#WE ARE THE GREATEST FOOTBALL CLUB OF ALL TIME!!!!!

[pelova4president]

Fuck you, stargirl

Victoria Pelova x Reader

summary~ You’ve played with Victoria for aslong as you remembered, she was always faster, more technical and had so much more talent. It was hard to love her but harder to hate her.

Victoria was a different player, someone you couldn’t not notice on the field. Victoria Pelova was something different, outstanding. She amazes you, every time. She was kind, funny and an absolute baller. You’d hate to admit it but she was one of the greatest and that’s why she bothers you so much. She has everything and you’d never be like her. You’re not as funny or social as her, not as technical or fast either.

From the moment you met Vic, she has been nothing but kind to you. The two of you had gotten along at Concordia, your childhood club but then you into jong oranje. Playing at national level was something.. different. It was more competitive, everyone wanted that starting spot on the team.

After your first international break you and Victoria got back to the club, playing with the boys. The brunette had a starting spot for all four games, you only got subbed on in two games and around the 60th minute.

Vic was a good friend, someone you thought deserved everything she got. She got noticed and you loved that for her. It just stung a bit. The coach liked her more, the team liked her more and the fans liked her more.

When Victoria asked you to bike home with her after training you accepted. You’ve always biked home together and she’d tell you about her day but today she just couldn’t stop talking about National Camp and how it felt to score her first goal. Yeah, she scored her first goal on her debut.

“Het was geweldig, ik heb echt nog nooit zoiets gevoeld. Stel je voor hoe het zal voelen als we straks op een EK staan.” (It’s amazing, i have never felt something like it. Imagine how it will feel when we’re at the Euros.) she yelled enthusiastically. She was looking at the future like it was written in the stars, she was so sure of it all. “Vic over een paar jaar sta je zelf in het WK, het winnende doelpunt the scoren.” (Vic in a few years you’ll be at the World Cup, scoring the winning goal yourself.) I smiled at her. She frowned at what you said, ‘you’ll be at the World Cup’? “Wij gaan over een paar jaar naar het WK waar jij een tackle maakt die ons team zal redden.” (We are going to the World Cup in a few years where you’ll make a tackle that’ll save the team) Victoria grinned. You gave her a halfhearted smile and said your bye’s, disappearing behind the corner you turned left at.

When you got scouted by ADO Den Haag a few weeks later you were surprised to say the least. Their scout approached you after a game where you got a starting spot and played well. He told you about the procedures and what they would be asking of you. Later that week you had a talk with the coach and both of your parents. It was official, you were finally making moves into the professional football world.

When you biked home from training after a hard session, you finally told the brunette. You’ve been torturing your bottom lip for about an hour now, chewing on it like it was gum. How could you even tell her this, she should be the one making a move like this.

Vic was talking your ear off like always when you cut her off. “Vic, ik ben gescout door ADO. I kon geen nee zeggen, ik weet dat we samen zouden gaan maar ik moest. Het spijt me.” (Vic, i got scouted by ADO. I couldn’t say no, i know that we would go together but i had to. I’m sorry) you word vomited. The midfielder gave you a small smile after a little pause, “Ik weet dat je geen nee kon zeggen. Goed gedaan.” (I know you couldn’t say no. Good job.).

She understood it, it’d be okay. You thanked her for understanding and said your bye’s like always. Just this time without the ‘see you next week’.

To say you hated yourself for this decision was an understatement. You hated yourself for not staying and especially for ghosting Victoria. Why did you even ghost her.

Vic texted you, telling you how the team was on top of the league and that they missed you. You gave short and dry answers and eventually she stopped texting. She didn’t tell you about how many goals she scored or how the boys on the other team were so mad about losing to a girl, something that was your favourite thing to watch together.

You’ve been playing for ADO for about 7 months now and you still weren’t a regular player. You gave your everything but that wasn’t enough apparently.

AZERION VROUWEN EREDIVISIE !

Victoria Pelova, de Concordia youngster heeft getekend voor ADO vrouwen. Ze zal over een paar weken haar oude team genoot y/n y/l/n volgen naar de groen gele club.

Victoria Pelova, the Concordia youngster has signed for ADO women. She will follow her old teammate y/n y/l/n to the green yellow club in a few weeks.

You read it again and again but it didn’t change. She was going to be in the spotlights all over again and you’ll be the second choice. When the news had sank in you realised you’d actually have to see her again.

When you arrived at the ADO training ground you didn’t expect to be met with the sight of a brunette tying her shoelaces. It was still early, you always came in earlier, trying to train extra for that spot in the starting lineup. You already had your training gear on so swapping your boots next to the field would do. Unnoticed, or so you thought, you walked towards the freshly cut grass.

The trainings went like normal, nothing really changed. Except for the glances. And while you didn’t get a starting spot, Victoria did. Victoria Pelova was ADO’s new stargirl, their key player that would lead them to a league win.

You didn’t get any playtime anymore, you needed a change, a new club. And when you didn’t get a call up for the Under 23’s you knew you had to go elsewhere. Start fresh, create a new you, a better you. Bayern München contacted you and you had to say yes.

You did good, working on yourself like you’ve never done before. The girls, staff, fans and coaches liked you. You were a stargirl for once, Bayerns stargirl. That cdm position was yours and no one could take it away from you.

sydneylohmann posted on their story

You got into the National team again but this time it was the seniors, the team you’ve always wanted to be a part of. You made your comeback, the new you. Victoria was still in the Under 23’s so you didn’t have to see her yet, you dreaded that moment.

Victoria moved to Ajax not much later after your move to Germany. She was doing good, not that you were watching her or anything. Ajax ended on top of their league and got into the Champions League. They did so good they ended going through to the groupstages and what a surprise, Bayern got grouped with them. Just what you needed.

The first game was away and Victoria absolutely destroyed you on their home field. It gave you throwbacks to when she’d effortlessly ran and turned around those boys. But that was when you played together, when her talent was on your side. The game ended in a draw and a POTM for Pelova.

You shook hands with the red and white girls. “Goed gespeeld” (Good game). There was only one girl left, she avoided you, saving you for last and you knew it. You walked away, not caring about a stupid handshake. “Wacht! Y/n wacht nou even!” (Wait! Y/n just wait!) your ex teammate yelled.

You stopped in your tracks, didn’t say anything and didn’t move. “Ik snap je niet, waarom doe je zo?” (I don’t get you, why are you acting like this?) Victoria asked you confused. How did she not know. Everywhere you went, she went and stole the fucking show. Now you’re finally doing good, on your own and she’s making a fool out of you again. “Niks, ik was je gewoon vergeten.” (Nothing, i had just forgotten you) you shrug.

That was a fucking low blow, even you knew it. You heard her walk away and sighed. The moment those words came out of your mouth you regretted it. You didn’t forget her, you couldn’t. How did you manage to make this situation even worse.

The second game against her team was even harder. The brunette girl was going in for hard tackles and was on you every moment. You couldn’t do anything about it and got subbed off in the 67th minute. Ajax scored a goal and you lost on home ground.

I wasn’t long after that you couldn’t avoid her anymore, she got selected for the World Cup roster and that meant you had to see her everyday for atleast two months. This was the absolute hell.

You dreaded the camp and when it finally came you had to drag yourself out of bed and into your car. Waiting for your arrival was the media intern photographing you. “Hi, goedemorgen” (Hi, goodmorning) you waved to the camera.

Walking into the big hall you spotted a few of the girls, hugging and greeting them. Daan came walking towards you, bringing you in for a big hug. “Hey kleine, hoe gaat het met je?” (Hey little one, how are you?) she asked. “Ik ben niet echt de kleine meer maar goed, denk ik.” (I’m not the little one anymore but good, i think) you trailed off seeing the brunette walking in. “Oh y/n, jullie waren beste vrienden. Je kunt haar niet altijd blijven ontwijken.” (Oh y/n, you were bestfriends. You can’t keep avoiding her forever) Daniëlle sighed. You shrugged and walked towards the others. You’re not in the mood to talk about it right now.

You roomed with Jill, like always. Over the past year and something you’d told her practically everything, including the Victoria things. About your friendship, how you destroyed it, the jealousy, the guilt and your big big crush on her. Well you didn’t exactly tell her that but she just knew.

After an afternoon of looking at Victoria from across the room like a creep you flopped on your bed and opened instagram. You went through your highlights, in search for that one story. The one with you and the talented midfielder, the one you swore you ‘hated so much’.

11 October 2017

“Kijk je weer naar jullie foto’s samen?” (Are you looking at photos of the two of you together again?) Jill asked unimpressed. You groaned and sunk into your pillow. “Aaghh, ik heb het zo verpest!” (Aaghh, i messed up big time!) you screamed into your pillow.

Jill laughed at your misery, “Het is niet te laat, je bent gewoon een sukkel. Maak het goed, Vic zat de hele avond naar je te staren.” (It’s not too late, you’re just acting stupid. Make it right, Vic has been staring at you all evening) Jill said sitting down next to you. But honestly, could you make it right again?

You didn’t do much to make it up to her. You tried to act normal but your new normal was ignoring her. The hate you thought you had for her was so much more than that. It wasn’t really hate, it was so much more complicated. You hated that she was better but you also loved it. You hated that she was social, sweet, funny and silly but you loved it even more.

Both you and Victoria didn’t make any minutes at the tournament and you were gutted. It had been your dream, both of your dreams. And the loss to the USA was even harder. You were almost there, almost the World Champions.

Nothing really changed after the Euros, you still didn’t have any contact with the Ajax player. You were still playing for Bayern but it began to bore you. There wasn’t any change and the Bundesliga was too comfortable for you.

So you moved again, in January 2023 you signed for the Gunners. Your dreamclub, the club both you and Victoria had dreamed of playing at together. You made your dream transfer, and she did too.

ARSENAL NEWS !

After signing y/n y/l/n, Arsenal has now also signed the other Dutch woman, Victoria Pelova. The two play together for The Netherlands with our striker, Vivianne Miedema and used to play together at ADO. We’re delighted to Welcome Pelova into our squad.

You’d already met a few of the girls and Viv you knew already so when you walked onto the training ground you weren’t so nervous anymore. But it really bothered you that Vic had yet again taken a bigger part in your life. At this point you were almost living with eachother. Training went by rather quickly and you got home as soon as possible.

The team won every game the first month and you played in three of them. Victoria had already made her way into the hearts of the fans while you were.. overshadowed by her. But it was okay, she deserved it. You didn’t like the spotlights on your personal life anyway.

It was when you made a bad timed tackle in the quarterfinals of the Champions League and got send off with a second yellow that Vic decided to talk to you. You stormed off the field, not agreeing with the ref in the slightest, it wasn’t a good tackle but you didn’t really touch her, she wasn’t hurt.

You stomped into the tunnel. ‘Fuck fuck fuck is this gonna cost the team’ was the only thing on your mind. What if they didn’t make it through because of you. You’d never be seen the same again, you’ll lose your spot.

With your head in your hands you were overthinking every single aspect of your life. And then, someone opened the door. “Wat is je probleem y/n!” (What’s your problem y/n!) Victoria yelled. You sighed, refusing to look up at her. “Kijk naar me als ik tegen je praat! Jezus, wat is er!” (Look at me when i’m talking to you! Jesus, what is your problem!) she stood infront of you, expecting an answer.

“Niks, laat me met rust.” (Nothing, leave me alone) you said, just like the last time you really had a conversation. “Er is niet ‘niks’, waarom haat je me zo erg? Wat heb ik gedaan, ik dacht dat we dit samen wilden, samen in de Champions League finale voor Arsenal.” (There is not ‘nothing’, why do you hate me so much? What did i do, i thought that we wanted this together, the two of us in the Champions League final for Arsenal) Vic sighed defeated.

“Oh fuck you stargirl! Je doet alsof je niet weet waarom ik zo doe maar je weet hoe je altijd alles krijgt. Je bent beter in alles, ik kan niks voor mezelf hebben. Je bent overal, Arsenal, Nederland, mijn hoofd!” (Oh fuck you stargirl! You’re acting like you don’t know why i’m acting like this but you know that you always get everything. You’re better in everything, i can’t have anything for myself. You’re everywhere, Arsenal, The Netherlands, my head!) you said extremely frustrated. “Ik dacht eerst dat als ik je zou ghosten je weg zou gaan, uit mijn hoofd. Maar je gaat niet weg, het wordt alleen maar erger… Ik vind je heel erg leuk en dat maakt alles erger, ik heb je altijd leuk gevonden.” (At first i thought that if i ghosted you you’d go away, out of my head. But you won’t go away, it only got worse… i really like you and that makes everything worse, i have always liked you) the last few words left your mouth like a whisper, only meant for your own ears but hers heard them too.

“Oh” was the only word that left her mouth. You had prepared yourself for this moment for months, every scenario had played through your head. Except this one.

“Ja, ‘oh’. Vergeet maar dat ik dit ooit heb gezegd, het maakt niet uit.” (Yes, ‘oh’. Just forget that i ever said this, it doesn’t matter) you said standing up, ready to leave the stadium.

“Wacht! Wacht y/n!” (Wait! Wait y/n!) she called you back. She stopped you by taking your hand in hers. “Ik had het gewoon niet verwacht. Toen je niet meer reageerde op mijn appjes en daarna, die dingen zei-“ (I just didn’t expect it. When you didn’t respond to my texts and after, you said those things-) you winced at the thought of the words you had said to her the last time you spoke. “- toen dacht ik al helemaal niet meer dat je me mocht, laat staan dat je me leuk vond. Maar y/n je weet toch al dat ik jou de beste voetballer vind, dat ik overal kom voor jou en dat jij degene bent die ik leuk vind, al jaren.” (-i thought you didn’t like me at all, let alone that you liked me. But y/n you know that i think you’re the best footballer, that i go everywhere you go and that you’re the one that i like, for years now) your teammate whispered looking down at both of your dirty boots.

Smiling at her words you spoke again, “Hmm, zeg dat nog eens” (Hmm, say that again). Victoria laughed, looking you in your eyes. “We hebben het wel gedaan hè, nu alleen het WK nog.” (We really did it huh, only the World Championship now) you gave her a smile. She leaned in and placed a kiss on your lips. One that was just as sweet as Victoria herself.

y/n_y/l/n

liked by liekemartens and 117.829 others

🍝💌

comments

katie_mccabe11 the girrllssss

jillroord so my method worked huh

↳ y/n_y/l/n shut up

daniellevddonk kleine kinderen

↳ y/n_y/l/n jij bent 1.20cm, dat is echt klein

victoriapelova stargirl 💫❤️

viviannemiedema sukkeltjes

oranjeleeuwinfann wait who’s that??

A/N don’t know what to think of this fic but it’ll have to do.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #victoria pelova #arsenal wfc #engwnt #nedwnt #jill roord #danielle van de donk #vivianne miedema #oranjeleeuwinnen #victoria pelova x reader

[yeeterthek33per]

Kissin' and Kickin' Charm (Glódís Perla Viggósdóttir x reader)

A/n not requested, but this woman does not get the love she deserves, so I'm making it happen.

Munich is a hell of a lot different than home.

Of course, you expected that, you aren't stupid...

Not entirely anyway.

There's a charm to the city. A much different one than the small Texan town you're used to, but it's a homely charm, if any.

A much broader, explorative city with ins and outs, beautiful buildings, and on the outskirts, something you've come to realise you feel more at home in than the city, areas with wide open flatlands and albeit manmade, forested areas.

It's definitely a big city, with many towns and a lot of diverse structuring.

It's a lot.

But it's your new home.

At least for the next three years, anyway.

You imagine yourself at home in the ranch right now.

Kicking up dirt, green grass and if you're really lucky, mud and puddles. All of that on your horse, Sweets, that you got for your tenth birthday.

In fact, you'd be there right now, at home on the ranch, if it wasn't for one teeny tiny detail.

Soccer.

For whatever reason, that was the sport your child brain picked to become your newest obsession. Except, it never stopped being that way. You lived and breathed it.

It surprised the hell out of your parents.

They'd never imagined their little, quiet, leather boots, horseback riding, ranch loving daughter kicking around a soccer ball.

But that's what you wanted.

And that's what you did in your spare time.

At first, they were adamant you didn't play it. They refused, insisting that if you wanted to get into any sport, it had to be either American football or horse riding.

But after sneaking home a ball to boot around for the umpteenth time, they relented, letting you take it on.

And take it on, you did.

It got to the point where you were severely outclassing the only all boys teams in your tiny town.

Enough so that someone visiting, who happened to have the right associations, scouted you for the youth academy in Houston.

You went up through the academy, which survived despite the rise and fall of the women's league in the US several times.

Eventually, you were contracted for the first time at eighteen.

It was a big deal.

Small town girl makes her first appearance for the big leagues and despite your parents earlier disappointment in your choice of career, they were now prouder than ever watching you take on the world.

Of course, with that growth, came your first call up to the national team at age nineteen.

That little tidbit had your Mama crying harder than the day you were born. She couldn't have been prouder to see you represent your country.

Playing amongst the likes of legends like Tobin Heath, Heather O'Reilly and even Abby Wambach for a short period, you thrived.

The immense pressure was nothing like you'd ever felt, and you loved it.

Even as reserved as you are, you love a good challenge.

With the call-up, the demand to have you increased, and eventually, at the age of twenty-four, you, rather tearfully, said goodbye to the Dash and moved to Portland to join your national teammates, Sonnett and Horan.

You've spent the past four years there, although you aren't the biggest fan of the city life. You loved the soccer fanbase.

The thorns are well loved by the people in the city and some of the greatest players you've known, to date, play for them.

Of course, playing with the greatest players of all time means you yourself catch the attention of overseas scouters.

It's not the first time it's happened.

Every year, you get calls from your manager letting you know about the offers from clubs in countries you'd never dreamed of seeing before.

That being said, you'd always turned them down, not wanting to leave your home country just yet.

Until now, that is.

When the offer from FC Bayern came through, you just knew.

You knew you had to do it, had to take that chance.

"So what do we say, Y/n?"

"... Tell I'm in if they've got a heated pitch and air-conditioning."

Had your manager chuckling at that.

Taking the time to dig into the team a bit, you end having a look at the team list.

You know the names of a few of the players there, but you'd not formally met them yet, only meeting them once or twice on the pitch.'

One name stuck out in particular though.

Of course it did, she's the captain.

Your new captain.

But there's something you admire about the Icelandic woman that immediately grabs at your soul and you end up taking the time to look up her highlights.

The perseverance, the constant drive to do better and to lift up her teammates around her.

The perfect defence with constant push and pull, defensive manoeuvres and just an overall brick wall of a woman.

The perfect captain.

So when you meet her for the first time, you're a little starstruck.

Sure, you'd done your research in advance, but actually meeting the sweetly voiced Nordic woman has you anxious in your boots beyond measure.

----

When Glódís meets the new signing, she's a little thrown off.

She knew you were American, that you were from Texas and that you most likely had a very different upbringing to the lifestyle you lived now, but the immediate southern charm that flows through your natural southern drawl has her a little flustered.

She doesn't expect the charming smile or the way you call her ma'am and warmly shake her hand, expressing, rather sheepishly, your excitement to meet her.

"It's lovely meetin' you, Ma'am. I've heard a lot about everything you've done for this club and your country. It's incredible, actually, not to sound too much like I'm kissin' up here, but really."

Your head ducks a little, cheeks reddening at your own rambling.

It's adorable, she decides.

"You talk me up a lot for someone of her own incredible skill."

Her smile widens at the way your cheeks darken further under her teasing compliment.

"Oh, I mean, that's... it's not everything I want to achieve. It feels like I've had it a little easier than a lot of the ladies I've seen and played with and known personally. I'm just excited to be here and to get to be a part of something this big. With y'all, at that."

"We're glad to have you on board with us, then. I think you'll fit right in here. The girls have been begging me to let them in the door for the past thirty minutes while you were doing the contract signing."

She gestures to the windowed door to the room, which, with a quick glance, you spot the eagerly waiting players, grinning and waving like kids at you.

It makes you feel a little more anxious now.

Such big names in German and international football and here they are, giddily waiting for you to finish your media duties and finally get to meet little old you.

It feels surreal.

When you turn back to the captain, she's already smiling warmly back at you, and after the okay from you and the management in the room, they let them in.

It's almost too much, the way they all excitedly introduce themselves despite in many cases not having to, with the way you get flustered as you know them well already, having maybe, quite possibly also looked the rest of them up in a bit more detail, purely out of nervousness.

Also, the friendliness of it all.

Normally, with new signings at Portland, it always felt super cold and competitive, definitely a lot colder in the introductions, done during training rather than in a room on the campus.

Of course, after a couple of months, the players did warm up to you, but there's always the cold air about the veterans on the team, all of them wary of you and your abilities.

Always the stress of having your position on the team ousted by the new and shiny youngins for so much as running the wrong way.

Here, in Munich, Germany, in the clubs training facility, in a meeting room, your new clubs teammates welcome you with warm open arms, an air of bubbly enthusiasm and many, many hugs rather than the cold and firm handshakes you're used to.

You recognise a few of them, particularly Magdalena, a regular opponent from Sweden and her national teammate Linda, as well as of course, the German players, the English player, Georgia and Jill Baijings, a member of the Dutch National Team you'd faced just months before at the World Cup.

Regardless of the rivalry held at the international level, they're surprisingly warm, quickly dragging you into hugs themselves.

At least, it's surprising for you.

It feels different here.

It is different here.

You find yourself leaning into it more and more, the more you chat with the team.

It goes on for an hour or so before you're dragged away for more media duties.

The girls are rather reluctant to let their new friend go, waving you goodbye with warm smiles, but small pouts as their chuckling captain ushers them from the room, leaving you with one last grin and a wink that sends heat to your cheeks and shivers down your spine.

Well.

You'll be damned.

That just happened.

----

"She's so cute! I love her accent. She's so sweet with the way she talks too."

The gushing from Giulia is quickly resounded by the other's around her.

"Right? The way she kept calling us Ma'am and Miss. It's too sweet. And her accent, it's so smooth."

"Oh my god, I know Americans aren't the most well known for being nice to listen to, but I listen to her talk all day."

"She's really good too, I've seen her highlights."

There's a few small gasps and protests from around the room.

"Oi! Syd! Why haven't you shown us yet?"

"Hold on, let me just -"

"Guys! Seriously, what the hell are you doing? I've been looking for you for ages. Put the phone away, you all have training to do."

The resounding voice in the changeroom comes from a stern looking Glódís. She's normally quite gentle toned with them, but they were taking far too long to get out on the pitch, leaving their captain wondering where the hell half her team was.

"But we want to see how good Y/n is, Syd's got the highlights here."

"No, you can see how good she is when she joins us for training after her medical assessment. Now come on, or you'll be running laps for making the rest of the team wait on you all."

There's groans of disappointment, but to their rather swift credit, they do promptly exit the changeroom and make their way to the pitch where an also stern looking Alexander Straus is waiting for them, the team's manager, followed closely by Glódís, who's small smile contradicts her rolling eyes and annoyed head shaking.

----

When you do join them, you're quickly grabbed by Glódís, the captain having unofficially ruled that any new signings get paired with her first to properly welcome them to the team, and to also get them settled into her captaincy style and to adapt them to the dynamic of the team.

It's a way to get you properly integrated into the very familial like nature of it all.

Glódís seems very much like the mother of the team. All of them best friends but very much like siblings and but a few of the other older women taking the younger one's under their wings as parental figures on their own.

You figure it as a way to keep some semblance of structure amongst the chaos of the team.

The captain, it seems, is at the head of this, ensuring all of them work well together, the team is lifted for their triumphs, and picked back up with every miscalculated cross and shot, and dragged back onto their feet after every tackle or mistimed step.

Training with Glódís is intense, a good kind of intense. You find yourself enjoying the calculated, focused nature of her defensive manoeuvring.

But it's also warm, the occasional chatter between you leaving you both laughing at the other person's jokes and small mishaps as you settle in.

Her giggles are nothing if not contagious, and you can't help the grin that grows more and more the more you spend time with her.

It doesn't go unnoticed by the others, them taking note of the way their normally much more drill oriented captain has relaxed a bit.

Of course, she's friendly, smart, smiley and very much welcoming, but she's never been this laid back during drills, especially not when she's always expecting to set precedents with the new signings.

But this was definitely different to that.

The lingering touches, hip bumps and tone of laughter are different from the ones she's always held with the rest of the team. It's a little lighter, more giggly and full of a tone they themselves hadn't heard from her.

It was startling to see, nearly.

Glódís was... flirting?

Intentional or not, they didn't know, but it was definitely a flirty tone.

Not that you could tell, bless your oblivious self. You had no idea.

You matched the tone of lightness, of course. But you weren't picking up on everything else, thinking she's just naturally like that.

A very friendly captain.

The other girls know otherwise though, and the knowing looks they share later when your cute celebration after managing to meg the brick wall of a captain has her smirking slightly at your adorableness.

One thing she notices is that the more excited you get, the more your accent comes out.

It's adorable, she realises.

----

The second training isn't much different to the first.

You don't pay it much attention outside of friendliness, but Glódís takes a quick liking to you, now having claimed you for all paired warmups and drills.

Occasionally, you get stolen away every once in a while, leaving you feeling very much like the cool kid on the block.

There's something else, though.

It's in the way the Icelander smiles at you. It's in the way she hugs you every time you score in a mini game.

You brush it off, thinking, once again, she's just being friendly.

But it's a thought that sits in the back of your mind anyway.

You feel like it's a glimmer of hope. You're not sure what for or why but it's there.

Maybe it's a sign of a great friendship blooming.

Yeah.

That's what it is.

Ever since that, it's been amazing training with the team.

Your first match is just weeks after signing.

Your first minutes come as a sub for Klara in the sixtieth minute.

And it's not too long after that that you score your first goal for the club against Leipzig.

It's a beauty too.

A long range effort after a foward pass to Pernille is rebounded back to you.

It was an accident really.

You were aiming for the head of Lea but instead it curls a little more than you intend it to and it bends into the upper right corner of the netting, far past the outstretched gloves of the Swiss keeper, Elvira Herzog.

It feels a little silly, but you can't help the blush when you feel your captain hug you super tightly and lift you up in celebration.

"Let's go, that's our girl!"

----

It's been two months with the team and two and a half living in Germany. You've got a small cottage in the outer district of Munich, with enough yard to set up small drills and other various exercises.

There's been plenty of outings for you, finding yourself socialising far more than you used to back in Portland.

You don't hate it, though.

The whole team has been nothing but sweet to you, and it seems they're already attached, each player having dragged you on outings themselves, whether it be individually or with groups of them.

You're not sure why they've taken quite such a liking, but you think it might have something to do with the fact they keep asking questions for you and you alone to answer, or just anything to get you to talk, really.

You don't mind it. Bless 'em.

They're already like family to you.

Tonight is no different when it comes to being dragged to outings and team bonding nights.

Only this time, it's to a club in central Munich, having been allowed a little freedom given they dont a match this weekend. You yourself don't drink much, but some of the other girls do, so they've let loose, of course, under the watch of their captain and a few of the older girls acting as designated drivers.

There's a small nudge to your shoulder where you're leaning against a standing table.

"Hey you."

You'd recognise that sweet voice anywhere, humming as you turn to the suddenly appeared Glódís at your side.

"Well, hello, having fun there, Sweetheart?"

Glódís' lips perk up at your words.

"Always."

She takes a glance at the cup in your hand.

"Not drinking much? You can let loose a bit tonight, I'm letting you guys off the hook for tomorrow's training. Once in a lifetime opportunity L/n."

She winks at you, and you smile at her, amused.

You shake your head when she nods towards your still half full glass of vodka and soda.

"Nah, I want to be able to get up tomorrow, training or not."

She chuckles, nodding in agreement.

"Oh, to be young and dumb enough to drink like that once upon a time."

"Don't say it like that. You're only twenty-eight."

You huff playfully.

"Please, you and I both know neither of us would make it out alive if we-"

She cuts herself off, gesturing to the very rowdy girls taking another round of shots.

"Well... you're not wrong. To being old and susceptible to hangovers."

She giggles, and you hold out your glass towards hers, meeting her in the middle with a small clink and you both take a sip, her eyes never leaving yours.

"Woah there grandma. Not too hard now."

As you go to take another sip.

Rolling your eyes affectionately, you nudge her.

Turning back towards the group, you groan watching them take another round of shots.

"Oh sweet baby Jesus, Mary and Joseph. How the hell are we gettin' them home."

She pats your head with a small chuckle.

"With a lot of herding and the good old divide and conquer, cowgirl."

Then she moves off to go find Pernille and Magda on the other side of the room.

"You know, you and Glódís would be a super adorable couple."

A pair of arms wrap around your neck as a very drunk Sarah hangs onto you for stability, hear head leaning on your shoulder, and your arm moves to hold onto her so she doesn't hit the floor.

"Sarah, little miss, it's really cute that you wanna include me, but you know I don't speak German."

"One, I'm older than you, Two, sucks to be you."

A poke to the cheek following that, as she sticks out her tongue.

"Aren't you taking German classes anyway?"

"Yeah, but doesn't mean I understand the dialect of drunken soccer player yet."

She pouts at you before grumbling and resting her head back on it's spot on your shoulder.

"What I said was, you and Glódís would make a good couple."

Your cheeks immediately flame up, and your whole body tenses, wondering if you even heard the Austrian right.

"What-"

You clear your throat softly.

"What makes you say that?"

"You're already attached at the hip like no other. I've never seen her like this with anyone else. Even her old friend, Karólína."

"She's probably just missin' her then, Sar"

"If you say so."

It's just about mumbled into your shirt and you're beginning to realise that despite the pumping music, she's starting to exhaust pretty quickly with the way she's leaning further and further into you until you have to sit her down in one of the teams half occupied booths where she settles into another teammates arms.

With a small chuckle, you leave her to it, them saying they'd be heading out soon anyways and would take her home.

As you return to your spot at the table, you can't help but think back on what she said.

Despite her inebriation, what she said held weight in your mind.

And it ends with you eyeing up the woman through the small crowd over the lip of your drink.

You catch her looking back several times, each time sheet meets your eye, you think you imagine it, but her eyes crinkle a bit, and her smile gets a little brighter.

----

"You know, if you keep looking at her like that, she might catch onto you there, Glódí."

She knows she's not being subtle, but she can't help the way her eyes drift over to you.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Schülli."

"I think you do."

Glódís bites her lower lip as she watches you set the very drunk Sarah down by Sam and Linda (The Swedish one) before moving back to where you were, carefully watching over the girls on the dance floor.

It seems, with even just a few months with the team, you're already looking out for them like your own.

When you make eye contact with her for the fourth time in ten minutes, she smiles just that little bit more, which you quickly match.

Though, it seems, she doesn't expect the wink you send with it.

She raises a brow at you, ducking under the cover of her glass, hoping the purple hue of the lighting masks her slightly flushed cheeks.

"Wow, she has got you already, hasn't she?"

"Shut up."

The defender quickly turns away from your direction so the striker doesn't have get given any more fuel and gives her an annoyed but small shove to the shoulder, a slight frown marring her features.

"I think you should go for it, Glódí, she clearly has something for you."

"And what if she says no? Then what? Another friendship here ruined?"

Lea pauses for a minute, watching her, as her head ducks and her cheeks flare up at the admission.

"You mean... Ka"

Glódís swiftly nods, shushing the forward.

"Is that why she hasn't-"

She nods again.

The tips of her ears burn in shame under the taller German's gaze.

She hadn't meant to bring it up, but it just slipped out.

Karólína hadn't exactly reacted badly as such, but things between them haven't been the same since then, and with her being on loan now, they really spoken, if at all.

It still hurt, the look in her eyes as she tried her best to let her best friend down gently. Even then, months later, after the international break together, it still hurt.

After that, she'd sworn off dating teammates.

Hence, she hesitates to even think about pursuing anything with you.

She can't help the pang of hope she gets when you smile so brightly at her, though.

The sweet, charming, smooth tone you hold with her.

The way you hold her just a little bit longer and tighter than you do with the others.

But that's what she thought with Karólína, too.

And she was oh so wrong there.

So what's stopping her from being wrong now, right?

"That's why it can't happen, Lea. I'm not going through that again. I can't risk losing her or risk the team possibly being affected by it."

Lea smiles sympathetically at her captain, hand resting on her shoulder with a small squeeze.

It's silent between them for a few moments before the blonde speaks up again.

"Then don't worry about it. Now come on, I think it's time we get this rowdy lot home, it's nearing midnight."

Glódís sighs in appreciation and nods, looking over to the singing and dancing group of players followed by her gaze ultimately drifting over to you once more, returning the familiar warm smile she receives.

----

"Alright, come on, time for you to go to bed, little miss."

There's a small giggle from the drunkenly slurring blonde as you walk her up to her front door, your hands rifling her pockets for her keys.

"You're so cute."

Giulia pokes your cheek with one finger, and you roll your eyes, ignoring the flush creeping up your neck when you hear Glódís' muffled laughter behind you.

You'd turn to give her a glare but you're a bit preoccupied.

"And you are very inebriated."

Finally acquiring the keys from her back pocket, which she giggles again and wiggles her eyebrows at you for, earning herself another eyeroll as you drag her inside finally.

"You sure you got her there?"

The amused chuckle from the doorway makes you groan as she watches your stubborn self herd the blonde woman, currently letting herself lean completely on you, into her bedroom to at least encourage her to bed for the night.

"I am perfectly capable, thank you."

You're sure she doesn't believe that, but you believe it enough yourself to give up and let the now giggling woman help you as she observes on your masterpiece of drunk person wrangling.

Said drunk person now dead weight in your arms whining about not wanting to go to bed yet, to which you just plop her on the mattress finally and despite her protests, she's asleep in seconds.

Turning to Glódís triumphantly, you catch her amused smirk.

"Yeah yeah, real funny. I'd like to see you do that."

She shrugs, shaking her head.

"You're the one that insisted on bringing her in yourself, without help."

Grumbling, you make sure Giulia is fully on the bed before dropping her keys by the door and exiting and locking it on the way out.

Now, the both of you are stood in the darkness outside, with the last of the girls dropped home already, a collaborative effort thanks to Pernille, Magda, both Lindas and Jovana.

It's just you and her, now.

It's a cool winter night, nearing the end of the season but still cold enough that you're half shivering in front of the older woman.

You're both silent, your eyes drifting over her features lit up under the faint glow of the street lamp.

You swear, she gets even prettier every day.

The subtle but sharp line of her jaw, the way her hair almost glows under the moonlight, and the soft pink tint to her cheeks from the cold all have your heart beating a little quicker.

The way her eyes sparkle as they scan yours from across the porch.

The way her lips quirk up slightly under your gaze, brow raising just a bit.

"You okay?"

Her words snap you out of your assessment, and you hum softly, quickly recovering.

"Just a little tired, let's get on home then, Darlin?"

She nods and turns to head towards her car.

It doesn't surprise her when you jog ahead of her to open the driver side door for her, having done it every single time now since leaving the club.

"Such a gentlewoman."

Apparently, she hadn't grown tired of it yet, so that's a start.

It's a soft teasing tone that you poke your tongue out at her at before jumping in the passenger side.

On the drive out to your place outside of the city, her arm rests on the centre console, lined up next to yours as you hum along to the song on the radio, gazing out the window but also occasionally glancing over at her, scanning her side profile.

If she can feel your gaze on her, she doesn't really react.

It remains quiet for most of the drive, with the occasional hum or murmur along with the music.

It's not an awkward silence, but one you both need after tonight's activities.

Every so often, your pinkies brush, and every time they do, there's a small jolt of electricity that shoots up you arm from where they meet.

The moment you're in your own driveway, you bid her a soft and sweet thanks with a gentle nudge and give her a small wink and wave as she pulls way again.

She's thankful you're not there to hear her most likely audible heart beating in her chest the rest of the way home again.

----

Her heart racing at everything you do doesn't stop that night.

In fact, it gets worse.

It feels like everything you do has it beating beyond her rib cage.

It frustrates her, actually.

Every time she gets placed on something she needs full focus and attention for, she's been perfect for, but if you're there next to her?

Forget it.

Media duties?

Sitting next to you, she can feel your leg occasionally brush hers, arms brushing on the table every time you set it down from making gestures and whatnot.

Coach speeches during half time?

It's like you're doing it on purpose knowing she can't focus when you're standing behind her, hands resting on her shoulders, warmth radiating against her back with how close you are.

At one point, she's convinced you are doing it on purpose when she looks back and up at you, head tilted to make eye contact with you with a brow kinked up as you look down at her with a small smirk and a wink.

The more it goes, the less she knows how to function around you.

Individual post game interviews?

Even with you just moving around her doing various interviews with different journalists. A small brush of shoulders here, a hand gliding across her lower back as you move past her there.

At this rate, she feels like she's drowning in you and she's not even trying to move away.

Paired up interviews?

It feels like she's at her wits end with this one.

You're brought in together for a two-on-one interview for some football media page she can't remember the name of. There, seated on a couch, you're not even really doing anything. Except for the arm you have over the back of the lounge, resting just behind her head.

You aren't seated so close that you're pressed together. But you are close enough she can smell your perfume and it's making her head spin a little.

Hell, she feels like she should be used to hearing you speak by now, but it still has her feeling like she can't think properly with you around.

How she plans on surviving this, she doesn't know, but all she knows if she doesn't do something, she's going to lose her mind.

----

You know you shouldn't do it.

Really.

There's not even a guarantee she likes you back right?

Still, you can't help teasing her a little.

She doesn't confront you about it, she doesn't tell you to stop and as far as you can tell, she's not uncomfortable.

Your captain has always been verbal about how she's feeling when she's talking to people...

Mostly.

But she never leans away from you, only ever receiving a flushed face or an eye brow in response at most.

You can tell it's flustering her though.

By the way she's so quick to hide her reddened cheeks.

It's in the most adorable way that she rolls her eyes at your teasing comments when she scores a pretty good goal.

Small touches here and there, innocent touches. Nothing more than brushes and occasional times of brushing away grass from her face after particularly rough tackles.

The soft smile and drawl flowing from you asking how she's holding up makes it worth it.

Even though you may not be able to kiss her, her smile? Totally worth it.

----

Glódís feels like she's at her breaking point right about now.

When she's getting distracted during a game, a champions league game at that, that's a major problem.

You're both lined up for offence on a free kick when you're pressed in between her and an opposition player while she pressures the player in front.

It takes one brush of your hands on her waist and she's distracted long enough to miss jumping for the header on time.

Instead, you make it to the header, the ball flying into the back of the net as you take off running in celebration, having broken the deadlock in the final minute of stoppage.

Which turns into celebrations of the win the moment the whistle blows for full time and you're piled on for saving the teams chances at a spot in the quarter final over PSG.

The screams of the home crowd are drowned out as she waits impatiently for the end of her on field media duties.

Being the captain sucked sometimes, but it had to be done.

The moment she's free, she's jogging straight over to you and you're being dragged away off the field before you can even realise what's happening.

You had your own media duties, ones that you were currently shirking right now not being out there.

The moment you realise it's Glódís, the protests you had ready die in your throat, left with minor confusion the further down the obscure hallways she drags you until you're both in a secluded area and you're shoved into a broom closet with the door slammed shut behind both of you.

"What's goin-"

It takes all of a moment for her to grab you by the collar and slam you against the door leaving you a little winded and confused.

"Whatever it is you're doing, needs to stop. You're driving me crazy."

"What are you-"

"Don't play dumb with me, every time you so much as come near me, you brush past me, you so much as stand near me, I can't think and it's like you damn well know it, too."

It suddenly clears up there. You definitely didn't weren't doing it entirely on purpose.

Well, maybe.

Okay, it may have been a little on purpose, but you had no idea she was this affected.

"Look, I can stop if it's making you uncomfortable but Glódís... I... I kind of really like you and..."

----

Oh.

Well that changes things.

You actually like her?

You weren't just teasing her?

----

Before you can say much else, her hands cup your face and her lips are on yours in one movement.

Anticipating the action, your arms are around her in an instant, pulling her as close to you as possible, her body hot against yours despite the almost raging cold out on the pitch.

Her hands are firm on your face not letting you go for even a second, her lips fervent and sure as they move with yours.

It's only when you pull away for air that she finally relaxes into your hold for the first time.

Your hands are pressed into her lower back, hers now pressed into your shoulders as she looks slightly down at you, being just shorter than her by an inch.

The two of you just breathe for a moment, taking the moment in.

"You know. If you wanted to kiss me, all you had to was ask, Sweetheart."

She huffs.

"You're infuriating, you know that?"

There's a small guffaw on your face after that.

"What did I do?"

She almost believes the innocent look on your face.

The small upturn of your lips let's her know otherwise though.

"What didn't you do?"

And she kisses you again, slower and more tender this time, slowly pressing you back into the wall, slotting herself easily between your legs.

With your chest pressed to hers, you can finally feel the way her heart races, and she can finally feel yours, too.

There's always been something about you.

Guess it's just part of your charm.

----

#woso #woso x reader #woso imagines #woso imagine #glódís viggósdóttir x reader #glódís viggósdóttir imagine #glódís viggósdóttir imagines #glódís perla viggósdóttir x reader #glódís perla viggósdóttir imagine #glódís perla viggósdóttir imagines #fc bayern frauen x reader #fc bayern imagine #fc bayern imagines #woso oneshot #woso oneshots

[skipper1331]

Love from afar // Jessie Fleming

a/n: based off this request. I hope you like it!

Studying in a foreign country was difficult, you had to leave your home, your comfort zone. You didn't know anyone, you didn't know your surroundings, everything was just so different. It scared you and the first few months were hell but when you met the football team it got better. You started to feel comfortable, even meeting up with them. They became your friends. And then there was Jessie. The sweet canadian whose face was covered in freckles. She was by far the person you felt most comfortable around. With her calm nature she broke down your walls and crept her way into your heart. She was more than a friend. When you were around her, your heart would race, every touch would make you weak and every smile would follow you in to your dreams. Each day became more bearable when she was there. She reminded you early on when you had to turn a paper in, she went through your checklist for away games and she would ask if you called your family.

She was your anchor in the sea.

You fell in love with, how couldn‘t you? She was more than perfect. Every goal you scored was dedicated to her, you even had a special celebration that was only dedicated to her (she didn't know that though). The two of you were inseparable, for other eyes you were just best friends, towards each other you were best friends but secretly you both wanted more.

At some point during your time at UCLA you wanted to tell her. You wanted to tell her that you‘re in love with her yet you never did so you loved from afar.

After you graduated, the canadian moved to London, having the opportunity to play for Chelsea while you transeferred to Eintracht Frankfurt.

Jess had already left the country before you even got the chance to say goodbye to her but she left you something. She couldn‘t just leave you.

It was at your last day at UCLA when a mutual friend of yours handed you a box. "What‘s that?" you asked, the box kind of heavy. "Open it when you‘re alone"

"Okay?" Confusion was written on your face.

Finally, finding some free time you opened the box. The first thing you saw was an envelope with your name on it. Jessies handwriting.

My dearest y/n,

First of all, I want to apologize for not saying goodbye to you in person but it would have been too difficult. My heart couldn't have taken it. When you're reading this, I'm probably in the plane or have landed in England already.

I want you to know that it was my greatest honor to play alongside you. You are a wonderful person and I wish nothing but the best for you. (Ha. Adele reference, I know she’s your favorite.)

Under this letter are 6 journals. They are all fully prepared, all you have to do is tick the boxes If you’ve done one of your tasks, write down the date and score. I know you don‘t like changes so I thought this might help you.

Go smash it in Germany! You can do it.

I‘ll love you from afar.

May we meet again. (the 100 reference, your favorite show. I know you too well)

Sincerely,

Jessie

Wow. Tears streamed down your face as you read the note over and over again. You looked through each journal, Jess hadn‘t forgotten one thing. In there where all the things she reminded you to do.

4 years later

You made a name for yourself in the German league. Top scorer, shot bangers (you still had the same goal celebration as it was at UCLA - you loved her from afar) against clubs like Bayern Munich or Wolfsburg and were even considered as one of the nicest players.

Despite the fact that you and Jess were no longer in contact, you still kept an eye on each others career. When Jessie had the time, she would watch your matches or at least the hightlights of it. The same as you did. She was so proud of you. She loved you from afar.

But your time at Frankfurt came to an end. You wanted something different so when the offer from Arsenal came you didn‘t say no. You wanted this. You left Frankfurt with a heavy heart, but promised to keep in touch with Laura Freigang and your other teammates. They made Germany a home for you and you‘ll be forever grateful for that.

At Arsenal you were greeted with open arms, knowing already a few people due international duty. Jess knew about the transfer, you were in the same city as her, of course she knew. Her fingers hovered over your contact so many times, just a click away from calling you. She had also typed a message several times but never sent it. She was too shy. You had loads of fans now and got the recognition you deserved, it didn‘t feel right to text you out of nowhere.

Again, she loved you from afar.

Media wasn‘t something you enjoyed fully but it wasn‘t that bad either. Arsenal fans should have the chance to get to know you. You did welcome videos for them to post on social media and had some photoshoots. To be honest, you couldn‘t keep track but you could remember one specific filmed video. It was a Q&A and there was this one question which made you think.

"You've played in several countries, right?"

"Yes. As a kid I played in my home country, then I played in the United States and after that in Germany."

"Different countries, different languages, what helped you to adapt?" You thought about the question for a minute.

"To be honest, the question is more a who question instead of a what question" you smiled, people always appreciated your honesty. "I hated change, it made me anxious and because of that I forgot a lot of things. So, coming back to your question: ​​an old friend of mine. She‘s a mastermind. She reminded me to do this and that or wether I had packed this and that. When we parted ways, she still made sure I didn't forget anything. She prepared some journals for me where I only had to tick the boxes."

After the interview you had to see Jess. It just reminded you how important she was to you, even if you hadn't seen each other for years. A part of her was always with you. You loved her from afar.

You

I need to see you.

Immediately her reply came.

Jess🧠

Where and when?

You

20min.

You texted her the location of a small café which you discovered at your first day in London. 8 minutes early, you sat down at a table in the corner, shielded from the other tables yet with a perfect view to the door. Perfect on time, your lost love entered the café, she looked breathtaking. As she felt some eyes on her which turned out to be yours she walked towards your table, neither of you breaking eye contact. "Jess" you breathed, almost inaudible while you stood up, only an arm length away from her. The urge to touch was her massiv. Was this real? Was she really in front of you. Instead of touching her, you touched your neck, nervously scratching it. "You look beautiful" you blurted out, not being able to think straight in her proximity. Scanning your face, she launched forward to hug you. She held you like her life depended on it, afraid the moment she would open your eyes, you wouldn‘t be there anymore. After what felt like eternity, you pulled apart "Take a seat?" you asked which she did. At first it was weird between you both. You had so much to say but didn‘t know how but as the barrier was broken you talked about everything that happened in life. Neither of you mentioned the journals or the way things ended, it was just the two of you in your own little world. The world you created years ago. You sat in the café until it closed yet the evening wasn‘t over yet. Walking through the streets of London, Jess showed you around. "And that‘s were I live" the brunette pointed to door where you stood in front of. "Can I see you again?" you questioned the slightly smaller woman as you placed a loose hair strand behind her ear. The last four years haven‘t been enough to get over her. She just had to look at you and you would have weak knees, a racing heart. Again. "Tomorrow?"

The canadian and you met up nearly every day. Both of you happier, having each other close but just like in the old days, nobody said anything about the feelings for one another.

It wasn‘t until derby day.

The game was pretty intense and the score was still nil-nil which made everyone more desperate to score. Your team was up for a corner kick as Ann-Kathrin Berger, the Chelsea keeper, kept her goal clean. As you stood near the back post Katie took her shot. You remember jumping and then something nasty hitting your face before you hit the ground. You groaned in pain, liquid running down your face. Your head was aching while you felt dizzy. "Y/n!" soft hands grabbed your face as the owners eyes examined the wound. "You look so beautiful" you admitted sheepishly. "Can I count your freckles?" The studs of Erin Cuthbert had hit you pretty bad as you babbled gibberish. When the medic team came they immediately took you of the field to bandage your head.

Steph laid you down on the couch after she drove you home. You didn‘t talk nonesense anymore but the medic team ordered you to rest for a few days. "Thank you Stephsteph" you waved as she left your apartment, meeting a specific canadian at your door. "How are you feeling?" the blue asked as she entered your living room. "My head hurts but i‘m fine, now" you smiled at her while she took a seat beside your resting figure "i‘m glad"

She stayed the night and the night after that just to be sure you‘re alright. "Jess, i‘m alright" you whined as started to cook again for you "I know but I love to cook for you" your arms looped around her waist as you turned her around. "Four years isn‘t enough time to get over you," you admitted, resting your forehead against yours "I love you. I‘ve loved you since we were at UCLA"

"What?"

The freckled girl pulled her head away, staring in your eyes. Your body tensed, arms loosening its grip around her waist. "I still have your letter and the journals, they helped me a lot." scratching your neck out of habit. You took steps back, leaving her some space since she didn‘t reply to your confession. Her voice full of shock while she asked, "You love me?"

"Yes"

Within the seconds Jessie recovered from her shocked state as she pulled you down by your collar, pushing her lips against yours. Out of reflex you grabbed her hips, pulling her body against yours.

Your kiss was full of passion; it told its own story about the hidden feelings, the missing and the loving from afar.

—————————

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #chelsea wfc #steph catley #arsenal wfc #woso #woso x reader #woso fanfics

[hopefulromances]

Long Time Coming I Chapter Ten I Here We Go Again

Summary: Being hired as the first female assistant coach in the league was a challenge of it itself. Being a football protigy and University Football Legend was easy enough. Coaching Jamie Tartt was a challenge all on its own.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warning: None?? That I can think of?

A/N: Enjoy

Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine

Have you ever smelt miles and miles of poop surrounding you? I hadn’t either until Ted’s big plan to get the guys spirits up. But now that smell was stuck in my nose. Even if it was just poopeh.

I stood on the pitch, one foot on the ball. It was the beginning of a new season. A new start. Which I was thankful for. The past few months since the end of the last season, and the excitement of the promotion, had been an emotional whirlwind and I was excited to finally have something to focus on. AFC Richmond had a chip on its shoulder the size of a boulder going into the season and all eyes were on us. Unfortunately, most of the odds were stacked against you even Paddington Bear had the odds against you.

But things were different this time around. Richmond was stronger, more put together than ever. This team was on the brink of being the greatest, all they needed was the right push. What that push was going to be, I couldn’t say.

I took a step back and punted the ball down the field watching it as it fell, down, down before bouncing once then into the goal.

By the time I made it back into the building, the halls were bustling with life. Various greyhounds coming into the locker room, various staff walking in and out of rooms, all the signs of an active football club. I made my way up to Rebecca’s office to meet Keely. Since she was becoming a big CEO and all, she wouldn’t be at the club as much.

She left Rebecca’s office with Ted and Higgins following closely behind.

            “(Y/N) (L/N)!” Ted greeted. “What are you doing here?”

            “She’s here to see me, of course!” Keely told him, coming over to loop her arm with mine.

Ted put his hand over his heart in feigned offense. “And here I was thinking she was here for me.”

            “Sorry, Ted,” I said, leaning against Keely. “I’ll be sure to set up our morning chat later.”

As Keely and I headed down the stairs, we chatted about the off season and Keely’s exciting new job. We reached the bottom of the stairs where we were met by Isaac leaving the locker room. He asked her for a shoe deal. Not a brand deal. Just shoes. I glanced over and saw Jamie walking down the hallway with Bumbercatch and Colin. We made eye contact for a moment before I tore my eyes away from him to look over at Colin.

            “Hey, Colin.” I approached him instead. “How’s it going?”

            “Hey, (Y/N).” He smiled at me. “Bumber and me were just talking about going to see some music this weekend, do you want to come?”

I glanced over at Jamie again who was now talking to Keely. “Oh, I wish. I actually have plans.”

            “Oh, too bad. But next time year?”

            “Definitely!”

Finally, Keely and I were done dealing with the hordes of footballers and we could finally chat. That was until Roy approached us. I knew enough about their situation to back off for a moment, give them a second to chat. I felt Jamie’s eyes burning a hole in the back of my head, but I refused to look. I couldn’t look. I didn’t trust myself to look. So, I just waited, staring at literally nothing.

Finally, Keely was done and walking down the hallway. I rushed after her, not acknowledging the boys behind me.

            “Keely! Wait!” I called rushing after her. “What was that? With Roy?”

            “Oh, that? We… we uh… broke up!” She said it like it was nothing. Like she hadn’t just dropped the biggest bombshell of my life.

I grabbed her arm and pulled her towards me. “What?”

            “We haven’t really told people, but yeah…” She shrugged then looked at her watch. “Look at that! I have to go.”

            “Keely! You can’t just-“

            “Gotta go, Barb’s waiting for me.”

            “Keely we’re gonna talk about this!”

            “Later!”

And she was off, leaving the club. I shook my head in disbelief. I turned around just intime to see Jamie leaving the boot room with Roy. We made eye contact. I started backing away slowly, and Jamie started walking towards me. Step by step I backed up until I hit a wall and Jamie was standing right in front of me.

            “(Y/N).”

            “Jamie.”

Then he was kissing me. I gasped in surprise but kissed him back for a moment before pushing him off of me.

            “Jamie, not here.”

He pouted at me as I pushed past him. “No one’s around, I checked.”

            “You did not check, you said my name then you were kissing me,” I pointed out peaking around the corner before turning back to face him.

            “I know, I know, just…” He leaned against the wall next to me. “How long do we have to keep it a secret?”

Deciding to stay private for a while was my idea. If it were up to him, he’d be on me all hours of the day and while that idea sounded really nice, I needed time to have him to myself. Just us.

            “Just until… the season gets started,” I decided on saying. “People aren’t nice to me in the press and I don’t want to give them another reason to hate me.” Jamie pouted, grumbling something about not caring what people say. I turned to face him, bringing my hands up to rub up over his shoulders. “Look, for now we’re theirs but when we get home, we’re ours. It’s better this way.”

Though I didn’t sound too convinced myself. It broke my heart to keep Jamie a secret, and I know it was hurting him as well. But my worst fear was going public and hearing all the reasons we shouldn’t be together. He deserved better than me, or I was the reasons we weren’t playing well. Whatever they could find to tear us apart.

            “Ours, I like the sound of that, love,” He crooned, smirking at me.

            “Yeah… ours,” I echoed him, matching his smile. I saw him start to lean down to kiss me but panic shot through me so instead, I stepped back and started down the hallway to the locker room. I heard him stumble behind me and let out a curse, but I continued forward.

The locker room was a mess. The boys were up in arms about the Roy and Keely break up, something to do with signing Zava, and Trent Crimm for some reason? Jamie wasn’t far behind me but I tried not to notice him as he came in and stood to the side.

            “Why would Zava write a book about Trent Crimm?” Zoreaux shouted in confusion. I walked into the room looking around at the chaos.

            “Hold on a second!” Ted silenced the room. “If y’all didn’t know about Zava, which may or may not happen…”

            “We’re getting Zava?” I muttered to Beard.

            “Possibly,” He replied.

            “And y’all didn’t know about Trent Crimm, which is happening…” Ted continued.

            “Trent Crimm is writing a book about us?” I asked again.

            “Definitely,” Beard confirmed.

            “Then what were you so worked up about?” Ted finally finished.

The boys looked at each other, none of them wanting to admit what the issue was. Finally, Sam stepped up.

            “Roy and Keely broke up.”

Beard yelped, making me jump. Then Ted fainted.

It seemed the whole league was up in arms trying to get Zava to join them. It was all the boys could talk about as well. Especially Dani. Dani had a weird thing going to be honest. Zava certainly was an amazing player. I’d seen him on the field. He reminded me of Jamie a few years ago. Except he was about 10 years older with a wife and children.

The other weird thing was Roy’s vendetta against Trent Crimm. He’d outright banned all the lads from talking to him about anything. It was weird and personal in a way I’d never seen Roy act before.

            “(Y/N) (L/N), first female coach in the league…” Trent started, coming up to me.

            “Nope.” I shut him down. Even if I wanted to talk to him, starting the conversation about my place as a woman in a male dominated field was not going to be the way to do it. I walked straight past him into the coaches office.

Roy was smiling at me as I did. “Nicely done, (L/N).”

            “I didn’t do it for you, dickhead,” I grumbled, though I was smiling while I said it. I was smiling more than I used to now. Things were going well! The club was promoted, I was with Jamie, and things were finally looking up. So, why on earth did I feel off.

            “Jamie! I’m home!” I called into the house as I walked in, juggling a bag of groceries on my hip.  There was silence in the house, though. Maybe, he wasn’t here. We hadn’t officially moved in yet, so it wasn’t like we were always together. But usually, after a long day of pretending we weren’t together, he liked to be with me. Then I heard the sound of the TV on. “Jamie?”

I walked into the house and placed my bag of groceries down on the counter. From the kitchen I could see into the living room where Jamie was watching a football game. He was leaning forward, completely engrossed in the events of the game. It was cute to watch him to enamored with the game he loved so much. I came around the back of the couch and placed my hands on Jamie’s shoulders, prompting him to lean back.

            “Hey, babe,” I greeted, kissing the top of his head. He hummed in response, his eyes still not leaving the screen.  “What game are you watching?” It took me a second to realize he was watching me. That it was my kit on the screen. An old imperial game where I was commanding the field. I stood back, letting my hands fall to my sides. “Jamie… what is this?’”

            “It’s you, ain’t it?” He pointed at the screen. “I love this part, watch” I watched as I did a backwards kick to a teammate, sending the ball back to the middle of the field before it was sent back to me on the outside. From there I sent the back flying in a beautiful arch into the goal. “Fuckin’ brilliant it is.”

I watched myself celebrate on the screen, my teammates swarming me and cheering my name. It made my smile remembering those times. But I tore myself away from it before I could get too sucked into the nostalgia of actually playing football.

            “I’m gonna make dinner,” I said, turning back into the kitchen.

Jamie hopped up off the couch and followed me. “Why’d you stop?”

            “Hm?”

            “Why’d you stop playing football?”

I started to unpack the groceries I got thinking on the question. Why had I stopped? I stopped because the second I was out of uni, no one cared about me anymore. I stopped because my mum told me that it was time to get serious, that football wasn’t a career for women. I stopped because everything in the world was against me when I graduated.

            “Uh, it just didn’t work out for me, I guess,” I replied, absentmindedly.

            “I find that hard to believe,” Jamie returned, coming over to help me put stuff into the refrigerator. “You were top of the league when you graduated. Surely you had offers.”

            “It just didn’t work out, alright, Jamie?” I said, shortly, ending the conversation. “Now can you grab me the butter out of the fridge.” Jamie pursed his lips at me, clearly knowing there was more to the story than what I was letting on. But he grabbed a stick of butter and tossed it over to me. “Besides, I like coaching now. I’m good at it.”

That made Jamie smile. “Right on that one, babe.”

I sighed, happy that I was able to get Jamie off the subject of my departure from the game. Of course, I wanted to play football when I got out of college. But there were some words that cut too deep to ignore.

Luckily, we had the upcoming Chelsea game to discuss. Richmond was the talk of the town. Well, right next to Zava, we were. Everyone was watching as we either sunk or swam in the Premiere league on our first attempt back.

The stadium was buzzing as Roy, and I entered the field. At first, the buzzing was geared towards Roy. The chant of ‘he’s here, he’s there, he’s every-fucking-where, Roy Kent” filled the air. I could tell he was trying not to let it get to him, but he was touched for sure. But that chant was soon overtaken with cants of ‘Zava’! I turned and saw the prick in the stands. It made sense, Zava was all but signed to Chelsea according to Higgins’s various rumors.

But then the game was off. I watched as the boys tried to get something going but after several failed attempts, including one off Dani’s face, we ended the first half 1-nil with Chelsea on the board. Chelsea was playing offensively. Waiting for our guys to pass so they could intercept and take back possession. All they needed to do was hold onto the ball as long as possible.

            “Hey, fellas. Listen up,” Ted began, starting our half time meeting. “We get one goal we’re right back in this thing, yeah? But right now, we are being so unoffensive, we might as well be a Hallmark Christmas movie, you know what I’m saying.”

No, no we did not. But he continued nonetheless.

            “I mean, Coach, how many shots on goal we have that half?”

            “Just one,” I answered.

            “And that one was pretty much a mistake. Am I correct, Dani?”

            “Yes, it bounced off my face. But my face almost scored!” He returned enthusiastically.

The boys chattered amongst themselves, trying to figure out exactly what they were doing wrong. I dared a glance over at Jamie. We’d mastered the art of eye conversations. We usually were able to communicate our thoughts without saying anything. Sneaking around will do that for you. He had a thought, I could tell. If he was on the same page as me, I wanted him to share. He nodded at me.

            “Just an idea,” Jamie offered starting to stand.

            “What you got?” Ted called on him.

            “Right, so every time they’re going past the halfway line, they’re just...”

Then Trent entered the room, and everyone fell silent. I wanted to rip my hair out of my skull. They were giving up valuable strategy time all because of some stupid grudge Roy had on Trent. I looked at Ted, begging him to do something. Luckily, he seemed to understand my plea.

First Ted went with Roy just a few feet away into the showers. Then Ted emerged and Roy barked for Trent. Whatever happened in that room I don’t want to know but when they came out again, Roy allowed us to discuss around Trent. Unfortunately, we didn’t have much time, so I urged Jamie to finish his thought.

            “Listen!” Jamie shouted out over the noise. “What I’m saying is, every time we go past halfway, they’re just blocking up the passing lanes, you get that? So just kept dribbling until they stop you.”

That’s my boy. He saw exactly what I had seen. The boys seemed to have more energy going into the second half and it showed when Sam scored a goal off Dani’s face. And that was it, we finished the game in a tie against Chelsea.

As unorthodox as it was, I was excited. Excited because I could feel the electricity of things working on the field. Of the boys understanding each other and communicating. This was the game I loved. For a moment, just a single moment, I wished it was me on the field.

As we exited the field, I caught Trent standing to the side as we filed into the locker room.

            “Trent,” I called over, to him.

            “Coach (L/N),” He noted, standing up straight as I walked over to him. “To what do I owe the honor.”

I snorted, shaking my head. “Look, if there’s one thing, I want you to understand about me is that I am not some female superstar here to save my gender in the league.” He cocked his head at me, removing his glasses to better look at me. “I’m here because I love football. Just like everyone else on this team.”

He nodded at me, understanding. “I hear you. I understand you were quite the player in university. What made you stop playing.”

Oh, so now everyone was wondering about my past huh. Well, this wasn’t about to become some melodrama about why I didn’t play football anymore. I was here to do one thing and one thing only, coach football.

            “Nope!” I popped the ‘p’ at the end and sent him a wink. And with that I turned around and headed back into the locker room.

            “Goodnight, Coach (L/N)!” I heard Trent countered as I walked away. This season was certainly turning out to be an interesting one. But then again, when wasn’t it always.

I was looking forward to the celebration that was in store in the locker room but what I was met with was the awe shocked group watching a video on their phones. A video of Zava deciding to come to Richmond.

Tag List: @heletsmelovehim @higherthanheroes @ajax-petropolus-wife @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @kno-way-home @sleepy-time @wigglegiggle @skewedcherries @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @snubug @rana030

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #ted lasso show #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt fanfiction #long time coming

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

First Time Footie Fan (John Price x Escort!Reader)

Part of the "Purchase Your Time" Series

Summary: Talking stage has been complete and at last you get John in his comfort zone, not where he thinks yours is, and progress is made.

Content warning: Minors DNI, 18+ only. Reader is gender neutral and a sex worker, but no smut/sex in this chapter.

First Meeting and First "Meeting" // AO3 Version // Masterlist

“Oh, I saw he’s retiring,” You pointed to a massive electric screen, somehow immune to the rain and spray of the motorway, that boasted the pride and joy of Liverpool, Jürgen Klopp, “And everyone in the city is going into mourning.”

“More like half the country,” John’s eyes briefly acknowledged the advert before zeroing back on the road, “One of the greatest football coaches ever.”

“Greater than Ted Lasso?”

“Who?”

Eager to spew about the new show you’d binged between your last meeting and now, but wanting to remain as cool as possible, you said in best attempt at a casual affect: “It’s a show about an American soccer coach becoming the coach of a British football team. All I know about football is from that show.”

John shook his head with a sarcastic chuckle, “Soccer, it’s bloody football.”

You nodded in agreement, “’Course, they call rugby ‘football’ even though-”

“They use their hands!”

“And they wear helmets and shoulder pads. Wusses.”

“You into rugby then?” John caught your eye quickly before returning it to the road ahead.

You grinned, “Not at all.”

That got you a proper laugh from deep in John’s chest, puffing out under his coat.

You stuck your hands beneath your lap, restraining the anticipation for your first proper date. Yes, you’d been for dinners and stayed at hotels together. But now you were both past the talking phase and John wasn’t like a deer in the headlights every-time he was allowed to do something that could be construed as intimate. You’d shushed his apologies for jumping straight to the bedroom – even when there was no sex – and insisted that this “partner package” he asked for meant he could treat you like an actual spouse. Besides, you wanted to engage with something he liked, and he did promise you a football match.

His black truck was parked amidst a hoard of other vehicles, half a mile from the stadium – “so we’re not stuck in traffic later”, John had said. You were ready to rumble. But, when you reached for the car handle, John touched your arm. He already had his gloves on; the moulded leather almost tricked you into thinking it was hisbare callouses.

“I got something for you.” Then he pointed to the glovebox in front of you, his keenness hidden behind a carefully constructed expression of neutrality. You popped the glovebox open to reveal a black tissue-paper parcel.

As you sat it in your lap with your hands curved around it as if to safeguard it from waddling off you, you said cheekily, “If it’s lingerie, it’s too late for me to change.”

Rolling his eyes with an air of fondness, not a sting of derision, John dodged your gaze as he corrected your assumption: “Another time, perhaps.”

Unable to hold back, you sliced through the paper. A scarf of burning red fell out in a bundle. Liverpool Football Club’s insignia sat bold on both ends with snow white frills, a proper scarf to wear to the stadium.

You freed it from the rest of the tissue paper and immediately wrapped it around your neck, “I’m like a good luck charm!”

“Certainly lucky to have you here,” John replied.

As he still had yet to let you near his lips, you leant over the centre console and kissed John’s cheek. “Thank you. Now c’mon, I wanna get food before we watch the match.” As you stepped out of the car, you allowed yourself a little smirk at the smile lines forged on John’s face from your kiss.

Brewing eagerness echoed around the concrete walls of the stadium from everyone you walked past. Faces painted, shirts as bright as your scarf, you and John appeared quite casual by comparison. Content, you jostled and edged your way to purchase your overpriced fried food before you made your way to your seat. No dainty way to eat it, the condiments spurted out the opposite side with every bite and the napkin fell apart as soon as it came into contact with the viscous foodstuffs. It was only made more awkward when you had to stand up twice to allow other fans scooch on past.

“How was work, by the way? Good?” It was all you could ask John, and it was all you could presume since he called you a week earlier than his final text had alluded to.

“Fine. Nothing we haven’t done before,” John wiped his mouth clean of ketchup, “And you?”

Now you knew how he felt being asked. Your job was hardly as normal as his.

“All normal too,” You said. There was a lull between you. Perhaps you could market that as the real domesticity he was missing out on: not so comfortable silences on a date.

But John had to be the smooth operator he was, his knees slanted slightly towards you to share a secret: “You know, I got my job at a football match.”

You perked up, “Yeah?”

“Hmm, my colleague and I met in this stadium,” And he pointed across the pitch where you could see a family holding up a banner in the stands. “That section there.”

“I’m guessing it wasn’t a coincidence.”

“How’d you guess?”

“Your secrecy levels imply there’s not such in thing in that line of work.”

John cracked a smile, “She spent the whole time calling it ‘soccer’, until I corrected her. Then we got talking and she dropped the offer five minutes later.”

“So she annoyed you into taking the bait?”

“Pretty much.”

You flattened your lips together, impressed. “She sounds cool.”

“Well, don’t tell her that, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Kick-off at quarter past eight met with a comfortable end to your conversation. You spent half the time on your feet. Players on the pitch were relentless with Liverpool constantly pinging the ball back towards their goal. Felt unfair to the other team, but you didn’t feel bad at all. In fact, the energy had transmitted into you and John. Up and down like Jack in the boxes, you felt it in your stomach’s pit each time an attempted goal missed, tapping your face in John’s arm like a door knocker with another missed opportunity.

John often let out roars in accordance with the intensity of his disappointment. He’d pat your shoulder to help recover you both as fast as the team whose scarf you wore.

But by half-time, the score was 2-0 to your new (only) favourite football team.

“I’ve got a goddamn stitch from all that!” You gasped, slumping a little in your seat. Your hands became sore with the amount you were clapping. “Is it always this nuts?”

“I will say this one is a bit of a spectacle.”

No wonder he liked it: harmless entertainment to take his mind off his job, whatever it was. It was the same reason you had binged Ted Lasso over the span of last week. You decided to link your fingers in his and squeezed tightly, and he accepted this with a kiss on your temple in return. Score. Literally. He was getting acceleratingly more comfortable with you than he had in all those restaurant floors and hotel beds.

Your hand only left his when the match was off again, rejuvenated and ready to amplify your cheers.

When Chelsea managed to get a goal in, your inch of self-control got away from you, loudly booing with everyone else. Chanting their demise and that everyone on their team’s mother was a slag no longer seemed mean. You were too invested with Liverpool’s two goal lead and were another Chelsea score away from praying to a God you weren’t sure you believed in. Once or twice, you caught John smiling at you – a cross between sly and pride over how he’d indoctrinated you into the cult of football.

At last, after a blocked attempt, the fourth goal smashed into the bottom right corner. Jumping on the spot, you used one hand on John’s bicep for balance in case your footing did not land square on the tiny section of concrete your seat granted. You almost knocked his beanie off as you joined the Mexican wave rippling around the stadium.

As the crowds started to dispel, you and John remained in your seats as you both recounted your favourite parts. John seemed a bit unawares at first, and you remembered he usually came to these alone. So you had to lead with your highlights, John chipping in with previous games he’d seen to add to your newfound interest.

Eventually, you were made to leave the stadium, with only fond memories and your scarf, without the adrenaline.Your energy levels plummeted through the ground with each metre you moved away from the pitch and your feet were complaining loudly. Crowds filtered into Premier Inns and Travelodges and car parks, you amongst them with your hand tight in John’s until you were at his car, where he held the door open for you, a task you were glad to avoid at the end of a fifteen minute walk. Radio hosts gushing about the amazing match became your lullaby while you snuggled into your scarf.

Time passed like water down a slide and it wasn’t long before John squeezed your knee. “We’re here.”

Thank god you’d already dropped your bags off at the hotel earlier. Eyes were drooping as John led you into the elevator of your hotel for the night, him letting you attach yourself to his side like a limpet while he yet again opened your door.

“Thank you,” You mumbled hoarsely, dropping onto the side of the bed you designated your own.

John caught you by the arm just before you could curl up on the bed, using it to lift and seat you, “Oh, you don’t.”

“I want to,” you whined.

A minor success was barely celebrated as John released you, only to capture your left foot and remove your shoe. It was a pair you regretted wearing and the source of that regret was revealed to John as he peeled off your sock to reveal a blister, formed from all your jubilation during the match. You winced, tempted to yank your sweaty foot from his loose grip.

“Behave,” John said as he checked the blister, your ankle trapped in his curved grip. His voice had been teasing you, just a light-hearted reproach at your attempted resistance, keeping you in a good mood, but you felt your chest full with flustered feelings that you should store away when you were more capable of dealing with it.

From his overnight bag, that you hadn’t seen him collect, he withdrew an antiseptic wipe and a small plaster, one that fit perfectly over your wound.

“You always carry plasters around?” You asked sheepishly.

“Never know when you need an emergency plaster,” John replied, smoothing it over before swapping to your other foot, “Crisis averted.”

A far-away internal dialogue reminded you that you shouldn’t find your customer picking a bit of sock fluff out of your open blister attractive. You failed to hear it over the blood flooding beneath your cheeks whilst he unwound the scarf from your neck.

“I guess it’s that cool-under-pressure quick-thinking and ready-for-anything attitude that got you poached at that match.”

“Among other things.” And John took your paired shoes over to the door.

You could appreciate that John was trying to connect with you whilst keeping sturdy those walls of his. But he couldn’t help it. His personality was a reflection of his ideology, therefore his job. He was telling you more than he wanted, and you were craving a little more each time.

From the bed, you watched him hang up his coat and beanie beside your scarf, his hair sticking up at the back on ends. An idea struck you like a slap and woke you up a little.

Knelt onto the bed, you beckoned him over as he finished removing his boots. As he sauntered over to you, he began smiling. It only grew as you drew him in to wrap your arms around his neck. His hands, guided by your incentive, found themselves behind your back.

“Thank you for today,” You whispered into the space between you.

“Of course.” There. You caught him, shamelessly looking at your lips. You took the plunge and leant in. At the final split second, John did too.

The second his lips touched yours, it stole any thoughts from your mind, as if the volume of the city was turned down. A slight tickle from his moustache, not bristly but smooth and trimmed, that was not the main reason behind your smile. It was how his paw of a hand hugged under your jaw, turning your head so that he could slot your body up against his and still slip his charming tongue into your mouth.

He pulled away first. You always let them pull away first. Rarely did you feel like you had to leave it, and this was one of those kisses you wouldn’t have minded continuing. By the rosiness on his cheeks and how loudly you could hear him taking controlled breaths, you hypothesised that he felt the same. Yet again, his gentleman-like nature getting in the way of what he wanted. Never mind, there was always more chances you could create next time to get him more into his comfort zone.

“Just wanted a goodnight kiss,” You said as you released him with an innocent smile.

John raised an eyebrow, though his lips were still smirking at you, “Oh yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.” And you bounced off the bed to get changed into your pyjamas, leaving the bathroom door open.

Your skin prickled with goosebumps each time it felt him stealing glances at you. Therefore it felt only necessary that you take a peek too. The two seconds leaning over to the ajar door confirmed what you’d felt during your nights together: a firm body that slightly softened the touch of his muscles yet without masking the power beneath it. A few scars, a trim waist and the blur of a tattoo were on show before his sleep shirt was yanked over his body. That was when you retreated back to brush your teeth and splash cold water on your face.

Even as you tucked yourself into bed, John was still pottering around. You were already halfway off to dreamland by the time he slid beneath the covers on his side. Maybe that was why you asked:

“One more?” Cherry on top, you pouted with your eyes closed up at him like you were Sleeping Beauty. A gentle chuckle and a peck upon your lips was well received and you were greeted by the lights switched off and John looking younger as he rested his head on his pillow but close to you.

“Goodnight,” He said with a sigh.

You wriggled a bit deeper into the bedclothes, smothering the butterflies in your stomach until the fluttering stopped. “Sleep well, John.”

#captain john price x reader #john price x reader #john price x you #john price fanfic #cod fanfic #cod x you #cod x reader #captain john price #my writing #series #r: gn

[footballerimaginess]

Bestieee fluff one with Ruben about yesterday's victory

Word Count: 390 Standing up in the stands at the Atatürk Olympic Stadium in Istanbul, being surrounded by Ruben's family. When Rodri's goal hit the back of the net, you cheered ever so loudly. Hugging everyone in sight that you could physically grab.

"Yessssss" you jumped up and down as you cuddled his brother and felt you'd hugged everyone around you, kissing each other too. The next twenty minutes you were so nervous every time Inter Milan came forward, you'd never felt nerves like it. Football wasn't something you had always loved, but since being best friends with Ruben when you met him in Portugal this was when you fell in love with it. The referee finally blew the whistle on the game as you cried as the tears rolled down your face, tears of joy as you just got to witness the greatest night in the club's history. Peeling yourself away from Ruben's family as you ran down from the stand as you followed on from all of the other family and friends. "I can't believe this, I don't think I have cried this many happy tears before" his mother replied. "Oh come here" you pulled her in for another cuddle as you could also feel even more tears coming down your face. The players got their medals and you were allowed to go and see the players. Running on and standing back away from the family as you gave Ruben some time on his own with his family. "Hey" you whispered as you gave him the biggest cuddle as you fell into his arms. "I am so proud of you" you cuddled into him, smelling his sweaty football shirt. "Thank you, I am so happy you managed to come and see me" you smiled as you finally peeled yourself away from him. "I couldn't miss this for the world Rube" you grinned as you looked at the medal that was hanging around his neck. "God just get together already" you turned and heard Kalvin shouting as you blushed so hard. "Piss off you" Ruben waved him off as you were now feeling slightly embarrassed. "Maybe we should just get together" Ruben smirked as a smile grew on your face. "Oh that sounds like a good idea" you grinned as you cuddled him again as he pressed a kiss on your head.

#hayleys blurbs #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias blurb #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias fanfic #football imagines #football imagine #football one shot #football one shots #futbol imagines #futbol imagine #football x reader #football x you #football blurbs #football blurb

[mapileonxputellas]

Friends Who Became Family (Barca x Reader)

In support of Sara Bjork, my take on the other side of this. Loved writing this. This is quite different from the other ones I write. I started writing this with a specific player in mind as the partner but you can choose whoever you want or read it like this! Wrote in the style of a tribune. TW: IVF, pregnancy loss, pregnancy, depression 3.3k words

Playing football.

Having a baby.

Two things many women dream about all over the world and it is widely accepted if they don’t want to do one or either of those things.

But what if you want to do both? What if you reach the top of your game in football and decide that you want to have a baby? What then? Why should we have to sacrifice one to have the other?

But for that to happen people need to stand up and fight for our rights. People like my wife.

.

We’ve been together for seven years now. We met doing the one thing we both love: playing football. It’s cringy to say but it definitely was love at first sight, at least for me. I caught the eye of an opposition in an international friendly and the rest is history. A DM later than week, followed by months of messaging, millions of miles between us got us to this point.

Just over a year after we decided to make the move together, to join Wolfsburg. Neither of us could speak any German, we didn’t know anyone but with two suitcases and each other we made the move.

After four years together, three living together, it felt like we were ready for the next step. We both wanted to be mothers but we were both aware it wasn’t as simple as that. So we started looking for a donor and IVF. She was going to carry the baby and take a break from football. A decision made by the both of us.

At that point it was almost a near formality for both of us that we would sign a contract renewal but when two of the biggest clubs in the world come calling for you it is hard to refuse.

That meant moving to Barcelona, a new country. All in the middle of a pandemic. All whilst trying to start our family.

We knew this wasn’t going to be simple so when the opportunity came to start the transfers we couldn’t say no.

Our first transfer failed.

I’ve dreamt of this life since I was a young girl but those few months felt like a nightmare. I played football three times a week but had no energy to get out of bed. I celebrated every goal scored but I cried myself to sleep every night. I met the fans after every game but couldn’t truly be thankful for anything anymore.

Looking back I should have spoken to someone about this but I used football as my escape. My head was free. For those 90 minutes I could focus my anger and disappointment on something else.

Football was my rock.

….

Three failed transfers later we were losing hope. The small string of hope we were both clinging to was fraying and wouldn’t hold on for much longer. We’d got used to the faint two pink lines on the test, almost waiting for them to fade slowly over the days.

Then they didn’t. They stuck. For weeks we were almost in denial, always wondering when it would all come crashing down around us.

We kept it a secret as you will have guessed, both of us playing until my partner had to stop.

My wife has well documented her journey into motherhood, challenging the rights of mothers to FIFA and ensuring they are cared for throughout their pregnancy and motherhood.

Just under a year ago we welcomed our daughter into the world. It’s true when they say in that one moment everything changes. Football, has and always will be my biggest passion, but suddenly I had this whole other meaning to life.

But this isn’t so much about my journey through motherhood. I’m not sure if it’s visible but whenever she and my wife are in the crowd I can play with such freedom, knowing my three greatest loves are in one place.

This is a letter to my family.

…..

My wife….

You’re the most loving, caring, fearless, amazing woman I’ve ever met and I’m so lucky to have had the pleasure of being your partner in life.

Most people would describe us as quite cautious, well thought out players. That couldn’t have been more different to the day I made you my wife.

December 31st 2019

You were both so excited at the prospect of starting to try for a baby, spending the Christmas season in your native country and celebrating with both of your families present.

“I love you.” Your girlfriend whispered in your ear as you led in bed on the final morning of the year. “So much.”

“I love you too.”

“Enough to marry me?”

“What?”

“If I find a registrar will you marry me? Tonight?”

“That’s crazy, we can’t do that.”

“Why not? I love you, you love me. Who cares how many people are there? Who cares if we don’t have some fancy reception and a massive cake? All I need is you and I, our family, some friends and a takeaway for tea.”

“What will we wear?”

“We’ll go shopping, we’ve got time. Think about it, tonight we can watch the fireworks go off as wives. So will you do it? Will you marry me?”

“Go on then.”

That night you got married, underneath the stars in your childhood home. Everything absolutely perfect.

I’ve always admired you on the pitch, you exude confidence in everything you do. You’re a heartless defender but I’ve seen the heart of gold you’ve got inside of you.

On the pitch you’re determined in everything you do. There was a point in trying where I wasn’t sure if we could continue trying without breaking our own hearts in the process. But you showed your determination and love for our daughter with every injection, every setback and throughout your pregnancy.

I’ll never be able to thank you enough for everything you sacrificed for us and I hope you know that every time I go onto that pitch I do it for you.

The biggest compliment I can give you is that before I always wondered what I would do when I could no longer play football. How would I fill that void that has been there my whole life? But it couldn’t be easier when I know I’ve got a lifetime with you by my side.

My most precious memory is lifting the Champions League trophy with you and only you know the reason why.

May 2021

The atmosphere in Gothenburg was a strange one. The eerie quietness of the small crowd a stark contrast to the elation among you and your teammates.

The trophy was slowly being passed around, you as always happy to let the other have the limelight before you do.

“Y/N get over here.” Caro shouted. “It’s your turn.”

“Stop hiding at the back.” Mapi added.

“Alright, alright.”

“Let the love birds have a photo.” Alexia chimed in but stopped to pull the both of you in for a hug. “ No-one deserves it more than you two. Now go and do the cringy couples’ photos.”

“Very funny.” They rightfully teased you though, the two of you getting your photos with the trophy.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you smile this wide in months.” She whispered, a reference to your third failed transfer just three months before.

“It’s been hard. Really hard.” You didn’t want to ruin this moment with the tears gathering in your eyes. “But we’re here and I’ve got you. You’ve got me.”

“Maybe we’ve got a good luck charm today.”

“Up there?”

“Down here.” It took you a moment to work out what she was talking about, her hand gently placing your own on her stomach hidden behind the trophy which you fumbled in your hands. “Mapi, take the trophy.”

The trophy went away and you could finally wrap your arms around her. Slightly picking her up off the ground to move over to the side. “Are you serious?”

“I had it done 4 weeks ago, the lines are still there. 6 weeks gone.”

“I-“ You thought you were ready for this moment, you’d been waiting for it for so long but hearing those words filled you with so many emotions. You never wanted this moment to end though as you both just stayed in each other’s arms, chaos ensuing all around you but it felt like you were the only two people in the world. “Thank you.”

“No thank you.”

But I’ve never been as proud of you these past two years. We can appreciate that though it should be normal, we are lucky that we were supported by Barcelona. That didn’t stop you going further, taking it higher up and making sure players across the world are secure financially, emotionally and physically. You’ve changed the sport forever.

I’ve wrote this for you but I hope I show you every day how much you mean to me. I could fill pages and pages just talking about you.  

I love you always X

….

To my daughter….

I’d use this letter to tell you how much I love you but I hope you know that already.

I have no idea when you’ll read this letter, three years from now, ten years from now or twenty years from now but I’d like to say some things that will never change.

After saying all that I hope you know how much we love you. I hope you know that every day I look up to the stars and think about how lucky I am that I have you.

I hope you know that I’ll support you in whatever you want to do in life, whether that’s being a footballer or being a hairdresser. Though I do hope you won’t get bored of being in a football stadium.

April 2022

This felt like the biggest moment of your life so far. A Champions League semi-final leg in Camp Nou against your old club Wolfsburg but it wasn’t just the 90,000 plus fans that were in attendance. Somewhere in a box in the high heavens was a month-old little girl who just happened to share your name.

You’d debated whether to bring her but you simply couldn’t resist the opportunity. She would probably sleep the whole match but just to know she was here was enough.

The 5-1 win topped it all off, the celebrations jubilant as you all interacted with the fans, this was everything you’d worked for and more.

“Y/N! Y/N!” You could hear the fans chanting your name, merely supposing they wanted you to celebrate with them you carried on jumping but two arms wrapped around your shoulders.

“Someone’s come to see you.” Alexia whispered, your head immediately turning to find your wife and a little bundle in her arms. Ear defenders visible over her fluffy baby suit. “Go and enjoy this moment together.”

You didn’t hesitate, jogging over to your biggest loves, pulling one into your arms to your chest and pressing a kiss to the other’s lips. You couldn’t help but admire the tiny Barcelona shirt with your name on the back as she stayed asleep. “How did she like it?”

“It think she’s a fan already, she woke up for a feed and then stayed awake. I think it was the lights but we’ll say it was the football.”

“She’s a culer already.” Irene greeted you both before gently stroking the baby’s head. “Once again, she is gorgeous.”

“Must be the genetics.”

“Go and take her to celebrate.” Your wife insisted.

“You come too.” She haggled and came over but stayed towards the back with some injured players as you took her closer to where the team were. She must have felt the movement as eyes suddenly peered up at you but to your surprise the crying was kept at bay. “Hello, have you come to see mama play?” She simply gurgled back at you before settling against your chest. “You’ve got to get used to this baby.”

“Look who we have here?” Patri came over, carefully kissing the top of her head. “Feel amazing?”

“Feels incredible, the first of many.”

I hope you know that I do everything for you. I do everything so I can come home to your smiley face and watch you grow up.

I hope you know I’m always here for you always. In tough times and good times I’m by your side as your mama and your best friend in one.

I hope you strive for your own happiness and never settle for anything less. I hope you’re as caring and fearless as your mama is. I hope I make you proud.

I hope you know you’re perfect in every way. Never stop being you.

Love mama x

….

To my teammates….

Strangers who became friends who became family.

I’ve been in many teams before, I’ve played with lots of people but they’ve always stayed as friends. You’ve become my family.

We moved to Barcelona not knowing anyone and you took us in, taught us the language and supported us in every way possible.

I know you saw the dark moments. I know I tried to hide away and I’m so thankful you didn’t let me. I wish I could single all of you out and tell you how great you are but I’m sure I’ve told you all how much I appreciate you so I’ll single some of you out.

Jana, my little Jana. This last year has shown me what an absolute talent you are, not because of your talent on the field but for your perseverance off it. Us defenders stick together and it’s fair to say you’re like a little sister to me. I hope you know how much I appreciate every joke you tell, every smile you give because without knowing it you lifted my mood on some very tough days.

Patri. I think it was four months into knowing me that you found me that night. I’ll never be able to put into words how thankful I was for you but I hope you know that I am. You’re a superstar in every way.

December 2020

You’d officially hit rock bottom. It felt like you couldn’t do anything right. You strive for perfection and tonight you were definitely not that.

The sky was pitch black, the flood lights the only light illuminating you. The stands were empty, the only noise coming from your boots hitting the ball. Over and over.

The silly thing was you’d won the match, a last gasp winner sealing the 3 points but the initial equaliser was your fault in your head. You’d let her get the better of you 1v1 and allowed her to put the cross in for a tap in. All you.

So that’s why you were here, repeating that drill over and over again. Punishing yourself with every minute that ticked by.

“Need some company.” You didn’t need to look to know it was Patri, simply ignoring her and carrying on. “You can ignore me all you want, I’m not leaving without you.”

“Go home.”

“You know I can’t do that, but I’ll be over there when you’re ready.”

Twenty minutes had passed and you could see she was still there and even though she was wrapped up in a coat you couldn’t let her freeze any longer. Saying that you still only sat down next to her, neither of you speaking just watching the stars. “We’re trying for a baby.” You whispered, not getting any response from her. “The second one failed this morning.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.” There was nothing more to say as you felt her head to come to rest on your shoulder.

“I’m always here you know, morning and night. If you need someone to speak to.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you speaking to anyone about this? You can’t just stay out here all night punishing yourself for a mistake we can all make.”

“I just feel like I keep letting everyone down.”

“You’re not. Look at me.” Gently grabbing your face her eyes met your own. “We all made mistakes out there tonight, I let the ball run through to your player then Mapi didn’t react in the middle. It happens, there’s no use punishing yourself now. Speak to someone, someone who can help. Anyone, a professional, one of us, your family. Someone you can rant and cry to until you can’t anymore.”

“I’ll try.”

I never told you this but I kept that promise that night, all because of you.

Irene, thank you for the late-night phone calls. You understand me like no-one else, Like you have a sixth sense of when I’m stuck in my own mind. You’ve been my biggest teacher on and off the field and you’ve helped me be the person I am today.

Mapi, my best friend. I remember our first meeting, I can now firmly joke that you’d got out of the wrong side of the bed that morning. You barely said hello to me before tackling me to the ground and whipping a free kick over my head in training. But that’s what makes you amazing. It’s hard to look back at that now and not smile knowing how close we are now after you apologised on a night out where we both stayed in the corner. A symbol of our friendship.

The day we came home from the hospital it was you who left meals at our doorstep, with a little care package for the three of us. It was you who fought your way to the front of the crowd to get the first hold. You’re right: looks are deceiving.

Alexia, my captain. You’re the biggest role model for me. I hope my daughter is as smart, courageous, passionate and caring as you are. I hope we put a smile on your face when you needed it just like you did for us.

The birth was coming closer, the both of you completely on edge about when it was going to happen. You were needed for the Champions League games but you also had a pregnant wife at home.

On a random Saturday you got a call from Alexia that the team were having a get together, your regular restaurant had an availability and they made some last-minute plans.

This wasn’t exactly what you needed right now, the stress of preparing the house for the baby was stressful but you were glad to get out of the house.

What you wasn’t expecting though was to open the doors of the restaurant to be met with all your teammates and both your mums and sisters. The room covered in pink and a massive baby sign at the back.

“Oh my…. What are you doing here?” You shouted, pulling your family into her a group hug.

“We’re here to celebrate of course. Your lovely teammates have been planning this for a while”

After you welcomed them you went over to your teammates, individually thanking them all. “Who organised this?”

“We all helped but this was Alexia’s idea, she also wanted to invite your family.” Ana admitted.

When you came to Alexia you gave her the biggest hug of all, tears in both your eyes. “Thank you, you didn’t have to do this.”

“If being captain doesn’t allow you to do this sort of stuff then there’s no point. That baby needs to get used to us anyway so may as well start whilst it’s in the womb.”

I can’t wait for all the seasons to come x

….

And to all of you out there. All of us have times when it can seem like there’s no light at the end of the tunnel, when all hope is lost. Just remember the light never goes away, it’s only hidden from view. It will come back.

Y/N x

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso imagines #barcelona femeni #barcelona femeni imagine #barcelona femeni x reader #barca

[ctrlyomomma]

★ connected in more ways than one ★

pairing: christian pulisic x footballer! oc! reader

summary: they’re both footballers in europe, going to international camp. a lil fight at the end between them.

author’s note: just wanted to write abt chris 🤨 clearly this gif isn’t mine and this is longer than expected 😋 also reader has a bit of hatred towards gio- the nepotism made sense for the story and the comebacks- sorry. also tons of foul language used in the argument. mistreatment of women and misogyny are mentioned. okay enjoy :)

*written really fast, so if you see any errors- 😀

it was quite odd how this relationship came to be between two americans. especially playing in different leagues in europe.

her from arsenal, him from ac milan. it was quite interesting how they were together but never in public.

they weren’t those types to have affection in front of others, mostly protective of those feelings.

mostly him anyways, but she felt the same way especially after her public romance of a few years back was revealed to the world.

it felt so weird but so well. they complimented each other, especially after meeting through weston mckennie, her old juventus friend.

so when kailani met christian on a cold night, weston had invited her to italy for new years of 2023.

she flew to turin, italy for the first time since 2022.

kailani loved turin, yet when she was having the greatest time, juve had called her letting her know they sold her to a five year contract at arsenal.

much to her dismay, she left turin and headed to north london, home of the gunners. making herself at home yet missing a certain american. her westy.

kailani missed that most of turin, yet when she entered wes’ apartment she wasn’t expecting anyone to be there.

christian pulisic, was there in all his glory sitting on the couch, talking and smiling with wes. it looked weak but still holding on.

guess the chelsea season wasn’t going so well?

she knew who he was but didn’t know him well enough to assume.

weston stands as kailani waves hi and speaks, “hi, westy.”

they begin to envelop into a hug. “kails, i missed you so much.” he tells her.

“yeah, me too.” she whispers, not wanting to fall apart.

he remembers again that chris was with them, before turning towards him. “kails, this is christian. he’s american too. one of my best friends.”

now kailani wasn’t sure whether wes thought she was an idiot or something but she knew who this guy was.

she leaned towards christian, over the coffee table and said “kailani, but everyone calls me whatever they want. nice to meet you, christian.”

he grabs her hand while looking into her eyes, “nice to meet you kailani.” he smiles.

they certainly had felt the connection, or she did at least.

it’d been hard finding new friends at her new club. it felt like the same way whenever she arrived at juventus from college with three years of eligibility left.

she smiled and enjoyed her ‘lonely’ new years with her best friend and a guy.

she left turin the day after, not realizing that her and christian had the same flight heading both to london.

they both arrived at the london airport, bumping into each other on accident.

finding one another’s instagram account, and even stalking one another before he sent a dm.

“so what do you do?” he asked casually, she assumed that he did know who she was.

“you might not like this answer,” she responded. “why wouldn’t i?” he asked innocently.

“i play football at arsenal,” she responds quickly. it turns into their little ‘fight’ due to his loyalty at chelsea.

boo gunners, he tells her

boo up the chels, she tells him. his contract was due at the end of the 24��� season. it was a matter of time before renewal or new club rumors started.

he smiles at his phone before he secretly likes the message.

they both subconsciously turn off their phones heading on their way to their respective destinations.

it felt different with christian than it did with wes. she felt understood by him, whether she admitted it or not.

there were feelings, waiting to be explored.

so that’s what happened, they explored.

those weeks they spent being friends, turned into seeing each other whenever they could.

and when they couldn’t, they’d facetime.

over the course of time, it was a slow burn kind of love.

sharing kisses in secret, being each others crushes.

before they’d even attend international camp, they planned out their ideas to hang out before arriving.

being called up after impressing coaches at their respective clubs.

he’d asked her out a week before they attended an nba game during july, even inviting weston.

christian had the idea of inviting her over to his hotel, scaring her texting, “come over, we need to talk.”

that text was one thing to make her pace her hotel room.

they were on a floor distance. they had to be especially being on the uswnt and usmnt.

she came and knocked.

he opened the door, swiftly and quietly. scaring her a bit before pulling her in quickly.

he looks at her before inhaling out and wiping his palms on his pants.

“i like you a lot, and i want to explore something with you. so will you be my girlfriend?”

her brows furrow. “sorry what?” she asks.

he’s confused now. “i thought you had the same feelings too- maybe i shouldn’t have assumed you liked- i mean we kissed. multiple times.” chuckling as he tries to finish before she realizes.

“no! i do like you. a lot. i will be your girlfriend” she smiles.

he sighs in relief. “thank god.”

she walks up to him before placing a kiss on his lips.

ミ★

they’re on the sideline, waiting for the lakers and warriors to start playing against each other. the jumbotron turns on before the game starts introducing the celebs.

“introducing stars from the world..”, he continued before finally introducing everyone “christian pulisic, and weston mckennie.” they waved as you just looked and smiled.

you weren’t mad about it- it was expected. after they showed their faces. you went and whispered in weston’s ear, “do you know the plan for next week’s training?”

he shook his head, “nah, all i know is that we’re getting new training kits. might have a lil media day too, if we get lucky.”

she smiled, “oh westy, you make me smile.” before he smiled.

“is it me,” he interrupts. “or does christian like you?” laughing as he whispers.

“i actually have no idea.” playing dumb. 

“cause all he does is stare,” as you turn and look over at your new boyfriend.

“what?” christian asks as both of you stare at him.

you and weston had finished chatting before you turn and whisper in chris’ ear- “he’s onto us.” you let him on.

“what? how?” he’s confused, he for sure let weston know that he wasn’t into you days prior. “i literally told him i wasn’t into you days ago.” he told you.

you shrug, he just told me that. you smile before saying, “don’t worry about it, i’ll handle it.” winking.

you continue to watch the warriors v. lakers.

the game finishes and all of you go on court to speak with the players.

chris, westy, and you chat with steph curry.

he goes immediately to you, “kailani, so good to meet you!” he seems excited.

she smiles, “hi steph.” before going into a side hug.

you continue to chat all together before leaving in an suv all together.

she goes onto twitter.

“them not putting kailani smith on the jumbotron is crazyyy. like ain’t she scored double of what weston mckennie and christian pulisic scored combined?”

“k smithy deserved to be on that damn jumbotron. shame on the nba.”

she laughed as weston and christian lean on her shoulder as westy notices, “woah. why are you laying on her shoulder? she’s my friend not yours.” making you smile even harder.

“woah weston chill, you getting jealous?” she asked.

“yeah, some mans tryna get your attention so badddd.” he laughs.

christian shaking his head, westy opening his mouth wide.

“no way, he didn’t deny it!” he begins to laugh hard and point his finger at christian.

his eyes are wide now, before you speak. “chill weston, leave him alone.”

he laughs and turns to look at you, “no way, you’re dating. you’re already defending him. you did the same thing with fede.”

your jaw drops, it’d been more than two years ago since you had dated federico chiesa.

when the romance between the two was revealed, it wasn’t a pretty sight to see. the internet couldn’t stand seeing both of you in public anymore- throwing hate on you for being with fede, it was you deciding then it was time to call it quits with the italian baller.

you looked down before saying, “yeah well it’s different.” shaking your head.

seeing christian in your peripheral, he looked awkward.

while weston said, “how different?” all serious, no longer laughing.

“i want this to be private, i want the loving and caring parts of him to be private. i don’t like the outside world i don’t know of to know what its like. thats only for me.”

you continue to rant, “i don’t want to be hated for being with a guy i like a lot.”

he nods his head as i look over at chris.

“he wants the same, he doesn’t like the outviews of the world. he’s a shy guy.” you say placing your hand on his cheek, during the last sentence.

christian leans into your touch.

ミ★

a week later, you’re off sneaking kisses in his room before heading to training in california.

he no longer kisses you, stopping. “you know, i never thought that i would have a crush on you. i didn’t even know who you were.” he smiles.

you laugh, “now i’m your worst nightmare.”

he chuckles, before getting serious. “nah, you’re the best thing to me,” he looks into your eyes. “you’re teaching me what love is within a week or two of being my girlfriend.”

you smile, “good.”

the men’s national team was due to leave before the women’s team. christian decided it was almost time for him to leave.

“alright, i’m heading out. i’ll see you there baby.” he said before leaning down to pucker his lips for a kiss.

you look up from your phone, smiling. you throw your phone to the side before grabbing his face. “okay, have fun, tell westy i said hi.”

“oh i will,” he smirks, “he’s gonna be so mad about it.”

you laugh, “be nice please.”

“fine i’ll be nice, only for you. see you later.” he kisses your cheek before walking out.

you grab your clothes from your overnight bag and begin to dress.

placing sunglasses over your hair in a tight bun. you looked around seeing if anyone was looking before rushing.

you head downstairs into the bus. running into lynn and korbin.

“hey,” korbin smiled at you. “just got told that we have new kits today at practice.”

“nice, i’m so excited.”

lynn continues, “also supposedly we’ll be working with and against the men’s national team.”

you jaw drops, excitedly. “i’m so excited to go against westy.”

ミ★

the bus arrives at the fields in cali. uswnt admin is videoing, before saying “good morning!”

“good morning, how are you?” you asked

answering your question, “good, how are you?”

“great, ready to get the job done.” you smile as much as you can.

they take a picture of you smiling and thumbs up.

you skip hurriedly to the fields with mal and soph.

“someone’s excited to get playing.” soph says as a joke.

i smile, “duh, i mean everyone i love is here.”

she smiles, “aw i love you so much lani.”

she hugs me.

ミ★

we did drills and then conjoined with the boys.

we approached their field, “oh, yeah. now this is what i’m talking about.”

we did starting xi’s

ミ★

the game had started, giving the ball to you, trin, and soph.

the ball, passing through the boys.

defenders pressing on trin and soph.

trin passes to you, making most of the defenders starting to shift towards you.

you see a little passage way, running towards it and quick.

you try to cross the ball before running with no more space to go, and with the grass being wet. the accident was bound to happen.

trying to stop or slow down, you can’t with wall hitting your body.

you fall to the floor, “oh my god, kails!” hearing lindsey.

she runs towards you while you look up hearing her voice.

your vision seems a bit blurry, you think you’re hallucinating whenever you see weston and christian beside lindsey.

“you’re okay,” she tells you. “let’s get you on bench.”

weston and christian helping you up.

placing you on the bench.

you sit, leaning down on your lap. staring at the grass.

lindsey states, before walking away “stay here till the trainer gets here. we’ll be fine out here.”

weston pats your back, “better be well, or i’m gonna kick your ass.”

you hear his cleats walk away.

christian squats down to your face level, “so are you gonna speak?”

you look up, “i would but then i’d want to hug you to make me feel better.” sitting straight up and leaning back.

“oh really? do it.” he talks boldly.

you whine, “i don’t want anyone to know.”

“and that’s fine, but i just wanted to cure your pain.” he smiles.

you sigh, placing your right hand on his left shoulder. you tap his shoulder saying, “it was a nice try, go play. i have to be checked out.”

he chuckles before getting up and going to play.

the trainer checks you, telling you to rest for the remainder of practice, insisting not seeing symptoms of a concussion.

you’re let to go by an assistant coach, “twila said you’re free to go.”

“ok, thank you.” walking off the grass.

ミ★

you head back into the locker rooms, changing into your original outfit. heading out towards the gates for those who watch the practices. walking towards them, to sign things or just even chat. it meant a lot to you, sentimental, it just made you feel like you were doing just something little for those who believed in you the most.

you see most of your teammates out there signing, yet you’re the only one changed.

a little fan, probably 4-5 years of age asked if you’d sign her shirt.

you squat down speaking to her through the gate, “of course.” you smile.

you grab her shirt and a pen from her parents. signing it with pride.

you continue to sign before walking away, noticing the buses’ arrival.

you grab your bag from your locker, you head towards the bus.

sitting down, on your phone. waiting for it to leave.

☆ you finally arrive at your hotel room.

walking in, immediately getting a call from wes.

“are you good?” he asks.

“yeah, just really tired.”

“can i come see you?” he asks laughing, you sense his smile through the phone.

“yeah that’s fine, just knock and i’ll come get the door.”

☆ in a min or two you hear a knock.

you open the door, wes is there with his drink, slurping it down.

“hey! where’s chris?”

you rub your eye, “i don’t know, haven’t spoke much with him today.”

“trouble in paradise already?” he asks.

“no, just haven’t texted him.” you shrug.

he feels the somber energy, “what’s wrong kails.”

“i just don’t feel that well right now, heat is super crazy right now.”

he furrows his brows, “did you drink water?”

you shake your head, “not that i remember.”

he sighs, taking his backpack off. pulling a water bottle out with a pack of electrolytes. “take it, you’re dehydrated.”

you grab it with hesitation before sipping it down. feeling a bit better, “wanna go grab lunch downstairs?” you ask.

“yeah sounds good.” he replies as you both leave your hotel room.

☆ you’re downstairs talking with wes

you go through the line of food, sitting at a table with wes.

christian spots you, before heading towards you and squeezing your shoulder affectionately.

you smile weakly.

“what’s wrong?” he asked. weston answers quickly, “she doesn’t feel good.”

chris’ eyebrows furrow, “what- why?” he asks.

wes shrugs, “she was dehydrated just a while ago.”

chris grabs you, “i’m taking her to my room. would you bring her food up?”

wes nods his head, chris takes you into the elevator. hugging you, you smile.

“jeez, didn’t know you wanted me this bad.” you laugh softly.

“always do.”

you smile before letting go and grabbing your buzzing phone.

next thing you know, you’re answering your mom’s facetime call.

pushing chris, out of view.

“hi mama.” you answer, her blonde hair appearing.

“hi kails, how are you?” she asks while, wearing her reading glasses.

“good, just finished training and lunch, we have a break before heading out again.”

she nods her head, “oh i’m so excited for you my sweet girl.”

you laugh, as chris is persistent in meeting your mom.

“thanks, mama.” you smile.

chris finally appears in the screen, “hi mrs. smith.” he tells her.

“well hi, kails, who’s this?”

you blush, getting redder by the second.

“he’s my boyfriend.” you smile, shyly.

your mom freaks out a bit, “excuse me? honey, i didn’t know about this!”

“well it’s kinda new mama. you’ll meet him when you get down here.” you say.

“good.. alright i’ll leave you to enjoy some time by yourself. love you so so much kails.”

you smile before practically speaking, “love you more mama! take care!” you say waving in the camera.

you hang up, “why’d you do that?” you ask smiling.

“cause i wanted to meet your mom.” he smirks.

“well get ready for me to get spam calls.” you say as a call from your sister appears.

you decline. “see what you’ve started!” you say sarcastically.

he smiles before grabbing your hand and running out the elevator to his room.

“stop it!” you laugh.

ミ★

you’re laying down with chris in his bed when wes comes knocking.

“wake up, lovebirds!” he yells as he knocks.

you laugh before running to the door. you open the door and grab your food.

you place yourself on the ground, before westy sits on chris’ couch.

“i’m starving, you took so long. where’d you go?”

he laughs, “had a chat with g.”

chris laughs too, you feel confused.

“g? no fucking way, what’d he say?” christian sits up, excited.

wes chuckles, “he talked about how beating the girls in practice later would be so easy since kails isn’t ‘cleared’ to play.”

you furrow your brows as chris laughs.

“so hilarious right?” you sarcastically remark with attitude. dropping your fork in the food.

“kails, you know he’s joking.” chris states, while you turn your head to face him.

“yeah you’re right, he thinks that just because we’re girls and i’m not there, we automatically lose? yeah no, that’s misogyny.”

wes tries to cut in. “kails-”

you put your hand up, “don’t. i don’t even know why you brought it up. you know how i feel about this.”

chris looks at weston.

“you guys don’t understand how being a girl is and how underrated we are in this world of sports. as far as i know, gio fucking whines. if anything, he’s a nepo baby!” you freak out.

you sigh, “i need space. see you at practice.” you grab you phone, food, and keycard before heading to the door.

you throw your food away in the trash can in beside the elevator. you leave wes and christian speechless. confused.

☆ you walk into your hotel before realizing you need to leave anyways. you grab a water, a granola bar, and your backpack before heading out.

putting on your headphones to cancel the noise.

you get on the bus, wanting to leave. desperately

☆ you arrive at the fields, in a mentality to beat gio.

you dress in your training kit once more before heading to the field in your cleats.

the coaches start a scrimmage as soon as everyone arrives.

alex and trin covering the front. you, linds, and korb covering the middle intersection. girmy, crys, tierna, and emmy covering the back.

christian, balo, and kev covering the front. weston, yunus, and gio covering the midfield. miles, jedi, dest, and ream covered the back.

this was gonna be a fun game. the ball begins with the boys

you cover gio as yunus and weston are guarded by korbin and linds.

the ball goes around a bit, dancing between both squads.

you gain possession of the ball from girmy and gio pushes you as you have the ball. the ball continues to be at your feet until you push it towards trin.

he keeps grabbing onto your shirt, trying to stop you, while you’re trying to keep calm as much as you can.

trin passes to alex to leave an open space, it’s near you and you’re hungry. desperately trying to prove to gio that you’re not here to lose, not with your girls.

alex passes to you,

a right foot on the ball with a shot and score.

1-0

☆ the game continues.

gio continues to grab on you, desperately trying to challenge the defense, hitting your ankle as you pass to korbin. turning around, pushing him off. the game continues.

“get off me.” he gets up, angry.

he gets in your face. “don’t you ever push me again, you hear?”

“what the fuck are you gonna do? tell your mommy and daddy to not call me up?” you say putting your face up to his.

“i might.”

“yeah go ahead and try, i’m so scared!” you taunt.

he scoffs, “yeah i thought you’d say that.”

you remark quickly. “yeah, and you thought you’d win without me.”

he gives you a little push, or a shove backwards.

you stumble a bit, managing to keep yourself upright.

“wow, way to be intimidated by a girl.” you laugh. the whole team running towards the both of you.

“oh i’m not intimidated, you whore.” he states.

“oh i’m a whore? so why the shove back, nepo baby? oh wait you’re intimidated. thought you’d win in practice cause i wasn’t cleared?” his eyes go wide before he gets in your face once more.

“yeah and i think we’d still win.” he laughs.

you mumble, “yeah without you.”

he manages to hear you, pushing you harder.

this time to the ground. the team manages to get there but not on time.

you laugh before getting up. “see i told you, you’re scared.”

gio yells in your face, “oh yeah? am i? say it to my fucking face!”

chris gets in between the both of you

you begin to yell back, “as a matter of fact, i will. just quit being scared and say the facts to my face, you fucking loser.”

moving to grab gio as christian grabs you.

“get the fuck off me,” you say, shoving his hands off you. “next time, you tell your friend to show some fucking respect.” you say to him. walking away.

the coaches, end the game. they call gio and you over separately.

“so what the hell happened?” twila asked you.

“he called me a whore, told me he’d win against us if i wasn’t cleared, grabbed my shirt, kept pushing onto me. even fouling me. he even threatened me, saying he’d tell his dad and mom to let the board of the national team soccer not call me up ever again. i’m sorry but that sent me.”

she shook her head and let you go.

you change in the locker room, desperately trying to get to the hotel room.

☆ you head to the bus, as christian and weston stop you.

you scoff, as they cross their arms. eyebrows furrowed.

“what the hell happened?” weston asks you.

“get out of my way.” you say sternly.

he asks once more. “i’m not telling you anything.” stating, rolling your eyes.

he raises his hands in defense before dropping them, “fine. i quit.”

leaving christian by himself.

“kails what the fuck happened?”

“i don’t know you tell me?”

he scoffs. “i’m not gio so stop fucking with me.”

“well you’re on his side aren’t you?”

“i can’t control who i play with.”

“i don’t care who you play with, it’s whose side you’re taking and you thought it was a joke, meaning you liked it.” smiling sarcastically.

he drops his head sighing.

walking away. you yell out, “and when you’re ready to apologize for being an ass with weston. let me know.”

he turns around, walking towards you. “you’re being unreasonable.” he says.

“yeah and like i said, you were being an asshole about the joke.” you say.

he scoffs. “fine. whatever but i’m not apologizing.”

you challenge back, “then i guess we’re on a break.”

“fine.” he scoffs going on the bus.

ミ★

sorry bout the ending, i had to stop or i would go on forever 😌

also yayayaya on uswnt winning gold cup today!

#christian pulisic #football x y/n #footballer x reader #footballer!reader #christian pulisic x reader

[fcbfemeni-11]

It was us against the world

Alexia Putellas

⚠️This story contains mentions of suicide

Lia and Alexia were soulmates. Alexia was the only one for Lia, and Lia was the only one for Ale… But, not all love stories have a happy ending. Their love story has a tragic ending, one where Alexia loses the love of her life due to the pressure of English media.

***

Lia was the greatest person there was. Her smile would light up the world, and that’s why, four years ago, when she joined Barcelona the girls all loved her almost immediately. She’s never gotten on anyones bad side, and was always first to sort out any tensions within the team. She was always the one to put the team before herself. If anyone needed help, Lia would be there. She could sense things. She knew people more than they knew theirselves. She had a big heart. She loved everyone, no matter what. That’s the way she was. She was so kind, and caring. She was everything. Not to mention one of the greatest footballers in the world.

Englands number 10. She was destined for greatness. The whole of England expected her to bring the euros home. That’s a lot of pressure on young shoulders, but why would they care? Mental health isn’t considered nor spoke about enough within sports. She started the tournament the way everyone expected her to, scoring every time she touched the ball. But then the final came, and she didn’t have a good game, but she wasn’t the only one, none of the England squad showed up, but of course she was the one they blamed when England lost to Germany. The whole of England turned on her. Even her own teammates weren’t there when she needed them to be. She needed to go back to Barcelona, but she couldn’t. She had so much media duties, which she had to attend to.

The media brought her down. Every interview was the same, ‘What happened in the final?’ ‘Why didn’t you turn up?’ ‘If you turned up we would have won’. Not to mention social media. It was as if the whole country hated her, some telling her to die, others just straight up bullying her. She couldn’t take the hate, no one could. But this shouldn’t happen. Lia went back to Barcelona as soon as she could, and told Sarina that she would be taking a break from international football. After this was announced, everything got worse. The English media started to criticise her, saying she’s running away, saying she can’t take failure, saying she doesn’t care about her country. If only they knew. If only they knew the battles Lia was fighting in her head. If only they knew.

A couple of days after she returned to Barcelona she was found unconscious, on the bathroom floor of her and Alexia’s shared apartment, and that’s when it was confirmed, she had taken her own life. The world was shocked at the news. Clubs from around the world were making tributes to her, even Real Madrid, and Manchester United, her least favourite teams. That just shows how much Lia was loved. The England girls were hurt, the Barcelona girls were broken, but Alexia? Alexia was destroyed. It was as if her other half was gone. As if her heart had just been ripped to shreds right in front of her.

Four days after Lias death Barcelona had a game, which was being played in Camp Nou, Lias favourite stadium and one she always dreamt of playing in. Barcelona were playing against Alves, a game they were expected to win, but they were grieving.

The girls, in the locker room, sat in silence before the warmups. No one dared to speak. Alexia was sitting where Lia would have sat, with her knees up to her chest as she tried not to cry.

“She’ll want us to play today, for her” Mapi said as she stood in front of Alexia.

“I know, but i don’t know if i can play. I need her” Alexia said, barley above a whisper.

“She’s right here, she will always be with you” Mapi said, pointing towards Alexia’s heart. Alexia responded by nodding.

The girls all wore Lia’s shirt for the warmup. Lia, 16. It was her number. Her favourite number.

The girls all ran onto the pitch for their warmups, and watched as the other team came out with shirts on with Lia’s name on them as well.

The warmups flew by, and then it was time. Time for the game, and for a little presentation for Lia, something to remember her. A mark of respect for everything she has done. All of the Barcelona shirts read, ‘For Lia’ on the front, in between the badge and the nike logo, something that will remain on the shirts forever. However, today, Alexia wasn’t wearing her normal shirt, she was wearing the number 16, for Lia. And underneath was a special shirt that would be revealed if she scored.

The girls stepped out onto the pitch and saw a mosaic in the stands which read, ‘A true legend. We will never forget you, Lia’ And a large, gold, sixteen was being displayed at the other side of the stadium. This gesture made all of the girls tear up, but it broke Alexia’s heart. You’re gone. You’re really gone. Those were the thoughts that coerced through Alexia’s mind.

Jonatan then came onto the pitch, with a microphone in his hand.

‘“Todays game comes at a very hard time for us. A few days ago we lost one of our players, Lia. Not only was she a teammate, she was family to most, and someone very special to others,’ He said while looking at Alexia who could only smile sadly, ‘It was her dream to play here, in this stadium, in front of this crowd. She never got that chance, but today we will play here for her. Her memory will forever live on. She is a Barcelona legend. We love you, Lia” Jonatan said, and a few tears spilled from his eyes. The microphone was passed through the whole team, everyone saying a few words. But Mapi and Alexia held the microphone for the longest.

“She was my little sister. I remember the day i met her for the first time, it was like i’d known her for my whole life. We just clicked. I understood her, and she understood me. It was easy with her. It’s hard to describe someone who was so perfect. She was an angel, who had the biggest heart, but unfortunately in this generation that doesn’t matter. Mental health is a real thing, and it’s a real issue. People shouldn’t even think about taking their own lives, but that’s the way the world is. People are so mean and cruel, and end up driving people to the point of no return. Sometimes i wonder, ‘If she didn’t go to the Euros would she still be here?’. I don’t know the answer to that question, no one does, and i shouldn’t think like that, but that’s what caused this. I’ll love you forever, Lia. You’ll always be my little sister. Until i see you again” Mapi said, trying her hardest to hold it together, but ultimately failing.

Next up was Alexia, who broke down before she even began. “I don’t know what to say,” Alexia chuckled sadly, wiping her tears as she done do, “Lia was the best thing to have ever happened to me. She came into my life and completely changed it for the better. She changed me. She made me the happiest person alive. And, in the end, she showed me what true love felt like. Lia is my soulmate, she always was. It was always her, since the day i met her. I don’t know how i’ll get over this. I don’t know if i ever will. I know that i will sit at her grave every single day for hours upon hours, just talking to her. Knowing i’ll never hear her voice, or feel her touch or love, is the most painful feeling in the world. My life without her is nothing. I’m empty now. All of the feelings i felt are gone. I can’t feel anything anymore. I don’t feel happiness, i only feel sadness. And that’s because my source of happiness is gone. I’ll never forgive the world for taking her away from me. And i’ll never forgive the English media to driving her to this point. She was too young to go. She was so soft, so fragile, and the world broke her. I know how much Lia loved this club. Since she was a child she dreamt of playing here, for this club. This is her home, and it always will be. I know i’ll never forget her, and i can only hope you guys won’t either. Number sixteen. Lia, mi amor, te quiero. I’ll always love you. You’re my soulmate, you always will be. There won’t be anyone else, because it was always you. You’re the only person for me. I’ll live my life for you. But there won’t be anyone else, and that’s okay, i don’t want there to be anyone else. I love you, my beautiful angel”

Alexia finished, collapsing into Patri’s arms after she had done so. The whole team comforted her, and after she was okay the game began. And the Barcelona girls were out to win for Lia, and they weren’t going to let anyone or anything stop her. The first goal was in the 8th minute and it was scored by Pina, who didn’t celebrate, instead she pointed into the sky and smiled before blowing a kiss. The next goal was scored in the twelfth minute by Patri, who made an L with her fingers and kissed it. Then Frido scored, and did Lia’s celebration, where she made a heart with her hands and then blew a kiss into the crowd, whilst pointing at the Barcelona badge. The fourth goal was scored by Alexia who started crying as she took her shirt off, revealing a shirt which had a picture of her and Lia on it, Alexia kissing Lia’s cheek. The girls all crowded around their captain as she composed herself. The last goal of the first half was scored by Mapi of all people, who ran to the touchline and was given Lia’s shirt. She ran towards the crowd and held Lia’s shirt up proudly.

The second half soon began and Alexia scored again, this time kissing the tattoo of your name which she has on her wrist, tears, yet again, flowing from the captains eyes. The seventh goal was scored by Aitana, who, like Pina, didn’t celebrate, instead she pointed towards the sky and smiled. The final goal of the game, the eight goal, was scored by the captain, marking a hatrick, and this time Alecia fell to the ground in tears, unable to keep it together anymore. Luckily that goal was the last action of the game, so Alexia didn’t move. She lay on the pitch in tears for as long as she possibly could of. No one was able to comfort her. How could they? Her girlfriend just died. There isn’t anything they could possibly say or do which would make her feel better.

***

Much like Alexia promised, she went to Lia’s grave every single day and sat for hours, telling the live of her life all about her day, and it may sound crazy but Alexia could feel Lia with her, and that made her happy. She also said there wouldn’t be anyone else, and there wasn’t. Many people flirted with Alexia, but she shut them down every single time, no matter how pretty they were, because they weren’t Lia. They weren’t her girl.

“It was us against the world” Alexia whispered as she left Lia’s grave.

#woso x reader #mapi leon #fcb femeni #woso soccer #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #patri guijarro #claudia pina #aitana bonmati #fridolina rolfö

[crissiebaby]

Itty-Bitty Crissie

Heyyo everyone! CrissieBaby has captions now! 💕💜💕💜💕💜

This has definitely been a long time coming and I'm so excited to move forward with this new format. We will begin alternating between story/art commissions and captions with sketches by CodiBaby on Fridays, which will be freely available. Additionally, captions will replace Interactive Story Saturdays as weekly premium content on the CrissieBaby SubscribeStar and FANBOX. Both Codi's Coloring Club and Crissie's Bookworm Club, along with all higher tiers will have access to these weekly captions.

That's all for now! 🥰🥰

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

Itty-Bitty Crissie

“Pancake!” screamed Crissie with glee, throwing her arms around her favorite stuffed animal. Resting at the size of a football, the pink manta ray with glossy, turquoise dots was far from her largest plushie but that didn’t stop her from folding her arms over him every single night. Never would she have dreamed that the tables of tallness would be turned when it came to her and her fuzzy friend.

Enter the latest and greatest invention from the CrissBaby Diaper Company: a formula that temporarily shrinks its user based on the amount consumed. Was it odd for a diaper company to be dabbling in genetic manipulation? Perhaps but the marketing upside and potential tie-ins were too good to pass up on. After all, what self-respecting Little didn’t dream of fun-sizing themself?

Unsurprisingly, Crissie's hand was held firmly in the air the moment she learned about it despite the vast number of side effects that came up in trials. Filling a bottle with as much as the maximum single dose would allow, she plunged herself down to a mere six inches short, where a miniature CrissBaby diaper was waiting for her. Needless to say, she was beyond ecstatic and incredibly blushy when it came to her altitude reduction. Whether it was being made to have a tea party with her dollies by Codi or getting cradled like an actual baby by Miss Snorington, she was a flustered mess every teensy-tiny step of the way.

However, nothing would stand as monumental as the moment she was laid to bed in her crib, only to come face-to-face with her now massive manta stuffy. The pupils of her eyes turned heart-shaped as she hoisted Pancake up on one end like a mattress. Her body sunk into the mound of polyester-encased stuffing like a fluffy cloud.

Allowing herself to tumble to the bed with Pancake resting atop her, Crissie was asleep within minutes. The last thing on her mind as she nodded off was that she hoped to wake up no bigger than she was now. Funny enough, based on the shrinking formula’s test results, her wish might very well come true…for the foreseeable future…

💜 Artwork By CodiBaby 💜 💕 Story By CrissieBaby 💕

SubscribeStar: subscribestar.adult/crissiebaby pixivFANBOX: crissiebaby.fanbox.cc All CB Links: linktr.ee/crissiebaby

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

Special Thanks to Our CrissBaby Diaper Company Investors: BlossomBitchDolly BlushyBen DD Exminister Gun1242 JFN LittlePissy PrincessKittenLizzi Strawberry Sweetsamantharebecca WH17N3Y & Three Anonymous Investors

#diaper art #diaper stories #crissiebaby #little space #ab/dl #ab/dl stories #ab/dl art #diaper humiliation #crissbabydiaperco #ab/dl girl #codibaby #shrinking #micro #size tumblr #g/t #g/t art #giant tiny #size art #ab/dl caption #diaper captions

[leonsliga]

Apart from the unfairness of the situation, I am just sad that now we will see the matches with Leon only at the end of August. The season ends, the last match is on Saturday. I was so hoping that he would be in the national team, even if he doesn't play a lot, there will still be a lot of content with Leon and we will finally see him in pink. I always miss club football in the summer, and I hoped it would make the situation better. But no

Right? The timing of the news just makes the whole thing even harder to digest. Once Saturday rolls around, we’ll have to wait several months to see him play again. At least if he was called up to the national team, the dfb social media team would have kept us fed with some good Leon content, regardless of how much playing time he got. And of course, there’s the greatest injustice of them all: we won’t get any more pink Leon 😭 this really is a cruel world.

Anyways here’s pink Leon because I simply cannot even anymore:

The lack of club football is always one of the hardest parts of summertime, and now we have to go completely Leon-less at the Euros in the interim. To say this sucks would be the ultimate understatement. Ugh.

#anon 💖 #leon goretzka #die mannschaft #dfb team #german nt #germany nt #bri’s gifs #my asks

[anintrovertwriter]

Vinicius imagine, Forever support

I just came home after my running session. I had to keep healthy and in form, and even though Vini didn’t really like me going to run alone, I still did it. Going into the gym room on my own was impossible. I didn’t have the motivation to face it alone if I didn’t have my teacher, my handsome personal trainer.

I rushed in the shower, and when I came back, my phone was buzzing with me being tagged on Ig stories or with texts, posts about Vinicius during the press conference. Worry came.

My phone wasn’t used to this many notifications. I was used to receiving more since dating Vini, but not at this point. I was getting more and more intrigued. I wouldn’t have been if it was him but he couldn't because he didn’t have access to his phone at this time of day. We facetimed each other every morning and every night, even though we’ve been separated for just a few days. Even if he was still in Spain. It was our ritual.

He was currently for the week with the Brazilian national team for two games : one in London and the other in Sevilla against Spain.

I was supposed to come in the afternoon before the game, but everything changed the moment I left the shower.

I was quick to open the stories, and my heart broke. There was my man crying, after answering questions about racism and the situation he had to face at almost every game. Seeing him so emotional, breaking down and fighting the tears, but it was too strong, too much pain that needed to explode.

“ Solo quiero jugar al fútbol. Solo quiero jugar. Solo quiero hacerlo todo por mi club, por mi familia.”

It was too strong to carry on his own, all this hate. I never understood it , and never will. How can people be so cruel over others ? To the point of chants and a hung doll over a bridge. Cruelty beyond understatement.

So as soon as I saw that, I finished my suitcase crying for my man and took the first train to Seville, where they were staying during the international break.

On my way, I called Rodrygo, who luckily answered. He was the Brazilian I was the closest to, we were seeing each other a lot and he became my friend too. He confirmed my boyfriend’s current state, and showed me Vini’s room. I wouldn't have made it without him, so I mentally noted to thank him properly once back in Madrid. I was afraid of not being welcomed at the hotel, but they understood the situation.

It has only been a few day’s separation, but I still miss him like crazy, as always. The house felt empty without his laugh, I felt empty as well.

Rodrygo and I chatted briefly in the hotel before his physio appointment and I was finally in front of Vini’s room. I took a deep breath and knocked, worried about how I would find him.

A quiet “ Entra” was heard and I let myself in.

Laid down on his bed with his training kit on, he was scrolling on his phone. Tiredness mixed with sadness readable on his face.

He looked up, wondering about who could be there.

A few seconds passed, he was quick to change into shock, surprise and a small smile. I didn’t give him the time to get up and I knocked him down with all my strength, which was nothing compared to him.

Vinicius buried his face in my neck, his hands around my body. I felt a loving kiss under my ear and he managed, easily, to make me get back. We looked at each other.

“ Amor, what are you doing here ? Are you ok ?”

Silly him, to think about me instead of him.

“ I’m fine. I just wanted to see you, after what happened.

He sighed before guiding me to sit next to him.

I am so sorry bêbe, I said, taking his hand into mine.

It’s not your fault.

I know, but I feel so mad and sad. You don’t deserve that. No one does.

He looked at me, eyes so sad it broke my heart once more.

Maybe I got what I deserved.

Don’t ever say you’re not worth it, because that’s a horrible lie. Look what you've achieved. From Brazil to become one of the greatest football players. You use your visibility to raise your voice about something that should never exist. You have all the right to speak about your feelings, because no one should have suffered the way you do. It’s ok to fight it, because it is unbearable. I’ve never experienced it myself, but seeing you affected is unbearable. I am hurt too, but I can’t fully understand your feelings. If you’re hurt, I’m hurt. If you cry I cry. Despite everything, I believe and have faith in humanity. I’m sure we can change things, life and mentality. All together.

I breathed deeply after what could have been a speech. He was used to my rantings, but not such as this one. And I wasn’t done.

Baby, you are not alone. I’m with you. Always. If it had to be us against the world, then so be it.

He looked at me for a few seconds, smiled with gleamed eyes and simply said

Eu te amo.

Meu amor, te amo mais que tudo.

Seeing him like this, so vulnerable and sad, without his confidence made my heart shatter.

So I did what I thought was best, dropping everything to be with him. Like we always did. Talking about it, even if it was hard , he had to take some of the pain out. It was too much of a burden to carry alone. He thought it but he knew deep down he had me.

“ No one should be racially insulted because you are better than them on and outside the pitch. You are a wonderful person Vinícius José Paixão de Oliveira Júnior. And I'll be more than proud to recall you everyday. “

I took a deep breath, and he let me silent before kissing me fiercely. He held my jaw and kept me close to him, like I’d ever wanted to leave his embrace.

“ I would marry you right now if I could.

My joking baby is back, I said, glad to see his smile on his face again.

I’m not kidding, I will marry you you know Y/N, he said all serious.

I can’t wait then, I said kissing his nose.”

We stayed in each other's arms for a while, our breathing the only thing heard.

“ Where are you staying tonight? You’re not coming home are you ?

No, I took all my stuff and went there as soon as I heard. I didn't think of a hotel to be honest, all I was thinking was you.

He smiled and pecked me.

O seleccionador wouldn't let you there, sadly, but I’m gonna ask the assistant to find you a hotel.

That would be great, thanks love.

Thank you anjo.

Me ? What for ? I’ve done nothing.

On the contrary. Thank you for dropping everything to come to me. for caring for me, for loving, for supporting me no matter what.

Always

Eu te amo.

Eu te amo coração. And you’ll have to score to show the world you are the best footballer in the universe

I’ll do my best amor.

And of course he did it, scored and celebrated to prove all the haters wrong, that he was stronger than them. He didn’t forget his signature heart and kiss on his wrist, where my initials laid all inked, and pointed me in the stands. I couldn't be prouder of my man.

#vinicius jr #vini jr #vini jr imagine #vinicius jr imagine #Vinicius imagine #vini jr x reader #Vinicius x reader #vini fluff

[julianalvarez9]

*:･ﾟ✧ MASON MOUNT MASTERLIST ✧･ﾟ:*

updated: 18/09/2023

soft launch

instagram au

Mason posts your BeReal's on his page and people start to suspect things.

can't choose

instagram au, ft mason mount

When a group consists of 3 people it's kinda... complicated to choose how to spend your time, to say the least.

christmas miracle

instagram au

Mason and you had stopped posting on social media together, making everyone believe that you two were done. When the holidays arrive, a christmas miracle occurs.

unexpected

Safe to say, Mason doesn't expect that doing a favour for his sister could end up in love at first sight.

traitor

instagram au, leclerc!reader

The monaco weekend with your boyfriend Mason could have been great... if he hadn't gone with your rival team.

through the years

instagram au

How your birthday posts for Mason evolved through the years.

saw her first

bf!christian, bff!mason

Trouble arises when your best friend thinks you're not paying enough attention to him. Turns out, your job's being too demanding, and you promise -to your boyfriend and your best friend- to make it up to them.

bad liar

Mason and you are being secret for the sake of keeping your job in the English NT safe. But turns out, your boyfriend is not the greatest liar after all.

misunderstandings (failed good intentions)

Misunderstandings arise in your household when Mason thinks of the worst while looking through your phone, resulting in an argument and failed good intentions.

london boy

instagram au

When you start spending more time in London after being based in the States all your life, your fans start to wonder what could possibly be keeping you there -or who.

turning blue

social media au, ødegaard!reader

Dating one of Chelsea's stars while being Arsenal's captain's sister shouldn't be allowed, but you don't choose who you fall in love with.

too far

Things aren't going great for Mason at the minute. He knows something -or someone, that could turn things around, but you might be too far now.

blondes have more fun

social media au

You dyed your hair blonde and swear your life is better since then. Maybe you can convince your boyfriend from joining the blonde side too.

if we ever broke up

social media au + blurb

A conversation shared between two lovers in the past and the cruel reality of where things stand now.

social media au

what could have been

angst

Nothing good comes from friends with feelings for each other that never got the chance to confess, and it's worse when one's forced to leave. Knowing this could be Mason's farewell to his forever club is hard, but maybe, hopefully, he doesn't have to say goodbye to you.

invisible string

From childhood friends, to lovers, to strangers, there's still an invisible string tying you to Mason; his family.

bad idea right?

social media au

You had a thing with Mason last summer, but life circumstances -better known as, your older brother, who is also a footballer, the distance between you two- made things difficult, to say the least. what happens when, after the summer transfer, he's closer than ever?

change your mind

fluff

You never really liked Mason Mount, even before he came to your club. Turns out, he's a very persuasive man, who will do everything he can to change your mind.

right where you left me

angst, chilwell!reader

What hurts more than the man that you love leaving your childhood club, is having been told from the start that being involved with him was a bad idea.

#mason mount imagine #mason mount x reader #mason mount x you #mason mount masterlist #mason mount x y/n

[jokenotfunny]

𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖆 𝖛𝖎𝖗𝖌𝖎𝖓

stranger things x jennifer’s body!au

eddie munson x reader, cirice (oc x reader)

future warnings: cursing, sexual references, mentiom of a possible mommy kink 🫤, drugging, alcohol, blood and gore , murder (like in this chapter 😭), graphic depictions of murder, unnerving reader - future , manipulation , complete change in behavior for reader, nancy from the craft except here her name is cirice, reader wears glasses for the time being, the girls from the craft, let me know if i forgot any!

word count: 5.1k

chapter 2, chapter 3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

hawkins high school | november 18, 1985 | 12:07 p.m.

the loud chatter of the cafeteria fills your ears before you even walk in. as you and robin were chatting about god knows what, dustin spotted the two of you and waved.

you two waved back, before turning to each other and finishing your conversation with each other, getting ready to go to your respective tables. “alright rob, you’ll be in chem today, right?”

“yeah, thanks for letting me borrow your homework again, i’ll slip it into your bag when we get there.” she said, walking towards her table.

as you turned to do the same however, where you could previously see the hellfire table, you were now met with the sight of nancy’s wide eyes right in front of you as if she had just spawned there.

“oh! hey nancy. you scared me. again.” you slightly jumped back, mumbling that last part.

“hey! sorry, i know we talked about that, but i just wanted to ask you something real quick!” she smiled warmly, which meant she wanted you to do something

it’s not that nancy was ever anything but kind to you any other time, in fact you two were pretty good friends considering what you’d been through together the past few years. it’s just that whenever she was too nice, as if you were an aquaintance that she didn’t know too well, it usually meant that she wanted you to do something for her.

“if this is about newspaper club, i already told fred that i’m not covering the beekeeping club again after last month’s disaster-“ you started to ramble.

her eyebrows furrowed confusedly at the mention of bees. “no, no. you’re still on for taking pictures of the football team this month,- which, thank you for that by the way- it’s just that i actually had something else for you this week.” she said excitedly.

“oh. what is it?” you asked suspiciously

“there’s this up and coming band coming to hawkins this weekend? called the uh- “hex girls”- do you know them?- and they’re going to be at the hideout on friday, and i was wondering if you could go over and get some pictures of them performing ? maybe a short interview about them coming to hawkins?” she asked clasping her hands together.

“yeah i know of them, their music’s pretty good but,nance, i’m not even in the journalism club.” you raised your eyebrows.

you really weren’t though. you were in the photography club, and had been since freshman year. you and jonathan had been the club’s best photographers but once he left it was mostly you. occasionally someone from the club would be sent on little side tasks with a member of the journalism club to go take pictures while they conducted interviews. so the clubs were basically joint.

“and why would i have to do the interview? someone from journalism can’t come with me?” you asked confusedly. still trying to hide your shock at one of your favorite bands being in hawkins.

“i mean you’re pretty much an honorary member.” she tried, as you deadpanned at her. “okay, fine. everyone’s really busy with their articles and interviews for all the winter sports teams and the clubs, and nobody has time to really go check it out. and then i remembered, ‘hey, my dear and greatest friend, y/n, is a great photographer and she’s great with people and-‘“

“okay, i’ll go if you stop sucking up.” you cut her off. “what do i ask them though?” you asked, adjusting your glasses.

“great! you’re the best. just ask them what brought them to a town like hawkins, how’s it feel to be on the road to stardom, things like that okay.” she said, thanking you once again, and heading back to the club room.

“alrighty then! great chat nance.” you muttered to yourself, finally walking to the hellfire club table.

“hey guys.” you said, greeting them, as you took your seat next to gareth.

as they all greeted you, mike spoke up.

“what did nancy want?”

“oh, she just told me that i’m covering the interview and pictures for this band coming to hawkins this week. which by the way eddie, you’re coming with me.” you explained, before emphasizing eddie’s name, getting his attention from where he was throwing food back and forth with jeff.

“huh? what did i do?” he said, glaring at jeff as a pretzel smacked him in the face.

“you’re coming with me to the hex girls gig on friday!” you beamed.

“says who??” he raised his eyebrows.

“me. because i’m not going alone, you’re my best friend, and did i mention i’m not going alone?” you kept the wide smile on your face.

“try asking robin or steve?” dustin inquired.

“nah they have to work that night. and their music freaks her out. steve too, so-“ the conversation then divided between eddie, jeff, and gareth, talking about some comic that had just come out, and you , dustin , lucas , and mike talking about the multitude of things that freak robin out.

hawkins high school | friday november 22, 1985 | 2:05 p.m.

you placed the last of your books into your locker, grabbed eddie’s jacket, getting ready to go, before slamming it, and meeting his eyes as he previously stood behind the door.

“so, are you sure you’re excited for tonight?” you asked him, handing it to him, (because he doesn’t like going all the way to his own locker, so he leaves some of his stuff in yours.) as you two began walking to the doors and out towards the parking lot. because, you were able to get him to say yes, it took a lot of convincing, but in the end you usually got what you wanted from him, and vice versa.

“i guess, what’s the name again?”

“the hex girls”

“wait a second- isn’t that the group where you were practically creaming over the lead singer?” he asked smugly.

“yes! cirice is so hot it isn’t even funny.” you asked holding you print folders to your chest, gushing about her.

eddie had remembered you practically screaming in the sam goody at starcourt over the summer, when you saw their newest vinyl “the craft” sitting pretty on one of the shelves. the album was pretty good from what he remembered of it, so he wasn’t dreading going.

“well make sure you wear something cute, maybe she’ll even take you in as her own personal groupie.” he joked, nudging your shoulder. eddie was unsurprisingly, super supportive about your bisexuality, (which would be pretty hypocritical of him anyways, given the amount of men he’s made out with at the hideout) his first question being ‘would you fuck a girl version of me though? her name’d be edwina!’

“geez, i don’t know eddie, what if she doesn’t even speak to me! i mean i’m already nervous enough. what if they don’t let me take pictures? what if they turn me away? nancy’ll be pissed, and i promise you eddie, i’ve seen some scary shit but an angry nancy wheeler is not something i want to deal with!” you rambled as you both neared your car that was parked right next to his van, taking his words seriously.

“woah, okay. chill out y/n/n. i was just kidding, they won’t turn you away, they’ll let you do that interview, and then you and cirice will have an amazing night of passionate love-making after the show and everyone will live happily ever after!” he joked, eyes sparkling mischievously, as he pushed your glasses up your nose.

you deadpanned at him as you turned to put your things into your car as he continued talking.

“i mean, come on! what rockstar wouldn’t want to bang you? i certainly did, and i think it’s safe for me to say that it was the best sex i’d ever had!” he exclaimed obnoxiously, biting his lip, leaning on your car.

“you’re exaggerating, eddie. and it was the only sex you’d ever had. still is, weirdo!” you exclaimed, voice muffled as you dug around in your car, organizing your things.

“oh, come on! there was no exaggeration in the way i was like-“ he stopped, before looking around, deciding to put on a show.

“oh, fuck y/n! r-right there baby! yes! oh my gosh i’m gonna cum! fuck-yeah, like that! harder! more momm-” he was fake grinding and moaning onto the driver’s side of his van, making it shake exaggeratedly, before he burst into hysterics, when he heard the loud thump of your head, slamming into the roof of your car, before you came out with a stunned look on your face, quickly trying to shush him.

“eddie, what the hell! shut up, do you want someone to hear your ass!” you exclaimed, throwing a hand over his mouth.

“and you did not call me mommy!” you laughed, rolled your eyes.

“i almost did! and, details! whatever! you take your cute ass home and find something to wear, while i go home and continue working on next week’s campaign until it’s time for me to come get you.” he exclaimed, yelping as you slapped his ass, as he got into his van.

“yeah, whatever! see you later ed.” you called back, before he drove off.

hawkins, indiana | eddie’s van -> the hideout | 8:50 p.m.

eddie had picked you up about 15 minutes ago, you both now on your way to the hideout. eddie thought it’d be a good idea to “pregame” and listen to some music on the way there, to calm your nerves, but you were to indulged in going over the questions you would ask.

“so what brings you to a town like hawkins? how does it feel to be- no! ugh that sounds so stupid.” you muttered to yourself.

“alright we’ll be there in like 30 seconds, so can you stop worrying? you’re stressing me out and i don’t even plan on talking to them.” he chuckled. “hey, why don’t you tell me their names again, huh?”

“okay so there’s cirice, the lead singer. alice is the drummer, cora’s the lead guitarist, and scarlett is their pianist.” you explained listing them off.

“see how that worked? we’re here and you aren’t panicking anymore! now come on ms. reporter in training! it’s time to go meet the love of your life.” he joked, as you both got out of the van and towards the entrance.

once inside it was more packed in there than you two had ever seen it. it shocked you both honestly.

“i’ve never seen it so packed in here!” you exclaimed to him over the loud chatter

“i guess your girls are pretty popular! even in a hick town like hawkins!” he replied as you two passed the bar to find a table close enough to the stage.

you two were so immersed in conversation, that you didn’t even notice the three girls eyeing you as you passed.

“what about her?” alice asked.

“who? the one with the glasses? she’s cute.” scarlett cooed.

“scarlett it doesn’t matter if she’s fuckin’ cute it matters if she’s a- well you know.” cirice hissed at her.

“geez sorry! and she’s with that dude with the hair, anyways.”

“so?”

“so. they’re probably dating.” she said as they all looked back at the two of you.

you and eddie had finally found an empty booth, and sat across from each other. eddie was just minding his business, looking around until he heard you gasp loudly, and started kicking him under the table.

“wha- ow! what is it?!”

“i just made direct, eye contact with cirice!” you gasped, staring at him with wide eyes.

“really, where is she?”

“by the bar- but don’t make it obvious!” you hissed, looking at him.

“yeah, yeah. blue eyes, black hair right?” he asked remembering that poster from your room, when you nodded

he nonchalantly started to scan the area, until his eyes found a pair of blue ones coming right towards the pair of you.

“umm she’s actually-“

a new voice made you both freeze. “hi, i hope you don’t mind, but i noticed that camera around your neck! my name is cirice, are you here for the local newspaper?

shock. that’s what you felt right now. as well as eddie. you were brought out of it however by eddie now kicking you in the shin, looking at you pointedly.

“m-my name’s y/n! wait that’s not what you asked me was it..- i mean i’m not for the hawkins post, just my little highschool newspaper, and i was wondering if i could get some pictures of you guys performing? and to maybe get a small interview from you guys?” you rambled shooting out of the booth, to stand in front of cirice.

eddie watched in amusement, eyes bouncing back and forth between the two of you as you conversed. he finally tuned back in however when you froze when she took your hands in hers and started talking again.

“well we’re about to start now, but i’ll come talk to you after about that interview ‘kay? and you can take as many pictures as you want, sweetheart.” she said winking, squeezing your hands before walking towards the stage.

“oh my gosh, someone call an ambulance she’s going into cardiac arrest!” eddie joked standing in her place, as he waved his hands past your frozen face.

“she held my hands, she called me sweetheart! eddie what does that mean, tell me?!” grabbing his arm and shaking him back and forth frantically.

“i don’t- i don’t know y/n! jesus, what are ya’ shaking me around for?!” he said annoyed, pushing you off.

as the show started and went on, you were like sonic, going to different parts of the bar, getting individual shots of each of them doing their thing, group shots, and the crowds reaction. at some points going back to where eddie was sat, trying to get him to sing along to the songs, before getting back to work.

towards the end of their last song you snapped a few more pictures before going to sit back down next to eddie in the booth.

“you’re the worst, you know that?” he mumbled as you took his drink and downed half of it.

“hey, running around like that isn’t easy! i’ve gotta get the good angles, you know.” sighing as you slumped against him.

“whatever, that cora girl’s guitar is cool as fuck!” he exclaimed pointing at the lead guitarist playing the last few chords to end the song.

you two continued talking as people started to clear out of the building for the night, while some others sat around trying to get one last drink from the bar, you and eddie now sitting at it as well.

“your girl is making her way back to us..” he sing-songed trying not to make it obvious.

“do i look okay?”

“you look the exact same way that you did, the first time she came around.” he chuckled, taking a long sip of his drink.

“have i ever told you that you’re no help?” you said blankly, pulling out your compact mirror.

“only about 9 or 10 times a week. sometimes a day if i’m lucky.” he said fixing your glasses which he always did, usually following behind it with a - ‘why are your glasses alway crooked, girl?’ or ‘are your glasses ever straight?’

“5 o’clock” he whispered to you, making you both turn around to greet her again. but with slight surprise on your faces when you saw the other three members of the hex girls standing there as well.

“hi! again! did you change your mind? about the interview i mean. because it’s really okay if you did, i wouldn’t want to waste your guys’ time.” you started to get into a ramble, making eddie sigh and put his hands in his face at your over-thinking.

“n-no, i actually do want to do it still! it’s just that i wanted to ask you something first?” she stammered out quickly making the girls behind her snicker to themselves at her.

however a pointed glare at them made them and eddie all turn to each other with wide eyes and start a conversation, giving you two privacy.

“well i was actually telling them about the interview, and they all agreed. but we’re having a cute little after party and wanted to invite you! so i was actually wondering if it’d be okay if we did it there?“ she rambled on, which threw you for a loop honestly. she seemed so confident earlier when you had spoke.

“y-yeah! that’d be great! eddie and i have never been to an after-party before! it sounds like a lot of fun!” you exclaimed, looking over to eddie who was talking animatedly with cora, maybe about her guitar, you figured.

in your few seconds of looking away from her though, you completely missed the way her smile dropped, and the almost.. angry? look on her face.

“e-eddie? he can’t come!” she snapped suddenly! making your head quickly snap back over to her, at her sudden change in tone. however her facial expression didn’t match what she’d said at all.

“i’m sorry?” you said confusedly, wondering if you had imagined it.

“oh i mean, it’s just that our after parties are usually just a girls only type of thing… if you know what i mean.” she said slowly.

“oh!” oh. there’s no way she meant what you’d thought she meant, right? no. right?

“why? is he your boyfriend or something?” cirice asked blankly, looking over at him briefly.

“oh no, no. eddie’s my bestfriend! i had to practically beg him to come tonight, actually!” you chuckled, making her smile again.

“so you’ll come?” she said sweetly.

“let me just go talk to him real quick? i just want to make sure he’s alright with it.” you said starting to back towards him.

“of course, we’ll be in the parking lot.” she said with a warm smile, though it seemed a little strained.

as you neared eddie and cora, who seemed to have long finished their conversation, and were just standing around at this point, eddie’s eyes lit up at the sight of you before saying something to her and she walked away.

“hey, cirice just-“

“invited you to a super exclusive, girls only after-party right? yeah i know.” he smirked.

“are you sure? i can ask again if you can come.” in all honesty you had felt a little nervous to be around them alone, and another feeling lingered but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

“y/n/n, y/n/n..” he tsked in disappointment. “this is a once in a lifetime opportunity.” he started, throwing his arm around you, guiding you to the parking lot.

“you’re like, practically in love with this girl, and you may never forgive yourself if you don’t go. so here’s what we do.” he brought you towards his van, shrugging off his leather jacket and throwing it to you.

“now give me yours.” he demanded, leaning against it.

“why..?” you asked, shrugging your own jacket off nonetheless, and handing it to him.

“so then you’ll feel like i’m there with you, i guess! make you less nervous or something.” he looked at you before sighing.

“great! now!” he exclaimed dramatically, clearing his throat before leaning in close and saying- “ask me the question!”

“…how do i look?” you mumbled, staring at him with your eyebrows raised.

“absolutely amazing. as always.” he said seriously, with his hands on your shoulders. “anybody would be lucky to get any type of chance with you.”

“aw, you’re being such a sap, eddie!” you joked. “but thank you.”

“yeah, yeah. whatever! now get out of here, cirice looks like she’s about 10 seconds away from stabbing me in the heart with one of those dagger earrings.” he shuddered, turning you around and pushing you towards the girls.

“have fun! just call me when you’re ready to go home, alright?” he yelled from his van, beeping twice before peeling out of the parking lot.

he watched from his side-view mirror as your body got smaller, you still waving at him, the further the distance put between you two, a weird feeling in his stomach, but quickly brushing it off as he turned his music up, and started obnoxiously singing along to the metallica song playing.

hawkins, indiana | the hex girl’s van | 10:38 p.m.

you sat in the back of the van with cora and scarlett conversing with them as alice drove to wherever the after party was, with cirice in the passenger seat barking directions at her.

“you guys are really into the whole occult thing huh?” you chuckled, picking up a book with the word “witches” written in bold letters and red font with a just as red hexagram underneath it on the cover.

“mhm, i guess you can say that.” cora agreed, making scarlett laugh in agreement.

“so…” scarlett started, her and cora trying to throw popcorn into each other’s mouths, and finally succeeding before alice made a sharp turn, causing cora to cough hysterically.

“you and that guy. he your boyfriend?” she asked with a chuckle, as you roughly clapped cora on the back, trying to help her.

“oh, eddie! nope! he’s my best friend!” you beamed, patting cora’s back softly now as she thanked you meekly before harshly kicking the back of alice’s seat.

“must you drive like a psycho?! i could’a died just now!”

“well, tell cirice to quit yellin’ at me! she’s putting a lot of pressure on me right now, okay! it’s dark-“

as the two of them continued to yell back and forth, with cirice now yelling over the both of them to shut up, but to no avail.

scarlett recorded them with the video camera you’d brought along, as you both laughed at their antics. she suddenly turned it onto you, getting real close to your face before mimicking a nescaster voice saying-

“now. the question of the night is…..ahem, drumroll please if you will?” she stopped midway to ask you. you quietly ‘ohing’ before patting your hands on your thighs rhythmically, as she got back to it.

“ah, yes! as i was saying, the question of the night is….“ she started back in the newscaster voice before, asking in her normal voice, “are you a virgin?”

you laughed loudly expecting that to have been a joke, before realizing, that you were the only one laughing, in fact, you were the only one making any type of noise, because once you stopped, you could practically hear a pin drop in the small van. the only sounds being the sounds of their instrument cases moving back and forth with every slight bump. it felt as though they had all been waiting for an answer.

“oh.. you’re serious! uhhh. well…yeah, i am, actually.”

now you weren’t one of those girls, who lied about losing your virginity to impress people or anything, or in this case, lie about having not lost it yet. but hear me out! even some of your closest friends still thought you were a virgin! save for robin (and of course eddie), and even still robin didn’t even know who you’d lost it too! besides it wasn’t anyones business anyways, so you telling that tiny little fib was harmless. right?

“ha! i fucking knew it scar! you better pay up!” alice squealed from the drivers seat.

“really? huh, i guess i’ll take that one!” scarlett laughed, ignoring alice.

“you guys are bitches you know that?” cora groaned, shaking her head, while you looked on in confusion.

“oh no, no no! we aren’t making fun of you or anything y/n! i swear! it’s just that, scarlett here swore up and down that you were one of those undercover freaks or something, that’s done every sexual thing under the sun.” alice rolled her eyes.

“yeah! i was just like you once, so i just kinda figured is all.” scarlett said bashfully.

“and like i said earlier, ‘just because you’re a “shy slut”, doesn’t mean every other shy person is!” she teased her.

as the two start insulting each other back and forth, you giggled, before noticing cirice, who was oddly quiet during that conversation, sharply whisper something to cora making her jerk back, before cowering and sitting next to you.

“sorry about them. they’re weirdos.” she meekly said, before offering you a can of beer, that you accepted.

“oh you’re good! i figured it was just girl talk, you know? i mean i am kinda curious about that slut story, but! i mind my business!” you both laughed, her watching you closely as you took a long chug from the can, a slightly pitying expression on her face.

“gosh, it feels like we’ve been driving forever! are we almost there yet?” you asked, feeling antsy from having been sat down in the vehicle for so long.

“yeah, we’re almost there. if alice could follow instructions, we could’ve probably been there!” cirice spoke up after god knows how long.

“hmm”

after a few about 30 seconds, you leaned your head against the side of the van, groaning.

“you alright, back there?“ alice asked.

“y-yeah… actually no, could you pull over for a sec, i think i’m about to hurl..” you groaned holding your head in your hands.

“don’t worry we’re almost there.” cora guided your head to her lap gently.

“yeah, just close your eyes….it’ll all be okay soon sweetheart.” you thought you’d imagined scarlett saying that last part, being with how far away she sounded, but before you could ask her to repeat herself, everything went black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

finally blinking your eyes open, it was still dark, so you figured it was night time. you could tell eddie’s jacket wasn’t on you anymore, being that the once chilly november air was freezing now. you tried to sit up so you could look around, but not only were your eyes still completely blurred, but you couldn’t sit up at all either. you hesrd voices around you talking however, so you at least knew you weren’t alone.

“hello? what’s going on? where the hell am i?”

“oh! you’re awake, thank goodness!” scarlett exclaimed, bounding over to you, and standing over you to rxamine your face.

“sc-scarlett what’s going on, why can’t i move?” you said becoming more coherent, jerking around, once you realized that you were, restrained to what felt like a smooth rock.

“well, we’re about to-“ she was cut off by cirice’s sharp yell.

“shut up, scarlett! jesus! quit talking to the damn sacrifice and come help alice with this shit!” she demanded

“you’re no fun, ‘rice! duty calls y/n, see ya!”

“wait! sacrifice?! this is a joke right? right?! what the hell is this?! let me go! 

“shhh, shhh it’s okay honey, seriously. you have no clue how grateful for you we are, for volunteering to do this for us. it might actually work this time, so just don’t think about it too much, ‘kay?” she said calmly, all while standing behind you, trying to calm you down.

“i didn’t volunteer for shit, i need you to let me go, cirice please!” you tried to say calmly until you saw the sharp butterfly knife shining in the moonlight in her hands.

“noo, no, no, no. you want. me to let you go! and even then that’s not really what you want, or else you wouldn’t be here… right?” she said, leaning down closer over your face, her inverted cross necklace dangling over your forehead. looking at you upside down, as she gently glided the knife over your cheek.

you started to sob, realizing that she wasn’t really listening to you. “don’t do this! please! i won’t say anything if you let me go! i mean who would even believe me if i d-did! i’m just a girl, from some small town anyw-ways, please!”

cirice just patted your face and walked away to get her book, reading over it to make sure she memorized the spell to the t.

“alright! come on ladies let’s start this, already!” alice said walking over, putting the hood of the long black cloaks they were wearing on her head.

“yeah, i really feel like it might work this time.” scarlett, beamed standing over you as well. “cora, cheer up a little would you?”

“i just don’t understand why we have to do this! it hasn’t worked any of the other times, and we’ve been killing virgins for no reason for months now!” she said, over your loud sobs and pleads.

“are you trying to say that the practice is fake?” cirice snapped at her.

“no! but maybe we’re doing it wrong! i just feel-

“i’m not a virgin! wait! please! i-i-i-i’m not! i swear!” you attenpted to yell out, choking on your sobs.

thankfully they all heard you though. you didn’t get the reaction you were expecting though, which was for all of them to start laughing (except for cora) as if you’d told a funny joke.

“come onn. you expect us to believe that? you just said in the van that you were.” alice laughed.

“i was lying! please! i won’t tell a soul about this! just-“

“someone cover her mouth at least?” cora said, relenting, putting on her hood as well. knowing that they definitely weren’t going to back out now.

“no! no stop-“ your pleas were cut off by some cloth being stuffed into your mouth, muffling your screams.

“alright what’s the chant for this one again?” alice asked.

“you seriously forgot?!” scarlett rolled her eyes.

“it’s been months! was i supposed to remember?” she argued back.

“shut up! here it is. and pay attention because it’s not like our other ones.”

“we come here tonight, to sacrifice the body of y/n from hawkins, indiana.”

your muffled screams and writhing were drowned out by the sounds of the other three’s chanting about some shit you couldn’t be bothered to worry about once you saw cirice’s knife filled hands raised over your chest.

“with the deepest malice, we deliver this virgin unto thee!” she exclaimed, thrusting the knife down into your heart, before yanking it out and back in repeatedly over other parts of your body, as the girls did the same. your agonizing screams through the cloth in your mouth drowned out into the night sky, along with the girls’ screeching laughter at your agony.

————————————————

“hey, don’t feel too bad, cora!” scarlett tried to sooth the sobbing girl in the back of the van.

her attempt at calm words were nothing but white noise to the girl however, as she sat next to your covered body, trying to keep it from moving too much as the van went over branches, leaves, and logs as alice tried to drive it out of the forest.

“shut up! shut up, scarlett! she didn’t deserve that, none of them did!” cora cried, even harder than before.

“it didn’t even work! we’re just murderers.” she cried, hugging your limp body to hers.

“hey! what did i tell you about that word!” cirice snapped at her. “we. aren’t. murderers! okay? this is for a good cause, and you know it! and would you quit hugging that damn thing, it’s not gonna hug back!” she screamed.

“she! and her name was y/n! and now she’s dead for no reason!” cora continued to cry.

“cirice is right it was for a good cause. and i mean, hey, we’ll even let you give her a nice little funeral this time, with the grave and everything we won’t even rush you either! in fact, alice pull over!” scarlett said enthusiastically.

“pull over where? we’re in the middle of nowhere.” she mumbled, still disappointed that the sacrifice didn’t work.

“just stop here! anything to quit cora’s whining.” cirice mumbled

the van halted, still smack dab in the middle of the woods, as scarlett and cora climbed out, each holding and end of your dead-weighted, body.

“we’ll be right back! alice, grab the shovels will ya?” scarlett said from a distance. alice got out and pulled the shovels from underneath her seat.

“we’ll try not to take long.” alice grimaced, practically feeling the irritation coming off of their leader in waves.

“whatever. just speed it up will you!” she mumbled, closing her eyes, before the driver’s side door closed.

it had been a good while since the girls had left to go bury you. however, cirice didn’t know that being that she’d fallen asleep 5 minutes after they’d left. so imagine her surprise when she opened her eyes and realized that she was still alone in the van.

“are they serious? i swear i’m gonna kill ‘em.” she practically growled to herself as she yanked the door open and started towards the direction she’d seen them walking in.

“how long does it take to bury a fucking body!? huh?!” she yelled out once she saw the lights from their flashlights in the distance.

“hello?! can we get a move on, please?!” i don’t wanna be in this damn town anymore!” she said once she finally got to them.

now joining the sounds of the november winds blowing the leaves of hawkins’ tall trees, critters, and animals that night was the screams of bloody murder coming from cirice’s mouth as she couldn’t do anything else but that and stare at the mutilated bodies and remains of what she called her dearest friends.

hawkins, indiana | the munson trailer | 3:32 a.m.

eddie had long since called your mother, to let her know of the change in plans that had occured, of how after the performance, instead of doing the interview you had told her about, at the hideout, and then staying over at eddie’s, you’d been invited to a small little after party to do it instead. she didn’t mind, being that he told her you’d call him to pick you up afterwards.

that had been right after eddie had gotten home at about 11. he’d long since worked on his next campaign, played his guitar, and even watched reruns of jem and the holograms! (not that he’d ever admit that he watched it outside of the times you forced him to.)

so imagine eddie’s surprise when he woke up and realized that you’d never called him to come get you. he looked over at the time, and groaned, realizing that you’d never called him.

“what the hell..” he mumbled, still staring over at the time.

‘maybe she got laid and just stayed the night with them.’ he thought to himself, trying to think of all the reasons.

he turned over, realizing that he couldn’t even call you because he didn’t know where the party was!

“oh my- shit!” he jumped up, being startled by your silhouette standing in front of his closet.

“y/n?? how did you get here? was the party close? why didn’t you call i could’ve picked you up anyways..” he sleepily stammered out all of his questions.

you didn’t answer him though, you only stood there, quietly.

it was dark, and he couldn’t see your face at all, but you’d slept over enough times to realize that it was you.

“okay… so.. how was it? the party.”

“…fine.” you said blankly.

“well then, you must’ve had a fun night.” he said, attempting to rub the sleep out of his eyes, being that he still couldn’t see you.

“it was…eventful.” you murmered in the same tone, before you started giggling hysterically, as if you’d been holding it in, and just couldn’t anymore. he’d never heard you laugh like that before.

“well.. we can talk about it tomorrow i’m sure you’re tired, c’mere.” he awkwardly patted the side of his bed that you usually slept on.

“i brought your jacket back.” you said, again in a blank monotonous tone. “i’m actually gonna head home.”

“i’m gonna…head home though? my mom dropped me off actually.” you’d said, walking towards his door.

“wait what? are you okay? did something happen tonight?”

“don’t worry about it, i’ll see you tomorrow, eddie.”

“okay, hold on, you’re acting weird.” he’d said, turning on his bedside lamp so he could finally see you better, but when he looked back to where you’d been standing, there was no trace of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: the way this took me 16 days to write is insane 😭

i hate it here 🫤

tag list: @harrys-tittie @snoopysavv @munsonlvrr @sarcasmismyonlydefense24 @monztrous @spiderxmonkey @baconlillies @spicynoddels @tsumamibaddie @miiikkeey @nopetoohighforthat

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x poc reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x black!reader

[beckettj]

The Heart of a Villan - Chapter 1/5

It only seems right that I post the first chapter of this self-indulgent fic (combining two of my favourite things - CS and AVFC) on my birthday! The other four chapters to follow weekly.

Chapter One - Amongst Devils and Villans

Summary: Three-thousand miles from home, Henry drags Emma into a land she never imagined venturing to; the realm of English football. She holds no interest in the sport but when she’s approached by Villa Captain Killian Jones, she determines that there could be something in the sport for her after all.

Words: 7.1k exactly

Read on Ao3

“Mom, Mom, look! Look! There it is! Isn’t it amazing?”

Henry bounces enthusiastically in the middle of the closed-off road, pointing to a structure in the near distance, a combination of brick, concrete and steel; their intended destination, so help her.

Emma shakes her head, “It’s just a building, Henry.”

His jaw drops and his eyes boggle as if they’re about to burst out of his head.

“Just a building?” he repeats incredulously and points to it once more, as if she’d mistakenly looked at the wrong one, like it is easy to miss as it towers over the trees and houses which line either side of it. “That stadium is a fortress, older than you and I combined!”

A grand total of thirty-eight years. It didn’t take much beating.

Henry continues his spiel, “It’s been home to Aston Villa football club since eighteen-ninety-seven. It’s withstood the tests of time, adapting and growing with the support its amassed. Games have been won, drawn and lost here, there have been many highs and many lows but that stadium has stood strong through it all. It draws in crowds of over forty-thousand and today we get to be a part of that!”

She certainly can’t fault the kid for his passion, but it is a passion she most definitely does not share. She has no interest in watching grown men chase a sphere of air around, and yet that is precisely what lies in store for her afternoon.

Curse her parents for organising a surprise trip to London for Henry’s spring break. Curse her dad specifically for securing tickets to a soccer game. And curse her dad three times over for coming down with food poisoning, forcing her into being the one to accompany an indescribably excitable Henry on a two-hour train journey from London to Birmingham ahead of what he described as ‘the greatest match of his life’.

The second train – the one towards the outskirts of Birmingham – had been, by far, the worst. They had been packed like sardines and motherly instincts had kicked in, Emma clinging to Henry for dear life so not to lose him. The carriage had stunk, a pungent concoction of beer and sweat, making the thirteen-minute journey hell. Henry had been in his element, surrounded by claret and blue shirts, his face lighting up like Christmas morning, as he joined in with the chants and was doused in beer when the train had unexpectedly jerked.

He remains in his element, soaking in the developing atmosphere around the so-called fortress that was Villa Park. There remains an hour-and-a-half before the game is due to kick off but Henry had been insistent on arriving early, talking relentlessly about the club store, programmes and watching the players warming up – as if he isn’t about to watch them play for ninety minutes.

Whose idea was it to make soccer matches ninety minutes long?

The things you do for your children.

“Mum, come on,” Henry urges, and he rushing as if they’re about to miss kick-off. “The store’s this way.”

--

If Emma thought the growing horde of people on the street were overwhelmingly claret and blue, the club store is, impossibly, even more consumed by the colour scheme. Everywhere she looks, she’s met by a sea of claret and blue.

There’s no escape.

Henry is like a kid in a sweet shop, using his small size to manoeuvre effortlessly through the tiny, cramped, oversubscribed matchday store. By the time he returns to her he’s struggling to carry everything he’s collected, a heap of clothes and other products in his arms. There’s a beaming smile on his face and she doesn’t have the heart to let him down, to make him choose a few things, so she agrees to it all – they’re on vacation, she can worry about it when they’re back in Maine and far away from the unpleasantness of the crowded soccer store.

She helps him with his haul, carrying a claret and blue scarf, baseball cap, water bottle and backpack for him as they squeeze through people to join the queue at the checkout. They wait their turn, weaving through the queue barriers as the line slowly goes down, Henry talking non-stop the whole way, rambling about players and tactics, his words flying straight over her head.

Emma’s relief is strong upon reaching the front of the queue, gaining a temporary relieve from Henry’s excited ramblings. She drops the items in her hands onto the cashier’s desk, on top of the pile Henry’s already formed, and the cashier eyes the haul with faint amusement.

“First time?” she asks.

“Yeah!” Henry nods eagerly. “But hopefully not the last!”

Emma sure hopes it’s her last. Her dad would take the next one, even if she has to contract food poisoning herself to ensure it.

“You chose a good match for your first one. Nick three points from Man U here today and we slip into that Champions League spot. Should make for a good atmosphere,” the cashier remarks as she scans each item through the till. “Who’s your favourite player?”

Emma knows this one. She knows she does. Or she should; Henry talks about him twenty-four seven. It starts with a ‘J’, she knows that much; James… Jense…

“Jones!” Henry answers. “He scores the best screamers.”

Emma raises an eyebrow. He scores what now?

“Do you want printing on your shirt?” the cashier asks as she scans the soccer shirt through the till.

Henry looks to Emma for her permission, momentarily taking her by surprise. It’s the first time since entering the store that he has stopped to consider the restraints of money. She sticks by her earlier decision; they are on vacation.

“Whatever you want, kid,” she encourages him.

Henry’s grin impossibly widens and he turns back to the cashier, making his request, “Jones and the number nine please.”

“Good choice,” the cashier smiles at him. “Bear with me one moment and I’ll get that all sorted for you.”

She crosses to the workstation at the back wall of the till, getting to work lining up the letters on the shirt.

Henry turns to Emma, “Can I put the shirt on when it’s ready?”

Emma’s unsure, imagining him disappearing in the sea of claret and blue on the street. A glance out the window confirms it’s only getting busier out there but when she looks back at him, his soft, brown, puppy-dog eyes melt her worries away and she relents, “Sure thing, kid.”

He tilts his head and proposes, “Don’t you think you should get a shirt?”

“Not a chance, Henry,” she responds immediately.

“A hat then?”

“No way.”

“A coat?”

“Nope.”

“A scarf?”

“No.”

“This then,” Henry picks up a claret and blue pen, complete with the Aston Villa logo, from the shelves below the cashier desk. “You can never have too many pens.”

“Fine,” Emma agrees, if only to subdue his pestering.

He smiles triumphantly and adds the pen to the pile of items still awaiting their venture through the till. The cashier returns with the printing on the shirt completed and promptly processes the rest of their items, all the while Henry excitedly tells her his predictions for the game.

Emma very nearly falls over in shock when the final total flashes onto the screen. Whoever would have thought slapping a lion badge onto a claret and blue item would make it double in price? She’s very nearly leaving the store with one less arm and leg than she had entered with. She recovers from the initial surprise, repeats her mantra in her head – we’re on vacation – and completes the purchase.

--

MATCHDAY PROGRAMMES £3.50

Henry grabs her hand and pulls her into another queue the moment he notices the sign on the little kiosk just a few feet from the stadium. He looks the part now; his claret and blue shirt matching those of others in the line. It’s a short, fast-moving queue and they get to the front to discover the kiosk doesn’t accept card which makes her look the fool as she continues to struggle to get her head around which British coin represents which value. The man at the stall helps her out and she can only trust that he hasn’t ripped her off.

Henry keenly takes the programme from the man’s outstretched hand and wastes no time in looking at it.

“Mom, look! Jones is on the front cover!” Henry excitedly exclaims.

Emma rolls her eyes. Of course he is. Jones this. Jones that. He might as well be renamed ‘Mr Aston Villa’.

Henry waves the programme in her face, trying to show her but his hand is so unsteady all she initially sees is a blur of claret and blue. Eventually he calms and the programme steadies in her hand, allowing her a good look at the Jones that her son so often raves about.

“Woah!” the utterance escapes from her subconscious.

She regresses to a teenager all over again, ogling a hot celebrity in her favourite magazine. It’s ridiculous and yet there she stands, mesmerised by piercing blue eyes and a roguish smirk which screams ‘I’m good and I know I am’ but in a hot, self-assured way as opposed to brash arrogance.

“Woah what?” Henry eyes her suspiciously.

“Woah… he,” she drags the word out and thinks fast, reading off the programme’s subheading – saved by the print, “is making his three-hundredth competitive club appearance today. That… that is some achievement.”

That starts Henry off on reeling the player’s entire history off to her, detailing the day he signed for Villa and where he’d signed from. Emma lets him spurt the information off as she silently rejoices in getting away with one there. She composes herself as Henry recounts his favourite goal of Jones’.

“Come on, kid,” she prompts Henry once he’s done. “It’s about time we get inside the stadium, don’t you think?”

--

“Woah!” Henry breathes out, utterly fascinated as they step out of the stairway and into the stand, taking in the sight of the stadium before them.

Even Emma has to admit it’s impressive. They are halfway up the stand, seats descending to pitch side in front of them and more rising higher behind them. The pitch looks immaculate – each blade of grass cut to precision – the greenest green Emma recalls ever seeing; the stage set and the audience beginning to congregate, staggered across all four stands in the near forty-three-thousand capacity theatre. The spring sun sneaks between the gap in between their stand and the one to their left, lighting up the pitch impeccably and providing an appreciative warmth to the open air venue.

People mull around the stadium, heading to their seats, wearing their claret and blue shirts outright or throwing them over the top of a hoodie for added warmth. She can’t shake the feeling that she sticks out like a sore thumb. The strong red of her jacket stands out against the dull claret of the home supporters and she quickly notices that where she holds paper tickets – printed by her father in the hotel reception – most fans are carrying season cards, proudly broadcasting themselves as frequent visitors.

She fully embraces the tourist look by asking a steward for help finding their seats, the combination of letters and numbers and blocks and rows nothing short of confusing. As much as she had frowned and scowled at the tickets, it had refused to become any clearer.

The steward kindly leads them towards their seats and, where Emma had been expecting to be led upwards, she leads them down the stairs, each step taking them closer to the front of the stand.

“Mom, look how close we are getting to the pitch!” Henry breathes out excitedly.

His eyes widen as they get closer and closer and when the steward finally stops, she’s at the front row, putting a hand out to indicate down it.

“No way!” Henry exclaims.

Yes way.

The steward encourages them to continue on down the row, telling Emma that the number on her tickets will match the ones on the seats a little further down the row. She thanks her and they are quickly able to find their seats, just along from the left post of the goal.

“This is incredible!” Henry marvels as he leans forward onto the low railing in front of him, staring onto the pitch mere metres away.

“Make sure you thank your grandpa when we get back tomorrow evening,” Emma tells him.

He nods absently, preoccupied and mesmerised by the view in front of him. When the players emerge from the tunnel, jogging onto the pitch to commence their warmup, Henry jumps to his feet, bouncing excitedly as he sees his favourite players in the flesh for the first time. He points each player out to her, naming them and spieling off facts and statistics which she ultimately zones out, just nodding and responding ‘oh yeah?’ intermittently.

Her own attention is captured by Jones as he leads a line of players in a series of stretches, instructed by their coach. He’s just as the picture on the front of the programme had captured him – his blue eyes really are that blue and he carries and conducts himself with the same confidence that had oozed off the page. There’s a precision to each stretch he executes, a focused determination to do things properly, to give himself his best chance ahead of the game.

As inviting as Jones is on the eyes, even he can’t pique her interest in his sport for the second the stretching session is over and he has the football at his feet, engaging in drills with his teammates, she grows bored. Her attention turns to her phone, checking in on her parents and filling them in on Henry’s experience so far, sending over some photos.

The players finish their warmups and head back down the tunnel, the stands really starting to fill up as kick-off grows nearer and the music blaring around the stadium builds with the atmosphere.

Henry’s excitement is at an all time high, unable to keep still on his seat and he grins at her as he says, “It’s nearly time for kick-off!”

Perfect. Just ninety more minutes until freedom.

--

The players re-emerge from the tunnel to great fanfare; the opposing players exchange a series of handshakes before taking their positions ahead of kick-off. The claret and blue players originally position themselves in the half closest to her and Henry – who all but screams in her ear about how close he is to Humbert and Booth – until a whistle from the referee changes things.

Both teams switch ends and the stadium descends into a pantomime, the crowd booing the players in red as they jog to the positions vacated by the home side just moments prior. Emma doesn’t understand the grievance among the crowd who swiftly lead into a booming and unanimous; ‘Who the fuck, who the fuck, who the fucking hell are you, who the fucking hell are you?’ chant and she’s extremely surprised to hear Henry screaming it at the top of his innocent voice.

“Henry!” she says, stifling chuckles.

He looks at her innocently, “What?”

“Language.”

“We’re at the football, Mom. It doesn’t count at the football.”

Emma’s momentarily thrown by his use of the word ‘football’ – since when was her son British? She opens her mouth to argue but Henry jumps into the next chant, pointing aggressively towards the opposition goalkeeper accompanied by the majority of the home crowd as they present a repetitive rendition of, ‘wanker, wanker, wanker’. Emma is left wondering just what the player had done to illicit such a reception and when, exactly, her son had developed an affinity for British insults.

The referee blows his whistle and the game begins, prompting a roar from the crowd, living up to the lion which stands pride of place on the club badge.

--

The time on the electronic scoreboard ticks by ever so slowly – one team kicks the ball around for a bit until the other team gets it and does exactly the same. Neither appears to be in too much of a hurry to actually put the ball in the back of the net and Emma’s confused because she thought that was the whole point of the game.

Emma can think of a hundred places – perhaps even a thousand – she would much rather be but Henry’s loving it – joining in with chants at the top of his voice and screaming at the referee about decisions and fouls and offside calls – his enthusiastic investment becoming one of the few positives to her experience.

She has long lost interest in watching twenty-two men run around and kick a ball, electing to amuse herself instead by listening to the comments of nearby supporters and wondering whether they had ever heard themselves.

It had started fairly tame;

“I don’t fancy Scarlet, you know.” “You don’t?” “Nah, he’s been off his game the last few weeks.”

But then it got wilder;

“Oh, Jones wants it! Give it to him, Locksley, give it to him!”

“Pereira’s gone through the back of Humbert!”

“Booth needs to step up and fill the hole that Locksley’s left wide open.”

But her favourite of them all was definitely, “Scarlet needs to stop letting Cardozo inside of him!”

Her fun comes to an end with three sharp blows of the referee’s whistle, prompting all the players to disappear once more down the tunnel into the stadium. The stands empty out, hordes of people heading into the concourse. She smiles; freedom at last.

Henry turns to her, “Jones is going to score in the second half, Mom, just you watch. He didn’t get much service that half but when he gets his chance, he’ll take it! All he needs is one shot and bam, goal!”

Second half? Emma sighs. She had forgotten they still had another half to go. The first forty-five minutes had felt like a lifetime.

“Can we get hotdogs?” Henry asks, his requests endless.

She reminds herself of her mantra – we’re on vacation, worry about it later – and agrees.

--

By the time they return to their seats – thanks to a huge demand for refreshments – the second half is already underway. Henry can breathe again – the kid panicking the entire time they were in the line about missing a goal – the scoreboard remains the same, displaying no goals, and Henry tucks contently into his long-awaited hotdog. Emma follows his lead, both taking their eyes off the game for a moment to bite into their food.

The crowd roars into life around them and a ball comes flying out of nowhere, knocking the hotdog out of Henry’s hand and smashing into his face. Emma’s own hotdog joins Henry’s on the concrete floor, dropping absent-mindedly from her hands as she looks to Henry; his hands cradle his nose, blood leaking heavily through his fingers, tears pouring from his eyes. She grabs the napkin from around her hotdog, moving Henry’s hands from his face and holding the napkin against his nose. It disintegrates from the heavy flow of blood in seconds and her hands grow wet from the fluid. She grabs the napkin from Henry’s hotdog, replacing it with hers.

“Oh, bloody hell!”

Jones has stepped over the advertisement boards and leans on the railings in front of her seat. His blue eyes are not the same piercing, confident ones printed on the programme, instead they’re dull, wide and numbed in horror.

He’s gone, almost as quickly as he seemed to have arrived, running the width of the pitch, waving his arms frantically above his head. Emma gratefully accepts tissues from the woman seated behind her as the second napkin disintegrates beneath her fingers.

Jones returns with two first responders in tow. They jump the railings with ease, taking over from her in tending to Henry. Emma holds her blood-covered hands out helplessly, not entirely processing what was happening.

Henry had just wanted to eat his hotdog and watch his team.

He’d been so excited.

A warm hand touches her arm. Jones is leaning on the railing again and reaching out, to her.

“Are you alright, love?” he asks gently.

She nods absent-mindedly.

“I can only apologise profusely,” he continues.

His eyes shift towards Henry and he scratches at the back of his ear as he watches the boy receive treatment. Emma starts to put the pieces together; a wayward ball, a lingering football player – Jones was the guilty player responsible.

“It’s okay,” she responds vacantly.

She’s too distracted to maintain a conversation, focused entirely on Henry, surrounded by the two first responders. She can’t see what’s happening amongst the mass of hands working on his face, but she clutches his hand tightly, letting him know she’s still there.

“We’re going to move him to our first aid station. We can treat him better there. If you’d please follow behind us,” one of the first responders fills her in.

She nods, still struggling to muster words, shocked by the sudden turn of events. It doesn’t feel real. Flashes of Henry’s excitement prior to the game keep burning into her mind, highlighting the cruel twist of fate. The two first aiders help Henry to his feet, his vision obstructed by the multiple tissues they were holding over his nose. They guide him down the single step and along the walkway, pointing out the big green first aid station sign on the opposite side of the stadium for her benefit. She can see where they’re going, and it’s quite the trek.

The whistle blows to resume the game and the crowds roars once more as the Villa players successfully defend the corner.

“I don’t want to miss the game!” Henry complains, his tears subduing for his fear of missing out to soar.

Emma’s hit by a flood of relief when she hears him speak, even more so when she realises he’s well enough in himself to be concerned about missing the match.

The man beside him laughs, “Spoken like a true Villan.”

--

“Mum, look! We didn’t miss anything!” Henry can scarcely believe his luck.

He’s bouncing with excitement again and Emma is terrified that the flood of blood from his nose is going to return, aggravated by the movement. She places a hand on his shoulder, a feeble attempt to calm him, as he points to the scoreboard, still reading ‘0-0’.

A series of cold compresses, a couple of pages of paperwork, the administration of pain medication, and a series of checks to make absolutely certain that, by some utter miracle, Henry had escaped without a broken nose, had kept them busy for forty minutes.

There’s five minutes left of normal play and yet Henry is in high spirits. As they follow the steward leading them back to their seats, there’s a residual bounce in Henry’s step as he marvels at how close to the pitch and the players he is. The action is all up on their end too, far away from where they’d be if they were in their seats. The Villa players gather in the opposition’s box, preparing for a corner.

Emma’s eyes scan the mass of claret and blue shirts amongst the red ones, eventually landing on Jones who stands right on top of the penalty spot, watching Locksley as he catches the ball thrown to him by the ballboy.

“Today’s attendance is forty-two-thousand-three-hundred-and-fourteen. We thank you for your support,” booms out over the speakers scattered around the stadium.

Jones’ eyes meet hers, catching her looking at him. She holds firm, not looking away, refusing to back down and hide. He breaks eye contact – too quickly – shifting his gaze, quick and honed in, until his blue eyes land on Henry. The tension appears to physically ride out of Jones’ body; his shoulders loosen, his head lifts higher and a small smile tugs at his lips. His head turns, gaze returning to her, and he mouths, sorry, love.

Emma’s heart skips a beat. Forty-two-thousand-three-hundred-and-fourteen people in the stadium and, out of them all, he acknowledges her. She forces herself to remain calm and keep her composure; he has no other motive for his interest in her besides compassion or guilt, or both. She opts to send him a reassuring smile and hopes she’s not blushing.

--

The game has reached ninety minutes by the time she and Henry get back to their seats. The announcement of an additional nine minutes of stoppage time is met be a loud, motivational roar from the home supporters, urging their team on to nick the game in the dying moments.

Henry’s eyes light up at the news that he’ll at least see some of the second half. He turns his gaze expectantly to the pitch and jumps into the chant of ‘allez, allez, allez’ the crowd have initiated to spur the players onwards.

Emma finds herself getting drawn in, sitting on the edge of her seat, as she watches not so much the game but one particular player. She is fixated on Jones and even when he’s one of the furthest from the ball, she still watches him; taking control, pointing and shouting as he makes his commands. Her mind wanders back to the sorry, love; the moment he’d taken out of the tense, end-to-end game to apologise once more. Her mind drifts back further, to the comfort he had tried to offer her during Henry’s initial treatment; the warm, light touch of his fingers against her arm. Professional sport stars had always seemed so distant with their high wages and expensive cars and houses; to have been to so close to someone in such a profession and received such genuine concern was a reminder that they were human too. Jones was human, a man who wasn’t just chasing after a ball full of air; he was a man focused on remaining in position, constantly running, looking for his best opportunity to strike, waiting patiently to receive the ball, determining when to press, when to drop back, and when to make runs behind the back line, all whilst giving instruction to his teammates.

Watching Jones, following his every movement, switches something in her mind and everything Henry had been rambling about suddenly made sense. Watching Jones playing on the shoulder of the last man and timing his runs transforms the offside rule from quantum mechanics to adding one and two to make three; something she doesn’t need to think twice about – it’s simple, instantaneous.

Five minutes of stoppage time pass and the tension has grown exponentially. Each time the ball finds its way back to the Villa goalkeeper, there’s an urgent cry from the crowd to get it forward. Emma holds her breath as the goalkeeper does just that, launching the ball through the air, a near desperate punt up-field, one heading towards Jones. He takes the ball under his control with a single touch, eliciting great applause, cheers and murmurs of adoration from the crowd. He moves fast, knocking the ball around his defender, and chasing after it.

One ball, three men all charging for it; Jones in the centre, a straight run to the ball, a defender either side of him, closing down the angle. They’re all close and from Emma’s distance it’s difficult for her to determine who will get there first.

She hopes it’s Jones.

Her hands are clenched close together and she murmurs a faint ‘go, go, go’ under her breath. If he can get to it first, he’ll be ahead of the two defenders, leaving just the goalkeeper to beat.

The defender to Jones’ right opts for a change of plan, adapting the angle of his run so to get into the space that Jones will enter should he get to the ball first. The defender to his left stays on path, eyes fixed on the ball, determined. Jones gets there first, knocking the ball a touch forward; the defender makes a desperate slide, missing the ball and taking Jones’ legs out from under him, sending him flying to the ground.

Emma gasps as the crowd roars in unanimous fury, raising to their feet and screaming at the ref. The referee brandishes a yellow card for the player in red which only increases the infuriation and level of protests amongst the onlookers.

“That’s a clear red! All day long!”

“Are you fucking blind, ref?”

“He’s taken him out!”

Emma grips tightly onto the railings in front of her, too far away to decipher the severity of the stoppage. Jones remains on the ground, the club’s doctors receiving the signal from the referee to approach. As he receives treatment, the crowds erupts into a strong show of support with a chant to the tune of ‘drunken sailor’.

“Scores with his left foot and his right one Slots it in the net for Aston Villa What a player, what a striker! Super Captain Jo-ones!

Super Captain Jones! Super Captain Jones! Super Captain Jones! Can not stop him scoring!”

It’s a joyful tune that the crowd repeats multiple times over with indisputable passion and heart, Henry all-but deafening her as he screams it at the top of his lungs, but Emma does not resonate with the cheeriness. There’s a tense apprehension increasingly rising inside her the longer Jones remains down. She watches him receive treatment to his right knee, nervously hoping he is fit to continue playing. It’s stupid, feeling so concerned about a guy she barely knows, a guy she didn’t care about just an hour ago, and yet her fingers drum impatiently against the cool metal of the claret railing, her other hand gripping it tightly, clinging to what little support she can find.

Her concern is purely fuelled by Henry, she reasons; his special day has already been severely disrupted and she doesn’t want him to face the disappointment of watching his favourite player getting stretchered off.

After what feels like an age, Jones rises to his feet, prompting a huge applause to erupt from the crowd. Emma joins in, a loud whoop even escaping her lips, and Henry chuckles beside her; was it a chuckle of relief? Jones moves to stand on the sidelines and, after most likely making herself sound like a total novice to those around them by asking the question, Henry explains that players who receive medical treatment have to wait at the side of the pitch until waved back on by the referee. He's unable to provide her with a reason why, shrugging, and she’s left none-the-wiser.

On the pitch, Locksley prepares himself to take the subsequent free kick and, as the players all bide their time in taking their positions, Emma returns to an earlier game;

“Right on the edge of the D. Perfect position!”

“Locksley’s a master in these situations.” “I don’t know… he put it straight down the keeper’s throat last time.”

“He’s going for it. He’s giving him the eyes.”

Locksley takes a deep breath in, takes a short run up, and strikes the ball. The crowd collectively holds their breath as the ball lifts over the wall of red players, dips towards the goal, looking certain for the top right corner until a gloved hand appears out of nowhere, tipping the ball over the bar and out of play, a series of ‘oooh’s’ ringing out from the crowd.

The claret and blue players all hurry into their positions for the coming corner. Jones gets waved on by the referee and races to the penalty spot. Emma looks to the scoreboard for the time. It shows one-hundred-and-two minutes, more time added on for Jones’ treatment, making it impossible to know when that final whistle was going to sound.

The crowd remains loud, cheers, applause and chants ringing out from all four stands of the ground, the supporters sensing blood – or hoping and praying against all odds – and persisting in urging the players on. Locksley hastily places the ball at the corner, steps back, raises an arm, and hits it, lifting it dangerously into the box. Emma watches the movement in the box, players on both teams scrambling to gain positions, to get themselves into the path of the ball, to get something, anything, on it. She watches as Jones leaps into the air, throwing himself forwards, his head connecting with the ball, changing its trajectory and sending it riffling into the top left corner of the net.

Emma jumps for joy, a move synchronised with a huge majority of the crowd. If she thought earlier cheers were loud, the one which erupts around the stadium is a whole other level, her ears ringing as she happily joins in, screaming at the top of her lungs, her voice box be damned. Henry throws himself at her, engulfing her in a hug as he jumps up and down.

“I told you! I said Jones would score!” Henry beams.

“You were right, kid,” Emma returns, smiling at his glee at his own prediction coming to pass.

“Look, he’s coming this way!” Henry exclaims.

Emma turns her attention back to the pitch. There’s a big huddle of claret and blue players celebrating with fans in the North Stand but she sees Henry’s correct; Jones has jogged the length of the pitch back to the Holte. He halts momentarily, to exchange a celebratory and extravagant handshake with his goalkeeper, before jogging forwards once more. He nears their stand, prompting the roar of the crowd to increase once more, celebrations restarting as the crowd then dives into their chant for him at full voice.

Jones stops at the edge of the pitch. He points directly to Henry, a gasp of surprise escaping her son’s lips, and, over the roar of the crowd, he yells, “That one’s for you, lad.”

Henry’s jaw drops and he stares mesmerised after his hero as Jones jogs away.

--

The referee blows the final whistle, the crowd roars a final, deafening roar, players exchange handshakes and then the stadium starts to empty out. Henry insists on remaining in place until all the players have left the pitch – some still undergoing their lap of appreciation around the pitch, clapping the fans for their support. Henry is soaking up every last bit of the matchday experience and Emma can’t blame him for who knew when they’d make it back again? Three-thousand-miles is a long way to travel for a ninety-minute match.

The stand is almost empty when Jones approaches them both, a wry smile on his face, “I’m glad you’re still here. How’re you holding up there, lad?”

Henry stares, utterly starstruck, and Emma has to nudge him.

“I’m okay!” Henry eventually responds and promptly changes topic. “The goal was awesome! You’re awesome!”

“Yeah, nothing broken,” Emma jumps in to provide reassurance after Henry excitedly brushes over it. “Just heavy bruising but it’ll give him a tale to tell his friends back home,” Emma expands.

“And where would home be?” Jones hangs around, showing interest in them. “America?”

Henry nods, “It’s a town called Storybrooke.”

On Jones’ lost look, Emma expands, “It’s in Maine.”

“That’s a fair trek only to receive a ball to the face for your troubles,” Jones comments apologetically. “It would appear I have a lot of making up to do.”

He pulls his shirt off. Emma’s eyes drift downward, unashamed to wish to appreciate the body of a dedicated and hard-working professional athlete. She’s not met by strong, chiselled pecs or rock-hard abs but disappointment as Jones is a tease and wears a blue base layer below his soccer shirt.

Jones hands the soccer shirt to Henry who looks like he’s on the edge of passing out from shock as he takes it, but manages to stumble out a star-struck, “Wow, thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do, lad,” Jones responds with a bemused smile. “It’s a miracle the ball from that clearance didn’t take your head off.”

“If I get your shirt out of it, then it’s worth it!” Henry grins.

He dives eagerly into the carrier bags at their feet, drawing Jones’ attention to them.

“That’s quite the haul you’ve got there,” Jones remarks, sounding impressed.

The comment distracts Henry from whatever it was he had originally gone in for, for he begins pulling each item out of the bag, one-by-one, showing them to Jones. Emma expects Jones to brush him off – he’d done the gesture of the shirt to make up for the ball in the face, he’s well in his right to leave – but Jones stands there, patiently listening and responding, taking time to engage in conversation and make comments about the various items being thrust towards his face. It takes her by surprise but it’s endearing to watch him almost match Henry’s enthusiasm towards the soccer club.

Henry finds the matchday programme towards the bottom of the bag and appears to remember what he’d been doing prior to getting distracted. He holds the programme up to Jones, the latest in the conveyor belt of items he’d been displaying to the Villa Captain.

“Would you be able to sign this for me, please?” he asks.

“Of course I would. But have you got a pen? Because, uh,” he taps either side of his shorts to emphasise, “no pockets.”

Henry turns to Emma and prompts, “Mom?”

His expectant look reminds her that she does have a pen; the very one Henry had coaxed her into buying at the Villa store and then proceeded to refuse to let her put it in any of his three carrier bags in fear of it leaking over his precious merchandise. She retrieves said pen from her jacket pocket – noting that ink leakage hasn’t occurred – and hands it over to Jones. He inspects the pen, noting its colour and branding.

“Ah, so you are a fan! Just choose to sport the opposition’s colours, eh?” Jones teases with a playful smirk.

Henry jumps in before she can find a response, “No, I had to convince her to even get the pen. She doesn’t even like this sport. She’s only here because grandpa ate some funny oysters and got food poisoning.”

Jones chuckles, amused, as he signs Henry’s programme and Emma has to do some damage control, her own son actively jeopardising any small slither of a chance she had with the guy.

“I daresay I’ve been converted by a stand-out performance today,” she declares.

Jones hands Henry his freshly signed programme and raises an eyebrow, humming, “Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm, that Locksley’s quite the player,” Emma ribs. “He can really… stick it in the mixer.”

She silently thanks the supporters stood behind her – long since left – for not only entertaining her with their comments throughout the first half but for helping her to learn some of the soccer lingo so not to appear a total novice in front of such a seasoned pro.

There’s an unreadable gleam in Jones’ eyes as he watches her – she can’t work out if he’s amused or wants to curse her out.

“Given I did boot a ball into your lad’s face, it’s only right I make it up to you by putting a good word in for you with Locks…” Jones muses, and she thinks he’s playing along, “It’s just a shame that the man’s happily married.”

“Well, in that case I’m more than happy to settle for second best,” Emma returns.

“Ah, but would second best be happy to settle for you?” Jones counters.

“If you don’t tell him he’s second best,” Emma replies playfully.

Henry glances between the two of them and interrupts with that youthful honesty, “You two are being weird.”

Emma looks back to Jones, spotting the smirk on his face as he holds back laughter. Emma fails to demonstrate such restraint, bursting into a fit of laughter which prompts Henry to stare at her, utterly bewildered.

As Emma composes herself, a new voice is thrown into the mix.

“Killian, Sky are pushing for an interview.”

That one sentence changes Emma’s mood in an instance. She’s pulled back to reality, a reality in which Jones isn’t some hot guy she’s playfully teasing but a top soccer player who’s only shown her the time of day because he smashed a ball into her son’s face. The television cameras are summoning, calling time on her brief snippet of interaction with Jones. His own guilt subdued, good deed done, he would forget about them both the second he disappeared down that tunnel.

“I’ll be right there,” Jones tells the suited man and he promptly turns back to them both, “Before I go-”

“Oh! I need to show you one more thing!” Henry exclaims eagerly, clinging onto the interaction for dear life, and he spins around to show Jones the back of his shirt. “Look! I’ve got your name and number!”

“Good choice, lad,” Jones smiles warmly at him then turns directly to Emma, seizing the segue, “May I ask for your name and number?”

Emma stares blankly at him and just about manages to keep her jaw from dropping; that, she had not been expecting.

“Only, Scarlet took great pleasure in telling me that my wayward ball knocked your lad’s hotdog out of his hand,” Jones continues casually. “It only seems right that in my efforts to make it up to you both, I ensure that the two of you eat well tonight. That’s assuming, you’re staying in the city?”

“Yeah!” Henry nods eagerly, bouncing up and down. “We’ve got a stadium tour booked tomorrow so we’re staying nearby tonight.”

“Perfect!” Jones grins. “I can get done here and then get in contact, if that’s okay with you?”

Those blue eyes beam into her hopefully and Emma’s brain is scrambled. She can’t work out his intentions, but she knows she’s longing to spend more time with him. She nods slowly.

“In which case, uh, best I’ve got for paper…” he thinks on his feet and taps his left hand with her pen before offering both the hand and the pen to her, stretching his left arm over the railing.

She’s in a haze as she takes the pen and scrawls her number onto the back of his hand.

“Just take a deep breath and go to the game, for Henry,” she recalls her dad’s encouragement prior to ushering her out the hotel room early that morning. “You might even surprise yourself and have some fun whilst you’re there.”

Something tells her that spending the night with Villa Captain Killian Jones was not the ‘fun’ her father had been referring to.

--

Tags: @teamhook @laianely @booksteaandtoomuchtv @exhaustedpirate @anmylica @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @undercaffinatednightmare @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie @motherkatereloyshipper @soniccat @jrob64 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jonesfandomfanatic @myfearless-love

#cs ff #captain swan #the heart of a villan

[louisupdates]

FITFWT23: LAS VEGAS VIDEOS

THE GREATEST [up close] [intro] [x]

KILL MY MIND [x] [wide] [x]

BIGGER THAN ME [HQ] [x] [x]

LUCKY AGAIN [x] [x]

FACE THE MUSIC [x] [x] [x] [x]

WE MADE IT [x] [x] [HQ]

NIGHT CHANGES [x] [x] [x]

CHICAGO [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [HQ] [HQ]

HIGH IN CALIFORNIA [x] [flipping off a fan]

WRITTEN ALL OVER YOUR FACE [x] [running out of breath] [running out of breath] [x]

ALL THIS TIME [x] [sitting] [x] [HQ]

SHE IS BEAUTY WE ARE WORLD CLASS [HQ] [HQ] [tashfrisco] [x] [he broke a stage light after sitting on it] [breaking lights HQ] [x] [x]

COPY OF A COPY OF A COPY [HQ] [x] [x]

WALLS [HQ] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x]

505 [x] [x] [fingers crossed] [HQ]

BACK TO YOU [x] [x] [x]

ANGELS FLY [HQ] [HQ] [x] [x]

OUT OF MY SYSTEM [HQ] [x] [x] [the fantastic intro]

SATURDAYS [x] [x] [x] [HQ]

WHERE DO BROKEN HEARTS GO [HQ] [x]

SILVER TONGUES [flying a paper plane] [x] [HQ] [x] [the floor shaking]

Barricade [x] [chaos] [pure Chaos]

I’ve had a little bit too much fun in Vegas [x] [x]

Looking into the crowd [x]

Kicking a football [x] [x]

Flying a paper airplane [x] [ltwt and fitfwt]

The VEGAS FUN IN QUESTION [x] [clubbing after the show] [clubbing, part 2]

Holding Onto Heartache: Sign vs. Reaction

#fitfwt23: videos #fitfwt23: las vegas #louis tomlinson #1.7.2023