#and didn’t transfer properly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wttcsms · 30 days ago

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come right on me (i mean camaraderie!)

ᝰ.ᐟ starting a new job is scary, especially when it seems like you can’t do anything correctly. good thing that your manager is always so kind and reassuring and supportive. when a client meeting ends terribly and runs so late that the two of you have to check into a hotel to spend the night, your sweet manager knows a good way to cheer you up… ( fem!reader )

pairing tetsurou kuroo x reader word count 4.9k content contains praise kink, oh no!!! there's only one bed!!!, coworkers/power imbalance (he's your manager, you're the newest and youngest member on the team), slight manipulation from kuroo (he's aware of your crush on him and uses your admiration as leverage), occasionally refers to you as his kouhai, you call him kuroo-senpai, creampie, sex in an enclosed, semi-public space (the office's supply closet), first time blowjobs kinktober masterlist

If you had known that your transfer would have resulted in you getting fucked boneless in the supply closet of the company you work for…

Well, you would have announced your job transfer a little bit sooner.

“Kuroo— Ah!” You let out a helpless yelp as you feel Kuroo’s teeth bite down on the soft part of your shoulder, sure to leave a mark. “K-Kuroo, slow down!”

“Kuroo? Really?” He snarls, lifting his head up to glare down at you. “Tsk, and here I thought you were a star employee. Is that any way to speak to your manager, or is it because you’re moving that you’re deciding to drop the formalities?”

Your heart drops at the sound of Kuroo seemingly dissatisfied with you. Out of everyone in this office, he’s always been the one to root for you the hardest. You look up to him! Even when he’s upset, all you want to do is make him feel better. Just like how he made you feel better that time after that horrendous client meeting last month…

“Kuroo-senpai,” you mutter out, avoiding staring at him entirely. “I’m sorry.”

You’re bowing your head in apology, but Kuroo merely laughs, shaking his head.

“Don’t apologize. These things happen.” Kuroo is smiling, and from the crinkle of his eye and the carefree tone he’s using, it’s genuine. Kuroo isn’t upset with you, and somehow, this only makes you feel worse.

“But I ruined the meeting.” You remind him. “I stuttered when speaking to the client, and then I totally didn’t know how to properly react whenever he—”

This is when Kuroo’s friendly demeanor darkens. “There would be no proper reaction to what he said.” The client, an older man who’s been working for so long in corporate Japan that back in his day, women could only serve as secretaries and belittled assistants, had made a less-than-savory remark on you and the way your pencil skirt hugs your figure. It had been a test of self-restraint for Kuroo to remain civil and smiling and to not punch him from across the table, but you don’t know that. “Our company shouldn’t sign contracts with men like him, anyway. I’ll write up everything in the report, and you won’t get reprimanded at all, okay?” He’s back to his normal, cheery self, and you nod.

Kuroo always knows what to do.

And in your case, Kuroo is always making you feel better for being inadequate. A fresh college graduate, it’s a wonder how you managed to snag a position on one of the marketing teams for Japan’s Volleyball Association. Now, in your head, it’s a wonder how you manage to keep the damn position. You just can’t seem to do anything right, and even your coworkers are no longer shy in shaking their heads and sighing every time you mess something up.

The only person who doesn’t seem to mind the little mistakes you make or the minor trouble you cause is Tetsurou Kuroo, the official unofficial golden boy of the sports promotion division. He’s a bit older than you, but still one of the youngest members belonging to the JVA’s marketing and promotional division. Already, there’s whispers about how Kuroo is most likely going to move up the hierarchy and soon — the Chief of Public Relations position will be opening up due to an early retirement from the current chief, and everyone knows that Kuroo has connections with a majority of the monster generation; not to mention, he’s charming enough to get everyone to go along with what he says.

You admire your senior colleague greatly, and because of your admiration and the fact that he’s the most sympathetic towards you, causing him trouble always makes you feel ten times worse than when you normally mess up. Even if he tells you everything is alright, you’re still frowning, staring down at your shoes.

“Ah, shit.” Kuroo curses, staring up at the darkening sky as rain starts to descend down on the two of you. “Looks like the storm is coming early.”

“It’s more like we’re just running late.” You say miserably. Because of you, the client meeting dragged on for even longer than scheduled, and the two of you were already running on a tight enough schedule as is. The JVA needed to secure a contract with a sneaker company to do some joint collaboration billboards, and even with a major thunderstorm predicted for this evening, the company was convinced Kuroo would be able to wrap up the meeting (successfully) and get the both of you on the train home before the storm came.

Now, though, it’s later than when you two were supposed to catch the train, and with the way the weather is worsening at such a rapid speed, it seems like making it to the train station before the last one runs will be impossible.

“Follow me.” Kuroo tells you, trying to be heard over the wind. You nod, but you don’t expect him to grab your hand. With the wind whipping in your face and the chill of rain soaking through your work clothes, Kuroo’s hand is surprisingly warm. You allow yourself to be practically dragged behind him as he jogs to the nearest inn. Even in a soaked suit, running against the storm’s wind, Kuroo still manages to hold his own just fine. You’re glad his back is turned to you; at least this way, you can admire his athleticism in private.

Kuroo leads the two of you into a nearby hotel. The place looks fancy; way out of your budget. You feel bad as you practically stand there awkwardly, wetting the nice, expensive looking marble floors of the hotel while Kuroo talks to the woman up front. You notice that she’s biting her lip, eyeing the way the fabric of Kuroo’s suit clings to his body because of the rainwater. It only serves to emphasize the muscles he continues to maintain despite no longer playing the sport he’s paid to promote. Seeing the way she’s admiring him gives you a weird feeling inside, so you turn away, avoiding looking at them.

“Bad news.” Kuroo runs a hand through the wet strands of his hair. “Turns out they’re fully booked. There’s only one room left, but it’s a couple’s suite.”

“Oh.” It makes sense that the two of you would have to spend the night in the city. The trains have probably stopped running now, and with the storm, it’s only reasonable to just wait it out ‘til the morning. “Well… A couple’s suite should be big enough, right?”

“Space wise, yes.” Kuroo clears his throat. “But it’s for couples. There’s only going to be one bed.”

Oh.

You feel heat rising to your cheeks as you let this information sink in. A fancy hotel. A fancy hotel with a fancy couple’s suite. A fancy hotel with a fancy couple’s suite that only has one bed. And you’re with Kuroo, your very kind, understanding coworker. Your senior colleague. Your manager. Your totally hot manager.

“What should we do?” You peer up at him, looking at him for the solution. You don’t know it, but he loves the face you make when you’re asking him for help. Your eyes go all wide and seek him out, eagerly awaiting for him to guide you.

“You can have the room. This isn’t the only hotel in existence, so I’ll probably head out and try to find a room somewhere else.”

“No!” You’re shocked he would even want to go back out in this storm. Your exclamation is literally punctuated with the crack of thunder booming from the sky. “You can’t go back out there.” And because you’re aware of how rude your outburst was, you soften your voice. “Kuroo-senpai, I don’t think it would be reasonable for you to put yourself in harm’s way. We’re both adults, right? I… I don’t mind— We can just figure out the sleeping arrangements when we get into the room?”

Kuroo smiles.

“My kouhai has a point. You’re always so sharp, [Name].”

You don’t know why, but despite the chill of your wet clothes and the air conditioning of the hotel lobby, you feel a warmth settling in your tummy and rising all the way to your chest as you let Kuroo’s praise blanket you.

For a couple’s suite, there really isn’t much space to work with. The bed takes up most of the room, a grand king-sized mattress, plenty of space for two people to sleep on (and with each other). There’s a tiny loveseat in the corner that might just have been there for decoration or the opportunity to try out a different position, you’re not quite sure. The bathroom is connected, and the place has rose petals all over the floor and floral scented candles lit up.

Kuroo lets out a whistle. “They weren’t kidding when they said couple’s suite.”

You can only nod in agreement.

“Do you wanna shower first?” The minute Kuroo suggests this, you’re instantly aware of just how wet your clothes are. Your white blouse is clinging to your skin, and when you look down slowly, you’re horrified to realize just how transparent the material got when drenched. Before you can get too embarrassed over the situation, Kuroo puts you (or tries to, anyway) at ease, just like he always does. “I’m glad no one else was in the lobby when we came, because I’m sure I look a mess.”

A hot mess, maybe. And hot in the sense that Kuroo looks too good right now. He looks like he just came straight out of a designer cologne ad or something.

“Y-you can shower first.” You manage to squeak out. “It’s only fair. You’re the one who’s been doing most of the work all day.”

While Kuroo’s in the bathroom, you’re practically spiraling. How are the two of you going to explain the charge of a couple’s suite on the company credit card? It wouldn’t have been so weird if you had been with one of your female managers or vice versa, but you and Kuroo are the closest in age to each other. The meeting dragged out for far longer than originally planned, and you’re worried about how the two of you will be perceived. If anything, Kuroo has the most to lose. Any enemies of his could easily use this as a way to stop him from getting his well deserved promotion. Oh God, you definitely ruined his shot at promotion. You’re terrible. You’re—

“Seems like someone’s thinking a little too hard.” Kuroo’s teasing tone pulls you from your rapid fire overthinking.

You wish you hadn’t looked up. Standing in front of you is a shirtless Kuroo, his abs tight and glistening with droplets of water left over from his shower. The white towel is wrapped around his waist, but the view he’s providing is already enough to make you acutely aware of the fact that Kuroo is a man. His normally uncontrollable hair is weighed down with water, damp strands hanging in his face. And he has the nerve to just stand in front of you so casually, as if he isn’t practically naked!

Maybe you’re the weird one. Great. So you’re practically eye-fucking your manager after despairing over how you basically might be the reason why he’s going to miss out on a great job opportunity. Right after you performed horribly during a client meeting, and then made him save you by finding you shelter in a very nice hotel.

“I’m the worst.” You groan, frowning as you look up at him.

“Hey, don’t say that.” He frowns right back at you. “That’s not true at all.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re nice.”

He lets out a short, sharp laugh. “A lot of people wouldn’t call me nice. It’s sweet that you would, though.”

“How can that be true? Kuroo-senpai is the nicest person to me at work!”

“Am I really?” You don’t notice how dangerous the glint in his eyes are, but you do have enough intuition to sense a shift in his demeanor. “Do you like that your senpai is so nice to you?”

You don’t know what you do to him. It’s why you don’t realize how you’re essentially unchaining the beast locked up inside of him as you reply, “I like everything about Kuroo-senpai.”

“I’m glad to hear that, because I like everything about my little kouhai, too.”

Your eyes widen at this confession. The butterflies in your tummy are doing cartwheels right now. You can’t believe what you’re hearing, what you’re seeing. Are you hallucinating right now? That’s the only reasonable conclusion, but as Kuroo leans forward, you find yourself leaning a bit further back, just on instinct. He’s so much larger than you, more imposing. You feel like you have to shrink when he starts to close the distance between the two of you. He places his hands on the mattress you’re sitting on, effectively caging you in between his arms as he leans down even closer to you. So close that a drop of water from his hair lands right on your thigh.

“Do you like me enough to let me kiss you?”

Apparently, you like him enough to let him do much more than just kiss you. The kisses start off gentle enough. His lips are a bit chapped, but you like the feel of them against your much softer ones. He swallows up your little desperate whimpers, and he moves at a pace you can adapt to. When he notices you getting more confident in your movements, he gets rougher, more aggressive. It’s not just whimpers that he’s inhaling, now, but moans. Even in the heat of the moment, though, Kuroo still has enough restraint, enough decency, left in him to continue to ask for your permission.

“Do you like me enough to let me do this?” He asks you, fingers prodding at the buttons of your work attire. You nod weakly, dizzy with pleasure from just a few kisses. He takes a sharp inhale of breath when your bra is revealed to him, and then he’s helping you slip out of your skirt, and he has to take a few seconds to admire the matching lace set you’re wearing. “I didn’t know my little kouhai was hiding this underneath her work clothes.” He mutters, and you can’t help but thrive off of the attention he’s giving you.

He leans down ‘til his mouth is so close to your ear, you can practically feel the heat of his breath as he whispers, “Does my precious kouhai like me enough to let me play with her cute pussy?”

You think you’re going to faint. You can barely breathe as you nod your permission, but he merely tsks. “Use your words, sweetheart. Otherwise, I won’t know.”

He’s toying with you now. There’s a purpose to him asking his questions the way he does; he wants to see how far your admiration, your devotion, to him runs. A workplace crush might let him get away with a few kisses, but what about pounding into your sweet cunt? Do you like him enough to let him do that?

Apparently, you do. Because you’re getting over your shyness. Because you’re whispering, “Yes. I l-like you enough to let you play with my pussy.”

“Atta girl.”

He’s on you within milliseconds. The pretty panties you’re wearing are now on the floor of this hotel room. He’s quick enough to figure out how to unclasp your bra, and that’s thrown to the ground as well. Laying completely bare and exposed, your work senpai wastes no time in having his hands explore your body, feeling out all the curvatures and angles that make you you.

He takes a finger to pet at your cunt, humming approval when he already feels traces of slick gathering on the pad of his ring finger. “Did you get wet just from a couple lil’ kisses?”

You don’t want to answer him, turning your head to the side in embarrassment because yes, you did, but his grin only widens. He presses a kiss to your cheek, finding you downright cute. “Don’t be shy. You did nothing wrong.”

You did nothing wrong.

He’s always telling you this, and the kind words never fail to make you feel all warm inside. That’s one of your favorite phrases to hear, but somehow, it hits differently whenever he’s pairing that heartwarming phrase with his finger in your cunt.

“Ah, fuck, you’re so tight, baby.” He grunts out, moving his ring finger in and out, in and out. “You know what I think you need? I think you need your senpai’s help in loosening you up. It’ll be good for you, wouldn’t you agree?”

You nod your head enthusiastically, and because you think he might like to hear you say it, you admit what he already knows. “Kuroo-senpai is right. You always know what I need.”

“Good girl.” The praise has you tightening around his finger, and your reaction doesn’t go unnoticed. He smirks, pleased with how sweet and pliant you are for him. A few bits of praise thrown your way, and you become a slut for him.

It’s a good thing your senpai cares about you so much. He cares about you so much that he’s adding his middle finger to the mix, curling the two fingers against your walls, relishing in your little mewls of pleasure. He’ll have to stretch you out, get you all nice and prepped for his cock. He cares about you, which is why he’s going to let you cum.

“Feelin’ good?” He asks, knowing that from your moans of pleasure, you definitely are. His fingers work wonders within you, and Kuroo can’t help but admire how cute you are, his little kouhai. What would you do without him, hm? He loves the way your knees jerk and how you whimper every time his fingers curl right up against that sweet spot inside of you, the one your tiny fingers can’t seem to reach no matter how hard you try. Your cute little cunt is already so wet, so ready for his cock, that neither of you can seem to ignore the squelching sounds it’s making as he continues to work his fingers in and out of you. When he presses his thumb to your clit, rubbing tiny figure-eights on the bud, you cry out his name, tacking on that familiar honorific he loves to hear falling from your sweet lips, as you cum all over his fingers. You cum so much that your essence is dripping onto his palm, trailing down to his wrist, and he thinks that this is exactly where you should be, where you always should be.

“You’re so good for me. Look at how much my good girl came.” He coos, and you should be embarrassed about the mess you made, but when he sings out his praise for you like that, you can’t help but feel a tiny bit proud.

“Can my good girl make me even prouder? Can you take my cock right now, [Name]?”

Even if you couldn’t, you still wouldn’t have denied him. It’s a lucky thing, then, that you’re so desperate for him. You spread your legs even wider, inviting him, and who is Kuroo to leave such a precious girl waiting and wanting? It’d be cruel to.

Which is why he doesn’t make you wait.

Instead, he plunges his bare cock right into your pussy, groaning with satisfaction as he feels you clamp down on him. Of course you’d be clinging to him; you’re always clinging onto him, always following after him. Such a sweet girl, his lovely, adorable junior colleague. The kouhai who likes him so much, you’d allow him to fuck you nice and hard, to really make use of this couple’s suite and its obnoxious sized bed.

He quickens his pace almost instantly, giving you no time to adapt to his girth and length. He grins when he sees your little fucked out expression, the way your tongue peeks out from between your pretty, pink lips and the way your cheeks are flushed, your hair a mess. The soft, breathy moans that escape from your mouth. You’re going dumb on his cock, and that’s perfectly fine by him. Let him do all the thinking, anyway.

Kuroo places a hand on your lower belly, trying to gauge just how deep he’s thrusting into you, and when he finds out, he applies more pressure, pressing down on your soft skin, forcing you to take every inch he has to offer. He’s wringing out soft “ah ah ah!”s from you, and your legs wrap around him almost instinctively as you warn him that you’re about to cum once again.

“So soon?” He grunts out, grinning meanly. “Normally, senpais don’t expect such slutty behavior from their coworkers, but since it’s me you’re going stupid for, I’ll let it pass.” Your legs are closing in on his body, your whole body jerking a bit as you start to lose control. “Go ahead and make me proud. Cum all over my cock like a good kouhai.”

The minute the request leaves his mouth, you do. You cum all over his length, as he instructed, and he lets out a short laugh at how devoted you are to him.

“Good girl, my best girl.” He grunts out, fucking your cunt at a leisurely pace now before stilling, letting his own cum flood inside your perfect pussy. “My perfect little kouhai. You did so good for me.”

And with your cunt full of your senpai’s cum, his cock still plugging you up and keeping everything tucked safely inside, he gives you a rather chaste forehead kiss that has you swooning.

Honestly, you don’t expect much to change between the two of you. It’s not like you think Kuroo’s just going to get down on one knee and let you take his last name or anything. You’re still trying to convince yourself that that night wasn’t some hyper-realistic dream, and the only proof that it was real was the remainder of his cum still settled inside your pussy when you woke up the morning after.

Kuroo is still a good work senpai, always coming to your defense and fixing your mistakes.

But you can’t help but wonder if he thinks that night he fucked you is just another work mistake of yours that he has to fix. Because of this, you’ve gone out of your way to avoid him as much as possible. So when the director of your team calls you to his office to let you know that the transfer request you put in months ago, way before that night at the hotel, finally got approved, all you can do is bow your head in thanks and return to your cubicle in a daze.

You don’t know what to do, and the person you would normally come to for guidance is the one person you’re trying to minimize interaction with.

However, word of your transfer spreads fast. After all, it’s a cause for celebration when the weakest link of the team is finally moving far, far away. Your coworkers are all being much kinder to you, and in the middle of them congratulating you on your move, you look across the room and lock eyes with Kuroo. His facial expression betrays nothing, but he quickly mouths supply closet before sneaking out of the office.

Five minutes later, you manage to follow him, gently opening the door to the closet, only to be dragged in immediately. The click of the door locking is loud, heard even above your rapidly rising heart beat, and that’s how you find yourself being ravished by Kuroo, during work hours, at your workplace.

When he chastises you for addressing him so casually, you immediately feel terrible.

“Kuroo-senpai,” you mutter out, avoiding staring at him entirely. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah?” He growls out, keeping you pressed firmly against the wall. “What’re you so sorry for? For avoiding me, or for withholding the fact that you’re going to move all the way to Kyoto?”

You shake your head, tiny droplets of tears gathering up in your eyes. When you look at him like that, like a little puppy who just got kicked, it only makes him want to ruin you some more, if only so he can have the honor of being the one to piece you right back together again.

“Senpai, I-I didn’t know what to do.” You wail out. “I was scared that that night at the hotel didn’t matter to you, and I was embarrassed of how I acted then, and I applied to transfer to the Kyoto office ages ago, and when they finally approved it, I didn’t know if it would be smart to pull back my request. I’m sorry, Kuroo-senpai. Please don’t be mad at me.”

He leans down, pressing his forehead against your own. “Not mad, baby. I was just a bit upset, that’s all.” He rests a hand against your hip, toying with the waistband of your skirt. “You shouldn’t have been embarrassed, though.”

“R-really?”

He nods. “Yeah. I fuckin’ love my little kouhai’s reactions. You shouldn’t be embarrassed around me.” He looks you in the eyes, tugging down your skirt and enjoying the hitch in your breath. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I was hurt.”

“I’m sorry!” You squeak out again, and he sighs.

“If you’re really sorry, you’ll show me.”

Apparently, the proper way to show him you’re sorry is to get down on your knees, ignoring the cold tile of the closet, and to unbuckle his belt, pull down the zipper of his slacks, and tug at his briefs in order to free his cock. He’s already hard, the tip of his cock an angry red with pearly white droplets of precum already gathering at the head. You shouldn’t be nervous; you had the full length of his dick inside of your pussy, but somehow, the task of taking him down your throat seems rather daunting.

“C’mon, [Name]. Is my little kouhai getting shy again?” Kuroo teases, gently nudging his cock against your parted lips. Your tongue reflexively comes out, and before you realize it, your giving tiny kitten licks, getting your first taste of salty precum. You must make a face, because he laughs, before carding his fingers through the locks of your hair and suddenly, very suddenly, pushes you forward.

He isn’t rough, but the presence and pressure of his hand is firm. He doesn’t push you down any further, but the first few inches of his cock is now resting against your tongue, and he’s savoring the warmth of your mouth, groaning as he feels the vibrations of you mumbling something in surprise.

“Mm, this is a good starting point for an apology, don’t you think?” He muses, knowing that in your current position, you can’t really reply back. “Such a good kouhai for me. What am I gonna do when you move to Kyoto?”

His voice gets a bit huskier as he forces you to take more of his length into your mouth. When he starts thrusting gently, slowly getting you used to the feeling of him fucking your mouth, he lets out a groan. “So good, baby, so good. Do you normally let your senpais fuck your mouth like this?”

You mumble something, finding enough room to shake your head.

“No?” He says, picking up his face. Every time he thrusts back in, he hits the back of your throat a bit harder, forces more of his length in. “You’re so good at taking my dick right now, though. Don’t tell me that this is your first time?” He looks down at you, eyes lighting up and a smile brightening his expression. “This is your first time sucking off a cock? Of letting someone fuck you like this?” He laughs, the sound full of genuine joy.

“You’re the fucking best.” He tells you, before tightening his grip in your hair and pushing you down onto his cock. This is the only warning he gives you before you feel spurts of hot cum flooding into your mouth, and your eyes widen in surprise at the sheer amount that’s being poured into you. He lets out a little groan, tilting his own head back in pleasure as he keeps your head pushed down. The stimulation from you gagging around his girth only prolongs his climax, and you still can’t find relief when he pulls out of your mouth because he’s instantly demanding you open up and show him what a mess he made inside of you.

You whimper, giving into your senpai’s request. You open up wide, sticking out your tongue to reveal the thick globs of white cum coating the appendage. Fuck, just the sight of you all submissive, on your knees, teary eyed and ready to please, mouth full of his cum… It’s enough to get him hard again.

“You’re the best kouhai in the world.” He hums, patting your head, and you swallow up his praise just like you do his cum.

#tetsurou kuroo x reader #kuroo x reader #tetsuro kuroo x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #smut #one shot #drabble #lemon #kinktober 2024 #kuroo smut #haikyuu fanfiction #imagine #well better late than never LOL

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yandere-daydreams · 5 months ago

Text

Title: Without Parole.

Pairing: Yandere!Neuvillette x Reader x Yandere!Wriothesley (Genshin).

Word Count: 3.8k.

TW: Implied Non/Con, Prolonged Imprisonment, Wrongful Imprisonment, Unhealthy Relationships, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Blood, Possessive Behavior, and Gratuitous Old Man Yaoi.

“You reek of mortal blood.”

Neuvillette watched through half-lidded eyes as Wriothesley glanced over his shoulder, a careless grin already tugging at the corner of his lips. He paused, letting the shirt he’d only just started to button hang limp over his chest, and turned to face Neuvillette properly – albeit, never removing himself from the edge of the mattress. “I wonder why,” he murmured, keeping his voice low, playful. “It’s not like I’ve been carrying six liters of the stuff around or anything.”

Neuvillette softened, as he always seemed to when gifted with Wriothesley’s full attention, but didn’t relent. “It’s not yours. You’ve never been so—” He couldn’t stop himself, grimacing. “—sweet.”

Such a simple description didn’t do justice to the extent of the wrongness currently laid over Wriothesley’s pointed, metallic scent. It was almost sickeningly saccharine; overripe fruit and overused perfume and sugar boiled to the point of caramelization. It was a haze more than anything, the type of numbing agent used to dull the senses and hide something more vile, more cutting. Neuvillette didn’t care for it, but then again, Neuvillette didn’t care for most things that placed himself between him and Wriothesley.

“…I don’t like it,” he admitted, nearly under his breath. He let his eyes fall shut and, as if in response, felt Wriothesley’s hand cupped his cheek, the calloused pad of his thumb tracing over his jaw. “Someone’s been putting their hands on you. If it’s one of your guards, I’ll have them transferred to—”

“Careful, love.” At least Wriothesley was delicate with his interruption. “You’re starting to sound a little jealous.”

Neuvillette stiffened, more out of reflex than anything. Despite his best attempts at self-restraint, possessiveness was simply in a dragon’s nature. No part of him wanted to treat Wriothesley like a precious object to be locked away without sympathy or softness, and even if he had any desire to be so domineering, it would’ve been impossible; he had his duties to Fontaine, and Wriothesley had his to the fortress that lied under its seas. Taking him away from his station would be irresponsible, if not cruel. Wriothesley was not a man who could live under the heel of another.

And yet, while the humanity within him knew Wriothesley could only ever be a lover (a distant one, at that), his draconic nature howled for something soft and pliable and able to be captured and kept, something he could dig his fangs into and never release. For a mate, as primal and primitive as the idea seemed.

He forced himself to relax, to exhale, to open his eyes and pull himself into a more respectable position. One hand found Wriothesley’s where it was laid over his cheek while the other found a thigh – his pointed nails burrowing into well-scared skin. Kissing Wriothesley came naturally, as unfamiliar as he’d once been with such human gestures of affection, and his lover posed no resistance, even as the defined points of Neuvillette’s teeth dragged across his bottom lip and the iron tinge of fresh blood joined the taste of Wriothesley’s mouth. Neuvillette couldn’t stop himself, letting out a raspy groan, pushing himself against Wriothesley with all the tenderness and all the misery of a wild animal, desperate not to tear apart what it loved most.

And, for the most part, Wriothesley was kind enough to pretend he felt the same.

He met you a month later, tucked within the iron walls of Wriothesley’s underworld.

You were already in his office, sitting at an ancient player piano he would’ve sworn hadn’t been there the last time he’d visited the fortress. He’d mistaken it for one of Wriothesley’s records, at first – your playing paced and melodic, hesitant in a way that could be regarded as pleasant if your listener happened to be rather patient. You only paused as he crested the staircase leading to Wriothesley’s loft, snapping towards Neuvillette with an expression only comparable to that of a small, frightened animal. You recognized him quickly enough, relaxing somewhat when you did, but not before he recognized you.

Or, rather, the sweetness you absolutely reeked of.

It was more overpowering than it had been, when he’d only been taking in the residuals of it left on Wriothesley. Rotting fruit abruptly seemed like an inaccurate comparison, too simple, too blatantly vitriolic. If your scent could be linked to anything, it would’ve had to be caramel – sugary and fresh and cloying in its inescapability. It took more self-control than it should’ve not to bare his teeth, not to let his anger rise to the point of visibility. It grew easier to control himself as your eyes fell back to the keys in front of you, as you shrunk into yourself – his presence not so great of a relief as to completely undo your meekness. “Monsieur Ludex,” you muttered, nearly under your breath. He had attempted not to think of Wriothesley’s hypothetical lover, but if he had, he might’ve pictured someone more brazen. “I… I’m not sure where His Grace is, at the moment. I know he’ll be returning eventually, but if you’re in a rush, you might be able to find him in—.”

“I can wait.”

It wasn’t a question, but you nodded regardless, never looking away from your instrument. It wasn’t until he fell into the seat slotted against the opposing wall that your hands found the keys and you spared him a quick, almost skittish glance over your shoulder. He caught your gaze and held it, and although he’d never confess it aloud, his more primal aspects relished in the way you seemed to wither under the weight of his gaze. “Please, don’t let my company disturb you.”

You didn’t need much more incentive than that. Admittedly, your playing was far from insufferable; not quite as polished as the musicians of the Opera Epiclese, but far from that of an amateur. It would’ve been impossible to guess how long he listened to you for; one song seeped into another without pause, forming a medley that you’d either memorized long ago or, more fantastically, made up as you went along. You seemed used to your instrument, too. Wriothesley must’ve had you play for him often.

It was also, admittedly, difficult to reconcile the image of you in front of him with that of the conniving, sugar-sweet seductor he had pictured upon first noticing the new tinge to Wriothesley’s scent. The bland, standard-issue clothing of a prisoner hung loose on your form, clearly a size too large by the most generous of measurements, and no aspect of your posture nor your expression communicated that you found any amount of comfort within the walls of Wriothesley’s office. When he thought to look, he could make out discoloration encircling your wrists, painted over your knuckles, but minor injuries were common in the fortress. It would’ve been unwise to make assumptions based only on a handful of bruises.

Your medley only faltered upon Wriothesley’s arrival – unpredictably abrupt and endearingly violent, you and Neuvillette given only a moment to acknowledge that the door to his office had opened before he showed himself. His attention fell to you, first, as did his affection. You bit back a grimace as he pulled you into a crushing embrace, his mouth brushing over your temple, then falling to the corner of your jaw, as if he intended there to be something more intimate than a fleeting kiss. Before he could make contact, though, his gaze darted to Neuvillette. There was an unpolished grin, a teasing glint in his eyes, and then he was drawing back from you, muttering something as he pulled away. Neuvillette forced himself not to want to hear it.

And yet, he watched intently as Wriothesley separated from you and came to him, instead. A single knee was propped against the worn velveteen cushions of the loveseat, two bandaged hands clasped over the bronze gilding of the backrest – Wriothesley once again choosing to put himself in the position of the cager, rather than the caged. Neuvillette allowed himself to be guided into a shallow kiss, but when Wriothesley pulled away, he didn’t chase after him. It was pathetic as far as shows of discontent went, but Wriothesley let out an airy, knowing chuckle regardless. “Do I owe this visit to business or pleasure, monsieur?”

“Business.”

Wriothesley’s grin quirked into a defined pout, but he didn’t protest. Neuvillette feigned disinterest as he collapsed into the chair behind his desk, and you fell back into your song as if you’d never missed a note. The conversation ranged from middlingly polite to stiflingly bureaucratic; Neuvillette careful not to broach any topic more personal than the number of prisoners the fortress should expect in the following six months. It was only as their discussion neared its end that you seemed to shift, your music drifting in and out of audibility as you pushed yourself to your feet and, after gathering the sheet music you hadn’t bothered to touch, started towards the staircase leading—

“(Y/n).”

Whatever Wriothesley might’ve been saying was immediately forgotten with a snap of his fingers, a vague beckoning gesture. You stiffened, but complied, leaving your burden on the corner of his desk as you shambled to your warden’s side. Your routine seemed practiced, albeit still rough around the edges. An arm lashed out as soon as you were close enough, catching you by the waist and dragging you into his lap, keeping you there with a forearm bared over your midriff.

It’s almost impressive, just how blank you manage to keep your impression – the pinnacle of passivity. Wriothesley was not so aloof.

“Monsieur Neuvillette’s been asking about you,” he started, his hand finding your wrist. You tried to pull away – an automatic response, Neuvillette guessed – but Wriothesley’s hold was tight, unyielding. “I’m sure you can find it within yourself to thank him for all the time he’s spent thinking about you, now, can’t you, dear?”

Your eyes flicker to the ground. “…thank you, sir.”

“And for keeping you company while I was away. I know how much you hate being alone.”

Your fist balled around the hem of Wriothesley’s coat. Neither of you seemed to notice. “Thank you, sir.”

“See what I have to deal with? I promise, they’re normally more well-behaved. It just takes them a few minutes to come out of their shell.” Wriothesley’s head bowed low as he guided your hand to his mouth. You didn’t resist, this time, only flinching into yourself as his pointed canines burrowed into the tender apex of your wrist. You held onto that shut-eyed, furrowed expression as the flat of Wriothesley’s tongue ran over the twin pair of puncture wounds and then, with no particular ceremony, held your wrist out for Neuvillette’s careful evaluation. “For your trouble, monsieur.”

Wriothesley’s intention was clear, as was Neuvillette’s refusal – signaled with little more than a quick shake of his head, a steeper arch to his frown.

He had no need to taste you. Not when his senses were so sharp compared to Wriothesley’s, so refined.

Not when he could already feel his twin cocks hardening against his thigh.

“No gratitude is needed.” He stood abruptly, eager to be on his feet. For whatever reason, Wriothesley’s office suddenly seemed several times smaller than it had, before. He could feel saliva pooling underneath his tongue, his vision growing sharp and predatory, and he fled with no further commentary; only nodding curtly to the fortress guards as he escaped from Wriothesley’s office altogether and started for the elevator, the only way back to the surface and all of its wonderous open air. It was an abuse of power, of position. Failing that, he could be tried for inappropriate conduct, or public indecency – something defined and sterile that Neuvillette could put a name to and assign an appropriate sentence. He needed to—

“Monsieur Ludex!”

He felt a smaller hand catch his sleeve and bit back the temptation to claw, to snap, to bite. Instead, he turned slowly, eyes flickering downward to find you standing behind him, glancing from side to side as you held the frill of his sleeve in a pale-knuckled grip. He could see a flush dusted over your cheeks, making out the slight, shallow panting you were attempting in vain to suppress. You must’ve been chasing after him for quite some time.

“It was—” You paused, swallowed, bowed your head. You cupped his hand between both of yours, clenching your eyes shut entirely. “It was an honor to meet you.”

He waited for you to release him, which after a stilted beat, you did hastily. “Likewise.”

You said nothing else, only nodding stiffly as he turned away from you. It wasn’t until he boarded the fortress’ elevator that he noticed the scrap of paper tucked into his glove; clearly torn from the corner of some yellowed sheet of music, if the measured bars and dotted notes were any indication. Two words had been messily scrawled across the yellowed parchment, almost endearing in their predictability. Despite himself, Neuvillette found himself smiling as he read over them.

‘Help me.’

It wasn’t difficult to find your file. It wasn’t kept in his office, but a smaller wing of the Palais Mermonia, one meant for trails that never made it to the Opera Epiclese. He opted to retrieve the file in the dead of night, so as not to disturb his dedicated staff, and review its contents in the privacy of his personal chambers.

No detail was particularly interesting, but he read over each page with a meticulous sort of care, careful not to let any word or figure go without loving appreciation. You were born to a small farming village north of the city, orphaned at the age of ten and released into your brother’s custody at twelve, after he served a minor stint in the very fortress you were currently resigned to. At eighteen, you enrolled into one of Fontaine’s premier preforming art academies on scholarship and withdrew at twenty due to familial difficulties, resigning from your position among the Opera Epiclese’s in-house orchestra in the same year. Your crime was equally unremarkable; petty theft, only a single count to which you plead guilty. Neuvillette wasn’t surprised. Theft was not an uncommon crime, especially for those unused to the overwhelming splendor of Fontaine’s courts, although it rarely resulted in a criminal change. He would have to look into the details of your case later on.

No, it wasn’t the crime itself that surprised him, but the sentencing information scrawled underneath it – the assigned length of your sentence, followed immediately by time served. The former was four weeks, the recommended length for first-time, non-violent offenses.

The latter, updated as of three days prior, was seventeen months.

Neuvillette rarely found the time for sleep, and when he did rest, he rarely dreamt. That night, he plagues with visions of Wriothesley kissing his neck, honey and caramel dripping from his lips and drowning them both.

The next morning, he penned a letter to Wriothesley – not as one lover to another, but the Ludex of Fontaine to the Duke of Meropide. The contents were blunt, polite, consisting of little more than a request as to the documentation behind your extended sentence. The letter he received back, delivered by one of Wriothesley’s couriers, contained no written response, but a tattered scrap of pure ivory silk, stained with scarlet blood and still damp with a transparent, viscous, saccharine substance.

He spent the remainder of the day with the cloth pressed against the lower half of his mouth, his fist moving over his cocks as he pictured you bound in silver at the bottom of the sea.

The arrangements were made as quickly as could be expected. Neuvillette took care to lend your plight his personal attention, muttering your name aloud for the first and only time when he had Wriothesley pinned to his desk, both cocks hilted entirely inside of his lover. His lover and yours, he supposed. He found that the thought no longer revolted him the way it once had.

Wriothesley, for his part, was agreeable. Where his enthusiasm failed, his dedication to maintaining peace within his fortress saw the matter through. Paperwork was drawn up and signed, guards were given their orders, and soon enough, he was standing at the entrance to the Fortress of Meropide, watching on as you blearily stumbled out of the rustic elevator – one of Wriothesley’s more trusted officers to either of your sides. He waved them off quickly. This was a joyous occasion, but a private one. He wanted no more witnesses than there absolutely had to be.

You were a doe-eyed thing; standing in daylight for the first time in more than a year. He’d chosen for an accommodating time of day, opted to schedule your release for the soften hours of a post-sunset twilight, but it seemed any amount of natural light would’ve been enough to render you senseless. It took a long moment for you to find your footing on solid land, another to remember to blink, and yet another for you to notice him. Instantly, he knew any amount of preparation he might’ve done was useless – his scheduling, especially.

Your smile was enough to rival the sun at its brightest.

“Monsieur Ludex!” Still unsteady, you wandered towards him, taking both of his hands into your own. You were tactile, despite your meekness. It wasn’t often Neuvillette was touched so casually. “I—I really can’t thank you enough, and I’m—I’m sorry for the hassle, but the warden, he wouldn’t let me go, and I didn’t know if you had any jurisdiction over the fortress, but Wriothesley wrote to you so often, and—”

“I ought to be the one apologizing.” He kept his tone gentle, even, only a touch warmer than the stunted greetings he’d exchanged with you weeks ago. Despite this, you melted as if addressed by your oldest, closest friend; your shoulders dropping and your eyes glimmering with all the radiance of a rising tide. “The inflation of your sentence was a grave and unforgivable foresight. If you wished to leave Fontaine altogether, I would understand.”

“I… I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” You released his hands, clasping them in front of your waist. Reluctantly, he allowed you to. “Honestly, sir, I’d really just like to go home.”

He couldn’t help but mirror your smile back, albeit not quite as shining. “If that’s so, then the necessary accommodations have already been made.”

With your arm tucked in his, you allowed him to escort you to a waiting carriage (secured as to avoid forcing to travel by sea so quickly after escaping your imprisonment underneath it). The first leg of your journey passed in comfortable silence, your attention rarely leaving the glass-paned window. As you passed through the countryside outside of the Court of Fontaine, you glanced toward him and beamed. “My village isn’t far from here. I don’t suppose you’ve contacted my brother?”

His response was a curt nod, a contemplative hum. “We’ll be arriving shortly.”

As you passed through the city’s gates, your smile dimmed some, taking on a strained undertone. “Is there anything in the city we have to do? I’m afraid I never got the chance to ask the other prisoners about release protocols.”

Once again, his response was brief. “You shouldn’t worry yourself with unnecessary specifics.”

As your carriage came to an ambling stop in front the Palais Mermonia, your smile fell away entirely. “Monsieur Ludex,” you tried once more, your voice now shaking so delectably, it nearly rivaled the sweetness of your scent. “I… I’m afraid I don’t understand what’s going on.”

This time, he made no attempt to answer you sincerely. “Please, call me Neuvillette.” And then, as he stepped out of the carriage and signaled for you to do the same, “Come with me.”

You shrunk into your seat, but even the most skittish creatures knew when to attempt submission rather than escape. Given another second’s worth of patience, you followed him up the palace’s steps and through its vacant halls, its usual attendants sent home in anticipation of your arrival. No part of him expected you to run, but there was a small, paranoid faction of his mind that had anticipated an attempt to distance yourself from him – a passing glance towards possible exits, a widening gap between you and him as you proceeded. Your eyes remained fixed on the floor in front of you, though, and you were never more than an arm’s length from his side. However Wriothesley had treated you, it had apparently not been with much leniency.

Finally, you reached his personal chambers. You paused for the first time as he ushered you through a pair of tall, wooden doors, but the hint of a scowl had you scurrying inside before he could think to flash his teeth. Still, you only made it a step or so into the room before coming to a halt yet again. Neuvillette didn’t have to imagine why. He was unable to dampen his grin as he followed your gaze to the far wall, or rather, to the four-poster bed slotted against it. He’d done the utmost to ensure your comfort, but rationally, he knew it wasn’t the Liyuan silk sheet or the down-stuffed comforter that had you so transfixed, nor the antique grand piano that stood some paces to the left.

No, as far he could tell, your eyes were solely locked onto the sleek, velvet-lined collar sitting on the center of the mattress, connected to the headboard by a thin, silver chain. He couldn’t be surprised that you were in such a state of shock.

Wriothesley had always preferred bronze.

“I suggest you get on the bed,” he started, a hand already moving towards the stiff collar of his suit. “You may undress if you wish, but I won’t force you to. Your cooperation is appreciated, but unnecessary.”

For a moment, you stayed where you were; motionless and quiet, trembling ever so slightly. For a moment, you didn’t do anything at all.

Then, with a quick nod and a sniffle of a sob, you moved towards the bed, as unhappy as you were obedient. It should’ve broken his heart to see you in such a state of distress, but for now, he could tolerate your misery, your scorn. It was only proper that a lover should be kept happy, but a mate’s discomfort could be tolerated.

And Neuvillette already knew you would make a wonderful mate.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #yandere neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #yandere wriothesley #wriothesley x reader

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onsomenewsht · 4 months ago

Text

The sun's in my heart and I'm ready for love

About when she's right next to you, he's a menace and nothing can rain on your parade

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: -1.4k

》 rain or shine [idiom]: regardless of the weather or circumstances; sometimes used figuratively for whatever happens

“Mami, it’s raining today too!”

Your son’s voice is a sound you’ll never get tired of.

That’s what you have to remind yourself as you open your eyes at six in the morning on a rare day off, a five-year-old kid jumping on the bed without a care.

The rain hitting the windows is actually the third noise your still-half-asleep mind manages to take in – yet one you’re starting to get used to after almost a year in London.

Upon hearing Rafael’s voice – hours of Facetime could never make your son’s voice justice or bridge the distance –, the slight snoring of your wife comes to you, blissfully asleep at your side and unaware.

Lucky her.

“Rafa, it’s gonna stop soon”, you hope, trying to smooth his disappointment. Or at least make him stop bouncing.

“Aquí siempre llueve!” [but it’s always raining here]

He has a point.

Used to the Barcelona sun, the kid’s trips in London are often greeted by cloudy days and unexpected rainfalls. Maybe an entire morning exploring the park was an overly bold and optimistic promise.

“Monito, ven aquí” [come here]

She rises.

You turn to the woman as she pats the space between the two of you with one hand, the other on her face, trying to wake herself up properly – and hiding an amused smirk too.

Alexia’s smile grows as she welcomes your son under the blankets.

She looks tired, exhausted even. It’s a long and tricky season, the one occurring. And the situation you find yourself in as a family since you accepted the transfer to London is not helping.

You’re trying though, you all are.

“What do you think of lots of cuddles and then lots of waffles while we wait for the rain to stop, ¿qué tal?”

“How many waffles are we talking about?”

“A tantos como podamos comer” [as many as we can eat]

You lightly hit the blonde’s arm, avoiding being seen by Rafael.

She’s perfectly aware you’re going to be the one cooking for two people able to eat like an army – way too much for an athlete during the season and a kid barely tall enough to reach the kitchen counter by himself.

As an answer, the Catalan blows you a kiss and a wink.

You miss dearly mornings like this one, serene and without the frenetic need to be and to do as much as possible in the shortest time out of fear of not doing enough, not being together enough, before you have to be far away again.

“Hay trato” [we have a deal], he says with gravity after a careful evaluation of the proposal.

You and Alexia can’t hold back a laugh at Rafael’s unusual solemnity, ruffling his hair.

“¡Mami, no! You have to wake up, you have to make waffles!

“Yo? Oh no, you didn’t make a deal with me, monito”

“¡Por favor!, mamà can’t make them as good”

The mentioned lets out an offended gasp at the boy’s statement, bringing one hand to her chest as mortally wounded, to then theatrically collapse on the bed.

“My own child!”

“Mamà, es la verdad” [it’s true], Rafael doesn’t even turn around to acknowledge his mother, addressing you instead to plead his cause, “She tries to make them when I miss you, but they’re not really good”

Ignoring the grip on your heart at your son’s comment is way too difficult, but one thing you’re sadly starting to master, redirecting the conversation and sparking another little argument between him and Alexia.

It’s something you both learned to do in the past year, both out of necessity and out of care. You don’t hide the pain the distance causes your family, but you always try to make up for it with the love that binds you.

And with waffles, apparently.

The background noise subsides when you come back from your own head to giggles and a tickle fight.

Without even realising how it happens, you find yourself outnumbered with Alexia on top of you, holding your hands, while Rafael can’t hold back his laugh – even if he’s the one tickling you.

As soon as you decide it’s a reasonable time to actually get out of bed, you push both out of the room, demanding that they get dressed and at least set the table if they want to eat as many waffles as they can.

You’ve never seen either of them get ready so quickly.

What’s left of your morning passes between a long, messy breakfast, the constant rain as white noise, and silly games to distract your son from the boredom of another day locked in your new apartment.

For a kid as full of energy as Rafael is, there can be nothing worse.

A gentle hand diverts your gaze from the little boy not far away, busy setting up some toys to teach his moms a new game he invented.

“You don’t want this to get stuck”, Alexia hits you back with the same sentence you usually tell her when, too focused on something, her face wrinkles.

You turn your face, leaning into her care and her calloused hand.

“Does he hate me?”, you ask in a whisper, closing your eyes.

It’s your wife’s face that frowns this time, holding your face with both hands firmly as she tries to lift your genuinely frightened gaze to meet hers.

“How could he?”

“I moved to another country”, you answer – I left you, you’re too ashamed to say.

“Look at me, mi amor”

“I can’t–”

“Then look at him, por favor”

You dare glare back at your son, still lining up his toys and muttering some words to himself. He feels your eyes on himself, firing a smile in your direction and an excited “Almost ready, moms!”

“He loves you, and I love you”

“But–”

“No, we love you”, the Catalan states with a determinate edge in her voice, “You’re doing what’s best for your career, and neither of us is gonna hold it against you, not now nor ever. We’re making this work, no matter what”

Lost for words, you try to convey your gratitude with a kiss.

“No más lluvia!” [it’s stopped raining], the moment is interrupted by the childlike joy of Rafael, who joins you running and jumping, “Can we go out now?”

“I think it’s a bit too cold to–”

You stop Alexia with a hand on her arm and a small, resolute smile on your face, “It’s okay, go wear the raincoat Vic gifted you”

“¡Vamos!”

He skips to his room in your apartment, and you follow shortly behind, urging your wife to do the same. The blonde has a curious and slightly sceptical look on her face at the sudden mood shift.

“Cheer up, you don’t want that to get stuck”, you mock her with a grin.

The walk to the park just behind your apartment is marked by Rafael’s enthusiastic hopping. He is adorable, protected by huge amphibians and a yellow raincoat with a duck beak on the hood.

A view that manages to hearten Alexia, despite her aversion to the London weather.

When the two of you notice a huge puddle in the middle of the park, you know your son is going for it even before he sprints forward.

The kid jumps impressively high, right into the water, creating a wide splash all around as his open laugh fills the park and your heart.

You don’t miss a bit, taking your wife’s hand and running toward the mini version of the footballer ahead of you – right into the puddle to join the fun. Even skipping and kicking the water more when it starts to pour again, soaking you all head to toe.

The Catalan woman’s hands find your waist as you land another jump, spinning you around and right in her arms.

Loud giggles subside just when Alexia’s lips find yours, not caring about the rain or how the smiles on both your faces make it difficult to kiss properly.

What takes you apart is the sudden wave of water that hits hard and cold, Rafael jumping right between the two of you with a huge grin on his face as he draws your attention very effectively.

You and Alexia look at him, not ready at all for the loud “Quack!” he shouts, covered in his duck-like raincoat.

#alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #woso fanfics #alexia putellas #woso community #woso imagine #woso #ap11 #here we go again #my wo(rd)so #waiting in line

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windser · 4 months ago

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what about.. cuteness aggression with sylus like i lowkey wanna bite him (lovingly)

a/n: thank you so much for your request ... i apologize in advance bc i took this and ran with it under the excuse of been wanting to write sylus/mc sparring for agesssss. but you did get your bite in!

you fell back and the room around you capsized. it required a few moments longer to gather your senses but then you shifted quickly to avoid being pinned. from your position on the mat, you spun your body and brought your foot down behind sylus' knees and grinned proudly when stumbled down to one.

“and that is how hunters get it done.” you panted out as you lurched up to pin the man with your body. however, you weren't fast enough this time, however, because before you knew what was happening, sylus had you once more on your back as he straddled your waist, hands were pinned on either side of your head.

“cute, kitten,” sylus said, leering down at him from above.

this had all started with a light challenge. an attack more on UNICORNS then you specifically, when sylus outwardly commented on their faults. but you naturally took it personally, as you were trained up by the organization.

at the sum of it, sylus just wanted to see you properly trained for what you might encounter in the n109 zone. but you were determined to prove that you came packaged with all the necessary skill sets.

“i don't want to hear it” you grit out, yanking your arms and bending at the knee. it didn’t dislodge his hold on them, but it set sylus' equilibrium off long enough for you to rotate your hips and strike the taller man's side with enough force to knock him off.

you kept your own momentum to roll again, snapping your leg out to kick at sylus. “you forget who held their own at-ugh!”

the man seized your ankle and tossed off your balance. within seconds, sylus had you falling ass over tit until your cheek was pressed against the floor with your arms pinned behind you.

“come on, sweetie, is that all you’ve got?” sylus drawled. “and you were so sure of yourself a minute ago.” he leaned down to peck your cheek mockingly.

you snarled at him in frustration and snapped your head back, harder than was probably called for.

you managed to catch sylus on the chin and the man swore. he shifted but didn’t release your hands. instead, he transferred both wrists into his left hand, pressed both knees closer at your sides, and brought his free hand down against your ass.

you gasped and stilled, the sensation a surprise but not foreign.

“really, sy?” you yelped when sylus spanked you again. "sylus!"

"make me."

you wait with a baited breath for his next move, but all you get in return is the disappointing release of his grip as he calls for a timed break in favor of rehydrating. it was a mindful reminder that brought attention to your own parched throat from effort, but the desire to retaliate was stronger as you leapt to your feet.

if sylus had any hint to your action, it was muddled by the way he let the tackle send you both toppling to the ground near the edge of the ring.

if anything, the attack must have been equally warranted on his end as he returned the energy with a grunt. it was one of the more unrestrained tussle, a truth fight for dominance that still hinted at the same results.

sylus would win and you knew it—but that didn't mean you weren't going to make him work for it. and honestly, you got something extra out of it too. there was always something about the weight of sylus's body, the taut limbs and the real power behind it all that kindled this newly acquired thrill in you.

you manged to keep at it until you were twisted in such a way you could barely move. these were the moments when sylus showed the most expertise, favoring precision over pure strength. it wasn't until you tugged the last trick from your back, mouth finding the meat of his shoulder where you bit down just hard enough to bruise.

sylus hiss, something different than pain, until he reached the point where it was no longer a request for submission but a declaration. an effort that left his breath labored and his skin dampened from exertion as he pressed you back firmly into the floor, hand curled at the back of your neck.

"i think this makes me the winner, kitten. do you yield? " he drawls, words liquid heat.

your equally, if not more a mess of tangled hair and lips, yet you hold the stance of a stubborn bull as you blow out, "make me, honey."

"make you?" his laughter is thick and heady as it coats your skin. "i'm not sure there is much left for me to make you do. but i'm open to more options."

you turn your head towards him, watching as he licks his lips after he speaks in a low, husky voice. you realize that he does want you to make him -- he wants you to try your best until you get frustrated and hot, until you break free and nearly attack him with your mouth.

he wants to play this little game with you, get you all riled up, and get you on the bed without your clothes, to his mercy and his own rules.

he's not going to stop now and he won't stop then. he likes the flush of color dancing up on your neck and he likes getting you bothered.

he wants you and he wants you soon, so he's going to need to get you warm and sweaty and sticky.

and you were going to let him.

#sylus x reader #lnd sylus #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lads x reader #neeeeded this catalyst to get this out of my system

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ilguna · 11 months ago

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Hey! I love your work so much. Can you do 4 with four (tobias) from divergent ?

☼ succeed (tobias eaton) ☼

warnings; swearing, fighting, blood mention.

wc; 2.4k

prompt; 4. "Why do you sacrifice so much for me?"

notes; tweaked canon, obviously. not really noticeable unless you’re a huge fan.

Dauntless initiation is—unsurprisingly—far from what you thought it would be. To be fair, you’re not entirely sure what exactly you were expecting in the first place. All you know was that you were going to be in for a ride when they made you jump on and off of a moving train directly after transferring.

This gave you a clue of what was to come, of course, but you took it in a different direction. If they wanted to see how daring you could be by risking your lives, then maybe that meant you’d be doing dangerous tasks throughout the rest of the month.

On the first day, you assumed that you’d be learning how to throw away your inhibitions and solely rely on your instincts. An idea that isn’t incredibly outlandish when it comes to Dauntless. After all, they’re the ones in charge of security and wall perimeter—the jobs that can end up being deadly.

This is why you didn’t have a significant reaction when you were informed by Four that they’d be introducing you to self-defense. They proceeded to hang you a gun, gave you a target, and told you to shoot until your bullets were gone. And after lunch, they brought you to a large room where you were taught how to properly fight an opponent.

This is when reality had begun to set in. They were not teaching you this in case the situation ever arose, but because they wanted you to use it in the coming week. You’re going to be forced to defend yourself, whether you like it or not. They were just being courteous enough to teach you how to, first.

You didn’t figure this out until yesterday when you saw the chalkboard. While it had previously been devoid of writing, it suddenly held a list of names side by side, pairing initiates up together. For the first few minutes, you were under the impression that it was for sparring.

When they sent Al and Will into the center circle together, instructed to fight one another, you looked at Four. You found his eyes already on you, arms crossed over his chest, face hard. In that moment, you remembered all of his warnings for you to pay close attention to the way he’d been throwing his kicks and punches.

It’s not like you were ignoring him, but you did continuously brush him off because he was being overbearing. He must’ve taken this as you just being a know-it-all Erudite, leaving you to figure it out on your own. You’d have to learn one way or another that your logic wouldn’t help.

When really, you hadn’t heard him when he said that you’d be fighting your fellow initiates.

You were a deer in headlights when the rules were explained. In these fights, you are to keep going until one of you is unable to continue. And while you could concede, it won’t be done without going unpunished. In the old rules, a brave man can acknowledge the strength of others. In the new rules, made by the newest Dauntless leader, a brave man never surrenders.

You think Four may have recognized that a mistake was made. He was quick to come up with an escape, albeit at the cost of your pride. He called you out in the middle of Eric’s explanation, telling you not to be sick on the floor unless you wanted to clean it. All you had to say was that breakfast wasn’t settling well, and you were excused to go sit down with a trash can.

With there being ten initiates in your group, there should’ve been five fights. You sat out, making it four, but none of you made it past the second one. Will and Al fought just fine, Al even won. The next fight to happen was Christina and Molly, which was following the same pattern as the first fight, until Christina decided that she wanted to concede.

That’s when you were informed that a punishment would go along with it. Eric was pissed, dragging Christina all the way to the chasm in the Pit that hangs above the river, barking at the rest of you to follow. He then made her climb to the other side of the railing and forced her to hold on to the bridge by her hands until he was satisfied.

When she didn’t fall to her death, you were dismissed for the rest of the day. This destroyed your plan of analyzing the fighting techniques of the others to figure out what you’re supposed to do. To make up for it, you thought you could come practice in the middle of the night, but the doors were locked.

So, to put it lightly, you’re screwed. The only way to learn now is from the fights that will be taking place, and even then you’ll still be at a disadvantage no matter how you approach it.

As soon as you step foot into the training room, your eyes find the chalkboard, curious to who you’ve been paired up with today. Yesterday, it was supposed to be Tris, the Abnegation transfer. She would’ve been a good first fight to figure out how you want to be in the ring, but that opportunity has passed.

Today, you are given more of a challenging opponent—Peter.

“Oh no,” A voice says, you glance over your shoulder to see that Christina is limping her way over to Tris. Her face is fairly bruised from the beating she received from Molly yesterday. “At least you aren’t paired with Peter.”

Both of them look in your direction, and you accidentally lock eyes with Christina for a moment. You press your lips together in disgust and turn away, no longer interested in their conversation. You are not a member of Erudite anymore, but that doesn’t mean they’ll stop seeing you that way. Not until you prove to them that you’re not snot-nosed.

You turn your attention to Peter, who’s got a good few inches on you. Which wouldn’t be an issue, much less have you worried, if he didn’t have the muscle he does. This fight could easily go two ways, but you have a feeling it’s leaning in his favor more than yours.

“Maybe she can just take a few hits and pretend to go unconscious.” Al suggests loud enough for you to hear. “No one would blame her.”

You grit your teeth at the idea of taking the cowards way out, something that you won’t be doing, no matter how tempting it is. Even if it does work out in your favor, there’s no telling what Eric will do to you when he figures out that you’d faked it. While he made Christina hang from the chasm by her hands, he’d tell you to do something much worse. Or kick you out of initiation altogether for not having the Dauntless heart.

Which isn’t true. You belong here.

Fortunately, you and Peter are not the first fight of the day, it’s Edward and Molly. You might as well be, though. The pair of you are listed directly underneath them. You think that you’d even prefer being the first to go. If you could get it out of the way, you would.

As you mindlessly watch Edward and Molly, you try to pick out some of their moves to remember with Peter. Four had taught the group of you the basics to get started, he never said that you couldn’t mix in what you know as well. Which is nothing, because you’ve never got into a fight before. There was never a need to.

The personalization works out in Edward’s favor. The technique that Molly had used yesterday on Christina is fairly predictable. On top of that, she’s not fast enough to keep up with Edward’s pace. It’s only a matter of minutes before she’s beaten near-unconscious. That’s when Drew and Peter work together to peel her off of the wooden floor and to the nearest wall to recover.

In the short time you have, you take a couple of deep breaths, shaking your hands to rid the anxious energy that’s fueling your body. You make eye contact with Four briefly, and in this time, he gives you a solid nod. He’s confident in your abilities, more so than you are. It’s a shame that you’re probably going to let him down.

Still, you walk your way to the white circle, standing at one end of it while you wait for Peter. When he finally turns his attention to you,. There’s a smile spread across his face,

“You okay there, Blowhard?” Peter teases, you can almost feel your eyes bulge out of your head at the nickname. “You look like you’re about to cry. I might go easy on you if you cry.”

“Did you just call me a Blowhard?” You sputter out a laugh. “What does that make you, a Crybaby?”

You look past Peter, at Four, who’s standing side-by-side with Eric. His face is twisted, focused hard on the two of you in the ring. Eric, on the other hand, is tapping his foot quickly, impatience shining through.

Peter raises his hands by his face, elbows and knees bent as he begins to prepare for the fight. “Come on, (Y/n). Just one little tear. Maybe some begging.”

Without warning, you swing your leg at his side, intending to land a kick. He’s prepared for this, grabbing your ankle and yanking you forward, pulling you off balance. You land on your back, but quickly twist to get back to your feet, fists returning, readying yourself.

“Stop playing with her.” Eric suddenly snaps. “I don’t have all day.”

This is enough for Peter, as the amused look on his face disappears. His movement is one giant blur, but the pain in your jaw is sharp, as it continues to spread across your face. For a moment, bright white stars and a black void flow across your vision, taking your balance with it.

You blink rapidly, backing away from Peter as you try to get the room to stop swaying. This lasts for a few seconds at most, because Peter is moving just as quickly as Edward had been. He appears in front of you, foot slamming into your stomach, stealing the air from your lungs.

You clutch your ribs as you fight through the pain in your abdomen. Peter takes this as an invitation to come closer, but you’re expecting this. You catch his fist as you slide your foot between his legs, tripping him. Instead of falling forward, you throw him back, twisting his arm in the process.

You land on your knees hard. The dull pain is at the front of your thoughts for a second before you’ve got your first slamming into Peter’s nose. You get two hits in, then he takes a fistful of hair at the back of your head, yanking. He repays the favor by punching you in the nose.

It doesn’t matter how hard you kick or slap, because he’s got a tight grip. The next hit he lands is to your ribs, in the same place that you’d been holding onto moments prior. You open your mouth, letting out a strangled cry, and a metallic taste spreads over your tongue. One word comes to mind; blood.

He lets go of your hair, shoving you away. You land on your palms, gasping through your lips, eyes blurry with tears as you search the ground for the white paint. You begin to crawl away, wanting to put some distance between the two of you while you take a breath, but he grabs your ankle, dragging you back toward him.

He draws his foot back, and despite knowing what’s coming, you don’t move in time, letting the toe of his shoe sink into your skin. You cough, the next few seconds are agonizing as you forget how to breathe, like a fish out of water.

“That’s enough.” Four’s voice breaks through the silence. “Get her out.”

“She’s still moving.” Eric tells him. “She gets out when she can no longer go on.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when you move to roll over. You won’t play pretend, you refuse to take the easy way out. You are not an Erudite anymore, you won’t run. You’re going to fight.

Somehow you manage to get to your feet, fists raised, eyes barely focusing on Peter long enough to keep track of him. You gather the blood in your mouth, spitting it at his feet.

“Come at me, you little bitch.” You murmur.

Peter flies across the circle, fist coming at your face. You manage to catch it with one hand, and with the other, you slap him with an open palm. The sound of skin-on-skin fills the air, there’s a few audible gasps in the room.

It’s over, you think. Just before Peter knocks your lights out.

When you come back to Earth, you’re suspended in the air, swaying from side to side. You’ve never been motion sick before, but the dizziness is so hard to handle that this is enough to send you over the edge.

“‘M gonna be sick.” You mutter.

The world stops moving for a second, and then you’re placed on your feet. Your hands reach for something to hold on to as support. They come into contact with another hand, which you wrap your fingers around tightly as your breakfast comes back up as a liquid.

When you’re done, you turn to face the person who had just been holding you in their arms. You’re met with Four, who has his eyebrows raised, waiting for you to say something.

“Thank you.” You whisper.

“Why are you thanking me?”

“For putting me down.” You breathe, leaning over with your hands on your knees. “And for trying to get me out of there. And for delaying my fight yesterday.”

When you look at him again, there’s a softer look on his face, different from the scowl that you’re used to seeing. He reaches over, rubbing a hand over your back. “It’s okay, (Y/n).”

“You could’ve gotten in trouble with Eric.” You say, shaking your head as you move to stand straighter. “Why do you sacrifice so much for me?”

Four opens his mouth, and then closes it. It’s silent between the two of you for a minute as he decides how he wants to respond. Or maybe he’s thinking that you’ll change the subject. With your persistence, he sighs.

“Because you’re different.”

this was part of my 3k celeberation!!

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stayinlimbo · 8 months ago

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cat walk

pairing: lee minho x reader ft. soondoongdori requested?: yes; 100 followers celebration genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, i am only using my own cat experience, lowercase intended, slightly unedited word count: 935 note: thank you @infinity-tiny for the request. i definitely took some creative liberties with it but i hope you still like it ♡

if anyone had asked minho what he thought he’d arrive home to on a seemingly normal friday evening, he probably would’ve described his typical welcoming committee consisting of you shouting out a “hey min!” from somewhere in the living room or kitchen, and, if he was lucky, his cats poking out from their usual hiding spots to greet him.

it most certainly wouldn’t have been this, yet here we are.

minho’s hand hasn’t even released the front door handle before soonie’s pleading eyes bore holes into his soul. the cat’s large body is draped comfortably over your shoulder, but minho can tell that soonie would rather be literally anywhere else than where he currently is.

the sound of rustling diverts minho’s attention towards the ground next to your feet. doongie’s sprawled out form rubs against a pair of shoes strewn to the side of the entryway as he noisily meows at the sight of his owner’s (father’s) figure barely stepping past the threshold.

minho flicks his eyes back up as soft clicking noises reverberate around the narrow hallway, watching the final child hesitantly making his way towards your free, outstretched hand holding his favorite treat.

“what are you doing?”

dori’s cautious steps halt at minho’s voice, making you quietly groan out in frustration.

“hey min, happy to see you, now shhh for a minute please,” you hastily whisper, gaze focused on the brown tabby. the soft clicking resumes and dori finally comes close enough for you to scoop him up in your arms alongside his older brother.

you whirl around to face your boyfriend, who at long last has properly entered the house and closed the door. a radiant grin illuminates your face at the sight of him. if minho’s being honest, it tugs at his heartstrings a bit. you missed him and you’re so happy to see–

“hold soonie and dori for me, will you? i need to grab this bag real quick,” you rush out, not giving him much of a choice as you’re already transferring the two cats into his arms.

okay, so maybe not.

minho watches you jog over to a bag he didn’t see at the end of the hall, laughing at the tiny slip in your footing when you turn around to come back towards him. you plop down next to doongie, giving him a quick pet before fishing in the bag and pulling out a leash and a cat-sized reflective vest.

hold up.

“you didn’t,” minho blanches, watching you put doongie’s head and paws through the green vest’s openings, hooking the leash to the rings that are now attached to the cat’s back.

“i did. soonie,” you reply, reaching up for your next (unwilling) participant. minho crouches down next to you, reluctantly complying with your demands.

“you’re going out now?” he questions. poor soonie is not as cooperative as his younger brother, and it takes everything within minho to not save him out of pity for what is to come.

“yes, they’re more frisky in the evening—dori—so i thought ‘why not?’”

“but it’s dark outside,” minho tries to reason, passing you the final feline. it’s of no use, you are too far gone.

“that’s what the reflective vests are for. duh,” you counter, rolling your eyes with a fond smile as you let dori leap out of your hold. “there, don’t they look ready for the outdoors?”

the cats are all sprawled in different positions on the floor. soonie still looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, doongie is preoccupied with swatting the bag now, and if dori could make himself any smaller, he would turn into a perfectly shaped ball.

no, ready isn’t the word minho would use.

you must see the hesitance still lingering behind his eyes because this time you sift through the bag to retrieve a human-sized reflective vest and pull it over your sweatshirt.

“if it makes you feel any better, i’ll be wearing this the entire time with them to be extra safe. please, please, please let me try this,” you beg, looking at him with your best imploring eyes.

minho has to give it to you, you’ve gotten better at this. you must’ve been practicing after the last time he told you “no” to something he can’t even remember at this point.

he lets out a sigh at your unwavering gaze, finally giving in to your pleas. “...did you at least get me one?”

“of course i did, who do you think i am?” you scoff lightly, digging through the bag and extending your hand towards him with his very own green reflective vest.

as minho slips on what, in his opinion, is the ugliest vest he’s ever seen in his life, he can’t help the smile blooming on his face growing wider. although this may be one of the weirdest methods (and he means it) you’ve used to get the family all together, he can see the commitment and energy you put into making sure everyone would be safe.

you don’t need to know right now that he tried this years before he met you and that the cats will give up entirely about ten steps away from the walkway. he’ll let you discover that on your own.

and as you call “hurry up, let’s go!” to him halfway out the door with soonie and dori in your arms, doongie trailing slowly by your feet trying to bite the loose leash dangling in front of his face, minho knows he wouldn’t trade this for the world. not when he has the ones he loves most all in one place.

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liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist: @linospuddin @linocz

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backmuscles21 · 8 months ago

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Curls

Tonowari x Reader x Ronal

Summary: A short little fic about your mates finding out about your curly hair and Ronal braiding it in traditional Metkayina fashion. Thought of this while oiling my own hair.

You want to get your hair redone; you wanted a new style and you had some regrowth. Neytiri had just taken your braids out, she intended to rebraid it later. You wanted to wash your hair first, however, the kids wanted to go swimming and you thought it might be fun to join them.

You went into the fresh waters of the Metkayina reef, you swam around with the kids for hours. You swam with your mates’ kids and your brother’s kids; you had a good water fight and you saw so many pretty water creatures.

After some time, you got out with the kids, you were hungry and tired. You had washed your hair while out swimming, and Tsireya showed you an amazing flower to scrub your scalp with. You walked up to the mauris with Tsireya and Ao’nung, Tonowari was walking around with your new baby in his arms. Ronal had given birth a few months ago and was busy healing others in the tribe, Tonowari was on baby duty. When you saw him, you kissed him and took the baby from him, to give his arms a little break. You knew when Ronal got back, she’d want to hold her baby which you understood.

You rocked your body back and forth as you cooed at the baby, Tonowari smiled down at you as he kissed your head. Tsireya and Ao’nung went into the mauri as you and Tonowari stood outside. Tonowari thought you were an amazing mother, he loved watching you hold the baby, and he couldn’t wait till he got you pregnant. The difference in your body made him nervous but both Tonowari and Ronal wanted to see you pregnant although you were Omaticaya and they were Metkayina.

Ronal was walking back to her home and saw both of you standing there, she smiled to herself. At this point, your hair started to dry, your hair had started to curl slightly. Ronal walked over to you and saw the baby in your arms, she kissed both you and Tonowari and then the baby before she grabbed a lock of your hair. “You didn’t tell us your hair was curly,” she sounded aghast.

You looked down at your hair, “oh yeah, it’s from my human DNA. My hair was curly when I was human, it transferred over.”

“Normally Omaticaya don’t usually have any curl pattern in their hair. I am surprised. Why did you not tell me?”

“I didn’t think of it. My hair is usually always braided.”

“We have not been oiling it properly. It needs hydration. Come with me, we will oil it and rebraid it.”

Ronal took you into your shared mauri and sat you down, you still held the baby in your lap and Ronal picked up a leaf and lightly cracked it open. Inside was a thick gel-like substance that was known to be very hydrating. She took some in her hands and massaged your scalp then she took some more for your ends.

“This is amazing, I needed to get my hair hydrated. It’s been so frizzy. In the rainforest I used this tree sap, it wasn’t sticky it was like an oil and it did a good job.”

“Your hair is quite nice and soft and long too.”

Ronal started to brush your hair, ensuring it was all saturated before she started to braid the hair at the top of your head. She went tight to the scalp and back halfway and finished the braids off, she was doing a half up and half down style. She tied your braids up and the hair that stayed down was curling nicely, Ronal grabbed a different plant to put in the hair that stayed loose. She put that into your hair and it helped solidify your curls as they dried.

When she finished, Tonowari came back into the mauri and saw your finished hair. You stood up and Ronal took the baby from you as Tonowari had you spin around so he could see your hair. It was the classic Metkayina style and he loved you in his style, he loved you wearing Metkayina clothes and cooking Metkayina style and now even your hair was Metkayina style. It’s like he was staking his claim all over you without needing to actually mark you as his.

“You are very gorgeous yawne. If I had known I would’ve done your hair myself.”

“You couldn’t take that from Ronal.”

“Tsireya will want to put some pearls in your hair later. She will put more braids in it and make your hair so much better,” Ronal said to you as she played with some of your ringlets.

#avatar the way of water #avatar #atwow #avatar twow #polyamory #ronal #tonowari #tonowari x reader x ronal #tonowari x ronal #tonowari x reader #ronal x reader

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millyh23 · 1 month ago

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Seams of Ambition

Word count: 11.7k

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Katie McCabe’s birthday had arrived, and the Arsenal locker room was buzzing with excitement. The air was filled with the anticipation of celebrating the team’s most fiery and fun-loving player. Everyone had prepared thoughtful gifts—trinkets and items they knew Katie would appreciate. Y/N, the newest and youngest transfer, sat quietly in her corner, feeling a little out of place. She hadn’t been at the club long enough to know exactly what Katie liked outside of football, and she’d been struggling for days to figure out the perfect gift.

Being a naturally quiet and private person, Y/N hadn’t shared much about herself with the team. Sure, she was talented on the pitch and had impressed during training, but outside of football, she was a mystery. Little did they know, Y/N had a secret that no one at Arsenal had uncovered yet.

After practice, everyone gathered in the lounge area, where a small celebration was set up for Katie’s birthday. There was cake, drinks, and laughter echoing through the room. Katie sat in the middle, grinning from ear to ear as she opened gifts from her teammates, each one bringing more joy than the last.

When it was finally Y/N’s turn, she nervously handed Katie a sleek black gift box wrapped with a minimalist bow. She hadn’t overthought it, but the pressure of being new made her wonder if she should’ve gone with something more personal.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Katie said with her usual warm smile, clearly trying to make her feel welcome. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

Y/N simply nodded, not wanting to draw any more attention to herself than necessary.

Katie untied the ribbon and flipped open the box, her eyes widening as she pulled out an oversized black hoodie with striking white embroidery on the front. It was a design unlike anything she’d ever seen before—cool, edgy, and impeccably detailed.

“Holy sh—this is incredible,” Katie gasped, holding the hoodie up to get a better look. “This is from Immortal!”

The entire room suddenly fell silent. Everyone stared at the piece of clothing in Katie’s hands, their jaws dropping. Immortal was one of the hottest streetwear brands in the world, known for its limited releases and jaw-dropping prices. A single hoodie from them could easily set someone back several thousand pounds.

“Wait, you got her Immortal?” Leah Williamson asked, blinking in disbelief. “How on earth did you manage that?”

Y/N shrugged casually, a small smirk playing on her lips. “I didn’t really know what to get, so I just gave her one of my pieces.”

“One of your pieces?” Vivianne Miedema echoed, her brow furrowed in confusion.

Y/N glanced around at her teammates, realizing they still didn’t get it. “Yeah… It’s my brand.”

The silence that followed was almost comical. Everyone stared at her, eyes wide as they processed what she’d just said.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Beth Mead burst out laughing, unable to believe it. “You’re telling me you own Immortal? The brand that celebrities can’t even get their hands on?”

Y/N nodded, completely unfazed by their shock. “Yeah. I started it when I was 16. It just kinda blew up from there.”

The room erupted in disbelief, with everyone talking over each other in excitement. Leah and Viv looked at each other, trying to wrap their heads around the fact that their new teammate was not only a football prodigy but also the brains behind one of the most exclusive fashion labels in the world.

“No way,” Katie said, standing up to properly admire the hoodie. “This is insane, Y/N. How did you even manage to keep this a secret?”

Y/N chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. “I don’t really talk about it much. It’s just something I do on the side.”

“On the side?!” Alessia Russo exclaimed. “This is huge! Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

Y/N shrugged again. “Didn’t think it was important. We’re all here to play football, right?”

The team stared at her like she had two heads, but in true Arsenal fashion, the surprise quickly turned into admiration. They bombarded her with questions, demanding to know how she managed to juggle running a global brand while playing professional football.

“Wait, so when’s the next drop?” Katie asked, her eyes twinkling. “I’ve gotta get in on this before it sells out.”

Y/N grinned. “I’ll hook you up. Don’t worry.”

“Well, I feel like my gift’s completely outclassed now,” Leah joked, shaking her head. “Who knew we had a secret fashion mogul in our squad?”

As the laughter continued, Y/N couldn’t help but feel more at ease. It had been a risky move, revealing her secret, but seeing the team’s positive reaction made her feel like she’d finally found her place among them.

“Alright, alright, no more questions about my brand,” Y/N said, standing up. “This is Katie’s day. Let’s focus on celebrating her.”

Katie slung an arm around Y/N’s shoulders, pulling her into a side hug. “Nah, this is your day too, mate. You just became the coolest person in this room.”

Y/N chuckled, her usual reserved nature melting away under the warmth of her new teammates’ acceptance. “Thanks, Katie. Happy birthday.”

And as the celebration continued, with everyone gushing over the hoodie and planning to beg Y/N for more gear, she couldn’t help but smile. Being at Arsenal was already feeling like home—and now, she wasn’t just the new transfer. She was Y/N, the player who had taken the football world and the fashion world by storm.

As the laughter and birthday festivities continued, Y/N found herself enjoying the team’s company more than ever. She hadn’t planned on revealing her secret, but now that it was out, the weight of keeping it hidden was lifted. Plus, seeing how excited the team was about her brand made her feel more connected with them.

As the chatter continued, a thought struck her, and she leaned back on the couch, watching the girls animatedly talk about Immortal.

“You know…” Y/N began, her voice casual but catching the attention of a few of her teammates. “I’ve been planning an ad campaign for the next drop.”

The room quieted down slightly as the girls turned to look at her with interest. Leah raised an eyebrow, catching on to where this was going. “Oh yeah?”

Y/N nodded, her lips curving into a sly smile. “Yeah. I was thinking it could be cool to have a few footballers involved—people who actually know how to move in the clothes, not just stand around looking pretty.”

Katie perked up immediately, a grin spreading across her face. “You saying we’re not pretty, Y/N?”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Nah, Katie, you’re gorgeous, don’t worry. But I mean—imagine some of you modeling the new collection, showing off how it looks in action. You know, like moving around, doing some tricks, making it feel real.”

Leah crossed her arms, already intrigued. “You want us to model for you?”

“Yeah, why not?” Y/N shrugged like it was no big deal, but her excitement was obvious. “You’re all familiar with the brand now. And I’ve seen how some of you dress outside of training. You’d fit right in with the vibe I’m going for.”

The room erupted again with a mix of excitement and disbelief.

“You’re serious?” Katie asked, her eyes practically sparkling at the idea. “You want us to be in an ad for Immortal? That’s massive!”

Y/N nodded. “Dead serious. I’ve been looking for people who’d bring the energy I want, and who better than you lot?”

Leah, who always had an eye for fashion herself, looked intrigued. “What would it involve?”

“Just a photoshoot and a short video campaign,” Y/N explained. “Something to show how the clothes hold up under movement, some lifestyle shots too. We’d keep it casual, nothing over the top. You’d just be doing what you do best—being yourselves.”

Katie, still holding her new hoodie, grinned like a kid at Christmas. “Alright, I’m in. I want first dibs on the new gear, though.”

Beth laughed from the other side of the room. “You better give us all free clothes after this, Y/N!”

“Don’t worry,” Y/N replied, chuckling. “You’ll all get your pick.”

Leah leaned forward, excitement gleaming in her eyes. “Count me in too. This sounds epic.”

Beth, Viv, and Alessia quickly chimed in with their agreement, clearly excited at the prospect of modeling for Y/N’s brand. The idea of blending their love for football with street fashion was something none of them had expected but now couldn’t wait to be a part of.

Y/N smiled, feeling a sense of pride and belonging she hadn’t felt in a long time. “Alright, then. Let’s do it.”

Katie clapped her hands together, grinning widely. “I’m already thinking about my poses.”

Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile. “Just make sure you look good in the clothes and don’t steal the spotlight.”

“Oh please, Y/N, you know I was born for the spotlight,” Katie teased, tossing the hoodie over her shoulder with dramatic flair.

The rest of the team laughed, and Y/N felt the warmth of camaraderie wash over her. It was no longer just about fitting in at Arsenal—she was building real friendships, and now, they were about to share another part of her life.

A few days later, Y/N arranged for the photoshoot at a sleek warehouse-style studio in London. The setting was perfect—industrial, modern, and in line with the edgy aesthetic of Immortal. The girls arrived excited, dressed in their fresh new pieces from Y/N’s upcoming collection. Oversized hoodies, cropped jackets, joggers, and bold accessories—they looked every bit the part of a streetwear campaign.

Y/N watched as her teammates took to the camera like pros. Leah was effortlessly cool, flashing her trademark smirk, while Katie went full energy mode, making the photographer laugh with her playful poses. Viv and Alessia leaned into the more laid-back vibe, while Beth threw in a few trick shots with a football to show off the functionality of the clothes.

“This is insane,” Leah said during a break, grinning at Y/N. “I feel like a proper model.”

“You look like one too,” Y/N teased, nudging her. “You lot are killing it.”

Katie swaggered over, spinning a football on her finger. “When this ad drops, we’re going to break the internet. Arsenal, fashion, and football—what more could people want?”

Y/N laughed, her heart swelling with pride. “You’re right. This is going to be huge.”

As the shoot wrapped up, and the girls exchanged jokes and compliments, Y/N realized how much things had changed since her arrival. She had come to Arsenal as just a new player, a young transfer, but now she was a part of something bigger. Her brand, her football career, and her friendships were all coming together in ways she hadn’t anticipated.

“Alright,” Y/N said as the girls gathered their things, still buzzing from the shoot. “Next time you see yourselves on a billboard wearing Immortal, just remember—it’s all because of me.”

Katie laughed, throwing an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. “You might’ve started this, Y/N, but we’re definitely the ones who are going to sell it.”

Y/N grinned. “Fair enough. Just don’t forget where the free clothes come from.”

The team laughed, and as they headed out of the studio, Y/N couldn’t help but smile. Arsenal wasn’t just her team anymore—it was her family. And now, they were part of her brand’s story too.

As the team left the studio, buzzing with excitement from the shoot, Y/N couldn't help but feel a rush of contentment. The photoshoot had gone better than she’d imagined, and seeing her teammates so effortlessly embody the essence of her brand filled her with pride. They had no idea how much their support meant to her, and now, she was even more excited for the future of Immortal.

A few days passed, and the buzz around the shoot continued to grow among the team. Katie, of course, couldn’t stop bragging about the fact that she was now not just a footballer but a “fashion icon” too, as she dramatically put it. She had practically worn the Immortal hoodie everywhere since the shoot.

During a team breakfast one morning, as the girls sat around the cafeteria table, Leah was scrolling through her phone and grinning at something.

“Oi, Y/N,” Leah called, catching Y/N’s attention as she bit into a piece of toast. “Did you see this yet?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “See what?”

Leah held up her phone, revealing an early sneak peek of the campaign images that had been sent out to the Immortal email subscribers. Katie, Leah, Viv, Beth, and Alessia were all featured in different shots, looking effortlessly cool in Y/N’s designs.

“You look badass,” Leah said with a grin, pointing at her own image. “Look at me. I’m a model now.”

The girls leaned over to see the images, gathering around Leah’s phone with excited murmurs.

“Wait, is this live already?” Katie asked, her eyes wide. “I thought we’d have more time before this hit the internet!”

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “Nah, those are just preview shots. The real launch is next week. But I had to give the subscribers something to hype them up.”

“I’m not gonna lie,” Alessia said, still staring at the photos. “We look incredible. You’re about to break the fashion world, Y/N.”

Beth chimed in, smirking. “And the football world too, when they realize we’re basically models now.”

The team erupted in laughter, and Katie playfully tossed her napkin at Beth. “As long as I’m the face of the brand, we’re good.”

“Oh, is that right?” Y/N teased, raising an eyebrow. “I think you’ve already taken over enough with that hoodie, Katie.”

Katie gave her a cheeky grin, tugging at the hoodie she still hadn’t taken off. “What can I say? It’s comfy.”

“Comfy and expensive,” Viv added with a smirk. “Y/N, you’re going to ruin us all with how much we’re going to want from your next collection.”

Y/N laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you all hooked up.”

The conversation flowed easily, with the girls still buzzing about the campaign and their newfound status as fashion models. It wasn’t long before Jonas Eidevall, Arsenal’s manager, strolled into the cafeteria. His usual no-nonsense expression softened when he saw the team gathered together, laughing and chatting.

“Good morning, ladies,” he greeted them, grabbing a cup of coffee.

“Morning, coach,” they all chorused, but Katie wasn’t about to miss her chance to share the news.

“Coach, you have to check this out,” she said, turning her phone screen toward Jonas, showing him the preview images from the shoot. “We’re officially fashion models now.”

Jonas gave them an amused look, sipping his coffee. “Fashion models, huh? Is this why I keep seeing those hoodies around? You’re all part of Y/N’s brand now?”

Y/N tried to downplay it, shrugging with a small smile. “It was just a fun campaign.”

Jonas raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “I didn’t realize we had a fashion mogul in our ranks. Should I be worried that you’ll all switch careers?”

The team laughed, and Y/N shook her head. “Don’t worry, coach. Football comes first.”

“Glad to hear it,” Jonas said with a chuckle. “But I’ll say, it’s impressive what you’ve done with the brand, Y/N. It takes a lot of work to balance something like that with a professional football career.”

Y/N felt a wave of pride wash over her at the compliment. It wasn’t every day that she received recognition for her work outside of football, and hearing it from her manager made it all the more meaningful.

“Thanks, coach,” she replied, feeling her teammates' supportive gazes on her.

As Jonas walked away to take his coffee elsewhere, Katie turned to Y/N with a proud smile. “Look at you, getting compliments from the boss. You’re killing it, Y/N.”

Y/N chuckled, trying to brush off the attention. “It’s just a side thing.”

“Oh, please,” Leah teased, “stop being so humble. This is massive, and you know it.”

The girls continued their conversation, hyping up Y/N more than she could handle, when suddenly a notification buzzed on her phone. She glanced down and her eyes widened slightly.

“The preview just went live,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh my god!” Beth practically squealed. “Everyone’s gonna see this now.”

Seconds later, a flood of comments and messages started coming in from her brand’s social media. Fans were going wild, especially since Immortal had teased the involvement of Arsenal players in the campaign. Photos of Katie, Leah, and the others were already making rounds online, and the excitement was palpable.

Y/N leaned back in her chair, watching the chaos unfold as her teammates excitedly checked their phones, reacting to the flood of comments. She couldn’t help but smile at the whirlwind of excitement around her. This campaign was going to be bigger than she’d anticipated, and she was glad she had her teammates by her side for the ride.

Katie, of course, was the loudest, shouting to anyone who would listen. “I’m famous! Look at me, Arsenal’s number one model!”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, leaning over to Katie. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

Katie slung an arm around Y/N’s shoulder, pulling her into a side hug. “And you love it. Admit it, Y/N, this campaign wouldn’t be half as cool without me.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, I’ll give you that. But don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late for that!” Katie shouted, making the whole team laugh again.

As the team celebrated their newfound fame in the fashion world, Y/N realized just how far she’d come in such a short time. Not only had she found her place at Arsenal, but she had also shared a part of herself with her new teammates—a part that she hadn’t even been sure they’d care about. And now, they were fully on board, embracing her passion with the same energy they brought to the pitch every day.

For the first time, Y/N felt like she wasn’t just the new girl anymore. She was truly part of the Arsenal family.

The next morning, Y/N walked into the Arsenal training center with her usual laid-back swagger. She was already feeling the weight of her phone vibrating in her pocket, notifications flooding in from her brand’s social media. It was a lot to take in, but she was buzzing with excitement. The campaign had taken off like wildfire, and she couldn’t have asked for a better response from fans or her teammates.

As she strolled into the cafeteria, she found most of the team gathered around the breakfast table, laughing and chatting. Katie was, as usual, at the center of it all, gesticulating wildly as she told some story Y/N didn’t catch the beginning of. Alessia and Leah were both giggling beside her, while Beth and Viv watched with amused smiles.

“Y/N! The star of the show!” Leah called out when she saw her, waving her over to their table.

“Oi, come sit,” Katie added, patting the empty chair beside her. “You missed the best part of my story.”

Y/N smirked and slid into the seat, playfully bumping her shoulder against Katie’s. “I’m sure it was riveting.”

Katie rolled her eyes but grinned. “You’re lucky you missed it; I’ll save the details for later.”

As Y/N grabbed some breakfast, she casually brought up something she had been mulling over all night. “So, I was thinking about the next step for Immortal.”

The table went quiet with interest, and everyone’s eyes were on her.

“I want to drop an exclusive line in collaboration with one of you,” Y/N said, nonchalantly sipping her coffee. “Something custom, something that really fits your vibe.”

Instantly, the table erupted into chaos.

Leah, Alessia, Beth, and Katie all started talking over each other, vying for Y/N’s attention.

“Obviously, it should be me,” Leah said, leaning forward, her tone teasing but with a competitive edge. “I’ve got the perfect aesthetic. Sporty and clean, you know? It’s what your brand needs.”

“Nah, nah, nah,” Katie interrupted, her voice loud and confident as usual. “You’ve got to do it with me. Think about it—bold, unapologetic, fearless. I’m literally the face of this brand already.”

Beth chimed in, her smile mischievous. “I’d bring a bit of chill energy, you know? Something for the laid-back fans, the ones who want comfort without compromising style.”

“And I’m telling you,” Alessia cut in, pointing to herself, “a collaboration with me would be killer. I’ve got that girl-next-door thing going on. People would eat it up.”

Y/N watched the chaos unfold, trying to stifle her laughter as her teammates pitched themselves one after the other. They were all so animated, throwing out ideas and trying to convince her why they’d be the perfect collaborator.

Katie, of course, was the loudest, almost standing up in her seat as she went on about how much influence she’d bring to the brand. “Come on, Y/N, you know I’m the obvious choice. Imagine it—McCabe x Immortal. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Y/N chuckled, looking around at the group. “You guys are really making this hard.”

Before she could say anything else, Kyra wandered into the cafeteria, grabbing a banana from the counter. She hadn’t been part of the pitch battle yet and seemed oblivious to what was going on.

Leah leaned over toward Y/N, lowering her voice with a smirk. “You know if you pick Katie, we’ll never hear the end of it, right?”

Y/N rolled her eyes good-naturedly, knowing Leah was probably right. But as she watched Kyra casually walking past the table, her mind sparked with an idea.

“Hey, Kyra,” Y/N called out, causing her to stop mid-step.

Kyra raised an eyebrow, looking a little confused but amused. “Yeah?”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, a smirk tugging at her lips. “How do you feel about doing a custom line with Immortal?”

The room went dead silent. All eyes snapped to Kyra, whose expression morphed from confusion to surprise in an instant.

“Me?” she asked, pointing to herself. “You’re serious?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, you’ve got a unique style. I think we could come up with something sick together. What do you think?”

Kyra blinked a few times, then broke into a grin. “Hell yeah! I’d love to!”

The rest of the table stared in stunned silence, and the moment the reality sank in, Katie’s jaw dropped.

“What?” Katie spluttered, glaring at Y/N like she’d been betrayed. “You picked Kyra? What about me? We’ve been best mates for years! I’m the obvious choice!”

Leah snorted, covering her mouth to stifle her laughter, while Beth and Alessia exchanged amused looks.

Y/N gave Katie a calm smile, trying not to laugh at how genuinely offended she seemed. “It’s not like I won’t do something with you eventually, Katie. I just thought Kyra’s vibe would be perfect for this particular line. Plus, she hasn’t been hounding me about it like someone has.”

Katie crossed her arms, pouting in her seat. “You’re breaking my heart, Y/N. I thought we had something special.”

Y/N snickered, leaning over to nudge her playfully. “Don’t be dramatic. You’ll get your moment.”

But Katie wasn’t letting it go. She turned to Kyra, narrowing her eyes. “You better not screw this up, Kyra.”

Kyra, now fully caught up in the moment, just grinned at Katie. “Don’t worry, McCabe. I’ll do the brand justice.”

Katie muttered something under her breath, still pouting as the rest of the table laughed at her over-the-top reaction. Leah and Alessia were practically crying from laughter, while Beth was already planning how she could poke fun at Katie later.

“You’re so jealous, Katie,” Leah teased, wiping a tear from her eye. “It’s actually hilarious.”

“I’m not jealous,” Katie shot back, though the fire in her eyes told a different story. “I’m just saying it should’ve been me. You’ll regret this, Y/N.”

Y/N raised her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, maybe next time. But for now, it’s Kyra’s turn.”

Kyra beamed, sitting down beside Y/N and slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry, Y/N. We’re gonna kill this collab.”

Katie huffed dramatically, but there was a playful glint in her eye now. “Fine, whatever. But if you make a second collab without me, we’re done.”

“Deal,” Y/N said with a grin, enjoying every second of Katie’s theatrics.

The rest of breakfast was filled with teasing banter, and despite Katie’s initial jealousy, she couldn’t stay mad for long. The excitement over the potential collaboration with Kyra soon took over the conversation, and by the end of the meal, even Katie was throwing in ideas for what Kyra’s line could look like.

But as they left the table, Y/N couldn’t resist leaning over to Katie and whispering, “Don’t worry, I’ve got something special planned for you. Just wait.”

Katie’s pout disappeared, replaced with a sly smile. “You better, Y/N.”

As the team headed off to training, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a wave of excitement for what was to come. The collab with Kyra was going to be epic, but she also knew Katie wouldn’t let her forget that her time in the spotlight was still coming.

The collaboration with Kyra had been a massive success, with Immortal’s custom line selling out within hours of its release. The bold, daring designs had been a perfect reflection of Kyra’s personality, and the fans had loved it. But, as promised, Y/N hadn’t forgotten about Katie. In fact, ever since Katie’s dramatic reaction at breakfast, Y/N had been brainstorming ideas for what their collaboration would look like.

She wanted it to be something special, something that reflected not just Katie’s style but her fiery personality and leadership on the pitch. And, after weeks of planning, the perfect concept had come to mind: Fearless.

Now, it was time to pitch the idea to Katie.

Y/N found her sitting in the locker room after a particularly grueling training session. Katie was sprawled out on one of the benches, half-drinking from a water bottle while chatting with Leah, who was equally wiped out. The sight made Y/N smile—Katie looked so relaxed compared to her usual high-energy self.

“Katie, you got a minute?” Y/N asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Katie glanced up, her face lighting up instantly. “Finally! I’ve been waiting for this. What do you have for me?”

Leah nudged Katie with a smirk. “I’ll leave you two to it. Can’t wait to see what Y/N comes up with this time.”

With a wink, Leah left the room, leaving Y/N and Katie alone. Y/N walked over, sitting beside Katie on the bench and pulling out a folder filled with sketches and mood boards.

“Alright,” Y/N started, “I’ve been thinking a lot about what our collab should look like. I want it to be something bold, something that screams Katie McCabe. You’re fearless, both on and off the pitch, and I want this line to reflect that.”

Katie’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she sat up straighter. “Go on…”

Y/N opened the folder, revealing the first set of designs. The theme was striking—sharp, clean lines with edgy details like ripped denim, leather accents, and bold color schemes. The central piece was a black leather jacket with “Fearless” embroidered on the back in fiery red letters, alongside an abstract design that looked like flames.

“I’m calling it the Fearless collection,” Y/N explained. “It’s inspired by your personality. The kind of confidence and boldness you have when you step onto the pitch. I want people to feel unstoppable when they wear this.”

Katie’s jaw dropped as she flipped through the designs, her hands running over the sketches like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“Y/N… this is unreal,” Katie muttered, clearly in awe. “This is exactly what I wanted, but better. The jacket, the color palette—it’s so me.”

Y/N smirked. “I know, right? I thought it’d be perfect. We’ll also have custom cleats, streetwear pieces, and accessories. All of it ties into that fearless energy you bring every day.”

Katie was quiet for a moment, still taking it all in, but Y/N could tell she was thrilled. Finally, she looked up, her usual cocky grin returning.

“You nailed it,” Katie said, standing up and pulling Y/N into a hug. “This is gonna be epic. The fans are going to lose their minds.”

Y/N hugged her back, laughing at how excited Katie was. “I’m glad you love it. Now, I just need you to model a few pieces for the promo shoot.”

Katie pulled back, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You mean I get to show off? Count me in.”

A few days later, the team gathered in the studio for the Fearless collection shoot. Katie was buzzing with energy, strutting around the set in the pieces from her collection. She was wearing the signature leather jacket, paired with ripped black jeans and boots that screamed “badass.”

The other players were there, too, watching the shoot unfold. Leah, Alessia, Kyra, and Beth were all leaning against the wall, throwing in the occasional sarcastic comment as Katie posed for the camera.

“You’re loving this way too much, McCabe,” Leah called out, laughing when Katie dramatically flipped her jacket’s collar.

Katie shot her a look. “Jealous, Williamson? Don’t worry, maybe Y/N will let you model in the next shoot.”

Leah rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding the amusement on her face.

Y/N, standing behind the camera with the photographer, couldn’t help but smile. Katie was completely in her element, commanding attention with every pose. The theme of the collection suited her perfectly, and it showed in how effortlessly she wore each piece.

As the shoot continued, Y/N found herself feeling proud. This collaboration wasn’t just about making clothes—it was about showcasing the side of Katie that everyone admired. She was strong, fearless, and unapologetically herself, and now, her personality was immortalized in fashion.

“Alright, Katie, that’s a wrap,” the photographer said after the final shot.

Katie strutted over to Y/N, grinning like she’d just won a match. “That was amazing. You’re a genius, Y/N.”

Y/N chuckled, giving her a playful shove. “I told you I’d make it worth the wait.”

“You definitely did,” Katie agreed, glancing at the jacket she was wearing. “I can’t wait to see people walking around in this.”

As the rest of the team gathered around to check out the final shots, Y/N caught sight of Katie watching her. There was a rare softness in her expression, and she stepped closer, her voice quieter now.

“Hey,” Katie said, bumping Y/N’s shoulder. “Thanks for this. I know I was a pain about it, but you really nailed it.”

Y/N grinned, bumping her back. “You’re welcome. But I wouldn’t call you a pain. More like… passionate.”

Katie laughed, shaking her head. “Whatever you say.”

She slung an arm around Y/N’s shoulders, and as they walked back toward the rest of the team, Y/N felt a sense of contentment. The Fearless collection was going to be a massive success, but more than that, it had brought her and Katie even closer.

And as they joined their teammates, with everyone buzzing about the new line, Y/N couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was only the beginning.

The match against Chelsea was a high-stakes one, a clash between two of the best teams in the league. It was fast-paced, with tackles flying in and tension building as the clock ticked down. The atmosphere was electric—fans roaring, adrenaline running through every player’s veins, and Y/N right in the thick of it. She’d been in brilliant form all season, and this game was no different.

Y/N had always prided herself on her speed, agility, and ability to weave through defenses effortlessly. She’d just danced past two defenders when she spotted a gap in the Chelsea backline. With the ball at her feet, she charged forward, eyes locked on the goal.

And then it happened.

In the blink of an eye, as Y/N was about to take her shot, a Chelsea defender came in with a hard, mistimed tackle. Y/N felt the impact before she even realized what had happened. The crack in her knee echoed in her ears as she collapsed to the ground, clutching her leg in agony.

Time seemed to slow. The roar of the crowd dimmed, replaced by a ringing in her ears. All she could feel was the searing pain shooting through her knee, every nerve on fire. Her heart raced, panic settling in as she tried to move, but her leg wouldn’t respond.

"Y/N! Oh my God, Y/N!" Katie's voice was the first she registered, followed by the concerned faces of her teammates rushing over.

Y/N's breath came in short, shallow gasps as she lay on the grass, her vision blurring from the pain. The medics were on her within seconds, their hands gently prodding her leg, but she already knew. Something was terribly wrong.

“Katie…” Y/N whispered through gritted teeth, tears filling her eyes as the reality began to sink in. “I can’t move my leg.”

Katie knelt beside her, her face pale as she reached for Y/N’s hand. “Don’t say that. It’ll be fine. The medics will fix you up, yeah?”

Y/N tried to nod, but the pain was too much. She could barely focus as the medics worked around her, their concerned expressions doing little to comfort her.

The stretcher arrived quickly, and as they carefully lifted her onto it, Y/N’s heart ached more than her leg. The crowd’s cheers faded into background noise, and she could only focus on the tears that slipped down Katie’s face as she walked beside her, holding her hand tightly.

“Stay with me, okay?” Katie whispered, her voice shaking. “You’re gonna be okay, Y/N. You have to be.”

Y/N wanted to believe her. She wanted to hold on to that hope, but something deep inside her told her otherwise. The way her leg had twisted, the way her knee had buckled—it felt catastrophic.

The ride to the hospital was a blur. Y/N drifted in and out of consciousness, the painkillers numbing her enough to dull the physical pain, but nothing could touch the growing dread in her chest.

Hours passed before the team doctor finally approached her after the MRI. Y/N sat in the sterile hospital bed, Katie at her side, fingers still intertwined.

The doctor sighed, his expression grim. “Y/N, I’m afraid the damage is extensive. You’ve torn your ACL, MCL, and PCL, along with significant damage to the meniscus. The recovery time… well, it’s going to be long. And even then, there’s no guarantee you’ll be able to return to professional football.”

Y/N’s world shattered with those words.

She stared at the doctor, unable to speak, the weight of the diagnosis pressing down on her like a physical force. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. All she could do was replay the moment over and over in her mind—her foot planted, the crack in her knee, the way she had fallen. How could it all end like this?

Beside her, Katie stiffened, her grip on Y/N’s hand tightening. “No… no, there has to be something else. Surgery? Rehab? Y/N can’t just—she can’t just stop playing.”

The doctor’s sympathetic gaze shifted to Katie. “There will be surgeries, multiple, but the extent of the damage… it’s unlikely she’ll return to her previous level of play. I’m sorry.”

Y/N’s chest constricted, her pulse hammering in her ears. She’d dreamed of playing at the highest level since she was a kid, sacrificed everything for it. And now, it was being ripped away from her in a single moment.

Katie looked at her, her own eyes red and puffy, tears threatening to spill. “Y/N…”

“I…” Y/N swallowed, her voice hoarse. “I don’t know what to do.”

Katie pulled her into a tight hug, burying her face in Y/N’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “We’ll figure it out together. You’re not alone.”

But Y/N couldn’t bring herself to believe that. Football was all she’d ever known, all she’d ever wanted. Without it… who was she?

Days passed in a blur of surgeries, hospital visits, and endless hours of rehab. Y/N’s teammates visited often, bringing flowers and cards, but nothing could lift the crushing weight in her chest. The reality of her situation hung over her like a dark cloud.

Katie was with her every step of the way, never leaving her side, but Y/N could feel the strain it was putting on both of them. There were moments where Y/N would catch Katie watching her with a sadness in her eyes, as if she didn’t know how to fix the situation.

And the truth was, no one could fix it.

Months into her rehab, sitting in the gym, watching her teammates train from the sidelines, Y/N felt the full force of her loss. Watching them run drills, laughing, and playing the game she loved, it hit her all over again. She would never step foot on the pitch as a player again.

As she sat there, her leg in a brace, Katie came up behind her and gently wrapped her arms around Y/N's shoulders, resting her chin on Y/N's head.

“I’m so proud of you, you know that?” Katie whispered softly.

Y/N blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over. “Proud of what? That I can barely bend my knee?”

“No,” Katie said, squeezing her tighter. “For getting through this. For staying strong when everything felt impossible.”

Y/N exhaled shakily, leaning back into Katie’s embrace. “I don’t feel strong, Katie. I feel… lost.”

Katie kissed the top of her head. “You’re not lost. You’ll find your way, and I’ll be right there with you, whatever that looks like.”

And for the first time since the injury, Y/N allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, she could still find a way forward—even if it wasn’t the path she had envisioned.

The weeks following Y/N’s injury were some of the hardest days of her life. Rehab was grueling—slow and painful, both physically and emotionally. Every day was a reminder of what she had lost, and even with Katie constantly by her side, it felt like an endless uphill battle.

Y/N spent most of her days in a daze, going through the motions of physical therapy, but her heart wasn’t in it. She felt detached, like she was watching her own life from a distance. Football had been everything to her, and without it, she didn’t know who she was anymore.

Katie could see the toll it was taking. Y/N wasn’t herself. She was quieter, more withdrawn, her once fiery personality dulled by the weight of everything she was going through. Katie hated seeing her like this, and she knew she had to do something to help pull her best friend out of the darkness.

One evening, after another long and silent day of rehab, Katie sat beside Y/N on the couch, watching as she absentmindedly scrolled through her phone. She noticed Y/N was lingering on some photos from her clothing line—the one she had kept secret for so long.

Katie nudged her gently. “You know, your clothing line is pretty incredible,” she said, keeping her tone light.

Y/N barely looked up, shrugging. “It’s just a side thing, Katie. It doesn’t really matter now.”

Katie’s brow furrowed. “Doesn’t matter? Y/N, it’s a huge deal. Do you know how many people would kill to be able to create something like that? And you did it while playing football at the highest level. That’s insane.”

Y/N let out a sigh, still not meeting Katie’s eyes. “Yeah, but football was always the priority. The clothing thing was just a distraction.”

Katie sat up straighter, her voice firm but gentle. “Maybe it started as a distraction, but it’s more than that now. You built something that people love, Y/N. People respect your work. And now, you’ve got all this time… Maybe this is your chance to really focus on it.”

Y/N finally looked up, her eyes heavy with doubt. “You think I can just switch from football to… fashion? Like it’s that easy?”

Katie smiled softly, placing a hand on Y/N’s knee. “I think you’ve got talent in both. And I think you need something to pour yourself into right now. You love fashion, Y/N. Every time you talk about your brand, you light up. It’s the only time recently I’ve seen you excited about anything.”

Y/N frowned, her mind racing. The clothing line had always been a passion project, something she did on the side, never something she imagined focusing on full-time. But Katie’s words stuck with her. Could this really be her new path?

“I don’t know…” Y/N muttered, her uncertainty palpable.

Katie gave her knee a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to know everything right now. But just… try. Start designing again. Get involved in your brand like you used to. You’re still Y/N—the girl who built something incredible out of nothing. You’re more than just football, even if it doesn’t feel that way right now.”

Y/N stared down at her hands, the weight of Katie’s words slowly sinking in. It had been so long since she’d allowed herself to think about her clothing line seriously. The injury had consumed her every thought, every worry, and she’d pushed everything else to the side.

But maybe… maybe Katie was right.

The next day, Katie took matters into her own hands. She surprised Y/N with a visit to the small design studio where Y/N used to work on her brand. Y/N hadn’t been there in months, too caught up in football and then her injury to even think about it.

As they walked in, Y/N hesitated, glancing around at the racks of clothes, the sketches pinned to the walls, the mood boards she’d abandoned in the chaos of her life.

Katie nudged her forward. “Come on, Y/N. This place used to be your sanctuary.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her heart pounding as she stepped inside. Memories flooded back—late nights designing, the excitement of launching new collections, the thrill of seeing people wear her clothes. There was a spark inside her, something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Katie grinned, watching Y/N’s eyes light up as she walked around the studio. “You still love this, don’t you?”

Y/N nodded slowly, a small smile creeping onto her face. “Yeah… I do.”

“Then do something about it,” Katie urged. “Start designing again. Release something new. You’ve got the time now, Y/N. And you’ve got the talent.”

Y/N stared at the blank sketchpad on the table, her fingers itching to pick up a pencil. She hadn’t designed anything since before the injury, hadn’t let herself even think about fashion. But now, standing here, in the space she’d created, she felt a glimmer of hope.

Katie leaned against the table, her arms crossed, watching Y/N closely. “You could do an exclusive line or something. Work with one of the girls, make it special. Hell, you’ve already got half the team wearing your clothes, so you know they’re fans.”

Y/N chuckled, feeling a bit of the weight lift off her shoulders. “Yeah, I guess I could.”

Katie’s smile widened. “There’s the Y/N I know. The girl who takes risks, who’s not afraid to go after what she wants.”

Y/N glanced at Katie, her heart warming at the sight of her best friend’s unwavering support. “What would I do without you?”

Katie shrugged, teasing. “Probably wallow in self-pity and eat all the ice cream in London.”

Y/N laughed, the sound a little lighter than it had been in weeks. She picked up the pencil, the feel of it familiar and comforting in her hand. Maybe this was what she needed—a new direction, a new purpose.

And she had Katie by her side, pushing her forward, believing in her even when she didn’t believe in herself.

With a deep breath, Y/N sat down at the table, flipping open the sketchpad. Her mind buzzed with ideas, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt excited about the future.

Katie moved to stand behind her, placing a supportive hand on her shoulder. “You’ve got this, Y/N. I know you do.”

Y/N smiled up at her, feeling the warmth of Katie’s words wrap around her like a safety net. “Thanks, Katie. For everything.”

“Always,” Katie replied softly, her eyes full of affection. “Now, show me what you’re working on. I might just have to be your first customer.”

Months after Y/N had rediscovered her passion for fashion, her clothing brand had taken off in ways she never imagined. With Katie’s constant encouragement and the support of her teammates, Y/N was back to designing full-time, pouring her heart and soul into every piece. She had launched a new collection, which had been met with rave reviews, and her reputation in the fashion world had only grown.

Then came the call that would change everything.

Arsenal’s board reached out to Y/N with an offer she never expected: they wanted her brand to collaborate with the club to design next season’s kit. It was an opportunity most designers could only dream of—a chance to combine her love for football with her passion for fashion, and to leave a lasting legacy with the club she’d once played for.

When she first got the call, Y/N was speechless, her mind racing with possibilities. Arsenal was her home, even though she could no longer play. This was her chance to stay connected with the sport and the team in a new way, while showcasing her brand on one of the biggest stages in football.

Katie was the first person Y/N told, of course. She nearly tackled Y/N in excitement when she heard the news.

“No way! You’re going to design the next Arsenal kit? That’s massive!” Katie exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement as she paced around their living room. “Do you know how many designers would kill for this opportunity?”

Y/N grinned, still processing the magnitude of it all. “Yeah, it’s pretty surreal.”

Katie stopped pacing and grabbed Y/N by the shoulders. “You’re going to crush this, Y/N. I know it.”

With Arsenal’s backing and a tight deadline, Y/N threw herself into the project. She wanted the kit to reflect not just the club’s heritage, but also the culture and creativity her brand had become known for. She spent weeks sketching, designing, and meeting with the Arsenal team to perfect the kit. It had to be bold, yet timeless. A symbol of strength, unity, and the passion of the fans and players alike.

Finally, the day came to unveil the design to the team.

Arsenal had arranged a private meeting for Y/N to reveal the kit to the players and staff before the official release. As she stood in front of the group, holding her breath, Katie sat at the front of the crowd, her grin encouraging Y/N from across the room.

Y/N cleared her throat, nerves buzzing through her body. “Alright, so… this is it,” she began, gesturing to the sleek cover over the mannequins that stood in the center of the room. “I wanted this kit to represent Arsenal’s legacy but also bring in something new, something fresh. A mix of tradition and the future.”

With a swift pull, Y/N uncovered the kits. The room went silent for a beat, and then a collective gasp of awe rippled through the crowd.

The home kit was stunning: a deep, rich red with subtle geometric patterns woven into the fabric, representing the architectural lines of the Emirates Stadium. The sleeves and collar featured sleek, modern white accents, while the famous Arsenal crest was outlined in gold, giving it a touch of elegance. It was bold yet classic, a perfect blend of Y/N’s fashion-forward designs and Arsenal’s storied history.

The away kit was a statement in itself—a striking black with intricate detailing of North London streets subtly mapped into the fabric. The fluorescent accents in Arsenal’s gold and red lit up the design, adding flair without losing the focus on its sophistication.

The third kit was more daring, with abstract patterns that paid homage to the diverse cultures and streetwear influences that inspired Y/N’s brand. It was an explosion of color—vibrant and fearless, just like Arsenal’s fighting spirit.

The players erupted in excitement.

“Mate, that’s unreal!” Leah Williamson shouted, her eyes wide with admiration as she stepped closer to the mannequins, running her fingers over the fabric. “This is next level, Y/N.”

Alessia Russo nodded in agreement. “I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s fresh, but it still feels like Arsenal. You nailed it.”

The entire room buzzed with energy, players exchanging excited glances and murmuring about how amazing it would feel to step out on the pitch in Y/N’s designs.

Katie, of course, was practically vibrating with pride. “I told you! I told you, you were going to kill it!” she shouted, beaming at Y/N.

The team’s excitement filled Y/N with a deep sense of pride, and for the first time since her injury, she felt like she had a place again. She might not be playing on the pitch, but her contribution would live on in a way she’d never imagined.

The collaboration was set to be one of the biggest talking points of the upcoming season, with fans eagerly awaiting the official release. But behind the scenes, the players couldn’t contain their excitement about the kits they’d soon be wearing.

After the reveal, Jonas Eidevall approached Y/N with a genuine smile. “You’ve done something special here, Y/N. This isn’t just a kit—it’s a part of Arsenal now.”

Y/N blushed, overwhelmed by the response. “Thanks, Jonas. It means a lot, especially coming from you.”

Katie bounded over and threw her arm around Y/N’s shoulders. “We need a party to celebrate this, right?” she asked, winking at the group.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “It’s just a kit, Katie.”

“No, it’s not just a kit,” Leah interjected, grinning. “It’s the best kit Arsenal’s ever had, and you’re the genius behind it.”

Y/N smiled as the room erupted into applause, her heart swelling with a sense of belonging. She hadn’t lost everything after all. This was her purpose now. Her legacy, not just in football, but in a way that allowed her creativity to shine through.

And through it all, she had Katie by her side, pushing her to be more, reminding her of who she really was—even when Y/N had forgotten herself.

After the success of her Arsenal kit collaboration, Y/N had been riding a wave of inspiration. Her brand had grown exponentially, with new collections flying off the shelves, and her next big project was something she’d always dreamed of: an upscale luxury party wear line. Sleek, elegant, and designed for people who wanted to make a statement—this collection was her chance to branch out beyond streetwear and athletic fashion into something more high-end.

The timing couldn’t have been better. With the FIFA Best Awards coming up, several of Y/N’s Arsenal teammates were nominated, and they were all buzzing with excitement. Katie had been going on for weeks about what to wear, while Alessia, Leah, and the rest of the girls teased her relentlessly.

Y/N, of course, had an idea.

“What if I dressed you all for the awards?” she casually suggested one day during lunch at the training ground, her eyes glinting mischievously as she looked around the table.

The entire room went quiet for a moment as her words sunk in.

“What do you mean?” Alessia asked, wide-eyed.

“I mean, I’m working on a new line. Upscale, luxury party wear,” Y/N explained, leaning back in her chair with a smirk. “I could design custom outfits for each of you to wear on the red carpet. Trust me, you’ll look incredible.”

The girls stared at her in stunned silence for a few seconds before Katie practically jumped out of her seat.

“Wait, you’re serious?” Katie asked, her eyes lighting up. “Y/N, you’ve been holding out on us!”

Leah raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Luxury party wear, huh? I didn’t know you were venturing into that.”

Y/N shrugged, trying to play it cool. “It’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a while. And what better way to debut it than by having you lot wear it to the FIFA Best Awards?”

Katie shot out of her chair, throwing her arms around Y/N. “This is brilliant! I’m going to look so good, I’ll steal the show.”

Alessia grinned. “You mean we will steal the show.”

The excitement spread quickly as all the girls clamored for details, eager to hear what Y/N had in mind for their looks. Over the next few days, she met with each of them individually to discuss their style preferences, and soon the designs were underway.

A week before the awards, Y/N had the final fittings ready. She had converted part of her flat into a makeshift studio, where she could work on the dresses and suits and ensure they fit perfectly.

Katie was the first to try on her outfit, and she looked absolutely stunning. Y/N had designed her a sleek, black velvet jumpsuit with a deep V neckline and gold chain detailing at the waist. It was edgy, classy, and had just the right amount of boldness to match Katie’s personality.

“I feel like a bloody movie star,” Katie said, grinning as she looked at herself in the mirror. She turned to Y/N, giving her a playful wink. “You’ve outdone yourself, Y/N.”

“You haven’t even seen the others yet,” Y/N teased, adjusting one of the chains on Katie’s outfit. “Trust me, you’re all going to look incredible.”

Alessia’s dress was a soft champagne-colored satin gown with a high slit, delicate straps, and a low, open back. It was elegant and sophisticated, fitting her calm, graceful demeanor. She twirled in front of the mirror, the fabric flowing around her as she beamed at Y/N.

“This is gorgeous,” Alessia whispered, almost in awe. “I never thought I’d wear something like this.”

“You pull it off better than anyone,” Y/N replied, smiling as she watched Alessia’s reaction. “You’re going to turn heads for sure.”

Leah’s outfit was a tailored white suit with silver embellishments on the blazer. It was sharp, powerful, and oozed confidence—just like the woman wearing it. Leah glanced at herself in the mirror, the corners of her mouth curling into a pleased smirk.

“I like it. Strong, but not too much,” Leah said, turning to face Y/N. “How did you know this was exactly what I wanted?”

Y/N shrugged. “I pay attention. You’re a natural in it.”

One by one, the rest of the girls came in for their fittings, each one stunned by the craftsmanship and attention to detail in their custom looks. The excitement in the room was palpable as the FIFA Best Awards drew closer, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride as she watched her teammates react to the pieces she had created.

The night of the awards arrived, and Y/N’s designs were finally revealed to the world.

As the team arrived at the red carpet, photographers’ flashes lit up the night, capturing every moment. Katie strutted confidently, her black velvet jumpsuit catching the light with every step. Leah walked beside her, radiating power in her white suit, while Alessia’s satin gown shimmered under the camera flashes.

The media went wild, and the questions started pouring in.

“Who are you wearing?” one reporter asked Katie.

Katie grinned, pointing to Y/N who stood at the back of the group, dressed in her own chic black ensemble. “It’s all Y/N’s brand. She designed everything.”

Y/N couldn’t help but blush as the attention shifted to her. “I just wanted them to feel as confident and amazing as they are,” she said, trying to stay humble as the cameras focused on her.

The girls laughed and pulled her into the spotlight, posing with her for the cameras. They were all glowing, not just from the glamour of the night but from the bond they shared and the confidence that Y/N’s designs had given them.

As the night continued and they mingled with other players and celebrities, people kept stopping them to ask about their outfits, praising Y/N’s designs and her talent.

“You really knocked it out of the park,” Katie whispered to Y/N at one point, her arm slung around her best friend’s shoulders. “Everyone’s talking about your line. This is going to blow up.”

Y/N smiled, her heart full. “Thanks, Katie. I couldn’t have done it without you guys.”

Katie grinned. “Yeah, but don’t forget—I looked the best tonight.”

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, McCabe.”

As the night went on, Y/N realized that her journey was far from over. The success of her brand was only just beginning, and with her friends by her side, she felt unstoppable. Fashion, football, friendship—she had it all, and she couldn’t wait to see where it would take her next.

The FIFA Best Awards night had barely wrapped up, but the buzz surrounding Y/N’s luxury party wear collection hadn’t died down. Social media was flooded with photos of the Arsenal girls in their custom outfits, and fans were clamoring for more. Y/N was overwhelmed with messages—praise for her designs, inquiries from fashion insiders, and countless new followers. Her brand had already made a name for itself in the streetwear scene, but this was something else entirely. This was a whole new level.

A few days after the awards, Y/N received an unexpected message. A famous fashion designer, someone she had admired from afar for years, had reached out.

"Would love to meet. I have an exciting opportunity for you. Let me know when you're free. — Adrien Duval."

Adrien Duval was one of the biggest names in high fashion. Known for pushing boundaries and creating art through clothing, his shows were the talk of every major fashion week. Y/N had grown up admiring his work, and now, here he was, reaching out to her.

Excitement coursed through her as she replied, setting up a meeting at a high-end café in central London. The anticipation was almost unbearable, but Y/N kept it cool as she arrived at the café, trying to hide the fact that she was, in fact, completely starstruck.

When she walked in, she immediately spotted Adrien sitting at a table near the window, sipping on an espresso. He looked exactly as she’d imagined—tall, impeccably dressed, with an aura of effortless style and authority. When he saw her, he stood up and offered a warm smile.

“Y/N, it’s a pleasure,” Adrien greeted, shaking her hand. “Thank you for meeting me.”

“The pleasure’s mine,” Y/N replied, trying not to let her nerves show as they sat down. “I have to say, I wasn’t expecting this. You’re… well, you're an icon.”

Adrien chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. “You’re too kind. But I have to say, I’ve been keeping an eye on your work. Your collection at the FIFA Best Awards—it was spectacular. The perfect combination of boldness and elegance. You’ve got something special, Y/N.”

Y/N felt a blush creep up her neck, but she nodded. “Thank you. I’m just trying to push the boundaries a little.”

“And you’re doing it brilliantly,” Adrien replied, his tone sincere. He leaned in slightly, his expression more serious now. “I’ve come to you with an opportunity. London Fashion Week is approaching, and I think your brand would be a perfect fit. I’d like to offer you the chance to host your own show.”

Y/N blinked, not quite sure if she’d heard him right. “You’re serious?”

Adrien nodded. “I don’t say this lightly. Your work is fresh, innovative, and it's time for the world to see that on the biggest stage. Your brand is already turning heads, but a show at London Fashion Week could catapult you to another level.”

Y/N sat back in her chair, trying to process what he was saying. A fashion show at London Fashion Week. The pinnacle of high fashion, where the most elite designers showcased their collections. It was an opportunity she had always dreamed about, but never imagined would come so soon.

“What do you think?” Adrien asked, watching her reaction closely.

“I… wow, I don’t even know what to say,” Y/N admitted, still in a bit of shock. “It’s an incredible offer. I’d love to do it.”

Adrien smiled, clearly pleased with her response. “Excellent. I had a feeling you’d be up for the challenge. The logistics can be worked out later, but I wanted to make sure I extended the invitation personally. You’re going to do great things, Y/N, and I want to be a part of it.”

The rest of the meeting was a blur of excitement and planning. Adrien explained the process, how the show would work, and what Y/N would need to prepare in the coming months. He offered advice, tips, and even suggested a few big-name models who could potentially walk in her show.

By the time Y/N left the café, her mind was racing. London Fashion Week. She could hardly believe it. The opportunity felt surreal, but she knew she was ready. Her passion for fashion, the endless nights of designing, and her dedication to her brand had all led to this moment. Now, it was her chance to take it to the next level.

As she walked down the street, her phone buzzed with a message from Katie.

Katie: "Heard you had a meeting. What’s up?"

Y/N couldn’t help but grin as she typed back her response.

Y/N: "Just got asked to do a show at London Fashion Week."

Katie: "SHUT UP. Are you serious?!"

Y/N: "Dead serious."

There was a pause, and then her phone rang. Y/N answered with a laugh. “You couldn’t just text?”

Katie’s voice was practically vibrating with excitement. “London Fashion Week? Y/N, that’s massive! I knew you were killing it, but this is next level. We’re all coming to that show, no question.”

Y/N smiled, her heart warm at the support from her best friend. “Thanks, Katie. I’m still wrapping my head around it, but yeah, it’s happening.”

“I’m so proud of you,” Katie said, her tone softer now. “You deserve this. You’ve worked so hard.”

Y/N felt a lump in her throat at Katie’s words. “Thanks, McCabe. You’ve been there every step of the way.”

“And I’m not going anywhere,” Katie promised. “You better make me something killer to wear to the show.”

Y/N laughed. “You know I’ve got you covered.”

As she hung up, Y/N looked out at the city around her, her heart swelling with gratitude and excitement. The journey had only just begun, but she knew, with Katie and the rest of the team by her side, there was nothing she couldn’t achieve.

London Fashion Week, here she came.

The night of London Fashion Week had arrived, and the buzz surrounding Y/N’s debut show was electric. Backstage, the energy was palpable—models getting last-minute touch-ups, stylists tweaking outfits, and assistants running around to make sure everything was perfect. Y/N stood off to the side, watching the chaos unfold, her heart pounding in her chest. She had spent months designing this collection, pouring her soul into each piece, and now, it was finally about to be shown to the world.

But something else weighed heavy on her mind.

For so long, football had been her identity. It was the only thing she knew growing up, the only thing she ever dreamed about. But after her career-ending injury, it was as if a part of her had died. She’d been searching for a way to fill that void, and while her clothing line had given her something to focus on, she had never fully accepted that she could truly leave football behind. It was still there, haunting her in the background, a reminder of what could have been.

Katie and a few of her Arsenal teammates were sitting front row, all dressed in pieces from her collection, cheering her on. They’d been her biggest supporters through everything, but Katie had always been the one to push her, to remind her that there was life beyond football. Tonight felt like a culmination of all the hard work, the sleepless nights, the creative struggles—but more than that, it felt like a chance to finally let go.

The lights in the venue dimmed, and the music began to pulse through the speakers. It was time. Y/N took a deep breath, nodding to her team, and the first model stepped out onto the runway.

As each look made its way down the catwalk, Y/N felt a strange mix of emotions. Pride, relief, excitement—but also a sense of closure. The crowd was in awe, their eyes glued to the collection she had crafted with her own hands. Every piece told a story, not just of her as a designer but of her journey—her pain, her growth, her evolution.

Katie caught her eye from the front row, giving her a thumbs up and mouthing, “You’re killing it.” Y/N smiled, feeling her heart swell with gratitude. This was her new purpose, her new path.

The final look came out, and the applause was deafening. Y/N could barely hear herself think as the models lined up for the final walk. She stepped out onto the runway with them, feeling the weight of the moment hit her. The crowd stood up, giving her a standing ovation, but all Y/N could focus on was the sense of peace settling over her.

She walked the length of the runway, giving a small wave to the audience, but when she reached the end, she found Katie’s eyes again. There was a knowing look in them, as if Katie understood exactly what Y/N was feeling. And in that moment, Y/N knew.

She could finally let go.

As the applause faded and the lights dimmed, Y/N stood there, taking it all in. Football had been her first love, and losing it had broken her in ways she never thought possible. But standing on that runway, basking in the glow of her success as a designer, she realized she didn’t need football anymore. She had found something else, something that allowed her to express herself in ways she never could on the pitch.

Backstage, as the models and crew celebrated the success of the show, Y/N found a quiet corner to sit down. She needed a moment to breathe, to process what had just happened. Katie found her shortly after, sliding into the seat next to her, nudging her playfully.

“You did it,” Katie said, her voice full of pride. “That was incredible.”

Y/N smiled, leaning back against the wall. “I can’t believe it’s over.”

“It’s only the beginning,” Katie reminded her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “But I think you know that.”

Y/N nodded, exhaling deeply. “Yeah. I think… I think I’m ready to move on.”

Katie’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

Y/N looked down at her hands, feeling the weight of her words. “For the longest time, I was holding on to this idea that I couldn’t be anything without football. But tonight… I felt like I found something that fills that part of me. I think I can finally accept that it’s okay to let football go.”

Katie squeezed her shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Y/N. You’ve come so far. And look at what you’ve built. It’s incredible.”

Y/N smiled, feeling lighter than she had in years. “Thank you, Katie. For everything. I don’t think I could’ve gotten here without you.”

Katie grinned, pulling her into a side hug. “You’ve always had it in you, mate. I just gave you a little push.”

Y/N laughed, but there were tears in her eyes as she hugged Katie back. For the first time since her injury, she didn’t feel like she had lost anything. She had gained something new—a purpose, a passion, and a future.

And now, she was ready to embrace it fully.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The End

#offside story #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso #woso soccer #leah williamson

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inkdrinkerworld · 1 year ago

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i am a fiend for early seasons Reid omg i can imagine reader like ‘fixing’ his glasses as an excuse to be a lil close to him and he’s like just about having heart palpitations

Spencer might combust. You’re finally back after a week away on sick leave and he believes you’ve gotten even more beautiful.

“Hey Spence, miss me?” you ask as your heels click in the direction of his desk. He notices right away that your voice is still a little raspy as you sit on the edge of his desk.

You’re wearing purple today, and Spencer’s heart does a little jump when he smells that pink pepper, sandalwood and amber perfume you love so much.

“Are you feeling better?” he asks and you smile, bright and real and Spencer is sure his pulse can be seen in his throat.

“Better now, I kept wanting to see you but I didn’t want to transfer my germs.” you honestly as you riffle through your bag.

Spencer frowns, “You wanted to see me?” It’s surprising. As of twenty seconds ago Spencer believed that the only people who wanted to spend time with him outside of work was his mother and the little boy he plays chess with.

You pull out an envelope and then turn to Spencer with a serious look on your face.

“Of course I did,” before you can carry on Emily and Derek arrive and come over to you offering hugs.

“Why am I not surprised that you stop by Pretty Ricky first?” Derek teases, Spencer’s cheeks going red when you look at him over your shoulder and give him a little smile.

“Because I missed him the most? You and Pen kept calling so I didn’t feel too far from you.” Derek rolls his eyes and Emily squeezes your shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re back, this one,” she points to Spencer, “has been a little subdued in your absence.”

Spencer scratches the bridge of his nose at Emily’s words, knocking his glasses askew. He’s started wearing them again, after you had told him you missed seeing him in them.

She doesn’t elaborate after that and walks off to the kitchen to get a pot of coffee started.

“You did miss me,” you gush and Spencer hopes his cheeks don’t look as hot as they feel. “I missed you too, y’know. S’why I wanted to see you.” you whisper that part to him, turning your body so you face him properly.

Spencer’s sure his blush is fire engine red as you lean into his space and fiddle with his glasses till they’re righted.

“I like these new frames by the way, they make you look even more handsome.” you kiss his cheek before hopping off the desk.

“I gotta go check in with Hotch, but if we get a case save me a seat on the jet?” You wave the envelope in your hand as you walk off, still looking at Spencer to catch his nod and when he clears his throat so the, “Yeah,” he responds with isn’t broken.

Derek chuckles as he leans back in his seat.

“You might want to work on that blush Pretty Ricky, I think if she does that again you might pass out.”

Spencer tosses a balled up piece of paper at Derek and though he aims for his head, it barely skims his shoulder. Spencer just really hopes that you don’t mind the hammering of his pulse because if you carry on any longer, he’s sure he’ll need to be hospitalised.

#spencerreid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x black!reader #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

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magics-neptunes-things · 1 year ago

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Hello everyone!

Here we are finally in the series I talk about a few days ago. After the votes you chose Leah, but I might have kept some ideas for Alessia afterwards.

I have the beginning of the story and the end, but I have not yet decided exactly what would happen in the middle, so I am unable to tell you how many chapters there will be in this story.

I hope you will like it and as usual, I gladly take your comments, requests and suggestions :) Don’t hesitate to write to me.

Happy reading!

World count : 4.8k

TW : Mention of breaking up and angst. I think nothing else but if you notice something please let me know!

PART 2 I PART 3 I PART 4 I PART 5 I PART 6 | PART 7

The news of your transfer to Arsenal was like a little bomb in the football world. You were on the verge of another contract extension with Manchester City when the London club contacted your agent, offering you a contract that you couldn’t refuse. It wasn’t an easy decision to make, you thought about it long before accepting. You asked for the advice of your parents and friends footballers perhaps a little more experienced than you. Including Ingrid Engen, one of your best friends since you started playing on the Norwegian national team.

After weighing the pros and cons, you decided to accept and say goodbye to Manchester City. Some things will obviously miss you. Starting with some of your teammates that you consider your friends and who seemed really saddened by your departure.

You quickly got along with Laia Aleixandri and Leila Ouahabi, the spanish womens taking you under their wing just arrived in Manchester. They made your life easier and helped you include yourself in the club much more easily than you could have hoped. Leaving your home country at almost 18 wasn’t easy, but if you wanted to continue to follow your dreams, you really had no choice. Norwegian football being less in the spotlight, when you had the first proposal from an English club, you didn’t hesitate a single second. Your parents and relatives encouraged you to accept this offer as well.

Your life in Manchester has been pleasant and you can’t help but be a little nervous about moving to a new city. With other people, other places… In short, to start almost from the beggining. The only thing that has changed between your settlement between Manchester and London is that you have undoubtedly developed your athletic abilities and skills in all areas necessary to be able to play football properly.

Your contract was signed just after the end of the World Cup, so you were the last to announced at Arsenal. This didn’t allow you to find an apartment in time and that is why you find yourself in a hotel room for your first nights in London. It’s a little strange, but you’d rather that than take an apartment that wouldn’t suit you. It’s important for you to really feel at home when you cross the threshold of your door and you haven’t found the one who gave you this impression in those you have visited for the moment.

You only have a few things with you at the moment, all your furniture is stored in Laia’s garage in Manchester, ready to be sent as soon as you find what suits you. Very soon, let’s hope.

********

It’s a little nervous that you leave the Uber that accompanies you to the Arsenal training center for your first day under the colors of the club. You have already made the promotional photos, so you have already met several people belonging to the staff. You’ve already had a meeting with Jonas, but you haven’t met a lot of people officially when it comes to the players.

Last night, Alessia Russo contacted you via Instagram (you didn’t even realize she was following you on social media) and offered to wait for you at the entrance to make your way together. You quickly accepted, even if you also quickly understood that it was for you more than for her. Alessia knows a lot of people on the team, unlike you. But the gesture made you happy. Alessia having played at Manchester United while you were playing at Manchester City, you might have had a bad connection with her, being clubs enemy, but that’s not the case. Leila and Laia always took you with them when they were going out with Ona and her friends and that’s how you met Alessia. From saying you’re friends with her there’s a world, but you appreciate the blonde’s personality.

Alessia is already waiting for you when you arrive and you smile at her when you reach her height.

"Hi" you say with a slight smile, responding willingly to her embrace.

"Nervous?" asks the blonde, glancing at you.

You answer with a simple grunt that makes her laugh, before you go to the conference room where you meet the rest of the team. She asks you about your Summer and you ask questions back, learning that she went in her family in Italy.

Several of your teammates are already present when you enter the room, including Jonas who greets you both with a big smile. You find yourself following Alessia around like a lost puppy in the room, but she doesn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, she introduces you to people she already knows.

You’ve come across some of them on football fields in previous games, but aside from a few words exchanged with them, there’s never been anything more. You talk to Laia Codina, whom Laia and Leila described as an adorable girl, when a new trio arrives in the room. Lia, Leah and Katie.

"Katie terrifies me" Alessia jokes in your ear before Leah spots her and leads the other two in your direction.

"Do you know Y/N?" Alessia tells Leah after they greet each other with an embrace.

"Not really" Leah replies with a smile. "Welcome to Arsenal!"

"Thank you very much"

When your eyes meet, you feel a wave of shivers running through your entire body. Nothing to do with the terror that Katie can inspire in Alessia, but what it can mean does intrigue you no less. But you quickly recover, greeting all three. You realize too that Leah’s embrace lasts a few seconds longer than the others, her hand dragging in the hollow of your back when she laughs at a joke Katie made.

Shortly after, Jonas and his assistants arrive in the room and ask you all to sit down. You find yourself next to Alessia and Manuela Zinsberger and listens wisely to what he tells you. This mainly consists of a warm welcome from the new players, a reminder of the goals set for the team this year and the introduction of new staff members. After that, everyone is invited to a brunch and you find yourself around a big round table, once again with Manuela but also with Frida Maanum, who seems delighted to have a compatriot with her on the team.

"We’ll be able to show Stina and Amanda who the real Vikings are" she told you, amusing the people around you.

The least we can say is that you quickly feel comfortable.

Finally you were wrong to fear the introduction into your new team. You haven’t trained together yet, but you feel it won’t be a problem for you to fit in here. Despite you, your eyes are a little too turned towards Leah Williamson, who has lunch at an another table. You didn’t expect the injuries one to be here today, which was stupid of you. They’re just as much part of the team as you are.

In the middle of the afternoon, after visiting the different rooms and the training ground, you are free to leave. You stay a little longer than the first ones who do though, having fun making passes with Alessia and Manuela, while Leah, Lia, Beth and Viv stay a few meters from you to discuss. When you finally decide to leave the field to go home and you don’t follow them to the parking lot greeting them nevertheless, you see Leah arching an eyebrow.

"Where are you going?"

"Taking the subway? I don’t have a car yet" you answer smiling, shrugging your shoulders.

"Bullshit. Someone can bring you back" Leah says, turning to your teammates.

"I’m not going to force someone to make a detour for me, Leah, but that’s very kind, thank you very much."

Something in the blonde’s gaze makes you think that if she had been fit to drive, she herself would have made the detour, but being driven by Lia she doesn’t have the opportunity to do so.

"I can" says Alessia nicely. "Where do you live?"

A new wave of surprise attacks your teammates when you give them the name of your hotel.

"You live in a hotel?" Lia wonders with her kind voice this time.

"I didn’t find an apartment for now" you shrug your shoulders."It all happened so quickly that I didn’t have time to anticipate things properly."

Well, you must also say that you wanted enjoy your holiday without bother yourself with it.

"We have a guest room if you want to come and live there for a few days, the time to find something" proposes Manuela.

But before you have time to answer, Alessia suddenly resumes speaking, slapping her forhead, as if she had just remembered something.

"They’re looking to rent the apartment in front of mine, on the same floor. If it’s like mine, it’s really nice!"

********

It turned out that the apartment in front of Alessia is indeed very nice. A bright living room (Very rare for London said Katie when she was sent by Leah to come make the counter-visit with you to scare the seller in case of scam attempts), a bedroom, another room that you used as a guest room, a third to make you an office and a living room with open kitchen. You even have a small balcony overlooking the inner courtyard, separated from Alessia’s by a transparent wall. "We’ll have to do a housewarming party" several of your teammates got excited. And that’s how you end up with most of the players on the team crammed into your living room, laughing while watching a reality show chosen by Jen. You ordered pizza and a supply of beer and other drinks has been flooding your balcony since last night. But you feel good and that’s all that matters. At the end of the show, you don’t know who offers a drinking game, consisting of taking a shot of alcohol if we did more than the person says. For example, you find yourself having to drink when Lotte says "I took more than three yellow cards last season." "Katie should drink like five shots" jokes Viv towards. Katie glare at her as laughter rises around you, but the game continues. Finally, when one of them says "I slept with more than two people" you are surprised to see that finally not many of you drink. You do. "Y/N?" Manuela turns to you with a disbelieving smile. "We never said we had to justify ourselves" you answer pulling your tongue at her. A new round is quickly thrown after that, but you cross Leah’s eyes a few seconds later. She also drank, which is probably not surprising given the small reputation that precedes her.

After clearing your throat, you look away with a slight blush on your cheeks.

You regularly saw Leah, between the parties organized by the different team members and during training. If the blond doesn’t follow those in the field, she has her appointments with her physiotherapist at the same time as you play. And she now participates in strength training and physical maintenance.

You talk to her regularly, but you have a hard time staying away like you promised yourself to. Leah seems like a very passionate and kind person, but some of your former teammates in Manchester City have made you aware of her flirtatious nature. And a one- or two-night thing, are really not what you’re looking for right now.

A little later in the evening, when at least half of the squad has returned home, you find yourself tidying up a little in the kitchen accompanied by Lia, Leah, Alessia, Manuela and Frida.

"So you have more than two conquests?" teases Manuela, leaning on the central island of your kitchen.

You have the impression that Leah’s eyes will pierce your head when she hears Manu’s question.

"I’ve got like three" you says, rolling your eyes. "It’s not the end of the world"

"It’s not" Lia laughs.

Hoping to divert the conversation, you offer once again to drink to your teammates slash friends. But that was without counting on Manu’s spontaneity.

"Oh but it wasn’t you who dated Alina Meier who play in Aston Villa? Lia’s swiss teammate?" (n/a I don’t want any problem with anyone, this girl is all invented)

You feel your stomach contracting a little bit to her name. Manuela isn’t mistaken, but you usually avoid talking about your ex. Any of your interlocutors could feel the tension emanating from you, but Lia is the fastest.

"Can I have another beer please?" she cuts the conversation with a big smile.

You willingly accept and pivot towards the fridge to dive in. Alessia takes charge of changing the topic of conversation and you sigh of relief when your hear that it works. You spend two seconds more than necessary to take out the beer, taking a large breath before leaving the fridge. Alessia puts a comforting hand behind your back and you find yourself once again stuck in Leah’s eyes when your eyes cross.

An hour later, it’s just Alessia, Leah, Victoria and you. Manuela fell asleep on the couch and you will probably find her in the same place tomorrow morning. Vic and Lessi are in the middle of a conversation about a band when you find yourself on your balcony, enjoying some fresh air.

"Mind if I join you?"

Leah. You obviously invite her to join you, despite yourself very intrigued by the young woman. You’re not stupid, or at least not stupid enough not to realize that she seems intrigued by you too. She speaks at you more often than Manu for example and behaves differently with you than with Lia or Alessia. You can imagine how much she looks about you and to be honest you’re interested about her too. But on your side it’s not only physical interest, which changes everything.

"Are you okay?" asks Leah with sincere concern. "You seem a little down since Manu mentioned Alina."

You look at her thoughtfully for a split second before shrugging your shoulders.

"She doesn’t bring back pleasant memories. But it’s ok" you finally confess, looking at the sky.

It’s difficult in London to observe the stars, between pollution and public lights lit everywhere. You miss it a little.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Well… Everybody in the football world knows, no?"

Another disadvantage of dating a well-known player, in the end. It’s impossible to keep your privacy private.

"I don’t think so?" said Leah, frowning. "I don’t, anyway." You look at her again for a few seconds and it doesn’t take you any longer to understand that she’s telling the truth. "We dated for almost a year, until I found out she had been cheating on me with someone in the man team from her club for almost four months." "Oh... I’m so sorry" A new glance in her direction allows you to understand that she really is. Frowning, she seems upset by this story. Like all the people to whom you tell the truth of your break up with Alina. You assumed that everyone knew why, but it would seem that they didn’t. It kind of cheers you up to be honored. "Jordan’s playing with her now" you say thoughtfully. Leah grunt at the mention of her ex and you take advantage of the fact that she looks in front of her to observe her. Leah is a very beautiful woman, it’s not surprising that people like her so much. You see regularly video on her in your "For you" on Tiktok. "You’re not the only one having a bad relationship with your ex" ended up sighing Leah. "Do you want to talk about it?" you ask, repeating her words from before. "There’s not much to say. She’s just, you know... gone." Maybe you shouldn’t get close to her to put your hand on her shoulder, her proximity triggering strange sensations throughout your body. You realize that the joints of Leah’s hands that are attached to the fence are white, and your hand quickly leaves her shoulder to be laid on one of Leah’s, stroking it. When Leah turns her head in your direction, you realize how close your faces are. Your breath is cut off and the infinity of the blue of her eyes makes you lose yourself. When Leah puts her hand around your waist to take you against her, you feel like your heart rate has never been so fast.

But it’s nothing compared to how you feel when her lips land on yours. One hand is automatically behind her neck and the other on her cheek. Your lips begin a passionate and sensual dance and that’s exactly how you imagined things when you thought about how Leah kiss.

The blonde takes advantage of a wimper from you to deepend the kiss and request access to your mouth with her tongue. You leave it to her, carried away by these waves of emotions and sensations that make you turn your head. You find yourself quickly having legs in jelly and you can’t tell how long this moment happened.

You need all your concentration and willpower to break that kiss, snatching yourself from Leah’s arms.

"I’m sorry" you mumble out of breath, facing Leah’s surprised face. "I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry"

With one last mumble, you hurry back inside. If the remaining guests suspect something, they don’t show it. You take the excuse to clean up a little more to mask your trembling hands and let your heart rate returning to normal. Five minutes later, Leah came back inside, excusing herself and leaving your apartment, calling it a night. She didn't even look at you and well, that's hurt. But it shouldn't, aren't you the one who pushed her away?

After kissing your cheek and saying goodbye, Alessia left you too. You throw a blanket on Manu’s sleeping body, you go to your room. It’s late, but you know that Ingrid sometimes stays up a little later than other people.

From You Are you asleep?

From Ingrid 🩵 No. are you okay?

From You Can we call each other?

You don’t get messages back, but Ingrid tries to call you while you’re brushing your teeth. You pick up, mouth full of toothpaste and greet your friend with a hand sign when her face appears on the screen.

"What are you still up at this hour?" smiled Ingrid

"I could ask you the same question" you point out to her after rinsing your mouth.

Ingrid just turns your phone screen and you realize that she shows you her living room, in which she seems to be installed with Mapi and Baghera watching TV.

"Hola Mapi!" you smile to the tattooed when she greets you with a wave of hand.

"What about you?"

"I invited the girls to my apartment to celebrate my move in" you explain before leaving the bathroom and going to lie on your bed.

"Was it nice?"

You hum for any answer, the memory of the kiss you just exchanged with Leah coming back full force. After spending years paying attention at you, Ingrid knows you very well and she realizes in the second that the reason you called her is related to this evening.

"What’s going on, Søtnos?"

Mapi being next to Ingrid, you are relieved that you started this conversation in Norwegian. Since Leah’s name is rather all-purpose, you hope that when you mention her, Maria will not realise. You never understood why there is such tension between the Spanish women and the English women, at least for some of them. But Mapi will probably never be friends with Leah.

Ingrid is a person you could easily confide in, even if there are parts of your life that you have never talked to her about. But you trust her with your life and you know that she will always be able to see things in a neutral and mature way. Which is not always your case.

You explain the situation to her, trying not to take too much time while giving her all the necessary information to have a clear vision of things.

"For summary" resumes Ingrid after your monologue "You like her, she seems to like you too. She kissed you, you pushed her away and she left without looking at you?"

"Uh… yeah"

"And you’re surprised?" laughs softly the brunette shaking her head.

"No, on the contrary. I should never have accepted that kiss in the first place, it was a serious mistake on my part."

"Why?"

"Because she doesn’t see things the way I do, I guess. Leila told me to beware of her and she didn’t want anything serious for a long time" you sigh as you roll to the side.

"Did you talk to her about it?"

"No, we didn’t have time between the kiss and the moment she left my apartment slamming the door" you laugh.

"Be careful with your bad attitude" warns Ingrid pointing at you.

But you smile at her in return. You know she doesn’t scold you for real.

"Anyway, I doubt that she will want to speak to me again after that" you sigh again.

This information shouldn’t depress you as much as that, but still. And this doesn’t escape the keen eye of your compatriot once again. She smiles softly at you.

"I like Leila and I don’t doubt that she means what she says, but trust me, you’re never better served than by yourself."

Her look from the side and you know she’s looking at her own girlfriend. You remember perfectly well that Ingrid was also told to beware of Mapi. But when you see where they are today, you tell yourself that she did well to trust her own idea.

"You have a better conscience than me to judge people" you remind her.

Ingrid answers you with a grunt and you know that she thinks about what happened previously in your love life. You make a grimace and decide to change the subject, questioning her rather on Mapi, her trainings and what she has to tell you again in her life.

Your call lasts another ten minutes before you decide to stop, promising to call you back quickly. What you usually do once a week at least, determined to keep in touch despite the fact that you are not in the same country.

It’ll be a long time before you can fall asleep that night, Leah deep in your mind. Part of you is bitterly sorry you pushed her away, but on the other hand, no one can blame you for wanting to protect you, right? No one knows your past and what you went through before you came here. But you can’t help but feel guilty, despite the little time you spent with Leah, she confided in you about her relationship with her ex and even if it was just a few words, you feel like she wouldn’t do it to just anyone. Your last wish is to hurt her, she asked nothing for it.

You will have to wait until the sky clears, heralding a new day for you to finally find sleep, long hours later. Little did you know that Leah experienced the same thing in her own bed.

********

As you have imagined, Leah was particularly cold the next time you saw her. She greeted you, but only from a distance. Her affectionate smile and the little touches if attention she offered you on a daily basis now seem to need to be evoked in the past. And it bothers you too much for your taste.

This obviously caught the attention of the girls you were closest to in Arsenal, starting with Alessia.

"Is everything okay with Leah?" she asked you one day when you ended up in her apartment after a game.

"Yeah, why?"

Thank God you were on your phone and you were able to use this pretext to pretend to be absorbed by what was on it. Otherwise Alessia would have seen the slight panic take hold of your gaze.

"I don’t know, I think she changed her behavior with you… It’s not so much in her habits"

Alessia is far too observant, but given her character and personality, it doesn’t surprise you. It's also probably thanks to this that she saw your hesitation and she got closer to you before starting to speak again.

"Leah is my friend but you are too, so if you need to confide in someone, you can do it with me ok? I know how to keep secrets"

"Even for Tooney?" you asked while arching an amused eyebrow.

You met the energetic Englishman recently, when she came to London for an interview and took the opportunity to attend a match of Alessia.

"Even for Tooney" laughed Alessia gently shoving you with a shoulder.

You laughed too and you both went back to your respective phones, but in truth Alessia’s remark began to spin in your brain.

"Thanks"

Is all you added before you letting your head on her shoulder. Alessia responded by tapping you on the top of it, without taking her phone out of her eyes. And that was enough.

********

"Your tattoo is amazing!"

Katie’s exclamation makes you turn in her direction and you smile timidly when you see her watching your back carefully.

"Thank you?" you whisper in response.

Even if you prefer showering at home, this is not the first time you change in front of your teammates. So you don't know it Katie have never dared to ask you about it or if they have never really make attention the tattoo you have on your back. Yet it’s hard to miss. Drawn on all your right shoulder blade, it goes down to the hollow of your hips and shows up to your right shoulder.

"Wow, invite the girl on a date before" jokes Manuela when Katie advances towards you, without detaching her eyes from your back, her head slightly tilting on the side to have a better view.

"Sorry, I already put an option on it!" Caitlin exclaims at the back of the locker room, causing a general laugh.

Katie rolls her eyes, but you realize that she has been joined by Lia and Leah, all three of them carefully observing your tattoo. Your gaze lingers on Leah, who seems to resist as much as possible her desire to come and look closer. She stands behind Lia and when your eyes cross she silently observes you for long seconds before shifting her attention to your back.

"Sorry about the invasion" Lia smiles gently.

"It makes me think of a painting" Leah thoughtfully made next to her.

"By Van Gogh yes. The Starry Night. It was my grandfather’s favorite painting. Well, it’s a modified version obviously, but the inspiration is there"

The surprised look of Leah doesn't escape you. Lia is watching you silently and next to you Katie and Manuela have started a conversation about tattoos. As for Alessia, she finally emerges from the shower after her eternal routine of care.

"Do you like painting?" Leah asks carefully, looking at you with the same apprehension as if your gaze could ignite her alive.

"My grandfather was a painter, not very well known but he introduced me to this world" you answer by shrugging your shoulders.

"What she paints is incredible. She has a room dedicated to this at home, behind her bedroom" Alessia intervenes.

You turn in her direction, frowning. It's a part of you that you don't really want to share with everyone, fearing their jugement. You don't think you're a great painter, but you like painting. It's sort your mind. Your glance is quickly captured by your friend.

"What? It’s true" she mumbles, shrugging.

You roll your eyes and turn around to finish dressing, putting on a t-shirt and a sweatshirt to accompany your ripped jeans. The little troop that surrounded you has dissipated, but Leah’s gaze remains thoughtfully on you. You cross it when you glance in her direction and you blush slightly.

The effect that woman has on you… It might be a good idea to talk to someone about it again instead of thinking desperately about her every night before you fall asleep.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson

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