#league one shots

[diorkittys]

somethin’ sweet before i go ˚ ♡ ⋆｡ vi + fem!reader

synopsis : when your arrest turns out to be an attractive, arrogant zaunite who’s, obviously, had a bad night, there’s one thing she asks for before being turned in. c’mon, can’t you give her something sweet before handing her to a cold cell?

—TW : kinda hate fucking , fingering , dom!vi , afab , post jinx attack

“hey, princess, any chance you’re sweet enough to loosen these up a bit?” your pinkette prisoner grunts, rolling a kink out her neck.

your expression is nothing short of unimpressed for the taunting games your newest problem has come up with. glaring up from your paperwork, you bit the inside of your cheek in frustration, “quit with the pet names—do you find your situation funny?” you turn around to face the arrogant zaunite, cuffed hands extended behind her back. you found it rather annoying how nonchalant she was—or worst, she found this amusing. “you are being detained for assault,” you continue, “that’s a night in jail, ‘sweet stuff.’” mocking her previous taunt.

she just scoffed, but it was far from being insulted. a sly smirk and dangerous blue eyes peaking beneath cherry strands looked up at you.

“ya’ think i’m sweet, princess?”

you hear the familiar clanking of metal rubbing against each other, bringing attention to her restraints.

“undo the cuffs and i’ll treat you sweet all nigh-“ her prurient statement cut off by the force of your forearm knocking into her chest, subsequently shoving her against the wall.

“you forget yourself, trencher,” your arm jabs in the smug, although rather charming (and quite attractive), outlaw’s chest, and her eye twitches in a wince. “you’re in my territory now—it’d suit you well to not make a fool of me; i’m sure you’ve been taught the same in that… mess of a city across the bridge.”

your tongue held venom as you almost seemingly spat out the insult like it was truly sickening to speak of. there’s an unspoken challenge being held between the both of your glares. you tack on a huff from your flared nostrils to seal the conversation and to warn the zaunite in front of you from talking back.

but as the tense silence subsides, the cherry-haired woman draws out a teasing smirk, scoffing again, “ever been to the undercity, sweet-cheeks?”

her question seemed more rhetorical than anything. you didn’t answer, clenching your jaw, keeping your eyes fixated on hers as to not give a look of submission. she took your quietness as a ‘no’ and raised a brow,

“thought so.”

she leaned her head in closer, as close as your arm would allow—although, there wasn’t much distance to set you apart anyways. her eyes lidded now as your confidence wavered from the almost predatory air hung around her; like when a lion, hidden in the tall grass, gets a perfect angle of their prey.

“they’d eat that pretty, little ass up as soon as you stepped foot beyond that bridge.”

you gasped, quietly, eyes widened at her obscene words. you could already feel your body betraying you, blood involuntarily heating up the plump of your cheeks.

the arm held sturdy against your prisoner was now weak, a second thought; not to her, no, that was accordingly.

calloused hands snaked their way to your waist, armored with enforcer gold, a symbol of integrity to wear, resolute.

your eyes flicked to the (god, she is attractive) woman near inches away; you were trapped in a lion’s den, she was already staring back at you.

“how di—when did you…”

so much for standing your ground—your stuttering voice gave it all away.

“what? get those things off?” she chuckled, motioning back behind her, “you were right ‘bout one thing, princess: i learned a whole deal in that ‘mess of a city’.”

she near whispered your quote, not hushed, but emphasized, troublingly so. her hands wandered, dangerously, coming to settle at the plush of your hips, hips that had you bent atop her. a deft thumb pushed pass your attire and gently circled into your bare skin.

“are you… are you gonna hurt me?” you pressed your lips in a fine line, apprehensively awaiting a dreaded answer.

but to your surprise, she paused, then snorted, and in a quick motion, she manhandled you to sit on her lap. you yelped in shock, your hands were rigid against her chest that you were so very close to now; stiff as a board as you feared for the worst.

“can’t a girl want somethin’ sweet before you send me to a cold, hard cell, huh?” now the finger in charge of exploring your supple skin came to swipe at your plush bottom lip. “but if you want it to hurt i can make that happen too.” her voice was sultry, thick with an insatiable desire.

your proximity gave you a chance to see the small initial tattooed on her cheek, “vi.” you spoke out loud, really only for you to memorize.

vi smirked, “yeah, princess? don’t wear it out just yet.”

your brows furrowed, pursing your lips; you tried to move, but vi had a firm hold on your hips that just wouldn’t let up… (not that you even tried that hard). “piltover station will be here soon… we can’t—i can’t be seen like this; this is unprofessional.”

“when’d you make that call?” honestly, vi was barely listening to your reluctance and excuses, busying herself with unfastening your gold belt that you hardly even noticed.

“an hour ago.”

“then we have an hour to ourselves. c’mon, do you really think ‘proper piltover station’ is any more worried about a call for an undercity scum than the rest of the hundred they receive a day? they’re preoccupied with the councilors after that attack… seems to me like they left you out the loop, hot stuff.”

you took offense to her insulting jab at your importance, disregarding her sing-song mockery of addressing piltover station. you reached for her wrist that was unbuttoning the blue fabric of your enforcer two-split skirt, “what is that supposed to mean?”

she took no notice to your grip and pushed aside the outer garment, glancing back up at you through that addictive, crimson hair. she gave a dry smirk, “didn’t mean to rile you up, princess—just meant that i could treat you better than them.”

that betraying flush tickled your cheeks once again, and you, rather hesitantly, let way of your grasp, allowing her to do what she needs.

she snorted, in an amused manner, tapping your thigh, “sit up.” how shameful it was for you, an enforcer, to take commands from anyone else—let alone an… undersider. yet, here you were, standing upright as she told you to, albeit a little more eager than intended; you hoped she hadn’t noticed.

she noticed.

her legs spread out on the chair, making her appear even larger than her stature gave her credit for. she bent over, resting her elbows on her thighs as she pulled at the hem of your khaki shorts. you assisted and looped two thumbs at the waistband to shimmy down your legs. your shorts pooled at your feet and vi leaned back to admire the sexy sight she had in front of her with a grin on her face.

a pretty enforcer, nervous as can be, with a half-undone uniform and pink, lace panties exposed just for her. what a contrasting view. you were captivating. already trained to take orders like a puppy, she’d think in her crude mind; you’d be her good girl for a while, you’d be so good for her.

with two fingers, she motioned for you to come sit back down on her lap; the way her legs manspread was inviting enough. you obliged, holding onto her broad shoulders.

those engrossing fingers came back to handle your hips, slowly moving to cup the mound of your ass and kneading. you huffed, painted nails digging into her trapezius.

“ya’ like pink, princess?” she mentioned your cute, lacey panties; although, now stained a darker shade.

your eyes flickered up to her hair before timidly searching anywhere else to keep your focus busy. vi found that cute, not admitting that that turned her on way more than it should.

“i don’t disdain it.” you purse your lips, “and quit calling me that.”

vi chuckled, “but you’re poised, like a princess.”

“you have no idea of me.”

“well, i know you’re risking your title just so i can get you off,” fingers go to trace the hem of your panties, her middle drags along your clit muffled by the fabric. she grins, “and by the looks of it, you’re enjoying the thrill.”

you gasp at the sensation, a feeling your pussy was aching for. “is it because you know we might get caught? geez, princess, you into that kind of thing?” she almost laughs at you, but not to mock you; she finds that hot as fuck.

adept hands push the annoying polyester to the side. fingers, rather spider-like, creep over your throbbing cunt; middle and index gather your pooling slick to act as lube as she glides over your clit.

you bite your lip to suppress a moan. you find your legs begin to tremble, being forced open by her own, keeping you spread for her to do as she likes.

“i didn’t know topsiders could be so dirty.” this time she does laugh. she rubs at your clit long enough for your heart rate to pick up, long enough for your head to find stability on her shoulder, long enough for you to become a mess in her hands… but, not long enough for you to get off just yet.

vi reaches down to your neglected hole, pressing her index atop it, deep enough for an audible squelch to echo through your office, which in turn makes vi groan. you mewl, nails digging deeper into the muscle of her back.

“not so poised now, though.” she mutters, mostly to herself. with your dripping slick, it takes nothing more than a swift movement for vi to slide her index inside you, bottoming out knuckles deep. you keen, arching off her chest. the scratch from her bandages only added fuel to the fire.

“fuck.” vi’s grip on your hip strengthens, almost certainly leaving a prominent bruise later. “do that for me again, princess.”

and she didn’t have to ask because as she pulls her finger almost fully out, tantalizingly slow, she greedily shoves it right back in, curling the tip of it to hit in that, god, that perfect spot you know so well.

and, again, you keen, long and guttural—like a silent scream. subconsciously, your pelvis bucks into her hand, searching for more than you could even take.

after a few minutes of this, vi deems herself your voice and determines you’re ready for two. she pulls out entirely, much to your dismay, teasing you with a pause.

you brace yourself for something that never comes, and you huff, slightly pushing yourself up off her shoulder,

“vi… don’t st—“

and she stuffs her middle and index into your pretty, impatient pussy.

“ah!”

“who said i was stopping, pumpkin? we just started.” you slam your head back to its assigned spot.

vi thought she was right in this moment: you looked a complete and utter mess. it was one thing to fuck a pretty girl, it was another thing that she had a topsider, an officer—someone who, to piltover, was a woman of dignity and honor… a rich, privileged somebody who hated zaunites, found them filthy and worthless…hunched over her shoulder with a sopping cunt you were practically begging her to abuse. now that’s ironic. (and was you coming undone for her maybe a little bit of a victory for her hatred of topside, that she was degrading—fucking someone so noble?)

“shit, baby,” vi cursed, biting her lip. her whole train of thought did nothing but make her more horny, and she pumped extra hard this time, making sure even the graze of her knuckle filled you up.

“when’s the last time someone’s fucked you like this?” she chuckled—you hated her smug little laugh.

you sneered, just not before you moaned into the crook of her neck, breath fanning over her black-inked tattoos. “that’s, fuck, none of your concern, underside.” you spat, but, really, your words held no weight, not like this.

“hey, no need for the name calling, princess; if you’re a virgin too that’s totally fine—honestly kinda hot.” she teased, grabbing the mound of your ass to raise you up and slam back down on her fingers. you cried, your hands instinctively reaching up to tangle in that (rememberable) cherry hair.

“i’m not!—i’ve had—ugh! i’ve done this plenty of times… not that, ah, you should need to know.”

“oh yeah? you fuck a lot of your inmates then?… or is that just my privilege?” vi leaned into your ear, knowing that’d get you going. and what do you know? it did.

and you would’ve argued back, head picked up and everything, had she not curled her fingers the way she did or twist to find an ever better playing field or, god! even the lechery in her voice had you toppling over, had you right there! yes, fuck, right there!

“fuck, vi, right there! keep going! yeah, right there, ugh!” you moaned, legs shaking, trying desperately to close and hide away from how fucking good this felt.

you bucked into her hand and you didn’t have to tell vi twice because she was already pumping extra hard and faster than before, with a combination of her thumb rubbing circles into your swollen clit.

“shit, princess. almost there?” she already knew the answer. she was groaning as if she was fucking herself; just the pure sight of you, of this, was enough… although, she’d need to engrave this memory into her brain and use it later to get off herself (she could use this picture of you to get off for years it felt like).

“vi!”

you sang like gospel, pulling her hair like you’d fall if you hadn’t. you came hard, right on her bandaged fingers and she road you through it until the only thing you could hear in the room was the lewd, wet noises coming from your hole.

she stuffed you full of your own juices and at that point, you couldn’t tell if that or her hands were more filling.

you were both panting, one more than the other. vi hoisted your left leg over hers to hold you bridal style as you settled down. bringing her hand to the light, she pulled apart her middle and index to watch your slick web between them and she weakly laughed.

blue eyes looked over to the gold, industrial clock you had sitting on your work-desk, reading a quarter til’ 12. she sighed, picking you up with her before setting you on the chair you had originally handcuffed her to.

“looks like i gotta go, princess.” she feigned innocent, as if this whole interaction was a drive by. one by one she picked up discarded clothing and crouched at your legs to dress you back up. you, too tired to protest to being treated like a child, let her dress you like a doll, even buckling up your belt.

you watched as she went to write something on a piece of sticky note paper you had sitting by your confidential files before turning to walk out the door, running a hand through her hair.

“you can’t leave—you’re… you’re under arrest.” there was no confidence in your tone, just a fucked out raspy voice.

vi stopped before leaving, hands in her pockets, “tell ‘em officer kiramann already came to pick me up, they won’t give you trouble.” she threw the hood of her red jacket over her head, reaching for the doorknob.

“oh, and… meet me at my place if you wanna do this again… okay, princess?”

[sunsburns]

i couldn't help myself and wrote a quick blurb for my girlfriend vi with one eye open (allusions to smut, no explicit smut.)

vi could’ve sworn she had something good going on for her. something consistent. she was so sure she had found it in the pit.

it was there, hidden somewhere in those fights. the way her whole body felt hot when her chest was freezing over. that heat was what she was searching for, the warmth. whether it be the ache in her fists, the blood soaking her bandages, the sweat on her skin or the black paint that's started to stain it.

the ache was consistent, it kept her stable.

besides, the drinks were strong enough to numb it. vi liked the drinks. loved them, really. the drinks weren't going to leave her, drinks weren't going to change.

drink. fight. drink. sleep. drink. fight. drink. sleep.

see? consistent.

the drinks brought a warmth to her, a burning, but warm enough to keep her sane. warm like the way the sun would beat down on her skin in those few weeks she spent in piltover. she liked the sun. vi missed it sometimes. but warm, warm like the way her old cell used to get if she beat that old punching back enough times. warm, similar to the way the tears run down her cheeks. warm, the way your hands used to feel against her skin.

those feather-like touches, tender, as if you were afraid you'd hurt her if you pressed too hard. you couldn't hurt her, you could never hurt violet, no matter how hard you tried. but you still tried not to, even if you knew you couldn't even take her a in fight, it was just your way of nature. you were tender, like a bruise. you were warm, like the sun.

and you used to kiss her the same way. soft lips, warm breath, and how it used to tremble when you got nervous or flustered. the way you used to press your lips on her cheek, smiling at the way you watched the pale skin grow rosy when you pulled away. she'd grin at you, a little dazed, a little giggly, before reaching for you, pulling you close and kissing you deeply.

again. and then again. and again.

she used to kiss you.

fuck yeah, she used to kiss you and that used to cause a fire to roar in her chest. and she loved to kiss you. she loved the ache you put in her chest, the way her heart used to beat too fast. holy shit, she loved to kiss you.

and she used to kiss you over and over again. kissed you sweetly, kissed you with fever. and she'd kiss you until the both of you were breathless. until you're squirming on her lap, gripping her shoulders, nails barely biting the skin but she loved the faint sting nonetheless. she loved the way you were too flustered to ask for what you wanted.

vi loved the way you looked at her whenever she asked you: "what do you need?"

she loved the way the corners of your lips would twitch in annoyance, a scoff puffing from between your lips as your skin warmed up even more. "c'mon, vi."

she used to laugh.

she used to laugh at you, at they way you got shy sometimes, but still bold enough to bring a hand to her face. bold enough to press your thumb against her lower lip, parting it, running it over her teeth before you mumbled, "want you to touch me. please."

she used to never say no to you. vi could never find it in herself because you used to ask so damn nicely.

you were warm, like the way a fire would burn in the winter, glowing embers. she loved your moans, the little cries you made, the faces you pulled, the salty tears she used to kiss away.

you made her feel warm. a warmth she'd been looking for since it was taken from her all those years ago. that similar warmth she used to feel whenever vander closed the bar for a few hours so he could take her, powder, mylo, claggor and ekko to the edge of zaun so they could watch the sun set behind the buildings of piltover.

you made her cheeks warm, her blood burn, and her heart used to ache for you. she used to ache for you.

she used to call your name in low groans, in your ear, just for you to hear. just so you and no one else could hear the way she yearns for you, shaky breaths against your burning skin. no one else needed to hear how she used to say your name like some kind of prayer under your tender touches.

and how tender they were, delicate. you used to treat her that way, when vi was used to punches, blood and broken bones, you treated her delicately, kissed her delicately, lips soft and pillowy, tongue slipping past her parted lips, mouth swallowing her sighs.

vi's hands, rough to the touch, scarred, blood-stained and permanently bruised at the knuckles, used to find a home in your hair, used to curl against strands and tug hard enough to make you whine against her mouth. she loved that sound.

she loved how you were nothing like her.

how even with her unworthiest hand, her lips ready to smooth that ache with a tender kiss, you never hesitated. and you loved her.

and you found a way to keep her warm. you kept her warm.

so warm. so loved.

and to be warm is what vi aches for.

so god be damned if she drinks until that dying fire in the pits of her stomach reignites. because at least those drinks burn. they burn and they blister, and she thinks they might be turning her to ashes but it's the closest comfort to warmth she's gotten since you'd left.

[fict1onallyobsessed]

This is from @ de4dkittyy on tiktok!!!!

I WANT MORE !! WHY WAS CAITLYN LOOKING AT THE AIR DUCTS AT THE END? WHY DID SHE SAY “are you still in this fight” TO VI?

They can’t end this here. Pls.

[trulyhblue]

Bf Leah being wound up after a bad game and takes control. Smut pls!!!!

BLED BLUE

leah williamson x chelsea! reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, humiliation, dom/sub dynamics, age gap (legal + consensual), hate sex, enemies w/ benefits, rough, coarse language.

________________

Part of you wondered how long it would take Leah to take you home. There was not an ounce of blue in her body, taken only by the lifelong allegiance to North London, but the thought of you, a blue-born Chelsea girl, taking up the space under her sheets, was addictive.

Chelsea were the better team. Always was, and always will be. The Blues were better at everything. Their players were more advanced, their game plans had been executed to perfection. Arsenal were sloppy, poor, and unjust. It was embarrassing to the point where it stood out as entertaining to you. Seeing the almighty, reigning Arsenal fall on their knees and succumb to the superiority of your team was endearing, and you found yourself searching for the thrill increasingly more as the game progressed.

And the sight of the woman you hated oh so much angered by the defeated notion of the final whistle was your idea of an indescribable victory.

“What a shame, Williamson.” You snagged, clutching the fabric at your hips, looking down at her bent figure. “I thought you’d play well.”

“Ah, it is you.” She replied with just as much spite. “I thought I saw someone falling flat on their face. Makes sense now that I know it was you.”

You smirked, folding your arms over your chest. “Yeah, tried to show my humility… y’know, after scoring two goals tonight I thought it was only necessary.”

Leah scoffed, straightening her posture to display her authoritative height over you. “Both off deflections… sounds brilliant.”

“Player of the match worthy.” You bit back, stepping forward, pressing your chest against hers, suppressing the heat in your face. “Don't worry, I’ll make sure to credit your own goal in the interview.”

“Always have an excuse to talk about me. Can't stop, can you?”

“Is that what you think of me?”

“I don't think of you.” Leah shook her head, grabbing the hem of your shorts and fiddling with them persistently. “But if I did, I’d be sure to let you know.”

“If only I cared enough to hear it.” You tutted, not really caring about the openness of your situation. The stadium was still quite full, with both of your teammates lingering on the field. Fans were banking the barricade, no doubt looking for the two of you.

“I could tell you now if you’d like.”

“Aw, are you thinking of me now, Williamson?”

You felt Leah’s hand move to the inside of your thigh, pressing a tight pinch to gain any type of reaction from you. Biting your lip, you hoped that the post-game redness covered your blush.

“I bet you love the thought of people watching this, don't you?” She asked, glaring at you with such hatred that her words felt bittersweet. “Always so desperate for attention that you’d do it in front of everyone. Fucking needy.”

“You’re the one touching me.” In anger, you snapped. You didn't like the way Leah seemed so confident, so right in what she was saying. You wanted to be right. You were the one who won it for your team. You were better than her. She needed to realise that.

The only separation between the two of you was by your arms crossed over your chest. Leah was drawing furious patterns along your thigh, pressed up against you with her face above you, your height earning her to look down.

“Pull away then.” She uttered, now pulling you into a hug. You knew this would send fans into a spiral. Everybody knew about your rivalry with Leah. It was evident in the tackles, the cards, the teams, the games, the interactions. This was unclaimed territory. You had both teased each other after the games. There was always fire and spite, anger and resentment, but never contact. She told you to pull away, and by the tension that lingered, if you did she would let you have there was something else there. You felt it between your legs, running down your spine, making your core yearn.

It was in the way she kept her hand in between your thighs, deepening her fingers just below where you needed her most. She held you tight, closing any physical gap, forcing your arms to circle her waist as she wrapped her spare arm around the name on the back of your shoulders. You don't know why, but you held her back just as tight, breathing heavily when she started moving her fingers upwards.

“So tense.” She spat, rubbing your shoulder.

You shook her arm off, keeping the contact but still resistant. “I pulled it at training, of course it is.”

“Wasn't talking about your shoulder, baby.” She chuckled, her voice sending goosebumps down your neck. “In those thighs. Clenching them so hard and I'm hardly touching ‘em.”

That was when you knew your cheeks were burning.

There was a hint of humiliation in your tone, but your anger was still prevalent. “I didn't even notice your hand.”

“Yeah, alright.” Williamson grinned, pulling away. You felt the cold air nip your cheeks at the sudden loss of contact. Her fingers were no longer soothing the ache in between your legs. “Alright, baby, no, all that flushed cheeks from the big game, hm? Breathing so heavily cause you scored two goals, is that you’re so wet for me?”

“I’m not— you're so—”

Leah stepped away again, and you were too stupid to step forward in response. “God, is that what you're gonna sound like in the interview? You a mess, Baby, really. All flustered and red.”

“I'm not red.” You snapped. “And stop calling me baby. You're only four years older than me.”

Leah could see straight through you. “But you love that though.” She saw straight past your visible persona. “Why don't you show me how mature you are then? Can't call you baby if you prove that you're not.” She could tell by your flustered state, your wide eyes and your tainted disposition that you were struggling to handle the conversation.

“I don't need to prove anything to you. I just won the match. That's enough to prove that I'm better anyway.”

“But you needed help to get there, didn't you?” She retorted. “It’s not your name on the score sheet, it's mine. Look,” she pointed up to the screen, almost condescendingly, above the stands, where WILLIAMSON (OG) was printed boldly in white below the score. “All that hard work and I still get the mention.”

There was a fight for dominance, but the fight was so clearly won when you audibly gulped, unable to come up with just enough answer to compel yourself into a deeper state of anger. If anything, you were willing to resort to forbidding, but you were stubborn and bled blue.

“You’re just mad that you lost and we won. Chelsea was always better anyway, and you were just too slow… bet that's always the case.”

Leah’s jaw clicked, her lips settling into a thin line.

“In what case?” She muttered distinctly.

“You know what case.” You failed to notice the challenge, finding yourself in a superior position of confidence to realise the hole you were digging for yourself. “Slow and boring… on and off the pitch. You definitely get around, but you never seem to see one person twice. Maybe that's because they don't want to see you.”

Leah grabbed your wrist, yanking you off the field. It was a tradition that you would see the fans after every game, so you tugged back in retaliation.

She pivoted to face you, glaring at you with so much affliction that you yearned for more.

“You seem really interested in how I ‘get around’. Sounds like you wish it was you.”

No matter how hard your body was willing to succumb to her words, you stood firm by scoffing, rolling your eyes at her cockiness. “If only I was so desperate.”

“I’ll show you just how desperate I can get you.” The captain spat, holding your forearm now, easily leading you further down the tunnel where fans or players could no longer find you. “Didn't even properly touch you before and you were a needy mess.”

“You’re always so fucking sure of yourself, aren't you, Williamson?” You snapped back, hearing the clad of your boots fail to drown out your ungrateful tone. You did not care for what Leah was so keen to impress you with. Never had anyone told you that Leah did not impress. She was determined to make sure everyone was supplied with the right things for their needs. She valued giving pleasure over receiving. But if there was one thing she hated, it was brats like you.

You stood outside the Chelsea changing rooms, your kit still adorned on your figure.

“Go get your shit.” She snarled, letting go of your arm and jabbing you forward.

You scoffed, stopping dead in your tracks. “And what? You're gonna wait for me and drop me home? I have a license, Williamson, I'm not your fucking—”

You couldn't finish your rant, yelping when Leah cut you off, grabbing the collar of your shirt and mashing her lips against yours. One of her legs found its way between yours, her knee pushing against your core. A moan fell from your lips, and the woman wasted no time in slipping her tongue in, caging your figure between you and the wall.

She waited until you were kissing her back before grabbing your neck. She instantly moved down to litter harsh kisses down the nape of your neck, using her hands to move underneath your shirt, massaging your breasts. You were a mess beneath her, breathing heavily when the pressure on your clit intensified when her knee started rubbing patterns up and down.

“Swear at me again and see how it turns out for you.” She muttered in your ear, relishing the whines that fell from your lips as her knee continued its work. “If I tell you to grab your bag, that's what you do, yeah? You understand, Chelsea?”

The nickname left you shrinking, her words making your core glisten. You weren't completely sure whether the Arsenal girl was planning on taking you home. You didn't understand why you were all of a sudden pretty much moaning at the friction of her knee.

But you weren't fucking complaining.

“My teammates are in there.”

Leah let out a laugh. “You had no problem letting me touch you in a filled Stanford Bridge, Babygirl. I think it’d be healthy if your teammates realised who fucks their Stargirl after a home game.”

“You haven't fucked me, yet.” Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson, the thought of the England captain fucking you sending you into a spiral.

“Go get your bag and then I can use that pretty mouth for something other than moaning my last name… not that I mind when you do that.”

You wasted no time in doing as you were told, forever thankful that all of your teammates were either still interacting with fans or showering. You grabbed all of your stuff and quickly followed Leah over to the away changing rooms.

She let you walk through, since none of the girls were present, grabbing your belongings and chucking them inside her cubby. You felt her figure cage you back into the nearest wall, her hands how playing with the hem of your shirt, inching it further up your waist until it was completely disregarded, and you were left in your sports bra and shorts.

“Why so quiet?” Leah asked, kissing down the column of your neck, fondling your breasts. You sighed at the growing ache in your core, throwing your head back when Leah’s knee came back into contact with your clit.

“Some— someone’s going to walk in.”

Leah snorted. “Like you would mind.”

You huffed, grabbing the back of her neck and pushing her head further down your body. Leah’s knee stopped in return, leaving you writhing at the loss of pressure.

“Use your words or you can get off yourself.”

“Like you could get me off.” You retorted.

“I don't make brats cum.” She spat, moving back up to tower over you. “I edge them until they’re desperate and getting themself off my thigh. I treat them like brats, and maybe you need to work a little fucking harder for what you want.”

“You were just teasing me!”

“You're just desperate.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Leah.” There it was. Music to her ears.

“What?”

You whined, using your hips to drag yourself along her knee.

“What was that, Baby? Couldn't hear you under all those whines.”

“Leah, c’mon.” You stated potently, getting more impatient by the minute. “I'm not begging.”

The number six shrugged, looking down at you with wide, innocent eyes like she had no clue what you were going on about. Like she didn't even realise that you were humping her leg longing for some relief.

“Begging for what?” She moved her finger painstakingly down your chest, tracing your abs ever so slowly.

“For you.”

“For me?” She questioned, feigning confusion. Her hand dipped into the waistband of your shorts, circling your clit over your underwear. “Answer me, Darling. What do you want me to do? I'm touching you.”

“Touch me more.”

Leah tutted, moving her hand away. You groaned, throwing your head back when no pleasure was offered. “I'm afraid that's not how you ask. It might get you somewhere at Chelsea, but at Arsenal, we treat our Captains with respect. Even our star girls use their manners in the North end.”

“Touch me more, please.”

“Where, Chelsea?” Leah moved closer to you, peeling off her own shirt, removing your shorts, leaving you in your underwear and bra. “Be a good girl and tell me where.” She asked, her body lowering itself closer to the ground. You watched her kneel before you, hands gripping your waist, kneading your hips, lips biting your inner thigh.

“My clit, Lee, please. I need you to touch me there.”

“Such a good girl for your Captain, aren't you?” Leah ran her tongue along your folds, your underwear pooled at your feet. Your legs were swung over her shoulders, your hands buried in her hair, pulling taunt to her ponytail and the hairs that had fallen out during the game. Your moans were still muffled by the bite in your lips, the nerves of someone hearing your desperation for your enemy is still evident in the way you kept your mouth shut.

It was when Leah’s tongue latched onto your clit, sucking harshly on the swollen bud that your noises fell so adamantly from your reddened lips. You felt Leah’s cocky smile, her chuckles sending vibrations of pleasure through your body.

“Sound so pretty, Baby.”

“Leah— fuck, Lee. I'm gonna—”

“You’re going to hold it. Taste so good, you can wait.”

The coil in your stomach was forming long before Leah had even started, and the more Leah attacked your bud, the more your orgasm led to burst. Your moans had doubled in volume when one of her hands came up to play with your nipple, pinching it and playing with the nub every time her tongue licked up your folds. Her other hand worked its way through your pussy, spreading your slick all over your thighs, letting it run down your shaking legs and make your skin glisten with the glossy arousal.

“Want Stanford to hear you,” Leah spoke from below you. You whined at the thought. You were in a state of pure bliss that all cautionary thoughts of interruption were so far gone. All you could think about was Leah’s face between your legs.

“Feels so good, Lee. Want to cum so bad for you.”

“You can hold it, baby.”

“Mh, Lee, please.”

Leah moaned at your whines, nuzzling her nose up against your clit, pinching your nipple hard, reeling at the moan you let out in response. She saw the way your hole clenched around nothing, smirking at the way you rolled your hips across her face, working your pussy into her mouth so easily. She felt powerful knowing she had you at her disposal. You were stunning always, but there was something about you now that set Leah off. It made her angry knowing that you weren't hers to fuck at her discretion. It made her protective over you in ways she had never felt before. You were Chelsea’s protege — everyone worried when going up against you.

“Leah.”

It wasn't like something had changed, but Leah had realised that her hate was actually protection and adoration. She wanted you for herself. She wanted to steer you away from anyone that would hurt you. She hated Chelsea, she despised the West side more than anything, and it wasn't the sex that made her realise this.

“Leah.”

It was her name coming from your lips.

“Cum for me, Baby.”

That was all you needed to hear before you were barreling over the edge, your legs relying entirely on the strength of Leah’s upper body to keep you balanced. Your moans exemplified the stimulation of your orgasm riding out, and Leah’s endeavours to lick the result of it up as it poured into her mouth and onto your thighs.

The woman made sure you had somewhat caught your breath before she moved, having a moment to catch her own breath and comprehend what just happened. When she knew you were able to stand independently, she moved over to her cubby, grabbing the baby wipes she always had handy, moving back down to her knees to clean the mess across your legs as you covered your chest back with your jersey, and later your shorts.

Leah moved to do the same, except she watched as you fumbled with what to do. She gave you a pointed look as if to question your thinking, and you simply sighed and waddled over to her, slight humiliation at your wobbly legs painting your cheeks as you grabbed your bag.

“You all good, Baby?” She asked, her voice no longer authoritative and rather empathetic.

“Yeah, thanks.” You nodded. “Erm… sorry for being… rude… actually I'm not sorry but I am.”

“Yeah, same,” Leah replied a cheeky grin settled on her complexion. “I think we can settle for friendly rivalry from now on.”

“If that's what you call this, then sure.” You added, laughing along with what to make of the situation, feeling more out of place than ever in the middle of the Arsenal room. “I better go.”

“I’ll drive you home.”

“Lee, I've got my license—”

“It wasn't a question, Chelsea.”

You stood there defeated, knowing internally that you had no way home after Millie had driven you to the stadium and would have left by now anyway. Leah must’ve known that by the way she wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into her chest.

“Besides, wouldn't want that Player of The Match Trophy getting forgotten now, would we?”

_________________

A/N — bad ending but oh well… HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!!

[lovesick-joey]

Good Job.

"You really went on your own?"

Billy nodded his head vigorously, grinning like a fool even as Batman wiped away the blood off his temple. The older hero shook his head, his stern expression faltering slightly.

"..Get someone to accompany you next time." He grunts, ruffling Billy's hair. "I didn't know you can get hurt.."

Billy scoffs. "You? Don't know? That's impossible!" He exclaims, getting up from the stool he was sitting on. His height nearly towered over the Caped Crusader's. If only I was actually that tall. "But that's besides the point- I've got the whole thing covered! Put those scrawny robots into the spirit realm!"

Batman let out a faint sigh, taking a step back as Billy got back on his feet. "A warning would be nice. It's reckless for you to charge into battle without the others' permission. We haven't even made a plan yet.."

"You have to admit I did pretty good though!" Billy bounced, floating just above the ground. He punches the air. "I defeated all of them on my own! No plans from the rest of the League whatsoever."

As much as Batman disliked the idea of Billy—or anyone on the Justice League for that matter—pursuing a mission without a second opinion, he can't help but smile. He always had a soft spot for the boy, after all. He placed his hand on Billy's shoulder when the false adult returned to stand on solid ground. "You did. You did a good job."

Billy's expression softens, and Batman squeezed his shoulder. "Good job." The man repeated. Then, he looked over at the couches that were set up in the room they were in. Golden Condor sat stiffly, his unmoving eyes transfixed on the both of them, watching.

"Isn't that right, Condor? Don't you think he did a good job?"

Billy knew Batman made the wrong move. Why bother interacting with that jackass?

Golden Condor got up from the couch, but he didn't approach them. Instead, he glared at them from afar. It was mostly directed to Billy, though.

He never liked me, Billy thought. Well, guess what? I never liked you either.

"Don't praise him for doing something normal." Golden Condor spoke in that voice that would always make people grimace. He really needs to drink more water.

It was hard to notice, but Batman's shoulders tensed. "..Normal?" He uttered quizzically. Billy could imagine the look Batman was giving him under that cowl. "You think him going out to fight those robots alone, is normal?"

"It's normal to our standards." Golden Condor crossed his arms, his glare sharpening. "He should be expected to do it and punished if he doesn't."

What the hell, Billy thinks, feeling his heartbeat picking up pace. Batman stiffened. "Don't you dare speak of him that way." The Dark Knight walked over to the obnoxious man with an intimidating stride until the two were a few feet apart. Batman glared up at him. "He put himself in danger to save lives. He should be praised for his initiative, as reckless as it may be. Why can't you tell him he did a good job?"

Golden Condor huffs, looking at Billy, then back at Batman. "Because it's what everyone here does, Batman. It's nothing spectacular- nobody calls us good when we do the things we do. Why should it be any different with him?"

Billy couldn't believe it. Is Condor actually that stupid? It's even more embarrassing that this man is way older than him. A grown man is acting this way.

"And as if," The vigilante continued. "that child has the abilities of the Gods. I've said it before and I'll say it again; he should be expected to do it. He's not putting himself in danger because he's practically invincible."

"Superman has his kryptonite," Batman responded, his voice on edge. "and he's weak to magic. Diana also has her weaknesses and she's a demigod. Everyone on this team has weaknesses—it doesn't matter! You saw the blood on his head! It's still dangerous, Euge- Condor."

Golden Condor took one step closer, his haunting eyes ablaze with barely-concealed ire. "You're just coddling him," He said, his tone rising a little. "he's making you soft. It's pathetic."

Billy swallowed a lump in his throat. For the first time in his life, he was speechless. Batman's eyes narrowed. "I'm treating him with the kindness he deserves, unlike you," He said, jabbing a finger to Golden Condor's chest. The man in turn swatted his hand away. Batman's expression darkened. "you just hate him because he's a kid. I know how you are, Golden Condor."

The tension in the room was palpable. There was a brief intake of breath from Billy. They're going to argue again. They always do. Why does Batman have to go through this?

Golden Condor gritted his teeth. He was practically fuming. His aggression didn't deter Batman, as he continued to face him, his head held high and his chest puffed out.

"You're a fool!" Golden Condor spat at the shorter man's face. "If you keep this up then he's going to grow up thinking he's going to be given everything on a silver platter for doing jack-shit!"

"Just because you've never been praised doesn't mean you can't praise him!" Batman snapped back, unyielding. "Really, that's all that I want you to do; praise him! It's so simple and yet you have to make it difficult! I think he's severely lacking a parent figure who lets him know that he's appreciated—"

Billy's ears blocked out the sounds of their incoherent arguing—he could barely make out the words they were saying to each other. His feet were almost glued to the ground as he watched them, looking at their gestures and their moving mouths. It was a familiar sight with these two.

He could feel ringing in his ears, and Billy averted his eyes to the floor instead.

TGCS ¦ Mr. Hermit ‣ Dragon Eyes

[lorarri]

★ . . . 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 , 𝐉𝐀𝟏𝟗

summary , everybody thought you and charles were a thing turns out your fathers international teammate has something to say about that

pairing , julian alvarez x fem! messi! ferrari! f1 driver! reader

main masterlist | football masterlist

yourinstagram . 4hrs ago

seen by charles_leclerc leomessi 89,798,989 others

user replied to your story!

you and charles are such a cute couple

user replied to your story!

are you guys dating?

user replied to your story!

is charles you bf?

user replied to your story!

what does your dad think about you dating charles?

nothing cuz we aren't dating

juliaanalvarez replied to your story!

hola bby

don't know why he is smiling at you like that

cuz I'm the one who left those hickies on your neck not him

baby you know we are just friends right 😭

yes but still....

you are still coming to the fa cup match right???

ofc bby

I'm legit getting on the flight rn

I wouldn't miss it for the world

text me when you land I'll come and pick you up

okay baby

liked by juliaanalvarez

yourinstagram . 12hrs ago

seen by charles_leclerc maxverstappen1 79,389,479 others

user replied to your story!

oh no my ship it's sinking

user replied to your story!

bae...that ain't charles

user replied to your story!

thank you for leaving charles for me

charles_leclerc replied to your story!

if he hurts you I will end him

I know char

thx bestie

np dumbass

yourinstagram

liked by juliaanalvarez charles_leclerc 89,438,479 others

yourinstagram my man love me for more than just my last name

comments have been disabled

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

Yandere dick x reader x yandere Starfire

Being part of the Titans was everything you’d dreamed it would be. Between the endless training sessions, the late-night missions, and the quiet moments in between, you felt like you’d finally found a place where you belonged. But lately, something felt different—especially with Dick and Kory. They seemed closer than ever, sure, but in a way you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Sometimes you’d catch them watching you, their usual playful grins softened by an intensity you didn’t understand.

One evening after a mission, you all ended up sprawled on the couches in the Tower’s lounge. You were sandwiched between Dick and Kory, who both seemed unusually close. You’d just chalked it up to them being friendly—after all, you were all practically family by now.

But to them, it was more than that.

“You know,” Dick began, his voice soft but laced with that familiar confidence, “you’ve been a huge asset to the team.” He gave you a sidelong glance, his blue eyes lingering a moment too long. “I mean… I think we’d be lost without you.”

You laughed, brushing off his words. “Come on, Dick. You’d be just fine. You and Kory are the heart of the team.”

Kory, who had her arm casually slung over your shoulder, tensed ever so slightly. She felt a pang at your words, and it took her a second to regain her easy, lighthearted smile. “But you make us better,” she insisted, her voice warm but with an edge of something deeper. Her fingers traced small, gentle circles on your shoulder, her gaze fixed on you. “You bring a light that even I… well, even I cannot match.”

You blinked, smiling awkwardly at her intensity, but you still didn’t quite get it. “Thanks, Kory. That means a lot.”

Dick sighed quietly, his expression momentarily faltering. It wasn’t often that he let his guard down, but when he looked at you, he felt like he was losing control of his usual cool exterior. He wanted to be close, to be seen by you in a way that he didn’t dare put into words. You saw him as a friend, sure—but could you ever see him as more?

It was subtle, but there was a hint of desperation in the way he scooted closer to you, his arm resting on the back of the couch behind you. “I mean it,” he murmured, and his voice was softer now, almost hesitant. “It’s… it’s different with you here. I’m different.”

The quiet vulnerability in his tone surprised you, but you just smiled, trying to brush off the tension. “You’re pretty great yourself, Dick,” you replied, giving him a playful nudge. “Don’t worry—you’ll always be Nightwing, even if I’m around.”

Kory’s grip on your shoulder tightened slightly. She felt the weight of those unspoken words in the air, a tension that hung between you, Dick, and herself. It made her want to speak up, to make you understand that their feelings weren’t just friendly. But she held back, unsure how to explain something so deep, so consuming.

Instead, she gave you a wistful smile, the glow in her green eyes dimming just slightly. “You’re special to us,” she said, the words soft but filled with an urgency she struggled to contain. “To me. To both of us.”

You felt the shift in her tone, and something in the way she looked at you made you hesitate. For a moment, you thought you saw something more there—a longing you didn’t quite understand. But before you could dwell on it, Kory squeezed your shoulder with her usual bright smile, hiding the hint of sadness that lingered beneath her warmth.

As the night wore on, Dick and Kory found themselves holding onto every small moment with you a little tighter. Every laugh, every touch, every glance—they were like lifelines. They’d never felt this way before, this mixture of hope and helplessness, this aching need to be more than just friends in your eyes. And it was terrifying.

For now, they would let you break their hearts, little by little, every time you smiled at them as a friend, every time you looked at them with those innocent eyes.

And maybe, someday, you’d see them for what they truly were. But until then, they would stay close. Silent, patient, and filled with love too vast to be expressed in words.

And just like the storm, the ache would keep raging quietly beneath the surface, growing stronger every time you didn’t notice.

They would wait.

(A/n: was listening to laufey and suddenly had a idea, hope y'all likes it😸 totally out of context🤷‍♀️)

[someonegoood]

MY WHOLE LIFE pt. 2 ✫ mason mount

part 1, part 2, final part.

in which life does not go on after Mason breaks your heart over and over again. (brother’s best friends troop).

CONTAINS: brother’s best friend troop, angst, some smut (not really explicit) & fluff ! age gap, arguments...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: here's part 2 ! Mason made his first goal for United and I'm emotional 💞 I'll do part 3 later

taglist: @dreamingofautopia @xjval @sunflower-tia @sad-fridge2323 @girlidekanymore @borbolwra3

Chelsea added to their story.

Your phone notified you, immediately dampening your mood. Everything was related to him.

It’s been two months since Mason shattered your heart after that nightmare of a night. The funny thing is that a part of you didn’t hate him, a part of you that still loved him existed. 

You had waited for him to text you to ask how you were and if you were free to hang out. And by the time you realized that he wasn’t going to, it was too late… too awkward for you to ask as well. So, both of you had resorted to ignorance and hostility. 

Life eventually went on, even though you had cut one of the most important people out of your life. And you’d see yourself by night, in your dreams. All these faces in the crowded city of London, and for some reason, you’d still try to find his. Mason was no longer yours.

Although he never was.

The first time Mason saw you after that night was a couple of months later, at a family lunch. The two families —Mounts and yours—had united in your family's garden for a little lunch to catch up on life. You had turned twenty and Lyon was old news. 

But Mason’s eyes were stuck on your body as he watched you sit between his sister and your brother just before him. Sipping from a glass of wine that you most likely didn’t like, he glanced at you.

Your brother had brought his new girlfriend with him and even though you were still as close as ever, his attention was on the pretty blonde talking to your nanny.

Mason had spent so much of his life avoiding you, but after the night of the party, he just wanted to make sure you were okay. Although he just couldn’t. 

—Dear, will you serve me a little piece of that cake? —Your mother had her plate in her hand, waiting for Mason to react. It took him about five seconds to come out of his trance and then he served her what she had ordered.

He was too busy thinking about you.

—So, Mason… when is your next match? Your dad told me you were playing for England. —Your mom tried to lighten up the mood since you were not bickering with Mason as you were on other occasions. 

Mason smiled up while you looked at him and caught a glimpse of his beautiful Cheshire cat smile.

—I’m playing next week, on Sunday… —He looked around at everyone and proceeded. —You are all invited, of course. 

After an hour or two, everyone stood up, scattering around the decorated garden. Mason grabbed his phone from the table and headed to the kitchen in search of a beer.

In the background, the voices of the two families blurred together as you finished washing your plate. Both Mount sisters were busy playing card games with their mother and your brother was having a talk about politics, which you were not at all interested in. You had no one to talk to.

Suddenly, you feel someone behind you trying to open the refrigerator. That bloody refrigerator, which, being so old, could not be opened correctly. You turned around, not expecting to see Mason looking at you.

You headed to the refrigerator to open it, so Mason moved from where he was previously standing, leaning on the kitchen counter. You gave the refrigerator a little kick and it opened.

—Thanks… —He said grabbing the beer, the tension being palpable in the air. After a long pause, you continued:

—How are you? —you asked, he could feel your eyes staring into his side profile, but he stared at the sun setting over the British landscape.

—I’m alright.

Scoring some scarce points with Chelsea has become almost impossible under a year ago now, and you really felt sorry for him, knowing everything he and his team put in.

—How are you holding up? —you stood next to him, nudging his shoulder with yours, before looking down at the floor. You felt the look of pity that Mason was giving you, but you tried to ignore it.

—Thank you, really. 

—Mase...

He looked in your eyes this time, he looked so sad, so broken. So desperate for a hug. You didn’t pressure him to answer your question, instead, you gently placed your head on his shoulder looking along the garden in silence.

—It will be alright, you know. —He hummed, knowing you were still hurt because of what he had said.

—I know. —You whispered back. —And don't worry much about scoring, in the least expected moments your shot is the one that serves the most.

He hated how much you believed him because at that moment he felt like the six-year-old boy with dreams bigger than the world itself, who thought everything was possible. 

Mason looked down at you, the smile on his lips was enough to melt your heart, and threw his head back in a laugh. 

—I don't think I’m ever getting rid of you.

Now it was your turn to laugh. After all the laughing he noticed how your eyes shifted from his own to his lips, and then he remembered why he was avoiding you in the first place. He did a face.

—I know, I know. —You said with a sad look on your face.

—You know I’m too old for you, right? —Mason whispered as he leaned his forehead on yours.

—I’m in it for the long game, Mount.

It felt like your heart was twisting and stuttering, sometimes beating too quickly that you were afraid it was going to push you over the edge. You wanted him to notice, to do something to fix it. 

Time went on flying, the last few days being hectic. It was already Sunday and today Mason was playing with England and obviously, you were more than proud. He had invited your brother —his best friend—, you and your family to watch him from the special box for family and friends.

The cold air hits your face as soon as you enter the box with your family. Excited, you see Debbie and Tony, and their children already seated. You were so nervous that your hands were even sweating.

You sit next to Stacey, Mason's older sister. She gives you a smile.

—Nervous about the game? —she asks.

—A bit, yes... —you say as you settle down, your eyes scanning the pitch, looking for him. For Mason. 

—This should be an easy game, England has a better team.

—You never know. —you reply. You were almost freezing, you only had the basic England t-shirt on.

Stacey noticed that you were shivering from the cold and decided to take off the sweatshirt she had tied around her shoulders. She put it on your lap and smiled.

—Put it on, otherwise, you'll freeze to death here. —she said, laughing.

—I'm... —You said about to deny it. For a second, you thought about the cold that you would catch without the sweatshirt, so you decided to take it. —Oh, never mind.

The sweatshirt was white and had his number and surname printed on the front, in a blue font. This made you remember the uncountable times when you stole Mason's sweatshirts just to have his number on you.

Stacey, without you seeing, grabbed her phone and texted his brother: "Just wanted to say that she's here and she's got your name on her sweatshirt. Good luck! We're all rooting for you. And don't worry, she'll wait for you."

All of a sudden, Summer, Mason's niece, came up to you asking if she could sit in your lap to have a better look at the pitch. It was no secret that Summer enjoyed seeing you, as she had grown up seeing your brother and you in the Mount household.

—Look over there, Summer! There is your uncle. —said Stacey, and both Summer and you looked over to where the players were entering the enormous pitch. There he was, beautiful as always.

The whistle was blown and the match started. Everyone was immersed in the excitement of the box, watching the match carefully. The atmosphere was electric, and each second increased the tension.

—Yes! —You screamed when Mason's friend, Declan, scored the opening goal, feeling your heart beat against your chest rapidly. Summer looked up at you with wide eyes, before she started giggling. You smiled and leaned down to where she was and kissed her on the forehead.

The second half started and your eyes only followed Mason running up and down the pitch. Only one goal was scored in the whole 45 minutes of the first half, that being Declan's goal.

Abruptly, Stones stole the ball from a player on the opposing team. He ran alone, jumped over some defenders and, feinting, the ball passed to Henderson on the right side. He analyzed the position of the players spread around the pitch before passing it to Foden, who was almost close to the goal.

He passed it to Mason and he, avoiding the players, aimed and kicked with all his strength.

The world went silent for a moment. He had scored.

After realizing that he had scored a goal, Mason ran to the end of the field, right where you were. The atmosphere was pure shouting, people jumping and celebrating but you only had eyes for Mason.

He looked towards the box looking for those who truly love him and just at that precise moment, you connected glances. With a shaky breath, you stood up from your seat and waved to him, also trying to hold Summer up with your other arm.

Mason's heart melted when he saw that scene and many things went through his head: he couldn't believe he had scored a goal after so long and he also couldn't believe how beautiful you looked with his niece in your arms.

In celebration, he pointed to both of you and you could only sigh in love. The game ended with a great performance from Mason and a win for England.

As soon as he stepped into the box, he scanned the room for you, but Summer caught him off guard.

—Uncle Mase! —she ran toward him and he picked her up, planting a kiss on her cheek while she wrapped her small arms around his neck.

—My favourite person! —His eyes fell on you and he didn't know if it was his imagination or the fact that he hadn't seen you in days, but you looked prettier than usual.

You were standing at the back, watching Mason greet his family. You felt shy and awkward, which made you hate the feeling even more. All you wanted was love from him and for that, you haven't slept well in the days after the family lunch with the Mount's.

—I played well, all thanks to you. —He kissed her head and his niece giggled. The little girl ran toward her mother and then closed the door, leaving you and Mason all alone. Your family had congratulated Mason before and told you they were waiting outside.

—How have you been? —His voice was gentle like he was afraid to say something.

—Mason! —you laughed. —You just scored a tremendous goal for England and you ask me how am I? Sometimes I don't understand you.

—Alright, alright. You have a point! —he laughed, definitely not missing those nervous butterflies in his stomach. He felt like a little boy.

His gaze searched yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. He scratched the back of his neck and then looked at your sweatshirt with his surname and number.

His number looked very good on you, he thought.

He gazed at your lips and he came dangerously close to you. You stepped back, hitting the table. Mason was looking straight into your eyes when he suddenly grabbed you by the waist and sat you on the table. You let out a little squeal. The air was thick with tension, and all you craved was to pull him close and kiss him passionately.

—We-we should go. —you said, clearing your throat. —Your family is waiting.

Quickly, Mason grabbed your wrist.

—Mase... You don’t have feelings. You don’t have a heart.

Now he’s frowning as he tries to unravel your words. His breath hitches.

—I feel things… —your heart twirls with the way his voice sounds. You had always loved his voice. How croaky it was. But you never imagined that it would turn your entire world upside down to hear him say that.

Pushing his hand down, you look back, weak and concerned. He worries you might have suddenly regretted all of this. That you would walk away and never want to talk to him ever again.

What he didn't know is that he's everything you were imagining those long nights… he had never kissed you, not even touched you.

—It’s okay if you want to stop- —he said, while you slid your hands under his t-shirt. Running up and down your hands through his lower torso, you felt his abs contract.

—Mount, I'm certain that I'm okay. —you said, giggling. He smirked. Your core grows tighter with his expressions, now holding onto his broad shoulders.

Unexpectedly, you both heard from behind the closed door someone shout: —Mate, are you there? The party starts at ten, hurry!

Fuck. That was your brother.

Mason had completely forgotten about the party in honour of their win. How the fuck was he getting out of that room with a hard-on? He had to calm himself.

You, on the other side, felt your heart falls into pieces. You thought about how long you had waited for this exact moment, every time you gave your endless hope all you ended up doing was bleeding. And this time, not only he was about to leave you alone but he was going to leave you turned on.

—I'm-I'm sorry... —he said, exiting quickly from the room.

After that match, you only heard from Mason through your brother. He had told you that after the match, at the party, Mason had rejected every girl who appeared to flirt with him.

Apparently, you've had an effect on him.

Mason hated how his heartbeat boomed in his ear when he saw you standing in his parents' house, with a blue shirt that had printed out the number 19 on the back, hugging your figure. 

You had blossomed into a beautiful young woman, you had for sure gone through puberty. He didn’t like to stare but he found it hard not to sometimes. Especially on family boat trips when you would wear a bikini in front of him.

—So, we're leaving after lunch. Do you want to meet at the stadium or at home?

You took a minute to understand. —What?

—The game, remember? We're having lunch here and then driving up to watch the game. —Said your brother, while getting on the boat. About three weeks had passed since you almost kissed Mason and now you were about to hop on the Mount's boat in Portsmouth.

You had completely forgotten about the game. During your conversations with your brother, you could sense that Mason hadn't mentioned anything about that night which was, in a way, kind of relieving.

Just like you, Mason had also forgotten that your family was coming over. But when his sister sent him a text saying that your family would join him before his game, he was flabbergasted.

You both hadn't spoken since the night of the win, but you both were thinking about that interaction since then. To forget that incident, he had spoken to one of his best friends, Ben, in search of a solution.

—Mate, what you need is a good fling. Maybe you should invite someone next time you're going on a family boat day —said Ben, laughing because of what Mason was asking him.

You got on Mason's boat, feeling heavy-hearted once again. After an hour, you were seated on the floor, helping Stacey with a puzzle, after your mom expelled you from the kitchen when trying to help her. Meanwhile, Mason and his mother sat down on the couch.

—She has grown into a beautiful woman, don't you think? —His mom said teasingly, already knowing that you were not the only one fallen for someone.

—Yes, she has. —He looked at you, seeing you laugh at something his sister had said. —Mom... I think I fucked up.

—If you had fucked up, she wouldn't be here.

—No mom, I really- —Mason got interrupted by the entrance of a tall, dark-eye, skinny blond, almost gotten out from a runway. She turned toward Mason and presented herself as Daphne, a friend. Debbie now understood why her son said he had fucked up really bad.

Your brother, seeing Daphne —the supposed fling of Mason— talking with him, turned to you.

—Forget your stuff, let’s just get off this boat. Don’t turn around okay? —his hands gripping strongly your shoulders. He knew how much you liked his best friend.

You laughed and followed your brother down the steps of the boat before stopping in your tracks.

—Since when have I ever listened to you? Dear God, I- — Your mouth fell open as you turned around to be met with Mason and his mother, and the presence of a girl that looked like an actual model.

She was leaning on him and he was laughing at whatever she had to say, while Debbie looked at you with pity. You felt like he had personally ripped your heart out, for a hundred times.

—You knew?

Your brother sighed before running his hands through his hair: —She's only a side thing, a one-time fling. I mean she’s not you, but he decided to find someone before Christmas. —He shrugged his shoulders and you felt the rage creeping up your body.

—What about me? When will I be happy? —you said, crying.

That sentence broke your brother's heart.

19 years to be exact, that's the time you've been waiting for him.

[httpsdana]

Heyy! LOVE YOUR WORK DARLING!! Can you do prompt 5 and 81 for pedri. The reader is a Liverpool fan since a child and refuses to wear any other jersey. And one day pedri comes home to see her wearing Stevie G lfc jersey with a number 8. And pedri jokes when will she wear his name and she jokes and asks him to join lfc and even suggests Arne slot is bald. He’s like no something else and reader JOKING says win the ucl and barca wins ucl. Them being cute on the pitch after the win with her wearing his name and all that fluff. Sorry it’s long and specific but yeah. Thank you xx

Loyal Red~Pedri Gonzalez

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

Pedri strolled through the front door, stretching his arms as he took off his jacket. He called out for y/n but got no answer, just the muffled sound of the TV from the living room. Walking in, he stood in his place amused, blinking a few times to take in the sight of his girlfriend lounging on the couch, wearing the one jersey that always, always got him worked up.

“Really? Liverpool, again?” he teased, his eyes narrowing playfully as he walked closer, eyeing the familiar red number 8 she had on, the name "Gerrard" plastered on her back.

Without looking up, she laughed, adjusting her messy ponytail as she smirked. “What can I say? Loyalty runs deep, Pedri.”

He rolled his eyes, sitting beside her and nudging her shoulder. “When are you finally going to wear my name and number 8 on your back, huh?”

Smiling, she gave him a playful look. “I already told you. You want me to wear your name? Then maybe you should consider joining Liverpool.”

Pedri let out a dramatic sigh, putting a hand to his forehead. “You really just want me to play for your favorite team, don’t you?”

“You know it,” she giggled, grabbing his hand and pulling him closer. “Come on, Pedri, it’d be the ultimate upgrade. You’d look so good in red! Plus Arne Slot is bald. you'd absolutely love him” she joked, teasing him about his not-so-secret adoration for bald men

He laughed slighty shaking his head before he spoke. "no way. the only bald man that can be coaching me is De La Fuenta. Or Flick if he went bald" he shrugged, and it was her turn this time to laugh.

He then leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers. “Or, hear me out…you could finally switch teams. Be a Barça fan, just this once.”

“Oh really?” she raised a brow, crossing her arms with a smirk. “Tell you what, if Barça wins the Champions League this season, I’ll wear your name on my back”

Pedri’s face lit up, his eyes shining with determination. “Is that a promise?”

She nodded, leaning back. “Yes, but only if you guys actually bring it home.”

“Deal.” He gave her a quick kiss before jumping up and pacing, fists pumping in the air. “You better start preparing, because I’m getting you out of that Liverpool jersey once and for all!”

As the Champions League season progressed, Pedri was more motivated than ever. He’d send y/n pictures after every away match, pointing out how close they were getting, or would FaceTime her right after the game to remind her of her promise. And each time, she'd roll her eyes, laughing at his playful confidence.

When Barcelona reached the final, Pedri could hardly sit still. Every time he called, he’d drop hints, asking if she'd already picked out her new jersey. “You’re about to look so good in blue and red,” he’d tell her, grinning, and every time she’d shake her head, insisting that Liverpool would still be in her heart.

The final match was nothing short of intense. y/n held her breath with every play, nerves tingling as she watched Pedri and his teammates put their hearts into the game. And when the final whistle blew, signaling Barcelona’s victory, the stadium erupted, and she let out a scream of joy mixed with disbelief.

Only a few moments later, she found herself on the pitch, surrounded by the cheering fans in the stands and jubilant players.

Pedri spotted her in the crowd, his grin stretching ear to ear as he pulled hee in for a long, celebratory kiss. “So,” he murmured against her lips, his arms wrapped around her, “about that promise…”

Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help but laugh. “Fine, you win. I guess it’s time for me to join the Barça side.”

Pedri cheered again, motioning for one of the staff members to come. As he came over to them he handed Pedri a fresh jersey, his name and the number 8 on the back. y/n laughed, taking it from him and slipping it over her head.

As a jersey with Pedri’s name and number found its way over her head, he looked at her, pride gleaming in his eyes. “Finally!” He leaned in, pressing kiss after kiss to her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, until she was giggling uncontrollably.

“Alright, alright, enough,” she laughed, trying to push him away, but he just pulled her closer.

"I'm so proud of you, you know?" she said, brushing some of his sweaty hair from his forehead. He smiled down at her, leaning down once again to connect their lips.

"and I'm proud to have you in my jersey, with my name on your back" he teased, causing her to roll her eyes playfully, slapping his chest.

"don't make me regret it" she warned him, although her tone held nothing but affection and love towards him.

"I'm gonna have the picture of you in this barca jersey carved in my mind forever. you look so much better than in that plain red shirt" he pulled a disgustes face, making her gasp.

"you better take that back" she said, curling her fingers on his jersey, pulling him closer.

"never" he murmured, before kissing her again, this time more intense and tender than before.

"come on let's pose with the trophy" he grinned, pulling her hand as they found Gavi, who was taking pictures with his family and the trophy.

"he finally got you to take that disgusting shirt off" he joked, making y/n roll her eyes as Pedri laughed beside her.

"shut up you too. I've already heard enough from this idiot" she said, slapping the back of Pedri's head to make him stop laughing.

Pablo handed them the trophy, walking away to let them pose on their own.

Pedri held her close as cameras clicked around then, pulling her into playful her and wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. Every so often, he’d brush a soft kiss against her temple or her cheek, murmuring, “Told you I’d get you in this jersey.”

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

your harry, your winner!!

or peaky blinders!! <33

Euro 2024. Two Wins In One Night.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

authors note - this is a check in for this fic. ive wanted to write a part two of sorts to this for a while so enjoy hunnies.

word count - 1.2k

July 2024.

England were champions of Europe.

Holy shit.

Holy Shit.

The final whistle echoes through the stadium, and suddenly, the roar of the crowd is all you can hear. England has done it—they've won the Euro 2024 final.

The dream of bringing football home is finally a reality. And at the heart of it all is your husband, Harry, the team’s captain, who played a pivotal role with a perfect assist to Cole Palmer in the 25th minute and then scored the winning goal in the 75th.

The energy in the stadium is electric, with every fan on their feet, celebrating this moment that will go down in history.

You sit in the stands, next to Phil Fodens girlfriend Rebecaa, whose little boy Ronnie has been playing with your little one Hunter.

Throughout the match, he held up a sign that read "Bring it home, Daddy," and now, as the victory sinks in, you feel an overwhelming surge of pride and emotion.

After the trophy ceremony, where Harry had lifted the Euro 2024 trophy high amidst a sea of teammates, you and Rebecca made your way down to the pitch, the atmosphere still buzzing with celebration.

As you approached the field, Hunter, bursting with excitement, broke free from your hand and sprinted ahead, his little voice ringing out,

“Daddy! Daddy!”

Harry, turning at the sound of his son’s voice, immediately dropped to one knee, his face lighting up with pure joy.

“Buddy!” he called back, his arms wide open as he prepared to catch his little boy.

Hunter didn’t slow down, running straight into Harry’s embrace.

“Daddy, you did it! You really did it!” he shouted, his voice filled with awe and pride.

Harry scooped him up, holding him close as if he never wanted to let go.

“We did it, buddy,” Harry said, his voice thick with emotion as he kissed the top of Hunter’s head. “I told you we’d bring it home, didn’t I?”

Hunter nodded eagerly, his small hands gripping Harry’s jersey. “You’re the best, Daddy! You’re a hero!”

Harry laughed, a sound full of warmth and love.

“No, buddy, you’re my hero,” he said softly, looking into his son’s wide, admiring eyes. “You gave me all the strength I needed out there. That sign you made… it made all the difference.”

Hunter beamed, his pride shining brighter than the stadium lights. “I knew you could do it, Daddy! I knew it!”

As you watched Harry spin Hunter around, the joy on their faces was everything you had ever hoped for.

You took a few steps forward, your heart full to bursting with pride and love. Harry caught your eye and gently set Hunter down, still smiling as he straightened up and reached out for you.

The distance between you vanished in an instant, and before you knew it, you were wrapped in his arms.

He pulled you close, his embrace warm and strong, the scent of sweat and victory clinging to him. You looked up into his eyes, the same eyes that had captured your heart years ago, now shining with triumph and love.

Without a word, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was filled with everything you felt—pride, joy, and an overwhelming love that only deepened with every passing day.

When you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, your hands still on his chest.

“I’m so proud of you, H,” you whispered, your voice full of emotion. “You were incredible out there. You made history.”

Harry smiled, his eyes softening as he looked at you.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he replied, his voice equally tender. “You and Hunter… you both gave me the strength to push through.”

You shook your head slightly, your eyes welling up with tears of happiness. “No, this was all you. You led them to victory. You brought football home. And you did it with so much heart.”

Harry’s hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear.

“I wanted to make you proud,” he said softly, his gaze never leaving yours. “More than anything, I wanted to do this for you and Hunter.”

You smiled, feeling your heart swell even more. “You’ve always made me proud, H. Today, you just reminded the whole world why.”

You pulled back slightly, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Harry,” you began softly, your voice full of warmth and excitement. “There’s one more thing we need to do before we can really celebrate.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, his expression curious but still glowing with happiness.

“What is it?” he asked, his hand still resting on your waist.

You bit your lip, your heart racing as you looked down at Hunter, who was still beaming with pride.

“Look at the back of Hunter’s jersey,” you said, your voice trembling just a little with the anticipation of the moment.

Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion, but he turned to crouch down beside Hunter, gently guiding him to turn around. At first, he just stared at the back of the tiny jersey, reading the words out loud without fully processing them.

“Big Brother…?”

He paused, the words hanging in the air as his mind started to catch up. For a moment, there was just silence, his eyes still on the jersey as the realization slowly dawned.

Then, like a light switch flicking on, his head snapped up to look at you, his eyes wide with disbelief and hope.

“Wait… does this mean…?” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your eyes brimming with tears of joy, a wide smile spreading across your face.

“Yes, H,” you whispered, your voice full of emotion. “I’m pregnant. We’re having another baby.”

For a second, Harry was completely still, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Then, in an instant, his face lit up with the purest joy you had ever seen.

He scooped you into his arms, lifting you off the ground as he spun you around, laughing with sheer happiness.

“Oh my God, are you serious?” he exclaimed, his voice cracking with emotion.

You laughed, nodding as he set you down, his hands still holding your waist as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

“I’m serious, H. We’re going to be a family of four.”

He let out a joyous shout, his eyes glistening with happy tears as he pulled you close again, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I can’t believe it… This is the best day of my life,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “First we bring football home, and now this? I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

Hunter, who had been watching the exchange with wide eyes, finally caught on and tugged on Harry’s sleeve.

“Daddy, I’m gonna be a big brother!” he declared, his excitement bubbling over.

Harry crouched down again, pulling Hunter into a hug, his voice filled with pride and love. “Yes, you are, buddy. You’re going to be the best big brother ever.”

He looked back up at you, his eyes still shining.

“I don’t even know what to say,” he admitted, shaking his head in amazement. “You’ve made me so happy, more than I ever thought possible.”

You leaned in, kissing him softly, your heart full to bursting with love. “You deserve it, Harry. You’ve given me everything, and now our family is growing.”

Harry’s smile was so wide it looked like it might never fade.

“This is our moment,” he said, his voice full of certainty and joy. “Our family, our future… I can’t wait to do this with you.”

[arsenal-womens-1]

What if I say no and I come with you

Request

“It’s one thing to be in love, but it’s something else entirely to be willing to sacrifice everything for it.” - Unknown

December 10th: We had just got back on the bus; we had just played Chelsea and won 4-1. The main topic throughout the bus was the transfer window. You and Jen were sitting next to each other. On the opposite side, Beth and Viv sat. You and Beth were nearest to the window with your partners next to you. Beth and Jen were talking as you and Viv just sat and listened. The topic of transfers comes up. Everyone knows that you and Jen’s contracts run out in January.

“Are you going to sign new contracts this season?” You and Jen had put a lot of thought into it. Jen had already started to get offers, a lot from the NWSL. You had received some offers as well, so you had decided that Jen was going to go to the NWSL and you somewhere in Europe. You had done this countless times, but something about this didn’t feel the same. Jen glances over at you.

“We talked, and we decided if things don’t change with the offers, I’m going to go to the NWSL and Y/N somewhere in Europe.”

You just hum. “What about you, Viv?” It was no secret in the team that Viv was unhappy. The way she was being treated was wrong, but there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

“I haven’t decided anything yet, but if I don’t, my contract runs out in July, so I guess I’ll just see what happens.” After that, the other two go back to talking.

January 2nd: Kim Little has invited the whole team around for a team bonding session. Training didn’t start for another few days, but as the transfer season is now open, this is probably the last time that this team will play together. We needed to be at her house at 5 p.m., and it’s currently 4:56. You two just pulled into her street. A few cars you recognize. Jen pulls into an open spot, turns off the car, and gets out. She always insists on opening the door for you. You walk up to the house, knocking on the door. You wait for someone to answer. Kim finally opens it.

“Hey, come in. A few of the girls are already here.” Walking into the main room, more than half of the team is there. You and Jen separate and go talk to different people. You walk over to Frida, Lia, Amanda, Stina, Katie, and Caitlin.

“Hey, Y/N.”

You stand next to Lia. “Hey.” You had not seen each other since the 21st, as everyone left for where they were spending Christmas on the 22nd.

“How was Christmas?” Everyone talks about what they did and random stuff. Once again, the transfer topic comes up.

“Y/N, have you and Jen chosen what teams you’re going to?”

You had thought about it for the last month but had yet to pick one. “Jen has; I haven’t yet, though.”

January 19th: You had just finished training. You had been thinking about it and didn’t know who to talk to, so when you bump into Kelly Smith, it feels like a blessing.

“Hey, Kelly, can I ask you something?”

She had always said that if any of you needed help, you could ask her, and now you need that help.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

You look around to make sure that nobody is near. “How did you know you were making the right choice when you retired?”

She takes a moment to think. “I knew I was making the right decision when I looked at all the things I had achieved, and when I thought about it, I felt at peace that I had done everything I could and won everything I could. I knew I was doing it for the right reasons.”

Hearing her say that really helped. Realistically, there was nothing else you could win—you won the Euros with England, came second in the World Cup, had Olympic medals, and played for Barca. You had done it all. You nod your head.

“Thank you for saying that.”

You go to the changing room and see everyone. You get changed.

January 30th: We are standing in our back garden. It was Jen’s goodbye party. A few people were talking, a few eating, and a lot playing football. You and Jen are standing on the deck at the top of the garden. Her arms are wrapped around your back as your head is on her chest.

“Jen.”

She hums to show that she’s listening.

“What if I say no to all the teams and come with you? I don’t want to be separated anymore. I’m happy with everything I’ve achieved; there’s nothing left to do.”

She pulls back a little to look at you, her eyes searching yours for any sign that you’re lying.

“Are you serious?”

You nod your head as your voice seems to have disappeared.

Jen’s expression softens as she looks you in the eye. “Are you sure? There’s a lot to consider—what if you regret it? What if you miss out on opportunities that could have come your way?”

You squeeze her hands gently. “I know there are risks. But I think the chance to be together and not worry about when the next time we get to see each other is worth it. I want to wake up with you next to me. I’ve done everything I have ever wanted for my career; there’s nothing left to accomplish.”

She holds you in a tight hug. “If this is what you truly want, then come with me.”

[notfast-onlyfurious]

her kit bag. | j.riki

jordan riki x fem!reader

in which you play for the broncos NRLW team, you’re dating jordan privately, and your kit bag is found in his house.

wc; ~1.8k

a/n: this is my first time writing for him, and this is not thoroughly proofread, please be nice. also, if you enjoy this, please do reblog, writers do appreciate it🫶

warnings: 18+, swearing, use of pet names “baby”, “love”, “babe”, “good girl”, & “pretty girl”, suggestive conversation, smut, oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (don’t do that), praise kink, creampie, slight degradation, one ‘spank’.

it was a wednesday night and the broncos NRL and NRLW teams had just finished combined training. you were walking to your car when your phone went off, quickly throwing your kit bag into the backseat of your car, you check the message.

pretty boy riki: "are you coming over tonight gorgeous?"

you: "yeah, can i shower at yours?"

pretty boy riki: "sounds good, see you soon❤️"

you and jordan have been together for a few months now but nobody knows, not even your best friends. now, the reason for this isn't anything other than keeping it private, as neither of you want it plastered on every headline.

arriving at jordan's house, parking in his garage to avoid prying eyes. you grab your bag from the backseat and let yourself in, taking off your birkenstocks at the door and leaving your bag on the bench in the hallway.

walking into the kitchen, no sign of his 6'2 figure but you can subtly hear the shower running upstairs and see his boots and bag by the kitchen counter. assuming he's in the shower, you make your way to your bag and grab some shorts and a tank top and head upstairs, popping your head through the ajar bathroom door to announce your presence.

you: "hi love"

jordan: "hey pretty, i'll be out soon"

whilst you wait for jordan to finish, you lay yourself on his bedroom floor because we don't do outside clothes on the bed around here.

soon enough, you hear the water turn off and your man walks out with a towel wrapped around his waist, hair wet with water droplets running down his chest. lord the man that you are. nonetheless, you give him a quick kiss before making your way into his bathroom. the only thing on your mind right now is jordan, but what's new. the hair, the smile, the thighs, the arms, the laugh, the love he has for you, everything about that man has you weak at the knees.

getting out of the shower, you grab your towel off the rack, wrapping it around your body as you do your skincare and moisturise your body. you put your navy pyjama shorts on with a grey tank top, not clocking how cold it really was just yet, until you step out of the bathroom, feeling the air hit your skin. in these conditions, you walk yourself to jordan's wardrobe and pick out his grey nike hoodie, throwing it over your head and making your way downstairs, just to be met with your man in a pair of black shorts hanging low on his hips. this man could get it every day. oh wait, he does.

you: "did you need any help babe?"

jordan: "no love, almost done here"

not even 5 minutes later, jordan had served you seafood pasta with a glass of red wine.

"almost taste as good as you" in a tone that caused your pussy to clench around nothing.

almost choking on your dinner, nothing could have prepared you for that, to come out of jordan riki's mouth in the middle of dinner.

"i could say the exact same to you riki"

now you both sat at the counter, flabbergasted.

later in the night, after dinner, a few movies and talk about training, you and jordan moved upstairs into his bed, one you dreaded leaving. now, despite sleep wanting to takeover, you couldn't help but focus on the hand that was moving up from your waist to your boob, and it certainly wasn't your own hand. it was the hand of a 6'2 man that happened to have a silver fern tattooed on it.

the hand on your boob made you shiver, reaching for his hand on instinct and in that moment, you knew whatever hope you had for sleep, just went out the window because he may have started it but you couldn't deny him. then, before you could even blink, you were straddling the hips of the finest man you had ever laid eyes on, with his arm reaching up to pull you into the sloppiest kiss, tongue on tongue, fighting for dominance.

"are you gonna be a good girl for me?"

you were so entranced by the man below you, you didn't even respond. his neck, his lips, the way he looked at you. that was until you were pulled out of thought by the hand around your neck.

"use your words baby, don't eye fuck me"

you could feel him under you. the way it was throbbing on your clothed pussy.

"please daddy, i'll be good, i promise" as your hips came down on him.

trailing your kissing down his torso, making your way to the waistband of his boxers. leaving kisses over his cock through his boxers.

"don't tease pretty girl, show me how much you crave my cock"

that's all it took, his thick cock was in your hand and your tongue was on the tip, finally obeying and taking him deeper, bobbing your head as his hips bucked, causing you to gag. before either of yous knew it, your clothes were on the floor, his boxers were at the foot of the bed and he was on top, holding his weight above you with one hand next to your head.

"beg for it baby, tell me how bad you want my cock in that tight little pussy" as he ran his fingers through your wet folds. his lips on your neck, leaving those purple marks that let everyone know someone was taking care of you.

"please jordan, i want you so bad, let me feel you" you were really begging him for his cock whilst he was curling his thick fingers in and out of your pussy, the gushing as he pounded.

"nothings ever enough for you is it pretty girl, always want my cock" he mocked as he pulled his fingers from between your legs, lifting them to his lips. pulling himself up to his knees, pumping his thick veiny cock with one hand and rubbing your clit with the other. no matter how many times you took him, nothing could ever prepare you for the stretch. slowly, he teased your pussy with the head, rubbing it, putting the tip in just to pull it out again. then, in one thrust, he bottomed out and you could feel him in your stomach, the bump on your lower belly noticeable. he groaned at the tightness as he felt you clench around him, he could have filled you up right then.

"mm fuck baby, you're so fucking tight, feels so good"

you loved the praise, you loved making him feel good and that made you clench around him again.

"fuck- oh my god jordan, harder"

"baby if you keep doing that i'll fill you up right now"

but to your request, he lifted one of your legs to his hip and started pounding you just as hard as you wanted.

then he pulled out.

"no no no no fuck daddy, please"

and suddenly, you were on your stomach, being pulled up to an ass up head down position by your hips, leaving a bruise tomorrow for sure and then he was right back inside, slamming his cock in and out, the only thing heard was his groaning, your moaning, and the sound of your thighs slapping together.

no matter how hard or fast he was going, you were always pleading for more, you could never get enough of him.

"fuck jordan, fuck- i'm gonna-"

then you felt something in your stomach break as you feel yourself coming all over jordan's thick thighs and cock.

"you're such a slut for my cock aren't you pretty girl" as he continued to pound into you from behind, chasing his high. you could feel his pace falter and his cock twitch, gasping as his head falls back.

then you felt it, the warm feeling of him filling you up, giving you everything he had. as his high washed over, you instantly missed the feeling as he pulled his cock out, his cum trailing down your pussy and thighs making him push it back in with his fingers followed by a slap on your ass.

for a moment, jordan lays by your side, legs intertwined, with your arm over his chest. then, he gets up and walks to the bathroom and you hear the bath running and subconsciously you feel yourself smile. shortly after, he returns, lifts you up and walks you both to the bathroom. both of you get in, your back against his chest in the warm relaxing water.

the night ended with both you and jordan wrapped in each others arms in bed. the high was still buzzing in the air and you couldn't ask for a better man

*the next morning*

you slowly opens your eyes, squinting as the sunlight filters through the curtains with the familiar feeling of two arms wrapped around you, covered in sheets that aren't yours. you could feel jordan's chest pressed against your back, his breath on your neck. rolling over and grabbing your phone to check the time, 11:46am.

suddenly, the doorbell rings.

"are you expecting someone?"

"shit no? stay here love"

jordan quickly grabbed a pair of sweats from his wardrobe, running down the stairs as he pulls them on. he's met with the one and only walshy and staggs as he swings the front door open.

jordan: "mate, what're yous doing here"

walshy: "mate i called you four times and you didn't answer, i thought you died"

jordan: "shit"

as he remembers back to last night before he went upstairs with you, he left his phone in the kitchen. before he could catch himself up mentally, both walshy and staggs were walking through his front door and through the hallway. the same hallway your kit bag was in. jordan hoped they would be oblivious to the bag that did NOT say 262 on it but those hopes came crashing down when walshy stopped in his tracks.

walshy: "that's funny, i don't recall your number being 92" in the most sarcastic tone as he looked at jordan, drawing staggs’ attention to the situation.

staggs: "ain't that the women's second row"

there was nothing jordan could even say to defend this. the three of them looked at each other in silence.

jordan: "babe come downstairs"

walking yourself downstairs after finding your shorts and jordan's nike hoodie again, you're met with three men looking at you from the hallway.

walshy: "mate what's this, what's going on"

staggs: "bro you said she was pretty you ain't mention having her in your house too"

you: “guys we’ve been together for a few months now, we’ve been avoiding the public eye that’s all”

knowing that jordan was calling you pretty to his friends and teammates made your heart explode, and with the way he was looking at you right now, you might have to kick walshy and staggs out and go back upstairs.

—————————————————————————————

© notfast-onlyfurious 2024

[redtsundere-writes]

Open commissions!

Jujutsu Kaisen:

Pillow | Cult Leader!Suguru Geto (+18. MDNI)

Dick or Treat | Sukuna Ryomen (+18. MDNI)

Favorite Client | Nanami Kento

Proud | Toji Fushiguro (+18. MDNI)

First Time | Megumi Fushiguro

Ride or Die | Ryomen Brothers (+18. MDNI)

Last Time | Nanami Kento (+18. MDNI)

OnlyFans | Toji Fushiguro (+18. MDNI)

Masiosare | Sukuna x Uraume (English)

Masiosare | Sukuna x Uraume (Español)

Ear Cleaning | Sukuna Ryomen

Ribs | Sukuna Ryomen

Blood Bath | Sukuna Ryomen

Eyes on Me | Sukuna Ryomen

A challenge drabble | Ino Takuma

Off Limits | Gojo Satoru

Temptating | Hiromi Higuruma

First Day | ItaFushi

League of Legends:

Negative Rizz | Heartsteel!Ezkayn

Free!

Sunset | RinHaru

League of Legends:

Out Of My League | Heartsteel!Kayn / Rhaast: Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. (A NEXT PART SOON)

Jujutsu Kaisen

Jinx | Sukuna Ryomen: Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11. Part 12. Part 13. Part 14. Part 15. (FINISHED)

Tyrant's Favorite | Sukuna Ryomen: Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11. Part 12. Part 13. Part 14. Part 15. Part 16. Part 17. Part 18. Part 19. Part 20. Part 21. Part 22. Part 23. Part 24. (ON GOING)

League of Legends:

Heartsteel Members as Iconic BTS Moments

Jujutsu Kaisen

Sukuna Is The Type Of Dad

Nanami Is The Type Of Dad

Choso Is The Type Of Dad

Jujutsu Kaisen:

Tyrant's Favorite | Sukuna Ryomen x Reader

Jinx | Sukuna Ryomen (COMING SOON)

Demon Slayer:

Runaway | Uzui Tengen x Reader

[fict1onallyobsessed]

Hi! Could u pls do a fic based on act one where sevika is fighting smeech and testing out her new arm? Maybe once reader finished off her own opponent she’s observing with isha and jinx, and kinda laughs when jinx’s themes song plays? Just having a little teasing moment after. hope it isn’t too much!

Sevika x Fem!Reader

A groan escaped your lips as you stood back up, pushing the dead man off of your body just seconds earlier. It took you a little while to find your bearings again, and once you did, you looked over at Jinx and Isha, who were mesmerised at something.

You leaned on your hand to catch your breath, looked to the side and stared with them. Because the view of Sevika slamming Smeech into the ground was one of a kind.

Sevika looked over at you, then jinx for instructions because although she was used to have a prosthetic, she had no clue how to use this one. Jinx shows her the lever and all hell breaks loose.

The mechanical head of the arm shoot out from Sevika, heading straight towards Smeech who barely got away. The second it retracted, the sound of Jinx's favourite song rung through the alleyway.

You stood up to stand behind Isha, watching her new creation in action. Sevika did not seem find the music amusing, but you couldn't refrain from giggling to yourself when she made eye contact with you. Jinx took it a step further and even danced a little, right before Sevika pulled the lever again.

Isha bumped into Jinx first as you all watched Sevika obliterate Smeech, but then backing up into your leg and stayed behind your calf for the duration of the fight.

They fought for what felt like hours, but it was only because how much fun Sevika was having with the new arm. Eventually though, fireworks exploded from her shoulder and the fight was over, Smeech definitely dead.

"How many songs do you have in this then?" You laughed, walking beside Sevika to inspect it up close. Sevika groaned, knowing you would tease her about it until the end of time.

"Only three." Jinx spoke, smirk on her face. "For now."

[trulyhblue]

Baby England (Part Three)

Jordan Nobbs x Young! Reader (platonic), Leah Williamson x Young! Reader (platonic), Lionesses x Young! Reader

warnings — angst fluff, coarse language, mentions of anxiety.

A/N — Baby England’s Back!!!!! Half of this was deleted and I wanted to cry so bad but here it is. And do I have a twist for you… didn't expect it to get this long, but I have to make up for the hiatus somehow xxx

Masterlist

___________________________

It was a few days before the Semi Final, and you were sat amongst a pile of paperwork.

lionesses

Liked by yourusername, alessiarusso99 and 43, 526 others

lionesses — semi final prep with baby England 💪🏻🙌🏼

Watch our clash with Sweden on the 27th @ Sheffield Stadium — 6pm GMT 🌟

tagged: yourusername

Comments:

yourusername — ❤️

*liked by lionesess

user1 — she is so adorable

^ user2 — she's so pookie.

georgiastanway — yeah the spiky hair

^ lionesses — stop bullying your little sis

^ georgiastanway — y/n get off the account

^ user5 — 💀

chelseawfc — love to see it 🙌🏼

^ user8 — UM WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?

User67 — I NEED TO KNOW WHERE SHE’S SIGNING

^ user45 — apparently Man U want her

^ user9 — atp, EVERYONE wants her

^ user10 — imagine her in a barça jersey 😋

^ user 11 — gurl pls… imagine her at UNC 😍

User12 — I really hope she starts for this game

^ user13 — I doubt it, I think she’ll be a super sub

^ user25 — she started last match??? And she got potm… surely she starts again

^ user13 — 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

arsenalacademy — absolute gun(ner)

^ user7 — lets be honest, arsenal will NEVER let Y/N leave

^ user89 — she's a free agent after the euros. They technically cannot keep her if someone's willing to pay more for her

__________________________

You had been training pretty much every day, save for the week that had been dedicated fo media roles and interviews. You were switching between teammates for a while. One interview was with Leah and Beth, another with Alessia, Lotte, Georgia and Ella.

At training, the coaches worked the team tirelessly. You were struggling to keep a straight face when you were told to run laps before you were sent back to your rooms. A large part of your weariness was mental. It had been a day full of apprehension for the days to come. Making it so far into the Euros was an achievement in itself, but a home euro was something else.

You hadn't seen your family for weeks now, and you were starting to miss your childhood bedroom. Despite the long hours spent chipping away at school work, you missed your friends at home and your teammates back at Arsenal Academy. The Lionesses quickly became your favourite people in the work. Many of them were family to you. But the subtly of your dismay and expression of homesickness proved more and more apparent as the days went by.

This feeling was not to be mistaken with ungratefulness. Being apart of your National team was a dream come true. This was what you worked for, lived and breathed for. You had finally attained your dream — this was all you ever wanted. You were eternally grateful for the opportunity, the chance to bring football home. A home tournament was a once-in-a-lifetime possibility, and here you were experiencing it. Every day you woke up wanting to pinch yourself. This couldn't be real.

But school was pretty much impossible at a time like this. When all you wanted to do was kick a ball around, catch up on sleep, and actually socialise. You know, like every other one of your teammates. It seemed as if you were the only one encapsulated by the realm of education, despite many of the girls attending University. You weren't indifferent to your current situation. Being a student and playing in one of the biggest football tournaments in the world was going to be difficult. But you felt like spending quality time with your friends would do you well. You wanted to stop worrying about your stupid equations and do something worth your while.

You had been saying this since the Euros began.

In no way did you mean for it to change for the worse.

But the universe was not in your favour.

“You should choose what makes you happy.” Jordan soothed, milking out the same string of sentences you've heard all week. The two of you sat in a cafe not far from Sheffield Stadium, sipping away at your hot chocolates, having already finished your macaroons.

Your agent had sent you the multitude of contracts you had been offered from different clubs. Tomorrow, you were playing against Sweden in the Semi-finals. Sarina thought it’d be good if everyone had the day off before the havoc set in. You had spent the morning in your room, finishing off the rest of your History Essay. Jordan had picked you up not long after noon, bringing you away from the stress chipping you away.

“It shouldn't matter what anyone else thinks,” The older woman held your hand, and you managed to feel her subtle squeeze.

“What do you think I should do?”

“Its not my—”

You cut her off, huffing in exasperation. “Jordan, please.”

Jordan’s face was impassive, a prominent knot creasing the space between her eyebrows. Her hair was flipped over one side, concealing the half of her face which she leant against her hand. She was struggling to find the words that had the capacity to encapsulate both truth and love — two things you needed to hear as you sat in the near-empty coffee shop. You wanted her to be honest, you thought. You needed her to tell it to you straight.

But this was Jordan you're asking. The kind, restful, reticent woman you had known forever — a woman while true to her word, could only speak subjectively, with emotion muddled into words. She was the personification of empathy. You loved that about her. But with your mind in a haze, despite your unrelenting apathy to stay independent, you really wanted to hear someone else’s opinion, for you had thought it over too many times to comprehend.

Your first option, of course, was Arsenal. It was your childhood club, your parent club, your home. For many years, it stood as everything you loved. You grew up watchings greats like Kelly Smith and Leah paving the way for your generation. You felt more at home at Arsenal than anywhere else. Though, it goes without saying that you haven't been anywhere else to compare it to.

And Leah would be hell-struck if you didn't choose Arsenal, even if she wouldn't directly admit it.

Spurs had taken interest in you since your youth ages when you had tried out for both North London teams at the ripe age of six. It just so happened that you chose Arsenal since it was closer to home, and you often wondered what it would've been like if you had chosen Tottenham instead.

United was next. A great club full of incredible talents like Ella Toone and Alessia Russo, two of your close friends when it came to International duties. The Manchester Reds were brilliant, tough competitors, but you never found much affiliation with them. Sure, they were amazing, but was it for you?

Lotte and Alessia both spoke to you about UNC, and you were definitely looking into playing there as a second alternative. You knew your parents thought this was the best option, but with the offers you were receiving, it wasn't at the top of your list.

You waited for Jordan’s response, already knowing her answer. There was one club you refused to think about. One club you couldn't set your mind to.

But the contract looked all too appealing.

“Chelsea.”

Three years — you’d be eighteen when it ends. Just shy of 250k a year, not including bonuses, increasing at a negotiable rate. You were a free agent after the Euros, and your contract with the Arsenal Academy was ending at the start of August. The Blues had a fantastic team and were worthy opponents for the cup title. You were guaranteed as a regular sub and promised to be looked after and rehabilitated to full strength if injuries occurred.

You hadn't thought over this option much during your senior debuts. It was pretty much embedded into you that you were a Gunner through and through. You had grown up playing against your London Rivals, and the team’s hatred only intensified as the game got stronger. It stood as a testament of its time.

But there was only one more thing that was stopping you.

“What about Leah?”

Jordan sighed. She knew Leah was a Gunner through and through. She knew that Leah saw herself in you — going through the academy, debuting at a young age. Choosing a pro contract was bound to happen to you the moment you were called up. No one even thought you’d gain minutes. But with Jordan’s injury, and your inevitable image, clubs were reeling in the prospect of a prodigy.

“This isn't her career, chook,” Jordan muttered, taking a sip of her drink. “Wherever you go, you have to take different things into account. Whether you’ll get minutes, if they value younger players as much as their originals, y’know, its a lot to think about.”

“You think I’ll get minutes?”

“Maybe not as much as Spurs, or North Carolina, but it's in the club’s reputation. They're known for their attack, and so are you.”

“I don't want to be the one to tell her.” You cringed. Leah was your older sister, in sorts. You valued her opinion over anyone else. To tell her you were transferring to her rival club felt like a slap in the face to all that she's done for you, not to mention you’d verse her in the League.

“Well, it’d be worse if she found out over the media.” Jordan quipped, through light to the situation.

“How would I bring that up?” You scoffed, hiding your face in your hoodie. “Hey, Leah, I know I've played for Arsenal forever, but I think I should just betray everyone and go to their biggest rivals. Sorry ‘bout that.”

Jordan shook her head. “She’d understand.”

Your eyebrows raised. “Would she?”

“I’d be livid at her if she wasn't,” Jordan spoke, her tone much sterner. You sat back in your chair. “It's not like you're signing a life-long contract with them, anyway. It's three years. Three years where you get to improve your skills and expand your career. Leah loves you too much to be angry at you for more than an hour. In fact, that woman has never been angry at you a day in her life.”

“I guess I’ll break that streak when I tell you.” you muttered, looking down at your empty cup.

“Stop that.” Jordan huffed, crossing her arms. “You've got two more weeks to figure it out. But let me tell you this. Arsenal will always be there for you. You don't need to stick with them for your whole career to know that they will happily welcome you back with welcoming arms. That goes for all the girls… including Leah.”

“Right.”

“And I’ll tell her that straight if she even thinks about doing anything otherwise.”

________________

yourusername

liked by jordannobbs, barcelonafemeni, and 102,223

yourusername — bit of life 💙

tagged — jordannobbs, maryearps1, and yourfriend

Comments:

jordannobbs — my daughters growing up too fast 😭

^ yourusername — thanks mama 💗

jordannobbs — look at you glowing 💙

^ yourusername — all you

jordannobbs — proud x

* liked by yourusername

user1 — I'm loving Jord’s spam! She's so proud of her 🥲

^ user2 — literally mother daughter goals

wosofan — this is the first time I haven't seen leah in a Baby Eng dump

^ user9 — omg ur right

user78 — loving the blue theme

^ user8 — are you thinking what I'm thinking

milliebright — beanie gal 🤭

^ yourusername — meanie

^ milliebright — you’ll get used to it

^ user8 — UM HELLO

samanthakerr — where’d you get that jumper from in the third photo?

^ yourusername — dunno

^ user98 — HOW DO THEY KNOW EACH OTHER????????

maryearps1 — caught me off guard with that

^ yourusername — you asked me to take the photo 😂

^ ellatoone — HA! Caught.

^ mearyearps1 — 😒

user89 — WHATS WITH THE BLUE

lionesess — our put together baby 🌟

* liked by yourusername

georgiastanway — i didnt need to see the bottom of your shoes

^ yourusername — you see them all the time in training 🤷‍♀️

^ georgiastanway — dont.

chelseawfc — matching attire?

^ user78 — HUH IM SO CONFUSED

^ wowwoso — WHY IS CHELSEA HERE

^ user6 — WHAT IS HAPPENING

________________

Sweat was beading across your forehead, the nerves of half time creeping up to the steady beat of your heart.

You hadn't told Leah about the decision you came to with Jordan. You had been so caught up in how she’d react, mixed with the stress of this upcoming game, that you weren't in any stable condition to go through with it.

In addition to that, you were still making your final decision, the finality of Chelsea not truly setting in.

Beth and Lucy had already sent the ball flying into the back of the net, and Sweden had yet to take a chance to extend their stay into the finals. You watched from the wing anxiously, threading the ball to the more experienced players, staying in the pipe ways as you did so.

You had started, which still came as a surprise to you since. Your game against Spain was still fresh in your mind. You wanted to stay consistent in your performance while also keeping up with the newfound intensity of the game, but something just wasn't clicking for you.

England was doing great, up by two goals by the second half. You had kept yourself distanced from the vigour, passing out when needed, mainly staying on the wing in order to keep as much distance from making more mistakes.

You had been pretty reckless with your passing. Obviously not too catastrophic, but enough to send winces across the crowd.

Your passes weren't sloppy, but they weren't precise either. You didn't leave much opportunity for the forwards and were starting to rely on your defence too much.

There was simply something about your gameplay today that didn't mould with the rest of the team. You didn't want to be subbed off. You wanted to make an impact.

But it just was not clicking.

Ellen had just been subbed off for Alessia, who was wiping her hands over her shorts, watching the ball tread through the outskirts of Sweden’s half. You could hear the crowd’s apprehension linger when you were passed the ball by Leah, using all your strength to peel away from Blackstenius.

Your first touch wasn't the greatest, and Stina was pressuring you out near the line. In every other game, you were known for your cool persona when encountering stress. You could collectively juggle the presence of a marker while dribbling the ball down the line onto a seeking prospect.

But as soon as the Swed’s studs hit your foot, you were sent to the ground. Hot flashes of pain sprung from your ankle. It was nothing that wouldn't surpass after a few moments whining about it on the ground.

Nonetheless, the whistle blew for a free kick, and Leah’s figure was knelt beside you in an instant.

“You alright, kid?”

Leah wasn't dumb. She knew that you had been ignoring her these past few days. You were distant, passive, and overall neglectful of her efforts to talk to you.

You would usually knock on her door after dinner to play some card games or help you with schoolwork. You would squeeze yourself next to her on the bus rides, and partner up with her at training.

Leah would pretend to be annoyed, and you would act all innocent like it was second nature — because that is what it was.

But you refused to meet her lingering eyes during meals and chose to partner with Millie any chance you got. You’d sit with Georgia at meals, and Jess Carter during Bus rides. Hell, even during free time, Jordan would pick you up and take you out, and she wasn't even on the team.

Leah knew something was up, and you knew that she had caught on. Jordan wouldn't tell her. And you hadn't spoken so much as three sentences to her for the past week. So it was no wonder that you were struggling. There was so much pent up tension in your shoulders, you looked so apprehensive.

Leah pulled you up by your shoulders, holding out her hand to stroke your face.

“You tell me you want to go off and I’ll find a sub for you.” Her words were harsh, but there was good intention behind it.

You gulped, shaking your head. Leah was watching your every move like a hawk. This was the perfect opportunity for her to ask you what was wrong. She could see that you needed to get something off your chest.

“I'm fine, keep me on.” You put it soundly, sighing as Leah brushed off the grass that was left on your jersey.

“Don't think that this is the end of the conversation.” Leah retorted, refusing to let your longest interaction in days go. “You’d be barmy if you think I’d let you get away with this easily.”

“I'm not Barmy, Lee. I'm fine.” You replied.

Leah could tell by your smile that she had hit the sweet spot. You were willing to play, the injury minuscule with its attempts to shake you. Your captain kissed the top of your forehead, bringing you into a quick hug.

“Alright then, Fine. Go on and take that free kick.”

You pushed past her lightly, the uncertainty lingering in your body slowly sinking into the grass with every step you took. Everyone had taken the time to huddle together as a team, moving back to their respective positions on the field after you had collected yourself up off the floor.

As the match continued, it was as if you had a fresh set of legs. Everyone got whiplash from your sudden switch of performance that not only enhanced your gameplay but the flow of the game altogether.

You became more involved in the game, passing into your central attackers, and sprinting down the wing to create more changes for a wider goal difference. Georgia and Keira gained more traction with your involvement, and it somehow paved the way for the defenders to find a more secure backline.

The next time you found yourself marked by Stina, who had apologised for your minor Collison, you were lightning on your feet. The pace you set was incredible, and the ball was yours for the taking.

You weaved past her and one of the midfielders, glancing up to see Georgia’s figure near the box. Without thinking, you propelled the ball over the heads of both teams.

Wincing when it passed Stanway, you felt your shoulders collapse. Russo wasn't ready for your explosive play, only just managing to retain the ball at her feet. You sighed, running your hands through your hair when Alessia’s attempt was blocked.

You were about to run back, ready for Sweden’s possession, when the crowd suddenly flung off their seats. You were a good fifty metres away from the rest, Alessia’s figure much harder to find among the number of players congregating by the goal. You noticed Lessi run out near the corner, holding out her arms with a winning smile. Georgia soon clambered over the top of her, patting her shoulder with a matching grin.

You looked up at the scoreboard, catching onto the replay from one of the cameras. From what you could see, Alessia had backheeled the ball past the defenders, leaving the goalkeeper stranded, the ball falling easily into the goal.

Even years later, people always find your late reaction funny. Many of your teammates had already congratulated you on the assist before it all clicked for you. It was rare for a team to be dominating this much in a semi-final, and you weren't quite sure how you managed to pull off what you had just done.

You found Alessia’s shoulders and pushed up on them, swinging your legs around her waist and hugging her from behind. She squealed, pushing you off.

“You're incredible, Russo, seriously.” You screamed, out of breath from the seventy minutes of nonstop running. Less grabbed your arm and spun you round. “All because of that brilliant assist, Baby England!”

You were on such a high for the rest of the game that nothing you did was fully comprehended. You had so much faith in the team that everything moulded with so much chemistry, it was second nature. Three Swedish substitutions meant that you were bound to be taken off any minute. Leah had been holding you accountable at the back while Beth was pushing your talents forward in the middle. You were sure that this was the most you had ever run in a match. Your cheeks were flushed, your muscles were surely overworked, but you were running with so much adrenaline that it didn't affect you.

England was on the home stretch now. Keeping both offence and defence strong, making sure Sweden wasn't offered any thrilling opportunity. You heard Keira shouting directions from the other side of the pitch. Georgia was passing short, timeless passes to you. Rachel had her arm outstretched, ready to propel forward if the ball was coming her way.

You knew that Georgia was just time-wasting now. You just needed to win now, the goal difference didn't matter. You felt someone’s presence up behind you, forcing you to cross the ball back to Leah since both Gee and Kie were covered. You had been staying in the middle and towards the back end of the pitch all game, so it was a surprise when you burst forward past Sweden’s second-last line of defence. Leah had kicked it over to Lucy, who hadn't seen you leave. Georgia took the ball, marking her opponent while searching for your unknown whereabouts.

The only person to have seen you was Beth, who called for the ball and received it a second later. With one, quick, first touch, Mead sent the ball flailing over the top, towards where you were waiting, just outside the box. One of the defenders had caught on, and the goalkeeper hadn't prepared herself for your sudden attack. You watched the ball hurl a few metres to you left, leaving you no choice but to chase after it in a rush. Almost everyone was twenty metres behind, unable to come to your aid. You held your own, forgetting the people around you, and jumped just as the ball met your head. You had no idea how close the goal was, or if your header was even near where your direction was intended.

You winced at the contact of someone in your side, groaning with your arms cradling your head. The impact of the ground winded you, sending you gasping for air. But the crowd’s booms at Sheffield was enough to leave you breathless.

You had scored.

People piled on top of you one by one, yelling all sorts as you struggled to realise what you had done. Everyone was rounded, cheering, standing. You could hear Georgia swearing, and Leah telling everyone to keep their head on. You listened to Alessia and Rachel cheering with each other, and Beth pulling you up by your shoulders. Everyone collapsed into a hug around you, making it difficult for anyone to catch onto your tears.

You loved this team too much to ever let this moment go. Your tears were mixed with the sweat of the game, coating your cheeks, exhaustion setting into your shoulders. Your breath had caught up to you, but the daze was expressed.

You looked out to the crowd when Ella ran on to replace you. Everyone was on their feet, clapping boisterously as you waved them off. It was a tedious feeling that you couldn't quite shake. There wasn't a single person there that made you feel like you hadn't tried your best.

Nothing in the world could beat this feeling.

***

The celebrations of England’s win set off as soon as the full-time whistle blew. Fans rose from their seats, players crowded the pitch. You found your figure running towards Leah, tears already streaming down your face at an embarrassing rate. Your cheeks were flushed, and your body fell limb against Leah’s chest, eloping the serenity of her embrace with quiet sobs.

She held you close and tight, combing her fingers through your hair, breathing in the electric atmosphere that infiltrated the stadium. She could hear you crying into her, and she tried hard not to cry herself. She held a protective arm around your shoulders, sheltering you from the public eye as best she could. Leah looked down at her armband, feeling proud of her nation, then glanced at you, and felt even more emotion than ever before.

Over the years, Leah would find herself falling more and more defensive of you. She wanted to shield you away from the inevitable hate. She watched you grow into a spectacular player, a brilliant teammate, and a beautiful girl. Everything you did was at the discretion of the older woman, and Leah came to realise that you were somewhat of a daughter to her.

She was a Captain of her country and club. She was an idol to thousands of girls across the globe. But she was everything to you as you were to her, and that was more than enough.

“Played so well, Y/N.” She whispered into your ear, leaning down so that you could hear her over the chants.

You glanced up at her with watery eyes, clinging onto the woman and grinning. “Love you, Lee.”

“Love you, too, my girl.”

The two of you stayed like that for a little longer. Millie eventually pulled Leah into her own embrace, and you were making rounds across the field, congratulating your teammates and celebrating with them too.

England fans still banked up the stands, holding out their pens, phones and jerseys. Some people gave you some friendship bracelets, others asked you to take photos. Everyone was reeling at the huge win.

You end up finding yourself nearing a full walk around the field, and nearing the loop, where fans were starting to disperse. The last fan was a little girl in a wheelchair, with dark brown curls and green eyes. She was a little younger than you, but it was easy to fall into a conversation with her. She congratulated you, you thanked her for coming. It was by the end of your interaction that you slipped your shirt off, bringing the girl into a tight, gracious hug.

Many of the girls were already celebrating in the changing rooms. Champagne would've already been distributed. You wanted to make sure the fans were all aware that you were very thankful they were there to watch your team play. This was your first major tournament, and people commended you for always staying back. Though you didn't do it for the praise.

“If it isn't the Baby herself.” You heard someone call from behind you, causing you to turn.

You found Lucy and Sarina standing side by side, sharing big victorious smiles wider than you had ever seen. Lucy had already ushered you into a bone-crushing embrace, guiding your head into her chest — her arms wrapped around your shoulders. Sarina patted you on the back, mumbling something about performance and outcome, before you fumbled your balance against Lucy’s figure.

What you hadn't noticed until then was the man who was standing with the two women. He was not old, but not young either. His hair was dark brown, and he had a stubby beard. His posture was neat, his coat crowding his figure tightly for no cool air to leak in. If it wasn't for the intensity of the game you had just played, you would've agreed to say it was cold. But you were sweaty, fatigued, and starting to feel the effects of a semi-final.

The man was sporting a civil grin, holding his hand out for you to shake. You were completely oblivious to who he was, unable to decipher his identity from any of his features or appearance. It was only when he spoke that you heard the trail of a Spanish accent seeping through his endeavoured English.

“You are a talent, young lady.” He commended. Your cheeks flushed at the compliment, shaking it off with a bashful smile. “I must say, you are one of a kind, truly. That header was spectacular. A goal and an assist? Incredible.”

“Thank you but I couldn't have done it without the others.” You mumbled, trying to remember Jordan’s advice to keep eye contact when you were speaking to an adult. “My first half was poor. I don't think I deserve the recognition when my opportunities weren't used wisely.”

“Oh, shut your mouth.” Lucy scoffed, ruffling your hair. “I can remember my first Euros. I definitely didn't score off a header from outside of the box, that's for sure.”

“You're the best defender, I know.” You replied hastily, trying to reiterate the fact that you were pretty much a forward, and it was expected that you were to score.

Lucy sighed, shaking her head. “Bet you wouldn't say that in front of Leah.”

“Oh, wait!” Your mouth fell slightly agape. “Don't tell her I said that.”

The three adults chuckled from around you, making your cheeks go a little more red.

“I must agree.” The man stepped forward, shoving his hands that were once crossed over his chest into his pockets. From there, you caught sight of the Barcelona emblem embedded in his jacket.

Your face must've given away your realisation. “You're Jonathan? Barca’s head coach?!”

Lucy laughed harder than before, looking at the two coaches with the click of her tongue. “I told ‘ya she wouldn't recognize him.”

“I am,” Jona replied. You shook his hand for the second time that night. “You seem to be surprised at that.”

“What? Oh! No, um.” You became a nervous wreck. “I just, oh my god, does that mean you know Alexia Putellas?”Despite your North London spirit, there was no doubt that there was a fangirl within you at the knowledge of the Spanish team. You had grown up with the greats in Barca, and almost everyone in the England squad knew of your explicit crush on a certain Spanish captain, who just so happened to play for Barca.

“I mean, she is the captain, so you’d hope so.” Jona chuckled. “In fact, I was talking to her just a few hours ago. We were discussing the transfer season and some new contracts coming up.”

You instantly looked up at Lucy, who rolled her eyes at your oblivion. Sarina shook her head, glancing at you knowingly while Jona sighed in deliberation.

“I'm sure you have mulled over some of the offers you have been given from some of the clubs, no? I heard from somewhere that Chelsea are outbidding Arsenal.”

“Oh.” The thought of a professional contract, and making a denounced decision was long a foreign concept to you at that moment. You were presented with the complexity of the question, and could only shrug in response.

Jona reciprocated your affliction. “It is always a tough decision to make. But you have a very bright career in front of you. Everyone is expecting great, great things.”

“I'm tossing up between Arsenal and Chelsea.” You admitted. “They are my best offers.”

“You think so?” Jona looked complex, his eyebrows rising. When you nodded, he tutted, his head low. “Sarina and I were just questioning the fee being offered… or lack thereof.”

Your back straightened. “What do you mean?”

“300k for a three-year contract is hardly reasonable for a player like you.” He stated, rolling his sleeves up with a grin. Lucy and Sarina were in quiet conversation to the side, still active in what you were discussing but in their exclusive bubble.

“If I were to put in my bid, it’d be at least 800 thousand.” He continued. Your eyes nearly budged out of their sockets, unable to reply. “But it’d end up being just short of a million with the transfer fee.”

“My academy contract ends in two weeks.” The money Jona had just described was unattainable from your perception. “I'm just glad I got the offers in the first place. Your bid is too generous.”

There was no way you, a youth player, and academy girl who wasn't even had a club debut, was expected to be worth that much. He must've been pulling your leg, taking the piss like Tooney often did. It was not in the slightest chance that you began to unravel the weight of Jona’s words, and his intention behind the conversation you were just having.

“Are you saying you wouldn't accept it?” He asked.

You were so fucking dumbfounded that you started to laugh.

“You could offer me a job for nothing and I would take it.” There was a joking tone behind your statement, but you knew that there was an entire truth planted within your declaration. “Not that you would, but yeah, of course I would. The only thing I’d contemplate is learning the language.”

“I can get you a tutor.” He responded. “And the girls are lovely.”

You swooned just at the thought of the Barcelona team. “You're just being mean now.”

Jonathon looked at you in confusion. Lucy had overheard the last of your conversation, with Sarina off to find someone else. She scoffed, finding your idiocy a painful trait of yours. You glanced between the two of them, waiting for them to continue the blasted joke of you joining the best team in the world. You waited for them to ask you how Chelsea Blue was going to look on you, of if Academy was where you wanted to stay. Hell, you were expecting them to ask when you were moving into your own apartment due to the absurdity of Jona’s hypothetical posing.

But they stood there looking at you in silence. They were waiting for you to catch on.

And you did. Even if it was after several long moments of pause and silence. Even if you had dropped your jaw to the floor in utter shock, simply not believing that what was happening was actually happening. The thought of playing for a single minute was eradicated from your mind, instead replaced with a newfound excitement that left you jumping up and down.

There was no way, you thought. Nothing could've prepared you for this.

All thoughts of Chelsea, of Arsenal, were gone. Letting the news transfer to Leah was a distant memory.

You were no longer hesitating about what anyone else thought about where you would go. There was not an ounce of regret in your body that screamed out to you, telling you to think this over for even a second. You were not want to wait, to talk, to act, you were just waiting for this all to be a dream.

You knew that this was an inevitable choice. A feeling so right, so just, full of hope and solidarity, clung to you as you shook Jona’s hand yet again. Not filling registering his words, skimming over the implications of it all, aimlessly giving him your Agent’s number. It was all a blur from there.

It did not matter the money that went into the contract, or the financial gain that would equip you throughout the three years you were about to live in Barcelona. Nothing else mattered except the smile on your face, and the righteousness in your chest.

With the win of your National Team, you home, and the club you were bound towards, there was nothing stopping the bounce in your stride.

_________________

arsenalacademy

liked by babyengland, milliebright, and 207,367 others

arsenalacademy — After a standout performance in the Euros so far, Arsenal Academy Star, and England’s youngest, Baby England has signed a record-breaking fee of $3 Million, for a three-year contract with reigning Champions, Barcelona FC.

“I'm excited for this new opportunity. The Euros are massive, and winning with the girls against Sweden was a privilege I still can't put into words…

I have to thank Arsenal for making me the player I am, because they have taught me so many things, and I wouldn't be standing here today if it wasn't for them.

I also want to thank Jordan, Leah, and all the Lionesses for helping me with this. They have always wanted the best for me, and I couldn't have done it without them.”

The fifteen-year-old will begin training with the Spainish Team for the 22/23 season effective immediately.

Congratulations on this new chapter!

Tagged: yourusername

Comments:

soccerdonna — New Update: Chelsea had outbid Arsenal by $150k, and Barca by an extra 200k, as well as an increase in salary, which is negotiable.

User7 — I THOUGHT THEY WERE GONNA ANNOUNCE IT AFTER THE EUROS

^ user8 — WHEN HAS MY GIRL HAD TIME FOR THIS

^ user112 — FR MY GIRL’S FIFTEEN, A STUDENT, A FULL TIME ATHLETE, AND A BABYGIRL LIKE PLS

User5 — JONATAN WAS AT THE GAMES AGAINST SPAIN AND SWEDEN!!!! MAYBE THATS WHEN

^ user90 — THAT’S SO SOON THO HOW COULD HE HAVE DONE IT

ingridengen — welcome 🩷

*liked by yourusername

racheldaly — no villa talk 🤣 see you on the pitch soon chook 🩷

^ yourusername — thank you Rach 🙃

user6 — FIRST LUCY AND NOW BABY ENGLAND! WHO’S NEXT, KEIRA????

alessiarusso — big things!!!! proud of you like crazy 🙌🏼

^ yourusername — love you lessi bear 🧸

user1 — are you fucking kidding me? ARSENAL WHY DIDNT YOU KEEP HERRRRR

^ user67 — THE FACT THAT THEY WERE ONE OF THE LOWEST BIDDERS UGH

alexiaputellas — Bienvenido, guapa!

^ yourusername — omg ily

^ user77 — shes so real

user23 — I'm in mourning.

user8 — WHAT ABOUT LEAH

^ user4 — AND JORDAN

^ user7 — SHE WAS OUR ARSENAL BABY

jordannobbs — big things coming! So proud of you! 💙❤️

* liked by yourusername

user37 — the fact that we all thought she was going to chelsea

^ user27 — she really had us all fooled

leahwilliamson — smash it, my girl!

^ yourusername — love you lee 🤍

^ user78 — screaming into my pillow I cannot deal with this hurt.

^ user99 — I need to know if she told Leah before or after she signed 😭

^ user12 — the edits about to go crazy

^ user8 — “let's not forget, that no matter where she goes, Baby England will always be Arsenal.”

barcelonafemeni — Stargirl 🌟

^ user4 — you don't deserve her.

^ user90 — SALT IN THE WOUND

^ user3 — Idk about the rest of you, but I cannot wait to see her in the home jersey

^ user6 — ur the only one.

Lionesses — baby england growing up too fast 🥲

user5 — I'm still so confused on how she signed a contract in the middle of the fucking euros

^ user64 — it practically meant that Barca would've not only had to pay her the contract, but also pay Arsenal a transfer fee

^ user65 — I might be crazy but wouldn't that make her the most expensive transfer? With both the transfer money and the contract

^ user5 — it adds up to be just under $1 million 😀

georgiastanway — congratulations!!!!!!

^ yourusername — thanks gee!

ellatoone — you would've looked better in Manchester 😒

^ ellatoone — jkjk look at youuuuu 🩷

*liked by yourusername

____________________

A/N — HA! You thought she’d go to Chelsea… yeah right. Hope you enjoyed!

[zoyasribbon]

DOMESTIC DELIGHTS — r. dias

ೃ࿐ summary : The moments spent with your family, they are the most precious in your life, a pure delight that bring solace to your soul. And on this specific Sunday afternoon, this one, you are poised to savor every bit of it.

ೃ࿐ words : 0,7k.

ೃ࿐ genre : mature. fluff. suggestive.

ೃ࿐ warning : cute daughter-father moments, sexual tension.

ೃ࿐ author's note : Despite my deep disdain for Man City (while I do acknowledge Pep's genius football philosophy), I must confess—I find myself particularly attracted to some players... and a certain 6’2 Portuguese center-back has managed to steal my heart. Ugh, what can I sayyyyy, what can I sayyyyy.

You were drawn by the soft, deep chuckles emitted by your husband, guiding you towards the entrance of the living room, where you discreetly pushed the door ajar. 

There he was.

Rúben. 

Dressed in his black Puma sweatpants and a simple, white undershirt, he was doing push-ups with your little daughter perched on his broad, muscular back. Her cheerful, high-pitched voice counted his progress as he effortlessly raised and lowered his body multiple times. You observed them tenderly: the pure joy and trust of your child blending with Rúben's extraordinary strength and patience. Home.

If he noticed you leaning against the doorframe, he said nothing... and you couldn’t help but admire his new three-day stubble beard, a bit more developed than usual, complementing his charming face. 

Suddenly, he twisted to one side, landing on the floor while effortlessly lifting your excited little girl with his sturdy arms before gently placing her on his firm stomach. A timid chuckle escaped your lips at this heartwarming sight. But this gesture didn't deter him from maintaining a somewhat intense gaze that met yours, igniting a fire within you.

"Go play in the garden, princesa. I'll do a few more and then join you," he murmured, planting a tender kiss on her forehead. As his words prompted her to dash out of the room, flashing you a mischievous smile in passing, the room fell into an almost oppressive silence. Only Rúben's erratic breathing and the sudden accelerated beats of your heart seemed to animate the space. 

He eventually raised himself from the floor, taking his sweet time to stand, his brown eyes never leaving your burning gaze for a second. 

Rúben's smile took on a different shade as he crossed the room to approach you, leaving only a few brief inches between you. His arms, marked by the effort, found support on the wooden doorframe, not far from your head, asserting his dominance in height. 

In the depth of his gaze, you discerned the glint of a tantalizing promise.

"You didn't have to stop, you know?" you innocently scolded, letting your right hand wander from his neck, to his left flank and to his hip. You made sure your nails lightly grazed his skin through the thin white fabric, intending for him to feel your provocation. As you did, you sensed a trickle of sweat dampening his shirt, clinging to his still-toned abs, evidence of his numerous push-ups. 

In just a few seconds, his body responded. Engulfed in goosebumps that hinted at desire, Rúben's eyelids trembled, and his Adam's apple bobbed. Though your line of sight didn't reveal it, you were certain that his fingers fervently clutched the doorframe, evidenced by the emerging veins on his glistening shoulders. 

He was on the verge of losing control. The mere thought elevated the corner of your lips into a sly smile, concealing the pleasure you took in this little teasing game. You must admit, you were very in the mood to play today. After all, Rúben simply had no business being so sexy on this delightful spring afternoon. 

Your right hand, still placed on his hip, dared to venture even further beneath the fabric of his black tracksuit to bring him even more closer to you and explore the skin of his lower back and his firm bottom, leading him to open his mouth slightly, letting out a timid gasp. 

Unable to resist the excruciating slowness of your caresses, he leaned forward, daring “Why? Do you want to keep watching?” he managed to inquire with an innocent tone, though mischief lingered within. 

His alluring, plump lips so close to yours beckoned, yet you resisted the temptation they promised... at least for the moment. You knew what he expected from you at this moment, but you just wouldn't comply. You were far too determined to win this battle. 

Nevertheless, the warm breath escaping his mouth was enough to slightly distract you. In that moment, you even forgot your somewhat disheveled appearance—your hair was in a messy bun, and you still had your apron on, still warm from the breath of the oven you had opened to check the crumb-topped salmon you were preparing. 

This seemed not to bother Rúben, whose gaze remained just as fiery and thirsty. His fingers sought revenge, gently sweeping aside a loose strand of hair that had fallen during your observation, trailing across your cheek, your neck, before finally resting on your nape. Then his entire hand delicately settled upon it. Your eyes were nearly completely mesmerized by the movement of his lips. Ruben's voice became huskier and smoother. “Or maybe you want a turn too."