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time-is-restored · 1 year

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more whinging bc i got negative hours of sleep last night and i need to stay awake somehow lol

cw: discussions of misogyny + abuse

god the more i think abt it the more exhausted i get by the gender politics of ted lasso.

like god i do genuinely think that rebecca's arc in s1 is one of the best depictions of a mean + cruel woman ive ever seen on TV specifically bc it manages to thread the needle so well? like they never tilt her balance too much and doom her to being either totally fucked up + evil OR totally soft and sweet and harmless. and ted's 'divorce makes u crazy' response to her apology STILL makes me crazy wrt the sheer. understanding and empathy there, and she's just. given so much more depth than ive come to expect, especially for an ensemble cast sitcom w a (then) p short run time.

but my fucking god. we literally don't learn a fucking thing about michelle. im pretty sure the one (1) concrete thing we know about her comes in the fucking finale, and it's that she's a teacher for... something. the two most important people in ted's life and we don't know anything abt them! they're literally just empty symbols representing the importance of Family™, and that vacancy does nothing but weigh ted's storyline down!

like, i liked michelle's episode/storyline in s1, bc the blinding novelty of a woman instigating a divorce not being the Actual Devil, as well as a just. generally very empathetic + nuanced take on how divorce shakes out between two ppl who really care for each other, was so 'WAIT TV CAN DO THIS??' that i felt satisfied with that being Her Arc™. divorce happens, life happens, people fall out of love, and it hurts but its ultimately okay. the show, at the time, was ultimately abt a football club and how caring abt that football club helped everyone around it.

but then the show sticks around, and her continued absence just... raises a lot of questions? how did the conversation abt ted going overseas happen? what conversations did they have abt henry? how long term was it intended to be? did money really not factor into it all? like it's one thing for a character's backstory to be vague when it's not really the focus of attention (s1 was ultimately rebecca's story before anyone else's), but when it's the load bearing stone of their '''''''arc''''''' in s3...????

like. god. and then it fucking infects every other woman on the show!

sassy + nora? well sure we'll give you a softball - you can have one (1) scene where a woman is able to resolutely and firmly reject a man asking her out without immediately being seen as cruel or gameplayey (not that the audience will see it that way! she's already a lecherous temptress for them!), but neither of them will ever be able to speak to rebecca onscreen again, even after the heart-wrenching scenes in s1 CLEARLY establishing them as a beating heart of rebecca's arc.

shandy? nope, don't even think abt her motivations/drives, just forget her. simi? LMAOOO imagine a black woman getting a personality beyond righteous anger. jack? three-four episodes, and we learn so little abt her that her conflict with keeley - which SHOULD'VE have been a huge emotional beat - just feels like a kick in the teeth (and while, yes, i absolutely agree that in a real world context, jack's rejection of keeley would be largely motivated by class, in Ted Lasso Land™ rebecca is just as rich - if not richer? - and we're never once encouraged to interrogate her priorities).

barbara's the one that really makes me miserable, bc i feel like on a show with less run time, she could've played REALLY well. she's a great contrast to keeley, has an amazing delivery, and the scene where keeley + her first discuss the snowglobes shows that she has the potential for some really moving vulnerability + pathos. but instead they give SO many of keeley's scenes to characters who ultimately get written out, so when barbara stays it's like... okay? sure? like, i was so stoked that barbara survived the Mass Exodus of side characters that i didn't wanna look the gift horse in the mouth but... wasn't the last thing we saw of her and keeley's relationship like. general resentment + distrust abt the shandy debacle? when did that improve? how???

i don't think i'll ever have enough mental real estate to explain how disappointed keeley + rebecca's 'arcs' in s3 made me, and at least there's the saving grace that. virtually no one other than jamie got a coherent arc this season, so at least it was on some levels an egalitarian screw up. but fuck dude. keeley was just forced to react to bad things that were happening to her, and we got to see her do her job (which, unbelievably, does actually involve things other than being an awkward manager!) precisely one (1) time.

i even like rebecca's arc on paper - i think it's really cool to see a character backslide so intensely in terms of obsessing over and struggling to come to terms w a past relationship, especially an abusive one, bc like. yeah! that shit sticks with you for longer than a season! and beyond that, seeing her regain her sense of self and what SHE actually gives a shit about was oftentimes just as sweet as s1. but her scenes were poorly connected, and she had to carry WAY too much of a burden as the Resident Speech Giver for any of her internal characterisation to make sense. like, sorry, but it's kind of hard to believe a character's Going Through It™ when they have to spent near 100% of their screen time giving Take It From Me, Kid, speeches. and then she's not even given a real opportunity TO fuck up + sabotage her relationships, even when she starts getting really weird w ted! it's all just so meaningless and like nothing that she does is ever going to matter. she never speaks to zava again, we don't get to see her interact w bex or kate, her pleas to ted get COMPLETELY shut down...

but the thing that REALLY makes me sick is this complete lack of interiority absolutely butchers the characters of jade + jane, who are otherwise RIFE with potential. like, jade is a completely unflinching, unapologetic asshole to nate + his family, and that's never interrogated. even in Sitcom Land™, it's more than reasonable to view jade's actions as racist, especially when she doesn't give the same treatment to others (at least not as i recall? honestly i usually watch the taste of athens scenes while peeking out behind my hands, so i could 100% be wrong here). and yet, suddenly, and completely inexplicably, she's charmed by nate. she wants to give him the time of day. she finds him attractive, and wants to date him, and generally take control of his life and force him into a decision that is literally the exact opposite of what he expressed wanting to do. except even that LAST thing isn't allowed to be interrogated, bc god FORBID a woman is enough of a fully realised creation to actually be culpable of the terrible shit they do!

and fucking jane??? beard's so head-over-heels for this woman that the emotional abuse + extremely controlling tendencies don't even make him bat an eye, and we don't get to know anything about her? she's literally just the suggestion of an alluring woman! good at sex! good at chess! fuck you if you wanna know more, even though the show ENDLESSLY hits you over the head with how painful their relationship is for beard - beard who is given virtually no other storyline. like, i literally can't read brendan's refusal to label jane as abusive as anything other than like. that bio-essentialism shit where ppl 'women are better than men <3' so hard that they end up genuinely and wholeheartedly arguing that someone's sex defines their morals - or worse, that their sex is a deciding factor in determining whether someone's actions are good or bad. not context, but a legitimate 'add points if woman, take away points if man' variable.

like that's so feminism 101 it's legitimately almost worse than nothing. that's like getting as far as 'hey so you know how we're all inundated with both implicit + explicit messaging abt what is Valued and Good for women vs men to-' before shoving ur earplugs in and going 'if you are oppressed by society we'll automatically stamp a 'good person' label on ur head and now we don't have to think abt any of our biases + internalised beliefs ever again <333'. the most useless and fucking pointless stand against the patriarchy ever, especially coming from the same show that ENDLESSLY slots characters into the 'loving gf/wife' archetype and then give them Literally Nothing Else. my comrades you have literally just done madonna/whore 2: oops all madonnas! this is not liberation!!!! this is a miserable cage!!!!!!!!!

im just. higgins' wife. mae. trent's daughter and anonymous 'her'. the women at the hotel and the restaurants and the firm and the fucking physios, fuck - dani's gfs! who are they? what do they want? where do they go when the camera stops rolling? can anyone hear me?? hello??? hello???? brendan hunt i am OUTSIDE YOUR HOUUUUUUSE

#ted lasso spoilers #ted lasso meta #ted lasso critical #dead girls by p.enelope s.cott has been stuck in my head for approximately a month bc of this fucking show #its so fucking nuts being treated to rebecca + keeley in s1 and then slowly realising w dawning horror that its literally only down from #here. and also listen nothing but respect to my comrades out there who can take michelle + henry as written #and immediately + painlessly extrapolate from their significance in ted's life to viewing them as like. important figures narratively #but to me they literally never got beyond the carboard cutout stage? like. yes thank you if u love ur family its sad when u leave them.#why'd he leave them then lol.#LIKE. if both michelle AND henry are just these. passive vessels who are neither invested in ted staying OR leaving london #and the only motivation we're EVER given for ted's move is 'michelle wanted space'. like sorry for wanting an actual deconstruction of ted'#motivations rather than the worst mystery box of all time! if i wanted a story abt 'man misses family :( please don't ask any questions abt #the family in question-' i could just close my eyes and imagine a stock image of a sad business man.#wagh. ted bud they gave you so much potential + so many demons and then just wiped them away w no exploration outside of like. two #scenes w sharon. u are also in this cage king but at least u got a good two seasons of mc character energy before they locked the door :(#something something sorry for having an ace attorney witness stand breakdown when the show i liked Was Bad. do u still want to be mutuals

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introspectivememories · 1 year

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tim and bernard give off major sasaki and miyano vibes

#bernard is sasaki #and tim is miyano #they're not like one to one but like 'in another universe'#just sasaki's general simp vibes and the way he has to take two buisness days to recover every time miyano so much as smiles #gives off major bernard in high school vibes #tim laughs as he does a fucking triple dog ollie or whatever #bear speedwalking to the nearest broom closet to scream: oh fuck oh god how is he so cute #tim verbally tearing into one of darla's more persistent admirers: you're broke you're ugly what makes u think you can even look at her #bear head tucked into his arms face firetruck red trying desperately to hide a smile: i'm going to mc lose it #also sasaki's general style is what i think bear looks like #tim gives me miyano vibes just cause i feel like he'd get all panicky whenever someone asks to know more about his interests #and not like in an insecure way but like he knows his interests are pretty niche #and there's only so many times u can watch someone's eyes glaze over before it's like #'you're obv not fucking listening. that's okay. we can talk about smth we both like.'#but like bear wants to listen even if he doesn't understand and tim has no idea what to do with bear's undivided attention #tim rambling on about computers and mystery novels: so like i definitely think the murderer is mr. fitzpatrick #but i can't figure out... how. why are you looking at me like that?#bear completely lost but enjoying the way tim's face lights up: im not lookin at you weird. neway how do you think lady london ties in?#bear learns to recognize tony hawk for tim #bear asks pertinent ?s about tim's interests #tim who has no idea how to deal with that: oh god oh fuck what the fuck do i do #bear sends him memes relevant to his interests #tim giggling and kicking his feet in the air #tim drake #bernard dowd #timbern #timber #sasaki to miyano #dc

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horrororman · 1 year

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More #horror/#thriller films released on March 24th...

#TheHoundoftheBaskervilles 1939(NYC, NY).

#TheHumanMonster AKA #TheDarkEyesofLondon 1940(US).

#DoloresClaiborne 1995.

#mystery #StephenKing

#StayAlive 2006.

#horror #horror movies #horror movie #thriller #mystery #The Hound of the Baskervilles #The Dark Eyes of London #the human monster #dolores claiborne #stay alive #stephen king

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cutieleclerc · 11 days

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London Boy | LN4 smau

lando norris x verstappen!reader

summary: in which max unknowingly introduces his sister to her future boyfriend

fc: olivia rodrigo

y/nverstappen

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y/nverstappen i stole max’s cat, don’t tell him

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username1 aww so cute

username2 when are you coming to another race!

maxverstappen1 😑

y/nverstappen i thought i blocked you??

maxverstappen1 Give me Sassy back.

username3 lando in the likes⁉️⁉️

username4 bro chill, he’s literally friends with max

danielricciardo so the heist plan is in motion. perfect.

y/nverstappen he doesn’t suspect a thing😈

y/nverstappen

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y/nverstappen i had the best time exploring england with the best guide! congrats bro on the win🥳

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landonorris it was lovely showing you around😊

maxverstappen1 no

username1 wait wdym lando showed her around england???

username2 the better verstappen fr

username3 the outfits slay

danielricciardo Nice seeing you again y/n/n!

y/nverstappen my favorite brother🫶

maxverstappen1 I’m right here?? And you’re not even related?

username4 her hair literally always looks good

lilymhe gorgeous girl

y/nverstappen ilysm babe lemme visit you

alex_albon that’s literally my gf???

y/nverstappen lily never let your boyfriend get in the way of finding your future wife

lilymhe you’re so right babe

landonorris posted a story

Replies

username1 babe what about us??? what about the kids??

danielricciardo 🤨

username2 is this a soft launch

username3 NOOOOO THAT SHOULD BE ME😭

username4 who is that????

y/nverstappen i had a fun time hanging out today!🥰

y/nverstappen

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danielricciardo hmm, interesting

username1 what do you know??

username2 uh girl you got something to tell us?

username3 she doesn’t owe you anything, get out of her business

username4 oh i just KNOW max is fuming💀

maxverstappen1 Y/n who is that

maxverstappen1 Is that a boy

maxverstappen1 Y/n answer my texts

username5 oooh someone’s not happy

username6 that food looks good asf

username7 outfit always serves

y/nverstappen posted a story

landonorris

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landonorris home is wherever i’m with you

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username1 sobbing, hyperventilating, throwing up

username2 nah the caption, that is so fricking adorable

danielricciardo aww i knew you were a big softie

georgerussell63 did you pay someone to take that picture with you😂

landonorris haha very funny mate

username3 god, i’ve seen what you’ve done for others🙏

f1gossip

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f1gossip 🚨🚨Lando Norris spotted with mystery girl over summer break, sources say it could be Max Verstappen’s sister, Y/n

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username1 i literally knew it and you all doubted me😑

username2 chill out, it’s still not confirmed

username3 we can’t even see her face

username4 OMG???????

username5 oh max is DEFINITELY pushing lando off the track in zandvoort

username6 sources: my delusions

username7 y’all we lost a good one😣 (y/n not lando)

username8 you’re so real cause she’s gorgeous

username9 nah cause why is this actually so freaking cute, like omg the way he is smiling at her🤭🫠

username10 HAND PLACEMENT???

username11 max is gonna chop off lando’s hands

username12 i’d pay good money to see the text messages

y/nverstappen

Liked my landonorris, maxverstappen1, and others

y/nverstappen in a world of boys, he's a gentlemen

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username1 AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

username2 this is so adorable! (i'm sleeping on the highway tonight)

landonorris you’re my everything💞💞

username3 y'all owe me an apology, i KNEW it

maxverstappen1 If you're happy, I'm happy

username4 you're definitely being forced to say this

username5 boyfriend lando is everything🥺

username6 they look so happy

username7 i’m balling my eyes out

kellypiquet you guys are adorable🩷

y/nverstappen thanks for talking max down😁

landonorris

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landonorris got love-struck, went straight to my head

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username1 the matching captions omg

y/nverstappen i love you baby❤️

maxverstappen1 🤮🤮

danielricciardo I KNEW IT @.carlossainz55 you owe me 50 bucks

carlossainz55 damn it

landonorris YOU HAD A BET???

oscarpiastri yes

charles_leclerc yes

georgerussell63 yes

alex_albon yes

maxverstappen1 YOU ALL HAD A BET AND DIDNT TELL ME?

maxfewtrell she's good for you, mate🤍

maxverstappen1 remember what i told you🙂

username2 oh! this definitely isn’t threatening at all

landonorris i will😰

y/nverstappen max emilian verstappen what did you tell him?

username3 this😭is😭so😭adorable😭

username4 bro is getting pushed into the barrier next race fs

username5 the IT couple

#f1 smau #lando norris #max verstappen #f1 #lando norris x reader #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #lando norris fanfic #smau #lando norris smau #mclaren

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joonieskinks · 4 days

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Simon “please will you be my fake girlfriend” Riley

Simon couldn’t be happier for John. Finally, he’s met a woman whose head over heels for him, who will stick around during the hard times. The man deserves this, deserves her. It’s about time they got married after all.

Today is his wedding day, and Simon was actually delighted to receive an invite. Although he had to dress up a bit for the event and all, he didn’t mind. It was for one of his greatest friends, and the energy in the room was so positive, so supportive. He can honestly say he felt happy to be here.

That was until he spotted eager mamas eyeing him at the reception, no doubt coming over to set him up with their daughters. Nope- he was not having that whatsoever. He went into full panic mode, trying to avoid their eyes, their presence that was ever closing in on him. Simon turned straight around and made his way to the bar where he found you.

“Gosh, how long does it take to find a Pinot-?” You complain under your breath before the handsome stranger from the corner of your eye interrupts you.

“Pleasewillyoubemyfakegirlfriend?” The rather tall man asks frantically as your eyes finally meet. Yours, rather confused, and his, rather desperate.

“Uh- sure?” You laugh nervously as you sip your wine that just arrived.

“Great- M’ Simon, I work in the military, we’ve been together six months, ‘right love?.” He explains rather quickly, eyes darting back and forth between you and the mamas rapidly approaching.

But you get the message.

“You can call me that “love” of yours, I work for the government if you should know and you have to act like you want me for this to work, Simon.” You pull him down by his tie to whisper in his ear.

“If you want them to stay away, touch me.” You kiss his cheek and pull away, performing with a laugh.

It disarms Simon how effortless you make this seem, how quick witted you are - this mysterious yet willing woman at the bar. You’ve truly peaked his interest and he’s so grateful. So yea, absolutely he will touch you, a gorgeous woman in this gorgeous dress.

Simon takes you by the waist, pulling you to his body, whispering back how beautiful you look. It makes you blush, looking back at him rather shocked. He’s equally shocked at his own bold actions, but he plays it off and smiles. Glancing at your pink cheeks with a “good” as you’re both interrupted.

“Simon, darling! There you are!” One woman says.

“I’ve been looking for you! May I present my daughter, Bridgette. She’s a nurse in London as a matter of fact.” Another states proudly.

“I’m terribly sorry, mam”, you interrupt, turning towards Simon and tidying up his tie. Your fingers brushing up against his chest, his throat, it gives him shivers. Any excuse to touch him really was your thought process-

“But I’m afraid he’s already spoken for. As of six months ago tonight, actually. Isn’t that right, darling?.” A proud smile on your face, and Simon just thinks you’re absolutely hypnotizing. Tongue in cheek, yes, but he already wants it to be real, to be yours. He just hopes you’ll say yes to dinner after this, and that you actually didn’t accompany anyone here.

“Yea, this is my girlfriend…” he starts, completely blanking.

My God, he didn’t even know your name, and yet he’s utterly entranced. Talk about a backwards way to start off a relationship.

“Y/N,” you stick out a hand to the mama and her nurse daughter, but they just painfully smile, clearly trying to decline “politely”. With that, they mutter an excuse and walk away, already sniffing for the next eligible bachelor around this evening.

“Well. That’s that then. You’re very welcome, boyfriend dearest.” You tease, bringing your wine glass back up to your lips, admiring his features. He really is a handsome man, it surprises you he doesn’t have anyone special in his life.

“Thank you for your help, Y/N.” He says your name on purpose, he wants to test it out on his tongue. He finds he rather likes it. You do as well.

“Can I get you another drink? On me…” Simon shyly asks, leaning against the bar.

“If it means you’ll stay and have one with me, then yes.” You flirt, waiting for his reaction. Alas, a blush appears on his cheeks. It makes you smile, a big, gorgeous man like this- yet he’s rather timid. It’s sweet really.

“It’s nice to meet you Simon, formally.” You stick out your hand for him to shake. His eyes meet your own and he smiles before taking it. Your hands are so soft, he wants to touch you always if it’s like this.

“Likewise, love.”

You two spent the rest of the night together, by the bar chatting, walking through the gardens getting to know one another, he asked you to dance. Hell, even Price and his new bride thought you two were together by the end of the night.

It took an official date or two, but eventually you were.

Who knows, maybe you two would be the next to get hitched. Simon certainly hopes so.

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finelinevogue · 1 month

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we just met

summary - you and harry make out in a club toilet

word count - ~500

pairing - stranger!harry x reader

🌷🌟💐✨🌷🌟💐✨🌷🌟💐✨🌷🌟💐✨

He kissed you like it was his last few moments alive.

He pushed you against the bathroom stall wall, putting his hands underneath your dress and hiking you up to sit against his hips with your weight supported by the wall.

“Fuck.” You groaned, pulling at the back of his hair as he trailed his wet kisses down across your jaw and leading to your neck.

He trailed his tongue over a small area, before biting your soft skin between his teeth - sucking and kissing it before repeating the process all over again.

How you got to making out with Harry Styles in a random bar toilet in London is still a mystery to you.

Harry groaned as he pushed himself further into you, allowing you to feel all of him against you.

Your head went back and hit the wall with a low thump, making your back arch and push into him more.

“Shit.” He hissed out, pulling away from your neck with messy lips and even messier hair.

“You’re so hot.” You couldn’t help but say.

Harry chuckled cockily, as if he knew exactly what you were talking about.

You dove straight back to his lips, tasting the red wine that he’d been all night on them. That’s why they were a darker shade of red too.

His followed his lips with yours, allowing you to lead for a few brief moments, before he pulled away to look at you.

His eyes were wild as they ran across your face and down to the top of your chest.

One of his hands carefully unhooked from around your body, but he still managed to keep you held up, and lifted to the necklace around your neck. Your whole body shook as his fingers touched your skin to pick the necklace up off your skin.

“Why a broken heart?” He asked, looking from the gem of the necklace to your eyes.

You shook your head, “It’ll kill the mood if I start talking so..” You moved your head to kiss him, but he leaned back so you missed him.

You pouted and he chuckled at how cute the sight was.

“You won’t kill the mood, I promise.”

“Yeah, right….”

He pushed into you further making you gasp and remember just at how hard the situation had made him.

His face was so close to yours as he spoke that your noses touched.

“Tell me,” He kissed you softly, “Please.”

“You’ve just met me.” You said in response.

“And yet I want to know everything about you.”

“Trust me, you d—.”

“Do. I do.” He kissed your lips again, like sealing a promise.

“We’re in a club toilet, Harry.” You whisper laughed, “At least let us talk somewhere a bit more decent and less… shitty.”

Harry chuckled at you then and you knew that was the laugh of a man you could trust to talk to - to let your heart open to - even if it was just for the night.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #ask finelinevogue #harry blurb #finelinevogue #harry styles concept #harry oneshot #harry styles blurbs

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cherry-leclerc · 1 month

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so long, london ☆ ln4

genre: angst, toxic relationship traits, fluff, humor, established relationship, one-sided, smut

word count: 7.3k

You've never been read so easily by someone until he entered your world. All is good, all is true love, but realistically, that all comes crumbling down. Leaving you with a series of doubts. The kind you ignore because why not?

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, m!receiving, f!receiving

inspired by this and this !

To be completely fair, the accent wasn’t all that familiar to you. It’s odd, then alluring, then it makes you curl a brow. Australian? British? Irish—no, that’s too far off, ridiculous, really.

It’s the end of spring, which means it’s also the start of summer, which also means your job is in full force. Which is good if you’re still considering transferring to London to study abroad. You were, thank you very much, which is why you needed a shit load of money.

Being a waitress isn’t all that bad; the view was breathtaking. Laguna Beach has always been and always will be. It’s impossible to take away its charm.

The diner is small, yet crowded, so it’s hard to get through with a stack of breakfast plates atop one another. A piece of bacon slips past you as you let out a curse, mentally noting to clean it up on your way back. “An order of pancakes, french toast, two hashbrowns, bacon, four freshly squeezed orange juice—shit. I forgot, it was grapefruit, wasn’t it?”

Setting down the plates as carefully as you can with their assistance, you let out a sigh. “I’ll be right back—”

“It’s fine, mate. Orange juice is just as good.” His voice is soft and rough, all at once.

You halt, fixing your apron, awkwardly. “No, it was my mistake, I’ll fix it—”

Mmm, delicious, his friends chime in as they take a sip from the fresh beverage. The blue eyed boy signals with his dark brows. “Told you. Don’t worry about it.”

“Cool,” you mumble. “Enjoy. Oh, and let me know if you need anything.”

They don’t, which is quite upsetting since you were slightly curious to find out if you were right. Smoking a joint, you hear a loud cough. The mysterious brunette waves. “Tough shift?”

“Of course not, I love it.”

He nods. “I’m sure you do, but I’m also sure that’s not the complete truth.” He sits. “You’re on your break, I presume, which means you're not on the clock, which means I’m no longer a customer, but rather just a stranger. A stranger whom you will most likely never see again, so…”

A puff expands through the blue sky and yellow sun. You squint. “I’m worn out. Down. Worn down? Both.”

“You’re good at hiding it.”

A chuckle. “But you were able to notice which obviously means I’m not much of an actress.”

He motions over to the cigarette. You hesitantly hand it over to him as he sucks sharply and releases. Bemused, you make a face. “I was because I go through the same thing, oftentimes. More like all the time.” Another hit. “I understand.”

“I’m not sure whether I should feel seen or scared…” Humor laces your soft voice as you quirk a brow. He laughs.

“Seen, definitely.” A beat. “I’m Lando. Foreign visitor.”

Shaking his hand, you ease up, smiling, gently. “Nice to meet you, Lando—foreign visitor.” A pause. “Resident.”

“Really, now?” He plays along, teasing. You can hear it.

“Lucky, I know. Been here my entire life. Can’t complain.”

“I bet.”

“Yourself?”

Lando winces. “England. Bristol, specifically. Ever been?” Nope. A toothy grin. “Don’t—rains all day long, gloomy all year. It’s depressing, but…” He relaxes. “It’s home.”

Staring off into the waves, you cover your face from the strong breeze. Salt air splits your tongue in half as you wipe your mouth. “Your accent. It’s captivating. As soon as I heard it, I grew jealous.”

The Brit frowns. “Your accent is much better. Clean,” he adds and you let out a snort. Accent—what accent? He rolls his blue eyes. “That one. You might not consider it one, but it is. Very…pretty.” A rosy tint flourishes onto his cheeks. Summer heat, summer breeze, perhaps.

Retreating the roll from his hand, you stomp on it, letting the light die. “Thank you, Lando from England. You made my day.”

That’s the end, really. Just a nice encounter that still doesn’t make much sense, but you’re glad it happened. Normally, after a tiring shift, you borrow Benny’s surfboard and rush towards the killer waves. The soothing water releases a lot of the built up tension that lies between your shoulder blades.

Today isn’t much different. After getting yelled at for— “getting the fucking order wrong, bitch” —and— “my toddler just threw up, yes, oh, nevermind, had a…teensy accident” — you don’t second guess it. As soon as your skin connects to the warm temperature, you sigh in sweet relief.

“I need to get out, I need to get out, I need to—”

“You just got here, though. Plus, the water feels nice, don’t you think?”

Startled, you sit up on your board, rocking back and forth. With what looks to be a painful tan, Lando smiles, sheepishly. “Hello…again.”

“Are…” You look around, but the ocean is practically empty. “A-are you stalking me?”

His smile drops. “W-wh—no! Of course not! I saw you from afar, and I just thought…” He grimaces. “I should go.” Except he can’t. Every chance he tries to tread away, the waves only push him back. It’s comedic. “One sec…crap. One more—shit. Okay, two, two sec—”

“Ah, forget it, stay. Land of the free, no?” Rubbing your nose, you pull his paddle closer. “What brought you out here?”

“Heard it was a good day to attempt to surf. Tell you what—it’s not.”

A giggle escapes, then lessens. You furrow your brows. “Hold on a minute; are you teaching yourself? As in, no instructor? Just you? Alone? Solo?”

“Yeah, what about it?” he grumbles. “I can do it.”

You’re wheezing at this point, stomach clenching. “That’s nearly impossible! I’m mean, sort of, sort of not.” When his eyes don’t switch from being offended to getting the joke, you quickly snap your lips shut. “Can I teach you? It’s not that hard.”

He gapes, curls grow more and more. They’re cute, the way they bounce when he shakes his head. “And if it’s so easy then why can’t I just do it myself?”

“How long have you been trying?”

He burns up. “That’s not the point.”

“No, that’s exactly my point. You need a mentor, and lucky for you, I’m a surf instructor on the weekends. Come on.”

The twenty-four year old is not sure he even wants to be here, suffering from an overdose of embarrassment. Every single attempt ends up with him splashing straight into the clear water. He groans for the millionth time, clutching into his board. “I think I’m done for the day.”

You don’t fight him on it. His bruised nose makes you feel bad, and his chipped lip makes you want to giggle, so yeah, that’s enough. He can taste the salt water as he smacks his lips, trying to get rid of it. You click your tongue. “That doesn’t really do anything. Not until you bathe and brush your teeth. Or rinse. Either or.”

He invites you to the mansion he’s rented for him and his friends, declaring that there would be endless amounts of alcohol, but when you decline, he rubs his jaw and grimaces. “Yeah, I’m not in the mood, either. Craving tacos?”

So, that’s what you two do; converse over an amazing meal. You can already note his skin shedding, but for some reason, it’s endearing. You even spot a couple of moles. Chewing rapidly to try and forget about the spice, he pants. “London, eh?”

“England,” you correct. He deadpans you.

“That’s basically the same thing. It’s along the same lines. Just like Monaco and Paris.”

You shrug. “London—yes.”

Sniffling, he reaches for his can of Coke. Gasping left and right, he winks to the best of his ability. “You’re a smart girl…I think. And you’ll get in…I think.”

“Gee, thanks, I think.”

He laughs. “I hope you get in. I really do, Laguna Resident.” You roll your eyes. “You won’t miss all of this, though?” The warmth, the people, everything. A bittersweet feeling runs through your veins, momentarily, before you wave him off.

“Nothing is holding me back, forcing me to stay. I’ll be just fine.”

Finally, he calms down, occasionally sneezing. The way he excuses himself makes him look very polished. Lando licks his lips clean, drumming his long fingers against his lap. Later you would find out this would be his nervous tick. A teller. A good one, at most.

“Call me? When you get there, I mean—if you want to, of course. No pressure.”

And while you may not have a reason to be a part of SoCal anymore, something else seemed to tug you to the other side of the world. “Might have to take your word for it.”

“Good.”

You grin, looking down onto your lap. Later he’d know this was your way of avoiding his stare. Butterflies, for the meantime. “Good.”

“No, no, no! You were supposed to—forget it, nevermind. Did you at least—” The stream flatlines and Lando is left speechless, headset drooping down, inch by inch. The way his eyes furiously twitch is enough for you to peck his cheek.

“It’s late anyways. Come on, let's go to bed.”

There’s utter nonsense, and mumbo-jumbo that he spills as he reluctantly follows. If Max had done this, and if Max had done that. Pouting, you cradle his face, forcing him to look at you. “You’re telling me you wish you would still rather be playing than spend time with me?” You gently slap his face and he smiles, sheepishly. “I’m hurt.”

“No, no, you’re right. Of course I want to spend time with you.” When you peck his nose, he sighs. You can faintly smell the cheap beer, courtesy of said Max, so you let out a screech, creating a distance.

“Never mind. I don’t want to spend time with you, you reek.” His smile drops and you pinch the tip of your nose. “Reek, I tell you. Go brush your teeth!”

The McLaren driver snarls, then makes his way over to your shared bathroom. “I remember when you used to be fun. Seems like a decade ago.”

“And make sure to floss!”

If you’re able to remember, you could openly admit that you did make that call. Actually, text. You got cold feet and sent a text last minute. You met up at the pub just around your dorm, the one that is only busy during the weekends, so is practically empty during the week. Hence, Wednesday night.

Wow. Your tan is gone, is the first thing he says when he sees you. It’s true. Being away from the California sun has completely changed you. A bit, but it did. Giggling, you accept his hug, finding warmth. London weather. “How was the move? I want to hear all about it.”

Oh, the move was as good as it could get. The airport lost two of my luggages, but it’s fine, I didn’t really need many dresses, because yes, you were right, it’s always gloomy. I miss Benny like a baby, but we always keep in touch—I’m actually going to visit him for his birthday. Which is in January? Yes…yes! January third.

“What about you? Work?”

First of all, can’t really consider it work when it’s fucking fun. Second of all, it’s quite swell. I’ve got a new teammate, which sort of sucks, but he’s nice. The car is a bit wonky, but I’m sure that’ll change throughout the course of the year. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

Conversations switched from having them on a steady stool in the pub, to having them in the comfort of his flat. Plus, you two were more open and honest with one another.

Benny, yeah, it’s pancreatic cancer, and no, I’m not okay.

The team is fucking shit. My arm still hurts from last week's crash, but I’ll be fine. Please, don’t you worry, love.

Lando is an absolute angel. He pays for your tickets back home, along with Benny’s treatment. He declines the help at first, but as soon as he meets your smiley boyfriend, he accepts. I’ll pay you back. Once I’m better. Lando laughs with a muppet dive. Of course—of course, Ben.

You take care of him and his injuries. Follow doctors orders. Ice at least twice a day. Don’t forget to take your pain meds. No, for the love of God, they’re not candy, sweetheart.

It’s the best and the worst. And it’s all yours.

He’s very much obsessed with Mila as soon as she’s born. He congratulates his brother and his sister-in-law once, and off he goes, straight to the newborn. It makes you fall in love even more, which you didn’t know was possible, but here you were.

“I say give it a year or two.”

“More like five. Come on, honey, be realistic.”

“I am! Can’t you tell he adores her?” Oliver scoffs. “He’s my brother. I would know.” His wife rolls her eyes, then moves on to snap a few pictures of Lando and Mila, then a thousand videos.

“Crap. I want one,” he mentions on the drive back home. He gently rubs his thumb over your leg; you shudder. “You saw me, you were a witness, I was a good enough babysitter!”

“Babysitter? You’d be a dad, not a babysitter,” you retort, though your wobbly grin is a dead giveaway. A long finger pokes at your ribs as you laugh, scooting as far enough away as the McLaren allows you to get. “One day. Just not now.”

And he knows that’s true. He’s busy with racing, you’re busy with school; it's irresponsible. Your confirmation was sweet though—it was enough. The Brit hums, continuing the drive with a bright smile.

“One day, then.”

Baby talk was a fun thing to dream about. To think, daydream. Marriage talk? Now that’s serious.

It started on a Sunday morning; a non-race week. He’s finally back home and you're ecstatic. He was too, but that slowly goes out the window when you rush him to the room. I like where this is going, he starts when you drag him along. You bite back a smile, waiting for his noise. “What the shit?” he yelps, pulling on his curls. Spinning to face you, your boyfriend groans. “Where’s all my gaming—sweetheart,” he softened his voice, softened his eyes. “Sweetheart…”

“It’s gone! Bye-bye, adios!” You twirl around the empty room. “You don’t need it, Lando. It was rotting your brain.”

The color from his vibrant face fades, leaving him to let out a delirious laugh. “No, no, it wasn’t. Wh-why would you do that?” He doubles over. “I’m going to be sick.”

After a while of letting him drown in a puddle of self-pity, you snicker. Blue eyes look up at you; furrowed thick brows. What? “They’re in the guest room. I just needed us to paint the walls.” Releasing a scream, Lando plunges for you, picking you up and spinning you around until you flop against his arms.

“Asshole!” you yell, smacking his arm. After a series of instructions, you both fall into a pattern. He focuses on the left side of the room and you focus on the left and the right. It just makes sense.

“Stick to your side,” he mumbles, pushing you away. You burn a laser to the back of his head. “I can feel you killing me—stop it.”

“Then quit drawing, you’re ruining it!” There’s a cat, a dog, a house, his racing car, you—you presume— and Mila for good measure, but he serves her no justice as she appears to be more of a blob. Going over it with a thick layer of paint, he curses to himself. As soon as he picks up the thin brush once again, you immediately set your foot down. “No, Lando, think before you commit.”

But he must not hear you—or ignores you—because suddenly he’s drawing something unrecognizable. You almost laugh when you guess it must be a donut, but when he draws the familiar rock, you come to a halt. “Stellar, no?”

“Hardly. Looks like more of a neck guard—next!”

But he pushes you away as soon as you reach over to cover it up. “I’m being serious. I’m mean, not now, but someday. Are you…” His voice drops, slowly, and he drums his fingers onto his thigh. Your lips turn upward. “...open to it? Getting married?”

“Well,” you start and his breath hitches, nervously tapping, awaiting for your response. Pressing your lips against his, you breathe out, and he groans. “I love you, Lando. I’m more than open to it.”

He sighs in relief, kissing you harder this time, with more emotion. “Good.” A beat. “Thank you.”

Slowly, but surely, you’re celebrating your three year anniversary—in Japan, a race week—but still. Yuki specifically gives you two a list of places to visit, so it makes everything a thousand percent easier. Fifth, he grunts, throwing his helmet onto the tiny bed in his motorhome. Screw it, I’m blowing my brains out.

“Hey now, quit talking like that.” A kiss. “I don’t care if you’re upset, I happen to be super duper proud.”

“It’s Super Trouper,” Oscar yells from the other side of the wall. “Don’t disrespect ABBA like that.

“Yeah,” Lando hums, pulling you in. “Don’t.”

“I’ll pull the trigger,” you warn.

He gasps, theatrically. “You wouldn’t dare…”

“Try me.”

“I already have—sweet.” His dirty implications makes you heat up and the Australian groans as he turns up his music. Lando snickers, changing quickly. “Happy Anniversary. It’s not everyday, you know?”

“I know,” you cheer, playing with your promise ring. You beam up at the bubbly Brit. “I just wish we were home. Celebrating in the comfort of our own place.”

He doesn’t mention it, but you considering London your home—despite not growing up there—makes him crush on you harder than ever before; it's sickening. Clapping loudly, he stands up, reaching for your hand. “Then let's go back home. What’s keeping us here?”

“Yuki,” you grunt, taking his open hand. “We’d be breaking his heart, Lan. We need to do these twenty-one things.”

“Ah, he’ll understand.” A pause. “If he doesn’t then we’ll just buy his next meal to make up for it.”

Cackling, you peck his face, over and over until he pushes you away in a jokeful manner. “This is why I love you, Lando Norris!”

And he’s content, admiring the way you pack happily. He’s never seen someone so giddy to spend fourteen hours on a plane just to curl into the comfort of their bed. He’s just never seen or met anyone like you.

It was perfect.

As soon as he picks up his own digital camera, he’s in love. Part of you would be jealous, definitely, if it weren’t for him stopping to take a thousand pictures of you. One in the McLaren garage, next to his car. One where you balance yourself on a swing, eventually falling straight onto your face. One of your newly bruised nose, due to the fall. One where you’re sleeping, drooling like a—

“Delete that, I don’t even want to see it!”

Shaking his head full of curls, he runs away. “No! I happen to love it!”

“Lando!”

“You look adorable.”

“Fuck you, I’m leaving. Spend the night alone, loser.”

You don’t end up keeping your word. You get your revenge, eventually, when you pie him in his sleep. He nearly chokes, but it’s all in good fun, according to you.

But neither of you would have it any other way. You just happen to be his muse.

His greediness starts to show overnight, nearly. It catches you off guard, leaving you like a lost dog. The worst part is that it’s not directed directly at you, per se, but it felt like it. Most of the time, you’d deal with this by talking to him until he calms down, by making him a cup chamomile tea, because—

“It doesn’t help!” He paces the small room, throwing his gloves harshly against the wall.

“Studies prove—”

“Studies my ass.” An angry huff. “I just need to be alone. For a while.”

And it also catches you off guard how you don’t fight him back on it. Instead, you’re glad, fleeing out the door, straight to God knows where. Strolling, you twist and turn the thin band.

Where are you going?

“You said you wanted to be…” Except it’s not Lando. George quirks a dark brow. You gulp, forcing a smile. “I’m sorry. I thought you were…” A painful pause. “I thought you were Lando.”

“Must be the accent.” He laughs. “Don’t worry about it. Carmen actually made me chase you down. Said she wants your opinion with something about the wedding. You know her—perfectionist.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course.” Throwing your hair over your shoulder, you beam brighter this time, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I have plenty of time.”

He’s rude when he finds you. Well, not really, but even your friends notice it. I’m telling him to wear a simple black and white suit. A bow or a tie, he can decide, but he’s insisting on wearing white and I’m like hello? You giggle, orbs moving to find George with a playful glare.

“Why can you be the only one wearing white? It’s this some kind of rule or?”

“No, but it’s weird!” Carmen turns to face you, desperate eyes begging for backup. “Come on! Tell him it’s weird.”

Plump lips flicker upward. “I don’t know, George, it is a b—”

“Awful. You’re going to steal all the attention away from Caren and you’re going to look horrible. Just go with a traditional suit.”

The Mercedes driver doesn’t pay any attention to what was just said to him, but you and Carmen do, and that’s probably worse. You can tell she’s bothered by your boyfriend's unwanted opinion and for him going after her fiancé, so you briskly stand up. “Sweetheart, are you, um…ready to go?”

The Brit nods, fixing his bag that lays over his shoulder. “That’s why I’m here, no? Could have let me know you were leaving, too.” There’s tension in his voice; annoyance. “Also, I forgot your bag. I’ll wait for you here.”

His implication makes you queasy. You blink hastily. “Of course.” Turning to the older couple, you smile politely. “Um…text me, yeah? Let me know what you two decide on.”

Once you rush off, Carmen narrows her usually kind eyes, hard. George is quick, placing a steady hand onto her lap, and clears his throat. “You know, just because you didn’t place a podium for once doesn’t mean you get to act like a jerk. Seriously.”

Lando chooses to ignore his comment, bidding goodbye, and strolls over to find you, flustered. “Now I’m ready,” you confirm with a weak smile. The Brit laces his fingers through yours and brings it up to his mouth, pressing a warm kiss.

“You know I love you, right?”

“I do. I do know.”

He’s trying to be more gentle, you can tell. With his words, with his actions. It reminds you why you chose him. He had apologized after a quiet night, settling with what he had done. How he had treated you and his friends. George is quick to accept his apology, and you were too.

“I didn’t mean it,” he groans quietly, chest pressed against yours as you ride him. “I s-shouldn’t have—fuck.” The way you clench around him tightly makes his head spin. A whine escapes your swollen lips as you nod, fast, then slow, then staggered. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you pant, finally opening your eyes to find him already looking up at you. He squeezes your hips harder, keeping you firm. “You were upset, that’s all. I get it.”

She gets it, he remembers thinking, considering himself lucky for having a girlfriend who understands. His highs. His lows. His wins. He loses. This—this is why you were the one.

But once again, his lack of display is what reluctantly pushes you away.

Then back in.

It’s been three months of him not even picking up his camera. Maybe he’s just too lazy to develop his pictures, so you do it for him. There’s really no excuse. That’s what you say with light humor when you push it towards his chest, but he only cocks his head to the side. “I never asked for you to do that.”

Your stomach churns. You lick your chapped lips. “You don’t need to. I just…did it. Thought it might help get you out of your slump.”

This pushes something in him as he narrows his brows like a set of sharp knives. “Slump?” A scoff. “What? Because I haven’t been able to get a win?”

“What?” You’re dazed. “No.” You’re confused. “No, why would you say that?”

“I don’t know—why would you?”

“I mean it because you’ve been down, that’s it. Not because…” When his eyes don’t change, and your heart continues to pound, you flip him a smile. “You’re right. My choice of words weren’t the best. I’m sorry.”

The blue eyed boy clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth once, then sets the camera to his side. “Whatever, it’s fine, I guess.” And suddenly he’s making his way to his gaming room, leaving you with wide eyes and a bruised heart.

“Wait!” Carefully, you pick up the small camera, extending it out towards him. “Wh-what do you want me to do? Should I pack it into your suitcase? Or maybe I could—”

“Pack it, yes, but into a box and put it in the attic.” He continues his march. “I lost interest a long time ago, either way.”

You’re not dazed. You’re not confused.

You’re broken hearted.

You would think that you would have learned by now. He loves you, damn it. He’s just having a tough time proving it, but it’s fine, stuff like this happens all the time.

“Hello, darling,” Carmen greets, pulling you away from your trance. The camera pans over to Lance, Carlos, and Lando. She gingerly takes the spot next to you. “Feeling alright? Lost a bit of weight and color.” Her concern can’t be hidden behind even the tallest mountain.

Been working out. London is gloomy all day long. Haven’t gotten proper Vitamin D. Looking down onto your lap, you twirl your fingers. Over and under, over and under, over and un—

Her hands feel warm against yours and you can’t help but flinch, instinctively needing to pull away, but she holds on tighter. Not even your boyfriend's hands have felt as warm as hers; not in a very long time. “You can talk to me. Anytime.” Eyes remain downward, watering, so, like most nights before bed, you blink them away. Hard, fast, and cruel.

“Have you chosen the song you want to be for your guys’ first dance?”

She remains still for a second, focuses directly into your soul and you blink faster before she has a chance to decode you. She always did. “We have. My Funny Valentine. Hear this, Daniel wants to sing it. With a band and the whole thing. Nightmare.”

And you’re glad for having her stories to distract you from your feelings, because silly is what they are. Childish. False. It’s only until the end of the race where you two realize you hadn’t been paying attention. As soon as George walks in through those doors, he jumps up and down. “Hey. Top five!”

“That’s my boy!”

You feel like a creep watching them kiss with sweet emotion you can’t help but miss and crave. Your eyes flicker over to the flat screen T.V. and you’re shooting up from your seat. “Shit! I have to go!”

He’s in the middle of a speech of some sort when you rush in gasping for air. Sheepishly, you wave, then scoot closer to Zak who gives you a quick side hug. Everyone claps and then he’s making his way to—

Not you.

First it’s Zak, then he squeezes by. Then it’s his entire team. Then it’s Oscar. Then it’s Carlos, which is the last straw because he’s not even supposed to be here. “Mind if I squeeze in?” you squeak. The Spaniard shakes his head.

“Be my guest. I should leave anyway.” “Are you sure?” Lando quips. “Why don’t you stay?”

Brown pity eyes dance over to where you look down, then settle with a wobbly smile. “I, um…I actually have a few emails to respond to. Stay, Carlos.” It’s pathetic and embarrassing how he’s the only one who convinces you to stick around. Not even your own boyfriend. Though his hand remains by your side, it feels all for show, which it is because as soon as a few fans take a couple of pictures of you two, he finally retreats his arm.

Once the Ferrari driver finally jogs away, Lando turns to face you. “Where were you?”

“I was watching the race.” Your heart beats faster.

“Liar. Your lips just did the thing.” A halt. “What thing?”

“There! There it is again! You didn’t watch it, did you?”

Taking his palms into your own, you kiss them, feverishly. “I was, but then Carmen came over, and we started to talk, and then one thing led to another and…” Blue eyes stare down, empty. You grimace. “I’m so sorry, Lando. You got second place and I wasn’t there to celebrate. I’m so sorry.”

And perhaps he feels he already made you suffer enough with his ignorance, or maybe he was still high off his accomplishment, but it surprises you when he leans down to peck your forehead. “Just don’t let it happen again, yeah?”

You let out a breath of relief. “Pinky swear.”

He laughs, ruffling your hair. “Ah, see, I don’t believe in pinky promises.”

“Take my word for it then.”

He winks. “Good enough.”

I can’t believe we haven’t had a sunny day in weeks! Flipping over to face him, you pout. Weeks! That’s bonkers.

The Brit hums against his blankets, against you. It’s officially been a year since you two have been dating and it honestly felt surreal. Especially in moments like these. The kind where he was just yours.

I tried to warn you.

You groan, pressing your cheek against his firm chest. His heartbeat is slow and steady, indicating he’s half asleep, indicating you were too awake. Indicating you should probably go to sleep, too.

Guess I’ll just have to learn to live with it.

Guess so.

You know…I sort of love it.

You say so because you haven’t lived here your whole life.

I could easily, you want to confess. If it’s with you, then yes, I can. But it’s too soon and you don’t want to scare him off. Not when things were a dream. Cloudy, sunny, rainy, sunshine—I don’t care. I have a good enough reason to stay.

He vibrates due to his chuckle and you giggle due to his chuckle. Look at you being all cute.

Not trying to be cute, just speaking my truth.

In one motion, he flips over you, hovering. You love it? Like truly?

I love it. I truly love it.

Make me believe it.

Are my words not enough?

He grins, eyes crinkling. I’m more of a pinky promise type of guy.

You lift your small finger and he’s fast to wrap his own around it. Pinky swear. I love you and London.

And it was true. It was true for a while.

It all came crashing down on you, really. It was alarming, yet you had expected it. It was lonely, but survivable. It came in phases. You first noticed the doubt a bit after your third year anniversary, but no, he loves me. I know he does.

But you were good at pushing it all away; far, far, and further. Until you couldn't think about it anymore, even if you tried. His acts were a suck punch, though. Everytime you started to heal and stand up, he only sent a new one. A stronger one. But, hey, no—he loves me. He only says it every night.

Like last Monday night. When he fucked you in his hotel room.

Or last Thursday. When he went down on you under the table.

Or Friday. When you sucked his cock in the shower.

All right before bed.

God, I fucking love you so much. Hot cum shoots down your throat and he groans like a madman. Love you so, so much. You can’t even begin to imagine.

So, when your friends ask and check up on you, that's what you say. Yes, he reminds me everyday. He means it. Don’t worry, we’re doing better than ever.

The second comes in like a slap to the face. He had just done what you consider a low blow, but no—he’ll make up for it. He always does.

“Bullshit.” You blink your hot tears away. Carmen never—ever—curses. She’s too classy for any of that, so it’s almost funny to hear it now. But it’s not, not really. She sighs, rubbing her temples. You and your problems were stressing her out, God, how could you be so selfish?

“Forget I said anything. I’m being a fucking crybaby—”

“No. You’re not.” It seems like she’s choosing her choice of words, delicately. “You have every right to be upset. Every. Single. Right.”

And for the first time in a while, you feel completely seen. Heard. Understood. And that was a lot, but it must have been what you needed, because suddenly, you were spilling the ugly truth. The reason why you didn’t attend the last race. Or the one before that one.

The reason why she and George found you clutching onto your chest that night in Vegas. Forgot my keys, you giggled. You two have fun! Don’t worry about me.

Carmen is older, wiser, and so fucking mature. You love it. But you hate it because now that you sit here with more of an open mind and less defense, you blink like a lost kid at the grocery store. “You love him.”

A whimper. “I adore him.”

“A lot?”

“Infinitely.”

“But?”

Another whimper, louder this time, more wet. “He makes me sad sometimes. Is that normal?” “It is—” And it’s the delusion that always makes you stay. You’re quick to swallow it down, eager and fast. It’s all you need to hear. Carmen shakes her head. “But not to this extent. You get sad over them forgetting your favorite drink order, or when they forget to pack your heels.” An unwanted pause. The kind that gives you the room to overthink. “Not because they locked you out. Or because they forgot your anniversary.”

And she won’t admit—not when you were already so broken—but Lando hadn’t forgotten.

She likes wine, fuck, she’s obsessed with that sparkly shit. Wine testing! We could go wine tasting and I could do it there. He twidles with the ring box. Is that good?

George raises a playful brow before releasing a laugh. It sounds great. As long as you have a nice place to take Instagram pictures, then you’re set to go. Chicks love that. Isn’t that right, love?

But she pinches her lips, forcing a smile to the younger Brit. Lando lets out a shaky breath. It’s about to be our four year anniversary—it’ll be perfect. I’ll make sure.

So, yes, she knows he loves you. But that still doesn’t make the way he treats you right. What kind of love was that? Sobbing loudly, you push your hair back. “But you don’t get it! When he’s good…” Her eyes soften and yours grows more glassy. “...he’s so good.”

“Is it worth the pain, though?”

The third one is the breaking point you had been avoiding for so long. The day started out gray, either way, and not just because of the dark London weather. Dragging your feet to the end of the bed, you tremble. You got the call at four a.m. and those are never good, so why were you shocked to hear from Benny’s son?

“Oh, baby…” He pulls you atop his lap, kissing your temple. “I know how much he meant to you.”

“I still owe him a surfboard. The expensive kind, too.” He quirks a confused brow, but you continue staring off into space. “They stole the last one. The one he always lent to me. His mom had gifted it to him.”

“When did this happen?” he questions, trying to keep you talking because that sounds like a good idea. To get your mind off things.

You hum. “Last January; his birthday weekend.”

“Birthday weekend? I don’t recall—” “You weren’t there.” He doesn’t have to remember to know that’s true. It's become a habit of his nowadays and now he’s feeling guilty. Another hum, this time sadder than the prior. “He was going to teach you how to grill steak, just the way I like it.”

His stomach churns. “And how do you like it?” A beat. “I don’t remember. Ask Benny.” Then you’re crying like a newborn.Worse, actually. But he holds you through it all. So maybe this was do-able. He was nice, after all. You could stick with him forever and you’d be grateful. After what seems like a decade, you finally calm down, though your nose keeps runny. “The funeral is later this week. Are we going?” You were, with no fucking doubt, but you just wanted him to say it. There— on the tip of his tongue. You can spot it and he could taste it.

“Sweetheart…you know I have a race.” You didn’t expect him to drop everything and venture off with you, but this cut deep. Still, you understood. Plus, the proposal was ditched the moment you got the eerie call. So, yes, everything was unbalanced, but it wasn’t your guys’ fault. It was just a twist of fate. Nothing you couldn’t handle; you’ve dealt with worse.

“Right. I can go by myself.” He feels bad—you know he does—but anything, really? “You can write a letter, maybe? Just a couple of words for his family. I know it’ll mean a lot.”

He chuckles. And you should have known at that very moment because it wasn’t one you’ve heard before. “Why would I? I barely even knew the guy.”

“Excuse me?”

The Brit continues tracing shapes onto your thigh. “I’m just saying! It sounds a bit weird coming from someone who spoke to him once. Twice at best.”

And you’re no longer dazed, no longer confused, no longer heartbroken.

You’re just angry.

Pushing yourself off him, you glare coldly. “Barely even knew…the guy? We Skyped with him over dinner! You paid his bills! You fucking attended his sons wedding! How could you be so…fucked.”

“Sure… He was a sweet lad, but do you really think they want to hear from me?”

“Maybe not, maybe they don’t give a flying fuck, but I do. Remind me why I loved you!”

He’s up now. His heart quickens, pierces through his skin. “Loved?”

You sigh, clutching your chest. “Love. I said love.”

A huff. “No, you definitely spoke in past tense—do you not love me anymore?”

“Lando…” “No. Just be upfront with me, I can handle it. Tell me now so I don’t waste my time any longer.”

Every uncertainty you ever had, every word of advice Carmen has given you comes crashing down. She was right. He’s keeping you around for good fun. For his benefit. “Your time? What about mine? You’re the one who’s been blocking me out these past couple months!” “That’s not true—”

“Fuck, you’re right—this past year. God Lando! Haven’t you noticed how good I am at apologizing now? My zombie appearance? You left me out in the hallway! All because of what? Because I didn’t tell you I was going out with the girls?” A sour laugh. “Wake up—it’s 2024. Since when are you a shitty masochist?”

His jaw clenched. “I was worried about you! It was fucking Vegas, what was I supposed to do? And for the love of God, this again. I. Didn’t. Hear. You. Knock.”

A peach seed forms onto your chin. Skin is flushed and tears stream down your face. But he’s fine. He’s tall and firm Hard headed. Without an ounce of regret. And you want to do it. You want to make him feel what you’ve felt.

“I got my degree…”

“Woo-fucking-hoo, we’re not talking about that right now.”

“I lived a few good years, filled with pure happiness.”

He pauses.

“But I see it now. Past all the gray clouds, I see it.” He can feel it coming and he’s desperate for you not to say it aloud, but you shrug it, face downward. “Nothing is holding me back to stay.”

His tone washes away like the Laguna waves as he gets closer to you, cradling your face. “Yes. Yes you do. You have me…”

“Lando, quit lying—I haven’t for a while now. I was just a trophy you didn’t want. One you got bored of.”

“That’s not—” “True?” A beat. “It is. And you know what also is? I don’t love you anymore.” The light in his eyes gave out, pitch black. He feels as if he’s going into cardiac arrest and you…you look at ease. Peaceful. Free. With a soft smile, you push his hands down. “I don’t think you love me anymore, either.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleads. “Please, don’t say that. Of course I love you.” Rushing over to his nightstand, he pulls out a box you only ever dreamt of. “You want proof—here! Take it! It’s yours anyways.”

“Where was this a year ago?” Opening the velvet box, you’re left with an inaudible gasp because of course it was gorgeous. And he feels a gist of hope when you place it onto your ring finger, but he slowly pales when it doesn’t fit.

“No. No. That’s your size. I know it is.” He takes it from you, analyzing it in an accusing manner. “I swear it was, I pinky…” The heater kicks on. “I swear.”

“It’s alright. This is the right ring…just not for me.” It shouldn’t affect you to see his cheeks grow splotchy, to hear his voice tremble like a kid who just skinned his knee against the pavement. But he was once your other half, so it does.

“I don’t want you to go…”

“I don’t either. I loved being here.”

“Then stay.” You purse your lips, then scrunch your nose. “It doesn’t love me, though. And I can’t go unwanted.”

If we start saving enough money then we could buy the house—you know—the one close enough to drive to your parents? Sweet, no?

Won’t they hear us fuck?

Ew, gross. No. I’d tape your mouth before I let that happen. You pinch his ear. This is your home.

And SoCal is yours, so why don’t we move there?

Because I don’t want to. I want to be with you and the people you love, in the place you love. Because I love you and I love the people you love, and I love London.

You’re quite literally perfect. I hope you know.

You make it clear everyday.

And I won’t ever stop. Because you deserve to know.

“This place is cold, the way you said it was. This place is gloomy, the way you said it was. But this place isn’t a home to me anymore…the way I once thought it was.”

Should he have been more careful—more caring—then he wouldn’t be here. This wouldn’t be happening, but it is. And it’s no one’s fault but his.

Sniffing, you rub your swollen eyes. “I’m going to pack my things and go to Benny’s funeral.” It's a declaration. He nods, attentively. “And I’m not coming back. Is that okay?”

No. It wasn’t okay. You’re tearing him in half, you’re stabbing his heart over and over again. You’re telling the truth and putting yourself first. Something he was awful at doing. What brought you two to this very moment in time.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I treated you the way I did.” I love you. “But if that’s your decision, then go on. Do what you need to do.” I love you.

“Good.” I love you. But I can’t say it aloud if not I’d stay forever.

You smile and he smiles back.

“Good.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

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shoemakerobstetrician · 10 months

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Season 3 Opening Scene Nightingale 1941 Theory

So, season 2 opened with a flashback that had us totally reevaluating Aziraphale’s and Crowley’s relationship. I think the same will be true of season 3.

I think we will return to the night in 1941, to find out that they kissed, danced, or more that night.

1 - Why are they sitting at a table in the bookshop just drinking, no food on the table? When they’re drinking they don’t use a table. I think it’s to clue us in that there is more to the scene than what we are seeing - at some point before or after they had dinner.

2 - We know that Aziraphale did the apology dance in 1941 - again an indication that there is probably more to that evening than what we have seen so far.

3 - When Crowley says ‘no nightingales’ in S2E6 we now think he’s referring to the scene at the end of S1E6 in the Ritz, but it does seem a bit of a reach. It was a very nice moment, but I don’t think a relationship defining one that would cause both of them to think of it as their song.

4 - A Nightingale Sang was released in 1940, first charting at the end of December 1940. It would have been a hit in 1941 (according to Wikipedia it got up to #2).

5 - I think they had dinner, they danced, or perhaps even kissed to Nightingale as it was playing on the radio, and it became their song in a much more significant moment in 1941.

6 - When Aziraphale says to Crowley “Perhaps one day we could…dine at the Ritz” after “You go too fast for me Crowley” he would then be directly referring to their song from 1941.

7 - When it plays at the Ritz at the end of season 1, it’s because the pianist finds themselves mysteriously compelled to perform it, like the Oxford bus driver taking them to London.

8 - And finally, when Crowley says “no nightingales” at the end of S2 it is just devastating, it’s him saying there is no us.

And another thing: in the lyrics to Nightingale: That Certain night, the night we met/There was MAGIC abroad in the air. 😁

One more thing: I can certainly see Neil gleefully being like “Psych, it WASN’T their first kiss.”, and the scene would be just as heartbreaking if not more so if it was what Crowley thought was their last kiss.

ETA I just rewatched the bookshop table scene for like the 17th time. Holy 💩 is the dialogue strange and very loaded. The “trust me” bit, and the “shades of grey”. Throughout the whole scene Aziraphale is sideways eye fucking Crowley. There is simply no way we’re not going to see more of this scene in Season 3.

I very much like this whole idea, it probably won’t happen. Maybe someone will write a fanfic at least.

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midnightorchids · 2 months

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I am kinda curious

What would Jason be like if the coffee Cafe owner!reader built in a small library in her Cafe just for him,like she saw he liked reading and went like 'yup. I am building a small library for him'

This is such a fun idea, but omg please forgive me, I went a little overboard. Once I figured out what to write, I couldn’t stop. I apologize for how long it is. Also, this is completely gender neutral, so anyone can read!

But omg also, I was literally kicking my feet and giggling writing the end lol, Anyways enjoy!

Owning a cafe was a difficult job, there was always much to do— customers to attend to, drinks to make, and maintenance to do. You were always busy, but you loved your job.

You had spent a lot of time curating the perfect atmosphere for your beloved customers. The lighting was warm, with fairy lights and lanterns dangling from the ceiling. There was wooden furniture and two old couches that sat by the glass windows. The tiny space smelled of freshly brewed coffee and sweet bread. The cafe was always inviting.

You had many regulars at the coffee shop, each one with their own story, a different purpose.

For the past six months, twice a week, every Thursday and Saturday morning, a tall man walked in. Jason, you recalled his name from the many times you prepared his drinks. He’d order the same thing every time, a small London fog and a walnut banana bread.

He’d sit at the table nearest to the entrance, his back never towards the door.

Every morning, he’d come in with a new book. You had seen him read Franz Kafka, Oscar Wilde and Jane Austen; he’d read a lot of Austen.

He was a mystery and you wanted to know more.

You found Jason quite handsome. His skin was scattered with scars and you often found yourself staring at the permanent wound near his lips. You wanted to run your fingers along it, to trace it, to kiss it.

His eyes were always kind, a deep shade of green, forest-like you’d think to yourself.

He spoke with kindness. His voice velvety and rich, much like the espresso you’d brew everyday, except his voice was never bitter, almost always doused with honey.

Sometimes you’d catch him looking over at the counter, at you, you’d hoped.

Your coworkers were afraid of him, telling you to stay away, but you couldn’t help yourself. He was like an enticing book, waiting to be read. They’d warn you, “do not engage in too much conversation with the strange man.” But it was as if they were talking to a small child, their words would go in one ear and out the other.

“Strange,” you would never use that word to describe him.

From the small talk you had with him, to his choice in books, to even his taste in tea, you’d never describe him as strange.

Gentle was the word you’d choose.

He was huge, all height and muscle, terrifying to most, however to you, he was everything but that. You saw an angel and you didn’t even know him… yet, you’d tell yourself.

There were days, where you almost gained the courage to ask for his number, maybe ask for small detail, perhaps get a glimpse of his life. But each attempt was futile. Why was it so hard to speak to him for more than five minutes, you’d curse your inability to speak to attractive men.

You were beginning to give up on your dreams of getting to know the beautiful stranger, when he walked in through door.

The conversation began as per usual.

“Morning Jason, what can I grab you today,” you asked politely. He smiled softly in return and you stare at the scar by his lip as he begins to speak.

“Uhh surprise me,” you look at him confused, he’s never done that before and he finds himself smiling harder. “Just kidding, I’ll just the take the usual please,” he says as he places his copy of Jane Eyre on the counter to take out his wallet.

“Brontë, why am I not surprised,” you reply, gazing at the book. You take the cash from his hands and your heart drops. Shades of purple and crimson coat his skin. They’re bruised, again.

“What can I say, I’m a man of taste,” he smirks. You roll your eyes and giggle.

“Now who told you that,” and he shrugs. Then there’s a lull, you don’t know what to say now. It isn’t awkward, but you find yourself starting feeling a little uneasy. God, if you only you could come up with something else to say. You shake your head slightly and begin to warm up his banana bread.

You turn around and wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t walk away to his usual table this time, instead he takes a seat next to the counter. Odd, you thought.

Jason’s gaze doesn’t leave you for a second, he watches you in admiration, you don’t quite catch on.

If you thought Jason was handsome, then he thought you belonged in a museum. You were a work of art in his eyes. The kind of beauty they wrote poetry about. Absolutely stunning.

He wanted to get to know you, speak to you, but he was afraid. If you didn’t reciprocate his feelings, then he may never be able to see you again. The trips to the cafe would no longer be necessary and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

However today, Jason pushes his fears aside, he feels bold. He finds his confidence and he speaks.

“Do you read much,” he asks suddenly. You place his cup of tea and bread in front of him, and nod your head.

“I do, but not what you read,” you reply and he stares into your eyes, curious. “I mostly read magazines, you know Vogue and stuff,” his smile drops a little, he’s trying really hard to not look judgemental. Cute, you think. “Kidding, I read fantasy mostly,” and his face lights up again.

“So like J.K. Rowling,” he questions.

“No, Harry Potter’s good, but I’m not really a fan of her, you know as a person. I’ve been reading a lot Neil Gaiman recently though,” you say.

“Oh fuck, yeah, she’s said some pretty crazy stuff huh,” and you nod again. “Gaiman though, I don’t think I’ve ever read his stuff before, he any good,” he asks and your eyes go wide, you’re excited.

You spend the next hour of his visit speaking to him about books, about the things that you both like.

You only part from the conversation when there was a customer.

You’ve never felt this way before, all the assumptions you made about him were true. He was an angel, a kind and gentle one.

A month goes by and you notice your relationship with Jason change. Now, instead of sitting by the entrance of the cafe, he sits near you, back against the door. A sign of trust, you assumed. He smiled more, he showed his teeth and he laughed, hard. You loved the sound of his laugh. His eyes looked brighter, greener, emerald-like. He still walked in with a new book, but when the conversation began, it was long forgotten.

You watched his bruises heal and you watched new ones appear, you were always curious, but never had the courage to ask. He’d tell you when he was ready.

As time went by, you found yourself wanting to do something for him, you wanted him to know that you cared. You thought that if your words were going to fail you, then maybe your actions would prove otherwise.

Working a closing shift at the cafe on a gloomy Tuesday evening, you find yourself thinking of different gestures you could do.

Ideas came and left, nothing felt good enough. He deserved the best. Trying to busy your mind elsewhere, you begin to sweep the floors and that’s when inspiration hits you.

There, in the coffee shop, lies an empty corner. An odd spot, not necessarily small, but also not large enough either.

A perfect fit for a decently sized bookshelf. A library, for the community, but most importantly for Jason. You smile to yourself, proud at the thought. He’d love this, you knew he would.

The next morning you find yourself drilling holes into the pale walls of the cafe, trying attach the large shelf you lugged down to the shop.

Once everything was fixed into its rightful place, you begin adding the books, by genre and then by the authors’ last names. You add many of Jason’s favourites, multiple copies of Austen. You add children’s books, comics and something for yourself.

The shelf fits right into the ambiance of the cafe, elevating it honestly. The corner looked cosy and you found yourself wanting to sit by one of the couches with a book and a cup of hot chocolate.

You stare at the shelf once more, proud. Now, you just had to wait.

Jason walks into the cafe the next day, he’s late. He arrives near closing time. It’s just you and him in the cafe, most of your staff left for the day and not many people stayed this late. It’s quiet, the only sound coming from the machines on your side of the counter. He’s holding another book in his hand, but he has no intention of reading tonight.

His hair is slicked back, and there’s a small cut on his forehead. He’s dressed in a white dress shirt and black pants. He looks like he’s coming back from a big event or maybe he’s going to one later. Either way, he looks pretty like this, his arms look more defined and you can make out the muscles on his back when he walks around the room, waiting for his drink.

His eyes wander around the cafe before settling on the bookshelf nestled in the odd corner. His eyes soften, he’s never noticed that before, it must be new, he thinks.

“When’d you get this,” he asks, his fingers running along the spines of the books. He’s smiling, there’s so many books.

“Yesterday, it’s for you,” you say, holding your breath. This is it, the moment you’ve been preparing for.

“For me,” he looks over at you as you settle his tea on the counter. You begin walking over to his side, slowly, riddled with nerves.

“Yes, since you’re always here, I thought you’d like having a book shelf here. It’s like a library, you take a book and then you-“ he cuts you off suddenly.

“You made a library for me in your cafe, are you serious,” he’s trying to hold back a smile, you can tell. His scar gets more prominent when he does that. “Why,” he as asks, his voice is soft, it feels like warm milk with honey, comforting.

“You’re gonna make me say it,” you can’t see your face, but it feels hot, you can tell you’re blushing.

“Yeah, say it. Why is there a library in your cafe for me,” he says, enunciating the words “your” and “for me.” He’s smirking now. He knows the answer, he just wants to hear it from you.

The point of the library was to not have to say anything, for your actions to speak for you, but here you are. Ears burning and palms clammy.

“I…,” you trail off, you look around the room, anywhere but his face. He notices and walks closer, his hands gently make their way around your waist.

“Say it,” he exclaims, it’s not forceful, he’s smiling and shades of pink dust his cheeks.

You close your eyes shut, fuck, you’re going to have to say it.

“I really like you jas-,” and with that, his lips find their way to your own. You move in harmony, much like matcha and oat milk. His lips are sweet, he tastes like the banana bread, he decided to eat while pacing around the cafe. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, you pull back and smile. You peck his lips. Once where the scar is and once more on the centre. He grins.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear that from you,” he mumbles against your lips, waiting for you to kiss him again.

And you do, you kiss him again and again.

#gn!reader #jason todd #red hood #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd headcanon #red hood headcanon #batfam

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rosemelodyshah · 11 months

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I have been searching for a while now and haven't found any fanfics or fandom for The London Eye Mystery.

I have read this book multiple times and enjoyed it, to anyone who enjoys mystery book, I would recommend.

If anyone has any fanfics or is in the London Eye Mystery fandom, please suggest something.

#The London Eye Mystery

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alotofpockets · 1 month

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The set up | Alessia Russo x Reader

Where your best friend Gio sets you up with his sister.

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.5k

-----

“Come on, just let me set you up with one more girl.” Your best friend begged, making you roll your eyes. He loved trying to set you up, but nothing ever really came from it. “Like your other set ups worked so well.”

“Please, just one more before I head off to Bali. I can’t leave you here all on your own.” Oh he could be so annoying. “I have friends besides you Gio, you know that right?" You give him a friendly shove.

“Y/n, she’s totally your type. Just give me one more chance.” You knew when he was putting up his best puppy eyes, that you weren’t going to be able to say no. “Fine, but it will be your going away present, so don’t expect anything else.”

You checked your phone one more time to check if you had gotten the right restaurant, a reservation for two under the name Russo he had said. Why he had used his name instead of yours was a mystery to you, but that mystery quickly unravelled when you saw the girl that was sitting at the table the waiter was leading you to.

“Lessi?” The girl looked up with confusion written all over your face, just like yourself. “Hey y/n/n, what are you doing here?”

“Well, apparently Gio tried setting me up with you.” Alessia chuckled, “Of course he did.” You hesitate for a moment, which Alessia seems to notice. “Sit, this place has amazing food. Plus Gio is paying for the whole thing.” Now it was your turn to laugh. “How did you manage that?”

You settle into your seat while Alessia tells you how she convinced her brother to pay for the whole date. Alessia was right, the menu had some great choices, as you looked through them you wondered why Gio would set you up with his sister, was this one of his jokes, or was he serious about this?

"So, how have you been?" Alessia asks, breaking the brief silence. "I feel like it's been ages since we caught up properly." You had met Gio back in college, and had known his whole family for ages.

“It really has been a while, hasn’t it? I’m doing well. I got promoted at work which prompted my move to London, they offered me a managing position at their location here. I’ve been getting used to the changes, home and work wise, but overall I’m really happy with the change. How have you been? Has Arsenal been treating you well?” Now that you think of it, you hadn’t been to one of her matches since made the move to Arsenal. You often joined Gio and the Russo family on seeing Alessia play for either club or country, having watched her grow from a college athlete to this phenomenal professional player.

Alessia tells you all about her move to London and her time at Arsenal so far over the pizza’s that you both ordered. It had actually been really nice hanging out with the girl one on one, something you hadn’t done all too often.

When both your plates are empty, you don’t want to leave yet but you know you’ll have to say goodnight because you have work in the morning. “This was really nice Less, would you want to do it again some time?” You didn’t know how the blonde was looking at this set up as an actual date, or just as friends catching up, but as the evening came to an end you realised just how much you had enjoyed her company, and how much you would like to go out with her again.

“I had a great time, and I would love to do it again sometime, it’s a date.” Your heart warmed at the words ‘it’s a date’, glad to hear that she was feeling the same way. “Do you want to mess with Gio a bit?” She suggested, and she told you her plan after you agreed.

You step into Gio’s apartment without an invitation to come in, or saying hello. “Your sister? You set me up with your sister?” You tried your hardest not to smile. His eyes widened, “I really thought you guys would hit it off, and if not it would just be funny.” You shake your head and walk out of the door again. As you get in your car you quickly send Alessia a text.

Y/n: Part one of the plan has been executed :)

The next day you eagerly await Alessia’s text, after lunch your phone finally buzzes with a message from her.

Alessia: Part two is in motion!

You smile at the message, imagining what Alessia has cooked up, as she was clearly enjoying pranking her brother as much as you were.

The plan was to make Gio believe he messed up with setting the two of you up, while actually you already had your second date planned.

The second date was even better than the first one, instead of sitting down at a restaurant you went to an arcade. When you headed in the bustling arcade filled your ears, as Alessia led you right to the first game. “Ready to get crushed?” A sparkle behind her eyes told you enough about how tonight was going to go. “Bring it on.” You said back with determination.

You smirk as you get ball after ball in the basket, Alessia was doing well too, but your points were definitely going up quicker. When the timer ends, you have almost double the points she has. Alessia looks over in disbelief. “Less, how did your brother and I get to know each other?” She thinks for a moment before it finally dawns on her, you were both on the basketball team in college. “Okay, so that game doesn’t count because there was an unfair advantage. Let’s move on.”

She takes your hand and drags you to a new game, where the both of you are just as competitive. The wins were divided more now, her being better at some games, and you better at others. All in all, you had a great time.

At the end of the night she invited you to come see her play on Sunday, an offer you gladly accepted. It had really been too long since you had seen her play, and you were interested to see how her playing style had changed since she joined the new club.

She walked you to your front door, “You’ll be at the airport tomorrow as well right?” You nod, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world” Gio was leaving for Bali tomorrow, and his family and a couple of his closest friends were coming to wave him off. Since you had stormed out of his apartment, the two of you were good again, but he still had no idea that you and Alessia had started dating.

Before she turns around to get to her car, she leans in and pecks your lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” You kiss her again, wanting her with you a little longer. “Goodnight Less, text me when you get home?” With a nod and another quick kiss, you watch her drive off.

The next day you meet the Russo family at the airport. No one wanted to say goodbye, but you knew you had to since Gio had a plane to catch so you stepped up first. You give him a big hug, “I’m going to miss you, Gio. Have an amazing trip, and send me all the updates please.”

Gio noticed the two of you embracing, and started smirking instantly. He walked up to the two of you. “I knew it!” You rolled your eyes at him. “Yeah yeah, you finally set me up with a good one.” He hugged the both of you. “I’m very happy for you both. Take care of each other while I’m away?” With a promise that you would, he went off to board his plane.

After you, more of Gio’s friends went ahead and said their goodbye’s, and last but not least, his family did as well. Alessia stepped back from saying bye with teary eyes, the goodbye being emotional for the family. She walked right towards you, and you wrapped your arms around her in comfort, no longer caring about the little plan you had made.

Carol walked up to the two of you, “Want to join us for dinner tonight, sweetheart?” You looked over to Alessia to make sure she was okay with you saying yes to her mom. When she agreed with a nod and a smile, you told Carol you would love to.

When Gio landed you were still at the Russo’s, and you Gio had added you all to a group chat called ‘Bali updates for the fam’, you smiled at the way he included you with his family, as the five of you watched his video showing you all the hotel room he would spend the first night.

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#alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo x y/n #arsenal wfc imagine #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #awfc x reader #awfc imagine #awfc #arsenal wfc x reader #engwnt x reader #engwnt imagine #lionesses x reader

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d-targaryenshoe · 5 months

Text

The Arrival Of A Miracle - Anthony Bridgerton

Word count: 1666

Summary: Oh how wonderful it is when new life joins us in this adventure called life, is it not?

The chamber is elegantly decorated with antique furniture and delicate china tea sets. Violet Bridgerton, an elegant and wise woman in her seated on a comfortable armchair.

And Eloise, a spirited and intelligent young woman joins the both of you with a cup of tea.

"It's so lovely to have this moment of peace amidst all the chaos, isn't it?" Violet chuckled, taking a sip from the hot liquid in her teacup. "At least for the time being."

"Yes, indeed. I can't believe this little one will be joining us shortly." You smiled, placing a hand upon your bump covered by your green gown.

"Time flies, my dear. It feels like just yesterday when Anthony was a baby himself." The mother sighed, slightly lost in memories, smiling at you.

"Speaking of babies, it seems like everyone else in London is busy with their own affairs." Eloise joked, making you chuckle as well. "I hardly see anyone these days."

"Well, Eloise, life does tend to get busy, especially when there's a new addition to the family on the way." Violet silenced her daughter, pointing at your bump.

"I must admit, it's quite overwhelming at times. But having tea with all of you brings such joy and comfort." You said, looking at both the women in the room. "Truly."

"My dear, you're doing wonderfully. We're all here to support you every step of the way." Violet assured, placing her hand on yours.

"Absolutely! And once the baby arrives, we'll have even more reasons to celebrate." Eloise laughed, taking a biscuit from the table.

"Indeed, Eloise. Our family will grow, and our love will only deepen." Violet agreed. "Could I ask something?"

"Oh, most definitely, what's the matter?" You asked.

"I've been searching for this specific book for weeks, and I can't seem to locate it anywhere." Eloise almost begged. "My brothers are no help at all. One of them is always painting and the other is making sure a nursery is completed."

"Eloise, y/n is close to birthing a child, how could you ask such a thing?" Violet scolded her daughter.

"It's okay, I'd be happy to help you out." You answered, getting up from the couch with some difficulty. "We can go to the library together and search for it."

"Really? You would do that for me?" She asked, eyes wide with happiness. "Thank you so much. Let's go right now."

And with that, the younger Bridgerton took a hold of your hand and pulled you towards the library.

Entering the library, you're greeted by the smell of old books and the sound of pages being turned.

"Wow, this library is impressive. Do you have any leads on where we should start?" You asked, placing a hand on your back as you felt some subtle pain.

"Well, I've already checked the history section, the adventure section, and even the rare books collection. But no luck so far." Eloise sighed, randomly reading some titles of books.

Eloise is meticulously going through books about unsolved mysteries and hidden secrets. "... It must be here somewhere."

You walk a little further into the library, reading some book titles as well, hoping you'd find the book, at least to help Eloise out.

Suddenly, Eloise's hand brushes against a book that feels slightly different from the others.

But at a sudden moment your face twists in pain. As Eloise walks towards you with a book in her hand.

"Y/n, are you alright? Shall I get Mama or Anthony?" She asked worriedly, placing the book on the shelf, and placing her hand on your back.

You took a deep breath, placing your hands on the shelf, trying to steady yourself. "It's too soon. The baby isn't due for another two weeks, El."

"I don't know much about this but this child is coming," Eloise said, looking around her if there was anyone that could help her out "We must get you to your room."

"I... I can't wait any longer. The baby is coming." You panted, cradling your bump with one hand, feeling how the pain got worse.

"We'll do whatever it takes to ensure the safety of our child," Eloise assured, taking hold of your hand, and leading you out of the library.

You smiled weakly, grateful for the support of your sister-in-law.

Eloise smiles back, determination etched on her face. She took your arm and supported you as you both started to make your way up the grand staircase.

Eloise and you slowly walk up the staircase, each step becoming more challenging for you. Eloise whispers words of encouragement, trying to keep you calm.

"You're doing wonderful, y/n. Just a few more steps and we'll be in your chamber." Eloise encouraged, breathing along with you.

Your grip tightens on Eloise's arm as another contraction hits. You wince in pain, but bravely soldier on. "I can't do this, El."

"You're stronger than you assume, y/n Bridgerton. Remember, soon you'll be holding your beautiful babe in your arms." Eloise smiled, rubbing the lower of your back, hoping to soothe some of the pain.

You reach the top of the staircase and continue down the hallway towards your room.

Eloise helps you into the room and guides you towards the bed. You collapse onto the bed, your face pale and sweaty.

"You, try to stay calm, I'll get Mama and make sure that wicked brother of mine, returns home," Eloise said, kissing your cheek one last time.

Descending the grand staircase with purpose. She spots her mother, across the room. "Mother, we must act fast! Send the midwives to y/n's room and fetch Anthony immediately. She has begun the labor upstairs in their room!"

Anthony Bridgerton bursts through the doors of the Bridgerton residency. Noticing the stares his mother and sister are giving in his direction.

"It's your wife, dearest." Violet began.

"Where? Where is my wife? What's the matter?" He asked, noticing Eloise nodding her head subtly towards the hallway upstairs.

"Anthony, my dear, there's no need to worry. Y/n is in good hands. She's in your room." Violet explained, placing a hand on her son's shoulder. "Preparing for the arrival of your child."

"I just want to be there for her, Mother. I want to hold her hand and support her through this."He answered, looking down at the wedding ring on his hand.

"And you will be. Y/n knows how much you adore her. She knows you'll be by her side every step of the way." She smiled as Anthony's eyes lit up with determination.

"Yes, I will. I'll be the best father and husband I can be." Anthony nodded his head.

"I have no doubt about that, my son. You will be a wonderful father, just like your own father was." Violet spoke with tearful eyes.

"Thank you, Mother. I won't let her down."

"I know you won't, my dear. Now, go to her. Your wife needs you." Violet insisted, motioning her hand toward the staircase.

Anthony nervously enters the room, his heart pounding with anticipation. He glances around, noticing the midwife preparing the birthing supplies. The room is filled with an air of both excitement and trepidation.

"Is everything alright?" Anthony asked the midwife who was taking some sheets for the bed.

"Yes, Mr. Bridgerton. everything is going well, soon you'll child will be here." The woman answered.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. He walks over to your side, are you're lying on the bed, your face flushed with pain.

"You're doing amazing, my love. Just a little longer." Anthony whispered against your forehead, softly smiling. .

" Oh, the pain! I can't bear it any longer!" You cried, leaning back into the pillow.

"Just a little while longer, my lady. You're doing wonderfully." One of the midwives reassures, adjusting the gloves on her hands. "Just a few more pushes and we'll have the baby in your arms."

"Don't leave me, Anthony. I need you." You sighed, squeezing his hand.

"Alright, my lady. On the count of three, give me one more big push." The midwive said as you we're pushing the best you could.

"Come on, my love. You can do this." Anthony encouraged, placing his hand on the back of your neck.

The birthing room is filled with a team of midwives bustling around, preparing for the imminent arrival of the baby.

"Just breathe, my lady. You're doing great." The midwife said as she saw sweat beads on your forehead as you clutched Anthony's hand tightly.

You gritted your teeth, leaning back in your bed. "I can't... I can't do this anymore."

"Yes, you can, my love. Just a little longer." Anthony said, removing the strands of hair on your sweaty forehead.

You gather all your strength and push with all your might. The room fills with the sound of your pains.

Anthony's face breaks into a fragile smile as he hears the cry of a babe. "It's... it's a miracle."

"Mr. Bridgerton, It's time for you to cut the umbilical cord. Are you ready?" The midwife said, holding out the scissors towards Anthony.

"I mostly am" The woman hands him the pair of sterilized scissors. He takes a deep breath and approaches the baby, who is in the hands of the midwife.

"Here we go, little one." Anthony carefully cuts the umbilical cord, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. The baby lets out a soft cry, signaling its arrival into the world.

"It's a beautiful and healthy baby boy!" The midwife said as she took the baby and gently placed him on your chest. Your eyes filled with tears of joy as you held your newborn close.

"Welcome to the world, my son. We will love and protect you always." Anthony spoke as his eyes were filled with tears.

"Our little miracle. Our family is complete." As you both gaze at your newborn son, the room is filled with a sense of pure bliss and the promise of a bright future.

#anthony bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagines #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton netflix #colin bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #anthony x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x y/n #x reader

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mrchiipchrome · 3 months

Text

The Museum

W.C. - 5.2 k

this is so the 'pookie looks absolutely fire' tiktok couple coded

thank you to the anon that requested this, much love to you:)

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The skittles made a crunching sound as your molars bit down on them, it was an every day snack for you, tasting the rainbow more often than not. It was a relatively new habit, but when your ex had broken up with you, you promised yourself to become a better person.

It obviously had to be you who had something wrong with them, otherwise she wouldn’t have fallen in love with someone else and out of love with you. Quitting smoking was the first thing on your agenda, hence the skittles.

The next thing was to get away from the small southern town in Texas, move so far away that you left the country entirely. The only thing you’d taken with you on the plane was a carryon with 2 changes of clothes, your cowboy hat and a dream of bettering your life.

The third thing you bettered was your health, going out for a run every morning through the streets of London, going to the gym after work, doing push-ups before bed. It worked wonders, the tips you got from the ladies at the bar where you worked were simply incredible.

The fourth thing you wanted to improve was your cultural knowledge, the exact reason why you were standing in the middle of a museum, old renaissance paintings in every corner of the large room. It was something you appreciated, none of that modern bullshit where people just taped a banana to a canvas and called it art, it was back from when people actually painted.

Your hand slipped down your body into your jacket pocket, fetching another piece of candy, although a voice speaking up from your right startled you nearly enough for you to drop it back into the bag.

“You’re not supposed to eat in museums, you know?” The woman had a foreign dialect, just like you. You guessed it was from somewhere in the middle of Europe, maybe Germany or any of the neighboring countries.

“It’s not a problem if you don’t tell on me, no one has to know.” She seems just as startled by your accent as you were by her speaking to you, her cheeks dusted with a light pink at the wink you sent her.

“What are you going to do if I tell them? Take me back to your ranch on your horse?” The mystery woman teases, obviously making fun of the accent and the cowboy hat sitting perched on your head. In response you laugh under your breath, shaking your head in amusement.

“I’m afraid that I left the ranch back in Texas, Miss. All I have here is a small one bedroom apartment.” She looks up at you through the side of her eye, her half smile distracting you more than you’d like to admit. Her brows knit together when she notices a security guard eying the two of you curiously and her elbow digs into your ribs when you once again reach for the skittles in your pocket.

“Nice hat, my friend would be jealous.” You nod in agreement, plucking the stetson off your head and turning it around in your hand. In a brief moment of stupidity, you place the cowboy hat on the pretty stranger’s head, it falling down the front of her face to cover her eyes. It’s frankly adorable, the way she brings her hand up to push it back to the crown of her head.

The reassuring smile on her face tells you that she approves of your action, a relief to your entire being. She takes her phone out of her back pocket, turning it on and snapping a picture of you both, the cowboy hat still perched on top of her head.

In response, you snap a picture of her alone, the woman posing like a cowboy would for you. She was going to be the wallpaper of your phone for a while, even though you didn’t even know her name.

“So, do you have a name or am I just going to have to call you mine?” The cheesy pickup line just slips out, not at all consciously, it was like instinct took over, a pretty girl was to be flirted with.

“I wouldn’t mind being called yours, but for now you can call me Lia.” The woman doesn’t seem uncomfortable by your advances, in fact she embraces them, teasing smile telling you that she found it amusing how worried you got over a simple pickup line.

“Lia, a beautiful name for an even more gorgeous girl.” She gains her pink tint back, the compliment likely the cause of her blush. It wasn’t like she never got complimented, it was just the attractive zing your accent put over the words that made them feel more sincere.

“And how about you? A name attached to that pretty face?” Now it was your turn to blush at the other woman’s words, her lips splitting into a full toothed smile.

“Y/n. Y/n Y/l/n.” You imitate Bond to introduce yourself, sticking your hand out for her to take, a firm handshake and the tip of an imaginary hat letting her know who exactly it is you are.

“Good to know my future last name.” She winks at you and the blush that’s already covering your face deepens significantly. The insinuation that you were to marry the girl beside you too much for your poor little heart to take.

She starts to walk away from you and towards another section of the room, looking back over her shoulder when she realizes that you weren’t right beside her, walking. Waving her hand in a “come here” motion, you quickly catch up with the older woman.

“So, why skittles? Is there not any other sweet you’d rather have?” She asks as you match her slow rhythm of steps, your hands shoved in the pockets of your coat with your arms forming loops. Lia threads one of her arms through yours, leaning her head on your shoulder, standing still all of a sudden to look at a painting. It didn’t feel like you’d just met, like you’d just introduced yourselves to one another, it felt like you’d known each other for decades, easily slipping into being comfortable with each other.

You gaze at her as she looks at the painting, making sure to map out all her gorgeous features and commit them to memory. She was like a breath of fresh air in a world of polluted oxygen.

“First of all it’s called candy, not sweets, candy. Secondly, they’re amazing for when you want to stop smoking.” Her cheek smushes against your shoulder as she turns her head to look up at you, her eyebrows scrunched together adorably.

“You were a smoker?” You feel the strong urge to place a peck atop her lips, soft and warm against your own. But in the end you resist, you’d only just met the woman for god’s sake, you don’t want to make her uncomfortable. Her eyes hold so many emotions that you just can’t read.

“Yeah, only for about a year. My ex stressed me out so much that I felt it was the easiest way to deal with it. But when she broke up with me, I decided to get my life back together, moved here, got a job at a bar and that’s it. That’s why I’m here.” Lia listens intensively at the story you’re telling her, the way she looks at you suggests that she’s hanging off your every last syllable.

“So no more smoking at all for you?” You puff your chest up, proudly displaying the grin on your face and your now discolored tongue. Lia looks on in amusement at your actions, a grin that could light up an opera house on her face.

“Nope, I’m never picking up a cigarette again.” The amusement turns into a sort of profound proud feeling, a feeling that she definitely shouldn’t be feeling for what is practically a stranger. A stranger that in the matter of a mere hour had worked their way into her heart and made themselves home.

“Good, I’m really happy for you.” The softened look on Lia’s face makes you blush, it was the way most people looked at their loved ones. You couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to be one of her loved ones, how it would feel to see her first thing in the morning, to gaze into her tentative eyes and try to read her like a book just because you know exactly how it is she acts, how she feels at that exact moment, what she thinks.

At your faraway look Lia nudges you in the ribs, giggling at the embarrassed expression that occupies your face. Her giggle could only be described as a ray of sunlight, lighting the glum room up in seconds, giving it a golden glow.

The older woman doesn’t miss the fondness in your gaze as you watch her laugh, your own lips splitting into a smile and soon after a loud belly laugh bubbles up in your chest, welling out of your mouth like water out a dam.

Only moments later the both of you are doubled over in laughter, tears slipping down your cheeks and arms crossed over your stomachs. Some scattered guests give you two dirty looks, as if you were peasants in a house full of royals, but they are counter effective because it only makes you and Lia laugh harder.

The security guard from earlier approaches you both as you drop down to the floor with a loud thump, Lia bursting out into an entire new fit of laughter as you try to catch your breath.

“Y/n, I’ve already let you get away with a lot today but this is your last strike. Up you get, I’ll escort you and your lady companion to the exit.” He speaks through his thick mustache, his round beer gut bobbing up and down with every word like he needed every fat covered muscle of his stomach to get the words out.

Small giggles escape you both as Lia and you are led out of the building by a firm grip around both of your arms. You both watch in amusement as the fat man gets winded walking back up the stairs he just led you down, bending over for a brief second at the top before disappearing back behind the door.

“So, I take it you know the security guard then?” She sounds a little out of breath as she speaks to you, flyaways sticking out of her bun, your hand itches to reach up and smooth them out, undo her bun and run your fingers through her hair. But you don’t.

“Yeah, he’s my regular. Comes in every day and buys a pint after work, a good friend of mine he is. He lets me get away with eatin’ in there every time I come.” You stand right in front of the brunette, hands again in your pockets as you smile at her tentatively. Her hand comes up to rub at your arm, and you feel as though you were going to pass out at any moment, the electric feeling of her ring covered fingers touching your arm overwhelming in a good way.

“Ah, a museum nepo baby then.” You can tell that she’s joking by the way her eyebrows raise all the way up to her hairline, and you imitate her by doing the same thing. Another fit of giggles ensues, Lia looking directly into your eyes, holding eye contact for a prolonged amount of time.

It makes you nervous, her somewhat challenging gaze locking on your face for a moment longer than necessary. When she grasps your hands in hers you finally look back at her, meeting her tender gaze with your own.

“I really enjoyed today, I was hoping we could do it again sometime.” The older woman looks at you sheepishly, nearly nervously. You’re mesmerized by her gorgeous simplicity, simple smile grazing her lips as you nod, a recognisable warmth behind the hug she gives you, the quick kiss she places on your cheek haphazardly before walking away, not looking back to see your rose tinted cheeks.

It’s only when Lia has disappeared far behind the horizon that you realize that you have no way to contact her AND that she essentially got away with your favorite cowboy hat. You aren’t as distraught about your hat as you are about not getting her number, it was a dumbass move from you.

You drag your feet all the way back to your apartment, not knowing that only moments after you left the museum, the girl of your dreams ran back all the way to get your number. And like you, she dragged her feet all the way back to her apartment, sulking and questioning her own intelligence.

Arriving at the bar that evening was strange, you felt almost empty without the girl you’d met earlier that day, no light brown cowboy hat perched atop your head nor a beaming smile. It was weird to everyone around you, you always had that damned hat on, but now it was a completely different one, black with a few white accents.

“What happened to you? It looks like someone ran over your dog.” Your co-worker and best friend Marla asks, placing her hand on your shoulder softly as if you were to break if she did it any harder. Shaking your head, your other friend and co-bartender Jason comes up to rub your back softly, the comfort from both of your best friends loosening you up significantly and soon after you spill everything that had happened up to that point.

They were both smirking at you when you finished up the story, knowing that despite only just meeting the woman in the museum you were already in love.

“So do you have a picture of this goddess who’s making you drop to your knees?” Marla asks you, looking knowingly at your other best friend, who in return wiggles his eyebrows at her. You knew something would happen between them soon, and you’d rather be in hell than to watch it.

“Yeah, just give me a quick sec.” Pulling out your phone, you quickly unlock it and enter the photo app, not needing to scroll as the most recent photo was of her, Lia.

“Girl, are you fucking with me?” You look at the dark skinned girl in confusion, her eyes widening as she realizes that you had no fucking clue who it was you had met. She looks to her ‘boyfriend’ quickly in shock, who looks back at her equally appalled.

“Are you telling me you don’t recognise her?” The moment you shake your head is when the green eyed boy facepalms, not believing your stupidity. “Not at all? You haven’t seen her before.” When you once again shake your head the man sighs in disappointment, all faith in your intelligence practically gone.

“Girl. That is Lia Wälti, you know one of the best midfielders in the country? Arsenal Women’s player.” Now it’s your turn to look shocked, not at all knowing that she was a footballer. All the times you’d gone over to Marla’s house to watch footy, she’d probably been injured.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I didn’t even recognise her.” You lean against the door, sliding your body down until you’re sitting flush on the floor, head in your hands. Jason places his hand on your shoulder, smiling softly at you as he tries to reassure your overwhelmed mind.

“Hey, man, it was probably a good thing that you didn’t recognise her. She knows that you’re not some crazed fan trying to kill her, eh?” Marla’s hand plucks your cowboy hat from your head and runs her fingers through your hair, your shared shift started in mere minutes and yet they were there, comforting you.

“I’m okay, just a bit shell shocked.” They both laugh, pulling you up by your hands and bringing you into a group hug, patting your back before Marla gives you your hat back, smacking both you and Jason’s asses before disappearing out to her office.

“You know, we have an extra ticket to the Arsenal game on Sunday, so I mean if you want to see her again then you’re welcome to join.” You smile at the man’s kindness, telling him that you’ll definitely take him up on his offer. You didn’t have a shift at the bar either way that day so spending it looking for your … well you didn’t really know what it was she is to you. All you know is that you wanted to see her again.

Two days later you find yourself sitting as close to the pitch as you possibly can, waiting for the North London derby to start.

Lia is in the starting lineup, looking determined as she waits for the whistle signaling the start of the game to sound. The shrill noise cuts through the air and the game starts.

It’s physical right from the start, loads of pushing and shoving coming from both sides, red and white. There are a few times where you nearly jump to your feet as Lia gets pushed but the fact that your friends sat there right beside you made you choose not to.

At half time the score is the same as the beginning, nil-nil. Despite not knowing much about football you join in on analyzing the first half of the game, mentioning all the times Lia went down. Marla makes some ‘innocent’ comments about how you’d much rather have her ‘go down’ somewhere else. The blush that overtakes your face is enough for you to blend in with your jersey, the red of the Arsenal shirt the same shade as your face.

When the second half starts, you’re basically on your feet all the way through, cheering loudly when Alessia scores, meaning that the gunners were up one-nil.

It’s particularly hilarious when Lia finally notices you, a pause in the game meaning that she had the time to look around at the fully packed Emirates Stadium. When those eyes you love to gaze into meet yours for the first time since Friday, her face split open in a smile, a smile reaching all the way up to her eyes.

It looks like she has to physically restrain herself so that she doesn’t run over to you, her body shaking slightly as she calmly inches her way towards you, the cheers of the fans around you becoming louder as the player comes closer. Lia tunes them all out though as she looks at you, the only thing cutting through her trance being the whistle signaling the freekick being awarded.

Lia looks back towards you as she walks in the direction of the group of players and you wink at her, even though she’s far away it seems like she saw it, the deep tint of red dusting her face definitely more than exertion from the game.

When the three loud whistles sound throughout the arena, it explodes in cheers as Arsenal manage to keep their one-nil lead and in doing so make London red again. But you don’t even acknowledge the win when there’s a speeding Lia Wälti heading straight in your direction.

She only starts to slow down as she reaches the barrier which separates the fans from the pitch and players, with you standing up behind it to watch her come closer and closer with every quick step she takes.

Lia throws her arms around your torso when she comes close enough, the way that she had been longing for your touch had been driving her crazy in the days since you first met. She also knew that it wasn’t smart to do it all out in the open, fans and professionals alike were probably going to know everything about you within a few days. You didn’t seem to mind though, content with having her in your arms again.

Pulling away from her, you quickly take her face in your hands, looking her over to see if her face was scratched up from all the times she’d met the ground in the game.

“Shit, darling, I think you spent more time on the ground in this game than on your feet. You ought to be more careful.” Your southern drawl is especially thick when you speak to her, the worry you’d experienced the entire game bubbling to the surface.

“I’m perfectly fine, I think you’re forgetting that I do this for a living.” She smiles at you reassuringly and you calm down fully, her hand placed on your arm a sure factor of it. Lia’s head turns to your side, looking directly at your friends who both send her starstruck looks.

“Hi, I’m Lia.” The footballer smiles in their direction and they both remain in their seats, completely unmoving. She looks back to you concerned and in response you just laugh, they were apparently not expecting her to actually greet them. “Are they okay?”

“I think they’re just a bit starstruck.” Gesturing towards their gaping mouths, Marla quickly slaps your hand away from her face, biting at the air to show you that she wasn’t afraid to bite.

“Oh okay, well do you think they want anything signed? I can ask the team, or maybe if you want we can go meet them?” Lia sounds unsure of herself, apparently doubting that her first impression on your friends was good.

“I think that they’d love that sweetheart. But judging from all the looks we’re getting from that same team, I do think they want you back.” You glance towards the women gathered in a clung in the middle of the pitch, all of them staring at you and Lia interacting. She sighs at their slightly invasive culture, but alas there wasn’t anything that she could do about it. When you smile and wave at them, you’re thoroughly amused when every single one of them repeats your actions back to you, some in confusion and some in amusement.

“A guard is going to tell you to follow him, just do as he says and we’ll meet again soon.” By that point the stadium was almost empty, everyone wanting to go home and brag about their team’s win over the archrival. So as Lia walks away from you, you’re totally free to stare at her ass, only stopping when Marla slaps your arm harshly.

“Did that just happen?” Jason asks shakily, running his hand down his face in embarrassment.

“You’re damn right it did.” You laugh at their stupid expressions, their embarrassment clear on their faces. “Well look on the bright side, y’all are going to meet the team.” With that their embarrassment turned into excitement, meeting their favourite athletes quickly turning their mood around.

“Y/n Y/l/n? Come with me and take your friends with you.” Walking around the labyrinth of slinging hallways and narrow paths, you appear in front of the locker room in no time, the loud music escaping the door a clear indicator of the Gunners good match.

“Now just wait out here until they come out, they’ll probably be out in a few.” The guard tells you unbothered, not caring at all that he’s leaving people he doesn’t know outside of the locker room.

“Yes sir.” You speak up clearly, mock saluting him as he disappears down the hallway with a sigh.

“I can’t believe that you’re 28, you act like a 12 year old.” Marla tells you jokingly, leading to you pushing her away from you. In the span of a few seconds both you and Marla find yourselves on the floor, engaging in a wrestling match. It only gets broken up when the sound of the door opening echoes through the hallway, both you and your best friend quickly getting on your feet.

“Nah what’s going on here?” A very amused Irish accented voice escapes the player exiting the locker room, one Katie McCabe staring at you and Marla.

“It was her fault.” You point at Marla so as to gesture that it was her who started it, the woman vehemently denying it.

“So I’m guessing you’re Lia’s cowboy then?” Katie completely ignores the blame game currently going on in front of her as she talks to you. Blushing at being called Lia’s, you quickly start to stutter out an answer.

“I- uhm yeah, I think so?” Laughter coming from behind the Irish woman makes you glance in the direction of the sound. Seeing Leah Williamson of all people is not what you expect, a bit starstruck yourself.

“Of course it’s the cowboy you buffoon, who else would wear a cowboy hat in London? You have to tell me where you bought the one Lia brought home, I need a new one. Mylie-moo chewed mine to filth a couple days ago.” Leah throws her arm around your shoulder as if you’d known each other for years, the woman clearly having heard a thing or two about you.

“Oh well I’ll be sure to bring you one next time I go back to Texas, my buddy Carl, he’s 72 and he makes the most gorgeous hats you can imagine. Last time I visited him I made him an instagram page, I’ll send you the link if you want?” You speak enthusiastically with the England captain, her arm still resting around your shoulders casually. Both Marla and Jason are in a conversation with Katie and Lotte, who just got out of the locker room.

“Important question, so answer me truthfully now, do you like country music?” She looks at you skeptically, trying to deduce if you’re being truthful or not. The question itself makes you roll your eyes playfully, but alas it didn’t surprise you. It was widely known that Leah was quite the country fan.

“Ma’am I grew up in Texas, yeah I’m a country fan. I’d be disowned if I wasn’t.” Leah looks at you like you’re her hero, it was clear to you that she accepted you. The hinges of the door squeak as a few other players exit, namely Lia.

“Lia please let me steal her, she’s perfect.” Leah says jokingly, holding onto your arm softly like she was a little kid. Lia looks at her weirdly, but quickly catches on to the joke, walking over to the two of you.

“I know, that’s why I want to keep her.” Lia wraps her arms around your waist tightly, her newly washed hair curling up into adorable curls, head placed on your shoulder.

“Sharing is caring.” Leah is on the verge of laughter as she talks, the statement a shocking one for sure. It was hilarious though so you also had to keep from laughing.

“I mean I wouldn’t mind-” Lia shoots you a mean glare at your half serious words, and even though it was like being glared at by an adorable kitten, Lia already had you wrapped around her finger. “Actually I’m taken so I don’t think that would work.”

All it takes for you all to break character is a shouted ‘WHIPPED’ coming from one of the players watching the interaction like it was a soap opera, the three of you laughing like it was the last thing you’d do.

“Alright, anyone want a drink? Not to brag but I can make a mean cocktail.” The women all cheer as you ask them, everyone rushing out to get into their cars and get to the bar. Just as you’re about to follow them, someone takes hold of your collar, making it so that you can’t go.

Lia looks back when you don’t follow her but you just wave her off, telling her to go on without you. Turning back, you’re met with all the ‘scariest’ Arsenal players, looking like they’re about to beat you up.

“Listen carefully now, because this will only be said once, if you hurt a hair on her head, do anything to hurt her emotionally, if you do anything wrong that makes her sad, we will not hesitate to take your knees.” It’s Katie that speaks, all the others just nodding intimidatingly, glaring at you.

“I’m going to try my best to make her happy, I know that she deserves the world.” They let up the facade of intimidation at your words, patting your back and pushing you in the direction of the car park. The conversation as you all are walking out of the building is pleasant, when you arrive at the parking lot there are just a couple of cars left.

Both of your best friends had left you to carpool with one of the remaining players, Lia called dibs though the second she looked at you, so it was with her you went.

“They weren’t too scary with you right? I know how they can be.” Lia says over the soft music being played from the radio, some Tyler, the Creator song. You look at her face, she was in deep thought and absolutely adorable.

“Nah, it’s like being threatened by a pair of teddy bears. Let’s just say that I’ve had worse shovel talks.” She giggles as you start to tell her about all the weird shovel talks you’d gotten back in Texas, everything from being threatened with Chinese water torture to being hung upside down from a tree for simply speaking to a girl that wasn’t her.

When the bar comes into sight you see that multiple people have parked their cars right in front of it, telling Lia to just park on the curb.

“Y’all are such dickheads.” You laugh, slapping both Marla and Jason’s heads hard, they left you stranded.

“Well you’ve got a girlfriend now who can drive your broke ass.” Marla shoots back, rubbing her head in pain. You roll your eyes at her dramatic actions, the slap wasn’t that hard.

“One-nil to me then, at least I have someone.” The sibling like banter was normal between you two by now, she was your best friend after all.

“C’mon cowboy, let’s sit down for a little.” Lia’s hand rests on your stomach as you both sit down on the booth, the place to sit being suspiciously small, to the point in which Lia had to throw her legs over your lap to get enough space.

It was nice to sit and talk with the team, they were regular people just like anyone else and it made you glad to see them just relax after a match. The atmosphere was calm, so calm in fact that Lia managed to fall asleep on your shoulder, quiet snores escaping her mouth.

Only moments later you fall asleep too, after having fought sleep for as long as possible. Your head rests on top of Lia’s and the girls think it’s absolutely adorable, some of them taking pictures of you both to send to their group chat.

“I knew being friends with her would pay off.” Jason jokes, thinking naïvely that you were fully asleep, getting a few laughs from the girls in the room. They get startled though as you utter a quick;

“Hey!” In protest, everyone soon laughed at your dramatic reaction to his joke.

Who knew that going to the museum would result in you getting a date?

#woso #woso x reader #arsenal wfc #lia walti #lia walti x reader #woso imagines #woso fanfics

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trulyhblue · 5 months

Text

MISS AUSTRALIA (PART TWO)

Katie McCabe x Aussie! Chelsea! Reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, jealousy, praise kink, semi-public sex, coarse language, Chelsea mentions, little age gap, humiliation, drinking.

Masterlist

______________________________

You don't know what coerced you to spend the night in Katie McCabe's bed, but it felt amazing.

Chelsea's loss against Arsenal sent shockwaves through the WSL side of social media, with a skyrocket of tweets spreading the news regarding the Blue's greatest defeat in five years.

It was not a surprise to see your name mentioned in thousands of these messages, and your connotation to Katie hadn't seemed to surprise anyone either. Lots of people were reeling over the interactions between the two of you on the field, but you wondered what their reaction would be if they found out what happened off the pitch.

Somehow, you didn't want to know.

Despite the thrashing you received from Emma, you, Jessie, Erin, Millie, Sam, and Guro all found yourselves in a pub in North London. It seemed hypocritical — the location — but the vibes were good, and it was a well-known, crowded bar, so the chances of you being seen were slim to none.

While Jessie was the designated driver for you that night, the rest of the girls didn't hesitate to start drinking. You were playing with the straw of your third vodka cranberry, savouring the taste between your teeth, smiling at the quips and jokes the girls would pose, checking the time on your phone as the hours passed later in the night.

"I just know I'm going to regret this tomorrow." Guro sighed, shooting down the last of her drink before standing up. "My shout now, what do you all want?"

Sam and Millie ordered a bulk of shots. Jessie and Erin chose the drinks they had before. You shook your head towards Guro, lifting your half-full drink that you were still nursing.

Sam wrapped an arm around your shoulder, waving Guro off. "You've been on the same drink for an hour. C'mon, have a shot with me."

You glanced across the table to find Erin shuffling a deck of cards. Jessie was on her phone, leaving you sandwiched between Bright and Kerr. You were a football player, an athlete, but you weren't as bulky as your two Chelsea companions. You tried hard in the gym, and anyone could tell that it paid off, but too many drinks would sway you in the wrong direction.

"Are you old enough to drink?" Millie asked, half sincerely, ruffling your hair when you gave her a pointed glare. "I'm only joking, Kid."

"I'm twenty-two. I just like taking care of my body." You spoke with a huff, throwing your arms over your chest, eyes dancing between your two skippers.

"Oh, and all those hickeys are taking care of you, are they?" Guro retorted, Erin's smirk matching hers as she returned with the tray of drinks. You watched her slide a shot towards you, which you took instantly at the looming eyes on your neck from your Australian Captain.

"Since when were those there?" She swooped, her hand reaching out to poke at the marks. You hissed, the exposed blotches still sensitive, shrinking in your seat as all five of your teammates caught your reddening cheeks.

"Fresh ones, eh?" Millie grinned.

While the girls found this new susceptible mystery a highlight of the night, Sam continued to prod at the marks, her protectiveness prominent by the furrow in her eyebrows.

"Who gave you those?" She let out, and you felt your face flame up.

"I'm not talking about it."

"You didn't have them this morning." Guro quipped, earning Jessie to push her scoldingly, feeling slightly sorry for the interrogation you were receiving.

"Jesus, y/n/n, I didn't know you had it in ya—"

"— had what in her?" A voice called out from beside the table, making each of your friends move their eyes away from you and to the source.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, you thought. Great, just your luck.

Katie was standing behind Beth, who was linking elbows with Jordon Nobbs. Caitlin, Leah, and Steph all stood among them, Steph being the one who spoke.

"Nothing. Where's Ky?" You sounded, your voice meek underneath the prying Arsenal eyes.

"Wrong side of London, Skipper." Caitlin laughed.

Sam rolled her eyes. "Good drinks, though."

You shuffled across the lounge you were sitting on, attempting to maneuver yourself over Jessie's lap to escape. You felt a hand grip the back of your skirt, causing you to plop on one of Jessie's legs.

"You can't just avoid the conversation."

"Sammy, stop." You squirmed over Jessie, who used her hands to lift your waist up. "Where's Kyra?" You asked again, hopelessly avoiding the Irish woman's levering eyes. She was watching Jessie's hand on your waist; how her fingers played with the hem of your top as you battled to fight Sam's hand away. Katie noticed how Jessie spread her legs out, engulfing your body weight more comfortably, as if she was used to having you in that position.

The Irish woman wanted to mock the playful whines that left your lips as everyone questioned what the two Australians were fighting over. She caught sight of the bruise she had left under your ear, recalling the heavy whines and desperate breaths that followed as her lips lapped over the delicate skin. The mark offered Katie some comfort in your current situation. The grand display of pink smearing across your freckled cheeks was admirable to most, but Katie found you much more pleasurable when you beat red at the sound of her voice, when you were grinding against her knee, not Fleming's.

"She went to the bathroom, I think." Beth Mead spoke, her friendly, maternal smile glowing back at you. "Actually, she could be anywhere. 'Can never sit still, that girl."

"Alright, let me go check."

You didn't wait for anyone to stop you, stumbling off Jess' lap, head spinning from the alcohol running through your system. You could handle your liquor to some extent, but it was after this that you went beyond tipsy. Your journey to the bathroom was quick, wasting no time to find your best friend, wherever she may be.

The cubicles were all empty. You tried calling out her name, calling her on your phone, but the little shit didn't answer. The pub was now reeling with people, with all levels of tipsy and drunk being shown by the dancing of the crowd. You were struggling to find your way back to your girls, forgetting the way you came. You gave up trying after five minutes, turning around and opening the bathroom doors once more.

Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist, pushing and pinning you against one of the cubicle doors. It slammed shut, your back planted against the wood. You felt your hands fondle together, your heart racing at the hungry, lustful eyes of the woman in front of you. Her breath fanned over your face, causing your lips to fall agape, a loss of words leaving you speechless. It wasn't long until Katie's lips were on your neck, this time on the opposite side, nibbling on your pulse point.

"You really can't hold it in, can you?" She uttered, her accent rasping as she spoke. You groaned at the notion of her fingers latching onto the top you were wearing, tugging it in warning before discarding it on the floor.

"What?" You sighed, hands wrapping around Katie's neck as she lifted you up, gripping your thighs as they swathed around her waist.

"On Fleming's lap, Kerr's hand on your arse. Are you always so desperate for attention?"

She wasted no time in moving her lips down to your breasts, freeing one of her hands from your thigh to massage the one she wasn't sucking.

"Katie—"

"Shut up."

You grind your hips against hers, hoping it will relieve the growing tension between your legs. With your bra still on, Katie laughs at your flushed state, pushing up the fabric of your skirt so it would bunch up against your hips.

"Did you shake everyone's hands?" She asked, her lips leaving your chest to move up to your face. She hadn't ever properly kissed you, so she made sure to hover as she waited for a reply, her fingers slowly squeezing the column of your neck.

You nodded, still trying to gain some friction, but were met with nothing. The only noise that came from your lips was a whine. Katie shook her head, kneading your thigh as she rubbed her nose up against yours. The action was intimate, but somehow Katie found a way to make it sensual.

“Use your words, Baby.” She made a point of tapping your neck with her finger, toying with your skirt as her hand crept up your thigh.

“I- mh… I did, Katie.”

“Good Girl.” She whispered, and you pushed your lips forward to catch the girl in a kiss. You were grateful she reciprocated with just as much force, asserting her dominance by bringing her hand up to your lips, dragging your bottom lip down, making you audibly cry out.

“You like that, do you?” She chuckled, her hand inching closer to your heat. “Had to shake everyone’s hands before getting off on my thigh, didn't you? Had to make sure you did as you were told.”

“Katie, please—”

“But good girls don't sit on other people’s laps, do they Baby?” She whispered, ghosting her hand over your underwear. “Answer me.”

“No, Katie.”

You pushed your head back against the door, groaning as Katie ran one of her fingers through your folds teasingly. Your legs gave way, no longer trying to hold yourself up around Katie’s waist. Despite the lack of warning, the Irish woman wasn't fazed at the sudden shift, instead using it to her advantage.

“Look at you… so desperate for attention. Is that why you landed on top of me today? Bent over for me and everything in a sold-out stadium weren't you?”

You felt her hand rub your clit, making you squirm. “You tripped me.” It was a whisper, but Katie heard it all the same.

Her eyebrows raised. “I did. But you went off before I could show everyone how well you could take me.”

Without warning, she slipped two of her fingers into you, gnawing at your neck as she thrust in and out of you rhythmically. You moaned, and blushed furiously because of it.

“Does Fleming touch you like this?”

“Can you fuck off about Jessie for one second?”

Katie scoffed, adding another finger, inserting her fingers into you until her knuckles were kneading your clit. You moaned at the sting, crying out when Katie didn't wait for you to adjust. She did this for a while, and you felt the coil in your stomach churn as she curled her fingers inside of you, slamming them as deep as she could, resonant and rigid strokes leaving you writhing in ecstasy.

“Katie— Katie—”

She stopped, her fingers leaving you clenching around nothing. You were so close, feeling your high fizzle out the moment her fingers moved to her lips.

“I asked you a fucking question. ‘Spose you just get too dumb when you're being fucked.”

You whined, your hands clawing her biceps, beyond annoyed by the way she left you. “I- Jess and I are friends.”

“I bet Fleming wasn't too happy when you scored that double against her in the World Cup.”

You gaped at Katie, legs shaking and lips puffy. “You definitely weren't when I scored against you.”

Katie was off you now, standing against the bathroom sink, watching as you tried to fix your skirt.

“What happened today then, hm? Miss Australia lost her touch as soon as she was bent over.”

“Stop calling me that. And I wasn't bent over, you tripped me!”

“Did I tell ‘ya to fix your skirt?” She ordered, crossing her arms over her chest when you sauntered in front of her.

“You’re not the boss of me, McCabe.”

“Then how ‘bout you show me some personal autonomy and get yourself off?” She quipped, lust flooding her eyes. She propped herself on the sink, watching intently as your eyes widened at her suggestion. It seemed that all of your prior confidence had dispersed.

“I'm not doing that in here.” You muttered, suddenly repentant of the setting you were in.

“You nearly just came on my fingers. What's the difference?”

Whatever dominance you seemed to gain over Katie didn't work, the woman making no sign of backing down from her proposition.

“I— Katie… I'm not going to beg.”

She simply hummed, causing you to sigh. You were desperate for a release ever since that afternoon when you had been too stubborn to get off her knee, feeling the desperation of your hormones haunt you ever since. The thought of getting yourself off in front of the girl you hated so much made you squirm. The thought of someone walking in and seeing such an illustrative sight would've sent you into a frenzy.

But all of these thoughts dispersed at the sight of Katie in front of you, leaning against the mirror with her signature smirk. You reeled in the jumper she was wearing that hit the veins and muscles of her arms you always looked at during games. You noticed the crumple of her trousers, where you had inevitably been. Her hair was sweaty, her cheeks tinted at the sight of your unruliness. It made you repent. It made you want Katie even more.

“I want you.” You stated matter of factly, walking forward so that you were standing in between her legs.

“Do you now?” She looked down at you possessively, pretending to be in deep thought.

You nodded. She leaned in, taking hold of your chin. “Beg for it, Baby.”

She moved down from her place on the counter, dragging you to face the mirror. Pushing your hips against the cool marble surface, you watched as Katie caged your figure, sucking gently on your shoulder, taking her sweet time to reach your preexisting hickeys.

“Please, Katie, I need you so bad.” You whined, feeling her hips grind into you from behind. “I need you, you— you make me feel so good. Want you really bad.”

“Mhm, what else, baby?” She continued to place wet, sloppy kisses up your neck, licking across the new bruises, smirking at the mess she was turning you into.

“Wanna feel you inside of me. Wanna cum so hard from your fingers and your mouth, everything. Just want you to touch me, use me. Please use me, Baby, I‘ll do anything.”

The nickname she had been calling you fell from your lips before you had the chance to stop yourself. You knew that Katie would never let you live this down, but, for utterly selfish reasons, you made sure your voice was extra whiny, extra innocent, hoping your plea would help you get off.

Katie stopped kissing you, turning you around and smashing her lips up against yours. You knew your begging had worked when her fingers worked their way back into your underwear. When she entered two of her fingers this time, you weren't surprised at the lack of warning. Instead, you relished the feeling of pleasure shivering through your body. You moaned as her knuckles grazed over your clit, her hips pushing her further into the counter, making you lean back on your elbows.

“Bent back for you, Baby.” You moaned, hoping she’d keep going if you were louder. “I want to be— wanna be good.”

“That's it, nice and loud for me. Wanted me so bad you needed to beg. Good girls get rewards; don't they, baby girl?”

You groaned as she pounded into you relentlessly, her spare hand holding your hips in place as you neared your high. Katie felt your walls clench around her fingers, the wet juices of your arousal squelching in and out, coating Katie’s fingers. The sound of your wetness, alongside your moans, echoed throughout the bathroom, earning Katie to groan and the smell of sex surrounding you two.

“I’m— close.” You chocked out, feeling your clit grow sensitive as Katie’s knuckles pinched it hard.

Katie groaned, the sight of her head falling back bringing you to the brink of falling over the edge. “Ask nicely.”

“Please, Baby, I need to so bad. Want to cum around your fingers, please? Please, Baby.”

“Be a good girl for me, baby girl. Let it out. Show me who makes you feel this way.”

You felt Katie thrust into you harder and faster, causing you to let go of the pent-up climax closing in on you.

She continued to hit your G-spot deeply as you rode out your high, feeling your orgasm leak all over her fingers and into her hand. You cried out at the relief of it all, trying to catch your breath by settling into your elbows. You found Katie watching you recover, her lips swollen and eyes fully blown in euphoria at the sight of you post-sex. Her hair was messier than before, her smirk widening as you tried to stand up properly, whining when your legs violently shook.

She kissed the alcove of her neck, taking off her jumper to reveal a vest that displayed her arms in the perfect way.

“Should've taken that off before.” You managed to breathe out, accepting the way Katie scooped you up onto the counter, grabbing tissue paper and running it underwater, letting you fix your clothes up. You did this by putting your shirt back on and fixing your underwear.

“Put that jumper on.” She muttered, moving over to you, using her hands to open your legs. She began to clean up your thighs, which had been covered in sweat and arousal that couldn't have been concealed underneath your short skirt.

“Why?” You sighed at the cool temperature of the tissue, turning the top half of your body to face the mirror, nearly choking on air when you saw the number of hickeys decorating your neck.

“Oh my fucking god, Katie. I've got training tomorrow!”

Katie straightened up after cleaning you, flushing the tissue down the toilet. She walked up to stand between your legs, smiling at the bruises littering your neck and chest.

“Will Fleming be there?”

You scoffed, observant of the way Katie rubbed your thighs. “Obviously.”

“Then I've done my job well.”

You tried to hide your smile by picking up your phone, eyes bulging when you saw the missed calls from Kyra.

Now you were fucked.

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