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roosterforme · 1 year

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Right Girl, Wrong Time Part 10 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: You missed out on a lot of things when you lived in Chicago, because you didn't want to do them without Bradley. On a very important trip, you and he both visit the city together.

Warnings: Fluff, smut and swears

Length: 1500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a sequel to accompany my story Old Habits Die Hard (you'll want to read that one first)!

Check my profile for my masterlist

Five Months Later...

"I can't believe we're willingly flying to Chicago in January," you complained with a bright smile on your face.

"This was your idea, Sugar," Bradley reminded you, holding up both boarding passes for the airline gate agent to scan. "It's not too late to stay in Vegas or fly to Fiji like I originally wanted."

"No, no. We're going to Chicago together," you told him, taking his hand as you boarded your flight from Las Vegas to O'Hare. Bradley spun your rings around on your finger as you located your seats and settled in.

"Chicago in January. Two days before a blizzard is due to arrive. Are we about to go on the shittiest honeymoon ever?" he asked, kissing your lips.

You laughed and wrapped your arms around his neck. "Listen, we just had Elvis marry us yesterday on the Vegas strip. We had a quickie wedding after being engaged for five weeks, and I'm not even pregnant. Now we're about to get snowed in together in Chicago. You'll be stuck in a room with me for a week. I don't think a conventional honeymoon is what we needed, Beer Boy."

Bradley tipped his head back and laughed. "Actually, now that you mention it, being snowed in with you sounds like a dream, Sugar. What am I even complaining about?"

"I don't know," you whispered against his scars. "You get me and Chicago deep dish pizza around the clock if you want it."

"I want it," he confirmed. "You can feed me pizza naked in bed after we have sex. And then I'll get hard again, we can have sex again, and you can feed me more pizza. It sounds like the perfect week. Chicago in January is everything I ever wanted."

You were shaking with silent laughter as the flight attendant went over the safety instructions, and soon you were in the air. And then you fell asleep on your husband's shoulder. Bradley jostled you awake in time to see the city all lit up against a snowy backdrop as the plane descended into Chicago.

"Are you ready for this?" you asked, standing next to him with your bags, about to walk outside to get a taxi. "It's three degrees out there."

"Yeah, I'm ready," Bradley mumbled, but he looked scared. "No problem."

Once you and he were outside, he was practically crying as you took care of hailing a ride to the hotel. "You have thin Californian blood now," you told him as he snuggled up next to you in the back seat. You kissed his icy cold nose and forehead as you headed through the city where you lived for four years during grad school. "It's embarrassing, Bradley. I married a Californian."

He shivered in your arms and said, "We're both Virginians, Sugar. I just hate being cold."

You were playing with his hair and kissing along his ear as he melted into you. Every time you thought about the crazy juxtaposition that your life had become, you felt tears in your eyes. You had missed Bradley terribly when you were living in Chicago and still even after you graduated with your PhD. So it just felt right that he was here with you now.

"That's where I got my second tattoo," you whispered as the taxi drove slowly down a side street.

Bradley looked out the window and smiled. "Should be a historic landmark."

Your laughter filled the small space as he kissed you. Then he paid the cab fare, and you had never seen him move as fast as he did when he hauled all of the luggage inside to the warm hotel lobby.

"Let's go get a good night's sleep," you told him as he carried everything to the elevator and then into the hotel room.

"We're not sleeping," he said, shaking his head. "You're going to snuggle with me until I'm warm again, which could take hours, and then I'm fucking you for the rest of the night."

He wasn't lying. You pulled him into bed with you, and held his body close, softly kissing him and telling him how happy you were.

"I love you, Sugar. I loved you ten years ago, and I love you today, and I'll still be loving you ten years from now."

Slowly and meticulously, he undressed you beneath the blankets, touching and kissing each new bit of skin as it was exposed. He took extra time and gave extra attention to your tattoos, just like he always did.

"I've been in love with you since the first time you wore my bathrobe," he told you before pressing his lips to the valley between your breasts as you giggled. "No, before that. Since the first time I watched you put a bottle of beer to your perfect lips." He kissed his way up to your mouth, lingering there until you were sighing against him.

"You've been in love with me since you met me then? Is that what you're trying to say, Beer Boy?"

He groaned as he slid his length inside you. "God, I fucking love it when you call me that. Every single time. And yes, Sugar, ever since I met you."

You made love to your husband all night, your hands and eyes roving over his body as you told him how happy you were that you both ended up at your class reunion in Virginia. That he was at the same bar as you that night last summer.

When you both finally fell asleep, it was a long time before you woke up. Room service had already switched from breakfast to lunch, but Bradley got them to agree to send up a pot of coffee along with your lunch order. You and he ate all bundled up in bed together with the curtains open, the first flurries of snow falling outside as the storm moved in.

"We need to head out soon so we can get back before it gets dark," you told him as he sipped his coffee.

His expression looked unimpressed, but he nodded anyway. "Yeah. Let's go, Sugar."

The taxi dropped you both off at the edge of the park as the sidewalks were getting slick from the snow. There were only a few people out and about, and even in the middle of the day, the sunlight was struggling to break through the heavy, gray clouds. Bradley had his arm wrapped around your shoulders as you approached The Bean together. You stood side by side, examining if for a moment in silence.

"It's just a big, metallic bean," you said, leaning into Bradley as the wind picked up.

"I knew it would be dumb as hell, Sugar," he replied, gesturing at it with his hand like there was no good explanation for what they were seeing.

You wrapped your arms around his middle and looked up at him as you started cracking up. "I'm glad I didn't see it without you. It was worth the wait."

"You were worth the wait. The Bean, maybe less so," he replied, kissing you as you took your phone out.

After you took a bunch of selfies and texted some to Nat, you looked at Bradley and hummed. His cheeks were bright pink from the cold, and the tip of his nose was getting red. He was perfect, and he was all yours.

"Have you given much thought to a little Bradshaw bean?" you asked as snowflakes stuck on his mustache.

"Bradshaw bean?" he asked. His brow was creased before it started to smooth out. "Are you saying what I think you're saying, Sugar?"

You nodded and kissed his pink cheek. "Yeah, Beer Boy. A little baby Bradshaw bean. Just something to think about."

Both of you thought about it and talked about it as you stood in front of the giant bean in the middle of a blizzard. But you didn't need to make all of your decisions right now. You weren't planning on being without Bradley ever again.

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

THANK YOU for reading along on this adventure with me! Beer Boy/Man and Sugar belong together, and I'm happy she gets to take him to Chicago, even if it's during a blizzard! I hope you had as much fun as I did! Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

Please visit the one-shot The Grateful Dad for some more Beer Boy and Sugar!

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virgoilluminati · 8 months

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World Class

chapter 1

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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)

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #platoniclucybronze #platonicleahwilliamson #leah williamson #england football #womens world cup #lucy bronze x reader #womensenglandteam #womens football #fanfiction #football fanfic #leah williamson x reader

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morlock-holmes · 1 month

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The Last Psychiatrist's book came out, which led me to two reviews, both of which call him out for saying stuff that is obviously crazy but both of which also contain incredibly bizarre statements just tossed out there with seemingly no self-consciousness about whether they are just as odd as anything TLP has written:

I'm just going to ignore those parts of Scott Alexander's review that are like that to focus on a pet peeve:

(The Bible describes very clearly what angels look like. Everyone agrees the Bible is the authority on angels, maybe the only primary source for them at all. All Western culture for 1500 years has been based around the Bible. There are hundreds of millions of people who take the Bible completely literally and read it every day. The Bible says - Revelations 22:18 - that if anyone changes the Bible in any way even by a single word they will be punished with eternal torture. And yet nobody’s mental image of an angel, nor any popular artistic depiction of an angel, has anything in common with the Biblical description. This is the highest-grade antimeme I feel comfortable using as an example; if you don’t see the fnords they can’t eat you.)

I mean that's... that's just definitely not the case.

Alexander links to this review by Zero HP Lovecraft (Whom I am unfamiliar with) who says,

I want to explain some things to you now that you probably feel deep in your bones but probably haven’t found the time to articulate. Whenever someone talks about “capitalism” like it’s a hostile alien living among us, they are either wittingly or unwittingly agitating for communism. They may not even realize it. Everyone feels some measure of discontent in their life and the lazy, fashionable scapegoat for this in current year america is “capitalism.” If you blame capitalism for your problems, no one will take it personally, and many of the other monkeys around you will make agreeable noises. But there is exactly one group of people who blames all their problems on capitalism, and that is communists. If you blame your problems on capitalism, you are a communist. If you talk about “late capitalism” or “late stage capitalism” you are (possibly unwittingly) claiming that the return of Christ glorious worker’s uprising is nigh, repent repent, every knee shall bow and every tongue confess that Georgius Christ is Floyd. There are two ways you can try to get out of this: the first is “yes, and” and the other is “no, but”. If you’re part of the first group, you’re irredeemable. Communism, much like being a woman, is a congenital condition, and it can’t be cured, though sometimes you can treat the symptoms. If you aren’t a communist, but you scapegoat or criticize capitalism, then you are at the least participating in communism, but it may not be your essential nature. The slur for these people is “neoliberal” — a word that means someone who likes communism in theory but is just slightly too pragmatic to ever get past second base with her. You’re the ones I’m trying to help. We can tell TLP is in this second group because although he talks about capitalism, he saves his worst vitriol for “the media,” which is a right wing dog whistle, just like talking about capitalism is left-wing dog whistle. When a man is sending you mixed signals, it means he himself is confused.

This is more batshit than anything that he quotes from TLP.

I'm trying to figure out if this means:

"Capitalism" is a word that refers to every possible human economic system other than communism, such that by definition the only possible alternative is communism;

"Capitalism" and particularly "Communism" are not specific historical economic systems, but in fact names for the exactly two economic systems that can exist;

Current technological or political realities ensure that it is literally impossible to create any economic systems other than capitalism or communism at this particular moment, such that opposition to one is de facto support of the other

The first two would be bizarre, and even the last is, uh, contentious but reading further this guy wasn't pulling a schtick, he's just a depressing John Bircher who knows that if he pretends that he's giving you some secret post-normie secret insight we'll just forget everything about American history. Guys, did you know that blacks are inferior to whites, and more criminal, that only super insightful insight porn writers have ever come up with such an out-of-left field crazy idea that no american normie could ever actually believe?

Honestly, fuck this depressing fascist. His ilk are going to be running the country soon, complaining about how hamstrung they are as they march people into camps. It's amazing how good he is at selling the most normie American bullshit as, like, forbidden knowledge that only the most enlightened masters have cued into.

Honestly his opinions seem to be:

Men have been feminized, and that's bad;

White racial pride has been atenuated, and that's bad;

Trans people are mutilating themselves, and need to be stopped;

Blacks are more criminal than whites, and need to be controlled

But sold as, like, this forbidden knowledge that only somebody as smart as him could come up with. It's amazing how these people will see a finger-wagging leftist and then decide that said leftist must be running American politics.

I am poorer for having read this dumb bitch.

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fool-inthe-rain · 1 year

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All the Right Reasons

Sirius Black x Potter!Reader

wc: 1500~

Content: Fluff!!!! Angst if you squint. Use of she/her pronouns, use of Y/N. Let me know if I missed anything.

Request: I’m a hoe for Sirius Black and was wondering if you could write a Sirius Black x Potter!reader secret relationship. Maybe some sneaking around and getting found out and James being mad or something but with a happy ending.

Anon I'm so sorry this took much longer than I expected it to. Thank you so much for the request and I hope you enjoy reading!

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To say they were in love, well, that would be an understatement. The pair were totally and completely infatuated with each other. They did a remarkable job of hiding their intimacy, however. The only other person who knew about the relationship between Sirius Black and Y/n Potter was, of course, Remus Lupin. It’s not like they wanted him to know, but when he walked in on them making out on Sirius’s bed, it was pretty difficult from there on out to hide what was going on from him.

Remus was, unsurprisingly, incredibly supportive of them. Sure, he was skeptical at first. Who wouldn’t be? Sirius Black, best friend of James Potter, and dating his twin sister? Remus made it a point to set boundaries, even though he knew, he didn’t want to hear about it or see anything too relationship-y from either of them. The less he knew the better. The last thing he wanted was to know every detail of their relationship, and have James find out he knew. Remus knew Sirius and y/n better than either would admit, that being said, even though they had been diligent so far, he knew how incredibly unstealthy the two were. James was bound to find out sooner rather than later.

Summer was hard. What with Sirius living with the Potters and all. This was his third summer with them, and his last, as they were going into 7th year and would–hopefully–be graduating. Sirius spent his nights waiting for James to fall asleep so he could sneak into y/n’s room. He was exceedingly grateful that James was such a heavy sleeper.

Sirius was already laying out a game plan in his mind for how he and y/n would get ample alone time during the three-month break. He figured it wouldn’t be much different than last summer, but he still wanted to be prepared for what he liked to call ‘unprecedented changes to the mission’ the mission being their relationship. To his credit, Hogwarts was much larger and much easier to sneak around in, so y/n let him have his silly code phrases as long as it meant they would still be able to get away from James when needed.

They had gotten home late, as the ride from Kings Cross to the Potter’s home was excruciatingly long and boring. Euphemia and Fleamont let them know in the car that come morning, they would be heading out for a small family engagement on the coast. James and y/n were not expected to attend as it was extended family they really had no relationship with. As soon as Sirius heard the house would be free of adults for a few days the gears started turning in his head. When they had finally gotten home, decisions were silently made between Sirius and y/n to just sleep for the night, no sneaking around. They were too drowsy to be careful.

Sirius and James parted ways from y/n and made their way to their shared bedroom only a few doors down from hers.

“Thinking of going out tomorrow with a few old friends from the neighborhood. You game?” James asked Sirius, turning his head to look at his friend.

Sirius smirked from where he was standing, facing away from James.

“Nah mate, you have fun. I think I’m just gonna hang out here, maybe see about that motorcycle I had been telling you about.” He was trying to hide the smile from his voice. This was almost too perfect. Effie and Fleamont would be out, James would be out, and then there were two.

“Alright, well if you change your mind…” James’s sentence trailed off into a yawn. “Godric, I’m bloody tired.”

“Me too.” Was all Sirius could get out before he caught James’s yawn.

James turned the light off and within seconds the pair was asleep. The next morning, as per usual, y/n was up early, in time to see her parents off. James woke up around mid-morning and when the clock hit 12:30, Sirius was still sound asleep.

“I’m heading out for the day. I’ll be home around dinner.” James yelled as he left the shared bedroom, slinging a backpack over his shoulder.

“Mhm, whatever.” Sirius grumbled from under his sheets, sticking one limp hand out to wave away his best friend.

James made his way out the door, offering a quick goodbye to his sister while tousling her hair. When she was sure he had left, she silently made her way upstairs, creaking open the door to Sirius’s bedroom.

“I thought you left?” Sirius once again grumbled in annoyance, if there was one thing he hated more than his family, it was being woken up.

“Oh? And where exactly was I supposed to be going?” y/n snickered teasingly.

Sirius turned around in the bed, enough so he was facing the door. A large smile was plastered on his face as he held the sheets up signaling for her to join him. Of course, she did, when Sirius Black wants you in his bed, you go.

He draped an arm around her waist, running his hand up and down her back as they two just admired each other, and basked in the silence of the house.

“This is nice.” She squeaked out, it didn’t matter that they had been together for almost a year she still got nervous around him.

“It’s exceptional. How lucky we are. First day home and we have it all to ourselves.” Sirius punctuated his sentence with a long kiss to her lips.

The two were so wrapped up in quiet conversation, and each other's eyes that neither had heard the front door open. They certainly didn’t hear footsteps coming up the stairs, but they did hear the bedroom door opening and the loud gasp that followed.

“What the hell are you two doing? Get off my sister!” James was wide-eyed as he stood in the doorway.

The two sprung out of bed, y/n’s chest was heaving from the adrenaline his yelling had caused. Sirius stood slightly behind her.

“I can explain!” Sirius quickly offered.

“Oh, I’d love to hear this! What you bed my sister and then leave her out to dry like every other girl?” James was fuming. “Give me one reason not to punch you right now.”

“I love her.” Sirius shrugged as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Y/n snapped her head back to look at him, her eyes wide in shock. They hadn’t said that before. Sure she thought about it, but to hear him say it made her heart swell.

“Okay, can I just say you two with the wide eyes, you look creepily alike so can you please stop with that look?” Sirius deadpanned as if he had just not made an earth-shattering confession.

“You love her?”

“You love me?”

The twins said in synch and Sirius just nodded.

“Of course I do,” he was looking at y/n “I’ve loved you since the day I met you.” His eyes were full of honey and adoration.

“I love you too-” Before she could get in another word James cut her off.

“Okay, wait, lemme get this straight. You guys are dating?”

The couple nodded.

“Merlin’s beard,” James ran his hands down his face a few times, trying to grasp the situation at hand, “How long?”

“Almost a year.” y/n squeaked out, afraid that he would get angry again for keeping it from him for so long.

“Okay, okay.” James sat on his bed.

“And you,” He pointed at Sirius, “Love her?” He pointed at his twin sister.

“Yeah mate, I really do,” Sirius said, nervously playing with the hem of his shirt.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” James asked, a twinge of hurt lacing his words.

“Mate, one of the first things you ever told Moony and I was that y/n was off limits. I thought you were gonna rip my head off!”

“Well I mean yeah if you were gonna use her for a quick fuck then I would be pissed, but you love each other,” he stood up, a mischievous smile playing on his lips, “who am I to deny love!” he cried out with a dramatic flair, drawing them both into an equally as dramatic hug.

“Why are you even home? I thought you were going out?” Y/n questioned when he let go of them.

“Yeah I forgot something, but now I can’t remember what it was.”

James took in the sight before him one more time before picking his backpack back up.

“Oh, young love! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” He left the room and the couple could hear his loud laughter as he exited through the front door once again.

“Well, he took that better than I expected.” Sirius smiled. “Now shall we pick up where we left off?” He got back into the bed, lifting up the sheets the same as he did before.

Getting in the bed she couldn’t hold back her happiness any longer.

“You love me! Sirius Black is capable of love!” She sniggered poking at his sides.

“Oh come off it!” He responded with a smirk of his own.

#sirius black imagine #sirius x reader #sirius black angst #sirius black x reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius orion black #sirius black fluff #harry potter imagine #harry potter fluff #harry potter #harry potter angst

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sam1kath · 9 months

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Raven Hair and Emerald Eyes

(book! Miss Peregrine x Fem! Reader)

I hope you'll enjoy it!! :D

You have been in the loop for many years now, yet you could still vividly remember the day you saw it for the first time. Stepping your foot on the island was no accident. You were a long time in search of a home, and when finally one day an ymbryne offered you a place as a sort of assistant, you couldn’t contain your excitement and hit the road as soon as you packed your only bag. However, there was one issue. You had a terrible sense of orientation, and the brief set of instructions about its location scared you. You trailed the island far and wide, getting lost on multiple occasions, yet you still couldn’t find the entrance.

One day, however, when you were once again unsuccessfully returning to the shore to catch the last ferry off the island, a tall blond girl about 17 stopped you with a smile.

“Hello, Miss Y/L/N. Miss Peregrine has been expecting you. Come with me.”

From that day on you became a new inhabitant of the 1940 Cairnholm loop. The children warmed up to you instantly, and even Enoch—who you later learnt didn’t usually extend this courtesy to just anyone—was delighted by your presence.

The headmistress and ymbryne of the loop, a woman of disting Victorian appearance and raven hair, greeted you with open arms, if not as familiarly, keeping the kind of professional distance you’d have with a new co-worker. Even after months of living there, it was always ‘Miss Y/L/N here’ and ‘Miss Y/L/N there’.

It was your 14th month in the loop that she finally proposed a first-name basis kind of relationship and this offer didn’t extend to situations in front of the children up until a few months ago.

The peregrine was a peculiar woman in many ways—she intrigued you—and you realised all too late that you were slowly falling for her. It was the way she smiled when she thought that no one was watching, how her eyes lit up when she taught the children, the way she would gently pull on the sleeves of her dresses when she was nervous, or the passion with which she fiercely protected her children whenever a policeman knocked on their door with a complaint.

With each day, you fell deeper and deeper into the tangled depths of affection, and that scared you.

One evening, you got into a passionate discussion about the passage of time and age, and she casually mentioned she was born in the late 1870s. At that time, you believed this knowledge was of no special meaning to you since you were used to the birthdates of people around you going as far back as the 1500s. But as your admiration grew, you realised that this information might just signify a problem.

You didn’t know a lot about history, but the topic of acceptance of homosexual people and relationships was something you were quite familiar with. The late 19th century certainly wasn’t a time when you could openly confess your love for another woman, and you feared that growing up in such a time, Alma might share the same convictions. If you weren’t hesitant about sharing your feelings before, you were surely not going to find it easy now, so you decided to test the waters first.

Finally, the perfect day arrived. The children were playing in the garden; the sun was just in the right spot in the sky, and you summoned the courage to bring the topic up to Alma.

“I read this book recently,” you began, “And it’s quite good. I don't know if you know it. It’s Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf.” Alma replied with a raised eyebrow.

“You do realise that you're asking me if I’ve read one of the greatest works of modernist literature,” she said smugly, and you couldn’t help but blush a little at your clumsy way of approaching the subject.

“Of course, sorry. Well, then I suppose you do remember Clarissa mentioning falling in love with her best friend.” Alma visibly froze at that.

“Yes.”

You felt a lump growing in your throat. “How do you feel about that sort of thing, if I may ask?”

She scanned your face for a moment, her emerald eyes boring deep into yours as if searching for something. The living room felt suddenly too small for the two of you.

“Is there any specific reason you're asking?”

“N-No.” You mentally cursed at the slight stutter in your answer.

Alma finally tore her eyes away, leaving you breathless; however, still awaiting her answer.

“I'm no monster. Why should one’s life be less valid than someone else’s just because they love outside the constraints of our rigid society’s expectations? We are all people, aren’t we? And humanity’s greatest strength is the love we have for one another. Love makes life worth living. If each of us loved just a little more, the world would be a better place.”

As you felt your eyes water, you discovered you were never going to be able to reach the bottom of the ocean of love you felt for this woman, and you weren’t sure you wanted to.

She must have mistaken your silence for unease, so she asked. “Do you hold a different view?”

“No! Birds no. You- You just phrased it beautifully.” You smiled at her, and when you saw her face bloom like a flower, you couldn't help but blush once again.

But as you also learnt the first week in this house, peace never lasts, so before you could reach out and pull a mischievous strand of hair out of her face, little Claire ran into the room.

This conversation warmed your heart for weeks, lighting a spark of hope inside you. Maybe there was some hope for you. But still, you didn’t feel ready to confess your love for her, so you were trying to come up with ways to show her how much she meant to you without saying as much. You would remember any little thing that she told you because what she found interesting you held dear to your heart. You would recommend her books that reminded you of her, collect her favourite flowers to display in vases around the house or shower her with compliments whenever you got the chance.

You were flirting, and she was oblivious to it. Maybe she didn’t realise it or she was just letting you down slowly; you couldn’t tell. Her cheeks would redden each time and she’d go on to say something like, such affections needn’t be shown to her as she looks the same as she does every day, and being a good ymbryne doesn’t have to earn her compliments. To that, you’d respond that she doesn’t get appreciated enough and that would win a bright smile from her.

“And ‘good’ is an understatement.”

In between your duties as an assistant, you would also often spend little bits of free time on the mainland in the city library, scavenging the shelves for books you could read together. Going to the counter with another stack of books, you’d meet the gaze of the new librarian, a man in his early thirties with short blond hair and kind brown eyes. You never talked much besides the pleasantries.

Once you’d get home with the loot, Alma would meet you at the door to help you bring the book into the study.

This has been going on for about six months. You and Alma grew closer each day, but at some point, you’ve come to the sad realisation that she saw you as only a friend. For a time, you lied to yourself, saying it was more than enough for you. However, as the days went by, the beautiful feeling of falling deeper in love with her became a cruel, dragging force that slowly suffocated you.

You needed to escape and that was the time the guy behind the counter first spoke to you beyond politeness. His name was Jonathan, and the two of you quickly bonded over your shared love for astronomy. You would sometimes wait for him at the end of his shift, and you’d have lunch together in the nearby park. He would tell you about his life and family—of how unaccepting his father was when he told him he was bisexual. In turn, you told him how your parents freaked out when they found out you liked women, leaving out the fact that it was in the 1960s. And the more you got to know him, the more you were using him as a way to avoid Alma.

As you were one day in the park again, he turned to you with this strange look in his eyes. He told you he liked you and that even though he knew about your feelings for someone else, he would very much like to go on a date with you even if your heart wasn’t entirely in it—as friends, he said. Then he continued to make a speech about how you shouldn’t stay unhappy forever just because one person doesn’t see how amazing you are. You got teary-eyed and knowing you had no chance with Alma you finally decided to take a step to move on.

“Alma?” You were just in the living room, enjoying your siesta. Alma was seated, or rather, strangely bird-like nestled, in an armchair by the window, reading a book. She tilted her head, her eyes staying on the text to the very last moment before she met your gaze. She was sometimes so much like a bird, and you found every bit endearing.

“Yes?”

“I was wondering if I could spend the evening on the mainland,” you said nervously, feeling strangely guilty, like a child lying to their parents about who broke the living room window. She smiled in confusion.

“You know you don’t have to ask. You’re no prisoner, Y/N.” She chuckled lightly. “You know I trust you to make your own decision and keep yourself safe in the process. Just make sure you catch the last ferry back to the island so the children and I don’t have to worry all night,” and with that, her eyes returned to her book.

“Aren’t you curious what I’ll be doing?” Was your absence really that indifferent to her? Alma closed her book with a clap.

“Polite persons aren’t nosy, but if you’re so excited to tell me, then be my guest,” she smiled.

You took a deep breath. “I’ve met someone.”

If her face had betrayed anything you hadn’t noticed—not a single identifiable emotion—yet, as if a dark veil had been drawn over it.

“Oh,” was all she said before returning to her book. You had secretly hoped she’d say more than that.

“It’s a date,” you added in a desperate attempt to get a reaction from her.

“I figured,” she stated simply. Your heart ached at the lack of care, and you made your way to the door.

“Y/N?” You stopped in your tracks. “Enjoy your rendezvous.”

The door slammed behind you.

You met Jonathan in the small city square, and from there you went to ‘the best restaurant in town’ as he called it regardless of the bizarre reality that there was only one.

The date passed in a blur. You sat at a table in the corner of the establishment and ordered wine. Jonathan talked and talked, and you felt terrible that you didn’t pay any attention as, in the gloom of the room his light hair turned dark, and after a few glasses, his eyes turned green, and all you could see was her in her dark Victorian dress, smiling across the table.

When the clock struck nine you finally separated, for a quarter to ten was when the last ferry to the island departed. He insisted on escorting you to the harbor but you rejected his offer as you felt you needed to be alone.

The shipman was a little annoyed that he had to sail to the island with just one passenger, but when you gave him triple the amount needed for one ticket, he stopped fussing.

Your hair moved in the wind as you watched the dark sea, occasionally noticing the dark shadow of one of the many wrecks on the bottom, quietly awaiting saviour. You slightly stretched over the railing, and gazing upon your reflection in the dark waters, you realised you too felt like a wreck. Cold, and alone, and lifeless. Shivers ran down your spine, and you pulled your coat closer around you.

On the island, you stumbled back to the old tomb, grateful you walked the dangerous path so many times that now you knew it well enough to navigate it in the dark. Carefully laying one foot in front of the other, you made your way into the loop entrance.

You found Alma in the living room by the table, leaning over a glass of orange liquid. Her raven hair was cascading like a waterfall over her shoulders, its ends getting lost in the sea of green velvet of her tea gown. She twirled the liquid in her glass before she tilted her head back and emptied it into her throat. Appearing to be greatly troubled, she vigorously rubbed her temples.

Without a second thought, you moved forward in a desperate attempt to comfort her and accidentally bumped your toe into a coffee table. Pain shot through your body, and you swore under your breath.

“You’re back; how wonderful. How was it with that lover of yours?” said Alma with a fake smile plastered on her face.

You slowly walked over to the table, and sank down in a chair across from Alma.

“I presume it didn’t go well?”

“I suppose you could say that, yes.” You met her eyes, and what you saw in them broke you. You couldn’t have seen it from the door, but up close you were certain she had been crying.

“What happened to you?”

“Oh, this. Nothing. It doesn’t matter.” Rubbing her eyes she muttered, ”Would you like some?” and changed the subject by gesturing to her glass.

You decided that you were too overwhelmed with your own turmoil to help hers so you decided to let it slide.

“Might as well.”

She reached for the bottle and filled her glass. Then she slowly slid it towards you. Without a word spoken, you lifted the glass to your lips. The alcohol was already room temperature, but you didn’t mind and let the comfortable burn consume you.

“You never drink whisky.”

“I do now. But that’s not important,” she said, taking the bottle in her hand to look at the label. “I think I hate it,” she added so nonchalantly that you chuckled. Your eyes met.

“I need to tell you something,” both of you blurted out suddenly.

“Please, you go first.”

“I don’t think that’s-”

“Please.”

“Alright,” she replied hesitantly. Straightening her posture and clearing her throat, she reached over the table and caught your hands in hers. Even though it was fairly dark, you still clearly saw that her cheeks were crimson. And as she looked at you and you looked at her, you were sure she wasn’t alone.

“You- You might think me a delusional old woman, but…just yesterday, I would have sworn you fancied me.”

You froze, chills running down your back instantly.

“I know it’s silly. I suppose I saw what I-” she paused, looking at your joined hands.

“Go on. Please,” you squeezed them. Her nervous eyes darted back to yours.

“People see what they want to see,” she began hesitantly. “And I so desperately wanted you to feel the same.”

“W-what do you mean?” She closed her eyes, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Don’t make me say it just so you can reject me.” If you weren’t red before, now you most definitely were. Without giving you a single glance she let go of you and hid her face in her hands.

“You mean you-”

“Yes,” she muttered sharply, flustration lacing her words. The distance between you suddenly felt unbearable.

“You fancy me?” you asked once more in joyous disbelief. Alma slowly sank in her seat lower and lower, her face still hidden in her palms.

“Stop asking,” she whispered.

Your chair screeched as you sharply pushed it from the table, jumping to your feet, and now you stood over Alma.

Finally, she doubtfully looked up, her emerald eyes filled with fear, hope, admiration.

Not waiting for another second, you leaned down, putting one hand on the backrest of her chair for support. As you were now inches away from each other you witnessed Alma’s expression rapidly change. Her face grew redder and her eyes darkened.

“W-what are you doing?” she stammered as you hesitantly stroked her cheek.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked, not being able to contain your smile any longer.

For a moment her eyes darted between yours, checking for any sign of mockery.

And then you felt two hands pulling you down by the collar, and before you realised what was happening, your lips were pressed against hers in a tender kiss.

The wheels of time stopped and it was just you and her. You felt her hands in your hair, the warmth of her body against yours, her hair against your cheek. It felt perfect and real, and it made you feel warm and cared for.

The amount of love with which Alma gazed at you when you pulled away would fill even the deepest ocean—it would reach the furthest star in the galaxy. And you were certain her expression mirrored yours because, right there, you felt the happiest you’ve ever been.

#alma lefay peregrine #mphfpc #miss peregrines home for peculiar children #alma peregrine #miss peregrine #ymbryne #fanfic #alma peregrine x reader #miss peregrine x reader #miss peregrine book

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annie-creates · 2 months

Text

I hear the wedding bells

Pairing: Lady Lesso x reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 1500

Note: This is the last part of The evil witch and Bundle of sunshine. It may not be what some of you hoped for but it's how the story ends.

Snow white dress, curled hair and a long veil, you felt like a princess. Like a real fairytale of your life. You couldn’t wait to marry the love of your life, one you never thought you’ll be able to find again. But she showed you over and over that you can count on her and she’ll stand by your side no matter what. She’d never let any harm go your way and she loved your daughter beyond measure.

“You’ll be the most beautiful bride.” Anemone tutted over you as she and Clarissa watched you trying on your dress.

“You already are beautiful.” Dovey clarified.

“Thank you. I’d never imagine I’d be here one day. I couldn’t do this without you.” You thanked them both, hardly being able to wait to see them standing by your side as your maids of honor.

The wedding was scheduled for the next month, a perfect time in the summer for the gardens to show their best bloom. But you’d get married in the darkest of dungeons if it meant spending the rest of your life with your beloved partner. She and your daughter were having a fund day outside with ice cream and playing by the pond, having chosen their suits and dresses days prior. Lately you felt like floating on cloud nine, everything in your life felt right. That’s what you thought until you saw the look on Lesso’s face as she waited for you propped up on a pillar.

“I don’t like that look…” you started uncertainly.

“I just need to have a talk with you.” Her efforts to calm you down were of no help.

“Well then talk, no need to be so theatrical about it.” You hoped for just a few weeks of peace and ease.

“I know I haven’t been the best in going about this in the past years, but I need to say this before you get married to the wrong person.” That put an immediate frown on your face. “I love you. You might not believe it, or try to deny it, but it’s the rightest truth there is. I am utterly and wholeheartedly in love with you.”

“Lesso stop. You can’t say things like this.” You were getting frustrated with her advances.

“It’s the truth! I don’t want you to get married without knowing it. I know you love me too.” At least she hoped so.

“I did! I did love you. Not anymore. you ruined me. You ruined my life and my happiness. I thought you’re gonna be it. My happy ending, my destiny, my fairytale. Now I see I was wrong. Someone who loved would never be able to do the things you did to me.” You took a deep breath to keep your composure. “I forgave you. For the sake of our child, for her happiness, I forgave you. But it can never be forgotten.”

“I know I hurt you, but if you’d just give me a chance to make things right…” she pleaded.

“You can’t make this right! I don’t want your apologies and courtship. I love Lonnie, alright? She’s the love of my life, my future, my sun, moon and stars, the reason I get up every day. She loves me more than anything in this world and I love her more than you could ever love me.” You almost felt like recitating your prepared wedding wows. “If you’d actually love me you’d let me go and be happy.”

“I want to fight for you, even if it’s the last thing I do.” Leonora didn’t want to give up on the family she could have had that easily.

“There was no fight to begin with! If you can’t be happy for me and wish me the best with the woman of my heart, maybe you should leave. That used to be you, but not anymore. And nothing would ever convince me to love you again. So please, for the sake of our family, let me go.” you didn’t want to lose her entirely from your life, more specifically from your daughter’s life, but if it has to be, you’ll manage.

“Could you really be happy with her? More than you were with me?” Maybe she really has to let you go and be happy with someone else, but the thought was crashing her small black heart.

“I already do. Oh my god, I love her so much it hurts sometimes. Harvesting all the stars in the bright night sky for her would never be enough.” You tried to show Leonora that she had no chance winning you over no matter how hard she tried. “We are over Leonora. You need to get over it. Love our daughter, live your own life like you always wanted to, find a hobby if you have to. Focus on yourself and let me do the same.”

You left her standing there not caring if she turns into a salt column anymore. You had your family, your life, and after a long time you were finally happy without feeling any guilt of what had to happen for you to get there. And if Leonora couldn’t do the same for herself, that’s her own problem to deal with. She doesn’t have to come to your wedding or wish you luck. But you sure hoped that for the benefit of your daughter she will.

The wedding day came before you knew it, Clarissa and Anemone helping you into your dress, standing by your side as you walked down the aisle towards your future wife sporting a beautiful white suit. Your daughter toddled in front of you. You read the most heartfelt wedding wows and cried over them even though you promised yourself not to. You left the flower arch as wife and wife. Saying your “I do” fluttered the most amazing butterflies in your stomach. You danced, sang, ate and laughed and you knew this is going to be a day you’ll remember forever.

“Congratulations.” Lesso came up to the pair of you. “I hope you’ll take a good care of her.”

“I will.” Lonnie assured, puffing her chest in pride. “The best care in the world.” She promised you with heart eyes.

The next weeks, months and years felt like a dream. Your daughter grew up to be the most beautiful princess, your wife showered you every day with love and Leonora found her own ways to occupy herself. As the time neared for your daughter to go study in the School for good and evil herself however, she became a little restless and worried. You could see she didn’t pay as much attention to other things as she used to.

“Mom, what if there’s a mistake and they send me in the Evil school?” She asked you worriedly.

“Honey, you don’t have to worry.” You sat down with her. “The school is just to give you the best chances to improve your talents. It doesn’t make you good of bad. You know, auntie Leonora is from the school of evil and she’d never let any harm go your way. She’s part of the reason you were born.”

“What?” Y/d/n asked confused.

“A long long time ago, me and auntie Lesso were in love. And from that love, we got you.” You tried to explain as gently as possible, she didn’t need to be burdened with your traumas.

“But don’t you love mommy..?” Your daughter couldn’t imagine you with anybody else.

“Of course I do! I love you and mommy more than anything. It was a very long time ago, and me and auntie Lesso don’t love each other anymore. She loves you of course, more than anything. Ans so do I and mommy.” You assured her.

“So I have like three moms? That’s so cool!” She jumped up excitedly, not worrying about the school she’ll get dropped at anymore.

You were absolutely certain Lesso won’t let a hair on her head get crooked. And it proved to be right, as your daughter became her student. You weren’t exactly pleased, but it was the fate and who were you to question it. Y/d/n and Leonora became much closer in the next few years and your daughter grew up to be one the most powerful witches in her school. Graduating at the top of her class and going off on her own adventure, she used ever princessy, knightly and witchery skill her mothers taught her, returning with a big victory for the school of evil.

Your once innocent little toddler grew up to be the most amazing young woman you could have ever imagined. Even tho she didn’t need your protection anymore, you were always there. Her three moms who she could come to with anything and everything on her mind and in her life. You couldn’t be prouder of your journey and all the healing you were able to do to get to this happy ending. Now you were certain this was your happily ever after.

#lady lesso #leonora lesso #school for good and evil #lady lesso x reader #tsfgae #lady leonora lesso x reader #leonora lesso x reader #sge #the school for good and evil #fanfiction #fanfic #charlize theron x reader #lady leonora lesso #lady lesso x you #lady lesso angst #lady lesso fluff #dean of evil #sge movie #charlize theron

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gabessquishytum · 9 months

Note

So role reverse AU where Morpheus is the human and Hob is the Endless. Morpheus is a young scholar who wishes he had an eternity to study the arts and sciences. Hob is a hopeless romantic trying to find someone to love. They meet by happenstance while Morpheus is in the woods studying the foliage and Hob runs into him by happenstance. Hob shoots his shot and Morpheus turns him down sense he's pretty sure Hob is a fey trying to trick him. Hob doesn't press and just sits while Morpheus explains his studies. That's when the Idea hits Morpheus and he offers Hob a bet. Hob gets an eternity to seduce Morpheus. The rules being that Hob can not do anything without Morpheus' enthusiastic consent, and he only gets on shot every 100 years.

Hob Is pretty sure he can get Morpheus by the next century, so he agrees and gives Morpheus immortality.

the 1400 he shows up and offers Morpheus a book,a special one made with those new printing presses. If Dream ran away with him, there were plenty more where that came from. Dream is pretty sure the presses will go out of style soon enough, but it was a thoughtful gift.

the 1500s, Hob proves he's in it for the long game. He has no interest in that new play write, but Morpheus clearly has a fan girl crush on him, so Hob makes him a major play write for his lovely little Morpheus. And if Hob plays his cards right, Shakespeare's works will be imortilised for Morpheus to have for the rest of time. Morpheus would be lying if he said that didn't at least make him blush.

the 1600 prove to be rough as Morpheus turned to more "honest" ways of making a living. Hob doesn't like seeing someone he cares about like this, and for this century, he doesn't say anything to Morpheus about running away together to Hob's Realm. He just listens and lets Morpheus cry. Morpheus is grateful Hob didn't use the situation to his advantage, because Morpheus was so week he would have left his life as a human in a moment.

the 1700s prove to be better for Morpheus, but before Hob can go in for the kill, they're interrupted and have to fight to get out of the tavern alive. Hob attempts to get Morpheus elsewhere to finish the date, but Morpheus says it's getting late and he should get home. (Secretly, he's scared how well Hob's charm has worked on him)

in the 1800, Hob goes all out, he takes Morpheus to Paris and they have a wonderful night on top of the tower and even share a romantic Kiss. Hob asks the question, and Morpheus only smirks and says "I'll give you my answer next century."

in the 1900s, Morpheus is Ready. He has settled his affairs so He can Leave with Hob that night. He starts counting down the days in 1952. He excitedly waits for Hob to ask for his answer. And he waits. And he waits. He blames himself for making Hob wait so long, and figures Hob gave up on him. He asks about it to a few other people, but no one has seen a man matching that description.

Morpheus doesn't give up though. Hob waited centuries for Morpheus, Morpheus can wait centuries too.

And he waits for 33 years. He knows he's being foolish. Would Hob even know he was waiting for him?

But he waits. Every day, same time, same town. Just in case he catch Hob and can tell him his answer. And one say, he is rewarded.

He's sitting in a cafe near the Creek where they met. He's reading Shakespeare and he hears someone come up, he expects it's the coffee he ordered, but before he can look up, he hears someone say "So, Love, What's your answer, I was promised one?" And Morpheus looks up and has the biggest grin on his face.

God this is beautiful.

I wonder what happened to Hob when he didn’t show up? Was he also captured and imprisoned? I’m imagining that if he was imprisoned, he must have spent the whole time trying to escape, knowing that it would be ok if he could only get back to Morpheus, because Morpheus would definitely say yes this time, if Hob can just get to him.

When he does escape, he goes to Morpheus first. Before his realm, before anything. Morpheus is the one thing that’s kept him going. He’s not expecting to find him, really but he hopes…

And everything that was broken in his years of imprisonment suddenly knits back together at the sight of his love, waiting for him after all those years.

#the sandman #dreamling #dream x hob

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nucifraga · 4 months

Text

So, how old are the grandpas of the apocalypse really? Ft. - Jonah Magnus - Simon Fairchild - Peter Lukas - Maxwell Rayner

I MADE A PART 2 OF MY CHARACTER AGES RESEARCH (part 1 incl. og archives crew, 3 avatars + gerry here) after a few days of really wanting to detective the ages of this lot, i finally caved and decided to dig out the magnifying glass! same disclaimers apply! including an extra disclaimer to say that I've changed the formatting for this a lil because there was a Lot More Research done compared to part 1. Necessitated bc these mfs are OLD. (except for peter lukas. peter lukas is surprisingly young??)

(All ages are as of S1 / 2016 & the highlights are in bold if you don't feel like reading my essays)

Jonah Magnus

Age: ~216 Birth Year: ~1800

There are a few landmarks we can use, but because of how shady most are (old-ass letters) I also can’t pin down any solid dates because all the characters involved are fictional ._. Basically the only clues I got were: The Magnus Institute was established in 1818, but Jonah was old enough to travel alone to Germany and exchange letters with a friend (Albrecht von Closen) by 1816. So birthdate around ~1800? 1790?

I tried to find an ‘upper limit’ by using the life expectancy of the time since he also was able to live a ‘natural’ life until the (failed) Watcher’s Crown was carried out ‘at some point closely after February 13th, 1867’, BUT the average life expectancy of men was at most 41 years. So there was some Fairchild-esque shit going on there.

Simon Fairchild

Age: 439 - 488 Birth Year: 1528 - 1577

SPEAKING OF FAIRCHILD - sky grandpa! love him, he’s such a bastard. Anyway, in his own words, he’s had ‘an absurdly long life’. In MAG151 he says he was apprenticed to the Italian artist Tintoretto. Apprenticeships in the Renaissance started at approximately 11-14 years old & lasted for 1-8 years, and I’m assuming this was the same for the 1500s. Hopefully.

Given that Tintoretto became a renowned artist in ~1542, my estimate of the oldest Simon could be would be 14 in 1542. On the other end of the scale, Wikipedia says that his last notable work was Il Paradiso, finished from 1588–1594. I can’t find any mention of works post-1588 so this puts the absolute youngest Simon could be at 11 years old in 1588. From those two estimates, it was just a matter of mathing it out :)

Note 1: Simon mentions that his Becoming was while painting a church, likely a ceiling or high wall since he ‘should have broken his neck’, which should narrow it down – except it doesn’t, because Tintoretto painted a lot of churches x_x Note 2: I’ve just spent half an hour researching an Italian painter & art conventions in the 16th Century, which is of no relevance at all to my STEM degree in the 21st century. Simon’s age doesn’t even particularly matter because it was so long ago that the centuries quite literally blur together. This rabbit hole is incredibly fascinating, but this feels so ironically pointless, which is really, really fitting. Note 3: Simon definitely deserved to get ripped apart by the mob. His time has long, long passed lmao

Peter Lukas

Age: ~49-61 (at the very youngest; 36) Birth Year: late 1950s - late 1960s

Peter appears to be the youngest of these four – surprisingly so! – which makes it a lot simpler to pin down his age. He first meets JamesWright!Jonah between 1973 and 1996 & also he was old enough to have the option of watching TV when he was a child. TV became common in UK homes in the 1960s, so his birthdate at the earliest may be in the late 1950s/1960s.

However, he’s known Jonah as ‘Elias’ for most of their acquaintance by late 2018, meaning that they met at the earliest 1975 (21 years before 1996), but was probably more like 1980ish or later. I don’t think he would have met him too long after becoming an avatar some time after he became ‘old enough to run away’, which I’m assuming means he became aware of the Lonely when teenager-ish.

But spending some time on the Tundra before meeting other avatars makes sense for the Lonely, and so my vague estimate of his birth year would be late 1950s - late 1960s. I don’t think that his birthdate was anywhere later, though it is possible that it could have been as late as 1980 (if he began running away when very young & was introduced to ‘James Wright’ very early into avatar-hood), if incredibly unlikely.

Note: My ‘very youngest’ estimate for Peter Lukas is… younger than my estimate for Mike Crew’s age. I find this inordinately funny.

Maxwell Rayner

Age: 357 Birth Date: 8 November 1658

I have excellent news for Rayner! Good ol’ Jonny has made his original body Edmond Halley. A very famous person with a wikipedia page of his own that conveniently states his date of birth :)

Thanks, Jonny.

Rayner died in February 2017 at the age of 358 years 3 months 2 days, though he did spend a decent amount of time host-less. Unlike Gerard Keay, I’m unsure of how ‘alive’ he was during this time, so I’m just going to count it as ‘alive’-time because it means I get precise numbers for the first time since I started researching character ages!

#tma spoilers #tma #the magnus archives #jonah magnus #elias bouchard #james wright #character ages #simon fairchild #maxwell rayner #edmond halley #peter lukas #tma research #tma headcanons

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apod · 7 months

Photo

2023 October 12

Mu Cephei Image Credit & Copyright: David Cruz

Explanation: Mu Cephei is a very large star. An M-class supergiant some 1500 times the size of the Sun, it is one of the largest stars visible to the unaided eye, and even one of the largest in the entire Galaxy. If it replaced the Sun in our fair Solar System, Mu Cephei would easily engulf Mars and Jupiter. Historically known as Herschel's Garnet Star, Mu Cephei is extremely red. Approximately 2800 light-years distant, the supergiant is seen near the edge of reddish emission nebula IC 1396 toward the royal northern constellation Cepheus in this telescopic view. Much cooler and hence redder than the Sun, this supergiant's light is further reddened by absorption and scattering due to intervening dust within the Milky Way. A well-studied variable star understood to be in a late phase of stellar evolution, Mu Cephei is a massive star too, destined to ultimately explode as a core-collapse supernova.

∞ Source: apod.nasa.gov/apod/ap231012.html

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chimchimmarie · 4 months

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OUT OF THE FRIEND ZONE (Part One)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: College Au, Friends to Lovers

Word Count: 1500+

Summary: It’s your sophomore year in college. You and Jimin have been friends for a while and it’s all good, until jimin realizes he wants out of the friend zone.

AN: I’m still coping with Jimin’s enlistment and writing about him somehow gives me warmth. This is my first attempt at writing a series and I just had this idea and went along with it. I don’t know how often I’m going to be able to update but I’ll try my best. I’m not a professional, so I’m sorry for any errors. I listened to “Serendipity” by Jimin while writing this.

Jimin has been sending daggers at you as he sits by himself on a bench a few yards away from where you and a bunch of other students in your class have been hanging out. He eyes you like a hawk as you laugh at whatever the tall guy has said, You've been so absorbed at him as he rambles in what seems like forever.

His name is Namjoon. He’s a senior. He seems like the typical jock with his buffed physique and sleek stylish brown hair. He looked the part so well as he gestures with his hands, unconsciously flexing his toned arms. The white t-shirt he has on doesn't make him look anything less than ordinary but only highlights his frame even more, making him stand out.

He looked cool and way taller than Jimin. And he hated that, it brought out insecurities he never knew he had. He doesn't know him well but from the looks of it, you do. With how you look so invested in your conversations with him, he's starting to think you might be into him or something.

You and Jimin have known each other since freshman year. You’re now well into the 10th week of sophomore year and your friendship is still going strong. Yet he doesn't understand why he now suddenly feels off. You're not his girlfriend or anything but why does it feel like he wants to throw a punch and pick a fight with this Namjoon guy, or any other guy, really.

The other week in the coffee house, he also had the same nagging feeling when the barista tried to flirt with you and gave you a fix of your usual order on the house. Jimin felt horrible as he interfered and whisked you away before the guy could even ask for your number.

A few weeks ago in the library, he was so hyper aware of the bunch of freshmen guys following you with their gaze as you move from one section to another. He felt uncomfortable knowing other guys ogle you from a far. More so that you don't even realize the sets of eyes that hover on you.

Jimin hasn't quite thought about it, but this cocktail of emotions you've been putting him through is taking a toll on him. When you're hanging out together, he feels like he’s on cloud nine but dreads the short amount of time you can be together. When you're not around, you're all he could think of. Sending you messages or chatting and calling you on the phone just couldn't cut it. He needs to see you, hear you, touch you. He marvels at how you've gotten him wrapped around your fingers. He wonders if you feel the same way, too.

“If looks could kill, they’d be burying Namjoon by now.”

A deep voice interrupts his overthinking. Jimin whips his head on his right to see his best friend looking straight at you and Namjoon, while sipping his coffee.

“Shut up, Taehyung.” Jimin leans back on the bench seemingly defeated and quite unlike his normal self.

“What? I’m just saying… You know, if you could just go up to y/n and tell her how you feel, you won’t have to sit here in the cold, trying to murder a guy by staring at him for thirty five minutes.” Taehyung quips in a matter-of-fact tone.

Jimin let’s out a huge sigh, as he watches while Namjoon offers you a candy bar from his backpack.

“I’m not sure she sees me like that. She may have already put me in the friend zone. I don’t know.”

“Well, you really won’t know unless you try and do something about it. And who cares if you are in the friend zone? it’s never too late to get out of it, Just so you know.”

Jimin considers this for a moment, and it really got him to thinking, Why hasn’t he really made a move yet? What’s really keeping him from pursuing you? You’re both single and it’s evident that you get along well. You two have this incredible connection. He feels it. He knows all your endearing quirks and pet peeves. He knows what makes you tick, just as he knows what picks you up and what makes you happy. And he’s inclined to believe that you know all these things about him, too. So what’s really holding him back?

He bursts his own bubble when reality hits him. There’s only the risk of losing the friendship you’ve built together, and his biggest nightmare—losing you. He doesn’t think he’s brave enough to do something now in haste and risk everything on the line, only to lose you in the end. It’s not worth it, he thinks.

But Taehyung has a point. He’ll never know unless he tries. What if he misses his chance with hesitating too much, and never gets another? What would he do then? He’d still lose you eitherway. It would be worse to lose you to another guy. He can’t imagine himself living in countless “what if’s”. He reasons with himself. He’s not going to be that guy who would just stand idly by. He has to try.

Being in the friend zone sucks now that he’s crazy about you. But if he really wants you to see him as more than just a guy friend, he has to give you a reason to. He has to let you know. And this feeling he’s been bottling up since day one isn’t going anywhere. He knows it’s only going to grow stronger the more he lets it hole up inside. Maybe it’s about time he did something about it.

“Okay, you’re right. I’m confessing. I’m confessing tonight.” Jimin looks Taehyung straight in the eyes with a new found sense of purpose.

“It’s about damn time, my friend!” Taehyung looks proud.

Later that day, your group met up at Jimin and Taehyung’s apartment for movie night. The whole gang is in attendance. Hobi and Jin arrived with a bunch of chips and popcorn. You and Jungkook took care of the drinks, while Yoongi brought his girlfriend, Yuri. And you’re just glad there’s another female you can bond within the group.

The guys are good company, but if you’re being honest, sometimes you just need a breather from the numerous testosterone-fueled banters that happen when you’re with them. This is also part of the reason why you’ve been pushing the guys to date already so you could have more girls on your side.

“Seriously guys, when are you going to bring more girls here for movie night? Yuri and I need some reinforcements, you know.”

“Facts.” Yuri seconds.

All eyes turn to you, as you mumble through a handful of popcorn on your favorite spot on Jimin’s couch.

Taehyung, who was seating beside you, grabs the bowl from your lap making you whine.

“First of all, maybe we can consider bringing more girls or guys to movie night when you learn to share the popcorn, y/n. And second of all, this apartment can barely hold this bunch and you want to add more people in here?”

You give Taehyung your deadliest side eye but let him have the bowl.

“I’m just saying, it’s about time you guys… you know, get out there… find someone. I really want to do a slumber party with your future girlfriends.”

“Find someone, huh. Speak for yourself. Miss forever single.” Jungkook scoffs at you.

“Yeah y/n, if you’re so big on pushing us to date, why aren’t you dating, too?” Hobi chimes in.

“Yeah, y/n, why aren’t you?” Taehyung shoots Jimin a taunting grin.

He was standing behind the counter preparing more chips yet actively listening to the conversation.

“Well, I’ve… kind of.. already been working on that.” Your voice came out unsure.

Jimin drops the chips and quickly looks at you in surprise.

“WHAT?!” Taehyung almost gave himself whiplash from how quickly he turned his head towards you.

“What do you mean ‘what’? I met someone. He’s a senior, and he plays for the lacrosse team.”

“No, No, No. This can’t be good. Jimin! Jimin!” Taehyung is frantic.

“What is up with you, Tae? I know you have this eccentric vibe going on, but this is starting to creep me out!” You cry out, feeling a little bit affronted.

“You can’t be meeting someone already! Not yet! Jimin!! Get your ass out here!”

Taehyung calls on his best friend again. But Jimin’s feet are planted cold on the kitchen floor. The shock quickly turns to panic and he forgets to breathe.

This is it, he thinks. He’s been too complacent. He feels stupid and he hates himself for not trying. He waited too long and now he’s about to lose his chance. He’s about to lose you.

This is it, he tells himself. He’s losing you. To that cool, tall, handsome, jock. He’s losing you to Kim Namjoon. Insecurity floods him and he doesn’t know how not to drown in it.

He questions himself. Why now? When he’s already made up his mind in confessing tonight. Why does it have to be now? When he’s worked so hard to confront his demons and fight off all the insecurities that’s been trying to put him down and holding him back.

All he’s been wanting is you.

All he’s been needing is one chance. One chance for you to see him as a man. One chance to let him out of the friend zone. But is it too late for that now?

Read Part Two!

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