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kamotecue · 7 months

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how could a heart like yours? (ever love a heart like mine) ও e. morgan

pairing: esme morgan x reader

summary: you and esme were the definition of polar opposites. she was warm, lovely and a sweetheart. while you were cold, atrocious, most of all—you were a player.

you felt someone shuffle beside you, as you catch a glimpse of the eyes that you fell for. it wasn’t a secret that you were lost in your thoughts, but the whole team needed you to step it up.

you heard esme chuckle that made your heart flutter, a soft yet gentle smile made its way to her face. she hummed before giving you a soft rub on the back.

“what’s on your mind, love?” esme asked, as you gave her a small yet timid smile. you felt a bit brittle, maybe it was the comments that people would leave, or how the so-called fans would say things out of the pocket.

“i’ll tell you after the game?” you said, as esme analyzed your actions. she looked into your deep blue eyes, the ones that she desperately loved, looking for something.

she broke the eye contact as she leaned forward placing a small yet gently kiss on the crown of your head. it was something she did to ease your mind, the thoughts going through your head.

you looked at your captain, steph who gave you a soft look. how could she not, you were only a young teen when she adopted you.

yes, steph houghton—the previous lioness skipper is your mother, adoptive that is. how the two of you met? you were in the middle of a pitch really, practicing shooting with your left foot as it was the weak one.

you ran through several drills, looking ways to improve that you didn’t notice her looking at you. she revealed herself at the end of your individual training session when you laid on the pitch due to exhaustion.

“alright, little one?” steph asked, as you gave her a soft nod, but your eyes said everything.

“i’m alright, mum.” she hummed before standing up, after all you did have a game to play.

“well then, it’s time to line-up.” she said, before putting on the captain’s armband. you tugged on the manchester city trainer jacket, as you joined the others in the tunnel.

you wore the number 13, with the last name houghton on the back with pride. you were fortunate to make your debut for the senior lionesses, when she was still captain. yet she was always still strict on you, claims as it was ways for you to improve.

you looked ahead to see west ham’s new captain, mackenzie arnold—it was always a pleasure playing against her. the players started to walk out the tunnel, you held onto the mascot’s hand as you gently swung it back and forward.

the kick off had started, you were in the mid field line—both teams weren’t able to score until the 31st minute where steph had sent a cross to lauren who managed to get a light tap on the ball, sending it to the bottom right corner where mackenzie arnold wasn’t able to save.

you watched as the man city fans cheered, you were in the lead—and no doubt was west ham set on scoring an equalizer before the first half had come to an end.

yet the whistle had blew signaling the end of the first half. you gave a soft smile to esme as she held out a bottle for you, you hummed before gently grabbing it.

as you were walking to the tunnel, you couldn’t help but notice a comment that a fan said.

“y/n’s no good for morgan.” you looked at esme who was busy chatting with lauren, she didn’t manage to hear it.

you felt someone swing their arm over your shoulder, it was julie. the norweigan was literally one of your closest teammates besides the english girls.

she had taught you norwegian, and you were literally quick to catch up on the language. so, whenever the two of you were together, you’d speak in her language.

“alt bra? [all good?]” you shook your head, the comment had left you wondering if they were right, it felt like everyone had told you that.

the moment you guys had become public, a few fans had always seem to make a comment about your past. you would notice the hate comments and tried to ignore them—it worked, most of the time. and the time that didn’t you had kept quiet.

“ting kan bli bedre. [things could be better.]” she hummed at your tone, it was a bit soft yet she could hear the hurt in your voice. you had entered the locker room in silence, listening to the coaches tactics.

you had avoided steph’s eyes, as she knew you weren’t alright. and her concern was proven well, when you went down a few minutes after the second half had started.

a mistimed tackle by riko had sent you to the ground, her studs ended up chipping your ankle as you felt to the ground.

“alright, n/n?” alanna asked, as you groaned—as you felt a wave of pain.

“does it look like i’m alright?” you joked, as alanna laughed at your behavior. despite being injured, you always found ways to joke around.

“can you continue?” steph asked, as she knelt beside you. she had took note of how you held onto your knee.

“i think i’ve done my knee-“ you said, as the team’s physio looked at your knee, analyzing it.

“it’s definitely a knee injury, but not an acl.” the physio said, as esme let out a deep breath. the amount of acl injuries that had already happened was quite concerning.

“you’ll be subbed off.” steph said, as she gestured to the head coach. you nodded, not disagreeing with her as the team physio helped you up.

the fans had clapped for you, as you disappeared into the tunnel heading to the med room. it wasn’t long before the game had ended.

the result had ended in a 2-1, with manchester city ending the long equalizer as they scored a late goal. you heard the door open revealing esme who had a concerned look in her eyes, her kit was all dirty as she made her way towards you.

how could a heart like yours, ever love a heart like mine?

“would you like to tell me, what’s going on love?” you knew she knew—you weren’t one to get distracted easily.

“what if they’re right?” you said, softly. esme hummed, not picking it up as she grabbed your hand.

“if who’s right?” esme asked, as you avoided her stare looking at the door. she sighed before wrapping her arms around your body, pulling you closer to her.

“tell me properly, don’t avoid eye contact with me.” she furrowed her eyebrows, as you sighed before giving in.

“the fans—what if they’re right that i’m no good for you? or that you deserve someone better than me?” she chuckled as her thumb came to wipe a tear that fell from your eyes.

“since when do you care about what they say? besides, i wouldn’t have let you into my heart if you weren’t good for me.” esme said, as she placed a kiss on your forehead.

your lover was literally the kindest person, you’ve ever known (besides steph ofc). you’d always say that her heart was made out of gold, and she’d give you a soft yet shy smile at your compliment.

how could i live before? how could i have been so blind?

“you aren’t like before, love. you have proven yourself to me, that you won’t break my heart. and that’s all that matters. i don’t care—if you’ve been with other girls, all i care is that you’re mine now.” esme said

you gave her a soft look before she gave you a toothy grin. you watched as she gave you a mischievous look, before planting a few kisses on your face.

you groaned as you weren’t a fan of public affection, despite being the only two in the medical room. the team’s doctor had already checked your knee out, you were told to rest as it was a minor sprain.

you opened up my eyes

she was literally the only person that made you realized your self worth. you weren’t like your birth parents—they were the ones that made you hate love, they were the ones that made you a player.

you’d watched as they cheated on each other, blaming each other for the down fall of the relationship—when it was their fault after all.

but when you met esme, the ball of sunshine, your image of love had changed. and you were forever grateful to her, she is and always—your happily ever after.

#esme morgan #esme morgan imagine #esme morgan x reader #man city wfc #man city wfc imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso one shot #lionesses x reader #engwnt x reader

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totaly-obsessed · 2 months

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Welcome to 'woso appreciation' where @alotofpockets and I simp over woso players, and then share our favourites with you in the form of an appreciation post. Enjoy :)

Leah Williamson - Arsenal pt. 2 Alessia Russo - Arsenal Lotte Wubben-Moy - Arsenal Beth Mead - Arsenal Lauren James - Chelsea Niamh Charles - Chelsea Millie Bright - Chelsea Jess Carter - Chelsea Ella Toone - Manchester United Mary Earps - Manchester United Millie Turner - Manchester United Maya Le Tissier - Manchester United Katie Zelem - Manchester United Grace Clinton - Tottenham Hotspurs Beth England - Tottenham Hotspurs pt. 2 Lucy Bronze - Barça Keira Walsh - Barça Georgia Stanway - Bayern Jordan Nobbs - Aston Villa Rachel Daly - Aston Villa Ellie Roebuck - Manchester City Esme Morgan - Manchester City Lauren Hemp - Manchester City Chloe Kelly - Manchester City

Katrina Gorry - West Ham United Mackenzie Arnold - West Ham United Kyra Cooney-Cross - Arsenal Steph Catley - Arsenal Caitlin Foord - Arsenal Hayley Raso - Real Madrid Alanna Kennedy - Manchester City Ellie Carpenter - Olympic Lyon Charlotte Grant - Tottenham Hotspurs

Ona Batlle - Barça Mapi Leon - Barça Alexia Putellas - Barça pt. 2 Aitana Bonmatí - Barça Patri Guijaro - Barça Cata Coll - Barça Jana Fernández - Barça Bruna Vilamala - Barça Claudia Pina - Barça Jennifer Hermoso - Tigres Femenil Misa Rodríguez - Real Madrid Leila Ouahabi - Manchester City Laia Codina - Arsenal

Fridolina Rolfö - Barça pt. 2 Zećira Mušović - Chelsea Amanda Ilestedt - Arsenal Stina Blackstenius - Arsenal pt. 2 Magdalena Eriksson - Bayern

Daniëlle van de Donk - Olympique Lyon Victoria Pelova - Arsenal Vivianne Miedema - Arsenal pt. 2 Kerstin Casparij - Manchester City Jill Roord - Manchester City Daphne van Domselaar - Aston Villa Jackie Groenen - Paris Saint-Germain Wieke Kaptein - FC Twente Esmee Brugts - Barça

Lena Oberdorf - Wolfsburg Jule Brand - Wolfsburg Laura Freigang - Frankfurt Sara Doorsoun - Frankfurt Sydney Lohmann - Bayern Klara Bühl - Bayern Giulia Gwinn - Bayern Lea Schüller - Bayern

Feli Rauch - North Carolina Courage

Tobin Heath Heather O'Reilly Sam Mewis Mia Fishel - Chelsea Kelley O’Hara - NJ/NY Gotham Alex Morgan - San Diego Wave Trinity Rodman - Washington Spirit Christen Press - Angel City FC Emily Fox - Arsenal Kristie Mewis - West Ham United Mallory Swanson - Chicago Red Stars Alyssa Naeher - Chicago Red Stars

Find them Here! (Masterlist has gotten too beefy)

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twilight-saga-headcanons · 6 months

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The Cullens don't eat, but what were their favorite foods when they were human?

Sources for more reading: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

Carlisle - So, foods in the 1600s weren't exactly the greatest. Carlisle ate better than most, but it was still meager. There was a lot of mutton and venison, oats and other grains; lots of spinach and sorrel and stews. He was quite fond of fruit pies as a dessert, when they could afford them.

Esme - Honestly? Esme was quite fond of Oreos; the little cookies were first released in 1912 and she adored them. In fact, she liked most sweets, especially Angel Food Cake and these apricot biscuits that her mother used to favor.

Edward - Edward remembers liking pork a lot as a child, when his mother would cover them in bread crumbs and fry them in oil. He was also a fan of glazed carrots and liked caramel candies.

Rosalie - she loved baked apples, especially when drizzled with honey. Grapefruit was also quite popular then, and she remembers eating them a lot for breakfast when they were sprinkled with sugar. They were very lucky to have food on their table at the time, and she remembers eating a lot of fried egg sandwiches, glazed ham, and potato soup.

Emmett - They didn't have access to a lot of foods, so there was a lot of tinned meats and vegetables that his mother grew in their garden. His family is Scotch-Irish, so he ate a lot of cabbage and corned beef, which he loved. He remembers colcannon most fondly, that spiced mixture of potatoes, turnips, and carrots.

Jasper - food was rationed for Jasper as a soldier in the Civil War. There was a lot of molasses, hard tack, and salt. Wheat and cornmeal were quite common, so if he had to choose, he thinks that he misses cornbread the most. It was such a simple dish back then, a rare delicacy when they could have access to sugar.

Alice - she misses seafood most of all. She vaguely remembers eating fried fish and brown rice. She also misses certain fruits, like cherries and strawberries.

#cullen family headcanons #the cullens #twilight saga headcanons #edward cullen #twilight renaissance #twilight saga #carlisle cullen #esme cullen #alice cullen #jasper hale #emmett cullen #rosalie hale

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darklydeliciousdesires · 29 days

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La Dolce Vita - John Shelby/Cosima Changretta (OFC).

Part two is here, besties! :) I hope you all enjoy it, as I am loving writing these two together. You'll notice too that I gave John a few less kids than we see in canon, just to make it a little easier on myself as the writer, lol!

Words - 4,218

Warnings - Each part will be adult only content, from swearing to eventual smut and violence. Minors DNI.

Part II - Purgatorio

Countryside living was something John had become accustomed to during his marriage to Esme, his beautiful country pile and vast grounds a much more desirable location than the smoggy suburbs of Small Heath. After her death, he had sold it, returning to the latter until he was married again.

As predicted, Cosima detested living in a back-to-back. Her continued complaining as well as his desire for what he had come to enjoy was what led him to purchase another countryside property, choosing the small village of Wythall in Bromsgrove, buying a beautiful, spacious cottage for her to spruce up. It was far enough from Birmingham to leave his troubles within the swirling smog and looming viaducts, but near enough that he could be back on Watery Lane for his business endeavours in just over forty minutes by car.

Married life was not ideal, being a person wed to someone he didn’t like, whose tempestuous nature often put him directly in her firing line. However, he could not discount her qualities. A spoiled princess with expensive tastes (the cottage renovation had cost him a fortune) she might have been, but god, she worked her fingers to the bone.

“Oliver, Mary, Katie, Freddie, Seamus, come along! We’ll be late, get your skates on!” she called, hurrying back to the kitchen were five sandwiches lay on the chopping board, freshly baked bread with liberal fillings of egg and ham, Cosima cutting them into their required shapes. Squares for Oliver and Seamus, triangles for Katie and oblongs for Mary and Freddie. She knew well the likes and dislikes of her stepchildren.

Wrapping each in baking parchment, she placed them into individual brown paper bags, an apple and a couple of custard creams put in too, five lunches folded neatly and handed to each child as they filed into the kitchen, smartly dressed in their immaculately pressed uniforms. “Give your father a kiss and let’s get moving, come on. We’ll miss the bell! Blinking hell, Seamus, look at your mouth. Toothpaste all over, come here!”

His son’s mouth was wiped with her handkerchief, the boy squirming, Cosima bopping his little nose with her finger once done before she herded them through the kitchen. “Quickly, quickly, come on!”

John couldn’t believe she was the same woman who had originally thrown a puce faced fit upon finding out she was to be stepmother to five children, with how well she’d taken to mothering his brood. For Cosima, she’d eventually seen the little ones as a blessing, something to take her mind off the fact that she detested being married to their father.

Picking up her wicker basket, she followed them out the door without looking at John once, leaving him to sigh and return to the sitting room, drinking tea while reading the morning paper. With the addition of the wicker basket, this meant she would be stopping at the local village shop on her way back from the school, meaning he had roughly an hour before she would be through the door and ready to scrub the house from top to bottom.

That was something else he couldn’t fault her for; she kept a beautiful home. John just preferred to be nowhere near her while she was going about it. She’d always find something to pick at him about, and he was tiring of it. He did try, to have something more resembling of an actual marriage rather than a setup of convenience with his beautiful young bride, but she shot him down at every step. Her contempt did nothing but continually fester, it seemed. She still couldn’t forgive him for the demise of her father and brother.

Keeping an eye on the grandfather clock, he waited until fifty minutes had passed before whistling for Dot and Bo, his two faithful springer spaniel bitches. “Yeah, that’s right. We’re off to get a couple of grouse, maybe a pigeon or pheasant an’ all.”

The dogs began to circle and yap excitedly as he pulled his shotgun from the cabinet, packing ammunition and draping the gun over his arm, heading into the kitchen and wrapping himself some cheese scones in a clean tea towel, placing those in his bag, too. If there was another thing his wife excelled at, it was all things culinary. He’d come directly in her vexed crosshairs upon eating his first meal prepared by her three months before, stating that he did not “eat wop food” as he’d coined her lasagne, without actually even trying it.

As soon as he’d put a forkful into his mouth, he’d been a very, very rapid convert. It had been perhaps the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted, Cosima standing with her arms folded, smirking at his swift change of heart over her food. He now looked forward to every meal she prepared for him with gusto, although couldn’t bear to sit in her company while eating it. He’d try and make conversation, and she’d sulk and pout. It was irksome to say the least.

His leaving the house was timed impeccably, seeing Cosima walking back down the lane as he was heading out of the garden and into the few acres of lush, green fields that came with the cottage. She even got the money out of that, too, allowing local people to graze their horses upon it when resting their own pastures. While John and the dogs headed for the woods, Cosima let herself into the cottage, putting her apron on and beginning her housework.

Once her beautiful home was sparkling – not that she allowed it to be any other way – she took the rugs out to beat the dust from them and then returned to the kitchen, making preparations for the children’s dinner. A local lady from the village was coming by to that evening to keep an eye on them while she and John headed back into Birmingham, the family gathering for Polly’s birthday meal at a restaurant upon Broad Street.

Although she held her husband in a more or less permanent state of contempt, she did actually like Polly. She found her to be strong, intelligent, and once you got to know her, very loving towards her family. It had taken a while for her to thaw, but now the women did get along well. Certainly, Cosima had much more time for her than she did John or Tommy.

Stirring the pasta sauce in a large pot upon the cast iron range, an original Victorian fixture of the cottage, Cosima sighed. She should be happy. She had literally everything she’d ever wanted, a beautiful home, huge garden, a couple of lovely dogs, a brood of children – and although not her own, they adored her as much as she did them – as well as a handsome, successful husband; whom she couldn’t stand.

Well, that wasn’t strictly true. John was a nice man, he had a wicked sense of humour, he was a staunch provider, and he was so handsome she caught herself swooning over him all the time. She could see him trying hard to at least have some semblance of a meaningful connection with her, but she couldn’t help herself in shooting him down each and every time. Why?

Guilt.

He and his family were why two fifths of her immediate one no longer breathed, and she was to simply forget that and be content, happy in her new life with John? Her father would turn in his grave to know she had now acquired the surname of Shelby. He would be utterly livid.

“But he isn’t here.” Her statement fell from her lips along with the little splashes of tears from her pretty eyes, eyes so blue that her beloved father had often joked that she couldn’t be his. “She’s the milkman’s, isn’t she?” he’d say in jest to her mother. Of course, she was his, though. A tear landed in the sauce she stirred, Cosima pulling her handkerchief from her dress sleeve and drying her eyes.

The sound of barking became audible, the kitchen door opening, Dot and Bo being told to sit. “You got that towel, Cosima? I don’t want their muddy feet ruining your clean floor.” That was another thing about John, he was always appreciative of how immaculately she kept their home. Some men merely waved it away as a woman’s work and had no respect for such, but not him.

“Hold on.” Moving to the cupboard under the sink, she pulled out one of the more raggedy tea towels she kept for the purpose of paw cleaning, handing it to him.

He took it, a small frown creasing his handsome features. “You been crying?”

Immediately, she straightened, sniffing as she held herself with her usual dignity. “Garlic, in the pasta sauce. It made my eyes water.”

“Ah, right.” Moving back outside, he made sure each paw was clean and dry before letting the dogs in, removing his muddy boots and leaving them at the back door. Making his way in, he sniffed the air, half wishing that they were staying at home to eat whatever it was his wife had crafted, it smelled so good. “Let’s have a little try of that, give us a spoon.”

“No, it isn’t ready yet,” she bustled, returning to the pot.

He bit his tongue. “I got two pheasants, a grouse and a couple of pigeons. They’re in the outhouse hanging up. Just let me know when you wanna use ‘em and I’ll go pluck ‘em. I know you don’t like doing that.”

“Okay. Oh, John? That floorboard by the front door has come up again. Can you go and fix it down? I left nails and a hammer on the phone table.”

“Yeah, in a bit. Wanna have a tea and warm up a bit first.”

She sighed, chewing her cheek. “No, now please. Before the kids come home. I don’t want them tripping on it while they’re playing.”

“They ain’t coming home until gone three. Just give us half an hour, eh?”

“Bloody get it done now, John! Before you forget!”

Ahh, it had almost been quite civil for a moment. “Oi, watch your fucking tone, woman. I told you I’d get it done and I will. Fucking bad tempered mare.”

“Stop calling me a mare!”

“Well stop behaving like one in season then, and I might, eh?” he shook his head, chewing on his toothpick aggressively. “Always fucking blowing up at me for no fucking reason. Sort yourself out, for fucks sake!”

“Fine!” she raged, flinging her arms in the air with her usual dramatic flair, “I’ll go and do it!”

“You do that.” He moved to the kettle, filling it with water, intent on having his tea before he went and helped her with the task. He wouldn’t have forgotten either, but she couldn’t just let him be for five minutes while he had a drink and thawed out from the February chill, oh no. She had to pick at him.

A few minutes passed, John letting the tea steep in the pot as he snacked on a slice of bread slathered in butter and Cosima’s homemade blackberry jam, the sounds of her swearing in Italian drifting through the house until suddenly, a yelp.

“What the bloody hell’s she done,” he muttered, placing the bread down and moving to the hallway, finding her kneeling down, holding her thumb in a tight grasp. “You alright?”

“No, I’m blinking not!” she cried through her tears, “I’ve hit my fucking thumb with the cursed, wretched hammer!”

“Here, let me see.” Pulling her hand from her grasp, he examined it, the knuckle bright red. “At least you ain’t split the skin. Come on, let’s get it under the cold tap.”

“No, I’m fine,” she snipped, pulling her hand away and attempting to grasp the hammer again.

“Leave this, I’ll get it done. Come on.”

“Fuck off, I’m alright!”

Again, he bit his tongue. “It’s gonna swell unless you get it under the cold water.”

“I said I’m fine!”

Rolling his eyes, he pulled her up, her screaming protests falling on deaf ears as he lifted her with ease into his arms, carrying her through to the kitchen. She struggled, swore at him, batted at him with her hands, John tiring of it. “Oh, stop all this malarkey and just let me help ya!”

He forced her hand beneath the tap, turning it on, holding it there while she winced and continued to cry. All he was trying to do was help her, and she couldn’t even let him do that. Finally, she relaxed a little, sniffing and wiping her tears, her thumb throbbing angrily. “Have I broken it?”

“Give it a wiggle.” She did. “Did it feel like someone pushing a hot pin into it?”

“No. It smarts, but it isn’t as bad as that.”

“Then nah, ain’t broken, bab.” She went to move her hand, John gently directing it back under the stream of cold water. “Few more minutes, or it’ll blow up like a bloody golf ball.”

“Then I’d look a right state, all teary with my golf ball thumb.”

He chuckled, putting an arm around her on instinct. What was even more surprising? She leaned into his hug, allowing herself to be comforted by her husband. It was a first, a little thread of connection woven between the warring spouses, John turning the tap off after a few moments and reaching for the soft, white hand towel. “Come sit down and have a cuppa. I’ll go and finish the floorboard.”

“No, it’s okay,” she protested, shaking her head. “I should think about getting ready, I have to do my hair and it takes forever.”

“Sure? I’ll drop a nip of brandy in it for ya?”

She pulled from him, whatever it was that had opened up closing again rapidly. “No, I’m fine.”

For the sake of a quiet life, he left it, recognising that there had been a little progress there between them, if only very small. He went and finished fixing the floorboard, done within minutes and returning to drink his tea, his little brood coming crashing through the door half an hour later, the house once again full of noise.

A few hours later and they were ready to leave, the children happily eating their spaghetti al Forno while Mrs. Baxter sat knitting, keeping a watchful eye upon them. Cosima was quiet all the way to town, John giving up in the end and letting the car be filled with nothing but the sound of their strained silence, glad to see his brothers and other family and friends once they arrived at the restaurant.

His wife continued to be sullen throughout the meal, only really talking to Polly and Lizzie and even then, the women had to work hard to keep the conversation going with her. In the end, the former took it upon herself to pull the newest Shelby aside a little later that night, steering her over to the long, oak bar after she had returned from the ladies.

“You’ve a face as long as Livery Street, madam,” Polly observed, passing her a gin cocktail. “What’s the matter? You can’t still hate our John, not after how good he’s been to you regardless of that contempt.” Her words were delivered with care, but they did not lack their usual bite. Polly would be protective of her nephews until she drew her last breath, no matter how much she genuinely did like Cosima.

The young woman took a sip of her drink, placing the dainty glass down, accepting one of Polly’s clove cigarettes with thanks. They were a rare treat from her usual preferred brand of Park Drive, Cosima loving the warm, spicy scent of the burning clove, yet unable to smoke more than a couple at a time on account of how much they made her cough when she did. “I want to be happy with him, Pol. I honestly do, but I can’t get past it all.”

She didn’t need to elaborate. “It’s been and gone, love. You feel guilty though, I see that.” This woman, god. She was so remarkably perceptive. “You have to move on with your life. If your brother and mother could, then there’s fuck all stopping you, is there?”

“But my papa...”

“Cosima, your father is gone, and you are still here,” Polly cut her up with, reaching to lightly grip her forearm. “We women, we suffer the collateral damage in the wars fought by our men, and your father was not blameless in his part. He was a gangster too, just as my boys are, just as your brother is. You know this world we live in, and living is what you have to do, sweetheart. If you keep on holding that burning contempt for John, I’ll tell you now, you’ll be the one who ends up scalded.”

Her eyes were fixed upon her, unblinking, drawing on her cigarette before lifting her glass to her mouth. “Let it go. Set yourself free, for god’s sake. You have absolutely nothing to feel guilty about, you hear me?”

She nodded. “I do. Easier said than done, though, it seems.”

“Horse shit.” She slapped a gloved hand off the bar, shaking her head as she tutted. “Life is as hard as you make it for yourself, my girl. Stop punishing yourself because you think that’s what your father would do, should he still be alive.”

Again, Cosima was startled by Polly’s intuitive assessment of the situation, straightening and knocking back the rest of her drink. “Thanks for the chat, Pol. I know you’re right, but...”

“But you’re a typical hardheaded, fire blooded Italian. Listening to others don’t come easy to you, I know. Just know that if you made it easy on yourself, that man over there? He’d soon treasure you like you were the rarest jewel on earth.”

Cosima got up, heading past the table and outside, finishing the cigarette and reaching into her little sequined bag to pull out her own gold case, lighting up one of her own. She felt agitated by Polly’s words, pacing up and down as the discomfort of being told what to do rolled through her ceaselessly. She knew why it annoyed her the most, though. Polly was right.

Still, it was in Cosima’s nature to fight it at any given opportunity.

“How’s ya thumb feeling now?”

Turning, she looked into the radiant, cloudy blue eyes of her husband. All she wanted was to be alone with her thoughts for a little while, but no. “Stings a little, but it’s okay.”

He nodded, taking a pull on his cigar. “And you? Thought we were actually starting to talk to each other kinda civilly earlier, then you went quiet on me.”

Her stare was through narrowed eyes, the magma in her blood rising in heat. “Always my fault, isn’t it?”

“That’s not what I said, Cosima.”

“No, but you meant it, didn’t you?”

For fucks sake. How much harder was this tempestuous madam going to make his life? “You need to stop putting words in me mouth, love. Getting right tired of it, I am.”

Her beautiful lips were held in pout a little longer, drawing angrily upon her cigarette, not able to escape the intensity of her husband's stare as finally, she pushed her pride down. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, look at that. Twice since we were married, you’ve said you were sorry. Some fellas make it to their diamond wedding anniversaries without hearing it once from the missus. Ain’t I lucky, eh?” His attempt of a joke fell flat, her face unmoving. God, she was whittling him down to his last nerve, and rapidly. “Ain't you ever heard of smiling, Cosima?" He charged her with, eyeing her defiantly.

She pulled the white fox fur warming her pale curves tighter around herself, taking one last drag upon her cigarette before flicking it away. “If you give me something to smile about, I might.”

Oh, he had his work cut out for him, John scratching his jaw. “I’ll stick my fucking face between your legs for about half an hour, then you’ll be grinning like a loon, you miserable cow.” he muttered, but not nearly quietly enough

“What the fuck did you just say to me?”

“Nothing, bab,” he grinned, gritting his teeth behind that forced smile. “Nothing at-fucking-all.” Give her something to smile about? She had a nerve. He’d bought her a beautiful cottage, gave her fifty pounds a week to buy whatever she wanted for herself completely aside from the housekeeping money, and was working his arse off in an effort to be a good husband. He felt like telling Tommy where he could stick his Changretta truce. Nothing, it seemed, would make her warm to him.

He headed back inside, leaving her standing there alone, lighting herself another cigarette as she pouted, but mainly at herself. She knew it had to stop, she had to cease being – as he had quite rightly coined her – a miserable cow. The guilt of it, though. Oh, the guilt.

“Oi, love,” an approaching man called to her, flanked by two others, “how much for a bit of how’s your father, eh?”

“I beg your fucking pardon?” she spat, her mouth dropping open.

Looking her up and down, he smirked. “You’re a bird standing on a street corner with a low-cut dress on. Ain’t hard to see you’re touting for business, so how much?”

“Wait there,” she gritted, lifting her chin defiantly. “Let me go and fetch my pimp.”

Marching back into the restaurant, John thought she was coming to have a go at him all over again, taking in her thunderous expression. “John! There’s a man out there who just accused me of being a fucking prostitute!”

Arriving with him at the bar, she drew stares from all around, the less coarse clientele tutting and muttering, Tommy touching a hand to her elbow. “Keep your voice down, love.”

“I will bloody not!”

John cut in, nodding to his brother. “Take us out to him.” Her heart all but stopped dead at seeing the look in his eyes, the immediate, highly angered state her words had caused to rise within him like a leviathan. He might’ve been annoyed with her, but still, one mention of her being spoken to disrespectfully and he fired into action. Taking her hand, he walked her from the restaurant, Tommy at her other side.

“This your pimp, is it? Oh, two fellas, eh?”

“Ar, lad. She must be good!” one of the other jokers with the man who had disrespected her offered, the three laughing.

“Gonna be laughing on the other side of your face in a minute, mush. Now, which fucking one of you called my wife a whore?”

“Me,” the central man spoke, stepping forward, “Cos’ she looks like a whore, don’t she?”

John eyed him with cool defiance, lifting his chin while stepping closer, their noses almost touching. “Wanna know what you look like, mate?”

“What?”

“A man with a really fucking nice smile. A Small Heath smile, as I like to call ‘em.” Removing his cap, he swiftly headbutted the man before him, shattering his nose across his face before grabbing him, gripping his throat in a formidably tight grasp. Using the razorblades upon the peak of the trademark flat cap, he slashed open his face at the corners of his mouth, the skin tearing. “You’ll never fucking speak of my bloody wife like that again, you fucking hear me?”

While he took care of him, Tommy laid punches upon the second and third, one of them breaking free and beginning to beat John across the back with his fists, Cosima setting her bag down in one of the flowerpots that flanked the restaurant entrance, removing a shoe.

Charging with a wobbly gait, she hitched up her dress and jumped onto the man’s back, beating him in the face and head with the heel of her shoe, until he was bloody, the heel hitting his eyeball as she snarled. “Don’t you dare touch my fucking husband! Don’t you dare!��

The men got out of there quickly once Cosima had neatly dismounted her target, John calling after them. “Next time, you lose your fucking tongue, ya cunt!” Breathless, he turned to his wife, raising an eyebrow. “Well, at least I managed to put a smile on someone’s face tonight, eh? Nice work with the shoe an’ all, by the way. Didn’t know you cared.”

He turned to head back inside with Tommy, straightening themselves after the ruck, Cosima reaching for his shoulder, turning him. He was about to speak again, his words of further sarcastic retort blocked by her lips landing upon his, her arms tightening around his neck.

Her kisses were blooms of roses growing through wildfire, soft yet burning, John clasping her dainty body to his as he felt his insides cinder upon her heat. He’d fantasised for months about how it would feel to kiss those plump, pink lips, desire running rampant through him. Pulling away, her cheeks flushed, pupils inking, John leaning in for more she happily gave.

When they parted again, she smiled. Finally. All it took was a smidgen of violence.

#john shelby fanfiction #john shelby x ofc #john shelby smut #john shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders smut #peaky fucking blinders

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pitchsidestories · 3 months

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Masterlist

A/N: We're likely to write a fanfic about every woso player.

Feel free to send us some requests and prompts !

We'll definitely write for ✒️

Arsenal

Jen Beattie

Steph Catley

Kyra Cooney-Cross

Laia Codina

Caitlin Foord

Amanda Ilestedt

Kim Little

Katie McCabe

Beth Mead

Vivianne Miedema

Victoria Pelova

Alessia Russo

Leah Williamson

Laura Wienroither

Lotte Wubben Moy

Lia Wälti

Barcelona

Ona Batlle

Aitana Bonmatí

Lucy Bronze

Ingrid Engen

Caroline Graham Hansen

Patri Guijarro

Jenni Hermoso (former club)

Mapi León

Claudia Pina

Alexia Putellas

Fridolina Rolfö

Keira Walsh

Chelsea

Millie Bright

Niamh Charles

Erin Cuthbert

Jessie Fleming

Hannah Hampton

Lauren James

Sam Kerr

Fran Kirby

Zećira Mušović

Sjoeke Nüsken

Guro Reiten

Eintracht Frankfurt

Sara Doorsoun

Barbara Dunst

Laura Freigang

Sophia Kleinherne

Manchester City

Kerstin Casparij

Laura Coombs

Alex Greenwood

Lauren Hemp

Alanna Kennedy

Esme Morgan

Leïla Ouahabi

Ellie Roebuck

Jill Roord

Manchester United

Mary Earps

Geyse

Ella Toone

Millie Turner

West Ham United

Mackenzie Arnold

Katrina Gorry

Kristie Mewis

Aston Villa

Rachel Daly

Kenza Dali

Alisha Lehmann

Jordan Nobbs

Noelle Maritz

Others

Beth England

Hayley Raso

Felicitas Rauch

Misa Rodríguez

Jackie Groenen

Becky Spencer

Merel van Dongen

Daniëlle van de Donk

Ellie Carpenter

Naomi Girma

Emily Sonnett

Rose Lavelle

Kelley O’Hara

Former Players

Ali Krieger

Alex Scott

Kelly Smith

Ellen White

Jill Scott

Sam Mewis

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso community #wlw post

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la-dame-aux-pieds-nus · 1 year

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Esme Ham

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ghosttownwherenoonegoes · 1 year

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Wayne Munson thoughts because I was thinking about him so much last night that I made myself sad.

Encouraged by @sparks363 @niceboyeds @pleasantlycrazyworld aaaand @stevesmunsons😭🙏🫂💕

This is MOSTLY Eddie & Wayne interactions, some Eddie x Reader, mentions of canon events (Eddie's death very very vaguely referenced because we all know I haven't seen episode nine), Hawkins gang talked about, there is me gushing over Uncle Wayne, Eddie thoughts, Uncle Wayne thoughts.... I just have a lot of words about Uncle Wayne right now and I'm letting everything spill out in a conscious stream; no editing or planning, just me going ham on my keyboard while wearing my Munson Motivation Outfit during a prolonged study break because I gotta get all this out before it drives me insane!!!!! Used every tag I could think of because I spoke of lots of different things here and wanted to cover all my bases.

Word count: 2, 911

Eddie tags: @eddiebunson @hersweetrevenge @sweetpeapod @sabbathsworld @hawkinsroyaloutcast @seidenbros @bakerstreethound @eddiemunsonshoney @potatos-library @gemstone-roses @hellfire1986baby @jslittlebirdie @comfortcharactercraze @heydreamchild @mywinterivy @corrodedcoffeen @m00nlight101 @3ddi3-daydreamer @pleasantlycrazyworld @samlealea @indouloureux @basicallybats @niceboyeds @manyfandomsfanvergent @becca-alexa @singularattitudeofasafetypin @knifeskiss @loving-and-dreaming @hiscrimsonangel @esme-viridian

Eddie & Wayne @hellfirebabe @eddiemunsonshoney @potatos-library @bakerstreethound @gemstone-roses @sweetpeapod @authorlovers @jslittlebirdie @heydreamchild @comfortcharactercraze @mywinterivy @corrodedcoffeen @ourstaturestouchtheskies @m00nlight101 @3ddi3-daydreamer @pleasantlycrazyworld @samlealea @manyfandomsfanvergent @indouloureux @basicallybats @niceboyeds @becca-alexa @singularattitudeofasafetypin @knifeskiss @loving-and-dreaming @hiscrimsonangel @esme-viridian

Wayne Munson.

I'm gonna get into my actual thoughts on him in a minute but first, I gotta gush because this man is the bestest, sweetest, most wonderful dad in all of Hawkins, nay, in all of Indiana. He raised Eddie so beautifully and he instantly knew Eddie didn't do it and he didn't even question it and just defended Eddie time and time again. I just love Wayne Munson so much hhhhhh I wanna approach him all slow and careful and sort of awkwardly stand there because I'm not very good at verbalising my wants, and then edge a bit closer. Maybe he'd raise an arm, already knowing what I want, and I would let myself step in to the hug I would've been thinking about for hours before asking for it in my own way, or maybe I'd get swept up into a great big bear hug which would have me in tears in seconds or maybe he'd pat me on the top of the head and let his hand rest there on my crown for a few seconds and then hug me hhhhh I wouldn't care. I am very awkward in real life and i find it hard to verbalise or even admit when I want something, but I feel like Uncle Wayne would know me and give me the hugs when I try to ask for them.

Or maybe I wouldn't have to ask for them because he would just know. My Munson Motivation Outfit came out in the wash yesterday and I nearly cried hhhhh I gotta smash out that assignment today - and it's a big one - and I'm wearing it and still thinking of Uncle Wayne and Eddie and my heart is aching for the Munsons hhhhh I love Uncle Wayne and he's the bestest dad and he and his boy deserved so, so much better. Wearing 'their' clothes makes me feel so soft and warm and safe and cosy and genuinely helps me focus when I gotta study because it's like they're with me.🥺

Okay so, gushing isn't done but you get the gist and now, thoughts!!!!

I have no doubt that in time, Uncle Wayne would have adopted the rest of the Hawkins gang; he warmed up to Nancy relatively quickly once he realised that she was there to talk to him and offer him some comfort and he was the one who told her about Victor Creel (the way he instantly knew his boy didn't do it😭) so that she and Robin got the ball rolling on solving the issue at hand. They wouldn't have been able to do anything if Uncle Wayne hadn't been the one to mention Victor Creel. He's literally the reason they found the Upside Down like they did (without El to guide them, of course; if they had had El and her powers when they needed her, then season four likely would have gone very differently as far as Hawkins' events are concerned).

Based on the way he let his walls down just a little with Nancy within just five minutes, (don't ask me about That Scene with Dustin because I still haven't watched episode nine so while I'm aware of it. it's not gonna be discussed here but yeah, Dustin would be adopted too after Nancy) and it'd snowball into the whole gang being adopted by Uncle Wayne, whether they have family or not.

Everyone needs and deserves an Uncle Wayne; if you can't find one, be one. That's what he taught Eddie; he is to Eddie what Eddie became to Hellfire Club and Corroded Coffin. All those lost little sheepies out there need a sheperd to tend to the flock, and no two people understand that better than the Munsons do. Honouring them by taking inspiration from the lessons they taught us is something which they would truly appreciate and adore, and you'd score yourself a bear hug from the both of them.

If you're kind to people, if you're genuine and you're you, then Wayne Munson would have respect turned fondness turned love for you and you would be someone he'd be happy to have around, especially if you love Eddie. They're a package deal; you can't get one Munson without the other (and why would you want just one of them?) and if one loves you, then the other does, too. (I also feel like if Uncle Wayne doesn't like you - you'd have to be a Grade A Asshole for that, though, then it would make Eddie question everything about his friendship or relationship with you. Uncle Wayne's gut instinct is never wrong.)

They mean so much to each other that Uncle Wayne wants to love you almost immediately when he finds out that Eddie loves you (and the same concept with Eddie's friends, too) because you must be a good one if his boy loves you! He would watch you carefully at first but then the first time he sees you laughing with Eddie (not at him - Uncle Wayne knows the difference, he sees it every day), the first time he catches you smiling at Eddie with your feelings for him written all over your face when Eddie's not even looking at you, he's up to his elbows in soapy dish water as he does the chores he promised he would do, the first time Uncle Wayne sees you cry because you miss Eddie but he's literally just in the bedroom and you're outside on the benches with Uncle Wayne, he realises what's going on and Uncle Wayne melts to realise that now, Eddie has people who love him for him - he has you, the Hawkins gang, he has his dad... Uncle Wayne melts when he finds out people love his boy.

His melting shows itself in quiet ways - he'll make extra coffee because he knows you tend to want one when he does, he'll leave the heater on when he leaves for work because you'll be cold when you come in and he wants you to have a warm place to come back to, he'll leave his flannel around for you and Eddie to wear - he knows the both of you take turns wearing it or even sleeping with it when he's working long and lonely nights at the plant. He'll be there for you at three AM when there's no one left to call but your sorrow is trying to murder you, he'll be there for you at ten AM when your dishwasher doesn't work and you can't figure out why, he'll be there for you when you go grocery shopping together and you haven't quite figured out how to meal plan on a budget yet... Uncle Wayne will be there for you, through it all. You cannot disappoint or anger him, even if you try, and if you do try, then he'll just raise his shoulders in that weary way he has and ask you what you're trying to achieve here. The fact that he doesn't shout or raise his voice makes you feel worse somehow.

So, yeah, if you manage to crack through Wayne Munson's gruff exterior, which is doable but it'll take patience and persistence. He's seen too much of the bad things in the world, he's Eddie's shield, his guardian and protector, and he's more cynical than even Eddie claims to be, full of anger is he at all that he and Eddie have endured thus far in your lives, but keep going, keep persisting and be honest in yourself. You'll find that Uncle Wayne is just as gooey as Eddie is. He melts often, but for no one more so than Eddie. His boy. His son.

Uncle Wayne gave Eddie a home. He gave him the only bedroom in the trailer. I think Uncle Wayne has had Eddie since Eddie was maybe six or seven years old; he's raised his boy. I think his 'dad' is in prison and his mum is dead (based off things Joe has said in interviews), and because Joel (Wayne Munson's actor) said that Uncle Wayne saw what Eddie went through with his 'parents' and wanted to protect him, I took all that to mean that he's had Eddie since he was younger than ten. Which means, Uncle Wayne has voluntarily slept on a fold-out bed in his own living room for at least a decade. He immediately defended Eddie, he spent all those six days Eddie was missing looking for him, replacing vandalised missing posters tirelessly and undoubtedly, defending him against what people were saying, too. The amount of love Uncle Wayne has for Eddie is incredible, and the way Eddie says "my Uncle, he, uh, he works at the plant. Bringing home the big bucks" was casual, and maybe I'm projecting or looking for things which aren't there, but he sounded so proud, too. I hope that, if anything, the Munsons at least knew how loved they were by each other. Canon gave them nothing but I hope that they had the knowledge that they loved each other, at least. At least.

Eddie and Uncle Wayne are like ships in the night. When Eddie is at school, Uncle Wayne is asleep. When Eddie comes home from school or all the extracurriculars he does - drama club, Hellfire Club, spending time in the library looking for the latest fantasy releases, maybe even spending time in the music rooms so he can get tips from the teacher on how to more effectively teach himself by heart and ear Metallica's latest album, Uncle Wayne is out his way to go to work. They exchange smiles, nods, a clap on the shoulder each instead of a hug because there's no real time for that. Or maybe Eddie will go inside and then dart back outside, black curls flying everywhere as a blur of denim and black throws itself at Uncle Wayne just as he's opening his truck door, and gets caught in a hug because damn it, boy, stop throwin' yourself like that, and then Eddie lets him go with a tight smile and Uncle Wayne sighs wearily because I miss you too, son.

Before Eddie goes to school every morning, he gets the trailer ready for his dad to come home. He pulls out the fold-out bed or if he knows Uncle Wayne's back has been especially troubling, he'll haphazardly strip the sheets on his bed and remake them so that Uncle Wayne can sleep there instead of on the fold-out, he gets towels warmed up on the radiators so that his dad has towels there after his shower, he puts the products in the shower itself and gets out the dinner he cooked in advance last night so that all Uncle Wayne has to do when he comes home is kick his shoes off, shower, reheat dinner, and sleep. And any spare cash he has left over after buying the stuff he needs to make D&D props (or begging the art department for any leftovers or things the Head won't noticed missing - Eddie is well liked by the teachers in the Arts and Humanities departments of Hawkins High) or filling up his van or buying school supplies, is given to his Uncle. Not formally, it's just left laying around with a note which says, "in case you need", but it helps. It really helps. And that's why Eddie does what he does. He does the best with what he has and wants to do everything possible to thank his dad for taking him in and always looking after him.

Eddie feels like he owes Uncle Wayne his literal life, but Uncle Wayne feels like Eddie made his life.

They never really say it, but they both know.

Uncle Wayne always thanks him by having a cup of coffee brewing for Eddie, waiting for when he comes home. Sometimes the timing is off so that the coffee is almost cold by the time Eddie gets it, but he nukes it in the microwave or just drinks it as it is. He loves it because his dad made it.

Likewise, Uncle Wayne always makes sure that he doesn't notice where the drugs are stashed around the trailer (he doesn't approve, necessarily, but as long as Eddie doesn't get caught, he'll let his son do what he's gotta do to get by), he makes sure that Eddie always has food and water and a roof over his head, he makes sure that Eddie's room is liveable and helps Eddie to keep it tidy, sometimes he'll rent something from Family Video for Eddie to come home to, fill up the van with gas if he can afford it...

The Munsons are ships in the night but they love each other as loud as they can.

There are times, rare though they are, when the Munsons get to be home together. Maybe Eddie is sick or it's one of Uncle Wayne's days off, or maybe it just worked out that way and Eddie's practically vibrating where he stands because he's just so excited to get to be home uninterrupted with his dad! They spend the day together watching television or spending time together separately. Eddie on the floor of the living room, playing guitar, writing down notes for his next campaign or doing some homework (he really wants to graduate, why else would he put himself through senior year three times? Eddie isn't the problem, it's the school!), maybe he'll ask Uncle Wayne for an answer to one of the questions every now and then and just like always, Uncle Wayne will encourage Eddie to try on his own and if he can't do it after the third time, then he'll help Eddie, getting down on the floor beside him until the two of then are puzzling it out together and before they know it, it's been three hours and Eddie still hasn't finished his physics homework but he's made his dad laugh so much he's pretty sure they've each busting a lung, and that's more important!

In any case, day bleeds into night and they go to bed, Eddie to his room and Uncle Wayne on the sofa, and maybe Eddie has a nightmare or he wakes up and can't go back to sleep, but whatever the reason, he sneaks past a sleeping Uncle Wayne and goes to have a smoke outside, and when he comes back in, Uncle Wayne is sat with his elbows on his knees, his flannel on but open, rubbing at his hand with a tired hand.

"You okay, son?"

"Yeah, I just - " Eddie sighs, ruffles his own hair, "Can't sleep, man."

"Why?" That upward lilt in his dad's voice always makes Eddie smile and right now is no different.

"Nightmare, I guess."

Just like with always, Uncle Wayne melts and he lays back, getting comfortable in his bed again. Eddie is twenty years old, but he's always crawled into his dad's bed after a nightmare, and he will always do that, because that's who the Munsons are. Whatever Eddie wants in terms of affection or love, Uncle Wayne will give it to him because everything is tight in their household except love, and so Eddie receives it in abundance.

"C'mere, Eddie,"

Eddie is twenty years old but he feels no shame in shuffling across the trailer and climbing into his Uncle's bed. There's no awkwardness, they've known each other too damn long, and Eddie brings his knees to his chest and rolls so that his face is buried in the soace just above his dad's heart, so that he can hear and feel that his dad is alive and that he, Eddie, is totally safe.

"S'okay, son," Uncle Wayne roughly pets Eddie's hair, his other arm around Eddie's shoulders, and he manages to lull Eddie's heartbeat to a more relaxed pace, "you know you're safe here."

Eddie makes a sleepily noise and Uncle Wayne chuckles. "Never been any different, Eddie, have you?" Stroking Eddie's hair always puts him out like a light and it never fails to turn Uncle Wayne to mush.

"Love you, dad." It's a sleepy mumble, barely audible, but whether he's painfully silent or shouting at the very top of his lungs, Uncle Wayne will always hear his Eddie, his boy.

"Love you too, son."

And Eddie sleeps.

Uncle Wayne stays awake, like all those nights before, watching his son sleeping, watching over him like the guardian and protector he swore he would always be from the moment he found out that Eddie was to be his boy. He doesn't even want to think about what their lives would be like if he hadn't received that phone call offering him legal parental rights over Edward Munson. So, yes, Uncle Wayne melts for Eddie, but Eddie melts for Uncle Wayne, too, the man who gave him a home and more love than he's ever gonna know what to do with. Everything Eddie does is his attempt to say thank you, though Uncle Wayne would do it all over again and again and again for his boy.

Calling each other 'dad' and 'son' was never something either really thought about, it was a natural progression over months and years of living together, and neither Munson would have it or each other any other way.

The Munsons were the best thing that ever happened to each other.

(I probably have more thoughts in my head somewhere but it's been two hours and I gotta get back to this assignment hhhh I love and miss the Munsons so, so much. They both deserved better and every day I try to honour them and what they taught me by being the best me I can in all things. Shit's exhausting but they get me through.🙏💗)

#eddie munson #wayne munson #eddie and wayne munson #the munsons #eddie munson x reader #stranger things 4 #munson family

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garfieldbussys · 9 days

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i have had enough. those 2 irish people from the beginning are working with the inspector im gonna lose my shit.

who has tommy got to assassinate.

ALSO its such a good day my package is coming tmrw, im having ham and cheese chicken kieves for tea, i have the house to myself till like 11pm AND i spent £39 pound on shein 🙈

another random women turned up last ep and i cant be bothered with more random women

what are they doing. they cannot possibly be terrorising ANOTHER club after what happened last time

arthur babe lets not ily but you’re not in a good mental state at the min 🫶

hes so crazy but i can forgive bc hes my baby 🤞

finns got him hooked on drugs its over

ive just realised how long these updates are and i kinda feel bad for you sorry lovely 😔🫶

who has tommy got to assassinate im so confused- hes bleeding from his head??? i dont mind the woman at the desk shes quite nice and she seems sweet so shes ok

michael is applying for account clerk? poll is gonna kill them both

i have an lffy feeling about michael its like 🤨🫠🤔🫨🥴😐 if those emojis were put together

whos that- oh its that woman from the betting 😒 i thought it was grace it sounded like grace im disappointed 😔

shes talking to esme johns here now tommys here hes showing that girl round

im such a yapper omds i just realised how long this is im gonna cut it short here by clo 🙈

LMAO i love your long notes so much idc you could talk to me all day and i would not mind.

everytime it gets to the assassination part i literally switch off like just do your killing tommy idrc what you gotta do because im NOT listening

hold on HAM CHEESE AND CHICKEN KIEVS EXIST??!! i need to invest in these. im so glad you had a good day bae

also your opinion of michael— spot on in those emojis. i will NOT speak any further

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arutai · 1 year

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Esme Ham

#esme ham #unknown provenance

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goldeneyedgirl · 17 days

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Hi!!! I saw you mention Jar of Hearts recently and was so excited I've been dying for that to update!!! And you're planning to write a POV from the characters in Forks right?? So excited :D

Hi!

The next chapter is almost done! I just hate writing action so much I’ve been super slow.

I am definitely going to write a ‘what happened in Forks’ outtake because there was so much chaos - Esme and Rose returning to an absolutely trashed house (well, trashed by Esme’s standards - grieving teenagers aren’t really the best at housekeeping, and Alice went ham on the walls); Jasper and Edward are in the woods, Carlisle’s at the hospital, Bella’s in her bedroom, Sue and Leah are at their house... and there is 0 sign of Alice, Emmett, or Seth. And it’s chaotic everywhere - all these people have just reappeared out of thin air with no idea of what happened.

And when Jasper and Rose finally do call Alice and Emmett, their calls are immediately dropped. We all know that Jasper would go into full war-mode if he thought Alice was in any sort of danger, but it’s pretty rare to see how Rose reacts when it’s Emmett - her touchstone and safe place - in the line of fire and I think that would be fun. I do really, really enjoy writing Rose and Jasper bouncing off each other in kind of a ‘opposite but the same’ theory, if that makes sense.

Plus, there’s like 3 reasons Sue Clearwater would willingly go to the Cullen residence, and all three of them involve the safety and wellbeing of her kids.

Anyway, what I have pictured in my head is kind of angst-humour-chaos, but I can’t finalise anything til I’ve got through the next couple of Jar of Hearts chapters. The odds are high that I’ll release it in December as part of Ficmas, but it depends on how much of the other Jar of Hearts outtakes that I want to write I can get done.

Look out for the next chapter soon <3

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solid-in-the-light · 1 year

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Esme Ham

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theshotsheardacrossworlds · 5 months

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Agi Says It's Starlight. Right Now.

And here's a little fic under the cut ;)

Estinien Varlineau knew something was off when she received a package at the Mist house, let out a scream of joy, and ran upstairs.

Perhaps “off” is the wrong word. “Deeply concerned” is more accurate. “Unsettling” works too.

“Mummy’s planning something, Es.” He muttered, watching their daughter crawl in circles around him. “She’s got that…look. You know the one.”

Esme continued to babble happily.

“Aye, she’s up no good I agree.” Crossing his scarred arms over his chest, he smiled at their daughter.

“OH MY FUCKING GODS! LOVE, YOU MUST SEE THIS!” Agnes yelled as she bounded down the stairs. Esme stopped crawling and squealed, pointing at her mother.

Estinien froze.

She sauntered to him wearing her very short Starlight dress that shows off her Starlight ham thighs but instead of the usual tights and boots, she had on reindeer hooves, mittens, and antlers. With a bloody red nose, for Fury’s sake. “It’s that time of year again, my grumpy dragon.” She practically sang and did a twirl for him. “Doesn’t Mummy look so pretty, Esme? And don’t worry, my little love, I have a dress and accessories for you too!” She picked up the baby (is she still a baby if she’s over a summer old?) and cooed at her. “You’re going to look so fucking cute in your Starlight outfit. Even more than last year!” Turning to her husband, she giggled. “Oh dear, I think your father needs a moment.”

Varlineau, this isn’t all bad. On the positive side you’ve got Agi in a hot dress showing off her legs and thighs. Her tits look amazing in everything she wears. She is, as always, undeniably adorable and pretty.

On the other hand, Starlight is her favorite holiday, and she lets literally everyone, man and creature alike, know it. She bakes a billion things, but few of them are ours. And fuck…she’s going to make me dress up.

“I can see the wheels creaking along in your head, love.” Agnes teased and gave Esme’s tummy a tickle.

His face was in his hands as she laughed. “Agi, you know I love you so much…but it’s not even the month of Starlight!! We barely just got over All Saints’ Wake!”

Agnes smiled ruefully. “Well, I did promise myself that this year would be more relaxed than last year. Starlight Eve and the day itself it’ll just be the three of us.” She frowned and kissed Esme’s head. “I know so much of last year was overwhelming for you. I-I…you should enjoy it in your own way, and I shouldn’t accept every invitation I receive.”

I truly am the luckiest man on the star. Estinien lifted his head and for a second, admired his wife. There are none more blessed than I. Because of her. All because of her.

“Love?”

He blinked, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Sorry. Was just thinking,” he smirked as he walked and circled her. With his lips against an ear, he whispered, “Thinking about how beautiful you are, my angel.” And give her a nice ass tap. As a treat!

Giggling, she rolled her eyes. “Gods, you are something else, Estinien. So grateful to be free during Starlight and so turned on by your wife in a Starlight reindeer ensemble. What a combination!” Agnes gave him a quick peck before handing him Esme. “Though I should say technically it won’t be the three of us.” Her eyes are twinkling. What’s she planned? “It’ll be the five of us.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Five? Your mother and…?”

Aymeric?

Y’shtola?

Waters? No, he wouldn’t come without Urianger.

G’raha?

Not Little Lord Alphinaud and Alisaie.

TATARU??!?!

Her hands rested on her soft belly. “Five. We’re having twins, love. Y’shtola saw two little balls of aether this time.” She smiled at him just like she did when I proposed. Fury, how radiant she was then and continues to be. “Our little family isn’t going to be not so little anymore.”

Glancing at Esme, who was staring back up at him with the cutest fucking smile in the world, he grinned. “You hear that, Es? You’re going to be a big sister twice! How about that, eh?” I MADE TWINS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wrinkling her nose, she removed the reindeer headband and put her glasses back on. “I think she’s very excited…but what about you?”

He grunted. “Woman, as if you have to ask. I’m very happy, my sweet.” I. MADE. TWINS. They shared a brief kiss and then Estinien laughed heartily as Esme giggled. “Es, Mummy’s having twins! Could she tell what they are?”

She shook her head. “Not yet, love. In another moon or so I think. Why, do you have any preferences?”

“Nay, only that they’re healthy. We could have a dozen sons or daughters, it matters not. The only thing that matters is you. You’re the one having them after all.” He looked at Esme. “Mummy has them, so Mummy decides when she’s done having them. Got it, little one?”

His wife chuckled. “Oh good gods, it’s never too early to teach that I suppose. Hey,” she offered him a warm smile. “I love you.”

“As I ever love you.” Always and forever, Agi.

#agnes currai #estinien varlineau #wolstinien #estinien x wol #agnes varlineau #these two dorks #hyur highlander #hyur wol #plus size warrior of light #plus size wol #esme varlineau #esme is a daddy's girl

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