#she plays football and is a great cook

[millersfinest]

untethered | e.w

00s!ellie williams & 00s!miller!reader

wc: 7.4k

series: chapter one (you’re here!), chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five

blurb: it’s been awhile since you’ve been back home; in upstate new york where you’ve spent most of your life waking up early and tending to the animals that moo’d and meh’d. after graduation high school, and then college, the city life has stolen most of your attention. enabling you to visit only a handful of times through the years. when your lovely adoptive parents (tommy and maria miller) invite you back for a thanksgiving dinner—a troubled old flame from your childhood manages to get your attention, despite its explosive ending.

cw: lmao flip phones, some vulgar language, ellie cheating on her gf (kind of), the millers, r is a writer, elements of longing, ellie is #1 lesbian yearner in the world, some early 2000s references, thanksgiving, some physical violence, adopted kid trauma (shoutout to all the adopted kids!!), hella angst, repressed emotions, a little bit of mature content, eventual smut.

note: i have too much confidence writing for ellie. but here’s another series im starting because i realized the plot is too much for a single work on here, hence the 7 thousand words ijbol. hope you guys enjoyyy.

It was quieter upstate. Breathable and airy—you missed it more than anything. As much as you loved living in Manhattan, there was nothing like the countryside. Waking up to the sound of birds chirping and roosters crowing. Hearing the excited neighing from the horses you birthed and took care of. It was refreshing to be home again.

And, of course, you missed your parents.

They adopted you as a troubled child, and you’ve considered yourself lucky ever since. Babies and younger children were often the ones to be pulled from inconsistent foster homes, but they chose you. A pierced, attitude-ridden, thirteen-year-old who liked smoking cigarettes because they made you look cooler than you felt. And it helped you cope with the lasting effects of neglectful parents.

That trauma didn’t just disappear once Tommy and Maria entered your life. It was something that grew from nothing, and they were adamant in making your transition as comfortable as possible. You never experienced anything like it before them. Their strictness and structure did the opposite of what most would think. You went from sneaking out and smoking cigarettes to staying up late studying and finishing your favorite novels—still smoking cigarettes, though, but out your window. It was hard habit to break.

Once you realized that they could be trusted and had your best interest at heart, you gave them the right to parent you. Sure, it wasn’t easy. The three of you argued many, many times—but you respected them more than you have anyone else. Really, just for tolerating you.

The Miller’s were always very family oriented and social. Sunday nights always managed to be a grand event—Tommy grilling in the acred backyard, Maria handling the food items that could be cooked inside, and you diligently decorating and setting the table. Football Sundays were always the worst, but they were great memories to think about. That was the first time you met, basically, the love of your life at the time. Ellie Williams.

It was 1995 when you had completely fallen in love with her—only knowing her for around three years. Joel Miller wasn’t really her father, or adoptive father, he was just somebody who took care of her. He owned a guitar shop that sold, obviously, guitars and other instruments alike; as well as holding lessons for those wanted to learn how to play.

The story goes: Joel was working the register on a very slow day when Ellie showed up. There was a shiner on her eye, but she insisted that she was fine—asking for lessons with crumbled cash and dirty coins. She couldn’t afford the lessons on her own, so he gave her a job and proceeded with teaching her how to play.

She grew up similar to you; hidden under the confines of foster care. The only difference was, she was never adopted. At least not until the age of seventeen, when she’d spent so much time with Joel that she had a decorated bedroom in his house. They both had commitment issues, but after Tommy convinced him to do the paperwork… He did. Surprising her on her seventeenth birthday. However, the outcome didn’t really go to plan. Not how anyone would have expected it.

It was 1997 when she completely broke your heart… Not to be cheesy or anything.

Her seventeenth birthday was hosted at your house, on the farm. You knew her the most out of everyone, so you made it your mission to make this the best birthday ever. Decorating had become a hobby of yours after so many Sunday dinners—you spent all day stringing up lights and colorful streamers. Maria helping you out with a homemade cake that said: Happy Birthday Els! You were too anxious to write the words yourself, so you let her do it instead. You were even sure to invite the friends you shared; demanding they each brought presents to show how much they cared about her.

Joel had showed up before she did; just in time so they could all hide and jump out with big smiles on your faces when Ellie arrived. You would always remember the feeling of hearing the rumbling of her truck coming to a stop. And the shy smile on her face when everyone jumped out from behind furniture—blowing birthday kazoo’s. It was picturesque!

Dina had trotted over to her, snapping a blue paper cone birthday hat over her head. While you walked over with her birthday cake in your hands, brightened with seventeen candles. “Happy seventeenth, Ellie.” You had spoken, warmly. A bashful grin spreading onto your lips. She looked at you with such awe in that moment. Blowing out her candles and kissing your cheek, muttering a blushing ‘I fuckin’ love you’.

You knew about her surprise adoption papers before the party had started, excitement running through your veins when Joel meandered toward her—handing her an envelope of hope. Ellie took it, eyeing him, skeptically. “Open it!” You urged—that was your mistake.

Chortling, she broke open the envelope, not caring if it tore. When she pulled out the certificate, reading the words on the page, her entire face dropped. “Adoption papers?” Her eyes squinted in disgust, glaring at Joel. The smile fell from your face, lips parting in slight shock. Her olive eyes glanced around the room, seeing the fallen expressions clouding everyone’s features. Landing on your fallen face, briefly—a look exclaiming, ‘how could you’. Freckled cheeks heating up in embarrassment and… Anger. “Joel, what the fuck?” She blinked at him, shoving the papers into his chest, then storming out of the house. Hands ripping the hat from the top of head, throwing it to the ground. The screen door creaking obnoxiously as she exited. It all happened so fast.

He quickly followed her out, calling for her, desperately.

Awkwardly, you turned to the frozen people around you. “Anybody want cake? It’s german c— chocolate.” You stammered, trying to keep your composure. Looking to Maria and Tommy for some sort of consolation, you frowned, placing the cake on the counter before fleeing to the bathroom.

You clenched at the roots of your hair, pacing around the bathroom. You could hear remnants of a solo screaming match from outside the bathroom window, causing you to grit your teeth. The papers were supposed to be a good thing! Ellie had always been a hothead—easily agitated like a stray kitten is distress. There were even moments where the two of you went at it. Until one of you caved, begging for affection as an apology. Your nerves burned at the idea of her not liking the surprise—was that selfish?

Instead of remaining in the bathroom, you swung open the door with your eyes fixed on the front door. Hands clenched at your sides, you walked through the kitchen, where Tommy tried to liven up the mood by handing out pieces of cake.

He tried calling your name, but you brushed him off, pushing open the screen door with an attitude that could be felt with every step you took. The brisk autumn air hit your exposed skin, the long-sleeve striped shirt not doing much to keep you warm.

Striding around the side of the house, you seen Joel and Ellie having a stern conversation. But by the time your eyes landed on them, they were in a beat of silence. Joel shaking his head with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Ellie had her arms stubbornly crossed, frowning. When her eyes found yours, he turned around to leave. “She’s all yours…” He solemnly sighed, walking back into the house. The adoption papers crumbled up in his hands.

Biting your bottom lip, you approached her with your arms crossed for warmth. “What happened, Ellie?” Your voice dragged, tiredly. There was something always wrong with her. “We just wanted to do something nice for you… Why’d you have to go and ruin it—?”

“Oh, I’m the one who ruined it?” She scoffed, a sneer resting on her lips. “I’m not the one who brought the fucking adoption papers!” Ellie exclaimed, gesturing broadly with her hands. When she was up in arms, she always gesticulated more. “Did you have anything to do with this? Because if you did—“

You interrupted her with scrutinizing glare. “So, what if I did? I thought this would make you happy, Ellie… Don’t you understand?”

“You had me open that in front of everyone knowing what was inside— and you thought that’d make me happy?” Her lips arched in disgust. “Clearly, you don’t know me at all.” Her words were venomous, lips twitching in anger.

There was nobody who understood you more than Ellie, and vice versa. You just got each other because you came from similar backgrounds—that was your glue. You don’t know me at all. That was new.

With your eyes growing warm with tears, your tongue rolled in your mouth. “I spent all day setting this up… For you. Because I love you, Ellie. I don’t know you— that’s bullshit if I ever heard it.” Your voice cracked, but you refused to let a tear run down your cheek. This was no time for tears—if she could get angry, so could you.

“I’ve known you long enough to have some semblance of understanding on why you’re upset, right now— that’s for damn sure.” You paused, averting your eyes to concentrate on keeping your rising emotions at bay. She watched you, cheeks still red with anger. “I’m gonna give you ten minutes— ten, Ellie! If you don’t get your ass back in there in next ten fucking minutes…” You lick your lips, shaking your head. “We’re over. Done!”

Giving a final glare, you turned to head back inside. “I can’t keep dealing with this shit.” You mutter, under your breath.

“So that’s what it is… Dealing with me?” Ellie voiced, a sliver of disappointment slipping in her moment of anger.

Wiping your cheeks, you peered over your shoulder. “What?”

“You got this perfect little life… Huh?” She began, approaching you intimidatingly. “The loving parents, the farmhouse— you became the perfect daughter for them… Gets the grades, does everything she can to appease them. This fuckin’ fantasy world that you chose to live in all because you wanted someone to love you… Fuckin’ pathetic.”

“Ellie…” You warned.

“Well, newsflash, little-miss-perfect— not everybody wants that! Not everybody wants to play pretend for the rest of their fucking life just to be—“

It happened before you could stop it, fists clenching at your sides as she bad mouthed you till oblivion. Your soft spot—and she knew all about that. Both of you grew up as kids who got into fights and disputes more times than anyone could count; you just decided to clean up your act. However, that troubled twelve to thirteen-year-old still resided inside of you. And, in that moment, she wasn’t your doting girlfriend—she was someone punching down on you.

Your knuckles collided with the side of her face, knocking into her cheek bone. Features scowling as if she were a stranger. Ellie stumbled, holding onto her face with surprised eyes. For a second the version of her you loved came through, but she quickly recovered. Her lips curling at the ends, taunting you. “I knew you still had it in you… You’re no better than me.”

There it was.

Not only was it the straw that broke the camels back—it was the truth. The ultimate truth. Behind all of your petty little arguments. Behind all her wild bursts of anger. She was jealous of you. Grunting behind your teeth, you charged at her. Taking the collar of her jacket as her back hit the gravelly ground. Straddling her, you didn’t hear the rushing feet hitting the porch. You could feel her hands settling loosely on your calves, only angering you more. “I did the fucking work— nobody else but me!” Tears poured down your cheeks. “I am better than you. Because I fucking try—“

Arms pulled you off her body, wrapping around your abdomen. It was Tommy, questioning you in your ear, but you weren’t listening. “Everything went to shit because of you! Remember that!” Dina and Jesse rushed to her side, but she only sat up watching you get pulled back inside. They glared at your forced retreat—they were always more friends with her than they were with you.

Tommy released you, with a disappointed sigh. Maria walking inside, shutting the door behind her, frowning. You heaved, looking at all the decorations that mocked you. Sparkling and shining against the dim lights in the room. The barely eaten cake sat on the counter in the kitchen making fun of you—it was all too much.

“What the hell has gotten into you, y/n?!” Maria pointedly, asked. Not really wanting a response.

“What’s gotten into me?! What’s gotten into her—!” You pointed to the door as if she replaced it.

The blond man leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter, bending at his hips. “Well, I don’t think it matters what’s gotten into her if you put your hands on her, Bug.” Tommy spoke, evenly. He was always the calmer of the two. “Did you… Did you put your hands on her?”

Maria stood with her hands on her hips. “What did we say about fighting—? And you don’t hit your girlfriend— you don’t hit the people that you care about!” She scolded, pointing her finger. “We raised you better than that…”

Your lips quivered, guilt setting in. “I didn’t mean to hit her! She wanted— she wanted me to… I swear!”

He glanced at his wife. “She wanted you to hit her?” Tommy deadpanned, pressing his lips into a line.

They both looked at you with separate expressions. Maria clearly overwhelmed with disappointment and utter disbelief. The same look she gave you when she caught you smoking cigarettes at the barn when you were fourteen—when you told her you quit. Tommy had an expression of pity, like he often did. That same look he gave when you had a meltdown at school when you first moved in with them.

More tears began to roll down your cheeks. “Maria… Tommy… She pushed me. Why would she do that? Why would she—“ You began to ramble, knees growing weak. Your strict mother-figure rushed to your side, catching you before you fell. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to— she was just being so mean.”

Sinking to the floor with you, her hands caressed your hair. Maria looked to Tommy, mouthing for him to go check on Ellie.

Outside, Ellie was dismissing the weary questions from her friends. She’d never seen you act in such an unruly way. Every time she came over, there wasn’t a hair that was out of place on your head. She was always the one acting out, swearing like a sailor. Sure, she knew about your smoking habit, but that was nothing.

Your girlfriend was envious of how everything was panning out for you—college was around the corner. You had an acceptance letter from your dream school, and without a doubt, you were leaving for the city. Leaving her behind to rot in the country. It wasn’t fair!

That adoption letter felt like pity. She wasn’t a fan of that feeling either.

As a bruise formed on her cheek, guilt settled into the pit of her stomach. Ellie had every intention on seeing the side of you that everyone talked about with a past tense that indicated warning. She needed to prove to herself that you weren’t the perfect person she saw you to be—but all that was left behind was remorse and a sore cheek.

She watched as Joel and Tommy stepped aside to talk. Their eyes glancing back and forth between the door and Ellie, as she leaned against her rusted red truck.

“I can’t believe she would do something like that… On your birthday?” Dina shook her head, with her arms crossed.

“It’s not like her…” Jesse narrowed his eyes at the auburn-haired girl. “What’d you do?”

Dina smacked his chest. “Jessie! She’s literally the victim here— domestic abuse!”

He sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes. “I’m not saying what she did was right.” Jessie began. “I’m saying that I know Ellie Williams, and I know how she is— she’s a pusher.”

The bruised seventeen-year-old scoffed.

“Yeah, I said it.” He stood tall, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You’re a pusher. Hell, you’re a professional pusher— you push people for a fucking living.” Dina glared at him, threatening to hit him again. “I mean, there was that one time… When we went into the city for that comic convention, and you completely obliterated Joel for worrying about you—“

The dark-haired, freckled teenager pushed her boyfriend out of the way taking his place. “We don’t have to relive that…”

Ellie rolled her tongue in her mouth. “Look, I know this is my fault…”

“Ellie… You’re the one with the bruise forming on your face.” She reached up, rubbing her cheek. Her wincing under her touch.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, squeezing her red eyes. “Yeah, and if it weren’t for me— for what I said… I wouldn’t have this fuckin’ bruise.” Ellie peered at where Joel and Tommy were speaking. They were wrapping up, giving brotherly hugs. “I am a pusher… And now my girlfriend hates me.” She pouted, tears welling up in her eyes. The blond Miller waved a hand at her, giving a tight-lipped smile that screamed I’m sorry. “I gotta go…” She pulled her keys from her pocket, getting into her truck.

That was the last full conversation the two of you had. Horrible, but the last. Everything in between then and the present was short and empty. Light conversations that only strangers and acquaintances shared. Letters here and there. It was a dispute that was so nuanced, for the first year after that, Joel barely said a word to you. Which bled into his relationship with Tommy. Maria tried to play middleman, but it didn’t work.

Perhaps, that was the reason you kept your distance. You didn’t want to continue to be the wedge that formed between two brothers. While you loved your parents, they were only a phone-call away. And, in the meantime, you could focus on growing in your career. Focusing on your book writing, instead.

You just wanted to forget about what happened when you were an emotionally undeveloped seventeen-year-old, but every time you seen her face—you remembered. So, avoiding Ellie Williams was a mission within itself.

A mission you were hoping you weren’t going to have to endure this year.

“You know,” Tommy began, sipping his fresh coffee. “Joel’s coming down from Jersey for the week.”

As you looked through the fridge, you snapped your head in his direction. “Is he now…?” You slowly question. Letting the fridge door shut on its own. The blonde woman to his right, sitting at the island counter, chuckled. Flipping through the interior design magazine you brought for her.

“And he’s picking up Ellie from the city.”

“What!” You exclaim, rushing to the opposite side of the counter. Pulling the mug from his lips, a surprised squeak left your throat. “Uh, dad… You forgot to mention on the several phone calls that we had in that last month that Ellie moved to the city.”

Maria perked up, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, she’s been there for about a year now… Brooklyn, is it?” She looked to her husband for clarification. He nodded, peering up at you with a plain expression.

“A year?! And none of you told me?”

“Bug, you did say that you didn’t want us to bring her up anymore unless you asked.” Maria stood to her feet, meandering to the stove and oven. “But that does remind me… They should be here in a few hours. Wanna help with the brownies?” She preheated the oven, walking around you casually.

Your mouth fell open, glancing between the two of them. “Okay, so they get brownies, and I get the worst news of my life…” An apron with your nickname embroidered on the front, Bug, hung in your mother's hand as an offering. “Yes, I’ll help with the brownies— this is very cruel to your very successful daughter.”

Tommy waved his hand, dismissively. “C’mon, that incident happened years ago now. You’re twenty-five, I’m sure she’s gotten over it.”

Tying the string around your neck and back, you pressed your lips into a line. It wasn’t really about her—you weren’t over it. You still harbored the same guilt you felt when you settled in your room that night. A crazy mixture of resentment and remorse all rolled up into one feeling; as you settled in your reading nook, with your hand out the window holding a burning cigarette with your index and middle finger. “I’m sure she has…”

Eventually, you switched the conversation around while baking. Falling into fits of laughter from mentioning past stories of your teenagehood. Teaming up with Maria to make fun of Tommy and his aging—all of a sudden, he was beginning to have a knack for playing a checkers. Only old people enjoyed playing checkers. Then, the waiting began.

To busy yourself, you pulled out your computer and brought it to the porch. Even though, you were taking some time off at your publishing job; when it came to your book writing, you had an agent to keep flooding your inbox with emails. Telling you to do this and do that—it was obnoxious. But you did as she asked anyway.

Typing away, a puff of nicotine fled from your lips. Murmuring under your breath, the words that were populating on the screen. On your hip, your phone rang, causing you to throw your head back in slight agony. Something always interrupted you when you were flowing. Flipping open your phone, the decorative chain swinging around as you placed it against your ear. “Hello,” You spoke, stubbing out your cigarette.

It was your roommate and closest friend, Sierra, complaining about the neighbors. Her strong long island accent echoing through the phone. “Oh, my God— they’re so loud! You’d think gettin’ an apartment in a nicer building would thicken the walls.” She groaned on the other end. “Please, come back. At least to tell them to shut up, and then you could go back upstate.”

“Why don’t you… I don’t know…” You shut your laptop, replacing your butt with the boxy electronic. Strolling to the far end of the porch, leaning your arms against the bannister. “Tell them yourself?” An amused smile spread on your lips.

Sierra paused. “Because that’s your job. I’m the nice one, remember?”

“Okay, well I can’t leave. I just got here, and I’m not spending another grand on taxi fare.”

“I’ll spot you.” You could hear her smile on the end.

“Sierra, I’m not coming back until Saturday. So, your only options are to either bang on their door— telling them to shut the hell up— or you suffer listening to their relentless daytime sex.” As you spoke, a truck began rolling up the driveway. Identities unclear due to the intense window tint, but you knew exactly who it was. However, there were three heads in that truck.

She groaned on the other end of the line. “Ugh! I hate you—“

“You love me!” You grinned, but it dropped right off your face when the people exited the vehicle. From the driver's seat, it was Ellie; then, it was Joel who exited, seemingly in conversation. And, finally, a girl stepped out of the vehicle. Joel noticed you leaning against the bannister on the porch, waving his hand with a smile.

Your muscles reacted, waving a fleeting hand. “Maria, Tommy! They’re here!” You yell loud enough to be heard through the screen door. You were always insecure about calling them by their parental titles in front of people—let alone new people.

“You’re yelling in my ear, hon. If you gotta go just tell me.” Sierra complained.

“I gotta go.”

Before she could say her goodbyes, you shut your phone, sliding it into your back pocket. Your parents came out of the house in high spirits; Maria clapping her hands, excitedly, embracing Ellie. Tommy giving a firm bear hug to Joel, laughing heartily—at what? You were unsure.

Awkwardly, you stood there. Smiling with your hands held in front of your body as if you were presenting a project.

Joel looked to you, approaching you with open arms. “Look at you,” He began, wrapping his arms around you, warmly. “All grown up.” He pulled back to get a better look at you, nodding proudly.

“Yeah…” You tapped his shoulder. “You, too.” A chuckle fell from your lips.

Then, you looked to your right at the freckled girl with her arm around a feminine stranger. However, you couldn’t indentify her before you did Ellie. Her auburn hair was pulled into a low bun, with pieces framing her gentle features. Her round evergreen, tinted with slivers of brown, eyes. Freckles decorating her cheeks, bridge of her nose; the beauty mark under left eye—

“Hey,” Ellie drawled out the greeting, awkwardly. Leaning in for a hug that teetered back and forth until you reciprocated.

You kept that same plastered smile on your lips, wrapping your arm under hers. “Hey, Ellie.” Pulling back, you finally looked at the girl beside her. She had tattoos and piercings and looked so much cooler than you. “Who’s this?”

Her earthy eyes widened. “Oh, this is, uhm, my girlfriend, Cat.”

The only response you could give was a nod and a half-hearted wave. It was like a dramatic record scratch in your head. But your parents took over with the rest. Guiding everyone inside to the warmth. Tommy remained outside, giving you skeptical eyes. “Help me with the bags…”

“Honey, don’t be weird about this.” He spoke, as you followed him to the truck.

“I’m not being weird.” You whined, gravel crunching under your feet. “Seriously, what’s to be weird about?” Reaching into the open trunk, you pulled out luggage’s and duffle bags. This was a lot of stuff for a week stay—they brought more than you did.

He gruffly breathed, pulling up the handle of one of the suitcases. “You’re my daughter, I know you— just sayin’…”

“Oh, my God— please!” You complained, hooking the duffle over your shoulder, pulling one of the luggage’s. Leaving him to follow you toward the porch.

Dinner had come quicker than you had hoped. If anything, if you could magically skip over the thing, and still eat, that would’ve been perfect.

All six of you sat at the dining table, forks and knives scratching at ceramic plates. Tommy and Joel had gathered in the back, last minute to cook up some steaks. And, to busy yourself, you helped Maria with the sides while Ellie and Cat got situated in the guest house.

“So, y/n, how’s the book comin’ along?” Joel wondered, putting a cut piece of steak into his mouth.

You made a surprised sound as you chewed your food, rushing to swallow. “Shit, you’re writing a book?” Ellie questioned, leaning her elbows on the table.

Taking a sip of water, you decided to respond. “Yeah, I’ve been working on it for a while.” Your eyes glanced at her, then moved on, quickly, to Joel’s. “It’s… Coming along.” A bashful laugh fell from your lips, as your hand reached for the glass of wine. It was barely touched, red hue swishing in the bulb of the glass as you took a sip. It’s fruity bitterness relishing over your tongue.

“What is it— like fiction or…?” Ellie pressed, genuinely.

“Non-fiction. A book of essay’s, really— written in different forms.” You nodded. “It sounds boring…”

Ellie shrugged, forking a piece of meat into her mouth. “Doesn’t sound boring to me.” She responded, with her mouth full.

“It’s the farthest from boring, honey.” Maria massaged your shoulder, sharing a small smile. You mirrored her in return, forking at the vegetables on your plate—perfectly steamed broccoli.

“How’s Brooklyn treating you?” You spoke up, raising your eyebrows.

Ellie lightly glared at Joel before answering, placing her utensils down. “It’s certainly treating me…” She muttered, rubbing her hands together, glancing at her girlfriend.

“It’s a great place for art, but just not Ellie’s art.” Cat chuckled, sipping from her wine glass.

“Oh, that’s what you’re doing.” You nod.

“I recall her using the words: too crowded.” Joel used air quotes to briefly describe the past conversation.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “It makes me feel crowded— the city. When you say it like that, it makes me sound fucking stupid, Joel.”

“You did say crowded.”

“Well, I meant overwhelmed.”

You snickered at their bickering, leaning back in your chair. “Back to your art, I guess you’re experiencing the artistic equivalent to writers block?” Tommy inquired, still chewing on his steak, raising an eyebrow. The auburn-haired young woman nodded, chuckling to herself. “That’s why you’re stayin’ with us for a little while, huh?”

Another record scratch.

You blinked at you father, deepening your eyebrows. “Wait, what?”

Joel had set his beer on the table, leaning forward. “Yeah, Ellie’s stayin’ with your parents for a little while to get her juices flowing, again.” He explained, pressing his lips into a soft smile. Ellie cringed at his use of the words juices, taking a sip of her beer.

Tommy and Maria told you nothing unless you asked for it for almost everything now—you at least deserved to know that Ellie was staying on the farm indefinitely. After all, when they’re dead and gone, it’ll be yours; so, they could’ve at least told you without you having to ask—that’s big!

“And, I’ll help out so I won’t be sleeping the day away— because I know that I will without a proper schedule.”

“I thought you guys didn’t need a farmhand.” You glanced at your parents, with your eyebrows still deepened with confusion.

Maria chuckled, standing to her feet. “We don’t need anything, but who could say no to a helping hand?” She grabs the empty basket of biscuits from the center of the table. “Anybody want more biscuits?”

“I would love some!” Cat spoke up, holding up a tattooed finger.

“Me too, honey.” Tommy also spoke.

A dry chortle left your lips, leaning against the back of the chair. “Are you staying on the farm, too?” You peered over at the stranger—the girlfriend, with a slight accusatory tone.

Her lips parted a few times before she responded. “Oh, no, I’m going back to Brooklyn. Not much of a country girl.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded, downing the rest of your wine. This week was going to be a doozy. When Maria came back to the table, you snatched a biscuit from the basket, biting into it. There was a perfect crispy layer on the outside, mixed with the perfect gooey, soft innards of the biscuit. “These are so good.” You muttered with your mouth full with its buttery goodness.

On your hip, your phone buzzed. Cursing under your breath, you plucked the cellphone from your belt, flicking it open. It was your agent calling you at eight o’clock at night. “Excuse me, I gotta take this.” You scooted the chair back, pressing the green button. “It’s late, Isa.” You started the call, stalking out of the room like the corporate woman you are. Taking the route up the stairs to your old bedroom.

“I need that new chapter by tomorrow morning— as in, 8am.” She scolded on the other line. “I’m personally reminding you. Since you couldn’t respond to my emails.”

You sighed, shutting your bedroom door behind you. “Isa, I’ve been traveling all day on public transport, and I’ve been trying to have family time— is that not what Thanksgiving is about?”

“You’re writer, hon. You have little bit of family time, then you hermit to finish your work— now, stop giving me grief. Time is of the essence.” Her smooth voice told, chuckling after her words. “I’ll be anticipating you’re new chapter tomorrow at eight! Have a great night.”

“Have a great night…”

Slapping your phone shut, you sighed, running your other hand over your face. Being a writer was relentless—just as relentless as you and your roommate’s neighbors. But, instead of lingering in frustration, you grabbed your heavy laptop and propped yourself on the cushion beside your window—your reading nook. Not forgetting to put a Sade tape inside of your stereo for some background music, before you began to diligently work.

You typed at your computer, rapid clicking sounds filling your ears. Although, it was no surprise that you worked your hardest after the sun set—it was like you had one too many espresso shots.

Every word was coming from the heart, and coincidentally enough, the guests at your home made it easier. This chapter was definitely reflecting the feelings you felt the day of Ellie’s seventeenth birthday. You used imagery and metaphors to describe that feeling of attack—being backed into a corner, having the worst part of yourself brought into the light. And, like most of your pieces, it was dredging it all back up again; the emotions.

That feeling of losing the only person that truly understood you.

Of course, you had a few relationships since then—a few, trying to chase that same feeling you felt when your hands touched. But there wasn’t anyone who could compare to her. How pathetic was it to still be harping on a highschool sweetheart?

Hours passed under the radar. Your parents being the mile marker in your work, knocking on the door to let you know everyone was heading to bed. Too busy with outlining new ideas, you barely spared them a glance, muttering a smooth goodnight.

It was about one in the morning by the time you finished the chapter. Still, it needed some tweaking, but it was good enough to send to your agent for the editor to look at.

Shutting your laptop, you finally took in your old bedroom. Various music artists slapped against your soft pink walls, attached with tape—some corners hanging off. Catwoman figurines lining the back of your large, white, wooden dresser; with comics stacked alongside them. Stacks of old books in the corner of your room, stacked from the floor to the middle of her wall. If you were to stumble into them, they’d experience one hell of a fall.

Suddenly, curiosity struck.

Hopping from the cushioned seat under your paneled window, you looked under your bed. Reaching for an old shoebox that was filled with many, many interesting things. You slid it from under the dusty bed frame, taking it back to that plushy seat you appreciated so dearly. Plucking the top off, you released a sigh. Immediately being hit with polaroids of yourself as a teenager—mostly standing beside, laughing with, and cuddling Ellie.

They were the photos you snatched from your wall after that fight. Oh, she looked the same. Still had that uncertainty in her earthy, olive eyes. You didn’t understand it then, and you most definitely didn’t understand it now. Ellie didn’t have to feel the uncertainty she was used to in foster care. She had people who believed in her—who will always believe in her.

Sifting through, your hands hovered over a letter she wrote. It was an apology letter sent around the time of her eighteenth birthday—almost a full year since the situation. The envelope was ripped open from the day you received it; stained with salty, heartbroken tears.

If only that day never happened…

A startling knock sounded at your window. It was no more than a pebble, which was confirmed when another launched within your sights. Scrunching up your eyebrows, you unlocked it, pulling it upwards. Once you peaked your head outside into the brisk, cool weather, a small smile spread onto your lips.

“Workin’ hard or hardly workin’ up there?” Ellie called from below. “I brought a little somethin’… Thought you could use a break from writing.” She waved a tightly rolled joint in her hands—which could only be seen if you squinted.

The corners of your lips spread wider, feeling horribly nostalgic. “You’re actually a little too late on that front. I finished a few minutes ago,” You pressed your lips into a line, continuing. “But I could never turn down smoke break. I’ll be down in a second.”

Dropping the letter, you scooted off the seat to grab your jacket. Stuffing your feet into the semi-stained Uggs you wore into the ground, before fleeing your bedroom. You didn’t feel the need to sneak down the stairs, but a part of you wanted to—to relieve that feeling of adrenaline you felt in your youth.

Ellie met you at the back door, holding open the creaking screen door as you exited. “I honestly wasn’t sure you still did this.” She chuckled, looking at the ground as you both began to walk away from the house. Putting some distance so the smell wouldn’t upset the elders in the home.

“What? Smoke weed?” You perked an eyebrow. “You think because I went all corporate, I stopped being down?”

“Actually… Yeah.” She responded, nervously snickering.

The two ofyou settled in front of this white-lined shed that was illuminated by the two warm, orange-toned lights on either side of the door. “Well, you’re kind of right…” You admitted, squinting your eyes, embarrassed. It’s hard being known for your adaptability. “I try to keep the pot smoking to a minimum. In the corporate world they test you for it.”

Ellie pulled the joint from behind her ear, placing it between her lips. She shook her head in response to your words. “Says the cigarette smoker…” She joked, eyeing you, teasingly. While she flicked her lighter to burn the tip.

“Hey, they don’t give a rats ass about nicotine— I need to make up for that loss somehow. I’m a writer for christ’s sake.”

When she finally gets it to catch the fire, she took two puffs before passing it to you between her index and thumb. “Where’s Cat?” You innocently questioned, taking a hit of the joint, then looking at it, before taking another hit.

Ellie became rigid, releasing an exasperated sigh from her lips. “The guesthouse, watchin’ some movie.”

You handed her the joint. “What, is she not down?” Mocking your previous words, with amused eyes. However, her demeanor had quickly shifted.

“She gets easily frustrated after traveling all day…” She shook her head in a dismissive way, like she didn’t want any further questions to asked.

“Hm… That’s relatable.”

Silence engulfed the both of you as you passed the blunt back and forth until it was nothing more than a roach. Hearing nothing but the distant wind chimes sounding off on the porch.

Before speaking, Ellie took a deep breath, glancing over at you as if she were nervous to make eye contact. “I hope me stayin’ here for a little bit doesn’t bother you too much.”

Her words were double-take worthy, you looked over at her with expressive eyes—widening, in surprise. “Bother me? Why would it bother me?” You leaned your shoulder on the shed, kicking one leg over the other.

“You didn’t seem like the biggest fan—“

“Ellie, I was surprised. That’s all.” You waved your hand, shaking your head. “I feel like they don’t tell me shit anymore…” Shoulders shrugging, you glance toward the house standing tall in all its glory. “They didn’t tell me about you moving to Brooklyn, either. What does it look like when someone you’ve known your whole life moves to a city you’re actually familiar with and they’re not, and you don’t reach out to help them? I’m only a forty minute train ride away.” You rambled, deepening your eyebrows. “They basically made me look like an asshole.”

You weren’t entirely sure how you’d react if you knew about Ellie’s moving to the big city. Knowing your habits, you’d probably sit by the phone for hours before making the move to give her a call. But, it’s not like you were given the opportunity to figure it out for yourself. Now, it just appeared that you forgot about her—or could care less about her endeavors; which is farthest from the truth.

Her full lips cracked into a smile, chuckling. The auburn-haired woman, mirrored your position, leaning her shoulder against the wooden shed. “Always worried about what you look like…” She muttered, sucking her teeth. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you’re an asshole— you just didn’t know.” Ellie shrugged. “It’s not like we talk as much as we used to…”

As much as we used to. That kind of stung.

Your eyes averted to the gravel under your boots. “Yeah…” There was an awkward beat that took its place between you. Swallowing, you shooed it away with speaking up. “What about your art? You’re living in one of the most creative cities in the world, and you can’t create?”

She puffed air from her lips, glancing in the direction of the guesthouse, priming her lips. “Okay… Confession— but only if what’s said here stays here.”

“What’s said at the shed, stays at the shed.” You affirm, holding a hand and crossing to fingers. The high from what you smoked clouding your mind, squinting your eyes and loosening your inhibitions.

“Cat and I moved in together pretty early— too early… I needed a roommate and she was the perfect option.” Ellie began, carefully. Olive eyes shifting under the dim light in thought. “I swear ever since I moved in with her… The inspiration to make anything new is fucking gone.” She ran her hand over her hair, which was actually loose without a hair tie. Dusting over her shoulders, pieces pushed behind her ears. “She, you know, hovers a lot— in a sweet way, it’s just irritating because not even her pushing me can be inspiring.”

Your heart skipped a beat; it was hopeful—you really are an asshole! “Damn… So, it’s not the city that makes you feel crowded. It’s Cat.” You hum, nodding your head, taking in your assumption. “And… You think staying here will help? Doing boring farm work?” A chuckle falls from your lips, borderline nervous, borderline humored.

She pursed her lips, raising her eyebrows. “I mean, I spent a lot of time here growin’ up…” Ellie looked at you, knowingly. “It was never boring when we did it together.”

“That’s because we were doing it together. I’m not gonna be here while you’re shoveling horse shit.” You chortled, peering at her through hazy eyes. She giggled and it sounded like music to your ears. It’s been awhile since you heard her laugh from something you said. Weed always did have a way of bringing people together.

“Well, maybe before you go, you could help me out. Jog my memory.” Ellie offered, raising her eyebrows. “It’s either you or suffering through Tommy’s jokes for hours—“

“I don’t mind, but we might have to jog each others memory.”

“Hey, you can take the girl out the country, but not the country out the girl.” She shrugged. “I have faith in you.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, a smile spread on your lips. “You’re still so corny.” Shaking your head, a laugh slips. Wrapping your arms around your body, you acknowledge the cool weather. It pricked at your exposed skin, and even through your jacket. “It’s getting late…”

She scratched the back of her neck. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I appreciate the joint— I needed it.” You pushed off the shed wall, licking your lips. In preparation to meander back toward the house, you rocked on your feet. “There’s some left over biscuits on the counter…” You drawled, but it was all right because Ellie had filled in for you.

“I’m fucking starving.”

Then, the two of you walked shoulder to shoulder back inside. Giggling at stupid jokes, surfing over any of the past debacles you had. Turns out reconvening with your childhood lover wasn’t so bad after all. For now, anyway.

[flwrkid14]

The First Fenton-Drake Thanksgiving (ft. Ghosts, Bats, and Pure Chaos)

So, Tim Drake and Danny Fenton got married. No one really knows how it happened—just one day, Tim came home from a mission with a ring on his finger, introduced Danny as his husband and left the batfamily spiraling.

Now, it's their first Thanksgiving together. And of course, things couldn't just be normal.

-----------

Danny’s Idea of Thanksgiving: Quiet. Just them. Maybe a simple meal. Chill. Relaxed.

Tim’s Idea of Thanksgiving: Invite everyone. And he meant everyone.

-----------

Cue the chaos:

The Guest List:

The entire Batfamily (enthusiastically invited by Tim)

The Fentons (Jack, Maddie, and Jazz—armed with ghost-hunting gadgets)

A few ghosts from the Infinite Realms (because Tim insisted they needed to “experience traditions”)

Possibly some rogue League of Assassins members (Tim says it’s complicated)

-----------

The Day Begins:

Danny wakes up to the smell of... way too many things cooking. Not a good sign.

He stumbles into the kitchen, eyes widening. “Tim, why are there three turkeys?”

Tim, flipping pancakes: “Options. We’ve got regular, ectoplasm-infused, and vegetarian.”

Danny: rubbing his temples “Tim, it was supposed to be just us.”

Tim: innocent smile “I thought you’d enjoy the company.”

-----------

The Fentons Arrive:

Jack: “Smells great in here, Tim!” Maddie: examining the ectoplasm turkey “You said this enhances flavor? What’s the biochemical process behind it?” Tim: “It’s... complicated.” Maddie: pulls out a notepad “I need to run some tests later.” Jack: “Are we talking ghost science?!” Danny: facepalms “Here we go.” Jazz: “Danny, are you okay?” Danny: staring at the chaos “I... guess.”

-----------

The Bats Show Up:

Dick: “This is amazing, Tim! You went all out.” Danny: whispers “Please take some of them home.” Jason: “I brought pie. And also whiskey.” Tim: “Perfect.”

Damian: eyeing the ectoplasm turkey “This looks... unnatural.” Tim: “You’ll love it.” Danny: groans “I need a nap.”

-----------

Ghostly Guests:

Ember is playing loud rock music in the living room.

Skulker has taken it upon himself to hunt the fourth turkey.

Technus has hacked the TV to show every football game at once.

Bruce is trying to make small talk with a glowing ghost. It’s not going well.

-----------

Meanwhile, the Fentons:

Maddie is way too interested in the contraptions and safety measurements Tim and Danny have added to their home, asking Tim about each one. Jack keeps trying to bond with Jason. (“So, you came back from the dead? Let’s compare notes!”) Jazz is refereeing between Damian and Dani, who are debating weapon efficiency.

-----------

Talia Shows Up:

Because of course she does.

Talia: “Timothy. I see you’ve outdone yourself.” Danny: whispers “Why is she here?” Tim: sighs “It’s complicated.”

Talia: smirking “I brought dessert.” Danny: “... Is it poisoned?” Talia: “Only if you want it to be.”

-----------

The Dinner Table:

The ectoplasm turkey definitely glows.

Jack Fenton accidentally sets a dinner roll on fire.

Damian challenges Dani to a duel... over dessert.

Bruce is visibly regretting every life choice.

Dick: “This is... surprisingly fun.” Jason: “I love this level of chaos.” Danny: mutters to Tim “I’m never letting you plan Thanksgiving again.”

Tim: smirking “You love it.” Danny: grumbling “... Maybe.”

-----------

After Dinner:

The ghosts attempt to help clean up. (They make it worse.)

The Fentons try to “analyze” the batfam. Bruce retreats.

Skulker and Jason are still debating hunting methods.

-----------

Later, on the Rooftop:

Finally alone, Danny and Tim look out over the city.

Danny: “You really went all out.” Tim: “You deserve a big celebration.” Danny: smiles “It was... chaotic. But fun.”

Tim: quietly “Welcome to the family, Danny. All of it.” Danny: smiles wider “Thanks, Tim. Even if they’re... a lot.”

Tim: grinning “Next year, bigger?” Danny: laughs “You know you’re lucky I love you.”

Tim: grinning “Yeah. I know.”

[p0orbaby]

Spark Enough and Something Catches

summary: about how you’re guard is firmly up, until alexia comes into your life

warnings: soft sex but nothing explicit, past trauma

a/n: thank you for the request !

word count: 2.2k

-

You’ve never trusted a footballer before. Or a soccer player. Whatever people want to call it. The first time you meet Alexia Putellas, she’s all legs and sharp cheekbones, like someone engineered her in a lab. You meet her at a party you didn’t want to go to, dragged along by a friend who swears that this one will be fun. A lie. It’s full of people who own tiny dogs and use the word “network” as a verb.

She’s there because she knows someone who knows someone. A friend of a friend of a cousin. There’s a lot of loud talking, loud music, loud everything. You’re not loud. You’re a suspicious introvert with a knack for reading people, and you don’t like what you see—except for Alexia, standing in the corner, awkwardly holding a drink that’s too small for her hands. She catches your eye, and that’s it. A quirk of fate, the universe playing a practical joke.

It takes her a while to approach you because she’s Alexia Putellas, and you’re wearing that expression that says, “Do not approach me.” So she doesn’t. Not right away. She takes her time, watches you from across the room, which you find creepy until she finally makes her move.

“You look like you’d rather be anywhere else,” she says.

You shrug. “I’d rather be anywhere else”

She laughs, and you think, Oh no. This one has a nice laugh. This is a problem.

You’re not great with people. You like cats. Maybe dogs. But people? Too complicated. Too many feelings. You’ve built a wall around yourself, and it’s made of titanium and bad experiences. Your exes didn’t leave you with much except a distaste for small talk and an obsession with collecting weird anecdotes.

“So,” she says, and you can tell she’s trying. “Do you like football?”

“Not really,” you say, because it’s true. You’ve never been one for organised sports. The idea of running around after a ball while people yell at you seems absurd. Alexia blinks, and you wonder if you’ve blown it before it even begins. “But I’m open to persuasion”

Another laugh. Okay, maybe you haven’t blown it.

You spend the rest of the evening chatting. Or rather, she chats, and you respond in monosyllables, because that’s how you protect yourself. She’s patient, though. She waits for you to say something more, something real. You don’t give it to her, not yet.

You don’t think you’ll ever see her again. But then you do, because she asks for your number, and like an idiot, you give it to her. What’s the harm? It’s just a number. A number’s not a promise.

She texts you the next day, something simple. “Hey, want to grab coffee?”

You think about ignoring it. It’s what you usually do. But you don’t. You say yes. You go for coffee. It’s awkward, at first. You’re not used to letting people in. You’re used to hiding behind sarcasm and deadpan humour. But Alexia? She’s disarming. She’s earnest in a way that’s almost annoying. But she’s also funny. Really funny. And smart. She listens when you talk, really listens, which is unnerving.

-

This goes on for weeks. Texts, coffee, dinner. You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her to lose interest or realise you’re not worth the effort. But she doesn’t. She keeps showing up, keeps asking you about your day, keeps making you laugh with stories about her teammates. You start to let your guard down, inch by inch, like a dog coming out of its shell after too many years in the kennels.

One night, you’re at her place, a cozy little flat that’s much too neat for someone who’s always on the go. She’s cooking dinner, and you’re sitting at the counter, watching her move around the kitchen with the kind of grace that only comes from years of training. She catches you staring, and you look away, but not fast enough.

“What?” she asks, grinning.

“Nothing,” you say, because how do you explain that you’re still trying to figure her out? Still trying to understand why someone like her would be interested in someone like you.

She doesn’t push. She never pushes. That’s one of the things you like about her. But it’s also frustrating, because sometimes you want her to push. To break through the last of your defenses and force you to confront whatever it is you’re afraid of.

You eat dinner, and it’s delicious because of course she’s a great cook. She’s good at everything, which should make you hate her, but it doesn’t. It just makes you like her more. You’re screwed.

After dinner, you’re both on the sofa, watching some movie you picked out, a quirky indie film that’s more weird than entertaining. You’re not really paying attention. You’re too aware of her, sitting next to you, close but not too close, her hand resting on the cushion between you.

Halfway through the movie, she pauses it, turns to you. “Can I ask you something?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sure”

“Why do you keep me at arm’s length?”

You’re caught off guard by the question, and it takes you a moment to respond. “I don’t”

“You do,” she says, and there’s no accusation in her voice, just curiosity. “It’s like you’re afraid to let me in”

You shrug, trying to play it off, but you know she’s right. “Maybe I am”

“Why?”

You don’t answer right away. You’ve never talked about this with anyone, not even yourself. But she’s looking at you with those eyes, those stupidly kind eyes, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.

“Because people leave,” you say, and it sounds so melodramatic that you almost cringe. But it’s true. People leave. They get bored, or they find someone better, or they just decide you’re not worth the effort anymore. And you’re left picking up the pieces, trying to pretend like it doesn’t hurt when it does. Every time.

Alexia doesn’t say anything for a long time. She just looks at you, really looks at you, and you feel like she’s seeing every cracked piece of you, every scar and wound you’ve tried to hide. It’s terrifying.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she says, finally. “Unless you want me to”

You don’t know how to respond to that, so you don’t. You just sit there, staring at the TV screen, which is frozen on a scene that doesn’t make sense out of context.

She reaches out, slowly, like she’s afraid you’ll bolt if she moves too fast. Her hand rests on yours, and you tense up, but you don’t pull away. You can feel her warmth, the softness of her skin against yours. It’s a small gesture, but it feels like a big deal, like something significant is happening.

You take a deep breath, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you turn to face her. “I’m scared,” you admit, and your voice is barely above a whisper.

She smiles, just a little. “So am I”

That surprises you. “Why?”

“Because you’re important to me,” she says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And I don’t want to mess this up”

You laugh, a short, incredulous laugh. “I’m the one who’s going to mess this up”

“I don’t think so,” she says, and there’s something in her voice that makes you believe her.

The moment stretches out, and you know this is it. This is the moment when you decide whether to keep running or to let yourself be caught. You’re tired of running. Tired of being scared. So you lean in, just a little, and she meets you halfway. Her lips are soft against yours, tentative at first, like she’s giving you a chance to change your mind. But you don’t.

The kiss deepens, and you lose yourself in it, in the feel of her, the taste of her. It’s like nothing else exists, just the two of you, and for once, you’re not thinking about what comes next, or what could go wrong. You’re just here, in this moment, and it’s perfect.

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathing a little harder, and there’s a flush in her cheeks that makes her look even more beautiful, if that’s possible. You don’t say anything, because what is there to say? Words aren’t enough for this.

She doesn’t push you for more, doesn’t try to take things further. She just holds you, her arms wrapped around you in a way that makes you feel safe, like nothing can hurt you as long as she’s here.

And maybe that’s true. Maybe, for once, you’ve found someone who won’t leave. Someone who sees you, really sees you, and thinks you’re worth the effort.

It’s terrifying. But it’s also wonderful.

You don’t sleep together that night. You’re not ready, and she understands that. Instead, you fall asleep in her arms, her steady heartbeat lulling you into a sense of peace you haven’t felt in years.

-

In the morning, you wake up to find her watching you, a soft smile on her lips. You’re not a morning person, but somehow, with her, it’s different. You don’t mind waking up early if it means seeing her like this, all warm and soft and a little messy.

“Morning,” she says, her voice husky from sleep.

“Morning,” you reply, and it’s the first time in a long time that the word doesn’t feel like a lie.

She kisses you again, slow and sweet, and you melt into it, your body relaxing in a way that feels foreign but good. Really good.

You spend the day together, doing nothing and everything. You talk, you laugh, you kiss some more. There’s no pressure, no rush. Just the two of you, figuring things out at your own pace.

It’s weeks later when you finally decide you’re ready. It happens naturally, one moment leading to the next, until you’re both in her bed, the room filled with the soft glow of the bedside lamp. You’re nervous, but she’s patient, taking her time, making sure you’re comfortable every step of the way.

It’s soft and sweet and a little awkward, but in the best possible way. You’re not used to being vulnerable like this, but with her, it feels right. It feels safe.

When it starts, it’s all gentle touches and soft kisses, but then there’s this moment—this ridiculous moment—where your elbow jabs into her side at just the wrong angle, and she yelps, both of you freezing like you’ve broken some unspoken rule. There’s this split-second where you’re sure the mood is ruined, but then she bursts out laughing, a real belly laugh that shakes the bed and sends you into a fit of giggles, too. You laugh until you’re breathless, your faces inches apart, her forehead resting against yours as you try to remember how to breathe.

“Sorry,” you manage between giggles, your voice tinged with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement.

“It’s fine,” she says, still chuckling, and there’s this glint in her eye that makes your heart skip. “Who knew elbows could be so dangerous?”

You’re both grinning like idiots now, and somehow, the awkwardness dissolves into something tender, something that feels more real than any scripted moment ever could. She kisses you again, slower this time, her lips curling into a smile against yours. There’s no rush, no pressure to make it perfect, just the two of you figuring it out together, your laughter slowly fading into soft sighs.

You’re still fumbling a bit, still learning each other’s rhythms, but there’s a sweetness to it, a sense of discovery that makes every touch feel electric. You’re hyper-aware of everything—the warmth of her skin, the way her breath hitches when your hands move lower, the way she murmurs your name like it’s something sacred.

And when it finally happens, when you finally come together, it’s not the smooth, cinematic moment you’ve seen in movies. It’s a little clumsy, a little hesitant, but it’s yours. The connection is raw and unfiltered, filled with soft gasps and whispered reassurances. You can’t help but giggle again when your hands get tangled in the sheets, and she joins in, her face flushed and happy. It’s imperfect and human, but somehow, that makes it perfect in its own way.

Afterward, you lie there, tangled up in each other, your head resting on her chest. You can hear her heartbeat, steady and strong, and it calms you, makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, you can do this. You can let someone in without losing yourself.

She strokes your hair, her fingers gentle against your scalp. “You okay?” she asks, her voice soft.

“Yeah,” you say, and for the first time in a long time, you mean it. You’re more than okay. You’re happy.

She smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Good”

You close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the moment, into her. You’re still scared, still worried that it won’t last, that something will happen to ruin it. But for now, you’re holding on to the hope that maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.

[o-sachi]

You're Just My Type pt. 1 ₊⊹ Blue Lock Chars.

ଳ What kind of person is the blue lock boys' ideal girl in terms of looks and personality?

ଳ characters; michael kaiser, sae itoshi, isagi yoichi, rin itoshi, bachira meguru, chigiri hyoma, nagi seishirou, reo mikage, kunigami rensuke, alexis ness

ଳ requested by; @itenesycc

[🐟]: I tried to include as many as possible. Hopefully this fulfills your request! I might make a part two with everyone else I missed.

‎

ᯓ Michael Kaiser - the domestic & doting type

Kaiser turns into the biggest baby around his s/o. How could he not? She spoils him rotten after all. And she hardly minds because she knows that he's just seeking out the care and affection he missed out in his childhood. In a way, he's healing his inner child. Don't get me wrong; he's not using her as some sort of replacement for a parent figure. But he's trying to feel what it's like to be truly loved.

He absolutely loves it when she cooks for him. His heart throbs like crazy whenever their s/o shows even the slightest bit of concern for him. And don't even get him started about the way she would take care of him before and after his practice. At the end of the day, he makes sure to reciprocate her efforts in his own little ways. Suddenly, he's the kindest, most gentle, and most loving man on Earth. And whenever his salary comes in, she's sure to be at a fancy restaurant that night and receiving the queen treatment she deserves.

I have a feeling that he's into nice looking hair. It doesn't matter if it's long or short as long as it's healthy and has volume to it. He's probably into dyed hair as well. He also finds that beautiful hair pairs up well with a pretty set of eyes. The more expressive they are, the better.

ᯓ Sae Itoshi - the shy & soft-spoken type

Sae might seem like a big b*tch to everyone else, but he's surprisingly nice to women (as long as they're not a crazy fanatic). Well... "nice" is a bold term, so let's just say he's aloof. He's not harsh towards them, but he's not going to smile at them either. But! Deep down he has a soft spot for the cute and shy kind of girl. He just can't find it in him to be cold to that kind of person; It almost feels wrong.

But, yes, he'll never admit that in a million years. However, the changeup is noticeable. It's subtle, but you can tell through how his voice softens ever so slightly when talking to his s/o. She might be cursing herself for failing to maintain eye contact with him or tripping over her sentences. But Sae finds all of this quite endearing. And trust me when I say that he becomes the biggest menace around her—making her flustered at every opportunity he comes across. He can't get enough of it.

In terms of looks, he likes it when a girl has soft features with short hair that frames her rounded face. Her plump cheeks make it more enjoyable for him to poke whenever he teases her. It's also canon that he's into ass... so, yeah. He says it's all about the shape and less about the size.

ᯓ Isagi Yoichi - the funny & carefree type

Isagi had the luxury of growing up in a healthy environment, so I think it's only natural for him to gravitate towards someone the same. If she has a great sense of humor with a relaxed demeanor, then he's pretty much sold. Frankly, he doesn't need anything more. Isagi finds beauty in simplicity. His s/o is someone akin to a hidden gem. She isn't flashy by any means, but she's incredibly sweet so she stands out that way.

He wonders why no one has gone after her before. But, oh well, more of her for him! She never fails to make him laugh even if the jokes are corny. They're the type of couple everyone's annoyed at because they're too sweet and now they feel jealous. Oh, but Isagi fell even harder once she witnessed his different side while playing football. He fully expected her to be repulsed, but she was amused. Apparently it was cool to see him so pumped up like that.

He's not that particular when it comes to looks. As long as she has a gentle expression and she takes care of herself, he'll be happy. When it comes to clothes... well, he has no clue about that so even a simple style impresses him. He's really a low maintenance guy and we love him for that. Canonically into thighs, so he doesn't care if it's plump or muscular—he's content as long as he can squeeze 'em.

ᯓ Rin Itoshi - the perfectionist & intelligent type

When you think of the title "Ice Queen"—whatever comes to mind, that's exactly his type. In other words, I have a STRONG feeling that Rin is essentially going for the female version of himself. He doesn't give a shit if she's worse than him. In fact, that makes it better in his opinion. Someone's gotta put him in place, right? He'll happily let her do that as long as he deems her on par with him. And I don't mean that she has to be a football freak; she just needs to be more or less well-rounded.

Apart from his standards being sky high, he just wants to make sure that his girl is better than his brother's girl. Toxic, I know. But what were you expecting? Regardless, he'll always make sure to let her know that she's the best in his eyes. Totally out of character, but he'll be praising her like crazy if he's truly in love with her. I can definitely see an enemies-to-lovers story happening to this guy.

He's probably into the clean girl aesthetic. He finds the look elegant and sleek. It makes her look like she has her shit together and he digs that. Perhaps he prefers dark medium length hair—so, brown and black hues.

ᯓ Bachira Meguru - the calm & laid-back type

When I say calm and laid-back, I don't necessarily mean someone who's the polar opposite of him. She's still going to be as hyper and energetic as him... just a bit more lowkey. Like if they were to go on an amusement park date and ride a rollercoaster—he'd be screaming his lungs out while she'd enjoy the ride quietly with a big smile plastered on her face. She'd gladly let him drag her to whatever crazy scheme he has planned. Spontaneous, but blends into the background kind of thing.

In a way, she's also responsible for mellowing him a little bit. Even though she's fully supportive of his antics, he'll unconsciously calm down at times to match her energy. He especially loves her because she accepts all of the overwhelming affection that he has to offer. Hugs that squeeze the air out of you? Sure, she'll take it. Kisses peppered relentlessly over her face? Great! Just another day for her.

I have this teensy feeling that Bachira might be into ponytails or pigtails. He thinks it makes any girl look cute regardless of the length of her hair. When it comes to height, he's the dude that does not care if she's taller than him. To be fair, he's pretty damn tall, so that should say something about him. Similar to Isagi, he cares more about personality.

ᯓ Chigiri Hyoma - the sassy & independent type

I'll just say it... but Chigiri likes his girls a bit b*tchy. Not rude, not mean—but just the right amount of sass. She's not a bitch. She's THE bitch. You get me? He just loves how witty and snarky she can be. It makes the relationship more fun knowing that she can keep up with the banter without taking any offense. They definitely have an inside joke—something something about who has better hair...

She thinks she's his biggest supporter, but it's actually the other way around. The way this man will support his girl is like no other. He can't help it when he's dating a girlboss. Chigiri admires that she's headstrong and knows what she wants. Like ask her where she wants to eat and she'll give you a place... and an order.

Long pretty hair. No ifs, no buts. He wants someone that can rival his hair routine. Chigiri would even be the one to tie a pretty pink ribbon in her locks. I see him digging the whole clean girl aesthetic as well. He's into the preppy style—old money or academia fits best.

ᯓ Nagi Seishirou - the patient & reliable type

I'll be real and say that Nagi probably wasn't the best person to be in a relationship with in the early stages. Of course, he needs some time to get used to having a whole other person constantly be around his space, requiring his attention. It's going to be a difficult ordeal, so it's totally valid to get exhausted. But once he realizes how patient and understanding she is, he'll try harder for her.

One day he'll just wake up on a random morning missing her warmth, then his mind will wander to what his life would be like without her. He'd be terrified to the point that he'll do a full 360 and become the most doting he's ever been. Well, he'll nowhere be near overbearing, but he'll at least show that he cares.

He prefers it when she has short hair or if she has longer hair—she would normally have it in an updo. He says long hair makes it itchy when he nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck when cuddling. And speaking of cuddling, Nagi would love it if she was built for warm cuddling. He falls asleep in seconds like a Minecraft character.

ᯓ Reo Mikage - the down-to-earth & responsible type

One of Reo's biggest considerations when it comes to finding love is his partner's perception of money. He's insanely rich, so it's understandable that he wants to find someone who isn't going to date him solely for his bank. He's going to be wary of everyone at first, but he'll fold once he finds someone who's genuinely practical and down-to-earth. Reo will be smitten knowing that she's staying with him because of... him.

With that being said, she needs to be responsible as well. I mean, responsible in the sense that she has her life together. She works hard towards her dreams which matches his goal-oriented persona. If she's financially responsible then, even better. Make those budget spreadsheets in front of him and he'll be impressed. In the end, he spoils her anyway.

Reo's probably into the unique kind of look. She dyed her hair a fun color and wears bold fashion pieces. Minimalist tattoos and piercings are her thing. He'll definitely take pictures of her and post her on his social media—practically bragging about her. He may or may not have paid for most of her tats and piercings because he thinks they're hot.

ᯓ Kunigami Rensuke - the tough & street smart type

Kunigami is a strong-willed person before and after the wildcard. So, of course, he'd be drawn to someone of the same air. His ideal girl is someone who can handle herself in tough situations—someone with a gritty, no-nonsense attitude and a street-smart edge. She knows how to navigate the challenges of life with a cool head and a confident stride. In other words, she can fight her own battles, but appreciates that Kunigami would always be there by her side regardless.

He's attracted to her because she isn't afraid to speak up for herself or for whatever she stands for, even if it means challenging him. They both believe that actions speak louder than words and they constantly express that belief towards each other in their relationship. Together, they're the power couple that everyone aspires to be.

In terms of appearance, he's not too fussy about it. He's more attracted to the fact that she's confident in her body. But he would definitely bark for her if she was a muscle mommy. Her fashion sense is practical yet stylish, reflecting her no-fuss attitude. Kunigami loves that she can effortlessly switch between tough and tender, and he's always in awe of her versatility.

ᯓ Alexis Ness - the creative & clingy type

Ness is into the artsy girls. Doesn't really matter if it's drawing, painting, theater, or writing—as long as she possesses the creative spirit. He believes that the creation of art is magical in and of itself. It's not supernatural by any means, but the fact that she can create something with her own hands that no one else can exactly replicate baffles him. He's the biggest fan of her works—that's for sure. It's practically praise galore when he's around.

He feels the most loved when his girl expresses the desire to be around him whenever she can. Quality time and physical affection are his non-negotiables in a relationship. And unlike most people, he'd find her clinginess endearing rather than annoying. He's going to be so generous with his affection—she better be prepared to take in ALL of it.

He's also very much into girls with tattoos. The regular black ink ones are nice, but the colorful tats are amazing. Bonus points if the tattoo has sentimental value to her. I think he's also similar to Bachira in that he doesn't mind if she's taller than him. She wants to wear heels on date night? By all means, go ahead. He'll compliment her anyway.

ε( ε ˙³˙)ɜ ｡° ⚬ ｡ likes and reblogs are appreciated

pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

[ceesimz]

panna

Not my best work, but it was fun to write nonetheless. FYI: panna means nutmeg, but it's also a playground/street football game where it is either a 1v1 or basically a huge free-for-all and you had to get as many nutmegs/pannas as possible - great memories :)

Living with Leah was a much different experience than you thought it would be.

The first time you met her she was a little shy but the more you got to know her, the more enamouring she was and before long you had completely fallen for her, as had she for you. Each date, you peeled back another layer of each other's personality and you saw a side to her that was inexplicably softer than the sometimes rather grumpy, stoic demeanor she had for her career. It was easy to like her, adore her, and eventually love her, and you made sure to offer her a safe space for her to let go in when she was away from the view of the public. She did the same for you, allowing you to switch off when you needed to in her presence. Ultimately, the relationship was so rewarding and comforting, it seemed almost too good to be true. In moments of self-doubt and insecurity, you felt like you were just waiting for the shoe to drop.

And when you moved into your new house together, that shoe did indeed drop, but in a way you didn't expect.

As time went on of you sharing the same space, an extremely irritating side of Leah came out in full force. You had seen glimpses of it so far of course, and it never failed to make you laugh, but living with her? It was next level.

Leah seemed to embody the nature of that of an annoying younger sibling or a tiresome teenager who had a maddening addiction to just being absolutely infuriating. When she was in a certain type of giddy mood, this habit seemed to reach new heights. You loved it, but sometimes it felt like you were going to explode with the aggravation you felt towards her.

You know that saying of if you don't react, they'll get bored and stop? Yeah, that didn't apply to Leah.

"Leah, I'm trying to cook dinner, put the football away please." You started out by asking her politely as you manned the pasta in the pot on the hob, your girlfriend doing kick-ups by the fridge.

"I'm alright here, babe. I won't get in your way, swear. Just wanna be with you, and I am bored." That's kind of sweet, you guess.

Deciding that the pasta can survive without constant surveillance, you step away from it to unload the dishwasher but clearly Leah doesn't agree with that.

"Nah, forget that, I'll do it later. Come here, one versus one." She grins, quickly flicking the ball between each foot.

"And why would I do that as someone who doesn't even know which foot to use?" You raise an eyebrow and stand across from her with your hands on your hips.

"Bit of fun, babe, lighten up. Let's do a game of panna." She teases, passing the ball to you. "You first."

"What is panna?" You frown, confused.

"Just try to nutmeg me." Leah rolls her eyes, though she knows your knowledge of football lacks compared to her as someone who lives and breathes the sport and has done all her life.

You squint your eyes sceptically at her, before slowly inching towards her and attempting to dribble the ball the way you've seen her do it probably a million times. However, as soon as you get close, she removes any gap between her feet and instead stands like a penguin.

"How am I supposed to nutmeg you when you stand like that?" You scoff, but she just smirks smugly at you and shrugs.

"No one likes a quitter."

"No one likes a stubborn girlfriend that forces her girlfriend to play a game that's impossible to win." You hit back, and a smile tugs at your lips as you see Leah suppress a laugh.

"Fine, let me go against you." She steals the ball from your feet in the blink of an eye, and now the cards are stacked impossibly against you.

"Right, 'cause this is totally fair."

You roll your eyes but nevertheless prepare to defend your pride against the decorated footballer that stands before you. This little stand off lasts all of two minutes as Leah performs as many standing tricks as she can - it's hard not to laugh because, despite the talent she's portraying, it just looks like the result of a button-spamming FIFA player.

Finally though, you gain the confidence to lunge at her to get the ball back, but Leah of course spots this immediately, and flip-flaps the ball straight between your legs.

"Panna! You just got your shit rocked, baby." She celebrates as if her performance wasn't as easy as stealing candy from a baby. You watch as she cheers quietly to herself under her breath and dances like a fool. If the world could see her now, you think.

Feeling slightly humbled, you go back to your place at the stove, finding comfort in your cooking skills at least.

...This oddly felt like you were playing into some kind of stereotype.

"Put the ball away now, please." You tell her once more, but as ever her ego takes no prisoners.

"Aw, is someone's ego hurt?" Leah pouts pitifully at you, her hands falling to your waist when she stands behind you. You weren't having it though, not when she had humiliated you purely for her own ego.

"No, I just have many dangerous weapons in my arsenal here and I wouldn't want the leader of England to come to any harm." You return the patronising pout on her face, swatting away her hands and wagging the pasta ladle you had just pulled from the boiling pan in her face.

"Alright, message heard." She walks away with her hands surrendered.

For the next five minutes that the spaghetti spends boiling, you both exist civilly in the same area whilst doing different things. You're preparing for dinner as Leah is of course dilly-dallying with the football again. Each punt against the ball as she does kick-ups or ridiculous little tricks slowly grinds your gears, until she eventually begins occupying floor space in the kitchen that she obviously knows you'll use.

"Move, please, I need to drain this pasta." You say initially, a bit of bite to it but not as much as you easily could reach. However, she doesn't move, and instead gets in the way even more. "I have a pot full of boiling water here, move!"

You shoved past her where she was messing around with the ball near the sink, a shit-eating grin on her face which its only purpose is to infuriate you more. She does move out the way though, lifting the ball up into her arms with the foot, but she only steps so far away.

"What are we having?" She asked in an all too innocent voice, watching as you drained the pasta - the aggression you did this simple task with probably should have been a warning sign to her. But that had never stopped her before.

"Spaghetti, what does it look like?" You shake your head at her. "And you will eat it this time."

You were yet another unfortunate victim to Leah's limited and fussy palate.

"Not my fault you used a rank sauce last time. You better have gotten a new one." She grumbled like a picky toddler, starting her kick-ups again right in front of the next cupboard you need to get into.

"Put that fucking ball away before I stab a knife into it." You snap, pushing her out of the way with one hand and getting out the aforementioned new sauce. "See? Is this better for you, princess?"

"Oh, you're gonna pay for that, sweetheart." Leah smirks, referencing the sassy tone and mocking pet name you used for her as you shoved the jar into her face to prove a point.

"I'd like to see you try." You scoff, heading back over to the stove.

She falls suspiciously silent as you put the spaghetti and sauce into the pan. You try to pay no notice, watching out of your peripheral vision as she slowly makes her way back over with her hands behind her back.

"What are y-"

You're disrupted by her kicking the ball in between your legs, it clunking scarily loud against the glass door of the oven.

"Another one! Call me Ronal-fucking-dhino!" Leah laughs giddily, scampering away like a naughty child.

You took a deep breath, composing yourself so that you didn't chase after her with one of the multiple weapons within reach around you.

However, sticking true to your threat, you grabbed a knife from the draining board beside the sink and sunk it into the ball that had been the bane of your existence for the past however long it's been in Leah's possession. It wasn't a sentimental object, you wouldn't do that to her, thankfully it was just a ball she had picked up from the supermarket one day she had been determined to tag along as you did the grocery shop. The poor thing let out its final breath as the air puffed out of it, a sign you had won the battle. With a slightly manic grin, you went on making the rest of the meal as if nothing had happened.

Luckily you were able to cook the dinner without any further childish interruptions, though you did have half a mind to pour the whole shaker of salt onto her portion. But no, you can rise above this kind of behaviour. A household prank war against this woman-child could lead to an unfortunate break-up. Though you did just get an adrenaline rush from murdering a harmless football, so maybe it was already on.

"Leah, come here and sort your cheese out." You shout into the apartment, not a clue where she had gone off too.

Although, you forgot the scene she would walk into, only realising when a sharp gasp sounds through the room.

"What... the hell did you do?" Leah whispers in a dramatically heartbroken voice, kneeling to the ground and delicately picking up the punctured ball. You turned and rolled your eyes at the sight that met you, forever astonished at the theatrics this girl pulls off.

"Better a ball than your head." You mutter under your breath. "Sort your dinner out, I'm not being blamed for ruining it this time."

You took your bowl and walked past where she was still on the ground, nudging her shoulder with your knee as you went by to push her over. Okay, maybe you did have tendencies similar to hers.

Leah joins you on the couch a few moments later, an embarrassingly scarce amount of parmesan in her bowl as she slumps down next to you with a groan.

"I'm not watching this right now, I don't want to participate in a fucking reading lesson whilst I'm eating!" Leah complains at the choice of TV show you'd picked for this evening: Narcos.

"Tough, I cooked so I choose." You shrugged and pressed play, the characters immediately talking in thick and fast Spanish that, despite the English subtitles, is too much for your poor girlfriend to deal with right now.

"That's not fair, you always cook." She grumbles, stabbing her fork aggressively into her food. You pause the show at that statement, turning to look at her with a face that conveyed pure and unfiltered rage.

"Did you seriously just complain that I always cook?" You question in a frighteningly passive tone. Leah glances at you from the corner of her eye, not daring to turn away from her bowl. "Really, Leah?

She grimaces at the use of her name when you probe her for an answer. All day, she had been toeing a fine line, pressing all the wrong buttons, and pushing her luck with you. This time though, she'd really done it.

"Watch whatever you want, I'm not eating with you." You stand up from your seat on the sofa and storm away to the bedroom, leaving a glum and regretful Leah in the lounge who does in fact change the show on TV.

Was it an overreaction? In an hour, you'll probably think so. But right now you couldn't bear to look at the woman downstairs. You both eat, sad and alone, in your separate rooms to think over your actions.

In fact, no, you didn't overreact. You were entirely in your right to get angry over a throw-away statement that Leah had made just to win one back against you. Her immature attitude and competitive nature took over and she made an unnecessary comment about an action you not only enjoyed doing anyway, but enjoyed doing for her. So, whilst Leah thought back on how she should have behaved better, verbalised herself better, you were satisfied with your actions.

When there was a quiet knock at the bedroom door twenty minutes later as you lay in bed on your phone, bowl on the floor and meal happily consumed, you gave no answer. Leah came in anyway, a sheepish and guilty look on her face.

"May I come in?" She asks shyly, only her head in view.

"As long as you promise to not be a complete arsehole to me anymore." You grumble, not looking at her.

"I promise, love. I am sorry. I have things to make up for my utterly stupid behaviour." She says, and that does pique your interest.

You grunt in affirmation, and the door opens to reveal her holding a few items: your favourite candle from the lounge, a hot chocolate, your favourite cookies, and the oil you often used to massage Leah whenever her muscles were giving her some discomfort.

"Maybe I could give you a massage, babe? I am sorry. I appreciate all you do for me, I was just being an idiot before who didn't know when to stop. I love that you cook for me, and eating dinner with you at the end of a long day is one of my favourite things, genuinely. I'm really sorry for making that stupid comment, I am." Leah tells you softly, an air of desperation to her voice. Through all the times she loves to piss you off, nothing made her feel worse than when you truly got angry at her.

"You must really be sorry if you're letting me eat in bed." You comment quietly, referring to the pack of cookies in her arms. She smiles and nods, coming over to sit on the edge of the bed beside you.

"I am sorry. Get crumbs everywhere if you want, get your revenge." She replies and a weight lifts off her chest when you giggle slightly. "I love you, truly, madly, deeply. I'm so grateful for you and everything you do."

You reluctantly smile up at her from where you lay, then roll your eyes and hold your arms out for her.

"Come here, you massive idiot." You mutter, watching amused as she rushes to put her things on the bedside table before diving on top of you. "You're a wanker, number six."

Leah laughs into the pillow at the reference, nodding her head in agreement. She turns her face into your neck and places a few light, apologetic kisses there.

"I am." She murmurs, sighing a little and causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. "I wouldn't appreciate it if you started shouting that at my football games though."

"I don't appreciate you reciting a ninety's song in your apology though. Get some original material next time." You hit back, a smug grin on your face as she laughs again.

"I'll sing it for you if you want." Leah offers, voice slightly muffled by your neck as your body shakes with laughter.

"I think that would reverse all your efforts." You say, her humming in agreement. "Now, did you say something about a massage?"

The next morning, Leah believes all is forgiven from the previous night. But just to be sure, she hops out of bed since she's the first to wake up and decides to bring you a coffee in bed before you both were due to go out for breakfast with friends. It's a delight you welcome immediately, sighing contently when the hot mug is placed into your hands as you sit up against the headboard. Leah joins you in bed again, copying your position, and wraps an arm around you as well as kissing your forehead. She mumbles a few more words of apology into your ear as you drink, ensuring that you know how grateful she is for everything you do. You also welcome that with open arms, happy to hear her feelings towards you when she's not being an irritating little pest.

She watches you the whole time you get dressed for the day, and there's a soft smile on her face as she stood in the bathroom doorway whilst you put your earrings in, the finishing touch of your outfit. You mirror the smile she wears when she steps forward and wraps her arms around your waist, murmuring endless compliments into your ear that send shivers down your spine. It's a sickeningly sweet moment, it would rot any witnesses' teeth had they been there to see it, but it's perfect and it's the couple that you recognise rather than the bickering one from the previous night.

You exit the bathroom together, your fingers intertwined as Leah leads you down the stairs. Though, just as you're about to leave, you spot a smudge mark on your cheek from your mascara in the mirror by the door, so you stop to fix it. Leah, with the patience of a toddler, somehow finds yet another ball and it's one you can't stab this time since it's a Euros 2022 ball. Even though she has just done her hair, begging you to straighten it for her, she starts doing headers. And that's where the morning takes a turn for the worst.

When you'd finished fixing your makeup, you head to the downstairs bathroom to quickly wash your hands. Then you hear a panicked shout, followed by a loud bang, and lastly the sound of glass smashing. Instinctively, you rush out the room to see if Leah's okay, thinking the worst, but it seems that the only damage she has is to her ego. And, subsequently, to her relationship.

The sight that greets you fills you with more fury than you'd ever felt in your life. Your mirror, the antique one you had been adamant at buying when decorating the house, lay broken on the ground. The frame was cracked, it was surrounded by glass, and the ball laying next to it was very clearly the offending weapon. The culprit cowered in the corner of the hallway, looking at you and waiting for a reaction.

And boy did it come.

The walls of the house shook with the scale of your voice as Leah flinched like she was physically impacted by each punch that your words delivered. Nothing offensive or harmful was said of course, but your language was certainly colourful and impactful. Each word was spat with a lethal amount of venom, and Leah wasn't sure she would ever see the light of day again; living a life banished to her house, individually glueing each piece of the mirror back together as you endlessly lecture her. Eventually though, you did have to take a breath. Leah took one at the same time, though she was a shell of herself as you glared at her.

Composing yourself, you stepped over the mess and opened the front door before turning to Leah with an unnerving smile. She smiled anxiously back at you, and it took everything in you not to laugh at the nervous, apologetic look on her face. At least she knew she had messed up.

The next time you speak, it's like nothing had happened, and that fills Leah with more fear than she'd ever felt in her life. She knows she's in for it when you get back later.

"Come on, my love, we have a breakfast date to attend."

[corruptedcaps]

A Day at the Bitch

“Ugh, can’t we get one day of peace from your bully? He always seems to be where we are!” Morgan said as she adjusted her glasses, frowning as she scanned the beach. Her usually animated face was drawn with frustration as the afternoon sun beat down on the sand.

Dexter, slightly taller than her and sporting a matching nerdy vibe with his worn-out geek T-shirt, squinted into the distance. “I don’t think he’s clocked us yet, so let’s just pitch up somewhere far from him so he doesn’t notice. It’s a big beach.” He mumbled, tugging Morgan toward the far end of the shore.

Morgan’s gaze lingered on the distant figure of her boyfriend’s relentless tormentor, Travis, who was tossing a football with his friends. “I swear, he has a radar for you.” She grumbled.

Dexter smiled weakly, trying to lighten the mood. “Maybe I’m just magnetic. People can’t help but notice me.”

Morgan rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of her lips.

They found a quiet spot and set up a big striped umbrella, both grateful for the shade. With their pale skin, the sun wasn’t exactly their friend. Morgan settled into her beach chair, nose buried in a book, while Dexter immediately pulled out his Nintendo Switch.

After a few minutes of play, Dexter sighed in frustration. “Ugh, I left my charger in the car. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Morgan glanced up, squinting. “Don’t take too long.”

“I won’t.” Dexter smiled before heading off, leaving Morgan alone under the umbrella, completely absorbed in her book.

The wind suddenly picked up, and Morgan barely had time to react before the umbrella lifted off the sand, tumbling end over end toward the sea. She leaped from her chair, sprinting after it, but it quickly flew out of reach, landing in the water and drifting further out.

“Damn it!” She muttered, cursing herself for not securing it better. Out of breath, she stood on the shoreline, watching helplessly.

A voice behind her made her freeze. “With skin like yours, you’ll be a lobster in no time.”

She turned sharply to see Travis standing there, smirking.

“Buzz off, Travis.” Morgan snapped, turning on her heel and heading back toward her towel, her heart pounding from the chase and his sudden appearance.

He followed, unbothered by her hostility. “Hey, I’ve got some sunscreen if you want it.” He called after her, waving a bottle casually.

Morgan stopped in her tracks, biting her lip. As much as she hated him, she knew her pale skin was no match for the blazing sun, and with the umbrella gone, she’d be cooked in no time. She hesitated, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Fine! But make it quick.” She growled.

Travis squeezed some sunscreen into his hand, the cold lotion making a squelching noise as Morgan rolled her eyes and turned her back to him. "This is ridiculous." She muttered under her breath but resigned herself to the situation.

He spread the cream over his hands and gently began to rub it into her shoulders. The cool sensation was immediate relief from the heat, and despite her reluctance, Morgan couldn’t deny how good it felt. Travis’ hands were surprisingly gentle, massaging the sunscreen in with soft strokes.

“Y’know, you’ve got really nice skin, and a great body.” He said smoothly.

Morgan bristled at first, wanting to snap something sarcastic, but the compliment caught her off guard. She felt her usual disgust for him soften, if only slightly. Compliments from Travis were rare, and she couldn't remember the last time someone, including Dexter, had said something like that to her.

Her mind wandered, conflicted. She hated Travis, didn’t she? And yet, as his hands moved methodically down her back, she found herself enjoying the sensation far more than she wanted to admit. Guilt bubbled up in her, but her body betrayed her with a deep sigh of relief as he continued.

Travis’s hands moved to her sides, his fingers spreading the sunscreen in slow, deliberate strokes. Morgan’s waist began to subtly contract, growing slimmer with each pass, but she was too distracted by the tingling, almost electric sensation that pulsed through her body from the cream. It felt intoxicating, sending waves of pleasure through her muscles, and she leaned into it, sighing softly without even realizing.

“You know, you could be really popular, if you tried.” Travis said smoothly, his voice low as he massaged more sunscreen into her skin.

Morgan blinked, still half-lost in the blissful sensation. “Oh yeah? I’m sure I’d fit right in with the ‘in’ crowd.” She said jokingly.

Travis smirked, his hands continuing their work. “No I’m serious. Since Amber left there has been an opening for someone new. A little makeup here, some tighter clothes there, and you could own this place.”

Minutes ago, she would’ve been horrified at the suggestion, ready to spit back a retort about never being that shallow. But now, as the cream worked its magic and Travis’s hands moved with expert precision, she found herself surprisingly intrigued.

He rubbed the sunscreen into her shoulders and down her arms. Every inch of her that he touched became soft and tan. He ran his fingers onto her hands coating them in the sunscreen, the white cream running to the very tips of her fingers where they met her chipped and cracked nails. As the sunscreen covered them, her nails grew strong, long and sharp.

Morgan never noticed a thing, instead she found herself thinking of Amber. She had been Travis’ girlfriend, the queen bee of school and someone Morgan has been on the receiving end on more that one occasion. It was true that since she had left there had been a kind of power vacuum at school, all her friends fighting amongst each other for the throne.

Morgan closed her eyes, letting herself drift, and imagined what it would be like to be admired, powerful, and in control. To be like Amber. The idea made her pussy wet in a way she wasn’t expecting.

Morgan was completely lost in the fantasy, her mind drifting as Travis's words and hands worked together to pull her deeper into a haze of pleasure and temptation. She barely registered when his hands moved lower, spreading the sunscreen across her hips and down to her butt.

Only an hour ago she would have jumped or swatted him away, but now she didn't object, too entranced by the tingling warmth spreading through her skin. Instead she let a little moan escape her lips, approving of his venture. As his hands kneaded her, her butt grew plumper and rounder with each stroke.

The sensation only fueled her daydream, making her feel more powerful, more desirable than ever before. Travis’s voice broke through her dreamy haze. “Turn around.”

Morgan did as she was told without thinking, slowly facing him. Now, standing inches apart, she looked up into his eyes and, for the first time, noticed just how handsome he was. His sharp jawline, the way the sun reflected off his well-defined muscles, her previous disgust toward him seemed to erode even more, replaced by something she couldn’t quite explain.

Travis grinned, clearly aware of the shift in her demeanor. He squeezed more sunscreen into his hands and gently began rubbing it into her stomach. As his fingers worked their way across her skin, her stomach started to tighten, becoming toned and firm, as if sculpted.

She could have handled rubbing the sunscreen into the front of her body herself but she was getting a naughty thrill at having Travis do it for her. It made her feel dominant, something she had never felt.

“Of course if you were going to become popular, you couldn’t keep a name like Morgan. You would need a name that's hotter, meaner.” He murmured, his hands continuing their slow, deliberate movements.

Morgan blinked, her mind still foggy. A part of her was trying to rebel, telling her that she liked the name Morgan because it wasn't a bitchy girl name but she couldn't help but slowly nodding in agreement with Travis.

“Yes… a name that’s… luxurious.” She said in her daze.

“How about... Madison?” He suggested, his eyes locking onto hers. She looked into them, almost hypnotic. The name hung in the air, and echoed around her head. Yes Madison felt right, as if she were born to have it. She liked it. No! She loved it!

“Madison…?” She said with a purr.

In her mind, Morgan strutted through the crowded halls of her school, every eye glued to her as she moved with effortless grace. Behind her, a clique of girls, Amber's old friends in fact, followed in her wake. Each of them slutty and mean, but none could compare to her. She was radiant, flawless, the kind of girl everyone admired, envied, and feared. She wasn’t Morgan, she was Madison, The Queen Bee.

Heads turned as she passed by, students whispered in awe, and boys tripped over themselves just to get a second glance. The girls behind her kept their heads down, content to bask in her glow, but knowing they would never outshine her nor dare to do so.

Morgan’s smirk widened as she imagined her dominance over the social world. It felt so natural, so deserved. She could have anything, anyone, at the snap of her fingers.

Back in reality, she opened her eyes, the fantasy still vivid in her mind. "Madison is perfect." She purred, her voice dripping with bratty confidence. It would be the only name she’d answer to now.

Travis grinned back, satisfied. "Yes she is." He replied, his eyes dark with amusement. His hands finished their slow, deliberate movements over her skin and he took a step back to admire his work. Madison let out a soft, satisfied sigh and glanced up at him through half-lidded eyes.

But something didn’t feel quite right to her, she didn’t feel quite finished. She didn’t feel quite like the Madison she imagined but she knew what it was.

That’s when panic started to set in. She wasn’t some bitch called Madison, she was Morgan. She was a good and kind girl. Deep within her, her nerdy subconscious stirred, trying to claw its way back to the surface. She felt a wave of confusion crash over her, the weight of reality pushing through the fantasy.

“No... this is wrong. What are you doing to me?” She said taking a step away from Travis, her voice shaking as the fog in her mind began to clear.

“Relax Madison, just a little more sunscreen and you’ll feel better.” Travis said with a dark grin.

Morgan stumbled back, her breath quickening as she looked down at herself. Her hands, once short-nailed and unpolished, now sported long, manicured nails. Her stomach was toned and flat, her skin sun-kissed and flawless. She ran her fingers over her newly tanned arms, feeling the undeniable change.

She looked amazing, like the girl she’d always secretly wanted to be, but something felt horribly wrong. This wasn’t her. This wasn’t who she was.

“Why are you doing this to me?” She said suddenly finding confidence in her voice.

Travis stepped closer, his grin widening as he watched her realization dawn. "Isn’t it obvious? I’m making you into the new alpha bitch, the new queen bee. You are smart, much smarter than Amber was. I’m just making you unstoppable. Giving you the killer edge." He admitted casually.

Morgan’s heart raced as his words sunk in. The perfect body, the power, the admiration. It could all be hers. But did she want it?

“But if you really want me to stop, just say the word, and it’ll all go away and you can go back to Dexter.” Travis continued, his eyes locking onto hers. She felt a sudden revulsion at the sound of Dexter’s name.

Morgan gazed down at her perfectly manicured nails, feeling the smoothness of her toned body, the strength in her muscles, the beauty radiating from her skin. The temptation had fully sunk in, and the part of her that once resisted was now silent, overwhelmed by the intoxicating sensation of power and beauty.

Travis watched her closely, a knowing smile on his lips. “So, what do you say?” He asked, stepping closer,

With a sultry smile, Madison took a step towards him, took Travis’s hands and guided them upward, placing them firmly on her tits. “You missed a spot.” She whispered, her voice low and teasing, eyes gleaming with lust.

Travis didn’t hesitate, his grin widening as he allowed his hands to settle where she had placed them. She moaned as her boobs started to grow larger in his hands, her nipples standing on end.

"Of course, a popular girl like me would need a strong and popular boyfriend by her side." She said, her voice silky and horny.

Travis chuckled, though there was a hint of challenge in his eyes. "What about Dexter?" He asked, his tone playful, but he already knew the answer.

Madison scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Dexter? Please. He's a weak, tiny dick loser. He doesn’t 'fit' with me anymore." Her words dripped with disdain, and the thought of being with Dexter seemed absurd to her now.

"Then who would be the right fit for you, Madison?" His voice was smooth, but there was a sharpness in his gaze, as if testing her.

Madison bit her lip flirtatiously and leaned closer, her eyes locking onto his. She slipped her hand into his shorts and grabbed his cock without hesitation. "Mmmm I think this would fit me perfectly." She whispered, her smile seductive and certain.

Satisfied at her new boob size, she sank to her knees and pulled down Travis’ shorts. His cock spring out eagerly and she licked her lips.

“Let’s see how you fit in here.” She said flashing him a cheeky smile and wrapping her pink lips around his cock. She had only given oral once and that was a pity blowjob she gave Dexter on his birthday. She had hated it. Travis on the other hand was different. The taste, the size, the smell. It was all cum inducing.

As her head bobbed in and out Travis put his strong hands on his head, guiding her softly. As he did the excess sunscreen on his hands started to drip off onto her hair. Each drop turned her hair platinum blonde, sleek and perfect.

The sunscreen seeped into her roots and made her head throb pleasurably. Sexy makeup appeared on her face and Travis felt her lips plump up around his cock making them both moan in unison.

She felt her corruption nearly complete. She was nearly rid of the weak loser she had been when she walked onto the beach. She just needed him to do one more thing that they would both enjoy…

—

It had taken Dexter longer that he expected because when he got to the car he had found one of its tires slashed. Not much of a mechanic, Dexter barely managed to change the tire with the spare. He didn’t know how but he suspected it had been Travis.

Exhausted he walked back onto the beach to find his umbrella and his girlfriend missing. Her book was still there but she was gone. He looked around the beach but couldn’t find her. He didn’t dare go over to Travis and ask.

Not because he was scared of him though. Of course he was but finding Morgan was more important that his fear for his bully. No he didn’t want to go over because Travis was currently ’entertaining’ a blonde bombshell Dexter had never seen.

She bounced up and down on his cock as if no one was watching. But as she caught eyes with Dexter from afar her gyrations seemed more intense and her moans much louder. Dexter knew it was just his imagination but it was almost like she wanted him to see. At that moment he wished he had the umbrella to hide his pitiful erection behind.

[slaybestieslay946]

omg I LOVED the dad!luke one you did!! I was wondering if you could do another future au with Poseidon daughter!reader? Maybe like Percy visiting is (half) nieces and nephews?

thanks sm for your request!! this is such a cute idea i hope i did it justice!

MASTERLIST

Blue Pasta

word count: 900

pairing: luke castellan x poseidon!reader

warnings: none!

a/n: down horrendous for luke cooking like OMFGG

“Luke, Y/N, we’re here!” A chirpy voice called out from the hall, and almost immediately you could hear the sounds of scurrying feet and paws rushing to meet the two demigods. 

You abandoned your spot on the sofa to walk down the hall, smiling as you watched your brother interact with his nephew. You  knew you should probably go and save Percy from the attack of your young son and a labrador, but the sight was just too adorable. 

Annabeth quickly noticed your presence, grinning brightly as she stepped towards you, wrapping her arms around your middle for a hug, just like she had when she was a kid. Now she was just as tall as you, but still hugging you like she was ten. 

“How’ve you been?” She asked, stepping away. 

“Busy.” You laughed, “Apparently the second one’s supposed to be easier. Complete lie.” 

She laughed in return, and it appeared Percy only just noticed you were standing right there, letting go of James for a moment to greet you. 

“Is this really how you treat your only sister?” You remarked, looking sternly up at him. 

“Sorry, but we all know I prefer hanging out with James.” He shrugged, and the young boy giggled mischievously from beside him. 

“Yes, yes I know.” You then began to move back down the hallway, unable to tame your smile at the sound of your brother entertaining his nephew. He’d make a great dad someday, you were sure of it. 

As you entered the kitchen, you couldn’t help but break into an even wider smile at the sight of your husband, wearing a stupid apron you’d gotten him that said, “I love my wife.” 

When he caught sight of you all, he put down the bowl of cake mix he was holding and stepped around the kitchen counter, holding out his arms to embrace Annabeth, the girl he called his younger sister. 

You watched as he gave her a quick squeeze on the shoulder before moving onto Percy. 

“Hey Perce.” He said, tugging your brother in for a hug by his outstretched hand and clapping him on the back. 

“Good to see you man.” Percy responded, before looking down at his apron, “Damn, she’s got you whipped hasn’t she?” 

“Damn right.” Luke declared, moving over to pull you into his side and plant a kiss into your hair.

He then returned to his baking, and all the adults stood for a while in the kitchen, conversing about one thing or the next. Annabeth’s new job, James’ school, typical ‘adult stuff’ that your son didn’t find particularly enthusing. 

You spotted him whispering to Percy about how they should go out and play in the garden. The pair then turned to you for permission, to which you rolled your eyes before nodding. 

You decided to follow after them, leaving Annabeth and Luke to catch up in the kitchen. You then picked up Violet from her cot and slipped on your garden shoes and entered the warm spring air.

Your brother and his nephew were in the centre of the small garden, kicking around a football and playfully attempting to score against one another. Percy kept up a running commentary the whole time, his little jokes here and there never failing to make James laugh. He also peppered in bits of praise about the boy's skill, leading your son onto a long rant about what he had learned in soccer practice that week. 

Percy nodded along, asking questions animatedly, and you could tell he really did care. It warmed your heart to watch, and sometimes you wondered how you had all ended up here, able to carve out a space for yourselves after such troubled beginnings. 

You and Luke had started a family, Percy was training to become a teacher, and Annabeth was on her way to becoming a world-renowned architect. Somehow, everything had worked out the way it was supposed to. 

Eventually the two boys tired of their games, James slumping down on the grass to catch his breath, and Percy coming to sit beside you. 

“Hey.” He said quietly, looking down at Violet almost in awe. 

“You wanna hold her?” You offered, holding out the bundle in your arms. 

He nodded quickly, taking her off you and cradling her in his arms. 

“She looks so much like you.” He whispered, rocking the girl quietly, not taking his eyes off her tiny face.

You’d never really thought about it before, but he was right. You could tell James was Luke’s, that curly brown hair was almost unmistakeable, but looking at her now it was so clear that Violet was yours. She had the same eyes that you saw in the mirror everyday. 

You turned back to Percy, who had tears in his eyes, and from the look on his face you could tell it was from pride, pride that him and his sister had managed to carve out these lives for themselves. 

“Are you about to cry on me, Perce?” You asked, not unkindly. 

“Nope!” He laughed, shaking his head. 

You looked back at your little brother, the one you had welcomed into cabin 3 all those years ago, the one you would die for in a heartbeat, and the one that would do the same for his family, and you knew you also felt so much pride. 

“C’mon.” You nudged, brushing away the tears in your own eyes, “It’s time for dinner. I got Luke to make blue pasta for you specially.”

[12woso12]

The North Stand

Something a little different from my Dorothy in North London series, but don't worry, that's coming soon! If you have any requests for One Shots then just let me know!

You and your twin brother were referred to as Barca's wonder twins. He was a prolific striker for the men, and you a fearsome defender for the women's team. When your brother died tragically at an away game after colliding head first with a goal post, you leave Barcelona behind for the red and white of Arsenal.

When you have no choice but to return to the scene of the accident for a match, you insist it doesn't bother you. In reality, you're dying inside.

TW: Death, Mental Health

It was 6pm on a Friday when you first discovered you were needed at Anfield. Originally, the club had planned to leave you in London for the match despite your assurance to Jonas that you were completely fine.

It had been 14 months since he'd died.

14 months since your twin had been ripped from existence, stolen from you in one reckless moment of football. All for a stupid game.

A stupid goal.

A stupid league.

Football was so trivial now. Winning trophies would never outshine the feeling of sharing a drink with your brother. Playing in the Champions League would never live up to the memory of opening your stockings with him on Christmas morning.

Before his death, you would've given anything up for football. But now you'd give up football in a heartbeat just to speak to your brother once more. You were stuck in what had once been a dream career with only the memories of your brother to cling onto.

It seemed silly to ever think that you needed to give up everything for football. If anything, football owed you. It had taken away your other half. You couldn't even look at a Barca shirt, let alone watch a game without withdrawing into your bed for days at a time with the face of your brother fresh behind your eyes.

It had taken you a week to decide to leave Barcelona after his death. The noise around the entire situation was so loud. Fans had found your address and were leaving their condolences in the form of flowers and teddy bears at your doorstep, there was a televised tribute to him at Camp Nou where thousands of fans tuned in to grieve. Alexia had tried to convince you to attend but instead promised to attend for you after seeing your vulnerable state.

It was a touching tribute, not that you had watched it.

Within a month of the tribute at Camp Nou you had fled the country. Alexia had tried to understand, she really had, but her heart ached at your departure knowing that she'd failed in fixing your pain.

Arsenal was a good change. You already had friends there in the girls who played for England and you integrated well into the found family they'd developed at the club. At first, they'd tried to get you to speak about your brother, they tried to get you to show even an ounce of emotion surrounding his death but you had completely shut that part of yourself down. Instead you reverted to your old self. The person you were before the accident.

You cracked jokes with Beth and cooked tacos with Alessia in the evenings. You spent hours learning from Leah and took up pranking Kim and Steph in your free time. Kyra became one of your best friends and you moved in together after only a month.

Life at Arsenal was good, great even. It allowed you to breathe. You'd gone 14 months ignoring your grief and if you had it your way, you'd go the rest of your life without having to deal with it. But now, with Wubben-Moy and Codina out with injuries and Katie Reid away with England youth, Arsenal were asking the world of you: You would need to resume your usual role as a starting centre back alongside Leah.

Your brother had died in Anfield stadium. Now you'd be treading the very grass where'd he spent his last seconds alive.

'I'm so sorry to have to do this, Y/n' Jonas' voice rippled through the phone. You gripped it tightly, knuckles white to match the pale of your face. It was your own fault they were asking you really, you had just spent the last two weeks convincing that team that you'd be okay to play if needed.

'It's alright, Jonas. It's no biggie' You croak out. You could hear him sigh down the phone and you pictured his furrowed eyebrows lacing together in concern.

'Is Kyra home with you?' he asked. 'Do you need me to send Leah so you can have some company?'

'Jonas i'm okay, i promise'

'If you need someone to talk to you know our psychologists are fantastic...'

You shook your head furiously. 'I'm fine. I'll be at Colney first thing tomorrow to travel up with you guys'

'Okay.' he didn't sound convinced. 'Make sure you get some good sleep and i'll see you tomorrow'

As soon as Jonas ended the call you threw your phone across the room. It slammed into the wall opposite and clattered to the floor next to laundry that you were yet to put away. It wasn't usual that you got angry but sometimes it felt as though it were the only way to keep all your other emotions in check.

If you cried over your brother, you didn't think that you'd ever stop. You thought you'd be fine to play at Anfield but now it was actually happening, now that it was more than a distant horror, you'd never felt fear like it.

'Y/n?' You jumped at the sound of Kyra approaching your open bedroom door. You gave her a weak, unconvincing smile as her eyes flickered to the dent in your wall. It wasn't often that Kyra saw you as anything other than happy, sure she'd seen you upset after a loss or run down with illness but you'd always held her at arms length when it came to your brother.

It wasn't personal. You did it with everyone.

'Are you alright?' Kyra tiptoed into your room and hesitantly took a seat besides you on your bed.

'Jonas called' you tried to sound casual but the shake in your voice didn't go unnoticed by your best friend. 'I'm playing on Sunday, Codi got injured'

Kyra was silent for a moment before she gently placed a hand on your shoulder. 'You don't want to play?'

You shrug. 'Yes. No. I don't know.'

'That's alright, you don't need to be sure of anything right now' For someone known for her childish antics, Kyra had moments of maturity.

'I thought I'd be fine.' You cleared your throat. 'I will be fine'

Kyra slung her arm around your shoulder and pulled you in close. 'Just know that we'd all understand if you weren't'

You knew she was delicately skirting around the topic of your brother, not quite wanting to broach it but not wanting to let it go either. You felt vulnerable with Kyra, as though she saw straight through your closed facade.

'I just want this weekend to be over.' You squeeze her hand lightly 'Then everything will be okay again'

Kyra sucked in a deep breath. 'You never talk about him, you know.'

Black dots suddenly swarmed your vision. 'I can't Ky, I just can't'

'Okay' she said simply pressing a light kiss to your forehead. 'But if you ever have a moment, even a second, where you think you can then i'll be here'

You didn't get much sleep that night. Nor did you manage to eat anything. Time passed slowly as you tossed and turned in a patch of nervous sweat. You hated how emotional you were feeling, you didn't want it. You didn't need it. It was 3am when you eventually climbed out of bed to find Kyra in her own. As though sensing your presence, she opened her eyes slightly and shuffled over before pulling you down besides her.

It was a routine performed many times before.

Her quiet comfort let you sleep until dawn.

You were silent on the coach ride the following morning. You sat at a table of four with Kyra opposite Less and Vic who kept taking concerned glances at your abnormal state. You crossed your legs beneath you and tried to focus on the pile of cards you'd just been dealt. Normally, you were the champion of rummy but now you just couldn't focus enough to care. The only thing that had been running through your mind since you woke up was your brother's face.

His face on tv as he clattered into the post, ball flying well over his head. His face as blood poured from his hairline. His face as the life left his eyes. Just like that.

He'd died just like that.

Everything he'd ever loved and lived for gone. Just.Like.That.

You'd never felt pain like it.

That's why you had shut it out when you came to Arsenal. You threw yourself into your new life hoping that eventually the pain would dissipate but it hadn't, not even the tiniest bit. Instead it seemed to grow, every time you were reminded of your twin the lump in your throat evolved and the agony in your heart rattled loudly against your rib cage.

As you studied your cards, you locked eyes with Leah who sat besides Kim on the isle opposite. She had been keeping one eye on you since the beginning of the journey and you couldn't help but feel annoyed. Leah had taken you under her wing when you'd first moved to Arsenal having known you well from England but these past few days you'd withdrawn from her completely. You didn't want to give Leah the opportunity to ask if you were okay, because once she did you weren't sure you'd be able to hold yourself together.

It was late afternoon by the time the coach arrived in Liverpool and you were on an important hunt for food when Leah finally managed to corner you in the hotel reception.

'Hey' she grabbed your shoulder gently as you attempted to make a get-away. 'We need to talk'

'About what?' you said nonchalantly

Leah rolled her eyes. 'Don't, Y/n. I'm really worried about you. You shouldn't be here, why did you agree to play?'

'I'm fine Le. It's just another game.'

'No, it's not.' she bluntly reminded you 'At least not for you it isn't.'

Your heart was pounding so violently that you thought it might leap out from inside your chest. 'Can we please not do this?' You glance around the empty reception nervously, afraid of who might overhear the conversation.

'Go home, Y/n' Leah instructed as though she had any say in the matter.

You scoff at her brashness. 'No, who else is going to be able to play in place of Codi?'

'Steph would. We'd find answers' Leah said

'Steph hates playing Centre Back'

'It doesn't matter. She'd do it for you Y/n.'

You hated when Leah treated you like a kid. You weren't that shy seventeen year old on your first England camp anymore, you had outgrown the way she saw you.

'Leah stop. I don't need your help with this. I'm fine'

'You aren't fine' your captain argued 'You haven't been fine since moving to Arsenal and we all know it...you never talk about Ben'

At the mention of your brother's name, your brain seemed to short circuit. You stared incredulously at Leah, no one had dared to mention his name to your face in 14 months. Leah might've been the closest thing to family that you had but she had no right to bring up your brother in the way she had.

'Fuck you' You spat furiously and pulled away from Leah who gritted her teeth at your disrespect, looking slightly hurt. You strode away from Leah and into the lift, abandoning your hunt for food for the comforts of your hotel room where you'd remain for the remainder of the evening. You were glad to see that Leah made no attempt to follow you, although deep down a part of you ached for her comfort. But you didn't need her. Not really. As soon as the weekend was over you would apologise and things could go back to the way they were before where you weren't reminded of your brother's death at every waking moment.

Leah would understand. At least, that's what you hoped.

You sent Kyra a quick message to explain you were having a quiet evening and that you'd see her tomorrow and then locked your hotel door for the night.

You were fast asleep when you became vaguely conscious of a knocking at your door. Exhausted, you opened your eyes to glance at the time as the knocking persisted. It was only 10pm. Sighing you stumbled to your feet and dragged open the hotel door to see Kim staring you down, a stern look stretched upon her face.

'Good to know you're alive' she barged into your room before you had a chance to welcome her inside. She grimaced at the mess of clothes on your floor before turning to face you.

'I texted Kyra' You grumbled

'Sit down' Kim demanded

'What? Why?'

The Arsenal captain crossed her arms and waited for you to do as she said. Slowly, you lowered yourself back down onto the bed.

'Leah told me what happened'

You sighed 'It's not what it seems like'

'You need to let someone help you. You're struggling and you need help.' Kim watched as you shook her head and fixed your eyes on the ground.

'I'm fine'

'Don't bullshit me.'

'I'm not.'

Kim rolled her eyes. 'I don't know why you agreed to come, but you have nothing to prove Y/n. It's okay if you're still grieving, it's okay to be devastated, it's okay to feel these things. But what isn't okay is for you to push away the people that care about you.'

You said nothing.

'You don't need to speak to me about whatever is going on in your head but at least talk to Leah. Or Kyra or Less. Hell, the whole team is in your corner. You're going to end up in a dark place without paying into those relationships, okay kid?'

Kim put a finger beneath your chin and lifted your eyes to meet her own. You were beginning to crack under her harsh but ever caring gaze, a tear made its way down your cheek and Kim gently wiped it away.

'I'll apologise to Leah' you whispered 'After the game'

Kim hummed in disapproval. 'I'd rather you didn't play at all'

'Too late now'

'It's not' Kim countered 'But if you're really going to play then do it safely. Don't commit any dangerous fouls triggered by emotion and if you need to stop or get off the pitch then you tell me straight away, okay?'

You nodded compliantly. 'Got it'

Kim pulled you in for a hug before leaving you to your thoughts. You'd never get any sleep now.

The following day the match approached quickly. You spent the morning with Kyra, avoiding the older players as much as possible. Even on your team walk, as Kyra rushed off to prank Steph, you hung back with Vic as you watched Kyra drench Steph with a bottle of water - something that you would usually be involved in too.

And when you arrived at Anfield after lunch, you opted out of doing a pitch inspection with the rest of the girls who exchanged worried glances. Leah hung back in the changing rooms with you under the guise of needing to do a few exercise for her knee when in reality you knew she was only trying to keep an eye on you. As the team news was announced and the internet started buzzing at the knowledge that you'd be playing at the very pitch where your brother had died, you did nothing but sit and wait.

From the changing rooms, the fan chants could be heard loudly. It was clear that the Arsenal fans had eclipsed the turnout of those of Liverpool which came as no surprise. You sat in your cubby and tapped you foot to the tune of Lacasse's newest and, in your opinion, greatest fan chant yet. You felt strangely calm, at least calmer than you had done last night.

You were eager to get the match under way because as soon as it was over, you could get back to your North London bubble. The thought made everything a little easier and as you jogged onto the pitch for warm up you instinctively turned away from the end of the pitch where your brother had died. Luckily, Arsenal were warming up on the opposite side which you were almost certain Leah and Kim had planned. You breezed through your warm ups by keeping your head down and ignoring the pitiful gazes that staff members kept sending your way.

And no matter what, you didn't dare look toward the North stand.

Before you knew it, kick off was upon you. You stood besides Leah and took a knee at the first blow of the Ref's whistle. For the first half, Arsenal faced the pitch end that your brother had died at. You tensed each time the ball was crossed into the box and one of your teammates (namely Alessia) tried to put their head to it.

Ben had died trying to do the exact same thing. You felt as though you could throw up any second.

By the time half-time rolled around you were both mentally and physically exhausted which wasn't exactly a promising sign considering Arsenal were 3-0 up. You and Leah had worked seamlessly together to protect your goal but that didn't mean you hadn't given the occasional sloppy pass or let Kiernan slip by you one too many times.

You were playing well but everyone could tell that you were trapped inside your own head. Even the fans, who had been applauding you extra loudly all game, could be seen nervously watching you handle the ball with a lack of precision. And yet Jonas didn't take you off.

As you made your way out for the second half, Katie wrapped an arm around your shoulder and gave your hair a light ruffle.

'You're doing good, mate. Almost up. Then we can get the hell out of this shitty stadium' she gave you a smile of reassurance before running off into her position and you couldn't help but grin at the Irish woman's ability to always try and make light of a situation.

You kept your eyes away from the goalpost that had killed your brother as you stood less than 10 metres in front of it. Leah's eyes flickered nervously over to you as you fidgeted uncontrollably waiting for the whistle to blow. It was an artic day in Liverpool yet you felt as though you were sweating buckets, your legs felt like jelly as the second half finally got underway.

Deep in your chest, as Liverpool pressed high, you felt an overwhelming amount of grief. You were too close to the goal, too close to where Ben had taken his last breath. Everything was too close and you felt as though you were going to collapse from the weight of it all if you were made to take one more step toward the goal.

So, you did what you knew how to do best...You turned the grief into intense anger. As play progressed it was clear that your tackles were becoming riskier by the minute, you barrelled into poor Missy Bo Kearns around the 60th minute mark who fell to the floor clutching her leg in agony. You were fortunate to only receive a yellow card.

As the match drew to a close and you managed to keep a clean sheet, Liverpool took one last go at attacking in the 91st minute. The play was started by Taylor Hinds who managed to get the ball through Arsenal's experienced midfield and onto the foot of the striker. Without thinking, you swiped the ball out from under her legs and gained possession back to your own side. However, Liverpool's number 9 had fallen to the ground in the tackle and was dramatically flailing about.

'Get up, you're fine' You insisted at the girl. When she refused to move you grabbed her biceps and tried to forcefully remove her from the grass, much to her surprise. The girl pushed you away from her.

'What the hell y/n?' she yelled capturing the attention of the teammates around you. As the ref blew her final whistle and the stands erupted in celebration at Arsenal's win, you ignored it all and advanced on the girl.

It had all been too much. And this girl was providing you with the perfect opportunity to let your anger out properly. You shoved her backwards.

'What are you doing?' Leah's voice was suddenly in your ear, her arms wrapping around your torso in an attempt to restrict you access to the poor Liverpool player. Katie appeared by your side and began to shield you from the abuse the Liverpool team had now began to shout at you...but it wasn't as though you didn't deserve it.

Leah dragged you backwards as you thrashed around in her grip, still trying to get to the Liverpool player. Eventually, Leah got you into the tunnel and haphazardly shoved you into the nearest empty room that she could find.

'Are you out of your mind?' Leah exclaimed 'You can't be starting fights like that! You'll be lucky if the FA doesn't fine you!'

'I don't care about the goddamn FA, Leah! Fuck them.' you try to advance on the door but Leah blocks your way.

'You're not leaving this room until you calm down'

Your brain was running at a million miles per hour, all you could think about was how much you needed to punch something or else you were going to break. You lunged past Leah but she was too quick and way stronger than you. She grabbed your entire upper body in her arms and held you against her chest, your head beneath her chin.

'Stop Y/n' she breathed 'It's okay'

For a moment, time slowed. You tried to escaped Leah's grip, you really did. But there was something about the way she was holding you with so much care and concern that you suddenly went lip in her arms and finally let out a gut-wrenching sob. As your legs collapsed, Leah carefully lowered the two of you to the floor so you were positioned between her legs. Your sobs racked your entire body, the pain in your chest had broken out and had been set free after 14 long months.

Leah placed small kisses to the top of your head. She rubbed your arms in comfort and never stopped whispering words of reassurance. When you were still sobbing fifteen minutes later she only pulled you tighter into her chest and folded her legs over your own.

'I've got you' she assured you.

Part 2?

[lvnleah]

010. | Insomnia and cravings

word count: 1.4k

find the masterlist here!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

February 22nd 2024 | 34 weeks pregnant.

The clock on the bedside table glowed beside you. You looked over to see it read 2:00 AM. You tossed and turned, breaths coming in restless huffs. At thirty-four weeks pregnant, sleep had become a luxury.

After your sickness had calmed down at around week twenty-five, you thought that the rest of your pregnancy would be smooth sailing but it wasn’t.

You’d had a few weeks of bliss but they soon ended once you turned thirty weeks. Insomnia had kicked in a few weeks ago and ever since it has stopped you from sleeping.

Every time you tried to get comfy your body started to ache. You’d get comfy, your legs would then cramp meaning you’d have to roll over, then you’d start to sweat and then you’d need to get up for a wee and repeat the vicious process all over again.

You envied Leah for the amount of sleep she was managing to get.

Frustrated, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand, its light illuminating your face as you tapped at the screen. You opened Candy Crush, your new game that you were addicted to, to quiet the relentless nudging from your baby. The light from your phone, however, was not so discreet.

Leah stirred from her sleep. She blinked groggily at the bright screen, "Babe, what are you doing up?" she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

You sighed, laying your phone on your chest. "I can’t sleep. Finley just won’t stop kicking. It’s like he’s trying to play football against my bladder."

Leah propped herself up on one elbow, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I don’t know," you admitted. "I’ve tried everything. I think I need to rearrange these pillows again."

Leah nodded, her movements slow but deliberate as she adjusted the pillows. "Maybe if we angle these differently? Or try another wedge?"

After several attempts, Leah sighed and slumped back against the headboard. “It’s not perfect, but how’s that?”

You shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. “It’s a little better, thank you. But now I’m really craving a Five Guys burger.”

Leah’s eyes widened in the dim light. She knew how intense your cravings could be, and when you mentioned something specific, it was often non-negotiable. Leah’s stomach grumbled in agreement; she hadn’t had Five Guys in ages and the idea seemed appealing, even at this hour.

“You’re serious about that burger, huh?” Leah asked with a half-smile, knowing you’d talked about five guys right before you’d fallen asleep.

You laughed softly, “I don’t know what it is. I’ve been thinking about it for hours.”

Leah sighed, as she got out of bed and slid her tracksuit bottoms on. “Okay, okay. I’ll go get you one. Besides, I’ve been craving their fries myself. They’re so addictive.”

“You’re the best, Le.” You smiled, leaning up to kiss her lips. “I really appreciate this. It’s just... I don’t know if I’d be able to sleep if I didn’t get that burger.”

“Do you want anything else with it? Maybe a milkshake or some extra fries?”

You considered it for a moment. “Actually, a milkshake sounds great. Maybe salted caramel?”

Leah grinned, already reaching for her jacket. “You’ve got it. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Try to get a little rest if you can, pretty girl.”

You nodded. “Thanks, Le. I’ll try to rest while you’re gone.”

Leah leaned over and kissed your forehead gently. “Don’t worry about it. Just relax. And if Finley starts kicking up a storm again, just think about that burger coming your way.”

With a final glance and a reassuring smile, Leah grabbed her keys from the dresser and stepped out into the cold night. The quiet streets of the neighbourhood were bathed in pale moonlight as she headed to the 24/7 Five Guys.

The trip was quicker than Leah anticipated. Soon she was back at your apartment, the scent of freshly cooked fries and a grilled burger wafting through the door before she even entered. She placed the warm bag on the nightstand with a flourish. “Mission accomplished.”

You sat up, eyes widening as you set your phone down. “You’re amazing. I don’t know how you do it.”

Leah chuckled as she sat beside you on the bed. “Just lucky, I guess. I didn’t even think about it until I was halfway there, but I actually wanted a burger too. I guess cravings are contagious.”

You took a bite of the burger, savouring the juicy flavour. “It’s perfect. Thank you. I didn’t realise how hungry I was until now.”

Leah laughed, “I’m sure you’ll be out like a light once you’re done.”

You nodded as you took a bite “I hope so. Finn seems a little calmer now too. Maybe he just needed a midnight snack as well.”

Leah laughed softly. “Maybe. You should try to get some sleep. I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

You nodded, settling back into your nest of pillows. Leah laid beside you, as you closed your eyes, and sleep came easily to both of you.

A few hours later, you were woken up by a little foot kicking you in the ribs. You groaned in frustration, growing uncomfortable once again, as you glanced over at the clock. This time it read 4:30 AM, meaning you hadn’t been asleep for very long.

You sighed as you looked over at Leah who was fast asleep on her stomach, jealousy fired up inside of you as you watched her sleep undisturbed.

She had it so perfect. She didn’t have two tiny feet trying to karate chop her insides keeping her up. She didn’t have the back pain and boob pain that you had. She could sleep perfectly fine.

You carefully shifted your weight, trying not to wake her, and reached for the phone you had set aside. As you tapped through your notifications, the gentle light from the screen made you wince.

Leah stirred again, her eyes fluttering open. “Pretty girl, what’re you doing awake again?”

You smiled tiredly at her. “Sorry, Finley’s just being very active. I’m trying to get comfortable, but it’s a bit of a struggle.”

Leah stretched and blinked at the faint glow from your phone. "Maybe you should try adjusting the pillows again to get comfy?"

You sighed and tried a new arrangement with the pillows, but it didn’t help much. You found yourself tossing and turning, unable to escape the discomfort. “It’s just not working! I’ve been trying for hours, and I’m so tired.”

Leah’s voice was soft. “I’m sorry that you can’t get comfy, pretty girl. I hate it when I can’t get comfy so I can’t imagine what it’s like for you while pregnant. I love being comfy and cosy”

You snapped, frustration boiling over. “Will you stop repeating the bloody word 'comfy!' It’s not working! I’m exhausted and nothing seems to help!”

Leah’s eyes widened, and she looked taken aback by your outburst. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things worse. I just want you to be comfortable.”

You let out a shuddering breath, trying to calm down as a few stray tears slipped. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m just so tired and frustrated. Nothing seems to be working tonight. I’m aching all over, Finley’s kicking my ribs and I just want to sleep properly!”

Leah reached out and gently rubbed your back. “Okay, let’s try something different. How about I adjust the blankets and we’ll see if that helps?”

You nodded, feeling the tension slowly start to ease as Leah worked. Gradually, you found a more tolerable position. Leah settled in beside you, softly whispering, “Just breathe and relax. You’re doing great.”

“It’s just so annoying!” You groaned as you settled down into Leah’s side. “I just want to be comfortable! That’s all I want.”

“I know darling,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple, “I so wish I could help somehow but I can’t. Only a few more weeks and then he’ll be here.”

You nodded, “I’m also banning you from the word comfy. You need a new word, woman!”

“Keira would agree,” the blonde laughed, “She hates when I use that word!”

With the new arrangement of pillows and blankets, you finally felt a sense of comfort. Exhaustion took over, and despite the restlessness, you found yourself drifting off to sleep, Leah’s arms wrapped and you and your bump.

[fcwoso]

Personal tattoo artist · Mapi León

Summary: Mapi helps reader to overcome her fears but not without a cheeky proposal (fluffy)

MASTERLIST

María has always loved tattoos. It didn't matter if she was the one getting them or someone else, it was something she felt passionate about. She saw the body as a canvas, one that would tell it's own story as time passed by. The drawings and words each represented something, a thought or a feeling. Even if it referred to a miniscule moment. It wasn't a surprise when she announced that, that would be the career path she'd follow when her time as a soccer play would come to an end. On one side it was a scary thought, football is all she has been doing for most of her life.

"Amor (love), come on. You trust me, right?" María pouted as she put her sketchbook down. The book was filled with her creative ideas, she even dedicated a few pages to you. Sketches that reminded her of you, ones that she'd love you to get tatted. The Spanish woman pulled you closer and nuzzled her face in your neck. You could feel her sighing for the umpteenth time this evening, but not before she left a trail of kisses on your warm skin. She wasn't really frustrated, she just loved being a bit dramatic.

The evening started out relaxed. María had training in the morning which meant you two had the rest of the day to spent together. After Googling for a nice place to eat, you decided to go to a restaurant not far from your appartment. Unfortunately once arrived at the place, you stumbled upon a poster that said the place was under reconstruction.

The mood was pretty much killed after that but María came up with the brilliant idea to cook something at home. The muscles in her legs were still aching and all she wanted was to have a nice meal and watch a good show, was what she said. In reality she prefered cuddling on the couch with you. Her muscles were completely fine, she felt great even.

The now empty plates were placed on the glass table in front of the lovers while the tv was still on in the background. "Yes, cariño (honey). Ofcourse i do. It's just that i'm scared i'll regret it." You admitted. A few weeks ago you two went to visit an old friend of hers. That friend is a tattoo artist and offered you to get a tattoo of your choice. You actually had something in mind but backed out last minute. It was this intense fear of regret that kept your mind wondering if it was a good idea to continue, so you didn't.

María's hands found yours as she noticed you were actually worried. It really wasn't that big of a deal, but she didn't want to downplay your emotions. Your thumb grazed over the rose that was displayed on her palm. The rose was her own work, it was a piece she was proud of. And so were you, you were so proud of her courage. The exact courage you were currently missing.

"You know, it's okay to feel that way." María engulfed one hand of yours in hers while the other one travelled to your chin. "I just don't want you to regret not getting it". She softly placed a kiss on your lips and smoothed out the frown between your eyebrows. It's true, it's been a couple of months since you've started talking about this tattoo. Your lips found hers again right after she pulled away, missing her reassuring touch. Her eyes twinkled as she stared at your face, a child-like smile growing on hers.

"Just a reminder, i can do the job as well." María said with raised eyebrows. She wrapped her arms around your waist, you could feel her getting excited at the idea because of the way she was almost restricting your blood flow. "I mean..." You wondered. It's María. Mapi. Your partner in crime. How would you ever be able to regret this tattoo?

She did have the equipment for it, she had the skills as well. "Princesa." María stood up firmly and placed her hands on her sides. "I believe in you." You started giggling, not being able to take her seriously because of the look on her face. "You're lucky you're cute." You said. Eyes following her frame when she made her way out of the living room. She came back with another book, a smaller book than the one she was drawing in earlier.

"What's that?" You asked, curiosity growing bigger by the second. "Oh, this old thing?" Maria huffed and laughed nervously. A few strands of hair were covering her face, she started to scan the pages of the mysterious book. "Escúchame (listen), i have this theory." You couldn't help but laugh at her behaviour, your fingers stroking her short hair back behind her pierced ears. "You should go for something totally different, you don't want to get a tattoo you've had major doubts about."

"Okay, but what does this book have to do with it?" You asked, still not fully understanding the purpose of it. The book was quickly placed in your hands by your lover. The woman next to you started to grow shy under your stare, which is unusual for her, feeling as if she had just exposed one of her biggest secrets. "These are sketches i've never shared with anyone. I'm sure you'll find one that perfectly suits you." María admitted with a soft smile on her face. You couldn't help but pull her closer in your arms, leaving a couple of kisses to the side of her face and on her now slightly red cheeks.

"Thank you." The sincere words were very much appreciated by the footballer. "I'd love to share some other ideas, though." The Spanish woman gained her confidence back in a matter of time. You suddenly found yourself sitting on her lap, legs on each side of her strong body. Her hands wandered around your waist and eventually rested on your thighs that were covered by one of her joggers. "There's this really cool name, something along the lines of Mani, Mapi?" She began. One of her hands moved and rested on your lower back, you quickly understood what she was proposing. "Yeah, there's no way i'm getting a tramp stamp."

[greynatomy]

same name

alessia russo x reader

based on this request.

———

It was a normal Tuesday afternoon. You were standing on the grass field, watching all your children play a bit of football.

You teach the fourth years. Every Friday, you like to give your students to do what they want to do, and most of the time, they choose to play football.

“Miss! Miss!” You turn to your right to see one of the girls in your class running towards you.

“Hey, Ellie. D’you need something?”

“My mum bought me a Lioness jersey and I’ve just noticed it’s got your name on it.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, do you play for the Lionesses?”

The question made you laugh, but covered it up with a cough, not wanting to embarrass your student.

“No, I don’t Ellie. That’s Alessia Russo’s jersey. Do you know who that is?”

Henry, another one of your students, heard you as he was running past, quickly changing directions towards you.

“I know! I know!” This caught the attention of the rest of your class, everyone now formed a group around you. “My mum loves to watch football and told me she’s her favorite!”

“That’s amazing, Henry. Who here knows who the Lionesses are?” Most of the class raised their hands. “Wow, a lot more than I thought.”

“The girls are more interesting to watch than the boys.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, my dad said it’s because there’s less flopping, whatever that means.” A bit shrugs his shoulders, making you giggle.

Before you could say another word, the bell had rung.

“School’s over. Grab your bags, it’s time to head home.”

“Have a great weekend Miss.”

“You as well.”

Walking through the front door of your house, you were met with silence. It wasn’t a surprise as you didn’t see the white Mercedes in your driveway.

You decided to get started on dinner, so you’ve got dressed into something comfy and made your way to the kitchen. As you’ve placed the food in the oven to cook, you heard the front door open.

“Honey? I’m home!”

“In the kitchen!” You called out, washing the dishes.

Footsteps got louder as they walked closer, arms wrapping themselves around your waist, a head tucking themselves in the crook of your neck.

“Hi, Amore.”

“Hi, Lessi baby. How was training?”

“Same as always. How was your day?”

“Watched the kids play football, like every Friday.”

Alessia almost sounded like she was purring, trying to somehow find a way to be closer to you than she already is.

“That reminds me. One of my students brought you up, how her mum bought her your Lioness jersey then asking if I was a footballer cause we’ve got the same name.”

“That’s hilarious, really.”

“Then everyone gathered ‘round and we spent a few minutes just before the bell just talking about the team. Almost all of them are big fans of you lot.”

“You never told them who you were married to?” Alessia asks, not put off by you not telling her students, just curious.

“I just wanted to get situated with them for a bit. It’s only the second month of me being there. But if they ask, I won’t deny it.”

“Mmm. Okay. I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“Impossible.”

On Monday, Alessia arrived at the Emirates training grounds for another day of training. She greeted everyone she saw walking by, sleep still present on her face.

“Morning, Lessi. How was the weekend with the missus?” The morning was no longer peaceful. Katie’s loud voice cutting through the silence.

“Very relaxing. How was yours?”

“Very energetic.” She stated, wiggling her eyes brows suggestively.

“Stop that.” Caitlin slaps the back of her girlfriend’s head.

After training, the gunners crowd around each other, calming themselves down.

“Uh, could I ask you guys for a favor?” Alesia speaks up after catching her breath, pointing her attention to her Lioness teammates.

“What’s up?”

“Well, Y/NN’s class are really big Lioness fans and I was wondering if Leah, Lotte, Beth, you’d want to join me in surprising my wife’s class on Friday?”

“Oh, we’d love to!”

Friday comes around quickly. You were leading your class out to the field, bag of footballs over your shoulder. Getting closer, you see four figures standing on the field.

“Miss! It’s the England captain!”

Leah Williamson is indeed standing in front of you, as well as Lotte, Beth, and Alessia.

“What are you guys doing here?” You ask, giving them all a hug, Alessia’s lasting longer than the rest.

“Thought we’d surprise the kids. Play some football.”

“Hey! You’re the one with the same name as Miss.” Ellie points a finger at Alessia.

Alessia crouches down to her height, the other kids getting closer.

“She actually stole my name.” All your students gasped.

“What? No, I didn’t. She’s lying to you all. I got her permission.” You send your wife a look that she knows means ‘stop or you’ll sleep in the couch’ making her lift her arms in surrender.

“Lying is bad. Shame on you.” Alessia now has a look of embarrassment on her face, getting told off by a child.

“My mum has a crush on you.” The statement was directed at Leah. “I don’t know what that means. Why does she want to crush you?” Leah’s face goes bright red.

“Okay!” You get everyone’s attention. “Let’s play some football!”

They all split themselves into teams while you and Leah stay on the sidelines. Watching your wife with all the children is making you feel lots of emotions.

“She’s so good with kids.”

“Am I gonna get any godbabies soon?”

You snap your head towards Leah. “Who said you’d be the godmother?”

“I’m just manifesting. Don’t make me wait too long.” Leah walks away, seeing Alessia walking towards you.

“Hi, love.”

“Hey, baby.”

“What were you two talking about?”

“How my ovaries are bursting watching you with kids.” She wraps an arm around your waist, you looking up at her, chin on her chest. “You’d be such a great mum.”

“You would too.”

“You think it’s time?”

“I mean…” She’s looking down at you suggestively, a smirk on her face. “We can start trying once we get home.”

“Hate to break it to you, but none of us have the right parts for that.”

“Doesn’t mean that we can’t practice.”

“Lessi!”

[cthulhuwritesstuff]

Literally unbelievable.

To everyone who keeps complaining about Stella “once again being portrayed as pretty and dumb” and saying she needs a better character representation: are you serious?

Didn’t “Mastermind” just show how brilliant Stella’s writing actually is? Just that one scene when she hugs Octavia and shows how much of a cold c*nt she actually is.

Andrealphus verbally abusing her EXPLAINS why she is the way she is. She plays into it because her brother is the actual dumb one and she’s probably known this for a long, long time. She lets him do all the public work, stand before Satan and the court and spill lies after lies, even allows Striker to take the stand. She will watch it all burn from the shadows, and she thinks five steps ahead.

She’s got everything she wanted in this episode— almost. What’s left is just to set up her dumb, self-centered brother next, to frame him, use Striker for it, get rid of them all, twist Octavia to her liking and RULE. And now, she has space of 100 years to do it before Stolas gets his powers back. She managed this much during Octavia’s short 17 year-old-life, who says what this bitch can’t cook in another 100?

Stolas’ life is in danger now, every day, for every minute, because of her. We already heard Octavia crying and telling Stolas he never loved her or Mother. She already had that smirk on her face while Andrealphus was ripping his shirt off like a horny football fan on live TV for all Hell to see. She wanted to stay unnoticed because that’s how she succeeds.

She IS the actual Mastermind behind all of this mess, and all it took was for one imp to fall into her cake and staining her dress after fucking her husband she never cared for.

She is an absolutely great villain, and she IS horrible. There are reasons for it, as the show keeps pointing out, but she is and always will be horrible. And a part of good writing is that we do not have to see that in detail to figure it out and feel it. I don’t need another Disneyfied “poor little mew mew, everyone misunderstands you and here’s a why song” excuse of a villain. I want to see an unapologetic, evil bitch of a villain who owns her own backstory and doesn’t need anyone to understand her because that time has long passed. Helluva Boss is giving us exactly that, and I love it.

[totaly-obsessed]

Could you write for Ella where reader is also a footballer but reader tears her ACL

Jersey Dispute

Ella Toone x reader request

-> Reader tears her ACL - sending Ella into panic - fluffy

-> probably not the correct timeline of a healing ACL

-> Combined with this request!

-> I hope this is okay, @ anon's!

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Ella hated knees. She really did.

Your girlfriend had been on the pitch, not too far away from you when you had gone down in a Manchester derby. Forgotten was the color of your shirt as Ella rushed to you. To her surprise you weren’t crying, you just sat there, waiting for the medics. “I tore it.” Those words still haunt her in her sleep.

You had waited for her outside of the changing room and together you slowly walked to the car. The ride was tense, the brunette not too sure how to approach the situation, but you cracked joke after joke, trying to loosen her up.

Sure this was bad, you knew it meant nearly a year of no football for you but in the end, there was nothing that you could do right now – you were just glad that the World Cup was just over, giving you a slim chance of getting ft for the Olympics.

Waiting for the surgery was the worst but Ella gave it her best to fill the house with laughter. And she did it fabulously. Quite a few of you and her teammates showed up, wanting to see how you were doing, which led to many fun evenings playing Mario Cart and watching movies.

After a month, it finally came; the surgery to make everything worse so that you could get better again. Your girlfriend was nervous, much more than you were, running around in circles in your hospital room. She had taken the week off from training and everyone understood that she wanted to be with you.

“Ella, please baby sit down. You’re driving me nuts!” With a shamed look, she sat down in a chair next to your bed, hands pressed between her knees but she couldn’t hold it, jumping up again, going back to pacing. 

“Ells, please…” You patted the space next to you, scooching over so that she fit. Now wrapped in your arms, tucked under a blanket she was finally able to breathe. “I’ll go into surgery in two hours when no emergency comes in. Mary will be here so-“ You could see her trying to defend herself, that she didn’t need a babysitter, but you put your hand over her mouth. “Shhh. Mary will come and you will go eat something. Then I‘ll come out of surgery and everything will be absolutely fine.”

Mary had arrived just in time when they took you for surgery so that she could take your frantic girlfriend out.

Just as you had predicted, everything had been fine.

Now, nearly a month later you had started physio-therapy and rehab at the Manchester City facility, leaving Ella to worry at Manchester United – so you called her every time you could to reassure her.

In the evenings it was hard for your girlfriend to let you help her cook. “Love, no! Sit back down, hmm?” Most of the time she just kidnapped you to the living room, sat you down on the couch, and went back to cook.

It was great, being able to spend so much time with your girlfriend and being able to catch up on Uni work – you loved it, Ella loved it, everybody loved it. The bickering was kept to a minimum with evenings spent curled up in each other’s arms. It was perfect, almost too perfect…

Nearly two months of pure bliss were interrupted by the first disagreement.

Manchester derbies were ferocious and the atmosphere electric, they were great. Ella saw your inability to play the match, as her opportunity to get you to wear her very red ‘Toone’ jersey. “Babe – pleaseee! You’ll look so good in it!” She had flung open the bedroom door, where you were currently sorting through the huge closet for clothes to donate. In her hands was a huge box, containing a whole stack of her shirts. “Ells we’ve been over this. I will not wear a Man United jersey.”

The brunette was whining and pouting letting the box fall to the ground, eventually flinging herself on the bed – desperate to get your attention. But you prevailed, having your back towards your girlfriend helping with that. You couldn’t cave – no way. “Quit it, Ella.”

Oof. That first name hit.

“But Baby-“ She was quickly shut up with a deep kiss after you had finally turned around, gracing the stunned midfielder with your attention. “I’ll wear your England jersey, yeah?” and with a pat to her cheek, you were gone again, leaving a stunned Ella behind.

Gameday came and Ella played her best game of the season – a hat trick and an assist, beating Manchester City four to one. Her motivation? You. Sat in the family section wearing an England jersey that had her name on the back.

And while you were sad that your team lost, there was just no way you could be mad when a grinning Ella came out of the changing room, match ball in hand, falling into your open and waiting arms, littering your face in tiny kisses.

“Ya’ gonna have to wear this every game day now – would’ve been better in a United shirt though.” With a disgusted groan, you shoved her off, but there was no chance to get the teasing smirk off her face for the whole day.

Five months later it was Ellas' turn to sit in the family section, wearing an England jersey with your name. Her legs bounced up and down, nervously waiting for you to get subbed on.

When you did, she couldn’t do anything else but grin – seeing you back on the pitch, knowing how hard you worked for this made her prouder than she had ever been.

She blissfully ignored Alessia taking a video of you coming on for Alanna Kennedy, and then turning the camera to a teary-eyed Tooney, clutching your jersey in her hands.

[kennedycore]

I was wondering if you had any lesser known stories or tidbit about Jack and Kick? They’re my fav Kennedy duo and had such a sweet relationship but I feel like we get so little about them.

*cracks knuckles* well well well... you've come to the right place! jack and kick are my favorite duo out of the kennedy siblings.

unfortunately, we get too little about kick in general, mostly because she wasn't a public figure like the rest of the kennedys and that she died so young. i'll try to list some stories/tidbits most people don't know about them (some funny and some sad):

(im sorry about how long this is lmao i just couldn't stop):

Joe Jr., Jack and Kick were Joe Sr.'s "Golden Trio", but Jack and Kick were closer because Joe Jr. could be an intimidating older brother figure who wanted to live up to his status as Joe Sr.'s "golden boy" whereas Jack and Kick were the rebels of the family.

As kids, Jack and Kick were quite rebellious (especially against Rose). Jack would call out for Kick using Rose's heavy Boston accent and he'd always exaggeratively call her Kathleen like their mother did. Rose had a habit of installing clocks everywhere around the house so people wouldn't miss important times of the day like mealtimes. Jack and Kick would take turns persuading the cook if they missed mealtime.

As teenagers, they would sneak out of the house together to go dancing at clubs or the movies once JFK got his driving license. Rose would actually get in her car and come looking for them, so they learned to recognize her car headlights and they'd drive back to the house quickly, close the doors and take off their shoes quietly and sneak into their beds pretending to be asleep. They got caught once and Rose pinned a note on Kick's pillow about it: "The next time be sure to be in on time".

Their relationship was really mostly based on jokes and banter. They rarely were serious together and this mostly happened towards the end of Kick's life - after Joe Jr., and her husband Billy were dead.

Kathleen and Jack were both incredibly messy and disorganized, and left clothes, music records, books, etc. all over their bedroom floors.

Kick's nickname for Jack was "Twinkle-toes" because he'd take her dancing at nightclubs all the time.

They'd also call each other "Kid". When Jack got mad at Kick for flirting with all his friends, Kick replied "Gosh Kid, that's too close to a knuckle".

Jack and Kick would often drink together at said nightclubs, and their parents would not be happy about it because they frowned upon alcohol (pretty ironic considering what Joe Sr. was doing).

Jack (especially early in his life) dated girls that were mostly set up for him by Kick. The most prominent was Charlotte McDonnell and Inga Arvad. If Kick didn't like one of Jack's girlfriends, he'd actually break up with them.

Kick wrote to her parents: "Tell Jack not to get married for a long time. I'll keep house for him".

Kick hated attending Convent school and was super depressed about it, and in her letters she always talked about how she looked forward to spending the summer with Jack (and Lem) the most because she found him the most fun out of her siblings.

Jack would write Kick "amusing letters" to cheer her up at Convent school because he knew she was sad and needed cheering up. Joe Sr. wrote this letter to Jack about it: "She really thinks you are a great fellow. She has a love and devotion to you that you should be very proud to have deserved. She thinks you are quite the grandest fellow that ever lived and your letters furnish her most of her laughs in the Convent"

He'd also send her gifts all the time, like jigsaw puzzles while she was at the Convent

When Kick lived in Washington, her, Jack, Inga and other friends would have the same dinner every day: steak, peas, carrots, and ice cream. Inga also said they'd play touch football in Kick's apartment's living room.

When Jack and Lem came back from their Europe trip in 1937, they were met at the ship dock by Kick. Jack wrote about a funny incident that happened when they came back with a bunch of grouse that they'd brought back from shooting in England: "We carefully turned our grouse over to [Kathleen] for safe keeping while we went through customs—I remember they weren’t looking too good. When we next saw Kathleen, she didn’t have the grouse. She said the odor was more than she could stand and had thrown them off the dock.” The boys were furious.

When Jack got very ill and was sent to Florida to recover, Kick tried cheering him up by telling him that all the girls were asking about him and that they'd called him "Jack Kennedy the cutest thing"

Kick actually gave JFK his leather bound journal which he used to document his 1937 trip to Europe (and it went up for auction a couple of years ago)

In 1936, Kick went to "The Cotton Club" in New York with Jack and Lem, and Joe Sr. was furious about it when he found out because it was a shady nightclub that allegedly had mafia connections.

When they moved to England, Kick's friends noticed that all she did was talk about Jack. When she introduced her friends to him, they actually called Jack and Kick "the Kennedy twins" because of how similar they looked/acted and they practically finished each others sentences.

They apparently had a habit of saying "terrific" a lot for some reason lol. One of their friends who was at dinner with both of them wrote that their conversation was basically "a terrific day, a terrific movie, terrific this, terrific that, everything was terrific."

When Jack wrote "Why England Slept", Kick helped him with sending out signed copies of his book.

Both Jack and Kick were described as emotionally cold, which they believed was a result of their upbringing. However, after Billy (Kick's husband) was killed in the war, Jack met Kick at the airport (after not seeing each other for 2 years) and she "ran into his arms and wept".

Jack stayed awake the entire night with Kick while she talked to him about Billy. He later described it as the worst night of his life.

When Kick died in a plane crash, Jack asked if the body was confirmed to be hers. Once his father had confirmed it, Jack openly wept which was incredibly rare for him.

Jack couldn't attend Kick's funeral. He got all the way to the airport and at the last minute turned back.

He made sure to visit her grave during his 1963 trip to Europe as president, despite having a very busy schedule. He visited her grave in June of 1963, just 5 months before his death.

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Blurbs: Angel Eyes

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Summary: You attempt to prank Joe, but his angel-like eyes and all-convincing pout have your prank backfiring.

Warnings: Fluff, pranks!

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine Universe: Into the Mystic

A/N: Part 5 of blurb night!

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No particular date for this blurb!

“Dinner time!” - you

Grinning as I paused the music playing over my speaker, I couldn't help but feel nothing but happiness watching my three boys run into the kitchen from the living room.

“Looks great, baby.” - Joe smiled

“Thanks, but I'm sure it won't look too good when you're cleaning it off plates later.” - you

“I don't care, that's our rule. If someone fixes it, the other cleans it. If we both cook, we both clean.” - Joe

I stood on my tiptoes and gave him a big kiss.

“Crap, I forgot drinks.” - you mumble, sighing

“You sit down, I’ll get ‘em.” - Joe

Before doing as Joe said, I got the twins into their booster seats and then sat down myself.

Joe walked back into the dining room just a moment later, his big hands allowing him to hold all four cups.

“Thanks.” - you

“Of course.” - Joe

Joe then put food onto all our plates, taking one of my hands in his when we started eating.

“Love you.” - Joe

“Love you too.” - you

——

After dinner, it was bath time for Tyson and Miles.

“We seriously need to order wet suits.” - Joe

“Why?” - you laughed

“They splash!” - Joe

“Oh, suck it up. Let's go.” - you

The tub was filled moments later, and Tyson and Miles climbed in. They were still young enough to bathe together - not like they would agree to do it separately anyway.

“Look!” - Tyson

Ty held up one of the plastic bath toys in Joe’s face, showing off his little tiger toy.

“That’s cool buddy. It’s like the mascot for the Bengals.” - Joe

“Yup!” - Tyson

Joe grabbed their mini basketball hoop out of the bath toy drawer and suction-cupped it to the shower wall.

“Can you make a basket, bubs?” - you

I handed Miles a mini-basketball, and he nodded and launched the ball across the shower.

Somehow making it in, Joe looked at me shocked.

“Gah-lee! Draft him to the league.” - Joe

“He’s got a cannon of an arm like his daddy does.” - you winked

Joe smiled and playfully rolled his eyes, handing Tyson a ball in the process.

“Let's start actually washing.” - you laughed

——

After getting the twins completely washed off and dried Joe and I headed to their room to get them dressed and ready for bed.

They wore matching pajamas, of course.

Miles and Tyson climbed into Tyson’s bed like they did every night for Joe to tell them a story. I laid down next to them and buckled up for the story Joe was about to tell.

“What kind of story do you guys want to hear tonight?” - Joe

“Lo- ve.” - Tyson

“A love story?” - you

Tyson nodded, so Joe continued.

“Okay. I’ll tell you my favorite one.” - Joe

He grinned, and not only did I know his devious smile was directed towards me, but I knew it meant he was up to something.

“One day, this boy, we’ll name him Joe, went to school.” - Joe

“That's your name!” - Miles

I immediately knew where this was headed, and I felt butterflies swarm my stomach.

“Yup. It was the first day of his senior year of high school. Not thinking much, he went to his first-period class. His teacher always made a boy and a girl sit together, and Joe thought he’d hate it, but it ended up being the best thing to ever happen to him.” - Joe

Both of the boys gasped, making Joe chuckle before he continued.

“Joe found his seat and saw that a girl he'd never seen before was sitting there. He thought she was beautiful, but Joe was focusing on football. Joe would soon find out that her name was y/n.” - Joe

“Like Mommy!” - Miles

“Yup, like Mommy. Joe and y/n talked the entire class, and they did that every day. They quickly realized that they had a lot in common and became best friends. Fast forward a bit, y/n wins homecoming queen, and Joe escorts her on the field. There, y/n called Joe her best friend… and told him that he was cute.” - Joe

There was another gasp from the twins, and I rolled my eyes with a smile on my face.

“Woah!” - Tyson

“I know, right? Not too long before that, Joe realized that he had a crush on her, but he just didn't know how to drop hints. After a little brainstorming, Joe asked y/n to the dance at school, but she already had a date.” - Joe

“Oh no!” - Tyson

“That's what Joe thought too, but the dance ended up being the best day of Joe’s life. The guy y/n went to the dance with ditched her, and Joe went alone. Y/n found Joe walking around in the hallways by himself, and she asked if he wanted to go see which teachers left their classroom doors open. Joe said yes, and y/n held his hand as they walked through the hallways. The chemistry door was open, which was the class they met in. They sat down at their table, and Joe realized it would be the perfect time to tell her how he felt. Joe told y/n he liked her, and y/n liked Joe too.” - Joe

Another gasp from Miles and Tyson, and I giggled at the look on their faces as Joe told the story of him and I getting together.

“Joe then asked y/n to be his girlfriend, and she said yes. Guess what happened next.” - Joe

“What?” - Miles

“They kissed.” - Joe

“Ew!!” - Miles

“Aww!” - Tyson

I laughed at their differing opinions, which were stated at the same time, and Joe did too, before giving me a wink.

“They live happily ever after?” - Tyson

“Yup. They got married and are still together to this day. They love each other very much. They're parents too, to twin boys.” - Joe

“Like me and Ty?” - Miles

“Mhm, and y/n is pregnant with a baby girl.” - Joe

“Like Mommy!” - Tyson

“Wait… is it about you and Mommy?” - Miles

Joe looked at me with a tiny smile on his face, the bling in his eyes making my heart flutter.

“Yes. That's how we met. The best day of my life.” - Joe grinned

——

“That was super sweet, Joey.” - you

“The story?” - Joe smiled

We had just walked into our bedroom from putting the twins to sleep, and my mind was stuck on Joe retelling the story of how we met.

“Yeah. I'm glad I got it right the first time.” - you

“Get what right?” - Joe

“Picking a boyfriend. We really said one and done.” - you laughed

“For real, but I’m glad too. Thank god for boy-girl seating chart teachers.” - Joe

Joe plopped onto the bed onto his stomach after pulling his shirt off, asking without words for me to lay down and scratch his back.

I walked over and leaned down, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades before waking over to the bathroom.

In our usual routine, Joe and I would shower together. We took the time to share some non-sexual intimacy while spending our uncommon alone time exclusively together.

But today, Joe’s getting pranked.

Walking into the bathroom, I shut the door and locked it behind me.

I rushed to set my phone up to start videoing, then turned the shower on.

Almost instantaneously, Joe was knocking on the bathroom door.

Looking at the camera and laughing, I let him knock a couple of times before opening the door.

“Baby? Are you showering without me?” - Joe

He had his bottom lip stuck out in a pout, giving me his classic pleading angel eyes. Joe knew that combo got him anything.

“I just felt like having some alone time.” - you

Joe’s mouth fell open as he stared at me, honestly looking offended.

“What?” - Joe

“I wanted some alone time.” - you chuckle

“You seriously don't want me to shower with you?” - Joe

I stepped up on my tiptoes and pecked Joe’s lips, patting his chest when I pulled away.

“Maybe next time, babe.” - you

Making sure I was off-camera, I started undressing and the look on Joe’s face made me feel sad.

Once I was fully undressed, I hopped in the glass shower and shut the door behind me.

I looked over at Joe only to find him staring right at me with the same pout on his face.

“Aww, c’mere. I was just joking. You can shower with me, baby.” - you

“That's what I thought.” - Joe mumbled

When Joe undressed and hopped into the shower, I pulled him into my arms and pressed kisses all over his neck and face.

“You were videoing that entire thing weren't you?” - Joe

“Of course.” - you grinned

“You’re going to be the death of me.” - Joe

“Good way to go out though, right?” - you

“The best.” - Joe smiled

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Authors note: Next fic at 9:25!!!

Requests for this fic;

[janeyseymour]

Dancing On My Own (Tiesto Remix)

Summary: You're a Cowboys fan in Eagles territory. Melissa finds out.

WC: ~2.05k

You have a secret- a deep, dark secret that you never ever want your fiery, die hard Eagles fan girlfriend to find out. You’re terrified of what will happen if she does. You’re a Dallas Cowboys fan. Okay, so maybe you were a second-hand Cowboys fan, but your dad bought you one of the jerseys because he absolutely adores them. And when you go home to Texas (how you ended up in the one state, one city that hates Dallas more than anything, you’ll never know), your dad always drags you to a game.

Upon moving to Philly, you took down every indication that you would ever associate yourself with the team that the Eagles love to hate. You couldn’t risk becoming an outcast before you even start your new life here.

And it did you good. You somehow land in the heart of the city, and you work for a school that absolutely bleeds Philadelphia. The principal adores the Eagles, Mr. Johnson is constantly yelling ‘Go Birds!’, Janine has a few trinkets in her room for each of the Philly Sports teams… even Gregory has come around to love Gritty. And then there’s Melissa Schemmenti. She’s had to go to court for throwing a corn cob at Ben Simmons when he pissed her off, she has ins with those who worked the demolition at the Linc,  she’s a season ticket holder for the Phillies and the Eagles… and she absolutely detests the Cowboys- more than most Eagles fans too. She’s gotten into more trouble for heckling the Dallas team than she’s willing to admit- knocking over portapotties when Cowboys fans are in them, throwing Philly cheesesteaks, hurling eggs and Molotov cocktails at the bus. 

And yet, she’s your girlfriend. How? You’re nearly perfect. You’re smart, you’re funny, you can sing and play instruments to make her swoon, you’re a wonderful teacher and great with the kids, and you’re more than easy on the eyes. And that was what she knew of you before she fell madly in love with you. 

With the season coming up, your girlfriend is more than excited. She’s been waiting for the season tickets to go on sale, but even then… if she doesn’t get them the legal way, she knows a guy.

She does end up getting them. Of course she does. And as soon as she does, she’s coming into the teachers lounge doing her happy dance and making her way over to you. She kisses you soundly before proclaiming that she is 100% taking you to an Eagles game.

“And,” she notes. “I’m gonna make sure it’s a good one… Eagles versus the fuckin’ Cowgirls! Go birds!”

She’s met with a chorus of ‘Go birds!’ right back, but you stay quiet.

She turns to you with a curious look, amused grin now gone. “Babe, aren’t you excited?!”

You shrug. “I just… haven’t ever really been into football?” you offer weakly.

“Well, I’m gonna make sure that you have a great time there. I’m gonna get you an Eagles jersey, a Jalen Hurts one, and you’re gonna have the damn time of your life!”

Again, you shrug your shoulders, looking unsure.

“Aye, if she ain’t gonna use the ticket for good, I’m right here!” Mr. Johnson points to himself. “You know we’ll have a good time.”

“Nah, Mr. J,” your girlfriend rolls her eyes. “I’m taking Y/N, and she’s gonna leave the Linc a die hard Eagles fan, right?” She looks at you in a way that tells you there’s no convincing her otherwise unless you want to out yourself right now as a fan of the Cowboys.

You just nod, knowing you can’t have this conversation in public- you do not want to be shunned by the rest of your coworkers. You could potentially lose this job; Ava has fired people for less despite the fact that she really couldn’t afford to fire them and that’s why both you and Melissa are teaching two different grades at a time.

That’s the end of that conversation.

Until she comes over to your apartment that night, ready to cook dinner for you and stay over. 

“You gonna tell me why you got so weird about going to a football game with me? Is it because we might see our students at the game?” she asks. “Because if it is, I promise you… you know Philly is pretty cool about LGBT stuff.”

“I know, I know,” you say softly. “I’ve just… could we go to a baseball game instead?” You never pledged your allegiance to any baseball team, so you would be willing to wear a Harper or Nola jersey.

“I mean, I could get us tickets to a game,” she tells you as she puts the meat into the pan to start cooking. “But I really love football and the Eagles, and that’s something I want to share with you.”

“Does it have to be a game with the Cowboys?” you ask.

She turns to you at that. “Those are the best games.”

“I-” you sigh. Deciding to just rip off the bandaid, you take off the Abbott sweatshirt that you’re wearing to reveal the Day Prescott jersey your dad had given you the last time you visited your hometown. 

Her jaw drops, and her eyes fill with a fire. “When the fuck were you gonna tell me that you were the enemy?” she seethes.

“Mel,” you say softly, trying to calm her down.

“Don’t ‘Mel’ me right now,” the redhead hisses. “What the fuck?! What the actual fuck?!”

“Melissa, honey,” you continue. “Please-”

“I- no,” she stops you from getting any closer to her when you attempt. “Don’t. Don’t you even fucking dare.”

She’s out of your house before you can say anything else, and the only thing that you can hear is the flank steak sizzling quietly in the pan on the stove.

When you get to school the next day, you head straight for her room to try to talk to her again.

“Melissa,” you knock on the door, a cup of her favorite coffee in your hands as a peace offering.

“No.”

You set the warm drink on her desk, which she promptly smacks into the garbage can under her desk. She stands hastily and storms out of the room in the direction of the staff room.

“Melissa, please!” you beg as you chase after her. “Please!”

“I have nothing to say to you,” she hisses as she rips her arm away from you when you catch her gently. She storms into the break room and heads right for the coffee mugs.

“Please!” your voice cracks, and everyone that is already gathered there turns at the commotion.

“Ooh,” Ava says. “Trouble in paradise. Spill.”

“This one-” your girlfriend, if she even still is after your reveal last night, points to you and looks at you with disgust. “-is a Cowgirls fan, and decided not to let me know until last night!”

“Boo!” Mr. Johnson heckles you. You give him a nearly murderous look.

“Just let me explain!” you plead.

“You have nothin’ to explain! You’re a traitor!” the redhead barks at you before turning back to the mugs. She slams the door as she closes it, slams her coffee mug down on the counter, and storms her way to her seat next to Barbara. She makes it so that there is absolutely no way you could sit next to her.

All eyes are on you, and you hate it. So you do what you know how to do: run.

You avoid the second grade teacher at all possible costs for the next few days, giving her the chance to cool down. Finally, at the end of the week, you attempt to talk to her.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” she huffs. She doesn’t even bother looking up from her nails. She doesn’t even give you the chance to explain yourself. “I ain’t dating no Cowgirl.”

You cry the entire way home. You lost your girlfriend, and all because of some stupid football team.

You call your father that night, a sobbing mess.

“You were dating an Eagles fan?!”

“Dad,” you cry. “Please. I don’t- I just need you to tell me that it’s all going to be okay.”

“It is,” he promises you. “But, seriously?”

You hang up on him.

He calls back a few minutes later, apologizing for his words. You forgive him of course. You love your father more than anything. 

“If you really love her, you’ll get her back… even if it means you betray our team,” he tells you.

“R-really?” you whisper.

“You’re in Philly now,” your dad sighs softly. “If you can’t beat ‘em, and the lord knows you can’t because no one can beat Philly fans, join ‘em.”

That’s all you need to hear to know what you’re going to do. “Thank you, Dad.”

“Of course, kiddo. Just know that when you come home to visit, you are back on my team.”

“I know,” you chuckle through your tears. “But if I bring Mel back home, there is to be absolutely no football talk.”

“Deal,” he laughs. “I’m not trying to get our house lit on fire.”

You thank him again, tell him you love him and hang up. 

That weekend, you go out and buy a bunch of Philadelphia sports apparel; your credit card statement this month is going to be a doozy. But if it means you’ll get Melissa back, it’ll be worth it.

On Monday, you show up in your baseball gear, rooting for the Phillies as they play against the Cincinnati Twins. It gets the redhead’s attention, just slightly. But she turns her head when you look in her direction.

You wear your Flyers gear the next day. That gets Gregory’s attention.

The Sixers are the next. Janine grins.

You had even bought a Philadelphia Union jersey that you wear on Thursday. Jacob tells you how massively underrated they are and that he thinks they deserve to have a bigger following.

When you come in on Friday, not clad in Eagles gear like Melissa thought you would be, that is the final straw for her. She has you backed into a corner telling you that you can pretend to bleed Philly all you want, but at the end of the day you’re just a traitor.

You let her get up in your face, red with anger. You know that you didn’t wear it because you’re saving it for Monday- when they play.

You actually managed to get a ticket to the game, one next to hers- not that she knows it. You thank Barbara profusely when she’s able to get you the name of Melissa’s guy and where her tickets for this game are. Your plan is to show up in your new Jalen Hurts jersey that you spent a fortune on and win her back. You don’t want to lose her. Never. 

You race home after school to change out of your green shirt that you wore to school and into your Hurts jersey and a pair of leggings. You grab the baseball cap that you bought and pop it on your head before heading out to your car.

You park your car for the ridiculous amount of money they’re charging before going to find your seat. 

As you approach though, you see someone new with Melissa- someone you’ve never seen before. She has an arm around the woman’s waist like the way she used to hold you. You convince yourself it’s just a friend and continue on your way to your seat. But then she plants a kiss to the new woman’s lips, and your world shatters.

You might be at a football game, but you should be at a Phillies game with their unofficial anthem playing.

I'm in the corner, watching you kiss her, oh no

And I'm right over here, why can't you see me? Oh no

And I'm giving it my all

But I'm not the guy you're taking home, ooh

I keep dancing on my own

So far away, but still so near

The lights come on, the music dies

But you don't see me standing here