#manchester united shop

[lovelybrandt]

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[writersdrug]

I fully believe that Simon "Ghost" Riley wouldn't want an expensive, lavish honeymoon after your wedding. Of course, if that's what you dream of, he'll do it for you. He'd do anything for the person who loved him enough to marry him, scars and all. You want a beach-front, warm getaway in Costa Rica, filled with sunsets and quiet time by the waves? Say no more, he's looking for first class tickets already. You like the sound of a ski resort, surrounded by snowy alpines and hot chocolates, holding hands on the ski lifts and racing down the hills (you'd beat him every time, he's not one for winter sports)? He's asking if you'd prefer Smuggler's Notch in Vermont, or Vail Ski in Colorado. He'll do it if it's with you. He'll do anything for you.

But ask Simon what he wants, and he'll give you such a domestic answer: two or three weeks, somewhere in the United Kingdom, in a cottage backed up against the woods - preferably in autumn, when the leaves will be orange, the air will be misty, and the soft rain will be just enough to drown out his anxieties. Sure, he'd love to go hiking with you in Lake District, finding a good spot under the cover of the dense trees, listening to the sound of the babbling river and showing off his camping skills - harmlessly bickering with you about how it's not considered camping if you're in a cabin with electricity and running water. He rents an SUV and folds the seats down, throwing a mattress, blankets, and pillows in the back so the both of you can cuddle together while watching the stars.

But really, he just wants to exist with you for a while - as a married couple. He wants to wake up next to you without having anywhere to be at the ass crack of dawn, taking his time to watch the way you breathe so softly, the way you're always holding onto some part of him while you sleep, whether that's your arm wrapped around his bicep, your hand fisting his shirt, or your being wrapped tightly around his soul. He wants to cook meals with you, watch as you sway to whatever music you put on the telly, butt-bumping him as you chop vegetables and he stirs the pot on the stove. He wants to be next to you as you drag him around the rainy streets of Manchester, stepping into every bookstore or plant nursery you pass, eventually landing in a coffee shop and sitting close to each other, talking over a vanilla latte and a black coffee about how wainscoting is a gorgeous addition to homes, and how it's a crime that people tend to tear it down in modern decor. He promises to install some himself just for you, wherever you want it.

He wants to spend quiet nights at home, curled under the blanket on the couch, some random movie playing on the telly and the space heater blowing warm air on the both of you - he's too mesmerized at the way you're twirling the golden wedding band around your ring finger, biting back a smile every time you glance down at it (he has a wedding band too - but he'd never take it on missions. Instead, he has a simple line tattooed around his ring finger for when he has to leave the ring behind). He wants to make love to you, leaving soft kisses and nips along your skin, rolling his hips into you slowly and sensually, losing himself in the quiet moans, whispered I love you's, and the feeling of your nails carving the memory into the skin of his back. He wants to rest with himself inside of you, cradling you to his chest as he mumbles sleepily, "I love you, want to marry you every day of my life..." his rough hand tracing your skin, committing every bump, every curve, every vein to his memory. He wants to fall asleep there, letting go of his anxieties, any thoughts of doubt rolling off of his shoulders when he presses kisses to the back of your neck, his fingers slowly fiddling with the ring on your finger.

You're his quiet. His peace. You're soft sweaters, the sugar cube he drops into a warm mug of tea in his hands, the raindrops gently landing on his face, the smell of earth and pine at the edge of the woods, the sound of wood crackling in a warm fire. You're gentle, even when you're excited and bouncy, smothering him in kisses or forcing him to dance with you on the back patio. He knows you'll both have to leave this solace soon, returning to work like the wedding had never happened, forced to be cogs in the machine of society. But to Simon, each day after this will be a day he's married to you - each day will be a blessing, a reason to thank the universe, a reason to smile as he crosses the threshold of your shared home, a reason to crack his dad jokes outside of missions, a reason to join you on your weekly grocery runs, a reason to buy flowers once a week to replace the previous ones.

You're his peace.

[alotofpockets]

The regular | Part 1 | Alessia Russo

Pairing: Alessia Russo x Reader

Summary: Your cafe gains a new regular after Alessia's move to Arsenal.

Masterlist | Woso masterlist | words: 2.1k

Part 1 | Part 2

Over the past few months you gained a new regular at your cafe. You loved seeing familiar faces and having small conversations with these people that showed your business love over and over again. You had recognized this new customer instantly as you are an avid watcher of women’s soccer, it was none other than Alessia Russo. When she first came into your shop, you greeted her with a smile, “Goodmorning, what can I get for you today?” You greeted her like you greeted every customer, understanding that besides being a famous soccer player, she was also just a person looking for a morning coffee. She ordered and took a seat in one of the corner booths. 

She had come in almost every morning for the next few weeks. You were slightly suspicious of what the Manchester United player was doing here in North London, but again you were not wanting to impose and let her live her life outside of fame. So, when you came across the announcement that Alessia had transferred to Arsenal, the pieces clicked. Though, of course you continued treating her like a regular customer, letting her enjoy her personal space.

You opened up the cafe for the day and got to work on setting out the freshly baked pastries. You had opened the door for some fresh air, while you cleaned off the tables you didn’t get to last night. At the sound of footsteps, you turn around, you were met with the smile of none other than the newest member of Arsenal herself. “Hi, good morning.” You greet her with a smile of your own. “Hi, sorry I know you’re not officially open yet but I was wondering if maybe I could get a coffee to go?” The girl had such an hopeful look in her eyes that you could hardly resist, not that you would have resisted in the first place. “Yeah, no worries, of course you can.” You knew Arsenal was playing Manchester United today at Leigh Sports Village, the home stadium of her old club, and the players' bus likely had to leave within 30 minutes.

She gives you her order and you start working on it. “Thank you so much,” She starts as you hand her the cup. “you’re a lifesaver. Your coffee is the only thing that keeps me going in the morning.” You laugh with her. “Any time, I hope you have a great morning!” As she pays for her drink she tells you to keep the change for getting her a coffee before opening, you try to refuse but she insists. “Thanks again. I hope you have a great day as well.” And with that she’s out the door again. 

That night you watch the match from home, you’re incredibly shocked at how rude the Manchester United fans are towards Alessia, every time she touched the ball the crowd chanted all kinds of boo’s her way. You felt for the girl, this was no way to treat a person. When you heard the Arsenal fans chant ‘Lessi Russo we’ve got - Lessi Russo we’ve got’ you were proud of your team's efforts to make Alessia feel welcome, and hoped that she was able to focus on the positivity instead of the negativity. 

It was a busy Saturday morning at the cafe, still each time you heard the little bell at the door ring, you looked up to see if it was Alessia but it hadn’t been her all morning. You went around the shop seeing if anyone wanted refills on their coffee as your coworker Mandy helped the people in line with their orders. It was only after the lunch rush that Alessia walked through the door. The usual smile plastered on her face was replaced with a tired looking frown, your heart sank. When you notice her slumping down into a seat without ordering, you decide to go ahead and make her regular order for her. You set the cup down in front of her. “On the house.” You tell her when she looks at you in question. 

When a group of middle aged men wearing Manchester United jerseys walked in your eyes quickly shot to Alessia, she had her backs to them so she didn’t realize. You hoped these fans weren’t like the rude ones you saw on TV last night as you took their order. The group walked past Alessia’s table and sat down a couple tables over. They immediately started whispering to each other and pointing Alessia’s way. Alessia noticed the group and looked up, the men started laughing loudly when she made eye contact with them. You saw Alessia look back down at her coffee with a sad expression on her face. “Hey, Mandy, can you take over for a bit?” Mandy agreed instantly and you walked straight to Alessia’s table.

You stand with your back to the men, and send Alessia an apologetic look. “Hi miss, that private table in the back is ready for you. If you follow me, I’ll lead you to it.” Alessia nods, grabs her bag and follows your direction. You hold open the door to the back and lead her to your office. “I am so sorry for them, Alessia. Please take all the time you need here. I can kick the group out if you want.” Alessia shakes her head, “It’s okay, they didn’t do anything yet. Wait, you knew something happened without them doing something and you know my name.” A slight blush reached your cheeks, there was no more hiding the fact that you didn’t know who she was. “I, eh- yes, I didn’t say anything, but yes. I’m y/n, to keep the name part even.” Alessia takes a seat on the couch in your office, “You knew this whole time and didn’t say anything?” You shrug, “Yeah, I’m sorry, I figured you got recognized enough and deserved regular interactions too.” Alessia smiled for the first time since she walked in. “No, no, don’t apologize. It is refreshing, just being able to order my coffee and stuff, it’s one of the reasons I enjoy your shop so much.” 

“You saw the game yesterday then?” Alessia questions, once again looking down. “Yes, I did. Those Manchester United fans were absolutely horrible and I am so sorry that they treated you so badly during the game. I think you played really well, Alessia, you didn’t deserve that, no person does.” After a deep sigh, Alessia says, “Yeah, they were.” You sit with her, “For what it’s worth, I’m very happy that you joined Arsenal.” Alessia’s smile grows again, “You’re a Gooner?” In response you just say, “Lessi Russo we’ve got.” and you both start laughing. Alessia looks around, now that she’s calmed down a bit she realizes where she is, “The owner won’t mind that I am in here?” You decide to joke with her as your first answer. “Yeah, I don’t think she will mind.” She searches your face, “Are you sure?” The corners of your mouth perk up, “Oh, very sure.” You can’t hold your laughter in anymore. “I feel like I am missing something.” Alessia says with a confused look on her face. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Alessia, I am the owner, and I do not mind that you're here.” She rolls her eyes and playfully hits your arm. You talk for a bit longer before Alessia says that she has an appointment to get to. “Can I get you a coffee to go real quick?” She nods, “Yeah, I’d love that.”

You head to the front to make her coffee to go and see that the men are still there. “Here you go. They’re still here, we have a back exit if you want to ignore their presence entirely?” Alessia thanks you and follows you to the back exit. “You should come to one of our upcoming games, if you’d like.” You smile at her, “Yeah, that sounds fun.” She points to your apron, “Can I borrow your notepad for a second?” You hand it to her and watch her write something down. “Here’s my number, text me and I’ll get you into whatever game you’d like.” And with that she’s out of the door. You look down to the number with a smile on your face. When you hear Mandy call out for your help you quickly drop the note on your desk and head back to the front. “Thank you for covering, Mandy, I appreciate it.” After work that day you texted Alessia, and made plans to come see them play against Aston Villa.

The next day was slow, one Sunday it was super busy, and the other it was quite the opposite. However, soon after that thought the quiet got interrupted by the bell ringing, within seconds the room filled with chatter, you looked up and saw Alessia welcome in a group of her fellow Arsenal players. She sends you a quick wave and follows her teammates, Katie, Beth, Viv, and Leah to a booth. It was just you today, so you headed their way to take their orders. “Hi ladies, what can I get for you?” Beth is the first to talk. “Hi, Alessia over here has told us all about you, and we wanted to come see for ourselves.” After a warning nudge by Viv, she adds, “Your cafe, of course. She said the coffee was amazing here.” You smile and take their orders. “All right, coming right up.” You say not noticing the warning glances Alessia sent the other girls. 

You make each of their drinks and bring them to the booth. Katie gets your attention before you turn back to the counter. “I heard you were going to come see us play next week.” You smile at the group, “Oh yeah, I am. Alessia is going to get me a ticket. I’m very excited to see you all play live.” You engage in some more small talk with the girl before letting them enjoy their coffee. As soon as you turn your back on the group, the table starts pushing Alessia to go talk to you.

Alessia walks up to the counter, you smile at her when she greets you. “Hey, did I forget something?” You ask in return. “Oh no, I just wanted to see how you were doing today.” You were happy to see that she was back to her smiley self. “I’m doing good, it’s been slow today, so I was happy to see you walk in. How about you, how are you?” Alessia leans on the counter, standing in a more comfortable position. “I’m doing well, we just got back from practice and when the girls said they wanted to get some coffee together, I told them this was the perfect place.” “Well, thank you for the compliment, I really appreciate it.” Alessia turns around and walks back to the table but you see her teammates pushing her back towards you, you smile at the scene in front of you, but quickly hide it when Alessia comes back your way. “Actually, I did have a question.” 

You noticed the woman in front of you getting nervous. “Okay, ask away.” Alessia plays with the rings on her fingers. “I was wondering if you had any plans for tonight.” You smile at her, butterflies start filling your stomach. “That depends on your next question.” You joke. She stops fidgeting with her rings and looks up to read the expression on your face, when she sees you’re smirking she knows that she can continue. “Would you like to get dinner tonight? With just me, not the whole team, though we could do that too if you’d like that more.” She starts rambling. “Yes, I would love to. It’s a date, just you and me.” You discuss some details before Alessia heads back to the table. You hear them cheering her on and smile to yourself. 

Not long after more people enter the shop. You help everyone with their orders with a smile that won’t falter. Alessia joins in the small line of customers. “Hi.” You greet her. “Hey.” She says back, you both smile at each other and hold eye contact for a moment before Alessia continues. “Can I pay for the whole table?” You put in the amount for the table and she pays, again with a tip. “I’ll see you tonight.” She says before joining the rest of the girls, you wave at them when they walk out. The rest of the day flies by as you are looking forward to your date with Alessia. 

Continue reading part 2

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[overtrred28]

Gnomeo and Juliet | alanna kennedy x reader

Summary; Two players steal each other's hearts and keep it from everyone because they know how controversial their relationship could be to their club’s rivalry. OR Y/N and Alanna soft launching their relationship over time until they decide to share it. *Features social media posts.*

Pairings; Alanna Kennedy x Manchester United reader

Words; 2.2k

Warnings; swearing (i think that's it)

A/N; i literally love alanna so much and don't think there are enough posts about her so naturally i write one. i just thought this was cute and different from a chealse v arsenal rivalry (though i really love those). enjoy and please give it some love and feedback xx

Lioness star Y/N Y/L/N set to leave her club of four years, Brighton & Hove Albion W.F.C, and join Manchester United W.F.C on a two year contract at the beginning of the 2023/2024 season. 

You had really valued your time at Brighton, starting your senior career there and blossoming into a strong forward for both the club and the England Senior Women’s team, better known as The Lionesses. 

But when the offer from Manchester United came in at the end of last season, you knew it was the right move. Leaving the team you had come to know and love was tough to say the least but the adventure before you sounded a lot more exciting. So during the break before pre-season began, you made the move to Manchester and took a few days to settle into your new home and surroundings. 

Manchester was very different from Brighton; no beach and much bigger city life, but it was a good different. You had found that everything in Manchester was so much closer, and in great reach of your new club and housing. 

You had officially settled into your new home, very quickly making it feel just like your last one, then decided to go exploring through the city. The first thing a person would normally do would probably be going shopping or searching for a new café to become the regular, but you had spotted the Manchester Art Gallery and decided to go in. 

It was quiet, as expected for midday on a Wednesday when most people were at work, but you found it peaceful. It was a break from the regular hustle and bustle of your regular life as a professional footballer. 

It wasn’t until a particular painting caught your eyes that you realised someone else was in there, because you quite literally walked into them. 

“Shit. I’m so sorry.” You apologised quickly to the taller person, picking up their phone you had knocked out of their hand, from the floor. “Here…” Your voice trailed off as you met bright blue eyes while handing them their phone.

“It’s all good, thank you.” The woman met your eyes and she also felt the world pause around her, you were no longer in the gallery but just in a moment of time with each other. 

“Sorry the painting distracted me.” You snapped out of your trance and nodded to the painting on the wall; the story of Romeo and Juliet portrayed on a large canvas. 

“Well it is quite captivating.” Alanna spoke, still looking at you, now at the side of your face as you looked at the painting. 

“It is.” Your eyes fell back to hers and realised she was still staring at you, a slight blush rose to your cheeks, both smiling at each other. “Hi.” You extended your hand out, indicating a handshake. 

“Hi.” She laughed at your chivalry for a second before shaking your hand. “Nice to meet you.” She spoke softly in the quiet gallery.

“You too.” You smiled up at her, quite literally encapsulated by her. 

That was three weeks ago before you decided to get coffee after finishing a self led tour of the gallery, then the conversation kept going and you ended up at dinner together, continuing to learn about one another until the night ended. 

What you didn’t seem to bring up was that you both knew who each other were, but there was a mutual agreement that it didn’t matter. You weren’t professional footballers who had gone up against multiple times in the past at both national and club level, you were just two people who met and wanted to get to know each other. 

Now you were both deep into pre pre-season, you at Man United, her at Man City, and there wasn’t as much time to meet up for fun dates every night, now relying on text messages and late night calls before bed to catch up. 

The first kiss took a while to get to, but boy was it worth it. 

You had both decided to keep whatever this was between the two of you, soaking in the quiet moments shared in one anothers apartments and over long phone calls. It was still labelled a friendship, you both knew you wanted more, both scared of what the other might say if you revealed your feelings. But when you both had a free long weekend, you decided to take Alanna down to Brighton and show her your old home, soaking in the last of the warm weather before winter began to creep in. 

It was the best decision you could have made, relishing in being able to spend time together away from your normal lives. You had rented a small air bnb right near the beach, enjoying the solitude together as you cooked together and watched the sun rise and set each day by the ocean. 

It was on the second night after dinner that she finally made her move, unable to swallow the feelings bubbling inside her. You sat on the beach alone as you waited for Alanna to join, wrapping your arms around yourself to shelter from the cool breeze. 

A blanket had been wrapped around your shoulders and a warm body nuzzled into your side, a small smile on your face as you rested your head on her shoulder, Alanna looking down at you as you watched the waves crash. No words were said for what felt like ages, the only sounds being the waves and the seagulls heading off to bed. 

“Y/N.” Alanna suddenly spoke, a thick Aussie accent breaking the silence. 

“Hmmm.” You hummed in response, keeping your head in its place. 

“I want more than this.” Her statement made you move your head, turning it to meet her blue eyes. 

“More?” You spoke softly. 

“More.” She nodded with a small smile before she moved her hands from her legs, twisting to cup your face before moving closer. You thought she was going to kiss you straight away but her forehead came to rest on yours, both closing your eyes as you basked in the silence. 

“Just kiss me already.” You breathed out and she smiled before closing the gap, joining your lips in a strong kiss. Her hands cupped your face, yours held her waist before trailing up to meet her face. It was passionate but soft, saying so much without any words and your heart grew. 

y/n.y/l/n.. just posted a story

alannakennedy just posted a story

Since you were both heavily in the public eye, it was an easy decision for you both to keep this new found relationship to yourselves, not wanting to receive any unwanted attention from the media, fans and even your own teammates. 

You were able to keep it that way for a while, without you guys being on the same national team or at the same club keeping this secret relationship a secret was quite easy. And since no one thought you would even know each other personally, there were no fans sifting through evidence to put two and two together. Of course though, you both wanted to show each other off, you were so happy and so was Alanna, so maybe a soft launch would be best until you decided to go fully public. 

It started small.

y/n.y/l/n.. just posted a story

alannakennedy made a post

alanna kennedy almost as good as home

y/n.y/l/n.. made a post

y/n.y/l/n.. felt like a fairy tale

alannakennedy just posted a story

Your teammates began to ask about the secretive posts, hammering you about it in the locker rooms at training, Alanna's friends and teammates doing the same.

“When are you going to tell us more about these mystery posts?” Mary had asked Alanna while she was tying her boots before training. Alanna paused for a second before sitting up and looking up at the other Australian. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Alanna simply shrugged with a straight face before standing up and walking away. 

“Oi mate.” Ella Toone had caught your attention as you walked out to the carpark after a late friday night training session. You paused and turned around, waiting for her to catch up, instantly wrapping an arm around your shoulder as she met you. 

“What’s up?” You turned to her as you walked towards your cars.

“Few of us are going round Zelly’s to watch a movie, you in?” She asked with hopeful eyes. 

“Sorry love, got plans.” You apologised, knowing you had a certain blonde already waiting for you at your apartment.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with a possible mystery woman you refuse to tell us about, would it?” Ella asks with a suggestive smirk, nudging your shoulder as you remain stoic. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You simply shrugged and patted her shoulder as you let go of her, walking to your car door. “Goodnight Tooney.” You waved before getting in and racing home to Alanna, preparing for your own movie night of Gnomeo and Juliet and a weekend spent in each other's arms.

The day had come, the one you and Alanna refused to talk about until the night before.. It was the Manchester derby day. The day every City and United fan had waited for and the one you and Alanna dreaded. 

y/n.y/l/n.. made a post

y/n.y/l/n.. Derby day. Let's bring it on home red's! ❤️

alannakennedy made a post

alannakennedy The day we've all be waiting for. Come on blue! 💙

Sure you had come up against each other in the past at both club and national level, but you had yet to do it since being in a relationship together. So it was going to be different this time; harder. You both decided it would be best for your teams if you didn't interact with one another from the moment you joined your teams for the match, and until that final whistle blew.

The plan was going well during the first half of the match; Alanna had started with City in the defensive line and you were sitting on the bench waiting to get subbed on. Katie Zelem had secured the United side a goal through a penalty early on, but City fired back and took the lead 2-1 at halftime. 

You got subbed on for Nikita Parris at the very beginning of half time, taking her place as the left forward and a strong striker. Though this became a slight issue because of who was currently defending the City goal and in charge of blocking your shots at goal; your very own girlfriend. But in that moment you had to act like you didn’t know who she was on a personal level, right now you were just opposing players who both wanted their teams to win. 

It was hard for you both to act like that, stealing glances on the pitch, brushing past each other ever so slightly without anyone noticing too much. You had both been able to get away with this secret relationship so far because you’ve haven’t had to be in the same place yet, but maybe it was time for that to change. 

The final whistle blew and City had won 3-1, your side not being able to score any further goals despite your best efforts. You looked around at all your teammates, defeated looks all over as City celebrated together before exchanging handshakes with the other team. 

You and Alanna had purposefully left each other till last, waiting until you could be alone with each other in a busy and full stadium. You had finally found the blonde Australian and began walking towards her and she finally locked eyes with you. Seconds before you had very different expressions, one filled with happiness and one filled with disappointment. But as soon as you got closer the one expression you both shared was one filled with love, and your heart melted as she brought you straight into a hug rather than a friendly handshake. 

Her hands wrapped around your waist as her slightly taller frame leant down, your hands found their way around her neck before you buried your head in her neck. An instant feeling of warmth and security flowed through both of your bodies as you hugged, Alanna pressing a soft kiss to your neck as she buried her own face in your shoulder. 

Confused looks fell to both sets of teams at the interaction, at first because of the more than friendly hug and second because of the familiarity they could sense between the two of you. 

“I’m so proud of you.” You murmured, still holding tight around Alanna’s neck. 

“You played so well, it was a tough game.” She spoke back instantly, squeezing your waist before slowly pulling back to look at you. You smiled at her as you exited the hug, genuinely happy for her but still very upset your own team couldn’t secure the win like they wanted. 

“You should go celebrate.” You nodded to the City team who gathered in the middle, preparing for their post-match huddle, your team doing the same further down on the pitch, all players still watching the interaction with lost eyes.

“I’ll find you after and we’ll go home together.” Alanna nodded to you, looking down to your now interlocked hands, a small laugh leaving her lips. “This is going to be everywhere tonight.” She looked back up at you as a small smile grew on your face. 

“Definitely.” You laughed too. “Are you okay with that?” You raised a brow at her. 

“Yeah. I’m ready to show off my girl.” She winked playfully at you, now both of you laughing, shaking your head at her before playfully pushing her shoulder and walking over to your team. 

y/n.y/l/n.. made a post

y/n.y/l/n.. the gnomeo to my juliet

tagged @alannakennedy

alannakennedy made a post

alannakennedy my girl in red

tagged @y/n.y/l/n

THE END

[homunculuslover]

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[daisyblog]

New Friend

Unexpected Love Masterlist Summary: Harry meets Jacob.

YN could feel the nerves start to creep in as the time for Harry to arrive approached. Deep down she knew she had nothing to worry about, but that niggling thought at the back of her mind pushed forward reminding her that if Jacob didn’t like Harry or if things didn’t go to plan then she would have to end their relationship.

Jacob had been excited all morning, wanting to know when Harry would be arriving and if they could bake something for him. They had spent a couple of hours baking brownies, Jacob insisting that Harry would love them “because everyone loves brownies”.

After spending the morning tidying and baking, Jacob suggested going to the shop to get some snacks for their movie night. As they walked around the store, YN couldn’t help but laugh at how Jacob continue to pick up different types of treats and saying “Just incase Harry likes these”.

As YN watches Jacob playing with his Lego in the lounge area, she thinks back to a few days ago when she sat down with him and asked if he’d like to meet Harry.

---

YN had already asked Jack if he was happy for Jacob to meet Harry, he screamed with excitement knowing YN would never introduce someone into Jacob’s life unless she was serious about them.

Jacob was cuddled up to her on the sofa, they were watching Toy Story, one of his favourites. “Hey Jakey…can I ask you something?”. YN ran her fingers through his hair, knowing it was something that helped him relax.

“Yeah”. His eyes didn’t leave the screen as they focused on Woody and Buzz.

“Uh…Mummy has a new friend-“. YN began, trying to explain in simple way.

“A new friend?”. Jacob’s voice was curious but his eyes only left the screen for a few seconds.

YN nodded. “Yeah…and I like my new friend a lot…and I was wondering if you would like to meet him?”.

Jacob was still distracted by the scene on the tv. “Yeah…will he be my friend too?”.

“Well not straight away but once you get to know him I’m sure he’ll be your friend too”. YN smiled at how innocent he was despite his mature social skills.

“What’s his name?”. Jacob continued to ask questions.

“Harry”. YN felt herself smile as she said his name. “Is there anything else you want to ask Mummy about him?”.

Jacob sat in thought as he tried to think of another question, but he quickly shook his head and continued watching the film.

---

Jacob was watching Manchester United play as YN began clock watching knowing that Harry would be arriving any minute. She got lost in the excitement of Jacob cheering on his favourite team, when the doorbell rang.

YN quietly walked to answer the door, knowing Harry was the one standing behind it. “Hi”. She smiled widely as she stepped aside for Harry to walk in.

“Hi…you look beautiful”. Harry complimented YN with a quick peck on the lips, whilst they were alone.

The blush crept onto her cheeks. “Aw tha-“.

“YEEEEESSSSSS!”. Jacob’s voice shouted from the next room, causing Harry to have an amused grin and YN to laugh knowing someone must have scored.

“Sorry!”. YN let out a laugh. “Jacob is watching football and I’m guessing someone’s scored”.

Harry held his hands up in defence. “Hey…that’s a boy after my own heart”.

“He’s a Manchester United fan”. YN explained knowing how much Jacob loved football.

Harry smirked as they both still stood in the hallway. “What a coincidence, so am I”.

Harry followed YN through to the lounge and he could see Jacob sat on the edge of the sofa, his eyes focused intensely on the game. “Hey Jakey”. YN tried to get his attention.

“Mummy they scored!”. Jacob announced as he heard his mother enter the room. Excitement clear in his voice.

“Wow that’s amazing!”. YN shared the excitement despite not knowing much about football. “I said you were their lucky charm”. Jacob gave YN a toothy grin.

“I think we going to win”. Jacob looked behind YN to where Harry was standing. He looked to YN with a shy smile.

“Jacob, this is Harry”. YN explained to the little boy before she continued. “Do you want to say hello?”.

“Hello”. His voice was quiet as he looked at Harry with a shy expression.

“Hi Jacob…thank you for letting me join you and Mummy for some dinner”. Harry knew this was a huge deal for him but an even bigger one for Jacob.

“Guess what Jakey”. YN knew she had his attention from the way his eyes lit up when he heard the word guess. “Harry loves Manchester United too!”.

Jacob’s little eyes widened as far as they could. “Really?”. He couldn’t believe it, when Harry nodded with a big smile. “My Daddy says they’re the best team”.

“Your Daddy is right…they are the best team!”. Harry agreed.

“Mummy? Can Harry watch football with me?”. Jacob asked, his eyes large as they pleaded.

YN smiled. “Yeah of course he can”. Harry gave YN a smile of relief as he took a seat next to Jacob. She couldn’t help but look on at the scene of them both at the edge of their seats as they waited for a score, or how they spoke about different players.

---

Harry had insisted on buying them all pizza in the evening and as they all sat around the dinning table, Jacob had began asking Harry questions.

“Harry? How old are you?”. Jacob took a bite of his pizza.

“Twenty five”. Harry answered another question, as he picked up another slice of pizza.

“My Mummy is twenty five…but I’m five”.

“What’s your favourite colour?”. Harry joined in on the questions. YN smiled over to him from where she was sat next to Jacob.

“Blue!”. Jacob answered quickly. “My Mummy likes pink…my Daddy likes green…Zara likes red and…Theo likes….Mummy what colour is Theo’s favourite?”. Jacob info dumped as he tried to recall everyone’s favourite colours.

“I’m not sure sweetheart…I don’t think he has one yet”. YN answered. “He’s still little isn’t he?”.

“Theo’s my baby brother”. Jacob turned to look back at Harry.

Harry pretended this was new information to him. “Waw…you’re so lucky having a baby brother”.

“Have you got a brother?”. The questions kept coming. YN laughed at how inquisitive her son was.

YN interrupted. “Sorry…Jacob is a social butterfly after a while…aren’t you Buddy?”.

“I’m used to questions….but these are definitely my favourite ones”. Harry waved off YN’s apology. “I don’t have a brother but I have an older sister…her names Gemma”.

“Mummy has a sister and a brother”. Jacob revealed a new piece of information to Harry. He noticed YN smile down at Jacob, but he could see it wasn’t her natural one. It was more forced and like she was putting on a show. “But they make Mummy sad”.

“Okay sweetheart…why don’t you go and choose some snacks and we can watch a movie”. Whilst Jacob was oblivious to YN changing the subject, Harry wasn’t but decided staying quiet was for the best right now.

---

Jacob had chosen for them to watch Cars and insisted to sit next to Harry, so he could share his snacks with him.

“Harry look how fast they go!”. Jacob’s voice was excited as the screen showed all the cars racing around the track. “Watch….vrooooom!”.

“They are super fast!”. Harry agreed as he watched the scene in front of him. “Who do you thinks going to win?”.

Jacob was fascinated by the cars fighting for first place. “Uh…I think Lightning McQueen!”.

“Oh here they go…they’re starting to go faster!”. Harry encouraged Jacob’s excitement. “He’s nearly there….is he going to do it?”.

“HE DID IT!”. Jacob shouted and turned to Harry who was signalling him for a high five.

About half way through the film, Harry felt a heavy movement on his arm and as he glanced he noticed Jacob resting against it with his eyes closed. “All this excitement has worn him out”.

“He’s been so excited all day to meet you.” YN explained as she looked down at the sleeping boy, who had made himself comfy against Harry. “He really likes you already…when you went to the bathroom earlier…he whispered to me asking if he could have hair like yours”.

“He’s adorable…today’s been one of my favourite days”. YN felt her heart swell with warmth at Harry’s words. “And I’m hoping there’s many more to come”.

“We’d like that!”. YN gestured towards Jacob, who was still sleeping soundly. “You’ve definitely made a new friend today!”.

Taglist:

@ell0ra-br3kk3r @vikiii07-blog @sleutherclaw

[wraithdance]

Good Boy [Part 2/?]

CW: Mentions of canon childhood trauma & abuse, ptsd depictions, awkwardness, Afab!Reader, I’m a dirty liar there will be more parts of this so enjoy the calm before the storm or whatever. This is apart of the Stray Dogs series

Simon is put on leave.

He’d received a nasty hairline break in his wrist after a fall out of a moving car during a recent op. (He’d been pushed out really but semantics didn't matter in the end because he'd gutted the man that had done it.) Price had nearly come to blows with him when he threatened the medic who signed off on his medical leave. Simon had been escorted off the property with strict orders to not return until he was cleared.

The cast is uncomfortable, the sensation of his bare fingers out while in public sends the talons of anxiety coursing through his body. So, he stays in his bare flat. The silence is loud and suffocating, not even the occasional echoes of his neighbors or the drone of a forgotten Manchester United game helps against the heavy weight of isolation.

After a week he’s spiraling in the dark of his own home. Stray lights bounce off the walls from between the cracks of his blinds, sending him into wide eyed paranoia. He had begun seeing things that weren’t there. Shadows moving to embrace him like a burial shroud, movement from the corner of his eyes. Nothing there when he points his pistol at the corners. He can’t sleep for long before the sound of the dull thunk of dirt on a coffin locks his body into paralysis.

When Johnny calls to check in Simon’s teeth are chattering uncontrollably from the chills that wrack his body. He manages to get through the call by grunting and humming when necessary. Johnny takes it as Simon still being upset about the forced medical leave.

‘No good to anyone wit’ yer hand like that LT.’ MacTavish says with sympathy. Simon is silent on the other end of the line.

No good to anyone without a gun in his hand because a dog that can’t be sicced, is not a dog.

He hangs up the phone when Johnny jokes that he thought Simon was invincible, an immortal surpassing the fragility of man.

“Fuck.”

Simon's eyes meet the business card in the mirror as he wipes sick from his mouth. It takes him more than once for his fingers to unclench at his will. The indents from his nails sting as blood rushes back to the digits. He stares at the card for too long before he brushes past the string of texts from Johnny and dials your number.

One ring, two and a third. He hangs up when the call connects. You’re calling back seconds later, he lets it go to voicemail. He’s watching his own eyes dilate in the mirror when you call again.

This time he picks up.

You’re silent and he listens to your breathing. There's a shuffle and he thinks he can make out the sounds of sheets shifting.

“Um? Hi… is this the guy from the pub?”

Simon grunts. “Don't give out your number a lot?”

You laugh despite his flat tone. “Nah, I don’t have anyone who calls me. Just my mum and dad really.” You’re hesitant, he can feel it through the phone like a tangible thing.

“Wasn’ gonna call.”

This makes you laugh again, he realizes you laugh a lot at things that weren’t funny.

“I figured you weren’t after the first week. I’m glad you did though, I still meant what I said.”

There's another lapse in silence before you must realize he won’t assist in driving the conversation.

“Listen, let me show you what I’m working on okay? I’m going to send you an address to a coffee shop and you can show up when you want. I won’t hound you if you don’t.”

“Didn’t give me a time.”

“Oh Yeah! I dog walk in the mornings before the shop opens. I’m there pretty much everyday stealing the free wifi and working on my manuscript, so you can show up anytime and I’ll probably be there.” You laugh again in self deprecation.

His fingers twitch around the phone. Simon thinks you’re too free with your joy. There's a part of him that wants to pluck the mirth from your throat and pocket it inside his own chest for warmth.

He doesn’t promise you anything but you still thank him profusely when he gruffly tells you he’s hanging up.

Your soft good night rings inside his ears for the rest of the evening, it’s louder than the endless quiet or the memories of being buried alive. In the morning when he wakes he squints at the bright light of his phone, clicking on the text thread of your unsaved number. An address and a reminder of your name followed by a smiling emoji.

You’re the fourth contact he saves to his phone.

He shows up after two days. He’d looked at your text for the umpteenth time and pocketed his keys into his jacket, commuting to the building on autopilot. It’s more of an outdoor food court that serves coffee than the coffee shop you described. Simon makes eye contact with you from the entrance of the outdoor patio. Your smile is dampened like you're afraid of scaring him off with your excitement. He’s nearly to the bench you sit on when you suddenly shoot up and throw your hands out to stop him.

“Wait!”

He stops in his tracks. The space in his mind where Ghost exists takes over him like a thick fog as he searches for a threat. His good hand spasms against the fabric of his jeans-covered thigh.

You must realize your error because you grimace.

“I’m so sorry I have a client's dog with me. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t scared or allergic before you saw him.”

Simon is taken aback. His knee jerk instinct is to lash out, ask you if you were an idiot or something else needlessly vitriolic, but he can’t bring himself to with the genuine worry you emote.

The fact that you were concerned enough to check in is an oddity. He’s unfamiliar with being on the other side of care from a woman that wasn’t related to him by marriage or water of the womb. It guts him how easily he wants to lean into it, desperate for the small connection not severed by death.

“Not ‘fraid of dogs,” He rolls his shoulders back, eyes taking in everything but your smile. “I don’ drink coffee either.”

That makes you laugh loudly, you smack a hand over your mouth to cover the giggles that escape. Simon stares down the flickering dance of your irises. You’re unbothered by his leering and instead offer him another grin.

“O-kay! Just let me introduce you to him and I’ll grab you whatever you want okay?” You’re moving before he can say anything.

Despite his objection to being afraid, he still braces himself to be met with a four legged behemoth. The long forgotten dog bite on his right calf sings with phantom pain like he’d received it yesterday and not twenty years ago. His father had let his drunken friends dangle Simon in front of his illegal Japanese Tosa. An eight year old Simon had kicked out in fear and had been mauled by the dog in return. Simon’s mother had sobbed inconsolably at the sight of the deep wounds.

You turn around after a moment of shuffling and he can’t help but to blurt, “Wot the steaming hell is that?”

You’re pouting and holding your free hand over the ear of the pint sized rodent trembling in your embrace. The small elderly chihuahua looked ready to leap from your arms in pursuit of the sweet relief of death.

“This is Sprinkles, he’s my neighbor's dog! Mr. Allens is in the hospital for a bit so I’ll just be taking care of Sprinkles for a few days in the meantime. Do you wanna say hello?”

He grunts, giving you a side eye as you inch closer, “Rather not.”

You huff turning to the mangy mutt with a sad smile. “It’s okay, he just doesn’t understand you like I do.” You tell Simon to sit down while you grab some tea. He’s thankful that you bring Sprinkles with you, uncomfortable with the imagery of the dog meeting its much needed end on his watch.

When you return you hand him his steaming cup of Earl Grey tea and launch into your pitch. Simon makes no plans to drink the beverage instead tapping the digits not in the cast on the paper cup. Sprinkles sits in your lap trembling in his tiny sweater.

Fockin’ hell.

Simon interrupts you mid sentence.

“You want me to pose for a bloody romance?”

You blink “Yep, that is what I’m writing so essentially that's the idea.”

Simon cuts you a look not liking the sass but you return it with a cheeky grin. “I know it's unconventional but when I saw you in the pub I couldn’t help but think you looked like a character of mine. I had to see if you’d be willing to model for me.”

“‘Haven��t even seen my face.” He huffs in disbelief.

Cocking your head you look at him in consideration, taking in the black balaclava and stroking Sprinkles as you do. “Yeah, I figured you were sensitive about it since you’re covered from head to toe. Technically you wouldn’t need to take anything off. I was more so interested in capturing your overall aura.”

Simon doesn’t say anything for a while. Just watches you with narrow eyes. You’re mid sip when he asks you to read the manuscript for himself.

“Ack!”

He’s mildly impressed that you manage not to sputter tea all over the dog. Your eyes burn with tears from the effort to not choke to death. “W-why would you want to read it?!” you’re squeaking with wide eyes.

He gives a half shrug, warmth pattering at his chest. “‘Didn’ hear you say anything about payment so thought I might see what’s the fuss. Got a reputation and all so I can’t just agree to anything.”

The look you give him is unimpressed. “Are you being funny? I can’t really tell and I’d rather you just say no rather than tease me.”

He leans back, raising his arm to rest near you on the top of the bench. You glance at the closeness of his gloved hand but he ignores the pointed look.

“Serious as a heart attack. I wanna read it before I give you an answer.”

There's a moment where he thinks you’ll say no, he’s expecting it, but you set your shoulders back and tip your chin up at him. “Fine. You can read it, I don’t mind whatsoever.”

“Really?”

“Yep.” you pop the ‘p’ in the word. “Absolutely fine with it. I encourage it actually, fair is fair and all.”

He snorts out a dark chuckle. “Right.”

You ask for his email address and Simon gives you an encrypted email containing a string of numbers. You make a joke about him secretly being a spy that he doesn’t laugh at. It doesn’t bother you any, you continue chuckling to yourself as you press send.

Simon watches you pause in hesitation as you gather the half dead dog and your belongings. You’re chewing on your bottom lip in thought stroking Sprinkles whose eyes are half lidded in your arms.

“Wot?” He asks gruffly, startling you.

“Sorry,” you smile sheepishly. “I was just wondering… can I sign your cast?”

Simon’s eye twitches.

“Why would you wanna do that?”

At his tone you squint your eyes at him. “Because that’s what friends do?”

Simon wants to say something snarky around the lump in his throat. Condemn you for assuming they were friends after meeting only once prior. The urge fizzles out when you give him a startled expression.

“Has no one ever signed your cast before?”

No.

He’d broken many bones in his life starting from the age of childhood. Tommy had tried to sign his leg cast once when they were teenagers, he’d earned a broken nose from their father before he’d been able to finish scrawling out the second ‘m’ in his name. He’d never been close enough to anyone else to be asked.

In his reverie you’ve rifled through the tote back at your arm, shifting sprinkles on your hip. You procure a sharpie and hold it up like a trophy.

You approach him cautiously waiting for his objection.

When you’re standing toe to toe with his army grade boots you flick your eyes to the cast and his covered face. “So… Can I sign?”

Simon shifts on the bench, neck tensed. After several beats he looks away and lets out a gruff ‘fine.’ You don’t give him a chance to change his mind.

When you’re finished you pop up with a satisfied smile, slipping the cap on to the marker. “There, all done!”

Simon says nothing. He lumbers to a stand that causes you to stumble back. He watches your flickering eyes and the waver of your smile.

“Okayyyy… I have to get this one home now so just let me know when you want to meet?”

You wave enthusiastically at him and walk away. You only get a few feet before you stop and turn around. Simon watched as you take Sprinkles or in hand and wave it as well. “Say bye to Sprinkles!”

He cuts his eyes at you. “I’m not sayin’ goodbye to the bloody dog.”

You pout and shrug, whispering something to the dog as you go. Simon stands in place for several minutes watching you retreat.

Bloody Hell.

At home on his couch he pops open a can of ale with one hand taking a long gulps. Simon opens the email attachment you sent him, momentarily distracted by your blocky letters on his cast and the lopsided smiley face drawn in sharpie. He squints at the pages before him in his lap trying to make sense of what he was reading.

His eyebrows twitch when he reaches fifty pages in and realizes you’d sent him written porn.

“Wot the bloody hell.”

[babygirlbenji]

Last Train To London - Mason Mount

A/N: This is just pure sadness. It was fun to write, I'll give you that, but you may need a tissue. Mason, buddy, in this fic, ya done fucked up.

Listen to this while reading:

Warnings: Angst

It had happened slowly, then before you knew it, you and Mason were like passing ships in the ocean. 

Your relationship had always been steadfast. You were the couple everyone wanted to be, everyone wanted what you had. His family adored you, especially Summer, who loved going shopping with her Auntie Y/N. His mum swore up and down right from the moment she had met you six months into your relationship that you were it for him, that you would be the one he would marry. He’d shared the same sentiments. In your nearly four years together, the fans had grown to know and adore you on a level no football wife or girlfriend had experienced before. You were so popular among the Chelsea team, it was no wonder you were almost as popular as Mason was, and you didn’t even play for the team. 

In the weeks leading up to his move to Manchester, however, you had noticed a distinct change in Mason, and in your relationship. Date nights had gone from three or four times a week, to maybe once every fortnight. He spent much of the evenings on the phone or on Zoom calls with his agent, with the medical teams, with Manchester United representatives. The morning cuddles in bed had been replaced by a swift kiss on your forehead before he hurried off to training or the gym. You had initially put his distance down to the fact that he was busy upping his whole life to the north, and his occasional snappiness to the fact that he was incredibly stressed about the rumours. He was getting hate from everywhere, the fans, media outlets, even people on the street. Calling him a traitor, disloyal, every name under the sun. 

Once the transfer was completed and you and Mason had relocated to Manchester, you had hoped that your relationship would improve. You put in every effort you could; making sure you put extra effort into making sure the house was spick and span for when he came home, ensuring the fridge had all sorts of food for every occasion, making sure you looked good even when you were going to bed. 

And yet, you could tell none of it was good enough. His heart had drifted, you could see that. You were holding on to false hope, and it was exhausting you. You spent hours awake at night, noticing that some nights he wouldn’t come home until three or four in the morning. He would shuffle about downstairs, and the next morning, you would find him crashed out on the sofa, eyes red and his hair messy. 

You’d asked him if he was okay, if your relationship was okay, and all he had offered you was a shrug, saying he’d talk when he was ready. You’d sigh, knowing you were losing him, and there was nothing you could do about it. Once, he’d got angry that you had sighed, saying there was still a lot going on. You’d ended up having a shouting match that lasted well into the night, and you cried yourself to sleep on more than one occasions.

The loneliness you were starting to feel crept in even more. You missed your friends in London, you missed Chelsea, you were never particularly keen on moving up north, having been a born and bred Londoner. Although Kai and Sophia were now in North London, you would rather be closer to them. You didn’t want to admit to them that you and Mason were having issues, but you didn’t know where else to go. 

Sophia had been so helpful, offering her and Kai’s new home to you anytime you needed it. You’d asked her not to tell anyone, but you figured one way or another people would find out. Sure enough, one day, when Mason was out somewhere, Ben sent you a message.

Benjamin: Hey Y/N, just checking in. How are you holding up? I know how difficult it is moving to a new place. We miss you down here. Lots of love x

You had stared at his message for about five minutes, before you rang him. He picked up on the second ring.

‘Benji, I’m not okay,’ you croaked through the lump in your throat.

‘What’s happened, darling? Talk to me, I’m right here.’ And so, you told him everything. About the arguments, the loneliness, the distance…

‘I just don’t know what to do, Benj. I feel like we’re miles away from each other when we live in the same house. What did I do wrong? What happened to us? I thought we were endgame. What do I do?’ He sighed, making the line go crackly. 

‘You’ve done nothing wrong. I think everything’s gone to his head, and without wanting to be blunt, he’s realised what he wants and what he doesn’t want.’ His words sent a stake through your heart, but you knew he was right. Mason was falling out of love with you. 

‘I just never thought this would happen.’ 

‘Me neither. All of us thought you guys would last. So, what are you going to do?’ You looked down. You knew what you had to do, as much as it shattered your heart. 

‘I’m going to pack my things, as much as I can into whatever bags I have, and get on the last train home to London. It’s late, I think the last train to London from Manchester leaves just before midnight. I just can’t hold on any longer, you know? I’ve been miserable for weeks, and he’s barely noticed. I can’t remember the last time we hugged, kissed. I need to do this for me.’ 

‘I’ll pick you up, text me where your train gets in and I’ll be there. You’re not going through this alone, Y/N, I promise you. He’s the idiot for losing a wonderful girl like you.’ As devastated as you were, his words made you feel slightly better knowing that you weren’t going through it alone. You’d been through a break up before and had been completely on your own, and you were glad you had your people around you. 

You and Ben talked a little while longer, before you hung up, promising to tell him when your train would be getting in. You sat up from the sofa, knowing you had to pack a bag or two. 

It was nearly 11:30 at night when you’d finished packing. Placing your bags by the door, you made sure you had all your important things, like your passport, driving licence and your phone. You would iron out everything once you had things sorted out in London.

As you zipped up a little shoulder bag with all your necessities, the front door opened. You heard Mason drop his bags down, and you knew by the pause of movement that he had seen your bags. He walked slowly into the dimly lit kitchen, where you were standing with your phone in your hand, pretending to look at something just to avoid looking at him. You knew if you did look at him, you’d reverse your decision. 

‘What’s going on?’ Mason asked, voice full of confusion. You braved it, and looked him dead in the eye, hands on your hips.

‘I’m leaving. I’ll be on the last train back to London.’ He opened and closed his mouth a few times, reminding you of a goldfish.

‘What? What are you talking about?’ You let out a soft scoffing laugh.

‘I’m going back home. I’m breaking up with you, Mason, I can’t do this anymore. You have barely looked at me the last few weeks. I get it’s been stressful, I get you’ve been busy, but you don’t think you could have told me what was going on? You’re barely here anymore, I barely see you. And when I do, it’s like I’m seeing a stranger. When was the last time you hugged me? The last time you kissed me? This just doesn't feel like home.’ Your voice broke on the last sentence, and you looked down. You couldn’t cry. Not now, not in front of him. You had to wait until you were on the train home to let it all out. You could listen to sad music and let it all out. ��The last four years have been amazing. We have grown up together, basically. And we’ve made the most amazing memories, hell, the Champions’ League, the Super Cup, World Cup, Euros, it’s all been a dream come true. But we have to face it, we are not happy together anymore. And I need to do what’s best for me, because I feel like a stranger in my own home.’

His face was a mix of anger, disappointment and downright heartache. He knew he’d lost you. He knew you well enough that you had made your mind up, and there was nothing he could do to turn back time and make it better. 

‘I have tried so hard…’ Your voice broke again. ‘I have tried so hard to make us work. I kept the house tidy, I put food on the table, I was there to listen but you never talked. You never made any effort after we moved up here. I dare to think this started even before we moved up here.’ He stepped closer, and it was then that you could see the tears pooling in his eyes. ‘I really hope you find the girl of your dreams, Mase. You deserve that. And I hope this move was worth it all.’ You looked down at the promise ring he’d given to you on your second anniversary. Sliding it off and gently placing it onto the counter, you took a deep breath. ‘Goodbye, Mason.’ 

And with that, you walked past him and collected your bags. Your Uber was waiting outside to take you to Manchester Central. As the car sped away, you saw Mason running out of the house, yelling your name. 

‘Y/N! Y/N, please wait! I’m sorry…’ His pleas faded as the car drove away. The driver looked at you through the rearview mirror, but you stared stubbornly out of the window. You couldn’t turn back now, he had to feel the pain you had been feeling the last few weeks. You had so many things to sort out when you were back in London; a job, a flat, your car, everything just seemed so overwhelming. 

As you climbed onto the high-speed sleeper train bound for King’s Cross, you texted Ben to tell him that your train would get in about 3 in the morning. He messaged you back:

Benjamin: No worries, will bring food. Keep strong, I'm so proud of you x

The train pulled away, and you rested your head against the window. Your breath fogged the glass as the lights of Manchester gradually faded away, giving way to dark fields and the occasional small village. Your phone pinged with another message:

Mason: I’m so sorry. 

Then another.

Mason: Please forgive me. 

And another.

Mason: What can I do to make things better? 

You looked at his last message. What could he do to make things better? Rewind the last few weeks? You sighed as your finger acted without thought and blocked his number. You then went onto Instagram and blocked his main verified account, then his private account. Before you blocked his private account, however, you had a final glance at the photos of your relationship that littered it. His main account was football focused, but anyone who followed his private account could see he’d worshipped the ground you walked on. Tears were falling thick and fast down your cheeks. What had happened to you? You locked your phone, resting your head on your arms. 

The future was uncertain and your heart was aching, but you were going to be back in London, surrounded by your people. You knew that somehow, some day, you were going to be okay. 

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - I Need You To Need Me

I know what I said about posting more Man United fics, and I will 😅. Just know that every other post will be a Ruben Dias fic hahahah.

I have about a hundred Ruben fics in my mind and it only takes me thirty minutes to write them so....

Summary - Pregnant reader can't sleep because of back pain, this leads to a eventful night for Ruben and Reader.

Enjoy!

"Baby, what's wrong?"

"My back. It hurts."

"Do you need me to bring you something,  a hot water jug?"

"No, I'll rather just stand."

"What do you mean?"

You threw your feet over the edge of the bed, sitting up.

"Baby why are you getting up?" He sounded worried.

"I just want to stand up and see if it we'll ease the pain."

It didn't. You brought a hand to your back as the pain shot through your spine. Ruben was right behind you, jumping out of bed to prevent your fall.

"Thanks." You sighed, your body leaning against his frame.

"Baby please just sit down. I'll go get you somthing for the pain, perhaps a..."

"It's okay, Ruben. I just want to stand for a minute."

"Just stand?" The light from the moon carved out the shape of his face and his frown.

You nodded. "Just stand. Right here. Is that okay?" You liked the sensation of the cold floor underneath your swollen feet. And the view you had of Manchester city out side of your bedroom window wasn't too bad either.

"Do you want me to stand here with you?" Ruben asked, still holding you steady.

"If you want to."

He sighed and wrapped his arms around your belly, pulling you towards him so that he could rest his chin on top of your head. You stood in silence, facing the window, enjoying the view of the night.

"Your hair smells good."

You giggled. "Thanks, it's the new shampoo I'm using."

"Can I use it too?"

"If you want to."

He shrugged your body a little, turning you over so that you could see his face. He didn't look happy.

"What?"

"I hate when you say that."

"Say what?"

"If you want to." He mocked your voice.

You chuckled, unsure as to what he was actually implying.

"The answer to my question should be either yes or no not, if you want to."

"Ruben?" You were unsure why he suddenly appeared so upset.

"Try me." He said. "Ask me a question, anything and I'll answer it the way you do. Then you'll see how it feels."

"Okay. Um...what time is it right now?"

"If you..." He paused mid sentence. "Wait. Not that kind of question."

"You said to ask you anything." You laughed. It was cute, his need to always prove a point.

"No, what I meant is, ask me a question where the question can be either yes or no."

"Hmm, alright." You turned your body entirely, your pregnant belly caressing his visible abs.

"Can I kiss you?"

He shrugged. "If you want to."

You weighed on your toes to reach his lips, smiling against them. You still held your arms wrapped around his neck when you dropped back onto your feet.

"Another question?"

He shrugged. "If you want to."

You chuckled. He wanted to play.

"Can you take me for a shopping spree tomorrow?"

He hesitated, but gave a slight shrugg. "If you want to."

"I think I like this game."

He sighed. "I have failed to prove my point."

"Which would be?"

"I don't like it when you don't need me, I need you to need me."

"Oh, Ruben." You cradled each side of his face with your hands. "I do need you. Why would you even say that?"

"Because when I ask you if you need me to do anything for you, you always say the same thing."

"If you want to." You nodded. Hearing the words leave your own mouth made you see how this could be a little upsetting to someone like Ruben, who so often wanted to feel useful to you during your pregnancy.

"I know that you need me." He muttered, his cheeks soft in the palm of your hands. "But I also know that you really don't need my help with anything, at all."

"Can I ask you another question." Your thumb stroked his bottom lip. His eyes were glowing in the night, his lashes flourishing like the wings of a butterfly. He was so handsome, your husband.

"If you want to."

His eyes searched your face, seeing as you were looking everywhere but into his eyes. Once your eyes met again, yours were foggy and longing for him.

"Can you make love to me Ruben?"

His eyebrows fluttered in slight suprise. "What?"

"Make love to me Ruben. " You stood with your bodies pressed together, you could feel him wanting you in that way too.

"Y/N." He said, voice low. And you knew just what was on his mind.

"It doesn't hurt anymore."

"Your back?"

You nodded. "Feel it."

You brought his hand, guiding it down your back, letting him feel the curve of you. But you did not stop there. You kept guiding his hand downwards, not stopping until it reached your lower hip, eventually cupping the swell of your ass.

Ruben brearhed against your ear, fighting his own sinful urges. However you could already feel his need for you, his erection growing towards you, putting pressure against your belly.

"Y/N, I don't..."

"Can you please make love to me Ruben, yes or no?"

He exhaled, defeated by your cleverness to use his own point against him.

"If you want me to." He muttered, voice low but sharp against your ear.

"I wan..."

You gasped as your feet left the ground. Both Ruben's hands went to cup your ass, lifting you up and pressing you back against the window. That's where he left you to sit, on the windowsill, with your legs spread before him.

You wore a loosely fitted nightgown that his fingers clawed up your hip, reveling your naked thighs. His hands then went to tilt your neck, the back of your head knocking against the window.

"Ask me again." He groaned, his eyes barley visible in the dark.

"Fuck me Ruben."

He smiled, "That's not what you asked"

"That's what I want."

He let one hand slip between your thighs, teasing your clit with the tip of his fingers.

"Ruben please, I'm begging you."

"Sshh." He sushed you with a stroke of his finger, the same finger that had just been between your thighs. "I don't want to make it too rough." He said. But he was already sort of grinding his hips against you, his bulge putting pressure where you wanted it the most.

"Ruben, plea..."

He shushed you again, this time by slapping his hand against your mouth. The begging, you know what it was doing to him. It was becoming hard to resist you.

"I said I don't want to make it rough, please don't fight me on this." His stare was intense, eyes glossy yet determined.

You nodded your head which made him trust you enough to remove his hand from you mouth.

"Make love to me then."

His hands went under your knees, scooping you up into his arms. You saw the glimpse in his eye and he winked. "If you want me to."

[lovelybrandt]

Antony ❤️🇧🇷⚽ Funny hg.02 Merchandise Spinning Wheel Standee Acrylic Figure Doll Images From TaoBao.

These Are Stores Available Now On! Etsy And eBay Shop.

[the-offside-rule]

Baby prompts!

These Prompts are SOLELY for the footballers, not for the drivers and once a player is requested, the prompt will be crossed off and the player will not be used again

1) Attending a baby scan - Pablo Gavi (FCBarcelona)

2) Learning how to wrap the baby in a blanket -Ben Chilwell (Chelsea FC)

3) Playing peek-a-boo while shopping - Pedri Gonzalez (FCBarcelona)

4) Taking a pregnancy test - Ruben Dias (Manchester City)

5) Overthinking parenting - Jude Bellingham (Real Madrid)

6) Good-cop Bad-cop parenting - Trent Alexander Arnold (Liverpool)

7) Singing a lullaby to the baby to make it sleep - Eric Garcia (FCBarcelona)

8) One of the parents waking up to tend to the baby - Kylian Mbappe (Paris Saint Germain)

9) Baby clothes shopping after having baby - Anthony Gordon (Newcastle United)

10) The baby's first match - Mason Mount (Manchester United)

11) Wearing their dad/mom's jersey - João Felix (Chelsea FC)

12) Family vacation - Leah Williamson (Arsenal)

13) Pregnancy cravings - Dominik Szoboszlai (Liverpool)

14) The team giving a team onesie - Jack Grealish (Manchester City)

15) Post title win celebrations - Ferran Torres (FCBarcelona)

Also, if you have any baby Prompt ideas, send them along anyways x

[mountsmase]

https://www.tumblr.com/mountsmase/750134067565117440/my-friend-lives-near-manchester-and-they-look-even?source=share

a smol lil blurb on this pls? 🥺🥺

okay so this is terrible and feels so so rushed but I’d love to do a full fic on this when I eventually get back into writing 🫶🏻

I wrote this in about 30 minutes and didn’t go back to read it so I’m sorry for any mistakes 🩷

Enjoy xx

———————

so let’s say you’ve seen/heard somewhere that the northern lights might be visible in the UK tonight, so you decide to have a little garden date night just incase you do see them, and even if you don’t, star gazing dates are your favourite and it’s such a clear night so you’ll make the most out of it and love it either way

Mason’s at Carrington until quite late in the afternoon so he won’t be home until the evening but you message him during the day to let him know what you’re planning, and he’s more than happy to hear that you’re planning a little date night, wanting to spend the evening with you and needing a distraction after picking up another injury in training.

You finish up work a little earlier than usual, so you stop at the shops to pick up some snacks before using the spare time you have to get everything set up so that it’s ready for when he gets home.

You push two of your lounge chairs together to make one big one, or maybe you even have a double one that’s more like a day bed, and you cover it in your cosiest blankets and pillows from inside. Then you load up a little side table with all of the snacks you brought earlier, along with a couple of water bottles and any other drinks you may want during the night and when you’ve finished you snap a quick picture of your little date night set up, before you inevitably mess up all of the blankets by laying on them, and then you head inside to shower and get ready for the evening.

Mason gets home just as you’re stepping out of the shower, coming straight upstairs to find you in the en-suite, stood at the sink in just your fluffy white robe, your damp hair falling over your shoulders as you do your skin care routine. You see him walk in through the reflection of the mirror and turn to meet his gaze, heart flip flopping at the sight of him still in his United tracksuit with fluffy hair and rosy cheeks from his post training shower.

“Hey, baby” he mumbles quietly, making a beeline to you and wrapping his arms around your waist gently.

“Hi, bubs” you give him a quick peck on the lips before wrapping your arms around his shoulders, bringing him into you and giggling when his face nuzzles into your neck, his beard tickling against your skin as he grazes your neck with his lips.

“How was training?” You ask cautiously, not quite knowing what sort of mood he’ll be in after what sounded like another shitty day.

“It was fine, good until I picked up another knock” He mumbles against your skin, and you swear you can feel him pouting, “But I’m home now and everything is better when I’m with you”

You force your self not to giggle at his cheesy remark, but you can’t ignore the butterflies that still swarm in your tummy from the simple comment.

“Well, everything is already set up outside, but it’s still early, so how about we order some food? You can choose what we get” You bring your hand to the back of his head and tug gently on his hair, coaxing his head out of your neck and meeting his gaze.

“How about we get some pizza? I know it’s not the healthiest but we can just call today a cheat day” He suggests, lips tugging up in a cheeky smile.

You agree to his suggestion, not being one to ever turn down pizza, and with the amount of snacks that are already set up in the garden, you might as well make the most of this so called ‘cheat day’.

You finish up getting ready, essentially going through your entire night time routine apart from brushing your teeth, because you know you’ll probably be too tired when you eventually come back inside later tonight, and you want to be as comfy and cozy as possible. You finish up your skin care, doing some of the steps with Mason when he asks if he can join you, before changing into your pjs and slipping one of his hoodies over the top so that you’ll be warm enough.

Once you’re both ready, you head downstairs together and order the pizzas, not having to wait long until they’re arriving and you take them outside to enjoy whilst watching the sun set. You eat in a comfortable silence, only breaking it when he tries to steal a slice from your plate without you noticing but you let him take it, stealing one of his to replace it and you eventually just end up sharing. It happens all the time, with you both ordering different toppings because you don’t think want the same thing but then sharing anyway when you realise how good the others looks.

It’s not long until the sun has set and the stars come out, the garden pretty much going completely dark apart from a little bit of light coming from the ones you left on inside. You settle down into the blankets, pulling one over you as Mason lays with his top half slightly propped up by the lounger and some pillows, and you snuggle into his chest, getting as close to him as possible whilst gazing up at the night sky.

Time passes by way too quickly, the two of you talking about your days and some plans you’ve got for the summer break, only interrupting the conversation if you notice a particularly bright star or a constellation that you recognise. It’s almost midnight, and you’re very close to heading back inside when you finally spot what you’ve been waiting for, the dark sky turning to more of a purply colour (a/n: I don’t really know how to describe it so bare with) and when you pull out your phone and put night mode on your camera, the swirls of purples and blues that greats you is breathtaking.

Mason sits back and watches as your face lights up, knowing it’s always been a dream of yours to see the northern lights and he’s so so happy that he gets to experience it with you and see the pure joy on your face as you take them in.

“Y/N?” Your attention is taken away from the sky for a brief moment when Mason says your name, his voice barely above a whisper as his hand gently squeezes your hip to get your attention.

“Yeah?” You meet his gaze, and your heart skips a beat at how pretty he looks. His hair is all messy on top of his head, his locks looking so soft and a small smile ghosts his lips when you reach out and brush your fingers through them, you can just about make out his freckles and long lashes in the darkness but his eyes steal the show, the stars reflecting in his chocolaty brown orbs that shine with so much love and adoration for you.

“I love you” he tells you, reaching up and gently grasping your chin between his fingers to guide you down, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss that has you grabbing onto his arm for support.

“I love you more” You mumble against his lips when you pull back to take a breather, the kiss catching you slightly off guard but you’re craving more instantly, leaning back in and reconnecting your lips with his.

You tug on his hair and take the opportunity to push your tongue between his lips when he gasps into your mouth, sliding it against his and re familiarising yourself with his taste - even if it has only been a couple of hours since you last kissed like this.

The kiss grows hotter, more needy, and you know it would’ve gone further had he not broken it. As much as it kills him to stop, he knows you’ll be upset if you miss anything with the northern lights, and you have forever to be with him like this, but tonight might be once in a lifetime and he wants to continue seeing your face light up.

You end up staying outside for another hour or two, finishing up the snacks and continuing to watch and enjoy the moment until you both grow too tired to fight sleep any longer and you begrudgingly tidy everything up and head inside to go to bed. Forever grateful that you got to experience such a special evening with the love of your life.

———————

this is the closest thing I’ve written to a fic in months 🫣

[mapileonxputellas]

Spanish or Dating? (Ona Batlle x Reader)

Sorry for the long break but updates will be a lot more frequent now. In honour of the Leila and Ona photo from this weekend which had everyone freaking out even though Leila had someone else there. Note: translations are at the bottom (google translate before my Spanish wrong) Feel free to send in your requests. 3k words x

Spanish or dating? That age old question.

Sometimes it can be one or the other, sometimes it can be both. In this case your nationality was known, the both of you were Spanish and there was no hiding that. Your relationship on the other hand was something you’d never felt the need to make a statement about, not to mention how amusing it was to the both of you that no-one had figured it out yet. Family and close friends from back home knew but no-one else.

You weren’t exactly hiding it, you regularly posted photos of each other cuddling or quite close but your nationality stereotype meant no-one ever connected the dots. Not the fans or your teammates.

The both of you moved over to Manchester in 2020, however your alliances spread to different sides of the city. Ona moving to Manchester United from Levante and you making the move to City from Barcelona where you had been an up-and-coming prospect in need of game time after two years with the Spanish giants.

The two of you already knew each other from the national team however your times in Barcelona did not overlap. You started off as roommates, turned friends, turned best friends, turned girlfriends.

It was March 2020 when you both separated to go back and spend the pandemic with your families in Spain it became clear how much you really did mean to each other and when you both moved back to start the new season you made the first move. Nearly three years later you were stronger than ever.

Of course it helped that Deyna, Leila and Laia were also in Manchester now and it was no longer always just the two of you hanging out all the time but still very few rumours circled around you both.

“Where’s Y/N?” It felt like your flat was never empty, both of your teammates were regulars at your flat and this time it was the united players spread around your living room with Ona.

“She’s gone shopping after training.” Ona answered Ella’s question as the two of them along with Alessia and Millie spread out on the sofas after their own session. “She should be back soon.”

“Do you think she’d mind if we ordered pizza?”

“You know she would.” Whereas United had just come from a win at Old Trafford you had a late night training session preparing for your game against Arsenal tomorrow. Any other day you would be up for it but tonight you told the girls you would cook for them when you got back.

Out of the two of you, you were definitely the stricter one and whereas Ona was seen by fans as almost this ball of fluff, you were almost the complete opposite. Slightly intimidating when you needed, always tense on the pitch to be but around your friends you were just like Ona.

“Cariño estoy en casa” You shouted as you opened the door to your flat.

“The girls are already here, we’re in the lounge.” Ona replied.

“Hi Y/N.” Ella also shouted.

“Hi Ella. Hi girls.” You got a replies back from the rest of the group as you stuck your training gear in the corner and quickly nipped into your shared room to change into some sweats, otherwise known as Ona’s sweats.

The empty spare room, which people presumed was your room holding your summer clothes as the wardrobe you shared in your room was a free for all of both your winter clothes.

Before you then joined them in the living room, a smile on your face as you took in Ona in your clothes. “Good game?”

“A great game if you can beat Arsenal tomorrow.” Alessia answered.

“I mean we’ll try but not for you.” You said before moving to stand behind Ona, bending down to press a kiss to her cheek as your hands found cradled her chin. “Gran victoria mi pequeña superestrella”

“Gracias, ¿cómo estuvo tu día, querido?” She said pressing a kiss to your own cheek as she looked up at you.

“Buena, now who’s ready for some chicken pasta?” Even though you would consider yourself a good cook that was your signature dish, a creamy chicken pasta which everyone seemed to love and seemed appropriate both pre and post-match.

“You know Y/N if you don’t find someone soon I’ll marry you.” Alessia commented.

“Very funny,” Ona dry laughed before jumping out of her seat and wrapping her arms around your waist as you hugged her back, her lips again finding your cheek.. “She’s mine.”

“All yours, now come on.”

It was moments like this, moments that happened often, that for anyone else might spark rumours but no-one in the room batted an eyelid.

You were just Spanish.

……

“I didn’t know Ona was coming today.” Leila asked Y/N as they sat in the changing room the next afternoon at half time, having heard rumours of a certain Spaniard in the crowd.

“Yeah she mentioned she would come. Check out the composition.” You said tying your boots once again. “I think Ella was coming with her.”

“Did you see her before you left this morning?”

“I did.” I mean it would be hard not to when you woke up in her arms every morning. “She made me a coffee.”

“God you two are like a little old married couple.”

“Shut up.”

It wasn’t exactly uncommon either to attend matches other than your own and that’s how Ella and Ona found themselves at the Academy stadium the next morning watching City beating Arsenal  in the second half. With a two goal cushion the game was fairly safe with only ten minutes left and with that Ella’s attention turned to the Spaniard.

“I heard someone in training today say they were going to ask you about Y/N…. see if she’s single.”

“Did you?” She kept a straight face going between the actual game and the game on her phone.

“Would you mind? See if she’s up for going on a date.”

“Ask her yourself.”

“You know I saw something interesting yesterday, I don’t snoop and I wasn’t like looking but Y/N said I could borrow her nail file and I went to go and get it but then I kind of saw the photo.”

“What photo?”

“The photo on your bedside table…. The one of you kissing.”

“Well I guess you did need a little help working it out” Ona knew you wouldn’t be angry about your secret unravelling and she wasn’t either. “Surprise.”

“What the fuck? You’re actually dating, like actually dating.”

“Like actually dating.” Ona imitated the confused English woman.

“For how long.”

“Nearly three years now.”

“Shut up, you’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“So all that time, you weren’t just being overly friendly with her.”

“You’re so smart Ella, well done.”

“Shut up, I actually can’t believe this.”

One almost wished she had lied and made an excuse about the photo when Ella then wouldn’t stop asking questions about her relationship for the rest of the match. When the final whistle rang the two of them stayed up in the stands until the majority of the crowd had left and the two of them could make their way down to the city girls.

“Hey girls.” You came over all sweaty from playing the full ninety minutes in the midfield giving Ella a quick hug before wrapping your arms around Ona. You would have stayed there much longer had it not been for Laia and Leila coming over to greet their Spanish teammate before moving over to the rest of the lingering crowd. “Starting to worry about us?”

“No way.” Ona answered, wrapping her arms around you once again to whisper in your ear. “Ella knows.”

“Ella knows what?” You questioned the midfielder.

“That you two have been sneaking around, behind our backs.” She pouted. “I can’t believe I missed all the signs, it was so obvious.”

“You’re telling me, I mean the only thing you didn’t do is walk in on us.”

“I’m never walking into your flat unannounced again.”

“Yeah, don’t do that.” The smirk you and Ona shared reminded you of that moment less than a year ago when your secret was nearly unveiled.

“Ona! Y/N! I’ve brought donuts.”

That was the last thing you wanted to hear in that moment, Leila’s voice resounding around the flat. She made the move to Manchester less than a week ago and you were really here only friends in the city.

The problem was that yourself and Ona had been celebrating your second anniversary which fell in the midweek and one thing had led to another causing you both to be left naked in your bed at not even 8 o’clock.

“Where are you both?” That made you realise that not only was Leila in your flat you could hear her footsteps and it wouldn’t be too long before she reached your door.

“Don’t come in.” Ona shouted to her, scrambling out of the bed and tugging the nearest clothes on “We’re in here, I’m just getting changed and Y/N’s in the bathroom.”

“Why did you say that?” You whispered.

“I panicked, what was I meant to say ‘oh sorry we were in bed together’.”

“Why is she not in her own bathroom?” Leila’s voice came again.

“Erm, the shower broke. She had to borrow mine.” Thankfully Ona made that up on the spot but it still wasn’t convincing.

“Okay.” Leila didn’t sound convinced but let it go. “I’ll be in the living room, I’ve got donuts.”

“Thanks Leila.” Ona said, pulling you back into her. “I can’t believe she chose now to turn up.”

“Get some clothes on.” You ordered, pressing a kiss to her pouting lips. “I guess I better dampen my hair a bit.”

@Y/Nfan1: Saw Y/N and Ona at the match cuddling today after the match. We love our Spanish besties.

……

To Ella’s credit she never said a word about what she knew, well at least to your knowledge.

The first time the fans had even the slightest inkling that something more could be going on and clocked onto your previous moments together was at Leila’s birthday.

You couldn’t arrive with Leila as you promised Ellie and Alex you would get ready with them but that just meant you had the joy of watching her reaction as you arrived. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t clocked her immediately, your white suit that she had obviously borrowed took your breath away as her eyes trailed on your figure in just a black wrap dress.

“Hola.” You greeted Laia, Deyna and Leila who were also at her end of the table, a seat spare between Ona and Laia. “You all look stunning.”

“Not as stunning as you, mi hermosa.” Leila said, wrapping her arms around you as you sat down, Ona’s arm immediately coming to rest on the top of your chair, her fingertips lightly dragging over your exposed collarbone. “Maybe we can find you a girl tonight.”

You didn’t have to look at Ona to say she would be pissed off by that comment, a little scowl forming on her face but the indicator was the hand which came to grip your thigh underneath the silk material of your dress. “No way, tonight is all about you Miss Ouahabi.”

Thankfully someone else distracted you and that left you free to speak to the girl to your left.

“You look incredible tonight mi vida.” You whispered in her ear, noticing the glass of wine already in front of you. “Is this for me?”

“All for you, just like you’re mine later.” She whispered back discreetly, squeezing your thigh. “I can’t believe you’ve got me hanging out with the enemy.”

“We hang out with them all the time and I’m always with your teammates.”

“Yeah but not like the full time, we haven’t done that in a long time.”

“Well we’ll all be together next week.” Next week it was your birthday and you were having a little soiree, you wouldn’t call it a party as you didn’t want your flat to be trashed but teammates from both sides of Manchester were being invited.

One thing you love and hated about Leila was that girl knew how to party. Loved because she knew how to have a good time and therefore you were able to let loose for the night having beat Chelsea earlier in the day. Hated because that left you and Ona very tipsy and therefore boundaries you usually had were smashed into smithereens.

“Let me take a photo.” Leila said just as you were about to suggest maybe it was time to go home and stop drinking before you were at risk of throwing up. “My senoritas.”

You had to make room to all fit in the photo frame and that meant squashing up so you were half on Ona’s chair, almost on her lap as your arm wrapped around her waist. That move left yours and Ona’s lips barely inches away from each other and as you looked her in the eye all you could think about was just tipping your head forward and placing your lips on hers.

“Cheese girls.” Leila broke you out of your spell as you turned to look at Alanna taking the photo.

Alanna took the photo and Laia went to go and sit back down again but before you moved back you turned to Leila. “Can you take one of just Ona and I?”

“Of course.”

You would never have done this stone cold sober and neither would Ona but that would be tomorrow’s problem as you moved so you were sat on Ona’s knee sideways, facing the camera as you rested your head on her shoulder.

“You two are so cute.” Esme commented from further down the table. “Lauren would never take a photo like that with me.”

“Shut up.” You heard Lauren shout back to her former roomie but you focused back on the camera.

It was too good not to post the photo. Even with your blurry eyes you could see the love in both of your eyes in the multiple photos Leila had took, some of you looking at the camera but one really stood out for you. The both of you were looking at one another, your hands clasped together in your lap as you couldn’t help but laugh at whatever someone must have said.

Nothing could stop you posting it, tagging Ona and leaving the caption ‘mi vida’ with a love heart and as you woke up to a few comments the next morning suggesting you were maybe something more than just Spanish you couldn’t help but pull your girlfriend closer to you, prepared to let this unravel together.

…..

Birthdays with Ona were your favourite. You would have been happy with just spending the day with her but thankfully you had both played your games yesterday and so your wish and more could come true. She was the most thoughtful person you knew from breakfast in bed to a spa day together in a fancy hotel, something you had being wanting to do for a while, and then a fancy meal together.

Now you were stood in your kitchen, all your friends around you as you sipped on your favourite cocktail.

“Have you had a nice birthday?” Millie asked coming to wrap her arms around your shoulders. “Has our girl spoiled you?”

“I’ve had the best day. We went out today and she got me some concert tickets.” Not to mention the trainers and clutch bag you had been eyeing for months but that was maybe too much to not be suspicious.

“Ready!” You had no idea who shouted that but all of a sudden the lights went out, Ona appearing from the doorway with a cake full of candles in her hand. “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to Y/N. Happy birthday to you!”

This felt like the moment as you blew out the candles, everyone cheering and Ona set down the cake next to you to be able to wrap her arms around you. You had your girl, you had all your friends around you and more importantly you just felt content.

“Ready?” You whispered in Ona’s ear, she recognised the look on your face and knew what was coming as you cradled her chin, bringing your lips down onto her own.

“Oh my….” You heard someone shout as you pecked her lips again.

“I’m no expert but I don’t think Spanish people do that with everyone.” Lauren questioned. “Wait are you two dating?”

“We are.” Ona confirmed.

“How long has this been going on?”

“We got together nearly three years ago.” You answered Hayley’s question. “I can’t believe it took you this long to work it out and we basically did the work for you.”

“Did anyone know?” Chloe asked. “I can’t believe this has been right in front of our eyes and we didn’t connect the dots.”

“Who’s their favourite?” Ella stepped forward. “I am, I knew.”

“How did you know and I didn’t?” Laia asked.

“We didn’t exactly tell Ella, she found out.” You told everyone.

“In other words I found a picture of them kissing and they had to spill their little secret.” Ella teased you both. “Don’t get it out by the way, I had to bleach my eyes when I saw it.”

“Very funny.”

“Wait…” Leila’s spoke up. “You weren’t in the shower that time were you?”

You and Ona couldn’t help but burst out in laughter, your reaction a stark difference to everyone’s confused looks and Leila’s disgusted face.

“I’ll let you work that one out for yourself.”

This time you left no room for confusion. Alanna once again had been the perfect camerawoman, ready on call to snap a photo of the kiss. You cake in the background and your arms wrapped around her neck as hers went around your waist.

‘Spanish or dating?”

Estoy en casa – Honey, I’m home

gran victoria mi pequeña superestrella – great win my little superstar

Gracias, ¿Cómo estuvo tu día, querido? – Thank you, how was your day my dear?

Buena – good

[mariacallous]

“The muddy depths are being stirred by new monsters and witches from the deep,” Gore Vidal once wrote of the resurgence of the far right in the United States. In the case of the rioting that has erupted across England and Northern Ireland this week and last, old hatreds have been stirred up using new technologies.

The initial spark for the violence that has plagued British towns and cities was the sickening murder of three young girls last Monday in the seaside town of Southport, stabbed at a Taylor Swift-themed dance and yoga session. It was the sort of horrific crime that is mercifully rare in Britain. The last comparable attack on children occurred almost 30 years ago.

The only suspect in the Southport murders, 17-year-old Axel Rudakubana, was immediately arrested. We know Rudakubana’s name only because the judge in his case lifted an anonymity order—imposed as standard when the accused is a minor until legal proceedings begin—because false claims about the suspect’s origins were helping to fuel the racist violence. Social media posts claiming that the attacker was a Muslim, a refugee, a migrant, or a foreigner received 27 million impressions on Twitter/X in the 24 hours after the Southport killings.

Far-right groups descended on Southport the day after the stabbings. We know little about Rudakubana, but on Aug. 1 we did learn that he is a British national who was born in Cardiff to parents from Rwanda, a country with a large Christian majority. This has not prevented far-right thugs from rampaging through towns and cities including Manchester, Liverpool, Sunderland, Rotherham, Tamworth, Hartlepool, Middlesbrough, Aldershot, and Belfast, targeting Muslims

Many on the right have rushed to attribute the mobs to a sense of disillusion and a supposed social gap between the working class and the “elite”—a group in which they are never keen to count themselves. A few left-wingers have shared similar opinions. It is true that material factors have created a propitious environment in Britain for unrest. After 14 years of Tory government, before the recent Labour victory, the country is a poorer and more resentful place, its sclerotic and creaking public infrastructure barely functioning after years of neglect.

There is much to be angry about. Yet this does not adequately explain the nature nor the scale of the violence, much of which has been driven by a bourgeoning alliance between a right-wing elite and the mob—an alliance that, as Hannah Arendt once put it, rests on the “genuine delight with which the former [watch] the latter destroy respectability.”

For its part, the mob has attacked mosques, set buildings on fire, looted shops, violently assaulted ethnic minority bystanders, attacked cars on residential streets, and thrown bricks at the police. “We want our country back,” they yelled over the weekend while attempting to set fire to a hotel in Rotherham because they believed it was housing asylum-seekers. “P**i Muslims off our streets,” they yelled in Leeds. Footage from elsewhere showed men adorned with swastika tattoos, arms thrown up in Nazi salutes, voices yelling at anybody with brown skin to “go home.” This is not a rage that can, or should, be appeased.

This is not the first time rioting in the U.K. has been driven by bigotry. In Notting Hill in 1958, a mob of 400 white people attacked West Indian residents and their property. In the same week, racially motivated riots also broke out in St. Ann’s in Nottingham. Going further back, the Gordon Riots of 1780 saw an eruption of violent anti-Catholic sentiment.

Despite the atavistic nature of the hatreds unleashed this week and last, many who have taken to the streets this time around are creatures of social media. Several prominent far-right influencers have come out on social media in support of the mayhem with all sails unfurled. Others have been whipped into a near-homicidal frenzy by misinformation on apps such as X.

The kudzu spread of incendiary falsehoods began with the lie, first promulgated on X by the managing director of a clothing company, that the suspect in the Southport murders was an asylum-seeker named “Ali Al-Shakati.” The misogynist influencer Andrew Tate shared the false claim while asserting that the attacker was an “illegal immigrant.” The far-right activist Stephen Yaxley-Lennon, better known as “Tommy Robinson,” has used X to call for “mass deportations” and described Islam as a “mental health issue.” Meanwhile, disgraced actor Laurence Fox reacted to the stabbings by calling for Islam to be “removed from Britain.”

The mob responded accordingly. The day after false rumors about Ali Al-Shakati had began swirling around on social media, a group of white men attacked a mosque in Southport. The street violence has continued ever since.

Lurking in the background while disinformation is spread is a wealthy right-wing elite that has started to flex its political muscles. Some of the worst purveyors of misinformation have accounts on X only because right-wing billionaire Elon Musk has reinstated them—together with numerous other white supremacist accounts—under the guise of “free speech.”

Musk has spread misinformation about the riots on the app, claiming in one post that “civil war is inevitable” in Britain and amplifying one of Robinson’s posts. Robinson was reinstated by Musk in 2023 and today has more than 800,000 followers. Similarly, though he was banned from X in 2017 for claiming that women should bear “some responsibility” for being sexually harassed and assaulted, Tate was reinstated by Musk in 2022.

The takeover of media platforms by wealthy elites is driven by a right-wing adoption of the Gramscian belief that the conquest of power comes only after the conquest of culture. Musk, the world’s richest man, purchased X for $44 billion in 2022 in order to combat what he calls the “woke mind virus.” Together with renaming the platform, one of Musk’s first actions was to do away with legacy blue checks and open up verification on the platform to anybody with $8.

The move thrilled Musk’s sycophantic fan base, which had previously chafed with resentment at the status differential on the app between themselves and what they contemptuously referred to as the “legacy media.” But it also turned X into the world’s largest vector of misinformation. It is also of a piece with former White House strategist Steve Bannon’s idea of “flooding the zone with shit”—i.e., destroying the traditional media’s ability to give the public accurate information by letting it sink in a deluge of bullshit.

It isn’t only social media where influential right-wing figures have been allowed to blur the distinction between legitimate protest and far-right violence. Ever since the riots began last week, the British television station GB News has often sought to excuse them. Launched in 2021 and co-owned by the multimillionaire hedge fund manager Paul Marshall, since the murders in Southport, GB News has given airtime to an assortment of cranks, demagogues, and grifters. On more than one occasion, the station’s language has come dangerously close to incitement. The leader of the Reform U.K. party, Nigel Farage, who has his own show on GB News, also took to X in the aftermath of the Southport attacks to ask whether “the truth is being withheld from us” by the police about the identity of the suspect.

Earlier this year, Marshall—who as well as owning the reactionary website UnHerd is believed to be trying to purchase the Spectator and the Telegraph—was caught liking and sharing content close to the material that has been circulated this week by paranoid fascist weirdos. In February, the anti-extremist charity Hope not Hate revealed that Marshall had endorsed tweets calling for mass deportations and which suggested a civil war between “native Europeans” and “fake refugee invaders” was imminent.

Many of the presenters and guests on GB News have spent this week mocking Prime Minister Keir Starmer for labeling the riots as far right. Instead, the channel has sought to portray the street violence as driven by the “legitimate concerns” of disenfranchised members of the working class. The idea that the thuggish behavior of recent days is somehow representative of the working class is itself a form of middle-class prejudice—rooted in the unspoken assumption that working-class people are inherently stupid, racist, and violent.

GB News operates on familiar right-wing populist lines. Its prolier-than-thou presenters make superficial overtures to the masses while its modus operandi is to ensure that power is never truly shared or redistributed. But let’s not be too partisan about it: GB News is pushing at a door that has already been loosened by more “respectable” media coverage of migrants and asylum-seekers.

There is a self-pitying refrain on the right that you “can’t talk about” immigration. Yet the big mouths and shock jocks of the right-wing media seldom shut up about it. This time last year, the broadcaster James Whale suggested on Rupert Murdoch’s TalkTV that the U.K. “should point weapons” at migrants in the English Channel. Even talking about migrants in this sort of bloodthirsty language is no impediment to getting on. A few months later, Whale was made an MBE.

The suggestion that the violent protests represent the last resort of Britain’s forgotten majority is, of course, laughable. When polled, nearly 50 percent of Britons wanted harsher-than-usual sentences for the rioters, 39 percent the usual norms of sentencing, and just 4 percent more lenient charges.

Less than five weeks ago, Starmer convincingly won a general election against a Tory party that campaigned on the slogan of stopping the boats carrying asylum-seekers to the United Kingdom. In truth, the ghouls who have haunted television studios this week making excuses for the rioters see any Labour government as equivalent to an occupying power. They want their country back because, after 14 years, they feel as if it has been lost at the ballot box.

But if anybody has a right to think of themselves as the voice of the people at the present time, it is the newly elected Labour prime minister. He may not own a television station or a social media app, but he does have a 174-seat majority in the House of Commons. The rule of law—and democracy—must prevail.

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RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME / MASON MOUNT

PAIRING: Mason Mount x Chilwell!Reader

SUMMARY: What hurts more than the man that you love leaving your childhood club, is having been told from the start that being involved with him was a bad idea.

WARNINGS: mason is kinda a dick in this? maybe not intentionally but...... not really Emotionally Responsible. also, Ben all the way in protective mode.

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

Are you free today? Need to talk to you about something xx

The message from Mason, earlier on the day, had made you think about this moment an endless amount of times.

In your mind, there's no other result that him asking you to be his, finally, after months of anticipation. You've been trying not to think about it, though, to avoid any disappointments in case it was just another day, but you can't really ignore the feeling in your gut: you're nervous like you've never been with him.

You figure it might be because this is your first public appearance alone together; that is, without your brother, Ben, or without any of the guys from the Chelsea team, to make it seem like this isn't what it, definitely, is: a date.

In reality, you could have figured what he wanted to tell you from the start. Even before the meeting, there had been multiple clues; like the endless flow of rumors floating around his neck -that he had, definitely, told you to ignore before-, or the public setting to have this conversation, or the chaste kiss he planted on your forehead before sitting in front of you. Not on your side.

Maybe you would have noticed all of it if you hadn't been so caught up in it. In him.

So, when the news finally exits his lips, and it turns out to be something completely different from what you had expected, you're left dumbfounded.

"I'm signing for Manchester United, Y/N. I'm leaving Chelsea this summer".

What?

Maybe you had interpreted it all wrong. From the message, to the hidden glances and forbidden touches shared between you two during all these months, away from all prying eyes, but especially, your brother's. Could it be? Or had he intended, all along, to be so cruel from the start?

Ben had never been enthusiastic with the idea of you two together, and you always assumed that it was out of protectiveness, of fulfilling the role of older brother. But maybe he knew something you didn't.

Your face must have been showing the myriad of emotions you were feeling at the moment, because Mason is quick to launch forward and take your hands in his, like he always did to comfort you. "Hey, you okay?".

As if you hadn't been showered with a cold water bucket just now. As if he hadn't thrown you into the void, without a safety net to catch you when you inevitably reach the ground.

"Yeah, yeah," you nod, enthusiastically, painting the widest smile you could muster at the moment. "'M happy for you, Mase, really happy. Just remembered I have somewhere to be right now, uhm, with Ben. I have to go".

Mason would never have let you paid, like he never did before today, but he's so confused about your sudden reaction that he isn't quick enough to stop you from throwing a couple of pounds in the table to cover your tab.

Getting out of the coffee shops feels like a blur.

Your fingers work quicker than you knew they could, dialing the contact in a second, while you rushed down the sidewalk, brushing past strangers who gave you dirty looks for pushing them out of the way. You mumbled apologies left and right, but honestly, the only thing you could see through your tearful eyes is your phone, and how the display changes when your brother, after a couple of seconds, picks up.

"He's leaving".

You don't bother with greetings or introductions. But hearing Ben sigh leads you to believe he already knows who you're referring to, even if you hadn't muttered his name. "Where are you? I'll come pick you up".

The words splutter out of your lips before you can stop them. Maybe you're saying too much, more than he needs, or wants, to know, but you're only trying to come to terms with what Mason had so carelessly announced not even ten minutes before. "I thought we were gonna talk about, I don't know, us," you bitterly laugh, and the term now feels foreign.

Angrily swiping under your eyes to stop the teardrops from falling, you continue speaking. "But no, he sits there, with his always so perfectly styled hair, and his beautiful smile," you hear on the other side of the line how Ben's car keys fall to the floor, and in other occasions, it would have been funny to you -picturing him nervous at merely hinting you find one of his best mates handsome, but now you're too angry to care. "All to tell me he's going to fucking Man United".

The line is silent for a couple of seconds while you keep on rushing past people. You don't really know where you're going, but you're crossing streets and turning in corners like your body knows where it's going without needing directions from your brain.

The words came out bitter from your tongue, almost laced with venom. As if he didn't wish to be wrong, just to see you happy. As if being right was Ben's fault. "Go on. Tell me you told me, warned me, that this would happen. I deserve it".

He's gripping the steering wheel hard, turning his knuckles white to avoid exteriorizing how angry he is at Mason for hurting his little sister. He'd probably make him hear all about it the next time they saw each other, be damned if it was in a public or private setting. Still, the words he's speaking to you through the line are tender. "I could never".

Your legs stop in the all too familiar park. Ironically, it's the same one Mason and you had came so many times before: whether it be for a small picnic, to take Summer on a playdate or to take Ben's dog for a walk.

The realisation only made you cry more, and as if on cue, your brother's arms wrap around your trembling figure. "It's alright, Y/N," Ben whispers, quietly, in your hair, "you're gonna be okay, yeah? I'll make sure of it".

The tears that blur your vision and soak Ben's shirt doesn't let you see another call from Mason; it going straight to voicemail after being denied an answer for so long. But Ben sees it, and a million thoughts cross his mind. One thing is certain, though: he can't afford losing you to Mason, and letting you go to Manchester is not on the cards.

"I'll take you home, yeah?" your older brother asks, knowing that his home would be untouched territory to his old mate. You can only nod in agreement, strength being drained from your body after crying for what feels like a hundred hours, as your mourn what could've been.

Ben knows that, even if he's only trying to protect you, and do what he feels it's right, he can't keep you far away from Mason forever: but this is, for sure, a way.