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rememberwren · 3 months

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Skin Deep

Tattoo artist!Simon x fem!reader. Reader, looking to expand her horizons, gets her first tattoo from Simon. 8.4k. Features: soft!Simon who is bad at people-ing, vaginal sex, lots of nipples, like at least three nipples, poor writing, abrupt transitions, shy and awkward reader. Based on this post.

Sequel here.

“I bit the bullet!” you shout over the music, hand cupped around your friend’s ear to be better heard. She shrieks in delight at the sound of your voice, turning to wrap her arms around your waist and pull you close to her swaying body. Many eyes in the club follow her movements. She has always been the wild child to your wallflower, attracting attention wherever she goes.

“You bit what?” she shouts back, her breath like a mint julep.

“The bullet,” you laugh. “I called that guy you recommended and set up an appointment. For the tattoo I wanted!”

She stares at you blankly. Her silky little tank top is drooping off of one shoulder, so you reach out and tuck it back into place. The longer she stares, the more nervous you grow. She’d been so encouraging after your last boyfriend dumped you—encouraging you to step outside your comfort zone, to ‘make more mistakes’, to live life more fully. Now she’s staring at you like you’ve grown a second head and it’s the one doing the talking.

“What guy I recommended?” she asks.

“Kevin!”

“Oh no. No, no, no. Not Kevin. Not Kevin. Why, Kevin?”

You frown. “You said you went to Kevin.”

“It wasn’t a recommendation, sweetie, if anything it was to caution you away from him! He’s a creep; there’s a reason why I never went back.”

You deflate like a balloon, going limp and letting her drag you to the nearby free seats at the bar where you sit heavily. It’s not just the tattoo. It’s the icing on a shitcake of a day.

A new song seamlessly starts, and the dancers nearby go wild with excitement. Your mood is the antithesis of the event; everyone seems to be having a great time except for you. Story of your life.

“You conveniently left that out. Ugh. I’ll cancel it. What am I even fucking doing—thank you—” you accept the cup of ice water the bartender slides in front of you with a shy smile, sipping at it and keeping your hand curled over the top of it protectively. “—none of this is like me.”

Your friend frowns. She steals your drink and sips at it. “You were the one who said you’d always wanted a tattoo. You’re an adult. These are exactly the kinds of decisions you’re old enough to make. Look, fuck Kevin. All my friends hate Kevin. I know another guy, and he’s highly recommended. Let me give you his number. Alright?”

“Alright,” you sigh. You make a silent promise to yourself though: if it doesn’t work out with this next tattoo artist, then you won’t be getting one at all. You’ll take it as a sign from the universe to get back in your comfort zone and stay there, once and for all.

What kind of a moniker is Ghost? you wonder to yourself as you skim the Instagram of the shop this Ghost owns. The profile picture is one of the building itself, and all of the pictures are of various inked body parts. Beautiful ones, admittedly. But no hint of the mysterious figure who owns the shop. There is a personal instagram linked @GHOST89 but it is private when you try to click on it.

The phone number your friend gave you rings straight through to voicemail. You let out a shaky breath. Fuck, you hate voicemail. Talking to people was difficult enough; talking to people’s disembodied machines was even worse somehow. It isn’t until you’ve hung up after leaving your message that you realize you forgot to tell him your fucking name (genius!). Groaning, you contemplate dialing him back when the phone in your hand rings—and it’s him.

“Hello?”

“I’m free Wednesdays for consultations,” says a baritone voice from the other end of the line.

Nice to talk to you too, you think dryly. Maybe this guy is as bad at the phone as you are. “I work Wednesdays. Are you free in the evenings?”

He sighs, like this is going to be very strenuous for him.

“Name a time. I’ll pencil you in. Half is due at the end of the consultation upon booking an appointment. Cash only,” he says.

Jesus Christ, could he be anymore abrupt? While a tiny part of you is grateful that he isn’t trying to make small talk, a larger part is terrified that you’ve already made an impression so foul that it’s incurred his wrath. What other reason could he have for being so stilted?

“Alright,” you answer cautiously. “How’s five?”

“Five. Don’t be late.”

He hangs up on you, leaving you wondering why every step outside your comfort zone must be so bloody far.

You arrive early to the consultation, only to find that the building itself—a tidy little brick two-floor, adorned with a sign that dubbed it SKIN DEEP tattoos & artisan piercings, which you recognize from Instagram—is locked. A note written in neat handwriting taped to the door declares NO WALK INS. Your palms are sweaty. You wipe them on your work slacks, but it doesn’t help. How are you supposed to get in?

All at once a shadow appears on the other side of the door. The shadow is enormous: well above six feet tall, and broad shouldered. A black surgical mask is tucked up over his mouth and nose, which only adds to his intimidating aura. Judging by the impressive sleeve of tattoos he has, you imagine that this is the guy.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. And Ghost.

Dark brown eyes stare down at you when he opens the door, cocking a hip against the frame, staring at you. Waiting.

Waiting for you to explain your presence, you realize.

“I have a consultation,” you blurt out. “At…five?”

He opens the door wider to let you pass without a word. He’s so broad that you can smell him as you pass him: clean and masculine. The inside of the tattoo shop is bigger than it looks on the outside. There is a reception area with a desk and a computer and printer. The glossy wooden floors are polished to shine, leading to an open floor plan. There is a small sitting area with armchairs, a wide sofa, and a table on which rests two bottles of water, a notebook, and a steaming mug of liquid.

“Sit,” he says, his voice the same deep rumble you recognize from the phone. He chooses the chair beside the mug. His body is so goddamn long, his legs lean and thick all at once where he stretches them out in front of him. He reaches for the mug and takes a sip—of tea, judging by the smell. “Name?”

You tell him, perching yourself anxiously on the other chair. He glances up at you, eyes raking over your posture. Suddenly he tugs the mask down to rest beneath his chin, revealing a full, pale mouth. A straight, noble nose. A pink scar stretches across his lips and up towards his cheek.

“The water is for you,” he says.

“Oh!” You reach forward and take one bottle, breaking the seal. “Thank you.”

“This is your first tattoo.”

“What gave me away?” you ask with a weak laugh.

He doesn’t laugh. “Everything. Is someone putting you up to this? This smells like Soap.”

“What? No, of course not. I want this, I’m just, I’m an anxious personality. I promise.” You hesitate and then add: “I probably smell like soap because I showered this morning.”

His mouth twitches. He leans back in his seat and sucks on his teeth, and you get the distinct feeling that he is trying very hard not to laugh at you. Why had you mentioned to him that you showered? What was wrong with you? Just as you’re comprising a list of things, he picks up the pencil and the notebook, opening to a fresh page.

He asks what you want and God, that’s a harder question.

You do your best to express your idea, but your words feel halting and silly. His pencil scratches rapidly at the paper as he listens in total silence—pausing only once, when you say that you want this to be a sternum piece. Only then does his pencil seem to hover over the paper, his dark eyes seeking you out and pinning you in place on the armchair.

He reaches for his tea to take a generous sip and then continues writing.

He asks a few pointed, concise questions (and you’re just thrilled he was actually listening), following your answers up with more scribbling in his notebook. At length, he shuts the book.

“I think I see the vision. Give me thirty to sketch something and we’ll see if you want to book an appointment. Something this size, on your sternum could take more than one session, depending on how well you sit. How do you take pain?”

“I mean, it hurts?” you offer.

He stares. “Two sessions. Let me sketch something. Drink your water.”

You think that maybe he’ll move to another room to sketch, but he just flips to a clean page and begins to work right there (drawing the mask up over his nose and mouth again). With nothing else to do, you can’t help but watch him.

He’s handsome, in an odd sort of way. His brow is a little too low, his gaze a little too intimidating to be considered conventionally attractive, but you find him fascinating to look at, especially when he is so clearly in the throes of something he enjoys doing. It’s almost like watching someone have sex. The thought makes your face go warm. You pick up your phone, determined not to look at him again.

“Here.”

You glance up from your mindless scrolling. What he shows you is a beautiful rendition of what you had expressed wanting. There are a few key differences, and he patiently explains why he made the decisions he did. He didn’t make the changes because he thought your idea was stupid. He made them so the image would better fit the contours of your body. He made them because the ink will spread over time, and he wants the look to stay clean.

His thoughtfulness touches you.

“I love it. I want it,” you say, enthusiasm getting the better of you.

“This is just a first sketch,” he says dryly, making that warmth return to your face. “I’ll text you a few variations this week, and we can nail down the final piece. You want to book?”

“Yes,” you say, nearly buzzing. “I really want to book.”

He’s expensive—but judging by the book of his artwork that is available for you to flip through at the front desk while he quotes you a price and writes you up a receipt, he is more than worth the money. Fuck, he’s got skill. You thought that maybe his art style was too dark for what you wanted, but you found that he was able to adapt styles nicely. You just hoped this tattoo wouldn’t bore him to death.

“Thanks again for meeting with me,” you say as he sees you out. “I’ll be waiting for your text.”

“You’ll get it.” He glances past you out the window. It’s dark. “Did you walk?”

“No, my car is just there.”

“I’ll wait.”

And he does. His figure darkens the doorway until you have shut your car and locked the doors, temporary insanity making you give him a short wave. He raises two fingers and then disappears.

You didn’t tell me this guy was cute, you text to your friend.

GHOST? Cute? I’ve never even seen his face lol. He’s always wearing one of his masks.

You chew over this information. Yes he’d been wearing a mask, but he’d lowered it for you. Did that mean something? Did it mean something that you wanted it to mean something?

Masks are cute, you say.

Fuck the tattoo artist!!!! she says. Maybe he’ll ink you for free.

You’re terrible.

You’re…thinking about it.

Two days later, you squint blearily into the darkness at your phone after it vibrates on your nightstand. The time reads twelve past one in the morning. It’s from GHOST.

The two images he sends are beautiful; enough to rouse you straight from sleep into wakefulness.

I love them both, you tell him. But the second one is amazing. I think that’s the one.

Keep your appointment. Ten minutes later (after you have already fallen back to sleep) he sends: wear something appropriate.

And fuck, you didn’t even think of that.

“You’re being ridiculous,” you mutter to yourself in the mirror, turning sideways to assess yourself. On the bed behind you are a series of button up shirts, all of which you have tried on at one point or another.

“You are,” your friend agrees from where she lounges on your bed, scrolling on her phone. “Your tits are cute. Let Ghost see them.”

The look you give her is the one the phrase ‘if looks could kill’ was modeled after, surely. She doesn’t even see it, so the effect is lost entirely. You turn your gaze back to the silicone nipple adhesive covers again, still stuck to their adhesive backing. You’ve already used one set of the pack of three, and they covered your nipple and areolas nicely, but still left you feeling so exposed.

“Be glad you’re not going to creepy Kevin anymore,” your friend says.

“Very glad of it.”

You felt reasonably safe with Ghost, but still a degree of embarrassment about your own body. Or perhaps that was too strong a word—it didn’t embarrass you, but it felt private. Baring your breasts to a near stranger (especially one you had a grudging attraction to) made your anxiety reach epic level proportions.

“You should text him about it, see if he has any advice for you. He’s been doing this for years. I’m sure he’s seen it all,” she says—the first good idea she’s had all night, miles ahead of ‘Just let Ghost see your cute tits’.

That night, you take her advice and text him, hoping you aren’t overstepping some weird artist-client boundary.

I’m a little nervous.

You can cancel, is all he says. I’ll refund your money.

It’s not that.

What is it?

Not really accustomed to the nakedness tbh. There. You said it. Let him think you some prim priss; it was true.

But all he said back was: how can I help?

I don’t know, you admit. Then; sorry. I’m probably bothering you with this while you’re working.

I’m not working. Five minutes later, when it seems as if you aren’t going to message back: I keep the shop closed to the public. One customer at a time: you. I’ll let my piercer know I’m with a client and not to walk in. I’ll keep you covered every moment I can. Better?

Relief, warm and sweet curling low in your belly, you let him know: much better.

You bring the pasties anyway.

The day of your appointment, you are so nervous you are shaking. Now you know the truth behind the phrase ‘knees knocking together’, as you stand outside SKIN DEEP waiting for Ghost’s hulking figure to appear on the other side of the glass.

When it does, he’s like a little punch to the gut. That black surgical mask is in place—typical for him, if your friend’s words are to be trusted—but his blond hair, cropped short to his scalp is riotous in a way that is adorably charming, like he hasn’t been able to keep his hands out of it. His black t-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, and his jeans fit him nicely around his thick thighs.

You’re horrified to find that your attraction to him has grown. Exponentially. Your friend’s words echo in your mind—fuck the tattoo artist, maybe he’ll ink you for free.

“Hi,” you squeak.

Ghost raises both his brows. He opens the door wider for you to slip past him. Fuck he still smells good.

“I’m still nervous,” you blurt out, hoping that speaking the truth out loud will help you feel better. It doesn’t.

“That’s normal. You can back out at any time, but the earlier the better. Come look at the image and tell me if it’s still what you want.”

It’s exactly what you want, and more.

“It’s perfect. You’re very talented.”

He huffs a little, like you shouldn’t have said such a thing.

The chair is a great leather contraption which reclines comfortably once he’s gotten you in it (after making you use the restroom first, during which you took the time to splash water on your burning face and double check that your pasties were in place covering all the cutest bits according to your friend). Simon moves around you, making preparations with the ease of someone who has done this work for many years.

You fight the arousal that blooms in your belly at the sight of him doing such benign things as washing his hands, putting on gloves, opening fresh needles, preparing little wells of ink and sticking them to the movable cart with Vaseline. There’s just something about a person who knows exactly what they’re doing and who is able to do it with efficacy.

“Ready?” he asks at length.

You nod, hoping your nerves don’t show on your face. Steeling yourself, you unbutton the shirt you’re wearing. His eyes follow your hands, but there is a detached, clinical sort of expression in them. He’s not watching a strip tease, he’s looking at a canvas.

Finally, you sit in front of him in only the pasties, the shirt lax around your shoulders, and your sweatpants, socked toes curling in anxiety in your shoes. Without missing a beat, he leans the chair all the way back. Then he opens a fresh disposable razor and shaves you.

“Am I hairy?” you ask, resting your hands oh-so-casually over your breasts to keep them out of his way.

“Yes,” he says. Then his eyes flicker to yours. “Everyone is. Everywhere. It’s normal.”

“I’m just teasing you.”

“Didn’t think you had the breath in your body left to tease me,” he mutters, voice nearly lost behind his mask as he carefully works the razor across your skin removing the baby-fine hairs from beneath your breasts and across your sternum. “You’re nervous, I mean.”

“Would you take the mask off?” you ask on a whim. It had helped last time, to see his face.

“No,” he says. He adds: “Sorry. It’s more sanitary f’you if I keep it on.”

You get the feeling that he really is sorry—and that’s well enough. Some of the anxiety in your belly fades away. He would take it off if he could. The most anxious part of the process (baring yourself to a stranger) has already passed. Maybe now you can begin to relax.

After cleaning your skin, he carefully lays the stencil and has you stand up to look at it in the mirror and make sure the placement is correct and holy fucking shit. It’s sexy. You’ve always been attracted to tattoos, and fancied the idea of getting one on your sternum for far longer than you’d ever admitted to anyone, but seeing it come to life gives you a rush you hadn’t expected. You feel so…badass.

“Good?” He asks.

“Very good,” you answer, sitting back down, hoping he ignores the way your breasts bounce a little as you do. He leans you back again and this time breaks out the needle gun.

But before he uses it on you, he carefully takes a clean towel and lays it over your left breast, covering the parts of you that are not nearest to his eyes. His gentleness and thoughtfulness go straight to your cunt.

“Thank you,” you say softly.

He just nods. The gun buzzes to life. “I’ll make a line and see how you feel. Last chance to back out without any souvenirs.”

“I’m not backing out.”

He clicks his tongue as if to say, It’s your funeral. Then he lays his hand on your sternum above your breasts, pinning you in place, and makes a gentle line.

It burns more than you expected it to. There’s a sandpaper quality to it, almost like the rasping of a cat’s tongue. The pain is sharp and bright, but it isn’t overwhelming. In fact…a strange part of you sort of enjoys it. Maybe it’s the rush of endorphins.

“Good?” He asks.

“Good,” you squeak.

You hear his quiet laugh, no more than an exhale of breath.

“Let me know when you need to break.”

You don’t know how you feel about the way he phrases that: when you need to break. He adjusts his mask a little, leans over you, and gets to work. Sometimes the needles pass over a place that is more sensitive than the others, making you flinch. He pauses when this happens, eyes flickering up to your own, making sure you are alright even though he can likely feel the pounding of your heart beneath his hand. That hand on your chest, wrist just brushing the top of your breast, is a solid warm weight that seems to tether you back down to the earth as he lines you. He is very careful not to brush against your breast when he wipes away the excess ink and traces of blood, but you feel hyper-attuned to how easy it would be for him if he wanted to. How huge his hand is compared to your tit. Beneath the pasties, your nipples ache with tension, a tension that is mirrored between your legs.

“Alright. Break,” he says, abruptly turning the gun off. He covers your exposed breast with another towel. “Take ten.”

He disposes of his gloves and disappears behind a curtain in the back, leaving you throbbing between the legs. Worming your phone free from your pocket, you scroll aimlessly, hoping to calm your raging hormones. He returns right at the ten minute mark, just as his cellphone rings. He glances toward where it rests on the table, but makes no move to answer it.

“Do you need to get that?” you ask, offering him an out.

“No,” he says. “I make everyone leave a message. Weeds out the cowards.”

It had almost weeded out you, you think about telling him, but in the end you decide against it. He gloves back up.

“Good for more?”

And so it repeats.

At one point, he runs into a patch of sensitive skin on your ribs just overlaying the bone. It has you sucking in a breath through your teeth, eyes squeezing shut. It’s too late to turn back now you tell yourself; the only way out is through.

His thumb gently strokes your sternum.

“It’s rough. You can take it,” he says, quiet and focused. The buzzing of the gun never ceases as he tries to make his work as quick as possible, his words a little distant and distracted. “Just keep breathing. That’s it. Good girl.”

Jesus. Did he not have any idea what those words could do to a girl? A groan escapes your lips, and he clearly mistakes it for pain, because his thumb strokes again the soft skin over your heart, just above the curve of your breast.

“You can do it. Just a little longer for me, and we’ll break.”

“Hurts,” you breathe, flinching again.

He hushes you, surprisingly tender.

“This is the worst of it.” This time, his thumb does brush the edge of your breast, making you suck in a gasp. He recoils, hand lifting away from you and curling into a fist. He rests that against you instead, taking away any further hope that he might brush his fingertips against you. You make it through the rough patch with tears in your eyes but no worse for wear.

“Break. Ten minutes,” he says again, already shredding his gloves and moving to disappear behind the curtain.

You call out: “Hey, wait—I’d rather just get through it in one go if I can. If this really is the worst of it.”

“I need breaks too,” he says stonily.

You duck your head, feeling silly. “Right. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He vanishes again.

He is late to return to you. Only by five minutes or so, but noticeably for a man so usually punctual and so demanding of punctuality in you. His face is stoic—what bits of it you can see from behind the mask—as he washes his hands thoroughly and preps his work station again.

This time his hand keeps a very respectable distance from your breasts—a fact which you both lament and appreciate all in one. He works with single-minded efficiency, giving you his entire focus. You break once more, but this time he breaks in the room with you, stretching out his back and neck (giving you a generous glimpse of his belly when his shirt rides up, exposing cut abs and a happy trail you’d give your life to follow).

“I think we could do this in one sitting, if you have nowhere else to be,” he mutters at length.

“Eager to be done?” you wonder.

He stares at you, expression flat, and says nothing. Nothing needs to be said.

“I don’t have anywhere to be,” you murmur, staring up at the bright adjustable light that he has positioned over you. You hope he mistakes that for the reason behind any mistiness in your eyes, his rudeness cutting you deeply.

So the two of you push through later into the evening, until you are sweating at your temples and the base of your neck from the continuous pain for so long. At last he lays the last gradient for the shading, sprays you down, and wipes you clean so very gently.

“Go take a look. I’m going to cover it up.”

It’s beautiful. Stunning, even. You let your shirt gape closed and cover the pasties, revealing a broad glimpse of the sternum tattoo, and it is the sexiest you have ever felt. It almost makes your eyes burn anew.

“I love it,” you choke out. “Thank you.”

“Can I take a picture of it?” he asks. “For Instagram.”

“Sure!” It will feel a little like being famous, you think, judging by how much notice each of the photos on his Instagram garners. He crouches down on the floor to be at the perfect height, reaches out and gently adjusts your shirt. Parts of the tattoo are covered—the very far edges—but you can’t deny how sexy it is. Maybe he feels the same way.

After he takes the photo, he posts it and asks for your handle to tag you in it. Then he says: “Let me cover it up. Keep it covered overnight, but tomorrow let it breathe. Keep it clean. Don’t do anything stupid to it. Understand?”

“I understand.”

“And if you have any questions—text me.”

You get home to find that Ghost’s personal account has requested to follow you. Thrumming with nerves and excitement, you accept the request and send one of your own, spending the night scrolling through his Instagram (so, so carefully to avoid any incidental ‘likes’). Plenty of the photos are of his artwork, still. But there are ones of his dog: a German Shepherd that is thankfully much more photogenic than her surly owner. There are three or four photos featuring Ghost himself, and only one has his full face in the picture. You find yourself staring at his fixated expression for longer than is respectable.

Three days later when you find yourself panicking, you don’t text him like he asked you to. You call.

Your skin is peeling off. Peeling. Off. The sight of it makes your stomach roll. The entire tattoo is hot to the touch, and the skin around it feels warm as well. Flushed. Is it supposed to hurt this much?

The internet doesn’t help. The peeling is normal, sure. But everything else is suggesting that your tattoo could be infected. What sort of ink did Ghost use? Was it reputable? What if the infection reaches your bloodstream? You were too young to die! Your anxiety spirals like a plane with one wing, trailing smoke as it soars straight down, determined to take you with it.

With shaking hands, you don’t even think about texting Ghost. You go straight to calling him, tapping his number in your phone and pressing it to your ear, listening to the ring.

He’s going to send you to voicemail, just like he does to everyone else—except he doesn’t. All the sudden there is glorious feedback from the other end: a cacophony of voices and laughter, clearly some sort of gathering.

“Yes?” Ghost says into the phone, as if that’s a decent hello.

“There’s something wrong with my tattoo!” you cry.

“Wait—get out of my goddamn way.” There is rustling, and then the noise decreases substantially. You can almost see him standing outside whatever bar his friends have brought him to, mask down around his chin, hand over his other ear as he strains to listen to you. “Say it again. Now I can fucking hear you.”

“There’s. Something. Wrong,” you say through your teeth. “With my tattoo!”

“Well? What is it?”

“It’s falling off, for one!”

He snorts. “That’s normal. That's why you called?”

“It’s all swollen and hot. And it hurts.”

Now that shuts him up. He sighs a little, switches the phone from one ear to the other. “Hurts how bad?”

“Worse than getting it.”

“Fuck me. Alright. Meet me at the shop in…twenty?”

“Twenty minutes from now?”

“From when else?” He hangs up. Man doesn’t know the meaning of the word goodbye.

The night is cool. You don’t bother with a bra, not when it irritates your tattoo so much. Pulling your jacket closed more tightly around yourself, you walk from your parking spot along the street to the tattoo shop.

Ghost stands outside at the curb. His figure is unmistakable. He is smoking, mask down, the lit end of his cigarette a burning ember that flares bright in the darkness. When he sees you coming, he crushes the cigarette beneath his boot and opens the door to the shop, which is still and dark. He flicks on a light switch as he goes, casting the place in a warm glow.

He’s dressed in his usual dark jeans and an obscenely tight t-shirt, his sleeve of tattoos on display. He leaves the mask down. His eyes are on your tits—or resting where your tattoo is beneath your clothes.

“Well. Sit. Show me.”

You sit in one of the armchairs, your shoulders rising in defensiveness. “What, just flash you?”

“Nothing I’ve never seen before.”

Gritting your teeth, you begin unbuttoning your shirt until it gapes open. You cup your breasts with your hands, maintaining your modesty while putting the tattoo on full display. He narrows his eyes, leaning down. His fingers reach out, but then he thinks twice and washes his hands.

“I was smoking,” he says when you roll your eyes in exasperation.

“You’re worried about getting the chemicals on my skin but not in your lungs?”

“Fuck my lungs,” he mutters. His fingers hover over your tattoo. “Can I?”

You nod. His fingers are cool when they gently prod and ghost along the edges of the tattoo, feeling for the signature warmth of an infection. “Any fever?” he asks.

“Not that I’ve noticed.”

“You feel warm, but I’ve felt warmer. I don’t think it’s infected. Have you tried icing it?”

“No,” you admit.

“Ice will help. Just use something clean, for fuck’s sake.” As he speaks, his breath fans across your chest, making you shiver. He sees this, his eyes darkening. “When you called, I thought it was for me.”

“It was for you,” you say, brow furrowing. “Who else?”

He snorts, lips quirking. It tugs on the scar across his lips. “Forget it.”

“Forget what?”

“Talking about it goes against forgetting it.”

You groan, tossing up your hands. “You’re impossible.”

He reaches out and jerks your shirt closed, hastily doing up a button. Your face burns as you do up the rest of the buttons—you end up having to backtrack and redo them because he was off by one.

“Thank you for meeting me. I’m sorry it was for nothing.”

“It wasn’t for nothing,” he says. “And I wasn’t doing much.”

“You were with friends,” you insist.

His eyes narrow. “Who told you that?”

“I saw it on your Instagram tonight.”

“Nosey.”

“I could buy you a drink sometime,” you offer after a lengthy pause, your heart pounding loud enough to fill the silence between you. Are you really doing this? Are you really asking him out? “Make up for the ones I lost you tonight.”

“Maybe.”

God, it’s like he’s not getting it. Maybe you need to be bolder. Fortune favors the bold, doesn’t it? Your hands are shaking when they fall back to the buttons on your shirt.

“Would you take one more look at my tattoo? Just to be…positive?”

He sighs and makes an impatient hand gesture. Your fingers fumble through the buttons again. You don’t cover yourself with your hands this time; just keep the halves of your shirt over your nipples. He dutifully exams the tattoo again, prodding gently, laying the flat of his fingers against it to feel the warmth it lets off.

“Maybe you should look closer.”

His eyes flicker up to yours. “Closer.”

Your mouth is dry. “Yeah.”

“Can’t get much closer than I am.”

“You could—if you wanted to.”

“If I—“ it hits him then. You can see it in the fractional widening of his eyes, the way his mouth parts softly in blatant surprise before he shuts it, dark eyes returning to your sternum. He says: “Closer.”

“Mhm.”

The back of his hand brushes against your breast, causing your breath to hitch. His thumb traces softly along the outline of the tattoo, following the path just beneath your shirt, nudging the fabric aside slowly, so slowly, until your breast is bare, nipple puckered and aching.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. His eyes flicker to yours as if to see if you really want this—and whatever he sees must reassure him, because then he is sweeping his fingertips along the bottom curve of your breast and taking it into his hand, his palm rasping gently over your nipple. All the breath rushes out of you. Your thighs clench together. Already you’re aching—have been since you saw his mouth around that cigarette on the street—but he moves with determined caution. His thumb finds your nipple and teases it, pulling a desperate little sound from the back of your throat.

“Pretty little tits,” he says, his voice a warm, smoky rumble that goes straight to your core. He captures your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching softly.

“Fuck,” you gasp, one hand reaching out to brace yourself against his shoulder. He is solid and firm beneath your touch, unmoving and unmalleable. Your breasts have always been sensitive, but it feels like every touch is directly related to the feelings in your cunt. You find your back arching, hips searching for friction against the seat of the chair.

“Be still,” he says firmly. Another pitiful sound slips past your throat. “Let me play with you.”

“Please,” you gasp. “Play with me—even if that’s all you want—just don’t stop, please.”

His mouth parts as he listens to you, his eyes so, so dark. The pupils have nearly swallowed his irises whole, until you can see yourself bare from the waist up in the reflection. He shakes his head a little. “You don’t even know what you’re saying.”

“I do. I—“ your words are cut off with a gasp as he hauls you out of the chair by your wrist and onto his lap. He’s so thick thighed that it stretches you obscenely to have him between your legs. His hands tear the button-up off your shoulders and down your arms until it flutters to the floor, leaving you half naked. Dipping his head, he presses a heated kiss to the place on your sternum where he had rested his hand during the tattoo—and then trails wet kisses towards your left breast, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking with a decided softness.

You let out an unflattering, choked groan, resting your weight heavily against him until you can feel the prominent bulge in his tight jeans. His hands find your ass and grip you tightly, working you back and forth, rubbing that bulge against your clothed sex.

“Driving me fucking crazy,” he mutters against your skin, opening his mouth to drag the sharp line of his teeth against the curve of one breast before switching to the other and flicking his tongue over your nipple.

You gape at his admission. Had you been? He’d been so closed off and cool…though now that you thought back, maybe that was just his way of hiding it. Suddenly he grips the back of your neck, where your hairline ends, and pulls you to his mouth. He tastes faintly of smoke, even fainter of the drinks he had had earlier in the night, but it is an intoxicating mixture. Your tongues find a rhythm as your hips do the same, both of you fucking in every sense of the word except the literal kind.

He takes one of your thighs and wedges it between his own, until you’re no longer grinding against his cock but instead his denim-clad thigh. “You the kind of girl who can cum like this? Just from this?”

“Uh-huh,” you promise, head bobbing.

He buries his face in your neck. “Good. I won’t last when I’ve got my cock in you. I’d like you to cum at least once before then.”

“Oh god,” you groan, gripping his shoulders fiercely as you begin a halting, stilted rhythm against his thigh. The denim is rough against your leggings. He feels all around you: his scent, his taste, his touch. When his hands find your hips to help you work yourself against him more smoothly, a sigh of gratitude fans from your lips.

“What else do you need?” he asks.

“My—touch me—“ He abandons your hips once you find a suitable rhythm. He finds your nipples again, teasing them with clever fingers. The stimulation has your peak approaching faster, building like a storm in your lower belly.

Ghost leans back to look at you, eyes trailing over you from head to toe: your face burning with warmth, your breasts with peaked little nipples, your leggings nearly soaked through at the crotch with how wet you are. He shakes his head, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“Fucking perfect.” You bury your face in his neck, feeling a warmth inside your chest. He grips you by the neck again and tugs you back. “Look at me. Look at me.”

You look at him for as long as you can, but when the band in your belly finally snaps, your eyes roll up and slip shut, your mouth drops open in a choked gasp, nails digging into his shoulders as you shudder and shake in the throes of your pleasure.

He leans down to kiss you through it, tongue teasing at your slack mouth.

When he stands, he takes you with him, hauling you up until you wrap your shaking legs around his waist. It’s probably a good thing too. You aren’t sure you could walk otherwise. He carries you the few steps to the couch and lays you down, curling his fingers in the waistband of your leggings. You nod. He strips them off you, along with your flats, and your panties until you are naked as the day you were born.

Your thighs clamp together shyly. He lets them, reaching behind himself to pull his shirt off. Something catches your eye in the streetlights streaming in through the window: Ghost has one of his nipples pierced, a neat little barbell through the sensitive flesh.

Fingers enter your vision—your own—reaching out on instinct. You hesitate, unsure if he is receptive, and a little afraid to hurt him. He’s so bloody tall, too…but he takes care of that himself by kneeling down by your side, his eyes cautious. Closer, you can see the scars: silvery in the moonlight, crisscrossing over his torso.

“Does it hurt?” You ask, softly stroking your fingers beneath the pale pink skin of his areola.

“No,” he says. You can feel the timber of his warm voice vibrating through his chest, up your fingers, straight to your pussy. “You can play with it.”

You shyly run your thumb over it the way he had yours. He sighs, breath fanning across your arm. His eyes go heavy-lidded, tongue flashing as he wets his lips. After a moment, you grow insecure and move your hands away from his nipple down to a scar that crosses his sternum. He lets you, very patient, like a dangerous creature withholding its bite.

“You’re so—“ the words are whispered dreamily before you have any idea how you plan to finish the sentence. Flushing with embarrassed heat under his wary stare, you finish: “—hot.”

He physically turns away, expression inscrutable. You can’t help but feel like you have said the wrong thing. He puts a hand on your belly, stroking the softness. “You broken, or can you take more?”

“I want more.”

“Want my cock?”

You nod, feeling like a bobble head.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“I want your cock.”

His hand reaches for his belt, unbuckling it. Your eyes track the movement with hungry nerves. His hands put butterflies in your belly: thick palms with long, slender fingers, veins criss-crossing along the backs. An artist’s hands. He works his belt free with nimble grace and shucks down his jeans and underwear in one smooth movement, revealing his cock to your gaze and the light from the street lamps.

He is huge here to match. Downright intimidating in length and girth, uncut with a nice curve toward his belly. He grips himself and gives a series of smooth strokes, the muscles in his abdomen flexing into sharp relief.

“Oh my god,” you mutter.

“No gods here,” he says, kneeling up on the couch. His hands part your thighs, and for a long time he just looks at you, that sensitive, swollen place between your legs. He stares so long that you nearly cover your face, embarrassed by whatever he is thinking. Then he touches you, and when he does, he touches you with surprising reverence. He touches you like you are art.

“Can’t believe you let me ink you,” he mutters, stroking your vulva with his warm palm. His eyes are on the sternum piece now. “Practically let me carve my name into your skin. Anybody around here who sees it will know who did it. They’ll know who touched you.”

“Good,” you breathe.

His sigh is shaky. You’re learning his reactions, his very breaths. That shaky sigh means he’s pleased with you. You’ve said something right.

He reaches down to his jeans on the floor and works a hand into his pocket, pulling free a condom. He hands it to you—for inspection, you realize, though you’ve had so few one night stands (try zero) that you’ve never had the need to inspect a condom before. The package is intact at least. There appears to be an expiration date which you squint at. All looks well. You hand it back to him and he tears it open, rolling it down his considerable length.

Then he goes back to touching you. One hand braces himself against the back of the sofa so he can lean down to kiss you, tasting your mouth deeply. The other hand finds your entrance, circling it with a finger before slipping inside you all the way to the last knuckle. You are wet enough and relaxed enough that he slips in easily.

“Relax…there you go. Let me in,” he says under his breath, working a second finger in beside the first. It is a bit of a stretch—he’s thick everywhere goddamn it—but it’s a good stretch, a much needed one. The third finger has you stiffening, whining at the pinch of pain. He slows his fingers and lets his thumb find your clit, muting the pain with little jolts of pleasure.

“Ghost,” you groan, toes curling against the leather of the couch.

“I think you can take it,” he says, thumb so soft and insistent against that aching pearl of nerves. “But what do you think?”

“Your cock—want it—please—“

“Alright,” he laughs, pulling his fingers free and wiping the wetness on his cock. “No need to beg.”

He notches his cock against your entrance and slips inside you. Both of you inhale together, like on cue. Just the first few inches have you feeling full beyond your comfort zone, but he seems to understand in his silent, all-knowing way. He stills, working that free hand between you both to play with your clit until you’re clenching around him, body trying to pull him deeper. He slips further in and then reaches the end of what your body can take. You feel fucking stuffed, your hands shaking where you have gripped his naked shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

His own breathing is ragged, pecs brushing your nipples with every inhale. The little bursts of pleasure help, until you find that your hips have grown restless, working back and forth as much as his substantial weight will allow when you’re pinned beneath it.

“Stay still,” he mutters into the juncture of your neck. “Stay still or I’ll cum and this is all over.”

“Can’t,” you gasp, his revelation electrifying you. “Have to move, ‘m so full—“

“Fucking hell,” he groans. He pulls out, leaving you feeling gaped. “Roll onto your side.”

He gives you instruction but isn’t shy about reaching out and physically arranging you until you are both spooning, your back to his chest. This time when he enters you, it is more shallow, and easier for him to reach around and play with your clit.

You arch your back, seeking more of him, pressing your breast into his free palm. He plucks at the nipple, teeth nibbling at your throat.

“Want you to cum again,” he says, stilling your movements so that you can’t fuck your self back against him. “Give me one more. Then it’s my turn.”

“Ghost—I can’t—“ you’ve never cum twice before. Not even with your favorite toys have you been able to scrounge together more than one illustrious orgasm. This knowledge and your expectation of his disappointment has you stiffening in his arms.

“If you can’t, then don’t,” he says simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. He keeps his fingers soft and insistent against you, and only after a few lengthy moments does he feel confident enough to work his hips against you too. He pulls out too far and his length drags across your labia, the head brushing where his fingers play with your clit.

You give a sighing little moan. His head cocks; you aren’t the only one listening to sighs. Now when he gives those lazy, lackadaisical thrusts, his entire length just strokes the outside of your sex.

“Oh fuck,” you whine, feeling that band in your belly begin pulling tight again.

He hums behind you, a smug sound.

“Not sure I want you to cum now,” he says. “Hold it. I’m thinking it over.”

“Ghost!”

He laughs, honest to God laughs at you. Tears prick your eyes from the sheer need (and a bit from embarrassment) but his hips never cease nor slow their tireless thrusts against you, not even when you grow close enough to beg, close enough to plead.

He loops his arm around your waist and pins you against him when you cum to keep you from rolling right off the couch, your body wracked with shivers and spasms. The warmth of your release washes over you from head to toe, and you are still basking in it when his cock finds your entrance again and enters you.

The position keeps the penetration blissfully shallow (otherwise he might give your cervix a painful beating), but he still reaches new lengths inside you, filling spaces you didn’t know were empty. The shop is eerily quiet except for the sound of his hips snapping against your ass and the frequent breathy sounds his cock punches out of your lungs.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck and lets out a series of sounds that are toe-curling: deep groans and raspy curses, whispered praise and hisses through his teeth. His hand grips your hip tightly, leaving shadows the shape of his fingerprints on your skin as he fucks you.

Sooner than you’d like—but he’d warned you, hadn’t he?—his thrusts grow sloppy, the sounds messy thanks to your wetness as he finds his release and moans it into the skin of your throat.

“Fuck,” he whispers. And again: “Fuck, fuck. You broken?”

“Yes.”

He snorts. Then it turns into that laughter, warm and rumbling against your back. You smile where he can’t see.

“Sorry about this,” he says as he ties the condom off and throws it away, naked as the day he was born. You’re still naked too, though much more shy, legs crossed demurely and arms wrapped around yourself.

“Regretting it already?”

“Yes,” he says. Then, when he sees the stricken look on your face, he adds: “Should have at least taken you to dinner first.”

“Dinner?”

“You owe me drinks. I owe you dinner.” He finds his boxers in the darkness and slips back into them. Then, because the expression on your face still hasn’t relaxed, he says: “I don’t regret the sex. Do you?”

You shake your head.

He scoffs a little.

“I mean it,” you insist. You touch your tattoo. “I wanted it…the day you did—this.”

He raises both brows at you, silently calling your bluff.

“I didn’t think you were interested,” you admitted sheepishly.

“I jerked off in the back just from seeing half your tits,” he admits, slipping into his jeans now too. His mouth curls a little at the corner when he sees the way you gape at this news. “I was interested.”

You laugh; you can’t help it. “Dinner, then? Or drinks?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Alright. Get dressed.”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #skin deep

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mj0702 · 5 months

Text

The other Bronze – Part 15

The rest of camp went by like a blur. Sarina continued to include you more and more in the daily tasks of training and organisation of the national team and slowly you found joy in your new role (the added bonus of being allowed to yell at Lucy to run faster or to yell at Leah to bring her knees up higher just played right into it). The dutch Head coach saw with growing pride how you transitioned into your position as her new addition of staff. Getting you to sign the contract was one of a task. You didn't give in easy having the legal department rewrite your contract multiple times adding clauses to protect your relationships – if it was the family relationship with Lucy (and let's be honest Keira) or your romantically relationship with Georgia. You also pushed the limit of salary until the very last penny – not that you were able to access the money since it will go straight in an account which was under observation by your guardian Jill Scott. You yourself had a deal with Jill that if you needed some extra pocket money she would take it out of your account but only if you could give a good reason.

Just like now when you were about to book a whole as bag pipers band to pipe “Scotland the Brave” at exactly midnight outside Sarinas room to welcome her new age – aka her birthday. You knew that your adoptive Mom hated bag pipes with passion since it was too squeaky and too loud in her opinion but since you were technically Scottish you couldn't care less. Also you didn't give a flying fudge (Keira banned any swearword since Less, Toons and you went a little overboard one evening at dinner watching a mens game on the tablet) that you would wake up probably the whole hotel – you loved your Mama Rina too much to care. Of course Jill was straight on board with your shenanigans being a big kid herself. So you spent around two hours looking for the perfect pipers and comparing different prices. You settled on three pipers, an additional drummer and three songs. “Scotland the Brave”, “Auld lang syne” and “When the Saints go Marching in” - all very squeaky and loud. You were sure Mama Rina would love you for your great Birthday present – she'll probably strangle you to death but it was worth it.

You were so happy with your purchase that you entered the dining room whistleing and smiling.

“What got you all smiley Bubs?” your sister asked you smiling too seeing you in a good mood

“Just a good day” you answered smiling even wider

“Why do I feel trouble?” Keira now asked appearing next to you

“Maybe that extra Banana at breakfast?” you looked at her innocently

“No.. no it has nothing to do with the banana” the blonde mused giving you a once over

“You're just being paranoid” you waved her off skipping over to your girlfriend and best friends

“I just know you too well” Keira yelled after you and you (again) waved her off with a “yeah yeah”

“She's up to something” the blonde said turning around to Lucy who was about to stuff a bread roll in her mouth stopping mid air

“Let her be Kei... she's slowly getting back to normal after her episode in Barcelona... you and I both know she's still pretending a lot and me freaking out with G didn't help” Lucy said as she watched you shoving Tooney around laughing loudly when the brown haired girl ran into Leah.

“Oh it certainly didn't... and we WILL have a talk about it when we're back in Spain” the blonde answered sending your sister an angry glare “What were you thinking?”

“I wasn't... I just saw her crying and my brain short circuit...” your sister said slowly

“On one side I understand Luce... I do... because seeing her cry is the worst thing in the world – but you can't do that... you can't lose control like this” Keira said softly

“I know” Lucy huffed finally taking a bite of her bread roll

“I DARE YOU LESS!!” Keira and Lucys eyes snapped immediately over to you when you laughed loudly

“No... NO... you can dare all you want but NO” Lessi answered shaking her head frantically her eyes wide

“You know what that means right??” you smirked evilly at her

“I'm NOT declaring you as me football-wife on Social Media” the blonde huffed

“Then suck it up and eat them” you pointed at the offending vegetables on the plate in the middle of the table

“No” Less whined desperately “Keira please... help” she turned to her teammate begging

“Eat your veggies Less....” Keira rolled her eyes seeing that you three just causing chaos again

“But” the light blonde whined

“Less... I want to eat my lunch in peace” now Leah interrupted her glaring “.... if you won't let me eat in peace I'll shove them Brussels sprouts down your throat by myself”

“Wow.... okay” Lessi looks at her capitan shocked and taken aback “No need to get violent – not me fault you miss your girlfriend”

“Don't” Leah warned her teammate pointing at her threatening

“Let's go over there... she can simmer in her bad mood alone” you said grumbling pulling Lessi along “Bet Millie and Rach are very happy to see us”

“Okay Lee... what's up?” Georgia asked watching you plopp down next to Rachel and on top of Millie

“I do miss my girl... but I'm nervous G... we're playing Spain in three Days and I'm nervous” the blonde spilled her thoughts to her best friend

“It's just a friendly Lee... no need to stress about it okay...” your girlfriend said softly “... we use some of the new plays we trained and you'll Skipper the shit out of that game”

“Thanks G... really” Leah said sighing a little more relaxed “Now please go and get your girl under control” she pointed over to you where you were concentrating on snipping peas at Sarina and some staff members under the low cheering of Millie and Rachel

“Oh shit” Georgia said quickly as she followed Leahs gaze scrambling off towards you

“Okay everyone listen up!!” Sarina said loudly when all the Lionesses were seated “As you know we arranged a friendly against Spain in a couple of days – we'll go over the Line-up later today but I want to inform you beforehand that there will be some significant changes due to our new tactics. I plan on giving everyone some minutes – if not this game than the next one which is four days later. Also I want to announce y/n Bronze as new addition to our Team. She'll be part of our analytics staff and she already showed her value since she pointed out some good moves for us to get past Spains defence”

“And Ona” you threw in chewing on your Steak you got for lunch

“And Ona Batlle yes” Sarina rolled her eyes but everyone saw it was just for show “Don't interrupt me and don't speak with your mouth full... I know you got raised better than this”

“Yes ma'am” you said your voice muffled by the potato you decided to push into your mouth before answering smiling at your adoptive Mom widely

“Walsh.... get your kid under control” the Dutch said and everyone laughed at Keiras offended face

“Excuse me.... the last time I checked she listened to the name Bronze” Keira exclaimed picking up the banter with her head coach

“While that is true I can't really say “Lucy get your kid under control”...” Sarina answered pointing at Lucy who was about to shovel some pasta into her mouth – just like you did with your potato

“It wouldn't be much use” the dutch said flatly and everyone started to laugh as both Bronzes looked up sporting the same caught look with both of your forks mid air

“I get your point” Keira huffed her face deadpan “You two really can't help yourselves can't you”

“What?” both you and Lucy asked confused

“Nothing... you keep on shovelling” Keira said rolling her eyes once more

You and Lucy looked at each other before shrugging your shoulders and continuing eating

“As I said... we have some new tactics which might look strange on paper and will be confusing at first but I like how y/n gets a read on things and thinks outside of the box” the dutch said seriously “You all noticed how I included her more this Camp because I think she's now at a point very we can profit from her exceptional eye and solutions – yes the upcoming games are just friendlies but that won't stop us from playing our best”

“Sorry to interrupt again but.... the food gets cold” you said raising your hand while already talking

“If you wouldn't interrupt me all the time I would be done already” Sarina threw you a warning glance

“Sorry” you mumbled “But... can you maybe... talk faster Mama Rina”

“If you have questions my door is always open” the dutch said her patience running low “You can also ask the new member of staff but I doubt you get a satisfying answer out of her”

Everyone laughed again as you hummed agreeing pushing your vegetables on your girlfriends appetizer plate much to Keiras dismay

“What is THAT??” your girlfriend looked up from her plate pulling a face while you bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing

“Shouldn't you know babe? You ARE half-Jamaican after all” you smirked as the table bursted out laughing

“So funny” Georgia said flatly “How did you pull that off?”

“Just asked the Chef very nicely to make something from home since you miss the Reggae feeling so much” you smirked very happy with yourself

“I will get you back for that” your girlfriend growled “but back to me initial question... WHAT is THAT??”

“How should I know... that's your traditional food” you shrugged your shoulders grinning

“I regret the day you found that video” Georgia grumbled as she stabbed her fork into the brownish-yellowish dish

“You love me too much to actually be mad” you smirked watching how your girlfriend struggles to actually bring the fork to her mouth “And be grateful – they made me feed Toons dog food”

“Dog food??” Georgia asked shocked

“It was chicken paste” Toons rolled her eyes

“I'm 100% positive it was dog food” you countered “they just told you it was chicken so you wouldn't throw up and sue them.... now come on babe... taste it and tell me if it tastes like home” you grinned

“I really REALLY want to kick you right now” your girlfriend grumbles but finally got over herself quickly stuffing the food loaded fork into her mouth

“It's.... actually not bad... It's really good actually” G shrugged her shoulders “It's a curry... I like curries”

“See.... I did something nice for you there....” you grinned

“But what curry.. definitely not chicken” your girlfriend mumbled as she poked the meat on the plate

“Wait... Jesse...” you yelled over to the buffet where some chefs were standing handing out food

“Yes?” one of the shorter ones looked over to you

“What meat is that??” you shouted back lifting your girlfriends plate up

“Goat” came the answer immediately and you could see how Georgias eyes grow wide in shock and you swear you saw her heave for a second there

“Thanks” you said and he lifted his hand in reply

“Was... was he serious?” your girlfriend asked as the colour slowly left her face

“Naah... it's beef” you said having mercy on her

“You are so SO cruel” Georgia mumbled as she picked up another fork shovelling it into her mouth

“It's not beef is it?” Millie leaning over to you whispering in your ear

You just shook your head smirking and chuckle under your breath while Millie laughed.

“What's so funny?” your girlfriend asked suspicious

“Millie asked if I think Carmona finally declares her love for Lucy by asking her out on a date” you lied quickly while Millie looked at you confused but nodded when you kicked her ankle under the table

“Yep,... I mean... it's obvious” the blonde kept nodding

“Oh Ew... guys I'm eating” your girlfriend said her voice laced with disgust

“Yeah well... I would have to live with her...” you shuddered “... Lucy!!!” you turned around in your seat facing your sister

“What??!” your sister looked up alarmed

“You are NOT allowed to reciprocate Carmonas feelings!!!!” you looked at her seriously

“What?!” Lucy looked confused

“I want to keep Ona” you whined

“What the hell are you talking about??” your sister was so lost

You just shook your head in disbelieve turning back around. Your sister looked at you like you completely lost your plot turning to Keira

“What is she talking about?” Lucy asked

“Don't ask me... you speak Bronze better than me...” the blonde shrugged continuing to eat her salad

“What does she want now with Carmona?” your sister looked at Keira lost

“How should I know? I've been here as long as you...” Keira now said a little annoyed “... just chalk it up to her being her and eat”

“Hey what are you talking about?” Lucy said as she pulled your chair around so that you were facing her

Unlucky to her you were just digging into your pasta (your second dish for the day) and with the sudden movement the pasta didn't only spill over Millie but also Lucys face – and the back of Keiras neck who stopped her fork mid-air and by the way her shoulders moved you know there was a storm coming your way. Lucy herself just stood there blankly spaghetti with pesto sauce and antipasti running down her face.

“Ehrm... Lucy you have a little...” you said lowly gesturing towards her face desperately trying to hold in your laughter as a piece of eggplant sliding down your sisters cheek

The whole room was quiet so you could hear a piece of dust dropping like it'd would be a jackhammer. Everyone looked at you, Lucy, Millie and Keira shock on their faces. No one dared to move while you could see Rachel, Ella, Less and Niamh trying to hold in their laughter. Rach shook with silent laughter pulling out her phone recording a small clip for her Instagram of the sliding eggplant – fans would see it later with the caption “perfect SLIDE tackle by Egg Plant Tough Bronze”. Needless to say the fans had a field day with this clip and half the soccer world commented on it. Best comment came from María León herself tagging Ingrid complaining why Lucy was allowed to play with food when she herself wasn't even allowed to build a rice volcano. Ingrid chose to ignore that comment instead asking Lucy if this was her secret to be such an outstanding player.

“Bitsy” you heard Keira growl dangerously low

“It wasn't my fault... Lucy pulled me over” you quickly said as you jumped out of your chair walking backwards away from the blonde who still hadn't moved one inch

“Stay” the blonde said strictly still not moving

You thought quickly about bolting but as usual Keira knew you better

“You can't outrun me... don't even try” she said as she finally put down her fork

“I mean... I can try” you said desperately

“No... you can't... the only way you'd make it out of here is if you'd jump through a window – because I will be faster at the door than you” Keira said as she SLOWLY turned around

“It wasn't me” you said taking another step back hitting something with the back of your knees and suddenly found you in the lap of the one and only Lauren James.

You looked at her she looked at you both of you getting big wide eyes before you jumped up again knocking against Beth chair who lost balance and fell backwards. Only person stopping her hitting the ground was Lotte who reacted quickly grabbing Beth shirt who ripped a bit but held enough so Beth wouldn't end up with a concussion.

“Bitsy.... just stay still for god sakes” Keira said in a warning tone “You'll knock out the whole squad before we even get the chance to play the world cup”

“Sorry” you apologized quickly getting rooted in place “but at least I don't knock you all up”

That did it for Rach, Tooney and Less who bursted out laughing while your girlfriend squeaked quietly blushing again.

“Why do I have pasta on the back of my neck?” Keira asked looking at you expectantly

“Lucy pulled me around as I had me fork full of spaghetti” you explained quickly your Manchester accent coming through – like ever so often when you get nervous.

“Millie?” the blonde gave her teammate a side eye

“Truth... wasn't her fault this time” Brickwall Bright confirmed and now Keira turned towards Lucy narrowing her eyes

“Lucia... with me” the blonde said lowly and your sister shook her head scared “NOW”

“You tell Ona I loved her right?” Lucy looked at you pleadingly knowing she most like won't survive Keiras wrath

“I'll make sure she's taken care of” you nodded “I'll visit her as often as I can”

“Good...” your sister started before there was an angry “LUCY!!” from outside the room

All of you heard the door fell shut and muffled argument from outside it. You actually winced a few times feeling sorry for Lucy – she didn't mean for this to happen either. But Keira had straight rules for eating times. No whining. No argument over food. Only plating as much as you can eat. And NO throwing food – never ever. So her ending up with some courgette in the back of her neck was bad. Bad for Lucy. And in hindsight bad for you because now you have to find something new to eat now. You looked around the room – who at this point got back to light chatter and eating. You spotted Leahs plate who was still fairly full and decided after checking the ingredients that it was worth stealing. So you slandered over patting her right shoulder. The second she turned around looking you quickly snatched the plate with your left hand hiding it behind your back

“Yes y/n?” the blonde capitan looked at you expectantly

“You think Keira will kill Lucy?” you asked as a disguise pouting slightly

“No... you know them... Keira will yell at her – Lucy will look very apologetic and say she's sorry a hundred times and it will be okay again” Leah said softly still not catching up that you stole her plate

“You sure” you asked again just for good measure

“Yes Poppy... I'm sure” Leah smiled soothingly

“Okay... thanks Lee” you said smiling a little turning around walking away quickly

“Poppy!!” you heard Leah call out angry when she realized what you've done

“Love you Capitana” you yell back sitting down at your table between Millie and Toons starting to shovel down Leahs food

“I would've shared with you too, you know babe” your girlfriend said as she watched you not even chewing the food just swallowing it down.

“I know babe... but I didn't want to steal from you” you said with your mouth full which earned you a hard slap on the back from Keira

“Where do you come from?” you asked shocked half the food falling back on the plate as she slapped your head

“From ripping your sister a new one... don't talk with your mouth full or you'll be the next in line” the blonde looked at you angry

“Sorry mom” you apologized after you swallowed the remaining food

“And don't shovel it down your throat like you're starving” Keira scolded you

“But I am...” you started to get shut down by a glare from the blonde which made you shrink in your chair

“Damn... Walsh has it out for the Bronzes” Tooney mumbled under her breath but not quiet enough for Keira not to hear

“I can expand my list, Toone” Keira barked out

“Kei...” you looked at her scared

You saw Keira take a deep breath before looking at you

“Sorry Bitsy” the blonde features soften “Your sister just pushed a button”

“Can we talk please” you said lowly your eyes never leaving hers

“Come” was the only thing Keira said already walking away

Outside the door she waited for you as you closed the door quietly behind you

“What's wrong Kei? I mean you're kinda mean when you're on your period but that was... two weeks ago” you said keeping your distance from her

“I honestly don't know Bitsy... and getting smacked by antipasti in the back of my neck certainly didn't help” the blonde huffing

“You miss your girl?” you ask fishing for pointers on Keiras bad mood

“Too, yes... but all around it tires me out... I don't know why” Keira sighed deeply “and Spain in three days?? Even more tiring”

“You need a break huh?” you asked understanding “is a lot lately”

“Yeah... but I won't get a break until end of season” the blonde started to massage her temples

“I could kick your ankle” you offered

“No thanks Bitsy” Keira laughed “But thank you for the kind offer”

“No problem” you smiled “But seriously – I can take you out of the starting XI... give you a little break at least”

“In all seriousness... that would be very appreciated” the blonde sighed out happily “Wait... how do you know who is starting XI?”

“Who do you think put the XI together? Mama Rina left it all up to me – it's just a friendly and I have few ideas I want to try out” you shrugged your shoulder

“You are exceptional Bitsy....” Keira smiled at you and pushed some lose hair out of your face “... never lose your light”

“Jesus Kei... I'm not dying” you rolled your eyes

“No... but you're young and the position you just took on brings a lot of pressure with it...” the blonde said and you heard her serious tone “... don't lose your light”

“I'll do my best” you offered a smile “I don't even know how long I'm gonna stay... at the moment it's still fun... so yeah – let's see”

“Good” Keira nodded happily “You want to go back?”

“Not really no... Lunch was a mess... and left me hungry” you pouted

“I tell Sarina.... you want me to send G after you?” the blonde winked

“You would do that? What about Luce?” you looked at her with big pleading eyes

“Just play along...” Keira smirked and before you could respond what she meant the blonde started yelling at you “WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TO COMMENT ON A TOPIC THAT IS ABSOLUTLEY NOT YOUR BUISNESS”

“I JUST ASKED” you yelled back not knowing what Keiras plan is

“GET OUT!” the blonde yelled but smiled at you “That should be enough to get your sister of your case – she knows better than to question me... now go and send G your location...”

You pressed a sweet kiss to Keiras cheek before running off. Keira watched you rounding the first corner before she took a deep breath put on her game face and shoved the door to the dining room open aggressively. She was met with the sight of scared face from her teammates and smirked internally.

“What?” Keira barked and all newbies quickly ducked their heads not wanting to upset the veteran any further

“Jesus Kei” Georgia looked at her best friend confused “Leave the kiddos alone”

“Sorry... YOUR girlfriend just pissed me off” the blonde growled but winked at G subtly

“I go talk to her” your girlfriend huffed out already pushing herself out of her chair immediately catching on what Keira tried to tell her

“Wait... I'll come too” Lucy quickly said trying to stand up as Keira pushed her back down

“You sit” the blonde said lowly

“Yes ma'am” Lucy mumbled sitting down again

“Okay Ladies” Sarina said loudly getting everyones attention “Time to talk game tactic”

You were sitting between Georgia (who subtly intertwined your pinkies) and Tooney who yapped about some dog she saw at the park earlier.

“I worked closely with our new addition..” the dutch started before you interrupted her – again

“My parents gave me a name you know... and it's not “new addition”...” you huffed annoyed until you saw Sarina smirk

“Not?” the dutch smirked knowing from Keira of your little game so you could get away at Lunch – without informing the head coach

“I mean I got called a lot of names over the years... but “new addition” wasn't one of them” you smirked back engaging in the banter with your “boss”

“I spoke with y/n” Sarina rolled her eyes for good measure “... we – agreed...”

“Agreed? I told you what would help us win and you said “do it”....” you interrupted again knowing no one else would get away with it

“We AGREED to try a few new things when we play against Spain” the dutch ignored you expectantly “We will start with a.... wait why am I talking about this... Liefje why don't you come up here and take over?”

“What?!” you looked at her shocked shaking your head lightly

“Come on” Sarina waved you to the stage smiling “It's your tactic – you worked hard on it so you get to explain it”

You let out a big breath as Georgia squeezed your hand offering silent support before you pushed yourself up and walking up the stage standing next to your Mama

“Okay Ladies and Lucy” you said loudly waiting for your sisters signature “Hey!!!” before you continued smiling “I spent a LOT of time analysing games... plays... players... last Euros was good.. all of you played amazing BUT as Sarina said before – it was close... if you strip it down to just the play Spain WAS the better team... you got lucky with Alex goal in overtime.... REALLY lucky... Toons that leader was world class but Spain bounced back because ALL of you felt too secure for a second... I know this is just a friendly but we'll play it like it's the final again – we're back on home soil, we play Spain again but we'll... throw them off a little... so I still have some painkillers left from me wrist injury – we split them up and then I'll let you run lose... that will throw at least the Barca department off...” you grinned as Lucy groaned

“It was a mistake okay... I AM sorry” your sister said while Keira chuckled beside her

“You have to do more than say you're sorry Bronze...” you smirked “... I want that world cup”

“I'll do my best okay” Lucy smiled at your display of competitiveness

“Okay... so back to the game... we're playing at Old Trafford this time... who's idea that was? Mine – I just love that place and it hold a lot of history... So tomorrow we're moving up to Manchester whoever has problems with it... suck it up or leave” you simply said and Sarina snorted next to you “For tactics... we're going back to the roots of football... like... waaay back – we're gonna play a “Scottish furrow”... anyone any idea what that is... the dinosaur in the room maybe...??” you look straight at your sister smirking cheeky

“Oh get lost...” Lucy threw at you smiling back at you feeling happy about how much you obviously enjoy your new role

“Anyone... Scottish furrow??” you asked into the room looking from player to player

The younger ones shook their head embarrassed as the veterans wrecked their brain have heard of it before but couldn't place it. You looked at Sarina for help.

“It's a 2-3-5 formation... it's dubbed a little outdated but as y/n said – it's back to the roots” Sarina explained before nodding towards you telling you to take over again

“Spain is overall Goliath... they have a VERY strong defence, a quick working midfield and ruthless forwards... we're David in this scenario so we have to play more tactical – we'll have fast forwards a intelligent midfield AND a Brickwall of defence so our Keeper hopefully will have a relaxed game... Mary pack a book because if your Team does its job like I tell them to do it you won't have a single shot on target” you said seriously but joked as well – you started to really enjoy the situation of talking about tactics

“A 2-3-5?” Leah asked confused “How will that work with our playing style?”

“Easy... we let them run into the brickwall – not Millie but the whole defence – take the ball off them and use the momentum in our favour and just.... run” you answer looking at Leah serious “Spain will think they dictate the game... the pace... the tactic... the ball... but you guys will let them run into the wall every time... Spain is thankfully a opponent that gets frustrated easily... the second they start getting frustrated and sloppy is the second we switch back to a 3-3-4 and kill em... if my calculations are correct and the bring the line up I expect them to bring we should get out of this friendly at least 5 – 0”

“5 – nothing??” Lucy exclaimed shocked

“Yes... and we don't even have to bring the A+ team... we need A+ defence... midfield and forwards can be newbies... so whoever wants their first cap against Spain... come find me after the meeting... I set up a preliminary line up but I already have a change in midfield since Keira is out for the game” you said honestly your eyes not leaving your sisters

“Kei... you okay?” Leah immediately turned around to her best friend concerned

“Just tired Lee...” the blonde smiled back weakly “Talked to Sarina Jr. over there and she offered to take me out of the line up which I seriously appreciate”

You swell with pride when Keira referred to you as “Sarina Jr” knowing how much respect the team has for the dutch head coach.

“You need to remember Leah... she's one of the old ones now...” you smirked as Keira threw you a playful glare

“We don't comment on players ages” Sarina told you off flicking your ear lightly “We call it experience”

“Sorry... my bad... she's experienced Leah.... she want's to give the chance to the younger players to get.... experience too” you smirked

“I can make her run laps in your name K” Leah offered helpfully

“I can make her run laps in my own name too Lee” Keira laughed and you swallowed hard knowing just how well Keira could make you run laps

“My knee...” you said carefully

“Don't even try Bitsy... your sister is the one with the bad knee” the blonde smirked

“Hello.... three ACL's” you exclaimed outraged which caused everyone in the room to burst out laughing

“Oh don't even start... your knees where fine when you ran away from Alexia a few days ago” Keira rolled her eyes still smiling

“She didn't leave me a choice” you defended yourself

“She left you the choice of not running off” Lucy threw in

“Yeah like you would've stayed when Alexia Putellas threatens you” you snorted

“Even Mapí doesn't dare to run away from Capi” your sister said “So why did YOU think you could outrun her? You don't even know your way around Nuo”

“Well... I didn't really think... I acted on instinct” you said like it was obvious

“Well your instinct ended your ass in the gym with La Reina” Lucy smirked and turned to Leah “When Ale delivered her back all she did is sleep... for TWELVE hours”

“I need that workout... can you ask her? The possibility of shutting your sister up for twelve hours straight is just a dream come true” Leah laughed at your offended face

“Oh look... Leah doesn't want to play against Spain” you grinned looking at Sarina who just shook her head smiling

“You wouldn't dare to bench me Poppy...” the blonde capitan smirked back happy that the team got back to it's bantering self

“Oh but I would.. because according to my contract I'm allowed to make decisions about the team, the tactics AND the players – all in agreement with the head coach herself of course” you smirked and pulled out your contract “So yes... I can bench you... because I think I saw you having some discomfort in your knee sitting down... right?”

“You little shit” Leah laughed knowing you weren't serious

“Learned from the best” you smirked looking at your sister who smiled proudly “Back to business... 2-3-5... Chloe and Meado up top... I like the way you two work … Hillary... congratulations to your first Cap... you'll get flanked by Franny and J-Park... defenders... Millie and Leah MidDef – Luce on the right, Alex on the left... Lotte you're my false 6... “ you said looking at every single player waiting for their okay before moving on to the next one

“A false 6?” Keira asked confused

“Yeah... I want Lotte to be the connection between midfield and defence” you explained “throw the spaniards a little off... you'll run a lot Lotte is that okay?”

“Sure... I'm fit” the defender smiled

“Okay... if you get tired ask for a sub... J-Cart can come in for Alex and Alex moves up... that is if we're not back to the 3-3-4 at this point anyway – it's still just a friendly... no need to kill yourselves out there” you said and Sarina smiled proudly.

You did an exceptional job. You really took your job very seriously and still you made sure to explain your decision to make it understandable why you were starting players over others and you still had the lightness of a teenager

“Depending on if Spain takes out bait we make two subs at half … Stanway for Clinton – believe me Hillary... 45 Minutes is more than overwhelming for a first cap and Toons for Franny” you kept going with your game tactic feeling comfortable and honestly free talking about something which gave you the feeling of being part of the team

“Sounds good...” Sarina smiled approvingly “... what are your other subs?”

“Around 70th/75th minute... James for Chloe... Less for Meado... I would leave one slot open IF something happens...” you turned towards the head coach

“So you leave the defence like it is... who's in Goal?” the dutch tested your plan

“I actually just changed my mind... Mary... you have the day off... Hampton... if you're up to it?” you looked at the young Goalkeeper

“Yes... yes I'm up for it” the young woman smiles and nods her head frantically

“See... that's the enthusiasm I want” you grinned “None of you asshats were as happy as she is right now”

“Because she doesn't know you as well as we do” Lucy threw in

“Esme... you start against Spain... congratulations... Luce... I think a saw an old camping chair standing around at home... you have enough time to go home and get that chair since you won't put a foot on the pitch” you smiled sweetly and this time Keira bursted out laughing at your sisters face

“You can't...” Lucy exclaimed but you interrupted her

“Oh but I can..” you sing-songed waving your contract

“Sarina” your sister whined

“I gave her the lead for this... her call” the dutch shrugged smiling widely

“Oh come ooooon” Lucy whined again which caused the older players in the room to chuckle

“What... thinking about it I do you a favor... now you can drool over your girlfriend the whole 90 Minutes...” you smirk

“Sometimes I really wish we wouldn't have turned around when Dad forgot you in Tesco” your sister mumbled

You stepped through the tunnel onto the pitch at Old Trafford. You loved that Stadium – even if it's the home of United and you yourself grew up as a City-girl. This place held so many amazing Stories and Memories. You turned once around yourself looking at the still empty seats that in a few hours will contain nearly 75.000 fans – it was just a friendly but the tickets were gone in just under two hours. One of your dreams back then when you were still playing was to play a derby against United right here – Old Trafford. 74.310 seats and all of them will be manned/womend tonight. You remembered the last Derby you attended with Lucy. You had a small smile playing on your lips remembering the crowd, the cheers and chants, the game itself – it was like it happened yesterday.

“Hey” you heard softly behind you and it made you jump for a second

You whipped around and came face to face with your sister

“You okay?” Lucy asked softly

“Yeah... just got a little emotional here... remembered the last time we were here you know... before you left for Spain” you answered quietly

“Was a physical match... Tobin and Christen for United...” Lucy smiled and looked ahead towards the seats

“... Chloe got a stupid yellow... that wasn't a yellow... oh.. and G played left forward... wasn't it the first Derby for the Tower of Power too?” you chuckled

“Sammy Mewis? Yeah... I remember her coming out of the tunnel and nearly fell into it backwards because she didn't expect the fans to scream like they did... she tried to hide behind Rose for a hot minute there” your sister laughed lightly

“I love Rose but damn... she was shiny with the spotlights... told Gareth to put her in – she would have blinded Mearpsi with her reflective skin and bam... goal... but no” you rolled your eyes but smiled

“You always have these backhanded compliments... where do you get them from?” your sister laughed

“Lots and lots of training” you grinned “When are the spaniards arriving?”

“Already in Manchester... for a few hours now... you want to go and say hi to them?” Lucy smiled softly taking your hand

“You think Alexia would appreciate us crashing their Lunch?” you smirked

“Absolutely not... we're gonna wait in the Lobby until they're done and then quickly say hi” your sister laughed

“Yeah... why not? Where they're staying??” you shrugged your shoulders knowing Lucy tried to get you out of your sentimental state

“Hilton Garden Inn” Lucy said after checking her phone

“Ona?” you smirked

“Sí” your sister smiled back

“Wait... isn't that at the old cricket grounds?” you wrecked your brain

“Yes... it's nice apparently” Lucy shrugged not letting go of your hand

“Are we allowed to leave?” you suddenly asked looking around

“Sarina was the one calling me after seeing you out here... she said as long as were on time for the game we're good to go” your sister smiled softly

“Off to the spaniards then” you started running off pulling Lucy after your

“Remember Bubs... we don't cause troub... BUBS!!” Lucy yelled after you as you sprinted off towards the dining area

“I fucking knew it” your sister grumbled as she speed walked after you hearing you already flinging the heavy doors open

“Buenos Aires Motherfuckers!!!” you screamed as you pushed threw the big heavy double-door “I'm back!!”

There were different reactions to your entrance. Some of the spanish players screamed in horror, some nearly chocked on their food and some jumped up and took cover behind the tables

“A la mierda y/n!!!” Alexia exclaimed after she looked shocked over the edge of the table she cowered behind

“I said Buenos Aires... I made meself known” you smirked at the sight of the spanish national team in distress

“You storm inside her, interrupt our Lunch and scare us to DEATH for what exactly? And it's too late for Bon dia Cariño” Alexia now stood up glaring at you

“Lucy said we can go say hi so we did... and I didn't mean bon dias... I meant the other one... the Buenos Aires... your Olga said it” you shrugged your shoulders grinning

“Ay dios mio... my headache is suddenly back...” the blonde spaniard mumbled but in secret she was glad to see you “And it's Buenos tardes.... not Buenos Aires”

“Then that... Buenos tartlets motherfuckers” you said again grinning widely

“Nena!!!!” you suddenly hear from your left and found yourself laying on the ground a second later with someone on top of you

“María!!” you heard a voice from above you and the weight got pulled off you

“What just happened?” you asked confused as Ona helped you up

“Mapí wreckingballed you... she does that sometimes when she gets excited” your sisters girlfriend dusted you off a little bit before offering you a smile “You good?”

“Sí” you mumbled still a little bit confused

“Look at you speaking spanish” the short defender smiled warmly opening her arms inviting you in for a hug

“Putellas was adamant about it” you mumbled against Ona after you accepted her hug

“Okay Mapí...” you heard Alexia behind you “I told you what would happen if you misbehave again...”

“What she doing” you sack against Ona relaxing for a second

“Oh Mapí was a little over the top the whole camp... and since not even extra laps got her to calm down Alexia approaches the problem differently now” Ona answered smiling at how much you were leaning against her “What's up with you Bebita? You look exhausted”

“You guys are exhausting” you mumbled suddenly feeling extremly tired

“Us? We didn't do anything” the short blonde chuckled

“She means your games” you reconized your sisters voice behind you

“Disculpe?” Ona chuckled

“Again with the dislocation...” you mumbled as you get transferred into Lucys arms

“I'm NOT going to wear... Alexia... por favor” you heard Mapí beg “por favor la reina”

“Jenni... ayudame por favor” Alexia said holding Mapí police hold

“León... quédate quieto y acepta tu destino” you heard Jenni growl and immediately sink more into Lucy

“She's not angry with you... what's up with you anyway?” Lucy soothed you after she realize you shrink away from Jennis voice

“Tired” you mumbled

“She can sleep for a bit in my room” Ona offered

“Bubs... you wanna sleep with Ona?” your sister asked half quietly as suddenly four heads snapped in her directions and you were wide awake again

“Scuse me?” you chocked out

“NOT like that you...” your sister huffed out annoyed

“I mean I know you're not shy when it comes to our sex...” Ona started before you interrupted her

“LALALALALALALA!!!” you yelled loudly wrenching your fingers into your ears to blend out the rest of Onas sentence and screw your eyes shut walking away from your sister – and straight into Jenni Hermoso.

You stumbled back a little bit as you opened one eye seeing the tall dark haired spaniard smirking at you raising her eyebrow

“You were more smooth when you were high” Jenni smirked

“HUH??” you asked loudly your fingers still in your ear

Jenni rolled her eyes smiling grabbing your right hand pulling it away from your finger

“High you is smoother” she grinned

“Sober me has better taste” you shot back

“Sober you doesn't like me no?” Jenni teased you

“I can't answer that....” you swallowed hard

“So sober you DOES like me” the black haired said smirking

“Jenni stop teasing the Cariño” Alexia interrupted swatting her friends shoulder “She has a girlfriend”

“Interesting” Jenni smirked wriggling her eyebrows at you

“Indeed...” you coughed out before you laid eyes on Mapí and bursted out laughing “WHAT are you wearing??”

There she was – Mapí León in all her spanish glory... strapped in a Dino-Harness.

“This is all your fault” Mapí huffed

“Moi??” you asked confused

“Yes... YOU have one and that's why I have one now” María looked at you with betrayal in her eyes

“Then it's Lucys fault” you pointed at your sister “she's the one getting Bronzo in the first place!”

“Because you kept running off!!” Lucy defended herself “You still do”

“Why are you here?” Alexia asked your sister “You know it's not really common to visit the opponent before the game”

“She got a little emotional and I thought bringing her here would help – and it did... you guys don't even realize how much you help her” your sister said her voice low so you won't catch on while you were busy wrestling with Mapí around on the floor getting cheered on by Pina

“Ale... Puedes por favor controlarlos?” Aitana asked after you repeatedly kicked her chair trying to find leverage over Mapí both of you laughing

“Jenni... por favor” the blonde spaniard looked at her teammate who just sighed and walked towards you and Maps

“How was she the last two weeks?” Ona asked as she watched Jenni trying to split you two apart

“Rollercoaster.... she had a lot of fun with Less and Toons... and then she fell again and Keira had to drag her out of bed – it helped a lot that Sarina got her to agree to work for the Lionesses” your sister said keeping her voice low so just Ona and Alexia could hear her “And I may have played a part in her moody days” she confessed embarrassed

“What did you do?” Ona asked raising her eyebrow at Lucy

“I may – or may not – have threatened her girlfriend...” your sister scratched the back of her neck

“You WHAT??” Ona whisper yelled “I swear to god Lucia”

“We sorted it out... I just – I need to make sure she's protected okay” Lucy said “She's my baby sister”

“I get it... you know... Alba... the first partner she brought home – I made them run for the hills... threatened the shit out of them.. and had Jenni just stare at them from the other side of the room – for the whole night” Alexia chuckled

“But Albas first partner wasn't your exes best friend and technically your good mate too” Lucy mumbled

“No.. but I get why you're so... y/b Bronze... Ay dios – put that down!!!” Alexia started before she saw you holding a potato like you were a pitcher sizing up the distance between yourself and Olga Carmona.

Jenni was quick to react after she sat Mapí next to Irene who just fixed the younger spaniard with one glare

“No little one... we don't throw potatoes” the black haired spaniard said as she towered over you

“It's a boiled one?” you asked innocently

“No...” Jenni said smiling sweetly “... no throwing potatoes... boiled or not”

“You suck” you huffed annoyed

“And you wish” the dark haired one shot back smirking and you swallowed hard again – the second time in just under an hour

“Bubs... come on... we have to go” you heard Lucy from the other side of the room

You looked up from where you were hunched over the table with Mapí building some Lego figures

“Just five more minutes” you whined “We're nearly done”

“No Bubs.. now... we have to get ready – they have to get ready... come on... I told you we'll leave after an hour” your sister said firmly

“But” you started to whine again what caused some of they players to chuckle

“No... “ Lucy interrupted you “Get your Bag and come on”

“I...” you started confused “... don't have a bag with me?”

“Oh... right... sorry... I just had a flashback from all the times I had to pick you up from kindergarten” your sister said a little embarrassed

“I bet you were a cute pequeño” Alexia laughed pinching your cheeks

“She was a menace from Day 1... her birth was chaos... from the moment she entered this world it was chaos... no wait... she was chaos before that...” Lucy said as she watched you trying to fight Alexias hands off

“Am not” you grunted as the blonde spaniard continued to pinch your cheeks

“You were, are and always will be... which doesn't matter now because we need to leave” your sister answered

“Then tell her to stoooop” you whined

“Capi.... we need to leave” your sister grinned

“See you after the game Cariño” Alexia smirked and pressed a kiss to your forehead

“Can Mapí come too?” you looked at Alexia and Lucy hopefully

“Not now... you will see her later at the game and AFTER the game you can run around with her a little bit okay” Lucy tried to coax you away from Maps who clutched onto your hand

“Why not now?” you whined again

“Because Mapí needs to get ready for her game too... and we need to get ready at our hotel” your sister knew she had to stay calm otherwise you would just throw a big ass tantrum

“This sucks” you huffed but stood up

“Thank you Bubs... I promise you can play Lego later with Mapí” Lucy smiled as she put her arm over your shoulder leading you away from the spanish team

74.310. 74.310 fans – sold out Old Trafford. You were standing next to Sarina in the locker room and heard every single one of them. You knew Sarina gave you the freedom to do whatever you thought was right at this game and you knew the Team waited for the pre-game talk but all you could do was relishing that moment. Your eyes were closed, a small smile on your lips and you listened to the chants from above you. You took a deep breath before straightening up again.

“okay... I know this is just a friendly but I want all of you to treat it like it's the world cup final. Out there are 74.310 fans who are here for YOU... you had a good camp and we have a good play and we have the best team. Let all of them fans see that – let them enjoy that evening and make it an unforgettable experience for them. Let's paella the shit out of them tapas shovelling shrimp eater” you said loudly smirking at the end of your little speech

You send your team outside high-fiving every single one (except for Mearps because her high-fives hurt) before you took your place next to Sarina at the end of the Starting XI. You saw Alexia who was wearing the captains armband and winked at her when she turned around. She rolled her eyes for good measure before turning back and you saw the shift in her posture – she was in game mode. Who you couldn't spot in the line up was Mapí. You were confused for a second since you were 79% sure she would start as well. Sarina nudged your shoulder a lightly and brought your focus back to your own team.

“Sorry” you mumbled and hung your head

“It's okay Liefje... I know it can get overwhelming but I need your focus here right now – if it gets too bad let Keira or Lucy know okay... or Georgia” the blonde said softly as the line up started to move

“Nothing to be sorry about, Liefje... you are doing amazing – you are 16 and still a Ki...” Sarina said softly as you suddenly found yourself getting pushed forward onto the ground

“Hola mi nena” you heard from above you and all you could do was grunt

“Hi Maps... why??” you whined

“I just misseded you so much” the blonde spaniard said from above you

“Excuse me, León... could you please get off my analyst?” Sarina said a little confused

“Wait... I'll get it sorted...” you grunted from underneath Mapí “Lucy!! HELP!!”

Seconds later Lucy came sprinting back from the pitch tackling the spaniard off you both of them rolling in one big ball of limbs over the ground

“I told you not to do that León...” your sister growled after she pinned Mapí to the ground “Who's on the bench today?”

“Leila... Aitana... Athenea... Alba...” Mapí listed off

“So... the A-Team” you laughed which caused Sarina to smirk while Mapí didn't get it and just looked at you confused

“Because all of them start with an A” you tried to explain your “joke”

“That was a shit joke you muppet” Lucy rolled her eyes and pushed herself off Mapí

“At least I make jokes...” you snapped back as Sarina helped you back to your feet

“I get Aita to watch you León..” your sister pointed at the small spaniard who looked like a kicked puppy

“Por favor no... they'll put that stupid thing around me again” the blonde whined

“You have a T-Rex!!!! I have a bronto!!! Yours is so much cooler” you exclaimed

“Which reminds me... come here Bubs...” Lucy grinned

“You can't be serious!!!” you took a small step back

“Come here Bubs” your sister cooed “Bronzo time”

“Old Trafford is SOLD OUT!! And you want to strap me down??!!” you tried to hide behind Sarina “74.310 tickets SOLD!!!”

“Look... I don't need you running on the field trying to have a go at the ref – I also don't want to hold your hand the whole time because you probably would just pull you with me” Lucy said still smirking “So yes – I am gonna tie you to the bench and know you won't cause trouble... Keira is with me on that one”

“You all suck” you grumbled but let Lucy pull the straps expectantly over your arms locking them on the back

“I honestly didn't think you would give up that easily” your sister smiled once she attached the leash

“I want that Mapí has to wear hers too” you stayed rooted in your place crossing your arms over your chest

“I'll sort it out okay... but now you hop off to Kei...” Lucy ruffled through your hair handing the leash off to Sarina

“Come on Liefje” the dutch said lovingly tugging slightly on the offending string

On your way out Irene Paredes passed you with long powerful strides and you saw a harness clutched in her hand which made you grin. A minute later you heard Mapí exclaiming loudly in spanish and you even heard a few spanish swear words. It made you chuckle and got you into a better mood knowing you wasn't the only one the fans will make fun off.

“Hey Bitsy” Keira greeted you softly as you plumped down next to her

“I hate Lucy... I'm gonna put her in as a forward... or in goal” you mumbled

Keira bursted out laughing pulling you into her side pressing a kiss to your forehead – unknowns to you a lot of camera lenses were pointed towards you and that exactly that picture will go viral.

“Lucy in goal? I would pay to see that” Keira smiled knowing exactly why you were so grumpy.

“How much would you pay?” you suddenly perked up

“I would make sure you'll have some quality time with a certain blonde?” Keira smirked amused

“Deal” you quickly said pulling Keiras hand out of her pocket grabbing it quickly shaking it

“It's okay Bitsy... I would have done it anyway – you reacted so grown up with everything thrown at you this camp you deserve a little treat...” the blonde said softly

“I did, didn't I?” you smiled looking onto the pitch where Alexia and Leah stepped up to shake hands

“If I look over your pranks on LJ, Georgia, Leah, Beth and I'm pretty sure Alex wasn't a ginger this morning” Keira smirked

“They weren't pranks... that's love language...” you said embarrassed

“You call it love hiding LJ's clothes while she's in the shower so she has to wait in St. Georges Park until someone got some spare from the Hotel? Put itching power in her bed? Stealing all her left socks? Ordering pizza for the whole staff on her credit card? Not even to start with the laxative in her breakfast on the third day” the blonde raised her eyebrow at you

“Don't know what you're talking about, Kei...” you look at her innocently

“Course you don't Bitsy...” the blonde laughed “... but you should pay attention now – games is about to start”

You looked back over to the pitch seeing Spain won the coin toss and decided to play from left to right – which mean England had the kick off. You're eyes found the way to the spanish bench seeing Mapí being tied up to a post next to Irene as Lucy made her way over grinning widely as she took a seat behind you. Sarina sat on the outside of the row not seeing the point in interrupting right now since nothing had happened so far.

“You good Bubs?” Lucy asked from behind you

“Never been better” you grinned and Keira saw the glint in your eye

The game kicked off and you saw how Spain got thrown off a little bit already by your chosen formation and you smirked to yourself. Your plan worked perfectly – even if Hermoso and Paralluelo made it through the midfield they always ran into your defence brickwall. At one point Hannah even turned around to wave at fans and stood next to the goal for pictures. She was teasing the spanish players. Olga Carmona was lost since she couldn't mark Lucy – who sat behind you on the bench and Esme was not known enough to Carmona to place her playing style. Poor Olga wasn't having the best day.

It was in the 14th minute where Fran Kirby delivered a beautiful pass to Chloe who saw Beth running with her into an open space and directed the ball a forward where Beth just had to chip it into the back of the net. You jumped up just like everyone else screaming just as loud as the Lioness fans. Beth came running over to the bench signalling you to come up to the line and the second you did she pulled you into a hug – both of you staying on your side of the pitch

“This is yours pumpkin... this is your goal” Meado whispered into you hair and pressed a loving kiss to your forehead before she sprinted off again going back into her position.

You looked up to the orange sky as the sun set trying to control the tears who threatened to spill out of your eyes. Sarina stepped up next you laying her arm around your shoulders just offering silent support knowing how much this meant to you. Suddenly you felt Keiras hand on your other shoulder, Lucys hands on your waist and Georgias hand sneaking into yours. Weeks later it would be that exact same picture that would be seen as Lucys lock screen at a Barca video.

Spain kicked off again and you smirked seeing how they started to lose their temper already. Alexia tried to keep her players level headed but especially the younger ones like Salma tried the “head through the wall”-technique all the time. Again and again she'll run into the wall even if there where three players running with her one of them in a perfect position to at least get a shot at goal. But you expected something like that but to your surprise it happened faster than you thought. In minute 35 Millie rocket the ball way into the spanish half for Clinton to pick it up getting it to J-Park who put it into the box for Fran who just volleyed past Cata. Sarina pulled you immediately into a big hug and even Fran pointed over to you which got noticed by Alexia who realized that it was your doing that her team was struggling.

It made her so angry and proud at the same time. She saw how her team was slowly falling apart and she couldn't do NOTHING about it because of you. You placed your players perfectly and the formation you chose was just impossible to break – even if they got past your midfield your defence stood like... yes like a brickwall. Alexia saw her team getting frustrated. She needed to do something but she couldn't think of a solution. When Fran Kirby scored the second goal for england and pointed over to you it just made her blood boil. She loved you. She would give her life for you. But right now she wanted to strangle you – publicly. VERY publicly. Jenni came over to her best friend

“What are we gonna do, Capi?” the dark haired asked

“I... I don't know... this is y/n going” the blonde seethed back “I don't know what to do – I don't know how she's thinking”

“Trust your stomach Capi... but it doesn't help the team if you freak out” Jenni said softly squeezing Alexias biceps

“Let us get through the first half... and try scoring... isn't that what you get paid for?” Alexia smiled at her best friend

“Feed me good balls and I'll score” the dark haired one smirked before turning around jogging back into her position

“Oh so it's my fault” Alexia yelled after Jenni smiling

Just three minutes Leah passed the ball to Lotto who took off like a lightning surprising the spanish players once again. She passed Alexia like Speedy Gonzales which caused the spanish capitan to needed a second to realize what happened before sprinting after Lotte yelling spanish commands to her defence. Lotte saw Chloe wide open at the far post, Cata off her line so Lotte did what everyone would do – she pulled her leg back and bolted through the ball. Cata did exactly what Lotte wanted – she came even further off her line. Lotte kicked the a perfect curve ball to Chloe who headed into the back of the net. 3 – 0. The Lionesses were destroying the spanish National team. When you saw Lottes curve ball you already were out your seat – with Keira holding on to your leash tightly – screaming loudly. Chloe came running over to you as well and you did your special city-handshake. You saw Alexia hanging her head low and you felt sorry for her. You could see that the blonde felt guilty for letting Lotte past so easily.

In the 43rd minute even Ona lost her plot committing a foul against Jess Parker which should have been a yellow card – at least in your opinion. You jumped out of your seat starting to yell at the ref from the side-line

“Oy ref.... that's a yellow!!!!” you yelled angrily

“Calm down Bitsy” Keira said softly trying to pull you back on your leash but you were so in your zone you didn't even notice her

“Oy... OY ref you blind moron!!!” you yelled again and this time you got the refs attention as she looked over to you as you grabbed Sarinas glasses of her nose “You need some glasses so you can actually SEE a foul when it's happening??”

Lucy tried to do damage control by putting her hand over your mouth pulling you backwards while you heard Mapí scream from the spanish bench.

“You tell her nena!!! That's my nena!!!” the small spaniard cheered you on not even caring that the foul was committed by her team resulting in a free kick for the Lionesses.

But it was already to late as the ref already was walking over to you. You sized her up standing a little taller on your toes as she already pulled a yellow card from her chest pocket holding it up over your head.

“This is an official warning” she said to you as you continued to glare at her not able to talk back as Lucy still had her hand over your mouth

“Sorry ref... it's her first game and she's a little emotional” Sarina tried to calm the situation signalling your sister to get you back to the bench who immediately understood and janked you backwards so you lost your balance and she had an easier job getting you away.

Meado and Leah stepped up to the free kick both looking over at you for instruction on who should take the free kick. You held up five fingers and signed for top left. You made sure that all the players knew your signs beforehand so Leah nodded barely noticeable winking at you. She quickly talked to Beth who quickly looked over to you smirking. As the whistle blew Meado started to run up to the ball but running over it while Leah came a step behind her kicking the ball in the top left corner making it 4 – 0 for England. This time you just smirked nodding satisfied. Leah came over to you smirking as well as she stood opposite to you and both of you taking a bow at the same time. Every goal the Lionesses scored today they'll dedicate to you – it was Sarinas wish and the team immediately agreed. This was your doing. This was YOUR game.

The first half ended with a defeated spanish team and a happy english team. The players tickling into the locker room in the best mood chatting happily until you climbed up on a bench whistleing loudly

“Okay guys that was more than perfect – Lotte... great game so far really... you're a perfect false 6... Hillary... you were outstanding for your first game... really great job... great passes, quick thinking, great overview.... really REALLY good job out there... the rest of you was amazing too... honestly you all play phenomenal... we still do the halftime changes and we go a little easy on Spain and go back to 3-3-4” you said before you stepped down again letting Leah take over leaving the locker room.

Outside Sarina waited for you smiling

“You always have to cause trouble, don't you Liefje?” the dutch smiled “A yellow – I can't believe it”

“Not my fault that ref is blind as a mole” you grumbled but a smile tugged on your lips “I'm gonna get that yellow after the game and gift it to Ona... it's hers anyway”

Sarina laughed loudly pulling you back towards the pitch as you looked at her

“Mama Rina... I have another sub if you're okay with it” you smiled

“You can do whatever you want today Liefje” Sarina smiled back

“Perfect” you smiled happily as you felt a hand smacking your ass making you jump and turn to your right seeing your girlfriend jogging past laughing “I'll get you for that Stanway!” you yelled after her

“All empty promises” Georgia laughed as she jogged out of the tunnel

The second half began as the first one ended with England dominating the game being fired up from the comfortable lead and the nervousness from Spain. Spain subbed some players too at halftime one of them being Mapí León who stopped at your height when she entered the pitch

“Nena... I love you... but now I have to do my job okay... I can't let you score again” the spaniard said a little sadly

“Oh don't worry... I know colorbook spaniard... we'll still score at least one more” you grinned at her which made her grin back at you before jogging on

At the 72nd minute you made two more subs just like you cleared with Sarina. LJ came on for Chloe who started to get tired anyway and Less replaced Meado who just came back from an injury. Georgia did a good job in midfield together with Toons and soon Cata got basically bombarded with shots on her goal while the english defence got a breather. Against all odds it was actually Georgia who scored the 5 – 0 after Less pelted the ball against the crossbar and the ball landed at Gs feet who just took her chance and just... scored. Your girlfriend couldn't believe it herself as Less and Toons jumped on top of her screaming loudly. As soon as Georgia got rid of the two stooges she ran over to the side-line stopping right in front of you

“I can't do what I want to do right now but I promise I do it when we win the world cup for you” your girlfriend said softly and you smiled at her

“I'll hold you to it Stanway” you smiled back as she mocked a salute before running off

It was the 84th minute when you made your final sub. You did send Lucy to warm up who just smirked

“You just can't get around letting me sitting on the bench can't you” your sister teased and you smirked back

“Something like that” you answered

You went up to the fourth official to tell her that you had one last sub. She took out her notebook writing down the numbers who get subbed and looked at you confused

“Are you sure? No. 2 comes on for No.13?” the fourth official looked at you

“Yes I'm sure” you smirked widely

“13 is your Goalkeeper” the woman specified

“Yes I know...” you shrugged your shoulders smiling before getting back to your bench “Luce... get ready – coming on the next chance”

“Sure... any orders?” your sister said as she tied her laces again

“Just... keep a clean sheet okay” you smirked

“What?” Lucy asked confused but you ushered her out to the side-line.

The board went up and it showed the green no.2 – which caused a lot of cheering by the fans – and a the red no. 13. THAT on the other hand caused a LOT of confusion. Hannah looked over at you for clearance and you nodded grinning while Keira was howling in laughter

“Are you serious?” Sarina looked at you shocked

“Yes... I am dead serious... Lucy wanted to play... she gets to play” you grinned as you watched Hannah jogging over already pulling her gloves of her hands pushing them against Lucys chest who turned around to you shocked

“What the hell..” your sister started

“Get going Bronze... and keep that clean sheet... Hannah did amazing out there and there's only a few minutes left... trust the process and trust your defence” you said as you gave your sister a push so she would step on the pitch.

The game ended with a glorious win for England. The team celebrated on the pitch and with the fans. But not you. You stood at the side-line and kept your eyes fixed on your girlfriend and the raven haired spaniard who stood very VERY close to her – too close for your liking.

“What's wrong Bitsy?” Keira appeared next to you wrapped in her warm fluffy team jacket her warm breath coming out puffy in the cold english air.

“Nothing” you mumbled distracted growling lowly when the spaniard laid her hand on the lower arm of your girlfriend

Keira followed your eyes until she found the scene of your obvious bad mood. When the blonde realized what was happening she bursted out laughing

“Don't laugh... who is that?” you grumbled annoyed still rooted in your place

“That's Nuria... Nuria Rábano... left back... plays for Wolfsburg in Germany and obviously Spain” Keira chuckled watching as the dark haired woman laughed at something G said her head thrown back

“She's touching what's mine” you growled seeing how the spaniard grabbed your girlfriends arm tighter

“They played each other just before camp... and she's spanish” the blonde answered still very amused about the whole situation

“People could get a wrong picture of it” your mood didn't really improve with all the information Keira provided

“You know what they say... Are they dating or are they spanish?” Keira found great entertainment in poking at your ego a little bit

“I don't like it” you grumbled

“Green isn't really your colour Bitsy” Keira smirked at the your displayed jealousy as you started to walk into your girlfriends direction rather aggressive

“Green is the perfect colour for me... makes my eyes pop” you yelled back growling already halfway there.

Keira just laughed at your antics turning walking around over to Beth and Leah starting her fan round

“This is amazing... putting five past Coll just feels amazing” Ella screamed so you could hear her over the noise of the fans

“Told you it'll work... just trust me” you yelled back laughing “I don't know what her obsession is with Luce but damn... thank you Carmona”

“She looks pissed” Less laughed next to you as you got sandwiched between her and Ella

“I mean... not my fault” you grinned as you three went across the pitch shaking hands with the spanish players.

You stopped shortly at Aitana for both of you to awkwardly shake hands and then quickly walking away again

“What was that??” Lessi laughed in your face

“We... yeah” you shrugged lost

“I mean that's full on Tooney behaviour” the blonde laughed

“Oi” Ella exclaimed loudly “I wasn't THAT bad”

“True... you were worse” you bursted out laughing “If it wasn't for Luce you'd never have gotten that picture... isn't it your lock screen?”

“Shut up the both of ya” Tooney grumbled

“Hola Cariño” you suddenly hear behind you

You turned around smirking turning Less and Tooney (who totally didn't squeal as she reconized Alexia) with you.

“Hola pretty spaniard” you grinned and Alexia laughed out loud

“Good game” the blonde spaniard smirked at you “Good tactics”

“I'll let the staff know” you smirked enjoying that little banter between the two of you

“Whoever came up with that deserves a raise – no one noticed a weak link in our play before.. or threw us off of our game like this ever before” Alexia grinned knowing fully well it was you

“I'll tell the head coach... yeah... we have a new member of staff... she's good...” you wriggled your eyebrows

“I noticed... but is she good enough to come up with more solutions since she just spilled her little... plan” spains capitana smirked right back at you

“She'll have some surprise ready for you the next time we face each other” you smirked “Alexia... Lessi Russo... Ella Toone” you now introduced your best friends “Me best mates”

“Alessia” Lessi corrected you pronouncing the “A” extra loud

You rolled your eyes for good measure and shoved her away

“You do know I know them right? Last year? Final” Alexia laughed

“No... you know the football players Alessia Russo and Ella Toone” you basically screamed the Alessia “But this two are my best friends...” you smiled

“Less.. Toons.. Alexia “Don't touch that” Putellas... two times Ballon d'Or...” you started before getting big eyes as you frantically looked for Mapí

“... Winner, Cariño... I won that trophy twice...” Alexia laughed as you stopped mid-sentence

“Yeah... sure... winner... twice” you said as realized that she had no idea that there was in fact just ONE whole Ballon d'Or... and one broken one

“You sure are something Cariño” the blonde spaniard smiled as she hugged you

“Ew... go away... you're all sweaty” you faked disgust trying to push her off “AND you wear the wrong jersey...”

“I'm very sorry” Alexia said “apologetic” and hugged you even tighter “You want my jersey?”

“Nope” you snorted “But Lessi over here is a BIG fan”

“You want to swap?” the spaniard smiled at your friend who – in true Less fashion nodded frantically and tried to get her jersey over her head just to get stuck in it

You knew the second you saw her tugging on it the second time that there definitely will be a clip of it – and it definitely will go viral.

With the help of Toons and you you managed to get her out of her jersey which she embarrassed offered to a smirking Alexia

“Come on Stooches” you heard Lucy yell from the place she stood with Ona (and Mario for cover) “Time for huddle”

“But I didn't see Mapí” you whined back

“And it will stay that way” Alexia quickly said firmly

“We're on english soil... you can't tell me what to do in me home” you whined

“Lucia?!” Alexia didn't even bother to give in to your whine “you're hermanita wants to spend time with María”

“Absolutely not” Keira yelled from your other side where she was talking to Irene and Patri

“Tweedledumb” you yelled happily skipping over to the trio leaving Lessi and Toons awkwardly standing next to Alexia

“I was tweedledee” Patri said confused

“No... I'm pretty sure you were tweedledumb” you mused

“Bitsy... don't you have someone else to annoy” Keira pressed a soft kiss to your temple

“I would... but pretty spaniard won't let me go to colorbook spaniard” you whined

“Wrong.. I... won't leave you go to Mapí...” Keira laughed

“But whyyyyy” you whined again

“Really?” the blonde raised her eyebrow at you

“Ugh...” you huffed before you suddenly perked up

“What have you seen now?” Keira immediately felt the change in your body language

“Not what... who” you smirked “Hola sexy spaniard”

“Hola little One... you behaving?” Jenni grinned at you as she came over

“Never... good game Hermosa”

All the players around you stopped talking looking at you confused as Jenni began smirking.

“What?” you asked looking around

“Did... did you just call me beautiful?” the black haired woman smirked as Alexia began to laugh trying to hide it behind her hand

“WHAT??? NO!!!” you screeched horrified as you saw G looking at you suspicious

“You did Cariño... Hermosa means beautiful in spanish” Alexia laughed

“Dear bloody fucking...” you started getting interrupted by Lucy

“Push ups!!”

“CHRIST... Ona said the female version of things is A at the end... the male mostly O... as far as I can tell she has breast and no dick!!!” you enthral loudly

“y/n Bronze... watch your mouth... we're in public” Keira said sternly giving you a death glare

“Sorry” you said ashamed “But... she laughed” you pointed at Alexia

“Because you got it wrong” Keira rolled her eyes “and it wasn't a bad mistake... just a mistake.. get over it... and now come on... Sarina is waiting”

You huffed but let Keira pull you along. You watched as the spanish player went over to their head coach Jorge Vilda (or as you called him Vileda – because he's a mop and nothing more) and their president Rubiales. They were laughing with each other when you saw out of the corner of your eye how Rubiales grabbed Jennis head with both hands and how she moved backwards a little bit. It happened so quickly that if someone (Lucy and Keira... and Sarina) asked you afterwards you couldn't even answer why you did what you did.

You saw how his head moved closer to hers and how she slightly leaned backwards. You pushed yourself away from Keira who looked after you confused before yelling out to Lucy (who was in conversation with Meado). You quickly covered the distance between you and the spanish team shoving bodies to the side until you were standing behind Jenni when you saw that he actually DID press his lips to hers. You yanked her around and away from Rubiales as you already had your balled fist lifted behind your head. You knew you had one go and only one. So you made good use of it putting all your anger into that punch. You felt your fist connect with his face (more specifically his nose) and a gush of red liquid landed on your white Lioness jersey.

It just took seconds but these seconds went past like they were hours. You saw how first Rubiales looked at you confuse. Then shocked and when your fist connected with his face how his whole face flew to the side and he tumbled backwards his hands flying to his nose. There was a deadly silence in the stadium – 74.310 fans were silent.

The next second you felt hands on your shoulders and around your torso as several people started to get in between you and Rubiales. Lucy, Keira, Ona, Alexia, Mary, Leah, Mario – all of them and some more getting in between the two of you. Lucy had her arms around your torso pulling you backwards while the spanish girls trying to get you away before Luis recovered.

Lucy (with the help of Keira and Mary) got your growling fuming form into the tunnel and then the locker-room. Sarina wasn't far behind

“All of you leave” the dutch ordered strictly

Quickly the three players got out of the room knowing not to start an argument with Sarina right now

“Are you actually completely mad?” the blonde dutch said upset “Do you even realize what you've done out there??”

“I...” you looked at her and she saw that you actually DIDN'T know what you did “no... I don't know... I saw how he grabbed her head and then... I don't know”

“You hit him” Sarina said slowly trying to see if you played her

“Did I get him good? He's an arrogant pig” you asked

Sarina just pointed at your jersey waiting for your reaction

“Wow... shit... is this his blood?” you looked up after discovering the splash of red on the white fabric

“Yes... y/n... I need the truth... do you REALLY not remember?” Sarina looked you straight in the eye and you held the eye contact

“I swear Mama Rina... I remember seeing him grabbing her head and then you yelling at me – I swear” you said honestly

“Okay...” the blonde sighed out “... we need to do damage control... you NEED to apologize to the spanish federation”

“WHAT? No... he IS a pig...” you exclaimed

“Liefje... you don't have to mean it... just sell it... because if you don't the FIFA has a reason to ban you from the World cup...” Sarina pressed

“And he just can do whatever he wants and gets away with it?” you said upset

“The only one who can press charges right now is Hermoso... not the spanish team or you.. this part of the problem doesn't concern you... but you need to openly apologise... and you need to sell it” the dutch said firmly trying to get through to you

“Okay...” you huffed “I don't like it... but I'll do it for you”

“Thank you Liefje... and please... after you apologized... don't throw an “asshole” in there” Sarina smiled

“Damn it” you cursed

“Yeah... I do know you” the blonde laughed

The two of you exit the locker-room and to no surprise your sister and Keira were still waiting outside

“ARE YOU ACTUALLY..” Lucy started before she gets interrupted by Sarina

“Stop it... we already talked about it and she will apologise” the dutch said sternly

Your sister huffed but after a second smiled

“Nice right hook... made me proud” Lucy grinned ruffling your hair

“Thanks... Jorge taught me” you grinned back as you passed the spanish locker-room

“Wait” you said quickly before you knocked at the door

You waited a few seconds before Misa Rodríguez opened the door looking at you carefully

“Sí?” she asked raising an eyebrow

“Okay look... I neither have the time nor the patience to even try to get you to understand me three words of spaniard so I'm gonna do it me way” you huffed out before yelling into the room “HERMOSO!!!”

Seconds later Jenni pushed Misa slightly to the side standing now in the doorway

“Yes?” the dark haired woman asked and you could see that she was still somewhat upset.

“Here” you said as you pulled the Jersey with Rubiales blood on it over your head “It's yours... you deserve it... whenever you question if people will have your back – it was me honour to have your back at this moment... end him Hermoso...” you said intensely before turning around leaving

“Wait” Jenni quickly grabbed your wrist “Thank you” she smiled slightly

“Let him bleed Jenni... he doesn't deserve your mercy” you said firmly “What he did was wrong... and he should carry the consequences”

“Here” this time Jenni pulled her jersey over her head “It's sweaty but I think it's just fair that you get the jersey from the person who got you in trouble”

“Meeh... I always get meself into trouble... but I'll wear it when I apologise to Rubiales... so that he knows that I'll stick to your side” you winked

“You're going to apologise??” Jenni asked shocked

“Have to... Sarina said I don't have to mean it... I just have to sell it... otherwise FIFA can ban me from being part of the team” you grinned

“Thank you y/n Bronze... I owe you” Jenni smiled again

“Yeah about that... I would love to win next year... could you maybe... hold back a little” you grinned and Jenni bursted out laughing

“You can keep dreaming because that won't happen” the dark haired woman laughed.

#lucy bronze x reader #keira walsh x reader #lucy bronze #woso image #barca femeni #mapi leon x reader #ona batlle x reader #jenni hermoso x reader #lionesses x reader #alexia putellas x reader

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