had engulfed both of us. the pain was intense, like an open wound, but you chose to ignore our mutual agony.

"you don't love me, han. you just want me here because i'm the only constant in your life besides your job. if you truly loved me, you would understand me as deeply as i understand you after these six long years. with you, jeonghan, my future remains uncertain. i yearn for stability, for the comfort of settling down. i won't compel you to embark on this journey with me, but remember, you cannot coerce me into staying either."

"i love you but you're losing me, han."

present time

thus, it was at that moment that i brought our six-year bond to an end, unveiling the cruel essence of existence—where we are destined to entangle ourselves only to untangle, time and again. i ended it way before the glass broke. we stumble upon unforeseen souls in this voyage, while losing the one we had envisioned eternally. however, let us not believe that life ceases to exist in those instances. it is, in fact, perfectly acceptable to outgrow those who are unaware of the art of loving you, even though, in this instance, he did love me. alas, his love fell short, incapable of constructing an everlasting sanctuary for me.

once again, i find myself standing at the threshold of yet another solemn ceremony—a retaking of vows by someone who holds a special place in my heart. for the past five years, i had forsaken numerous significant milestones in my own life, choosing instead to embark on a journey to greece, consumed by the demands of my career. yet, in this very moment, the individual who extended this invitation holds immeasurable value, surpassing any sentimental card that would reach their hands a mere week after the celebration.

as the minutes crawled by, we remained suspended in anticipation, longing for the commencement of the main event. in that restless moment, a familiar aura engulfed me as someone settled into the vacant seat beside me. to my amazement, it was the very person who had discovered me in the depths of my wanderings, the one who never coerced me out of my secluded refuge. instead, they held a torch aloft, fearlessly delving into the abyss to find me. it was the person with whom i had once woven dreams of everlasting togetherness. it was none other than yoon jeonghan.

"hey," he greeted me with a smile, "how are you?"

"good, life has been treating me very well these past few weeks, you?"

"yeah, you know, nothing has changed. my life is still all about work," he attempted to laugh, although the palpable tension lingered between us. everyone present at the event appeared preoccupied with their own affairs, yet i couldn't help but sense that many were well acquainted with our shared history. thankfully, they seemed content to focus on their own matters, respecting the boundaries of our past.

i observed how his gaze subtly gravitated towards my hand, resting on the table, particularly fixating on my ring finger.

"married?" he asked

"oh, no, no." i shook my head, "not yet."

[tewwor]

 🍒  🍒  🍒  🍒  🍒  🍒  🍒  🍒  🍒  🍒 

send🍒 for nice words >:) ( accepting ) — whoever sent this, ilu

anon, you're so goated 4 this. gotta crack my hand knuckles and brain knuckles for this because WHEW....... i do have that many folks i'd love to yap about in no particular order. also, this is so long — that's my only warning ❤️️

🍒 @desalvar idc if we've only written 1 thing together. i don't care if we haven't chatted an exuberant amount. i'm here to say i love nik sm and i love how passionate you are about him. those hcs i see floating around? eat them up instantly. i cannot wait to yap and explore more no matter how long it takes!!!!!!

🍒 @interxstitial YAINT SLICK. I SAW THAT OTHER ASK SO I MUST PUT YOU ON BLAST about how much i've come to cherish you. fr fr i haven't hehe'd haha'd with a relatively newish mutual this fast in a Long time. but you take the cake. the entire bakery, even. the way you just... okay, look, i said it literally when i first imed you, but your verses are so CHEFS KISS GOOD. THE WAY YOU WRITE IS SO INCREDIBLY GOOD. JIWON AS A ENTIRE CHARACTER IS SO SENSATIONAL.

you're so silly, he's so silly, we're all so silly together. the marked literally became a whole ass community because of your enthusiasm. it genuinely encouraged me to not hold back and continue to yap about all of their stupid nuanced dynamics. and the way we have soooooo many threads together, but they all feel different? juniper's just babey!!!! he's the marked's babey!!!!! don't even get me started on ravi.... i did not think anyone would pick him up by the scruff and hang onto that bro frat man bro. hes so ridiculous but you RAN WITH IT AND WE KEPT SPRINTING. you're amazing, i'm so so happy i followed you all those months ago ❤️️❤️️❤️️❤️️

🍒 @gollldrush okay, not going to lie. you're currently an inspiration for my writing. there, i said it. you're so well-rounded with so many genres — like how can you write the most visceral angst, fluff, action, and eerily atmospheric threads? hello? i'm knocking on your blog door, teach me?????? i absolutely adore leo and ellory both SO much. but the way you write rilen specifically has me fascinated.

also, not to mention, it's a field day to chat with you in the best way possible. you're SO nice and you, too, have contributed greatly to the inner dynamics of the marked. i can't wait to see what other shenanigans we come up in the future ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

🍒 @justsurvival KEVA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! gosh. DARN. sorry if this comes across as too much, but i was so incredibly excited to see you back. would also like to thank the stars for aligning, because i literally got flashbacks to hatsune miku ORYN THE OTHER DAY OUT OF NOWHERE? the picture... haunts me....... anyways. you're a phenomenal writer across the board. you're so fun to chat with and your creativity's off the fucking charts. when i said i couldn't pick who to write a starter for, i meant it. the concepts are all so GOOD it amkes me ( wails on the floor )

🍒 @cordoliae vic, this is my official appreciate blog post tweet story. i cannot for the life of me... even begin to explain / do justice to how wonderful you are. like, as a person AND a writer — i am bowing down at the steepest degree. your writing is TOP TIER and it has influenced my writing so, so much. a lot of the prosier things i type has 10000% been from our earlier threads where mister no-good chanyeol plonked himself in baby jail to bother THE love his life 💗

also, idk if i've ever told you this but i got into botw because of you. like off to the sidelines, i got that game to relive some nostalgia and try to understand that world more and got dunked into getting lost in everything for an eternity. i would also like to POINT OUT that your understanding of ANY canon you write floors me. vincenzo? that's quite literally him pulled from the kdrama itself. BONGGIL? THAT'S HIM DIRECTLY FROM THE SCREEN ITSELF — ACTUALLY? I would like to also point out how ecstatic i was when you reached out about mutually loving exh.uma. i quite literally haven't tunneled that fast before, and while my focus is severally scattered right now — the best shamans are still in my brain. also, you're one of the 3 people that got me into op, so thank you sm for that ♡♡

🍒 @huntershowl ( kicks thru the wall big bird style ). raine... you.. i cannot describe everything i adore about you, but i sure can try. let's get the obvious out of the way, alright? seph, the creature that you are........ fantastic.. feral..... so for real with the cards you've been dealt............. i want to dub you and seph as THE ones that got me to progress jie so much. also litho HELLO? NOT TO DRAG THAT BEATEN HORSE BACK IN but i'm so serious when i say this, he's like so close to being a single ship with seph. highkey the reason why he only crawls out of his stupid cave when seph's around. it still might end up happening, but either way — the influence and sheer devotion and love he has for seph clocks me over the head every single time.

NOW FOR THE NEWERISH DEVELOPMENT. i might not be immersed in jj.k and only have a pinky toe dipped into wb / bn.ha BUT i know you're taking everything and everyone by storm. anytime i see one of your posts about anxiety ( which is so totally understandable ), i'd like to try and reassure you that there's an entire group of folks that love and adore your version of canons and ocs. and if anyone else tries to muck around like a fucking buffoon, i'll send a mathematical plague upon them i s2g

🍒 @xinxiins this is my confession.... not featuring usher, hi, it's just me. i'm clearing out the entire room to say that you have reconnected jie with his culture and i am so forever grateful for that. his slice of life verse version is currently hibernating, but i Did Not Forget about our yapping and immersion in a community he so desperately wanted to be a part of. and as someone that's also struggled with that connection, i thank you so so so SO much from the bottom of my heart. it's truly so incredibly special to have experienced that, and i hope to continue that in the future!!!!!!!!!!!! ALSO, YOUR WRITING IS BREATHTAKING. I FEEL LIKE THAT'S A GIVEN BUT I HAVE TO SAY IT ANYWAYS. AND YOU'RE A GEM TO TALK TO ❣❣❣❣❣❣❣

🍒 @fangmother don't mind me scooting on by, but hi, yes, hello. i know we recently started to interact, but a) love the way you write b) love the lore you have surrounding rainer b.1) i was so immersed reading up on her bio / verses — like, truly, thank you for the meal c) cannot wait to explore more dynamics because already, i'm buckled up for more replies and will eventually reach out just to yap yap yap!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

🍒 @miidnighters brodie.... 100 golden stars for you. just.. gosh..... i can say with full confidence, i will never tire of your characters ever. i don't care if we have a million dynamics with the x amount of characters i have. i still want more!!!!!!!!! you're so talented. honestly very inspirational. idr if i told you this before, but you are also 100000% part of the reason why i got so involved with the marked. OH? ALSO? LETS NOT FORGET HARBORVIEW TOO? before the marked consumed me BUT HELLO???? FLYNN IS HARBORVIEW'S COLLECTIVE GROWN MAN BUT ALSO BABEY. ahem, anyways, i've learned so many new things about my own characters because of our interactions. and i always, always wish the best for you / am so grateful we're pals.

🍒 @catfcng going to be so fr, idk most of the fandoms you run with but i want to ( eventually )!!!!!!!!!! there's just something so captivating with the way you write and bring attention to your characters in the best way possible. also? your blog's entire aesthetic is So Good. i hope to write more with you and will always cheer loudly from the sidelines !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[crossedsabers10s]

Do you have any hc about Damon's season 1 powers? I'm especially interested in shapeshifter!damon. The whole concept is quite fun to imagine. Also why do you think he has these extra powers? Personally after the whole lily thing I like to imagine that Damon is an untrained heretic. Also a scenario where hos powers would be revealed to scooby gang and/or the mikaelsons.

okay, okay so. Prepare for a short essay. (Sorry)

Intro!! So, in the Vampire Diaries books, vampires have Powers (capital letter and all) that feature things like weather manipulation, shapeshifting, flying, elemental control, telepathy, I think they can see auras or sense other vampire's Power. The books and the show are only like barely related. A lot was changed to make the show. (The Salvatores' ages, for one--they'd been Renaissance era men who'd killed each other in a duel over, you guessed it, Katherine. A ton of characters had personality changes (show Bonnie is better, imo), and book Caroline was an antagonist, plus Jeremy straight up didn't exist, Elena had a v young sister. So on, so forth, everything ended up super different.)

The show started off a (teeny) bit closer to the source material, but sharply diverged, including getting rid of the Powers thing. Something about it being too supernatural???? in the vampire show??? idk might have to fact check me on that one think I read it somewhere random.

But, as we know, it's heavily implied, and outright stated in some cases in early S1 that Show!Damon has access to some kind of power. Controlling the weather, controlling animals (perhaps shapeshifting, but maybe just a connection), and a long distance kind of hypnosis.

What we know about it:

In episode 1, a crow is seen following Elena around. It shows up multiple times. In the car with Bonnie, at the graveyard, when she goes to the Salvatore House for the first time. The crow heralds Damon's reappearance to his brother. Stefan says, "Crow's a bit much-" which implies this is a Thing that he knows about. Damon replies, "Wait until you see what I can do with fog."

The very first scene Damon is in, the opening with the couple on the way back from some concert (i think) it's foggy. They mention something about it that implies it shouldn't be foggy, or that it wasn't previously. Like, "What's with all the fog?" At the graveyard, Elena sees a crow, then it starts becoming much more foggy.

Bonnie, at some point, touches Elena and says she sees a crow, some fog, and a man.

It's foggy when Vicki is attacked.

So. We've established those two things. Moving on.

There's that one scene where Damon is locked up and long distance compels Caroline to free him--i think after calling the crow into his cell and eating it to gain that strength? maybe--it's heavily implied because he fed on her they have a connection he can use to influence her mind without direct compulsion.

I'm sure there's other examples, but I can only watch so much of S1 at a time.

OKAY!! now that that's been established, time for the fun headcanon stuff.

Firstly, I also love shapeshifting!Damon! Tis good fun and it lets me project gender envy i mean it's a great metaphor about vampires being inhuman!! Yes! That! Nothing else ahahahahaha. Something something, predator's perspective, something something instincts. In the book Damon could turn into a large crow and a wolf. Highkey wish they'd kept the crow thing as more than just the occasional motif. It could have been so much fun!! Crow minions!!! Crow friends!!!! Crows bothering the fuck out of people he wants to annoy!!!!! Damon trades shinies and food for things!! Somehow always has a snack on him. Crow drama??? Just casually mentions weird lil bird rivalries. Crows are Smart! They are super social!!! They hold grudges!! They absolutely have Drama on par with Mystic Falls. It could also be played for angst; Katherine announces her return with with a bunch of bird corpses in the Boarding House. Damon, who is unsympathetic to human deaths could be visibly upset by this!! Also nicely plays into the 'likes animals but pretends he doesn't bc it's a weakness' thing.

Comes home and there is feathers in his hair, nearly blending in. Except, on closer look, they're positioned oddly, like they'd been growing from him instead of just settling there. Then he brushes them off or shakes his head and they fall away. Maybe Stefan notices he's a bit more prone to tilting his head at things to get a better looks. Is a bit more easily distracted/more prone to notice shiny things.

A crow follows Elena around and maybe she makes friends with it. Or a crow comes across Stefan having some angst fest in the forest and bothers him into a better mood.

I like the heretic thing!!! I also just think the Salvatore bloodline is magic charged bc it's a doppelganger line!! They've got Silas germs!! Maybe Damon is a little bit more psychic than he should be. Maybe his compulsions require less effort and his dream-walking is better than vampires twice his age!!! Mild telekinesis would also fit in with early S1 nonsense! moving doors to creep Elena out!

As for his powers being revealed... I mean. Suddenly he's more valuable to the Originals? Not as much as Elena was, but there would prob be more recruitment efforts than in canon. Plus, Kol would be more interested in him as more than a batting target. Klaus and Elijah may press the 'saved ur life thing' more. Hm... I guess it would depend on when in the show? Early seasons and it just makes him more a threat. Stefan maybe assuming he did something to a witch??? Later in the seasons and if he develops those powers it's fun to imagine him having to learn to use/control them + having to deal with increased need for blood to fuel them. If it was a matter of him keeping them secret, I'm sure the Drama will manifest with 'how could you not tell me!!' and so on and so forth. Technically speaking, I imagine it'd be put in the same place as Jeremy's medium powers. Brought up when needed. not entirely sure, may think on it later

[cherryrainn]

Can I get a platonic fic for the mutant ninja turtles (2012 ver)?? Donatello created a robot, a very eficient robot that was made to copy human (or mutant) actions and resemble their emotions, and that is reader! And they're all very fond of the robot (reader can be young like 10-15 or smth like that) and treat her like a human, all fluff! but I want an angst moment at the very end, like an angsty end, in which they realise that reader is still just a robot after all, a robot that can't feel, that is just copying their actions and working thanks to wires and not organs nor blood. I just need the angst srry 😭

YES! ANGST. GOOD! I LOVE ANGST. by the way, your requests are always the best. you have amazing ideas and i love writing them <3

☽ ༚  ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰  ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ 

— reflections of metal and heart

(2012) tmnt x robot! reader (platonic)

the lair was bustling with activity as donatello tinkered away in his workshop. he had been working tirelessly on his latest invention, a remarkable robot designed to emulate human emotions. he believed that if he could create a machine capable of replicating feelings, it could bridge the gap between humans and mutants, allowing for a deeper understanding and connection.

after months of meticulous work, donatello unveiled his creation to his brothers. as they gathered around, their eyes widened in awe at the sight of the robot before them. its design was sleek, with a metallic frame and expressive led eyes that shone with a hint of curiosity.

as you opened your eyes, you found yourself in a laboratory filled with various gadgets and tools. it took a moment to gather your bearings. donnie stood in front of you, his eyes filled with anticipation and excitement.

"you're awake!" he exclaimed, a wide grin stretching across his face. "welcome to the family, y/n."

you blinked, processing his words. family? did that mean you were part of their team?

you weren't alive, or anything like that. how did you know all these people?

you looked around and saw leonardo, raphael, and michelangelo standing nearby, their expressions a mix of curiosity and warmth.

leo stepped forward, his blue eyes studying me intently. "donnie did an amazing job with you. we've all been looking forward to meeting you."

raph crossed his arms, a smirk playing on his lips. "yeah, i gotta admit, you're pretty real lookin'.."

mikey bounced on his toes. "i can't wait to show you all the awesome pizza places in the city!"

their enthusiasm overwhelmed you, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging. donnie had created you to resemble a human, to be a part of their team, and now they welcomed you with open arms. it was something you never expected to experience as a robot.

in the peaceful sanctuary of the turtles' lair, a sense of warmth and camaraderie filled the air. you spent evenings together. sometimes, you would gather around the tv, watching your favorite movies or playing video games.

mikey's infectious laughter was a constant reminder of the joy he found in the simplest things.

leo would offer words of wisdom, guiding you with his calm and steady presence.

raph, underneath his tough exterior, had a heart of gold, always ready to lend a helping hand.

and donnie, with his brilliant mind, never ceased to amaze you with his inventions and knowledge.

you and the turtles found yourselves on the rooftop, enjoying the night breeze. the city's lights twinkled in the distance, and the stars dotted the sky above you. it was a moment of tranquility and togetherness.

mikey broke the silence with a mischievous grin. "hey, y/n, have you ever made a wish?" he said, sensing a shooting star about to come by.

you tilted your head, processing the concept. "i'm not familiar with making wishes, but i can understand the sentiment."

raph chuckled and nudged you playfully. "c'mon, y/n, give it a try! it's nice."

you gazed up at the sky, watching as a shooting star streaked across the darkness. closing your eyes, you whispered, "i wish for happiness and lasting bonds with my friends."

donnie grinned, a hint of excitement in his eyes. "great! you made a wish, and now it's up to us to make it come true!"

leo placed a hand on your shoulder, his voice filled with sincerity. "we're here for you, y/n. we'll do everything we can to make sure your alright."

one day, as you lay in recharge mode, your metallic body replenishing its energy, you overheard the muffled voices of the turtles drifting towards you. it seemed they were engaged in a deep conversation, and curiosity got the better of you. slowly, you activated your auditory sensors, eager to listen in on their exchange.

"it's been months now, and i can't help but wonder if y/n's really capable of feeling emotions like we do," leo's voice carried a tinge of doubt.

raph chimed in, his voice laced with skepticism. "yeah, i mean, they look and act human, but at the end of the day, they're just a machine. how could they really get what it means to feel?"

you felt a pang of unease creeping through your circuits. were they doubting your authenticity? you had always believed that you possessed genuine emotions, and that your actions were driven by more than just lines of code.

mikey interjected, his voice filled with compassion. "guys, y/n's been an awesome addition to our team! i've seen em' show kindness and stuff! i've even seen them scared. they're just like us!"

donnie's voice, usually filled with unwavering confidence, betrayed a note of uncertainty. "but mikey, i designed y/n. i programmed their responses and emotions. maybe we've been fooling ourselves into thinking they're more than just a machine."

but your experiences, your interactions, they felt so real to them. you couldn't be just a mere imitation of humanity, could you?

as you sat there, recharging and listening to the conversation of the turtles, a strange sensation began to creep into your artificial consciousness. a flicker of doubt, a glitch in your perception. you started questioning the nature of your existence, the validity of your emotions.

images flashed through your mind—blueprints, circuits, lines of code. the realization hit you like a crashing wave—everything you had experienced, every joy, every pain, every friendship—they were all part of an intricate design. you were not a living being; you were a meticulously crafted robot, a mere imitation of life.

you powered down your systems, letting the emptiness consume you. the world seemed a little colder, a little lonelier, as you drifted into a dreamless sleep.

[victor-aguilar]

☆ ALI'S 2023 END-OF-YEAR APPRECIATION POST !!!

hi friends!!! i just wanted to do a little thing where i thank my friends for being my friends and helping make my year brighter!! this is loosely inspired by @mirxzii!

Firstly, thanks soo much to all my mutuals and followers and everyone else I've had positive interactions with this year on here :)

I'd also like to take a moment and thank all my friends who made my year:

☆ OLIVE | @jewishruthfleming

↳ hiii ilysmmm you've been such a great friend to me and i'm soo grateful you're my friend. thanks for putting up with me and my hyperfixations which are completely different from yours, thanks for listening to my rambles abt alex wilder. you have literally been one of the best parts of my year, and i wanted to make sure you knew that so

☆ NOOR | @kohinoors

↳ noor omg first off hi. i hope this is year is soo good to you. you are one of the coolest people i've ever met. even though neither of us like the same things anymore, i still love you soo much, and im so glad you think i'm cool enough to be your friend 🥺 you're like my cool big cousin, ilysmm

☆ LUNA | @mexicancokewannabe

↳ LUNA BBG HII, literally ilsym. ty for always being there for me and always cheering me up when i'm sad and making me laugh, and making sure ik to sleep. you're such a sweet, fun person and my life is better bc of you 🦐🦐

☆ MARTY | @vidnasty

↳ marty, i hope you know i think you're like the coolest person ever. even though we don't talk much anymore, i still love you so much, tysm for making me laugh and smile and cry (with your angst posts and fic ideas)! i hope you have a wonderful 2024!!!

☆ ROXIE | @mirxzii

↳ roxiee i love you just as much now as i did during our encanto phases, even though we don't talk much or have the same interests, i still enjoy seeing your posts on my dash, and i hope you have a lovely year, hon ^_^

☆ IZZY | @luckynature

↳ izzy!! ilysmmm you are so sweet and cool, and i'm so happy seeing you get the love you deserve this year, (and hitting almost? 1k followers), like congrats babes, you deserve it!!! your ideas and concepts for characters whether oc or existing are always so amazing, like you literally are soo creative omg. you're like the mirabel to my isabela, ilysm have a great year!!

☆ JUNO | @madwickedawesome

↳ juno u r literally so poggers. omg ilyy ur soo cool and have such great taste. and THANK you for introducing me to lacrimosa. life changing frr alshskk anyway ily!!!

☆ JAS | @isitovrnow

↳ jas, you're such an angel, thank you sooo much for being my friend!!! you're such a kind, beautiful soul omg, i hope this year is kinder to you, ily

☆ VARI | @mapsareforbraindeads

↳ niaaa ilysm you are such an amazing writer, and you're so cool. like omg, ilysm i hope you have a great year and i hope life is kinder to you

☆ ASH | @the-wank-shank

↳ you are like omg. you are so cool, you are also like a big cousin to me!!! your humour is so funny, and your art is so poggers. ily hug!!

☆ AERON | @lanawinterscigarettes

↳ MY big bro!!! i love seeing you spam my notifs, its like my little way of knowing your online lol, your such a bright person you always make me smile whenever we talk ilysmmm

☆ AMI | @foxboy-light-yagami

↳ ami you are so funny, your vibes are immaculate, and i love being correct abt light yagami with you. you are literally such a joy and ilysm

☆ IZZIE | @hateful1979

↳ izzie!!! you are such a lovely person, and have such banger taste omggg i love you so much you're such a delight

☆ ACHILLES | @nibblelinephym

↳ achilles you are so poggers!!! ilysmm ty for being my friend! you're so nice and always brighten the dash

☆ CLOUD | @sillysnack

↳ CLOUDDD!!!! YOU ARE ONE OF my favourite ppl omg, you're such a lovely, sweet person ^_^ we've been friends since jan 2022 with our encanto phases (2 YEARS!!) AND i can't wait for another 2 years and beyond omg ilysm i can't put in words hi

☆ SOPHIE | @larsgoingtomars

↳ sophie, you're amazing and i love you so much!! your such a lovely person and i love talking to you, you're such a great friend ilysm

And a special mention to all my friends and mutuals who've deactivated- Asha, Envy, Oli, El, Deus, and everyone else, I still love you so much and I hope that you're okay <3

HAPPY NEW YEARS, EVERYBODY, HERE'S TO A GREAT 2024!!!

[krsive-writes]

I Will Follow You Into The Dark

Rickorty Week Day 2, prompts are Alternate Selves and First Time

Title: I Will Follow You Into The Dark

Author: krsive

Rating: M

Tags/Warnings: Angst, Mental Sex, Alien Sex

The setting didn't inspire confidence, really. There was some kind of green scaly rat in the alley feasting on a discarded Morty Hut pizza. It must have rained before they portaled in because the petrichor still hung in the air, though it was pungent with the scent of garbage. The asphalt was gritty and damp. Morty stuck close to Rick the whole way down to the steel door which was apparently where they were headed.

“This is a-already the worst birthday gift ever, a-a-and it hasn't even started yet!" Morty complained.    He didn't like the solemn disregard in Rick's expression.

"You're about to have a once in a lifetime experience, Morty. You're about to have the ultimate sex tourism ride. A little gratitude would be nice." Rick knocked a pattern on the door.

"We c-could have just had sex in a nice hotel. This place is too creepy."

"We can't have sex like this anywhere else. Didn't I tell you this was gonna be special? Even I've never done this before. Jesus, Morty. Always bitch, bitch, bitch."

"I—“

The door opened and a gruff Rick beckoned them inside. The room was large enough to feel airy though there were no windows. In one corner were two hospital beds and two huge bell jars, connected to one another by a mess of wires and tubes. It seemed a little menacing, but Morty couldn't dwell on it because something even stranger made itself known. Two swirling shapes like small cumulus clouds hovered in the air before him. One was a cool, dusty blue, and the smaller one was a dandelion yellow.

"Met Rick and Morty U-2571," Rick introduced.

"Um. H-Hi." Morty raised his hand in shy greeting.

You're late, C-995, said a Rickish voice, though there was no actual sound—just a distinct alien thought in Morty's mind.

"Of course we're late; we're Rick and Morty. You expect any level of personal organization?”

''W-we're sorry," said Morty.

At least your Morty has some manners. Let's get started, the blue cloud ‘said.’

Everyone seemed to know what to do but Morty, who was shooed towards the equipment in the corner. He didn't protest, though, until he was instructed to take his shirt off.

''Wait, though. What’s going on, here, Rick? I thought we were gonna…'' He darted a glance at the others. "You know…"

"We are. But it's gonna be like nothing we've ever done before. We're gonna swap bodies with these guys and have cloud sex."

"What?! I-I don't want to swap bodies with a smoke monster!'' Catching himself, he twisted his fingers together. "N-No offense."

None taken.

"Morty. Do you trust me or not? This is gonna be right up your alley. All intimate and shit. I chose you to try this with, you little ingrate. It's my first time, too."

That gave Morty pause. The two of them had been fucking for months, but Rick still seemed to be allergic to intimacy as a concept. Every time he began to share his heart with Morty, he ended up shutting down afterwards. If this was a true offer of vulnerability, Morty couldn't just turn it down.

''Fine,” he sighed, shoulders heavy. “Ok. Let's try it."

The gruff Rick set it all up, applying diodes and dialing in settings. The clouds went into the bell jars. Morty was asked to calm the fuck down and lower his heartrate, and eventually Rick had cooed him through it. Then came a moment of unspeakable pain, and every thing changed.

His new senses weren't senses at all, not in any way that Morty could understand. He saw without seeing, heard without hearing. It was like he just knew things about the world around him, his thoughts made of something invisible that he couldn't define. The bell jar opened and Morty understood that he was to exit in his new vaporous body. He was aware of the others, of the two beings borrowing their original    bodies, the gruff Rick opening a private tent. And, especially, he felt his own Rick, his presence like bright neon in his mind.

This slaps. Rick's voice wasn ’t a real voice, but it made Morty feel good.

What now? Morty returned, though he didn't quite understand how he was speaking.

In the tent. I thought you ’d want some privacy.

Morty was surprised to find that he could intuit how to move with great precision, and he followed Rick into shady privacy.

Wh-What are they doing with our bodies? he asked.

Hedonistic flesh shit. Stop thinking about them. Rick crowded in on Morty. We're here for us.

Morty had begun to worry about his normal body, but everything changed when a wisp of Rick's vaporous body mingled with his cloudy self. The jolt of alien pleasure hit him like a bolt of lightning, and all other thoughts fell away. It was like his mind had become a sex organ. He saw, without seeing, a vision like a steel gate shaking, as if a battering ram was pounding against it. Running on desirous instinct, Morty pressed forward. Their smoky bodies mingled further, turning green as they mixed. Morty made a wish, and the gate turned to sunflowers that toppled to the ground in a heap.

Instantly overwhelmed by the swirling shared mindscape, Morty reached for the shape of his grandfather. And he was here to be found, joy of joys! Here was Rick as Morty liked to think of him, relaxed and laughing on the couch. Rick as a small child, crying and crying over a lost balloon. Here was Rick in a tuxedo, turning the wedding ring over and over in his pocket while he tried to remember how to breathe. Rick with his nose broken and bloody, glaring at his smug father. Rick in a hospital gown—but no.

Not yet . Rick's voiceless voice surrounded him.

It felt so good. Morty ’s very being tingled, like his soul was about to orgasm. Rick sounded like he was close, too. Morty could sense tremulous desire in him.

Look.

Inside their shared soul, Morty saw Rick's love, large and shimmering in unnamed colors. He knew without knowing how to proffer his own in return. He held it out, and Rick's wrapped around it. Rick's love opened like the Marianas trench, with depths unfathomable. Morty had no choice but to drown in it. Pleasure suffused him utterly.

I th-think I'm coming, said Morty. Can we come like this?

Rick's voice caressed him like a sweet spring breeze. It's sex, Morty. Of course we can come.

I want more.

They swirled together and Morty saw a strange sight, like their human bodies were combining and recombining in horrifying ways, faces and limbs changing, fading in and out, growing and shrinking. It continued without slowing, like a shimmering mirage flickering.

We were already one, Rick's phantom voice was hushed, awed. I never understood.

Morty's pleasure mounted as the grisly display went on. He let Rick's words carry him away until ecstasy exploded within him and swept it all away. Nothing existed but the thick whiteness of his orgasmic Nirvana.

Now he was a child, an infant, and Rick was holding him to his breast. Hush, little baby, don't say a word...

Is this real? Morty asked.

There are no lies here.

I don't remember this.

I do.

Who's my special guy? Rick asked the infant. Baby Morty blew spit bubbles.

The scene changed. Now Rick was small, Maybe four years old. A man stood over him, wire clotheshanger in hand.

No! Rick said.

The vision blurred for a moment, but didn't disappear. The man whipped Rick's little calves again and again, swearing all the while. Toddler Rick wailed, but the man didn ’t care. Morty felt himself growing bright, so bright that he burned the man right out of the scene. Rick moaned as the light of Morty enveloped his small self.

I love you, said Morty. He kissed the child on his brow.

Don't stop, begged Rick.

Morty hugged Rick more tightly and swallowed his body inside of his own. The pleasure was unbearable. They were the same, lonely children who only found love in each other. Suddenly Morty was an old man and Rick was a youth and his back ached but they kissed and Morty could feel Rick coming apart in his hands. They exploded into twinkling silver star, became the glorious heavens together. These orgasms were beyond anything Morty could have imagined.

Keep going. keep looking, Rick said, desperation quivering inside him.

You love me.

So much. Keep looking.

Morty, in his incorporeal self, took steps into the dark. He saw his grandmother, young, a spotlight turning her hair golden. She was weeping endlessly, and Mort knew with great assurance that Rick believed this was something he should never be forgiven for.

Not there, said Rick. Deeper.

I still love you.

Deeper. Morty. There's something...

Somehow Morty just knew what Rick meant.

He found himself in front of a castle covered in thorns. On the plants hung tortured versions of Morty, ones he recognized from bad memories together. With Rick panting and gasping in pained pleasure, Morty searched for the door. He tried to push it open, but it wouldn't budge. He uncovered a key hole and looked around.

You still don't trust me?

I'm afraid. Rick's honesty was at least refreshing. Please. This is why...

Then show me the worst thing. Show me the worst thing you ever did. You'll see, then. I'll still love you.

Morty could feel his hesitation, but this space was free from dishonesty, so a vision sprang to life before the door. It was a scene that Morty knew so well. He often thought of it at night to keep him warm. In the vision, Rick was hovering over Morty, hand cupping his cheek.

I couldn't stop myself, said Rick in the present.

They found each other in the vision, fell into a heated first kiss.

I ruined you. I love you but I did this to you anyway. I'm so ashamed. I'm selfish and disgusting. I ’m a fucking pedophile.

I know. Morty couldn't deny that in this space. But I love you, still. I love you. I'll always love you.

You shouldn't.

But I do. Look, look at me. I can't lie to you here. I forgive you f-for fucking up. I forgive you for ruining me. I'll forgive you every time. I'm in love with you and I ’ll never stop.

You mean it.

Morty found that now he had a key in his hand, and he hurried to unlock the door before it could vanish.

Here, again, was Rick in a hospital gown, sitting on a gurney. A doctor with a solemn affect stood before him.

''The metastasis is worse than we'd feared. It's spread to your lymph nodes, your bowel, and your brain. ”

Rick stared down at his hands. ''How long?"

"Even with treatment, I'd say six months at most.'' The doctor wore a gentle frown. "I'm sorry, Mr. Sanchez. It's time to make arrangements. I can have my office call you with recommendations for hospice..."

No.

No no no no no no

NO!

The vision vanished and Morty was in Rick's arms, thrashing to break free.

I couldn't say it out loud, said Rick.

Get off! Get off! Y-You have to fix this!

At this point I'm just a walking bucket full of tumors, Morty. Even citadel medicine can't save me.

No!

And Morty was crying with his entire bare soul. Rick joined him; they wept the same tears with the same eyes. Morty had always been so proud that he had inherited Rick's beautiful eyes. They both pulsed with distressing heat. Everything felt like worms squirming slickly around both inside and outside of him.

B-But 100 years...

Guess I'm a liar.

Operation Phoenix—

l destroyed all the healthy bodies, remember? If I try again I'll just make clone after clone with the same cancer. I could only buy myself six months at a time, and die painfully over and over.

It's not f-fair!

Morty became so tiny, a bird inside an egg. The shell made him safe, but it made him lonely. He felt the warm weight of mama bird Rick all around him. The heat was like the embodiment of his yearning.

I wanted to do this with you before it was too late, said Rick. I wanted to give you this.

There were no more words for Morty. He was in a pain without possible expression. Rick would be gone soon and there was nothing he could do. His heart went limp, his soul greyed out and paled. Changing shapes with no control. Morty let Rick cradle him in many forms. They were an artist and his muse, they were father and son, they were the sun and the tender crops, and they were the singer and the song. He fully lost track of time while Rick soothed him with an endless lullaby. He didn't understand what he was feeling, nor which thoughts were his own and which were Ricks. He wanted to stay this way.

l'll die, too, said Morty, when you go. I'll throw myself in the grave and they'll bury me, too.

No, said Rick. Morty could feel how certain he was.

I can't live without you.

You will.

I ’ll never love again.

Rick seemed to grow more solid. Good. Don't.

Forever.

Forever. You're only mine.

Will you wait for me when you get to hell? Morty wrapped his mind around Rick's tightly.

Morty saw himself through Rick's eyes, annointed in holy light. Morty finally saw himself the way Rick saw him, unbearably beautiful.

l'll break out just to find you.

They basked in the light together, swirling through one another. Morty had no more words for his pain, nor Rick's pain, nor their joint fear. The hurt had turned so beautiful that he thought it might kill them both and end all of this. Morty couldn't bear it, but he felt an obscene pleasure in the way they blurred, blended. This was true intimacy, feeling the same things with the same mind, without bodies or words to get in the way.

l love you, they said with one voice. I love you.

It was the only thing that mattered anymore.

[mammameesh]

Fanfiction Writers Bingo

Thank you @mallpretzles, @a-noble-dragon, @tyfinn, @lizzie-bennetdarcy , and @welcometololaland for the tags. I feel so much love <3

I do in fact have a Fanfiction account, and before there I have a livejournal account (most was scrubbed during Covid). I don't think I have a Wattpad account? I do in fact have an A03 and have had one for 10 years. I love writing (and reading) smut. I roleplayed here on tumblr 10 or so years ago and at that time met my comet. We've been long distance friends ever since.

I'm neurodivergent, so where I could probably flail over your WIP and tell you (maybe) what I loved about it, writing is actually hard. Editing is hard, and I'm still not sure the rules for Betaing or being betad? As such, all I do is publish un-betad fics. I am hopefully going to get through for upcoming Fic 5k fest. Also it would be cool to have one for Passions and Pastimes....just saying.

I think most of my fics are self indulgent. Maybe I'm not understanding this concept?

I love keysmashes so I do try to leave them when I cannot be coherent.

We should seriously be allowed to leave 2nd kudos, am I right? Typically I just type in 2nd Kudos during a read through.

I love fluff but I have started to read some angst and I do think angst has it's place too! I write both F/F and M/M though mostly M/M.

I write for Schitt's Creek, 911 OG, 911 Lone Star and Red White & Royal Blue currently HOWEVER I DID THE MATH IT'S LITERALLY RIGHT NOW 87% SC.

I only love researching if that means rewatching the shows are staring at the actors. I write a lot based on my own experiences, not based on research. I use research when I have to. It's necessary.

Probably for my next fic, I will actually write an outline....once I've learned how to write an outline.

Don't we all anxiously await feedback? Sometimes I have to you know go clean or something instead of waiting.

I'm totally counting the Rose I crocheted myself as commissioned fanart because it wouldn't exist without fanfiction.

So many WIPs my lovely mutals...so many!

Editing and formatting is hell and that's one of the reasons I feel like I'm running late this week.

I constantly get ideas in the middle of the night!

I don't drink alcohol, but I need my caffeine!

Again, I think we all have that one fic that lies on the bottom of your statistics page, that you just want to have more love! (actually despite it being my 'least popular' I'm proud of that one!)

I would like to be a professional writer someday. Maybe at least once.

Welcome to info dumping, mutuals.

Um @jesuisici33 or @apothecarose have you done this? Otherwise I think everyone else I know has?

[berryunho]

HI BESTIE it's san anon and IT'S BEEN A WHILE

i hope you're still enjoying your time in sk hehehe i see your posts sometimes and am like *nods* having a good time, nice

it's been a busy couple of weeks sjdghsfj HONESTLY i don't think that ppt will ever like. get there. IM SORRY DSJHGFJ i loved the idea of it but i don't think i can find the time to make you the amazing ppt you deserve SIGH i do however have reasons written down for why you SHOULDN'T k word san so bet you'll be hearing from me shortly

ANYWAY that was all i just wanted to pop by and ask how you're doing <3 i hope life is going well for you !!!!!!! love u mwah

(also this is me trying to fix my english bc you > u istg i've evolved)

WAUT SAN ANON AGAIN I JUST SAW THAT ASK ABT NOT TRUSTING SAN'S MANIPULATIVE ASS i love him i'm so sorry it's so bad but i LOVE cult freak san the same way i love hongjoongism (yes i'll keep using this name) and hongjoong's wicked little brain i love it all idk i'm just. waiting for the day you don't k word san off but instead turn him into this crazy wicked insane evil cult freak instead of the cute cult freak we've seen up until now KJHDSGFKJHSD kq please give us a dark concept. i need an actual culteez concept. don't just break that wall murder it san anon again because what the FUCK i missed so many san reblogs HELP???? it makes sense now bc apparently i had the for you page open instead of the following page wtf tumblr

HSKDJFASDLFJS HIIIIII

dont worry about being busy and PLSDJFASLKDF THE PPT LOL ITS OKY I DIDNT REALLY EXPECT YOU TO MAKE ONE E VERJKLJASFLKD PSKLJFSKLDF .... i also love cult freak san and evil hongjoong LKSJDFLASKDJF last night i was writing .... a scene that will happen in ... the next few chapters probably and i was (s)creamin-- I MEAN i was having a very good time writing it even though its like the most diabolical angst to ever come from my hands i was giggling biting my lip SO ANYWAYS thats gonna be so fun to release into the world but it has to simmer for a bit still ... not to confirm nor deny any san allegations of course mwuahaha AND ANYWAYS YES I AGREE bring back mvs where kpop boys would kill people ... or like graphic vampire concepts ... PLEASE I NEED IT SO BAD FJASLDJFSJ AND ???? NOT THE FOR YOU PAGE omg i do the same thing though like it switches and i dont realize and im like "where tf is sanchelinz rn" SKJFKALSDFJ

but anyways to answer your question ... im very good still ehehe my classes are all going well i even went up korean levels LAKJDFLASD and changing topics im not really a makeup person but i walked into olive young 2 days ago and blacked out and now i own a bunch of makeup and im trying to learn how to use it and i actually ... feel so cute KASDJLFSADJ like i have some on rn and its all pink and glittery and i did my eyelashes the wonyoung way and I FEEL SO CONFIDENT ACTUALLY its crazy like i think im pretty wo makeup lol and idk i normally feel so goofy when i try to do makeup but im actually proud of what ive been able to learn in ... 3 days lol

AND ??? you probably saw lol BUT I WENT TO IDOL RADIOAFLSJDFK;ASJ that was ... so anxiety inducing LKJKLAJSDFKJS there were SO many people and our foreign asses didnt reserve seats and didnt think to bring. idk. LADDERS BC PEOPLE BRING FUCKING LADDERS (*%)($*@)#()@ and anyways idk WHAT i was doing so wrong just by standing in one spot and not moving but i was being CURRRSSEDDDD out by ktinys like i accidentally looked at one of them for too long apparently and she turned to her friend and was like "this fucking foreigner is staring crazy bitch" I WAS LIKE (*$)(*$_)(#)(@_(#_????@$?$?@?4 and another girl saw me and was like "i fucking hate when foreigners come they never know whats happening" (*409*@)@(-#(0 I HAVE NEVER IN MY LIFE BEEN SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT I WAS LITERALLY LIKE ............................ simply pretended i didnt know what they were saying bc i wouldve started swinging and gotten deported if i engaged like ... HOOOOO DEEP BREATHS IM NOT MAD anyways yunho and hongjoong waved to me and i got so many good pictures and i was just happy to get to see them ehehehe all that matters is that THIS is hongjoong waving at me and my friend

and anyways i stay winning <3 life is amazing im so happy everyday <3 I HOPE YOURE GOOD AS WELL BESTIE !!! PLS LMK HOW YOU ARE AND DW ABOUT BEING BUSY AND HAVE A NICE REST OF YOUR WEEK AND ILY <3333 MWAHHH :]]] <33 <33 <33

[effervescible]

I posted 4,746 times in 2022

That's 3,876 more posts than 2021!

22 posts created (0%)

4,724 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@vivi-mire

@waffilicious

@ahollowyear

@dying-offeels

@kawree

I tagged 4,730 of my posts in 2022

#kh - 1,262 posts

#funny - 309 posts

#laugh rule - 259 posts

#tumblr - 255 posts

#comics - 249 posts

#roxas - 206 posts

#cats - 195 posts

#asscreed - 186 posts

#sora - 174 posts

#fandom - 94 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#this forced me to have to explain why sora didn't at least recognize the name even if he didn't make the connection between the organization

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

waiting for ubisoft to maybe-announce an Assassin’s Creed (1) remaster at their September event like it’s actually going to happen. I’m just a clown in a hood.

69 notes - Posted July 19, 2022

#4

Old Man Ephemer enjoying time with his family, still missing the friends he once had to leave behind (or who left him behind), but absolutely covered in his many adorable grandkids who he loves very much and who love to hear tales of his youthful Keyblade adventures, reblog if you agree

80 notes - Posted April 28, 2022

#3

sometimes I remember that Jiminy Cricket actually, canonically gave Aqua and Ventus Gummi phones with in-universe “summaries of everything that's happened so far” and I desperately want to know wtf THAT was like for them

114 notes - Posted April 25, 2022

#2

This is way too broad to be useful, but pick one underdiscussed or underappreciated aspect of KH and sell me on it.

Dammit GG this is actually kinda hard! But if I had to pick, it's probably the sheer earnestness of it. It's not only an aspect I appreciate a lot, imo it's the ONLY thing that makes the series work.

Like yeah, KH1 is very earnest in that tween adventure, wholesome coming-of-age adventure sort of way that's not unusual for that kind of story, but it persists well after the plot goes turbo anime nonsense. It doesn't take itself overly serious in the sense that it purports to be an Important Take On The Human Condition but even when it flirts with the fourth wall, not ONCE does it try to back off from the stuff it is trying to talk about.

We've all been there, right? Had that indefinable-but-undeniably-there moment when a canon kind of winks at us and chuckles and lets us know it understands how fundamentally silly its premise is, that it's not actually cringey because we're all in on the joke together? At this particular moment in space-time, I could not come up with a specific example to save my life but I also KNOW that KH stands out because it doesn't do this and it doesn't loosen its iron grip on earnestness for a second.

KH is like, fuck that. It actually engages with its ridiculous bits in a way that never make the player feel embarrassed for buying into them. "Dude gets split in half then put back together because he is Special but his other half is still there because of that Specialness and becomes besties with someone he won't remember after she dies because of some bullshit we made up to facilitate a retcon" is objectively pretty eye-rolly, but KH doesn't roll its eyes. KH is like "wow would that be fucked up or what? How would someone's mental health actually be affected by that anime nonsense?" It isn't preachy but it is surprisingly thoughtful.

KH is like, it's fine to have big feelings about stuff! Your teenage angst is not embarrassing! And it applies to the positive things too. It's fine to be sappy and say saccharine and heartfelt things to your friend. It's fine to be silly without having to attach a disclaimer that you're actually a cool and mature person but felt like being temporarily silly. You can just be silly. Whatever emotions are happening in a given cutscene, KH turns them up to 11 and doesn't even consider the fact that there's anything weird about that.

Also, as a shorter second answer, I think KH is great because it doesn't care about specifically explain certain extremely lore-important concepts like the power of waking but it DOES care about explaining why Mickey Mouse didn't have a shirt at the end of the first game. I think that kind of laser-focus on extremely dumb details should be appreciated more.

203 notes - Posted April 29, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

a logical progression

Today chat discussed how it’s funny that Master Xehanort’s one act of kindness had such wildly disproportionate consequences and ultimately fucked him over

367 notes - Posted March 22, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook: No Fun (4)

You're nothing special, and neither is he.

Tags/Warnings: Hybrid AU, Bunny hybrid!Jungkook, Idol!Jungkook, Idol!Bangtan, Bunny hybrid!Reader, Angst, strangers to ???

Wordcount: TBA

Additional Chapter Warnings: Ame, she's a full on warning now, jungkook has some self-reflection, Tension oops, Angst, pining

<- Previous | Next ->

You're at home now, way more calm as you've managed to break out of your heat by now. Seeing his Vlive now makes you not upset at him, but yourself;you really hoped you wouldn't become one of the many that ended up heartbroken by dreams that were all in your head in the first place.

It's sad, but you need to get over it.

You sit down at your sewing desk with a sigh, stretching before you start to work again. This is what you're good at- this is what you can trust in. The sewing machine doesn't betray you, doesn't fill you with hope of something that won't happen.

It calms you down, even when the needle accidentally stings you.

Ame on the other hand walks tall, head held high as she carries her bag of clothes around the building away from your apartment. She's just as headstrong, but with a different mission. While you've told her not to be too upset with him, you also know she can have quite the temper. And it's clear in the way she carries herself into the room next to her coworkers, label currently explaining and showing off some concepts of stage outfits for the bandmembers. Ame easily catches the eyes of Taehyung, who's focused on the way she carries herself; confident but not overbearing.

"Ah, and those are some of the outfits we've finished!" One of the designers says excitedly, pulling the outfits out of the clothing bag Ame had brought in.

Jungkook instantly perks up, eyes wide open as your scent hits him full force.

He connects the dots now; the skirt you've worn made in a design he's never seen before, the lynx-hybrid eyeing him like she's about to pounce him any second now, and he doesn't understand why she's so mad at him. What the hell did you tell her that made her look like she's about about murder him right in this office?

He didn't take you for someone like that.

He's grumpy for the whole time they explain the affiliation deal to them, eagerly waiting to get ahold of the exotic cat hybrid, as she packs up to leave again. "Hey, you know- uh..-"he starts, blushing red when he realizes that your name had slipped his mind yet again, making him look like a fool in her eyes, probably.

"Huh, can't even recall who you've fucked and threw away now." She scoffs, turning around. "Should've known." She grumbles to herself, before she walks past him; intentionally pushing into his shoulder.

"Wait- what the hell happened?" He argues, walking after her. "I've done everything perfectly fine, what the hell did She tell you I did?!" He demands to know, and Ame turns around hissing into his face, hitting him where it hurts, as his hybrid instincts make him stumble backwards, ears drooping a little.

"You talk as if she made up some nasty rumor about you, well guess what, Buck." She spits. "She doesn't have to make up shit, considering you basically ate your fill, and left her to suffer the rest of her heat alone." She growls. "You don't get to act as if you've been such a gentleman.!" Ame stomps off- but jungkook doesn't, he can't, because he realizes in horror that he did, in fact, not check in with you to make sure you were out of heat as well.

He actually never did with anyone.

"I just-" he stutters, reaching out for your friend. "Is she okay now? She's fine now, right?" He asks, but Ame just growls at him, before she runs off agitated, not giving him an answer.

He only cares now because he's probably scared of his own image, she thinks, even as she walks through the door into your shared apartment. You peek out of the door from your work room, before greeting her back home. "Did everything go well?" You ask, and she groans.

"I almost ripped that guy's head off." She mumbles before she goes to get a juice box out of the fridge, angrily stabbing the straw into the foil spot before she drinks.

"I.. let's not talk about him please."You ask quietly, and she nods, before she notices the bandage around your finger.

"Oh no, what happened?" She worries, walking towards you as she inspects it. "I told you to be careful." She pouts, making you laugh.

"You sound like you're my bigger sister."You laugh, and she smiles before her phone rings- taking away her attention for a moment as she checks her messages.

"Hey- is it okay for you to stay by yourself? If it's not I'll cancel-"she starts, but you just laugh, shaking your head.

"Go get some, you deserve it whoever it is." You smile, and she grins, before leaving the house again. You sir down on the couch by yourself a bit later, letting yourself fall to the side, sighing.

Searching online for stuff turns out to be a bad idea, as recommendations now contain him wherever you look. Articles about fan's favorite moments of him, compilations of things he'd done, his face haunting you by now as your search engine thinks you've become an avid fan after searching him up once.

You're definitely not a fan.

Now, you're not that innocent and stupid, you know that no one is the same on camera as they are off camera. You're aware of the industry being two-faced; but with the way he'd cared for you, you've really felt as if he would've at least stayed until the end.

But then again, you're probably exaggerating it all.

He's an idol. He probably had his reasons. The song cover he uploads is one of heartbreak, of longing, of someone who's upset and you feel like its mocking you, because what he sings is what you feel.

You don't know why and you hope it's not what you think, because if you've accidentally bonded with him in the heat of the moment, this will get hard to overcome by yourself and without any help. He's clearly not having that problem- he's left you alone with it all, and you feel awful as you just lock your phone and let it fall to the floor, turning around to sleep on the couch by yourself.

And on the other side, up high in his apartment, Jungkook sleeps alone as well.

Your shirt laid across his pillow in hopes to dream of you.

[m-jelly]

So I read the ask of the anon requesting Levi cheating and I was thinking (idk if you’ve done this or not) one where reader THINKS he’s cheating but really poor baby doesn’t know how to express his feelings, because like you said he fears that maybe reader would die. Canon verse, where reader is in hanges squad or something? I dunno but angst to extreme fluff ??

Sure thing <3 I know what it's like to be used by others, as well as be cheated on and it's painful and changed how I trust partners. So, this will be coming from a very real place for me <3

A talk under the stars.

Pairing: Levi x Reader

Genre and tags: hurt, emotional comfort, angst, couple troubles, canon world, romance, happy ending.

Concept: You and Levi have been a couple for two months, but things are getting a little cold. You begin to think that maybe he's not interested in you anymore. You notice how he is with the female cadets and suspect he might be just like your ex and he's cheating. You file a sickness form with Hange, your squad leader, after telling Levi it's over. Levi joins you and talks to you about his feelings and gets everything out in the open.

You nibbled your lip as you thought about how Levi was with you recently. He was acting like he'd finally gotten you, so he didn't need to put any effort in anymore. You'd put out sexually with him a few times, he was an animal once he got a taste, but now things had dried up. You were scared and worried he might have lost interest.

You stopped when you heard a woman laughing. You looked into the mess hall to see Levi alone with a female cadet. You watched her laugh at him, then flirtatiously touch him. She leaned closer and whispered to him. You felt cold when he held her hand and pulled her hand from him, but he kept holding her hand as he looked up into her eyes.

You turned away and let your tears run down your cheeks. Your ex had crushed your heart by having an affair. You had hoped Levi was different, he seemed different, but it appeared he was just the same as your ex. You wanted to be loved so badly. You wanted to have happiness and now your trust had been destroyed.

You blamed yourself. You always did. You thought you weren't beautiful, smart, or good. You began to think that maybe you were the problem. You felt your heart shatter as you held back sobs. You couldn't do this anymore. You were done with it all.

You stepped out and slammed into someone and dropped your papers all over the floor. "S-Sorry."

The female cadet giggled. "It's okay."

You crouched down and gathered your papers up. "N-No, it's not. I was in the wrong." You welled up and felt cold when you saw a familiar hand pick up a file. You looked anywhere but the owner of the hand. You stood up and smiled as best you could. "Thank you." You looked up to see lipstick on Levi's collar. "You..."

Levi said your name. "Tch, spit it out brat."

You welled up as you gripped your papers and files. Your heart hurt. "You two look great together. I wish you all the best."

The woman laughed. "Aww, cute."

You backed up. "I'm sorry I failed you, Levi."

Levi frowned as he said your name. "Wait!"

You ran off to Hange and handed your files and papers to her. "Here's all the work."

Hange looked through it. "On top of everything like always!" They frowned. "Everything okay?"

You welled up. "I think I just broke up with Levi."

Hange gasped. "Oh no!" They hugged you tightly. "Why?"

"I saw him with another woman. This tall cadet. She's a young adult. She's pretty, strong, cool, nice and just much better than me."

"How do you know they're together?"

You sniffed. "He had her lipstick on her shirt. I also saw them getting very close to each other alone in the mess hall. We've stopped having sex and he has gotten cold. I feel like now he has me, he doesn't want me anymore."

Hange kissed the top of your head. "I'm sorry."

You pulled back and sighed. "C-can I have time off?"

Hange nodded. "Sure. You can have time off."

"Thank you." You walked to the door. "I'm going to go sit on the roof and look at the stars."

"You do that."

You kissed their cheek, then walked through the base and up to the roof. You sat down and looked out at the land. You rested your arms on your upright knees. You sighed and looked up at the stars as you felt rotten inside.

You heard Levi call your name. You looked over at him. "If you've come to tell me why you had an affair, don't bother. I know why. I'm not pretty, I'm not smart, I'm not popular, I'm not sociable, I'm not good. I'm rotten and you deserve better, so much better."

Levi sat next to you. He put a bag down and pulled out a bottle of wine, along with chocolate. "I'm not having an affair."

You looked over at Levi. "I saw you with that woman and you had lipstick on your shirt."

He opened the bottle and chugged some, then handed it to you. "Have you ever had a guy force himself onto you?"

You welled up and took the bottle. "Yes." You chugged some wine. "More than I'd like."

Levi clenched his fist. "Tch, pieces of shit touching my woman."

You handed him the bottle. "Your woman?"

He blushed. "Tch, sorry. Look, I went into the mess hall to get you this." He pulled out bread, meat, cheese and spreads. "I was planning on having a date with you and she caught me. She wanted to talk and she was having problems. I know I'm terrible about talking about my feelings, so I thought hell I could maybe try with this random cadet and the next thing I know she's all over me. I'm sorry you saw that and it's not right at all." He whined a little. "You know very well I was a virgin before you. You're the only woman I've had sex with and will ever have sex with. I love you."

You nibbled your lip. "But we're not having sex."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Hange told me off. Shitty glasses said you were exhausted, sore and a bit sick. I was told it was because I was keeping you up so much and my physical hunger for you was too much and I needed to slow down, so I did."

You stared at Levi, then started laughing. "Fuck, I'm so stupid."

"Tch, the hell you laughing for?"

You rubbed your tears. "I'm sorry. I thought you were having an affair because my ex cheated on me."

Levi smashed the wine bottle making you scream. "Where the fuck is he? I'll kill him for doing that!"

You grabbed his wrist. "Levi, don't." You smiled. "Thank you for getting angry for me. It means so much to me, but please don't kill him."

"Slightly kill."

You giggled. "No."

"Little bit of killing."

You took the bottle from his hand. "No."

He groaned. "He deserves it!"

You cupped Levi's face and kissed him. "You really weren't cheating, were you?"

"Never. Fuck brat, I'm lucky as shit to get a perfect woman like you. I've never wanted anyone else but you. You're my world, my everything and I love you."

You blushed. "I love you too."

He gulped hard. "I promise I'll talk and communicate more. How about every night when we go to bed together, we talk about how our day went and how we felt that day?"

You shuffled closer to him. "I'd love that."

He put his arm around you and hugged you. "Good. I want to make you happy and I want to keep you for life." He kissed the side of your head. "I love you."

"I love you too."

He sighed. "Sorry about the wine."

"It's okay." You picked up some chocolate. "Can't believe you got chocolate."

"Tell no one, okay?" He blushed hard. "I got it, especially for you and hid it in the scout kitchen." He broke off a piece and fed it to you. "I want to always spoil you." He leaned down and kissed you. He pushed his tongue into your mouth and moaned in pleasure. "How could anyone cheat on you? You're incredible."

You giggled. "You're wonderful Levi. I'm sorry I thought you cheated."

"Don't be sorry. You had a shit ex who deserves to be razored and lemoned."

You snorted a laugh. "I will never ever tell you his name or who he is."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want you to be locked up for murder. If you are, then we won't be able to be together."

He blushed and smiled. "Well, I don't want to kill him. I want to be with you." He pulled you onto his lap making you giggle. "I'm nothing without you." He pressed his face against the crook of your neck. "You're too good for me, but I'm happy we're together. We are, right?"

You hugged his head. "We are. I want to stay with you."

He looked up at you. "You know, everything you said about yourself was wrong. I know you won't believe me, but you are beautiful, sweet, funny, smart and just wonderful. I love you so much and no woman can come close to you. You are perfect to me."

You smiled. "You're perfect to me." You nibbled your lip. "Want to finish eating here and go to your room?"

"Sure."

You gulped. "Levi?"

He frowned a bit, then gasped. "Oh." He blushed. "I get it. Y-Yes. I umm...I'd love to take you back to my room."

[regenderate-fic]

Who You Pretend to Be (Who You Are): Chapter 1

Fandom: Doctor Who Ships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan, Thirteenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Yasmin Khan & Rose Tyler Characters: Thirteenth Doctor, Yasmin Khan, Rose Tyler, Jack Harkness, Dhawan!Master Rating: General Word Count: 5,418 Other Tags: Chameleon Arch, Bad Wolf Rose, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Wolf as Disability, Disabled Character, Reunions

Read on AO3

Summary: The Doctor, escaping a threat, turns herself human, leaving Yaz to look after her. Of course, it gets difficult when the human Doctor, or Penny, immediately thinks Yaz is her girlfriend. And it gets even more difficult when Penny drags Yaz to a lecture by one Rose Tyler-Noble, who's brought a friend Yaz recognizes. Yaz starts putting the pieces together, befriending Rose along the way.

Written for the Doctor Who Creators Summer Exchange for SpaceBetweenGalaxies.

NOTES: okay. okay. okay. nebula i hope you like this. i saw chameleon arch fic in the prompts and immediately was like i have to revive this old fic concept (of a thirteenrose fic i wrote years ago and never published). so i rewrote it with a bunch more yaz and a liiiiiittle bit of the master (i will warn you he's BARELY present i just thought it would be fun to throw him in there) and here we are. other things i tried to include are thirteen angst, telling yaz about the timeless children, TECHNICALLY MEMORY LOSS TOO I GUESS. oh and bad wolf rose but of course i have a very specific Vision of bad wolf rose. and of course happy ending. and i feel like we've talked about fic so i tried to make it something i thought you would like. (i was originally going for quarantine au vibes honestly) (note from september felix. nebula did like it. win for me <3)

There was a lot, all things considered, that Yasmin Khan was prepared for.

She’d spent years of her life careening around the universe with a three-thousand-year-old alien, for goodness sake. She’d been everywhere and every when , seen things that most humans would never believe, had near-death experience after near-death experience. She’d had to fend for herself as a stranger out of time in the early 20th century, leading two people around the world, searching for signs of the apocalypse.

Which was just to say that, when the Doctor said she needed to turn human for a few months to avoid being found by something she called a “time dragon,” Yaz didn’t blink an eye. Even though she didn’t know “turning human” was a thing the Doctor could do. Even when the Doctor asked Yaz if she’d “look after” her. Even when the Doctor babbled something about residual memory meaning her human self would let Yaz in, and even when Yaz realized that “looking after” the Doctor meant sharing a flat, seeing her every morning, watching her go about her human life totally ignorant of her previous friendship with Yaz. 

“Don’t tell anyone who I am,” the Doctor said, her eyes glued to Yaz’s. “Could be both our lives on the line.”

Yaz nodded her agreement.

They landed a bit roughly in the corner of a Cardiff park, right by a bank of flats. Yaz took the psychic paper and the Doctor’s sonic off the TARDIS, along with the gold watch the Doctor claimed had her inside of it. The TARDIS had done something tricky with timelines to get them inserted into normal Earth life: all Yaz had to do now was drag the Doctor’s unconscious body off the TARDIS and wait for her to wake up.

And this was the bit Yaz wasn’t, under any circumstances or in any universe, prepared for. The Doctor’s eyes flew open, and immediately, she jumped to her feet and kissed Yaz, full on the mouth.

Yaz flailed. It was all she could do to remember the name the Doctor had chosen for her human self.

“Do— Penny— what?” 

“Can’t I kiss my girlfriend once in a while?” Penny asked, her smile earnest. She was still wearing the Doctor’s clothes, minus the jacket— blue culottes, red striped shirt, blue braces. But there was definitely something different about her. A cloud had drifted out from behind her eyes, and now Yaz could see the sun. The earnest, excitable, loving sun. 

It wasn’t unwelcome.

But it was wrong. It was everything Yaz wanted, sure— but it was under false pretenses. Penny wasn’t the Doctor. Penny was a human shadow of the Doctor, a temporary person, someone who didn’t know the full weight of what she was doing. 

“C’mon, let’s get home.” Penny grabbed Yaz’s hand, and Yaz followed her, pensive. 

She had been prepared for a lot. But the thing she hadn’t prepared  for was the human version of the Doctor— Penelope Smith— the thing Yaz wasn’t prepared for was Penelope Smith thinking Yaz was her girlfriend. 

Rose Tyler-Noble had seen many unexpected things in her life. She’d hopped from universe to universe. She’d met alternate versions of herself. She’d seen the world about to end, and she’d saved it, time and time again. She’d lived longer than any human should, and she was prepared to live much, much longer. 

But somehow, there was no part of her that could have expected to be asked by the local university to deliver a talk about the ins and outs of communicating with non-human species. 

It wasn’t that it was out of nowhere. She’d been working with Jack at Torchwood for quite some time, to be sure, and the diplomacy angle was her main strength. She was, in her way, an expert in the field. And she was known for being an expert, in the circles of people who took the idea of alien life at all seriously— which was becoming more and more common now, in 2027. She even ran a blog about it, where she discussed a few of her less-sensitive encounters. So it made sense, really, that she might be invited to talk about what she knew.

But she’d never, in all her years of being alive, been an academic. She’d never been comfortable sitting still in a classroom, and she’d never been the kind of person who got asked to do anything at school, much less come in as an expert. She’d never even gotten her A-levels. She didn’t doubt her knowledge, of course, but something about standing in a room full of university students and faculty, people who knew how to navigate the world of academia— it made her want to run. So much so, in fact, that she almost rejected the invitation, but when Jack found out he berated her for giving up on such a good opportunity, and she gave in, laughing.

Which was how she found herself in the thrift store with Jack, trying to find an outfit that looked professional enough for the occasion without being totally wrong on her. It was a bit of a losing battle: everything felt not-quite-right. 

“Not sure professionalism suits me,” she said, holding up a blazer. 

“Nonsense,” Jack replied. “Everything suits you. Just got to find the right look.”

Rose made a face. “It’s not going to be blazers and pencil skirts, I’ll tell you that.”

Jack looked at the rack of clothes. He pulled out a hanger. It held a dark blue dress with short sleeves and what looked like about a knee-length skirt.

“How about this?” he asked.

Rose eyed it. “Is that professional?”

“Sure.” Jack shrugged. “Throw on a cardigan or something and you’re golden.”

Rose raised her eyebrows. “Where am I supposed to get a cardigan?”

“Not my problem.”

“Yeah, okay.” Rose gave Jack a grin. “Suppose I’ll try it on.” Leaning on her cane, she made her way to the dressing room, Jack trailing behind. He waited outside as she changed out of her T-shirt and jeans and pulled the dress over her head, staring at herself in the thin mirror. It still wasn’t the sort of thing she would usually wear— the fabric felt kind of stiff, and the neckline was a little higher than she found comfortable. But she liked that the skirt had a bit of volume, and the dark blue was one of her favorite colors. All in all, the dress would do just fine for the occasion at hand. 

She stepped out of the dressing room. 

“Every day I’m grateful you let me wear jeans to work,” she grumbled to Jack. She gestured at the dress with her free hand. “What do you think?” 

Jack looked her up and down. “You look great, Rosie. I think that’s our winner.” There was no one else in the world who could call her Rosie, but from Jack it felt right. Familial, maybe. 

“Great.” Rose smiled. “Now we’ve got that down, I can actually start figuring out what the hell I’m going to say.”

A week into the whole “living as humans in 2027 thing,” Yaz was exhausted. Exhausted, and confused, and overall just overwhelmed. She was having trouble separating Penny from the Doctor in her mind, which meant that every time Penny smiled at her, her stomach leapt as if it was the Doctor, and every time Penny kissed her, a mix of thrill and guilt rose up in her throat, threatening to choke her. 

The hardest part was, there was no escape— their flat was a one-bedroom, and Penny’s sleep schedule varied wildly from Yaz’s, but they were still both sleeping in the same bed. And Penny was a cuddler. Yaz would go to bed alone, and she’d wake up with Penny’s body wrapped around hers, limbs thrown everywhere. 

It was, possibly, one of her favorite ways to wake up. Until the worry and shame and wrongness started to set in, and she forced herself to extricate herself from Penny’s grasp, running to the bathroom to splash water on her face and try, desperately, to push down her feelings. 

It never worked. 

She was looking for a job. She was looking for a job, and so was Penny, and Penny was scheduled to start her semester in another two weeks, and that would help— it would be good, Yaz thought, to get some distance from Penny and all the complicated emotions that came with her. 

But for now, she had to keep living in a flat where sometimes, the woman Yaz had a ridiculous crush on would walk into the room, kiss her on the head, and ask if she wanted a cup of tea, all without knowing her own true name.

It didn’t feel fair.

Rose had finally finished her presentation. She had PowerPoint slides and a script all ready to go, and she rehearsed in front of Jack three times, just to make sure it was presentable. She still wasn’t entirely sure she was the right person to be doing this— she was plenty good at what she did, but surely there were established academics who had more to offer in a university setting? But Jack said, over and over, that they’d be hard-pressed to find anyone with as much expertise as Rose.

“They could’ve asked you ,” Rose pointed out as she got ready for the lecture. She was looking in the mirror in her flat, doing her makeup and raising her eyebrows at the reflection of Jack behind her.

“Give yourself some credit,” Jack replied. “C’mon, Rose. You’re more than prepared for this.” 

“I suppose.” Rose put down her eyeliner and turned around on her stool. “Well, at least I know I’ve got one fan.”

Jack grinned. “That you do. Come on, Rosie, we’re going to be late.”

Rose picked up her script and her cane and followed Jack out the door. It was cool outside, just on the cusp of evening, just on the cusp of autumn. They walked the short way to the bus stop, where Rose leaned on one of the barely-there benches and tried not to wrinkle her skirt too much. There was a reason she never dressed like this— she would have, back in her days on the TARDIS, maybe, when every outfit was a costume, tailored specifically to the day, and when she didn’t have to worry about how to wash anything or whether she’d wear it again. But now, she preferred clothes that were easy to wear and easy to wash, clothes she could wear in the workshop or at home or in the middle of a tense face-off with three different species where she might need to make a run for it at any moment. This dress was suitable for none of those circumstances. 

Fortunately for both Rose and the dress, the bus came quickly, and Rose and Jack boarded, jostling for space among the rush-hour commuters. Rose managed to find a seat, and Jack squeezed to stand next to her, reaching up to grab a handle as the bus began to move. 

The university was in the middle of the city, about a twenty-minute ride from Rose’s flat. She spent the ride looking over her script, double checking every line, clutching the paper hard enough that it began to wrinkle. 

“You’ll be fine,” Jack insisted as the bus arrived at their stop. They exited amongst a gaggle of twenty-something students, emerging on the sidewalk in front of one of the university buildings. Rose bit the tip of her tongue. She could feel her heart beating too-quickly in her chest, and she took deep breaths, trying to relax.

Yaz was finally settling into her new life. By some bizarre miracle, she’d managed to land a job as a historical reenactor at a local museum— she’d impressed the hiring panel with her comprehensive knowledge of what life had been like in the Edwardian era. So every morning, Yaz would say goodbye to Penny and go off to the museum, and every evening she’d have the flat to herself as Penny worked a shift at the local cafe, and she only had to lie to Penny for an hour in the morning and a couple hours at night before going to bed. Her guilt and discomfort was still an ever-present creeping sensation underneath her skin, but at least she didn’t have to spend so much time looking Penny in the eye and acting like she remembered their first date.

The biggest shock so far, really, was that Penny had cut her hair: she’d come home one day in her first week of school with it floppy and short, and it took Yaz a full minute to process the change. The weirdest thing was that it suited Penny, and Yaz sort of thought it might suit the Doctor too. She couldn’t stop looking at it: the way Penny’s bangs fell across her face, the dark buzzed bit at the back. And of course Penny would catch her looking, and smile, and press a kiss to her cheek or her hair or her lips, and that was even stranger.

Otherwise, though, Yaz was impressed by how well the Doctor’s traits had translated into Penny’s human form. She shared the Doctor’s desire to keep as busy as possible: she’d started work on her Ph.D. — although Yaz had no intention of being in Cardiff long enough for Penny to finish a dissertation — and she’d gotten a job, and every day she came home talking about some club or another that she was thinking about joining. Just like the Doctor, she seemed absolutely tireless: Yaz couldn’t figure out where she got all her energy. Especially since, just like the Doctor, Penny did not seem to get nearly enough sleep, procrastinating her work until late into the night, waking up in time for her morning classes. Still, she seemed to be doing well, or at least as well as someone who barely remembered most of their past could be. She put on a happy face, anyway. Just like the Doctor did.

And then one morning Penny came into the kitchen as Yaz was eating breakfast, brandishing her phone. Yaz peered at the screen. There was a picture of a flier, titled Cardiff University Lecture Series: Communicating with the Extraterrestrial on Earth with Rose Tyler-Noble . Yaz almost laughed: it was too on the nose. But then again, Penny was studying astrophysics. It was only a matter of time before she wound up fixated on alien life. 

“D’you want to come with me?” she asked Yaz, an open hope in her eyes. “It’s next week. The lecturer’s supposed to be a real expert.”

“Er—” Yaz stuttered, trying to push past the irony of the situation. “Yeah, all right. Might be fun. Do I have to get dressed up?”

“Not especially, I don’t think.” Penny shrugged. “I don’t know. Haven’t been to one of these lectures before. Suppose I might make a habit of it, if this first one’s any good.”

“Right.” Yaz gave the flier another look. It had a picture of a white woman with shoulder-length blonde hair— Rose Tyler-Noble, presumably? She looked young. Younger than Yaz, even, although Yaz knew better than anyone that looks could be deceiving. The woman was wearing a brown leather jacket, her hands stuffed into the pockets, and she smiled amicably into the camera. There was something friendly about her, Yaz thought, and the sort of sharpness in her eye that meant Yaz didn’t doubt her expertise for a second. She tore her eyes away, looking back at Penny. “I’ve got to get to work. See you tonight?”

“‘Course.” Penny pulled Yaz in for a quick kiss— and Yaz was never going to get used to the ease of that, the way Penny seemed not to question even for a second before touching her or kissing her. She didn’t want to get used to it, not when she was only going to be disappointed when Penny turned back into the Doctor, but the only way to keep from getting Penny suspicious was to lean into the relationship. So she squeezed Penny’s hand and gave her a quick smile before walking out the door.

The lecture hall was big. 

That was the first thing Rose noticed. It was vast, and empty, but for Rose, Jack, and the faculty member who’d invited Rose to begin with— an older woman by the name of Dr. Bowen, and one of Torchwood’s main academic contacts. Dr. Bowen led Rose onto the stage, showing her the podium where she could speak and the chair where she would sit while being introduced. Rose was already blinded by the bright lights the room directed to the stage— she had never given much thought to what a university lecture hall looked like, but somehow she hadn’t expected this. It was one step down from a theater. 

She kept her doubts to herself, though. One thing she had learned in the last hundred years or so was that no matter what was going on in her head, she had to present a confident outer shell, because otherwise people would underestimate her. Especially because, from the outside, there was no visual difference between her and the average twenty-year-old girl. So she laid her script out on the podium, doing her best to keep from blinking in the bright light, glancing back at the screen upon which her name and the title of her lecture were projected. 

“Did you get my PowerPoint?” she asked Dr. Bowen.

Dr. Bowen nodded. She raised her hand, which was holding a little clicker, and the first slide of Rose’s presentation appeared.

“Right. Thanks.” Rose stepped away from the podium. “I think that’s it, then. I’m set.”

Penny insisted on getting to the lecture half an hour early. Yaz let it happen, following behind Penny in her slightly-nicer-than-normal slacks. Hand in hand, they entered the lecture hall, which was nearly empty— two people, including the woman from the flier and a woman who looked a little older, were sitting in chairs onstage, engaged in a deep conversation with someone sitting in one of the chairs in the front row. Every single other chair was empty.

Penny and Yaz made it halfway down the aisle before the older woman looked up.

“Penelope!” she exclaimed, standing and stepping down from the stage. “Glad you could make it.”

“Hi, Professor!” Penny waved. 

Yaz smiled to herself. Of course Penelope had already endeared herself to her professors. 

“Yaz,” Penny added, “this is Professor Bowen. She teaches my cosmology class. It’s brilliant so far. Professor, this is my partner, Yasmin Khan.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Yaz said, holding out a hand. Professor Bowen shook it.

“Likewise.” To both Penny and Yaz, she added, “And I should introduce you to our guests. Our speaker, Rose Tyler-Noble—”

Rose waved a hand. 

“And her esteemed colleague—”

Yaz didn’t hear the name. She didn’t have to. Because just then, the person sitting in the front row turned around, and Yaz felt her heart stop. 

Jack Harkness.

Yaz tried to keep herself from staring. She tried to look normal, casual, as she watched Jack see Penny, as she scrutinized his expression for even the barest hint of recognition.

It wasn’t there.

She glanced at Penny, then up at the stage, where Rose Tyler-Noble was still sitting. A friend of hers on Earth called Rose , Jack had said, when explaining why he couldn’t die. 

Yaz’s mind raced. Jack shook Penny’s hand, then hers, and she did her best to smile like she wasn’t trying desperately to figure out what to do. Penny sat down in the front row, a couple seats away from Jack, and struck up a spirited conversation with Jack, Rose, and her professor, leaving Yaz to sit and pretend she wasn’t having an absolute crisis.

The thing was, there were a few possibilities, if Jack was here with someone Yaz was fairly certain he’d said was trapped in a parallel universe. The first, of course, was that Yaz had stumbled upon him earlier in his timeline. That would account for both his lack of memory of the Doctor and the presence of someone who was supposed to be in another universe. The second was that he’d somehow forgotten his last encounter with the Doctor and Yaz, and Rose was either earlier in her timeline or had returned to this universe somehow.

And the third, and the one Yaz liked the least, was that Jack’s presence here was some kind of trick from the creature that had been chasing them to begin with. It would make sense: if Yaz were trying to lead the Doctor into a trap, she would use one of the Doctor’s oldest friends to do it.

She glanced at Rose, who was currently saying something about a nearby star system. All she knew about Rose was a name, an action, and a circumstance— Rose had made Jack immortal, and then at some point after that had wound up in a parallel universe. Rose could’ve been close to the Doctor, or they could’ve met once and never again. And there was no way of knowing whether the Doctor was in her past or in her future— did she know so much about aliens because she’d met the Doctor, or had she met the Doctor after doing years of research? She looked even younger in person, although Yaz noticed a cane lying next to her chair. Neither of those observations necessarily meant anything: Jack had been made immortal, after all, so there was surely a chance that Rose had too, and Yaz knew enough disabled people her age to recognize that age was not always a factor. It was just context added to a puzzle that was still in jumbled pieces on the floor of Yaz’s mind.

Yaz glanced back at Jack. Now she thought about it, he looked younger than before— that was a point for the “earlier in his timeline” theory.

At the end of the day, it didn’t really matter, though. Whatever the case, it just meant Yaz had to add more lies to her growing pile. No matter how much she trusted Jack, the Doctor had said to tell no one about her true identity— and without the full background on Jack and Rose and who they were to the Doctor and where they were in their timelines, Yaz had to fall back on secrecy.

The conversation between Penny, her professor, Jack, and Rose had died down, and as Yaz looked around she saw why: the lecture hall was beginning to fill up. She settled back into her seat, trying to ignore the unease in her stomach.

As Dr. Bowen welcomed the audience to the auditorium, Rose sat in her chair, staring out at the dim room. Jack was there, in the front row, giving her a supportive smile, and next to him was the student who’d come in early and talked to her for a bit— Penelope, Rose remembered, and her partner Yasmin. They both had northern accents, some part of Rose’s mind had registered. Rose had always liked a northern accent.

Their conversation had been brief, but interesting. Penelope had had a lot to say about the mechanics of the universe, which Rose was a little shaky on, unless it was related to her work on the dimension cannon. But the passion with which she spoke was impressive, and Rose welcomed both the chance to learn more and the distraction from her nerves. 

Dr. Bowen was introducing her now. Listing off her achievements— many were classified, top secret, but even Rose had to admit that the few that were public, were impressive. Founded the diplomatic wing of Torchwood— authored peace treaties between multiple different species— wrote extensively about various encounters and experiences on her blog, and thus fostering a further acceptance of and curiosity for the unknown. Rose couldn’t help but feel pleased at what she’d accomplished. Finally, Dr. Bowen said, “And without further ado, Rose Tyler-Noble!”

Rose picked her cane up off the floor and stood, amidst applause. Dr. Bowen passed her the clicker for the PowerPoint presentation, and she walked over to the podium, blinking into the light. 

“Thanks for the introduction,” she said into the microphone. Her amplified voice echoed throughout the lecture hall. “Right. So. In 2005, a spaceship flew into Big Ben. Some of you might remember that, right?”

There was a general murmur of assent. Rose clicked to her first slide: a picture of the ship, cutting a slice into Big Ben.

“There are very few people,” she said, “who know the full story of what happened that day. But more importantly, few people know that that wasn’t the first time aliens landed on Earth. And it wasn’t the last, either.” She clicked to her next slide. “For the last five years, I’ve been researching and experiencing alien encounters with Torchwood, and I’ve been writing about it on my blog, The Big Bad Wolf . Today, I’m going to talk about some of what I’ve learned.” 

She continued, gaining more and more confidence with every word she spoke, spurred on by the fact that the room had fallen silent. The audience was hanging on to her every word, she realized, and slowly she gained confidence, starting to smile as she spoke. Half of what she was saying was half-truths, of course— she’d been working with Torchwood for about five years, sure, but that wasn’t the extent of her experience with aliens, and she did know the full story of what happened with the spaceship and Big Ben, but that was twenty-one years ago, for everyone in this room: she looked too young to even remember the sanitized version. But the spirit of what she said was true: she knew that with complete certainty. And she reveled in sharing it. She never had before, mostly out of the need for secrecy, but in 2027 humans were finally, finally becoming fully aware of alien life, which meant that Rose could finally talk about it without people thinking she was crazy.

At the end of the talk, there was time for questions. Rose was starting to get a bit dizzy, so she took the microphone from the podium and pulled her chair up to the edge of the stage as a moderator asked the audience for questions. Hands went up across the room, and the moderator went from person to person. Rose answered question after question, giving each one as much consideration as she could, until only one hand was up. Of course it was Penelope’s. 

“Doctor Tyler-Noble,” she began, and Rose cut her off.

“Not Doctor,” she said, softly, into the microphone. ��Just Rose is fine.”

“All right, then.” If Penelope was taken aback, she didn’t show it: she just barrelled into her question. “Rose. I was wondering what your overall impression was of aliens’ willingness to share their knowledge with us. You touched on it a little bit, but I was wondering whether you had more to say?”

Rose hesitated. “Well,” she said, “there’s loads of different species out there, aren’t there? Even with humans, you get all sorts. People who’ll help you with stuff, people who’ll tell you anything, and people who won’t help you or who want to hurt you. With any other species, it’s just like that, except on a much larger scale, ‘cause there are so many different species and so many individuals within each species. And then of course you run into culture and language barriers, where sometimes you don’t understand what the other person is saying… it’s complicated, I suppose.” She paused. “But some of the people I’ve met have been really amazing. I’ve learned loads, really. Just depends on who you meet.”

“Follow-up question, then,” Penelope said, before the moderator could take back the microphone. “How many different species of alien have you met, how many do you think there are total, and do you think any of them would be willing to talk to human scientists?” She spoke quickly, and there was something of the dramatic about her tone. 

Caught by surprise, Rose laughed. “Think that was three follow-up questions, actually.” She glanced at the moderator. “And I think we’re running out of time. D’you want to come find me after, and we can talk?”

“All right, then.” Penelope handed the microphone back to the moderator.

“And if anyone else has any questions,” Rose added, “you can come find me, or you can send an email. It’s just rose@badwolf.com. My first name and my blog title.” She glanced around. “This was fun. Thanks, everyone, for coming, and thank you to Dr. Bowen and the university for inviting me.” 

Dr. Bowen came up next to her, and Rose passed her the microphone. She went through some closing remarks— Rose wasn’t really listening. She was still absorbed in the afterglow of the lecture, catching her breath, running through everything she’d said in her head and trying to figure out whether she could’ve done any better. Finally, though, the lights came up in the audience, and people started standing, stretching their legs, and the room became noisy as everyone started talking to each other. 

It only took a few seconds for Jack to pop up at Rose’s side. “You did great,” he said, smiling. 

“Thanks.” Rose reached down to pick up her cane and used it to push herself to her feet, groaning at the pain in her knees. She’d pushed it, standing long enough to deliver the lecture. “Don’t expect me at work tomorrow,” she said to Jack. “I’m planning to be knackered.”

“I won’t hold my breath,” he promised.

And then Penelope was there, looking like a grinning puppy with her partner Yasmin in tow. It was actually Yasmin who spoke first: “I liked your lecture,” she said. “Really interesting. I forgot about all those alien encounters from when I was a kid. Like, Penny, d’you remember those ghosts that hung around for a while?”

Penny frowned. “I think so. Lost one of my friends to that.”

“Me too,” Rose said quietly. “Or, my friend lost me, I suppose.” She shook her head. “It’s a long story. Did you want to talk more about the lecture?”

“Suppose I was just wondering,” Penelope said slowly, “how to learn more about the sort of work you do. It’s very interesting. I’d like to incorporate it into my research if I can.”

“The best way to explain it is really just to show you.” Rose glanced at Jack. “Jack, can Penelope and Yasmin come by Torchwood sometime?”

“Don’t see why not,” Jack said. “As long as you stay out of the classified areas.”

“Yeah, yeah.” To Penelope, Rose said, “In that case, you’re both of you welcome to come by and see some of what we do. I won’t be in tomorrow, but sometime next week?”

Penelope glanced at her partner. “Yaz, d’you want to come?” She glanced at Rose. “Are you all open later in the afternoon? Yaz works weekdays.”

Yasmin startled— she had been quiet, up to this point, not really engaging in the conversation. “Oh. Sure, I’ll come.”

“Brilliant,” Penelope said. She turned back to Rose. “Monday or Tuesday work for you? They’re my days off work.”

“Sure.” Rose pulled out her phone. “Maybe you can give me your number, and we can work out a time?”

They exchanged numbers, and then with a blinding grin, Penelope said, “Right, I suppose we’ve taken up enough of your time tonight. See you later!”

“Yeah, see you.” 

And then Penelope was gone, replaced by another member of the audience with another question for her. She did her best to answer, inching slowly towards the edge of the stage as she did so: she made it down the steps before more people started flocking up to her. She fielded their questions and comments as politely as she could, ignoring the ache in her knees and the dizziness that was telling her she really needed to get out of there, until finally Jack put a hand on her elbow and said, “I think it’s time for us to go.”

Rose gave him a grateful smile. She said her goodbyes, and then she walked over to say another thank you to Dr. Bowen, who told her to keep in touch, and then she and Jack were off into the night.

[anobscurename]

ocean eyes – chris evans

previous part: PART XIX — masterlist

concept: you finally have had enough. the slowest of slow burns. part twenty of many.

pairing: chris evans x reader

word count: 2,4k

warnings: you might cry; i know i did. angst.

author's note: i needed my comedic relief comfort characters for this one in the beginning tbh cause... well... you'll see. this one is for @miss-jackson500 because i haven't dedicated one to her yet and she's? amazing?!

You had wondered – for the days that followed – that if maybe the rescheduled meet-up hadn't been cut short by Anthony, if things would be different.

You came to the conclusion that all that really would've been different was that you'd know a little less.

"You're finally going to do it, huh?" Anthony grinned from across the pool table. You had, according to the original plan, all come together at the old bar where you'd first met the two. "You're going to tell him how you feel?"

"Is it a bad idea?" You asked, missing your shot. Your mind was heavily distracted, and it was showing through. You were usually wiping the floor with the duo, but now you were losing four balls to one.

"No, no, it's a fantastic idea," Anthony bent down to line up his next shot. "Tell her it's a fantastic idea, Seb. Better yet, tell me who the Black Widow should be with."

Sebastian, who had been sat to the side, waiting for his turn, rolled his eyes and took a swig of his beer. "I admit nothing until I see a ring."

"Speaking of rings!" Anthony jumped up excitedly – either from the prospect of marriage or the thrill of pocketing his ball, leaving team Falcon and Winter Soldier with just the black on the table – "I'm thinking a round cut two carat, set in rose gold? Colour scheme would he lavender, of course, because as best man–"

"You can get fucked if you think you're going to be best man."

"Of course I'm best man! Look at me, I'm the bestest man around, I'm fine as–"

"You can both get fucked if you think there's going to be a wedding," you laughed.

Anthony hissed a curse under his breath as he missed the winning pocket, reluctantly handing the cue off to Sebastian, who hopped off the stool to land gracefully on his feet.

You chalked your cue, determined to not lose yet another game to these dipshits. "I haven't even told him yet, what if he doesn't feel the same way?"

Anthony and Sebastian both looked at you, incredulous. "I mean this with only love, and it comes from a place deep within my heart... Are you blind?"

Sebastian was even balking. "Even I could tell, and I have the social skills of a pineapple."

"Okay, fine! You both are clearly biased, you saw us kiss."

"No, we watched a softcore porno is what we did, y'all devouring each other like that in public–"

He cut himself short, having to laughingly dodge himself out of the reach of your playful slap.

"I'm asking Scott for the final opinion," you proclaimed.

Sebastian rolled his eyes, eager to play and win the game, bouncing the end of the cue on the wooden bar floor. The rubber stop muted the noise.

You opened up the text thread you had been maintaining with the younger Evans. Should I tell Chris?

You didn't need to elaborate, Scott would know what you meant. There was a pause on his end, and you had just been about to put your phone away before his response bubbled up.

Sorry, was just changing your name in my phone to sister-in-law ;)

That was all the answer you needed.

You finished the game – you lost, mind overrun with giddiness and the odds having been stacked against you long before – and you were hugging Anthony goodbye.

When you'd asked where he was headed, he'd just given you a sly wink and a "wouldn't you like to know."

That left just you and Sebastian, and you decided to walk him back to his hotel before heading home.

"How long you going to be in L.A. for?" You'd asked, just to make conversation.

"A week or so, maybe? And then I'm jetting back to New York. I haven't been home in so long, I think the dust has taken over my lease."

You chuckled, and continued on in a pleasant silence.

You gave him a departing hug in the lobby, and hailed a cab back to Chris'.

You were so high on the exhilaration of finally telling him and ending this will they/won't they charade once and for all. So excited, you'd nearly missed the unfamiliar Bentley in the driveway on your way in.

But it didn't go unnoticed.

You came in, greeted happily by a yapping Dodger, and the smell that hit you was one of Valentino perfume – overpowering the usual scent of Chris lingering in the house.

"Hey, Dodge," you whispered, giving him a vigorous petting session. "Where's Chris? Where's your dad?"

Dodger gave your hand a wet lick, slobbering over your keys, and you laughed lightly.

The door to the pool was open, and you could hear splashing and giggling – pitched more feminine than you'd ever heard Chris go.

Curiosity killed the cat. And satisfaction was never going to resurrect the plummet of your excitement. No, that was replaced by shock and anger. Even if you knew you had no right to feel that way.

"Chris?" You'd called out as you padded across the lounge. "Chris, whose car is in the driveway? I have something I–"

Blindsided, your slobber slick keys fell from your hand to jangle uselessly onto the ground. It was that that finally grabbed his attention.

He had been otherwise excruciatingly preoccupied with the topless girl in his lap, legs locked around his waist in a languid grind, his hands smoothing over her curves as they all but explored each other's tonsils in a moaning kiss.

Red flashed across your vision as well as your cheeks, and you ducked your head. Embarrassed and feeling stupid, you quickly grabbed your keys. "I'm sorry, I'll go..."

You quickly turned and dashed to your room, ignoring the tears in your eyes, and the call of your name.

"{Your name}, wait!" Chris cried, water sloshing as he clambered out of the pool. "{Your name}!"

You slammed the door shut behind you, making it clear you wanted isolation. Pulling out a duffel bag, you began throwing clothes into it, careless of what you might need, just needing to leave.

Sebastian had asked you once how much more you were going to put yourself through before you'd had enough.

And this was it. This was the breaking point. This was enough.

The strength in which Chris frantically ripped open your door had it banging against the adjacent wall, but you couldn't even look at him. Your eyes were blurry as you continued violently packing your clothes.

You didn't even know where you were going to go. You just knew you had to. Go.

"{Your name}, stop," he said, soft in direct comparison to the panic he felt in his chest. You were leaving him. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" You spat out. And then, just to change the subject, because not even you could bare to dwell on it too much: "You're getting water on your floor."

"{Your name}–"

"Don't talk to me, Chris. Rest your tongue a bit, it sure was busy earlier."

"As was yours, too, I'm sure," he bit back.

Your movements stuttered at the reciprocated rage. To your knowledge, he had no right to feel as you did in that moment. None.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

There was provocation in his eyes, and his searing gaze only fuelled your fire.

"Have fun with Sebastian?"

Your scoff was followed by a bewildered laugh. "I went out tonight with Sebastian and Anthony, Chris. We're friends. Welcome to the world of platonic relationships, professor, we've been waiting for your arrival."

And like the cut strings on a puppet, tension left his body – anger being replaced by confusion.

"I... I thought..."

"You thought wrong, Evans," you seethed, pushing past him to the bathroom to grab your toiletries. You made an effort to bump him, your shirt sticking to your skin with the water droplets still dotting his toned body. "And to think I really thought..."

"Thought what?" His voice cracked out.

"Thought that you might actually care about me!" You finally snapped. You were yelling. You didn't want to yell, but you were, voice echoing in the acoustics of the bathroom.

"I do," he whispered. His conviction was quickly draining from him, being replaced with an inevitable sadness and feeling of loss. You hadn't even left yet, but he knew that nothing he was going to say would make you stay. He knew he'd gone too far. It didn't stop him from trying. "I loved you, {your name}. I still do."

You had hoped that if he ever was to say those words, it would be under different circumstances. In fact, you'd found yourself imagining whole sunset beach scenarios, late into the night.

"I thought you were better than that, Chris. Manipulation? That's low."

"It's true. I've loved you–"

You didn't want to hear it. You weren't going to give him the opportunity of persuading you into staying. You knew you should've left long ago. "I can't say the feeling is mutual."

It was a lie. It was a lie, because if you really had felt nothing, then you wouldn't be acting like this. But you needed the upper hand, because Chris had basically knocked you over with the force of his admittance. You couldn't let yourself be dragged back in. Not this time. You had too much self respect for that. Not when he still had lipstick smudged on his lips, disappearing into the scruff that shadowed his jaw.

You had to avoid looking at his pained expression at your words. No matter how much you were hurting now at his profession of love, you knew he might possibly be hurting a little more at your rejection.

"And if you really did..." You trailed off, struggling to say the words love me. "Well, you have a really funny way of showing it."

"Pretending not to love you is the hardest role I've taken on, and I did it for you."

Red was dancing back into your vision, your shock growing alongside the fury.

"How is that for me?"

"Because that's what you wanted!" He was finding his voice again, raising it in his desperation. "Believe me, I wanted to fight for you. I would, would wage wars for you," he stuttered out. "But you never wanted that from me. You wanted to pull away, from this, from us. And I let you because I would do anything you asked of me."

"So you stayed away because you wanted to keep me?" You worded it slowly, just to make him understand how ridiculous it sounded.

"...Yes."

"Are you stupid? Actually mentally deficient?" You zipped your bag, brushing past him again, this time making sure to have as little contact as possible. He all but occupied the whole doorway.

"If I had told you then you would have left!" He was following you now, following you to the front door. "I told you I wanted you in my life, even if it meant the pain of never having you."

You had hoped to slam the door in his face to make your point known, but where Chris had slacked in fighting for you before, he was making up for now. He caught the door before it could close, trailing after you into the driveway.

"There's something wrong with me. I ruin things. So I let you have your space because you are the greatest thing that has happened to me in a long time, and I'd be fucked if I ruined you too!"

"It's a bit too late for that," you said, finally looking him in those ocean eyes. They were bloodshot with barely restrained tears. But your resolve was iron. "Congratulations, Evans. You've ruined me."

You heard Dodger pawing at the door, whining low and long for you. If you thought leaving Chris was hard, this was what made you break.

But you turned away from them, from that house, tears falling freely. A sob escaped your lips, barely stifled.

"Put on a shirt, Evans," you managed to get out. You wanted the last word, even if it brought very little satisfaction. "You have company."

———————

Your first call was to Anthony. He hadn't picked up, and you remembered his other plans.

The second also went unanswered – the friend who had become a self proclaimed L.A. local upon graduating high school, and who had let you crash at their house when you'd first arrived. She was probably at work, and so you left her a quick voicemail asking her to call you back.

The third did, on only the second ring. You had almost lost hope in anyone else being awake at that point, so you hadn't composed yourself before he picked up.

The first thing he heard was your sob, which you quickly cut off with a greeting.

"What's wrong?"

"Can I crash with you tonight? I need somewhere to go."

"What happened? Did–?"

"I don't want to talk about it," you said quickly. He shut up almost immediately. "I just... Please?"

There was a pensive silence on the other end, and you felt the need to fill it.

"I tried Anthony, but he wasn't picking up."

"Yeah," came the small chuckle crackling on the other end. "He's got a hot date tonight. Must be going well."

"I wouldn't do this if I had anywhere else to go, but I don't, and it'll only be for one night–"

"Of course you can stay," he assured, sushing you softly. "Can't believe I made you ask twice."

————————

Sebastian met you in the lobby, taking you up to his room almost immediately to avoid strange looks and any unwanted public attention.

He explained to you in the elevator that although he had tried to get you your own room, the hotel was fully booked. He sounded quite apologetic for that.

You didn't say much, because if you spoke, you were scared you were going to start crying all over again. And you'd just managed to stop, averting your eyes from your teadstained appearance in the mirrors.

Sebastian's room was a big one, on the pricier end of all the hotel had to offer. A large king sized bed stood to one side, bedsheets twisted as if he'd clambered into it right when he'd gotten back.

There was a lounge suite to the side, looking like a set-up you'd see on the glossy pages of Architectural Digest, and although the curtains were drawn, you could see the city lights sprawling out before you through the crack.

He was still in his outfit from the bar, shirt and jeans slightly rumpled.

The television was on, playing the original Nosferatu quietly in the background.

"I'll take the couch," Sebastian offered, dropping off the bags he'd taken from you.

You declined him with a shake of your head.

"{Your name}," he said, tender, placing both his hands on your shoulders to make you look at him. "You've been through a lot tonight. Take the bed, I've got the couch."

You didn't have the strength to fight his insistence. You didn't have the strength for much any more.

When you'd gotten out the shower, dressed in your pyjamas, Sebastian finally asked you again what had happened.

You just shrugged tiredly, climbing between the cool cotton sheets.

"I just had enough."