arabellaininterstellarboots

[arabellaininterstellarboots]

The Winslow Effect

Chapter 04: It begins

The next day, the Chelsea players had gathered in the lounge, taking a break after training. They were sprawled across couches, chatting about the game, upcoming fixtures, and whatever gossip they could dig up on each other.

Mason sat back, laughing along with his teammates, blissfully unaware that he was about to be the target of the day’s teasing.

Just as he was getting comfortable, Ben Chilwell and Conor Gallagher exchanged glances across the room, their expressions too eager to be innocent. Ben nudged Conor, whispering something, and they both shot a mischievous look in Mason’s direction.

“So, Mounty,” Ben started, a sly smile spreading across his face, “got any plans to finally meet that famous Charlie Winslow everyone’s talking about?”

Mason groaned inwardly. He’d seen this coming ever since Conor and Ben had met her after yesterday’s game- which they talked about all day- and now there was no escape.

“Come on, not you guys too,” Mason replied, rolling his eyes. “She’s just a journalist.”

“Oh, right, just a journalist,” Conor echoed, his voice thick with mock disbelief. “So that’s why you’re staring up at the VIP box every five minutes during the game?”

Mason shook his head, forcing a laugh. “Please, you guys are reading way too much into this.”

But Ben wasn’t letting him off that easily. “Mate, you can’t deny you’re curious,” he pressed. “We all saw the way you were distracted out there.”

Mason smirked, trying to deflect the attention. “Maybe I was just focused on not making any mistakes. You ever think of that?”

“Right,” Conor quipped, raising his eyebrows. “Focused on impressing her, more like.”

As the laughter grew louder, Declan Rice, who had been sitting nearby, caught wind of the conversation and strolled over, already smirking. “Wait, wait—so you guys met Charlie Winslow?” he asked, looking between Ben and Conor. He turned to Mason, feigning sympathy. “Mate, that’s brutal! They got to her first, and you’re just here all sad and alone?”

Mason couldn’t help but laugh, but he tried to stay composed. “Very funny, Dec. I’m sure I’ll meet her eventually.”

“Eventually,” Phil Foden chimed in, catching on to the exchange. “Not a very proactive strategy, Mounty. What, are you waiting for her to just knock on your door?”

Mason shook his head, trying to keep a straight face. “No, it’s called being patient.”

Jordan Pickford, hearing the laughter and sensing an opportunity, joined in as well. “Or maybe she’s avoiding you,” he added, leaning back with a smirk. “Can you blame her? I’d avoid you too, if I were her.”

At this, the room erupted in laughter, and Mason couldn’t help but grin, even as his cheeks flushed. “Alright, alright. You all think you’re hilarious, yeah?”

Jordan crossed his arms, looking smug. “We’re just saying, mate. Pretty much everyone else on the team has either met her or followed her. You’re missing out.”

Mason shrugged, determined not to let them get to him. “I’ll see her when the time’s right. No rush.”

Ben snorted, exchanging a look with Conor. “If you say so. But you know, it’s a little obvious that you’re the only one not following her on Instagram yet. Makes you look like you’re holding back.”

“Maybe he’s scared,” Conor suggested with a smirk. “Or maybe he’s just nervous she won’t follow him back.”

Mason opened his mouth to retort, but Declan leaned over, giving him a nudge. “Come on, mate, what’s the harm? Show her you’re actually interested. She’s probably wondering why you haven’t done it yet.”

Mason’s resolve began to waver as the rest of the guys started egging him on, their teasing relentless. The pressure was mounting, and it didn’t help that they were all watching him like hawks, waiting for his next move.

“Fine,” Mason sighed, pulling out his phone. He quickly navigated to Instagram, searching up Charlie’s profile, which he’d already seen multiple times but never dared to follow. Her profile picture—a candid shot of her mid-laugh, radiating confidence—stared back at him.

The teasing from his teammates continued as he hovered over the “Follow” button, his thumb hesitating just a moment too long. “Well?” Phil urged, practically bouncing on the edge of his seat. “Just hit it, Mounty!”

With a final, exasperated sigh, Mason tapped the button, officially following Charlie Winslow. The room burst into cheers and laughter, and Mason shook his head, pocketing his phone while pretending to ignore the triumphant looks all around him.

“So, Mounty, what’s the plan?” Declan asked, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Sliding into her DMs next?”

Mason rolled his eyes. “You lot are obsessed, you know that?”

“Obsessed with helping you out, mate,” Ben countered, grinning. “Honestly, it’s probably best you don’t meet her just yet. Gives us more time to prepare you.”

“Oh, for what?” Mason scoffed, crossing his arms. “An interview?”

“An interview with a side of romance,” Conor chimed in, winking. “Better start thinking of those smooth one-liners, because she’s not going to fall for the usual small talk.”

Mason shook his head, but couldn’t suppress his grin. “Right, because you lot are experts in chatting up journalists, yeah?”

The banter continued for a while, each player taking turns giving Mason “advice” for his hypothetical meeting with Charlie, until the conversation finally shifted. But later, as they all started heading out, Mason found himself thinking about his teammates’ words.

That night, Mason lay in bed, scrolling through his phone as he went through his usual routine of catching up on the day’s news and notifications. His thumb paused on the Instagram icon, and he felt a slight jolt when he noticed a new follower notification.There it was:

Charlie Winslow started following you.

Mason’s heart skipped a beat as he opened the notification, tapping on her profile again. She hadn’t posted anything new, but the idea that she had actually seen his follow—and decided to follow him back—sent a small thrill through him.

He debated whether to message her, feeling his teammates’ voices echoing in his mind. Sliding into her DMs next? Declan had said. He shook his head, laughing softly to himself. Maybe they were right—it was time to stop holding back.

After a few minutes of internal debating, he typed out a quick, simple message:

Glad to see you enjoyed the game yesterday. Conor and Ben mentioned you might be writing a piece on us. Looking forward to reading it.

He hesitated for a moment before hitting send, and once the message was delivered, he quickly set his phone down, feeling a rush of nerves and excitement. For a second, he felt like he was back in school, waiting for a text reply from a crush.

Mason lay there, staring at the ceiling and wondering if she’d respond. He didn’t expect much, but the thrill of taking that first step was enough to keep a smile on his face.

The next day at training, his phone buzzed during a break. He checked the screen discreetly and felt his stomach flip when he saw Charlie’s name in his messages.

Her reply was short but friendly:

Charlie: Glad you finally decided to make an appearance on my followers list! And yes, working on a piece about the team’s season so far. You might make it in, if you’re lucky😉

Mason grinned, unable to help himself, and typed back quickly:

Only if I’m lucky? Now you’re just playing hard to get🤨

Her response came almost immediately:

Charlie: Journalistic integrity, Mr. Mount. I can’t just play favorites🤷🏼‍♀️

He chuckled, his fingers flying over the screen as he replied:

Fair enough. But maybe one day I’ll get a shot at a real interview😌

Charlie: Maybe Keep playing well, and you just might 😜

Mason pocketed his phone, feeling a strange mixture of relief and exhilaration.

[arabellaininterstellarboots]

The Winslow Effect

Chapter 03: Near Misses

The buzz around Chelsea’s latest match hummed through the stadium, heightened by the anticipation of fans and a packed VIP section.

Among them, Charlotte Winslow sat quietly, dressed casually but still managing to exude a touch of class, her notebook in hand. She’d agreed to attend this game as a sort of reconnaissance, an opportunity to observe Chelsea’s star players before diving into the heart of her new beat.

Despite her best efforts, her eyes kept wandering toward one player in particular. It was impossible not to notice Mason Mount whenever he had contact with ball. There was something captivating about the way he moved—intense yet fluid, as if he anticipated every challenge before it came. Every so often, the crowd roared his name, and she caught herself watching a little more closely than she intended.

When Mason pulled off a clever pass that nearly led to a goal, she jotted a note down, trying to keep her observations technical and unbiased:

Good sense of timing. Plays well under pressure.

But beneath her professional notes, her curiosity lingered. This was the player everyone was convinced she would meet soon enough, and, admittedly, she felt a spark of intrigue.

Down on the pitch, Mason was fully focused on the game, but an occasional thought of Charlie slipped into his mind. He didn’t know if she’d be in the stands tonight, but the possibility tugged at the back of his mind. Ben had been relentless in his teasing all week, hyping up the so-called “chemistry” between him and a woman he hadn’t even met. It was enough to get him a little distracted.

At halftime, Mason was met with a nudge from Conor Gallagher, his teammate, who’d caught him glancing up at the VIP section. “Looking for someone, Mounty?” Conor teased, smirking.

“Not really,” Mason replied with a grin, brushing it off. “Just taking it all in.”

Ben overheard and couldn’t resist chiming in. “Taking it all in, or trying to spot a certain journalist?” he joked, elbowing Mason. “You’re not as subtle as you think, mate.”

Mason rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t hide the faint smile that crept onto his face. “If she’s here, it’s not for me,” he said, a little too casually. But the idea lingered in his head through the rest of the match, adding a slight edge to his performance.

As the final whistle blew and Chelsea walked off with a 2-1 victory, Charlie packed up her notebook and followed the other press members toward the players' area. She’d been granted access to grab a few quotes, though she had no idea who she’d run into—or who might avoid her entirely.

Charlie spotted Ben Chilwell and Conor Gallagher heading her way, looking amused when they noticed her waiting. She adjusted her blazer, preparing herself for the usual polite introductions, but was met with a playful grin from Conor.

“Charlotte Winslow, right?” Conor asked, his voice light and teasing. “The one everyone’s been talking about. Here for an Interview?”

Charlie raised an eyebrow, returning his smile. “So they say. Call me Charlie. And you must be Conor Gallagher, Chelsea’s midfield firecracker. And no, just observing and having a friendly chat.” She shook his hand, her expression composed but clearly amused. “You two played well out there.”

“Appreciate that,” Ben replied, shaking her hand as well. “We’ve heard a lot about you too, you know. Hard to miss when Mason’s been asking about you all week.”

Charlie smirked, leaning into the banter. “Oh? Funny, because I’ve been hearing a lot about him, too. But I haven’t seen him around.”

Conor and Ben exchanged glances, both trying to hide their laughter. Conor leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “He’ll be around soon enough. In fact, I bet he’s off somewhere trying to figure out how to ‘accidentally’ bump into you.”

Charlie chuckled as she continued the conversation. “I’ll believe it when I see it. So tell me, what’s it like playing alongside him? He’s got quite the reputation.”

“Oh, he’s alright,” Ben replied, shrugging with exaggerated nonchalance. “Keeps to himself sometimes, especially when he’s nervous.” He shot Charlie a look, clearly hinting at Mason’s recent preoccupation with her.

“He’s definitely mentioned you a few times,” Conor added, winking. “Acted like he didn’t care, but you could tell he was curious. Poor guy probably doesn’t even know what he’s in for.”

“Interesting,” Charlie replied, her tone playful. “I’ll make sure to go easy on him… if he ever decides to show up for an interview.”

Ben laughed, nudging Conor. “See? Told you she’s going to have him wrapped around her finger.”

Charlie grinned, enjoying the banter more than she expected. She’d interviewed countless athletes before, but Chelsea’s team had a laid-back charm that made it feel less like work. As they wrapped up their chat, she thanked them for their time, promising she’d catch them at the next game.

Meanwhile, just down the hallway, Mason was finishing up an interview with another reporter, still unaware of how close he was to Charlie. As he left the interview room, his gaze drifted toward the entrance to the press area, where he thought he spotted a familiar face among the crowd. He froze for a moment, squinting as he tried to confirm if it was really her. But before he could catch a proper look, fans surrounded him, cutting off his path.

Charlie slipped out a side door, her thoughts lingering on her interview with Ben and Conor. Their playful comments had left her both amused and curious, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Mason really was as interested in her as they claimed.

She shook her head, smiling to herself as she headed back to her car, deciding to leave the rest up to chance.

As the stadium emptied out, Mason finally managed to break free from the crowd, glancing around one last time. But what-could-have-been Charlie was already gone, leaving only a trace of anticipation in the air. He let out a small sigh, amused by the prospect of a possible near miss.

[arabellaininterstellarboots]

The Winslow Effect

pt.2

Chapter 02: The buzz begins

Charlotte Winslow leaned back in her office chair, scrolling through her notes for her next interviews. Since she’d switched to covering football, she’d been swamped with messages, press requests, and fan theories that she found both amusing and, at times, a little exhausting and over the top.

It seemed that everyone wanted to know which player she’d interview first, and the fan favorite was already becoming clear: Chelsea’s Mason Mount.

She’d caught glimpses of him in photos and videos during her research—a midfielder with a sharp grin, quick on his feet, and with a bit of charm that seemed to radiate through the screen.

But she’d been in journalism long enough to know better than to be swayed by anyone’s public persona. Still, even she couldn’t deny there was something intriguing about him.

Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of her thoughts. A message from her editor:

Lisa 😊: Just a heads-up—people are already talking about a possible Mount-Winslow interview. Keep it on your radar girly!😘

Charlie chuckled, tossing her phone onto her desk. “They really are impatient, aren’t they?” she muttered to herself. She liked the idea of keeping things mysterious. No need to rush into anything.

Meanwhile, across town, Mason Mount was getting his fair share of teasing from his Chelsea teammates. During training, Ben Chilwell nudged him with a grin as they took a break by the sidelines.

“So, Mounty,” Ben began, barely able to hide his smirk, “when’s your big date with Charlie Winslow?”

Mason rolled his eyes. “It’s not a date. And it’s not even happening yet.”

“Oh, yet? So you’re saying you’re open to it?” Ben shot back, and a few other teammates nearby chuckled, leaning in to join the fun.

Reece James joined in, grinning. “She’s way out of your league, mate. From what I’ve seen, she’s got half the Premier League hanging on her very feet.”

Mason shrugged, pretending to be unfazed. “Maybe, but she’s still just a journalist. No need to get all worked up about it.”

“Oh, just a journalist, huh?” Conor Gallagher chimed in, laughing. “That’s why you’re the first one to check your phone every time she posts?”

“I don’t even follow her,” Mason replied, trying to sound nonchalant. In truth, he’d considered it—just to satisfy his own curiosity, of course—but he’d decided against it. He wasn’t about to give his teammates any more ammunition for their teasing.

Ben rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure, mate. Just wait till you have to sit across from her, and we’ll see how cool you stay then. From what I’ve heard, she’s sharp. She’ll probably have you confessing all your secrets before you even realize what’s happening.”

Mason smirked, crossing his arms. “You lot think you’re so funny. You know, maybe I’ll be the one getting her to open up.”

That earned him a round of laughs. “Keep dreaming, Mounty,” Reece said, patting him on the shoulder. “I don’t think she’s the type to fall for your cheesy lines.”

“Or your terrible haircut,” Conor added with a grin, dodging the playful shove Mason sent his way.

Later that evening, Mason was back at home, scrolling absentmindedly through his phone. He noticed a post of Charlie’s on his explore page—a clip of her interviewing another Premier League player, Jamie Vardy from Leicester, her smile poised and her eyes sharp, as if she could see right through the forwarder she was talking to.

He could practically feel her confidence and quick wit through the screen. It didn’t surprise him that everyone was talking about her.

Meanwhile, Charlie sat in her apartment, her own thoughts drifting toward the buzz that had built up around a possible interview with Mason. She’d heard enough from her editor and her social media notifications to know that people were eagerly waiting for her to meet the Chelsea star. Fans were tagging her, speculating about “the chemistry” they might have. She couldn’t help but smile at how invested people were in a story that hadn’t even started.

Her phone lit up with a new follower notification—Ben Chilwell. She chuckled, not missing the fact that he was one of Mason’s closest friends. Interesting, she thought, wondering if the Chelsea squad was just as eager to see what she’d be like in person. She didn’t follow him back, but the notification was enough to remind her that she had the football world’s attention.

Mason’s name popped up in her mind again, and her fingers hovered over the button to follow him. But after a moment’s hesitation, she pulled her hand back. Letting them wonder a little longer wouldn’t hurt.

Across town, Mason finally caved and clicked on her profile, scrolling through a few of her recent posts. He noticed that a lot of people he follows follow Charlie. There was something undeniably intriguing about her. Maybe it was the way she balanced charm with a bit of mystery. He could see why the press and fans were so captivated, and despite himself, he was starting to feel the same.

Their paths hadn’t crossed yet, but with the tension building around them, both knew it was only a matter of time.

[arabellaininterstellarboots]

The Winslow Effect

pt.1

Note: this is the first part of my new story; my first one on Tumblr🥹 let's see how this is going, eh? And a quick PSA: For the sake of this fictional story, a lot of known England players play at Chelsea- thank you!

Pairing: Mason Mount (duh) x OC

Word count: 1,6k

Warnings: British boys🤭

Chapter 01: together at Chilwell’s

It was one of those rare nights when the team wasn’t discussing tactics or gearing up for an upcoming match. Instead, Ben Chilwell had invited a few of the boys over to his house for a more relaxed evening—just a couple of beers, some snacks, and the rugby match on the TV. The guys, of course, couldn’t resist giving their “expert” commentary on the game, despite not knowing a thing about rugby.

“Mate, he just piledrove him,” Jordan Pickford said, half-mumbling into his beer, eyes glued to the screen as a player was unceremoniously sent sprawling. “I could totally do that.” Ben, lounging comfortably on the couch, raised an eyebrow at Jordan. “Yeah, sure, mate. You’d probably end up tackling the wrong guy.” Phil Foden grinned. “And then blame it on the goalkeeper instincts. Classic.” Jordan threw him a mock glare. “I could totally keep up with them. It’s just like football, but... more aggressive.”

“More aggressive? You mean you’re actually supposed to hit people?” Declan Rice chimed in, his tone dripping with sarcasm. Mason Mount, who had been lounging in the armchair, leaned back and crossed his arms, a smirk on his face. “You’d be out in the first two minutes, mate. No way you’d last.”

“Oh, you’ve got no faith in me!” Jordan shot back. “You wait until I get my hands on that ball, I’m gonna be a legend.”

“Legend of the first aid room,” Ben added with a laugh.

Jack Grealish, who had been perched casually on the arm of the couch, grinned. “I think Jordan’s onto something. The man’s got mad rugby skills... he’s just in the wrong sport.” The group dissolved into laughter as the rugby players on screen collided in a dramatic fashion, sending shockwaves through the room. “I swear these guys play like they want to get hurt,” Phil said, his mouth full of chips.

“I don’t get how they run like that,” Ben added, throwing his hands up. “They don’t even look like they’re breathing heavy after those hits.” Mason took a sip of his drink, laughing at the spectacle unfolding on the screen. “They're built different,” he mused, tapping the side of his bottle thoughtfully.

They continued watching, making random guesses about the game and giving each other a hard time, but it was clear that they were all a little more focused now. As the match came to an end with a victorious cheer from one team, the atmosphere shifted.

There was no time for lingering on rugby anymore. All eyes turned to the screen as a familiar face appeared in the post-game interview. “You know what this means,” Jack Grealish said with a grin, moving toward the edge of his seat. “The one and only Charlotte Winslow is about to hit the field.”

“Oh, this is gonna be good,” Ben said, his voice laced with amusement. He grabbed his phone, checking for any updates as the camera zoomed in on Charlotte, poised and confident at the edge of the pitch.

There she was.

Charlotte “Charlie” Winslow.

The most well-known sports journalist in the UK, and the one who had a reputation for grilling athletes with razor-sharp questions. “She’s got that look,” Mason said with a knowing nod. “You know the one. The ‘I’ll make you wish you hadn’t said anything’ look.”

“Mate, she’s got all the looks.” Jack laughed.

“Mate, you can see it on the players’ faces,” Phil laughed. “They all look like they’re about to get called into the principal’s office.” Ben chuckled, raising his drink. “She’s a beast. You know she won’t pull any punches.”

“She could interview a brick wall and still make it sweat,” Jordan joked. “Don’t even joke about it,” Declan added. “If she ever gets her hands on me, I’ll just say I’m retired on the spot.” Mason couldn’t help but grin at his friends’ banter.

Everyone in the room had seen Charlie in action before—interviews that felt more like interrogations. It was her thing, after all. Sharp, witty, and always, always on the ball.

There was no escaping her questions, no getting out of an awkward moment. She had a way of making you feel it. And that was exactly why she was so good at her job. The camera now showed her walking onto the pitch, stepping towards one of the star players who was already looking a little nervous.

She held the microphone confidently, and her voice rang out, clear and controlled. “Great game out there today,” Charlie said, turning her gaze to the player who had just finished the match. “But I have to ask, what was going through your mind during that final play when you went for that risky pass? It was a big gamble, and it could’ve cost you the match.” The player blinked, taken aback by the directness of the question.

Charlie wasn’t wasting any time.

“Well, you know, I thought I could make it,” the player stammered. “I—” Charlie didn’t let him off the hook. “You thought you could make it. That’s interesting. You didn’t really think about the consequences though, did you? I mean, you were on the edge of the field, a split second away from losing the game for your team. What was the real reason behind that move?”

The guy shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, I thought... I mean, it seemed like the right decision at the time.” “Seemed like it? Is that the best you’ve got for me?” Charlie pressed, her gaze sharp.

“You’ve been playing for years, but it came down to seeming like the right decision? No pressure, right?” The guy laughed nervously, glancing at his teammates. “I guess... maybe I should’ve played it safer.” Charlie’s smile was cool, almost knowing.

“Maybe But you guys won, so it was worth it.”

As the interview concluded, the guys fell into an awkward silence, the weight of Charlie’s presence lingering even through the TV screen. The player she’d just grilled looked relieved to be done, happy that he's off the hook and that they ended the interview on a good note, but the guys in Ben’s living room were still processing the sheer intensity of her questioning.

“Bloody hell,” Ben muttered, shaking his head. “She’s ruthless.”

“I think that guy’s regretting ever stepping onto the field,” Declan added, half-laughing but still in awe of how Charlie had handled the interview.

“I’d be shaking if she came at me like that,” Jordan said, his voice dripping with admiration. “She’s terrifying in the best way possible.”

Mason, still looking at the screen, couldn’t help but feel a mix of respect and nerves stir inside him. “She’s not just good, she’s... she’s a force. You don’t just answer her questions—you survive them.”

The camera cut away from the field, and into the after game sport studio and the announcer’s voice broke the silence.

“Well, folks, we have some big news tonight,” the studio host said, as the screen flashed a few pictures of Charlie in action, each showing her sharp, calculated smile and no-nonsense demeanor. “As you know, Charlotte Winslow is a name that’s become synonymous with top-tier sports journalism. After years of making waves in rugby, she’s about to take the next big step in her career. This season, she’ll be making the jump to covering the Premier League.”

A stunned silence filled the room as the guys processed the news. There were a few incredulous glances exchanged between them, and they all instinctively leaned forward as if they could make sense of it all by staring harder at the screen.

“No way,” Jack muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “She’s really doing it. She’s going to be in football now?”

The announcer continued, hyping up Charlie’s transition. “Charlie will now be joining the Premier League beat, where she’ll bring her expert analysis, sharp questions, and signature style to one of the most prestigious football league in the world.”

“That’s... insane,” Ben whispered, as if in awe of the magnitude of the move.

Mason took a deep breath, his mind racing. The thought of Charlie’s next steps was now unavoidable. She wasn’t just a rugby journalist anymore. She was coming for them—coming for the football players.

“It’s going to be a whole different world for her,” Phil said quietly, his voice almost reverent. “The Premier League is gonna feel different with her in it.”

“Yeah,” Declan added, cracking a grin. “And I reckon none of us are gonna know what hit us.”

As the studio moved on to highlight some of Charlie’s most iconic moments in rugby, Mason couldn’t help but think of her sharp wit, the way she could tear through someone’s defenses with a simple question. His own stomach twisted nervously. What would it be like when she finally turned her gaze on him, when she made him squirm in front of the camera?

“Man, I’m nervous for whoever’s up first in the Premier League,” Jordan said with a laugh, but his eyes betrayed his anxiety. “That’s gonna be one hell of an interview.”

Mason shot him a side glance, his earlier grin gone. “If she comes at me like that... I might just freeze at the spot.”

The group laughed nervously, but they all shared the same thought: They had no idea what they were in for with Charlotte Winslow in the Premier League.

And just like that, the night shifted. What had started as a simple, relaxed evening filled with rugby and jokes was now dominated by the thought of Charlie and her upcoming career move. The players, no matter how tough or confident, knew they were about to enter a new era of post-match interviews.

Ben broke the silence, raising his glass. “To Charlie Winslow. The legend herself, and the woman who’s about to make our lives hell.”

The group clinked their bottles together, but the truth hung in the air. The Premier League had just become a much more interesting place, and it would never be the same with Charlotte at the helm.

[arabellaininterstellarboots]

𝗔𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮'𝘀 𝗠𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

✈︎ Arabella | 19 | Paramedic in training | Part-time student in sports journalism ✈︎

The Winslow effect

Part one: