#my attempt at celebrating in england!!

[leahsgirl]

star girl | lucy bronze x reader

based off the request ‘maybe one with Lucy, that the r scores in the euros final like the winning goal’. let’s imagine it’s the 23’ world cup final again and leah + beth never tore their acl’s xx

—

It’s safe to say tensions were high in the locker room as you and your fellow England teammates prepared for one of the biggest matches of your careers. Sarina had opted for the same line-up that secured your team the european championship a year prior, just a few changes here and there.

Yourself was on the bench as a substitute, however, it didn’t make the experience any less nerve-wracking. Double knotting the laces on your boot, you walked over to a familiar brunette.

“it’s totally normal to feel sick to my stomach right?” She chuckles, as if she isn’t about to go out to a crowd of 75,000+ people. “The life of a footballer love.”

“How have you played three world cups? I feel like a heart attack is going to hit me any minute.” Sitting next to her, she squeezes your hand and kisses your temple. “Calmer?” The older girl asks. “Calmer.” You confirm, leaning your head on her shoulder for a brief minute.

You would describe your relationship with Lucy very much black cat x golden retriever; while you was often energetic and switching through emotions like tv channels, lucy was the opposite. While she liked to have fun and be sarcastic and all, she was actually a very chill person who would just go with the flow.

Lucy and you had been dating for just over a year and a half with only close friends and family knowing. You’d be lying if you had your doubts if the both of you would even last - with Lucy playing in Barcelona and you for your childhood club Manchester United, but you stuck it out and recently just bought your first place together.

It was 7:45pm over in Sydney Australia, both opposing teams beginning to line up next to each other in the tunnel. You and the other substitutes were to come out after the starting players. You prayed to God you could come away with a win tonight - you knew how hard each and everyone of you worked and to win the world cup would just be the cherry on top to an undefeated championship run youse had going.

Walking out, it all suddenly got very real. The cheers from the crowd made you smile as you took your seat.

The referee blew her whistle; it was go time. You watched the game intensely, weighing up the stats of your team and the opposing team. Spain was playing good and the nerves in your stomach were intensifying with each passing second.

“Oh shit look!” Ella pointed over at James who was now running down a practically free pitch. “Come on, come on.” You muttered under your breath as you see Spain’s goalkeeper take her stance. James went to hit the ball, it travelling at a good speed. Unlucky for you and your team, it just narrowly missed the goal and instead hit the crossbar - the goalkeeper catching it as it fell back down, opting to roll it to one of her Spanish teammates.

Ten minutes had passed and your team was yet to make another chance, Spain players literally tackling left and right. It all came crashing down however when Carmona scored twenty-nine minutes in, managing to slot the ball into the corner of the net. As the opposing team celebrated you couldn’t help but feel bad for your girlfriend who you know would be blaming herself for the goal after she gave away the ball taking on three players at once.

The game carried on with a profound feeling of desperation. While Beth, both Laurens and even Keira had a shot at goal, none of the attempts made it into the net. You was happy to hear the half-time whistle blow, running down the steps and back through the tunnel.

“It’s not your fault, don’t even think it.” Knowing exactly the thoughts going on in your girlfriend’s head, you rubbed her back supportively. “I got too bloody cocky, I should’ve just passed it back.” Lucy ran her slim fingers through her tied back hair.

“Hey hey, we still have another forty five minutes to show them what we’ve got. And I don’t know about you, but I think Bronze over here shouldn’t stop aiming for gold.” Her lips tugged at a grin over your partially lame joke. “You’re right, as always. Don’t know what I’d do without my woman.” She quickly pecked your lips.

“Okay lovebirds, keep it in your pants - we have a game to win.” Keira piped up, giving both you and lucy a little smack on the back of the head.

It’s safe to say after the pep talks the squad received in the locker room, England was on top form. It also helped that Spain had let go of the reigns a little, clearly thinking they were safe with the one nil advantage.

The 68th minute. That’s when the crowd started to get a whole lot louder and players were charging down one side of the pitch. Hemp had control of the ball, slowing just before the box and passing it to Beth. The blonde hit the ball with her left foot sending it straight into the back of the goal. Cheers roared through the stadium as you celebrated with the other girls on the bench. The scoreline now 1-1, you was still in this.

Your time had come to make a debut in the game, walking onto the outskirts of the pitch, Sarina going through the plan with you. James was the girl who was making way for your appearance, giving you a double high-five and pat on the back.

Running onto the pitch, adrenaline rushed through you as you made eye contact with a certain someone and sent her a wink. You hadn’t even managed to get three passes before you were caught with studs pressing into your ankle, sending you down onto the ground “What the fuck was that for?” It’s not like you was massive threat to the Spanish team at that moment considering you was about to pass the ball back up your end.

Luckily you were awarded a free kick, having alex take it. The match was getting more tense the longer you played, both teams creating good chances. Spain was even awarded a penalty which thank god Mary saved.

91 minutes. The game had entered extra time. Scores still level.

You watched as Keira dribbled with the ball, passing to Leah who kicked it up the pitch. Weighing up where the ball was in the sky and where you was near the goal you saw your chance; jumping up in the air you threw your body back, your left foot getting a hit on the ball which sent it flying into the net. Getting up off the grass, you look at one of the assistant referee’s to make sure it wasn’t offside.

His flag staying down, you dropped to your knees in disbelief. The girls ran over to you cheering and shouting your name while practically assaulting you with hugs.

The final whistle was blown about thirty seconds later with your whole squad now coming into the pitch. Familiar hands wrapped around your torso and lifted you into the air, carrying you bridal style. “You’re fucking incredible you know that?” The brunette spun you around grinning like a little child.

Once put down you cupped her face in your hands, overcome with emotion and smashed your lips onto hers. Although the defender was taken back, she gave into the moment and kissed you back with just the same intensity. It wasn’t the way either of you was planning to make the relationship public but hey, you just won the biggest tournament of your lives and wanted to celebrate with your special lady.

it wasn't long before you was ambushed by your team shouting compliments left right and centre. the crowd was also off on one, the volume making your ears ring.

walking back through the tunnel and into the locker room you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up when a voice whispered into your ear "follow me."

obliging by the command and plodding behind the brunette, she dragged you into what appeared to be a storage room, miscellaneous sports equipment scattered around.

pushing you up against the cold wall which made you audibly gasp she planted a searing kiss onto your lips, hands having a firm hold of your waist. you reacted almost immediately, placing you hand on the back of her neck and bringing the two of you even closer.

"god i love you." the older woman breathed out as she moved from your lips to your neck, biting and sucking the skin to the point you was squirming in effort to not make any noise.

"i should score goals more often if this is how i get rewarded." forcing her to look at you, you reconnected your lips wasting no time in biting her bottom lip and snaking your tongue inside.

just as she slid her hand under your shirt there was a bang on the door. "lucia bronze and y/n y/l/n! if youse two are not out of there in ten seconds i will kick this door down myself!" tooney shouted.

you placed one last peck on lucy's cheek "i think we've been caught."

the right-back rolled her eyes. "we're continuing this later." she smirked, hitting your butt before unlocking and opening the door for you.

-

liked by youruser and 2,792,051 others

lucybronze Won the world cup and the girlfriend jackpot. On top of the world right now.

youruser 🤍

creator has limited comment access.

#lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze #barcelona femeni #lionesses #england lionesses #england #request #world cup #women’s football #woso #woso community #woso x reader

[woso-dreamzzz]

Flowers

Chloe Kelly x Reader

Summary: It's a tradition

It was becoming a bit of a habit.

You wrote it off as a joke the first time it happened. You came into England camp with a smile and a flirty wave to the camera.

You turned to the corner to see Chloe on one knee with a singular tulip in her hand.

"For you," She said in a dramatic joking tone," My lady!"

You laughed and took it from her, curtsey deeply to play along. You knew the cameras were eating up the interaction so you caught Chloe's hand and pressed a kiss to it.

She laughed and jumped to her feet, tucking you under her arm as she winked and pointed at the camera. "And that's how you get a girlfriend!"

"Is that what I am?" You said back with an eye roll before looking back at the camera. "Don't listen to her, everyone, she's too cocky to think she's done anything wrong ever."

"Come on!" Chloe complained," Don't tell me you weren't wooed for a second there!"

You held up your index finger and thumb, squashing them against each other. "The tiniest of seconds," You said before walking off to go to your room," You have to try better than that, Chloe!"

"I'll get you!"

The next time Chloe surprised you with flowers was on a pitch inspection for the Euros. You were completely exhausted from having spent most of your night up talking to Tooney and binging on the food you had snuck in.

"My love," Chloe said dramatically as she dropped to her knees in front of you and pulled out a fairly crushed tulip," Take this as a token of my undying love!"

"I'm pretty sure that flower is dead," You replied dryly.

"Shit," Chloe muttered before clearing her throat and offering it to you again," Take this as a token of my affection!"

"The dying flower? Gee, Chlo, why don't you just stomp on my heart now?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'll be back! You'll fall for my charms!"

"Bye, Chloe!"

It became a bit of a tradition and soon the fans were being updated every week of the Euros campaign about Chloe's attempts to woo you.

"Hey! Wait!"

You tried to back out of the door when you saw her but with Millie and Rachel behind you, you couldn't escape.

"Jesus, Chloe," You breathed out as you looked at the tulip in her hand," Where are you getting all of these flowers from? Surely, you're going broke?"

"Love has no price tag!" She declared dramatically as she assumed the position on her knees and cleared her throat. With her other hand, she unfolded a long sheet of paper.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding," You laughed in disbelief as Chloe recited poetry that she had obviously written herself from the way she was trying to rhyme your name with various household objects. "Are you nearly done?"

She gave you a deadpan look. "Excuse me," She said in faux offense," But I'm trying to declare my love for you and I'm only halfway through the rooms of your house. I would like silence and cooperation for this part, please."

You jerked your thumb over your shoulder to Millie and Rachel. "And the bodyguards are here, why?"

"To make sure you can't escape."

"Oh, so this is a hostage situation. Thanks for letting me know."

She waved a hand dismissively. "Can I get back to this now? Please and thank you."

The further you got into the tournament, the more public Chloe's jokes got.

After the semifinals and the celebration on the pitch after you won, Chloe threw you over her shoulder and carted you around on the lap the team took.

As she went by, she collected the tulips that she clearly had convinced the fans to bring with them before trapping you between her and the stands.

She cleared her throat. "My love-"

"No!" You pointed," No sappy nicknames! Start again!"

She looked pointedly at the crowd before starting again. "My love of you is as endless as these flowers! They just keep coming and coming!"

You opened your mouth to complain about how she was only holding five flowers when more rained down from above you.

It shocked a laugh out of you.

"Nine out of ten delivery!" You said, still laughing," Could use some work!"

"Oh, come on! That has to be a ten out of ten!"

It all comes to a head at the finals.

The rush of adrenaline felt like nothing you had ever experienced before.

"Hey, match winner," You said as you collided with Chloe.

"Hey!" She yelled over the triumph of the crowd. She produced a singular tulip and raised it into your view. "Are we doing this or what?"

You took it.

Then, she kissed you.

#woso x reader #chloe kelly x reader #chloe kelly #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

[storiesforthemoonchild]

I Think I Like You | Alessia Russo x Reader

based on this request. friends to lovers vibe... Enjoy :)

“Where’s (y/n)?” Alessia asks the moment she reaches her family after the match. Her eyes had been searching for yours the whole match. 

“Well hello to you, too darling,” her mother Carol jokes. 

Alessia blushes, wrapping her mother and father in a hug, “sorry. Hi mum, dad. You alright yeah?”

“You played well, 2 goals,” her father Mario praises excitedly.  

“Thanks… so (y/n)?” She questions again looking between her parents and brothers. 

“She wasn’t feeling the greatest when we arrived to pick her up today hun. I made her stay home,” Carol informs. 

The panic quickly rises on Alessia’s face. You never missed her games. The two of you had been inseparable ever since you met back in uni over in the states. Finding comfort in one another since you were both English. You’d followed her back to England after graduation, but refused to admit she was the reason why. Instead you just said there were more job opportunities for you out here. 

“Would you look at that? Guess who’s ringing me,” her brother Gio teases, holding the phone in Alessia’s face before pulling it out of her reach. 

“Knock it off Gio. Something could be wrong with her. Give it here,” the striker fusses, ready to tackle him for the phone. 

“Cut it out Gio,” Carol swats at the boy's arm. 

With a playful roll of the eyes he lets Alessia grab the phone. The striker frantically pressed at the accept call button. “(Y/n), you alright?”

“Lessi, you played amazing! Of course you wait until I’m not there to score 2 bangers,” you say through the phone. 

Alessia relaxes, a calm smile gracing her face at the fact you don’t sound too bad, “how you feeling bug? Mum said you weren’t feeling well.”

You huff, “I’m fine. She was being too cautious. I’m sorry I missed your game Lessi.”

She can just hear the pout on your face, “don’t worry about that. Tell me what you need and I’ll bring it with me.”

You always melted at the way Alessia took care of you when you were sick or even just having a bad day. You couldn’t help but feed into how she tends to you, “can we have ice cream and cuddle?”

Alessia swooning over the cute tone of your voice, “of course bug, anything you want. I’ll grab some food and medicine too. Just give me a bit to finish up here and go to the store okay?” 

“Lessi?”

“Yes?”

You smirk even though she can’t see it, “2 goals on the day I can’t be there, really?”

She laughs, turning her back and lowering her voice in an attempt to not be heard, “they were both for you. Did you see me kiss the pinky?” 

That was your thing, ever since uni. A pinky promise was sacred between the two of you. “I did. Super cute. Nice that you finally have a unique celly,” you joke.  

“I’ll see you soon,” Alessia releases a breath as the call disconnects. Turning around she’s met with two curious gazes and two teasing ones. 

“Is your wife alive and well?” Of course it's Gio who starts.  

Alessia ignores him handing the phone back over. “When are you just going to go for it Less? She is practically a wag already,” it was Luca’s turn to get in on it now. 

“We’re just friends,” Alessia grumbles face turning beet red. 

“Yeah, a friend who you dedicate goals and goal celebrations to.”

Carol pulls her into her arms allowing Alessia to bury her face in her neck, “you two cut it out now. How is she doing sweetheart? Does she need anything?”

“She just wants ice cream and cuddles, the usual,” she mumbles. 

“Glad my daughter in law is fine,” Mario chimes in much to the amusement of his sons. 

A groan escapes Alessia as she pulls away, “I’m going to change and head out, so I can get to (y/n).”

“Good idea. Don’t keep the wife waiting,” Gio as always had to get the last word. 

It’s a few hours later that there’s a knock at your door. Wrapped snug in a blanket you answer, knowing it was your favorite blonde striker. “Took you long enough. I’m freezing. Put all that down, I need your body heat.”

“No hi? Just immediately barking out orders today huh?” Alessia sucks her teeth jokingly. 

“Sorry, hi Lessi,” you wait until she’s dropped the bags on the counter before pulling her into a hug. 

“How you feeling?” She places a hand to your forehead and then neck. 

You shake out of her protective grip, “I’m fine Lessi. Please come cuddle.”

She nods, putting the ice cream in the freezer and leaving the rest for later. You are standing by the couch when she enters, “assume the position.”

Alessia lays across the couch, opening her arms wide for you to lay on top of her. A strong grip around your waist as you flop down, encasing you both under the blanket. Burying your face into her neck as she soothingly strokes your back. This was your peace. 

You giggle when you feel the racing heart of Alessia beneath you, “running a marathon are you?” When you get no response and her hand stills you pull away so you can see her face. “What’s wrong Less?”

“Nothing sorry,” she says, trying to pull you back down. 

You fully sit up resting yourself in her lap as she lays there. “Liar. Did something happen after the game? Are you thinking about the sitter that could’ve got you a hat-trick star girl,” you tease trying to lighten her mood. 

“I hate that nickname,” she whines. 

“Talk to me.”

Alessia grabs at you pulling you back down. “Gio and Luca were winding me up over our call. Now I’m in my head.” 

You get yourself back comfortable with your head against her chest, “why do you let them get to you Lessi?”

You feel her sigh. You’ve known Alessia long enough to know that when she’s in her head it’s best to let her work it out alone. The striker was an over-thinker. Silence was never uncomfortable between the two of you. 

“I think I like like you (y/n),” Alessia murmurs. 

You’re stunned. You’ve known Alessia for years now and had long given up on the thought that she may feel the same. You knew from the moment you met her, but all the girl thought about was football. 

“I know it’s out of the blue and we are just friends but not having you in the stands today I felt like a piece of me was missing. Then Gio and Luca were going on about how you were already a wag and I-… I know that I like you. I just… we are best friends. Please don’t hate me.”

You don’t move from your spot on her chest, “I like you too Alessia.”

“You do?”

You nod against her, “I do. I was just waiting for you to like something other than football.”

The moment is exactly how you’d imagine something like this going with Alessia. No pressure. Everything was calm, no need for any theatrics. Just the two of you, whispering secrets to each other like you did all those years before in uni. 

“Do you want ice cream?” She asks. 

“In a minute, let’s just stay like this a while longer.”

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #alessia russo x reader #woso imagine #alessia russo imagine

[futfemfantasies]

Her name // Alessia Russo ~ Lionesses!reader

Italics = flashbacks

TW: spain not winning the wc, disgusting pregnancy cravings, pure Lessi girl fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“But baby can’t you just tell me what it starts with?” Alessia whined as she laid her head in your lap, kissing your heavily pregnant bump in the process. 

“You said it was my choice since you got the last name. You’ll know in three weeks. Now, your daughter wants a pickle and peanut butter sandwich. Can you make her one?”

“You and your weird cravings mia ragazza (my girl)” She mumbles into your bump before getting up, kissing you on the way out. While Alessia makes your daughter her weird sandwich, your mind drifts off to how you got to this position. 

You transferred from Barcelona at 25, wanting to have a little bit more of a challenge in your league career. Alessia joined two years prior to your arrival and was smitten from the moment she met you. Kyra, Lotte and Emily gave her so much shit for not acting on her feelings. It wasn’t until an impressive half a season that you went to your second Lionesses camp, which is surprisingly the World Cup. 

Sitting alone on a little secluded beach next to the hotel got you thinking about many things. A few of your teammates were playing beach football and you watched, even though they attempted many times to play. You snuggle into your hoodie more as the sun sets and cold temperature appears for the night. A crunch of a branch makes you turn to see the blue eyed, blonde haired beauty you’ve grown to love. Alessia sits next to you in the little cave and drapes the blanket over the both of you, making her close to you. 

“I saw you out here in just your hoodie and shorts so I thought you could use this”

“That’s so thoughtful, thank you Lessi”

You two talk for hours and hours, you missed the texts and calls from your teammates. It wasn’t until you see flashlights that you know it’s late. You both get up and walk with Rachel and Millie back to the hotel. 

A few weeks later is the final of the world cup and you and Alessia are starting up front. The Spanish are putting up a good fight after scoring in the 29th minute, courtesy of Olga. Hemp scores early in the second half, levelling the score. England have a corner in what could be the last play of the game and you and Alessia are standing next to each other.

“You have this, go for it”

The hand is raised. Focus is on the ball. You can see it’s headed straight for you so you time your jump perfectly and head the ball towards the goal. You couldn’t believe it. You might have won the world cup for your country. The familiar swoosh of the net was heard and you ran to the corner post doing a salsa dance celebration before the team dogpile you. The ref blows her whistle to restart and tears are forming in your eyes as you look at the screen that shows 95:00. There was only six minutes of added time. England hold off the Spanish for another minute and then the final whistle is blown.

You are a world champion.

You won it for your country. 

Falling to the ground, you start crying until you feel arms around your shoulders.

“You’ve done well Y/N. Go celebrate with your friends” Sarina pulls you up and into a hug before you run off to the one person you want to celebrate with. 

You see Alessia in the distance hugging it out with Ella and on your way over, you are stopped by multiple Barcelona and English players congratulating you. Alessia catches your eye and runs over to you, hugging you tightly. 

“We did it!” You say with all the adrenaline running through your veins. 

“I could kiss you right now”

“I dare you”

Alessia smashes her lips on yours and you don’t regret it one bit. 

“Best day ever”

“Baby, princess, anyone home?” Alessia asks as she taps your temple gently with her pointer finger.

“Sorry, thanks my love” You give her a soft kiss as she sits next to you and pulls you in between her legs. 

“What were you thinking about?”

“The world cup final” Alessia smiles at that memory, one of her favourites.

Three and a half weeks later at 2:30 in the morning, you went into labour. You immediately started to freak out but Alessia calmed you down with some breathing exercises and words of encouragement. A short 14 hours later, your baby girl came out screaming her little lungs away. Alessia cuts the cord and the nurses asks her if she wants to hold her. Alessia whispers that she wants you to hold her first. The nurse takes her over to you and you move the gown for skin to skin contact. 

You hold your little girl and you fall in love immediately. Alessia falls in love with you all over again and shares that love to your little girl you are yet to name. You move over and gesture Alessia to sit next to you. She puts her arm behind you and runs her finger ever so gently down your princess’ small cheek.

“Hi my little Aria. I love you so much and so does your Mama. You have so many aunties that love you and two crazy but sweet uncles that can’t wait to play with you” You look at Alessia and she’s crying at the sound of her name.   

“Aria Mia Russo, meet your mama” 

You place Aria in Alessia’s arms and you lean on her upper arm. For what feels like hours, you are just staring at your bundle of joy. You give Aria a quick feed before Alessia puts her in the cot and cuddles up to you. 

“What do you think of her name?” You say tiredly.

“I think it’s beautiful, just like her mummy”

You give Alessia a kiss before the both of you get a quick nap in before the family comes to visit Aria.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

liked by alessia, ellatoone, leahwilliamson, stephcatley and 56,396 others...

ynyln: Aria Mia Russo you are our whole world 🥺❤️

view all 10,430 comments:

alessia: i love you both so much ❤️ ynyln: we love you too!

ellatoone: no way my best friends are mums 😭 alessia: you've literally know about this for 9 and a half months ...

alexiaputellas: La tía Ale necesita venir a visitarnos pronto. (Aunt Ale needs to come visit soon) ynyln: si, Aria necesita conocer a su tía española favorita 😉 (yes, Aria needs to meet her favourite Spanish aunt) albapts: hey!! 🥺😕🥲

#woso x reader #woso imagines #arsenal x reader #alessia russo x reader #womens soccer #woso soccer #woso imagine #woso fanfics

[wildandsmile]

࿇ ✥ ࿇ Worlds Apart ࿇ ✥ ࿇

Summary: Your father serves as the coach for the Manshine football/soccer team, and in your role as the dutiful daughter, you make a point to visit him regularly. However, each time you stop by, one of the star players seems to have a penchant for flirting with you.

Word Count: 4.2k

TW: Age gap (Reo 22 and Readers 29) by the way cannon Reo likes older women so.

Kinks: Fingering, Degrading, Cream-pie, Praising, Sir Name, Squirting, Exhibition, Sub Reader, Dom Reo, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), humiliation, Choking and Rough sex.

Enjoy!

A couple of years had passed since Reo's departure from Blue Lock. His journey took him to the semi-finals, where he was eventually eliminated by Bachira. However, Ego recognized the immense talent Reo possessed and believed it shouldn't be squandered. As a result, he allowed Reo to continue pursuing his striking career. Shortly thereafter, your father, a renowned co-coach in England, teamed up with Chris Prince. They wasted no time in recruiting Reo, having already witnessed his potential while he was a starter for their team, Manshine City, during his time at Blue Lock.

And thus, you encounter the ostentatious wealthy young man who always seems to have a girl by his side. Each day, you would pay a visit to your father, given his advancing age, ensuring his well-being. However, occasionally, you extended your stay to assist the boys with their routines or offer them water after their practice games.

Whenever you approached Reo, though, he would indulge in playful flirting, charmingly remarking, "I'll treat you good if you give me the opportunity." This, understandably, ignited your father's anger, prompting him to punish Reo with rounds of field laps, much to the amusement of onlookers.

"Hey, dad, how has your day been?" you inquire, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek. He turns toward you, a broad smile gracing his lips, and replies, "I've had a good day, dear. By the way, I know you just arrived, but could you fetch some water for the boys?" You offer a swift nod before making your way to the supply room, retrieving the water jug, and returning just in the nick of time.

"Once again, you grace us with your presence, princess," he remarks, deftly taking the cup of water from your hand and punctuating the gesture with a subtle wink. You roll your eyes and swiftly retort, "You're well aware I'm here for my dad, Reo." Yet, true to form, it's as if every word you utter that he doesn't wish to acknowledge simply passes through one ear and exits the other. "We both understand that it's just a self-assurance you cling to, convincing yourself it's all about watching me play, princess," he asserts, using his shirt to mop away perspiration and inadvertently unveiling his well-defined six-pack in the process. In exasperation, you throw your hands up and walk away, prompting Reo to trail closely in your wake.

"And what's your desire now, Reo?" you inquire, quickening your pace in an attempt to create distance between yourself and the purple-haired man. As anticipated, he manages to intercept by firmly grasping your wrist. "Well, give me a moment," Reo pleads with puppy-dog eyes, managing to melt your resistance just a tad. Succumbing to his persistence, you let out a hurried yet slightly curt, "What is it, Reo?" He disregards your brusqueness and proceeds, "I just wanted to extend an invitation to you for the upcoming victory celebration our team plans to host." With that, you come to a complete halt, pivoting to face Reo, your arms crossed and an eyebrow skeptically raised.

"You're talking as though victory is already in the bag," you retort with a sassy undertone, the effect of which sends a subtle shiver down Reo's spine, unbeknownst to you. He relishes witnessing your pouty demeanor, the way you appear and speak when you're irritated entices him even more. Yet, he finds himself engaged in this playful cat-and-mouse dynamic and is content to indulge it for a little while longer.

"Oh, come now, you don't truly believe we're destined to lose, do you, princess?" he chimes in, grasping your hand and gently massaging your knuckles. Eager to respond, you start, "Well, I don't think your team will..." Your sentence is abruptly truncated as Reo claps his hands together, interjecting, "Well then, if that's the sentiment, I'm eagerly anticipating your presence at the party." You're about to interject and voice your hesitation, but before you can, he departs, leaving you alone with your contemplations.

Before long, the anticipated game day arrives. Just as you had predicted, Reo and his team effortlessly overpower the opposing side, amassing such a significant lead that the match concludes ahead of schedule. As the dust settles, your father rushes onto the field, orchestrating a heartfelt group embrace with the team. Glancing towards them, a grin stretches across your face as their jubilant cheers and chants fill the air.

As the post-game festivities wind down, your attention shifts to Reo, who approaches with an infectious grin. You're well aware that his next words are bound to carry a hint of arrogance. "You see, princess, I told you victory was ours," he declares, his face beaded with sweat. You couldn't deny the charm in his triumphant expression, but you're determined not to inflate his already sizable ego. Nonchalantly, you retort, "Indeed, you did make that prediction," your tone carrying a playful undertone that downplays your enthusiasm for their impressive win.

"Since victory is ours, it seems only fitting that you accompany me to the after-party," Reo proposes, leaning against the fence and casting you pleading puppy-dog eyes. In response, you playfully place a finger on his lips, your expression softening into an adorable aw-struck gaze. "Um, no," you reply, relishing the playful moment. Ignoring your refusal, Reo persists, now puffing his lips in a childlike pout, his puppy-dog eyes unwavering. The charming standoff continues until your resolve finally crumbles.

"Alright, alright, I'll go, but on one condition: you must score 10 goals in your next match," you challenge. As your words sink in, you witness a transformation in Reo. His eyes widen with a newfound determination, as if flames of passion burn within him. "Really?" he exclaims, a smile that illuminates your very soul gracing his lips. Affirming your wager with a subtle nod, Reo bolts over to your father, urgently requesting gym access to train late into the night. Observing his earnest efforts for your attention, you can't help but find his determination endearing, knowing that you hold the power to grant him his desire.

True to form, like a well-oiled machine, the much-anticipated match unfolded according to schedule. Recognizing the gravity of the occasion, you chose to sit beside your father and Chris Prince, demonstrating unwavering team spirit. The boys poured their hearts into the game, and everything was proceeding splendidly. However, when your gaze fixed on Reo as he maneuvered down the opposite side of the field to wrest control of the ball from the opposing team, you couldn't resist turning to your father with a question.

"Dad, how many goals has Reo scored so far?" Despite the initial reproachful glance, your father set aside his reservations and provided the answer. "He's netted 9 so far," he informed you. Upon hearing those words, your heart sank momentarily as your attention remained fixed on Reo, who was advancing toward the rival goal. While you harbored a certainty that he would successfully score that goal, a flicker of hope kindled within you—a hope that he might not, considering their substantial lead. After all, the opposing team was already significantly behind, making a single goal seem inconsequential.

Your hopes were nearly extinguished when you witnessed Reo clinch the game's final goal, marking his remarkable 10th score. As the team rallied around him, playfully tousling his violet hair and lifting him into the air in jubilation, your fleeting optimism faded. However, your spirits were soon lifted when the entire group approached you and your father. They expressed their gratitude to him for his unwavering training efforts and extended their appreciation to you for ensuring his availability to guide them.

A comforting warmth enveloped you, as you realized the tangible impact of your involvement in the team's journey. Sharing a sincere smile and offering a gracious acknowledgment, you watched as they headed towards the locker room. Yet, a moment before they disappeared, Reo silently mouthed, "Wait for me." Though fully aware of his intentions, you remained seated, patiently awaiting his return. After approximately half an hour, Reo emerged once again. With an exuberant grin, he sprinted towards you, sweeping you up into his arms. Beaming at you, he exclaimed, "Did you catch my performance out there, princess? Wasn't I utterly astonishing?"

"Absolutely, Reo," you reply, struggling to stifle your laughter, feeling as though you're witnessing a child eagerly showing off a newfound skill to their mother. However, the lighthearted moment is swiftly replaced when the purple-haired young man inquires, "So, are you still planning on attending the party tonight?" You hesitate for a brief moment, then tap his chest gently as a signal for him to put you down.

He responds accordingly, lowering you to the ground. As he sets you down, his facial expression undergoes a shift, prompting you to offer your explanation. "Well, Reo, I was actually thinking I might not—" But before you can finish your sentence, Reo interjects assertively, "There's no backing out now, princess. We made our little wager, and I won fair and square. I'll see you at 8, okay?" You attempt to voice your thoughts, but before you can formulate a complete response, he's already striding away, the distance between you growing too great to carry on the conversation.

With determination, you headed home, fully aware that escaping the party was out of the question. Once inside, you ventured into the depths of your closet, selecting a variety of outfits. However, after an hour of fruitless searching, you resorted to FaceTiming your best friend for outfit advice. After a barrage of reactions ranging from outright rejections to tentative approvals, the two of you finally settled on a chic velvet two-piece ensemble.

Following your decision, you dedicated time to meticulously curling your hair, and then you settled in front of your mirror to carefully apply your makeup. Just as you were about to apply the finishing touch of lip gloss to complete the look, a knock echoed through your door. Swiftly, you hurried over, deftly applying the lip gloss in the process. Unsurprisingly, upon opening the door, you were met with the sight of Reo, elegantly clad in a black suit. His coat was artfully left open, revealing a crisp white button-up shirt that wasn't fully buttoned, offering a tantalizing glimpse of his bare chest.

Raising your hand in a gesture for Reo to wait by the door, you notice his understanding nod before you hurry back to your room. With swift precision, you retrieve your wallet, select a pair of shoes, and gather some safety essentials. Returning downstairs, you subtly showcase your outfit to Reo, a sly hint that you're dressing up for the occasion, although you'd never admit to it. Your actions are a playful payback for the teasing he's subjected you to. As you reach for the door to lock it, you cast a wink his way, a subtle acknowledgment of your little game.

Soon enough, you find yourself seated in Reo's car, gazing at the city lights as they blur by. The enchanting view momentarily captures your attention, until Reo's hand gently rests on your thigh, drawing you back to reality. In response, you subtly adjust your leg, granting him slightly more access to your thigh. However, as his touch ventures further, radiating warmth, you swiftly slap his hand away, a playful yet assertive reminder of your boundaries.

"You're quite the teasing expert, princess," Reo remarks, his hand resuming its place on the gearstick. The journey leads you to an upscale club adorned with Manshine Clubhouse signage.

Gazing at the vibrant-haired man, a perplexed expression crosses your face, prompting him to explain. "One of the guys saved up and invested a bunch of money into this place. With renovations and some significant investments, we ended up with the Manshine Clubhouse."

A nod from you acknowledges his preemptive response to an unspoken question—a characteristic of Reo that you appreciate. His uncanny ability to anticipate your thoughts and provide answers creates a unique connection between the two of you.

Lost in your thoughts, you're snapped back to reality as your date playfully tugs you into the club. The sights and sounds of dancing people envelop you, allowing you to soak in the atmosphere. Just as you're considering asking Reo to dance, a group of girls materializes, engulfing you in the crowd and temporarily interrupting your plans.

Understanding that trying to rejoin Reo might be a futile endeavor, you venture deeper into the club. Your eyes lock onto Nagi's girlfriend amidst the crowd, her presence providing a semblance of comfort. Approaching her, you engage in a casual conversation, quickly establishing a rapport. As the conversation flows, you summon the courage to broach the topic of hitting the dance floor.

To your surprise, she readily agrees, and you both kick things off by sharing a shot before immersing yourselves in the dance floor frenzy. The music resonates, the ambiance is electric, and the night seems to come alive. Amidst the pulsating beats, you relish in the carefree joy of letting loose and having fun.

As the hours roll on, fatigue begins to take a toll on your legs, prompting you to express your need to take a break to your newfound companion. With the music blasting at full tilt, you manage to convey your intention to sit down, though you suspect she only caught the "sit" part, given the deafening noise.

You locate a comfortable seat and ease yourself into it, initially basking in the ambiance of the club. However, your tranquility is shattered by an onslaught of giggles from across the room. Turning your gaze, a disconcerting sight meets your eyes: Reo flanked by two girls, perched on his lap, their hands eagerly exploring his body. It's as though they're vying for his attention, throwing themselves at him shamelessly.

Strangely, an unfamiliar pang of irritation courses through you, fueled by the undeniable urge to be the one occupying that seat, engaging in those affectionate gestures, sharing kisses, and reveling in the private jokes that elicit his radiant smile. You can't deny the surge of happiness his expressions bring, yet beneath it lies a growing anger.

Watching him interact with those girls, his touch tracing their contours, as if he's committing their forms to memory, ignites a fire within you. As you observe, your frustration simmers. The disparity between your worlds becomes glaringly apparent. Reo embodies intelligence, affluence, and popularity, while you're simply a down-to-earth individual with a deep connection to your father. Doubts swirl in your mind, wondering if his professions of love are genuine or if he merely desires to toy with your affections.

However, the last straw snaps as you glance up at Reo and the girls once more. His gaze locks onto yours, as if penetrating the depths of your soul. In that moment, his lips move in a silent confession, "This could be you," just as one of the girls plants a deliberate kiss on his neck. Fueled by a surge of frustration, you seize your resolve, grabbing your belongings and marching to the exit. Dialing a ride, you step outside, the biting wind cutting through you, offering no reprieve from your emotions.

Your attention is drawn back when Reo emerges from the building, his eyes finding you amidst the darkness. With purpose, he strides toward you. "Why are you leaving, princess?" he queries, his expression a mix of bewilderment and something more sinister. It's as if he's an enigmatic force, fully aware that his actions are the driving force behind your departure, a realization that only fans the flames of his ego.

Determined not to give him the satisfaction, you respond, your words carrying an edge of bitterness. "I've had my fill of enjoyment for the night, and my feet are aching. But what about you? Aren't there two eager girls waiting for your attention?" The words drip with venom, a testament to your simmering anger.

"Well, well, well, seems you had your eyes on me, huh, princess?" Reo quips, a smug grin playing across his face. "And what if I was?" you retort, meeting his gaze with a hint of disdain, your gaze never faltering as you hold his gaze.

Unrelenting, Reo chooses to keep prodding, his determination evident. "Well, why didn't you come and join?" he challenges, further stoking the flames. It's in that moment that your attention zeroes in on the telltale lipstick marks adorning Reo's neck. As you count each visible kiss mark, a surge of anger courses through you, intensifying with each passing moment.

The mounting frustration propels you into motion, compelling you to walk away in a bid to regain your composure. Yet, as anticipated, Reo remains in pursuit, his words like arrows aimed at your vulnerabilities. "Aw, come on, princess, don't tell me a tinge of jealousy is creeping in," he goads, his words deliberately provocative. Ignoring him, you maintain your brisk pace, refusing to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his jabs.

However, Reo's provocations continue undeterred. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're developing feelings for me or something," he jests, a knowing glint in his eyes. Suddenly, his grip tightens around your arm, halting your movement despite your efforts to pull away. Struggling against his unyielding grasp, you attempt to break free, but his hold remains resolute, overpowering your struggles.

"Your silence speaks volumes, confirming my suspicion," Reo assets, stepping directly in your path. His words hit home, as they reveal a truth you've kept hidden—the fact that you've fallen for this self-assured, albeit aggravating, individual. You refuse to grant him the satisfaction of admitting your feelings, at least not yet.

Determined to evade his scrutiny, you avert your gaze, ensuring your expression remains concealed. However, your attempt is short-lived, as his hand lands on your cheek, compelling you to meet his gaze. "Oh, no, princess. You won't escape by turning away. You owe me an answer, a genuine one," Reo insists, his grip firm as he holds your gaze captive. He demands a direct response, his eyes betraying a swirling mix of emotions, the complexity of which you can't quite decipher.

Despite his persistence, you maintain your silence, unwilling to let your emotions become an open book. This stance, however, is beginning to test Reo's patience. He's accustomed to bending situations to his will, and the prolonged cat-and-mouse game is chipping away at his composure, gradually igniting a spark of frustration within him.“Well princess since you don’t want to answer me I guess I’ll just have to fuck the answer out of you and with that Reo drags you to a near by alley way.

Reo's lips curled into a seductive grin as his fingers danced along the contours of your quivering abdomen, tantalizingly inching closer to the delicate fabric that barely concealed your enticing curves. He eagerly tugged it lower, craving the sensation of his hand slipping beneath the soft velvet fabric. Your breath hitched as his fingers grazed your tantalizingly bare thighs, inching dangerously close to your aching core.

You gasped with anticipation as he boldly slid his hand beneath your delicate fabric, his fingertips caressing the slick contours of your aroused core. His head inched nearer to yours, his lips tantalizingly grazing against your earlobe, causing a delicious shiver to course through your body. The warmth of his breath, coupled with his intoxicating scent, enveloped you entirely, leaving you utterly captivated.

What do you mean, "don't want to turn you into a dumb slut just yet, princess?" He poked his finger inside your sticky cunt and laughed as he felt the tight grip of your walls on his finger.

You muttered, "Fuck," knowing that keeping your mouth shut was going to be difficult, but you were so attracted to him that you didn't want the moment to end. You were in dire need of him. You closed your eyes and murmured, "Fuck, Reo," once again.

When he started pushing it in and out of you, your breath got erratic and you started making low whimpers and groans. When Reo inserted his middle finger and sped up her speed, you tossed your head back in an instant because you wanted to hear more of the wonderful noises you made exclusively for him. And he was not the least bit dissatisfied. Once he got to the part that always made you roll your eyes back in your head, you started muttering her name under your breath.

“You’re making such a pretty mess princess , look at you” he spoke in a lower tone. The combination of his voice that sent shivers down your spine and the movements of skilled fingers caused a familiar knot to form in your stomach.

I enjoy how you stretch between my fingers. You take me so well," he gushed, his other hand raising your skirt fabric again for a better look at your cunt. He noticed that your secretions were soaking through his palm and pooling at your feet as they dropped from your thighs. He let out a whistle at the site, unable to contain his amusement.

You could hardly believe how drenched you were for him as you lowered your gaze to the spot where he met your body and moaned in horror. You knew Reo turned you on so badly, but witnessing your body respond to his touch was something else entirely.

The only sounds you made in the alley were the wet noises coming from your cunt as his big, thick fingers stretched it out. It was almost embarrassing how effortlessly his fingers slid into your cunt. And you would feel shame for it if you weren't being fucked out by him, but you didn't give a damn.

“I'm- I'm so close! Don't stop, please” you say to him as your nails dug into his shoulder blades and your eyes shut closed.

Reo whispered in your ear, "Cum for me, princess," as you finally sought your high, mouth agape and eyes closed. He didn't cease his moves on your body until you virtually begged him to stop, despite the fact that you were on the verge of passing out from the exertion.

Then, you squirt all over his hands and watch as he proudly watches your messed-up condition while pulling out his fingers and bringing them to his lips to suck them clean. You were too worn out to speak, so your face was red, your eyes were shiny, and your lips were bitten. Your dress was now only just covering your upper body, and your tits were practically bursting out from behind it.

After you had a moment to catch your breath, he lined up his cock with your now hypersensitive cunt and pushed his throbbing cock within, without giving you a chance to acclimate to his size before he began thrusting into your sloppy, wet cunt.

You started crying because the feeling of him within you was driving you mad. When Reo's left hand rubbed rough circles on your clit, he let out a series of low grunts. And his right found its way to your thirst, where it rested on your throat, making your breath heavier and your cunt tighten until you and Reo were both on the verge of cumming.

"You look fantastic in this position, like a filthy little cum slut who is just itching to be filled, but what you don’t get to cum. So feel free to cry on my cock while I decide if you can continue to breathe.

As your nails drove painfully into his wrist, you whimpered. You felt your dizziness returning slowly. When I tell you to, princess, you'll cum on my cock. While his lips were making contact with hers, he spoke. You could hear the strain in his voice, the quiet gasps.

“M’mm yes sir, promise not to cum until I’m told” you moan out with your fucked out expression which was only make Reo even more feral.

Reo repeats, "Good girl," before giving you a few more pointed thrusts. When he repeatedly lands on the sweet spot, a sound that can only be described as a scream rises up from deep within your chest. He let go of your neck a little while ago.

"Cum." The demand had barely reached your ears as your vision went white. You felt his hips stutter against your own, shooting his load in tandem with your own orgasm.

The sight of you struggling to get up with your legs spread wide and his cum leaking out of you into the chilly ground was an object of admiration as he slowly withdrew. He couldn't deny that seeing you there just increased his desire for you, but he forced himself to help you tidy up and enter your Uber, where he spoke softly.

“Once we get home, I’m going to fuck the shit out you real fucking good until you can’t say anything but my name~” you only nodded knowing that you were in for a long night.

#fanfic #fanfiction #smut #praise #x reader #anime smut #blue lock smut #bllk smut #reo mikage #reo smut #party au #club au #age g4p #angst #4k #anime

[magnetothemagnificent]

Famous Jewish royalty and nobility as Disney Princesses:

Growing up, I loved Disney Princesses, but I never saw any representation of Jewish princesses. Which was a shame, because I grew up with stories of strong Jewish women, I just never got to see their stories in mainstream media. I have two younger sisters, and I wish they could grow up seeing just one Disney Princess from our culture and heritage. So, being an artist, I decided to take the five classic white princesses, and redesign them to be five strong Jewish royalty and nobility. I decided to represent a large swath of time periods and locations, just like Disney Princess stories cover different time periods and locations, and to celebrate the diversity of Jewish history. So, let's go!

Queen Esther

For Cinderella, I chose to depict Queen Esther, because they both share themes of concealing one's identity. Esther is the heroine of Megillat Esther, a book in the Tanakh. She was forced to become the wife of the Persian king Achashverosh, but because of it she was able to save the Jewish people from genocide at the hands of Haman. Queen Esther might be a "typical" choice, but I think that not many people truly appreciate her and her story, despite how well-known it is.

Qasmuna

For Belle, I chose the poet Qasmuna, because Belle is a studious woman, and Qasmuna was a scholar and a poet. Qasmuna was an Arabic-language Andalusian poet during the middle ages. Not much is known about her, but she is one of the very few recorded Jewish Arabic-language poets of her time. Some sources attribute her to having been the vizier Shmuel HaNagid (Samuel Ibn Nagrillah)'s daughter, making her the closest to royalty as was possible for a Dhimmi at the time. I depicted her wearing lavish clothing, but also wearing a yellow shawl and a gold calf necklace to signify her Dhimmitude.

Licoricia of Winchester

For Aurora, I chose to depict Licoricia of Winchester since Disney's Sleeping Beauty takes place in England. Licoricia was a 13th century English businesswoman and community leader. She funded and lent money to prominent gentile figures at the time, including King Henry III. She is considered one of the most influencial Jewish women in her time. She was murdured, possibly in a robbery, but her murderer had never been found or held accountable. I based her outfit off of the recently unvailed statue of her in Winchester, England.

Queen of Sheba

For Ariel, I chose to depict the Queen of Sheba, since they both traveled long ways to a different place. The Queen of Sheba is mentioned in the Tanakh and Apocrypha, as well as folktales. She traveled to the Kingdom of Israel to meet King Shlomo and test his wisdom. Many have attributed her to being the woman voice in Shlomo's Song of Songs. She was a powerful and wealthy leader, and almost managed to best Shlomo in knowledge. According to tradition, she converted to Judaism and travled back to Ethiopia and led her people towards Judaism.

Queen Shelmazion

For Snow White, I chose to depict Queen Shelamzion. Queen Shelamzion was one of the last independent Jewish rulers of Judea before the total Roman takeover. Roman sources absolutely smeared her name, likely because Shelamzion was a powerful Jewish woman who opposed the Roman occupation. However, Shelamzion was a good rular, who attempted to make peace among her people, and is credited with saving seventy sages from Roman slaughter. It is said that because of her righteousness, during her rule, it rained only on Shabbat so that farmers would not miss out on needed worktime due to the rain, since they weren't working on Shabbat anyway, and that the harvest in Judea were always bountiful.

I hope you learned something and appreciate my depictions of Jewish Disney Princesses :)

I have a ko-fi if you'd like to tip, but there's absolutely no obligation.

[id in alt text]

#judaism #jumblr #jewish women #disney princesses #queen esther #qasmuna #licoricia of winchester #queen of sheba #queen shelamzion #jewish history #jewish women appreciation #my art #digital art #jewish art #education

[caapsiizzereads]

I got your heart skippin' when I'm gone

Jamie Tartt x f!reader

Words: 2,3k

Warnings: language, author’s first attempt at writing🥴

A/n: yes, the title is, indeed, a Taylor reference.

A glass of champagne in your hand, you are standing in the company of Frank, your boss, and a few other of your colleagues, chatting about how good of a job they did at setting up today’s event. A bunch of compliments are also directed at you and Frank for all of the work you’ve done leading up to this. You know you’re great at your job, but moments like this really make you feel fucking good about yourself. At 26, you can proudly say that you are the Assistant Creative Director for one of the biggest jewelry brands in England. And today your company is celebrating the launch of their latest collection that you’ve been working really hard on. The past couple of months have been terribly busy, Frank and you practically living at work and surviving purely on caffeine. But now it’s finally over, and you can just relax, look pretty (“absolutely stunning,” actually, to quote Frank), and sip champagne, while people are singing you well-deserved praises.

The company’s event team really knew what they were doing too. Natalie, your friend from PR, had been very pumped for the night, rambling about all the famous people coming. You briefly went through the guest list, of course, but, honestly, you were more excited about the open bar. But if one of those guests just so happened to be lovely enough, you wouldn't mind indulging in some of that either.

An hour into the party, you were done with all the formalities, and you could switch from your neat glass of champagne to a drink more worthy of a Saturday night. You’re standing by the bar, looking at your phone, when you hear a question, seemingly directed at you.

“Can I get you a drink?” Looking at you, there’s a guy, around your age, dyed blonde hair, pretty face, really nice bone structure. His face looks familiar, but you just can’t remember why.

You give him an amused smile, “You know that they are free, right?”

“And how am I supposed to be chivalrous in these conditions?” he says theatrically.

“If buying a girl a drink is your definition of chivalrous, maybe you shouldn’t even try,” you say, your voice full of sarcasm, but still a smile on your face.

He chuckles lightly and smiles at you, “I’m Jamie.” Really pretty smile too.

“Y/n,” as a force of habit you offer him your hand to shake. The gesture seems to surprise him a little bit, but he goes with it anyway, shaking your hand lightly.

The two of you settle next to each other by the bar with an easygoing chatter. You’ve been talking for about 10 minutes, when Jamie says that he’s a football player, and it finally clicks for you.

“Oh my God.” You tilt your head down and cover your eyes with your hand in embarrassment. “You’re Jamie Tartt. You were in our campaign a few months ago. Fuck, I’m so sorry. My memory, like, resets once the campaign is done and it’s not my problem anymore.”

Jamie smiles almost shyly at your realization. “No, no, it’s fine! I’m sure you go through a lot of those, can’t remember everyone.” He definitely remembered you, though. Not that he’s gonna tell you that. And a part of him is even kinda relieved that you didn’t because–

“On second thought, I do remember you. You were, like, 40 fucking minutes late.” Yeah, that. You didn’t speak to him directly that day, but the look on your face was the most passive-aggressive thing he’d ever seen. Honestly, could give Roy a run for his money. Except that your version also looked kinda hot. But he still would rather not be at the receiving end of that glare ever again.

“I’m sorry! I underestimated the traffic,” he says awkwardly. And to think that this has been going well…

You take a sip of your drink, giving him an unimpressed look.

“I’m not getting invited again, am I?”

“Well, you are on my naughty list, but I wouldn't write you off that fast. You attract a nice audience of sports fans and sportsmen fans.” Jamie can swear you have just checked him out. “And you have a nice neck, you know, makes the necklaces look good. But that’s just my professional opinion.”

You said it in the most nonchalant way, but you might have just become the first person to make Jamie Tartt flustered. He decides to push his luck some more.

“And your personal opinion?”

“That you were 40 fucking minutes late,” you deadpan.

No luck, then.

“So,” Jamie perks up again at your attempt to keep the conversation going, “did you have a match earlier today? Or is it tomorrow?”

“Yeah, it was today.”

“How was it?”

A smug smile appears on his face, “We won, 3-1.”

“Well,” you raise your glass, “cheers to that.”

Jamie clinks his glass to yours, “Cheers.” You both take a sip of your drinks.

“So you’re not into football then?” Jamie asks, once you put down your glasses.

“Nope,” with a dramatic ‘p’. “Don’t take it personally. I’m not really into any sports,” you say blithely.

The conversation keeps flowing easily between you two. 30 minutes later, you are pretty sure that you are taking this man home with you tonight. Jamie seems genuine, in a cute kind of way, (mostly unintentionally) funny, attractive, obviously, and there’s something about him that you just know that he would be such a good time. 40 minutes later, you even consider letting him stay for breakfast. 45 minutes later, however, you start feeling a slight headache, but fuck if you will let it ruin your night, so you decide to just ignore it and hope it will take a hint and go away.

No such luck. The universe must truly hate you, because about an hour and a half into your conversation with Jamie you feel like someone is kicking your skull from the inside. You’ve tried to ignore it to the best of your ability, but this party suddenly isn’t any fun anymore. Fuck. Your. Life. You are aware that Jamie is saying something, his voice being a steady background noise, but you don’t have a clue what he just said because all you can focus on is a throbbing pain in your head. That’s when you know that you should just give up and go home.

Jamie notices your attention slipping away and your smile faltering as he speaks. Then you look away for a moment before looking back at him with a smile, saying that it was nice talking to him and wishing him a good night. You get up from your seat and start walking away before he can even process what has just happened.

You’re putting on your coat when you see Jamie quickly walking up to you with a concerned expression on his face. “Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–”

You don’t let him finish, “No, no, no! You’re good.” Jamie keeps looking at you with an obvious question on his face. “It’s just–,” you gesture at your head with a circling motion, “my head is fucking killing me. So I'm gonna go home, take some Ibuprofen and pray it goes away.”

Jamie’s face changes from concern to understanding. You think that this is it, so you turn to leave, but then he speaks up again. “I can give you a ride?” It was more of a question than a statement.

“No, it’s fine. Really. I’ll just get an uber.”

“It really is no problem. Come on,” he’s looking at you expectantly.

You think on it for a moment and give him an evaluating look. “I’m not inviting you in.”

“Oh. No! I didn’t mean it like that! I was really just–”

“Relax. I was just making sure you don’t have any false hopes.”

“Nope, no false hopes here.”

“Good,” you nod at him.

You walk to his car and Jamie opens the door for you. He sees you smiling at him approvingly.

“What?”

“See, now you’re being chivalrous,” you say playfully before getting in the car. Jamie closes the door after you and gives himself a moment to blush in privacy. After starting the car, he turns the volume on the radio all the way down and opens a window a little bit for you. You lean back in your seat and give him a small smile, “Thanks.”

Your talk on the way home consists mostly of you giving Jamie the directions and his attempts on small talk.

“Do you get them a lot?”

“No, not really. Only when it’s the least convenient apparently.”

“Maybe it’s because you–“

“If you’re about to say that it’s because I don't drink enough water, I'm jumping out of this car at full speed.”

Jamie’s mouth opens, closes, and opens again. “Actually, I was going to say…” he pauses again.

You raise your eyebrows at him, prompting him to go on.

“I was going to say… that it’s probably because of your hard work schedule, yeah. You know, having to deal with people being 40 minutes late and everything.” He throws a glance at you, checking if he’s managed to save the situation.

That makes you chuckle, despite the pain it causes. “You know what, I think you might be right.”

Soon, you’re parked by your building. “Thanks for the ride. It was really nice to meet you,” you say, before opening the car’s door.

“Yeah, you too,” he smiles at you.

Jamie spends another minute parked by your building. It’s only after you disappear from his view that he realizes that he hasn’t even gotten your number. He sighs and bumps his head against the steering wheel.

Meanwhile, you’re just glad to finally get your hands on some painkillers and flop on the couch, waiting for your head to stop throbbing. But an hour later, when you feel like a person again, your mind goes back to Jamie. You really liked him, huh. Hypothetically, you can look up the paperwork for the campaign he did, and his contact information should be there. Realistically, you should probably just let it go.

On Monday everything goes back to normal. After the workload that you had to deal with before the launch, the lack of a hundred points on your to-do list and constant burning deadlines almost feels like a vacation. And judging by the laid-back atmosphere at the office, you’re not the only one who feels this way.

You go out for lunch with Natalie, and after she’s done catching you up on all the fresh gossip, she can’t help but ask about your chat with Jamie Tartt. You tell her that’s exactly what it was, just a chat at the party.

She looks at you like she knows something you don’t. “That’s interesting. Because Keeley Jones, you know, from KBPR, called me earlier today to ask for your number.”

You give her a look that says “is this supposed to mean anything to me?”

Natalie dramatically rolls her eyes like it couldn’t be more obvious, “KBPR represents Jamie Tartt!”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes.

“Excuse me, have you seen yourself in that dress? I totally would ask for your number too.”

You smirk at her, “You have my number.”

“And now so does Keeley Jones. All I’m saying is, if you’re not interested, let him down easily. ‘Cause I'm totally planning on using him for more campaigns. Have you seen those hands?! They were meant to put rings on them. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you–”

You start cackling before she can even finish.

It’s just after 6pm and you’re getting in your car when your phone rings, you don’t recognize the number.

“Hello?”

“Hi! (Y/n) (Y/l/n)?”

“That’s me.”

“Hi! It’s Keeley Jones, from KBPR. Natalie gave me your number.”

“Right, she mentioned. How can I help you?”

“It’s more of a social call, actually. Jamie asked me to ask for your number. You know, Jamie Tartt, the footballer? He said you met at the brand party the other night.”

You smile to yourself, “Yeah, no, I remember him.”

“I was just gonna check if it’s okay with you?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Thanks for asking me first, though.”

“Of course!”

Keeley then congratulates you on your launch, and you tell her that she should totally come to the next one.

Not even an hour later, another call, another unknown number.

“Yes?”

“Hi. It’s Jamie. Tartt. We met–”

“I know. Did you ask Keeley to ask Natalie for my number?” you ask teasingly.

“Maybe…? The alternative was to wait for you outside your building, but that would be creepy.”

“Yeah, better not do that.“

“Right. Uh, how’s your head?”

You chuckle at the question, “It’s fine.”

“Good, that’s good.”

“Mhm,” an amused smile is growing on your face.

“So… I was gonna ask, do you want to, I mean, if you’re not busy, maybe we could go out for dinner?” You can easily tell that he’s nervous, it’s quite cute actually.

“Alright,” the easiest yes you have ever said.

“Yeah?” Jamie wants to smack himself in the face for how hopeful that came out.

You chuckle again, “Yeah.”

“Cool. Uh, are you free tomorrow?”

“I can do tomorrow.”

“Fucking mint. I will pick you up? At seven?” You can hear the excitmenet in his voice.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he grins.

“See you tomorrow then,” and if you’re smiling then there’s no witnesses and no one will prove anything.

“Yeah, see you,” and if he’s grinning like an idiot then it’s no one’s business.

“Oh, and Jamie?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be fucking late.”

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt imagine #ted lasso fic

[mountsmason]

Conflicting Emotions; Part 1

summary: it was the world cup quarter-finals, with your national team England playing against France. so it was less than ideal to have a French boyfriend, as it would leave one of you completely dejected.

pairing: any French player x reader, slightly mason mount x reader

a/n: needed some angst in my life so I wrote this :))

The final whistle blew, signalling the match was over. A sudden heaviness overcame your body as you inhaled a shallow breath.

England lost the quarter-finals against France.

The atmosphere divided into two, with half the stadium erupting in sheer euphoria while the other half fell silent. Utter devastation spread amongst England supporters, as this was the outcome we were all dreading. You heard your heart shatter at the sight of your national team collapsing on the ground in anguish, trying to console themselves after having lost their chance at winning the World Cup.

You truly believed the England team gave it everything, so you were inexplicably proud of what they had achieved. All you wanted to do in that moment was hug each of them and reassure them that they played incredibly well with so much determination and passion. You glanced around the stadium, your eyes landing on your ex-boyfriend Mason, who had his face buried in his hands as the French team celebrated behind him.

Seeing Mason vulnerable like that reluctantly revived the memories of the Euros final— the same pain and heartbreak. You remember how Mason was inconsolable for days after the loss, taking a while to come to terms with how close they were to winning the final, but you were there to constantly reassure him. Despite it being a difficult time, Mason made sure you knew how much he appreciated you being there for him. A few months later, you two mutually agreed to break up and still remain good friends.

In an attempt to drown out the noise and memories, you squeezed your eyes shut while a stream of uncontrollable tears rolled down your face. Everyone’s hopes and dreams for England winning this year’s World Cup ended the second the whistle was blown. The noise didn't seem to quiet down, so you lifted your heavy eyelids, to see the French players sprinting chaotically around the pitch in a frenzy of celebration while the England players were consoling each other.

Your gaze drifted between different players, and that’s when you saw him. Your boyfriend had that perfect, irresistible grin tugging at his lips as he embraced his team; a sense of guilt washed over you. He is through to the semi-finals, so as his girlfriend, you should be ecstatic for him, yet here you are completely heartbroken at the result. Dare you say, you feel a slight resentment toward his national team. It's not fair on him, and you're well aware of it. He’s worked equally as hard as the England team to get to this stage, so you should be proud of him.

At that sudden realisation, you wiped away your tears with your sleeves before he noticed you. But it was already too late; he had seen your tear-stained cheeks, and his smile immediately faded from his face as his expression softened with worry. Under your breath, you muttered “shit,” knowing that you had ruined this moment for him.

Giving him a small smile, you pointed in the direction of the French team, telling him to enjoy himself and celebrate. He didn’t move. His gaze remained fixed on you as his brows furrowed, trying to study your expression. You gave him a more genuine smile and mouthed “go,” tilting your head towards where his team was. He slowly shuffled backwards in uncertainty, a small laugh escaping you, as he was still staring at you to see if you really were okay with it. And you were; at the end of the day, you loved to see him succeed, even if that meant winning against your own team.

The England players didn’t waste any more time on the pitch as they came into the stands, where their families and friends were waiting for them. You were also sitting here with Sasha, as you became close friends with her when you were dating Mason. While you were talking about the match with her, you saw some players trying to put on a brave face as they managed a faltering smile before completely breaking down when being comforted by their family and friends.

Mason dragged his feet up the stairs to meet his family, who were seated in the row in front of you. For a split second, your eyes met his red and puffy ones, and you knew he was in a worse state now compared to the Euros final. You watched him melt into his mum’s arms as she hugged him tightly, while his family members all took turns reassuring him and reminding him that he's done the nation proud, regardless of the result. Shortly after, Jack made his way upstairs, instantly looking for comfort in Sasha’s arms.

Mason stood on the stairs when he was finished talking to his family. He was covering his face with one hand, and rubbing his eyes while his back rested on the handrail. You took this opportunity to talk to him.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” You spoke gently with a reassuring smile as Mason moved his hand away from his face.

“Not too bad,” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

“Really Mason? You’re forgetting I can tell when you’re lying,” you tilt your head in the direction he was staring, trying to get him to look at you.

“I’m okay,” his voice was frail and quiet as he continued to avoid your gaze. Mason’s eyes were glossy as he fought back tears, his bottom lip trembling ever so slightly.

"Just come here," you reach up to wrap your arms around the back of Mason's neck, pulling him in for a hug. That’s when he gave up his pretence of being fine, as he didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around your waist to hold you close. He buried his head in your shoulder, letting out a muffled sob that only you could have heard. The sound of Mason breaking down was enough to flood your eyes with tears, so you had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from turning into a sobbing mess.

As your attention was fixed on Mason, you didn't notice your boyfriend watching the two of you. He was aware of your history, and because of that, he didn't know how to feel. From one perspective, he understands how a huge loss can be so devastating, so Mason will need everyone there for him, even if that includes you. But on the other hand, he can't help but feel a little jealous considering Mason was your first love and everyone knows you don’t forget them. So he was torn in that moment, the same way you were about England losing and France winning. But before his mind can conjure up the worst, his friend drags him back into the group celebration.

“You did great, all of you; you should be so proud of yourself,” Mason simply hummed in response, taking in rapid and shallow breaths as you felt your shirt dampen with his tears.

"You've given us so many amazing memories to look back on in the future. It wasn't meant to be this time, but there's another World Cup just around the corner," you reassured him, not knowing whether your words would make a difference to how Mason is feeling right now.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, because you've done us proud, you've done me proud," you felt Mason's breathing become more even against your skin.

The two of you stayed like that, with no-one interrupting you. Mason had forgotten how safe he felt in your arms, the way it silenced everything around him, and suddenly everything became more bearable. A few minutes passed before Mason lifted his head to look you in the eyes.

"How do you do it?" Mason asked, searching your eyes for the answer.

"Do what?" Your voice was barely a whisper as you brushed away the tears from his face.

"You always know exactly what to say to make me feel better," 

“It’s not difficult when I’m being honest,” you shrugged your shoulders, giving him a smile he found impossible not to return.

"Thank you, it means a lot to me that you are here," you pulled away from the hug as his grip on your waist loosened.

“You don’t have to thank me; I’m just doing what any good friend would do,” you replied, as your gaze wandered around the stadium, watching some fans begin to leave. Mason winced at this; for those few minutes, he forgot that you two were not together anymore.

"Yeah, friends," his voice was monotonous as he looks onto pitch to see your boyfriend still celebrating. You were about to say goodbye, but Mason had something else on his mind.

"Why are you with him?" His question caught you off-guard, an icy contempt flashing in his eyes.

"Mason—" you began before being interrupted.

"No, seriously, why are you actually with him? Do you guys even have anything in common? Surely you can do better than that," he narrowed his darkened eyes as they burned into the back of your boyfriend’s head in envy.

"That is my boyfriend you're talking about, and you don't know the first thing about our relationship. I’ll let your comments slide just this once because I know your emotions are running high, but next time I won't hold back," you scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief as you grabbed your handbag and explained to Sasha that you would call her later.

"Y/N, I'm sorry!" Mason called out as you walked up the stairs and out of the stadium.

➪ read part two here

#mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount oneshot #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fic #england nt #footballer imagine #france nt #mountsmasonfics #antoine griezmann imagine #antoine griezmann x reader #antoine griezmann

[urdrowning]

reconcile / l. williamson

AN i apologise for the quality. i am very much hungover as i write this. and idc if its mid february let me use this christmas gif my girl is ADORABLE my god i need to be in leah williamson’s arms RN

requested? - yes

word count - 2.5k (i’m proud of that)

—————

sarina had finally announced the england squad for the AC cup. you were elated to see you’re name listed. having recently recovered from a broken ankle, you were barely getting playtime. it’s as if nobody believes you’re truly fully healed, especially with jonas keeping you as pretty much a permanent bench warmer. knowing that sarina trusts you and you’re abilities is like a wash of relief and you’re over the moon. you assumed leah, your girlfriend, would be celebrating with you, as she’s repeatedly campaigned for your wellness and ability. but now it feels like it’s all been a lie.

you were out visiting your best friend, alex scott when you found out, she unsuccessfully attempts to lift you up in a hug of congratulations due to her shorter stature. you thank her before you realise that you have to go home and tell your girlfriend (even though she already knows, she’s on the same squad. but she’d pretend to act shocked for you anyway) excitement rushes through you as you practically ran to your car and sped home (which may result in a speeding ticket, but who cares, you’re gonna be playing for england).

rushing into your shared flat with a giant smile on your face to tell your lover the news, you’re greeted with a frown on her face before she utters

“you can’t do it y/n, you’re not ready.”

the smile drops from your face and it makes leah’s stomach twist with guilt, but she refuses to let it show and remains staring at you with a stern gaze.

“you.. i- what?”

you spluttered in shock. where did this come from? for several weeks she’s been by your side, fighting for you to get playtime.

“you can’t do it. you’re not ready to play in a tournament like this yet.”

your pride seems to shrink as you begin to fill with anger. how could she? all of her support and for what? just to belittle you and your abilities?

“are.. are you serious right now, leah?”

you hated this. you’re not a fan of conflict in general, but with your girlfriend? a nightmare. the thought of her being angry with you making your world feel as if it’s shattering.

but the anger that courses through you almost crushes the dread you feel, you’re justified in this argument, she isn’t.

“dead serious. you need to call up sarina and tell her you can’t compete. you’re not ready and sarina should’ve realised that”

she sighs. she hates this as much as you do. she hates to be the reason you’re upset, but she is adamant in her opinion.

“why? why, leah, am i not ready? because i have been working my ass off for weeks and you know this!”

you’re raising your voice, making her wince slightly, it goes unnoticed by you due to your unbridled anger and she scoffs at your lack of empathy as she snaps at you

“because you’re not capable enough! there’s a reason you haven’t been getting playtime you know, it's because you’re not trusted, y/n! you’ll slip on your ass and injure yourself again, you’ll put the whole fucking team in jeopardy, and i’m not ready to lose because of you being a loose end.”

word after word is like a stab in the gut. hearing it from a normal teammate? painful. but hearing it from your girlfriend? agonising.

“oh.”

you try to hide how your voice is raw with emotion, but you know it’s a futile attempt. she hears it anyway. she reaches out for you slightly.

“y/n..”

you move away from her touch, cold and distant. you don’t look at her, your gaze fixated on the floor. you know that one look in her blue eyes and you’re gonna break.

“don’t. just.. don’t.”

your voice shakes as you move away. you can’t be here right now. you can’t be around leah.

so, what do you do? you grab your car keys, turn towards the door and leave. leah doesn’t move. she doesn’t try to stop you. she’s dug her grave, she may as well lay in it.

you sit in your car for at least 6 minutes before you start the engine. tears fall from your eyes and warm your face. it feels as if your heart has been ripped out of your chest, you feel as if you’ve been stabbed in the back. out of all the people to doubt you, leah? the person you love most? why did it have to be her.

you wipe the tears off of you, take a deep breathe and drive. you don’t know where you’re headed, all you know is that you need to be away from leah.

why you ended up at alex’s house once again is beyond you. but here you are, sat on your bestfriends sofa, crying in her arms.

“i’m sorry, y/n. she’s being an absolute dickhead. you’re more than capable and she should know that better than anyone.”

she holds you tightly as she rants. vehemently disagreeing with leah, defending you so passionately. it’s as if she retired from playing as a defender in football to become your own personal defender instead.

“i appreciate it al but in all honesty i’d rather forget about it. i’m tired, i just wanna scream into a pillow for the rest of the night.”

she laughs lightly as she releases you from her tight grip, nodding at you.

“you know where the spare room is. stay as long as you need, okay? love you”

she truly means it, and although it’s not what you need, the small statement makes you feel a bit better.

“thank you, al, love you too. night.”

she squeezes your arm lightly, mumbles goodnight and leaves you to your own devices. you sniffle slightly and head for alex’s spare room. which has practically become your bedroom with the amount of times you’ve stayed here.

the minute you walk in you can do nothing but collapse on the bed, the past few hours have been a whirlwind of emotions and it’s drained you of any energy you possessed. you glance at your phone to check the time, only to be greeted by your lock screen, a photo of you and leah. she’s hugging you from behind, kissing your cheek as you close your eyes, smiling. you groan at the image as it causes more tears to spring to your eyes, you attempt to block the photo with your hand as you check the time to see that it’s only 5:54 pm. you sigh and contemplate your options.

you could either, stay in the room, look at photos of leah, cry and binge watch pitch perfect. or, you could simply just sleep and pretend that today’s fight never even happened.

you choose the latter, as the crushing weight of reality is too much to deal with.

…

so maybe sleeping it off wasn’t the best idea you’ve had.

after about 5 minutes of you forcing your eyes shut, and trying to force your mind to be calm. you realised that you can’t sleep without leah’s presence which then causes you to get emotional again at just the thought of her (you’re a little unstable there babes, but it’s okay, we don’t blame you!)

you text alex, asking her to come hold you again. you can hear the thumps of her footsteps before she opens the door and slides onto the bed

“i’m sorry about this.”

she smacks you playfully. opens her arms for you. you slot yourself into her arms and sigh. it’s nice, but it isn’t leah.

“don’t apologise, y/n. you’re my bestfriend. i’m here for you.”

you murmur a thank you as your eyes grow heavy. the emotional exhaustion mixed with the comfort of you’re best friends touch sends you into a deep sleep.

——————

you wake up to raised voices, the sounds making your newfound headache 10x as painful.

memories of the previous day flood your mind as you sit up in bed, you feel better after having rested, but still, the memory of the fight and what was said crushes on you.

shaking your head to clear yourself of your thoughts, you try to listen in to the voices from outside your door.

“i don’t trust that you won’t snap on her again though”

that’s alex, she has a protective tone to her voice

“i won’t. just, please. let me speak to her.”

you’d recognise that voice anywhere. anxiety fills you as you realise that she’s hunted you down. of course she has. you ran out on her. she’s probably come to end things with you officially.

you hear alex sigh.

“.. fine. but if you upset her, you’re out.”

of course she managed to find you. of course you would go to alex’s house. leah knows you better than you know yourself. she’s your other half, and now you’re about to lose that. it’s crazy that even after all the horrendous things she said to you yesterday, you’re sat here in anxiety about HER leaving YOU. god, the grip this woman has on you is insane.

a knock on the door ceases your inner monologue.

“come in.”

you cringe at the sound of your voice. the hoarseness of it is not at all pleasant.

the door starts to open and you see her shadow before you see her. your mind goes to overdrive. this is it, the end of the best 4 years of your life. she steps in the room and she’s holding something behind her back, you close your eyes, not wanting to see the box of your things she’s most likely collected. you’re not ready for this to be over, not willing to accept your reality. with a sigh, you open your eyes slowly to see that instead of a box, she’s holding.. flowers?

“for you.”

she looks shy. you look confused. if the tension from yesterdays argument wasn’t there, you’d have both laughed at each others faces. but instead you glance at the flowers in her hand. red and yellow tulips, your favourite.

you take them from her, clutching them tightly, you whisper a thank you.

“leah, what are you doing here-“

she cuts you off, talking quickly.

“i need to talk to you, will you hear me out? please, just listen to me.”

you nod, gesturing for her to continue. you won’t talk, you’ll let her say what she needs to say. you’re not in the wrong here, she is.

“y/n, i- .. i’m so sorry. i love you, i love you so so much and i am so sorry. you have every right in the world to be angry with me, i mean shit, i’m angry with myself. i can’t believe i let my emotions take control of me, i don’t think you’re a burden. you’re everything to me.”

she’s nervous as she speaks, stammering and playing with her fingers. it reminds you of when she first asked you on a date, over 4 years ago, she was shaking with nerves.

your voice is small when you speak, taking her words into account but also remembering the cause of the argument itself.

“so why did you say those things leah? why don’t you think i’m good enough to play?”

she frowns and shakes her head, her eyes are looking at your hands, clutching the flowers she’d given you tightly.

“i should never have said anything like that. you’re more than capable of playing, i mean hell, you’re incredible. i was just being selfish.”

she’s determined. she’s got a mission in her mind, and leah’s too competitive to give up on her mission. she’s not going to stop trying to earn your forgiveness.

“selfish?”

you’re even more confused. you can’t begin to understand.

“yeah, selfish. y/n, you mean the world to me. i love you more than i love anything. when you first broke your ankle during the match against chelsea and i saw you get carried off on that stretcher.. it was awful. seeing you in pain, it scared me so much. i know you’re healed now, but i’m scared, i don’t want you to get hurt again. i cant stand seeing you in pain and suffering.”

you sit there and process what she’s told you. taking in all the information, her fear of your health.

“my god leah, you need to learn how to be straightforward.”

you laugh at her. you need to teach her how to communicate better. she lets out a laugh. you’re not sure whether it’s because of your joke or if it’s out of pure relief, but the sight of her smile is enough for you to not question it.

“maybe i do.”

she smiles at you, still standing infront of the bed, looking at you. suddenly aware of how awkwardly she’s been stood there, you roll your eyes at her as you reach over to grab the hem of her shirt.

“get over here, idiot.”

you don’t have to tell her twice, she gets into the bed and melts into your arms. she buries her face on your chest as her arms wrap around your middle. you rest your head on the top of her own, gently stroking her back as you lay together. a contented sigh leaves her.

“i was so nervous. i was worried you’d not want to ever see me again.”

you smile slightly, both glad to know that you weren’t alone in your worries and glad that she values you so greatly, that she fears the thought of not having you in her life.

“not a chance, we’ve got too many plans together. i can’t really become y/n williamson on my own, can i?”

leah lifts her head from your chest as she moves her hand to cup your cheek. she gazes at you with an enamoured look in her eyes.

“i adore you, y/n.”

she leans in and your lips meet. kissing leah is unreal, her lips fit against your own perfectly, and almost every kiss with her is as special as your first. she pours so much passion into the kiss, as if she’s trying to portray how much love she has for you through it. you move a hand to her hair as the kiss deepens. you’re both in a world of bliss until a sock smacks the side of both your faces.

“oh no, you are NOT doing this in my house!”

alex stands in the doorway, hands on her hips looking like a very disgusted mother.

“ugh, alex! what’s wrong with you!”

you groan, your face flushed with embarrassment as you bury it in leah’s shoulder. leah laughs at you, her face flushed with both embarrassment of being caught and excitement of being with you.

“come on y/n, let’s go home, yeah? i’ve got some more presents for you back in our flat.”

she gets up and offers her hand towards you, you take it, smiling.

“gladly.”

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson fanfic #woso fanfic #woso imagines #woso x reader #woso community #woso #lionesses

[saintmuses]

❝𝙣𝙤 𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙢𝙮 𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣, 𝙄’𝙡𝙡 𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙬𝙡 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙚𝙧❞

Pairing:

William Killick x Dylan’s Sister!Reader

Summary:

William had to cross the countryside of Wales to England to save Y/N Thomas from Dylan’s drunken rage, not knowing he would place her in another dangerous territory until it was too late.

Warning(s): SMUT. P in V. Slight age gap (5 years between Reader and William). Possessive!William, and he is dark as well. Mentions of trauma bond, implied abuse (from Dylan). Deaths of Dylan and Vera. Minors, dni! Note: don’t mind my mistakes on trauma bond and separation anxiety :(. Trauma bonding was discovered in 1980s, and I’m only using the part of emotional addiction, dependency and trust in trauma bonding due to how William ensures being her safety net. Therefore, pretend the knowledge of trauma bonding and secondhand trauma exists in 1940s, and I would be implying modern therapy in this fic in order for this to work due to how horrible therapy was in 1940s especially with women. As much as I adore sweet William, I absolutely love dark version of him as well.

Word Count: 2.5k

1947

The fire was blazing in its warmth, as if there was nothing smothering it, casting a soft orange glow around the room, leaving the corners dark and untouched at the cottage.

He was sitting down on gaudy furniture, holding a tumbler of amber liquid, observing the movement of light.

He was aware of her standing by the doorway, he knew she was feeling out of place at the moment as he felt the weight of her gaze as it landed on him.

He couldn't stand the scrutiny he could feel radiating off her.

In response to the tension, his fingers tightened around the glass, only to release his grip slightly when he heard a subtle echo in her footsteps.

"We need to talk, William." She whispered. 

The words carried to his ears, sounding afraid the words that held so much weight would pierce the world that surrounded them.

It could.

That night when he had returned to the very town in England that caused him nothing but bitterness of the memories that were lost a long ago, swearing to the bottom of his heart that he was going to protect Y/N from her brother to ensure she would live.

Vera had told him that Y/N sent a letter to her, pleading for her help to save her from the alcoholic rage her brother would have ever since losing Vera.

He had only met her briefly during Dylan Thomas’ birthday celebration at the pub where they frequented before he left for the war. She was pretty, but timid that he barely paid any attention to her presence.

He left his warm kitchen that night, leaving the imprint of the memory at the kitchen table and the chair, not knowing it would change everything he thought he had known.

The world was fleeting. Regimes rise and fall, he tended not to be fazed by it especially after the war. Tyrants still exist to this day, ruling with an iron fist along with kings and queens representing a lie as figureheads to politics and scheming. Another way to say the world had gone to shit, but God, she was beautiful.

He had saved her just in time, reaching for her floating head in the clawed bathtub. Her hair was floating covering his hands as he pulled her out of the tub, her face revealed black and violet prints.

Ethereal beauty, as if she was a siren beckoning him despite the flaws of the abuse her brother had put her through.

He then took her away after giving her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, turning her body over as her body rejected the liquid. Away from the life she had lived, away from the ones that caused her nightmares.

Leaving everything behind with little regards.

He also left Dylan on the floor, drunken with drool leaking out from the side of his mouth before leaving the house on fire along with a hole in his head where it should’ve been the first time, he had attempted to shoot him. Fortunately, Caitlin and her children were out of town when it happened.

It was a secret he was going to carry to his grave if there was ever one for him.

His little need to protect his love from the horrors of the world had consumed him especially after what she had gone through. It was a parasite borne out of the need after witnessing her experiencing the near brush with death that night several moons ago.

What he had failed to calculate in his need to protect her, is how he was not able to protect her from the one person who served the biggest threat to her life.

Him.

The one person he had thought would've been her brother.

Oh, but he was mistaken.

He was wrong.

It was him all along.

Now there was an obsession that was highly volatile. A need to own her every move, every sweet gaze that he only wanted to her sweet eyes straight at him. He wanted to own it, every beautiful piece of her and leave nothing else for the rest of the world to have.

Of course, he had tried to control himself as best as he could; However, he could not outrun his impatience despite telling himself that he could.

There are some things he could carry patience for and there are things he could not.

He protected her from the world, but he couldn't protect her from him.

He was done trying to control the monster crawling out of his soul to consume her.

She could have his heart if she had the stomach to take it, even when he had already given it to her that night.

She trusted him, he knew that. However, her trust she blindly bestowed on him would severely damage if she had found out the truth he held from her.

The reasoning why Vera was gone in the middle of the night as well.

Y/N, for all of the generous parts of her, needed to help him to take care of his child Rowatt.

It had been six months since he had committed an act of murder against Vera who was buried far away that no one would think to find her body and kept it like a secret in the form of an oath.

It wasn't until one night the dynamic between them had changed when she came to him in the middle of the night, and confessed she was having a nightmare.

It wasn't until she quietly begged him to stay in the same bed as her. Begging him implicitly to taunt his monster that resided in his soul.

Being susceptible to sweet charm of hers, he gave in.

After it was all said and done, he knew it by then. Even prior to her going in town to meet up with a psychiatrist, he held it from her.

He had kept his distance, at least a foot between them, so stiff the tension taunted him of how close she was and yet so far at the same time.

Somehow, she grabbed his hand, tugging his arm with all of her strength which ended up with him rolling over and laid his arm across her waist from behind, keeping a respectful touch to it.

All she had said was the word please.

Needless to say, his control over the beast that resided in him snapped.

He pulled back enough to guide the tip of his cock to her entrance before sliding right in. He nearly growled as her wet, molten walls stretched open to envelope his cock, struggling against his girth, but accepting the intrusion eventually.

Her hand shot back to grab onto his thigh, trying to keep him from going too deep, but he had no intentions of holding back now that he was inside her.

He enclosed her wrist with his fingers, guiding her hand towards her chest before wrapping his arms around her and held her tightly.

"Love," he purred his pet name for her into her ear as his hips met hers. "This is mine," he murmured as his breath kissed her ear.

He could hear her gasping and felt her shuddering in his arms, his eyes falling shut as he withdrew slightly before thrusting again, incredibly slow but as deep as he could from this position.

He'd imagined this in his mind and in his dreams whenever he slept, for so long and now that he had her...he couldn't ever let her go. Finally caught in his golden cage, a wild bird that would still sing.

Every inch of her was like heaven, every moan was somehow more beautiful than the last, and all his.

A wild bird that sung beautifully.

"You're doing so well for me, love." He patronized her, growling slightly when he pressed deep into her pussy. His fingers tightened on her hips, dragging her into him as much as he could so the tip of his cock hit the deepest parts of her. 

He nearly shuddered when Y/N whined, a long-broken noise, and he leaned towards her neck in response, pressing his lips to her damp skin while trying his best to make her sing again. “You don’t want to wake up Rowatt.” He panted, thrusting faster, and slamming his hips against hers more forcefully.

His keen sense of hearing picked up on her whimper that managed to escape from her lungs, and he groaned through his teeth.

He leaned back slightly before reaching down with his hand to spread her buttocks apart so he could see his cock stretching her out, pushing into her pliant body. The sight of it made his head fall back for a moment, inhaling sharply before he pulled her close again and started thrusting with a brutal force.  He reached around and brought two fingers to her clit, rubbing it fiercely as he kept thrusting.

"William," she gasped, arching her back in response.

He hummed a little in approval. "Y/N, you're so beautiful looking like this," he praised, jerking his hips harshly. She cried out and shuddered, pushing herself on his cock, meeting his thrusts. Amused by her desperation, his thrusts slowed down.

She whined and kept going, her buttocks slapping against his hips loudly in a clear desperation. His fingers were still rubbing her bundle of nerves, he could feel her walls starting to clench down on him rhythmically and her body beginning to shake.

He leaned towards her neck, pressing his lips against her skin once more before his lips pulled back, revealing his blunt teeth, he then sank his teeth into the curve of her neck hard as he could to mark her. To ruin her.

The blood dripped into his mouth. It was at the point where he realized his teeth successfully made its mark into her skin that his eyes rolled back into his head.

The absolute second he heard her cry out in alarm, twinged with pleasure as she reached the peak, he grabbed her and rolled both of them over until she was on her stomach, and he was brutally fucking her into the mattress as he still refused to detach from her neck.

He could still feel her pulsing around his length, gripping him tight and pulling him deeper. He withdrew his teeth from her neck, grunting against the mess of her skin.

"Y/N, you feel so exquisite," he purred, pinning her down by the back of her shoulders as he sped up even more.  He laughed lightly when he felt her walls weakly fluttering, his balls hitting her swollen clit with each thrust. "You are a needy little thing, wanting more even when I'm tearing you apart," he taunted as he gave a brutal thrust.

She whined in response. "William," she gasped his name, sobbing hoarsely. "Please don't stop..." she moaned weakly as she begged.

"Oh, I won't stop," he assured her. "You'll never have to beg me for it. I will always give you; you have my word on that, Y/N." He murmured darkly, leaning towards her ear. "You take it so good, love. You were made for me."

He could hear her swallowing, "I want us to be real." She confessed softly, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. The furniture is relatively average, so there was a little room between him and her.

He refused to look at her ever since the truth of their connection had been revealed.

Secondhand Trauma Bonding. Her psychiatrist had called it. He was angry when Y/N came to him about it.

"This type of bond occurred due to emotions you’ve had for me after the night I found you in the bathtub and I didn’t stop you from depending on me. So, whatever we are...we are very much real." He stated in a flat tone, placing the tumbler down onto the coffee table in front of him. "Isn't that enough for us?"

There was a pause. He could hear her heart pounding as she contemplated the words to say to him. "William, I want this to be real, not some...influence from the trauma bond I imposed on you."

"What do you want me to do?" He snapped, asking her with an angry tone as he glared into the fireplace. "The bond is borne from the emotions you’ve experienced from your brother. You couldn’t help but to find a safety net which is me. So if you think it is wrong…" he muttered, trailing off. "I don't know what to do, Y/N. So, tell me, if you do know."

Lie.

He knew how to stop the bond induced by the emotional ordeal from trauma which she had depended on him for, but he simply just did not want to.

"I do." She exhaled softly, wringing her fingers. William had to tramp down the urge to reach across and take her hands into his.

He had a feeling he would not like her next words. "I talked to Caitlin earlier," she hesitated, giving him a brief glance. "She told me that there is a place for me at her home so we could lessen the dependency on the bond we have. That way I can work on myself then…" The rest of the sentence faded out as the noises coming out of her voice droned out as his gaze on the fire grew with an intense focus.

Damn it all to hell. Of course, even when Dylan was already long in ashes, Caitlin Thomas would be the one to start trouble. 

He nearly growled, abruptly slamming down the reaction before it could escape from his chest.

He should let her go.

He was a gentleman, he told himself, scoffing internally knowing the truth.

He had to do the right thing and let her go. That way she could get better like she wanted to, that she deserved, then she could come back to him.

He understood where she was coming from. The bond they both shared influenced their separation anxiety that they were rarely apart from each other until one day it all came crashing down. However, his fear of the unknown is gripping him.

He knew of his emotional attachment to her. 

He was not afraid of the fact that his feelings might’ve not be real because it was. It occurred right before she even began to depend on him for the bond that existed between them. He was afraid of her feelings for him.

What if it disappeared after the time and distance apart as she worked on herself?

The thought of it washed over him with a ferocious force of anger that it nearly knocked the breath out of him.

The orange glow wavered slightly in the air as if it could feel his anger brimming on the edge through his veins.

He could feel the tendrils of possessiveness wrapping around her, tightening their reins on her fire that was brimming but not roaring enough to break away from the shackles that was him.

She wasn't going anywhere.

Never.

"It's not going to happen, love."

#william killick x y/n #william killick x you #william killick x reader #william killick #the edge of love #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy

[reminiscingtonight]

Half A World Away (Pt. 2)

Lucy Bronze x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Bet y’all thought I forgot about this, didn’t you?

Part One

[WOSO Masterlist]

“You left.”

The last thing you thought after accepting the party invite was that you’d run into your ex.

Okay that’s a bit of a lie, given the fact that you know how close Jordan and Lucy are. Or the fact that this was clearly a Lionesses party. They were celebrating their World Cup win so it would’ve been weird not to expect one of the newly crowned winners to be at the party. 

But the last thing you thought was that Lucy would actually seek you out and corner you in the bathroom minutes after you and the rest of your entourage entered the bar. Like you have to go when you have to go, but something about how the door slams open not even a minute after you enter tells you that Lucy definitely did not need to pee.

Lucy sounds accusatory. Angry. But all you can see is the hurt deep within her eyes.

You knew it was a gamble, leaving England without telling Lucy. But the two of you shared many friends. She was bound to hear about it eventually. Plus, it’s not like you had any obligations to tell her. She threw away any rights she had to know about your life when she broke up with you.

Still, you can’t help but snap back. “You left first.”

“I came back and you were gone.” Something about Lucy’s tone has you narrowing your eyes at her. “When Jordan told me you left Arsenal I didn’t believe her. But I came back and you weren’t here.”

“Are you serious right now?” you scoff. “You left first, Lucy. You. Not me. Don’t try to make me out as the villain when we both know it’s not true.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do.”

“Then what are you doing?”

Lucy’s silent for a moment as she ponders your words. You’re expecting slouched shoulders, a despondent sigh, a mumbled excuse. Instead, Lucy squares her shoulders, and then what she says feels like a suckerpunch straight to the gut. 

“I love you.”

You don’t allow yourself the luxury to bask in her declaration. So what if she loves you? Those words used to make your heart sing, they still do, but they also come with the sharp reminder that she threw it all away. And for what? 

“Why now?”

“What?” Lucy looks taken off guard, not expecting such a short response to her admittance of love.

“Why now?” you repeat, ire growing with every second. “What’s changed, Lucy? Because from my point of view, nothing has. The only difference is while you’re still in Spain, I’m in the United States now.”

Lucy goes to interrupt you but you don’t let her.

“Distance is something you didn’t want to do,” you remind her. Lucy’s face falls at your words. “Seattle’s much further than London is, so as far as I’m aware, nothing has changed.”

Sighing, you lean against the sink. Lucy looks properly chastised by now, and as much as you hated kicking a girl when she was down, there was still one burning question on the tip of your tongue. 

“You know, Jordan told me about your plans to propose.”

If possible, Lucy’s face pales even more. 

“I spent weeks wondering why you never did, why you broke up with me instead of trying to make the distance work. God knows you loved me enough to ask me to marry you, you should’ve loved me enough to want to make this work.”

You wipe angrily at your face, catching a few tears of frustration before they could slip down your cheeks. 

Lucy’s hand comes forward, instinctive in her attempts to soothe you. You jerk away before she can make contact. As much as you crave her touch, you know you can’t let your heart rule your actions. 

The hurt in her eyes instantly makes you regret your actions, but neither of you have a chance to do or say anything else before the door is slamming open. 

Jill pauses, eyes darting between the two of you. 

“Oh, sorry. I don’t mean to interrupt.” The tension in the room is clear enough that Jill knows something’s going on. 

“Don’t worry about it, we were just finishing up.” 

Before Lucy can stop you, you’re pushing right past her and back into the bar. You pretend you can’t feel Lucy’s gaze following you through the crowd.  

---

It’s the pounding that wakes you up. 

Shooting up in bed, your legs tangle in the sheets before you can get your bearings. You hit the floor with a thump, letting out an annoyed groan. 

You don’t remember what time you got back from the party. 

Everything after you left the bathroom is a blur. The shots you took. The dancing. The partying.

Really, all of it helped to serve a dual purpose. On one hand, you had to battle the disappointment of not winning the World Cup. It was crushing, being so close but not making it out of the semi-finals. But on the other, the partying was especially helpful in masking the big Lucy-sized hole in your life. 

The last thing you remember is Rose shoving you into your bed, muttering something about how you owe her fifty cups of coffee when you get back home. 

You yank open the door, ready to tell off the person on the other side. You’re left blinking blearily through the bright hallway lights when you realize who it is. 

“I miss the way you used to smile at me.”

Lucy looks like she came straight from the afterparty. She’s still dressed in the same clothes she was wearing when she cornered you in the bathroom earlier. 

You didn’t have a chance to admire it before. She looks dashing. Hot. She always does. You were too busy trying not to cry earlier that you didn’t really get a good look at her. 

But in your still half-asleep daze, you can’t help but appreciate the way she looks right now. 

“I miss waking up to you lying on top of me.”

You’re actively aware of how underdressed you are. There’s a slight draft coming in from the hotel hallway and you have to fight the urge to burrow yourself back into your blankets.

“I miss everything about you, and I don’t think I ever told you how much I loved you when I still had the chance to.”

It’s that sentence that jolts you back into the present. You suddenly remember where you are, who is in front of you, and the words she’s saying.

“Lucy--”

“I love you.” This time when she interrupts you, there’s a look of determination in her eyes. “There isn’t a moment I stopped. And you’re right. I wanted to ask you to marry me. I still do. But the truth was, I-- I was scared. I was scared that if we did long distance, if we tried to make things work, you’d learn that you didn’t want this. Us. That the distance wasn’t worth it. So I… I ended things before you could.”

Lucy lets out a quiet sigh and you don’t miss the way her fingers seem to itch to reach out for you.

“I know now that none of this is worth it if I don’t have you waiting for me to come home to. I don’t want to be playing on the other side of the world if it means not having you. Not being with you. I’m so sorry for everything. I love you.”

A loaded silence follows her confession. Lucy’s looking at you with the biggest eyes, and it takes everything in your power not to just forgive her right there.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you sigh instead, not sure if you even have the mental capacity to have this conversation right now. 

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” Her response is instant.

As much as you’d love to just slam the door in Lucy’s face, there’s also the part of you that knows you’ll just end up regretting it if you do.

Stepping back, you let Lucy slip into your room before you’re closing the door. This is definitely a conversation you’re sure your hotel neighbors wouldn’t want to hear.

You have to brace yourself before you turn to face Lucy again.

“Luce, I meant what I said earlier. Nothing’s changed.”

Your words were spoken with anger earlier. Now though, now there’s a quiet resignation behind them. 

You both knew the truth. Long distance relationships are hard to work with. Rebuilding a relationship while doing long distance? Well that’s even harder.

“What if I told you I’d be willing to leave Barca? That I’d be willing to come play in Seattle?”

Lucy’s words take you by surprise. You know how hard she worked to get to play for Barcelona. That team’s always been a dream of hers.

 You’re instantly frowning. “Then I’d tell you not to.”

Lucy’s eyes widen when you round on her, jabbing a finger against her chest.

“What the hell are you thinking, Lucy? I’m not letting you leave Barcelona just to fucking be with me. I turned down offers to go to City for the same reason you turned down offers to go to Arsenal. We were never willing to sacrifice our careers, the relationships we’ve made with our teammates, for each other. We didn’t do it then, and I’ll be damned if we started now.”

“Then what do you want me to do? I love you, and this is me getting down on my knees,” Lucy drops to her knees just to prove her point, “begging you to take me back. Let me make up for breaking both of our hearts.”

You’re mad. Madder than you’ve ever been. To think Lucy thought you’d want her to give up everything she’s worked so hard for? Maybe she didn’t know you as well as you thought she did.

There’s really only one thing left for you to do. One thing you know will get your point across.

You kiss her.

It’s obvious Lucy’s not expecting it. She gasps out quietly against your lips before she’s kissing you back with fervor, standing when you tug her back up to her feet.

You let her back you up until you hit the wall, sighing against her mouth.

Oh how much you’ve missed this.

Her hands drop from yours, loosely grabbing hold of your hips as you drape your arms around the back of her neck. It’s almost as if you just can’t get your body close enough to Lucy’s. Her body against yours is a familiar and comforting feeling, but no matter how hard you pull her towards you or how tight you press yourself against her, you just can’t get close enough.

You’re not sure how long it is before you’re turning your head, trying to catch your breath. It’s a bit cute how Lucy chases after you, not wanting her lips to leave yours so soon.

It isn’t until your hands push gently at her shoulders that Lucy stops with a start.

Her face twists into one of alarm when she notices the tears on your face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

You shake your head, laughing wetly into the side of her neck. 

“God, you’re an asshole, you know that?”

She falls silent, nervously looking back at you. 

You lean in again, slower this time, pressing a quick and soft kiss upon her lips.

Lucy all but melts against you.

When you pull away, you watch as she hazily blinks, eyes a little out of focus.

“You’re not coming to Seattle.”

There’s a crinkle between her brows, but Lucy slowly shakes head. “I won’t.”

“You’re staying at Barcelona.”

“If that’s what you want.”

You have to shut your eyes then. Lucy’s looking at you as if you hung the stars up in the sky, adoration shining in her dark eyes. It hurts to have her looking at you like that and you’re just so goddamn tired of this. Of fighting what you know is a losing battle. “What I want is for you to just love me.”

You don’t make it easy for her. 

A couple years pass and you’ve long retired from the national team when she finally makes the move overseas to join you. Despite your love for England and your time with the gunners, you never make a move to return to the place you now fondly think of as the ‘place where everything started.’ You argue with Lucy when she tells you she’s leaving her club team in England, knowing her national team days are limited now as well, but she just brushes off your concerns and plants a kiss against your forehead. 

By the time Lucy joins you for your last couple years in Seattle, the two of you have long gotten married, a simple affair done in her hometown, with only your families and closest friends in attendance. 

It’s not easy getting to where you’ve gotten, countless screaming matches and tearful make-ups littering the bumpy road to recovery, but you guys somehow make it. Lucy somehow gets you to fall even deeper in love with her, and you somehow get her to do the same with you, all of your friends gagging whenever they catch you still being disgustingly in love with each other.

Your story began and ended when Lucy charmed and then broke your heart in Manchester, the plane that took her away only making things worse until she could try to make it better again. Your story ended and began again with closure and acceptance on the other side of the world, closure for the things you couldn’t fix and the acceptance that maybe the two of you had to break before you could truly start again anew, painting over the cracks before you could see the beauty in the way you loved each other.

It’s a soft story riddled with bumps in the road and detours every here and there, but there’s no other type of love the two of you would want, because this is the one the two of you share. And sharing that love is enough for the two of you. It always has been. And always will be.

#lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze imagine #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #Ace writes

[futbol16]

My baby sister ・ Leah Williamson

Based on this request, somewhat a part 3 to 'Wildest Dreams' . This is a lengthy one.

Request: "Can we please have a second part of Wildest Dreams it was so good 🥹 Maybe one during the friendlies and reader gets a head injury and know Lucy, Leah and the girls have to reflect their most important player and light of the team possibly being gone, just angsty with fluff, I would be insanely thankful"

Part 1 I Promised

Part 2 Wildest Dreams

Word count: 2.6k

You were excited to go into the friendly against the US, the rivalry between the two countries  fueling your team’s hunger for the win.

Sarina had a solid game plan, one that you all trusted even with some of your teammates being injured, but you weren’t the only ones missing players. The USWNT had their best, Alex Morgan, out as well as many other key players.

This didn’t mean that the match would be any easier.

Lining up in the tunnel of the stadium you stand behind Millie as you take a deep breath, eyes closed as you try to let go of any nervousness you have and focus on the game ahead. A hand makes its way into your’s before giving it a soft squeeze and you recognize her touch. 

“You’ll do amazing babe, show them who's the best!” Leah encourages you and you smile at her thankfully, pressing a discreet kiss to her shoulder. 

“Thanks Lee. You gonna be watching?”

“Yepp, I just wanted to wish you a goodluck before I make my way up there.” she tells you with a soft smile and she gives you a small wave as the ref signals that you’re about to walk out.

It felt amazing to be playing at Wembley again and you see a similar prideful look on your teammates faces as they take their positions.

You take your place as the attacking midfielder after doing your handshake with Beth and your eyes zero in on the ball as the whistle is blown.

England seem to be off to a great start and you’re running through the US players when Beth sends a pass your way and you quickly scan over the players in front of you then send the ball forward to Lauren who takes the shot and scores the first goal of the night for England. You celebrate it with a few of your teammates and as you look up you spot Leah clapping with a smile on her face.

It doesn’t take long for the other team to equalize though as Sophia Smith catches a loose pass for Georgia and she successfully puts the score to 1-1. You make your way towards Georgia as you see a disappointed look cross her face and you place a hand on her shoulder as you reach her.

“Hey G, it’s fine it happens to the best of us. Just don’t forget to get your revenge.” you tell her with a pat to the back and you nod to her when her expression morphs into one of determination.

“I’ll get it done.”

And she does, exactly 6 minutes later in a penalty goal, though not before your sister gets a boot to her face. What a wonderful way to celebrate her 100th cap, you think to yourself. 

You and Beth work your asses off running up and down, giving assists, shooting, but no shots on goal are successful.

The US doesn’t rest either, their goals continuously being offside.

You do make your own appearance nonetheless. You’re dribbling past four players while also keeping an eye on Beth who’s running close by, but when you finally make your way through the many American players, you decide to do it yourself and with the angle you have your shot reaches the top right corner of the goal before falling into the net behind.

You dedicate the goal to Lucy for her 100th cap and point to her with a gleeful look. You catch Beth who jumps on your back before the others join you as well. 3-1 for England in the 75th minute of the game. 

The game quickly takes a turn in the 82nd minute when Georgia attempts another goal. You watch as the ball slightly curves the wrong way and you jump to head it in, you don’t register the shove until you’re trying to catch yourself on the goal post.

You fall into the arms of Alana Cook and she gently lowers your now limp body to the ground. She straightens not even a second later with panic written all over her face and she frantically waves for the medical team. 

It takes a second for the Lionesses to realize that it’s one of their own laying on the turf, but a good number of them immediately surround you. 

“What’s going on?” Lucy asks with a confused look as she jogs over to Georgia. The brunette only shakes her head at that, she couldn’t see from the amount of white and blue jerseys standing around the scene. 

Lucy makes her way over to them, pushing players out of the way until she stays frozen in her step at the sight in front of her. 

There you lay, unconscious with blood pouring out of your head at an alarming rate both Chloe and Alana have their hands pressed against your forehead as they try to stop the bleeding. 

She’s quick to get out of her shock and kneels next to you with a terrified look and she fears the worst as she places a hand on your chest. She lets out a sigh of relief when she feels you breathing, but the relief is short-lived as the blood makes its way down to the grass below you.

“No, no come on Y/N, open your eyes!” she cups your cheeks as tears fall from her face. The medical team seems to take forever to get to you and when they finally do they listen to Lucy pleading.

She stays by your side even as the medics tell her to make more space for them and she listens until a shout catches her attention.

“It wasn’t on purpose! I swear!” She looks over to where most of the Lionesses are and watches as Millie shoves the girl, also shouting in her face.

“You knew what you were doing!” the blonde seethes and doesn’t budge when Rachel and Alex try to pull her away.

“Was this your doing? Are you the one who hurt my sister?!” Lucy is in the shorter girl’s face who looks terrified at the angered look on her face.

“It was an accident!” 

“Naomi!” one of her teammates warns, but it’s too late because Lucy shoves her to the ground. 

The referee blows her whistle and hands both of them a yellow card before she directs Bronze towards where you’re currently being placed on a stretcher.

Your team watches as the young US player is subbed off and then watches as you’re carried off the pitch leaving your sister silently crying.

“She’ll be okay Luce, she might be small but she’s one hell of a fighter.” Keira tries to reassure her.

Up in the stands Leah wobbles on her crutches as she makes her way down to where she saw the medics disappear to and when she finally reaches them she hurries over to you.

Her heart breaks at the sight, although the bleeding has stopped, the rag on your head is almost completely soaked red and she tries to keep her own tears at bay.

“Miss, would you like to go with her? To the hospital?” one of them asks and she eagerly nods, taking her place next to you in the ambulance.

Once you get to the hospital though, you’re separated from her as she’s told to wait in the waiting room while they take care of you.

That’s where the rest of the team finds her, and she looks over at them, still clad in their England kit and Lucy still has her cleats on.

“Where’s she?” 

“Hello, can I help you all?” a nurse interrupts with a kind smile as she takes in the lot standing in the middle of the hospital.

“We’re looking for Y/N Bronze.” Keira answers first.

“Y/N Raffaele Tough Bronze?” She questions and waits for a nod of confirmation before  continuing.

“Follow me, she’s in room 258, it will be to your right once you reach the second floor. She hasn't woken up from the light anesthesia and the pain medication yet, but she is okay and will most likely gain consciousness in the next hour or so” the nurse fills them in while standing in the elevator and then she lets them into the room they have you placed in.

Leah is the first to get to your bed and she reaches out a hand to caress your cheek before she feels Georgia gently push her into the chair next to your bed. “Oh god love, I’ll end whoever did this to you.”

“I think Lucy’s already taken care of that.” one of the girls joked lightly.

Your sister slowly walks over to you, reassured by the heart monitor beeping regularly and she takes a second to look over your bandaged up head. She sighs as she wipes another tear away and gently places her hand on your thigh, a reminder that you are actually there.

The lionesses watch the two people next to you with soft looks on their faces and some of them take a seat in the few chairs, others opting to sit on the floor instead.

Keira also guides her girlfriend to sit down. The group sits in silence for a few minutes before Georgia speaks up.

“You know, I wish to be at the level of football that Y/N is at. I mean, I know that she’s not much older than me but since the first time she stepped foot in a professional football match, I’ve wanted to be as good as her.”

The younger girl explains with a happy smile on her face and Lucy chuckles. A few of the younger girls also voice their agreements, the room erupting with chatter as everyone shares their own story with you.

“I met her only last year, well officially that is. When I made my debut for the team, she was the first one to approach me and helped me learn the ropes of being on the national team.” Ella continues. “Lessi already knew because she was in the squad before me, but she also admires her a lot.”

Lucy listens with a proud smile, her eyes welling up at the love her little sister is receiving, even if you can’t exactly hear them yourself.

She’s sure everyone has taken their turns at least two times when they suddenly all turn to her with expectant looks, she clears her throat. Keira places a comforting arm over her shoulders, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“Y/N’s always wanted to be like me, she wanted to have her hair in a bun during matches, wanted to have the same color cleats and such. She wanted to speak to me in Portuguese when we were younger, our secret language that most people around us wouldn’t understand. Said she wanted to be like me because she wanted to be the greatest, like me.”

she chuckled at the memory, a fond smile gracing her lips and the rest of the girls listened to her intently. “She might be a good 6 years younger than me, but if it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be playing football today.” Lauren looked at her confused. 

“Why?” she voiced.

“When I transferred to Lyon she wanted to come with me because she didn’t want to play in a different country as me. So she asked for a loan from Arsenal knowing that the French club was also interested in her. And she was so happy when we made our debut together, god she was so young.” Lucy spoke, her voice full of pride.

“She eventually extended her contract and stayed at Lyon for the whole 3 years with me and when I got that knee injury, she was the first one at my side, she helped me through my rehab and pushed me to not give up. I wanted to quit, I felt so alone with the pandemic and all, but she never let me and it’s thanks to her that I’m still able to play professionally.”

“Wow, she really does have this superpower to lift others up.” Millie spoke with a surprised look on her face.

“Yeah, she’s the best baby sister I could’ve ever asked for.”

“So wait, if she wanted to be so much like you, how come she’s a midfielder?” Beth asked.

“She wanted to be the one scoring the goals.” Lucy answers making your team laugh.

“And she does it pretty damn well.” Keira added.

“I don’t know if you’ve ever heard her story behind her jersey number.” Leah speaks up and they turn to her with a shake of their heads. “She said she wanted a part of you to always be with her.” Leah said to Lucy.

“And your number for England is 2, she has three siblings so she chose the number 6. Multiplying the two numbers together. She even asked if she could have that number for Arsenal as it was mine, and of course I let her have it.” The blonde finished with a chuckle of her own, holding your hand in her own.

“I never knew that, I thought she just liked the number because her birthday is on the 6th.” Your sister spoke with surprise.

“Well I mean 6 is a pretty good number.” your hoarse voice was heard and Lucy immediately got up on her feet, getting to you as fast as she could before practically collapsing on you.

You stroke her back as she cries into you. You list Leah’s hand in yours and press a kiss to the back of it, reassuring her that you’re okay.

“Why are you crying Luce?”

“I failed to protect you, again.” she said with a sniffle, Keira’s hand now joining yours on her back. 

“Luce, it’s just how the game is, you won’t always be able to protect me.”

“I know, I know.” is all she says and the others take her silence as a chance to voice their own worries and you reassure them all that you’re okay and only needed to get a few stitches.

When they finally leave the room to get back to the hotel, you’re left with your three best friends who all help you get ready and discharged.

Your sister hasn’t let go of your hand since, even holding on as you make the short walk back to the hotel. 

“Just so you know, you’re not allowed to step foot on a pitch for the next two weeks!”

“Lucy!”

“Nope, no excuses.” you’re again about to protest when Leah interrupts you.

“She’s right. And even the doctor said so.”

“Who’s side are you on?” you question playfully and she shakes her head at you with a smile.

“At least I won’t be sitting alone on the sidelines.” the four of you laugh at that.

As you arrive at the hotel room, which you realize is your sister’s, Keira guides you into bed, insisting for you to be on bed rest even though you’ve been released from the hospital and you give in after a while.

Similar to last time, the four of you spend the night in one room and as you turn the bed lamp off you’re pulled into a kiss, one which you smile into. Pulling away you peck the blonde’s lips a final time before lazily draping an arm over her waist, careful of her injured leg.

You'd be out for a week or too, and sure, that sucked, but it would suck less with your best friends next to you.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #lucy bronze x reader #engwnt x reader #england lionesses #futbol16

[swayziiwriter]

Party Monster | Trent Alexander-Arnold

summary: you and Trent don’t get along, not a single bit.

WARNING: 18+, sexual content

You were here to celebrate Englands very own Jesse Lingard's birthday. The club was filled with people here to celebrate the football stars birthday, you had been good friends with Jesse for years becoming quite close with the England team. Well, at least with most.

"Happy birthday Jesse" I shouted over the loud music while giving my good friend a hug handing his gift over to him. "Ah y/n thank you" he responded grinning back, "y/n" a mocking voice called out. I was called back by the sound of Trent's voice, "Trent, I didn't realize you acknowledged anyone but your self these days" I called back. Trent smirked, as if he couldn't piss me off any further.

"Settle down you two I m not paying for any damages inside the club, you get me" Jesse said in an attempt to suffocate the tension that had now come up. "Wouldn't think of it" I respond with a smile, walking away from Trent's view I headed over to greet Marcus and his fiancée.

Damn I need a drink, I thought to myself. Something to calm my nerves. Trent was good at pissing me off, his constant remarks towards me, his mocking smirk, his annoyingly sexy smile that could make you feel things you didn't want. You would never want him, you couldn't. There has been a mutual dislike between you and Trent since you two has the great displeasure of meeting each other.

It was a petty fight that could have been easily forgotten about if Trent wasn't such a stubborn ass. He was cocky beyond belief, always a new girl tied around his finger anytime he attended a get together. You loathed the girls that he was always parading around with, they were all more obnoxious then the last one.

Trent had made a comment about how you were jealous that those girls weren't you, that really set you off. Since then you and Trent haven't gotten along, the sight of him enough to make you want to leave the country. Though, you couldn't let him ruin tonight. Tonight was about celebrating one of your best friends birthday, and you were not about to spoil a perfect night of dancing and drinking.

"A round of shots and some limes please" you ordered at the bar on a drink run for the rest of the team ready to crack down on some bets. "Lemme help you with those" Trent spoke over the blasting music. I looked over my shoulder to see Trent standing dangerously close to me, hand placed on my waist as if he was trying to claim it. I moved his hand off my waist, pushing him back with a finger.

"Leave me alone Trent, I don't know why you've suddenly become fascinated with talking to me, but i'm not having it" I replied, my voice laced with curiosity to why he was suddenly trying to make nice with me. "Can I not want to turn over a new leaf?" "Leave what happened in the past?" Trent quickly replied back.

The scent of his cologne clouding your thoughts, you needed to get away from him as fast as possible. I fully turned around, now facing him completely. "I tried that Trent and you didn't want any part of it" "well, new year new me" Trent smiled back still clung to your side, you laughed in response. "Liverpool has a better chance of winning the league this season then you "turning over a new leaf" I swiftly replied back, grabbing my tray of shots back to the group leaving Trent dumbfounded at the bar.

•

"Party monster" now blasted through the club, prompting everyone to get on the dance floor. I took a last shot of tequila before heading to the dance floor ready for a night spent with my friends partying and forgetting all about how Trent had made me feel earlier in the night.

I was between Lucia and Tolami, swaying my body to the music focusing on the lyrics. My thoughts were suddenly taken over by Trent. I couldn't stop wondering about where he was, what he was doing, or more who he was doing. I looked over to where most of the team sat, as if he had heard my thoughts, there was Trent. He was watching me, a smirk playing evidently on his face. As if his thoughts were the same as mine.

I suddenly felt insecure. Wondering how I looked right now, was my hair still in place, was my makeup still showing? I tore my eyes away from Trent, telling the girls I was getting another drink shouting over the song still playing. I felt hazy as the clicking of my heels followed my fast pace towards the bar in desperate need of something to calm my nerves.

"Can I get a cosmopolitan please" I ordered, once again faced with the bartender that had also been eyeing me the entire night. He handed me my drink grabbing my other hand as I went to tip, "I haven't seen you here before" he spoke.

Surprised by his actions, I didn't reply back right away. I laughed awkwardly, "I'm here for a friends-" before I could finish Trent ripped my hand away from the bartenders grip grabbing my waist bringing it into his. "She's here with me, you get it" he said, his hand never leaving my side.

"Low it man, I didn't know she was taken" the bartender gulped. "Yea I'm sure that was it, well now you know" "so don't ever put your hands on her again, you understand" Trent harshly said walking me away from the bar down the hallway where I was quickly pushed up against a wall.

"Trent you have no right-" I was again cut off, "I have every right when my girl is being gripped by another guy" he responded. Sliding his hand up my body, toying with the strap of my dress. I scoffed, "your girl?, when have I ever been your girl Trent" I replied, his name rolling off my mouth with a distaste.

"Don't play stupid with me y/n" "I know you saw me staring at you, I know what you felt" he whispered the last part into my ear, chills ran up my exposed back, the air suddenly becoming hot and the tension hotter. Our faces were inches apart my breathing now steady, Trent brought his hand up to my face before smashing his lips onto mine closing the gap between Us.

The kiss was demanding, hot and passionate. Trent grabbed my ass as Ilet out a gasp giving him an opportunity to put his tongue into my mouth. I barley had time for air as he recovered much faster then I did. Football gives you good stamina, "Trent" I breathed out. "Y/n" he responded back.

"I want more, I want you." I said, my voice trembling as he left open mouth kisses down my neck, moaning at the contact. His tongue worked so good against my neck, I wondered what it would be like where I needed him most. He pulled back looking into my eyes before grabbing my ass again, "get your things" he responded with a sexy smile, his eyes dark with lust.

Trent's apartment was quickly turned into a mess, our clothes scattered all over the floor as we made our way to the bedroom. Eager to feel relief and finally give into our sexual desires.

Trent was now under me, breathing heavily as our naked bodies clashed between our kisses. I made my way down his neck, leaving marks for a reminder of tonight. I then reached his abs leaving a trail of kisses down his toned chest, my nipples becoming hard as he gripped them. I placed a kiss on his hard cock, licking the pre cum that dripped down.

Trent moaned softly before swiftly flipping us over, his tall figure now looming over me. He left kisses all over my breasts before taking my left one into his mouth while massaging the right. "So good Trent" I moaned out, Trent slowly leaving my breasts.

Trent moaned softly before swiftly flipping us over, his tall figure now looming over me. He left kisses all over my breasts before taking my left one into his mouth while massaging the right. "So good Trent' I moaned out, Trent left my breast to catch my lips into another passionate kiss. "I want you y/n" Trent whispered into my chest, "then take me" I responded.

Trent lined up with my dripping pussy before thrusting harshly into me, leaving me a moaning mess at how much he filled me up. "So full Trent" I moaned out as his pace sped up hitting all the right places.

Trent continued to pound into me as he leaned down to leave kisses all down my neck as I pulled at his hair earning a low grunt that turned me on even more. I was wrapped around his dick as his hands roamed all around my body unsure of where to place them, the pleasure was too good.

"So close" I moaned out to Trent. "I know, me too" he said before grunting as we both hit a new angle making my legs shake at the feeling.

"Fuck, me Trent" I shouted praising him as I climaxed, my eyes rolling to the back of my head. My nails leaving marks down his back as he continued to chase his high.

Trent came with a loud grunt, my name falling from his mouth as he coated my walls with his thick load. He leaned down towards me before pulling out and flipping me over so that I was on top of him once again. "y/n, would you like to join me in the shower?" Trent playfully asked. "Of course" I softly replied back as I gave him a long soft kiss.

#Spotify #football #football smut #smutshot #oneshot #england #trent alexander arnold #trent alexander x you #football imagine #trent x reader #trent alexander imagines #imagine #hotmen #soccer #world cup #smut stories #the weeknd #party monster

[beardedmrbean]

Ravioli/raviolo anon here. It occurred to me that I never followed up on my story of how I escaped my roommate's various attempts on my life and I managed to dodge them all like some drunken Mr. Bean. (Is that what I said? I hardly remember, lol. For the record, I don't really drink so much anymore. After I walked home from a birthday celebration a few years back (it wasn't a rager or anything, the bar was just across the road and my birthday is in February so we didn't want to go far) and coldcocked my dome running at top speed into a fence (I was trying to make it into the exit gate before it closed, didn't realize there was a post that came out horizontally across because I don't see very well on account of the fact that I wear colored lenses), I cracked my skull and you can still see where I hit the fence (on my head, I mean, it was a wrought iron fence so I assume I didn't damage it but I never checked), so that's when I realized it was time to slow down).

So it WAS a true story, (I don't really watch television or read much though so if it does resemble a piece of media, I wouldn't know it, lol). Anyway, since I tend to ramble, I will make an effort to keep this in the realm of "less than a novel" but I can't exactly make any promises. I don't know how to add a "read more" or anything fancy like that so in the interest of shortening it I won't be offended if you screenshot only the important parts or even just don't answer it, lol.

There's a little bit of backstory about how I ended up living with the roommate and why he wanted to kill me, long story short he was in the hole about $1600 with me because he bought a motorcycle from me but was "still making payments" on it. He suggested I come room with him in this cheap apartment while we both drove for UPS for peak season. He got fired day two on the job, and so after that he planned to rob me as soon as I finished the season. (In addition to never paying for the bike). I'm a simple guy, though, so I really only had my truck (worthless) and a mattress, and I was just working for the love of the sport so I sent all my checks to my mother and had her send me back a hundred a week. So he can't rob me, so he decides at this point he's mad enough to kill me, and thinks himself pretty clever and that he can do it without getting caught.

About a week into this nonsense, he tells me he's got a job interview in NYC or something, he's gonna be gone tonight, whatever. I'm like, fine, no big deal, hope you get the job, buddy, I'm pretty terrible at this whole UPS thing so I'll be back at midnight or something when I'm done my route. I get home, and I'm about to go to bed, and that's when I decided at about 1AM I sincerely want a grilled cheese sandwich. So I got up, drove across town, and went over to a buddy's house for grilled cheese at 1AM. Come to find out we had a gas leak all night and my roommate is just VERY SHOCKED that we BOTH happened to be out, what are the odds. I'm all "hey, man, God is good, I'll drink to that, get me another beer".

Not long after that, I finish my route at who friggin' knows how late, I'm the last guy in the lot, even the security guards have gone home, and my truck (which cannot be locked, I don't have a key for the door so I leave it unlocked) is, what the heck, locked. I have no way of calling my roommate (same reason why I drove across town to find my buddy instead of just calling and asking: I didn't have a phone at the time), and it's looking like I might just freeze to death out here because it's -3F and it's after midnight in New England, so there's nobody out and about. Well, nobody, except this old Russian guy who sees me standing next to my truck, asks if I need help, and when I tell him I'm locked out, he tells me he's been in prison a few times for carjacking and will get me into my truck in no time. Which he does. So I bring him home with me and we have a beer (he had a few more than me, I had to work in the morning. You know how it is.) (And for the record I have never driven under the influence. I didn't go to college, my CDL is all I have. I don't dick around with that.)

So at this point, my roommate is pretty pissed. I'm either too hammered or too tired to notice. UPS is really kicking my ass. It's finally Christmas time, time to celebrate the end of peak season with a trip to the bar, oorah. He gives me a bottle of Poland Springs and says to drink the whole thing, it's water and we're gonna be drinking hard tonight, gotta hydrate or die-drate, bitch. I knock it back and wouldn't you know it, that son of a bitch didn't give me water, this is straight Everclear. I get to the bar and I'm already sick, I go straight to the toilet and barf all over the place. Somewhere along the line I went up to the bar and started dozing off, at which point they kicked me out, so roommate says "don't worry, I'm gonna take him home". Not sure what the plan from there was, tbqh. I DO know that I realized about halfway out of the city that we weren't headed back to our apartment, and that we were headed towards either Connecticut or NYC, and I told him I wanted to go back home because I did NOT want to go to NYC because if we were going to NYC, that meant we were probably going to watch Eric Andre with his boring cousin in Queens and I was really not in the mood. I'm pretty sure he planned on dumping me somewhere on the highway where I'd freeze to death, and I was slipping back and forth out of consciousness, but I was SO consumed by how badly I did NOT want to go to Queens and watch Eric Andre, I called the cops and told them I was being kidnapped to watch Eric Andre. They were more concerned about the kidnapping part for some reason, (criminal restraint, I think is actually what they called it), caught up to roommate and I halfway out of Clifton Park (we'd apparently been doing 110MPH on the freeway and he was swerving all over the place) and he got arrested.

The next morning the cops told me I should press charges, but that meant staying in the state (because I'd have to be there when it went to trial) and I had other plans. So, I let karma do its work on the roommate (no idea where he is now or what's become of him, but I do know he lost his license and later blew every cent he had on some raffle scam for a Toyota out in California), packed up my stuff, and moseyed on.

I'm marathoning The Twilight Zone with a friend online today (watching the same eps on the same service) this was wilder than any episode I've seen ever.

#anonymous #unhinged story time #this is incredible #waiting for more story to come #if there is any

[shoshiwrites]

my dear, I'd like to submit a Touches prompt: "#35 grabbing the other's hand to pull them back to them" for anyone who tickles your fancy. just need that sorta passion in my life 🥹

I just want to apologize for the fact that this actually is not entirely the prompt, but was 100% inspired by it — I owe you one ❤️ Bucky Egan/War correspondent OC, also on Ao3! Set a little bit after this prompt. Featuring Jo with some new mail and Bucky having some thoughts and feelings about that.

The Clarion starts running her picture with the new pieces. 

She doesn’t hate it, but at the same time it doesn’t quite look like her, the posed portrait she’d sat for in London with her hair pinned back her uniform pressed. She’s more herself in the photos Kay takes, under the cloudy English skies. But she can’t argue with it either — a uniform means something official, and isn’t that what they’re working for? To be taken seriously, to get what the boys are given without having to fight tooth and nail for it, without jokes about lipstick or hair products or a million other things on top of it.

The problem with the picture now, though, is that everyone knows who she is. Not a celebrity, that idea is laughable, but named. Josephine R. Brandt, The Clarion’s Woman in England. 

They’re like name-tags too, the adjectives used to describe her and her fellow reporters in bite-sized news items. Marian Brenner is always petite, and Kay is statuesque. Marjory Manning is titian-haired, which always gets a laugh considering Marjory makes no secret that it comes from a bottle. Jo is brunette, and pert. That word always makes Kay choke a little on her cigarette, peering at Jo and the dark circles under her eyes.

She’s spent the last few days amongst the women of the Clubmobile, sleeping in an extra bed dragged in and photographing, rather amateurly, their truck and living quarters. They were much more accommodating to her than they should have been, especially when Jo attempted to work the fryer in the name of journalistic exploration. Thankfully she was much better at cleaning, with no qualms about rolling up her sleeves. 

Her hair still smells like grease as she sits in an empty mess hall, picking at one of her nails and ignoring the stack of letters beside her. Her photographs wouldn’t quite capture what she’d tried to in her writing: the smell of perfume and the lingering fryer grease, hair tonic and newsprint and cold evening air, the blankets and bedrolls and towels hanging, tables with books and magazines and framed photographs, small pots of rouge, rosaries, hair combs and extra socks. A sprig of chicory sitting in a drinking glass, the blue flowers starting to wilt at the edges.

A name. A picture. What she hadn’t been thinking about — fanmail. 

It was ridiculous, the pile Kay had passed along to her in London and the one she was now patently ignoring next to her elbow. Next to a copy of the paper, a newer one with the picture.

She’d always gotten responses to her pieces back home, whether that meant someone arguing with her about a labor statistic she’d quoted or offering their own version of a recipe back when she’d been on the society pages. Now, overseas, with her name and her picture clear as day, it was like a switch had been flipped.

The only thing that she didn’t have to worry about was William.

The ring was sitting at the bottom of her trunk, buried under a sweater. Tatty had offered to run it over with the Clubmobile, but Jo got worried about the tires. Helen had suggested the fryer. A WAC with strawberry blonde hair voted for a storm drain. Biddick had plans that involved Corporal Lemmons and an unknown quantity of explosives. Douglass, inexplicably, had volunteered to make neat work of it on an upcoming mission. She had no idea how he’d even found out. 

Well, she isn’t wearing it anymore, right?

“Thought I’d find you in here.”

She looks up to see Egan making his way through the doors.

“Someone looking for me?”

He glances behind him and smiles, like it’s obvious. “Yeah, me.”

Maybe she knows better by now than to ask what he’s ignoring to be here. Milk run earlier this afternoon. Not flying tomorrow. 

Isn’t it time for beers and darts, right about now?

“Just answering some mail.” Actual mail, from home. Not the other stack. 

Maybe fanmail is a generous term, she thinks. Most of it is opinions, loud, of where she should or shouldn’t be. Home. Doing war work instead if she had to do something. Some less savory suggestions. Being quiet. 

“You’re a popular correspondent,” he says, sitting down across from her. 

She snorts. 

“I’m just seeing that there’s lot of letters here.”

“Astute observation, Major.” But she’s smiling. 

“Friends back home?”

“Yeah. The rest is-” she gestures, almost sighing out the answer in a sudden yawn, the light outside the soft gold of early evening. “I don’t know. People have a lot to say.”

“They do, do they?”

“Sometimes I forget that I’m not just a disembodied voice, is all.”

He looks a little puzzled, but still amused. She throws the paper in front of him, and his eyes catch the column. He whistles. “Front page, huh.”

“They haven’t used a picture before.” She nods back at the stack of letters.

“Oh.” She can’t tell if he’s about to make a joke or not.

“Might just toss them,” she says. They’d be good for the paper pulp if nothing else.

He grabs one off the top, his expression clouding over as he reads.

“They write this kinda stuff to you?” he says after a minute. One of the ones that had ideas about where she should be, namely the writer’s bed. He tosses it down on the table.

She thinks of London, and Norwich, and Pittsburgh, and Philadelphia. “They say it, too.”

He exhales, the sour expression still on his face. Like a lemon. “Sure.”

“You didn’t get to the marriage proposals yet.”

“The what?”

“They’re in there, I promise. They’re nicer.” He laughs a little, just this side of bitter. She tries to look offended, tries to lighten the mood. “Maybe I ought to be insulted.”

“No, no, I just-”

“Just what?”

He’s tapping his foot a little, she can feel it under the table. Fidgeting.

“I just feel lucky, is all.” The question of it is clear on her face. Lucky, sure, to go through hell every day and make it back here, to the ground and the summer-faded English fields. “That you’re not just a picture to me.”

Oh.

Something feels caught in her throat; it takes what feels like too many seconds. “You’re awfully sweet.”

“I mean it.” She wishes she had a little crabapple to pick at, something to do with her hands. “Don’t think a picture could’ve kissed that good either-”

She tries to whack the back of her hand against his arm, but he pulls away — hey, too quick — before he leans forward again, pulls her face to his. 

“Not here-” she says, a little too belatedly. He’s grinning, all wolfish. His hands are warm. 

“Will you go dancing with me, then?” 

A place where they can do this, she assumes, out of sight, or amongst a crowd. She says it because it feels like something she should say. “There’s something planned here for the weekend, right?”

He makes a gentle scoffing sound. “Nah, I don’t-”

“What?”

“I mean, sure, but. You know. Just be prepared for me to keep stealing you away, ok?”

“And how will that look?”Her stomach swoops, out of something like nervousness, the feel of him close to her again. 

He looks, maybe, the most boyish she’s seen him. “Like I don’t like sharing.”

Like she makes that space for anyone else. That exception. “You can reserve a spot or two on your dance card for me,” she says, diplomacy betrayed by the half-waver of her voice. 

He assents, not entirely satisfied, but doesn’t try for another kiss. Not here, at least. She feels a chill go through her then, when he pulls away from her, lets go. 

#trying not to overthink things 2k24 #masters of the air oc #mota oc #rosies-riveters #thank you friend <3 #jo's tag #motaverse #shoshi writes #stop telling me amateurly isn't a word i'm saying it's a word

[sitp-recs]

Hey!

Thanks for all the great work you do for the fandom! I couldn't go through the entire masterlist so not sure if this rec has already been answered.

Do you have any drarry fics which is just a complete emotional roller-coaster ride? Something very emotional and gut-wrenching?

Thanks again!

Hi anon, you’re very welcome! Sure thing, here are my favorites. This list has a focus on long fics but if you’re into shorts I also did an angsty rec list here. Happy Holidays!

(Un)wanted by @aibidil (E, 36k)

Ginny's pregnant, then she's not and Harry's single. Harry, again with no family, doesn't know what to do with this turn of events, or how to find a new life—post-war, post-Ginny, post-abortion—in which he belongs. He doesn't expect that life to include dancing to the Backstreet Boys with Hermione and Draco Malfoy. A story of finding belonging in the unexpected.

Stop All the Clocks (This Is the Last Time I’m Leaving Without You) by @firethesound (E, 44k)

Living with Draco was difficult; living without him is unbearable. But if there’s one thing Harry learned from the war, it’s that even when one life ends, the rest of the world goes right on living.

The Boy Who Only Lived Twice by lettered (E, 54k)

Harry Potter is an Unspeakable. Draco Malfoy is the wizard who shagged him. Adventure! Intrigue! Secret identities, celebrities, spies! It's all right here, folks.

Super Rich Kids by @thusspoketrish (E, 81k)

Draco Malfoy has become disillusioned by the glitz and glamour of the scandalous lives of the Post-Second Wizarding War Pureblood Elite. Enter: one existential crisis, one group of thieving cynical friends, and several terrible, terrible decisions.

Merlin Works in Mysterious Ways by lordhellebore (M, 82k)

When Harry is forced to form a Blood Bond with Draco Malfoy under threat of death, he thinks his future will consist of a cold home and sexual frustration. But when a group of left-over Death Eaters decides to stir trouble, their lives change completely – and it takes them both some years to figure out whether it’s for better or for worse.

Dwelling by aideomai (T, 83k)

Curses, James and Lily Potter ride again, several Ministry balls, a teenage Summer of Love, a grim young adult dystopian winter, a few different Draco Malfoys, secrets and the problems re: not having any, alternate lives, impossible lives, real lives, allusions to Dirty Dancing, and just because it's not called the Mirror of Erised doesn't mean you shouldn't know better.

I Am Not Who I Became by mab_di (E, 93k)

Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world. Now he's a fisherman in Finland on commercial vessels. Harry has been struggling since the war and has become a recluse while trying to write his autobiography.

Nor All That Glisters by @sweet-s0rr0w (E, 110k)

Lonely and frustrated on house arrest, with no prospects for the future, Draco begins brewing Felix Felicis in an attempt to improve his lot. Just in the short term, of course. He isn’t a total idiot. But before long he finds himself with a thriving business, a nice flat, some actual (albeit irritatingly Gryffindor) friends, and a very satisfying sex life. What’s more, no-one is hexing him in the street. And Harry Potter is single, and gorgeous, and giving Draco decidedly interested looks.

Far From The Tree by aideomai (E, 112k)

The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.

Another Mask Behind You by lettered (E, 116k)

Draco is a high-end prostitute who hides his identity. Harry unknowingly hires him. And then there is porn, questions about identity, domestic bliss, more porn, and truth as seen through a web of lies. (And then more porn. Seriously, if you don’t want sex scene after sex scene you probably shouldn’t read this. And please read the warnings.)

Grounds for Divorce by Tepre (E, 122k)

Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter. A story about histories, a story about families. A story about a lemon tree somewhere in Upper Egypt.

Away Childish Things by lettered (T, 153k)

Harry gets de-aged. Malfoy has to help him.

Twist of Fate by Oakstone730 (T, 302k)

Draco asks Harry to help him beat the Imperius curse during 4th year. The lessons turn into more than either expected. A story of redemption and forgiveness.

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #emotional rollercoaster