#awfc

[enwoso]

right swipe, right time | alessia russo

-> based on this request🩷

masterlist

alessia didn't mean to download tinder.

well... okay. technically, she did. but it was through pure peer pressure. elite-level peer pressure.

it was one of those rare, peaceful nights on england camp. no media obligations. no early morning session. just music, snacks, and eight girls crammed into one hotel room in matching lionesses training hoodies, flopped on each other's beds with face masks and football socks still on.

"admit it," ella said, sipping from a bottle of lucozade. "you're hopeless. you haven't even looked at anyone since—what, 2021 when you got with that girl in-?"

"oi," alessia replied, shoving a pillow at her hoping the rest of the sentence wouldn't follow. "not everyone needs a tinder girlfriend and a backup date."

"i need to have a backup," ella scoffed. "just let us be your wing women."

chloe popped her head up from the floor. "you, though, less? you're like a nun with abs."

"excuse me?"

"i'm just saying, you've got biceps and absolutely no one to appreciate them. it's tragic really."

the teasing escalated until ella snatched alessia's phone, cackling. within minutes, the group was huddled around it, swiping through profiles with ruthless commentary.

then chloe stopped. "wait. wait. look at her."

the girl on the screen had sun-warmed skin, a long sleek ponytail with a silver chain around her neck and a smile like it came easy.

the profile read:

y/n, 26.

📍aussie in london

dog mum, football, coffee, beach, sarcasm. swipe right if you can deal with my accent😉

alessia blinked. "she's australian?"

"even better," leah said, not even looking up from her phone. "less commitment, more fun." ella laughed and swiped right before alessia could protest.

it was a match. you messaged first.

you: ‘so... you're the type who let her friends swipe for her?’

alessia: ‘and who told you that??’

you: ‘you did. in your bio. it says not my idea.’

alessia: ‘touché.’

you: ‘how do you feel about a flat white and great company.’

you were clever. funny, but not in the exhausting ‘trying-too-hard’ way. you admitted your accent made ‘no’ sound like ‘naw,’ were fluent in football slang props to having a football mad brother and dad growing up, and had some pretty strong opinions about oat milk.

on the second day you sent a photo of your dog - a tan mutt with ridiculous ears, one permanently flopped sideways.

you: ‘this is roo. he's 40% kangaroo, 60% drama queen.’

alessia: ‘did you really name your dog after a kangaroo?’

you: ‘duh what else am i supposed to name the most aussie thing i've owned while here in london?’

alessia laughed so hard she nearly dropped her phone.

you and alessia talked for hours. that night. the next day. the next. alessia didn't want to jinx it, but something about you stuck in her head.

so when you casually said on facetime, "i know a place that makes coffee almost as good as back home. want to judge it together?", alessia couldn't stop herself before she said yes.

⸻

you arranged to meet just outside of st albans, outside a quiet café nestled between a vinyl shop and a bookstore that always smelled like cedar. the place had one of those wood-paneled signs and hanging plants framing the doorway.

you were already there when alessia arrived — leaning on the railing, sunglasses tucked onto the top of your head, wearing black jeans, a red nike hoodie with a white tee poking out from underneath the hoodie making you look so effortlessly put together.

and you brought roo. a worn blue leash in one hand as roo sat obediently at your side with his tongue lolling out like he owned the street.

"so this is the infamous roo?" alessia asked as she crouched down to scratch behind his ear with a wide grin.

you grinned cheekily, "he wanted to see if you were worth my time."

"and?"

"jury's out, depends on how good your coffee order is"

inside, you and alessia sat at a corner table by the window, roo laid under the table, head on your foot like a sleepy chaperon.

the cafe was cozy, a little too warm with soft music playing and the smell of fresh espresso lingering in the air as the conversation flowed as if they'd known each other longer than a few days.

the two of you talked football, you had played through your youth before switching to the more fitness route of personal trainer. talked music types. favourite food. best goals.

alessia recounted her childhood to you about growing up with two older brothers who tackled her in the garden until she toughened up. you had similar instead yours was more squabbles with your brother about whose turn it was to chose what to watch on the tv.

the two of you laughed, a lot and alessia found herself more relaxed than she had felt in ages.

after coffee turned into a walk through the park, roo trotting between the two of you like he belonged to you and alessia. when you both stoped on a quiet bench, the city loud and buzzing behind them. you gently nudged alessia's shoulder.

"you've got a great laugh," you said, you voice a little softer now - not flirtatious, not teasing. just honest.

alessia blinked, caught off guard a little. "that's random."

you shrugged, but there was a flicker of something more vulnerable in your eyes. "just been thinking it all afternoon. every time you've laughed, i've wanted to hear it again. i dunno. it's like.. it sounds a little like home, even when nothing else here does."

that brought alessia up short — in the best way. her pulse fluttered a little. the wind tugged at a loose strand of hair near her cheek, and you reached out instinctively, brushing it back gently with the back of your hand.

"and," you added, gaze holding hers, "i-i really want to kiss you."

alessia didn't say anything at first. she just stared at you — at the slight flush on your cheeks, the careful tension in your posture, the way your thumb brushed against her own jeans like you were grounding herself.

"i thought you'd never say it," alessia said quietly almost whispering. you smiled, just barely.

alessia leaned in, slow and sure, her hand resting lightly on your arm. your faces hovered close, breath mingling in the space between the two of you. when your lips met, it wasn't fireworks or drama — it was warm, slow, and steady. like the start of something that didn't need to rush to prove itself.

alessia's lips were soft, patient — like she didn't want to take too much, just enough to say this is real.

you smiled into the kiss, nudging your nose against alessia's as she deepened it for just a heartbeat more, letting herself melt into the moment.

roo let out an exaggerated sigh at your feet, flopping down dramatically like he'd seen this all before.

you pulled back with a quiet laugh, your forehead resting lightly against alessia's. "well," you murmured, "guess you passed his test too."

alessia's grin was wide now. "should i be relieved or insulted that your dog is the final judge?"

"trust me," you said, brushing your thumb gently across alessia's hand, "he's got excellent taste."

⸻

fast forward a few weeks — text messages, video calls, one stolen weekend when you and alessia both had a spare weekend — and suddenly it was the champions league final.

most of alessia's teammates had someone in the crowd. family, partners, whole sections of fans in their shirts. alessia didn't expect anyone but her parents and family to be there.

so when alessia jogged out for warm-ups and caught a flash of that same sleek ponytail under a baseball cap, sitting behind the dugout with a massive arsenal flag scarf draped over your shoulders, alessia's heart just stopped.

you grinned at alessia from the stands and sent a message.

you: ‘go win it, star girl. i'm here. you've got this and you deserve this so much🏆’

the final whistle blew.

the roar hit first — a wave of noise so loud it felt like it shook the air itself. arsenal had done it. champions of europe. alessia stood frozen for a second, boots rooted to the grass, blinking up at the stadium lights through tears she hadn't realised were already falling.

a brutal, brilliant final. 90 minutes of fight. blood, grit, and everything they had left in them.

now there were arms around alessia — teammates screaming, laughing, crying — someone pouring champagne over her back, another dragging her into a pile-on. alessia laughed so hard she nearly dropped to her knees, adrenaline flooding her body until she was floating.

confetti exploded from the stands like rain. gold, silver, red — blinding under the floodlights. they lifted the trophy. alessia's medal felt heavy and strange around her neck, like it wasn't real yet.

somewhere in the middle of the chaos, she remembered to look toward the tunnel. and there you were.

you stood just past the barrier, half-hidden by stewards and staff, but alessia saw you instantly. somehow, even through the din, even with a stadium erupting around her, alessia's eyes found yours.

"you came?," alessia said breathlessly as she stumbled toward you, cheeks flushed, hair soaked, half-covered in sweat and sticky champagne. alessia's voice cracked on the last word.

you smiled — wide, proud, and maybe just a little teary yourself. "of course i did. you think i was gonna miss the love of my life win a champions league medal?"

alessia froze mid-step, slightly caught off guard. "you just said—"

you smirked, raising an eyebrow slightly . "too soon? i'm australian. we move fast."

alessia laughed, dazed and glowing, before pulling you into a quick, messy hug. a one you didn't want to end, at least not yet. but before either of you could say more, a voice rang out:

"well, well, well. whose this?"

chloe kelly. grinning like a madwoman, dragging leah along behind her, both still in full kit, cheeks streaked with war paint and joy.

leah narrowed her eyes. "wait hold up... this the aussie?"

"the tinder aussie?" chloe gasped. "you're real?!"

you, cool as ever, extended a hand, voice deadpan with just the right touch of theatricality.

"y/n. from sydney. like coffee, dogs, and a certain blonde striker who wears number 23."

chloe collapsed into giggles so violent she almost dropped her phone. "she's perfect. and you've been hiding her! wait till i tell ella about this!"

alessia groaned, trying to tuck herself partially behind you. "can everyone not make this a thing?"

"too late," leah declared, already snapping a photo. "group chat is getting this in two minutes. tooney is gonna have a field day!"

you leaned toward alessia's ear, your voice low and warm beneath the chaos. "i'm stealing you in five minutes. you've earned my full attention and unlimited kisses for the night and maybe the rest of eternity!"

alessia turned to face you, her medal bumping softly against her chest. her eyes were tired and shining. "only if i get the right side of the bed."

you grinned. "done. whatever you wish, with my hoodie on the side"

and then, right there, in front of teammates, staff, her family, and 60,000 still-cheering fans — you kissed her. it wasn't rushed. it wasn't shy. it was the kind of kiss that told everyone watching: this is real.

alessia leaned into it, one hand finding the hem of your coat, the other curled into your hoodie, grounding herself. you tasted like mint and stadium air and something steadier, something safe.

when you finally pulled back, alessia's smile was soft and breathless. for once — champagne in her hair, confetti in her eyelashes, teammates heckling in the background — alessia didn't care about the noise, the cameras, or what tomorrow would bring.

for once, the chaos was absolutely worth it. alessia had swiped right for the right person. her right person

[hrtwayne]

Used to This || Leah Williamson

Pairing: Leah Williamson x Fem!Reader

Summary: During a press conference after the semifinal victory against Italy, a journalist keeps pushing the narrative of a supposed rivalry between the Captain and Vice-Captain—who are actually girlfriends.

Note: English is not my first language.

Warning: Possible Kissing?

Woso Masterlist | Leah Williamson & Alexia Putellas Masterlist

The night was thick, the sky dark over the arena, illuminated only by the stadium lights and the collective buzz of an England that had fought tooth and nail to secure their spot in the grand final. Leah and you still bore the marks of an intense match against Italy—damp hair, tense muscles, and adrenaline that refused to fade.

Right after the final whistle, both of you were called for the official press conference alongside Sarina. It was standard protocol, but this time, the atmosphere was different. The victory had been hard-fought, snatched in the dying minutes of extra time. The brief but intense celebration between the two of you hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Sitting side by side at the press table, Leah maintained her usual composed demeanor. You, still with damp hair from a rushed shower, rested your forearms on the table, attentive.

Sarina answered a few tactical questions calmly, until a reporter from the middle row raised her hand. She adjusted her glasses and pulled out a clipboard that looked more like a script disguised as an interrogation.

"Congratulations on the win," she began with a rehearsed smile. "But I’d like to address something beyond the pitch. There have been rumors behind the scenes about a possible rivalry between Leah and Y/N. Some even claim there were serious arguments in the locker room during the group stage, which supposedly cast doubt on your on-field relationship. Care to comment?"

A heavy silence fell like thick fog. Leah turned toward the reporter, her expression still calm, but her eyes slightly narrowed, betraying her irritation.

"Then you should check your sources," she replied firmly, her voice calm yet sharp as a blade. "Discussions happen when two invested people want what’s best for the team. But calling it a 'rivalry' is a stretch."

You felt heat crawl up your spine to your cheeks. That question wasn’t just invasive—it was malicious, an invitation for scandal. And no matter how much you and Leah had tried to keep your relationship away from the spotlight, that comment stirred something inside you.

"Actually," you said, straightening in your chair, "it’s not unusual for two people in a relationship to have disagreements. And if there’s any 'tension' between us, it’s because we care too much about this team… and about each other."

A weighted silence settled. Leah turned to look at you, surprised. It wasn’t a secret, but it had never been said out loud. The reporter smiled like she’d just struck gold.

"So, you’re confirming there’s something between you?"

Your breath grew heavier. You hesitated for a moment, but before you could answer, Leah laced her fingers with yours under the table.

"There are many things between us," she stated, locking eyes with the journalist. "Respect, friendship, partnership. And one shared goal: lifting that trophy. It wouldn’t make sense for me to have a conflict with my girlfriend and teammate. Does that answer your question?"

The reporter froze, eyes wide at the unexpected confirmation. Every camera in the room was now fixed on you two. And despite your racing hearts, you felt strangely at peace.

You turned slightly and pressed a quick kiss to Leah’s cheek. The captain smirked, still looking ahead.

"Now, if you have questions about the match, our strategy, or the final, we’re happy to answer. But if it’s about speculation or personal matters, this press conference is over," Leah said firmly.

Sarina suppressed a smile, proud of her players. The following questions returned to football, as they should have from the start. And when the presser ended, Leah and you walked side by side down the concrete hallway, steps steady—as if you’d already won something far greater than a match.

In the locker room, before rejoining the rest of the team, Leah took your hand once more.

"Do you have any idea what we just did?" Leah asked, laughing softly.

You arched a brow, teasing.

"I just gave an interview, love."

Leah chuckled, and before another word could be spoken, she pulled you into a quiet kiss—one that said the hardest part had already been spoken aloud.

[rana030]

ARSENAL ARE FUCKING MASSIVE ❤️

[wileys-russo]

oh miss williamson the woman you are. models breathed a sigh of relief the day she picked up a pair of football boots

[plqnetputellas]

soccer on ice

alessia russo x hockey!reader, frida manuum x platonic!reader

kim needs to figure out team bonding, so frida brings them to her cousin's rink to skate, alessia falls in love at first sight with the hockey player who makes fun and skates around her in circles

warnings: blood, injury

Kim never hated being the captain more than she did at this moment. She and Leah wanted to start doing team outings at least once a month so they could bond more and hopefully transfer it to their playing on the field.

So far, they had only done two last month, and she was already regretting implementing it. Kim wanted her teammates to stay under the impression that she had it all under control, but she didn't, and now she was on her last resort.

"Ok, everyone, I've called this meeting because Leah and I need ideas for the team bonding this month." Kim looked at everyone in the room, seeing the beginning of a laugh on Kyra's face and a smug look written on Beth's.

"Yeah, yeah, but this is important and we need Ideas. Real ones, Vic." She watched the younger Dutch girl slowly put her hand down and slump down in her seat.

The meeting that should have been a quick one lasted thirty minutes too long. Kim just planned to get some ideas from the team, write them down, and go on with her day, but of course not.

She seriously thought about sneaking out the back door of the room until Frida raised her hand. "Um, my cousin helps run an ice rink, and they have freeskating and lessons. I can call her to see if we can go there." Kim let out the biggest sigh of relief she had ever had and thanked Frida immensely.

"Wonderful, everyone's dismissed and Leah and I will text you the time." And with that, everyone finally got to leave the grounds for the day.

Meanwhile at the rink, your day was absolute shit. You had hockey practice in the early morning, and the coach wasn't there, so being the captain, you were forced to run workouts with mostly new teammates.

Then, you had to teach hockey lessons to a bunch of seven-year-olds. Again, not your ideal day, especially when one little girl tripped and started crying, setting off the rest of the children on the rink.

You finally got the break you had been craving the whole day and sat at your desk in your office. Frodi, who was technically the owner's dog, but you took him home almost every single night, and he spent a lot of time with you on the ice and in your small office, ran right in through the door.

"Hei, Frodi." You pet the large golden retriever behind the ears and got to typing whatever paperwork on your desk into the computer. The loud ringing of a song that was only set to one person woke the dog lying on your feet and made you pick it up.

"Hei, Frida. Hva skjer?" You could hear the sound of an engine and horns beeping, telling you that she was driving home from practice, even though it was later than usual. "I need to ask you a favor. Can my team and I rent the rink for a few hours tomorrow? It's important."

You groaned into the phone, and you were almost positive you could hear a wince come from your cousin. You used the mouse to scroll through the calendar for the next day, making sure there were hours free for a bunch of footballers.

"Ok, I have to teach tomorrow at 10:00, but I can let you rent it from 11:00 until 14:00, if that's ok." You didn't necessarily want to have all these random women in the rink that you wanted to practice in, but it was worth it to see and hear Frida happy.

The two of you finalized the plans, and you rubbed your temples before grabbing your bags and whistling for Frodi to follow you to your car.

The drive from the ice rink to your flat was always a calming one. You usually left work later on in the evening to either work, teach lessons, or just stay to practice for games. So it was typically dark and everyone's lights were on, making it for a relaxing drive allowing you to play crappy music and letting the dog sleep in your front seat.

You opened the door to your home and watched Frodi run to his bed and curl up, not even waiting for his pieces of your dinner he usually got fed. You went to your bathroom and turned the shower to the hottest possible setting without hurting your skin, making the bathroom steam up with the smell of lilac.

You were always the type of person to sit as long as possible in the shower, feeling the water pour down your back and the feeling of soap pooling around your feet.

The water made you so calm and relaxed, but you still had to make dinner and get your hockey bag cleaned. You used the towel hanging next to you to wrap your hair before heading back out to the kitchen. The minute you started chopping the vegetables and cooking the chicken, Frodi got up from his bed and sat next to you, practically slobbering at the mouth.

"Vær så god, Frodi. Flink gutt." You finished off your usual weeknight by watching a Norwegian soap opera and curling into your bed with the windows open, allowing the soft sounds of the night to filter into your room. [ Here you go, Frodi. Good boy. ]

A wet feeling on your cheek woke you, and made you turn to the side to see the panting face of your dog. You turned your head to the side, fully prepared to stuff your face back into the pillow for the extra thirty minutes of 'sleep in time', until you checked the time and saw that it was well over thirty minutes later than you were supposed to leave. "Faen"

You'd never seen your flat in such a chaotic state. Clothes were thrown on the floor, your hair was tossed in a bun, and your things were hanging out of your bag as you rushed to your car. Frodi strode into the rink without a care in the world; meanwhile, you apologized to Cathy and tied your skates.

"Hi kids, sorry I'm late, but let's have fun. Please get in two lines." Last week, you promised the children you were teaching that if they listened during the whole lesson, you'd play hockey with them. It was usually the only way you could go through teaching with someone throwing a fit or fighting.

They always made you pinkie promise you wouldn't take it easy on them, but you couldn't help but fall dramatically on the ice when they checked you. One of your favorite kids, Artie, 'tackled you' and you grabbed him before falling on the ice and tickling his sides. ""Å, du oppfører deg som din barnslige side. Så søtt, kusine." [ Aw, acting like your childish side. How sweet, cousin. ]

The voice that belonged to your cousin broke the air and made you freeze with your back still on the ice and the child still on your front. Was it already 11? If so the parents in the lobby were probably going to be even more pissed.

"Whatever, piss off Fri. Go get changed, guys, your parents should be just outside." You watched the kids scramble off the ice, most in awe of the football players standing outside the rink.

"You couldn't give me a warning that you guys were coming?" The blonde pointed to her phone, and you looked to your own to see that she had, in fact, sent three texts. "Whatever. Let's get skates for you guys, hope you know your sizes."

Luckily for you and your sanity, almost everyone knew their sizes in skates, as it was basically the same size as the cleats they wore for football, and all you had to do was basic math to size them down.

All except for one blonde girl, Alessia, who you knew from your Instagram, seeing as she had followed you a couple of months ago and liked almost everything you posted.

"I just don't get it, they're too tight on my feet, they're getting smushed." If it wasn't for the fact that the woman was cute, you would have been insanely annoyed and probably thrown your head into the wall.

But something about the genuine concern on her face and the look up at you from the bench made you want to laugh. "Have you ever skated? Because you did an awful job at tying these, let me help." You knelt down and began undoing the work of the blonde, making sure to tie them correctly so they would be comfortable. The entire time, you could feel Alessia staring at you, but you didn't mind.

"So, since you don't know how to tie skates, can you skate on the ice, nydelig?" You knew that she wouldn't know what you were calling her in Norwegian, so you said it anyway. The determined look on Alessia's face said it all. She didn't know how to.

You opened the gate and waited for her to go in before you joined her. "Do you need me to grab you a skate aid? We've got a penguin with your name on it?"

You took her hand in yours, noticing how the warmth of it felt against yours, and led her to the ice. It would be easy to hold her hand the whole way and make sure she didn't fall, but it was even easier to skate in small circles around her. You held laughs in as the blonde reached for the side of the wall.

"Hey, not all of us can be born on the ice." The way she crossed her arms and blew the hair falling from her ponytail made you want to pick her up. "Who said I was born, nydelig. I've just got immense talent." You winked and started going backwards just to see the face of Alessia.

Your afternoon was spent surprisingly well, even if skating around meant you missed your lunch break, but it didn't matter in the moment. You were having fun with the person who you thought was a creep a few weeks ago, after getting a comment and a like on everything you posted.

It wasn't that you let hockey and work rule your life, as Frida said, it was just that there weren't things that were more important. Most of your friends were the girls you played with, so there was no use in trying to go out to find new ones. You enjoyed playing hockey, and you enjoyed working with the kids you taught to skate.

Weeks passed, and your routine stayed the same, but Alessia somehow managed to enter your life. After your afternoon of skating, she messaged you to ask you on a date with a strangely homemade-looking cat meme. But even though it was weird to you, it just felt good. It felt good to finally have someone who appreciated you.

Alessia and you started to get to know one another more, and you found yourself falling in love with more than just her looks. She was funny and sweet, and even though she called you at the worst hours, it made you smile. The two of you shared words and even a kiss one night, but it never got talked about.

It was like a secret that was felt between the two of you whenever you met up or talked. It's not that anybody noticed enough to ask about it, but the tension that occurred was undeniable.

Everything was normal the morning of your 'big game', aside from the fact that you were freaking yourself out over Alessia coming. She had rambled on ever since skating together that she just had to go watch you play. And today was finally that day.

You weren't superstitious like some of your teammates. Like Jo, who had to unlace and lace her skates every game, or Tess, who swore drawing a smiley face under the bench was what made her the top scorer.

You like Alessia, like you liked her a ton. But you were scared that if she attended this game, she wouldn't like that you weren't the same person on the ice. "Yo, are you ready? The game's about to start." You lifted your head up and grabbed your stick laying next to you.

The cold air from the ice mixed with the screaming of the excited fans, was the perfect thing to pump you up. You walked out, feeling more jittery than usual, and gave a curt nod toward your teammates before turning to look for the blonde in the crowd. You found Alessia sitting in the row behind the glass and you found yourself smiling and skating to your position on the line.

If someone were to ask you, the game was going great. The defense was amazing, and your goalie hadn't let a single puck into the net. Seeing as the opposition was one of the biggest rivals you had, you were doing amazingly well for the first half. Usually, you prided yourself on being able to stay calm during games, especially with being the captain, it was best.

But the other team's number 6 kept checking you and sneering in your ear. You didn't care about what she said about you, but then she began picking Alessia out of the crowd. Number six saying, "Your girl is looking good, I might have to meet her later," pissed you off, and you threw your gloves onto the ground.

You didn't remember anything after throwing your stick and launching yourself at her. You were practically seeing red, and all you heard was the roar of the crowd from excitement. Punches were thrown both ways, but there was an iron taste in your mouth before you saw your vision go starry.

Alessia was giddy the whole day. She woke up and got through practice feeling like she had caffeine running through her veins. She couldn't wait to see you. Alessia knew that the two of you had been dancing around your feelings, but she was ready. She was ready to admit to you that she wanted to be something more.

The moment she got out of practice, she sped home to fix her hair and pick out an outfit with the sweater you got her. She drove toward the stadium with a playlist you'd made for her. Alessia couldn't be happier sitting in her seat and waving at you the second you got onto the ice.

Alessia would never say that she loved a sport more than football, but she had to say that watching you and your team play on the ice was entertaining. Granted, she hasn't taken her eyes off you the whole game, but she still knew what was going on.

When she watched you throw your gloves on the ground, she knew what was going to happen - a fight. You didn't show her all those replays of games for her not to know when a fight was starting.

She knew you could fight, she'd searched you up on YouTube so watch interviews, and it wasn't like a few highlight reels weren't going to pop up. So when you fell on your knees and didn't stand back up, she was worried and rushed down the stairs.

Alessia was almost positive that if it weren't for the threatening look written across her face, she wouldn't have gotten through security.

Alessia didn't know where she was going until an older woman bumped into her. "Hi, are you Alessia? Maybe you can talk some sense into Y/n." In hearing your name, she immediately followed the woman to see you sitting on a bed, pushing the ice pack around in your hands. "Hi nydelig. Please tell them that I'm fine to go back."

As much as she wanted to be on your side, she could tell you shouldn't be playing in your state. There was a lump forming on the side of your forehead, already an ugly purple, and there were small cuts around it, and your knuckles had been bandaged. "I'm sorry, but you look terrible."

"Wow, thank you, Lessi, way to flatter a woman." You could feel the pounding coming from your forehead, but it made you want to get back onto the ice even more. Except, you knew Frida would probably come to drag you off herself, and it wasn't worth it. When Alessia came in, it made you feel bad that you probably worried her for no reason.

The blonde sat next to you, and the touching of your knees made you blush. She took the ice pack from your hand and placed it on your forehead. The worried look and closeness of your faces made you want to kiss her and tell her how you felt, but you didn't.

"Please let me drive you back to your house, you shouldn't be driving with this."

"No, you have a game tomorrow and I'll be fine."

"Didn't you come here on a bus? It's going to be a while, please just let me." Alessia looked way too determined for you to say no. The medics had already taped and stitched your forehead, and you couldn't lie that waiting two more hours in the locker room did not sound like a good time. "Fine, but you're not sleeping over; you need to get up early. Just let me shower."

The only thoughts running through your head were those of Alessia. A woman you'd only met a few weeks ago, and she was already worrying about you and vice versa.

You could feel the steam building around the room, and the water was dripping from your hair. Your clothes were quickly pulled on, and you grabbed your bags, already feeling bad for making her wait for you.

The drive from the rink to your apartment was the same hour-long ride as the bus, but being in the car with Alessia made it better. She insisted on taping the icepack around your forehead, but the look she gave to check it at every red light was comforting. As much as you wanted to listen to your usual rock, you knew it wasn't good for your head.

Alessia grabbed your bags the minute she parked and held her hand out for the key, which you placed in her hand. You were grateful that she'd been over before, as she knew where everything was, and you didn't have to explain everything. "I'm making you tea no matter what you say, and you better be in bed by the time it's done."

There was no way you were arguing with an angry Alessia, even if you wanted to. You threw your sweats and shirt that had somehow been sweated through on the hard bathroom floor and threw on the most comfortable pajamas you owned. You also knew that after seeing you like this, Alessia wasn't going back to her own home.

It wasn't that much of an inconvenience to you, but your house was thirty minutes farther than her's to the stadium. The only thing you could do was lay shorts and a shirt out for Alessia on the side of the bed, which she insisted was hers every time.

"Wow, I'm so proud of you. Now drink this, it'll make you feel better." You took the warm mug in your hands and watched the blonde disappear into the bathroom door.

"You know I hate tea, but this actually tastes good." Alessia smiled back at you, plugging the two of your phones into the charger before crawling into bed next to you.

The only tea you had in your cubbards was one with melatonin, so you knew you were due to fall asleep sometime soon. You felt yourself get pulled into the arms of the woman next to you, and the warmth made your eyelids feel heavier than before.

Her fingers running through your scalp and her soft lips pressing into your forehead were the last thing you remembered before your mind faded to darkness.

Shit. That's what your whole body felt like. Shit. Your head was pounding, even after popping god knows how many ibuprofen. And every muscle and bone in your body felt as if it were on fire. But you promised both Alessia and Frida that you would come to their game, and you weren't going to break a promise to two people at once.

So here you were with a Russo jersey and a scarf Frida got your grandmother to stitch her face into. The cold London weather made you more miserable than ever, but there were young fans who kept coming up to you for pictures, so you put a smile on. You were finally able to sit down before turning to talk to the young kids tapping on your shoulders.

Alessia, on the other hand, could barely contain her excitement. Of course, she was worried about you in the back of her mind, your head had still been bleeding this morning, hence the bandage still taped to you. But it was finally time for you to watch her play, and she couldn't be more excited.

"Earth to Alessia, shouldn't you be warming up?"

"No, she's too busy staring at her girlfriend in the stands."

Frida kept joking in her ear, and she could read the teasing looks on everyone's faces. "She's not my girlfriend, Frida, gosh. She just came to watch the team play." Alessia still felt the looks, but Frida was right.

It wasn't like the two of you truly talked about your feelings, but they were there. And she didn't know how much longer they could be contained without making things awkward.

The nerves were always overwhelming, but seeing you in the stands made Alessia feel them less. Everything about how you made her feel the past few minutes without even being near her was the reason why she wanted to share her feelings.

You had to admit the game was exciting. You didn't have to worry about not knowing the rules, so it made watching Alessia more than easy enough. Even though you were practically babysitting one of your students on your lap, you didn't mind. Watching Alessia do what she loved made a smile crawl onto your face.

The whole ninety minutes had you on the edge of your seat, and you were pretty sure you could attribute Alessia's goal to you being there. Besides the fact that she held your number on her fingers and winked toward you might make you think something, but still.

You watched all the players start to walk around the pitch to thank and sign things for fans, and you couldn't wait to see who you'd been waiting for. "Too impatient to wait for your little girlfriend, huh?" Frida. Of course. Acting as if she hadn't been looking through the seats for Emma. "Shush, Frida, I'm busy."

"Really? She's coming, jeez, and I can't wait for a new sister in law." You shooed her off with your hand because you didn't need to be arguing with her. Plus, you told Emma later, she would get her ass yelled at anyway, so it was worth it. "Hey."

"Hey, you played great!" You took the girl into your arms and kissed her on the forehead. "I never said thank you, so thank you for helping me last night." The smile that grew on her face made it all worth it, as she grabbed your hand and started pulling you toward the tunnel. You could feel all of your nerves from the past few weeks building up more and more through the walk.

"Y/n, I don't want to ruin what friendship we have, but I really like you, like want to be with you like you."

Oh.

This is not what you expected; it wasn't like it was easy to ignore the tension of feelings that were constantly growing like a weed between the two of you. But the way Alessia was looking at you, it wasn't hard to say what you were feeling. "I’m in love with you, Lessi," I whisper. "Completely."

You took her face in your hands, feeling the soft skin beneath your fingers, and pulled her lips into yours. You never believed in all the 'fireworks when two people kiss' crap, but kissing Alessia felt like magic. It felt like every worry you had about injury or the life you had ahead of you disappeared.

"Oh my gosh, my eyes. I'm scarred."

"Frida, really? That was so sweet."

It wasn't really that you could be mad; a game had just ended, and the two of you decided to do this in the middle of the tunnel. All you could really do was look down at Alessia and laugh at what happened.

"Do you want to go home together after this?" She asked you with a newfound light, making her eyes shine in the dark area. "I would want nothing more."

As she walked down the hall to grab her stuff, you couldn't help but smile down at your feet. If the relationship that was sure to bloom between the two of you was anything like your friendship, you were looking forward to seeing what was going to happen in the future.

i hope y'all enjoyed this, even though it most likely did not fulfill the long ass break i took, but i will hopefully be uploading more often

[pitchsidestories]

the matchmaker II Steph Catley x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 1742

summary: A tulip field, a runaway dog, and an unexpected meeting—when Calvin disappears for a moment, he comes back with more than muddy paws: he might’ve just found Steph her perfect match.

author's note: Hi everyone, we truly enjoyed writing this oneshot and hope it brings you just as much joy while reading it. 🌷🌷

disclaimer: everything in this fanfiction is purely fictional and nothing corresponds to reality.

Spring had officially arrived. The clouds had made space for some sunshine and the air smelled sweetly of the first blooming flowers. It was the perfect day for a trip to the tulip fields, Beth had decided. So, she had rallied a few of her teammates, packed up their dogs, and set out.

Now they stood at the edge of the fields. Neat rows of tulips stretched out in front of them in every shade imaginable. Around them, the space was buzzing with life.

Across the tulip fields was a square with wooden picnic tables and lined with food stalls, from which a delicious smell wafted over to them. People were busy being flowers, taking photos and sipping drinks. It felt like spring.

Calvin and Myle watched the crowd with wagging tails.

“It will be just like the Netherlands.”, Beth told her Dutch girlfriend brightly as they arrived.

Vivianne raised an eyebrow, unimpressed: “I very much doubt that.”

“But they even have Dutch food.”, Lotte pointed out, gesturing towards a stall selling poffertjes. The smell of tiny pancakes and powdered sugar filling the air.

“Won’t be as good as at home.”, Vivianne replied.

Her girlfriend elbowed her gently: “Viv, stop pouting for once and enjoy it. Look how excited Myle and Calvin are to be here.”

Vivianne looked down. Both dogs were sniffing the ground with twitching noses.

Steph nodded, reaching down to pet Calvins head: “Yes, both of them love it here.”

She then turned to her teammates and nodded toward another stall: “Wait here, I’ll get us all coffee. That will definitely lift up Vivs mood. Lotte, can you hold Calv for a second?”

Grinning, the defender took the leash from Steph: “Sure, come here, Calv.”

“Thanks.”, Steph smiled at her teammate and handed Calvin over. She crouched down at Calvins level for a second: “Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.”

While Steph got their caffeine fix, Vivianne looked across the tulip fields, arms crossed in front of her: “And they call this a tulip field?”

“Stop it and drink your coffee.”, Steph laughed as she returned, balancing a cardboard with to-go cups in her hands. She nudged one into Vivs hands. Just as she was about to pass one to Lotte, she realised that someone was missing.

“Uhm, Lotte? Where’s Calv?”

Panic flashed across Lottes face as she looked down at the now empty leash in her hand: “What? Oh my god, he was right here a second ago!”

“Don’t worry, he can’t be far. He’s probably where the food is.”, Beth said quickly, trying to keep the group calm.

Vivianne sighed, already scanning the crowd. “We’ll help you find him.”

With Calvins size, it wasn’t hard to spot him. He sat patiently in front of a woman in shorts, tail wagging as she scratched behind his ears like he had known her forever.

A relieved gasp escaped Steph’s lips the moment her eyes landed on her beloved dog—Calvin. He meant even more to her now than ever; he had been by her side when her previous relationship fell apart, helping her through the heartbreak.

“There he is!”, she exclaimed.

You looked up casually from the dog, only to meet the most enchanting brown eyes you’d ever seen.

“Oh, hi. Is this your dog?”

“Yes, that’s Calvin.”, the woman replied, her face lighting up with a smile that could outshine the spring sun. Wow, she’s gorgeous, you thought to yourself.

You turned your attention back to the dog you’d just met: “Hi, Calvin.”

For a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, until you noticed three other women approaching and coming to a stop just behind her. Later, you'd come to know them as Beth, Lotte, and Vivianne.

“Oh, you’re Dutch too.”, the Manchester City player observed.

Her accent caught you off guard—it had a Scottish lilt to it, nothing like the Dutch tones you were used to. You gestured to the charming surroundings and explained: “Yes, I’m helping out some family here.”

“I told you this place felt authentically Dutch!”, the blonde chimed in, beaming up at the taller woman beside her, whose hand she held as if it belonged there. It didn’t take much to guess they were a couple.

To your surprise, Vivianne addressed you in Dutch: “Zorg je voor het eten of voor de bloemen?” (Are you taking care of the food or the flowers?)

“De bloemen.”, you replied with a soft smile. (The flowers.)

Beth nudged Steph gently, her blue eyes dancing with amusement: “Calvin seems to really like her.”

“Yes, he won’t leave her side. Calv, come on.”, Steph said, clearly entertained by her dog’s sudden loyalty.

With a cheeky grin, the blonde quipped: “Looks like Calvin wants her number before he goes.”

“Beth!”, Steph exclaimed, fingers running nervously through her hair.

You perked up, half-laughing, half-curious. “My phone number?”

With a cocky grin, Beth suggested: “He clearly wants to see you again. And so does his mum.”

“She does? Is that true?”, you asked, glancing hopefully at the dog’s owner.

Before she had the chance to overthink it, her lips were already moving, her voice tinged with a nervous edge—it had been a while since she’d done anything like this: “Uhm… yes. Yes, we do.”

“Wait.”, you said quickly, before stepping away for a moment. When you returned, you held out a small scrap of paper, your phone number neatly scribbled on it.

A shy smile played across your lips as you handed it to her: “Here you go.”

“Thank you.”, Steph murmured, instinctively pressing the note close to her chest.

“Don’t hesitate to call or text me, yeah? I just need to get back to work now.”, you responded with a gentle smile.

“Promise I will.”, she replied, eyes locked on yours as though she was trying to memorise the moment.

Her gaze lingered on you, following your every step until you disappeared into the colourful crowd, the blur of people and petals reminding her of the tulips scattered at her feet.

Lotte grinned, absolutely delighted by the interaction and petted Calvins head: “Didn’t know Calvin was such a matchmaker.”

“Looks like he has a lot of hidden talents.”, Beth agreed.

Steph smiled down at her dog: “Good boy.”

With a smirk, Beth nodded towards the piece of paper Steph was still holding: “Looks like you’ll have a date soon.”

“Yes. God, I’m so nervous. I haven’t been on a date in a while.”, Steph admitted, tension creeping into her posture.

“Just bring Calvin and you already have something to talk about.”, Lotte replied, only half-joking.

Just a few days and many text messages later, you were set to meet Steph at Hampstead Heath. Your heart pounded as you waited, a bouquet of flowers in your hands. You tried to calm yourself down by repeatedly reminding yourself that it was only a walk.

Suddenly, Calvin came running toward you, tail wagging furiously. He launched himself at you, trying to lick your face.

With a laugh, you bent down to greet him as Steph called him back.

“Hi, Steph. I saw these and had to think of you.”, you smiled when you finally greeted each other properly, holding out the bouquet.

Stephs eyes widened as she took the flowers: “Oh my god, they’re beautiful. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.”, you smiled, feeling a blush rise in your cheeks.

She handed you a to-go cup and you made a mental note that you had essentially never seen her without a cup of coffee in her hand.

“I got us coffee. I wasn’t sure what you like but I thought I couldn’t go wrong with a flat white.”, she said.

You inhaled the aroma of the warm beverage: “Thank you. Flat whites are my favourite.”

“Oh, mine too.”

With Calvin growing impatient, he three of you began to follow a little path through the lush green grass.

“So, “, you said after walking a while in comfortable silence. “I know you like flat whites, your dog and flowers. What else is there to know?”, you asked after you walked a while in silence.

Steph pretended to think for a moment: “I’m a football player, I’m Australian if you haven’t noticed and I’ve never been on a date with someone my dog picked out.”

You chuckled, your gaze following Calvin as he trotted ahead: “To be fair, Calvin gave me most charming meet-cute I ever had too.”

“I’m sure he knew what he was doing.”, the Australian commented with certainty.

You smiled at him affectionately: “Absolutely.” For a moment, you paused before confessing: “I’m glad we met that way.”

“You are? This wasn’t too much, or anything?”, she asked, listening carefully. You quickly reassured her.: “No, it was perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

The two of you sat down on the bench. Calvin curled up peacefully beneath it. From there, you both had a wonderful view of the London skyline, framed by a beautiful blue sky. For a fleeting moment, a butterfly settled on the dog’s nose.

Curiously, Steph glanced your way.: “Oh, good. So, you help out with your parents’ flower fields? What else do you do?”

“I usually work as a florist in the city.”, you replied.

Turning her attention to the bouquet in her hands, the footballer murmured with genuine admiration: “Wow. Did you make this?”

“I did. I love being creative with it.”, you confirmed.

Just a few hours earlier, you’d carefully arranged the flowers, wondering what she might like. It had also helped calm your nerves before the date, giving you something to focus on, something to do with your hands.

A beautiful smile lit up the brunette’s face: “They’re really lovely.”

“Glad you liked them.”, you hummed, smiling back.

From there, the conversation flowed easily. The nervousness of the first few minutes melted away under the lovely sunshine. The walk was filled with laughter and little stories, and both of you knew—you wanted to see each other again.

Steph and you yearned for more time together before you even parted. And when you finally had to, you ended it with a kiss, just as the sky turned shades of purple and pink above you.

With a soft grin, the defender knelt beside Calvin and whispered into his ear: “Thank you, Calv. I really do like her.”

In return, he gave a quiet, knowing bark—as if he understood completely.

image sources: https://www.instagram.com/bethmead_/p/DIjkYXIsH6Q/?hl=com&img_index=2

[p0orbaby]

magic 8 ball

summary: What starts as Leah crashing your pity pint spirals, predictably, into something far less wholesome and far more hands-on.

warnings: SMUT 18+, just general sex stuff so you know the drill

a/n: i was inspired, not sure by what, but here we are

word count: 2.5k

-

“I’m not having a breakdown,” you say, peeling the label off your beer with such deep concentration you forget you have to breathe to survive. “I’m having a perfectly rational response to the current state of the world. And also to my boss, who thinks ‘relevance’ is when a TikTok account reposts our gallery’s Instagram.”

Leah makes a sound, something between a laugh and a sigh, and slides onto the stool next to you as if she owns the place. She probably does. Or knows someone who does. She’s wearing a camel coat from The Row that looks like it’s never seen a hanger. Soft, fluid, draped like wealth. Her hair is up—one of those deliberately lazy ponytails that costs £80 at a salon and makes people call you effortless like it’s a compliment. She probably just didn’t bother sorting it after training.

She orders a double gin and tonic. Not with Bombay or Tanqueray or any of the pedestrian options available to people who wear polyester and say OOTD. She points, without looking, at a bottle of something artisanal. Something with botanicals. Something brewed by a man with a beard who lives in Hackney and forages moss recreationally while naked.

“You’re twitching,” she says, when the bartender walks away.

“I’m fine,” you reply, tight. “I’m absolutely fucking fine.”

You’re not. You’re vibrating with the same energy as a microwave that’s just been asked to reheat a bowl of leftover soggy chicken chow mein.

Leah squints. “Your eye does this thing when you’re on the brink of homicide. It’s cute, all things considered.”

You think about stabbing her with the cocktail stick that came with the complimentary olives you got when you ordered. Instead, you finish peeling the label. The bar is now covered in neat, sticky curls of Beck’s branding. You take a vicious sort of pride in it—like this bar owes you something and you’re slowly destroying it molecule by molecule.

“I had to explain post-conceptualism to a man who unironically collects Funko Pops today.”

“God.”

“He said, ‘So it’s like Banksy but sadder?’”

“Oh, sweet Jesus.”

“And then he asked me if Damien Hirst invented fruit winders.”

Leah bites her lip to suppress a grin. You hate that she finds this funny.

“I’m in hell,” you say. “I live here now. It’s beige and the lighting’s fluorescent and all the curators wear Balenciaga in the wrong way.”

“There’s a wrong way to wear Balenciaga?”

“Yes. It’s when you do it with sincerity.”

Leah hums, amused. Her drink arrives. She picks it up like she’s in an advert for skincare. You hate her glass. It’s too clean. You hate how she sips, like the liquid is trying to earn her respect. You hate her in general, really. But it’s a specific, curated hate. The kind that comes with longing. Jealousy. Proximity.

“You’re not angry,” she says, “you’re heartbroken.”

“I am not heartbroken.”

“Fine,” she shrugs. “You’re artistically blue-balled.”

That, unfortunately, lands. You clench your jaw. You spent two months assembling an exhibit that got described as visually competent by someone whose own work consists of melting Barbie heads onto coat hooks. The only person who seemed to get it was a caretaker, and even he asked if it was “about feminism or something.”

Leah’s watching you with the sort of curiosity she usually reserves for rare mushrooms or political scandals. You feel exposed, like she’s mentally peeling your skin back to check for rot.

“I just—” You stop. You sip your beer. You stare at its froth like it insulted your mother. “I just want to make something that doesn’t immediately get filtered through someone else’s idiot-brand algorithm of what art is supposed to do. I don’t want it to do anything. I want it to exist. And I want that to be enough.”

There’s a pause. A proper silence. A respectful one.

Then Leah says, “Well. That’s depressing.”

You blink. “Do you ever have a normal human reaction?”

“I do,” she says, “just not to tantrums disguised as philosophies.”

You groan. Loudly. Obnoxiously. “Why are you here?”

She takes another sip, smacks her lips, says: “You texted me the words ‘I hope my body gets mistaken for a performance piece when I die.’ So I cleared my schedule.”

You rub your face. You did text that. You thought it was funny.

“You’re a masochist,” you mutter.

“You’re dramatic.”

You look up at her, eyes narrowed. “You think you’re better than me.”

Leah leans in, her face maddeningly calm. “Sweetheart. I know I am.”

You want to throw something at her. A pint glass. the chair you’re sitting on. Your entire unresolved emotional history. But instead you say, “Do you ever get tired of always being the most emotionally detached person in the room?”

She tilts her head. “Do you ever get tired of pretending your anger is intellectual when really you’re just sad and lonely and catastrophically underfucked?”

You nearly choke on your drink.

“I am not underfucked.”

“I can see how tense your jaw is from here. It’s clenched like a Victorian child repressing her feelings about having to crawl up another chimney. Go home and look at yourself in the mirror. Tell me that’s the face of someone getting railed regularly.”

You want to die. You also want her to say it again, slowly, in private, with less clothing.

There’s a long, crackling pause. You both know it’s no longer about art.

Leah sets down her glass. She taps the rim once, twice. Rhythm. Precision. Her nails are short, square, coated in clear polish that you don’t normally notice but have now because you can’t look her in the eye. Then you catch yourself staring at her hands for too long and quickly look away.

She doesn’t comment. But you know she notices. Leah notices everything. She notices the hair tie on your wrist has snapped and been retied in a knot, twice. She notices you’ve stopped wearing mascara, which you used to call your “armour” in that stupid, performative way you used to talk about beauty like it was actually important. She notices the crack in your lip that won’t heal because you’ve been biting it every time you think too hard.

She says, eventually, almost to herself:

“Right. That’s enough tragic brooding. Come on.”

You glance at her sideways. “Come on what?”

She lifts her chin, shrugs like it’s obvious. “It’s time for the three F’s.”

You blink. “The what?”

“The three F’s,” she repeats, counting them off on one hand like she’s listing dinner party ingredients. “Food. Fucking. And… I haven’t decided on the third one. It’s usually ‘forgiveness’ but tonight it might change depending on my mood or how close you are to bursting into tears.”

You narrow your eyes. “Are you having a stroke?”

Leah ignores this. She taps her temple. “It’s a system. A trifecta. A deeply spiritual practice.”

“Sounds like a religious cult run by Gordon Ramsay.”

She smirks. “Exactly. Chips first. Sex second. Existential clarity optional.”

You stare at her, arms folded. She’s smiling now, that crooked, smug half-smile that suggests she knows she’s funny, even when you want to shove her face into a vat of chip grease.

“You offering?” you ask, dry. “For the second F?”

Leah shrugs again. “No. I saw a homeless man outside and thought you two might hit it off.”

You snort, despite yourself. “You’re a bitch.”

She sips her drink like she’s just said something unremarkable and bureaucratic, like we’ll be closing early due to maintenance. She doesn’t look at you. You’re glad. You’re not ready for the look she gives you when she’s being sincere. It’s like being x-rayed.

Then she adds, almost as an afterthought, “Of course I’m offering. Don’t be daft.”

You freeze. A beat. Another.

“I thought I was a neurotic, emotionally volatile husk of a woman with a martyr complex and an inflated sense of artistic purpose.”

“You are,” she says. “But you’ve got a decent face and you’re good with your hands. So, you know. Swings and roundabouts.”

You scoff. And you’re trying really hard to stay calm because your doctor has informed you your concerningly high blood pressure is a direct correlation of your erratic emotions.

“What happened to chips first?”

“Oh, I still want chips. I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since three and I’m craving something fried and disgusting. Preferably served by someone with a name badge and an attitude problem.”

You nod slowly. “That’s the most grounded thing you’ve said all night.”

“Thank you. I’m a woman of the people.”

She drains her gin and stands, smooth and sudden, like movement happens to her rather than from her. You watch the line of her coat shift across her hips and hate her a little more. In a nice way. A respectful way.

She glances back at you, already heading toward the door. “You coming, or are you going to sit here frowning into warm beer like the ghost of failed gallery interns past?”

You mutter something under your breath and follow. Of course you do. It’s Leah.

It’s always Leah.

-

“You’re making that face again.”

Leah’s looking at you from the other end of the bed—half undressed, half mocking, propped up on her elbow like some god-awful, lesbianised version of a Greek statue who knows exactly how fit she is.

You’re topless and regretting all your life choices. “What face?”

“The one that says, ‘this is a terrible idea but I’m already wet so fuck it.’”

She’s not wrong.

You shoot her a glare and yank your bra off in one not so smooth move. It slaps the floor with the exhausted whimper of cotton that’s held too many disappointing breasts over the years.

“God, you’re hot when you’re angry,” she says, and you want to laugh. Or hit her. Or sit on her face. All three feel valid.

“Shut up and lie down.”

She does. Immediately. The smugness fades slightly, replaced by something quieter. More concentrated. She watches you crawl over her like a lion stalking its prey. Or more realistically like you’re some slow-motion car crash she wants to get hit by.

You kiss her. Sloppy. Unapologetic. More tongue than technique. It’s not romantic. It’s hot. It’s urgent. It tastes like gin and old rage.

Somewhere between biting her lip and grinding down against her thigh, you lose track of how long you’ve been pretending not to want this. Leah’s skin is warm and annoyingly soft. Her bra’s still on. She’s still wearing her bra.

You reach for it, fumbling. “Why are these always like a NASA launch?”

She laughs into your neck. “You’ve never undressed another woman before, have you?”

“Only emotionally.”

You finally get the clasp and she shrugs out of it, tits bouncing slightly. You both pretend not to notice how your brain flatlines for a second. You’re supposed to be cool. You’re supposed to be in control.

But her nipples are hard and you’re throbbing and when she reaches between your legs without warning, you gasp—loud and unedited.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. “Warn a girl.”

“You’ve literally been grinding on my thigh for five minutes.”

“That’s different. That’s friendship.”

Leah slips her hand down your knickers. Finds you soaked. She hums like she’s impressed. Or smug. Probably both.

“Jesus, babe,” she says. “You’re soaked.”

You scoff. “Don’t call me babe. You sound like some weirdo on Love Island.”

“Fine. Darling?”

“Worse.”

“You’re tight when you’re annoyed,” she murmurs, and then pushes two fingers in. Just like that.

You moan. Too loudly. Your hips buck automatically.

“Oh, fuck—”

Leah grins like a wolf. She curls her fingers and your whole spine tries to fold in half.

“Yeah, that’s it,” she says, pumping slow, deliberate, unfair. “There. Right there. Don’t move.”

You immediately move. “Fuck, wait—fuck, there.”

She groans, her forehead pressed to yours. “You’re so annoying.”

You kiss her to shut her up and reach down between her legs. Her knickers are drenched too. You laugh.

“What?” she says, breath hitching.

“Nothing. Just didn’t know England’s golden girl got this wet.”

“I’m a footballer,” she pants, “not a cardinal.”

You pull her knickers aside, push two fingers in easily. She’s hot and slick and all kinds of fuckable. Her eyes roll back for a second. She grabs your arm, anchoring herself. Her nails dig in.

“Oh my god. Keep doing that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Don’t—don’t fucking stop.”

You thrust harder, matching her rhythm, both your hands moving now—sloppy and synchronised. Her hips are rolling. Yours too. There’s swearing. Lots of it. You’re both flushed and swearing and laughing in between grunts.

“Fuck,” she gasps. “Harder.”

You give it to her harder. You give it to her like a promise. Like revenge.

At one point you both reach for each other at the same time and bang foreheads. Loudly.

“Ow,” you groan, blinking.

She’s laughing. “This is the least elegant sex I’ve ever had.”

“Good,” you growl, sucking a bruise into her neck. “I’m not here to be elegant.”

You push her legs wider. You go lower.

“Wait—are you—oh fuck—”

You don’t bother answering. You just get your mouth on her. One long, filthy lick from her entrance to her clit and she arches like she’s being electrocuted.

“Jesus CHRIST,” she chokes. “You’ve done this before.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. You just moan into her cunt and keep going.

Her hand finds your hair and tugs. Not hard. Just enough to make you feel owned.

She’s close. You can feel it. She starts talking like a woman possessed.

“Yes. There. Don’t stop. Don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop—”

You don’t. Of course you don’t. You flatten your tongue and she breaks.

She cums hard, loud, practically shaking, her thighs closing around your head like a vice.

When she collapses, she pulls you up, kisses you like she’ll die if she doesn’t, and flips you over. She doesn’t even hesitate. Her mouth is on you like it’s home. She licks you open, groaning like you’re her favourite meal and she’s been fasting.

“Oh fuck me,” you cry, gripping the headboard like it’s a lifeline.

She hums against your clit. You nearly black out.

“Yeah?” she says, lifting her head. “That good?”

You nod, dazed.

“Use your words.”

“More.”

“More what?”

“More Leah.”

She moans like that’s the final straw and fingers you hard, mouth locked around your clit as if it belongs there. You cum embarrassingly fast. Practically scream. Collapse against the pillow like a dramatic Victorian wife.

There’s a beat. Silence. Both panting.

Then:

“I think I saw god.”

Leah wipes her mouth and shrugs. “Tell her I said hi.”

You both dissolve into hysterical laughter, tangled up and sweaty and slightly horrified.

“So,” you say, catching your breath. “The verdict on the third F?”

She grins. “I think I'll stick with forgiveness. For all the shit we’re about to pretend didn’t just happen.”

You nod. “Fair.”

And then you kiss her again. Because honestly, what else are you going to do?

[moonlight-alexia]

all too unwell | k.c.c.

kyra cooney-cross x catley!reader | 1.7k |  you're sick and kyra sneaks over to take care of you

ˏˋ°•*⁀ this is part of the pair of pests universe !!! wellll idk if i still have pair of pest fans since it's been a longggg time since i've updated for these two! but! if i still do! i hope you like it. i'm sick :( so that's the inspiration, i've had this fic idea every time i get sick the last few months. finally got around to writing it

any and all feedback, comments, reblogs etc are very appreciated and welcome <3

Kyra pouted a little while looking around the locker room. Steph had walked in but you were nowhere to be found, plus you hadn’t answered any of Kyra’s texts this morning which really wasn’t like you at all. 

Steph could sense Kyra’s questioning eyes that hadn’t left her the minute she walked in to training, ‘She’s at home sick, Kyra,’ Steph playfully rolled her eyes at your best friend, well girlfriend but Steph still didn’t know just yet, ‘Don’t need you getting sick either since you both think you need to spend all your spare time together,’ 

‘Aw but Steph-’ 

‘No,’ Steph’s voice was firm, no room for argument. Kyra rolled her eyes, sighing loudly before turning around to face her cubby. 

Making sure Steph didn’t see the small smirk starting to form in the corner of her lips and the mischievous glint in Kyra’s eyes. Kyra would find a way to come see you and make sure you were okay. She’d come take care of you, she was quite good at sneaking around without getting caught.

While Kyra was forming some grand plan, you were tossing and turning in your bed not able to find a position comfy enough to get some sleep in. Your throat felt like it was on fire and closing up, your head hurt whenever you opened your eyes and whenever you closed them so you really couldn’t win and you can’t remember what breathing properly felt like.

Maybe you were being a little dramatic but you felt awful and you hated it. No one likes being sick but you despised it more than a normal person. For one it meant you had to stay in bed and couldn’t do anything. That was the most boring part, sickness just disrupting your day.

You’d do anything to avoid being sick but your immune system always said otherwise and now you just had to wait for it to pass, while the medication you were able to take did little to nothing to ease the pain you were in.

You wanted nothing more than to be around Kyra but you knew how your sister was. Overprotective, well she was really protective in the right amount but anything feels exaggerated when you aren’t feeling well and only want your girlfriend with you. But Steph not knowing and wanting to keep the team free from sickness too meant that you wouldn’t be seeing Kyra until you felt better.

You could try to pretend to be better but Steph would be able to see right through it, she knew you too well and you also couldn’t sit up without feeling dizzy so that wouldn’t work. You couldn’t even get the energy to message Kyra. The brightness of your phone, even when turned all the way down, was too much for your head right now.

There was a little teddy, one that Kyra had won for you when you found yourselves at a beachside carnival on one of your little holidays. Just sitting on your bedside table next to a photo of you and Kyra at that carnival. 

You felt the tears start to well in your eyes. With the little energy you had, you grabbed the teddy and held it close. Some tears found their way down your cheeks. You felt so sick and you just wanted Kyra.

Kyra was having an awful time at training. Less energetic, less her usual pest self, mostly sulking at the fact she couldn’t think of a way to come see you without Steph knowing. She can’t scale the side of a house to reach your window, there was no way to reach it so she couldn’t sneak into your room like she was a teenager. 

Steph definitely wouldn’t let her in if she tried the front door. Kyra hadn’t overheard Steph saying she had plans after training, and they’d be leaving training at the same time so she definitely wouldn’t reach your house before Steph got home. 

‘Earth to Kyra, you gonna make us lose,’ Katie’s voice, and a gentle nudge from her, brought Kyra back to reality for now. Though she would still try to find a way to see you, even if it hurt her brain trying to think about it and focus on training right now.

‘Why don’t you pretend to be injured,’ Leah popped up next to Kyra during a water break, just quiet enough for no one else to hear.

‘Mild sprain, they’ll wrap you up, send you home to rest,’ Lia on her other side. It wasn’t like the two to be the ones to encourage this but they were also the only two that knew about you and Kyra. And neither of them could stand to see Kyra sulking any longer.

‘We’ll drag Beth along and distract Steph so she takes longer to leave training,’ Almost as quick as the pair were to appear, they left before Kyra could even get a word in or begin to process their idea.

Once she did process the idea, she huffed, like why couldn’t she think of something like that. It ended up only taking a half hour from the moment she faked her injury, Leah insisting on helping Kyra to the physio, just so she could tease Kyra a little. 

But a half hour later, a great acting display that no one suspected anything, and she was rushing, with a fake limp of course in case anyone saw her, out of training and one step closer to getting herself to you.

Her arms were full by the time she stood outside your front door. Kyra might have gone overboard but she had to make sure she had everything. From illness necessities to all your favourite things, Kyra had every inch covered.

Thank god you’d given her a spare key because otherwise she’d be stuck outside, you obviously weren’t feeling well enough to answer the front door since you hadn’t messaged her back at all.

You were in and out of sleep, barely getting any rest with how much pressure was inside your head, but you vaguely heard the front door go. You lived with your sister and she did go to training today so you didn’t think much of it other than assume what the time could be and how long you’ve unsuccessfully tried to sleep for.

Your blinds were still drawn, your room completely dark so you groaned in displeasure when a sudden light intruded when your bedroom door creaked open. Kyra was quiet, as quiet as she could be while wrestling a million bags on her arms. But her face softened when she saw you.

Now on your back, arm lazily thrown over your eyes to protect your head from the light until Kyra closed the door. She put the bags down and knelt by your bed, noticing the little teddy that was now on the floor by your bed. Smiling at the memories, remembering that your attempt at crocheting a little arsenal jersey with Kyra’s number was still sitting half done in the bottom of your bedside drawers. 

She picked up the teddy, sitting it back where it belongs before fully taking you in. Your hair was slightly sticking to your face, a light sheen of sweat layering your skin but you were shivering a little and trying to cover yourself more with your blanket.

Kyra sighed, her fingers gently finding your face and brushing back the little hair that was sticking to your face.  Soft, familiar, lips against your temple had you shifting, turning your head and one eye opening slightly, ‘Ky?’ Your voice was barely above a whisper, all scratchy, even though you had a water bottle next to your bed you still barely had the energy to regularly drink the water.

You were sure your eyes and mind were playing tricks on you. You wanted Kyra here so badly that you were hallucinating her. Whether you believed she was here or not, you still leaned into her hand that was on your face, the comfort that you needed.

‘I’m right here, anything for you,’ Kyra kicked off her shoes, all while staying close to you, before sliding into your bed next to you. The bags by your bedroom door are forgotten about, until you would be feeling and acting more like yourself.

Kyra gently moved you so your head was laying on her chest, her hand rubbing your back, softly soothing you. Your body was so tense but she could feel you start to relax a bit against her, ‘Are you real? Or is it just my mind?’ You mumbled, tilting your head and trying to poke at her face but your eyes were barely focusing enough.

A smile on her face, she laughed at your question, guiding your hand back down resting against her near where your head was laying, ‘Babe, I’m very real,’ 

All you did was hum in acknowledgement and tried to get as close as you could to Kyra. Kyra’s arms wrapped around you, tight enough to bring you some comfort without adding to the dull pain you were already in.

She kissed the top of your head when you let out a little yawn, ‘Get some sleep, I’ll be right here when you wake up,’ Kyra whispered, letting her lips linger against your head, her hand still rubbing against your back. 

Though Kyra froze a little when she heard the front door go, you whined in your sleep when her fingers stopped soothing your skin. Quick to keep her movements going while trying to stay as still and quiet as possible, as if Steph would be able to hear her breathing from the other side of the door.

Steph might’ve been oblivious to the signs that your relationship had progressed into something more than just best friends, but she wasn’t completely stupid. She knew she didn’t leave the front door unlocked when she left that morning. She also knows Kyra’s a lot stronger and it takes more than just a light tap against her ankle to take her down. 

Thankfully your sister, as protective as she can be, isn’t the type to go into your room and drag Kyra out. Instead she just ends up making dinner for three instead of for two. And you get to stay happily cuddled up against Kyra, your body relaxed enough around her to let sleep properly come over you.

[alotofpockets]

Just friends | Leah Williamson x Reader

5k celebration prompt: "If you walk out that door, don't bother coming back."

Woso masterlist | Words: 2.8k

-----

“You know they’ve been here before, right?” Leah questions as she watches you panicking to get the house ready for some of your teammates to come over for a movie night. “Yeah, and if we want to keep having them over, the house needs to look decent.”

Leah steps towards you and puts both her hands on your cheeks, forcing you to look into her eyes. “You live here, the place always looks decent. And it’s just Kim, Beth, and Lia, it’s not like they would care if a pillow was out of place.” The two of you had been living together for a few years now, and between the two of you, you were definitely the more organised one. Not that Leah was messy at all, she was the perfect housemate actually.

Before you could say something back, the doorbell rang, signaling that the first people were here. “Can you get that? I need to finish this quickly.” Leah shook her head with a chuckle, “Only because it’s you.”

You quickly fluffed up the pillows on the couch as you heard Leah open the door. The hallway was instantly filled with chatter, as all of them had arrived at the same time. You smiled when you watched them enter the living room with arms full of snacks. “I couldn’t choose, so I got them all.” Beth said proudly as she dumped everything on your cleaned and neatly organised coffee table. Leah met your eyes, the sparkle in them practically saying ‘I told you so’. You playfully roll your eyes and ask what everyone would like to drink.

Kim offers to help you out in the kitchen, as Leah, Beth, and Lia are already deep in conversation and making their way over to the couch. Leah was right, they wouldn’t bat an eye at a misplaced pillow or a little speck of dust, but to you it was important, so you didn’t mind doing the work.

“I’m afraid Beth and Lia have settled on a scary movie for tonight.” She says as you get some cups from the cupboards. “Oh no, and we’ve just left them alone with Leah, they will convince her and then it’s three against two.” You rush out of the kitchen, in hopes to stop their masterplan.

“Lee, hi.” You smile as you quickly come to a stop next to her. “Can I borrow you for a second?” Before she could answer, you grabbed her hand and pulled her into the kitchen, while smiling at Beth and Lia.

“Please say no to a scary movie, I cannot handle that tonight.” Leah’s eyes dart between you and Kim, with slightly widened eyes. “I’ve already said yes.” You’re about to hit her shoulder, but she quickly raises her hands, “They said that they had asked you and you were fine with it!” You lowered your hand, “Fine, but then I’m sleeping in your room tonight.” 

Leah shrugs her shoulders, “You know you’re always welcome.” Neither one of you notices the way Kim rolls her eyes in a way that said the two of you were being oblivious again. The whole team thought you should just start dating but no, you and Leah just danced around your feelings over and over again.

She walks back into the living room with some drinks and leaves the two of you in the kitchen. “Everything alright in there?” Lia asks as she watches Kim walk back in with her head shaking. “Yup, just making sleeping arrangements apparently.” At that Beth chimes in, “Ugh, can’t they just get together already.” Which earns her a chuckle from the other two.

The two of you make your way to the living room with the rest of the drinks, with three pairs of eyes looking at you like you had just been the topic of conversation, which you probably had been knowing them.

“If I have nightmares tonight, I will blame you two.” You say directed at Beth and Lia who pretend they had nothing to do with the movie choice. “I’m sure Leah will protect you, right Lee?” Lia nudges the blonde. Who simply responds with, “Let’s just start the movie.” Leah sat down on the couch, and pulled you down next to her. Kim had already set up the movie on the tv, and pressed play when everyone was settled. 

It didn’t take long for you to lean into Leah. At the first scary scene you buried your face into Leah’s chest, the fabric of her hoodie muffling your squeak a little. You sat up a little straighter again after the initial jump scare, but at the next you buried yourself into her side again. Leah’s arm wrapped protectively around you to hold you there. 

You clung to her hoodie, as if it would bring you any sense of safety. Leah noticed how scared you were, decided to try and ease your mind a little by playing with your hair. She let her fingers run through your hair over and over again. You let your focus go to her hands moving through your hair and closed your eyes at the next scary scene.

At some point you decided to just keep your eyes closed and enjoy Leah’s fingers running through your hair instead of continuing to be scared of the movie. The girls must’ve thought you had fallen asleep, because Lia says something as if you’re not there. “Come on Lee, you can’t tell me the two of you wouldn’t make a good couple.” The question piques your interest, so you keep your eyes closed in case they would stop the conversation if they knew you were awake. 

Leah stopped her movements for a second. “We’re just friends, Lia, you know this.” You thought she might stop, but she then continued moving her hands through your hair again.

Beth chuckles, “Just friends don’t make out together.” This was new to both Lia and Kim, so Beth explained. “When we were celebrating the Euros win, they were full on making out.” All eyes turn to Leah, who unbeknownst to you watches her friends with reddened cheeks. “We were drunk.” You shifted in her arms a little, but kept your eyes closed. “Anyways, don’t you have your own love life to focus on?” The other girls laughed as Beth slumped back into the couch with her arms crossed.

The evening continued on with half-watched movie scenes, jokes, and the steady rhythm of Leah’s fingers moving through your hair. Eventually you must’ve actually fallen asleep because Leah gently woke you up. “The movie is over, you can open your eyes again.”

You got up, and said bye to your friends who had already helped clean up the living room a bit. “You can head to bed, I’ll clean up the dishes.” You thanked her and got into your bed, thinking maybe you should just spend the night in your own bed, not wanting to over step with Leah after you heard her clearly say that you guys were nothing more than friends. But maybe thirty minutes later, Leah walks into your room and slips in next to you.

The next morning you wake up in her arms, but neither one of you speaks of what had been said last night. Leah didn’t know you heard any of it, and you didn’t want to start a conversation about it. You always knew that your feelings for Leah would stay hidden, she was your best friend. Maybe you did cross a few lines when you were drunk and even were nearing the fine line between friendship and more when you were sober, but it was just because the two of you had been close for so long. 

Life went on, as it always does with your busy schedules. Soon it would be Leah’s birthday. You had planned the whole thing with her brother, and were looking forward to celebrating with her family and friends at one of her favourite bars.

“Do you trust me?” You asked Leah as you were about to leave the house. It was her birthday, and you had told her you had a surprise planned. Her outfit had been laid out by you, and everything had been planned to a t. “You know I do.” You smiled and grabbed the blindfold from the table. “Alright, put this on while we’ll drive to your surprise.” Leah took the blindfold and put it on.

You drove the short trip to the bar in a different way than you would usually to confuse her a little more. Once you arrived, you parked the car and walked to her side. You open the door for her and grab her hand to guide her inside where everyone was waiting to surprise her.

Leah knew you were up to something, but she had no idea the surprise was going to involve her family and friends. She was speechless once she took off her blindfold and everyone yelled out “Happy birthday!”

“You did all this?” She asked once she was back by your side after hugging everyone that came out. “With Jacob.” You nudge his side. “Couldn’t have pulled it off without him.” She hugs the both of you tight, “I love you both so much, thank you.”

For the first part of the night you had the backroom booked, starting out the party with Leah’s family and closest friends. Later when more people would arrive and most of her family would leave, you’d go back to the main part of the bar.

In the room, you were all sipping on your drinks, chatting, and when a good song came on, Leah pulled out onto the clearing in the middle for a dance. The two of you sang along at the top of your lungs while dancing around and having the time of your lives. Soon others started joining in and you had created your own little dance floor.

Soon you started drifting further away from Leah with the amount of people that wanted to hang out with her. You found yourself to the side of the dance floor watching everyone around you having a good time, thinking you did well with the planning.

“So, I hear we’ve got you to thank for the party.” A woman says as she walks up to you. You smiled at her, “Yeah, me and Jacob.” She smiled back at you, “Eh I’ll thank Jacob later then, for now I have my eyes set on you.” You blush lightly at her boldness. “Wanna dance?” She asks you with her hand held out. 

You take one look back at Leah, and hear her words echo in your mind. We’re just friends. We were drunk. You turned back with a smile on your face, “I would love to.” She pulled you onto the dancefloor after you placed your hand on hers.

Leah had been mid-sentence when she caught sight of you. Her smile faltered instantly. You were dancing, with some girl’s hands on your waist. She couldn’t really tell who the girl was because her face was hidden mostly behind yours, but she knew it wasn’t one of your close friends by the way her hands were on your body.

She watched the girl move closer to you and whisper something in your ear that had you throw your head back in laughter. Leah’s jaw clenched at the way you were moving with her. 

Kim followed her gaze and with a knowing look turned back to Leah, “You okay?” Leah blinked and turned back to Kim, “Yeah, all good.” She said with a smile. Kim didn’t buy it, but she dropped it nonetheless.

Leah tried to focus back on the people around her, but every now and again she’d look up to find you in the crowd, still having the time of your life with that girl. Until you weren’t there anymore, her eyes darted around the room, people had started to leave and she had been so busy saying bye that she had missed you no longer dancing in the same spot.

She excused herself from Kim, and started looking around for you. She kept being interrupted by people saying bye, for whom she put on a smile and thanked them for coming, before quickly moving on again, but you were nowhere to be found. The girl was nowhere to be found.

Eventually she went home, where you were also not. She sat on the couch with another drink, sipping it while staring at the wall. Until she heard the door being unlocked, and watched you walk in.

“You’re back.” Leah said from the couch. Your brow furrowed a little at the way she said it, she somehow sounded disappointed in you. “I am.” You said cautiously as you took off your shoes.

“I thought you went home with her.” Leah says as she nearly slams her glass onto the coffee table. “Her?” You ask as you watch between Leah and the glass she just slammed down. This behaviour was nothing like the Leah you knew.

“Yeah, the girl you were flirting with all night.” She finally met your eyes, and you could tell there was both anger and hurt behind her eyes. “Oh Natalie? I got her number so we could hang out again, but I didn’t go home with her.”

“Oh sure, then where did you go? Fuck her in the backroom or something?” You were taken back by the accusation she spat at you. When you didn’t answer instantly, she continued. “Really? On my birthday? You try getting with someone else at my birthday party?”

“Look I don’t know what is going on, but I didn’t fuck anyone in a backroom. Was I flirting with her? Sure, but I don’t see why I shouldn’t be allowed to do that on your birthday.”

“Ugh you don’t get it.” Leah stood up suddenly. “Apparently not.” You say with a sign. “I flirted with someone at a bar, walked Lia home, and now I am getting yelled at by you.” 

Leah stayed quiet for a moment, as if she was trying to figure out if you were telling the truth. You took that moment to excuse yourself. “I’m gonna get some air.” You put your shoes back on and turn to the door.

Her next words were harsh, "If you walk out that door, don't bother coming back." You turned around, stunned at her words. “Excuse me?” This wasn’t like Leah at all. Her expression was hard, “You heard what I said.”

With a shake of your head you walk out of the door anyway. The night air hit you like a wall, and you stopped dead in your tracks. What were you doing? You didn’t want to leave, you wanted to figure out why Leah was acting like this.

You reach out for the door to open it back up, but it swings open before you can even touch the handle. “Wait, don’t-” Leah yells out before she realises you’re still standing right there. She lowers her voice again, “I didn’t mean what I said, please don’t go.”

“Good.” You said back, “Because I didn’t want to go.” She hesitates for a moment before stepping out with you, wanting respect that you needed some air. “I was being ridiculous, jealous even.”

Your eyes shoot up to hers. Jealous? “What happened to just friends and we were drunk?” Her expression softens, “Oh, you heard all of that?” You nod slowly.

“I just said that to make them stop talking. And honestly I’ve been telling that to myself, because I’ve been trying not to want you.” She looks away at something in the distance, afraid to look you in the eye right now. “I was trying not to ruin what we have. But tonight, when I saw you with her, I realised that I already did.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.” You said softly. Taking a deep breath while you wait for her to look at you again. “To be honest I’ve been dancing around my feelings too. But if we're going to move on from the place we are in now, I need to know if you actually want me, and not just when someone else does.”

Leah nods in understanding and takes a step closer to you. “I want you. I have wanted you for a long time.” 

You reach out your hand and take ahold of her hand, letting your fingers intertwine like you had done so many times before. “Okay, then let’s stop pretending that we don’t.” Leah pulls you a little closer and lets her forehead lean against yours. 

“I really want to kiss you, but this time around I want to do it properly, and not when we're drunk.” You smile, “Yeah, that sounds good.” So, instead of kissing her, you pull her in for a hug. You hold each other close until a chill runs down your spine, Leah notices you shiver and steps back. “Come on, we should get back inside.” You take her hand and let her pull you back into the warmth of your home.

-----

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[enwoso]

who she runs to | alessia russo x child!reader x leah williamson

-> based on this request⚽️

grumpy masterlist

the late-afternoon sun painted the youth pitch in warm gold as little feet pounded across the grass. you, in your slightly-too-big kit with the number '19' taped onto the back, was a whirlwind of energy and cheeky grins.

on the sideline, alessia, leah, and a handful of the arsenal girls had formed an informal cheering squad, snacks and water bottles at the ready.

"go on, tiny girl!" beth hollered, cupping her hands around her mouth as they cheered for you as you ran down the pitch.

"she's got more control than you, less," katie teased, nudging alessia slightly as they rested against the barrier.

"hey, i taught her everything she knows," alessia shot back smugly, a few of the girls humming.

leah laughed. "you mean how to do a step-over and immediately trip?"

"still counts as some sort of flair."

lotte stood behind them, filming on her phone. "this better go viral. i can see it, 'tiny sends opposition to the shops.'"

you, who was clearly fueled by all the attention, zoomed toward goal and toe-poked it into the bottom corner. as the final whistle blew, you threw her arms in the air like you'd just won the world cup.

all eyes were on her, but one pair of eyes watched from a distance harrison, standing behind a few rows back, out of direct sight his arms crossed with a small smile of pride on his face. he hadn't made his presence known yet.

the kids scattered after the whistle, some toward their parents, others toward the post-match oranges. but you?

your eyes locked on your mama like a magnet. "MMAAMMA!" you shrieked, sprinting at full speed.

leah crouched instinctively, arms open. "c'mere, lil superstar!"

you launched yourself at your mama and leah caught you, lifting you high and spinning you. you screamed with laughter, clinging to her neck.

"i saw your goal! that finish, oh it was lovely!" leah said, grinning her entire body filled with pride.

"you think it was good?"

"better than mummy's at the euros."

"yes! but not the back heel though-" you beamed, soaking up the praise.

leah slung you over one shoulder piggyback-style, and you giggled, playing with the ends of leah's ponytail. "you're my horsey now."

"you got it, angel. princess pony service."

beth leaned in. "oi, tiny, what about the rest of us? don't we get post-match hugs? we helped with the cheering too!"

you peeked out from leah's shoulder. "maaaaybe. if you bring me ice cream." you grinned pointing at the ice cream van that was in the car park, people already queuing in the warm afternoon sun.

"blackmail," katie muttered, impressed.

meanwhile, harrison approached, the laughter and affection around leah and you making his chest tighten.

he cleared his throat as he reached alessia. "hey."

alessia turned, eyebrows lifting, slightly startled by his presence. she hadn't seen or heard from him in a solid two weeks. "didn't know you were coming."

"i wanted to see her play." he said, hands still placed in his pockets as he looked at alessia, he could tell she was surprised by him being there. her brain ticking on how to react.

"you could've told me."

"she's my daughter, les-alessia," he said sharply. "i shouldn't need permission."

"hey, no i didn't mean that. but a heads up would have been nice-" alessia quipped back quickly, not liking his sharp tone especially when you were in ears length from hearing the conversation.

that tone. it was so familiar, so condescending and it grated on alessia.

but harrison's eyes drifted to the pitch, to the child, his daughter who hadn't even noticed him. still wrapped around leah's back, giggling and smiling as leah jogged lightly with you on her back.

his fists clenched slightly. "this—this isn't right. she should be running to me, not leah. i should be the one carrying her, not..." he trailed off, shaking his head. his eyes still looking at the scene of you and leah.

"y/n's not a prize you get for showing up late," alessia replied, her voice tight, her focus on gathering your little boot bag, not really having the effort to listen to harrison and his antics as frankly to her, now, they were boring.

"i'm her dad."

"and what is leah?" alessia fired back, quickly as she stood up now facing him. "cause to lovie, le is the one who helps her tie her shoe laces before school, reads to her at night, and gets up when she has nightmares."

harrison scoffed. "you let her play parent. that's on you."

alessia stepped closer, patience running a little thin with his excuses and ignorance. "leah didn't ask for any of this. she chose it. when we got to together, she showed up, over and over again. i never asked her to, once. and y/n loves her for that. that isn't something 'i let happen'. it happened by itself and cause you weren't there."

behind them, katie and beth had fallen quiet, exchanging glances at each other as they watched with unreadable expressions.

harrison shook his head. "it's not fair."

"no," alessia snapped back , "it's not. it’s not fair that, that little girl has to navigate your ego every time she's happy."

at that moment, you turned from your perch on leah's back, having heard the change in tone and recognising who your mummy was talking to. "mummy?" you said, voice small. "why's daddy shouting at you?"

the group went still. your eyes found harrison and the joy drained from your face, the smile that was once there had dropped quicker than your goal had hit the back of the net.

"hey, my little girl," harrison said gently, forcing a smile. "come here, daddy has missed you."

instead, you slid off leah's back and stepped behind her legs, peeking around only slightly, you little head confused at how he could shout at your mummy then want you in his arms.

"c'mon, y/n. don't be shy."

"no," you whispered, hugging leah's leg. "i don't want you to be mean to mummy." leah's heart broke a little, as she glared at harrison.

"she's scared," beth said quietly, stepping forward now, arms folded. "you might want to think about that."

"y/n," harrison tried again, his voice now slightly cracking. "i'm not trying to be mean, i just.. i miss you, kiddo."

still, you didn't budge.

"she doesn't owe you affection on demand," katie said, bluntly as alessia exhaled, rubbing a hand down her face.

lotte stepped closer and offered leah a soft look who was trying coax you from behind her legs. "you okay?"

leah nodded, then crouched beside you. "hey angel, want to go sit with auntie beth and katie for a bit while mummy and i clean up?"

you shook your head, firmly. "wan stay with you."

harrison opened his mouth but closed it again. there was nothing left to say. harrison took a shaky breath admitting defeat, but alessia stopped him with a look.

"maybe you should go," she said quietly. "we can talk later. but not now."

he looked like he wanted to argue, but something in the way you clung to leah made him finally understand. he wasn't the one she ran to. he wasn't never going to be. and until he earned it, he wouldn't be.

he nodded stiffly, turned, and reluctantly walked away. and harrison, watching from the shadows of the car park, realised for the first time...

he wasn't just competing with leah. he was competing with consistency. with love. with presence. with time.

and right now, he was losing.

as soon as he was gone, beth knelt down and offered you her hand. "alright, superstar. i've got jelly worms and a capri sun with your name on it."

you perked up. "do i get both?"

"mhmm, i'm sure mummy won't mind since you played your socks off in that match."

you cheered as you ran over to the snack bench with beth, katie and lotte in tow, your little socked feet rushing across the grass which alessia was definitely going to regret letting you do when she had to find a way to get the grass stains out of them..

leah stood slowly, brushing the dirt from her knees. alessia stepped beside her, watching their daughter dance around with the girls.

"she's lucky," leah said softly as she wrapped an arm around alessia pulling the blonde close into her chest.

"she is, she has the best people around her" alessia's voice cracked on the last word, and leah reached out to intertwine their fingers, grounding them both as they rested against alessia's shoulder.

in front of them, your laughter and giggles bubbled up again. you had launched herself onto katie's back, demanding another piggyback.

"i'm switching sides!" you yelled. "katie my horse now!"

"hey!" leah called, pretending to be offended. "i'm retiring from horse duty, am i?"

"no, never!" you yelled turning your head around to face leah as you yelled from katie's back. "you're my unicorn!"

leah and alessia looked at each other, hearts full.

unicorn. mama. safe place. whatever the name, leah had become someone you ran to, again and again. and no one could take that bond away.

[thewosocollective1]

A Little Reminder

Alessia russo x reader

Y/n had always been the kind of person who carried everything quietly. Expectations, pressure, the constant push to be perfect it nestled in her chest like weights she couldn’t shake. Nights were the worst. As the sky dimmed and the world quieted, her thoughts grew louder, restless, chaotic. Sleep didn’t come easy. It hadn’t for years.

Her doctor prescribed pills one for the anxiety, one to help her sleep.

They worked, but only when she remembered to take them. And lately, her mind had been so cluttered she’d forget. Then she'd lie awake, counting cracks in the ceiling, replaying every mistake from training, every word spoken to the press. She didn’t tell anyone. Not really. She thought she was hiding it well.

But Alessia saw.

Teammate, confidante… maybe something more. Alessia had been watching y/n for months, not in a creepy way, but with quiet concern. She saw how y/n’s eyes dulled on days after restless nights, how her hands trembled slightly before training, how she’d disappear to the bathroom and splash water on her face just to stay awake.

And Alessia had always been a little in love with her.

Not that she’d ever said it out loud.

It was there in her actions, the lingering glances, the way her jokes softened when y/n was around, how she volunteered for rooming together on away trips. Their bond had grown slowly, rooted in early morning training sessions and late-night talks.

When she first found out about y/n’s pills, it had been by accident.

They were rooming together during an Arsenal away game in Manchester. Alessia was looking for a charger and opened y/n’s side drawer. The orange pill bottle rolled out, and she’d paused, reading the label. The realization hit like a quiet punch: Anxiety. Sleep aid.

That night, she stayed up, just watching. Y/n changed into her hoodie and sat on the bed, scrolling through her phone. Minutes ticked by.

Then she turned off the light and curled up under the blanket, no pills.

She hadn’t taken them.

Alessia, hesitant but determined, whispered into the dark: “You forgot something.”

Y/n stirred. “Hmm?”

“Your medication.”

There was silence. A pause. Then a quiet, surprised laugh from the other side of the room. “You know about that?”

“I wasn’t trying to snoop,” Alessia said softly. “I just saw them. And I saw how you were struggling.”

Y/n didn’t reply. She sat up, sighing, rubbing her face.

Alessia got up, walked across the room, filled a glass of water, and handed it to her. Then she placed the two small pills into her palm.

From that night on, it became their unspoken routine.

On days they weren’t rooming together, Alessia would text:

Don’t forget your little helpers tonight 💊🫶 I want you rested for tomorrow.

When traveling with the England team, Alessia would knock gently on y/n’s door before curfew, sometimes with a sleepy smile, always with a glass of water and the meds.

At training, when y/n looked worn, Alessia didn’t nag, she’d just lean close and whisper

“Did you sleep alright?” No judgment. Just care.

Y/n started depending on it. Not just the reminders, but Alessia herself. Her kindness. Her constancy. Her silent devotion.

One night in Copenhagen, after a Champions League match, they were sitting on the balcony of their hotel room. The city lights glowed below. Y/n had tears in her eyes quiet, unprovoked, the kind that crept up when you felt safe enough to break.

“I hate that I need pills just to sleep,” she murmured.

Alessia didn’t look away. “I don’t think that’s weakness.”

“It feels like it.”

“I think it’s brave. You’re taking care of yourself. And… you let me help. That’s strong.”

Silence fell between them again. But this time, it was warm.

Y/n turned to her. “Why do you do all this?”

Alessia’s heart fluttered. She’d been waiting for this half dreading it, half hoping.

“Because I care,” she said, her voice trembling just slightly. “I care about you more than I probably should.”

Y/n didn’t speak. Her eyes searched Alessia’s face as if seeing her for the first time really seeing her.

Then softly, she whispered, “I’m glad it’s you.”

They didn’t kiss not yet. But something shifted. A thread between them grew stronger, pulled taut with unspoken promise.

Weeks passed. The season pressed forward. Anxiety never vanished, not fully. Some nights were easier. Others, not so much.

But every single night, whether with a message, a knock on the door, or simply a soft smile and a glass of water, Alessia was there. A quiet guardian. A reminder. A heartbeat beside hers.

And slowly, y/n began to sleep again not just because of the pills, but because someone loved her enough to notice when she couldn’t.

[lvnleah]

Could you please do Steph Cayley x reader where reader is recovering from acl surgey and Steph is being all cute and protective.

nurse catley | steph catley.

thank you for this request! bit of a short one :)

The soft hum of the car’s engine filled the quiet space, a soothing backdrop to the clunk of the crutches resting in the back seat. You were slouched against the passenger seat, the effects of the painkillers making you drowsy and slow. The ACL surgery was done — one hurdle cleared, but the long road to recovery loomed ahead.

Steph’s hand was warm where it rested on your thigh, her thumb drawing soft, absentminded circles through the blanket she’d tucked around you before leaving the hospital. Her other hand gripped the steering wheel, and her eyes kept darting between you and the road.

“How’re you feeling?” she asked softly, breaking the silence.

“Like I got hit by a truck,” you mumbled, your voice raspier than usual. The post-op grogginess still clung to you, but even that couldn’t hide the exhaustion in your tone.

Steph glanced over, “We’ll get you settled on the couch as soon as we’re home. I’ve already set up pillows and everything. You’re not moving a muscle until you’re comfortable.”

You smiled faintly, her fussing filling your chest with a familiar warmth. “Steph, I’ll be fine.”

Her eyes flicked back to you, stern yet soft. “Babe, you had surgery less than 24 hours ago. You’re not doing anything by yourself.”

“Okay, Nurse Catley,” you teased, though your voice lacked its usual energy.

She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth quirked up. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t go overboard.”

By the time you reached the house, you were more than ready to get out of the car, but Steph was having none of your attempts at independence.

“Stay there,” she ordered, jumping out and rushing around to your side before you could even attempt to unbuckle yourself.

“Steph, I can—”

“You can sit still and let me take care of you,” she interrupted, her tone firm but loving. She crouched down to carefully swing your legs out of the car, her movements gentle and deliberate.

Once she had you upright and balanced on your crutches, she looped an arm around your waist for extra support, guiding you toward the house.

Inside, she helped you ease onto the couch, fluffing the mountain of pillows she’d set up beforehand. A tray with water, snacks, and your meds was already waiting on the coffee table.

“You’ve thought of everything,” you murmured, touched by the effort she’d put in.

Steph sat down beside you, tucking a blanket around your legs before placing them on her lap. “Of course I have,” she said simply, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “This is going to be tough, but we’re in this together. One day at a time, yeah?”

You nodded, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “Thank you, Steph. For everything.”

She leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Always.”

The next few days were a haze of painkillers, rest, and Steph’s constant presence. She wasn’t just hovering — she was there at every moment.

“Here,” she said one afternoon, handing you a mug of tea just the way you liked it. She perched on the edge of the couch, watching as you adjusted the pillows under your leg. “How’s the pain today?”

“Better,” you admitted. “Still sore, but manageable.”

Steph tilted her head, studying you. “Are you sure? Don’t downplay it.”

You chuckled softly. “I’m sure, love. You don’t have to worry so much.”

“That’s like telling the sun not to shine,” she shot back, her lips twitching into a smile.

It was true. Steph had taken her role as your nurse seriously, from making sure you stayed hydrated to reminding you to do your post-op exercises. Even when you grumbled about the discomfort, she was there, encouraging and patient.

One morning, as you attempted to shuffle from the couch to the bathroom, Steph appeared out of nowhere, her hands steadying your arms.

“I’ve got it,” you insisted, gripping the crutches tightly.

“You’re stumbling, lemme help,” she replied, unwavering.

You sighed, relenting as she walked beside you, her hand hovering just in case you stumbled.

Back on the couch, she draped the blanket over you again and settled down with her laptop. “Football emails?” you asked, nodding toward the screen.

“Just emails about when I’ll be back,” she said, her tone dismissive. “I’ve told them I won’t be for another week.”

Your heart clenched. “Steph, you didn’t have to do that.”

She closed the laptop and turned to face you, her expression soft but resolute. “Of course I did. You’re my priority. Football can wait.”

Later that evening, as you both lounged on the couch, Steph insisted on putting on one of your favourite movies. “Distractions are good,” she said, tucking you into her side.

“You’re the best distraction,” you murmured, your head resting against her shoulder.

She chuckled, her arm wrapping around you securely. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

As the days turned into weeks, Steph’s care never wavered. She cheered for every small milestone, from your first successful step without crutches to the day you managed to shower on your own.

But her favourite moments were the quiet ones — when she’d catch you smiling at her after she adjusted your pillows for the tenth time, or when you’d fall asleep mid-conversation, your hand still loosely holding hers.

Through it all, Steph’s love was unwavering, her care a constant reminder that you weren’t in this alone. With her by your side, recovery didn’t seem so daunting after all.

[wileys-russo]

chaos fc 🏆

[awosofavs]

koala

LW6

a/n i love writing when im sad it makes everything better also this is an incredibly short blurb but i just wanted something to make me happy again

you loved to hug your girlfriend. however, leah wouldn’t exactly call it hugging more you grabbing onto her waist and not letting her go. which is exactly what happened this morning.

“babe i know you just want to hold me but i have to go to training im going to be late” you sighed grabbing her tighter not letting her go. she had been trying to get ready for the past 30 minutes, you following her around like a koala, arms clinging to her like she would disappear if you let go for even a second.

“no.” you said in the same mardy tone leah was used to. she laughed and then peeled herself away from you. you thought you were holding on tight enough for her to struggle but forgot the sheer strength the taller girl had. “hey no fair.”

“love i need to get ready i can’t be late but when i get home we can come back okay?” she kissed you softly on your forehead before getting undressed and into her clothes for training. you stomped over to the bed dramatically before flopping down.

“what is life” you sighed much to leah’s pleasure. “i suppose ill lay here waiting all day” dramatics had always been your thing. you wouldn’t say you were a dramatic person you just felt things in bigger proportions however the blonde would disagree. often she would call you dramatic. whether it was a slight burnt toast she had offered you which you had claimed was going to kill you by infecting your insides with burnt toast venom or the time she had gotten a knock during a match and you came down after in tears and refused to let her go only to later on come down with bubble wrap and declare she was to wear it during the next match. yeah leah thought you were dramatic.

leah quickly got dressed before pulling you up off of the bed “look i’ve got 15 mins till i need to leave… latch” and with that you found your place again, arms around her waist and head resting on her shoulder. she smiled and started playing with your hair. the two of you stood in comfortable silence for a bit until leah decided to break it “so what do you have to do at work today?”

“shhhh no work talk le just koalaing please” you took a deep breath and noticed she’d changed perfume to usual. one thing about you is that you will always notice the small things and often won’t like them. nothing was wrong with the sweet scent she had on but it wasn’t the leah you knew. just like that you pushed her away “what are you wearing”

she laughed confused before answering “um clothes?”

“no i mean what is that smell. you always smell like vanilla why do you smell like strawberries”

she laughed at how defending you got over her scent “i thought the strawberry was nice?? you don’t think?”

“no” you said bluntly “it’s not you. go put the vanilla on”

“wow i see, so you want me until something isn’t quite right then you toss me aside”

“babe” you frowned “the strawberry smells gorgeous but i just want to smell my girlfriend. my girlfriend uses vanilla not strawberry”

“okay okay” she walked over to her perfume collection and sprayed a few spritz of her usual vanilla “there is that better” she tackled you onto the bed and forced the fresh scent into your face. you rolled over before finding yourself back in her arms.

“much better”

[pitchsidestories]

In the spotlight II Alessia Russo x Actress!Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 1655

summary: Reader is a rising actress, completely unaware she’s about to win a BAFTA. The shock hits even harder when it’s her girlfriend, Alessia, who walks onstage to hand her the award.

author's note: Hi, this one’s a bit different from our usual fanfics, but it's something we always wanted to try, so we’d love to know if you enjoyed it.💗

disclaimer: everything in this fanfiction is purely fictional and nothing corresponds to reality.

“Hey stargirl!”, Chloe greeted Alessia as she spotted her backstage at the BAFTA awards, carefully hugging her to not smudge both their make up. The two still had an award to present later that night.

“Hi Chlo.”, Alessia smiled at her, taking in the sight of her teammate all dressed up.

Chloe nodded toward the arrivals area where the red carpet buzzed with actors, directors, and photographers: “Does your girlfriend know you’re here?”

“No.”, Alessia replied with a mischievous grin. “She has no clue.”

Chloe mirrored the smile and raised her eyebrows: “So you will surprise her?”

“Yes, that’s the plan.”, the striker confirmed lightly, though the giddiness in her voice was tangible.

“Cute, Lessie.”, Chloe laughed, nudging her gently.

Alessia smirked and swiftly changed the subject:” Great outfit by the way, Chlo.”

Her teammate beamed and did a quick twirl to present her floor-length gown.

“Thanks. I like yours too.”

“Oh, thank you. I just hope I won’t trip over it on the stage with those heels on.”, Alessia chuckled, glancing down at her shoes and the fabric at the bottom.

Chloe looked her up and down, curling her lips sceptically: “You really set yourself up for failure with those heels and your clumsiness.”

“Shut it.”, Alessia laughed.

“No.”, Chloe grinned, as they both glanced toward the stage entrance, waiting.

“We’ve to be serious now.”, Alessia reminded her suddenly, the smile on her face fading into something more earnest. “She really earned this.”

“Fine.”, Chloe agreed, slipping into a more focused demeanour as the stage manager gave them their cue.

As their names were announced, they walked on stage. Chloe with the award in hand and Alessia clutching the envelope. On the last step, Alessias dress snagged on her heel. She stumbled but caught herself quickly.

You gasped from your seat in the audience. Your heart skipped twice in a row. First, when you recognised who was walking on stage and a second time when she nearly tripped.

Chloe stifled an involuntary laugh but quickly recovered in time to reach the microphone: “And the rising star award goes to…”

“Y/n.”, Alessia finished proudly.

Your heart jumped a third time. You had won. But you didn’t move. It took a moment for your brain to catch up with what was happening but somehow, you had already made it onto the stage.

Suddenly, you were face to face with Alessia. She looked beautiful, a dazzling smile on her lips, holding out the award to you. You couldn’t quite wrap your head around it. Your own girlfriend handing you the award you worked so hard for.

“Oh uhm… thanks.”, you managed nervously, your head spinning.

In that moment, you hadn’t realised that your fingers and hers had been intertwined for longer than usual at ceremonies like this. On stage, those small gestures and glances made the audience wonder if there was more between the two of you than simply a presenter and an award receiver.

But you didn’t have time to overthink it. You began your speech, reading from the small note you held in your free hand. Words you hadn’t expected to say tonight came tumbling from your lips as you tried to strike a balance between the personal and the universal.

Back in their seats, Chloe nudged her teammate with a smirk playing on her lips: “Stop staring at her.”

“Uhm, what?”, Alessia replied, fanning her flushed cheeks.

Glancing around, the older woman replied: “People will notice if you keep looking at her like that.”

“Oh, I’ll stop.” She hesitated for a beat before adding, in awe: “But she looks so gorgeous, it’s hard not to stare at her.”

Amused by the obvious love the footballer had for you, Chloe remarked: “I bet she knows.”

“And her words… so powerful.”, Alessia added, unable to stop herself from swooning despite her teammate’s teasing.

Grinning, Chloe said: “You actually listened? Thought you’d just be sat there with heart eyes.”

“I can multitask.”, your girlfriend insisted, her cheeks turning even redder.

Shaking her head, her friend reminded her: “You can’t even walk in a straight line.”

“Well, I’m not straight either.”, she muttered clumsily.

Then Alessia caught sight of the time on the clock behind her, your speech had ended a few minutes ago. The Arsenal player quickly shot up from her seat, muttering under her breath: “Shit, I need to go.”

“Stop whining. Anyone would be thrilled to collect that trophy.”, Chloe said with an exaggerated eye roll.

Wincing, Alessia explained: “Yeah, but I need to change my outfit too.”

While you were seated with the rest of the cast members, you noticed your girlfriend slipping away and, without drawing attention, quietly followed her into the dressing room, announcing your arrival with a gentle knock.

Normally, this was the space where you saw actresses and the occasional female director swap their high heels for sneakers. The lighting was low, the atmosphere calm.

Amused, you watched her struggle to undress without losing her balance. Then, grinning, you offered: “Need a hand with the outfit change, love?”

“I haven’t got time to make out in the dressing room.”, Alessia declared with a laugh.

You raised your hands in defence: “Oi, my intentions weren’t that filthy. I genuinely wanted to help especially after you and Chloe surprised me on stage.”

Her face lit up with a proud smile: “Thought you’d enjoy that.”

“Oh, I did.”, you assured her while stepping around to unzip her gown with careful fingers. “Here you go.”

The fabric slipped down, pooling around Alessias heels.

You couldn’t help yourself. You leaned in and pressed your lips to her naked shoulder, leaving a faint imprint of your lipstick on her skin.

Alessia turned around, feigning offence but the twinkle in her eyes told you that she enjoyed it.

“Hey, I said no kisses. I have to hurry up.”

You lifted your hands in mock innocence and watched her step out of her gown and into a new dress.

“Bye, see you at home.”, you winked at her.

“See you.”

At the door you paused and turned back to her: “Oh, and don’t forget; you deserve it, Lessie.”

She grinned: “So do you.”

You blew her one last kiss and left.

“Enjoyed the glamour of the film awards?”, Mariona asked as she and Alessia took their seats at the WPG awards.

Alessia nodded: “It was really cool, yes. But I feel more comfortable here.”

She glanced around at the room full of other athletes and coaches.

Mariona nodded, scrolling through her phone while they waited to be called on stage. “I get that. But uhm… Less?”

She didn’t even wait for a reply.

“The fans started to research the two of you and they found pictures of her at the stadium… wearing your jersey…”

Alessia paled immediately: “Wait? Already?”

“Yeah, you know how fast they can be…”, the Spanish midfielder said with a sigh.

“Still…” Alessia bit her lip. “Maybe Chloe was right, and I was too obvious.”

“It’s not your fault.”, Mariona said gently, placing a comforting hand on Alessia’s arm.

“She won’t like that…”, Alessia murmured.

“Try to enjoy the moment, okay?”

She nodded slowly: “Okay.”

“Glad to not be here alone.”, Mariona added quickly, clearly trying to change the subject.

A calmer smile spread across Alessia’s face: “Don’t worry, you’re not alone.”

“Thanks.”

They exchanged a warm glance under the dim lights of the venue.

“It’s your turn, Mario.”, Alessia reminded her as her name echoed from the stage.

Mariona got up from her seat: “On my way.”

Alessias name was called right after hers.

Golden boot and Player of the season winners, grinning at each other as they walked off stage.

“Congrats.”, Alessia grinned as they headed over to pose with their awards.

“Congratulations to you too.”, her teammate laughed as the cameras flashed around them.

Happily, she answered: “Thanks.”

Later that evening, you found yourself replaying the day in your mind. It all felt like something out of a film. Except this wasn’t fiction. This was your life.

With a dreamy look in your eyes, you greeted your girlfriend as she stepped into the bedroom, lit only by the soft glow of the bedside lamp.

“Love? Hi.”, you said.

“Hey.”, Alessia replied, still slightly breathless. The forward clearly couldn’t wait to be in your arms, she flung herself onto the bed and rested her chin on your chest.

You smiled warmly at her, running your fingers through the bun that had begun to loosen.

“What a night, huh?”

“A pretty successful one, I’d say.”, your girlfriend hummed.

Reminiscing over the last few hours, you nodded: “Oh yes.” A cheeky grin formed on your lips. “Is the no-kissing rule still in place?”

“No. I’ve got time for it now.”, the blonde replied.

“Perfect.”

Right then, only the touch of her lips mattered.

It wasn’t until the next day that Alessia told you the public had picked up on that you two were lovers.

You knew your agent wouldn’t be thrilled about the idea forming in your head. Being out in the film industry was becoming more common, but it was still risky. And yet, Alessia felt worth the risk.

It was the Champions League final. All of Lisbon was buzzing. The dominant colours in the stadium were blaugrana and red.

“Lessi, turn around.”, Leah whispered into her teammate’s ear.

Her mouth fell open when she spotted you right in front of her. “What?”

“Good luck, love.”, you said softly.

Still in disbelief, Alessia hugged you: “You’re here?”

“Yes. Let people talk, I’m here to support you.”, you countered boldly. Relieved, she asked: “You don’t mind?”

“No. Do you?”

“Not at all.”, she said firmly.

In her embrace, you promised her: “No more hiding from the spotlight.”

The stage would be hers in a few minutes, and you’d be in the stands, cheering her and her team on, thinking how Alessia was worth every risk.