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lundenloves · 1 year ago

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dad!simon masterlist | taglist | masterlist | request info

dad!simon who will near fall asleep on the sofa, sat upright with wide legs and his arms crossed, only opening one eye to pretend he’s listening while one of his daughters rambles about school drama.

dad!simon who scoffs when another monthly subscription or amazon payment goes through his card, brows knitted together after asking just why the house has to be subscribed to four separate streaming services.

dad!simon who never remembers his kids’ friends names. it could be his daughters best friend of seven years and he still wouldn’t remember.

dad!simon who visually could not care less about the gossip his daughter waffles about, mumbling “mhm” every so often to appear engaged though shrugging when called out on his evident boredom.

dad!simon who tsks at all the parcels that come through the door day-to-day. living with three daughters and a wife, it’s constant. he detests being the only one home and having to sign for something — will actively ignore a knock on the door when there’s other people in the house.

dad!simon who (when drunk) is the height of amusement for his eldest. many snapchats exist of him being handed the phone already recording and goofily grinning into it while looking up at her “what am i supposed to be looking at?”

dad!simon who sticks post-it notes in bold handwriting to the fridge whenever anyone has an appointment due the following day. “don’t forget.” complete with a fullstop and a harsh underline of the time in military digits.

dad!simon who replies sarcastically to almost every obvious question with his natural glare, something each of his kids had genetically taken: “don’t ask stupid questions and you won’t get stupid answers.” he loves them really.

dad!simon who silenced the family groupchat as soon as he had figured out how to, only replying every other day with a thumbs up reaction or more likely a thumbs down.

dad!simon who side eyes his kids. he doesn’t mean it, yet it happens. watching throw away tv? side eye. talking too loud on the phone? side eye. wearing a questionable outfit? side eye.

dad!simon who has a firm routine. he fucking detests being interrupted, and or spoken to from the hours of five till seven in the morning. he’ll get up, have food and go to the gym all in this time frame before anyone can dent his peace.

dad!simon who sighs avidly. a long and painful sigh after any merely simple question is asked or he’s to pick up one of his kids from a night out. “fucking well told ‘er not to expect me past twelve.” while accidentally slamming the door behind him, keys jingling around his finger.

dad!simon who struggles to show affection in any other way than a short pat of the shoulder or a one armed hug, pulling his kids into his chest for mere seconds before stepping back.

dad!simon who groans whenever anything gets moved in the house. his military mind in favour of keeping things in one position, untouched and moved for preferably ever unless he was told. though, having kids didn’t quite work like that.

dad!simon who: “do i ‘av to do fucking everything in this house? eh?”

simon ‘ghost’ riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkbbyx3 @gressseyy @fwibblefwobble @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @airghostlyfox @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @dilfdotgov @cliosunshine @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @maki-z @yyiikes @tieflingteatime @cosmoscoffeee @lilvampirina @cinnabeanz @bubbyblob

˗ˏˋ university is still kicking my arse into next week. i joined the football team too, fuck knows why i’m making myself busier than i have to be. alas here we are, and i’m feeding the pigeons! aka sprinkling dad headcannons until i get traction again. pls love me, pls follow me, pls reblog, pls validate me.

the reason i tag this as ‘x reader’ as it’s ur fuckin family with him. no one bite my head off man i can’t be bothered tonight.

#simon ghost riley #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod mw fanfiction #simon riley #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x female reader #simon riley headcanons #dad!simon #cod ghost #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley headcanons

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jeongin-lvr · 3 months ago

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cw. fingering, tutor/smart girl reader, fuckboy yeonjun who’s kinda mean

FUCKBOY YEONJUN and his sudden and very apparent obsession with you; the girl who always looks so pretty during lectures and in the halls around campus. he can’t help but find an intrigue in the way you walked, the way you answered questions in class with a little bit of a know-it-all tone, even how you swiped lip gloss across your lips. he’s sworn he’s never been this hot and bothered about someone before. so what else is he to do than pursue you? he wastes no time approaching you within a few days of noticing you, almost embarrassing himself as he attempts to fluster you— earn some kind of approval yet all he got was a simple stare and then a nod. like he was crazy, like he was the weird one. oh, and that hurt his precious ego a bit too hard.

so maybe he’ll approach you again but this time he’s asking for some tutoring lessons— something to boost his grade in the class, all the while you stare at him with those absent eyes, jaw widened in an almost “are you done” quirk upward. Yeonjun barely gets his proposition out before you’re questioning him, why suddenly? tutoring sessions in the middle of the semester? “are you gonna help me or not, sweetheart?” he watches the way your eyebrows scrunch and it almost sets him off again. but Yeonjun has a little more composure than he thought and simply waited for a response. “okay, fine,” he grinned, brain already twisting with the thoughts and ideas of what he wanted to do. he’s already got you in his clutches, he just needs to find some sort of bait to keep you inside.

He’s sitting beside you in the library, bored out of his mind as you try to teach him something about something, he doesn’t care much to focus. When you agreed to tutoring him he assumed it was because you were interested— little did he know you took things very literally, especially college. So he watched with vacant eyes as your pretty, well-manicured nails dragged along the paper, underlining every word he needed to know, every vocabulary he should have memorized by now. His mind playing the nastiest scenarios of you; thinking of ways he could get you, all the scenarios playing out in his mind like a movie. Until your fingers snap in front of his eyes, snapping him out of those lewd thoughts. Your eyes are stern and its like you know exactly what he’s thinking; the glare you hold almost having Yeonjun act up, he almost grabs your thigh, he realizes he could just proposition these thoughts, it’s on the tip of his tongue. “Pay attention, stupid.” Your words make him run his tongue along his teeth; really? Stupid?

So you go back to instructing him, acting all better and smarter than him, you wouldn’t mind if he ran his fingers up your thigh, right? His touch jolts you out of focus, so suddenly that you stammer over your words; that’s the first time he’s ever heard you stutter like that. Were you suddenly nervous? Yeonjun watched your expression, a once serious stare was now replaced with pink cheeks and scrunched eyebrows, trying to keep up that nonchalant attitude. But he could almost see your composure crack. The feigning sound of your authorstive voice melt into a soft mutter. His fingertips wandered even further, half-expecting you to push him off, but you never did. He abused this, flicking the hem of your skirt up to he could feel the plush fat of your thighs under his palms. “I’m paying very good attention, sweetheart.” Yeonjun’s voice is full of malice, his smirk apparent on his plush lips. It’s a whisper but this whisper is cocky and you hate it. “Keep reading.”

Keep reading? Keep reading— is he serious? He asked for your help and he’s demanding shit from you? How dare— you let out a swift, unstoppable whimper as his fingers push against your clothed pussy hard. He chuckles as he feels you tense up; drawing his fingers in circles around your entrance, stopped only by the cotton fabric of your pink panties. You turn your head to him and see that smirk on his face, it’s sick but only because you hate the smugness of it. He’s prideful that he finally got the girl who showed little to know interest in him. Did he really though? You remained as steady as you could but slowly your composure cracked… every word you spoke every line, every stupid paragraph you read caused your demeanor to slip.

“You’re stuttering a lot,” Yeonjun observed aloud, “You nervous?” The pads of his fingers grazed your clit, then again, “You’re not as smart as you think, babe.” You want to turn and tell him to back off but then feeling of his touch was too good to pass up. The rumors you’d heard about him— the rumors of him being a flirt, a playboy, a no good tramp. Those were all true. You’d sworn off any advances he’d ever made on you, and the intensity of it has boiled over the edge. He’s getting what he wanted and you weren’t inclined to stop him at this point. Besides, what’s the harm in a little fun?

“Read it again,” Yeonjun grits his teeth as he bends you over the table, skirt flipped up. The library was closed way beyond its usual hours. It’s dark and the only light is from the stupid little lamp at the table, illuminating over your features for only Yeonjun to see. “Again.” He stuffs himself into you so well it’s almost surreal. You shook your head and cried, “Can’t— Yeonjun, p-please!” He simply clicks his tongue and groans, holding your hips steady as he pulls himself back again, painfully slow. His cock fit so tightly into you it was almost choking him; you wailed into the wet, tear stained paper of his textbook, annotated with notes that you had no care to show him again. “Mmm, you can. I need to memorize it don’t I? So read it for me. Hurry up.” Yeonjun snaps his hips into you again, harsh slap of his skin meeting yours making you shiver. Your eyes glaze over the dumb algebraic equation, the words highlighted in neon yellow, blurry in your vision. You squinted your eyes and in a whiny, dumb voice you read out loud.

“There ya go,” He patted your butt, chuckling at the way you shook from his touch, “M’ learning so much…”

#౨ৎ. dee’s queued #feat. yeonjun .ᐟ #choi yeonjun #choi yeonjun smut #txt smut #tomorrow x together smut #tomorrow by together smut #choi yeonjun fanfic #yeonjun txt #yeonjun hard thoughts #yeonjun smut #txt yeonjun #txt fanfic #txt x reader #txt imagine

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thegettingbyp2 · 3 months ago

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elloo, can you do a jess mariano fluff where he is like, super sweet to reader and luke observes them? ex. jess holds reader’s hand, or gives them free donuts, and luke is js laughing his ass off bc it’s funny? tbh, i have no idea if this makes sense, so you don’t have to do it. love ya! 😭🫶

Sweet on Her

The moment the door to the diner opened and you walked in, Jess was a goner. As soon as he saw that it was you who had walked in, he abandoned whatever task he was doing, much to Luke’s annoyance, and made his way over to where you had set yourself up at a table with your book, pen already between your teeth ready to make notes.

‘What are we reading today?’ Jess asked, putting a mug of coffee on the table in front of you.

‘Pretty Women,’ you replied, grinning up at him before looking down at the coffee with a knowing look on your face. ‘I didn’t order anything.’

‘I know,’ he said, casually throwing himself down in the seat next to you, his arm resting on the back of your chair. ‘And I’ll grab your donut when we’re about, what, two, three chapters in?’

‘We?’ you asked, raising your eyebrow at him, even though you know your little routine by now; you looked forward to it every day. You would turn up at the diner with your book, Jess would bring you a coffee and donut (on the house!) and sit and read over your shoulder with you until Luke inevitably pulled him away to actually get on with his job.

‘Yes, we,’ he teased, settling in and tucking you underneath his arm slightly. Even though you and Jess weren’t officially together, everyone in town know that the two of you belonged to each other and that it was only a matter of time. Even the two of you knew that, but you were just so content with the set-up you currently had, neither of you felt the need to rush into anything. That didn’t, however, stop Jess feeling like he had the biggest crush on you. ‘Now, come on, I don’t know how long I’m going to get away with this today and I’ve never read this. I’ve even got a pen to add my own notes,’ he said, twirling his pen in-between his fingers and grinning at you.

‘Fine,’ you faux-sighed heavily, leaning into Jess more and opening the book, holding it up in a position that made it easy for the two of you to read the pages. Every now and then as you read, one of you would stop to take the book and scribble down a note in the margin or underline a passage.

It wasn’t until you were both about halfway through the book when Jess realised that he hadn’t gotten you your donut, making you put the book down so he could go and grab it. As he was walking back to the counter he saw Luke watching him and laughing quietly at him; that was when Jess realised that Luke hadn’t been over to drag him away just yet.

‘What?’ Jess asked when Luke didn’t look away or stop laughing.

‘Who the hell are you and what have you done with my nephew?’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘You’re sweet on her, Jess.’

‘She’s my best friend,’ Jess tried to protest, his eyes automatically scanning back over to you where you were sipping on your now-cold coffee and looking out the window absentmindedly.

‘Jess, it’s not a bad thing! It’s nice, you know, seeing you trail after her like a lost puppy, bringing her coffee before she orders, casually throwing your arm over the back of her chair. Just ask her out!’

‘We’re not having this conversation,’ Jess protested before swiping a couple of donuts from the tray alongside a few napkins before making his way back over to you.

‘You realise they’ll be coming out of your pay check!’ Luke called after him.

‘Whatever you say Uncle Luke!’

#jess mariano #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano x reader #gilmore girls

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targaryen-dynasty · 7 months ago

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HEAVY IS THE HEAD THAT WEARS THE CROWN.

Daemon Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT - MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest (uncle and niece), kinda non/dub con, p in v, semi public sex, doggy style, degrading, slapping, possessiveness, jealousy

WORDS: 1.5 K

NOTES: This is something I had written and posted on another blog when I (rightfully so) didn't feel accepted and wanted in fandom. So, if any of you remembers this, it was written by me. This is Lingo Jam High Valyrian (it is what it is).

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

It’s way past the Hour of the Owl as you stand in the Throne Room all by yourself, all the tables for the guests of your coronation feast having already been cleared and stored away by the keep’s staff, leaving the room to be eerily quiet and empty.

You stand in front of the intimidating Iron Throne, looming in the dim light of the candles around you, your fingertips barely brushing the sharp swords that were used to forge it by your ancestors, reminiscing about all the times you’ve seen your father sitting on it.

Unlike your grandsire and father before you, you chose to wear the Conqueror's Crown and wield his sword, the big, square-cut rubies complimenting the red and gold gown you wear.

The heavy doors leading to the intimidating chambers open behind you, but you don’t turn around, knowing all too well who intrudes the silence and serenity. His footsteps are heavy, bouncing off the thick columns and walls on his way.

“Skoros iksis ziry ao jeldan naejot ȳdragon naejot nyke nūmāzma?” you ask, but before you’re able to turn around, the weight of your husband’s chest against your back pushes you forward, the ostentatious crown on your head toppling to the ground at the impact. What is it you wanted to talk to me about?

Both your hands immediately seize the armrests of the Iron Throne for support, more so when Daemon’s hand falls to the place between your shoulders to keep you exactly like you are, bowed forward with no chance to move.

“Hm,” he hums, applying just a bit of pressure to your back. “How about the wanton farce you put up for that cunt of a Lannister?” he growls, and it’s clear it is not a question but an accusation.

There is not one breath wasted when he rucks up the skirts of your gown and bunches it around your waist, fisting it with one of his large paws. The matter clearly is serious, and has occupied him for quite some time now, considering he prefers to answer you in the Common Tongue rather than High Valyrian.

But it’s not like you have much time to really process the meaning behind it, considering he has the skirt of your dress in his hand in one moment, and your small clothes pulled down to your knees in the next. Your cunt is exposed to the chilly air of the Red Keep, and to anyone that chooses to intrude on such an intimate and disgraceful scene, and much to your husband’s surprise, you’re soaked with anticipation, which earns you a condescending scoff from him.

He has quickly figured that there isn't going to come any reply from you, too caught up in the heat of the moment and the little predicament you’ve found yourself in, and forces a gasp from your lips as his hand not-so-gently collides with your bare rear.

Your body slightly lulls forwards to escape the stinging pain that blooms on your skin, but to now avail. “I–I don’t know what you’re talking about!” you press with despair audible in your voice.

But he just scoffs again. “Oh, I’m certain you don’t,” his voice is sharp, and the words underlined by another slap to your arse. “Need I remind Your Grace who they belong to?” The title is spoken in a way to make a mock display of his courtesy, displaying how little care he holds over your status at this moment.

You’re not quite sure what he is up to when you feel and hear him shifting and fumbling behind you, although you have a mild guess, until you feel the tip of his hard cock pressing against your soaked cunt. He pushes in even before you can answer, any words or pathetic protests dying on your tongue and replaced by a moan.

“That’s what I thought,” he says more to himself, his tone suddenly taking on an air of smugness. His words are followed by a groan that flows into a heedless sigh as he bottoms out completely, his heavy stones pressing against your pearl.

It’s a side to Daemon you haven’t seen or experienced before, despite growing up around him, his several liaisons and wives. There has never been something akin to jealousy coursing through his veins before. Yes, Daemon has always been a little too rough, too impatient and resolving matters by force rather than diplomacy, but you’ve never seen his blood run this hot.

His upper body slightly bends forward and towers over yours as he rests one hand on the backrest of the Throne, the other still on your hip with your skirts tightly secured.

“What–” the words catch in your throat, replaced by a whimper. “What if anyone sees us?”

“Jaelan zirȳ naejot ūndegon,” he growls. “Jaelan zirȳ naejot gīmigon bona iksā ñuhon.” I want them to see. I want them to know that you’re mine.

The whine you release at that is nothing short of desperate. While the thought of anyone catching you two frightens you to the core, you enjoy the possessive side of him, reveling in his desire just for you since you’ve shared it most of your life with your younger sister.

Pulling out of you almost completely, the tip of his cock is the only thing that remains buried inside of you. While the feeling of the sudden loss makes you whine and push your hips back to force him inside again, it also earns you another harsh slap that’s served to your arse.

“Ao sagon ñuhon se mazemā skoros nyke tepagon ao, iksis bona shifang?” You're mine and you take what I give you, is that understood?

Daemon then slams his hips into yours as a warning, filling you up in a swift thrust that has you gasping, and knocks the air straight from your lungs. “Gaomagon daor mazverdagon nyke ivestragon ziry arlī,” he snarls. “Gaomagon. Ao. Shifang?” Each word is punctuated with a harsh snap of his hips. Don’t make me say it again. Do. You. Understand?

“K… kessa,” you hiccup. Yes.

The pace of his thrusts is nothing short of ruthless, and he uses the grip on your hip to pull you back onto his cock for your bodies to meet halfway, the most obscene sounds of skin slapping on skin echoing off the walls of the Throne Room.

His stones are heavy and the fleshy pouch they sit in slightly sagged, hitting your pearl perfectly each time he fills you to the brim, and sending shivers to the soles of your feet.

Daemon forces your hips higher until you’re standing on your tiptoes for him, your body barely supported by his fingers digging into your hip. The angle changes with that, allowing him to shove his cock into you even deeper than before – a change that has him groaning and grunting over and over again.

Your eyes lull into the back of your head, and the heat in your belly doesn’t diminish, causing a renewed wave of arousal to leak out of your core.

Not caring if the skirts of your gown are riding down again, he grips the back of your neck firmly enough so you can’t turn your head, fucking you as if his life depends on it and knocking every breath clean out of your lungs.

Daemon forces his hips into yours with such determination, he is close to shoving you up against the Iron Throne with the force of his need, your arms almost buckling under the weight he puts onto you. You can tell he’s racing for completion, effectively pulling you with him in the process.

With the pace of his hips not faltering once, your peak washes over you in an ambush. The pleasure in your body gets intense enough for your legs to tremble, his hand that rests on the Iron Throne coming down to seize your hip to support you. Your walls clench around his cock tight enough for him to draw in a sharp breath, but the assault on your cunt doesn’t cease.

“Qilōni gaomagon ao sytilībagon naejot?” Daemon groans, pulling you back onto his cock and fucking you through your peak. Who do you belong to? It’s almost as if he’s asking for your reassurance, wanting to be sure of your feelings for him.

“A… ao,” you hiccup. “Ik… iksan aōhon.” You. I’m yours.

His peak crashes over him with your reassurance, his throbbing cock spending itself deep inside of your cunt. His hands trail up and down your sides in nothing else than pure bliss, and when it’s all over, he releases a sigh of relief, almost as if the pressure has fallen off his shoulders.

He cups your arse with both hands, and squeezes your flesh. When he doesn’t make any move to pull out of you, however, it’s clear that he is relishing the way your drenched cunt embraces his flaccid cock.

“No one will make you feel as good as I do, dōna ābrazȳrys, and certainly no Lannister,” he rasps. “He would not know how to handle the Blood of the Dragon. You were made for me, and you belong to me. Always have, always will.” Sweet wife.

Daemon Taglist: @hypocritic-trash-baby @schniiipsel @avalyaaa @baizzhu @yn-jackson

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not-poignant · 1 year ago

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Hi Pia!

You’ve probably had to explain this a hundred times already, but I’m new to your fandom so I’ve likely missed previous explanations. I was just wondering when will you be posting Underline the Silver?

I haven't needed to explain this much at all! But you also might not like the answer I'm afraid, because it's: 'I have no idea' but also 'really not very soon at all.'

It will likely start around the time that Underline the Blue or Underline the Gold come close to finishing, or Underline the Black finishes, which almost certainly puts it into early or mid 2024 at the earliest.

Underline the Red and Underline the Silver will both kick back off around the same time.

I currently have an extremely full slate which is nuts even by my standards. I wrote it out for a friend tonight and:

Underline the Black - 4-5 chapters a month (every Thursday) A Stain that Won't Dissolve - 2-3 chapters a month (every second Sunday) The Nascent Diplomat - 1 chapter a month Constellations - 1 chapter a month (will eventually replace The Nascent Diplomat) Palmarosa - (god help me) 3-4 chapters a month (this is so unsustainable, this is my fault for wanting to write a BG3 fic) Underline the Blue - 2 chapters every few months Underline the Red - as above (but on hiatus for my sanity) Underline the Gold - as above (they all just cycle with each other)

I don't know how to tell you how incredibly nuts this is, but I think I can sum it up as '2-3 stories at the same time used to be where I was most comfortable.'

And this is not 2-3 stories.

I am really really just not going to be able to write anything outside of this, at least until some of these stories finish (and some of THESE stories are on hiatus or minimalistic schedules already), because like...

as much as I like to treat myself like a words machine, I am unfortunately a human person, and I've reached the point of thinking about crying when it comes to keeping even this up.

So yeah Underline the Silver can wait for when I'm excited about new stories again and not dreading them because my current writing slate is 'oh god oh god WHY IS EVERYTHING BURNING' dsakljfdsa

#asks and answers #pia on writing #it was sustainable until it suddenly wasn't #underline the silver #palmarosa has a lot to answer for but i also genuinely love writing it so i'm not going to stop #the tl;dr here is 'i don't know and i will be excited for it when it's time'#'but it almost won't be soon enough by anyone else's standards'#'because they're not seeing the bigger picture probably in the same way'#most serials take me 1-3 years to complete #i cannot start those commitments lightly #and i hate - i HATE - putting things on hiatus once i've started #the fact that i've already had to do it with like two stories #(smoke in autumn and underline the red)#fills me with tiny and sad noises #asklfjdsfdsa i'm sorry anon #i both don't know and know enough to know it might not be for a good long while #i would say *at least* two of Black / Blue / Gold have to be *completely finished*

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pitchsidestories · 8 days ago

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el sueño de una niña II Jenni Hermoso x Reader

masterlist I word count: 2175

a/n: dear readers, the inspiration for this oneshot was Jenni Hermoso's speech at the Ballon d'Or ceremony, enjoy. 🖤💜

“Wait, I know that you’re a football player. Why did you come from my mamis bedroom?”

Jenni was on her way to sneak out of your appartement but when that small voice held her back. Curiously she turned the head around to look into the eyes of a little girl who the Spaniard estimated to be between five to six years old.

That must have been your daughter Mila Jenni thought to herself. It was the big confession after the great night the two of you had spent together.

Something in the reveal activated her flight mode, the forward’s plan was to leave and never look back. Her life was so chaotic she didn’t feel ready to be a part of a family.

Even though everything about yesterday touched her more than Jenni wanted to admit. Images of it flashed behind her eyes capturing passion, beauty and love.

“Uhm.. you didn’t see me, okay?”, the raven-haired woman returned the question flustered.

“But you’re the Jenni Hermoso, right? The one who won the World cup with Spain.”, Mila looked at her big-eyed, her voice full of adoration.

“Yes, but don’t tell anyone.”, Jenni replied, pressing a finger to her lips to underline her words.

“Wow.”, the little girl whispered amazed.

“Sorry, I really need to leave now. I’ve a speech to write.”, the striker apologized.

This didn’t stop Mila to confide in the older woman. “I’d love to be a football player like you when I’m grown up.”

“You do?”, something of your daughter’s sincerity made Jenni stay despite her announcement earlier that she needed to go.

“Yes.”, the girl emphasized.

“Hm..”

“It’s a big dream of mine.”, Mila added smiling shily.

“You’ll have to work hard for it.”, the Spaniard told her seriously.

“I can do that.”, your daughter assured her.

“And people will try to keep you from it.. they will tear you down and hope you’ll be compliant.”, Jenni continued gravely, kneeing down so she could look into the girl’s eyes.

“Did they do that with you?”, Mila questioned empathetically, placing her small hand carefully to the dark-haired woman’s cheek.

“Yes. All my life. So, promise me one thing, okay?”, she confirmed.

“Okay?”

“Don’t let anyone tell you what you can and cannot be. Promise?”, Jenni pressed a kiss to your daughter’s fingers.

“I promise.”, Mila answered solemnly.

“If you excuse me now.”, the older woman gave her an apologetic look.

“Bye, Jenni. I hope I’ll see you back soon.”, the girl said in an optimistic tone that left no doubt that the football player would return to your appartement.

“We’ll see. Thank you though.”, Jenni answered gratefully.

“Thank you for what?”, your daughter frowned confused.

“You just gave me an idea for my speech.”, the football player’s face lit up with excitement as she spoke.

Jenni shuffled the pieces of papers once more while someone applied her make up for the Ballon D’Or ceremony.

The writing on her notes was almost illegible, she had scribbled down her thoughts way too quickly on her way to the venue. It didn’t matter. She knew now what she wanted to say on stage. Still, she refused to let go of her notes.

“Jenni, have you actually prepared a speech?”

Alexias face appeared behind her in the mirror, She was already in her suit, her hair pulled into a low bun.

Jenni was about to complain about the surprised tone of Alexias voice when Patri joined them: “No way! I thought you’d just start talking like you always do.“

Jenni raised one eyebrow at the reflection of her two Spanish teammates and grinned: “That was the initial plan but I had a better idea.“

“Did someone spark your inspiration?”, Marta asked innocently.

Once the make-up artist let go of her face, she turned towards them and nodded: “Yes. And I hope she’s watching.“

Her teammates exchanged unreadable glances without saying a word while Jenni walked past them, leading the way to the award ceremony.

For what felt like hours, they sat there and listened to men talk. Jennis gaze kept going back to the clock, willing the time to slow down or the speakers to talk faster so Mila had a chance to watch before her bedtime.

Finally, she was called up on stage to receive her award. There was applause but she knew a lot of the people weren’t satisfied with her nomination. She held onto her notes and it all faded into the background once she started speaking about the little girl that wanted to follow in her footsteps, the girl that deserved to have a safer environment to play football in.

Her teammates welcomed her back to her seat with standing ovations. Alexia nodded at her once with a set jaw while Aitana gave her an inquiring look: “You dedicated it to a young girl? Who’s that?”

“Someone I met this morning.“, Jenni replied truthfully as she sat down.

“She seems to have left quite an impression on you.“, Caroline remarked.

“She did. Sometimes I wonder why I put up with all this shit… but there are so many little girls out there that should have it better than we did back then.“

“I agree with that.“, Alexia chimed in.

Marta nodded in agreement: “Me too, obviously. We had to put up with a lot.“

“Let’s be honest, we still do.“, Aitana whispered.

Jenni answered with new-found determination: “Yes but until she gets older, we might have already changed some more things.“

“I bet we will.“, Salma said quietly, before they all went quiet again and focused on the next award recipient.

Much to the surprise of her national and former club teammates Jenni announced at the after party, the alcohol-free wine glass still resting in her hand untouched. “I think I’m going to leave.”

“Leave?”, Patri repeated puzzled.

“Yeah, this party is boring anyway.”, the striker shrugged. The other women secretly thought the same, they couldn’t celebrate like the men around them as they were having a national team game the next morning.

Seeing Jenni step into your apartment while she still wore her glamorous dark suit jacket showing a large portion of her skin underneath felt almost unreal to you. It wasn’t that long ago when Mila and you watched the ballon d’or ceremony on tv and now she was back in flesh and blood. The football player was even more gorgeous here than on the screen.

Quickly Jenni revealed that the celebrations had bored her which was the moment you told her about your night.

“Mila stayed awake the whole time, she didn’t want to fall asleep until you were on the stage, Jenni.”

“She watched?”, the dark-haired woman asked happily.

“Yes, Mila loved everything about your speech.”, you nodded thrilled by the fact that your excitement was mirrored in the forward’s face.

“I’ve to thank her. She inspired me.”, she confessed.

“You inspired her as well.”, you admitted smiling.

“Even if she’s the only one, I reached my goal.”, Jenni beamed.

“To be fair I think you inspired many more with your words.”, you remarked solemnly.

“I hope so.”, the dark-haired woman sighed.

“Trust me.”, you answered softly.

After a meaningful pause you added. “I almost thought you wouldn’t call or wanted to see me again back then you left without a word in the morning.”

“That would sound like me actually.”, the footballer cleared her throat nervously. She loved to play the game, haunting for the next great beauty to court and lay down in bed with before going on the haunt again, always being a restless player. All was fair in love and football.

“She’ll appreciate the thank you though, it’ll mean a lot to her.”, you said while you bit your lip.

“That’s why I’m here. I want to thank you both.”, Jenni looked at you sincerely.

“Shouldn’t you be at the grand afterparty sipping champagne and flirting with pretty women?”, you lifted an eyebrow curiously.

“Not many women there that aren’t my teammates. And I’m not allowed to drink, I’ve to be back with my national team tomorrow.”, the striker chuckled amused.

“I see.”

“And maybe I preferred to spend my time here.”, she acknowledged, one hand ran tensely through her long hair.

You considered her for a moment and nodded in the direction of Milas bedroom: “Sadly she’s already asleep…“

“That’s okay. I could stay if you let me.“

You knew you should have thought about it for longer but you couldn’t resist the thought of Jenni staying one more night: “Yes, you can. If you promise to say goodbye in the morning.“

“If I was planning to sneak out again, I wouldn’t have told you.“, Jenni half-joked.

You tilted your head: “Good point.“

“So?”

“You can stay the night.“, you finally confirmed.

Relief seemed to flash across Jennis face for a millisecond: “Thanks.“

“You’re welcome, Jenni.“

The next morning you were woken up by footsteps on the wooden floor. Your heart sank immediately, thinking it was Jenni breaking her promise so you refused to turn around. You didn’t want to watch her leave again. Instead you heard a tiny voice whisper in awe: “Jenni!”

“Woah, you’re already awake, little one. Good morning.“, Jenni yawned and stretched right next to you.

She was still here, still in your bed.

“I saw you! Last night!”, Mila said full of excitement.

“You did? And did you like my suit? It’s on that chair.“, Jenni smiled, pointing across the room.

You watched as Mila walked over and gently touched the fabric in awe.

“It’s beautiful.“

“Right? Next year I’ll take you and your mum with me.“, the football player said, winking at you as if to tell you that she knew you were awake.

While the smile fell from your face, Milas eyes lit up: “What? Really?”

“Yes, why not?”

You might have been desperate for her to stay another night but you weren’t delusional. Who knew where the two of you were in a year? Most likely not sharing a bed anymore.

“Don’t promise her too much.“, you warned the football player.

Jenni was unusually quiet before replied: “I… mean it.“

“You mean it?”

“I do. I want to keep seeing you and her.“, she said with determination.

Milas eyes had been darting back and forth between the two of you like she was watching a tennis match. “We want to keep seeing you too!”, she yelled happily.

Completely ignoring you, Jenni turned back to your daughter and pulled her onto the bed: “Would you like to see a football game in Italy tonight?”

Mila was bursting with joy: “Yes!”

“I mean isn’t that too spontaneous? Like what about the airplane tickets?“, you interjected.

“I can take care of it all. But only if that’s okay with you.“, Jenni offered while Mila put on her best puppy eyes: “Pleeease.“

Who were you to deny your daughter such a once in a lifetime opportunity?

With a hesitant nod, you finally agreed: “Okay.“

The day has flown by, Mila and you quickly packed your bag for one night, before following your lover to get on the plane. While the striker was on the team walk, your daughter and you did your own exploring the Italian surroundings. It was like a daydream from which you didn’t want to wake up.

In the evening, you could feel from the stands Jennis glances on you who was standing on the pitch with some of her friends. Next to you Mila couldn’t hide her excitement seeing her favourite players live. It genuinely warmed your heart to witness and share that special moment with your child.

“Pretty girl from next door? She’s so your type, Jenni.”, Laia Codina wiggled her eyebrows.

“That’s why she’s here.”, the forward winked at the defender.

With a smirk on her face Alexia bumped her elbow into her teammates side. “Who would’ve thought that Jennifer found herself a family.”

“Strange things happen, Ale.”, Jenni shrugged with her shoulders.

“Yes, it’s Halloween soon.”, Vicky threw in teasingly.

“Rude.”, the older striker commented smiling.

“Vicky.”, the Barcelona captain clicked her tongue reprovingly.

The test game ended in a draw, but that didn’t stop Jenni from giving you a passionate kiss.

“That wasn’t very subtle, Jenni.”, you laughed.

“I don’t care about subtle anymore.”, she clarified grinning.

“What about the others watching?”, you asked her, cheeks flushed.

“They just love to stare at pretty girls.”, Jenni stated firmly.

“Pretty girls, hm?”, you repeated. Admittedly under her intense gaze you felt more beautiful than ever before. She didn’t hide her desire towards you and wasn’t afraid to show it in the public.

“Yes.”, she confirmed.

“Kiss me again.”, you requested, your voice slightly hoarse from cheering. Before you even could finish your sentence, her lips were on yours, making both of your hearts flutter.

Everything started with a dream of a little girl which was your daughter, in which Jenni saw her younger self, Mila undoubtedly became her inspiration for the speech. The three of you would now dream together.

Keep dreaming.

gif source: https://www.tumblr.com/imverits/765621490900238336?source=share

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