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trulyhblue · 2 months

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Baby England (Part Three)

Jordan Nobbs x Young! Reader (platonic), Leah Williamson x Young! Reader (platonic), Lionesses x Young! Reader

warnings — angst fluff, coarse language, mentions of anxiety.

A/N — Baby England’s Back!!!!! Half of this was deleted and I wanted to cry so bad but here it is. And do I have a twist for you… didn't expect it to get this long, but I have to make up for the hiatus somehow xxx

Masterlist

___________________________

It was a few days before the Semi Final, and you were sat amongst a pile of paperwork.

lionesses

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lionesses — semi final prep with baby England 💪🏻🙌🏼

Watch our clash with Sweden on the 27th @ Sheffield Stadium — 6pm GMT 🌟

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Comments:

yourusername — ❤️

*liked by lionesess

user1 — she is so adorable

^ user2 — she's so pookie.

georgiastanway — yeah the spiky hair

^ lionesses — stop bullying your little sis

^ georgiastanway — y/n get off the account

^ user5 — 💀

chelseawfc — love to see it 🙌🏼

^ user8 — UM WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?

User67 — I NEED TO KNOW WHERE SHE’S SIGNING

^ user45 — apparently Man U want her

^ user9 — atp, EVERYONE wants her

^ user10 — imagine her in a barça jersey 😋

^ user 11 — gurl pls… imagine her at UNC 😍

User12 — I really hope she starts for this game

^ user13 — I doubt it, I think she’ll be a super sub

^ user25 — she started last match??? And she got potm… surely she starts again

^ user13 — 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

arsenalacademy — absolute gun(ner)

^ user7 — lets be honest, arsenal will NEVER let Y/N leave

^ user89 — she's a free agent after the euros. They technically cannot keep her if someone's willing to pay more for her

__________________________

You had been training pretty much every day, save for the week that had been dedicated fo media roles and interviews. You were switching between teammates for a while. One interview was with Leah and Beth, another with Alessia, Lotte, Georgia and Ella.

At training, the coaches worked the team tirelessly. You were struggling to keep a straight face when you were told to run laps before you were sent back to your rooms. A large part of your weariness was mental. It had been a day full of apprehension for the days to come. Making it so far into the Euros was an achievement in itself, but a home euro was something else.

You hadn't seen your family for weeks now, and you were starting to miss your childhood bedroom. Despite the long hours spent chipping away at school work, you missed your friends at home and your teammates back at Arsenal Academy. The Lionesses quickly became your favourite people in the work. Many of them were family to you. But the subtly of your dismay and expression of homesickness proved more and more apparent as the days went by.

This feeling was not to be mistaken with ungratefulness. Being apart of your National team was a dream come true. This was what you worked for, lived and breathed for. You had finally attained your dream — this was all you ever wanted. You were eternally grateful for the opportunity, the chance to bring football home. A home tournament was a once-in-a-lifetime possibility, and here you were experiencing it. Every day you woke up wanting to pinch yourself. This couldn't be real.

But school was pretty much impossible at a time like this. When all you wanted to do was kick a ball around, catch up on sleep, and actually socialise. You know, like every other one of your teammates. It seemed as if you were the only one encapsulated by the realm of education, despite many of the girls attending University. You weren't indifferent to your current situation. Being a student and playing in one of the biggest football tournaments in the world was going to be difficult. But you felt like spending quality time with your friends would do you well. You wanted to stop worrying about your stupid equations and do something worth your while.

You had been saying this since the Euros began.

In no way did you mean for it to change for the worse.

But the universe was not in your favour.

“You should choose what makes you happy.” Jordan soothed, milking out the same string of sentences you've heard all week. The two of you sat in a cafe not far from Sheffield Stadium, sipping away at your hot chocolates, having already finished your macaroons.

Your agent had sent you the multitude of contracts you had been offered from different clubs. Tomorrow, you were playing against Sweden in the Semi-finals. Sarina thought it’d be good if everyone had the day off before the havoc set in. You had spent the morning in your room, finishing off the rest of your History Essay. Jordan had picked you up not long after noon, bringing you away from the stress chipping you away.

“It shouldn't matter what anyone else thinks,” The older woman held your hand, and you managed to feel her subtle squeeze.

“What do you think I should do?”

“Its not my—”

You cut her off, huffing in exasperation. “Jordan, please.”

Jordan’s face was impassive, a prominent knot creasing the space between her eyebrows. Her hair was flipped over one side, concealing the half of her face which she leant against her hand. She was struggling to find the words that had the capacity to encapsulate both truth and love — two things you needed to hear as you sat in the near-empty coffee shop. You wanted her to be honest, you thought. You needed her to tell it to you straight.

But this was Jordan you're asking. The kind, restful, reticent woman you had known forever — a woman while true to her word, could only speak subjectively, with emotion muddled into words. She was the personification of empathy. You loved that about her. But with your mind in a haze, despite your unrelenting apathy to stay independent, you really wanted to hear someone else’s opinion, for you had thought it over too many times to comprehend.

Your first option, of course, was Arsenal. It was your childhood club, your parent club, your home. For many years, it stood as everything you loved. You grew up watchings greats like Kelly Smith and Leah paving the way for your generation. You felt more at home at Arsenal than anywhere else. Though, it goes without saying that you haven't been anywhere else to compare it to.

And Leah would be hell-struck if you didn't choose Arsenal, even if she wouldn't directly admit it.

Spurs had taken interest in you since your youth ages when you had tried out for both North London teams at the ripe age of six. It just so happened that you chose Arsenal since it was closer to home, and you often wondered what it would've been like if you had chosen Tottenham instead.

United was next. A great club full of incredible talents like Ella Toone and Alessia Russo, two of your close friends when it came to International duties. The Manchester Reds were brilliant, tough competitors, but you never found much affiliation with them. Sure, they were amazing, but was it for you?

Lotte and Alessia both spoke to you about UNC, and you were definitely looking into playing there as a second alternative. You knew your parents thought this was the best option, but with the offers you were receiving, it wasn't at the top of your list.

You waited for Jordan’s response, already knowing her answer. There was one club you refused to think about. One club you couldn't set your mind to.

But the contract looked all too appealing.

“Chelsea.”

Three years — you’d be eighteen when it ends. Just shy of 250k a year, not including bonuses, increasing at a negotiable rate. You were a free agent after the Euros, and your contract with the Arsenal Academy was ending at the start of August. The Blues had a fantastic team and were worthy opponents for the cup title. You were guaranteed as a regular sub and promised to be looked after and rehabilitated to full strength if injuries occurred.

You hadn't thought over this option much during your senior debuts. It was pretty much embedded into you that you were a Gunner through and through. You had grown up playing against your London Rivals, and the team’s hatred only intensified as the game got stronger. It stood as a testament of its time.

But there was only one more thing that was stopping you.

“What about Leah?”

Jordan sighed. She knew Leah was a Gunner through and through. She knew that Leah saw herself in you — going through the academy, debuting at a young age. Choosing a pro contract was bound to happen to you the moment you were called up. No one even thought you’d gain minutes. But with Jordan’s injury, and your inevitable image, clubs were reeling in the prospect of a prodigy.

“This isn't her career, chook,” Jordan muttered, taking a sip of her drink. “Wherever you go, you have to take different things into account. Whether you’ll get minutes, if they value younger players as much as their originals, y’know, its a lot to think about.”

“You think I’ll get minutes?”

“Maybe not as much as Spurs, or North Carolina, but it's in the club’s reputation. They're known for their attack, and so are you.”

“I don't want to be the one to tell her.” You cringed. Leah was your older sister, in sorts. You valued her opinion over anyone else. To tell her you were transferring to her rival club felt like a slap in the face to all that she's done for you, not to mention you’d verse her in the League.

“Well, it’d be worse if she found out over the media.” Jordan quipped, through light to the situation.

“How would I bring that up?” You scoffed, hiding your face in your hoodie. “Hey, Leah, I know I've played for Arsenal forever, but I think I should just betray everyone and go to their biggest rivals. Sorry ‘bout that.”

Jordan shook her head. “She’d understand.”

Your eyebrows raised. “Would she?”

“I’d be livid at her if she wasn't,” Jordan spoke, her tone much sterner. You sat back in your chair. “It's not like you're signing a life-long contract with them, anyway. It's three years. Three years where you get to improve your skills and expand your career. Leah loves you too much to be angry at you for more than an hour. In fact, that woman has never been angry at you a day in her life.”

“I guess I’ll break that streak when I tell you.” you muttered, looking down at your empty cup.

“Stop that.” Jordan huffed, crossing her arms. “You've got two more weeks to figure it out. But let me tell you this. Arsenal will always be there for you. You don't need to stick with them for your whole career to know that they will happily welcome you back with welcoming arms. That goes for all the girls… including Leah.”

“Right.”

“And I’ll tell her that straight if she even thinks about doing anything otherwise.”

________________

yourusername

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yourusername — bit of life 💙

tagged — jordannobbs, maryearps1, and yourfriend

Comments:

jordannobbs — my daughters growing up too fast 😭

^ yourusername — thanks mama 💗

jordannobbs — look at you glowing 💙

^ yourusername — all you

jordannobbs — proud x

* liked by yourusername

user1 — I'm loving Jord’s spam! She's so proud of her 🥲

^ user2 — literally mother daughter goals

wosofan — this is the first time I haven't seen leah in a Baby Eng dump

^ user9 — omg ur right

user78 — loving the blue theme

^ user8 — are you thinking what I'm thinking

milliebright — beanie gal 🤭

^ yourusername — meanie

^ milliebright — you’ll get used to it

^ user8 — UM HELLO

samanthakerr — where’d you get that jumper from in the third photo?

^ yourusername — dunno

^ user98 — HOW DO THEY KNOW EACH OTHER????????

maryearps1 — caught me off guard with that

^ yourusername — you asked me to take the photo 😂

^ ellatoone — HA! Caught.

^ mearyearps1 — 😒

user89 — WHATS WITH THE BLUE

lionesess — our put together baby 🌟

* liked by yourusername

georgiastanway — i didnt need to see the bottom of your shoes

^ yourusername — you see them all the time in training 🤷‍♀️

^ georgiastanway — dont.

chelseawfc — matching attire?

^ user78 — HUH IM SO CONFUSED

^ wowwoso — WHY IS CHELSEA HERE

^ user6 — WHAT IS HAPPENING

________________

Sweat was beading across your forehead, the nerves of half time creeping up to the steady beat of your heart.

You hadn't told Leah about the decision you came to with Jordan. You had been so caught up in how she’d react, mixed with the stress of this upcoming game, that you weren't in any stable condition to go through with it.

In addition to that, you were still making your final decision, the finality of Chelsea not truly setting in.

Beth and Lucy had already sent the ball flying into the back of the net, and Sweden had yet to take a chance to extend their stay into the finals. You watched from the wing anxiously, threading the ball to the more experienced players, staying in the pipe ways as you did so.

You had started, which still came as a surprise to you since. Your game against Spain was still fresh in your mind. You wanted to stay consistent in your performance while also keeping up with the newfound intensity of the game, but something just wasn't clicking for you.

England was doing great, up by two goals by the second half. You had kept yourself distanced from the vigour, passing out when needed, mainly staying on the wing in order to keep as much distance from making more mistakes.

You had been pretty reckless with your passing. Obviously not too catastrophic, but enough to send winces across the crowd.

Your passes weren't sloppy, but they weren't precise either. You didn't leave much opportunity for the forwards and were starting to rely on your defence too much.

There was simply something about your gameplay today that didn't mould with the rest of the team. You didn't want to be subbed off. You wanted to make an impact.

But it just was not clicking.

Ellen had just been subbed off for Alessia, who was wiping her hands over her shorts, watching the ball tread through the outskirts of Sweden’s half. You could hear the crowd’s apprehension linger when you were passed the ball by Leah, using all your strength to peel away from Blackstenius.

Your first touch wasn't the greatest, and Stina was pressuring you out near the line. In every other game, you were known for your cool persona when encountering stress. You could collectively juggle the presence of a marker while dribbling the ball down the line onto a seeking prospect.

But as soon as the Swed’s studs hit your foot, you were sent to the ground. Hot flashes of pain sprung from your ankle. It was nothing that wouldn't surpass after a few moments whining about it on the ground.

Nonetheless, the whistle blew for a free kick, and Leah’s figure was knelt beside you in an instant.

“You alright, kid?”

Leah wasn't dumb. She knew that you had been ignoring her these past few days. You were distant, passive, and overall neglectful of her efforts to talk to you.

You would usually knock on her door after dinner to play some card games or help you with schoolwork. You would squeeze yourself next to her on the bus rides, and partner up with her at training.

Leah would pretend to be annoyed, and you would act all innocent like it was second nature — because that is what it was.

But you refused to meet her lingering eyes during meals and chose to partner with Millie any chance you got. You’d sit with Georgia at meals, and Jess Carter during Bus rides. Hell, even during free time, Jordan would pick you up and take you out, and she wasn't even on the team.

Leah knew something was up, and you knew that she had caught on. Jordan wouldn't tell her. And you hadn't spoken so much as three sentences to her for the past week. So it was no wonder that you were struggling. There was so much pent up tension in your shoulders, you looked so apprehensive.

Leah pulled you up by your shoulders, holding out her hand to stroke your face.

“You tell me you want to go off and I’ll find a sub for you.” Her words were harsh, but there was good intention behind it.

You gulped, shaking your head. Leah was watching your every move like a hawk. This was the perfect opportunity for her to ask you what was wrong. She could see that you needed to get something off your chest.

“I'm fine, keep me on.” You put it soundly, sighing as Leah brushed off the grass that was left on your jersey.

“Don't think that this is the end of the conversation.” Leah retorted, refusing to let your longest interaction in days go. “You’d be barmy if you think I’d let you get away with this easily.”

“I'm not Barmy, Lee. I'm fine.” You replied.

Leah could tell by your smile that she had hit the sweet spot. You were willing to play, the injury minuscule with its attempts to shake you. Your captain kissed the top of your forehead, bringing you into a quick hug.

“Alright then, Fine. Go on and take that free kick.”

You pushed past her lightly, the uncertainty lingering in your body slowly sinking into the grass with every step you took. Everyone had taken the time to huddle together as a team, moving back to their respective positions on the field after you had collected yourself up off the floor.

As the match continued, it was as if you had a fresh set of legs. Everyone got whiplash from your sudden switch of performance that not only enhanced your gameplay but the flow of the game altogether.

You became more involved in the game, passing into your central attackers, and sprinting down the wing to create more changes for a wider goal difference. Georgia and Keira gained more traction with your involvement, and it somehow paved the way for the defenders to find a more secure backline.

The next time you found yourself marked by Stina, who had apologised for your minor Collison, you were lightning on your feet. The pace you set was incredible, and the ball was yours for the taking.

You weaved past her and one of the midfielders, glancing up to see Georgia’s figure near the box. Without thinking, you propelled the ball over the heads of both teams.

Wincing when it passed Stanway, you felt your shoulders collapse. Russo wasn't ready for your explosive play, only just managing to retain the ball at her feet. You sighed, running your hands through your hair when Alessia’s attempt was blocked.

You were about to run back, ready for Sweden’s possession, when the crowd suddenly flung off their seats. You were a good fifty metres away from the rest, Alessia’s figure much harder to find among the number of players congregating by the goal. You noticed Lessi run out near the corner, holding out her arms with a winning smile. Georgia soon clambered over the top of her, patting her shoulder with a matching grin.

You looked up at the scoreboard, catching onto the replay from one of the cameras. From what you could see, Alessia had backheeled the ball past the defenders, leaving the goalkeeper stranded, the ball falling easily into the goal.

Even years later, people always find your late reaction funny. Many of your teammates had already congratulated you on the assist before it all clicked for you. It was rare for a team to be dominating this much in a semi-final, and you weren't quite sure how you managed to pull off what you had just done.

You found Alessia’s shoulders and pushed up on them, swinging your legs around her waist and hugging her from behind. She squealed, pushing you off.

“You're incredible, Russo, seriously.” You screamed, out of breath from the seventy minutes of nonstop running. Less grabbed your arm and spun you round. “All because of that brilliant assist, Baby England!”

You were on such a high for the rest of the game that nothing you did was fully comprehended. You had so much faith in the team that everything moulded with so much chemistry, it was second nature. Three Swedish substitutions meant that you were bound to be taken off any minute. Leah had been holding you accountable at the back while Beth was pushing your talents forward in the middle. You were sure that this was the most you had ever run in a match. Your cheeks were flushed, your muscles were surely overworked, but you were running with so much adrenaline that it didn't affect you.

England was on the home stretch now. Keeping both offence and defence strong, making sure Sweden wasn't offered any thrilling opportunity. You heard Keira shouting directions from the other side of the pitch. Georgia was passing short, timeless passes to you. Rachel had her arm outstretched, ready to propel forward if the ball was coming her way.

You knew that Georgia was just time-wasting now. You just needed to win now, the goal difference didn't matter. You felt someone’s presence up behind you, forcing you to cross the ball back to Leah since both Gee and Kie were covered. You had been staying in the middle and towards the back end of the pitch all game, so it was a surprise when you burst forward past Sweden’s second-last line of defence. Leah had kicked it over to Lucy, who hadn't seen you leave. Georgia took the ball, marking her opponent while searching for your unknown whereabouts.

The only person to have seen you was Beth, who called for the ball and received it a second later. With one, quick, first touch, Mead sent the ball flailing over the top, towards where you were waiting, just outside the box. One of the defenders had caught on, and the goalkeeper hadn't prepared herself for your sudden attack. You watched the ball hurl a few metres to you left, leaving you no choice but to chase after it in a rush. Almost everyone was twenty metres behind, unable to come to your aid. You held your own, forgetting the people around you, and jumped just as the ball met your head. You had no idea how close the goal was, or if your header was even near where your direction was intended.

You winced at the contact of someone in your side, groaning with your arms cradling your head. The impact of the ground winded you, sending you gasping for air. But the crowd’s booms at Sheffield was enough to leave you breathless.

You had scored.

People piled on top of you one by one, yelling all sorts as you struggled to realise what you had done. Everyone was rounded, cheering, standing. You could hear Georgia swearing, and Leah telling everyone to keep their head on. You listened to Alessia and Rachel cheering with each other, and Beth pulling you up by your shoulders. Everyone collapsed into a hug around you, making it difficult for anyone to catch onto your tears.

You loved this team too much to ever let this moment go. Your tears were mixed with the sweat of the game, coating your cheeks, exhaustion setting into your shoulders. Your breath had caught up to you, but the daze was expressed.

You looked out to the crowd when Ella ran on to replace you. Everyone was on their feet, clapping boisterously as you waved them off. It was a tedious feeling that you couldn't quite shake. There wasn't a single person there that made you feel like you hadn't tried your best.

Nothing in the world could beat this feeling.

***

The celebrations of England’s win set off as soon as the full-time whistle blew. Fans rose from their seats, players crowded the pitch. You found your figure running towards Leah, tears already streaming down your face at an embarrassing rate. Your cheeks were flushed, and your body fell limb against Leah’s chest, eloping the serenity of her embrace with quiet sobs.

She held you close and tight, combing her fingers through your hair, breathing in the electric atmosphere that infiltrated the stadium. She could hear you crying into her, and she tried hard not to cry herself. She held a protective arm around your shoulders, sheltering you from the public eye as best she could. Leah looked down at her armband, feeling proud of her nation, then glanced at you, and felt even more emotion than ever before.

Over the years, Leah would find herself falling more and more defensive of you. She wanted to shield you away from the inevitable hate. She watched you grow into a spectacular player, a brilliant teammate, and a beautiful girl. Everything you did was at the discretion of the older woman, and Leah came to realise that you were somewhat of a daughter to her.

She was a Captain of her country and club. She was an idol to thousands of girls across the globe. But she was everything to you as you were to her, and that was more than enough.

“Played so well, Y/N.” She whispered into your ear, leaning down so that you could hear her over the chants.

You glanced up at her with watery eyes, clinging onto the woman and grinning. “Love you, Lee.”

“Love you, too, my girl.”

The two of you stayed like that for a little longer. Millie eventually pulled Leah into her own embrace, and you were making rounds across the field, congratulating your teammates and celebrating with them too.

England fans still banked up the stands, holding out their pens, phones and jerseys. Some people gave you some friendship bracelets, others asked you to take photos. Everyone was reeling at the huge win.

You end up finding yourself nearing a full walk around the field, and nearing the loop, where fans were starting to disperse. The last fan was a little girl in a wheelchair, with dark brown curls and green eyes. She was a little younger than you, but it was easy to fall into a conversation with her. She congratulated you, you thanked her for coming. It was by the end of your interaction that you slipped your shirt off, bringing the girl into a tight, gracious hug.

Many of the girls were already celebrating in the changing rooms. Champagne would've already been distributed. You wanted to make sure the fans were all aware that you were very thankful they were there to watch your team play. This was your first major tournament, and people commended you for always staying back. Though you didn't do it for the praise.

“If it isn't the Baby herself.” You heard someone call from behind you, causing you to turn.

You found Lucy and Sarina standing side by side, sharing big victorious smiles wider than you had ever seen. Lucy had already ushered you into a bone-crushing embrace, guiding your head into her chest — her arms wrapped around your shoulders. Sarina patted you on the back, mumbling something about performance and outcome, before you fumbled your balance against Lucy’s figure.

What you hadn't noticed until then was the man who was standing with the two women. He was not old, but not young either. His hair was dark brown, and he had a stubby beard. His posture was neat, his coat crowding his figure tightly for no cool air to leak in. If it wasn't for the intensity of the game you had just played, you would've agreed to say it was cold. But you were sweaty, fatigued, and starting to feel the effects of a semi-final.

The man was sporting a civil grin, holding his hand out for you to shake. You were completely oblivious to who he was, unable to decipher his identity from any of his features or appearance. It was only when he spoke that you heard the trail of a Spanish accent seeping through his endeavoured English.

“You are a talent, young lady.” He commended. Your cheeks flushed at the compliment, shaking it off with a bashful smile. “I must say, you are one of a kind, truly. That header was spectacular. A goal and an assist? Incredible.”

“Thank you but I couldn't have done it without the others.” You mumbled, trying to remember Jordan’s advice to keep eye contact when you were speaking to an adult. “My first half was poor. I don't think I deserve the recognition when my opportunities weren't used wisely.”

“Oh, shut your mouth.” Lucy scoffed, ruffling your hair. “I can remember my first Euros. I definitely didn't score off a header from outside of the box, that's for sure.”

“You're the best defender, I know.” You replied hastily, trying to reiterate the fact that you were pretty much a forward, and it was expected that you were to score.

Lucy sighed, shaking her head. “Bet you wouldn't say that in front of Leah.”

“Oh, wait!” Your mouth fell slightly agape. “Don't tell her I said that.”

The three adults chuckled from around you, making your cheeks go a little more red.

“I must agree.” The man stepped forward, shoving his hands that were once crossed over his chest into his pockets. From there, you caught sight of the Barcelona emblem embedded in his jacket.

Your face must've given away your realisation. “You're Jonathan? Barca’s head coach?!”

Lucy laughed harder than before, looking at the two coaches with the click of her tongue. “I told ‘ya she wouldn't recognize him.”

“I am,” Jona replied. You shook his hand for the second time that night. “You seem to be surprised at that.”

“What? Oh! No, um.” You became a nervous wreck. “I just, oh my god, does that mean you know Alexia Putellas?”Despite your North London spirit, there was no doubt that there was a fangirl within you at the knowledge of the Spanish team. You had grown up with the greats in Barca, and almost everyone in the England squad knew of your explicit crush on a certain Spanish captain, who just so happened to play for Barca.

“I mean, she is the captain, so you’d hope so.” Jona chuckled. “In fact, I was talking to her just a few hours ago. We were discussing the transfer season and some new contracts coming up.”

You instantly looked up at Lucy, who rolled her eyes at your oblivion. Sarina shook her head, glancing at you knowingly while Jona sighed in deliberation.

“I'm sure you have mulled over some of the offers you have been given from some of the clubs, no? I heard from somewhere that Chelsea are outbidding Arsenal.”

“Oh.” The thought of a professional contract, and making a denounced decision was long a foreign concept to you at that moment. You were presented with the complexity of the question, and could only shrug in response.

Jona reciprocated your affliction. “It is always a tough decision to make. But you have a very bright career in front of you. Everyone is expecting great, great things.”

“I'm tossing up between Arsenal and Chelsea.” You admitted. “They are my best offers.”

“You think so?” Jona looked complex, his eyebrows rising. When you nodded, he tutted, his head low. “Sarina and I were just questioning the fee being offered… or lack thereof.”

Your back straightened. “What do you mean?”

“300k for a three-year contract is hardly reasonable for a player like you.” He stated, rolling his sleeves up with a grin. Lucy and Sarina were in quiet conversation to the side, still active in what you were discussing but in their exclusive bubble.

“If I were to put in my bid, it’d be at least 800 thousand.” He continued. Your eyes nearly budged out of their sockets, unable to reply. “But it’d end up being just short of a million with the transfer fee.”

“My academy contract ends in two weeks.” The money Jona had just described was unattainable from your perception. “I'm just glad I got the offers in the first place. Your bid is too generous.”

There was no way you, a youth player, and academy girl who wasn't even had a club debut, was expected to be worth that much. He must've been pulling your leg, taking the piss like Tooney often did. It was not in the slightest chance that you began to unravel the weight of Jona’s words, and his intention behind the conversation you were just having.

“Are you saying you wouldn't accept it?” He asked.

You were so fucking dumbfounded that you started to laugh.

“You could offer me a job for nothing and I would take it.” There was a joking tone behind your statement, but you knew that there was an entire truth planted within your declaration. “Not that you would, but yeah, of course I would. The only thing I’d contemplate is learning the language.”

“I can get you a tutor.” He responded. “And the girls are lovely.”

You swooned just at the thought of the Barcelona team. “You're just being mean now.”

Jonathon looked at you in confusion. Lucy had overheard the last of your conversation, with Sarina off to find someone else. She scoffed, finding your idiocy a painful trait of yours. You glanced between the two of them, waiting for them to continue the blasted joke of you joining the best team in the world. You waited for them to ask you how Chelsea Blue was going to look on you, of if Academy was where you wanted to stay. Hell, you were expecting them to ask when you were moving into your own apartment due to the absurdity of Jona’s hypothetical posing.

But they stood there looking at you in silence. They were waiting for you to catch on.

And you did. Even if it was after several long moments of pause and silence. Even if you had dropped your jaw to the floor in utter shock, simply not believing that what was happening was actually happening. The thought of playing for a single minute was eradicated from your mind, instead replaced with a newfound excitement that left you jumping up and down.

There was no way, you thought. Nothing could've prepared you for this.

All thoughts of Chelsea, of Arsenal, were gone. Letting the news transfer to Leah was a distant memory.

You were no longer hesitating about what anyone else thought about where you would go. There was not an ounce of regret in your body that screamed out to you, telling you to think this over for even a second. You were not want to wait, to talk, to act, you were just waiting for this all to be a dream.

You knew that this was an inevitable choice. A feeling so right, so just, full of hope and solidarity, clung to you as you shook Jona’s hand yet again. Not filling registering his words, skimming over the implications of it all, aimlessly giving him your Agent’s number. It was all a blur from there.

It did not matter the money that went into the contract, or the financial gain that would equip you throughout the three years you were about to live in Barcelona. Nothing else mattered except the smile on your face, and the righteousness in your chest.

With the win of your National Team, you home, and the club you were bound towards, there was nothing stopping the bounce in your stride.

_________________

arsenalacademy

liked by babyengland, milliebright, and 207,367 others

arsenalacademy — After a standout performance in the Euros so far, Arsenal Academy Star, and England’s youngest, Baby England has signed a record-breaking fee of $3 Million, for a three-year contract with reigning Champions, Barcelona FC.

“I'm excited for this new opportunity. The Euros are massive, and winning with the girls against Sweden was a privilege I still can't put into words…

I have to thank Arsenal for making me the player I am, because they have taught me so many things, and I wouldn't be standing here today if it wasn't for them.

I also want to thank Jordan, Leah, and all the Lionesses for helping me with this. They have always wanted the best for me, and I couldn't have done it without them.”

The fifteen-year-old will begin training with the Spainish Team for the 22/23 season effective immediately.

Congratulations on this new chapter!

Tagged: yourusername

Comments:

soccerdonna — New Update: Chelsea had outbid Arsenal by $150k, and Barca by an extra 200k, as well as an increase in salary, which is negotiable.

User7 — I THOUGHT THEY WERE GONNA ANNOUNCE IT AFTER THE EUROS

^ user8 — WHEN HAS MY GIRL HAD TIME FOR THIS

^ user112 — FR MY GIRL’S FIFTEEN, A STUDENT, A FULL TIME ATHLETE, AND A BABYGIRL LIKE PLS

User5 — JONATAN WAS AT THE GAMES AGAINST SPAIN AND SWEDEN!!!! MAYBE THATS WHEN

^ user90 — THAT’S SO SOON THO HOW COULD HE HAVE DONE IT

ingridengen — welcome 🩷

*liked by yourusername

racheldaly — no villa talk 🤣 see you on the pitch soon chook 🩷

^ yourusername — thank you Rach 🙃

user6 — FIRST LUCY AND NOW BABY ENGLAND! WHO’S NEXT, KEIRA????

alessiarusso — big things!!!! proud of you like crazy 🙌🏼

^ yourusername — love you lessi bear 🧸

user1 — are you fucking kidding me? ARSENAL WHY DIDNT YOU KEEP HERRRRR

^ user67 — THE FACT THAT THEY WERE ONE OF THE LOWEST BIDDERS UGH

alexiaputellas — Bienvenido, guapa!

^ yourusername — omg ily

^ user77 — shes so real

user23 — I'm in mourning.

user8 — WHAT ABOUT LEAH

^ user4 — AND JORDAN

^ user7 — SHE WAS OUR ARSENAL BABY

jordannobbs — big things coming! So proud of you! 💙❤️

* liked by yourusername

user37 — the fact that we all thought she was going to chelsea

^ user27 — she really had us all fooled

leahwilliamson — smash it, my girl!

^ yourusername — love you lee 🤍

^ user78 — screaming into my pillow I cannot deal with this hurt.

^ user99 — I need to know if she told Leah before or after she signed 😭

^ user12 — the edits about to go crazy

^ user8 — “let's not forget, that no matter where she goes, Baby England will always be Arsenal.”

barcelonafemeni — Stargirl 🌟

^ user4 — you don't deserve her.

^ user90 — SALT IN THE WOUND

^ user3 — Idk about the rest of you, but I cannot wait to see her in the home jersey

^ user6 — ur the only one.

Lionesses — baby england growing up too fast 🥲

user5 — I'm still so confused on how she signed a contract in the middle of the fucking euros

^ user64 — it practically meant that Barca would've not only had to pay her the contract, but also pay Arsenal a transfer fee

^ user65 — I might be crazy but wouldn't that make her the most expensive transfer? With both the transfer money and the contract

^ user5 — it adds up to be just under $1 million 😀

georgiastanway — congratulations!!!!!!

^ yourusername — thanks gee!

ellatoone — you would've looked better in Manchester 😒

^ ellatoone — jkjk look at youuuuu 🩷

*liked by yourusername

____________________

A/N — HA! You thought she’d go to Chelsea… yeah right. Hope you enjoyed!

417 notes · View notes

so-so-woso · 7 months

Text

i wanna be the one | part 1

Edit: Changed title. Thanks to Dru for the suggestion. From the song "Things We Never Say" by the Bad Bad Hats. Great song, potentially relevant maybe who knows.

Summary: Reader is an English-American GK who joins the Arsenal squad and ends up in an interesting back and forth with Leah Williamson. This chapter is mainly set-up for the future. The vibes will probably be very different going forward lol

Warnings: Angst, swallowing self-doubt, and mentions of parental death in the first section.

Word Count: 3,284

London felt just like Seattle. You were expecting it to feel different, more European (whatever that meant), but when you stepped out of the airport and that familiar January rain hit your skin, it was a welcome feeling. It wasn’t quite Home – you hadn’t had one of those in a long time – but it was definitely welcoming, and nice enough that you didn’t bother with an umbrella. It would’ve been hard enough trying to carry one along with all your bags anyway, although by the look on your driver’s face he really wished you had at least tried. It was nice that the team had sent a car to meet you, especially since you didn’t really know anyone here that well, but you supposed they would do that for any new signing. The driver helped you get your bags into the car and then you were off to the club to dot some Is and cross some Ts to make everything truly official.

Wistful thoughts crept into the back of your mind as you were chauffeured through the streets of London, and you decided for the first time in a long time not to fight them. Not here, anyway – not now. Not after everything it took to get you here. Get you here again, technically. You were born in London after all, and raised in Sheffield where your mother had grown up. Your father was an American, from Dallas, who came to England for graduate school and stayed for the woman he fell in love with. He often teased her about “real (American) football” but she converted him to Sheffield United fan, though he would never admit it – at least not until you were born. Match days became a family event as soon as you could stand up on your own, even though you were still too young to really remember anything at that point, but by the time you could run you wanted nothing more than to play. You were always bigger than the other kids so they made you play with the boys, but you knew a lot of the women’s national team players had played on boys’ teams growing up, so you didn’t mind it. You were never upset about that, but you were upset when they made you move to the goalkeeper position when you were eight. It was the boring position and you never got to do anything, but you were the only kid on the team who didn’t seem scared of the ball when it came flying at you, so the job fell to you. Many years later, it would prove to be the right choice, but for a while you thought it felt like a punishment from the universe. Then you found out what that kind of punishment actually felt like.

You were only eleven when your parents died. It was a car accident; your mom was driving. She took the brunt of it and was gone by the time the ambulance arrived. Your dad was in the hospital for two days, but he never woke up. You had been in the back seat. Heavy bruising, a busted ribs, broken collarbone, and a big gash across the side of the head was it for you. You were in the hospital too, for a while. Your paternal grandmother came all the way from Austin to pick you up and take you to live with her. Your mom’s parents had been gone for a while now, and GiGi – what you had called your father’s mother – was all you had left. You had only met her a few times before, but you didn’t really have another option, so across the pond you went.

It would be a massive understatement to say that Texas was different from Sheffield. It was truly a whole different world, but kids are resilient enough. You were famous for a while, because of your accent, and then you were weird for a while, because of your accent, and then eventually you became just one of the kids. Your GiGi was supportive as well, more than you had expected her to be. You didn’t know much of the specifics as a kid, but you knew she and your father had had some sort of falling out and weren’t as close as they had been when he was younger. You always thought it had to do with him choosing to stay in England rather than come home to America. When you got older it seemed like maybe there was more to it than that, but GiGi wouldn’t talk about it. She did help you get into therapy, so that you could learn how to process what had happened and all the big changes that came with it. You didn’t like it at the time, but in hindsight it was probably the best thing she could’ve done. She even started trying to learn about football – soccer – too, because she knew you liked it, and she made sure to sign you up for the local league. You think maybe that time doesn’t heal wounds, but it sort of scabs them over enough that they only hurt when you pick at them, so eventually you learn to stop picking at them, and after that life became kind of normal.

You eventually played soccer in high school – goalkeeper, naturally – and were good enough to get recruited to the University of Texas. From there, the NWSL draft sent you to Seattle for the OL Reign. You spent a season as the third-string goalkeeper, then a season as the second-string, and then were presented with an opportunity you couldn’t dare turn down. It had been Kim Little’s idea, apparently. She had only played with you in Seattle for a month or so, and you never really hung out, but she knew you had grown up in England and that you had really wanted the chance to play football in Europe. She would tell you later that she was impressed with your resilience, something you had heard often growing up, and that you had a “dead brilliant reaction speed” which you guessed sounded good. So when Arsenal’s back-up goalkeeper transferred out and they were weighing their options, she suggested they give you a look. She had said it offhandedly, like it wasn’t a big deal, but you would wager she fought harder for you than she let on. You had only played a handful of games in two seasons, and while you were admittedly good, the offer from the English club still came as a massive surprise. They were up front and adamant about your status as a pure back-up to Zinsberger, and while you would’ve had a decent chance to win the starting spot in Seattle, you just couldn’t say no to European football, to England, to the Arsenal.

That’s how you ended up in the back of a dark car being driven through the streets of north London in the pouring rain. Your fingers fiddled absently at the chain around your neck and the two golden bands that hung from it while you considered everything that led you here, hoping that you made the right choice. Only time would tell, you thought, as the car squealed to a slow stop. You hesitated for a long moment before tucking the necklace under your shirt and moving to exit the vehicle. The driver met you at the car door, an umbrella extended overhead. You were taller than him, so you had to awkwardly bend your neck as he moved to close the door behind you.

“This shouldn’t take long,” he said, “Then we’ll get you home.” You thanked him and stuffed your fists in the pockets of your coat as you followed him up to the club, your stomach slowly rising higher and higher into your throat as the series of decisions you had recently made began to congeal rather quickly into a hard reality. It was some grotesque mix of nerves and excitement and fear that just fully slapped you in the face when you stepped inside the building. You hadn’t felt like this in Seattle, or on the plane, or in the car, but now that you were here, physically, it’s like everything else was physical too. It wasn’t some amorphous Choice floating in the metaphorical ether of your life; it was a foreboding Presence leering down at you, clawing at your shoulders from behind, and whispering ‘you don’t deserve this’ into your psyche. Nausea began to swell up, to the point you were just starting to feel dizzy. Out of instinct you reached forward and put your hand on the driver’s shoulder, who stopped walking to turn and see what you needed. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but was interrupted by a distinctly Scottish, “Oh ‘ey, Tex!” behind you.

You both turned to see Kim Little striding down the hallway, followed closely by Jonas and one of the other coaches. You swallowed hard, all the torturous feelings slowly fading away as you saw a familiar face. “Hey, Little Kim, “ you retorted. She scoffed and faked a jab towards your ribs before she reached up to hug you.

“Welcome to the party,” she said, stepping back to introduce the coaches, who shook your hands. They welcomed you as well and explained that the evening would be brief, they were sure you’d be tired from the flight, but just needed to finalize some things on the business side and then Kim would give a tour of the facilities. You thanked them, probably too many times, and went with them all to finish your paperwork and pick up your official training gear. Your kit wouldn’t be ready until tomorrow since they’d have to put your name on and weren’t sure what number you wanted (you picked 18 because it was available and made sense for a goalkeeper). Kim showed you around, asked about the flight, and made you feel as welcome as she thought she could. It was nice to talk to someone for a while. You weren’t exactly an extrovert, but you were Southern enough you enjoyed being around people, and being able to talk to Kim, even if it was more or less small talk, made you feel better, and by the time the tour was done all of the earlier feelings were forgotten. You started to think that maybe this whole thing was a good idea after all.

“So no rest for the weary – first training tomorrow, yeah? Text me your address and I’ll pick you up. Since you won’t have a car, Uber’s always an option, but until you get sorted, you can get rides with me,” Kim said.

“Sounds good. Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me yet, I’m picking you up extra early tomorrow – the girls’ll want to meet you before kickin’ balls at your head.”

“Well, I guess that’s only polite.”

You both laughed and hugged goodbye before heading your separate ways, you pulling out your phone to look up your new address to send it to Kim. This was a good decision, you thought, this was a good decision.

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

Your apartment – or flat? – was nicer than you expected it to be. You had done a Zoom tour while you were still in Seattle and it looked fine, but you had tempered your expectations to be safe. Turns out, you didn’t need to. It was a two-bedroom and furnished with the basics, so there was plenty of space for you and plenty room to decorate as you saw fit. You had what was sometimes described as an eclectic taste by your friends, mainly because you liked to decorate with things that made you happy. That seems like an obvious thing to decorate with, but you were kind of – literally – a giant dork, which meant you had a lot of “nerd shit” as your friends would tease. You expected the Arsenal girls would do the same if they ever started coming over, but all of that would be a long time coming. Tonight, all you wanted to do was collapse into bed, which is exactly what you did.

Kim wasn’t lying when she said she’d pick you up early. At least she had the decency to bring you coffee, but she was completely taken aback when you admitted you didn’t really drink coffee and actually preferred tea. “Guess there is some English in you after all,” she had joked as she drove. She asked about your night and how you slept, and pointed out all the important-to-know shops and stops between your apartment and the training center. When you finally arrived, you asked her if she accepted tips for her tour knowledge – to which she responded with “only big bills”. You laughed as you retrieved your bag from the back of her car, and the two of you headed in.

The next few days were an absolute blur. You were introduced to everyone, and they all seemed pretty nice. McCabe kept talking about how tall you were, but from how everyone else acted that was normal. Manu was happy to have another goalkeeper in the squad despite the fact you would both technically be competing for the starting spot, even though you were explicitly hired as a back-up. At least it didn’t seem like there would be any weird hurt feelings or anything there, so you were glad for that. All your other time was spent trying to discern personality types and team dynamics, and also actually training. The coaches had told you they wouldn’t expect you to go full on for the first few days to give you time to acclimate to everything. You thanked them, of course, but that didn’t stop you from diving in head first.

By the time your official day three was over, you wished you had taken it a little easier. It felt like jet lag hit you late, on top of the normal physical tiredness of training. But that evening as the team as the team filtered out of the locker room, Katie McCabe slapped you on the back and said, “Drinks on you tonight, mate!” You turned to look at her, but before you could ask, Kim interrupted with a sharp “Katie–“

“Hold on, hold on! I don’t mean a big to-do, but we gotta welcome the newbie right, right?”

A couple of the other players voiced their agreement and Kim rolled her eyes. “Two drink maximum.”

“Four.”

“Two.”

“Three?”

“Two, McCabe.”

“Two and shots?”

“…”

“Two…and shots?”

“…one shot.”

“Fuck yes, best captain ever! You’re riding with us, Y/N!”

A mix of confusion and amusement spread across your face as you looked between the two of them, and Kim just shook her head and waved at you to go with Katie, so you let yourself be pulled away into whatever the night would bring.

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

Despite telling you that you were paying for drinks, Katie was nice enough to only make you buy the shots, and despite Kim’s hesitance at you all going out mid-week, it was a surprisingly calm evening. You ended up sitting at a table with just a handful of your new teammates. Most of them were joking around with each other, teasing and taunting. You sat quietly, unsure of how inserting yourself into the dynamic would come off. You thought of a few quips throughout the conversations, but made sure to hold your tongue, choosing to sip on your beer instead.

“You always this quiet?”

You glanced over in the direction of the voice, inadvertently locking eyes with Leah Williamson. You knew who she was, obviously – won the Euros and all. What you hadn’t known was that she was even more attractive in person. You didn’t even know that was possible, but it was certainly a pleasant surprise.

“Not usually,” you responded, drawing in a breath. “Just can’t get a word in edgewise with this one goin’ off.”

You gestured towards Katie, who didn’t even register the comment. It did get a chuckle out of Steph and Foord, though, which made you relax a bit. Looking back at Leah, she was still looking at you, but didn’t seem to react otherwise. You paused for a moment, chewing on the inside of your cheek, before deciding to just go for it.

“So in the summer do you ever get a weird tan on your forehead from frowning so much?”

That did draw Katie’s attention; you could tell from the way she practically guffawed.

“Oy, she’s got you dead to fuckin’ rights!” she said, leaning over to elbow at Leah. The Aussies had laughed as well, as did Kim. Leah didn’t look impressed at the remark, but from the twitch of her lips you would swear she was biting back a smile. She had nice lips. Were you staring at her lips? Your eyes flashed back up to hers and she was still looking at you. She would’ve been able to tell where you were staring. That’s…embarrassing. You swallowed hard, and quickly looked away, taking a long swig of your drink. If anyone else at the table noticed the interaction, they didn’t react. Katie started in on you immediately, dragging you into whatever she had been talking about before, and from there you spent the rest of the evening integrating yourself into the team.

The bar was really only starting to fill up when Kim decided it was time for you all to get a move on. There was some light-hearted grumbling, but everyone was professional enough to know how to behave. You had popped into the toilet before leaving, and when you came out of the stall, Leah was washing her hands. You hesitated for a brief moment before moving up to the sink next to her to wash your own hands, the little bit of alcohol you consumed tonight just enough to embolden you.

“Man, Williamson, what kind of a world is this where you’ve got those legs and no rhythm,” you teased, quickly busying yourself with the most thorough hand-wash you’ve ever done so you didn’t have to look over at her and see how poorly she took the remark.

“You spend a lot of time thinking about my legs?”

You froze. It would seem she didn’t take it too poorly at all. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you turned off the sink and turned to look at her. She was staring at you again. Seemed like maybe she did that a lot.

“Yeah, maybe,” you finally said. She hmmed a bit and cocked her head to the side. The glint in her eye was the only thing that kept you from worrying you were being too forward, and you silently prayed it wasn’t a trick of the fluorescent lighting overhead.

“You think you’re being all charming, with your little jokes?”

“No, not really,” you shrugged. “I think I have the personality of a 14-year-old boy and it’s the only way I know how to flirt with you.”

Leah changed at that. Her posture shifted. Her shoulders dropped slightly. The glint in her eye was gone. You fucked up, you thought. You’ve been here for four days and you already fucked up.

You moved to apologize at the same time Leah moved to respond, but both of you were interrupted by the door to the bathroom slamming open and a group of girls rushing in. You turned around and pushed yourself up against the edge of the sink to get out of the way, but Leah dipped her head down and shoved out past them, taking the opportunity to escape without you being able to stop her.

Yep. You fucked up.

#woso #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #woso fanfics #woso x reader #arsenal x reader #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson

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cheriladycl01 · 2 months

Text

The Deeper Connection - Zhou Guanyu x ChildhoodBestfriend! Reader

Plot: You made friends with Zhou when he first came to the UK to pursue his driving career, and you were like two pee's in a pod. When he reaches F1 and life gets busy for the both of you he finds solitude in your childhood hideout.

A/N: I haven't been that active lately with finals coming up, however I'm still trying to post regularly!

Credit to rbrhater for the GIF

You'd grown up in Sheffield all your life, you lived in a very nice home and came from a pretty well off family. With a dad in oversea real estate and your mum as a business owner and entrepreneur in the UK you wouldn't ever have to ask for anything twice.

The trouble was that you tried out so many hobbies and none of them really tended to stick.

Ballet when you were at three, didn't work with zero hand to eye coordination.

Horse-riding when you were five, didn't work after you got bored with how slowly you were being taught to ride.

Acting school when you were seven, didn't work when you were bullied for only being there because of mummy and daddies money. This completely made you loose your passion for it.

Swimming when you were eight, which you had to stop because of a medical condition with the cold water in the winters and your body temperature not mixing well.

Space camp when you were nine, didn't work because you were bored where you already knew everything they talked to you about because it was a special interest of yours.

Pottery when you were ten, whenever something broke you got really disappointed and sad with yourself and eventually it became something you only did every now and then to avoid burnout.

Gymnastics when you were eleven, didn't work after getting bored within the first weeks and it taking up too much time.

You were 12 when you met Zhou Guanyu, he moved into a house down your road in the gated woodland community of large and wealthy farm homes and mansions.

You guys became close almost straight away, you'd spend every night in the treehouse that his dad built him when they first moved in. But he wasn't always around, some weekends you'd knock on his door and no-one but the maid would answer explaining that the family weren't around.

She'd let you into the house, where you'd wait for him in either his bedroom or out in the treehouse. Sometimes he wouldn't come back until 10pm, and you'd be curled up on his beanbag in his room, asleep and his parents would have to call yours suggesting yet another sleepover.

After 3 years of knowing him, you found out where he'd been going and why he was home schooled just like you. He would kart, but now he'd got into Italian Formula 4 and he wouldn't be home as much.

You'd cried begging him not to go, Zhou really was your only friend and even though it had only been three years of friendship you'd attached yourself to him insanely quickly.

Not that he minded of course.

Your managed to go see one race with him, it was in Monza and he'd won it all. And that weekend he asked you to be his girlfriend. You of course said yes, as a two giddy sixteen year olds and went on from there.

The distance got easier when he was in the European Formula 3 championship in 2016. You being 17 weren't actually allowed to make your own choices yet, but the minute you turned 18, 5 months after Zhou, you were following him around to each race.

At this stage taking a gap year before you were due to go to university was better for you, and Zhou. In 2018, he got the news he'd be going to Formula 2 for the 2019 and you'd been accepted to Oxford.

For that first year you made it work. You visited him at races when you had breaks from university and he would come stay with you in your small uni accommodation in the off season or when he had longer breaks into between races.

But when 2020 rolled around, and you were forced to be separated by the growth of COVID-19 your relationship fizzled out. You pushed and pushed trying to keep the sparks there but one day, Zhou phoned you explaining that he couldn't do it anymore.

You'd cried so much that day, and you'd never felt more alone. The only place you thought to go that was safe was the tree house, you could get there through the side gate and you knew Zhou's parents were in China on business only leaving the maid there.

So that's what you did, you laid there curled up in a blanket Zhou brought you, crying until it got darked and you started to scare yourself looking into the dark woods.

When you were younger and you thought you heard or saw something in the woods, Zhou would hold you close explaining to you it was just your imagination and you'd immediately feel a sense of calm wash over you.

You left the treehouse that night getting on the last train you could think off back to Oxford.

Zhou continued in F2 in 2021, but got progressively more busy when competing in a small stint of the Winter F3 Asian Championship, of course you kept up to date with him.

You loved the boy and you didn't ever think you'd stop.

When the announcement of his promotion into F1 happened you cried happy and sad tears. Happy he'd achieved his dream, but ultimately sad he was in the big leagues now and he would definitely have no time for you.

He had a phenomenal first year and you watched every single race, even getting up at absurd hours to watch him. You cheered him on all the time and would get anxious whenever you had to stop or DNF.

Silverstone with the Russell incident was the worst. You parents had to hold you tightly as you cried seeing just how bad the crash was. Seeing George run over to his flipped over car that he couldn't get out of and a red flag being called.

You ran out the house going straight to the treehouse. His parents watched as the 22 year old climbed up the old rickety ladder, bag in hand and red bloodshot eyes.

They knew you'd seen his crash and you wanted some space.

What did shock them was the fact that you consistently came back every night for a few weeks.

It was a warmer night and you still had your blanket but there wasn't a need for a hoodie when you first came out. You were just laying there on the wooden planks looking out of the little skylight in the breaking wooden roof at the stars.

"Hey" a voice says softly making you turn to the ladder.

"Zhou?!" you explain sitting up quickly looking at him. Not that you hadn't seen him on Instagram or in his post race interviews but he'd grown into his face. He was as handsome as ever.

"Mmmmm" he sighs, almost in a grunt sort of way. He comes next to you and lays down, not coming to close scared that you'll leave if he pushes to close.

"Your star is up there tonight" he says raising his hand and pointing to the brightest star between the tree line. He'd named it your star when you'd spend the first night out here.

"How's it been, travelling round the world?" you ask softly turning to look at him, laying on your side. He turns onto his as well to also look at you.

"Lonely" he whispers with a sigh, pushing some of you hair behind your ear making you hold you breath as his fingers brush along the side of you face and down to your lips before recoiling his hand back.

"But your so busy and round people all the time!" you argue confused as to why he would ever feel lonely.

"I think sometimes even though I'm surrounded by people, they aren't people that get me... you know?" he asks turning onto his back, looking up at the sky.

"I think i feel the opposite" you laugh.

"What do you mean?" he asks, his gaze not wavering from the sky.

"I feel like i have absolutely no-one around me, but everyone i do bump into can see right through me" you sigh, having struggled at work recently as a graduate and new employee, working from home.

"Seems like we both are out of our comfort zones then" he offers with a sigh.

"Mmmmm i did have my comfort zone at one point" you say, it came out pointedly which you didn't intend.

"Yeah?" he asks, looking over at you again.

"Yeah it was you. I don't think I've ever experienced a connection like I have... had with you" you sigh.

"Had, you don't feel that way anymore?" he asks with a sad frown, that makes a frown of you own appear.

"You broke up with me in one of the loneliest periods in my life, It's always just been you Zhou, I've never had anyone else and then you were just gone ... I- you broke me and took a part with you" you sniffle, not sure how else to describe the heartbreak you were feeling.

Some people had their heart broken, where it would splinter all over and someone would come along and patch it back up until it healed.

Some people had their heart broken, where it would completely shatter and all the pieces are spread out and someone has to come along and pick up all of those pieces and puzzle them back together.

Some people have their heart broken, where it again completely shatters but the culprit takes a piece of that heart with them so that if theirs a time when someone else does come around and fix it it's never fully fixed, beating but never full.

And Zhou had that piece of your heart and no-one had put back the remaining parts of your heart, you'd gradually started to do it yourself but it was proving to be a long process.

"I-" he starts but chokes on his words.

"I think, I'll always love you Zhou Guanyu..." you whisper sitting up, your hair loosely falling over your shoulder.

"I know I'll always love you. And I want to take back everything I did! I need you in my life!" he says looking over you, making you look down.

"You cant take it back Zhou..." you start before looking up seeing his teary expression. "But i think we could start again. I don't want my heart back, it's yours to take... all of it forever. Your only going to be it!" you smile, knowing this was your chance to have him back.

He was your soulmate you were sure of it.

He leans up and pulls you into a kiss.

"I promise from here on out, I'll never leave you again again!"

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@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @formula1mount @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #zhou guanyu #Zhou Guanyu fanfic #guanyu zhou #zg24 #zg24 imagine #zg24 fic #zhou guanyu imagine

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eesirachs · 1 month

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For a school assignment, I'm assembling an anthology around the theme of queer divinity and desire, but I'm having a hard time finding a fitting essay/article (no access to real academic catalogues :/ ), do you know of any essays around this theme?

below are essays, and then books, on queer theory (in which 'queer' has a different connotation than in regular speech) in the hebrew bible/ancient near east. if there is a particular prophet you want more of, or a particular topic (ištar, or penetration, or appetites), or if you want a pdf of anything, please let me know.

essays: Boer, Roland. “Too Many Dicks at the Writing Desk, or How to Organize a Prophetic Sausage-Fest.” TS 16, no. 1 (2010b): 95–108. Boer, Roland. “Yahweh as Top: A Lost Targum.” In Queer Commentary and the Hebrew Bible, edited by Ken Stone, 75–105. JSOTSup 334. Cleveland, OH: Pilgrim, 2001. Boyarin, Daniel. “Are There Any Jews in ‘The History of Sexuality’?” Journal of the History of Sexuality 5, no. 3 (1995): 333–55. Clines, David J. A. “He-Prophets: Masculinity as a Problem for the Hebrew Prophets and Their Interpreters.” In Sense and Sensitivity: Essays on Reading the Bible in Memory of Robert Carroll, edited by Robert P. Carroll, Alastair G. Hunter, and Philip R. Davies, 311–27. JSOTSup 348. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002. Graybill, Rhiannon. “Yahweh as Maternal Vampire in Second Isaiah: Reading from Violence to Fluid Possibility with Luce Irigaray.” Journal of feminist studies in religion 33, no. 1 (2017): 9–25. Haddox, Susan E. “Engaging Images in the Prophets: Feminist Scholarship on the Book of the Twelve.” In Feminist Interpretation of the Hebrew Bible in Retrospect. 1. Biblical Books, edited by Susanne Scholz, 170–91. RRBS 5. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2013. Koch, Timothy R. “Cruising as Methodology: Homoeroticism and the Scriptures.” In Queer Commentary and the Hebrew Bible, edited by Ken Stone, 169–80. JSOTSup 334. Cleveland, OH: Pilgrim, 2001. Tigay, Jeffrey. “‘ Heavy of Mouth’ and ‘Heavy of Tongue’: On Moses’ Speech Difficulty.” BASOR, no. 231 (October 1978): 57–67.

books: Ahmed, Sara. Queer Phenomenology: Orientations, Objects, Others. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2006. Bauer-Levesque, Angela. Gender in the Book of Jeremiah: A Feminist-Literary Reading. SiBL 5. New York: P. Lang, 1999. Black, Fiona C., and Jennifer L. Koosed, eds. Reading with Feeling : Affect Theory and the Bible. Atlanta, GA: SBL Press, 2019. Brenner, Athalya. The Intercourse of Knowledge: On Gendering Desire and “Sexuality” in the Hebrew Bible. BIS 26. Leiden: Brill, 1997. Camp, Claudia V. Wise, Strange, and Holy: The Strange Woman and the Making of the Bible. JSOTSup 320. Gender, Culture, Theory 9. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000. Chapman, Cynthia R. The Gendered Language of Warfare in the Israelite-Assyrian Encounter. HSM 62. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2004. Creangă, Ovidiu, ed. Men and Masculinity in the Hebrew Bible and Beyond. BMW 33. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2010. Eilberg-Schwartz, Howard. God’s Phallus: And Other Problems for Men and Monotheism. Boston: Beacon, 1995. Huber, Lynn R., and Rhiannon Graybill, eds. The Bible, Gender, and Sexuality : Critical Readings. London, UK ; T&T Clark, 2021. Guest, Deryn. When Deborah Met Jael: Lesbian Biblical Hermeneutics. London: SCM, 2005. Graybill, Rhiannon, Meredith Minister, and Beatrice J. W. Lawrence, eds. Rape Culture and Religious Studies : Critical and Pedagogical Engagements. Lanham, Maryland: Lexington Books, 2019. Graybill, Rhiannon. Are We Not Men? : Unstable Masculinity in the Hebrew Prophets. New York, NY: Oxford University Press USA, 2016. Halperin, David J. Seeking Ezekiel: Text and Psychology. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1993. Jennings, Theodore W. Jacob’s Wound: Homoerotic Narrative in the Literature of Ancient Israel. New York: Continuum, 2005. Macwilliam, Stuart. Queer Theory and the Prophetic Marriage Metaphor in the Hebrew Bible. BibleWorld. Sheffield and Oakville, CT: Equinox, 2011. Maier, Christl. Daughter Zion, Mother Zion: Gender, Space, and the Sacred in Ancient Israel. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2008. Mills, Mary E. Alterity, Pain, and Suffering in Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel. LHB/OTS 479. New York: T. & T. Clark, 2007. Stökl, Jonathan, and Corrine L. Carvalho. Prophets Male and Female: Gender and Prophecy in the Hebrew Bible, the Eastern Mediterranean, and the Ancient Near East. AIL 15. Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2013. Stone, Ken. Practicing Safer Texts: Food, Sex and Bible in Queer Perspective. Queering Theology Series. London: T & T Clark International, 2004. Weems, Renita J. Battered Love: Marriage, Sex, and Violence in the Hebrew Prophets. OBT. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1995.

#ask

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a3dan13 · 5 months

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American Girls - Alex Turner x fem!Reader

Word Count: 729

Summary: Running into Alex Turner after being his classmate. Inspired by AM Alex.

Warnings: None! (sassy man warning 💅)

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

You grew up with Alex Turner and went to high school with him. He never took an interest in you; he said that American girls weren't really "his thing" when you asked if he'd want to hang out. You settled for being a sort of fan when the Monkeys got big. You bought the records, and you told your friends that you knew him whenever he was mentioned. You expected their faces of interest. You expected them to ask if you knew he was gonna be famous. You expected their looks when you told them that he was kind of an ass. You did not expect him to walk into the bar every teen sneaks into as a rite of passage in your town, which also happened to be your current workplace.

He and his bandmates strode up to the bar, some slightly aware of a few of the turning heads. "Ey love, 'ow are you?" Alex greeted as he took a seat. For a moment, you thought he may have recognized you, but you quickly realized he was just being kind to the bartender, who he did not know, let alone remember. Ouch.

"Good, and you?" you smiled. He looked a bit taken aback by your American accent.

"I'm alright. Say how does an American girl make it to Sheffield?" he quipped.

"By plane,” you remarked, “or boat if you're old fashioned. What can I get you?"

"Whiskey, neat." You got to pouring the drink and felt his eyes staring at you as you went along. You started to feel a bit self-conscious. Your black tank top was tight and didn't leave much to the imagination. On top of that, you were sweaty from working and your hair was swept into a messy ponytail. "You look oddly familiar," he said as you slid his glass across the bar to him.

"Is that so?"

"I don't know if it's the accent or... you just remind me of this American gal I went to school with."

"No shit," you blurted. His eyebrows shot up. He stared at you for a bit and then the look of realization lit up in his eyes.

"No shit!" he repeated, "You!"

"You don't remember my name," you laughed at him and tried to hide that you were a bit hurt.

"Nah," his voice trailed, "yeah..." He looked up at you apologetically. "Well, that makes me seem like an asshole." He rubbed his temples. "Allow me to restart," he held his hand out. "Hi, I'm Alex, I'm an ass, and you are?"

You returned his handshake, "I'm Y/N, very nice to meet such a respectful ass." He chuckled and ran his hand along the side of his hair, effectively slicking back any stray strands. You helped a few other patrons before you heard him speak up again.

"So, what have you been up to Y/N?"

"Well," you gestured to the bar. "I feel like I should be asking you."

"I have interviews for that, but I'd much prefer to hear about you."

You felt a blush pool across your cheeks. Was he flirting with you?

"I finished secondary, tried university, wasn't my thing," you told him. His eyes lingered on the way you moved with your hands on your hips as you talked. "I wanted to be an artist, I, uh-, paint.," you stammered feeling a bit shy about your shattered dreams. "But, you know, or maybe you don't, but there's a lot of painters out there, so..."

"None as cute as you though I reckon," he said almost slyly as if he hadn't meant for you to hear it... like it was a secret.

"'Scuse me?" you laughed, wanting him to repeat himself to make sure you didn't just imagine the compliment.

"You're beautiful."

"I thought you weren't into American girls," you said skeptically treading around his advances, as tempting as they were.

"Times are changin'. You've changed," he replied.

"So you thought I was ugly?"

"What? No!" he yelped nervously. "That's not what I meant." His exasperation amused you and you began to giggle at him. It was cute, how flustered he got, over you. You pulled a napkin from a tray on the bar, scribbled your number on it, and slid it across the bar to him.

"Call me, Turner." His tensely pursed lips melted into a goofy smile.

"Yes ma'am."

A/N: Should I make a part two for this where they go out on a date or smthg? lmk 💋 thank you for reading🫶

#alex turner imagine #alex turner #alex turner fanfic #alex turner x reader #arctic monkeys fic #arctic monkeys #am #alex turner x you #the last shadow puppets #tlsp #tlsp x reader #am x reader

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newtonsheffield · 3 months

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Molly, I loved little princess bean Katie and Lady Mary with Dilf daddy King Sharma 😍 we need more. How did they meet? Did Katie catch Mary sleeping in Dilf King Sharma bed? I need to know!! please 🙏

Oh they’re super sweet.

Once upon a time, Mary was only Lady Mary Sheffield, the Earl of Sheffield’s daughter and Tharman was only His Royal Highness, Tharman, Crown Prince. And He had a very sweet daughter.

“Now, I’ve arranged for you to sit next to the Prince at dinner.”

Mary stared at her mother as they sat in the back of the car weaving through traffic. “How, and more importantly; Why?”

Her mother waved her hand. “I made a donation to this… whatever this charity is.”

“A children’s hospital? You know, sick children.”

“Don’t be so…snippy tonight.” Her mother sighed, “Mary, please. Please don’t be sarcastic tonight.”

“So… don’t be myself?” Mary asked, eyebrows raised. “I’m to sit next to the Crown Prince for some… ungodly reason and… become mute.”

“Oh don’t be dense.” Her mother scoffed, “He’s had long enough. It’s high time he married again and you, if you would put in just a modicum of effort; would be perfect.”

“He’s had long enough?!” Mary squawked, a little horrified, “Mama, his wife died from complications after childbirth. I think he’s allowed to grieve.”

“Oh, is that what you’re worried about?!” Her mother rolled her eyes, “Darling, you could ship the girl off to boarding school by the time you’re actually married. And I’m sure they have people who would take care of her in the meantime.”

Mary knew that all too well. She’d spent an entire childhood of her own with no one but a nanny for company, her parents sometimes not even in the same country. So lonely.

Mary gaped at her mother, “What are you-?! I can’t believe you.”

“You’re quite pretty when you smile. Just flirt with him a little, one thing can lead to another. A little pregnancy scare in a few months and-“

“I’m not sitting beside him!” The car pulled up to the venue and Mary slipped out as soon as she could, desperate to slip away but her mother caught her by the arm, her nails digging in.

“You are going to. You can’t not. How would that look?”

Her mother was right. She could hardly refuse to sit beside the prince without it looking like a slight but all she felt in the pit of her stomach was dread. Dread that increased with every step she took.

She could feel her mother’s eyes boring in to her from three tables away as they waited for the prince to arrive, Mary already in her seat. He’d become a bit of a recluse truly, in the four years since his wife had passed away. Appearing at events and leaving as soon as would have been appropriate. She’d seen him quite a few times at a distance, though they’d never been introduced and as she stood, waiting for him to make his way across the room.

He was handsome, up close. She realised as he inclined his head to everyone at the table and his eyes fell on her. His jaw sharp and his eyes kind, his thick, dark hair curling over his brow. So handsome that she fumbled a little as she curtsied and she could nearly hear her mother cursing across the room.

“Please, please. Everyone sit.” He smiled, “I’m sorry I’m so late. A little Princess was telling me all the reasons why I should take her to the toy store tomorrow.”

Everyone let out a polite chuckle as they settled into their seats and mary did the same, feeling a little wooden. Avoiding her mother’s piercing gaze. She could hardly focus on anything as the dinner started, staring at her glass of water as conversation started around her.

“Is everything alright?”

His voice was warm, close to her ear and it startled her, the gentleness in it. She let her eyes slide to his and a lump appeared in her throat at the gentle concern colouring his face.

“Of course, your highness.”

His eyes slid to her name card, “I’m sorry I’m not better company, Lady Mary. I’d be very happy to trade places.”

Mary breathed a sighed imaging her mother’s furious face. “Lord, please don’t do that.”

“I’m very happy for you to choose the topic of conversation then. I’ll admit I’m a poor conversationalist these days. I spend most of my time with a four year old. Well, she will be soon.”

There was something so sweet in that. In the way his eyes lit up as he spoke about his daughter and his smile grew brighter. And it made her brave.

She cleared her throat, smiling as she took a sip of her wine. “Are we acquainted enough that I could ask you for a favour?”

His eyes widened but he leaned in, smiling bemusedly, “Well we’ve known one another a full minute. I have to imagine we are.”

“No matter what I do tonight, can you pretend to be very uninterested in me?”

“Do you want me to be uninterested in you?”

“I want my mother to think you are.”

“Ah.” He gave her a tight smile. “I see.”

He cleared his throat, making a great show of leaning away from her. “I’m sorry, Lady Mary, I disagree!”

She bit back a smile, “Maybe a little too dramatic.”

He winked at her quickly before he turned away completely, nudging his elbow until her hand rested on it and it looked for all the world as though she was desperately trying to get his attention.

“Did you try, Mary?” Her mother tutted as they left. “Did you actually try?!”

“I did, Mother.” She said sighing, “I’m not sure what you wanted me to do? Take my dress off and sit in his lap?”

Her mother stood stone faced. “You aren’t anywhere near as amusing as you think.”

“Maybe not, but I am going home.”

“Fine. You’re useless to me anyway.”

Mary sighed as she turned away, trying not to let it sting as she made her way down the steps towards her waiting car. She was almost there when she heard a voice call out.

“Are we safe?”

She started at the sound of his voice and turned to see him waiting for her, grinning a slightly lopsided smile that made her heart skip.

“Ah well, she’s deemed me useless and sent me home.” Mary chuckled, “She continues to think I’m a disappointment so… I’d have to say quite the win tonight.”

His laughter was a bemused, warm little thing and she had the oddest impression that it had made its way into her chest. “I’m always glad to be of assistance, Lady Mary.”

“Very gallant of you, Your Highness.”

He really was very handsome as he smiled at her in the moonlight, dimples on his cheeks. He paused for a moment, “Can I… ask you a question?”

“I think we’re past that point. Surely.”

“Why? Why did you…? Many women might have behaved differently and I just… Why?”

Mary sighed, honesty spilling out of her. “If I give my mother this… it would never be enough. I will never be enough for her. And it doesn’t seem fair for you to be drawn into all that.”

He gave her a sad smile, leaning in closer. “Then I’m afraid to say it but your mother’s an idiot.”

Surprised laughter burst out of her and she loved the way his smile grew at the sound of it.

“Then it’s not because you’re seeing someone else?”

Her heart stuttered. “I’m not but…”

“Lady Mary I wondered if you’d like to have dinner with me. No one would have to know. I only… It’s been a long time since I enjoyed myself at one of these things and I… I’d like to get to know you.”

She stared at him, a little in shock but the answer came without much thought. “I think I’d like that as well.”

It was a nearly two months later, when she woke up warm in his bed, his chest warm behind her before she slipped out of it. Throwing the shirt she’d slipped off his shoulders last night back over her as she padded towards the kitchen.

His sister had taken Kate out the night before, she’d bring her back this afternoon and something ached in her chest, something anxious at what they’d been dancing around. Her meeting his daughter.

He loved his daughter. That much was obvious. From the way he spoke about her and the fact that his study was covered in scrawled pictures in bright green crayon. The greatest gift of his life, he called her, with so much warmth that a lump grew in Mary’s throat now just thinking about it as she opened the fridge. There was another, bigger kitchen, Mary knew, where professional chefs toiled away but this was for the family alone, so they didn’t have to bother the staff over tiny little things. Hunger gnawed at her stomach and she was so engrossed in her own thoughts that she almost didn’t hear it.

“Who are you?!”

“Fuck!” Mary squawked in surprise, letting out a screech as she dropped the jug of orange juice she’d just lifted off the shelf, the glass smashing on the floor at her feet as she whirled around.

A tiny girl was standing in the door way still in her pyjamas, fluffy slippers on her feet. She had Tharman’s thick, curly hair that cascaded down her shoulders, his little twin as she stared adorably up at Mary, tapping her foot.

“My Appa says that’s a naughty word.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry.” Mary gasped as footsteps sounded in the hallway, Tharman rushing in.

He was only in his boxers his hair disheveled from sleep and the way Mary’s hands had run through with her legs over his shoulders and his jaw fell open at the sight in front of him. Mary, naked but for his shirt. His daughter, confused. Juice, all over the floor.

“Kate, Peanut.” Tharman said finally, picking her up and settling her on his hip with an apologetic look at Mary. “Auntie Im was supposed to drop you off later.”

“Granny said she needed her.” Kate chirped still staring at Mary, who could hardly breathe. “Where are her pyjamas?”

Mary wanted to fall through the ground, truth be told, trying to tug the shirt further down her thighs. “I… left them at home.”

Tharman smirked a little looking up at the ceiling before he sighed. “Kate, remember how we spoke about how sometimes Men and women have special friends?”

Kate nodded, resting her chin on her father’s shoulder. “Then they get married sometimes.”

“Sometimes.” Tharman said quickly, “Well, this is Mary and she’s Appa’s special friend. Can you say Hello?”

Kate smiled at her, a cheeky little grin as she reached out her hand for Mary to shake, “I’m Kate.”

Mary’s heart fluttered as she held her hand out to take Kate’s tiny one in hers. “It’s nice to meet you kate. Your Appa’s told me so much about you.”

Kate looked suspicious, “Appa is silly.”

“Appa’s very silly.” Tharman huffed in agreement, kissing his daughter’s temple.

“Are you going to stay with us today?”

Mary looked at Tharman who smiled encouragingly before she nodded, “If that’s okay with you.”

“Mary might be around here a lot from now on, peanut.”

Kate looked between them slowly, her lips pouting. “Mary can you read?”

Mary bit back a laugh, “I can read, yes.”

“Can you do voices? Appa’s bad at them.”

“I can… try.”

Kate patted her father’s head in a sign to let her down and she tugged Mary’s hand forward dragging her out of the kitchen, calling back to her father. “Mary and me are going to get books and toys Appa!”

Tharman kissed Mary’s cheek quickly as she passed sighing as they left “I guess I’ll clean up the juice then.”

And when she sat on the floor with Kate on her lap and Tharman across from her it was shard not to feel as though this was the start of their little family. Even if no one else knew yet.

#head on the pillow au #kate sharma #kate sheffield #mary x Tharman #papa sharma remains a DILF #mary sharma #molly’s asks and answers

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x-liv25-jamieswife · 1 month

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sad avery head canons

@ariscats requested this in a comment under my sad grayson hcs, and i'm more than happy to do it for my fav girl avery. trigger warning for self-harm, suicidal thoughts, and sexual assault. pls don't read if this might trigger you, and if you ever need help, there are helplines you can contact for free. family and friends are obviously also an option (if you'd rather talk to a stranger, you can always dm me (or whoever you feel comfortable with) <3). sorry if some of this doesn't make sense. i wrote this at 1 am. hope you enjoy<3.

avery used to pull out a guitar (cause i hc she can play the guitar) and sing songs for her mom when she was on her death bed

she now visits her mom's grave and does the same thing. she sings her mom's favorite songs on the verge of tears (if she isn't already crying).

avery used to wear an elastic band around her wrist and would snap it repeatedly until her wrist became sore and red (it didn't always make her stop though) when she was feeling overwhelmed or did smth she deemed wrong.

whenever avery would drive across bridges or anything really high up, she would think about jumping off of it.

she used to get her mom or libby to help her bake cookies that she would bring to school to try to get people to become her friend (it never worked)

she used to eat lunch in the back of the courtyard in a secluded place most of the time bc no one wanted to eat with her (until she met max obviously)

i'm currently rereading tig and i can't help but notice how uncomfortable she becomes when someone touches her so i hc drake or some other random creep sexually assaulted her once (or multiple times) and that's the reason why she seems so uncomfortable with physical touch.

she used to cry in her mom's arms wondering why she wasn't good enough for people to want to be her friend

when her and libby were struggling to get by and couldn't afford food, she would save the food for libby and not eat (she would tell her she ate at the diner she worked at but didn't)

when she realized, at the age of six, that her father was a piece of shit who didn't actually want her, she started trying to find faults in her to explain why this might be (she thought that if she could 'fix' herself, her father might want her)

she sometimes purposely gives herself papercuts when she feels really numb just to make herself feel something

when she would live in her car, she would sometimes continuously bash her head on the steering wheel wishing her life could be different.

when she was younger, to get people to like her, she would give them everything she had. she would do their homework for them, would cover for them when they wanted to cause trouble in the school, etc, but, in the end, it was always temporary

whenever she comes across someone who looks like sheffield grayson she freezes up in fear/shock. a little voice in her head tells her she's in danger and they'll hurt her.

after all of the almost-death experiences she's been through, she developed a panic disorder (this is already sort of confirmed) that she has to treat with pills.

she sometimes takes the haters' comments to heart (the comments about her weight, etc). she would start telling herself that skipping one meal wouldn't hurt. jameson noticed really early on though and stopped her before it became too severe.

she's convinced people would be better off without her and that she only causes pain and destruction everywhere she goes (bc of what happened with toby)

she actually hates getting drunk because it reminds her too much of her father. jameson started to notice that she would get really uncomfortable whenever he got drunk so he started to drink less. when he did drink though, he made sure it wasn't enough to get drunk.

because of everyone comparing her to emily, she's convinced herself that she's just jamie's second option and she'll never measure up (personality wise, looks wise, everything). jamie and her talked about it a lot and she's now less insecure.

she gets terrified when she hears noises at night bc she's convinces someone's there to hurt her

she forgives people so easily bc she desperately wants people to actually like her.

in the books she says she doesn't allow herself to want to want things bc it could potentially distract her/hurt her. i also think she doesn't allow herself to want things bc she doesn't think she deserves to want anything.

when she's in a stressful situation or she's having a panic attack, she'll start scratching her arms really roughly until they start to bleed to get herself to focus on anything other than the stress/panic.

the scratches on her arms became too obvious so she started scratching her sides instead.

she can't watch any tv shows with violence/war bc the loud sounds remind her too much of the shooting.

one of the reasons why she realized her father was a piece of shit was bc, once, he got way too drunk and slapped her. that was sort of like the catalyst for her.

bc she grew up so isolated, she's afraid of emotional and physical intimacy. she's afraid she'll start liking feeling loved/close to someone too much since she believes it'll never last (jamie showed her she was wrong)

i'm an averyjameson stan so don't take this the wrong way but avery was affected by jamie thinking of her as only a game way more than she lets on. even after they got together, she was paranoid that he had ulterior motives.

she blames herself whenever something goes wrong in the foundation or hawthorne house even when she had nothing to do with the problem.

she's extremely paranoid when it comes to locking her bedroom door and stuff like that bc of how often her privacy is invaded.

i said this in another post but, especially before she inherited the money, she would sometimes smoke weed to lessen the stress she felt for a little while.

she hates going to sleep bc her sleep is always invaded by horrendous nightmares. it became so bad she ended up in the hospital (jamie was absolutely terrified and made her promise to talk to him more).

she has this one stuffed animal that her mom gave her not long before she passed that she cries into whenever she feels like her life is going to shit.

before she inherited the money, she was actually near her breaking point. she was seriously considering if staying alive was actually worth it.

before she inherited the money, she used to count on her fingers how many people would miss her when she died to convince herself to stay alive (the number was never more than three). the fact that the number was so low made her feel even shittier and made her spiral.

her grief for her mom is so intense sometimes she can't get out of bed. she doesn't eat, sleep, drink water, etc. alisa had to contact a therapist/psychiatrist to help avery get out of bed.

to end on a brighter note, here's a happy avery head canon:

she used to dance all the time when she was younger. she would pull out her mom's phone, start playing some music, and jump around waving her tiny little arms everywhere whilst singing along. she would pretend she was a popstar. her mom would film her and send the videos to libby. the brothers have seen all of them bc libby showed them.

not proof read so i apologize for any spelling mistakes<3. again, pls contact someone/helpline if you ever need help. speaking from experience, things tend to get better. sending everyone lots of love (and my girl avery).

#the inheritance games #jameson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne #avery grambs #xander hawthorne #nash hawthorne #libby grambs

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ukrfeminism · 2 years

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Rebecca Whitehurst never wants to set foot in a school again.

She also wants all teachers, especially female ones, to wear bodycams, to have CCTV in every classroom and for teachers to operate in pairs. “I think teachers should never be alone with children, there should always be someone else there. I know it is dramatic but I don’t want what happened to me to ever happen to anyone else,” she said.

The views of Whitehurst, who is married with two children and has been a modern languages teacher for more than ten years, have been shaped by what she describes as a “modern horror story”.

Last week the 46-year-old wept as a jury at Manchester’s Minshull Street crown court cleared her of two charges of sexual activity with a child and one of sexual communications. She had been accused of a sexual act with a 15-year-old pupil in the back of her Volvo and of sending him explicit texts, including a photograph of her breasts.

The court heard that the teenager, who had declared he was in love with Whitehurst, became obsessed with her and lied about or faked the messages. The boy, who watched pornography involving older women, assaulted her in her classroom and sent an abusive message to her daughter, the court was told.

The family spent £43,000 fighting the case, which dragged on for three years. If convicted she would have faced up to 14 years’ in jail.

Speaking from her home in Cheshire where her husband, Billy, an accountant, has “been unbelievably supportive”, she said her experience at times felt like a television drama.

It unfolded against the backdrop of a rising number of schoolboys watching online pornography, and pupils’ mental health becoming a frontline problem for many schools.

Last year, an Ofsted report found 90 per cent of girls and 50 per cent of boys polled by the schools inspectorate said they had been sent explicit pictures and messages they did not wish to see. A survey for the British Board of Film Classification last year found that almost half of 16 and 17-year-olds had recently seen pornography. Figures from NHS Digital found that one in six children in England had a probable mental health disorder last year, up from one in nine in 2017.

Whitehurst’s ordeal started in April 2019. The boys’ school where she taught French, German and Spanish had paid for her to attend a three-day course on mindfulness. She was asked to teach the subject — not to lower the stress of high-achieving children in the run-up to exams, which she had suggested, but to children on the inclusion register, who have special educational needs and disabilities. “I said yes because I am that sort of person,” the Sheffield University graduate said, but admitted to being nervous about teaching a “wishy washy” subject to children who may have experienced significant trauma.

In an early session with the group of ten boys the 15-year-old who would go on to accuse her said he was hearing voices in his head telling him to kill someone. “I thought OMG,” she said. “As soon as I could I reported it on our safeguarding system . . . I reported it on there and thought someone would talk to me about it, but no one did.”

As the sessions continued the teenager “latched” onto Whitehurst, who tried to give him “sensible advice” via the school’s email system.

He talked about being in a gang and, in an area of the city linked to the Manchester bomber, Whitehurst also feared he was at risk of getting involved in terrorism. When he started to talk about how he had “this big secret” and she was the only person he could tell it to, she made, she admits, a critical mistake.

“He had said he wants to kill people and is in a gang,” she said. “He was talking about going to the mosque. All these things were adding up in my head. I thought there was a bigger picture and I would find out about it and report it.

“I tried to get him to talk to staff who were better trained in such matters but he said no. He said he did not trust the school email which we were already communicating on. In one email thread he emailed me a ghost emoji and I realised he meant he wanted to tell me the secret on Snapchat. I downloaded Snapchat on purpose because I thought he was going to give me this big secret.”

Whitehurst said the secret was nothing to do with terrorism: “The secret was he was in love with me. I realised I had made an idiot of myself. I told him nothing like that was ever going to happen and there had been a misunderstanding. I told him I had to tell the school. He would say ‘they are not going to believe you’ and that I had made a mistake in giving him my Snapchat username. I should have reported it but I did not and I know now that that was an error.”

A few weeks later the teenager came into Whitehurst’s classroom when she was alone. He tried to force his tongue into her mouth, touched her intimately, slapped her face and spat at her. She tried to push him away, which he told the court he thought was encouragement.

“I do not think he knew how bad it was what he did; I know porn was available to him, he sent me lots of links which I never opened but I have an idea of what he watched,” she said. “I think he thought slapping me and spitting at me was sexy in some way.” Again, she did not report the assault. Whitehurst admits she was scared and also “again I thought I would be held responsible as I am the adult and he is the child”, but from then on things got steadily worse.

Over the coming weeks he gave her a necklace and sent naked images of himself which she deleted. He “begged” her to meet him outside school. Still worried about his state of mind, she met him several times in public places, including at a charity run she was doing in a Manchester park where she thought there was no risk of him “launching himself at her”.

At school Whitehurst volunteered for extra duties to ensure she was not alone. She applied for jobs in other schools.

In September 2019 she broke down in the playground when a colleague asked her if she was OK: “I said no and blurted it all out. She said she would have to take this to the head teacher.”

Whitehurst agreed with the head teacher that the matter would be reported to the police and the local authority safeguarding officer and that she would be suspended pending an inquiry. “My logic was, they will understand,” she said. “They will know he is difficult and that I wanted to help but mismanaged things.”

Whitehurst was shocked in her first police interview, two months later, when she heard that the boy had accused her of having sexual activity with him and sending him photos of her breasts.

The pandemic meant that the investigation dragged on. She did not hear anything until last year when police said they had downloaded data from both the phones, including a screenshot of a fake text conversation in whch she appeared to be suggesting sexual acts with the teenager outdoors.

“I thought, ‘I never sent those’. They did not look right. They were obviously fake. The language did not add up. I did not need a professor of linguistics to say that was not me,” she said.

“It was extraordinary that what he said was believed and I was not. He said it was consensual. And we were in love.

“I kept thinking the police will look at all this properly, tell me this will be dropped and say, ‘You poor woman’.”

As it became clear that the case would go to court Whitehurst switched lawyers. Her new team instructed an expert witness to look at the downloaded data from both phones. His report — which cost the family £8,000 — made clear there was no evidence that a photo of her breasts or a text suggesting outdoor sex acts had been sent by her or received by the teenager. Still the case was not dropped.

A week before court, Whitehurst says “calm descended”. She decided not to wear a face mask or hide her face and be “as brave as I could be”.

By video link the teenager gave contradictory evidence and admitted the assault on Whitehurst. The jury took less than three hours to acquit her.

Whitehurst’s case may be extreme but it is not isolated. There is a website on which teachers share dozens of accounts of false allegations. Teaching unions called last year for pupils who make them to be excluded and for fully funded mental health programmes aimed at boys.

Christian Harbinson of the law firm Thompsons solicitors, which represented Whitehurst, said: “An underfunded criminal justice system is unable to cope and that stretches out the agony for innocent people like Rebecca. It’s taken almost three years, since the allegations were first made, for her to clear her name, during which time Rebecca’s life has been on hold and her family have had to deal with an unimaginable level of stress and worry.”

Asked whether the teenager, now 18, would face an inquiry for possible criminal offences, Greater Manchester police said it had no intention to investigate “the child victim in this case”.

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