#matching icons football

[tohruies]

drew myself a blue lock player icon during incubation!!! hehe it looks funny :3

[iconsbfr]

[winqzr]

antonella and messi matching icons.

[moonlbabe2]

[yanderedrabbles]

💕 Yandere Valentine's Day Gifts ♥️

Prompt: You own the local flower shop. It's Valentine's Day. Which customers will be popping in?

Yandere! Sugar Daddy calls you two weeks before Valentine's to order fifteen separate bouquets for his darling. Every exotic and rare shade that roses come in.

"I want them delivered fresh. Early morning please."

"Yes sir, I can manage that," you tell him, still reeling at the ridiculously large amount he just paid you.

On Valentine's Day, his maid let's you and your crew into his penthouse. You can't help but let out a low whistle when you see the size of the place.

He directs you to set the bouquets out around the living room. The morning light from the floor to ceiling windows catches on the glitter you dusted across the arrangements.

He has a sort of nervous energy - arranging and then rearranging the flowers. You sometimes hear a thumping, banging sound from deeper in his penthouse but when you ask him about it he says its just the building creaking. You don't know much about skyscrapers this high and so you let it go.

When it's all finally to his satisfaction, he tips you and your crew very generously. As you leave, you see him setting out a whole slew of iconic Tiffany jewellery boxes.

His darling will be showered with the most expensive love money can buy. Whether they want it or not.

Yandere! Bisexual Best Friend breezes into your shop like a true haute couture diva. He looks over his designer sunglasses and snorts with disdain at the traditional red bouquets.

"Nothing so cliche for my girl," he tells you.

He orders pink and white camellias, with sprigs of baby's breath. He has you wrap the stems in matching pastel paper. When you ask him if he'd like to include a card, he writes his message in a beautiful, looping cursive.

'I know no boyfriend will get you flowers that you actually like. That's why you have me. Happy Valentine's Day gorgeous.'

"Very elegant," you tell him.

"Thanks. I'm meeting her for brunch and drinks after this."

He shows you his other gift for his darling. A bottle of expensive perfume, in a glittery blush pink box.

When you ask him if his friend has any dates planned, he tilts his head and smiles without any warmth at all.

"Not if I can help it."

Yandere! Actor doesn't come into the shop or call you directly. It's his hurried, harried assistant that places the order.

"Five dozen roses in a single bouquet. I'll bring you some chocolate that he wants between the flowers. Oh, and a card. Don't forget the card."

When she drops off the chocolate for you to use in your arrangement, you can't help but want to look up the price. Everything from the packaging to the hefty weight of each chocolate screams luxury artisanal brand.

The final arrangement is beautiful, but in a looking-good-on-camera sort of way. You don't know the order is for him until his assistant accidentally let's it slip who her boss is. Your eyebrows shoot up but you manage not to ask any questions. A billionaire and now a celebrity. Seems like everyone wants to be extra romantic this year.

"What does he want on the card?" you ask, pen poised.

"Oh, he sent one for you to use." She hands you a card printed on thick cream paper, elegant in its minimalism. You glance at the writing before you can stop yourself.

'A star like you deserves all the flowers. Happy Valentine's dollface.'

Cute. The exact sort of thing you'd expect from a heart throb like him.

It's only when you see him and his darling on the red carpet later that night - his arm around their waist the entire night - that you begin to wonder if there's more to their relationship than meets the eye.

Yandere! Werewolf shows up right before you close, hands on his knees while he catches his breath. He ran straight to your shop after football practice and there's still grass stains on his chin.

"Oh god, tell me I'm not too late for roses." He looks so worried that you take pity on him and agree to look in the back for any bouquets that might have slipped under the radar.

He must be supernaturally lucky, because you manage to find a dozen red roses. When you get back to the front, he's taken out the rest of his gifts from his backpack.

There's an overstaffed werewolf plush, an extra large leather dog collar, some pre-packaged bones and a chew toy.

"Interesting selection," you say as you ring up his flowers.

He rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah. They uh... have a dog. It's mostly for the dog."

You get the sense he isn't being entirely honest, but you're not the type to pry. When you're done, he shoots you a gorgeous smile.

"I totally owe you one. You really kept me out of the doghouse."

He's just about to leave when he suddenly remembers something. He digs in the pocket of his letterman jacket and pulls out a clear packet of candy hearts. You look closer and realise he must have picked out individual sweets just for their message. They're repeated again and again.

'Be mine.'

'Yours forever.'

'Kiss me.'

"Do you think these are canine safe?" he asks you. You think about it for a second and then nod.

It's only after he's left that you wonder what sort of dog would want to eat candy like that.

[azulpitlane]

be aggressive l ln4

lando norris x dcc!reader summary: the internet is curious as to why lando suddenly has an interest in american football, specifically with the dallas cowboys masterlist

f1gossip

13,283 likes

f1gossip Lando Norris and Mclaren CEO, Zak Brown at the Dallas Cowboys game today in the AT&T stadium!!

view all comments

user his ass did not wanna be there😭

user lando?? american football?? huh???

user guys it was sponsored by hilton!! pretty sure thats why they attended

user makes sense cause bro looked miserable by the second half of the game

user a strange strange sight

user mf was bored the whole game except when the cheerleaders performed LMFAO

user the video of him locking in as soon as they stepped out in the field💀 ↪user WHERES THE VIDEO HAHAH? ↪user the video is all over twitter, cameraman did him dirty lmfao

yourusername

liked by landonorris and 12,379 others

yourusername victory sunday💙🤍💙

view all comments

user lesss goooo cowboys

user FAVE DCC

user in y/n we trust🧎‍♀️

user wait a minute- lando what are you doing here?!?

user no cause i noticed that too👀

user obsessed with you

user patiently waiting for the lando girlies to realize he followed her immediately after tonights game

user poor lando didnt get the follow back tho😭😭

yourusername

liked by landonorris and 19,382 others

yourusername first ever grand prix!!! such a delight to perform for these lovely faces✨

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user you guys made paying hundreds of dollars for a ticket worth it tbh

user icons

user another lando like, jolene im begging you pls dont take my man😔

user its the other way around for me😩 lando needs to back off my girl

user ���

landonorris amazing performance😍

user oh we're getting bold??? user down bad lando is my favorite lando fr user OMGGG FUTURE WAG Y/N??

user STOP is she the reason lando went to that cowboys game a few weeks ago

user going to her games and they're not even dating yet, gotta respect the game tbh😭

user sorry to break girls' hearts but there's videos of her and lando talking at the gp and he was blushing and giving her heart eyes the whole time

user literally came to her account cause of that video HAHAH

landonorris

liked by danielricciardo, maxfewtrell and 930,482 others

landonorris 'murica

view all comments

user PASSENGER PRINCESS LANDO???

user ARE THOSE DCC BOOTS IN THE LAST SLIDE???

user it HAS to be the cheerleader he just followed cause they wear the exact same boots ↪user her name is Y/N!! put some respect in our dcc queen's name ↪user yes maam🫡, i apologize for my ignorance as a brit

user lando in a cowboy hat?? SHOW IT TO ME NOW RACHEL

maxfewtrell man you never let me drive when youre in the car

landonorris yeah cause i dont trust u maxfewtrell YOUVE KNOWN ME LONGER THAN Y/N??this comment has been deleted

user did max just confirm it is y/n THEE DCC in the last slide🧍‍♀️

user LMFAOO i know lando gave him an earful after that deleted comment user too late for him to delete, I HAVE IT PRINTED OUT! Y/N AND LANDO CONFIRMED

user streets are saying it's y/n in the last slide... we lost her guys😔

user AND WE LOST HER TO A BRITISH MAN💔💔

user now we wait for y/n to follow him and start soft launching too

danielricciardo glad i trusted the process

landonorris TOLD YOU user i hate when they comment inside jokes, got me feeling left out :(

user wait the way he let her drive even though hes said before he hates not being in control, meaning he already trusts her🥹

user i love her already omg

user lando dating an american cheerleader is actually the most lando thing ever

yourusername

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell and 18,392 others

yourusername current side mission: turning a brit into a texan

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user bae just tag lando norris, we know it's him

user NOO I WAS HOPING IT WAS JUST RUMORS💔

user girl lando does not know who you are ↪user i was talking about y/n ↪user oh sorry, valid reaction tbh

user the matching pictures of her driving and him as the passenger princess on his post omg this is the most perfect soft launch i fear

user i waited for 3 and half years for her and white man did it in one week😩

user her soft launching as if max didnt already confirm it on landos post

yourusername shhh just pretend you didn't see that, cant have my soft launch ruined ↪user sorry maam, whatever you say maam

user lando is so posh but she has him driving dirt bikes and going to rodeos HAHAHHA

user the way he looked just watching a football game was hilarious, i cant even imagine a rodeo

user as a european f1 fan, can someone explain why she's so loved? (IM ASKING IN THE NICEST WAY POSSIBLE I SWEAR)

user LOL she's a cheerleader for the dallas cowboys football team which is a huge deal here! it's pretty hard to join the squad but shes a fifth year veteran (about to retire after this year) and she's known as one of the sweetest and kindest leaders on the squad!! she also met lando at a game!

user does she know she has twitter freaking out with this post?

user not that im complaining but this is the first time i see an f1 couple getting so much love HOW AND WHY??

user well y/n is quite literally america's sweetheart

yourusername

liked by landonorris, pietra.pilao and 23,492 others

yourusername one last christmas show🥹

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user what is dcc without y/n☹️

user gonna miss her so bad

user still looked amazing

user okay but is she still with that nascar driver or whatever cause wowwwww😍

landonorris yes, she is still with the FORMULA ONE DRIVER. ↪user OMG AN OFFICIAL CONFIRMATION???

pietra.pilao be with me please?

landonorris 🤨

landonorris woah woah you didnt say you were gonna post this one??? you look too good???

yourusername what happened to not commenting on each other's post until the hard launch🙂 (but ty ily) landonorris i take that back. (ily more) ↪user theyre losers but i love them your honor

footballplayer 🔥

landonorris yeah nice try🤣

user landos fighting for his life in these comments HAHA

user he fr ruined y/n's soft launch cause he cant handle these commenters hitting on her omfg

user kinda scared to comment, i dont want lando coming for me

user please dont be in love with someone else😩please dont have somebody waiting on you😩

landonorris she is in fact in love with someone else and does in fact have somebody waiting on her (ME) ↪user lando is a loser bf CONFIRMED

landonorris

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo and 973,492 others

landonorris winter break means football games with my beautiful girl

view all comments

user finally the hard launch

user she literally is turning him into a texan GRAHHHH🦅🇺🇸

user *pretends to be shocked*

yourusername ILYYYYYYY

landonorris ❤️

user sad about her retiring dcc but happy we'll be getting so much WAG content

user OMG i didnt even think of this ↪user already imagining the paddock fits😩

user ig i have to accept shes officially taken :(

landonorris yeah. ↪user chill bro aint nobody taking her from you

user bro saw all the thrist comments on her last post and decided to hard launch

maxfewtrell ranch in texas when??

yourusername OMG SOON PLEASE @/LANDONORRIS?? ↪landonorris um idk about that ↪yourusername 🤨 ↪landonorris I MEANT ILL THINK ABOUT IT!! IT SOUNDS LIKE A GREAT IDEA😁🫶

user shes got him on a LEASH

danielricciardo ahh feels like yesterday that you bought tickets for the game AND the flight to have a 5 second interaction with the cute dcc

user damn lando was down bad wth😭 landonorris thank you for making this public information. ↪yourusername hey at least you beat the norizz allegations! eventually...

user as an american, im allowing you to count cota as your home race for bagging this queen

user oh lando norris i underestimated your game

User he gets the y'all pass now

landonorris THANK YALLLLLL

user the americanfication of lando is not something i knew i needed, but i did. thank you miss y/n

yourusername youre welcome, he will be listening to zach bryan and dolly parton in no time🫡

notes: one thing about me is im gonna start getting lazy at the end of every smau i make. LOL. anyway i love american reader if you havent noticed already :)

[cheriladycl01]

I’m in absolute awe with your writing, I’ve sat here reading so many.

I have an idea for a fic -

lando x Beckham!reader. Reader is playing in the grand final and it’s the Beckham family cheering and they pan the camera to her family bc she scores and they see Lando sitting, cheering and chatting with them so after they decide to hard launch

Chelsea vs Manchester City - Lando Norris x Beckham Reader

Plot: a football match couldn’t be the reason to hard launch a relationship… right?

It was the final match of the season and you were up against Manchester City. Your family had of course come to watch you. It was the first time your whole family was there. Usually it just happened to be your twin brother Romeo and your dad. But today you had Brooklyn, Cruz, Harper, Romeo and your mum and dad.

Your boyfriend, F1 driver Lando Norris had also managed to come to your game. This was a surprise and you didn’t actually know he was coming, but with him and Romeo being good friends they’d organised the little surprise for you.

It was 15 minutes into the match and you were yelling to your team-mate Lauren to pass the ball to you, one of the Man-City girls was blocking you but as the ball was kicked in our direction you ran forward for the ball, kicking it back to Lauren running further up the pitch to the goal as its passed back to you.

You are in the zone, you foot breezes through the air and drives into the ball and before you can blink its in the back of the net.

1-0 to Chelsea.

Your team-mates all come up to you pulling you into a celebratory hug shaking your shoulders and one of them evening lifting you up into a hug. You cheer loudly practically screaming.

“And what an incredible goal that was, Lauren James and Y/N Y/L/N, what a dynamic duo they are! Honestly their team work is impeccable” one of the commentators for Sky Sports sounds just as the TV pans to your family. Not that you see that as your too busy celebrating with your team.

It shows Romeo and your dad embrace while Harper and your mother cheer with some polite claps for you. Brooklyn and Cruz are like hooligans jumping up and down chanting your name. Lando also gets shown on camera, and all that can be said is that when the camera replays his reaction along with the rest of your family when the goal went in he looked like a typical British lad at a football match a massive cheer and aggressive yet passionate smile on his face before turning to celebrate with your family.

“Here is the Beckhams family, such an iconic name, all of them here to support Y/N and we also have McLaren F1 Driver Lando Norris with her family. Obviously we’ve seen he’s friends with Romeo Beckham, Y/n’s twin but that was an incredibly passionate reaction for a driver who says he doesn’t involve himself in football as much anymore” a commentator adds, as your family’s celebration is shown.

“So Lando, you like watching my sister?” Romeo asked as he leaned over to Lando who was avidly watching his sister.

“Well, she is my girlfriend mate” he laughs taking his eyes off you for a split second to look at Romeo.

“Your smitten and it’s fucking disgusting” Romeo gags looking at Lando with a harsh expression.

“Calm down man, I might be part of the family one day” he teases elbowing his friend.

“Regrettably I think you already are. Mum and dad love you. Cruz is obsessed with you more than my sister… Harper loves the gifts you bring her and Brooklyn enjoys your convos. I hate to say it but you’re a Beckham” he laughs, he loved that his sister had actually ended up with Lando, he was a good friend and someone he could trust with his twin. Someone he was insanely protective over.

The match continues, Man City equalise just 5 minute before halftime. Sam Kerr your teammate scored one minute before, just after you got a yellow card that had both you and your family crying out in protest. You to the ref and your family just to one another.

Everyone could see the unhappy look on Lando’s face as he complained to your dad and brother.

After halftime break where you spoke about strategy and how to keep up the effectiveness going forward it was back out onto the pitch for all of you.

You scored another goal, making the scores 3-1 and before you knew it time was up and you were celebrating with your girls the win of the championship. You also were excited as this was your’s and Lauren’s chance to get onto the English Women’s Team.

After you showered and got out of your sweaty kit you went out to find your family and boyfriend. The first person you saw was your dad and you ran up to him pulling him into a massive hug.

“There she is, my little star!” Your dad cries holding you tightly against him. The rest of your family hug and kiss you, making it known just how proud they are of you. Lando was the final face you turned to see. Your family of course knew about the two of you and had seen you two interact in the family house and when you all went out for dinner.

He pulled you in for a soft kiss, Cruz and Harper immediately teasing you about it while Romeo cringes away.

“Lan, please that’s my twin sister” he cringes and looks between the two of you who have now finally pulled away from each other.

“Awwww leave them Romeo, I see myself and your father in them, but even more romantic” your mother smiles and you cannot help the big goofy grin that comes over you face.

“So, I may have been on TV, I’m kind of famous now!” He grins and Brooklyn and your dad laugh at his joke.

“Haha very funny baby” you laugh sarcastically and look at the rest of your family who have slowly started to back away to leave you and Lando alone.

“Where are you guys going? I thought we were all going to dinner and then me, Brooklyn, Cruz, Romeo and Lando were going to the club to celebrate?” You ask as they all look to one another debating who was going to explain.

“Yes, but we’ll meet you there. Lando’s driving you and Romeo!” Your mother starts and before you can even ask where Romeo is going if he was going in the car with you.

“Before you say anything I’m going to the toilet. That game was riveting and I couldn’t leave my seat, okay? I’ll meet you at the car” Romeo says before jogging of round the corner. The rest of your family also left and you were left with Lando, standing hand in hand.

“Baby have you seen twitter since the match?” He asks his brows slightly furrowed and a nervous aura around him.

“No, I haven’t why? Has something happened?” You ask looking over him, checking out his know awkward body language.

“Well, we are … sort of trending because I was sat with you family, people think we’re dating now.”

“Well, we are dating…” you giggle and he nods slowly.

“I know, and we’ve been dating for a while and I just wanted to know if maybe you thought it was time we … hard launch?” He blurts out and you just keep smiling at your silly boyfriend who looks so nervous asking you this. Anyone else would think he was proposing to you right now.

“Yes, let’s do it!” You smile at him squeezing his hand.

“R-really?” He asks and you nod, pulling him in and kissing his cheek.

“Yes baby.” You nod.

y/user

Liked by landonorris, romeobeckham and others

y/user: It’s been an incredible weekend. Loved getting to share the win and championship with my family 🏎️⚽️

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landonorris: I love you baby, so so proud ❤️

-> y/user: love you infinite amounts 😩

user1: see how Y/N considers Lando part of her family? Very cutesy, very demure 🏎️🌸

romeobeckham: THATS MY TWIN, sick stuff Y/N 👩🏼‍🍳

-> y/user: you next!

user2: HARDLAUNCH Y/N! Is that you and Lan after the match?

-> y/user: yeah he gave me the biggest hug! 🎀

-> user2: OMG QUEEN REPLIED?

davidbeckham: Dad is proud hunny! You did amazing stuff out there today 🤙🏼✅

mclaren: Will you exchange Blue for Papaya for a race? 💙<🧡

-> y/user: depends on the offer admin 👀

-> landonorris: BABY! You were supposed to say yes! 😩🧡

oscarpiastri: can’t wait to see you at the next race!

Instagram Story Caption

THATS MY GURLS 🌸💕🐷🎀🤙🏼

landonorris

Liked by y/n, oscarpiastri and others

landonorris: So … this is mine now apparently? She’s non-refundable 🫣💙

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y/user: excuse me? 🥺

-> landonorris: I joke I joke! I love you baby 🫣💙

lewishamilton: amazing win y/n and congrats you guys.

danielricciardo: it’s about damn time, I been hearing all his bitchin and whinin and pinin

-> visacashapprb: Daniel, Admin are requesting you kindly take this down

maxverstappen1: Well done mate. You managed it 🤙🏼

Instagram Story Caption

LOOK AT MY GIRLFRIEND RN 🥺🌸

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[lostatsea-blog]

When the Camera's Not Looking

Alexia Putellas x Football Reader

Sometimes media responsibility can be too much

Football was your life. Football had been your life since you were a small child growing up in the North of England. All the times you were told girls couldn’t have a career in football made you even more determined to prove them wrong. Football had taken you all over the world to many different countries allowing you to play in many different teams; until you arrived in Barcelona. Football was your life and football had also given you the love of your life.

You had known of Alexia Putellas for most of your career (any football player who didn’t was either lying or not that into football). You had watched her game and admired her skill; you had even gone head-to-head in a couple of insane matches but Alexia the football icon and Alexia the person were two very different things.

You had been captivated from the second you arrived on the training pitch. Her fierce determination, unwavering dedication and drive to succeed were well known. You imaged she would be a larger-than-life character, arrogant and cocky like most top level footballers were; what you imaged could not have been further from who she was. What had captivated you was her gentle nature, her shy smile, her generosity of spirit and the nerves that were present in every situation except on the pitch. The more you got to know her, the more you wanted to wrap her up and protect her from the world and its judgement.  

Very quickly you started to seek her out both during training and after training. You connected well on the pitch and you were eager to get to know her off the pitch. She had been reluctant at first determined to maintain her captain façade but then to your surprise, one day after training she agreed to get coffee with you. From that first coffee date neither of you could deny the chemistry between you. The conversation had flowed easily despite the language issue (your Spanish wasn’t the best and her English was a work in progress) and the playful banter more than a little flirtatious. It did not take long for your teammates to pick up on the changes occurring in your relationship.  

As the months passed, Alexia started to let down more and more of her boundaries and that is when you became aware of how much her media responsibilities took out of her. She would be filled with anxiety beforehand afraid that she would mess up or make herself look stupid; afraid that she would let the club down or somehow embarrass her family. What people did not realise was that while Alexia loved football, she hated the attention that came with it. You could read her anxiety in every photoshoot, in every advert and in every interview and you wished that you could whisk her away. Instead, you settled for being her safety blanket. When she had busy media days where she had to keep up her persona, she would come home to you. She would crawl onto your lap and bury her face into your shoulder while you held her. You would squeeze her tightly and feel her release a deep breath against your skin as the tension left her body, then she would fall asleep against you. Alexia was too important to hide away from the world but once it was done and the wood of your door blocked out the world, you would be the safety she needed to drop the persona and just be Ale.  

[meazalykov]

oberdorf's daughter

lena oberdorf x reader x daughter!oc

summary: the daughter who carries on the legacy of you and lena

meadow oberdorf stood in the center of the pitch, her heart pounding against her ribcage as the floodlights of the stadium illuminated the field.

the semis of the 2047 world cup—the biggest moment of her life. 

the german crowd roared around her, their cheers deafening, their chants reverberating through the air as if they were singing her name. she wore the number six jersey, the same number lena had worn during her legendary career. 

it was a badge of honor and an unspoken challenge, one she accepted with pride. she was lena’s daughter, after all, but she was also yours. 

you sat in the stands, leaning forward as you gripped lena’s hand tightly. her palm was as clammy as yours. she was nervous; you both were. this was no ordinary match, not for meadow, not for you. it was germany versus the united states. the weight of that alone pressed down on your chest. 

it was the two nations that defined your family—the one you were born into and the one you’d chosen through love and marriage.

your daughter’s dark brown hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, identical to lena’s signature style during her playing days. when meadow turned her head, her sharp features, the strong jawline, the defined cheekbones.. it reminded you of lena at her peak. 

as much as meadow looked like lena, her fire, her stubborn determination, and her unwavering ability to push through the toughest of situations? that was you. that was all you.

meadow hadn’t slept much the night before the match. her mind was racing as she replayed years of memories. she’d grown up watching clips of you as a 17-year-old prodigy in 2019, scoring the winning goal in the final against the netherlands. 

your fiery passion on the field had always inspired her. she remembered the stories lena told her about the infamous 2027 final—germany versus the united states, where you and lena faced off in what the press had called the “battle of the greatest countries in women’s football.” 

you scored two goals that final, leading the 2-0 u.s. victory, and lena still joked about how it took her weeks to forgive you, despite you going to her doorstep every morning to give her forgiveness flowers.

growing up in a household where both parents were icons of the sport wasn’t easy, but meadow thrived under the weight of expectation. she learned tactics and strength from lena, who taught her how to read the game and control the midfield with calm precision. 

from you, she inherited creativity, speed, and the ability to turn a match on its head with a single moment of brilliance.

still, nothing could have prepared her for this—facing the united states in the world cup semifinals. it wasn’t just any team. it was your team, the one that had shaped you, molded you, and catapulted you into football history. 

“don’t think about that,” you told her the night before the match, sitting beside her on the couch in the team hotel. you visited her specifically when she asked to talk with you, and you alone without her other mama.

meadow leaned into your side, seeking comfort like she always did when the pressure became too much. 

“focus on your game. don’t play for obi or for me. play for yourself. that’s all that matters.”

meadow didn’t say much. she simply nodded, her dark eyes focused on the floor. but you knew her well enough to see the conflict raging inside her. she wanted to make you proud, but how could she when you were american? how could she look you in the eyes if her goal meant eliminating the country you’d once captained?

“listen to me,” you whispered, turning her face to look at you. 

“you don’t owe me or mama lena anything, okay? you’re already everything we could’ve dreamed of. tomorrow, no matter what happens, i’ll be rooting for you. nobody else. you.”

tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them away. “thanks, mama.”

as the match progressed, you watched meadow closely. her every movement was deliberate and purposeful. she covered the midfield with ease, combining lena’s physicality with your tactical awareness. 

when the united states launched an attack, meadow was there, intercepting a pass with a perfectly timed slide tackle. lena jumped to her feet beside you, clapping and cheering loudly, her pride unmistakable.

the u.s. defense was solid, and germany struggled to break through. the scoreline remained 0-0, and as the minutes ticked by, the tension in the stadium grew thicker. meadow’s face was a mask of focus, but you knew her well enough to see the frustration building.

 

in the 89th minute, the ball found its way to meadow at the edge of the box. her teammate had passed it to her under pressure, and meadow had seconds—maybe less—to make a decision. time seemed to slow as she took a single touch to control the ball, her head lifting to scan the goal. 

the american goalkeeper was positioned well, but meadow didn’t hesitate. 

with a sharp pivot and a quick shift of her body weight, she struck the ball with her right foot. the shot was a rocket, curving through the air like it had a mind of its own. it sailed past the outstretched hands of the goalkeeper and crashed into the top corner of the net.

the stadium erupted.

meadow stood frozen for a moment, as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just done. then, as the roar of the crowd washed over her, she turned and ran toward the corner flag, her hands outstretched, her face lit up with pure joy. mea’s german teammates swarmed her, piling on top of her in celebration. 

you and lena were on your feet, shouting and cheering. your heart felt like it might burst from your chest as you watched meadow step out of the huddle, pointing at the german badge on her chest. she looked straight at the stands, her eyes searching until they found you.

she mouthed something—"this is for you"—and you felt your throat tighten with emotion.

lena pulled you into a tight hug, her own tears streaming down her face. “that’s our girl,” she whispered, her voice trembling with pride. 

“our daughter.”

after the final whistle, germany’s victory was sealed, and meadow’s goal became the defining

moment of the match. as the players celebrated on the field, meadow broke away and sprinted toward the stands where you and lena were. 

security let her through, and before you knew it, she was in your arms, her jersey damp with sweat, her face flushed with exertion and happiness.

“i did it, mama,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. 

“i did it.”

you cupped her face in your hands, your own tears finally spilling over. 

“you were incredible. absolutely incredible.”

lena joined the embrace, wrapping both of you in her arms. “we’re so proud of you, mein schatz,” she said, kissing the top of meadow’s head. 

meadow pulled back slightly, looking at you with a wide grin. 

“you don’t think i’m a traitor, right? for knocking out the u.s.?”

you laughed, shaking your head. 

“are you kidding me? that was one of the best goals i’ve ever seen. and trust me, i’ve seen a lot.”

“probably better than your second goal against us back in 2027..” 

“hey!” you gasped in fake offensiveness.

“i’m kidding! besides meadow,” lena added with a smirk, “you’ve always been german anyways.”

meadow smiled, her eyes shining with pride and relief. 

“i couldn’t have done it without you guys. without everything you’ve taught me.”

you hugged her again, holding her tightly. 

“you didn’t just make us proud tonight, meadow. you made yourself proud.”

masterlist

authors note: this wasn't in wip since I typed this up in the middle of the night (couldn't sleep and thought this was a cute idea that I couldn't forget about). enjoy the two fics in one day :)

[seulgisqt]

𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐍 — lena oberdorf

lena oberdorf x dallas cowboys cheerleader!reader

(a/n: can you tell this is a british person who wrote this?? i’ve always had an odd obsession with those ladies so but anyways lena oberdorf, my shayla >_< I hope you enjoyed this one, i’m thinking of doing a two part for this, lemme know if you would like that and happy reading x)

word count: 1986

genre: fluff

summary: two different worlds, colliding in the most unexpected of places—yet somehow, it felt like they were exactly where they were meant to be.

As you adjusted your glittering blue uniform, the scorching Texas sun cast its unwavering gaze upon AT&T Stadium, making the atmosphere both electrifying and intense. The fabric of your outfit shimmered brilliantly, reflecting the light with every slight movement, and the heat enveloped you like a warm embrace. You stood tall and proud as the centrepiece of the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders, a position you had dreamt about since your earliest memories of watching those iconic routines on television, captivated by the energy and precision.

You were focused on tonight’s performance, where an international friendly match between the USWNT and Germany’s national team took place. It wasn’t every day a soccer match took over their football stadium, and you were eager to see how the crowd would react to the shift in energy.

Among the German players warming up was Lena, the star midfielder known for precision and aggression on the field. Lena was as disciplined as she was fearless—a footballer who’d grown up training in the rainy fields of Gevelsburg. She was fiercely proud of her roots, yet found herself intrigued by this massive, almost theatrical American sports culture.

The game unfolded with an intensity that crackled in the air, but amidst the thrumming excitement, Lena’s gaze was irresistibly drawn to the vibrant splashes of colour and dynamic movement spiralling down the staircases among the throngs of spectators. The cheerleaders, clad in striking uniforms that shimmered in the arena lights, led a fervent cacophony of cheers and chants that resonated through the crowd, their infectious energy sweeping over everyone present. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced back home, a captivating display of spirit and camaraderie that left her spellbound.

The halftime break arrived with a pulse of excitement rippling through the massive crowd. The game was tense, and the U.S. and German teams were locked in a fierce battle, but for the next few minutes, all eyes would be on you and the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders.

You took a deep breath, standing tall at the edge of the field, feeling the electric energy in the air. The opening chords of AC/DC’s Thunderstruck blasted through the speakers, and the crowd erupted. This was the routine—fast, furious, and legendary. The kind of performance that could make even the toughest sceptics believe in the art of cheerleading.

From the sideline, Lena sat on the bench in the technical area, water bottle forgotten in her hand. She has seen plenty of halftime shows in her career, but nothing like this. The music thumped in her chest as you sprang to life, every movement precise and explosive. Your hair whipped around as you launched into high kicks, your blue rhinestone-studded stars sparkled under the stadium lights.

The choreography was relentless. Sharp motions that synced perfected with the pounding drumbeat, pom-poms slicing through the air with military precision. You moved with such confidence, such undeniable magnetism, that Lena found herself frozen, mesmerised.

“They’re incredible, aren’t they?” Sara murmured beside her, but Lena barely heard. Her eyes were fixed on you, whose smile radiated pure joy, body moving with an effortless grace that only came from years of dedication. As you dropped into the squad’s signature kickline, the entire stadium roared in approval. You stole a glance towards the sideline—just for a second, and caught Lena watching you intently, eyes wide with admiration. A rush of heat flooded your chest, and you pushed yourself even harder, feeding off the connection you felt from across the field.

Lena’s heart pounded, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the music or the way your energy seemed to wrap around her like a lasso. She had always thought football was the ultimate rush, but this? This was something else entirely. She watched you flip, spin, and land with flawless precision, your spirit seemingly untouchable.

As the routine built to its climactic finish with the cheerleaders launching into a gravity-defying jump split, the stadium shook with applause. Lena found herself cheering along with the crowd, a rare uninhibited smile breaking across her face. As the final notes of the music faded and you struck your last pose, breathing heavily but wearing a wide, triumphant grin, you turned your gaze toward the sideline once more. The vibrant energy around you was palpable, and your eyes locked with Lena's across the field, a connection forged amid the exhilarating chaos of the performance.

The stadium lights still burned bright long after the game had ended in a tense draw, the buzz of excitement still lingering in the air. You and your teammates lingered along the sidelines, feeling the residual adrenaline still coursing through your veins. But now, with the game over, you found yourself feeling oddly restless as you interacted with the young girls in the stands, helping them take photos with their fellow football idols.

Your eyes wandered across the field, where the German players were cooling down, stretching, and exchanging jerseys with their American counterparts. Among them was her, the striking brunette midfielder who had been impossible to ignore during the match. You had noticed Lena the moment she stepped onto the field, the fierce focus and effortless control of the ball captivating in a way that you hadn’t expected. And when she caught Lena watching the halftime performance, you felt something shift.

Lena, too, had felt it.

She was still replaying the halftime show in her head, the pounding rhythm of Thunderstruck echoing in her ears. German football culture was all about discipline and rigour, but what she witnessed was pure fire. And it fascinated her.

As Lena pulled off her sweat-drenched jersey and wiped her face with it, she spotted you standing by the tunnel, chatting with your teammates but glancing her way now and then. Summoning her courage, Lena handed her jersey off and made her way across the field.

Your stomach flipped when you realised Lena was heading your way, tall and athletic, her dark hair tousled from the game. You played it cool, offering a bright smile as Lena approached. “Nice performance,” Lena said in her slightly accented English, her lips curling into an easy, lopsided grin. “I didn't know football had…entertainment like that.”

You twirled a pom-pom absentmindedly as you laughed. “Well, soccer, not usually. But we like to put on a show here in Texas. Gotta give the fans something to cheer for, right?”

“But you were amazing out there. I’ve never seen someone control the game like you do.” You nudged her, pom-pom crinkling in hand.

Lena’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she looked down, kicking at the turf. “Thanks,” she said softly, “but I think you might have beat me in the whole crowd control department.”

“Guess we both have our talents.” You winked.

There was a moment of silence, not awkward but filled with the weight of something new and intriguing. You shifted in your boots, then glanced towards the tunnel, hearing your directors call your name as well as Lena’s teammates calling out for her.

As you glanced back at Lena, a sense of urgency reflected in her captivating gaze. “Well, Lena, it was a pleasure meeting you,” you said, your voice tinged with a mix of warmth and urgency. “I hope you had a wonderful time in Dallas. Safe travels!” There was a sparkle in your eyes as you took one last look at her, committing her features to memory before you turned and jogged off toward your waiting coworkers, the lively chatter of the group drawing you back into the moment.

Before Lena could find the words to respond, you had already turned away, your footsteps quickening as you joined your teammates. The air between you felt heavy with unspoken feelings, and she let out a soft sigh, trying to suppress the flicker of disappointment that threatened to surface. Yet, deep down, she vowed to herself that this wouldn’t be the last time your paths crossed.

You left your locker room cladded in your Cowboys sweats, boots clicking across the vinyl floor, on the hunt for the bathroom, using it as an excuse to get away from your prying teammates who questioned what happened between you and “that German girl.”

Turning a corner, you begin to hear the chatter of the German team, playful shrieks being thrown as you saw them file out of their locker room, you stood against the wall as the players walked past you, exchanging thank yous and goodbyes. Your eyes searched for Lena as she left the room, laughing with one of her teammates.

Her eyes lit up as she met yours, standing adjacent to you on the wall to allow her team to walk in front of the two of you. A couple of the ladies patted her shoulder with knowing glances as they walked past.

She appeared vibrant and youthful, her cheeks flushed with a rosy hue that contrasted beautifully with her smooth complexion. Her hair was styled in a bun, showcasing the delicate contours of her face. “I knew you’d find me,” you teased with a smile, the words playful and light. As you both strolled side by side, each slow step felt deliberate, as if you were trying to savour every moment and stretch out the time spent together.

“Couldn’t help myself,” Lena said with a nonchalant shrug, her eyes darting momentarily away as a palpable silence settled between them. She hesitated, her fingers nervously twisting the strap of her bag, a subtle sign of her apprehension. A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face, as if weighing her next words carefully in the stillness.

“So, listen,” she said with an easy smile, “we’re having a little after-party tonight. Some of the team rented out a place downtown. You should come.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you halted your steps. For a moment, idea of letting loose, spending more time with Lena, and stepping outside the tight bubble of her DCC world was intoxicating. But then reality set in like a bucket of cold water.

The Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders had strict rules about fraternisation with players, whether football or otherwise. No dating, no hanging out, no exceptions. Even though Lena wasn’t an NFL player, you knew it was a grey area that could get you in serious trouble. You had worked too hard to get here, sacrificed too much to risk it all for a night of fun—no matter how tempting Lena’s invitation was.

“I’d love to, really.” You bit your lip, as Lena’s eyes lit up. “But we have some…rules.” you said carefully, fiddling with the sleeves of your sweatshirt. “Cheerleaders and players aren’t really supposed to hang out.”

Lena raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Even when it’s not your team?”

“Even then,” you sighed. “It’s a whole image thing. They want us to be, you know, untouchable or something.” You bounced your leg anxiously.

The tall brunette frowned, leaning in slightly. “That’s ridiculous,” she said, a hint of defiance in her voice. “We’re just people. It’s not like I’m asking you to break the law.”

You let out a small chuckle. “Try telling that to my directors. They’d have me benched for the rest of the season.”

Lena studied your face for a moment, then shrugged with a playful grin. “Okay. So, what if I promise to keep my distance? I mean, we could pretend I’m just a fan. I’ll even act starstruck if it helps.”

“You? Starstruck?” You couldn’t help but laugh “I’d love to see that.”

“Then come. Just for an hour.” Lena tilted her head, eyes twinkling. “I promise no one will even know we’re there together.”

You hesitated, torn between your cautious instincts and the undeniable pull towards Lena. Breaking the rules, even bending them, could cost you everything you had worked for. But then you looked at Lena, at the way she stood there, so open, so genuine—and something inside you whispered, take the chance.

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Breast reduction surgery||Charles leclerc x fem!reader

Summary— Charles loves your breast so when you decide to tell him that you’re thinking about a reduction surgery he feels like his world is ending.

Word count —589

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon in Charles’ apartment, the kind of day that begged for nothing more than lounging on the couch and ignoring the world. He was half-watching a football match, the sound of commentators filling the space as he absentmindedly scrolled on his phone. Beside him, Y/N was curled up, legs tucked beneath her, scrolling through her phone with a focused look on her face.

Out of nowhere, she sighed, set her phone down, and said casually, “I think I’m finally going to do it.”

Charles looked up, brow furrowing. “Do what?”

She didn’t even glance at him. “Get a breast reduction.”

It took him a moment to process the words. He blinked, sat up straighter, and turned to her with wide eyes. “Hold on. What now?”

Y/N finally looked at him, her expression calm but resolute. “I’ve been thinking about it for years, and I think it’s time. My back can’t take it anymore.”

Charles stared at her like she’d just suggested selling their firstborn child. “Your back? When did this become about your back?”

“Always,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Charles, you know this. I’ve been complaining for ages.”

He leaned back, waving a hand dismissively. “You’ve complained, sure, but I just thought it was, like, normal life complaining. Not surgery-level complaining!”

“Charles,” she said firmly, her tone laced with both patience and warning.

He sat up, his full attention now on her. “You’re seriously thinking about just… getting rid of them? Like, just like that?”

“Yes.”

“But…” He gestured dramatically at her chest. “You can’t just get rid of them! They’re—” He paused, grasping for the right word. “They’re iconic!”

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose, already regretting bringing this up while he was awake. “Charles. I’m in pain all the time. My shoulders have permanent dents from my bra straps, I can’t go running without strapping myself in like a gladiator, and every button-up shirt I own gapes open like it’s crying for help.”

“Okay,” he said, raising a hand to stop her. “But—”

“And bras?” she interrupted. “Do you know how much I spend on bras? A hundred bucks each, minimum. And they’re not even cute. They’re functional. Like, ‘industrial scaffolding’ functional.”

Charles blinked at her, his lips parting like he wanted to argue but couldn’t find the words. Finally, he said weakly, “But… you look great in them.”

“Oh my god.” She threw her hands up, exasperated. “This is not about how I look, Charles. It’s about how I feel. And I feel like I’m carrying around a couple of bowling balls every day of my life.”

He frowned, leaning forward as if he could reason his way out of this. “But what about us?”

“What about us?”

“Our dynamic! The… the whole…” He gestured at her chest again, like it was a key player in their relationship. “You know, vibe.”

“Charles,” she said flatly. “They’re boobs.”

“Not just boobs,” he argued. “They’re your boobs. They’re a part of you. A part of us!”

She stared at him, deadpan. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m serious!” He stood up, pacing in front of the couch now. “Do you know how many people would kill for what you’ve got? And you’re just gonna… throw them away like an old sweater?”

“Okay, first of all, ew. And second of all, you’re being dramatic.”

He stopped pacing to point at her. “I’m not being dramatic. I’m being honest. You’re about to break the hearts of an entire fanbase—”

“Your fanbase,” she corrected, raising an eyebrow.

“Exactly!”

Y/N let out a disbelieving laugh. “Charles, I’ve made up my mind. This isn’t about you, or your ‘fanbase,’ or even how I look. It’s about me being able to live my life without constant pain and discomfort.”

He deflated a little at that, sinking back onto the couch. “But what if you regret it?”

“I won’t.”

“But what if you do?” he pressed. “What if one day you wake up and think, ‘Wow, my life was so much better when Charles was worshiping the temple of—’”

She picked up a throw pillow and smacked him in the face with it. He caught it with a grin, but his eyes were still slightly pleading.

“Charles,” she said, softer now. “I appreciate that you love me exactly as I am. But this isn’t about you.”

He sighed dramatically, flopping backward on the couch. “Fine. But just so you know, I’m going to miss them. Like… a lot.”

“Noted,” she said dryly.

“Maybe I’ll throw a farewell party,” he added. “You know, invite some friends over. We’ll say our goodbyes properly.”

Y/N laughed despite herself, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me,” he said smugly, pulling her back onto the couch and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“Unfortunately.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Y/N got up to grab a glass of water. Charles pulled out his phone and began typing into the search bar: “Can boobs grow back after surgery?”

She glanced back at him from the kitchen, catching the guilty look on his face.

“Charles!”

“What? I’m just… curious!”

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, but there was a smile tugging at her lips, drinking the water and setting the glass down on the counter as she walked back over to Charles.

“Hey!” Charles says as y/n snatches the phone out of Charles's hands her own hands cupped his face “It’ll be okay Charles. It’s not the end of the world baby, you know that right?” You ask.

“Of course I know that but I just love them so much,” Charles says, reaching up to cup her breast feeling the weight of them.

“Can I fuck them?” Charles asked out of nowhere.

“Charles!”

“What can’t blame me for asking” he says smiling holding his hands up defensively.

“You know what I don’t see why not”

[iconsbfr]

[pricetagged]

lorica

Dark November nights aren't safe, especially not for women lingering outside pubs. A taxi should get you home, and it would have if you'd remembered to double-check the license plates.

Here is 2.2k drabbly nonsense since I feel bad about my month-long lack of posting. Ghost/Reader/Price (with implied 141/Reader at the end).

Content: Dark, MDNI, kidnapping, threat of violence, guns, body neutral, f-reader, unedited.

_____________________

White whisps danced and swirled in the air before you, your breath given substance in the chill of the night.

You shuffled from foot to foot, cold air and anxiety swirling in a discomforting soup that sunk down to your bones  A glance up and down the street confirmed that yes, your taxi still hadn't arrived. You unlocked your phone once more, foolish in the hope that staring at the screen would make the car appear sooner. The little black icon on the app mocked you. Your driver is 2.6km away!

A sudden cheer split the silence, flooding from the frosted windows of The White Hart. You and your friends had agreed to leave by 8 p.m., hoping to avoid the jeering and jostling of impassioned football fans. A quiet drink after work was one thing; you hadn't, however, planned on lingering to catch up with the Premier League. The noise of rowdy punters and drunk men spilled once more into the street behind you, making your heart race a little. They were just watching a match, just in their cups…

But standing solitary as you were in the dimly lit street it reminded you that you were alone.

A single streetlight buzzed and flickered its dim companionship.

You could see your breath puffing out in front of you, white on black as the night stretched on. Perhaps you should've agreed to the lift that your friends' offered, cursing your politeness. Don't want to inconvenience you! I'm headed in the opposite direction - let me just call a cab. Dark nights weren't often kind to lone women. Winter, too. It left you shivering, trussed up in fleecy fabrics as the wind bit at your numb nose and made your eyes stream. You looked like some soft, gentle thing huddled in a doorstep, hoping to pass the night safely. You panted a little, unease quickening your breath. The misty vapor furled upwards; you imagined it carrying off your hopes. Your desperation. Please, let this car arrive. Let me get home.

A nondescript black car slowed along the curbside, wheels slick and splashing in the stagnant water gathered by the gutters. You caught the tail end of the license plates, mud splattered yes, but you could see some numbers and letters shining through. Finally. You puffed out your relief, tucking your phone away as you reached for the door. Prayer answered, it seemed.

A wave of warm air kissed your cheeks as you slid in, dry and comfortable.

'Hi, how's it going? 2350, right?' You sent a half-glance at the driver, pulling your seatbelt on as you waited for confirmation.

The gears of the belt buckle clicked in the silence. Heavy, noticeable silence.

Turning back towards the front seat, your polite smile wavered slightly. The driver was a big man. Strange that you hadn’t noticed it before, but he was hulking in the seat, shoulders stretching beyond the limits of the side panels. You swallowed slightly as you noticed the headrest barely brushing the nape of his neck.

Two unwavering, dark eyes met yours in the rear-view mirror.

'Uh…' you faltered slightly, perched like bird in the backseat eager to take off, feathers ruffling and twitching. 'This is- you're the car I called? Confirmation number 2350?'

You could feel your face heating -from the chill outside, the AC inside, the mounting embarrassment - skin feeling itchy and tight. Still, you were reluctant to break his gaze. Your instincts sparked, flared to life illuminating only the thought to keep him in your sights. You felt altogether too cramped in the car, his presence spilling across the back seats.

'Yeah, 2350,' his voice rumbled over the hum of the engine. 'Tha's right.'

He made no move, didn't even blink as he stared you down. You could just about make out the arch of blond eyebrows, the craggy lines of a well-worn face but a black barrier mask halted any further consideration. You cracked first, glancing down to his thick, gloved hand resting on the gearstick. The entire dash was dark, no blue light or luminosity from his phone. No digital dials or screens anywhere.

'Aren't you gonna type it in the app? Confirm it from your end?' You hoped he didn’t notice the shake in your voice, unease plucking at your vocal chords weaving nerves into noise.

'Waitin' on yer rideshare, aren't I?'

'I didn't book a rideshare, this is just-' You cut yourself off as your numb, clumsy fingers groped for your phone. 'Let me check, I should've just booked a solo journey-'

'No need, 's'a busy night. Friday. Match on, lots of punters.' His voice was deep, tumbling like gravel from his chest. It was disjointing, actually, with his mouth covered and the lights off. His voice seemed to echo around, filling all the dark curves and corners of the car's interior. Coming from nowhere but this beast of a man with no mouth.

You shook off the thought like waterdrops from your hair. He was just a working man. Big, yes, gruff, but no need to tar him with the sticky, resinous pitch of your paranoia.

'Yer lucky to get a ride,' he continued. 'Car pool's better than standin' out in the street by y'rself. S'not safe.'

You relaxed a little into the seat, tension trickling away. Slightly. It lingered still at the base of your spine, on the back of your neck.

'Right,' you puffed out a breath as you slid your hand from your pocket. 'Do you know how long they'll be? It's just that I've been out since work this morning and I'm looking to get home sharpish.'

He snorted at that, loud and curt, "'e'll be out when he's out. Someone waitin' for ya to get home, or wot?'

'No,' you hesitated, awkwardness cutting you short, 'sorry. Just tired.'

He hummed at that, flicking his eyes around the silent street outside. Murky, orange light cut through the condensation of the pub windows, casting a faint haze on the shutters and bars of the nearby shops. All closed for the night. All empty.

'Wot you doin' out by y'rself anyway?'

Odd. He didn't seem the type for small talk.

'I wasn't out by myself,' you cringed at how pandering it seemed. How you felt you had to justify yourself. 'Was out for drinks with some colleagues and friends.'

He huffed at that, muttering something too low for you to hear. It made you prickle, for sure that it was at your expense. Maybe you should stick in your earphones, stop talking and just treat this like the transaction that it was. You drummed your fingers against the door panel, breath fogging up the window as you stared out aimlessly.

A few beats passed like that, quiet settling uncomfortably in the car like an itchy blanket. You could feel it, wanted to shift away or throw it off or something, but a glance outside at the damp, litter-strewn street kept you still. Better just to endure the discomfort if it got you home.

The snick of the locks disengaging made you jolt, drowsiness dispersing at the sudden shock of cool air from in front.

A man, almost as tall and broad as your driver, settled into the front passenger seat. His eyes, flinty under his stern brow, mapped the length and breadth of your bundled form. His lips twitched under his mustache, amusement or disbelief carved into the burgeoning smile.

'What's this, then? Picked up a stray?'

You bristled a little, scintilla of apprehension raising the hairs on your arms. They shared a look, something warm and familiar passing between them as the idling engine hummed back to life. They sat in front, black-clad and broad shoulder to broad shoulder nearly blocking your entire view of the dash.

'It's your rideshare, in't it?' the driver grunted as he pulled away from the curb.

'Booked a cab, did you sweetheart?' the stranger turned to you, strong face in profile. You could make out fragments - high nose bridge, dark hair, mutton chops obscuring most of his face. The darkness veiled the details, like staring at a painting through gauze. He was the image, the impression of a man, yes, but distant. Unsettling.

'Clearly,' tiredness and nerves made you sharp. Brittle. You sunk further into the seat, clutching your bag on your lap. As if it could act as a barrier. A shield.

A string of tension hummed, taut and quavering. You tried to ignore, watching streetlamps blur together outside, it but it whirred high and distracting. They noticed it too, you thought, shoulders squaring up as muscles tensed and flexed. The stranger huffed through his nose, proud and steady as an ox. You swore that you heard the driver chuckle under his breath, a low hehehe as he indicated right and turned off from the M60.

'Testy one, I see,' he hummed, disapproving. 'Gonna have to fix that attitude.'

The string snapped, you snapped, 'Look, Sir, I'm not trying to be rude, but I don't fancy a chat. I'm just trying to get home.'

You fumbled in your bag for your earphones, hoping to drown out any awkward silences or terse comments.

'Alright, that's enough of that. Simon, pull over.'

You looked up, half in alarm and half at the authoritative tone of his voice. The driver, Simon apparently, swerved into the hard shoulder with a 'roger that'.

The tattoo beat of your heart drowned out your thoughts, heavy thumps rushing past your ears and thrumming down to your fingertips. You scrambled for the doorhandle, scratching clumsily like a mouse.

'What are you doing? Is this some kind of Chuckle Brothers double act because if so, it's not funny,' your words fell like fragile little shards, hoping to cut but shattering in the air. Your pitch rose, 'You want the bag, my things? I'll report you, you shouldn't be fucking working this job.'

Your phone felt heavy in your hand, shaking fingers missing the keypad as you tried to type the password.

The stranger sighed heavily, patronising. Like you were inconveniencing him in some way. You licked you lips and glanced up, ready to run your mouth again as the app loaded.

A steely glint by the central console strangled the words in your throat.

'Didn't want to have to do this sweetheart,' the stranger's lips quirked up in a sad, half-smile. You scanned his face, seeing no note of hesitation. Just cool, steady eyes and that stupid, fake smile. 'Hand that over, nice and easy.'

Neurons fired, trying to make connections or plans. Trying to assess. Here you were, alone in a car with two strange men. You shouldn't hand your phone to them, you could barely feel your fingers anymore, never mind unfurl them from the edges of the case. If you handed over your phone - your lifeline- then what?

If you didn't hand it over, you had the answer to that question from the barrel of the gun pointed your way.

You stared at it, dull silver in the dark. Like a cynosure, it pulled your gaze towards it. A sick facsimile of the North Star, leading you away from safety and further into the den of the wolves ahead.

Your animal instincts screamed, struggled, but lost as you passed your phone into his large, calloused grasp.

'Good girl,' he smiled fully then, round cheeks and bright eyes masking the coldness beneath. 'Don't get fussy now - Simon, the locks - just sit tight and you'll be home in no time.'

You tugged futilely at the handle, useless now that Simon had engaged the child-safety lock.

'I don't live down this way, I- this is not the right way,' you licked your lips again, mouth dry and bitter with the taste of rising bile. You could see, now, that you wouldn't be going home that night. Your next words tasted acrid, tinged with defeat.  'Why are you doing this?'

'Thought ya wanted to come wiv us,' Simon's gravelly voice cut in, amusement warming the pitch into something mocking. 'Why else jump into a strange car?'

'You said you were my taxi, you confirmed-'

'Did I?' you saw his eyebrow quirk, dead predator eyes meeting yours once more through the rear-view mirror. 'Not very good at lookin' after y'rself, are ya?'

Your quick little breaths fogged up the window beside you. It was hard to see, hard to think. But clearly, not thinking had brought you this far. You didn’t think to accept your friends' offer, didn’t think to properly check the license plates, didn't think open the app and check the journey status.

There must have been something of surrender in the tremble of your lips. In the flickering of your wide, glossy eyes. It scented the air, whetting the appetite of the beasts in front of you, swirling around their chops.

'S'alright, love. We'll get ya home. Get ya taken care of.'

Lacrima painted your lash line, salty and hot as it brimmed over and down your cheeks.

You heard a rustle, felt a rough thumb brushing at your tears. The stranger had reached back, large hand nudging your face back up to look at him.

'No more tears, now, c'mon,' he dug his into the corner of your mouth, tugging your lips into a coy, marionette simper. 'Smile, sweetheart. The rest of the boys are dying to meet you.'

________________________________

Bit rushed, but hey 🤷‍♀️. This has probs been done before but here's my spin. Apologies for the lack of fics lately! Feel like I'm getting my groove back so should have some actual content out soon.

[moonlbabe2]

But the heart wants what it wants

[paucubarsisimp]

might as well slap me and tell me i’m the slowest person on earth w that joao request!

right so i’ll be the SECOND person to request and i think a joao fic where reader does her skincare routine infront of him and since he’s so damn extra he wants to do it too but like make him a diva yk 💔.

I LOVE YOUUUU - xoxo saira 🤍.

skincare

pairing: joão felix x reader

summary: in which joão sees your skincare and immediately wants to try it

warnings: none

tagged: @barcapix, @universefcb,@joaosnovia, @nngkay, @ilovebarcaaaa, lmk if you want to be added to the taglist!

a/n: girl ilysm, i hope you like this 💗💗

the evening had settled in, the soft glow of the bathroom light casting a peaceful aura around the space. you had just come back from a long day, and as always, you decided to unwind with your skincare routine. you hummed quietly to yourself as you gathered the bottles and jars, carefully placing them on the counter.

your face mask was next, and you were enjoying the simple ritual of it all—there was something incredibly soothing about taking this time for yourself, even if the world outside was chaotic. you’d been doing it for weeks now, and it had become a part of your nightly routine.

just as you were about to smooth the thick, creamy mask onto your face, you heard the familiar sound of footsteps behind you. you turned slightly, noticing joão standing in the doorway, his usual charming grin on his face as he crossed his arms and leaned against the frame.

“what’s all this?” joão asked, eyeing the assortment of skincare products on the counter. “you really going all in tonight?”

you chuckled softly, looking at him in the mirror. “yeah, just my nightly self-care. it helps me relax. you should try it sometime,” you said with a playful glint in your eye, not expecting him to take you seriously.

he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the suggestion. “me? try skincare? you’ve got to be kidding.”

you shot him a teasing glance. “why not? it’s good for your skin. plus, it might make you feel a little less like a footballer and a little more like… well, a human.”

joão laughed, a deep, hearty sound that made you smile. “i’m not sure i need it. but… alright, show me what you’re doing. maybe i’ll give it a go.”

you turned to face him with a raised eyebrow. “are you serious?”

he shrugged dramatically. “you know, maybe this will be my secret weapon. could be the next big thing—joão félix, skincare icon.”

you couldn’t help but laugh at his antics. “okay, okay. i’ll guide you. but you have to follow my steps, no shortcuts. trust me, your skin will thank you.”

he crossed the room and stood next to you, looking at the bottles lined up on the counter. “alright, so what’s first? do i just… rub my face with this?” he asked, pointing at the cleanser.

you laughed at his curiosity. “not quite. first, you have to splash your face with water to get it a little damp. then, you’ll take a bit of this cleanser and—”

he was already splashing water all over his face before you could finish your sentence, completely drenched. you blinked at him, wide-eyed.

“well,” you said, trying to suppress your giggles, “that’s one way to do it. now, just a little cleanser. not too much!”

he squirted a generous amount into his hand, and without thinking, he rubbed it into his face with the intensity of someone tackling a new opponent. you stood back, laughing at how serious he was taking it.

“joão, you look like you’re preparing for a match,” you teased, wiping away a stray drop of water from your cheek.

he paused for a moment, glancing at you through the mirror with a smirk. “maybe i am. can’t go into this skincare game half-hearted.”

you rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a grin. “alright, rinse it off now, mister skincare expert.”

as he rinsed his face, he looked at you, his expression a mixture of confusion and curiosity. “i don’t know about this… i feel like i just dunked my head in a bowl of soup.”

“that’s what you get for rushing,” you said, wiping off a small splatter of water on your arm. “take your time, joão. skincare isn’t a race.”

“well, i’d win that race, hands down,” he quipped, a playful glint in his eyes.

you handed him a bottle of toner and explained, “now, you need this to balance your skin. dab it on with a cotton pad, don’t wipe it.”

he stared at the cotton pad in his hand like it was some kind of foreign object. “this looks… too delicate. do you really think i can pull this off?”

you laughed softly, watching him concentrate so hard on doing it right. “of course you can. just be gentle, like you’re petting a cat.”

he looked at you like you were speaking another language. “petting a cat? what does that even mean?”

“just—never mind,” you giggled. “just dab it on your face.”

finally, after what felt like an eternity, joão managed to do the toner step, looking quite proud of himself. “alright, what’s next? i think i’m getting the hang of this.”

“next up is moisturizer. it’s the most important part. you’ve got to lock in all that hydration.”

he scooped out a hefty dollop of cream, and without hesitation, started slathering it all over his face, making exaggerated motions with his hands. you couldn’t help but laugh at how much he was using.

“joão! that’s way too much! you only need a little.”

he looked at you, his face now a greasy mess of product, and smirked. “i’m making sure i get every spot. you never know where dryness might sneak up.”

you shook your head fondly, trying not to burst out laughing. “okay, but now you’re going to look like you’re about to slide off the couch. less is more, joão.”

he pouted dramatically and looked at his reflection in the mirror. “i’m pretty sure i’m glowing, right?”

you walked up behind him, looking at his face, which now had a shiny, almost comical layer of moisturizer. “you’re glowing, alright,” you teased, “but i think you might need to tone it down for tomorrow’s match.”

he laughed, turning to face you with that mischievous grin of his. “i’m doing this every night from now on. you’ve unlocked a new side of me.”

you shook your head, still laughing. “well, i hope you don’t expect me to apply it for you every night. skincare is a solo mission, my friend.”

joão leaned in, a little too close for comfort, still grinning like he had won something. “how about a weekly skincare date, then? you and me, making each other glow?”

you smiled, shaking your head fondly. “you’re ridiculous, but fine. only if you promise not to use the entire jar of moisturizer next time.”

“i can’t make that promise,” he said, his tone teasing, “but i’ll try my best.”

as he turned to leave, you caught a glimpse of his face—his skin actually looked better, less tired, and definitely more radiant. maybe joão félix, skincare icon, was a title that fit him better than you thought.

“good night, skincare guru,” you called after him.

“good night, my skincare coach,” he shot back, with a wink. “same time tomorrow?”

you laughed, shaking your head again. “maybe not tomorrow, but i’m sure we’ll make time for it again soon.”

and with that, joão left the bathroom, leaving behind a trail of laughter and the faint scent of his newfound skincare obsession lingering in the air.

[allieebobo]

Have some ideas rattling around in my head. Would be super interested to know what the general interest level is like for each. Please vote for your absolute favorite!

Cross posted to cog forums and reddit.

Descriptions below:

“City of Smoke and Shadows” is a gritty martial arts fantasy set in alternate-history 1930s Shanghai, with lush world-building, distinctive characters, and elaborate game mechanics for street brawls, action-packed duels, political scheming, relationship-building, and clan management.

There is an ancient, secret method of cultivating and roasting tea-leaves, cha, which allows it to be smoked in cigars, granting heightened awareness, martial prowess, and prophetic visions. European colonial powers, tired of buying expensive, processed cha from noble families in Shanghai, want the recipe. So do the Chinese disenfranchised lower and middle-class, who are no longer contented with letting cha remain in the hands of the privileged few—bootleg cha distributors have popped up like mushrooms.

You play as the youngest child of the Wu family, a clan that controls one-third of the cha trade in Shanghai. You’ve spent the past five years abroad, trying to distance yourself from your family’s bloody legacy… that is, until your brother’s murder drags you back to a fractured city you barely recognize.

In a world where loyalties shift like the wind, and personal vendettas collide with political ambitions, you’ll need to keep your friends close—and your enemies even closer. Violent revolution brews in the shadows, and colonial powers threaten to swallow the Empire whole.

----

“Cyclopunk” is a compact, imaginative take on the survival-adventure genre. In a climate-ravaged, war-torn post-apocalyptic universe, you have lung cancer. Bike across bleak, desolate landscapes to the mythical Tri-domes for a supposed cure. The clock is ticking down, but the way to the Tri-Domes is perilous.

Pick from many possible branching routes—explore flooded scavenger cities, floating fishing settlements on swamplands, magnificent garden-domes set like jewels in barren deserts, and cave-dwelling colonies. Encounter colorful (and sometimes morally complicated) side quests, distinctive characters, new forms of flora and fauna along the way.

----

“Golden Boot” is a modern slice-of-life episodic game where you start as a 6-year old who lives for football—slowly shape your character and your story—both on and off the pitch. Realize your dream of becoming a football legend step by step. From childhood training matches to cutthroat youth academies to a make-it-or-break-it Premier league debut to the biggest stage of all: electrifying World Cup, every decision you make will impact your rise to fame—or fall into obscurity.

Thrilling, high-octane football matches accompany a rich tapestry of scenes that make up the highs and lows of a football player, from falling in love, dealing with heated rivalries, buying your first house, or shaping your public persona. **Golden Boot** is about football—and so much more. It’s about coming-of-age, the people you meet along the way, and the things you’re willing to sacrifice for a dream.

----

In "Silver Screen", step into the glamorous, glitzy world of 1950s Hollywood, where you play an actor or actress of colour striving for stardom in an industry that’s as much about politics as it is about performance. Divided into five acts, each representing a new film you’ve been picked to star in, you will navigate the challenges of the showbiz—starting from a complete unknown, dreaming of stardom.

As your career evolves, every choice you make—how you deliver your lines, your relationship with co-stars and directors and crew, your stance on social issues—can determine your future in Hollywood. Will you rise to become a beloved icon, carve out a niche as a critical darling, or fall into the trap of typecasting and scandal? Romance a fellow star, a politician, or a screenwriter-director. Build a family and legacy—while keeping your career intact in an industry that can make or break you overnight.

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In "Space Diner”, you play an ex-bootleg space smuggler who’s on the run from the authorities. Desperate to lay low, you stow away on what you think is a simple cargo ship—only to discover it’s a food truck operating across the farthest reaches of the galaxy. After the owner threatens to toss you out the airlock for your sneaky stowaway antics, you convince them to let you stay by claiming you’re a chef, and asking for a job—as someone who knows nothing about food preparation, you’ll need to fake it till you make it (and hopefully not poison anyone or burn down the space truck while you’re at it).

Learn the ins and outs of cooking, managing the space truck’s finances, navigating the galaxy, haggling for supplies at space ports, and caring for the exotic plants in the hydroponic garden so that there’s food to put on the table. Serve up delicious meals to all sorts of different alien customers from grumpy office workers to swashbuckling space adventurers, all with different ideas of what counts as ‘sustenance’. Experiment with new recipes, travel through asteroid fields, space stations, mining colonies, and wonderous new cities. Can you avoid capture, befriend the space truck owner, and become the most beloved space truck in the galaxy? Or will your past catch up with you…?

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__ (untitled) is a cozy fantasy take on the musical band genre. You’re in a band with your best friends: a cheerful orc bassist, a brooding elven drummer, and a charismatic dwarven keyboardist. Together, you’ll travel from tavern to tavern in a vibrant, medieval Japanese inspired world, performing for ever-growing crowds, honing your musical skills, and navigating the ups and downs of life on the road. Craft your own songs, choose your musical genre, and shape your band’s style while building meaningful relationships with the people you meet along the way.

Explore colorful towns, meet quirky locals, and unlock new opportunities as you become a rising star in the music scene. Whether you’re trying to break into the elite performance venues or just jamming in a humble village square, the music you create and the bonds you build will define your journey. Can your band make it big—or will the struggle for success tear your small ragtag crew apart?