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Hidden in plain sight Part.1
TRIGGER WARNING : Mention of child abuse
Clara’s body ached with exhaustion, but it wasn’t the kind of tiredness that could be fixed with a good night’s sleep. It was the kind that settled deep in her bones—emotional exhaustion that no amount of training could burn off.
Being seventeen and juggling both school and a football career had already complicated many aspects of her life, but she had managed fairly well so far. After a year and a half at Barcelona, she had grown accustomed to the demands of her sport and the rigors of school. But then her mother left, abandoning their home in the middle of the night without even leaving a note. Clara and her father were left behind, their home life—once a stable source of comfort and safety—slowly unraveling before her eyes.
At first, her father stayed strong, clinging to the belief that his wife would return and life would eventually go back to normal. But she never did. The ball crashed against the goalpost with more force than necessary, Clara’s shoulders tensed with every shot. Each kick was a release—a scream she couldn’t let out, a rage that no one could see. The field was her escape, but even here, the weight of her home pressed down on her chest, harder with every breath, her father sank deeper into his own grief.
He eventually turned to alcohol to numb the pain, drinking more and more each day. It started with an occasional glass, but soon, Clara would come home from practice to find him already drunk, slumped on the couch with a beer bottle in hand.
They had an unspoken arrangement. Clara would stay out of her father’s way, retreating to her room as soon as she got home. She’d only come out once she was sure he had passed out on the couch, to quietly prepare herself something to eat before heading back to her room to do homework and get some sleep.
This pattern continued for a while, until it began to deteriorate further. Clara would hear the familiar sound of the bottle cap twisting off before she even stepped inside the door. His mood swings from slurred words of "I miss her" to violent outbursts, as though each day was a reminder that her mother wasn’t coming back.
At first, it was just snide remarks thrown her way or orders to clean up after him, his words, once laced with sadness, now carried a bite—clipped commands, accusing glares when she was late, his footsteps heavy with impatience. He no longer cared to hide it, but it soon escalated. He shoved her against walls, screamed at her, blamed her for her mother’s departure, and even threw beer cans at her.
Clara had no choice but to handle it on her own. She couldn't tell her teammates about it, not when she had spent years idolizing them and had finally earned a spot playing alongside them.
When Ingrid casually commented on Clara’s new bruise, Clara forced a smile, her heart thumping in her chest. “Clumsy,” she’d said, but her eyes avoided Ingrid’s, the words tasting like ash in her mouth.
She couldn't let anything ruin this opportunity, so she kept quiet.
She didn’t confide in Alexia about the fear she felt every time she went home. She didn’t tell Mapi or Ingrid about the bruises on her body during their weekly dinners. She didn’t explain why she avoided changing in front of them, letting them assume it was just typical teenage shyness. Clara had always been quiet and reserved, but she’d grown close to Ingrid and Mapi. She appreciated Ingrid’s calm nature and quiet talks, and found comfort in Mapi’s endless monologues. So, it wasn’t surprising when one of them noticed that something was wrong.
Ingrid had always admired Clara’s quiet strength, how she was always the first to show up for team dinners, never complaining, always reliable. But lately, she’d noticed the cracks—Clara’s forced smile, the way she’d fidget with her hands when they spoke, the silence that stretched longer than it should. Ingrid knew something was wrong, but Clara had always been so good at hiding things.
Clara had never missed one of their dinners, not even when she had been sick. She had once shown up at practice with a fever but still managed to smile through it. So when Clara declined this week's dinner, citing homework, Ingrid immediately felt something was off. Clara had been pulling away lately—she was quieter, more withdrawn, and had been avoiding team hangouts and dinners. Ingrid started to worry. Concerned, she decided to visit Clara at home, hoping to understand what had been going on.
Ingrid arrived at Clara’s house a short while later. She had dropped Clara off there many times before, so she knew the way well. As she parked on the street and walked up to the door, she hesitated for a moment, unsure of what she might find, before taking a deep breath and knocking.
She waited long enough to wonder if she should try knocking again when the door creaked as it finally opened, it was a man who answered, she recognize him from photos she’d been showed by Clara a few months ago, it’s her father, but he looks nothings like the man she’d seen on the pictures, gone was the gentle smile and kind eyes, the man in front of her looked disheveled, his clothes dirty, and the smell of alcohol and stale air hit Ingrid immediately.
"What do you want?" he slurred.
Ingrid forced herself to stay calm ignoring the worry swirling deep in her stomach. "Where is Clara?"
His bloodshot eyes flickered to Ingrid, narrowing as if he recognized her but couldn’t quite place her. His lips twitched with some emotion she couldn’t quite read before he spat, “She’s not here.” The words felt more like an accusation than an answer, and before Ingrid could react, the door slammed in her face
Ingrid took a couple of steps back bewildering at the man’s reaction, but as she did, she noticed Clara’s car parked just a few meters away and she could recall seeing her shoes scattered on the ground inside just by the door.
Her stomach tightened. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. But despite her concerns, she hesitated. Clara had told her that she was swamped with homework just a couple of days ago, so maybe it was nothing. Maybe she was overreacting.
Reluctantly, Ingrid got back in her car and headed home, though the unease lingered in her gut. Once at her apartment, she was joined by Mapi, who had heard the keys in the lock and quickly got up from the couch always happy to see her girlfriend.
"No nena?" Mapi asked, a soft frown overtaking the smile on her face.
"No... I talked to her father, though," Ingrid replied, trying to sound casual but failing as her voice cracked in the middle of her sentence.
"And?" Mapi asked, standing beside her.
"Not much. He said she wasn’t there," Ingrid sighed, rubbing her forehead. "But her car and shoes were there."
Mapi’s eyes narrowed as she processed this. "What else?" she asked, sensing something more was troubling Ingrid.
Ingrid hesitated before speaking, her voice low. "The house was a mess, Mapi. His clothes were dirty, the floor was a mess... and he smelled like alcohol. Something just doesn’t sit right with me. And Clara’s just been…” she sighs not ending her sentence.
Mapi’s concern grew. "What’s been happening with Clara lately?"
"She’s pulling away from all of us," Ingrid explained, her voice trembling with worry. "She’s not talking as much, not coming to dinners, barely at practice, always leaving in a hurry... I don’t know, Mapi. Something’s wrong." she raises her head looking directly in Mapi’s eyes seemingly begging her to believe her.
Mapi gently took Ingrid’s hand, leading her to the sofa. They sat wrapped in each others’ arms in silence for a moment, Ingrid’s words hanging in the air. Before Mapi finally spoke.
"Why don’t we just text her and see what she says? Maybe she’s really busy with homework." Mapi was still talking, but Ingrid barely heard her. Her mind was racing. Maybe Clara was just busy. Maybe she was hiding something. But what if she wasn’t okay? Ingrid couldn’t take the chance. She grabbed her phone and typed: "Hi Nena, I tried to come say hi, but you weren’t at your house. Hope you’re doing well and hopefully we can reschedule our dinner soon. Love, Ing."
She showed the message to Mapi for approval, then sent it. They both waited anxiously, Ingrid fidgeting with her phone, her nerves growing as the minutes passed. Finally, Ingrid’s phone dinged with a new message.
Ingrid tapped the screen, feeling her heartbeat in her throat. The message loaded, and she froze. It was brief—too brief—and colder than she’d expected. Her stomach churned
"Hola Ingrid, sorry I’m at the library doing homework. Maybe next week for the dinner? See you tomorrow,"
The three of them had gotten close over the past few months, the couple had taken the young girl under their wing and had never denied the parenting allegation when it came to them, they liked watching over her as Clara had proven herself a great teammate and an ever better friend.
Ingrid’s fingers hovered over the phone, anxiety coiling in her stomach. What if Clara was lying? What if she was too afraid to ask for help? And what if-
Ingrid let out a long sigh and showed the text to Mapi, her shoulders slumping in defeat.
"Maybe she’s really busy," Mapi suggested gently, rubbing Ingrid’s back. "We can’t jump to conclusions just yet."
"But what if she’s not okay?" Ingrid states as she stands up, pacing the room. "What if she’s lying to us about something as simple as this? What if she won’t be honest with us when we ask her directly?" she desperately asks
Mapi stood up too and pulled Ingrid into an embrace, holding her close as she rubbed her back soothingly, pressing small kisses on her shoulder. Mapi’s hand found Ingrid’s, and she gently pulled her closer. « I know you’re scared. But we’ll figure this out. If something feels wrong tomorrow at practice, we’ll do whatever we have to do. But we can’t jump to conclusions yet, love. Not yet »
Ingrid nodded, though her worry hadn’t faded. But for now, all she could do was wait and hope she was wrong.
Ingrid lay awake long after Mapi had fallen asleep, staring at the ceiling. Her thoughts circled back to Clara, to the weight of her silence, and to the strange sense of dread that had settled in her gut. Something was terribly wrong. And she wasn’t sure they would be able to help before it was too late.
#woso fanfics#barcelona femeni x reader#mapi x ingrid x reader#alexia putellas x reader#woso x reader#barca femeni x reader#angst
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Face to Face (IV)
Fridolina Rolfö x reader
Summary: An attempt to make amends.
A/N: we're nearing the end!! not sure how I feel about this part... hopefully it's okay
Word Count: 3k
Warnings ⚠️: none?
PREVIOUS PART
The next few days followed in a similar manner. Alexia brought you to the pitch even though you couldn't play, and you sat there for a few hours until they were done. Occasionally Jona would come over to see you, or Olga would stop by with food. Ana Maria even drove over from Madrid to see you and take you out for the day. But mostly you slept, listened to podcasts, and thought about what the hell you were going to do about Frido.
She still hadn't spoken to you and the team was starting to notice. It's not like the two of you were very close before (at least publicly) but now it was a conscious avoidance. The rest of the girls often kept you company when they could on breaks or in between drills.
It was only after five days, on Friday afternoon, that she approached you.
“Hi…” Frido said softly.
You looked up at her from where you sat on the pitch. You had been doing light stretches on your calves, still not allowed to do anything strenuous until next week.
“Hi, Frido.” You said plainly.
You tried not to react emotionally despite the fact that this was the first time she was speaking to you since the incident. She hadn’t even called to say she was sorry. It all seemed to confirm she really didn’t give a damn about you—didn’t have the courtesy to treat you like a stranger even.
“How are you feeling?”
Her careful, soft tone enraged you.
“Not so good, actually. My head fucking hurts, I’m sick of sitting here while the rest of you play. And I’d really rather be doing anything than talking to you.”
You felt bad the second you said it. Not because she didn’t deserve it, but because this wasn’t you. You were better than that.
“Sorry, I just really would like to be left alone, Frido. Please, just leave me be. Leave me alone.”
Frido’s eyes shot towards the ground as she blinked furiously.
“Okay.”
She turned away and walked back to the field, joining Alexia and Ingrid as they talked about something. Part of you felt bad for rejecting her so quickly, but another part of you felt enraged that she had the nerve to wait this long.
Ingrid looked over at you and then back at Frido curiously.
"What did you want to say to her?" She asked in Norwegian, knowing Frido would understand.
"I don't know… just wanted to check in on how she's doing so far."
Before Ingrid could reply again, Alexia butted in.
"You need to tell her you're sorry as soon as possible."
"I just tried—clearly she isn't too keen on having me around, is she?" Frido snapped back.
The three of them stood in shock for a second, surprised at Frido’s temper. Usually she was level headed and understanding.
Alexia sighed and clapped her on the shoulder.
"Keep trying."
With that she was off to change and shower, giving Ingrid a small smile as she left.
"Frido," Ingrid rubbed her arm to catch her attention. "Why don't we go get a drink tonight and catch up? It's been a long time since we went out, just us."
Frido contemplated it momentarily, not stupid enough to miss that Ingrid clearly wanted to talk about her mood. If she accepted, she was also accepting the fact that she had to open up to her best friend sooner or later.
"All right."
-
"I don't know what to do," Frido complained, tossing back the last dregs of her beer.
Ingrid sat across from her, her own beer nearly untouched. They were sat out on the balcony of some restaurant nursing the end of the night. They hadn't met, just the two of them, in a while, Frido realized. She wished it was under better circumstances.
"Can I be honest?" Ingrid asked.
Frido nodded. She expected no less from the Norwegian—though she was incredibly kind, it wasn't common for them to sugar coat things.
"You've got to go up to her and apologize. Sincerely. One on one. And you can't be sure she's going to forgive you."
Frido knew Ingrid was talking about apologizing for more than the tackle. She wasn't privy to exactly what happened between the two of you—even in your anger you hadn't told your teammates what was going on—but it was clear something unhealthy had been a staple between the two of you.
"Mapí showed me the video. I didn't want to see it at first, you know how I am with that stuff, so worried always that it'll be one of us. But I finally saw it." Ingrid met her eyes. "The way she went down, the way you hit her, she could've been hurt much worse than she is. And you just got up and left, didn't even check on her."
There was a hint of disdain in Ingrid’s voice that inspired nausea in Frido.
"Had that been any player in a match against Barcelona, imagine how any one of us would've reacted."
Frido knew, if she had seen someone do to you what she had done herself, it would've boiled her blood. To see you lying there unmoving, would've had any player on that field aching, because you were wonderful. You didn't cause fights, you forgave people, you smiled at the opposition after each game, you spent as much time as possible with the fans. And Frido had somehow broken that, gotten you to yell and scream and cry.
"We were together." She whispered, not meeting Ingrid’s eyes. "Well, not really. We were sleeping together, I was at her place most days a week."
The waitress came by, and Frido ordered a glass of wine. She needed a bit more courage to fully get this out in the open.
"I didn't want commitment. I'm not… I didn't know how to be open about that with anyone. I was ashamed of it—she knew. She could sense it." Frido gripped the stem of her wine glass and took a sip. "She hated breaks because she knew I wouldn't talk to her until I was back in Barcelona. Right before I went back to Sweden for camp… we had a huge fight. She said she couldn't take it anymore, that I made her feel like a whore, that I tossed her aside whenever I didn't want her. And I said I didn't care."
Ingrid was silent.
"I didn't expect her to kick me out. Or to refuse to speak to me. I thought we'd fall back together, we always did. But it was different this time. And I hated it. I hated it so much it made my head spin."
Ingrid put a hand over Frido’s where it rested on the table.
"Frido, I love you. You're my best friend, okay?"
Frido nodded, wiping at a tear that was beginning to fall.
"You've got to make this right. Good people do shitty things. Really shitty things sometimes. But sometimes they're also forgiven, in time. And if you want anything with her, even friendship, you've got to apologize and explain yourself."
Frido nodded, meeting Ingrid’s eyes finally.
-
That night Frido found it difficult to get to sleep.
There wasn't any good reason for it: she had worked hard in practice all day and her body was exhausted. Her bed was comfortable, her apartment quiet. But it was empty. She had realized that she hadn't spent a week straight sleeping in her apartment for months. At least once a week she was with you, always.
But now you weren't speaking to her. You looked at her during practice, then avoided her at all costs. She hadn't even tried texting you, worried she would find her number blocked.
She contemplated calling someone to keep her company, though who would be up at one in the morning?
Eventually she fell asleep after tossing and turning for what felt like hours. She slipped away into unconsciousness, allowing her body to relax into the mattress.
Her mind, however, had different plans.
In her dreams she was in the hospital, unable to get to you. She stood at the door to your room, peering in through a small glass window. The rest of the girls were inside, holding your hand and stroking your skin as you laid in the hospital bed. Your eyes were open but you hardly moved. All she knew with certainty was that you did not want to see her. You wanted her gone. You've ruined my life, she heard you say, though your lips didn't move.
Another time you had simply disappeared. Her fault. You had moved far away, far from Barcelona, and far from her. You were happier somewhere else, with different people.
Once more you hated her. Refused to speak.
When she woke it was to a dark room and a sick feeling in her stomach. She was lonely. She wanted you next to her in bed. She wanted to see you smile and hear you laugh. She wanted to see you play great football and jump into her arms after a goal. And it terrified her to think she wouldn't get any of that again.
How was it that she could've treated you so horribly? It confused her, as if it had been someone else. How had she let her fear control her like that? And most importantly, how had she put your feelings aside so callously?
If she was going to fix anything she would need to apologize. Apologize for it all. Ingrid was right. She hadn't been there for your recovery and now it was all she wanted. The guilt of it all threatened to choke her. She thought of how scared you must've been lying on the field in pain.
Though it was only 4:30 in the morning Frido got out of bed and went to the bathroom to start a scalding hot shower. She needed a plan for how to fix things between you two.
-
It began that morning. Alexia brought you to practice. You were still living with her for the time being, until you were one hundred percent cleared. You didn't mind it, in fact it was nice to get so much time with Alexia when she was normally busy.
You walked into the locker room, so pleased to be getting into your kit for the first time in a week and a half. Even if it was just for physio work, at least you were in the uniform once more.
Unexpectedly, sitting in your locker was a small stuffed cow with a card and one of your favorite protein bars propped against it. You picked up the plushie, pressing it to your face and enjoying the softness. You were a bit of a child when it came to stuffed animals: you loved them.
The card was written in very familiar handwriting, and your heart jumped into your throat.
This made me think of you. I'd really like to apologize after practice today. Perhaps we can grab a coffee?
- Fridolina
The message was a bit stilted, but you could practically hear Frido’s hesitation on the page. She was nervous.
Just then the blonde came into the locker room to grab something from her bag. She glanced at you quickly, not sure as to your reaction.
"Frido," you called softly. You hadn't decided until that moment to try and forgive her, "I'll see you after practice."
Frido seemed shocked, but quickly her mouth transformed into a wide smile.
Practice seemed to fly by now that you were allowed to do something. The physio workers had you weight training and doing yoga to try and work your muscles that were tight from the pain you had been in. You felt like you were making progress, finally, after more than a week of sitting around.
-
The car ride with Frido was quiet. You sat in the front seat, fiddling with your fingers and checking your phone as she drove. She had music playing softly, some indie band you didn't know. It was bordering on awkward, though not quite there. You simply didn't know what to say.
Once Frido was pulling off the street to parallel park you spoke.
"I don't think I've been here before."
"I just found it a little while ago when I was wandering around desperately in need of some coffee."
The shop was cute. The outside was painted in chipping yellow paint and the shutters were open. There were a few tables outside, an eclectic set of guests seated at them. There was an old man reading the paper, a student on her laptop, and a mother with her baby. The smell of baked goods wafted from the entrance.
"The muffins are fantastic, if you want one." Frido offered cautiously.
You nodded and gestured for her to enter first.
You decided on a chai and a cinnamon muffin which did look incredible, you had to admit. When you were about to pull out your card to pay you felt a hand on your arm.
"I'll pay, please."
You allowed it, understanding that this was all part of Frido trying to ask for forgiveness. You were willing to see this to the end. It shamed you to admit but you had missed her deeply. It felt good to be near her, to smell her perfume and anticipate her ticks that you knew so well. What made you stay was the possibility that she had missed you too.
Frido carried your drinks and food to the table you picked. It was still warm enough to sit outside even with the sun setting. You tapped your foot and ate your muffin slowly, waiting on her to say something. You didn't want to speak first, but it seemed as though you might have to.
"So…" you started, trailing off to try and prompt Frido.
"I wanted to apologize. Really apologize."
You sat quietly.
"Just for the concussion you gave me?"
Frido hesitated.
"I'm still figuring things out—it's all jumbled up in my head. I was talking to Ingrid the other day and she made me realize I had to set things straight."
"What exactly does that mean?"
"I'm not explaining this well—I wanted to apologize for hurting you. And I want us to be on better terms. I wish we could start over."
"That's it?"
Your chest squeezed painfully. You thought this was the chance you had to deal with the horrible ending to your relationship, but Frido seemed to have no interest in unpacking it. You couldn't help the way your anger flared in response to the hurt you felt.
"I wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I'm not exactly okay, Frido." You started to stand up. "I think it's better if I left. There's no hard feelings over the concussion, I knew it was an accident. Let's just forget about all of it."
Frido stood up quickly, reaching out to grab your elbow.
"Can I drive you back?"
You shook your head.
"I'd really rather walk. It isn't far to Alexia's."
Frido looked for a second like she would push further, but then she deflated and nodded.
"See you at practice, Frido. Thank you for the coffee."
-
You couldn't help the tears that fell down your face as you walked down the streets of Barcelona. Deciding to forget the whole thing was worse than being angry about it—at least then you got some acknowledgment. Now you felt as though Frido was telling you she just wanted to smooth things over and make nice. She wanted it to be as if this thing between you never existed—all the pain and attraction gone in one fell swoop. You wanted to scream.
How were you meant to play with someone who you had so much conflict with? Surely Alexia or Jona would begin to notice sooner or later. You knew it would affect the team chemistry. The thought just made you more upset.
The tears in your eyes began to fall faster. Not only was your relationship (whatever messy bleeding thing it had been) ruined, but there was a potential for it to impact your job, your team too. What would you do then? If it came down to you or Frido you couldn't imagine Barça picking you.
Alexia noticed you were crying the second she saw you, even though you tried to hide it.
"What's wrong?" She fretted, pulling you close to her. "What happened? I thought you were with Frido this afternoon? Why did she not drop you off?"
You just shook your head, burying it in your captain's sweater. She wrapped her arms around you, quietly shushing you.
"Come, let's sit down."
You felt like a child being led to the couch and leaning in Alexia's embrace. Deep breaths eventually calmed you down so you could speak.
"I'm sorry Ale, I shouldn't be coming here like this."
Alexia shook her head.
"Nonsense. Tell me what happened. Was it Fridolina?"
"It's my own fault, I let it get like this."
"Let what get like this? The accident?"
You shook your head.
"Not the accident. Frido and I have a…we have our difficulties."
Alexia looked at you, surprised.
"Really?"
"I don't think I can tell you…you're her captain I don't want to let it affect the team."
Alexia took your hand.
"I can separate work and personal life. I'm your friend too, and it seems like you need one."
"We were seeing each other, kind of. In secret." You sighed. "We weren't exclusive, she just wanted some fun I think. I didn't."
You felt defeated. There wasn't much more to do. You just had to accept your fate.
Alexia looked at you for a moment in disbelief. She had had no idea.
"You and Frido?"
"It was a mistake."
#woso fanfics#woso x reader#my writing#woso community#woso#barca femini x reader#woso imagine#fridolina rolfö x reader#fridolina rolfo x reader
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Hi writer, prompt number 16 with Barcelona femeni(maybe platonic)
I'll Try to Behave
fcb femení x teen!reader
warnings: alcohol
The team bus was loud before you even got on it, but as soon as you made your way up the stairs the whole coach cheered. It was a couple hours after Barcelona had won the Supercopa in which you scored three goals.
"I knew I brought you here for a reason" Lucy yelled over the music Patri and Pina were playing on a speaker.
"You didn't do anything, it was mostly Keira and Ona. If anything you were on my con list."
"I'm taking personal offence to that," Lucy said as she slid into the seat next to Ona towards the middle of the bus. Ona was a good friend of yours having played with her during her two years at Man United. You were also close with Lucy and Keira from being on the Lionesses together.
As Lucy and Ona got lost in their own little world of staring into each other's eyes lovingly, you fake gagged at them and continued to the back of the bus where your closest friends Patri, Pina, Mapi, and Cata were all yelling some song in Spanish that you couldn't understand a word of. Alexia and Ingrid were also sat in the back although based on their frowns, you had a feeling they thought the music was a little bit loud.
You dramatically flopped yourself on Alexia's lap who was sat directly in front of Pina and Patri's seat. "Yo Pina play that one I like next please and Patri can you please pass me one of those beers."
"No, absolutely not. Have you lost your mind." Alexia exclaimed while she was trying to push you off of her onto the seat next to her.
"Ale I'm seventeen, I've drank a beer before. Mapi even gave me two at the last team bonding night after you feel asleep like a grandma during The Lion King."
"You were not supposed to tell her that y/n." Mapi angrily whispered at you from across the aisle. "Great now she is going to murder me and never let me within ten feet of you"
"I swear to god Mapi. Why are you corrupting the baby. And you," Alexia said as she turned to you, "no drinking or dating or anything of the sort until you are thirty."
"You do know me and Pina had a beer chugging contest in the locker room before we got on the bus right."
"Claudia Pina." You had never seen anyone glare with as much exasperation at someone until now. Claudia coward under Ale's gaze and pretended to be staring out the window until Alexia was called up to the front of the bus by Jana asking her a question.
Patri decided to break the tension by shouting "truth or dare anyone," down the aisle of the bus to which you immediately agreed.
"Truth or dare, y/n," Patri asked you. You decided to go with truth for the first one knowing if you chose dare already, Patri would mostly likely give you one that would end with Alexia dragging you to the front of the bus and not letting you have anymore fun.
"Have you ever had a crush on anyone on this team." Patri really wanted to know the answer because you rarely talked about crushes or your love life.
You smirked at her. "Yes. Truth or dare Mapi"
"Wait hold on who is it" Patri asked as Pina asks "Do you still have a crush on them."
"That was not part of the question. Truth or dare Mapi." Mapi decided to go with a dare much to the displeasure of her girlfriend sitting next to her.
"I dare you to call your mom and tell her your pregnant"
"You know she is never going to believe me seeing as I'm with Ingrid and all," Mapi replied, but still pulled out her phone and dialed her mother's number not one to back down from a dare.
As Mapi made the call, the rest of the team listening were trying their hardest to contain their fits of laughter, the alcohol already consumed not helping. You couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation, watching as Mapi put on her best dramatic performance, her eyes widening in feigned panic as she spoke into the phone.
"Mom, I have something to tell you... I'm pregnant," Mapi announced dramatically, her voice laced with faux distress.
The reaction on the other end of the line was immediate and intense, Mapi's mother launching into a tirade of disbelief and concern that had the entire bus doubled over in laughter. Even Ingrid couldn't contain her amusement, shaking her head in mock disapproval as Mapi continued to play her part until eventually Mapi's mom heard all the laughing and figured out Mapi was pranking her. After she hung up she asked, "Claudia, truth or dare."
"Truth."
"What’s your biggest turn-on?" Mapi asked.
"Um probably eye contact," Claudia replied as she blushed a little. "Ok Cata, truth or dare."
Just as Cata was about to reply dare. Alexia called out to the bus that they had arrived back at the parking lot.
As you stepped off the bus, the night air enveloped you. The laughter and banter of your teammates echoed around you, their voices a comforting melody amidst the bustling streets of Barcelona.
Patri and Pina led the way to Patri's car, the promise of continuing the celebration at a club with friends sparking excitement in the air. You were about to join them, already planning how many shots you'd take, when suddenly, Alexia's firm grip halted you in your tracks.
"Absolutely not, hermanita," Alexia declared, her gaze unwavering. "I already asked Olga to set up the spare room for you. We can watch a movie before you go to bed if you're good on the car ride home."
You pouted playfully, but deep down, you were grateful for Alexia's protective instinct. With a resigned sigh, you agreed, knowing that Alexia always had your best interests at heart.
"Fine," you relented, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "As long as I get to pick the movie."
And so, the night continued, filled with laughter, music, and the warmth of friendship that surrounded you like a comforting embrace. As you fell asleep that night, nestled between Alexia and Olga, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the football family you had found at Barcelona, knowing that no matter what the future held, you would always have each other's backs.
---
Let me know if you guys have any tips or comments to improve my writing. Also my requests are open so feel to request anything and I will get it done asap. Thank you!!
#fcb femení x reader#fcb femení#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas imagine#alexia putellas#lucy bronze x reader#lucy bronze#mapi leon#claudia pina#patri guijarro#ona batlle#keira walsh#woso x reader#woso
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Chosen family - Barcelona femeni x teen!reader
Summary: You’ve been keeping a secret for too long and the team start to figure it out and how to help you through it!
Warnings⚠️ Abus3, vi0lence, loss of parents, descriptions of injury, angst, hurt comfort, fluff
Author note: hey guys this is an angsty one, don’t read if you get triggered by any of the themes above! Hope everyone is well, I’ll be posting at lot more soon just getting through exam season right now! But yeah enjoy the story, leave any feedback or requests in the comments 🩷
P.s. My DMs are always open for anything, Woso related or if you just want to talk! Always here for anything xx
~~~~~~~~~~
You tried to push down the worry of your current situation as you got ready for training in your room. You were only 16 years old, due to your mother passing a year ago, you lived with your father in Barcelona.
The team knew about all of this of course, Alexia more than anyone had been especially supportive, knowing how it felt having lost her father when she wasn’t much older than you. She’d become somewhat of a sister to you. Her, alba and Eli becoming the female figures you lacked in your life, always offering advice and help whenever you needed it.
They knew your father wasn’t the most loving and that since your mother’s passing he’d become a cruel depiction of his former self. What they didn’t know was quite how deep that cruelty ran. He had turned to drinking when your mother had died, you regularly came home from training to find him passed out from the alcohol. It had started as pitiful, he’d just cry and you’d hug him and the two of you would comfort each other, but recently his sadness had turned to anger.
He’d always had a temper and was never the nicest but your mother’s warm presence always made his outbursts bearable but now that she was gone he had no one to regulate that anger. At first it started with hurtful words, some aimed at you and some not but in recent times, his anger had turned physical.
The first time he hit you, you’d wanted nothing more than to cry into Alexia’s arms and have her tell you everything was going to be ok. You decided against that, using your better judgment that it would cause a complicated mess that you didn’t want to condemn her to. It had happened twice more since, on Monday he’d shoved you backwards into a wardrobe, causing you to cut your head, something you’d brushed off as tripping and falling which the team seemed to buy. Yesterday he’d grabbed you by the wrists and squeezed until bruises formed, before pushing you into the table where you bashed your ribs.
Now as you observed yourself in the mirror, you could see the dark bruises that had already formed across your stomach and ribs, matching ones adorned your wrists. You pulled your hoodie over your head and slung your bag over your shoulder, wincing slightly as it came back round and hit your side.
Ingrid and Mapi would be here to pick you up soon as they’d starting taking you to training as you’d told them your father picked up earlier shifts at work (also known as day drinking). Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door you leaped from your spot in the kitchen and went to open it. You of course, were met with the faces of Mapi and Ingrid who smiled widely at you.
“Hola pequeña!” beamed Mapi
“Hola Mapi” you sighed. What you weren’t expecting was for her to barge through the door.
“Sorry bebita I just need to fill up my water. Someone decided to take a sharp turn whilst I was having a drink.” She explained, gesturing to Ingrid who looked unimpressed at the blonde’s antics.
“Woah what’s all this?” She questioned at the various, empty beer and rum bottles that littered your kitchen.
“Erm my dad had some people over yesterday that’s all” you offered nervously
“Seems like they had quite a party” she said, getting at the sheer quantity of it with a raised eyebrow.
“Haha yeah I don’t know I wasn’t there” you replied
“Wait where were you then?” asked Ingrid, asserting herself into the conversation
“Well… I was at my friend’s house for a bit, then I came home” you offered, unconvincingly.
“Oh ok then, well grown adults really should be clearing up after themselves, we can swing by after and help you if your dad is at work?” Added Mapi
“NO!” You yelled, alarming the pair of them. “Sorry, no thank you he’ll be home later and said he’d sort it but thanks anyways” you said, attempting to save yourself due to the accidental outburst.
“Sure that’s fine…” Mapi replied, sounding unsure
“Ready to go now?” Questioned Ingrid from her new found position in the hallway
“Yep so ready!” You responded
The drive to training was slightly awkward, so you’d ask for some music in an attempt to diffuse the situation (it had little effect).
——
Upon reaching the ground, you hurried out the car and wandered a little ahead, fully aware of the fact that they strolled behind muttering about your odd behaviour. You made it inside with the couple trailing a few paces behind you and were met with the smiling face of Lucy bronze.
“Hey y/n how are you?” She beamed
“Hey Luce I’m good how are you?” You replied, offering her a smile of your own
“Good good, Keira kept pestering me about being late this morning though” she said with a sigh
“You were still in bed when we were leaving in 30 minutes!” Keira insisted with an eye roll.
You chuckled at the couple’s childlike antics as you walked over to your locker and began stripping off your clothing when you heard a sharp intake of breath next to you.
“What?” You questioned the English defender
“What happened to your ribs?” She asked in a hushed voice
“Mierda, I forgot about them. I erm tripped… and fell… into the bed post” you replied, knowing you had to work on your lying.
“It looks quite painful and it’s all around your front and sides, how can you do that from falling?” Asked Lucy, concern lacing her voice
“I just did ok, leave it please!” You demanded with a huff, pulling your jersey over your head.
Lucy didn’t push further, though she did make a mental note to keep an eye on you.
——
When you finally made it outside you were met with the warm Catalonian sun beaming down on your face. You had a mandatory team talk and then Jonatan, as usual asked you to pair up. Without a second thought, alexia gripped your wrists and dragged you to her to partner up. You winced noticeably at the gesture as her firm grip found its self on the new formed bruises from yesterday.
“Estas bien pequeña (are you ok)” she questioned with a concerned expression
“Si Ale estoy bien (I’m ok)” you assured the older girl.
“What’s this on your wrists?” She inquired with a firm tone. “Did I do this?” she was now increasingly concerned.
“No no you didn’t do it it was already there” you replied hurriedly
“What was it from?” She questioned further
“Erm from… the match? I had a tussle with someone she gripped my wrists too hard” you lied
“You’re lying to me bebita I can see it in your eyes” she scolded “but why are you lying I don’t understand” her brow furrowed
“Alexia! Y/N! Stop gossiping and get over here!” Yelled Mapi in a teasing tone, a tone that only she could get away with using towards Alexia due to their close friendship
“ay dios mío Maria we’re coming” replied Alexia and before she could say anything more you’d disappeared, already jogging over to join the group and no doubt, avoid her further questioning.
——
Training ended and you rushed ahead, desperate to get away asap to avoid questioning from the multiple behaviours that had noticed your odd behaviour or the state of your body.
You reached the changing room out of breath (more so from sprinting over there than the actual 2 hour training session you’d just attended). You quickly shoved your stuff into your bag and began to scramble away before your upper arm was grasped.
“Where do you think you’re going” rung the voice of Lucy Bronze
“Home?” You replied as if it were obvious
“I thought Alexia was taking you home?” She questioned
“Oh erm yeah tell her it’s ok I’m gonna take a bus” you offered hoping she’d leave you alone
“Alexia come here” beckoned Lucy, her body shielding you from the exit, as you groaned at the implications of this conversation.
“Que pasa?” Questioned alexia with curiosity
“Y/N says she’s getting the bus home” grasped Lucy
“No she’s coming with me? I’m taking her home” she was confused.
“I think the two of you need to have a chat” suggested the brunette
“Yes I think so too” Alexia responded, her disapproval clear in her voice.
The two of you wandered to her car silently, she kept glancing over at you, almost to check you hadn’t disappeared again. She even opened the car door and watched you get in to ensure your presence.
The drive started in silence yet again, with you picking at the skin on your fingernails, but that was short lived.
“Bebita please answer me truthfully when I ask you this…” Alexia began, her eyes not leaving the road ahead. “What happened to your wrists and ribs? Yes Lucy told me about that before you change the subject again” she finished
“I don’t know what to say Ale” you said, your eyes beginning to gloss over.
“The truth Por favor amor” she insisted, her eyes still not looking at yours.
“My papa, he’s taken up drinking lately, quite heavily and it’s changed him” you started
Alexia knew where this was going but she let you finish, unsure of what to say even when you did.
“He-he gets angry now all the time. He used to be an angry person anyways but Mama always used to calm him down and now she’s gone I just-“ you choked back on tears.
Alexia had pulled the car over and took your hand it hers, squeezing gently as if willing you to continue.
“He would shout at me, come home drunk and just scream” you continued. “It wasn’t physical for a while it was just words, b-but recently…” you trailed off once more, finally meeting Alexia’s eyes that were glossed over and full of sadness. “Recently he started to do other things. He hit me and threw me into things, like in something to take his anger out on” Alexia’s grip lay firmer on your hand as she let you finish. “It’s like he’s a different person lo siento” you spluttered as the tears streamed down your face
“Bebita you have nothing! And I mean nothing to be sorry about. I’m sorry that we didn’t notice sooner” she replied with a maternal warmth in voice.
“It’s ok Ale I was trying to hide it” you added, calming down a little.
“But why pequeña? We could’ve helped you” tears were threatening to fall from her eyes now.
“But all that would happen is I’d end up in care or on my own and I can’t do that Ale, anyone is better than no one at all” you urged.
“You would have had me! You do have me!” She corrected.
“I know Alexia and I love you so much for that but I couldn’t live with you, interrupt your life, how would you girlfriend feel?” You questioned the blonde.
“She would understand bebita you know that really” insisted Alexia.
“What am I going to do” you cried
“Is he home?” She asked
“Who?” You rebounded
“Your papa” Alexia winced at the name that in her opinion, that man was no longer worthy of.
“No he’ll be at the bar for at least a few more hours”
“Bueno, we’re going to go back to your apartment and gather some stuff and then we’re going to drive to my Mami’s okay?”
“Okay” you weren’t overly convinced yet you still went along with the older girl’s plan, praying your father hadn’t decided to make an early departure from the bar.
——
Upon reaching your apartment block, you gave Alexia your keys as she insisted she would go first, keeping a protective arm on your body behind hers. You let out a sigh of relief when you realised your father was still out.
Alexia’s eyes scanned the floor, taking in the broken glass and general mess everywhere, the two of you tread carefully over to your room. The first thing Alexia noticed upon entering was the sheer contrast of your bedroom, to the rest of the house. It was near spotless, with most of your belongings having seemingly vanished.
“I put most of it under my bed or in the wardrobe” you proclaimed, as if you’d just read her mind. “I didn’t want to give him any extra ammo” you half joked, but Alexia didn’t laugh, instead she pulled you into a tight hug, a hug that said more than words ever could.
You pulled away eventually, realising that you were going to have to start doing some packing as every minute that ticked by was time closer to your father coming home. You started by gathering up your football gear, as it was likely your most important possessions, asides from your memory box that you’d made up when your mother had passed. Standing there for a second, you ran your hands over the cold metal of the lid, reminiscing on a time when your family was “perfect” and things were much happier.
Alexia on the other side of your room, was gathering up some clothes for you. On another day, you’d cringe at the fact that your captain was rummaging through your underwear drawer, but today was not that day.
“Almost done bebé?” questioned the midfielder
“So just gathering some last bits” you assured her, before piling a couple of textbooks, your water bottle and your laptop into your bag.
Just as the two of you made your way out of the bedroom, your mind clicked.
“Wait!” you urged
Alexia turned around at rapid speed, a mix of confusion and concern overtaking her. But before she could question you, you reappeared at the door holding a stuffed bear.
“Sorry it’s childish, it’s just something my Abuela gave me when I was younger”
“No no not childish at all, it’s sweet actually” she smiled. “Don’t tell anyone but I’ve still got my childhood teddy bear at the back of my wardrobe” she admitted
“Really?”
“Sí, now vamos cariño” she insisted
——
You loaded your stuff into Alexia’s cupra before walking around to open the passenger seat door, Alexia following suit.
“I’ve text Mami telling her what’s happened and she said you’re more than welcome to stay at hers” offered the captain “if you’d rather stay with me that’s perfectly fine, I have a spare room, you’ll have to share with the Nala though” she chuckled.
“Thank you Alexia, I’m honestly happy either way I’m just so grateful you’ve been so kind” you replied genuinely.
“Don’t thank me chica te amo mucho ok? If you ever need anything or anyone I’m here, remember that.”
“Gracias Ale”
——
The journey to Eli’s was short and once you’d arrived, Alexia made quick work of unloading your minimal bags and carrying them all herself, despite your protests.
She did however hand one to you when the two of you reached the door, just so that she had a spare hand to knock with, which she did.
The door opened and you were surprisingly greeted with the face of Alba, Alexia’s younger sister.
“Hola chica, it’s been a while” she hugged you, albeit lighter than normal (the first indicator that her mother had told her everything).
“I saw you last week Albs” you smiled
“Oh yes… well it’s been a while anyways” she laughed awkwardly
“Hola mija” came Eli’s voice from behind
“Hola Mrs putellas, thank you so much for offering me a room” you smiled and hugged her back.
“I’ve told you call me Eli, and it’s no problem at all. I hope you don’t mind but Alexia told us what happened, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like, you’re basically my daughter already”
She wasn’t wrong, even before your father’s drinking problem, you were here at least once a week for dinner (Alexia and Alba insisting you were their mother’s favourite child, to which she didn’t disagree with).
“Gracias Eli” you smiled at her
——
The four of you sat and ate dinner and discussed what was to happen, ultimately deciding you’d stay with Alexia for a little while as her apartment was closer to the training grounds and it would be easier for her to take you with her everyday. Then it was decided that Eli would file for your adoption, something you knew your father would agree to as just he wasn’t himself anymore. You’d set him up in rehabilitation for his alcoholism and see to it that he gets better.
Despite Alexia’s disapproval, you’d decided not to file a statement and testify against your father, stating that it would cause unnecessary issues and that you’d be far away from him anyways. Eventually, all was agreed and you and Alexia returned home to inform Olga of the plans, which to your slight surprise, she was completely okay with.
Alexia decided that the two of you wouldn’t attend training this week, you had no match anyways due to it being Christmas break so the two of you spent some time together. This helped not only you, but her more than you’d ever know. Ultimately, you decided that you’d tell the team what happened after the break, deciding now to enjoy the holidays with your knew found family.
#woso#woso x reader#woso imagine#espwnt x reader#fcb femeni x reader#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas imagine#alexia putellas#lucy bronze#lucy bronze x reader#mapi leon x reader#ingrid engen x reader#barcelona femeni x reader#barcelona femeni#angst with a happy ending#hurt/comfort#I need Christmas asap
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@helen-with-an-a ... I take your raise and go all in...
The whole Barca team was gathered in Mapís and Ingrids garden having a small get together before everyone left for their holidays – or charities as that's how Alexia likes to spend her time off. There where small groups standing together having small conversations amongst themselves while Lucy got suck with the task of grilling the meat wearing a “Don't kiss the cook”-apron which Mapí, Pina and you ignored and smooched your sister quiet theatrical before you all got smacked away with the tongs aggressively. It was a nice warm summer night in Barcelona and everyone was having a good time enjoying the time with their friends. Everyone? Oh no... not everyone.
“ARSENAL??????!!!!!!!!” your voice could be heard from inside the house and probably in the whole neighborhood
The whole team stopped talking and looked towards the living room door which connected the inside with the garden
“ARSENAL???!!!!” you screeched again as you appeared in the door looking with wide eyes at Keira
“What?” your sister shook her head at your actions “You finally lost your plot?”
“Why am I finding out ONLINE you're transferred to ARSENAL??!!” you ignored Lucy and just stared at Keira
“No one...” the blonde started knowing exactly what you meant carefully making her way towards you but you already took a step back “... Bitsy”
“No... no you don't get to call me that anymore you backstabbing B...” you started before your sister interrupted you
“Oy... watch your mouth!” Lucy said getting angry herself – still not knowing what was going on but she didn't raise you to talk to Keira of all people like that
“You know what... I don't care... you're dead to me” you looked Keira straight in the eye your voice full of venom
“Bitsy” the blonde tried again tears forming in her eyes but before she made it to the door you were already gone
“What's going on Kei??” Lucy asked lowly ushering her ex-girlfriend inside getting her away from all those questioning looks from their teammates
“Arsenal offered a LOT of money for me to transfer back home” Keira sniffed as her tears started to fall “Nothing is set in stone but obviously there where rumors...”
“Fuck me” your sister groaned loudly and Ona joined them since she became good friends with Keira before she even started dating Lucy
“What's going on?” the small spaniard asked worried looking around if she could spot you
“My sister is being a plonker again” Lucy said “... she read something online and she didn't come to talk to Kei instead she got to her own conclusions and OF COURSE they are wrong but she's gone now”
“We need to find her....” Keira suddenly stood up wiping her tears away marching towards the door you left through mere minutes ago
“Kei you know it's no use... we'll find her either if the Police picks her up or if she wants to be found.. Barcelona is too big to search it... even if we pull all hands on deck” your sister said after she caught up with her ex-girlfriend holding her back grabbing her wrist
“I need to do something Lucy” the blonde said and Lucy and Ona saw how it stressed the english woman not knowing about your whereabouts
“You need some alcohol in your system” Lucy said pulling Keira back signaling Ona to inform their capitan about what happened
“What if she...” Keira started trying to turn around again
“No what ifs... she'll be back at some point” your sister said firmly “... when did our roles reverse? Normally I'm the one panicking”
“Yeah well she didn't call you a backstabbing bitch and then ran off” the blonde deadpanned while she let Lucy pull her back outside and Ona immediately pushed a beer into the blondes hand
“I knew I would find you here...” you suddenly heard behind you scaring the absolute shit out of you
“Go away” you said harshly as you aggressively wiped away your tears
“No... my english might not be good but we talk” the dark haired spaniard said as she sat down next to you in the sand looking at the Ocean
“No offense but you ask people if they work” you said raising your eyebrow
“Yeah well she was at every game... I got... confundida” Aitana shrugged her shoulders
“You what?” you looked at her confused
“Confundida... ehrm.. I not know if she works” the dark haired looked at you and suddenly understood what she meant
“Confused... the word is confused” you smiled very lightly
“Sí... confused... but that's not the... punto...” Aitana said before she thought for a second “... point... that's not the point why I walked away from a great party”
“You can walk right back... I'm not stopping you” you said defensively
“I can't... you hurt mi hermanita” the spaniard said sternly and for the first time you saw the protective side of Aitana Bonmatí off the field
“Your what?” you tried to dodge the bullet – you knew very well what “hermanita” meant
“Stop it... you hurt Keira... I want to know why” Aitana said looking straight at you while you kept your eyes trained forward watching the Ocean
“You wouldn't understand” you said sadly laying your head on your knees hugging your legs
“Then try to understand me” the dark haired said a little softer as your body language told her you try to close yourself off and she needed to act quickly
“It's easier to hurt than get hurt... It's easier to end something then being ended... she's leaving... she's leaving not only Barcelona but me too... She left before – but she left to come here... I knew it got easier again to see Lucy AND Keira again... but now? I don't want to go back to England... I rather go to Germany... but I want me family in one Place... Luce and Ona are great... they're good for each other... but no one can take Keiras place... so I rather push her away and make her hate me than to see her go through Security here in Barcelona for the last time knowing she's not coming back” it suddenly broke out of you at some point your voice cracking and Aitana saw the tears rolling down your cheeks but let you talk “... I love Leah and Beth and Kyra and everyone at Arsenal... but it's not Keiras club... not her style... Her club is City.... it's the only Jersey that fits her except for the national one... Arsenal wouldn't even know what to do with someone as good as Kei...”
“So you thought spitting... names at her would work out in your favor?” Aitana asked lowly trying to get to the ground of your actions
“I didn't think... I just got so angry...” you cried silently “.. Lucy did the same you know.. when she left for Lyon... she didn't tell me... I found out online.... I never thought Kei would do the same”
“What's the real problem?” the spaniard pushed you slightly knowing that wouldn't be all
“She... she.... she...” you started to cry harder and even you were a part of the team now Aitana and you weren't super close but now the spaniard carefully pulled you into her side
“It's okay bebé... está bien bebé... déjalo salir... encontraremos una solución...” Aitana mumbled against your hair holding you closely while you sobbed heartbreakingly into her shirt
“She'll forget about me...” you sobbed out fisting Aitas shirt not knowing what else to do
“Y/n... we don't even know if she is leaving – yes, Arsenal offered money for her but Barca is not interested in letting her go... neither is Keira – she doesn't want to leave” the spaniard said softly
“She'll just forget about me” you sobbed not getting control over your emotions
“She would never” Aitana kept her soft tone “... you ARE her pequeño... even if she got hit in the head and doesn't remember her own name – she'll never olvidar tú”
“Why would she never olive? She hates olives” you calmed down a little bit but still couldn't stop the tears
“Olvidar... you speak catalan but not spanish?” Aitana chuckled at your confusion and started do wipe your tears away with her thumb “She'll never forget you bebé”
“I could never Bitsy... and whatever you throw at me I won't go away... you are to important to me to let you go or give up chasing after you” you heard Keiras voice behind you and before you even started thinking about it your body reacted and you pushed yourself off Aitana springing up running.
This time Keira knew what your reaction would be and reacted faster than you so you ran straight into her and before you knew what was happening Keira held you in a death grip against her.
“Calm Bits... it's okay... you're okay... sssshhh... calm down” the blonde whispered against your hair as you tried to fight her
“.... you're okay...” Keira repeated it over and over again until your fighting got less and she felt the tears against her neck and how you suddenly cling to her like your life depended on it
Keira looked up meeting Aitanas sorrowful look and mouthed a “Gracias” at her friend as she kept hold of you swaying you slightly from left to right trying to calm you down
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Hi!
3. A kiss on the forehead😌
helloooo dear anon!! i am sorry this took so long i could not for the life of me figure out to write but then ! i wrote this on the 4th and i realized it could work... maybe... sorta. this may not be what you were expecting/wanting but there's forehead kisses in there.... somewhere 🫡 also, if u are not american i apologize for giving you a july 4th fic 😭 but the holiday is relatively inconsequential here like theres no patriotism it's just a backdrop if u know what i mean.... anyway, i hope u enjoy <33
you taste like the 4th of july
di leon s. kennedy x fem reader (no use of y/n)
wc: 3.5k
18+ | cw: mentions of drinking | tw: thoughts about death and dying
tags: established relationship; fluff (i guess??); slight changes to canon to suit author's headcanons
read on ao3
a/n: for the past few months i've been working on this very insane multi-chap post di leon fic 😵💫 this was written with that in mind But does not have a place in that story... probably.... idk!!! either way, i think it can be read as a standalone just fine
additionally, there is a scene in here where leon picks the reader up. i would just like to say like... he gets thrown into concrete walls on a biweekly basis and gets up and walks it off without issue so i think he can lift anyone no matter their size or shape!!
not beta read or proofread - sorry if any of it is gibberish i've had a wicked migraine the past few days... will maybe attempt to proofread once i can see correctly again 🚬🧍♀️regardless, all mistakes are my own
i do not own leon or any other resi character mentioned, etc etc, please don't sue me <3
please do not use my work to train any sort of AI chatbot and/or writing generator.
-----
"It was a good day, wasn't it?" Leon asks, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as you stand over the patio table, cleaning up the abandoned plates and platters.
You hum. It was; a beautiful, cloudless July 4th, spent with Leon's friends in the backyard of your home. The only ones missing were Ashley and Ingrid; the former having a standing family commitment and the latter planning to spend her holiday on the beach, away from the country and your fiancé.
Typically, Chris hosted the Independence Day cookout, but Leon offered up your new home as this year's venue, citing your in-ground pool and the plenty of extra space you have for guests to stay. In reality, he just wanted the chance to out-grill Chris - he'd been preparing since Memorial Day; testing different spice and sauce combinations as well as stocking your freezer full of large cuts of meat.
He'd started before you were even awake, chopping and seasoning in the kitchen, slowly loading up the smoker. You'd joined him on the patio a few hours later, watching from your pool floaty as he poked and prodded at various things.
You don't even eat meat, didn't know the whole thing was so involved, but you did enjoy the view; worn blue jeans hugging his frame as he crouched to check a thermometer.
You had taken a short break from the water, tying up lights and setting a few little decorations around before your guests arrived. Rebecca was the first, tucking her jugs of pre-made cocktail and platter of deviled eggs into your fridge before joining you on the patio.
Chris wasn't far behind, unloading two coolers filled with beer and containers of homemade potato and pasta salads. He'd handed one off to you, grinning, "Claire made one just for you this year."
You'd thanked him, making another attempt to get him to share his family's recipes with you. It was futile, you probably couldn't even waterboard it out of either of them.
Claire had arrived on her motorcycle shortly after, pulling a bundle of fireworks out of her saddlebags. "Sorry I'm late," she said - even though she wasn't - dumping the pile on the ground, thankfully far away from the grill. "Had to stop for these."
Leon had crouched down to inspect them, listening intently as Claire told him about all the different varieties she'd purchased while you relaxed back into the pool.
Sherry arrived next, Jake trailing behind her. She'd left both him and her bags of chips at the table, giving Leon and Claire quick hugs before immediately joining you in the water.
She'd slipped in right beside your floaty, grabbing your hand to get a look at your engagement ring - she'd yet to see it, having been so busy with work. Her eyes widened at the ring as she pushed her sunglasses up to rest on top of her head, "Leon picked this out? Our Leon? Leon Kennedy? Are you sure?"
You'd giggled at her astonishment, "Ashley helped him out; took him to one of her favorite jewelers."
"I should've guessed," She nods. "For my 20th Birthday, he bought me this crazy cute pink tennis bracelet and I was like, 'no way you picked this out alone.' He fessed up that he got a little help from a friend named Ashley.
"At the time, I thought it was just some girlfriend - or hoped, I guess. Back then, I spent a lot of time hoping that Claire and Leon weren't just… working; I liked to think they were taking time for themselves, that they were happy," she had trailed off then, looking off to the tree line behind your house for a minute. Blinking the mist from her eyes, she shrugged, continuing on, "Anyways, I'm thankful to Ash for that bracelet, it was there with me though… a lot. And I'm thankful to you for making him happy, like I always wanted him to be."
With that, you slid off the float to give her a hug, holding her tight as you whispered your thanks. You had worked to bite back your tears - if she didn't cry, neither would you.
Luckily, Jill had walked in a few seconds later, providing a distraction in the form of the most ridiculously large watermelon. "Hey, Kennedy," she shouted, pulling Leon out of his conversation with Claire as she gestured to the melon tucked under her arm. "Can't burn this, can I?"
Leon had thrown his head back with a laugh - in previous years, Jill had always brought boxed brownies with extra crispy edges and Leon invariably had to make a comment about them. "I don't know," he had shrugged, "When it comes to you, Valentine, I'll never say never."
Jill had reared the watermelon back, acting as if she was going to throw it at him. Leon had thrown his arms up, shielding his face, causing everyone to crumble into laughter at the scene.
"It was nice," you agree, reaching to pick up the barong machete he had given Jill when she asked for a knife to cut the melon. "We do have kitchen knives, you know," you scold mockingly, gently waving the blade around.
"I know," he says, releasing you to reach around and pluck the machete out of your hand. "It's good to exercise these every once in a while, though."
You roll your eyes at him, "It's a machete, Leon, not a horse."
He waves you off, slipping through the patio door to wash the blade in the kitchen sink. You take the opportunity to speed clean, knowing it'll be a much harder task once he returns and wraps his arms back around you.
Thankfully everyone had taken care of their own plates and cups - they'd tried to stay and do more but you had ushered them out of the backyard, wanting Chris, Sherry and Jake to depart before the traffic picked up with the crowds leaving the city following the fireworks shows. Jill, Claire and Rebecca had taken up on your offer to stay, at least, piling into your guest rooms. You were glad to have them, secretly plotting to drag them to brunch once you all woke.
You finish piling the platters as Leon makes his way back outside. Before he can get his hands on you and derail your progress, you point to the stack, "Take those inside."
He frowns, "Can't it just wait until tomorrow?"
"We'll get ants; come on, five minutes and it'll be done."
He sighs, but doesn't protest further, carrying the heavy plates inside as you follow him with the utensils. You stack everything by the sink before turning to him, "Is there any of Becca's cocktail left?"
He cocks his brow, tilting his head, "You really want to try that again?"
It's a valid question - you had given it a go earlier and despite everyone's warnings to take it easy, you had thrown back a large mouthful right off the bat. You ended up wincing in pain, "Fuck, that burns. What'd you put in there, Becca?"
She'd shrugged, "Oh, you know, a splash of this, a splash of that. And," she teased, drawing out the vowel, "A bit of my own creation."
"Your own creation…" You had muttered, trailing off before it hit you, "Test tube alcohol?"
She had giggled, grinning, "Takes some getting used to."
You had tried another, much tinier sip. You were able to enjoy the sweetness of the juice for a moment before the burn kicked in again, causing you to curse once more, louder.
Leon had shifted his attention from Chris to you at your exclamation. Seeing the jug of Rebecca's cocktail in front of you on the table, he quickly pieced together what was happening, calling over to Rebecca from his place by the grill, "You trying to kill my fiancé, Becks?"
"Absolutely not; that'd be a stupid thing for me to do," she'd shot back. "She's the only one who can keep you in line, and we kind of like you like that."
"Well," you start, rolling the word around your mouth, "No. But yes - there's gotta be some sort of trick to it, right? Everyone else drank it just fine."
"The trick is," he starts, voice low, reaching out to grab ahold of your hips, "To not drink it. Let me make you some tea instead."
"Fine," you pout, relaxing into his grip, not bothering to argue - tea won't make you hate yourself in the morning.
He moves his hands from your hips, sliding his fingertips along your spine. "Go wait outside," he says, releasing you with a featherlight kiss to your forehead, "I'll bring it out."
With a brush of your lips against his cheek in thanks, you slip away from him, heading back out to the backyard and pulling off your shorts, settling onto the ledge of the shallow end of the pool. The air has cooled with the setting of the sun, becoming a comforting warmth instead of an overbearing heat. You dip your legs into the water, thankful you insisted on having a pool when you and Leon were house hunting.
Someone is still setting off fireworks; they're a few miles away, though - you can hear them more than you can see them. Resting back on your palms, you close your eyes, imagining what bursts of color may be accompanying each sound.
Leon joins you a few minutes later - just after the fireworks had died down - sporting his swim shorts and carrying your tea. He bends, setting the mug next to you with a kiss to your temple, nosing at your hair. "Earl Grey," he reports before drawling, "How terribly unpatriotic of you."
"You going to arrest me for treason, Agent Kennedy?" You laugh, reaching up to squeeze his thigh below the hem of his shorts. "You're the one who made it; they'd nail you as an accomplice."
He falls into a crouch, leg muscles bunching under the pads of your fingertips as he shifts closer to touch his lips on your cheek. "They can hang us together, then," he remarks, voice a bit too serious for it to be just a joke. "Side by side, off the same branch."
You sit back just enough to get your eyes focused on him, reaching your other hand out to thumb at his bottom lip. "Dulce et decorum est pro cor mori," you whisper, tacking on a hum in question.
He cocks his head at the unfamiliar words, nipping at your nail playfully, "English please, baby."
You consider him for a moment, the translation of the true phrase running through your mind; how sweet and honorable it is to die for one's country. The old lie, it's come to be known as - fittingly.
It's a similar sentiment to one that's grown to become your fear; that he'll die for the sake of the country, under orders from the government, believing it was his duty.
But you think your spin on it may be true; would be willing to find out.
You don't want to weigh him down with the thought, though, choosing to reel him in for a kiss instead. "I love you," is the answer you settle on, laying the words down right on his tongue.
He seems content with your translation - the method of delivery likely having something to do with it - humming into your mouth. He kisses you back lazily for a long, languid moment before he pulls away, "As much as I'm enjoying this, I've been wanting to get in there all day," he says, nodding his head towards the water.
"Go," you chuckle, giving him a gentle push away from you with the hand still resting along his face.
He lays another quick peck against your lips before standing, padding around the edge to the steps. He pauses for a moment to pull his shirt over his head, skin honeyed under the soft glow of the lights you'd hung around the patio.
A second later, he slips under the surface without hesitation; kicking off the steps, moving quickly to the deep end. He almost shimmers as he glides along the floor of the pool, the rippling of the gentle waves he'd created making him seem like some sort of mirage as he passes by you.
He comes up for air once he hits the far wall, tossing his hair back, smoothing the water from his eyes. He doesn't rest long, though, beginning to swim short laps across the width of the deep end.
You observe him, sipping your tea slowly, appreciating the way his back and arms work with each stroke. He continues long enough for you to nearly drain your cup, stopping short when another trio of fireworks set off in the distance.
Setting your mug down, you eye him, preparing to slip into the pool to soothe him if you have to, but he relaxes once he connects the sound to the flashes in the sky. The tension that had flooded the line of his shoulders drains into the water as he shifts to wade backward, moving closer to where you sit.
You finish off your drink as he starfishes out across the surface of the water, floating just a few feet in front of you. You wonder if you could use him as a floaty, pinning up a note in your brain to try it out sometime.
"I'm glad you insisted on a pool, sweetheart," he sighs, breaking your companionable silence.
You hum, pleased, kicking your legs out gently and causing the water to lap against his skin. More fireworks sound out; he doesn't tense this time, but he does get his feet back under himself, moving to where you sit along the ledge.
Sliding his hands up your legs, he pillows his head in your lap, wet hair fanning out across your thighs. You shift your weight back onto your right hand, laying the other along his jaw. His eyes flutter closed as you brush your thumb along his cheekbone and the scar that runs beneath it.
He picks at the tie of your bathing suit absentmindedly, tugging at the strings when you slide your hand into his hair, scratching at his scalp. "Sherry said something to me earlier."
He makes a noise urging you to elaborate, not bothering to open his eyes.
"She told me that when she was younger, she hoped that you and Claire were living your lives; that you were doing more than just working, you know? She said she wanted you guys to be happy," you explain, working to keep your voice even.
He cracks his eyes open, picking his head up to watch you as you continue. "She thanked me," you swallow thickly, "for making you happy, like she always wanted you to be."
He smiles at your words, and it's a beautiful thing. You still get all twisted up inside with how gorgeous he is; neurons overclocking themselves with the thrill of being the subject of his attention.
"I owe you a thank you, too, baby," he starts, pausing to nose at your wrist.
"You don't owe me anything, Leon," you tug at his damp strands still between your fingers, highlights catching the yellow glow from the lights around the patio.
"I do," he says, the words sending a jolt through you. You never intended on getting married, yet here you are now, eager to hear the phrase on the altar.
He kisses the thin skin of your wrist, lips lingering as if he can feel the thrum of your heartbeat; knows that the pace has picked up under his affection. "All this," he pulls back, taking a hand off you to gesture to the pool; the backyard; the house; to you. "It's something I never thought I'd get.
"Sherry's right - you're behind basically every bit of happiness I have now, sweetheart; I owe it all to you." He reaches up, untangling your grip from his hair, thumbing gently at the ring he put there, "Thank you."
You can't respond verbally, will burst into tears if you do. In lieu of speech, you lean forward, pressing your lips against his insistently.
He seems to get the message; understands that the pleasure is all yours, that you'd give him anything and everything you can - knowing he'd do the same for you.
He gets his arms back around you, continuing your kiss as he lifts you from the edge of the pool and into the water with him. You wrap your legs around his waist, safe and secure in his hold.
His teeth catch along your bottom lip and the neighbors down the street set off fireworks, the bright bursts of color painting your backyard in reds and blues and greens and oranges. The sparks reflect off the surface of the water as he slides his nose against yours and not for the first time, you think this may all be a dream. Maybe you died four years ago and this whole thing has been some sort of afterlife; you aren't sure you'd done anything worth this treatment, though.
Maybe it's more supernatural in origin; an intricate hallucination weaved by a Djinn that's got you chained up in some dark, damp basement as it feeds off your blood. Or maybe you just went crazy and the pool is actually a padded room, Leon's mouth against yours a product of your mind working to distract itself from your reality.
Whatever the case may be, it certainly feels real when he shifts his hold on you, hoists you up higher to get at your neck, laying kisses up and down the column of your throat, nipping at your jaw.
But before he can venture much further, the neighbor's fireworks show grows into an extravaganza, the relentless popping and bursting becoming a nuisance, shattering the illusion of your teeny-boppy movie moment.
"Jeez," Leon mutters, breath hot against the saliva cooling on your skin, causing you to shudder. "Did they buy out a whole tent?"
"Did you check that Claire actually went to bed?" You ask, shaking yourself free of his hold. "She could've joined them; brought everything I wouldn't let her set off here."
He hums, letting you down into the water, considering your words - even though you said it as a joke, it certainly is a possibility. You seem to come to this realization at the same time, eyes narrowing at each other as the spray of fireworks continues overhead. "We should…" He starts, nodding towards the stairs.
"Yeah," you agree, already beginning to move.
You pause to grab your towels, wrapping your own around yourself, throwing the other over Leon's shoulders when you catch up to him at the patio door. Stepping inside, you hear someone knocking around your kitchen.
Luckily, it's Claire. She steps back from the cabinet she'd been rifling through to face you and Leon with a frown. "Isn't this shit ridiculous?" She remarks, pointing to the ceiling in reference to the fireworks.
"You're one to talk, Claire," Leon shoots back. "Didn't you just set off about five hundred dollars worth of them in my backyard a few hours ago?"
"Yes, a few hours ago," she reiterates. "Nothing should be set off after the show at the Capitol is finished - after that, you're done; you missed your shot; better luck next year."
"Exactly," you nod in agreement at her reasoning, "They should put you in charge."
She grins at your words, moving to continue on, but Leon cuts in before she can start; "What is it that you were clawing through my cabinets for?"
She sighs, displeased with his interruption, setting her hands on her hips. "Where do you keep the ibuprofen?"
Leon shoos her out of the way, padding across the kitchen to get the medicine himself. Claire relents without argument, attention immediately shifting back to you as she leans over the counter. "So," she wiggles her eyebrows, "It seems like that pool was a good investment, huh?"
You bite at your lip, ears burning with embarrassment that she'd seen you and Leon necking in the water like teenagers - even though you shouldn't be flustered; it is your house, after all.
Leon sets the bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water down in front of Claire, annoyance evident with the way he uses a bit more force than really necessary, causing the items to clack against the marble.
"What?" Claire questions, glaring at him. "It was cute."
Leon huffs in response, unable to hide the flush that crawls up his neck at her words. You can't help the giggle that bubbles out of you, enjoying the way they bicker like siblings.
Claire leaves Leon to stew, tossing you a grin as she collects the bottle and glass, bidding you goodnight once more before she leaves the kitchen.
You move around the counter to Leon, steps careful in an effort not to slip on the water that has dripped off him and onto the tile. The neighbors must've ran out of fireworks while you were distracted by Claire as it's silent when you wrap your arms around him, tucking your face into his neck. "Still a good day?" You ask, voice muffled against his skin.
He slings an arm around you, fingers fanning out along the small of your back, "Still a good day."
#if anyone would like to see the ring i literally had a mockup created#because im crazy#its not exactly what i was thinking so i may have another one done.... we will see#also if my latin is incorrect just ignore it pls#its been over 4 years since my last latin class#my hs latin teacher would be mortified to know i had to google declensions#and still probably fucked it up#sorry mr. d.....#(inbox)#(writing)#leon kennedy#leon s. kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#leon s. kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x you#leon s. kennedy x you#what is The leon x reader tag#i've yet to figure it out
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The Naughty Wench
Summary: You work as a barmaid at the raunchiest booth at the Renaissance Faire, and Eddie purchases a beer from you. He gets a little more than a "huzzah for the tipper" when he throws a fiver in the jar labeled "Thank you, Mistress". (Read: you talk dirty to Eddie while you pour beer down his throat) Based on this Tik Tok posted by @joyful_aura: https://www.tiktok.com/@joyful_aura/video/7244964514561543470
Word Count: 4.7k
Content Warnings: light degradation, dirty talk, sexual themes
Working the faire circuit was in one word… an experience.
Just last week you had been in Texas at Scarborough Faire, where it had been hot as balls underneath your layers of linen, lace and leather. The earlier months hadn’t been too bad, but there was one thing you’d learned about the southern states in your years of renaissance faire experience- when summer hits in the south, it hits hard. The moment you’d driven your van past the Indiana state line, you could have sworn the temperature dropped ten degrees on the spot.
Now here you were- all trussed up in your wench getup, tits pushed up high enough that they rested like two fleshy pillows right below your collarbones. The corset you’d chosen today wasn’t your most comfortable, but you looked damn good in it- milk chocolate brown with pale gold ribbons that laced up the front. The straps that ran over your shoulders provided some extra support, which you were grateful for with all of the movement your job required. Your skirts today were a warm shade of mustard yellow with a few mismatched patches sewn over holes and stains that had refused to come out over the years. Short sleeved blouses were a must, unless you wanted to pass out from heat stroke or have beer-soaked sleeves clinging to your forearms. Today yours was a pale cream color, with little puffed cap sleeves to cover your shoulders and a neckline that plunged below your corset, so the girls were front and center, ready to earn plenty of “huzzah for the tipper!”s.
Today was Sunday, and since this faire was weekends only, Sundays were basically Fridays as far as faire folk were concerned. As was tradition, you would all be going out for libations once the day was done, followed by a blissful night of sleeping late in your Volkswagen Westfalia.
You hadn’t known what to expect when you’d quit your job and joined the faire circuit, but every day you got to meet new people, play dress-up, and speak in a funny accent- which accent? You switched it up day to day. And the fact that you got paid to do that made it even better.
You loved your little renfaire life.
You stood with your hands on your hips inside the little wooden booth that served as your place of work for the next month’s worth of weekends. Every plastic cup was stacked in place, you had a fresh cleaning rag stuck into your apron, and patrons were already beginning to file into the fairgrounds. A pleasant breeze brought a smile to your face.
“Morning, love!” You turned to see your fellow barmaid, Ingrid, wiping her hands on her own apron after wringing out her own rag into a small bucket of soapy water. Her outfit today was- like most days- the polar opposite of yours. She looked more like a pirate wench while your color palette was more akin to what one might picture in a countryside tavern. Burgundy skirts and off-white petticoats swished around her black lace-up boots, and her black leather waist cincher showcased the smallest part of Ingrid’s middle. You gasped, acting scandalized by the bits of black lace from her bra that peeked over the neckline of her red blouse.
“Ingrid, what kind of place do you think we’re running here?” you tutted, smiling cheekily all the while. “This is a respectable establishment! People might start thinking we sell more than just the drinks here, you know.”
Ingrid cackled, hopping up to sit on the wooden counter behind her. “My dear, I have absolutely no clue what you could be talking about.” She shrugged, smirking behind a shared secret. “We do sell more than just the drinks.” You both giggled knowingly, continuing to complete all of the morning to-do’s around the bar.
Ingrid was right- drinks weren’t the only thing your bar was known for.
There were plenty of booths around the faire where patrons could purchase a drink, but only one where the barmaids would pour beer directly into their mouths while talking dirty to them- and The Naughty Wench just happened to be that booth.
Originally, the idea had been Ingrid’s- the two of you had been friends for a year now, meeting last year in this exact same spot at Indie Faire and working at what was then a run-of-the-mill beer booth. It was customary at any renaissance faire for bar wenches to proclaim “Huzzah for the tipper!” when presented with a tip of any kind, so neither of you was a stranger to putting on the theatrics when money was dropped into your tip jar. One day, however, Ingrid had put out not one, but two tip jars- one labeled ‘Thank You’, the other labeled ‘Thank You Mistress’. You had laughed at it at first. Then Ingrid started…changing the script.
A patron would chuckle to themselves, throwing a dollar into the Mistress jar, eyes going wide and cheeks flushing when Ingrid would smile and tell them they were “such a good boy.”
After a few more, she’d gotten even more creative. “Oh, you thought I only wanted money?” she would croon, holding the beer tauntingly out of their reach. “I want to hear you beg for it, say ‘please, mistress’,” When you’d heard it you’d been appalled, mouth opened wide in shock. You had already prepared yourself for the patron to yell in her face and demand their money back when you’d heard a shy, stuttering “P-please, mistress, can I have my beer?”
Throughout the day, Ingrid’s “Mistress” character only continued to amp up with every hour. At some point, you had joined in, repeating the sultry tones you’d been listening to Ingrid spout easily to strangers and even making up a few responses of your own.
“Only good boys get to drink at the faire, have you been a good boy?”
“You need to say please before you drink- good girl, you’re so very welcome.”
“Hands behind your back and open wide.”
Word about Ingrid’s sultry tipping strategy circulated quickly. Soon, more and more patrons were lining up at your booth ready to be degraded by pretty girls in tight corsets, and when you started pouring the beer into their mouths, tits pressed up higher on your chest while you leaned seductively over the bartop? People couldn’t get enough.
The success you’d both had with Ingrid’s brilliant idea had now landed you here- a booth that was dedicated to serving delicious beverages garnished with a splash of degradation.
Your first patron of the day- a young woman who looked ready to play a fairy in A Midsummer Night’s Dream- stepped up to Ingrid, gazing up at her with a flutter of eyelashes as she ordered a can of beer and shyly dropped a one dollar bill into the jar labeled ‘Thank You, Mistress’. Ingrid smiled, asking “Do you know what that jar is for?” to which the fairy blushed and nodded, giggling.
“Mm-hm.”
Ingrid grinned flirtatiously, popped open the beer, and addressed the fairy, “Such tiny little hands you have, they’ll make my can look so huge…”
***
Eddie Munson was vibrating.
At least, he felt like he was. He could barely contain his enthusiasm as he looked around at every sword, every pair of elf ears, every corset- to his left, there was a booth selling handmade leather journals. To his right, a stage where a crowd had begun to gather to watch a group of bagpipe players. In front of him and behind him, a seemingly endless number of nerds who, like him, had found a place where being a weirdo was not mocked, not simply tolerated- but celebrated.
“I fucking love it here.” Eddie sighed.
Steve Harrington, whom Eddie was still a little astounded had been convinced to actually go to a renaissance faire, looked overwhelmed already. “I can’t believe there are this many grown adults who wanted to spend the last day of their weekend playing dress-up.”
“Playing dress-up and getting drunk.” Robin corrected. Unlike Harrington, she had thrown herself into the renfaire spirit completely, showing up in a tasteful pirate outfit that Eddie had a feeling was comprised mostly of oversized pieces she’d found in the men’s section of the thrift store, but she pulled it off. All she was missing were some real swords, which she had already announced she was on the hunt for today.
“I feel bad for people who are so out of touch with their inner child that they have to get drunk just to put on a costume.” Dustin said matter-of-factly, shooting Steve a judgemental look. Steve balked when he caught it, yapping at Dustin about growing up or the ridiculousness of how much quality costumes cost- something along those lines. Eddie wasn’t listening, he was too busy taking mental note of which booths he needed to come back to before they left; he knew if he ducked inside them now, he would blow all of his money on the first stall they saw, and he was determined to stretch his budget for the day as far as he could.
“Well I for one think we all look amazing, costume or no.” Robin said decisively. Eddie had to agree. He had spent weeks working on his own costume, digging through his and his friends’ closets to create an ensemble fit for a tiefling bard such as himself. He had fashioned himself a pair of red horns using one of Erica’s old headbands, toilet paper rolls, tin foil, paper mache and black paint. Now, they sat nestled securely among his brown mane of curls. The rest of his outfit had been easy- a blousy-looking shirt from Nancy’s closet that he’d rolled up around the elbows, one of Wayne’s old waistcoats from a suit that hadn’t seen the light of day since Eddie’s parents’ wedding, apparently, a pair of black pants that he’d tucked into his combat boots, and a plethora of accessories. Rings on every finger, every belt he owned slung over his waist or across his torso, one even looped twice around his thigh. Eddie had even gone the extra mile this morning and smudged some of Robin’s red lipstick (he was still amazed that Buckley owned lipstick) around his eyes as a nod to the fact that tieflings’ skin is normally red or blue. To finish off the look, he had even brought along his old acoustic guitar, which was slung over his back to mark him undeniably as a bard.
Eddie thought he looked pretty damn cool.
The rest of their party had also decked themselves out for the day, Robin with her pirate outfit, Dustin, Mike, Lucas and Will had done a fantastic job of transforming themselves into hobbits for the day. Max, Erica and El hadn’t been able to decide whether they wanted to dress as pirates or fairies- so they’d all chosen both. Now they looked happy as could be, skipping down the dirt path with fairy wings on their backs and plastic swords on their hips. That left Steve as the only normal-looking person in a sea of geeks.
Eddie chuckled to himself- for once in his life, Steve Harrington was the odd one out while Eddie Munson was effortlessly fitting in.
“First order of business is turkey legs.” Robin announced, eyes already darting in every direction in search of lunch as she wandered ahead.
Steve mumbled in agreement, along with something about finding something to drink so that he’ll survive the day. Just then, a trio of pretty young women in corsets caught his eye, immediately brightening his mood. He ran a hand through his hair, ready to say something undoubtedly Steve-y to them, when they beat him to the punch.
“Hi! Um, would you mind taking our picture?” One of them said, shoving a camera in his direction.
Steve, surprised but not altogether deterred, smiled and took the camera. “I’d be happy to, ladies.” However, he couldn’t hold back his shock when the girls all turned to the four teenage boys.
“You guys look like you came straight out of Lord of the Rings!” one of them exclaimed. “Best costumes I’ve seen all weekend, honestly.” The girls situated themselves between the blushing boys as they muttered different ‘thank you’s and complimented the girls’ outfits in turn.
Steve snapped the picture begrudgingly while Eddie slung an arm around his shoulders. “Looks like you’re losing your charm there, Harrington.” he smirked, earning an eye roll from Steve in turn.
“Yeah, yeah, piss off, Dante’s Inferno.”
“How have you read Dante but not Tolkien?”
Their bickering was cut short by corset girl retrieving the camera from Steve, then giving Eddie a shy, “I like your horns.”
Eddie turned his full attention to her with a toothy grin. “‘Preciate it, sweetheart.”
The girls waved goodbye with a thank you, erupting into giggles as they walked away. Steve shook his head in disbelief. “What world did I accidentally cross into where Munson has game and I have none?”
Eddie cackled maniacally, hopping onto a nearby picnic table and swinging his guitar to his front, strumming it a couple of times with a flourish of his hand.
“You’re in my kingdom now, King Steve!” Eddie plucked the strings of his instrument jauntily, unable to contain his glee. “Here, it pays to be a freak.”
Strum-strum-strum.
Eddie threw a fist in the air. “Huzzah!”
To his surprise, his call was echoed by several patrons and vendors, erupting in a hearty “Huzzah!” from all around him.
Accepted. Celebrated. Eddie felt at home.
That’s when Robin came bounding up from behind him, two turkey legs in hand. “Okay, I know where we’re going next.” She sounded excited.
Steve took one of the turkey legs from her hand, eager to get something in his stomach. “And where is that, Robin?”
She grinned largely, immediately launching into a retelling of a conversation she had had with another patron while waiting in line for the turkey legs, going on several tangents about how surprised she was that the line was short, how the patron had been dressed like a viking and actually had viking tattoos all up and down his arm, how she wasn’t sure how accurate they were but they sure looked cool-
“Robin!” Steve interjected impatiently.
“Right! Sorry! Basically one of the bars has wenches that talk dirty if you give them a tip, and I want to see that in action.”
Steve and Eddie’s eyes grew wide. Steve, hilariously, started to check behind him for the kids as if they were still too young and innocent to be talking about such things even though they were all about to graduate high school already. To his relief, they had all wandered into a booth selling leather goods.
Eddie responded before Steve could. His lips had curled into a mischievous smile, “Buckley,” he crooned, gesturing for her to lead the way. “I’m gonna need you to tell me more about these wenches.”
***
By noon, the line for your booth was easily at least ten people long and stayed that way no matter how many beers you’d poured. Luckily for the two of you, not every patron at the faire was seeking you out just for the bonus content. Most of them just wanted a drink, which you couldn’t fault them for. After all, nothing went with a summer day quite like a cold, bubbly beverage.
“Hey,” Ingrid’s voice caught your attention as you took a brief moment to wipe down the drain under the tap while the line had gone briefly shorter. “Remember that conversation we had where I called you out on having a type?”
You laughed, nodding your head. “Yes, I think I do. Why?”
“Tell me what that type was again?”
You sighed, tucking your rag back into your apron and patting your hands dry at your sides. “Let’s see, I think I remember you said long hair was involved-”
“Long dark hair, specifically.”
“-long dark hair, right.” you remedied. You busied yourself with fixing the next patrons’ drink orders as the discussion proceeded. “Tattoos were mentioned, and I think you said something about makeup?”
“You always get all swoony around men wearing eyeliner or some kind of eye makeup. Always. Without fail.”
“Yeah, yeah okay…” you rolled your eyes. She was right, but you hated that you were apparently so obvious about it.
“I would like to make an educated guess about another thing I think belongs on that list.” Finally turning to face Ingrid, you cocked your head, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Okay, I’ll bite- what else do you think belongs on that list?”
Ingrid grinned, looking pointedly at something over your shoulder. “I think you’re into guys who play guitar.”
You blanched- damn. That had been true since high school, how did she-
You spun around to see whatever Ingrid was focused on behind you, and felt your knees get weak when you found it. There was a man- in his twenties, from the looks of it- dressed as a tiefling bard with a guitar slung over his shoulder. It was true, from looks alone he checked all of your boxes. The long curly hair, the red makeup around his eyes, the tattoos that showed on his forearms…
“You okay over there, or did my business partner go brain dead for a second?” You heard Ingrid’s smirk before you saw it. She laughed at you good-naturedly when you faintly swatted at her with your cleaning rag. “It looks like they’re headed this way, you take him and I’ll take his blonde pirate friend.”
You took another look at the man- trying not to be obvious about the fact that you were looking- and noticed this time that he was traveling with two others: the aforementioned blonde pirate and a normal-looking guy who, admittedly, had very nice hair. They did seem to be headed your way; you quickly took a moment to turn around and top off the canteen that hung from the leather belt at your waist with some cold water. You quickly took a sip before turning around to face the counter, and when you did, there he was.
“Hi, uh-” his eyes were downcast, hands digging into his pockets for cash. “-can you break a twenty?” Pulling a crumpled bill from a money clip, his gaze met yours under an apologetic brow. Big brown eyes, framed with blood-red smudges- he pulled it off. Tremendously.
You didn’t have to force your service industry smile- it came naturally for him. “With pleasure, noble bard.” You propped your forearms on the wooden bartop, hoping your cleavage was looking particularly stunning at the angle from which he was gazing up at you. “And what sort of beverage might you be craving on this fine day?”
“That’s right, wrap your lips around my tip and drink me down, beautiful-”
Before he could answer, the two of you were both more than a little distracted by Ingrid’s filthy monologue. She held a freshly opened can of beer to the blonde pirate girl’s lips, and you were very impressed with how easily the girl was able to obey the instructions that Ingrid gave every customer who tossed a tip into the Mistress jar- hands behind your back, mouth open, chin up, eyes on me. You and the dark-haired tiefling were both entranced by the sight before you: Ingrid, with the endless stream of dirty words that tumbled from her mouth as she poured bubbly, golden brew down the throat of the tall blonde pirate.
“-keep that pretty mouth open you little minx, and look up at me as i finish down your throat. Yes, that’s a good girl, and swallow.” Ingrid pulled the can away from her lips with a smile, gazing proudly down at the pirate who sputtered out a soft cough after breathing down some much-needed oxygen. “Good job, darling.” Ingrid crooned.
The regularly-dressed guy standing behind her stared with wide eyes, and you couldn’t quite tell if he was appalled or impressed. “Oh…my god, Robin!” he guffawed.
“I’ll.. aha, um-” You refocused your attention to the bard standing before you, a natural blush now creeping into his cheeks beneath the red makeup on his temples. “-I’ll have what she’s having, please.” He nodded to his friend- Robin, apparently.
You smiled knowingly, taking the twenty from his hands and ignoring the rush you felt when your fingertips brushed his. You made his change, handing him a few fives and ones before giving the Mistress jar a gentle tap. You finished opening his beer just in time to see him toss a five into the jar- a generous tip, since the beer only cost $3.
You raised an eyebrow, smiling at him appreciatively. “Huzzah for the tipper.” you purred, opting to make the phrase just for him instead of yelling it obnoxiously for all to hear. After all, you were about to be plenty obnoxious already.
You nodded flirtatiously to direct his attention above you. “See those shackles up there, love?”
His eyes, shining with anticipation and the best kind of nerves, flicked up to what you were referring to- dangling from the wood above the bartop were a pair of metal handles that hung by black-painted chains. They were similar to an actual shackle, but it was obvious that they were there to hold, not imprison. The bard looked back down to you, returning your flirting gaze.
“I do.” he smirked.
You narrowed your eyes on him playfully. “I’m going to need you to reach up and take hold of them-” He did as he was told, and you admired how his blousy sleeves fell further down to his biceps, showcasing the way his ink stretched over lean muscles. “-oh good boy, you look so good stretched out for me like that. Hold tight now, darling.”
You had to hold back a chuckle at how quickly his flirty eye contact and smirk turned to a pure deer-in-the-headlights expression when you’d called him a good boy. You had an inkling that this guy wasn’t used to being told what to do in this particular way.
Leaning forward until your cleavage was practically up against his nose, you nodded at him sweetly. “Open that pretty pink mouth for me darling- yes, that’s right, lips around my hole and suck-” Once the can was to his lips, you began pouring a steady stream down his throat. His big doe eyes didn’t know where to look, torn between your eyes and your tits that looked just about ready to pop out of your corset. The rest of the words that tumbled from your mouth were less spoken and more so moaned while you gazed down at this gorgeous little tiefling who- for the next few moments- was completely at your mercy.
“-take it, yes, good boy, take me deep into your throat as you look up at me with those pretty brown eyes. Oh my goodness, you’re so obedient! I love it when a big strong man lets himself be this pretty and stretched out for me as he suckles on my little hole. No, don’t look away, my eyes are up here you wretched little thing- yes, that’s right, oh I only wish I could hear all the pretty noises you make when you take me down deep like this. Yes, you’re going to finish me, aren’t you? Oh yes, you’re going to finish me using that dirty little mouth-” Nearing the end of the can, you poured the last drop down his throat. “-yes, oh that’s a good boy, swallow every drop of me, good job love.”
He sputtered a final swallow, red-faced and breathing deep after chugging an entire can of beer. His eyes were still wide, but now there was also the way he looked at you- like he would do pretty much anything you ever told him to do at the drop of a hat.
Letting go of the shackles above your head, he managed to catch his breath before checking behind him to make sure he didn’t have a long line of waiting customers. No line had formed, but his blush had deepened when he saw his friends both watching him with smirks that said they were never going to let him live this down.
“Shit,” he chuckled looking up at you, his personality taking on a slightly more devil-may-care sort of attitude now. “I-uh- I think I blacked out, you might have to say all that again, I didn’t catch it the first time.”
You laughed, easily shirking the domineering attitude that you exuded for the job and relaxing into what felt natural- soft, sweet, and flirty- with this guy, at least. “Tell you what,” you said, coyly. You weren’t normally one to invite strangers out for drinks, but Ingrid had been right about one thing- this guy was definitely your type. “When the faire closes today, I’ll be at a bar called The Honeybee about ten minutes from here. If I happen to see you there,” you shrugged, and you didn’t miss how his eyes immediately flicked down to your cleavage as the motion made you bounce. “-then we can say all kinds of things to each other.”
The facial expression on the bard changed in an instant, his expression shifting from innocent and eager to knowing and darkly tempting. “Tell me, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, “Are you always as demanding as you were just now, or was that just an act?”
You knew what he was asking, and part of you wanted to tell him that he’ll have to show up at The Honeybee if he wants to find out, but something in you also wanted him to know the answer to that question- wanted him to know so many things about you it made your head spin.
“I can go either way and have a great time regardless.” you replied, smiling sweet as a spoonful of honey, and the devilish grin that he gave you in return took the breath from your lungs.
“Perfect.” he practically growled, “What’s your name?”
You told him, and the way he repeated it on his lips had you pressing your thighs tightly together. “And your name is?”
“Eddie.” he smiled.
You grinned in return. “Eddie.” you repeated. His name tasted like whiskey and cinnamon on your tongue. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”
To your surprise, Eddie laughed raucously, hopping back a few paces. “Oh, on the contrary, fair barmaid!” With a flourish, he swung his guitar from his back to his front, strumming a few chords in rapid succession and plucking them in a melody that showed a level of skill that you hadn’t been expecting. After a moment of music, he stopped short and looked up at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Mark my words, my love- you’ll see me again before tonight and you will- without a doubt- hear me before you see me.”
You let out a surprised laugh, fingers flying up to your mouth to block an obnoxious guffaw from escaping your lips. That only spurred Eddie on more. He made a sort of swatting motion with his hand, gesturing toward your own hand at your mouth. “Away, thou evil hand! How dare ye venture to hide the sweetest of smiles that does bloom on a flower such as this?” He plucked away at his instrument dramatically, as if doing so were a declaration of war. You couldn’t help but humor him, grabbing the offending hand with your other one and firmly clasping both in your lap.
Eddie smiled, still strumming his guitar. “Aye, and stay away! For there are far better things for pretty hands to do than hide even prettier faces.” He waggled his eyebrows up and down as he began to walk away with his friends.
Your jaw dropped as you let out a good natured scoff. “And what would the noble bard suggest I do with my pretty hands?” you knew that you practically yelled it, and it caused a few other guests to glance your way questioningly; you didn’t care, it certainly wasn’t the strangest thing you’d said today.
Eddie’s cackle rang out through the air like electricity during a storm, and your heart did a little backflip when he spun around once before facing you one last time before he was out of your line of sight. “Oh, my lady-” he called, smiling unabashedly, “-I humbly suggest you find the biggest can you have, think of me-” and then the motherfucker winked, “-and use your imagination.”
#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x reader#renaissance faire#naughty wench#rip-quizilla
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i haven’t done a tag game in forever so this was super fun. guess what my favourite music genres are lmao. shout out to @alilfroginacove for the tag!!
shuffle your ‘On Repeat’ playlist and list the first 10 songs that play, then tag 10 people
“Jesse Got Trapped in a Coal Mine” by Goodnight, Texas
“The Chain” by Ingrid Michaelson
“Somethin’ Bout A Truck” by Kip Moore (this is because i replay his song “Beer Money” constantly and this is the song that almost always follows it up)
“Friends on the Other Side (Disney Villain Mash-Up)” by Thomas Sanders
“Le réel” by Gang Of Youths
“Way of the Triune God - Hallelujah Version” by Tyler Childers
“Dearest Sarah” by Goodnight, Texas
“Diane” by Cam
“Sold (The Grundy County Auction Incident)” by John Michael Montgomery
“Panthers on the Mountainside Live at Howard Theatre” by John Charles Dwyer, Michele Buzbee, and Sarah Doreen Macphee
alrighty uhhh hey mutuals here we go. no pressure for this of course @aranealux @lastwave @dynastesdyke @transsexual-dandelions @you-are-constance @breadluvr49 @antichrists-little-brother @haniawritesthings @disabled-dragoon @markedbyindecision
#tag game#the amount of country and folk on this playlist.#i thought there’d be more theatre bc i was relistening to ‘bring it on’ a bunch but i guess that’s not counting as being replayed
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Spook and John have my 🫶🏼. Maybe for a prompt “who did this to you” John asking Spook? I just think with her background as a spy and his protective nature, it fits them!! Can’t wait for more 🙌🏻
All The Things I Did (Interlude): I'm Such a Fool
a/n: broke my own heart with this one. introduced a very curious dynamic with harding, a little bit of solo cass and a few little fluff crumbs so you all don't hate me too much. send romance/fluff/ post-war spook and bucky??? prompts to ease my soul. i'll be waiting to chat...
The moment Colonel Harding was the one behind her office door and there was no smile on his face or flirtatious joke on his tongue, Cass knew.
“Anyone?”
“Rosenthal’s crew just landed. I was on my way to interrogation.” Her heart was struggling to know what to do. Seize with sadness over the loss. Hammer in her chest to keep her mind moving. Slow down so she could have a moment to think.
“I’m coming with you.”
----
She sat silently while they went through each plane until they got to the one John had been on. The tapping of her toes only sped up when the navigator announced he saw ten chutes. “About where was that drop, Lieutenant?” The men looked over at her, Colonel Harding already gathering his breath to tell her to stand down.
“Somewhere over Westphalia, maybe, ma’am. It was…I’m sorry I don’t have anything more specific.”
“It will do just fine, Lieutenant. Thank you.” Cass tucked her notebook, she hadn’t even opened it, under her arm and barely made it out the door when Harding started calling after her.
“Cassandra! Lieutenant!” She kept walking, knowing exactly what he was going to say and knowing with certainty she was not going to listen. “Lieutenant Egan!” That made her pause.
“Who told you that?” She kept her back to him. She wasn’t sure quite yet what game he was playing.
“You don’t think your counterparts were keeping an eye on you over there?” She rolled her eyes. Men and their egos.
“Your feelings about the situation are irrelevant, Colonel. I have work to do.” Cass was going to grab her bag and go get John.
“You’re grounded, Lieutenant. You try to leave this base and I’ll have you shipped back to the States on the next available flight.”
“Then good thing the OSS answers directly to the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Colonel.”
----
“You shouldn’t be here so soon, Ingrid.” Cass had spent the night in an emergency safe house close to her drop site before setting off to the nearest town where Peter lived, her contact she paid to help get around Germany. Ingrid was the name he knew her by.
“I wouldn’t if it wasn’t for a good reason.” She looked around the beer hall, empty at this time of day. “I’m looking for a pilot. American. Dropped over here a day or two ago.” Peter got quiet and stopped moving the rag over the bartop.
“Ingrid, asking about American pilots is very dangerous around here.” Her fingers flexed tightly around the glass of untouched beer she had politely paid him for. Tipped double.
“You don’t need to take me to him. I just need to know how to find him on the way to Stalag Luft.”
“Two men were here this morning on their way to pick up bodies.”
“Bodies?”
“They have a spot in the middle of the woods where they bury them.” Cass closed her eyes and fought to maintain composure. There was no chance John was dead. She would have felt it. She would know in her soul.
And when she rode the horse Peter lent her to that clearing and she saw a lifeless body lying directly in the sun like God himself wanted her to find it, she almost started to think he was gone.
“John?” She practically fell from the horse as she realized it was him. Dropping to her knees, she grunted as she rolled him over. Her breath stopped when she got a good look at his face. Cass felt around frantically for a pulse and almost cried when she felt one thrumming against her fingertips. “Baby, you got to wake up.” She deduced he had run away from the men that were here to bury a pile of American bodies. It meant that it was only a matter of time before they either found them or sent for German soldiers.
John thinks he heard her voice. Thinks he felt her presence above him. Thinks that meant he was dead.
“Cass,” he moaned. His head wasn’t supposed to hurt this bad if he was dead. “Please.” Please just take me away from here, he was asking. Take me somewhere where I can be with you again.
“It’s me. You’re going to be okay. I’m going to get you out of here.” There was no chance she was going to be able to get him on the horse without his help. She draped his arm over her shoulder, his head lolling weightlessly into the crook of her neck.
“You’re real.”
“We have to get you up, okay? Can you help me, Johnny?” Her arm wrapped securely around his waist, steadying herself to lift. With a grunt she pushed up but only made it a few steps before she collapsed under his dead weight and hit the forest floor. She rubbed her knuckles as hard as she could against his chest in an attempt to wake him back up. “Come on, come on.” He coughed a little and his eyes fluttered open completely.
“Cass…you can’t…be here.” She ignored him, propping him up into a sitting position and readying herself to lift him once again. “Cass, please. Go.”
“Not without you.” She had him. They were so close. She couldn’t go back now.
“I love you, Cassandra Ann Egan.” He was saying it like it was goodbye. She wanted to respond. She wanted to cry and scream. Wanted to burn the entire world down for getting her here but not letting her have it. Have him. But the sound of a gun cocking and a cold barrel placed to the back of her head made her freeze.
“Get away from the prisoner.” Cass willed herself to think of a way out of this. There was no way this could be the end.
“You want to point a gun at someone, point it at me.” John was sitting up straighter now. Adrenaline reaching all parts of his body. His instinct to protect simmering inside him. He reached for Cass’ arm in an attempt to drag her behind him.
“I found him bleeding while riding out to the market. Was only trying to help.” She slowly stood with her hands up, the gun lowered when the officer heard the German words coming out of her mouth. Keep talking, keep diffusing, keep distracting.
“He’s coming with us, no need for your help.” For his part, John was using the tree he had been leaning against to pull himself up. He got his wish, the guns right back up and in his direction.
“You get on that horse and you get somewhere safe.” He was pleading with her. Have never asked her for anything since he met her but was asking her for this. To give him the peace of mind that she was safe.
“Ingrid, there you are!” Cass looked in horror as Peter entered into the clearing. “You’ll have to pardon her, sirs. She gets lost sometimes.” The two men from the carriage had returned to the beer hall to radio the local security forces. Unable to stop his curiosity, he had followed them to make sure she was alright.
“Enough!” One of the soldiers drew back his gun and brought it down on John’s back, his legs giving out and causing him to drop to his knees. She lurched forward with a scream, Peter grabbing her and pulling her back.
“Stop! Let me go!”
“Get your hands off of her you son of a-” Another blow, the wind knocked out from him this time. She kicked at Peter’s legs but his grip only tightened as he began to drag her away.
“John! John!” she screamed as tears flowed down her face.
“Let her go! Don’t fucking touch her-Cass!” He crawled a few feet in the direction she was being dragged, kicking and screaming and writhing with the pain of leaving him behind. The next blow knocked him out cold.
----
He was certain she was dead. Certain that that was the last he would ever see of her. John had wanted to ask the interrogator. He had shown a grainy image of Cass, called her The Little Sparrow, and asked if he knew her. Knew her real name. Location. He had only smirked. That was his girl. John knows she would have been all too happy to know just how far under their skin she was. He had half a mind to ask the guards to kill him too on his way to the cell. What was the point if she wasn’t there to get home to? To fulfill the life they were foolish enough to let themselves dream about.
Seeing Buck and the boys numbed him for a little bit. But then Buck asked about London. Asked if John had finally told Cass he loved her. If they had made plans for when this was all over. The words were lodged in John’s throat. He wanted to tell Buck he had told her he loved her over and over again. That she had finally said she loved him back. Endlessly. That they had felt in their guts they were running out of time so they had found their way to a bombed out Abbey and made it all official. But he couldn’t bring himself to talk about the good times.
“Major John Egan.” A guard appeared in the doorway. “You’ve been called back to interrogation.” He had been here a couple of days but knew enough it didn’t sound like a positive. Cass had told him of her encounters with the Gestapo. Maybe they had learned of his connection to her. Maybe that were going to try and torture the truth out of him.
The guard led him out into the yard, passed the nicer huts where the Germans stayed and toward the remote corner where more housing was being built. It was starting to look more like a good spot for an execution. At least he would see her again.
“Do I get my last rites?” he asked as he was ordered to stop. There was not a single other soul in sight.
“Five minutes.” The guard walked away and John looked around in confusion. Maybe he could try and climb the fence. Maybe he could-
“Excuse me, but I’m looking for my husband.” Oh.
“What kind of husband leaves a wife as ethereal as you all by her lonesome?” There was a chain link fence separating them but she was there. She was alive and she was there. “I thought I’d lost you.” Cass’ fingers curled into the fence and resting her head on the cool metal, his skin finding hers in one of the openings.
“Me too. But we’ve been fucking with all plans the Germans have for us, haven’t we?” He smiled and wished he could touch her more fully. Wished he could kiss her and twirl her hair around his finger and feel the rise and fall of her breath against his chest.
“We should never have left London,” he whispered.
“We’ll get back there-” Her words paused as she sucked in a breath of pain. John gripped the fence tighter. She lifted her shirt and John noticed a deep purple bruise along her ribcage. “Definitely broken,” she wheezed.
“Someone do that to you?”
“You’re not supposed to be worrying about me, John.”
“Who did this to you?”
“I had a run in with a guard on my way in. He propositioned me and didn’t like that I turned him down.”
“Would you be mad if I killed him?” There was no humor in his tone. His request for her permission was actual.
“I don’t want you in here any longer than you already are. We made a lot of plans we have to follow through on.” Cass couldn’t help the tears that pricked at the corners of her eyes.
“I owe you a real wedding,” she hummed in agreement, “some little Bucky’s and little Spook’s,” she leaned in as close as she could, “and that house by the ocean.” She had talked about a house she walked by every summer as a little girl. Thought it was a castle and dreamt of living there with her books and her farm dogs and her own family. Bucky was going to buy it for her if it was the last thing he ever did.
“I’m going to visit as much as I can. I’ll write to you everyday.” She had noticed the guard approaching again. Their time together was coming to a close. “I love you more than anything else in the entire world,” she said the words as if they were the most sacred. After John had jumped the gun with his feelings weeks ago, she had made him work for the words to be echoed back. He was more addicted to her love than cigarettes.
“I love you, too, Cass. Promise me you’ll always know that. No matter how long it takes for me to get back to you.”
“I’ll be right here waiting for you. I promise.” Their lips met in one of the diamond gaps, both of them trying to portray everything they felt in the soul.
“Time’s up.”
“Let me look at you. Just one more minute.” He wanted to be sure he was able to commit her to memory. Every little detail. Didn’t want to forget a single beauty mark. A single scar. The curve of her top lip or the way her eyelashes looked when they fluttered closed.
“Now, Major.” The grip on his arm was firm, John practically being dragged away as Cass just pressed herself closer and closer into the fence. He never took his eyes off of her, silently mouthing his love for her one last time before he was around the corner and she was out of his sight.
“Do me a favor, sir?” The guard stopped and looked at him. “Point me in the direction of the guard that put his hands on my wife.”
#masters of the air#john egan#callum turner#mota#masters of the air fanfiction#masters of the air fanfic#john egan fanfiction#john egan fanfic#callum turner fanfiction#callum turner fanfic
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open to all ! location: paradigm gardens event 002: lighting of the solstice @inaducursehqstarters
Heath sat on the edge of the gardens, doing what he did best: watching. His careful eye followed party-goers as he sipped beer from a plastic cup while seated on a fallen log. He wasn't working, exactly, but he couldn't turn off the need to observe. Besides, he wasn't really an engage in the social scene type of guy himself, so the outskirts were where he felt most comfortable regardless.
He kept his eyes peeled for any suspicious behavior, on the look out for the demon he and Ingrid were tracking, and eyes open for any of his other ongoing case subjects. Even off from work, there was no such thing as just enjoying an outing.
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I Can See You | Brendan Brisson x Hughes!OC
Summary: Matty and Phoebe bond and the boys take on an intense game of beer pong.
Word Count: 998
By: M
Parts: part one | part two | part three | part four | part six
PART FIVE:
Phoebe leaned into the boy next to her as she finally began the long process of coming to terms with unsaid emotions. Every missed call and tear spilt filled her mind and she began to cry again. Matty had shown her more kindness than Brendan ever had. In that moment she realized something that even yesterday she’d have been surprised about. She didn’t need Brendan to live. Yeah, she missed him sometimes, but she’d made something of herself. She’d made friends, long-lasting connections she never would’ve dreamed of in high school.
Everything Brendan had done to her had led her to this point,
a 19 year old proud of who she was becoming.
After a few minutes, Phoebe pulled herself back together, Matty having sat with his hands on hers the entire time. He had sat and listened to her half-hearted tears, his heart breaking with each earth-shattering sob. Although they had only just met, there was something magnetizing about their connection. A jolt of something connecting them as Matty held her close.
“Mats.” She said, turning to look into his brown eyes.
“Phoebe?” His intense gaze filled with desire.
Phoebe’s gaze flicked to the boy’s lips and darted back up quickly, a sultry action with almost certain consequences.
Matty’s gaze darkened as he tracked the girl in front of him, a smirk forming on his lips. He found his mind wandering as he moved his hand to hold her cheek, angling her face to reflect his. Her eyes found his as he began to lean forward, an electric current pulling them towards each other. Matty felt his eyes fluttering closed.
“Matthew Inrid Beniers, get your ass out here for beer pong we need a fourth!” Luke called from the deck, easing the tension and ruining the moment.
“Ingrid?” Phoebe asked, leaning back laughing.
“That’s not even my middle name, I don’t-” He started, opening his eyes.
“Sure…” She said, standing up and opening the door.
“Hey, I mean if you wanna stay here tonight you can, I know it’s hard with Brendan right now.” He said, looking up at her with a sweet smile.
“I might just take you up on that Beniers.” She said, heading out the door.
Matty found himself hoping that she’d accept his offer. He wandered toward the deck, leaning against the doorframe as he took in the screen unfolding in front of him. Luke and Jack were filling up cups, and Quinn was laughing from behind them as it was clear they were struggling.
“Dude, I think the beer’s supposed to go IN the cup.” Quinn said, doubling over in laughter.
“Thanks for the help Quintin.” Jack snarked, wiping his beer covered hands on his shirt.
“Yeah it’s not our fault someone shook the cans.” Luke added, shaking his head as he grabbed another can.
“Need help?” Matty asked, walking over to them.
“Yeah, thanks Matty.” Jack said, handing him a beer.
The three of them struggled to keep the beers from exploding as they tried to pour them into cups.
“Seriously, how many of you does it take to pour a couple beers?” Phoebe asked, wandering onto the deck in a small black bikini.
“Woah.” Matty said, not hiding the fact that he was checking her out.
“Woah now loverboy that’s our sister.” Luke said, crossing his arms.
“Relax Luke, I know I look good.” Phoebe smirked, wandering over and grabbing a can.
Of course the can she grabbed didn’t explode as she easily poured it into two cups. She grabbed another, gently opening it and pouring it into several more cups. It took her a total of three minutes to fill the remaining six cups.
“That wasn’t so hard now was it?” She said, standing back and allowing the boys to set up the table.
“Witch!” Jack yelled, pointing to her and laughing.
Phoebe laughed, her face brightening for the first time since Brendan’s temper tantrum. Matty found himself grateful that Luke had invited him, instead of letting him wallow at home alone. His family had opted to do a big vacation across Europe but Matty was tired of constant traveling and wanted nothing more than to stay in one place for a few months. When he’d told Luke about his depressing summer plans, he had immediately suggested that Matty come stay with them for a little bit, hoping to add a little fun into his summer. What Luke had forgotten to mention, however, was that his beautiful younger sister was staying at the house as well. Matty had known that the Hughes brothers had a sister, but the way they spoke about her made him think she was a lot younger than Luke, not just a year behind in school.
“Okay let’s do this!” Luke called, pulling Matty from his thoughts as he finished placing the cups on the table.
“Hell yeah!” Jack said, taking his place next to his younger brother.
“Okay second team, Pheebs you in?” Quinn asked, laughing at his sister’s reluctance.
“Nah you guys play, I’ll watch.” She said, stepping back.
“Oh no way Hughes, you’re on my team.” Matty called, grabbing her arm to bring her closer to the table.
“Fine… But what about Quinn?” Phoebe said, gesturing to her oldest brother.
“I think I’m gonna check on Briss, I haven’t ever seen him like this.” Quinn said, stepping back into the house.
Quinn had always been in tune with emotions, and after growing up with Brendan, he knew when something was really wrong.
Cheers filled Brendan’s ears as he wallowed in Phoebe’s room. The decorated room doing nothing to help his emotions, her evident personality suffocating him. His eyes wandered back to the sunflower, a poetic reminder of his mistakes. He was dumb and 18 and he thought he would rule the world… Little did he know at the time that Phoebe was his world.
“Briss. Hey buddy…” Quinn said, stepping into the room and gently making his way over to his friend.
#hockey fanfiction#jack hughes#brendan brisson#brendan brisson x oc#luke hughes#quinn hughes#umich hockey#matty beniers
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Heimdall: pssst, Freyr?
Freyr, drunkly: Yeah?
Heimdall, points at a girl/boy: that one there thinks about you.
Freyr: bad way or the good way?
Heimdall: more like very... Hungry.
Freyr, with a smirk: say no more. Hold my beer.
Heimdall, holds his beer and smirks: good luck.
Freyr: say good luck to them not to me~
Heimdall, blushes: Oh go away.
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Freya:Since when did you to became best friends?
Heimdall and Freyr looks at each other and smirks: last night.
Freya:... By the gods...
Heimdall: yep. What you are thinking did happend queen mistletoe.
Freyr: we should go now. Bye sis!
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Freyr: why can Freya turn into a bird but I can't?
SMS: Uhhh... Because... Uhhh. You don't need to because you have Ingrid that can make you fly!
Freyr:... Fair enough.
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Freyr: Who are you?
Halsin: My name is Halsin, oak father may preserve you.
Freyr: marry me.
Halsin: what?
Freyr: what?
____________
Sorry but I think freyr and heimdall would be best friends or even more. Also Freyr and Halsin is a match I think.
#god of war#god of war ragnarök#freyr#gow freyr#freyr god of war#freyr x reader#yngvi#freyr gow#heimdall#gow heimdall#heimdall god of war ragnarök#heimdall gow#halsin bg3
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What will happen if patri pina drouch sunshine in beer ?
Sunshine usually cries over the shock of it and Ingrid ends up yelling while Mapi tries to get Sunshine straight in the shower because Sunshine hates the smell of beer clinging to her hair
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Title: Jerry Maguire
Rating: R
Director: Cameron Crowe
Cast: Tom Cruise, Renée Zellweger, Cuba Gooding Jr, Kelly Preston, Jerry O'Connell, Jay Mohr, Regina King, Bonnie Hunt, Jonathan Lipnicki, Todd Louiso, Mark Pellington, Jeremy Suarez, Jared Jussim, Benjamin Kimball Smith, Ingrid Beer, Jann Wenner
Release year: 1996
Genres: romance, comedy, drama
Blurb: Jerry Maguire used to be a typical sports agent: willing to do just about anything he could to get the biggest possible contracts for his clients, plus a nice commission for himself...but one day, he suddenly has second thoughts about what he's really doing. When he voices these doubts, he ends up losing his job and all of his clients aside from Rod Tidwell, an egomaniacal football player.
#jerry maguire#r#cameron crowe#tom cruise#renée zellweger#renee zellweger#cuba gooding jr#kelly preston#jerry o'connell#1996#romance#comedy#drama
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Music Artists That The Blue Lions Would Listen to 🎶:
Dimitri: Mitsuki, Peter Gabriel, Dionne Warwick, Adele, Queen, Whitney Houston, Billy Joel, Beyonce, SZA, Chloe and Halle, Usher
Felix: Rina Sawayama, My Chemical Romance, Kendrick Lamar, the Weeknd, Jack White, KISS, Thin Lizzy, Eminem
Sylvain: Drake, Sexy Redd, Ice Spice, Yung Gravy, Macklemore, Doja Cat, Latto, Tyler The Creator, the Weeknd, Britney Spears, Cardi B
Dedue: Steve Lacy, Adele, SZA, Whitney Houston, Mickey Guyton, Mariah Carey, Billy Joel, The Temptations
Ashe: Blackpink, TWICE, Red Velvet, Sabrina Carpenter, aespa, BTS, TXT, NewJeans, Le Sserafim
Ingrid: Taylor Swift, Chappell Roan, Luke Combs, Carrie Underwood, Miley Cyrus, Ellie Goulding, Reba McEntire
Annette: BTS, Taylor Swift, TWICE, Katy Perry, Ariana Grande, Olivia Rodrigo, Sabrina Carpenter, Marina, Mitsuki, Madison Beer, Harry Styles
Mercedes: TWICE, Marina, Adele, Beyonce, Taylor Swift, BTS, Dolly Parton, Chappelle Roan, Renée Rapp, Megan Thee Stallion, Janelle Monae
#blue lions#dimitri alexandre blaiddyd#felix hugo fraldarius#sylvain jose gautier#ingrid brandl galatea#dedue molinaro#ashe ubert#annette fantine dominic#mercedes von martritz#dimitri listens to r&b#fe3h headcanons#ashe is a dedicated kpop stan#ashe hates min heejin#this was stupid#but my stupid#Mercedes like to explore other music genres#the rap beef has made things interesting btw Felix and Sylvain#felix plays Euphoria whenever he's around Dimitri#they go concerts together often#Annette does Tiktok dances#ingrid loves country#dedue and Dimitri appreciate the oldies
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BuckTommy Breakup Playlist Songs # 6 & 7
You get a twofer tonight because I forgot to post today and these two are kinda related in they both made me think about how these crazy kids are so down bad for each other.
First is Buck and referring to his longing for Tommy as a drug addiction….
My name
is whatever you decide
And I’m
just gonna call you mine
I’m insane
but I’m your baby
Echoes
of your name inside my mind
Halo
hiding my obsession
I once was poison ivy, but
now I’m your daisy
And baby, for you, I
would fall from grace
Just to
touch your face
If you
walk away,
I’d beg you on my knees to stay
Don’t blame me,
love made me crazy
If it doesn’t,
you ain’t doin’ it right
Lord, save me,
my drug is my baby
I’ll be using for the rest of my life
Don’t Blame Me - Taylor Swift
And then there’s poor Tommy who saw Buck in that cowboy Halloween costume and lost his damn mind to lust….
Hey you,
looking like a wild one
Nice boots,
think I got the same ones
You’re cute,
maybe we could split some beers
Hey, cowboy
With that look in your eyes
Need a lipstick stain
on your whiskey ice
Hey, cowboy
What’cha doing tonight?
Know a place downtown with a vacant sign
Giddy up, cowboy
if you’re down to ride
You can keep your boots on if you like
Hey Cowboy - Devon Cole
Previous songs:
White Flag - Dido
Over You - Ingrid Michaelson
Possession - Sarah McLachlan
Ashes and Wine - A Fine Frenzy
You Are In Love - Taylor Swift
youtube
youtube
#911 abc#bucktommy#tevan#tommy kinard#evan buckley#writing#music i still listen to many years later#youtube#taylor swift#devon cole
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