#chelsea womens x you

[trulyhblue]

Bf Leah being wound up after a bad game and takes control. Smut pls!!!!

BLED BLUE

leah williamson x chelsea! reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, humiliation, dom/sub dynamics, age gap (legal + consensual), hate sex, enemies w/ benefits, rough, coarse language.

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Part of you wondered how long it would take Leah to take you home. There was not an ounce of blue in her body, taken only by the lifelong allegiance to North London, but the thought of you, a blue-born Chelsea girl, taking up the space under her sheets, was addictive.

Chelsea were the better team. Always was, and always will be. The Blues were better at everything. Their players were more advanced, their game plans had been executed to perfection. Arsenal were sloppy, poor, and unjust. It was embarrassing to the point where it stood out as entertaining to you. Seeing the almighty, reigning Arsenal fall on their knees and succumb to the superiority of your team was endearing, and you found yourself searching for the thrill increasingly more as the game progressed.

And the sight of the woman you hated oh so much angered by the defeated notion of the final whistle was your idea of an indescribable victory.

“What a shame, Williamson.” You snagged, clutching the fabric at your hips, looking down at her bent figure. “I thought you’d play well.”

“Ah, it is you.” She replied with just as much spite. “I thought I saw someone falling flat on their face. Makes sense now that I know it was you.”

You smirked, folding your arms over your chest. “Yeah, tried to show my humility… y’know, after scoring two goals tonight I thought it was only necessary.”

Leah scoffed, straightening her posture to display her authoritative height over you. “Both off deflections… sounds brilliant.”

“Player of the match worthy.” You bit back, stepping forward, pressing your chest against hers, suppressing the heat in your face. “Don't worry, I’ll make sure to credit your own goal in the interview.”

“Always have an excuse to talk about me. Can't stop, can you?”

“Is that what you think of me?”

“I don't think of you.” Leah shook her head, grabbing the hem of your shorts and fiddling with them persistently. “But if I did, I’d be sure to let you know.”

“If only I cared enough to hear it.” You tutted, not really caring about the openness of your situation. The stadium was still quite full, with both of your teammates lingering on the field. Fans were banking the barricade, no doubt looking for the two of you.

“I could tell you now if you’d like.”

“Aw, are you thinking of me now, Williamson?”

You felt Leah’s hand move to the inside of your thigh, pressing a tight pinch to gain any type of reaction from you. Biting your lip, you hoped that the post-game redness covered your blush.

“I bet you love the thought of people watching this, don't you?” She asked, glaring at you with such hatred that her words felt bittersweet. “Always so desperate for attention that you’d do it in front of everyone. Fucking needy.”

“You’re the one touching me.” In anger, you snapped. You didn't like the way Leah seemed so confident, so right in what she was saying. You wanted to be right. You were the one who won it for your team. You were better than her. She needed to realise that.

The only separation between the two of you was by your arms crossed over your chest. Leah was drawing furious patterns along your thigh, pressed up against you with her face above you, your height earning her to look down.

“Pull away then.” She uttered, now pulling you into a hug. You knew this would send fans into a spiral. Everybody knew about your rivalry with Leah. It was evident in the tackles, the cards, the teams, the games, the interactions. This was unclaimed territory. You had both teased each other after the games. There was always fire and spite, anger and resentment, but never contact. She told you to pull away, and by the tension that lingered, if you did she would let you have there was something else there. You felt it between your legs, running down your spine, making your core yearn.

It was in the way she kept her hand in between your thighs, deepening her fingers just below where you needed her most. She held you tight, closing any physical gap, forcing your arms to circle her waist as she wrapped her spare arm around the name on the back of your shoulders. You don't know why, but you held her back just as tight, breathing heavily when she started moving her fingers upwards.

“So tense.” She spat, rubbing your shoulder.

You shook her arm off, keeping the contact but still resistant. “I pulled it at training, of course it is.”

“Wasn't talking about your shoulder, baby.” She chuckled, her voice sending goosebumps down your neck. “In those thighs. Clenching them so hard and I'm hardly touching ‘em.”

That was when you knew your cheeks were burning.

There was a hint of humiliation in your tone, but your anger was still prevalent. “I didn't even notice your hand.”

“Yeah, alright.” Williamson grinned, pulling away. You felt the cold air nip your cheeks at the sudden loss of contact. Her fingers were no longer soothing the ache in between your legs. “Alright, baby, no, all that flushed cheeks from the big game, hm? Breathing so heavily cause you scored two goals, is that you’re so wet for me?”

“I’m not— you're so—”

Leah stepped away again, and you were too stupid to step forward in response. “God, is that what you're gonna sound like in the interview? You a mess, Baby, really. All flustered and red.”

“I'm not red.” You snapped. “And stop calling me baby. You're only four years older than me.”

Leah could see straight through you. “But you love that though.” She saw straight past your visible persona. “Why don't you show me how mature you are then? Can't call you baby if you prove that you're not.” She could tell by your flustered state, your wide eyes and your tainted disposition that you were struggling to handle the conversation.

“I don't need to prove anything to you. I just won the match. That's enough to prove that I'm better anyway.”

“But you needed help to get there, didn't you?” She retorted. “It’s not your name on the score sheet, it's mine. Look,” she pointed up to the screen, almost condescendingly, above the stands, where WILLIAMSON (OG) was printed boldly in white below the score. “All that hard work and I still get the mention.”

There was a fight for dominance, but the fight was so clearly won when you audibly gulped, unable to come up with just enough answer to compel yourself into a deeper state of anger. If anything, you were willing to resort to forbidding, but you were stubborn and bled blue.

“You’re just mad that you lost and we won. Chelsea was always better anyway, and you were just too slow… bet that's always the case.”

Leah’s jaw clicked, her lips settling into a thin line.

“In what case?” She muttered distinctly.

“You know what case.” You failed to notice the challenge, finding yourself in a superior position of confidence to realise the hole you were digging for yourself. “Slow and boring… on and off the pitch. You definitely get around, but you never seem to see one person twice. Maybe that's because they don't want to see you.”

Leah grabbed your wrist, yanking you off the field. It was a tradition that you would see the fans after every game, so you tugged back in retaliation.

She pivoted to face you, glaring at you with so much affliction that you yearned for more.

“You seem really interested in how I ‘get around’. Sounds like you wish it was you.”

No matter how hard your body was willing to succumb to her words, you stood firm by scoffing, rolling your eyes at her cockiness. “If only I was so desperate.”

“I’ll show you just how desperate I can get you.” The captain spat, holding your forearm now, easily leading you further down the tunnel where fans or players could no longer find you. “Didn't even properly touch you before and you were a needy mess.”

“You’re always so fucking sure of yourself, aren't you, Williamson?” You snapped back, hearing the clad of your boots fail to drown out your ungrateful tone. You did not care for what Leah was so keen to impress you with. Never had anyone told you that Leah did not impress. She was determined to make sure everyone was supplied with the right things for their needs. She valued giving pleasure over receiving. But if there was one thing she hated, it was brats like you.

You stood outside the Chelsea changing rooms, your kit still adorned on your figure.

“Go get your shit.” She snarled, letting go of your arm and jabbing you forward.

You scoffed, stopping dead in your tracks. “And what? You're gonna wait for me and drop me home? I have a license, Williamson, I'm not your fucking—”

You couldn't finish your rant, yelping when Leah cut you off, grabbing the collar of your shirt and mashing her lips against yours. One of her legs found its way between yours, her knee pushing against your core. A moan fell from your lips, and the woman wasted no time in slipping her tongue in, caging your figure between you and the wall.

She waited until you were kissing her back before grabbing your neck. She instantly moved down to litter harsh kisses down the nape of your neck, using her hands to move underneath your shirt, massaging your breasts. You were a mess beneath her, breathing heavily when the pressure on your clit intensified when her knee started rubbing patterns up and down.

“Swear at me again and see how it turns out for you.” She muttered in your ear, relishing the whines that fell from your lips as her knee continued its work. “If I tell you to grab your bag, that's what you do, yeah? You understand, Chelsea?”

The nickname left you shrinking, her words making your core glisten. You weren't completely sure whether the Arsenal girl was planning on taking you home. You didn't understand why you were all of a sudden pretty much moaning at the friction of her knee.

But you weren't fucking complaining.

“My teammates are in there.”

Leah let out a laugh. “You had no problem letting me touch you in a filled Stanford Bridge, Babygirl. I think it’d be healthy if your teammates realised who fucks their Stargirl after a home game.”

“You haven't fucked me, yet.” Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson, the thought of the England captain fucking you sending you into a spiral.

“Go get your bag and then I can use that pretty mouth for something other than moaning my last name… not that I mind when you do that.”

You wasted no time in doing as you were told, forever thankful that all of your teammates were either still interacting with fans or showering. You grabbed all of your stuff and quickly followed Leah over to the away changing rooms.

She let you walk through, since none of the girls were present, grabbing your belongings and chucking them inside her cubby. You felt her figure cage you back into the nearest wall, her hands how playing with the hem of your shirt, inching it further up your waist until it was completely disregarded, and you were left in your sports bra and shorts.

“Why so quiet?” Leah asked, kissing down the column of your neck, fondling your breasts. You sighed at the growing ache in your core, throwing your head back when Leah’s knee came back into contact with your clit.

“Some— someone’s going to walk in.”

Leah snorted. “Like you would mind.”

You huffed, grabbing the back of her neck and pushing her head further down your body. Leah’s knee stopped in return, leaving you writhing at the loss of pressure.

“Use your words or you can get off yourself.”

“Like you could get me off.” You retorted.

“I don't make brats cum.” She spat, moving back up to tower over you. “I edge them until they’re desperate and getting themself off my thigh. I treat them like brats, and maybe you need to work a little fucking harder for what you want.”

“You were just teasing me!”

“You're just desperate.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Leah.” There it was. Music to her ears.

“What?”

You whined, using your hips to drag yourself along her knee.

“What was that, Baby? Couldn't hear you under all those whines.”

“Leah, c’mon.” You stated potently, getting more impatient by the minute. “I'm not begging.”

The number six shrugged, looking down at you with wide, innocent eyes like she had no clue what you were going on about. Like she didn't even realise that you were humping her leg longing for some relief.

“Begging for what?” She moved her finger painstakingly down your chest, tracing your abs ever so slowly.

“For you.”

“For me?” She questioned, feigning confusion. Her hand dipped into the waistband of your shorts, circling your clit over your underwear. “Answer me, Darling. What do you want me to do? I'm touching you.”

“Touch me more.”

Leah tutted, moving her hand away. You groaned, throwing your head back when no pleasure was offered. “I'm afraid that's not how you ask. It might get you somewhere at Chelsea, but at Arsenal, we treat our Captains with respect. Even our star girls use their manners in the North end.”

“Touch me more, please.”

“Where, Chelsea?” Leah moved closer to you, peeling off her own shirt, removing your shorts, leaving you in your underwear and bra. “Be a good girl and tell me where.” She asked, her body lowering itself closer to the ground. You watched her kneel before you, hands gripping your waist, kneading your hips, lips biting your inner thigh.

“My clit, Lee, please. I need you to touch me there.”

“Such a good girl for your Captain, aren't you?” Leah ran her tongue along your folds, your underwear pooled at your feet. Your legs were swung over her shoulders, your hands buried in her hair, pulling taunt to her ponytail and the hairs that had fallen out during the game. Your moans were still muffled by the bite in your lips, the nerves of someone hearing your desperation for your enemy is still evident in the way you kept your mouth shut.

It was when Leah’s tongue latched onto your clit, sucking harshly on the swollen bud that your noises fell so adamantly from your reddened lips. You felt Leah’s cocky smile, her chuckles sending vibrations of pleasure through your body.

“Sound so pretty, Baby.”

“Leah— fuck, Lee. I'm gonna—”

“You’re going to hold it. Taste so good, you can wait.”

The coil in your stomach was forming long before Leah had even started, and the more Leah attacked your bud, the more your orgasm led to burst. Your moans had doubled in volume when one of her hands came up to play with your nipple, pinching it and playing with the nub every time her tongue licked up your folds. Her other hand worked its way through your pussy, spreading your slick all over your thighs, letting it run down your shaking legs and make your skin glisten with the glossy arousal.

“Want Stanford to hear you,” Leah spoke from below you. You whined at the thought. You were in a state of pure bliss that all cautionary thoughts of interruption were so far gone. All you could think about was Leah’s face between your legs.

“Feels so good, Lee. Want to cum so bad for you.”

“You can hold it, baby.”

“Mh, Lee, please.”

Leah moaned at your whines, nuzzling her nose up against your clit, pinching your nipple hard, reeling at the moan you let out in response. She saw the way your hole clenched around nothing, smirking at the way you rolled your hips across her face, working your pussy into her mouth so easily. She felt powerful knowing she had you at her disposal. You were stunning always, but there was something about you now that set Leah off. It made her angry knowing that you weren't hers to fuck at her discretion. It made her protective over you in ways she had never felt before. You were Chelsea’s protege — everyone worried when going up against you.

“Leah.”

It wasn't like something had changed, but Leah had realised that her hate was actually protection and adoration. She wanted you for herself. She wanted to steer you away from anyone that would hurt you. She hated Chelsea, she despised the West side more than anything, and it wasn't the sex that made her realise this.

“Leah.”

It was her name coming from your lips.

“Cum for me, Baby.”

That was all you needed to hear before you were barreling over the edge, your legs relying entirely on the strength of Leah’s upper body to keep you balanced. Your moans exemplified the stimulation of your orgasm riding out, and Leah’s endeavours to lick the result of it up as it poured into her mouth and onto your thighs.

The woman made sure you had somewhat caught your breath before she moved, having a moment to catch her own breath and comprehend what just happened. When she knew you were able to stand independently, she moved over to her cubby, grabbing the baby wipes she always had handy, moving back down to her knees to clean the mess across your legs as you covered your chest back with your jersey, and later your shorts.

Leah moved to do the same, except she watched as you fumbled with what to do. She gave you a pointed look as if to question your thinking, and you simply sighed and waddled over to her, slight humiliation at your wobbly legs painting your cheeks as you grabbed your bag.

“You all good, Baby?” She asked, her voice no longer authoritative and rather empathetic.

“Yeah, thanks.” You nodded. “Erm… sorry for being… rude… actually I'm not sorry but I am.”

“Yeah, same,” Leah replied a cheeky grin settled on her complexion. “I think we can settle for friendly rivalry from now on.”

“If that's what you call this, then sure.” You added, laughing along with what to make of the situation, feeling more out of place than ever in the middle of the Arsenal room. “I better go.”

“I’ll drive you home.”

“Lee, I've got my license—”

“It wasn't a question, Chelsea.”

You stood there defeated, knowing internally that you had no way home after Millie had driven you to the stadium and would have left by now anyway. Leah must’ve known that by the way she wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into her chest.

“Besides, wouldn't want that Player of The Match Trophy getting forgotten now, would we?”

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A/N — bad ending but oh well… HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!!

[alotofpockets]

Accidental | Leah Williamson x Chelsea!Reader

Summary: Where you accidentally injure your girlfriend.

Woso masterlist | Words: 2.1k

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A knock on your front door pulls you out of your focus on getting ready, you head to the door and open it. “Hi Lia, come in!” She enters your home and greets you with a hug. “I’ll be right back.” Back in your bedroom, you grab your training kit, and start changing. From the bathroom your girlfriend calls out for you, “Baby, I forgot to bring my clothes, can you please grab them for me?” You walk to her overnight bag, and pull out the Arsenal kit she packed. 

In the bathroom Leah is waiting for you in a towel. “Here you go, my love. Though, I do think it’s the wrong colour, because London will be blue tonight.” Playing for rivalry teams could have been hard on your relationship, but in your relationship it had never been a big deal, and you could joke about things like this without hurting each other’s feelings. “Ah, so you are colour blind then, because it will definitely be red.” She jokes back. You peck her lips, “I’ll head down and keep Lia company.”

The big rivalry between the teams, and between some of the players within the teams had also been the reason that the two of you kept your relationship private. Lia knew of course, as well as both your family’s, but not your other teammates or the public. You were both happy with that, and it had worked for you for the past year. 

When Leah got downstairs, she greeted her best friend with a hug. “Sorry to keep you waiting, y/n was trying to get me to wear a Chelsea kit.” The smirk on Leah’s face gave her away instantly. “That would have been so much better, I should do that next time!” The three of you share a laugh, before you have to head out. “See you at the stadium my love.” You kiss your girlfriend goodbye. “Good luck out there today!” You wave to the both of them and get into your car, while Leah and Lia get into Lia’s car. 

The London Derby was well underway, and Arsenal had taken a 2-1 lead. Both teams were fighting hard, which came with a number of free kicks for both teams. Every time you moved up the left flank, you were challenged by Katie McCabe, one of the Arsenal players you always had a tussle with on the field. Both of you were quite aggressive in your playing styles, so on the field it was like you were each other’s enemies. Things like this had also been taken into consideration when you and Leah had decided to keep your relationship private. Right now, your mind was fully focussed on getting past McCabe, but with a rough pull on your arm you were taken to the ground. You were frustrated with her move and wanted to get right into her face about it, but Guro anticipated you being angry, and was already standing between you and McCabe to hold you back. Katie got a yellow card, and Chelsea got a free kick from just outside of the penalty area. 

Lauren got in position to take the free kick, while you positioned yourself at the near post with Leah defending you. When the referee blew the whistle Lauren showed with her hands which one of the set pieces you had practised was the one she was going to deliver. She sent the ball flying in your direction, you jumped up and tried to turn your body mid air. Before your head connected with the ball, you felt your elbow crash into something, or rather someone. Your focus was off of the goal and the ball flew far over, as your girlfriend crashed to the ground from your arm hitting her in the face. “Are you alright?” You hold out your hand to help her up. “Yeah fine.” After helping her to her feet, you both run away from the goal again, like the rest of the players, but when Leah grabs her face, your hand is instantly on her back. “Are you sure you are okay, Lee?” Without answering you she falls to her knees and hands. You wave over the medics instantly, before you’re able to crouch down with her you feel a pair of hands push you backwards. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough, y/l/n?” Your eyes meet Katie’s angry one’s looking back at you, you raise your hands and back up, right now all that mattered was Leah’s well-being and fighting with her teammate wouldn’t help. Still you watched from a distance as the medical team was assessing her with the referee standing next to them. The referee signalled to the Arsenal staff that a substitution needed to be made, next she made her way to you, and gave you a yellow card. Usually you would fight it since it was accidental, but it was your girlfriend that was walked off of the pitch by the medics, and all you could think about was the fact that you had injured her.

Your focus was completely off the game, so it was to no surprise to you that you were subbed off soon after Leah was. You jogged to the sidelines where Maika was ready to come on for you, and gave her a quick hug before stepping off yourself. After taking your coat and your bottle from the staff, and shaking hands with the coaching staff and your teammates, you headed into the tunnel instead of taking a seat on the bench. 

Determined to find Leah, you made your way through the halls of Emirates Stadium. With your next turn you saw Lia sitting opposite a closed physio room, “How is she?” Lia shakes her head, “I don’t know, they’re still checking her out, I haven’t heard anything yet.” You start pacing the hallway instantly. “She walked here herself, I’m sure she is going to be okay.” It was like you didn’t even hear Lia. “Y/n, why don’t you sit down?” She said putting her hands on your shoulders. “No, I can’t.” Lia knew there was no changing your mind, so she let you be as she sat down herself again. After a couple more minutes of you pacing around the hallway another figure comes around the corner, checking on her teammate. You were so out of it that you hadn’t noticed the person coming closer until you were pushed against a wall. “Who gave you the right to be here?” It took you a moment to realise what was happening, Katie had you pushed against the wall by your shoulders. “Katie, get off of her.” Lia tried but to no avail, Katie was full of anger. “What are you doing here?” She spat in your face. You push her off you, “I am checking on Leah, what does it look like I’m doing?” A slight annoyance in your tone.

Lia tried to come between the two of you again, now that Katie wasn’t at your throat. “Katie, please calm down.” Katie shook her head. “She’s the reason Leah is in there, why are you on her side?” She didn’t wait for an answer from Lia and turned back to you. “Why don’t you go home and wait for an update on Leah when it gets posted online?” You finally had enough of Katie’s antics, and exploded. “Because she is my girlfriend, McCabe. I fucking injured my girlfriend, and you are being a piece of shit to me, which isn’t helping. So, please just shut up, I feel bad enough as it is.” Katie is taken back by your sudden outburst, and the information shared within. She looked over to Lia for confirmation, who simply nodded her way. “Well, shit.” The Irish woman said and took a step back and sat down in one of the chairs. 

You slide down against the wall, the interaction with Katie having one positive result, no more pacing the hallway for you. The three of you sit in silence, waiting for an update on Leah. When the medics come out they talk to Lia, but of course you and Katie hear them as well. A concussion, you gave your girlfriend a concussion. “Can we see her?” Lia asks. “Yes, just keep the volume down and don’t turn on the light.” She talks with the medics about the next steps, but you don’t hear them anymore. The words “She has a concussion.” Play over and over again in your mind. You were the reason that she would be out of the game for a couple of matches, what if she would hate you over it? 

Katie realised that you were struggling and moved your way. “I’m sorry for being an ass to you. Leah clearly means a lot to you, so I am sure that you do to her as well, and that means she is going to need you in there.” You let your eyes meet Katie’s, the anger you saw in them earlier, replaced by a softness you couldn’t place yet. She reached out her hand to help you up, “What do you say we go see her?” You let her help you up and follow Lia into the room. 

Leah’s eyes open slightly when the door opens, but she closes them as soon as the slightest bit of light enters the room. Katie quickly closes the door to keep the light from the hallway out. “Who’s there?” Lia starts by saying her name, Katie follows, and you follow them, “and y/n.” You could see Leah tense upon hearing that you and Katie were both there. “Relax love, she knows.” Her shoulders untense, and you walk to her side and grab her hand. “I am so sorry for hurting you.” Leah squeezes your hand, “It’s not your fault, it was an accident.”

The three of you sit in the room with Leah until the medics let you know that she can leave. You decided that Leah was going to stay with you during her recovery. Since Leah wasn’t feeling well, you didn’t feel comfortable driving her on your own, so Lia offered to drive the both of you back to your place. Katie offered to pick up some stuff at Leah’s place, and drive Lia back to get her car. With that plan in place, you headed home. Leah leaned into your side in the backseat, her head heavy and painful. 

After almost a week Leah was starting to feel better, light wasn’t bothering her as much anymore, and her headaches were less present. The first few days had been rough, her head was pounding, and she was very nauseous most of the day. Luckily her symptoms got less day by day. You didn’t have many visitors, because that would be too much for Leah, but Lia and Katie had come by to bring you supplies every now and then.

You drop your phone on the bed in frustration, not realising that Leah had woken up already. “Hey baby, what’s wrong?” Your chest felt thigh, you didn’t want her to worry about this as she had too much going on already. “Nothing love, it’s fine.” She knew you were trying to hide what was bothering you, so she grabbed your phone that was still laying open on the bed. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing, the screen was filled with your Instagram notifications. Each one of them that she read worse than the other. People were sending hate your way for hurting Leah. “I am so sorry this is happening baby.” She pulled you closer to her and hugged you tight. “Why didn’t you say anything?” You shrug, “I didn’t want to bother you. You’ve had enough going on, I didn’t want to add to it.” She kisses your forehead. “You’ve been taking great care of me, but it’s okay if you need someone to take care of you too. I am always here for you, remember?” With a nod of your head you let her know that you know. 

“I have an idea, but you need to tell me if you’re okay with it, because if you aren’t that’s okay too. I am just so angry at the people sending these kinds of messages your way.” Leah told you your plan, and you let her know that you were okay for it.

----- leahwilliamsonn just posted to her story

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Of course the comments didn’t stop with that, but they lessened and were overruled by the nice comments people were sending both your ways now. The reasoning might not have been ideal, but you were both happy that you didn’t have to hide your relationship from the world anymore.

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💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also supporting me by leaving a tip 💗

[lovinpelova]

obvious | j. fleming

summary; you and jessie randomly start to grow closer, your teammates notice immediately.

🎵 one life - justin bieber

jessie fleming was truly one of a kind. you had never met anyone like her- and that's speaking from afar.

you weren't close at all, simply smiling when you crossed paths or celebrating the odd goal together when the timing was right. other than that, jessie stuck to who she knew and so did you. the only time you'd speak to niamh is at england camp, prefering to hang out with sam, zećira and lauren when jessie wasn't with them. you weren't scared of the woman, you'd just missed your chance to grow close when you both joined three years earlier.

that's why it was slightly awkward when emma partnered you up with her that morning.

it just so happened that she was pairing you all up with everyone stood opposite each other, all your teammates arguing over who they were stood in front of as it wasn't a directly straight line between you all but jessie immediately set her eyes on you, both of you smiling softly at the other. you harboured no hard feelings for her and she felt the same - you just simply weren't close friends - so you took this as the opportunity to get to know her better.

emma kept you with your aprtner for the entire training session, moving from simple passing drills to playing matches with your arms linked together so you were forced to improvise. the close proximity had worked like team bonding for you and jessie, making inside jokes and playing like you'd grown up together since you'd learned what the other wanted so quickly. you must admit you were sad when emma dismissed all of you for the day, wanting to spend more time with the canadian as you'd grown so accustomed to her company in such a short space of time.

luckily for you, jessie felt the same way.

"y/n/n wait up!"

she called after you as you were heading into the changing room, catching up and linking your arms together out of habit after how long you'd been like that all day.

"me, niamh, sam and zećira are gonna go grab something to eat around the corner. you wanna come with?"

you smiled down at the thoughtful question, noticing how close she was to you as you opened the changing room door and headed towards your cubby with her following.

"but if you already have plans it's fine-"

"no i'd love to jess! the others won't mind though will they?"

the midfielder shook her head with a smile, happy she was going to spend another couple hours with you. she couldn't explain it- but something was drawing her towards you more than before. she shook it off as wanting to be your friend, not knowing what that always really means for girls who like girls.

you walked to the small café not too far from training with jessie, opting to leave your cars so you could save fuel and get some more steps in. the conversation flowed as smooth as ever as you spoke about the upcoming champions league game against hacken and who you wanted to sit with on the plane, your lives growing up in seperate countries whilst comparing the differences of england and canada- everything you could think of, you and jessie were talking about. you made your way into the café with sam, niamh and zećira narrowing their eyes at the sight of you two so close but deciding to ignore it as they called you over to sit with them.

you didn't miss the way jessies thigh was pushed right up against yours, neither of you moving away. thinking it was just an innocent action of habit since you'd been so close that day or maybe she just hadn't noticed- but when she pressed her thigh further against yours when you accidentally moved it away a bit you knew she was doing it on purpose. zoning out from whatever sam was saying and turning towards jessie, you couldn't help but admire her.

you'd noticed how pretty she was before obviously, it's hard to say she'd bad looking because she truly isn't, but right now you were finding her attractive. you were staring at her lips and noticing the way her body was so tightly pressed up against yours and the way her hand patted your thigh to get your attention- oh god, she'd caught you staring.

"stop zoning out on me and listen to sam, you big dope."

"can't help it when you're so nice to look at, freckles."

you shamelessly flirted back before you could think about it, your hand patting hers and staying there so she couldn't retract it, loving the way her fingertips were tracing shapes on your thigh and palm was covering majorith of your quad. for such a small woman she definitely had big hands. too focused on the way they felt on you though, you missed the way she was staring at you with a massive blush across her cheeks- the other girls didn't.

--------

a month later, you and jessie had truly never been closer. texting every day with the odd phone call or facetime when you felt like it, you'd found a pair of her training joggers in your wardrobe after she left them the other night but opted to wear them instead of returning them (the girls also noticed this, seeing as you didn't sign to chelsea for number seventeen) and she'd stolen one of your hoodies with the excuse of being cold.

you'd be lying if you said you hadn't developed feelings for the woman and were shamelessly projecting them onto her, she hadn't stopped you yet and seemingly felt the same judging by the way she was currently dragging you through the streets of london with your fingers laced together behind her. you sneakily took a picture of your hands and posted it to your instagram story with a heart on the bottom right, ignoring the messages your teammates were immediately piling into you with asks of what you and jessie were doing or teasing jokes of how their favourite canadian is doing.

the girls had figured out you and jessie liked each other a while ago, so it wasn't surprising them when they saw how often you were hanging out or sneaking around training to get a moment alone. you both knew you liked each other but you hadn't said it out loud, instead opting to say it with your actions and celebrating internally when the other didn't hesitate to let you continue or reciprocate.

"you look so good today jeff."

you complimented whilst pulling her back into your arms, your fingers still laced together whilst your other arm rested on her waist to ensure she didn't get shy and turn away from you. the way her grey oversized jumper was falling over her wrist to emphasise her veins, how her black jeans were fitting her well but not too well so she was still comfy, her hair down for once as she wore a golden chain you'd quickly became obsessed with once you noticed it- it was all just so attractive.

"can say the same about you y/n/n."

the canadian flirted shamelessly, smiling at how you were clearly caught off guard by her sudden confidence and the blush that covered your cheeks as a result.

"so, sam was talking to me yesterday and..."

"and?"

jessie trailed off as you continued walking down the street together, ensuring your faces weren't going to be seen by paparazzi but not bothering to hide from fans.

"she said the whole team knows about us so we might as well make it official before they start nagging about it."

"right. well, at training tomorrow we'll just tell them we're dating and get it over with."

you didn't miss the way jessie blushed once you put a label on what you were, deciding to not comment so you saved her embarrassment.

"so we're dating?"

she asked timidly, watching you scoff at her question and shake your head in disbelief.

"what do you think we are?"

"i'd like to be dating- to be your girlfriend."

you stopped walking to pull her into your arms once more, smiling softly down at her as your free hand gently held her face and pulled her into a sweet kiss. the midfielder held your hand that was on her face with her thumb stroking over your knuckles, kissing back immediately like she'd been waiting her whole life for that moment. thanks to sam being the topic of conversation, you and jessie had just shared your first kiss, the ultimate wingwoman. (she'll never let you live that down once you tell her.)

"we're girlfriends then."

you spoke confidently with a smile to match jessies, pecking her lips again and watching her process what just happened for a moment, starting to walk towards your initial destination with matching grins on your faces.

[helen-with-an-a]

I was thinking a little piece for jflem where both her and her gf are in the Olympic village at the same time but for different sports - maybe they’re pretty fresh with each other too (u can pick which sport but I was thinking something niche like weightlifting or sailing - have fun with it!!)

Hiiii, so I was an artistic swimmer (aka Synchronised Swimming) growing up and that's a really niche sport so I chose that one hehe. Also this is my first time writing for Jessie but i think I might start writing for her properly. I liked the idea of a new relationship but I might make that into a fic of its own so I haven’t included it here. I hope you enjoy this one - I really liked writing it.

Meet Me at the Rings

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Description: Jessie and R reunite in the Village

Word Length: 1.5k

You cried the day you found out you were going to the Olympics again. It was technically your second time – you had gone to Tokyo, but you were counting this as your first proper time since you now had the crowds and the freedom to truly enjoy the competition.

You knew that your country had qualified for the Olympics some time ago now, but with the nature of all team sports, you didn’t know if you were going. You were an artistic swimmer. Some people called your sport easy, or pointless. But you knew what it had taken to haul your team into qualification. There were only 8 spaces on the full team, and 2 reserves. The nerves had been bubbling away since the qualification competition. You had swum in every routine since you made the national squad just before your 17th birthday, but you were well aware of how fickle sport could be. One bad performance, and you wouldn’t be on that plane to Paris. You were at home with Jessie when you got the phone call. The phone call. The one that told you, you had been selected to go to Paris. You could barely remember the conversation – too busy freaking out that you were to be an Olympian … again!

Not even thirty minutes after your phone call, Jessie’s phone buzzed. Her turn. She had confided in you a few weeks earlier that she was nervous about getting into the team. You knew her fears were unfounded – she was Captain for crying out loud. But you understood where she was coming from. It was the anticipation that made everyone nervous.

That night had been … eventful, to say the least. Tears were shed, excitement voiced, nerves expressed, and love shared. It was perfect. Even more perfect was knowing that this time, you were able to see Jessie and probably watch a few of her matches too.

It was far too warm in Paris. It was hot and sticky and sweaty in the bad way. The rooms didn’t have air con, and the tiny little handheld fan Jessie had gifted you before you left wasn’t helping much – although every time you used it, you remembered her little soft smile and wide brown eyes that graced her features when she handed it over. You had been teased mercilessly by your teammates. The blush that bloomed across your cheeks each time you thought of Jessie would have been embarrassing if you were bothered enough. Your coach had joked that you looked like a meerkat whenever someone in red walked past. You just couldn’t help yourself. It had been too many weeks since you last saw Jessie in person. Your training camp had been a month long; the first two weeks being in London and the second half being in Lyon. Facetimes and texts were not doing it for you. You needed to feel her again, you needed to have her arms around you, squeezing you just so and have her pepper kisses into your hair.

You were even more excited knowing that she was soon to be in the same location as you. Her group games had been in St-Etienne, and you had watched her matches religiously – ignoring the jeers from your friends whenever she was on screen. You had never been the biggest football fan, often favouring water sports rather than anything running related. But that had all changed the moment Jessie had entered your life. You were easily her greatest fan. Your off day was Sunday, which meant that more often than not, you were in the crowd, her name and number splashed across your back. But now that she was in Paris – you were shaking with anticipation. Not only of being reunited with her, but you were finally able to be in the crowd. And you hoped she was able to sneak away to watch you too.

Your competition hadn’t started yet, having it be scheduled for the 2nd week of the games. But you hoped she was able to sneak away. Your heart jumped at the thought. She had never been able to watch a full competition in person before. It seemed a little strange, you were at every home game (and a good few away games) yet she hadn’t been to yours. You had brought it up to her once – she reassured you that she watched every moment of the live stream, especially when it was your country’s performance. But your competitions were usually during the season, and often lasted a week or so that she just couldn’t take off from football. You knew this, and you completely understood – especially since she was the one that earned the most … far more than you ever would for your sport. When you first met her, you were training full time and worked two part time jobs to get by. When you eventually moved in with her, she had insisted you drop down to just one. She could see how much it was killing you – the early morning trainings, the late-night shifts, never having free time to relax. You knew with Jessie’s salary you didn’t have to work any extra jobs if you didn’t want to, but that felt wrong on so many levels that you never entertained the thought for more than a few seconds. But all the sacrifice was worth it. You were now in the Olympic village. Waiting for your girlfriend to join you. This is what you had dreamed about as a young girl.

Your phone buzzed,

My J ❤️🤍⚽️: I’ve just got to the village

My J ❤️🤍⚽️: Can you meet me by the rings in like 20 minutes?

My Baby 🩵💙🩵: OMGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

My Baby 🩵💙🩵: Ur here??????????

My Baby 🩵💙🩵: And yes I can meet u at the rings!!!!!

My Baby 🩵💙🩵: Already omw

The speed you leapt to your feet was comical. You were practically running out of the canteen towards the Olympic rings. You heard your friend’s laughter as you disappeared, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Jessie was here. Excitement bubbled up in your chest. You could already imagine her walking over, the grey team Canada jumper on, regardless of how hot it was outside. Her black joggers and white trainers. You could image the little pink blush on her cheeks fanning out over her freckles and her loose brown curls tucked behind her ears. You looked down at yourself quickly, double checking that you looked relatively presentable – although there wasn’t much you could actually do about it now. Walking past a window, you assessed your reflection. Hair? Fine. Outfit? Acceptable. Face? It’ll do. Why did you feel a little nervous? This was only Jessie. Jessie, your girlfriend. Jessie, the love of your life. Jessie, the girl you were head over heels for. Jessie, the person you hadn’t seen in more than a month.

Regardless of how in your head you were, you knew exactly when she was nearby. It was like a signal had gone off in your brain. You looked up, head whipping from side to side as you scanned the crowd.

There she was.

Dressed exactly as you imagined, down to the accreditation worn like a cross-body bag. You squealed, pushing yourself of the wall you had been leaning on and sprinting in her direction. You launched yourself at her. Arms around her waist and scooping her up so her feet were dangling in the air a little. It didn’t matter that you were in the middle of the Olympic Village, thousands of miles away from where you lived. You were finally home. You felt your heart lift, the pressure that had been baring down on you all week, all month really, was gone in a moment.

“Hi, baby,” she whispered, her head buried in your shoulder.

“Hey, J.” You felt the tears welling up. “I missed you so much,” you sniffled.

“I missed you too, my beautiful girl.” You leaned back slightly, using your hands to guide her face out of your neck and taking your time to let your eyes rake across her face. She looked a little more tanned than the last time you saw her. But beyond that, she looked exactly the same. Gorgeous and perfect and safe.

You saw her eyes flick down to your lips, a small smirk dancing on her face. You leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek. She frowned slightly, a crease forming between her eyebrows. You kissed the corner of her mouth this time, just slightly too far away from where she wanted you.

“Kiss me,” she whined, a demanding tone to her voice. You knew if you were at home she probably would have stomped her foot.

“So impatient,” you teased, although you were just as desperate to finally feel her lips on yours.

“Shut up,” she pulled you to her, effectively ending any more jokes on your end. She tasted like she always did. Heaven. Her lips were soft and a little chapped. You hummed softly, ignoring the fact that you were essentially making out in an incredibly public place.

You parted eventually, resting your forehead on hers.

“You smell like chlorine,” she smiled, her breath wispy in the best way.

“You taste like oranges,” you countered, pressing another swift kiss to her lips.

She sighed gently, wrapping her arms around your waist.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you whispered.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” she whispered back.

I hope you enjoyed <3<3<3<3

[booasaur]

The Trades - 1x05

[thefuturemrssamkerr]

a b o u t m e

hiya everyone! my names jordan, i’m 17 and a total bad. bitch scorpio.

i’m from england and am currently studying for a sports degree in college, although i like to write for a little bit of a pass time.

if you have any requests or would like to get to know me better, ask here.

linked here is my wattpad account.

r e q u e s t i n g r u l e s { c u r r e n t l y o p e n }🔓

i will not be taking requests from anyone that is a minor, if i find out then your request will not be accepted.

do i enjoy writing angst? yes, of course i do! but there will be some topics that i will 100% not write about.

these topics include:

non consensual themes,

racism,

incest,

characters being underage.

please be aware that this is my blog, as a human i have the right to deny any requests that make me feel uncomfortable and what i would deem to be uncomfortable for other people.

w r i t i n g s

☆ { a n g s t } ,

♡ { f l u f f } ,

☽ { s m u t } ,

❆ { s e r i e s }.

m a s o n m o u n t

s a m k e r r

the fa cup final ♡

in which, you go to the fa cup final to support your wife and your two year old son tags along for the ride.

t a g s

blurbs

mood boards

asks

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"It's an old Pratt family recipe," Josephine explained, saying, "My family used to make it for farmer's markets when I was younger, we used to sell it by the bagful; it was always very popular, so we oftentimes sold out very quickly. It's been a long time since I made it, so it felt good to get back in the kitchen and make a batch-especially with two great little helpers."

"We helped!" Lon declared proudly through a mouthful of popcorn, and even Erika smiled a little and nodded-it had actually been really fun, helping Grandma Josephine out. It was a lot like being in the kitchen with Grandma June, and that helped Erika feel a little more at ease about pitching in.

And watching her favorite movie also helped her feel a little more comfortable being around these new family members, admittedly, able to forget about her anxieties in favor of colorful animation and wonderful music, with the hot, sweet kettle corn being an additional bonus. Laying on her stomach watching the movie, Erika felt more content than she had the day before, and smiled as she relaxed. Maybe this visit wouldn't be so bad after all!

Meanwhile, Lon, sitting up beside his sister, was still trying to figure out what this "burlesque" was that his family kept talking about-it involved dancing, performing, but the specifics he couldn't quite figure out. When Esmeralda began her dance at the Feast of Fools, Lon turned back to ask his great-grandmother curiously, "Is that burlesque?"

"Ah, not quite," Josephine chuckled amusedly, though she could see some similarities there, between herself and La Esmeralda: Performing flirtatious, provocative dances for an appreciative audience (with some disapproving figures in the crowd as well), being looked down on because of it, but still remaining kind despite all that? Yes, that all sounded rather familiar to her...

[astonmartinii]

it's got to be time travel | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem footballer!reader

face claim: jessie fleming (i'm a chelsea fan and i'm sad she left :()

they've got all the time in the world for each other, don't ask them where they got that time from though

note: we're also gonna pretend that the women's football and f1 seasons line up here lol

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | MY SMALL BUSINESS

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, lewishamilton and 1,203,784 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: last sunday lunch before we both have to go back to work :(

view all comments

user1: ffs why do their ACTUAL jobs have to get in the way of my regularly scheduled charles x y/n content???

user2: i personally think that the fia should just give charles the championship and y/n the WSL title so they can just chill together :)

maxverstappen1: not on my watch

charles_leclerc: you don't even follow me? get out of my comments

maxverstappen1: you can't just get given the championship because you have attachment issues WE ALL HAVE ATTACHMENT ISSUES

charles_leclerc: me i get, but y/n doesn't deserve to win?

maxverstappen1: i never said that. y/n is girlboss slay queen

yourusername: too right i am

charles_leclerc: why are you peace and love with her and not me?

maxverstappen1: she's cool, you aren't

yourusername: can't disagree with that babe soz

user3: i have a feeling that these spats might get worse the longer charles is separated from y/n

user4: waa waa we're all sad their being separated but all i'm thinking is UP THE CHELS

user5: i need the treble right fucking now, a charles championship would be a bonus i guess

lewishamilton: will i get a formal introduction to y/n before we're teammates?

yourusername: YES, YES YOU WILL

charles_leclerc: i guess that answers that

lewishamilton: don't hate the player, hate the game

yourusername: i better see your ass at kingsmeadow at some point, it's fun, even if others think they're too good for it

lewishamilton: i'll be there 🫡

user7: can 2025 come quick.... PLEASE

user8: lol does this mean that charles has offered to take carlos to a game but he didn't go?

user9: ugh what a bore

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 1,402,667 others

tagged: chelseafcw

yourusername: excited for the new season back with the girlypops :))))))

view all comments

user10: treble or nothing I BEG

user11: it's their year for the champions league i've seen the script

alexalbon: no seatbelt ? way to set dangerous examples to your young audience

yourusername: if you're not careful i'm gonna teach my audience how to put their foot up the ass of those annoying her

alexalbon: ugh i hope you lose :P

yourusername: i don't have to hope, i know your ass ain't gonna be in q3

alexalbon: that's TOO far @charles_leclerc does our years of friendship mean nothing?

charles_leclerc: sorry buddy, i am y/n stan first, human being second

yourusername: as he should.

user12: so like... will we see charles in a y/n jersey again in the paddock?

user13: @ferrari stop being so annoying and let him wear what he wants

user14: i think i tasted paradise when they actually let him wear a y/n canada jersey in montreal

charles_leclerc: never seen someone make blue look so good

maxverstappen1: i'm right here?

sebastianvettel: did the homoeroticism of our challenge videos mean nothing?

danielricciardo: do not lie to yourself

yourusername: sorry sluts, you wish you looked this good

charles_leclerc: they'll never be you 🫶🏻

user15: i know the cfcw admin and pr department have a heart attack every time y/n posts

user16: the way she's out here calling three f1 drivers sluts with no repercussions

yourusername: can't be told off for telling the TRUTH

f1

liked by lewishamilton, fernandoalo_oficial and 1,205,489 others

tagged: charles_leclerc & yourusername

f1: couple goals! charles leclerc takes pole in bahrain while his girlfriend, y/n y/ln, scored the winner for chelsea women!

view all comments

user19: okay but i've never been in a relationship and am currently rotting on my couch... so who is the real winner here x

yourusername: my handsome boy is so talented :3

charles_leclerc: not as talented as you, pretty girl

yourusername: nuh uh at least my team is competent

charles_leclerc: errrrr

samkerr20: i think you broke him lol

yourusername: sometimes i think he's more loyal to ferrari than me

charles_leclerc: no!

scuderiaferrari: huh?

charles_leclerc: wait...

yourusername: i see :(

charles_leclerc: i'm LOGGING OUT

user20: charles is so lover boy stuck in his tortured poets department (ferrari formula one team)

user21: the way he's probably yelling down the phone to y/n about how much he loves her right now

samkerr20: he is and it's so loud the whole locker room can hear it

yourusername: but he's so sweet isn't he

niamhcharles17: i guess?

alexalbon: we heard it from his side... barf

yourusername: @lilymunhe are you being starved of romance?

lilymunhe: compared to you and charles YES

alexalbon: ummmm get out of my business y/ln

yourusername: you're ALWAYS in my business buster 🤨

alexalbon: NO! i am just passing down the ancient skill of communication?

yourusername: you're such a gossip girl alex

user21: i know they bicker like siblings, but i know deep down that there have been double dates

charles_leclerc: yes, but y/n and i are much better (no offence lily)

yourusername: did you log back in to restart the argument with alex

charles_leclerc: yes!

alexalbon: boo you whore

yourusername: don't talk to him like that 🤨

samkerr20

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 303,445 others

tagged: yourusername & charles_leclerc

samkerr20: forced to hang out with the straights... they're actually kind of cute

view all comments

user22: you know the couple has to be real cute when even the gays think they're cute

user23: no one can resist the charms of y/n and charles

yourusername: these photos make me think that we are cuter

samkerr20: we are but i didn't want to hurt charles' feelings

charles_leclerc: consider them hurt

samkerr20: boo hoo

yourusername: noooooo i love you xxx

charles_leclerc: hehehehehehehe i love you too xxx

yourusername: i miss you, hurry up and win and come home to me

charles_leclerc: i'm doing my best :(

yourusername: you are the bestest boy

samkerr20: STOP THAT MAKES HIM SOUND LIKE A DOG

oscarpiastri: when will australians stop being victims of this relationship

danielricciardo: this is your first season dealing with them properly, buckle up

oscarpiastri: i'm in a relationship but they make me feel so lonely

maxverstappen1: you get used to it after a while

yourusername: we're right here

landonorris: let us commiserate in peace

charles_leclerc: ??? do you or do you not get free football tickets out of it?

landonorris: yeha but when we go we just have to watch you cry when y/n inevitably wins another trophy

charles_leclerc: I'M PROUD OF HER AND YOU WON'T SHAME ME FOR THAT

user24: chelsea women players must be so confused when these grown men start arguments in the comments of THEIR posts

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, charles_leclerc and 1,529,556 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: weekend off... you know what that means

view all comments

user25: i know there's over 1.5 million likes but how can i gatekeep y/n?

user26: for real

charles_leclerc: the best weekends are with you here

yourusername: i may have a love/hate relationship with this team, but the catering is banging (i may have to move to italy)

chelseafcw: NO MENTIONS OF LEAVING CHELSEA, NOT EVEN A JOKE - NOTHING!

yourusername: okay, sorry guys (the pasta was so good though)

charles_leclerc: not even for me?

chelseafcw: DEFINITELY NOT FOR YOU, WATCH OUT OR WE'LL BLACKLIST YOU FROM KINGSMEADOW

yourusername: okay, let's pedal this back. i'm not leaving london and we all still love charles, right admin?

chelseafcw: .... yes

user27: when you're in a who has attachment issues with y/n y/ln and your competition is the chelseafcw admin and charles leclerc

user28: no point even showing up

maxverstappen1: i for one am glad when y/n is in the paddock because it means i can sneak in without the cameras seeing me

yourusername: i am a woman of the people

charles_leclerc: she's such a star, everyone wants to see her

maxverstappen1: yeah i'll give you that

yourusername: we're also hot

charles_leclerc: don't you dare respond to that one max

maxverstappen1: 🫡🫡🫡

user29: patiently waiting for the hq photos of them 😚

user30: gonna print them out and put them in my heart locket

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 1,398,452 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: babe is top of the league (and top scorer)

view all comments

user33: get yourself a guy who flexes your achievements as much as charles does

user34: setting the example tbf

yourusername: my lucky charm, that hat-trick was for you xx

charles_leclerc: would mean more if you didn't score them every week 😭

yourusername: they hate to see a girlboss winning

charles_leclerc: wanna share some wins with me?

yourusername: you're doing great this season babe, not your fault that nasa decided to rebrand to red bull racing

redbullracing: adrian says thanks 😊

charles_leclerc: DON'T SAY IT Y/N

yourusername: you don't even know what i was going to say

charles_leclerc: ....

yourusername: @redbullracing you got a seat???

charles_leclerc: Y/N!!!!!!!!!!

yourusername: whoops

user35: y/n really out here trying to get charles that damn seat

yourusername: i'll stop when the horse team makes a championship worthy car that they don't break halfway through the season...

user36: add ferrari to the group of people who shudder in fear when y/n posts

chelseafcw: fine... we hope you enjoyed (no more italy jokes)

charles_leclerc: i had a great time, i always do when i watch y/n do what she loves (slay)

yourusername: awwwwwwwwww i love you charlie

chelseafcw: okay no need to make admin feel that lonely, damn

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, alexalbon and 1,782,309 others

yourusername: finishing my best ever season with a big trophy haul :) now time to support my trophy husband in his day job

view all comments

user41: she really be out here doing it all

user42: i need her to win the Ballon d'Or Féminin PLEASE IT IS TIME

user43: with charles in attendance, first couples red carpet appearance YES, YES RUN IT TO ME PLEASE

charles_leclerc: unbelievably proud of you, mon amour, constantly inspired by you

yourusername: i love you so much, thank you for being there to support me through it all

charles_leclerc: it's the biggest pleasure in the world

yourusername: i'm all out of winning this season, your turn next weekend?

charles_leclerc: for you, i'll do anything

user44: PLEASE I NEED HIM TO WIN GOOD PLEASE

alexalbon: congrats i guess, you're pretty good

yourusername: thanks, since my boyf is so supportive, it's only natural that you have to try and humble me at every turn

alexalbon: you're more famous than us now, we need to keep you grounded

lilymunhe: don't worry y/n he cried nearly just as much as charles when you won the WSL

yourusername: I KNEW IT

charles_leclerc: i still cried more

alexalbon: it's not a competition bro, we all know you're both helplessly in love

yourusername: that we are

charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 1,309,855 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: happiest when i'm with you (and whoever has decided to tag along), oh and winning a race helps as well i guess

view all comments

user45: CHARLES WIN I REPEAT A CHARLES WIN WE WON?

user46: the way y/n went just as mental as us, her and zecira jumping around the garage (and starting the champagne shower after the podium)

user47: really proving that y/n and charles really are each other's biggest fans

user48: thank the lord the WSL season finished when it did so y/n could be there for this win

user49: y/n would've ran to austria to be there i'm sure

yourusername: you know it 🫡

maxverstappen1: had to let you win so you could look cool in front of your infinitely cooler girlfriend

charles_leclerc: not even gonna bite, i'm too happy to care

yourusername: i'll bite - HIS TALENTED BEHIND SCHOOLED YOUR ASS

maxverstappen1: but i called you cool?

yourusername: i'll accept the compliment now, i had to defend charles' honour first

charles_leclerc: heheheehe i'm blushing

maxverstappen1: gross

user50: i need y/n to permanently be in the ferrari garage, they were on it today (i think out of fear)

landonorris: damn i thought i thirdwheeling lestappen was bad, but y/n and charles is a different beast

yourusername: we're both athletes, need to savour the time we have together when we can

charles_leclerc: sorry not sorry you'll get it when you're in love

landonorris: .... i guess i'll die then

fin.

note: i hope you enjoyed !!!! one last WIP to go and good lord the writers block is kicking my ass. but f1 being back should help!!! + f1 academy, much enjoyed it so far.

[spencerscoven]

the alternate … art donaldson

Art has a proclivity for giving attention to his enemy. He hates her— but particularly hates how she has Patrick wrapped around her finger even more.

warnings ; smut .. slutty drunk freshman art x Patrick's gf, infidelity .. unedited for now! oops!

It didn’t take much time for Art to settle into Cornell— it wasn’t just the tennis or the girls, of which he quickly learned were rather women, or even the academics. His hesitation on his attendance was especially foolish, especially in moments like these as he rolled over, crushing the red solo up beneath him. The buzzing in his jean pocket persisted, just like it had for the last five minutes before, causing him to utter another affirmation to ignore it into her mouth.

Maybe the women had one or two things to do with it.

"Maybe just get it?"

"Why?"

"So you... can tell them you're busy."

He hummed into her mouth as the girl above him detached herself, moving to grab the stitch of her top to remove it as he tilted his hips to reach for his phone.

Patrick.

His calloused hands came up to push her thighs over his hips, sitting up to read the rapid series of text Patrick had sent. And Art soon saw— was still sending. All of them ranged from different ways of him asking Art to check up on you, letting your attendance be known. Patrick's texts detailed the simple request of him checking to see if you were taking your alcohol well. Another saying he hoped you wouldn't get roofed. And one that blatantly asked that he didn't let any of "those Ivy League assholes" fuck his girlfriend.

Art rolled his eyes, resentment laced in his actions as he muttered condolences and pledged to "be right back", his large hands taking the knob of the door and peering out into the dark hallway to find you. When a look wasn't enough, he left the room door slightly ajar, stepping completely into the hallway filled with red cups, colored lights, almost sidetracked by his team that pulled him by the neck and fought to put a drink in his hand. With a light smile still gracing his face and beer in a can, his eyes wondered up to your face, watching as your lips wrapped around a bottle of Corona, some leaking out the side of which you swiped away with the back of your hand. He felt the same kind of resentment he usually felt when he saw you when Patrick visited fill him from his chest out. He watched as you leaned against the wall talking to someone. He took in your skimpy skirt and top with less resentment, though.

He especially didn't like it when the next time he looked for your face, you were staring at him, eyes hooded and smile nasty and condescending.

"He told me to look for you."

"I know." You raised your eyebrow dismissively, almost wanting to laugh at Patrick's good intentions. He knew what you'd say about Art. Just like you assumed what Art said about you, yet he asked him anyway.

"And by that, he means look after you." Art leans in, lips close to your ear as the music sounded. You roll your eyes as he lingers there a moment too long and you expect him to say something more, but he never does.

"We both know I look fine."

It takes a beat before he responds. "We both do."

"And we both know you don't want to babysit."

"But I'm a good friend."

"I've known corrupt politicians that are better friends than you, Art."

He sways away from you, facing the rest of the party as he rolls his eyes with the kind of insularity he only reserved for you, tipping his head back to finish the rest of his beer and tossing it towards the trashcan, only to miss.

He turns to you, irritation flaring as he stabilizes himself on the sticky wall behind him by holding your hips. It's something you're willing to let go of, your breath clicking as he whispers: "You smell like pot."

"It's a free country."

"Okay," he challenges, pursing his lips as he leans closer. "What's in your cup?"

"What? Yours and Chelsea's not good enough for you?"

His upper lip raises, in a look of both disgust and toleration as he grasps your wrist, forcing you to bring your own bottle to his mouth. The contents of it are mostly able to be swallowed but the rest flow from the corners of his lips, down his chin, to his throat where his Adams apple bobs as he swallows. You wipe it instinctively, causing you to both freeze for only a moment. He shutters before he opens his mouth again to slur,

"Chelsea?"

You look at him quizzically, your mouth opening once, twice, three times, only to say nothing but erupt in laughter that rocks your head backwards and your body closer to his. Art looks around frantically, his mouth tilting downwards as he looks around, grasping your hips forward and gritting his teeth as he repeats himself.

"Chelsea? What's the fucking joke I'm not getting?"

"The girl that you just— my fucking god, Art. I know you look the way you do, but you couldn't even remember her name?" You tilt your head towards the doorway, insinuating the room you're sure his cologne still lingered in. He groans, his head falling forward in a laugh as his right hand on your hip runs up the side of your torso, his head spinning.

"I'm not a very good date, am I?" You can nearly taste the alcohol on his tongue and you're out of laughs, humor gone as a consequence of being so close to him. And maybe he's too drunk to realize it's happening, but you're too cross to care when his thumbs rub circles on your hipbone, of which he had to invade underneath your waistband to do.

"I almost finished my night like this." It's so quiet that you're unsure if it was for you to hear. But it doesn't matter, as your hand runs up his arm and shoulders, eyes following over the ripples.

"This is not the same."

Your other hand trickles down to his waistband, guiltily skating over his bulge as you feel his pocket for his phone.

"Arthur, Patrick told you to check on me. So, tell him I'm okay."

"I told him that I'd check on you. I also told him you were a bad idea, like I always do," He saws it lowly, as if it's not supposed to slip out and has only found it's way because of his level of intoxication. You scoff, pushing him backwards as you're suddenly slightly more sober. You rock back and forth, eyes rolling back, but the distance is not created before you can hear him finish: "but I never said he didn't have good taste."

You don't like that it's still said in the way only drunk and resentful Art could deliver it. "You're not a very good fucking friend."

"To who, you?" He makes it his personal duty to invade your space, his face in somewhat of a snarl. You know that some would see this as uncharacterized for Art, but it's most familiar to you. It feels somewhat like home. Albeit, a house fire, but home.

Your first encounter with him was glancing behind yourself at move in, and seeing his blonde locks brushed back by calloused hands as he looked at you, then to your racket.

Your second encounter was only minutes later, when he stood next to his raven haired friend who asked for your number as he rolled his eyes with a knot in his jaw, as if he didn't find you worthy. He tugged on the shirt of his friend, telling him there were better things to do. Better, he had said.

And that never made much sense to you. Because in your relationship with Patrick, there had always been the inconsequential three.

"You're not my friend," You begin, mind calculating how many rooms and doors of Cornell's largest final club you'd have to go before finding somewhere, anywhere, that would fit just you. "Never was."

Art's only silent for a moment, nose flaring and eyes squinting. his shoulders are tense, and if you were to look down you'd see his hand balled in a fist.

"What? What now, Art?"

"You never gave me your number."

He watches as your eyes furrow in confusion, the heat in your eyes rising rather than deflating. And he speaks again:

“You gave it to Patrick. But you never gave me your number.”

Without your bottle, your hands search for something to do, blinking frantically. They resort to touching yourself in the same places he just had, your fingers running down your torso quickly, your hip bone. When you touch your shoulder is when the two of your gazes meet once again. Art watches through blue as you nod your head slowly in both horror and understanding.

You're quick on your feet. He's watched countless of your matches, even when he had no business doing so. But he is too. So when a short string of curses land out of your mouth and you march down the hallway, he's on your heels.

And all you can think is that you know his gaze better than any other. It wasn't something you intended but through these sporadic games, your body and soul had bargained to be familiar with Art more than any other. If he leaned against the net or lunch table, it became the kind of resourcefulness of movement that was so particularly him. It was rare you called on him, yet necessary when it was a matter of Patrick. He was always there, steadfast and urgent. It'd be days before you learned of the lecture he missed because of it. And while your boyfriend was off being a pro, Art never was slow to tell you how good his female counterparts around him were, while you were "only barely whopping college ass".

But somehow he was always there. You found his gels and handle tape in your tennis bag. You had more than half your dining points still because you were just "a casualty of being present” when he was buying his own lunch. And it all made you feel as if he was just very...

"You're a fucking con artist," You shoved him against the door of which he only narrowly made it "A fucking wolf in sheep's clothing."

It made you even angrier that he was stronger than you but willing to let his body fall back, lips pierced in a thin obedient line as his back hit the door repeatedly under your assault until he grasped both your forearms, holding them closely together. A wince escaped your mouth, his strength relenting and becoming lighter but still he held you. He leaned down, attempting to meet your face that now focused on the hardwood below.

"I know I'm the bad guy. Still, what's it gonna be?"

You didn't look up at that. But you did at the vibration that sounded in his pocket just seconds later. There were always three.

Art doesn't waste a moment to release your arms, wrapping his own in an enclosure around your head to reach your lips, tugging you impossibly close to him. You can't help but not move-- letting him twist your head and invade your lips. It's only until you release a small moan you latch back.

After Art's kiss, your night was haunted. It was distorted beyond your eyes' power of correction. So when a pair of lips landed on yours again, you came back home. You gave in.

His hands ran down your body, invading each and every corner of you. Your hips, your waist, the small of your back, the back of your thighs which he used to hoist your body upwards and against the doorframe, caging you. As the wet kisses sound on your neck, you look past his head to the room you two now occupied, no bed. Just various pieces of miscellaneous covered in cream sheets. When you look towards the window, releasing another whimper as you feel his middle and index finger prod at your cotton panties, you can see dust aligning with the moonlight.

Like everything else he does, he's good at the way he touches you. No, nearly instinctual. Art's fingers curve and level themselves out inside of you, yet he leaves his palms frigid, rubbing your clit back and forth with the surface of it. It makes you all so weak, Art murmuring your name as the two of you lower to the floor, you're suddenly reminded of the urgency of the matter.

"Art, I need--"

"I know,"

I know,

I know,

I know.

He repeats the sentiment into your skin and it almost makes your eyes brim with tears as you feel his bulge covered by denim slot against your soaked underwear. The feeling is delicious, so you excuse your decorum when you buck your hips against his. You watch as he detaches himself from you, the depth of his blonde hair twinkling in the moonlight. His lips and chin are swollen and wet from your messy kisses that appeared to be more tongue than anything. He lifts your hips to remove your skirt on his own once he catches the way your eyes watch him, still. He looks at you, sick with the same fever, but now you're not quite sure what this illness even is.

His hands move to tug your shirt up, yet you push his hands away, making them double up on his belt as both of you scramble to slide his jeans below his ass. You also help him when he leans to grab your right leg, sliding it up and against his hip as he sways above you. You watch as he thinks, only for a moment, places a feather right kiss on your knee, whispers something you can't hear, and promptly shoves his dick inside of you.

The force of it slams your head against the door, the hinges rattling but the surprise of his size makes it so you hardly notice. You close your eyes immediately until you're struck with the realization that you hope this never happens again. You hope you're never drunk enough, or lucky enough to have your boyfriend's best friend's dick rocking you back and forth ever again. You near your eyes open, willing to at least let yourself savor what little you have now, gazing in the middle of you two where you can see him disappear inside of you repeatedly.

Art huffs above you as your name escape his lips repeatedly as if it hadn't been the first time. You find yourself unable to cope, grabbing the hardwood until you realize there's not much give. So you resort to firmly biting his shoulder between your gasps and yelps. which only surges him on to drive into you faster, his hips snapping and the sounds of both your flesh filling the room.

You feel his clammy hand reach for the hair at the nape of your neck and you allow yourself to submissively follow regardless of your confusion. Art's breath mingles with yours as he asks:

"Is it good?"

You don't answer.

"Does it feel good?"

Your brows furrow together as you nod your head up and down as if you’ve been doped, chest heaving uncontrollably. He meets your lips and it feels as if he's kissing you solely for himself as he drags his hand on your cheeks and forehead, ridding your face of your sweat and hair. His other hand circulates your clit with a firm hold and you feel the familiar sensation approaching. Your skin felt both as cold and hot as it ever had, your teeth penetrating your bottom lip, biting Art in the process.

"I don't think we should do this.." You spit out quietly in intervals, because it feels like the right thing to say right before you come all over his cock and he leans down to look at the mess you've made in bliss. The results that it gives are fruitful, as you feel his fingers' relentlessness on your clit still. But you can tell he's struggling to stay where he is, trying to milk every moment he can inside of you.

You use your feet to push his hips back, arms reaching above your head as you untangle your limbs. Your legs remain sprawled out on his thighs, of which lay on his calves. The silence between you two is like molasses, and he stares at your core as you brush your socked toes against his abdomen, then cock.

You see a frown form on his face, but you're also met with the needy repeated rise of his hips that meet your foot and help you grind against him. You watch in awe as his eyes don't leave yours, confusion filling the air. You bring your feet faster, rubbing against his tip and watch as Art's whimper fills the air and his cum shoots to his lower stomach and your sock, his eyes closing, throat repeatedly bobbing as he rides his high. You watch as the thrusts into you become increasingly slower until they stop completely and the two of you are left still once again. You marvel in the way it seems almost as if he always gets what he wants. And Art isn't quite sure of what to make of you at all anymore, with his ears ringing and chest warm.

On his knees, he cascades towards your body that slumps against the door frame. He moves towards you slowly at first, hesitating if you wanted any of this at all. But you don't decline the warmth of his chest as he pulls you in, wordlessly. You let him bury his nose to your scalp as he takes you in.

And you both agree that if this may be a story of tonight alone, you both might as well melt indistinguishably into it once again.

[trulyhblue]

Leah or lessi kid fic after they won the Conti cup!

Lilo’s Sparkle

Mum! Alessia Russo x Child! Reader

Warnings: fluff, mention of injury, very very short.

___________________

You held your head up high, making sure your eyesight was level with the barricade of Alessia’s arms around you.

Your mummy was rocking you, holding you in a small confinement of blankets and an pink sweater. It was cold in Birmingham, but so was every other game your Mummy’s team played at. It was the same at Manchester, and London was no different. The only chance was the people. Auntie Ella only picked you up from your new preschool when she was down South, and you and Mummy would sometimes meet for orange juice at Auntie Ella’s favourite cafe when you were in Manchester.

But today you were in Birmingham, which was a often occurrence. London was your new home. You were accustomed to Manchester, and the weather in England was pretty standard across the country, so there wasn't much to adjust to.

“Do you want to go see Kyra with me, Lilo?”

You looked over at your Aunt Stina. She was perplexed, confronted with mixed emotions. You had teary eyes from the overstimulation, so you just wanted a cuddle.

“Is Stina okay, Mummy? Does she need a hug?”

There was cheering everywhere. Mummy had a very wide grin, and rosy cheeks similar to yours, except you were cold and she was exhausted. The 120-minute frenzy had left you feeling fatigued in your seat on the bench. It was a lot to ask a three-year-old to sit quietly without fuss without the company of her Mummy and her Aunties.

“How bout you ask to see if she wants one, sweets?”

You nodded.

With the comfort of Kyra in the first half, and Leah in the second, you were pretty much well-behaved. But after your favourite Auntie — though Stina Ballerina and Lee Lee never liked you saying that — Frida went down and stretched off the pitch, you instantly grew angsty and agitated. This was only exemplified with Mummy was subbed on in place of.

You ran over to Stina, yanking softly on the woman’s shorts.

“Do you need a cuddle, Auntie Stina?” You asked, fiddling with your zipper as you spoke. Your hood was up upon your Mummy’s discretion, the media attention on you the foremost of her worries.

“Oh, I always need a hug from you, Lilo, älskling.”

“Okay! Thank you!”

Stina knelt down at the feeling your body heat holding onto her calf, swiftly picking you up and cradling you in her grip. Vivi came up behind you, wearing a matching Arsenal jumper, fitting her medal over your neck.

“You scored the winner, Auntie.” You proclaimed, engulfing Stina’s jersey next to your cheek. “You are a superhero Stina. I think your a sparkle.”

Alessia’s giggles were heard not far from where you stood, the thought of you talking about people being a ‘sparkle’ endearing to her.

“Wow, Lilo darling, you think Stina did well?”

“Mummy, of course! She's a sparkle, remember?” You looked between Stina, Vivi, and Mummy. “Mummy and I were calling you a sparkle on the bus after you gave me a cookie, remember? Thank you, Auntie, you really are a star.”

It was considered your thing. To call someone a sparkle was your view of an utmost compliment. You are a star, superior in all ways, and for Stina, she hugged you a little tighter knowing you relished her hard work.

No amount of compliment could outshine a sparkle.

“You are too kind, Lilo,” Stina responded, her blush prominently painting across the bridge of her nose. “Thank you, but you are the biggest sparkle of all.”

You were now pressing your face against the woman’s cheeks, reaching out to play with Mummy’s collar. “Thank you!”

You eventually pushed away from all the celebratory chaos, waddling over to Lee Lee, and Kimmy, knowing they’d provide some serenity to your hyperness.

They were on their way to receiving the trophy, and when you found your way squelched between them, Lee picked you up, placing you inside the trophy with a plonk.

Everyone laughed and cheered as you were lifted into the air, celebrating flambountaly for their sparkle.

Not only as individuals, but as a club.

____________________

alessia

liked by stinablackstenius, fridamaanum, and 876,356 others

alessia — dressed in our sparkle attire 🩷🩷

tagged — stinablackstenius

Comments Are Limited:

Stinablackstenius — my absolute favourite compliment from my Äskling 💕

*liked by creator

____________________

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Alexia's Version): Future III

Alexia Putellas x Daughter!Reader

Summary: You spend time with Mami

"You know," You say, resting against the bench," Just because I'm now free from my job doesn't mean that I enjoy coming to yours. I'm not six."

Alexia laughs at your teasing, lightly slapping your legs to move so she can sit down too.

You sit up, adjusting your sunglasses on your face as you move.

"You love it really."

You roll your eyes, not that Alexia can tell but you're grinning too and she bumps her shoulders against yours.

Mami's been retired from football for a while now, a player turned manager of Barcelona's women's team. She's on a quest to get as many titles as manager as she did as a player.

Which is why you're here now, at a Champion's League semi-final. It's the second leg with Barcelona already up three nil against Chelsea.

You're not too worried but your Mami is. She knows how quickly a match can change.

It just takes one moment for it all to go to shit.

Mami's a bit intense like that.

It's probably one of the reasons you prefer ballet to sports. There's no competition when you're actually performing. There's some competition for parts behind the scenes but once you're on stage, there is no foul play.

Everyone is trying to do their very best for the crowd.

You couldn't even imagine what it would be like to compete against another ballet company at the same time.

Football has always been a bit too intense for you. It was Mami's passion, even now.

"You're too stressed," You say," Take a day off."

Alexia laughs at you, teasingly ruffling your hair. "Funny," She says," I distinctly remember telling you that a few weeks ago. What was it you said to me? No chance!"

You laugh with her. "Hey! I never said I practiced what I preached!"

"Neither did I!"

It's nice being here with Mami.

Olga's in Madrid with a client and Jaume's on a trip with his school so it's just the two of you in the house right now.

"The girls will be fine," You say dismissively," You're ready. It's only Chelsea."

"Only Chelsea," Alexia repeats with an eye roll," You've not been watching any of their games recently."

You blow her a kiss. "You know I only watch football when you're around, Mami. I'm not Jaume."

Jaume watches football as often as he can, glued to the screen. If he's not watching then he's playing. His dirty football boots lay all over the house.

It's a little annoying, especially when he jumps onto your bed still wearing them.

But you do miss him, annoying as your brother is.

The stadium slowly fills up with fans as you and Alexia sit on the bench together.

You think you and Mami are more similar now that you've grown up. You've always been like her subtly. Her drive and her passion and her ambition.

But you look more like her now.

You've grown into her features, your nose, the curve of your lips, your eyes.

You grin as she pulls you up, grasping your hand tightly as she guides you back inside.

You've got a break for a few weeks before you're back with the company. It's a welcome break, one where you can go back to eating normally and feeling like the world is crushing you.

It's a brutal cycle but one every ballerina goes through.

It's hard and it's horrible but it's what you sacrifice on the altar of ballet.

This break is nice though.

You've got a trip to Mallorca coming up during it where you can just soak up the sun and the sand and whatever fruity drinks you can be bothered to buy.

Just you and the crystal waters.

"Hey," You say to Alexia," I'm going to grab something from the vending machine. Do you want something?"

"I shouldn't..."

You see through her excuses though, waiting her out.

"Just a drink. Sugar free, Bambi!"

"I know!"

You know the stadium like the back of your hand, weaving through the halls to the vending machine you know stocks the best chocolate bars you've ever eaten.

Mami used to buy them for you and Jaume when you were little and the match was over. She used to walk all the way to the rival's end of stadium, still in her kit and boots with you and Jaume following after her like little ducklings.

She didn't even care that the opposing players would stare. She would walk straight up to the vending machine in front of their changing room to get you your favourite chocolate and Jaume his favourite drink.

You could do the walk in your sleep.

Someone's already there though, staring through the glass at it.

It's one of the Chelsea girls.

You vaguely recognise her, one of the older players on the team. You're pretty sure she plays for England too but you're not quite sure because you only watch matches when Mami's around.

"Sorry," You say. You're English is rusty from years of not using it apart from in school. "Are you-?"

"Oh! No, sorry."

You nod in thanks, punching in your choices before paying.

You grab your chocolate and Mami's drink.

She's pretty, this older woman. Exactly your type. If you'd met in the club, you'd probably try to entice her closer but you're at Mami's workplace so you don't.

"I'm not sure what to choose," She says," What do you recommend?"

"The chocolate," You say, waving your choice," The crisps are always stale. Don't get them."

She nods. "Noted."

You go to leave but she still calls after you.

"Hey, can I have your number?"

You lay your cards in the table immediately. "I'm not looking for a relationship," You tell her," I...I'm just not..."

She shrugs. "Can I have your number anyway?"

"You don't mind?"

"I just got out of a relationship. I'm not looking for another one. But you're fit and you give good snack recommendations."

You study her. "I'm y/n."

"Aggie. So...is that a yes?"

"Sure."

When you make your way back to Mami, the Barcelona girls are already warming up.

"You took a while," She says, gratefully taking her drink and pressing a soft kiss to your crown.

"I stopped at the toilets," You reply.

She nods. "Are you still okay with staying down here instead of going to the box?"

"As long as you don't yell at me if it goes wrong then yeah."

"I'd never yell at you," Alexia says," I've been told that having you down here actually makes me calmer."

You roll your eyes. "Whatever." You look down at your phone in your hand. "Hey, remember when you worried about me going to Mallorca by myself?"

Alexia frowns at the change of subject but nods. "Yes. I still am worried, if that's what you're checking."

"You don't need to be," You say," I've got someone coming to stay with me now."

Sun, sand, sea and sex.

The best way for you to spend your break from ballet.

[lovinpelova]

make up for lost time | j. fleming

summary; jessie gets a new car after finally passing her drivers test in the states, you've been away far longer than wanted. [SMUT]

🎵 preach - drake

the one problem with being an international student-athlete is having to be away from family eight months a year, then once you get used to it having to be away from friends for the next four months, then repeating it. the one thing that makes it even harder to deal with is the fact that your girlfriend is canadian, meaning you're stuck in the uk five hours ahead and over 3,600 miles away from the love of your life.

most people would say you're insane to call a long-distance girlfriend the love of your life but you ignore them, you're both nineteen and fully aware of who you are, including how much you love each other and how happy you are together. that's all that matters to the both of you, you're making long-distance work the four months away and spending as much time as possible together the other eight months which is considerably easy since you're roommates.

(that and jessie has a contract lined up with chelsea the same year you plan to sign for arsenal, so you're going to be living not even a couple hours away from each other when you both leave ucla in close to two years time.)

your girlfriend texted you in the morning that she wouldn't be able to pick you up from the airport like usual whenever you came back from seeing your family as she was getting her car after finally passing her drivers test, the canadian having to pass it in canada and only being home four months a year meant all the slots were booked- apart from a last minute clearance four weeks ago.

instead you got a lift to your dorm from a friend in one of your classes, leaving all your suitcases by your bed just the same way jessie had done with hers, both of you too impatient to unpack and figuring it wouldn't harm anyone waiting until tomorrow as you had eight months to worry about it. your phone lit up with a notification from the midfielder, informing you she was outside in her 'new ride' as she called it.

a couple minutes walk and you were in the parking lot of the ucla campus, looking around for a car with a familiar face in the drivers seat or something else to indicate jessie was nearby. you had no luck until you heard someone blasting britney spears with their windows down, headed to park right in front of you with your girlfriend leaning over the console to yell in your face.

"get in loser we're going shopping!"

you laughed with the canadian as she turned down the music and wound the windows up whilst you got into her car, pulling her in for a passionate kiss by the collar of her ucla hoodie as she gladly kissed back. one of her hands trailed over the console seperating you and gripped your thigh lovingly, stroking the skin with her thumb as you both smiled against each others mouths.

"i love the smell of a new car."

"mmm... me too."

your girlfriend grinned before leaning in for another kiss, making sure it didn't go too far by leaving you with a couple pecks as she pulled away and insisted you put on your seatbelt before driving out of college. you'd only been able to get a late flight home so it was already nine pm, meaning if you wanted food you'd most likely go for takeaway and drive about whilst eating it- which is exactly what you did. you blasted music whilst eating your mcdonalds and having the occasional sip of your milkshakes, jessie needing to be fed by you so she wasn't too distracted.

"come on y/n, gimme the chip!"

"gonna have to try harder than that jessie!"

you chuckled at her attempts to get her last bit of food as you pulled it away from her mouth at the last second multiple times, eventually deciding enough was enough and feeding it to her as she pulled into an empty parking lot to have a break from driving. when i say empty, i mean empty- it was close to midnight now anyways so you were probably the only people awake around the ucla area.

"driving is fun but doing it aimlessly for three hours isn't."

"your car smells like takeout now."

you completely ignored jessies comment as there was no solution to it - you couldn't drive as you hadn't gotten a test slot in the uk yet so she was designated pilot for now - instead focusing on the way her new car no longer smelled new, more like mcdonalds with a tiny hint of her perfume.

"that is what happens when you eat a takeaway in the car."

your girlfriend replied sarcastically whilst turning the engine off, both of you unbuckling your seatbelts as you cleaned up your mess and moved the rubbish bag onto the backseat to deal with later. as you climbed back into your seat after leaning over the armrest you caught jessie staring at your thighs - or your ass, maybe both knowing her - and smirked at the blush covering her cheeks when she met your eyes.

"see something you like, baby canada?"

"i see a lot of what i like, baby england."

the sudden wave of confidence jessie wore shocked you turned you on but you weren't complaining, she was always so shy even when it was just you two. unless she was drunk off a win or alcohol she only became a tiny bit less reserved around you. you scoffed at the nickname she'd given you for debuting internationally at the same age as her, flicking her shoulder before leaning in to kiss her sweetly.

"you taste like a chocolate milkshake."

you laughed against her lips, the canadian shaking her head at you lightly as she kissed you back.

"you taste like a vanilla milkshake."

she countered, one of her hands holding your face gently as you both smiled into the kiss, her free hand coming to rest high up on your thigh as yours held her shoulders to ground yourself. the kiss quickly became heated, having been away from her for four months and only pecking her on the lips a couple times so far had been torture for you- seemingly for her too judging by the way she was desperately trying to deepen it.

the hand resting on your face trailed down to your hip and tugged you closer, a grunt of disapproval leaving her lips as the armrest blocked you from moving further. wanting this to go further, you climbed over the armrest as she read your mind straight away, pushing her seat back as far as it could go so she was lying down with plenty of legroom.

you straddled her lap just like you had done many times before whilst flipping your hair to one side, your hands resting on her chest and slipping underneath her hoodie to feel her toned abs as you continued to heatedly makeout. jessie smiled against your lips once you let out a moan into her mouth, obviously a result of the way she'd just gripped your ass before smacking it and moving her hands to grip your hips possessively.

"you like that baby?"

she whispered cockily whilst trailing her lips down your neck, hips starting to grind in unison with your nails digging into her skin and no doubt leaving their mark.

"don't start with that cocky shit, you know what i like."

you mumbled with your head thrown back, the midfielder chuckling at your visibly frustrated nature. hips desperate for friction, hands clawing at any bit of skin you could find, mouth whimpering and breathing ragged was all jessie needed to know you wanted more.

she couldn't believe this, not even seven hours after buying her first car she was christening it with the hottest girl she'd ever seen in her life getting off on her lap. her parents would be so disappointed right now, but she was so happy to finally see you again- touch you again that she couldn't care less.

without a care in the world she tugged off your shirt and threw it away, sitting up to take off her hoodie and shirt, a needy moan leaving your mouth at the sight of her body. if you were patient enough you'd lick every inch of her skin right now, but with the way her eyes were devouring your chest before her mouth could catch up you definitely didn't have the patience.

"missed you s'much jess."

she hummed up at you before lying down again, one hand guiding you to lie down on top of her like before prior to it travelling to your breasts, massaging them just the way you liked. she smiled when you let out a heavy breath, head falling onto her shoulder and tucking itself into her neck.

"did you touch yourself whilst i was away?"

you whined helplessly at her question, nodding your head shyly with your lips trailing kisses down her neck and leaving marks in their wake.

"how many times y/n?"

"only twice, didn't finish though. my fingers aren't the same as yours."

jessie smiled at your response and pulled you into another heated kiss, her tongue slipping in to glide against yours sloppily with her hands tracing the waistband of your shorts.

"want a reminder of how good my fingers feel?"

you nodded your head rapidly before pulling her into another kiss, sighing when you felt her fingers break past the waistband and trace the crevice of your thigh, stopping your movements completely when she grazed her knuckles against your clit.

"jess-"

the canadian hummed in acknowledgement, slowly sinking her fingers into you whilst she held eye contact and watched the way your mouth fell open. by the time she was down to her knuckles you'd sat up to make sure she got as deep as possible, feeling her sink an inch further as you moaned in unison. sounds like she missed being inside you too.

she started moving her fingers slowly as she stared up at you, your head thrown back in pleasure as she stretched you out deliciously with two thick fingers.

"faster, jessie- faster."

whatever her girl wants, her girl gets.

she started moving her fingers much faster inside of you, needing to see you fall apart on her digits after four months of going without it. her other hand gripped your thigh as yours found purchase on her shoulders once more, the brunette moaning alongside you at the sight. she wasn't moving fast enough or deep enough, she was being too careful, restricting herself too much.

you started bouncing your hips up and down in rhythm with her thrusts, closing your eyes in pleasure and scratching along her chest when she was finally moving fast enough and deep enough. she curled her fingers to reach that spongey spot inside of you, making you almost scream out her name as she smiled cockily up at you and moved to sit up with you.

her free hand held your lower back so you were sat chest to chest, the new angle meaning you couldn't move your hips anymore, only jessie could move her fingers- and god was she doing that just right.

she knew how to fuck you, and she knew how to fuck you good.

"you feel so good, jess. just like that."

you chanted as she pistoned her fingers into your g-spot repeatedly, moving her lips to leave love bites all over your body wherever she could whilst your hands scratched at her back and tugged on her hair.

"you like that baby? that feel good, huh?"

"don't stop- god, please don't stop babe."

your head fell back further as moans continuously spilled past your lips, jessie spurring you on with endless words of praise.

"c'mon baby, you can be louder than that. what's my name? who's fucking you this good?"

"you- you're fucking me this good!"

"didn't know that was my name now?"

her thumb came up to rub your clit at the perfect pressure, fingers continuing to curl into you relentlessly as her free hand grabbed your neck and pulled you into a dominating kiss. you moaned into her mouth again and again and again, the brunette continuing to spur you on with her explicit dirty talk of what she wanted to do to you and expertise on how to finger you into an orgasm.

"what's my name babygirl? who are you gonna cum for? who's gonna be licking you off her fingers later on, hm? who do you belong to?"

"jess- god! i'm gonna- jessie! fuck, yes jessie!"

you moaned into the humid air her car was now filled with as you came undone over her fingers, grinding your hips against her knuckles as she slowed down her thrusts and smiled up at you. jessie loved making you say her name during sex- but she adored when you screamed it out whilst you came all over her fingers or tongue, exactly the way you did just then.

"such a good girl. so good for me, so pretty. all mine."

you nodded wordlessly as she peppered sweet kisses over your body wherever she could reach, soothing the vicious love bites she'd left behind when she really got riled up by you moaning out her name a couple moments ago. the pair of you breathed heavily into each others necks whilst jessie pulled her fingers out of you, moving so you could see her bring her fingers to her mouth and suck your arousal off them. her eyes rolled into the back of her head momentarily as she moaned against her digits, swallowing all the juices she collected and smiling up at you whilst you shook your head in disbelief of how attractive she was.

"if i could i'd have you fuck me for a week straight."

you joked, both of you laughing before kissing sweetly, jessie letting you climb back into the passenger seat once you'd calmed down fully from your high and moving her seat back to normal. you threw on her shirt and gave her the hoodie she wore to put on again, not having a clue where she threw your clothes in the heat of the moment.

"take it you like the new car then?"

[livin4woso]

Never meet your hero (alexia putellas x teen!reader)

Summary - After transferring to Barcelona, the reader just wants to impress their idol, yet no matter how hard they try, it won't ever be enough. Alexia only realises their admiration when they accidentally push themselves too far.

Growing up womens football was rarely spoken about but if you dug for it you could find the media and thats when you in 2019 stumbled across alexia putellas a Barcelona midfielder with promising talent to be one of the greats.

You quickly found yourself trying to be like her and while she was claiming more accolades and fame to the name putellas; you were climbing the ranks of Chelsea academy football fast and not realsing you too were making a name for yourself.

Then it happened at 17 years old. You had somehow managed to gain the attention of Barcelona for a 4 year-long contract after making your professional debut for Chelsea just 8 months beforehand. Now, this raised some spectacle across the Barcelona team, and the fans, as you were young, couldn't speak spanish, which wasn't an issue but to compete with the stacked Barcelona midfield full of ballon d'or winners and major tournament winners was where people wondered how good you were.

Even you wondered how you were going to fit into the midfield, but playing with your football hero who made you change your playing style to the one that made you succeed was another type of pressure. You wanted to impress her and not seem like some scrawny teenager who had been given way too big of boots to fill.

You had arrived in Barcelona and the club hadn't wanted you to live on your own so the only other native english speaking member of the team keira was happy to let you crash at hers for your first year. "Im so sorry for crashing in your apartment for the next year, man. i swear I'll be clean around the place, and you know, help out," you told her as you were unpacking your belongings into her spare bedroom. "Honestly y/n its fine. Don't stress about it, it'll be nice to have some company in the place," she said with a warm smile.

You had spent the week before training at keiras just to settle into the area and get a grip on the basics of spanish and some catalan phrases which wasnt going the best for you or keira who was trying to teach you. It was finally time for you to start training with the team after far too many medical and fitness tests the team made you do. Keira was driving you there, and you had started to feel the nerves build in your chest as it finally hit you that you were meeting your idol and many other players who you deeply admired.

You had stood in the changing room waiting for the rest of the girls and as you stood you were using your hand to try to flatten out the creases on your training top and pushing back the fly aways from your hair to make yourself more presentable. Meeting the team wasn't as scary as you had thought it would have been. Everyone was friendly and kind to you, greeting you with smiles and shaking your hand until you were faced with alexia.

She was rather stoic in her features, and she was rather intimidating, but she was going to be your captain anyway so you just had to deal with it "hi im y/n erm sorry about not knowing spanish yet im trying too." You said as you tried not to stare at the floor as nerves dripped through your words "its fine im alexia, you're new captain" thats all she said back to you and ignored your hand that you held up for a handshake you thought maybe it was her lack of english but you let it slide.

As the weeks progressed, alexias attitude never changed towards you she would laugh and joke with vicky pina and patri, yet when you were around, it was like she could flick a switch of pretending you weren't there or would just blankly ignore you. It had started to get under your skin as you had took extra spanish lessons to fit in and would spend extra hours in the gym to be better to get better so she could appreciate you as a team member.

It had reached international break, and unfortunately, you hadn't been selected, which you had expected, and you had to practically beg keira. You would be fine on your own for the next 2 weeks. That was a lie in those 2 weeks you had worked yourself to the bone training and in the gym every moment of the day and while you thought this would be a positive you had been neglected your bodys health by not eating enough; by this point you were only eating dinner and a few random snacks just too make sure you weren't going to starve to death.

The change wasn't too noticeable, so it was nothing anyone was going to flag off as unhealthy behaviour, which led you to believe you were doing the right thing to be better for alexia, for her approval. You wanted to prove you could be like vicky or patri or anyone else in the team because to you she was your everything and yet she only saw a teenager but she didn't release she was treating you like an outsider.

Alexia putellas the la renia she had a reputation and she saw potential in you she did but she thought a tough love approach would make you a better player yet she had took it to another level that she didn't realise. She never noticed the way your shoulders dropped when she wouldn't compliment a good goal in training or the way tears welled in your eyes when she wouldn't joke on with you like the other girls. She was oblivious to it until it took a turn for the worst.

You were working yourself into the ground, and it was clear you weren't going to stop until someone told you to. These unhealthy habits had continued but not to the extreme when keira had returned from international break. They were so subtle that unless you were looking for it, it would be noticeable.

It was a Wednesday training session, and after an early gym session, it was time for field work, which was your favourite time of training. However, you should have noticed it your passes were sloppy. Your movements were slower than normal, and you just couldn't hit the target of the net. Then it happened it was during quick fire 5v5 games with the mini goal 6 minutes on, then 6 minutes off.

It was just your luck that you had been chosen to mark alexia, and it was round 3 of the games when something didn't feel right. You looked to receive the pass from esmee to turn and move forward when all of a sudden everything went so fast you couldn't comprehend it. Your body became heavy, and so did your eyelids, and that was it. You lost all control of your body, and it collapsed in on itself to a bonless pile on the pitch.

Meanwhile for alexia it was the opposite it was like slow motion she was stood opposite you waiting to defend your play when you missed the ball completely and your body went dropping to the ground with quite a loud thud which caused the game to be stopped immediately. She was hunched over you, trying to make you regain consciousness by lightly shaking your shoulder. The medics raced onto the pitch. However, alexia wouldn't budge from her spot next to you she needed to know if you were okay.

There was a ringing in your ear which had changed to a mix of voices and random spanish words which you could translate but not in the disoriented state you were in at the moment. You tried to open your eyes, but it was like looking directly into the sun, and the only thing you could understand coherently was alexias voice "y/n are you okay?" She asked you, her voice laced with concern "mmh what happened?" You asked back groggily to her."You don't remember you just passed out onto the floor, " she said to you, and it had set panic of within you shit. im done for.

You had managed to be hauled to your feet with your body weight being supported by alexia, and you couldn't tell if she was doing this because she cared or rather it was captains duties. You were now sat on the medical table after being forced to chug a bottle of water and an energy gel. However, alexia still hadn't left your side while it was strange to you it was rather comforting. The medical staff had ran quite a few tests on you to figure out the cause of why you passed out. However, you knew why your body was physically exhausted, but you were also mentally exhausted.

"So miss y/l/n it seems that the cause of your collapse was your body being overworked and a lack of the correct nutrition. We've noticed you have a slightly decrease in body weight however you have been adding up to 6 hours extra training a week we have on record." The medic stated and well it wasnt a suprise to you but too alexia she was shocked you could be doing this to yourself. "Y/n this isn't healthy why have you been training so much extra?" Alexia states to you but unfortunately you couldn't be professional on your response you told her the truth.

"Because im clearly not good enough for you or the team all i wanted was you to appreciate me on the team yet you hate me. I learnt spanish for you i tried so hard for you to notice me yet everytime you see me you blank me or frown at me and i want to know how can i be better" the words tumble out of your mouth as tears threaten to fall down your face. And in that moment alexia could feel her heart break she was the reason you had worked yourself to the bone for her and she had treat you like a piece of gum on her shoe. "Y/n im so sorry i thought that if i was tough on you, you would improve under pressure but it was really wrong of me im so sorry I'll try to be better for you because its not fair for you" she said to you.

"Well it doesn't matter anymore i dont care about you and your opinion and im done trying for you because its clear i dont matter to you" you shouted storming out of the medical office where keira was waiting in the car to take you home. The ride home was a tense one as keira had found out about your unhealthy behaviour, but you didn't need a lecture as she could tell you knew it was wrong.

Since then alexia was much nicer to you however it had never been the same you hadn't seeked out for the validation of alexia you had realised that praise is awarded and not always found when looking for. While you had never found the love to forgive alexia for your rocky start to your time in barca she had found solace in watching you progress and prove that she knew she was right to recommend you to transfer in the first place but she wouldn't ever tell you it was her because you needed to become your own player rather than tagging along to be the next alexia putellas.

[meazalykov]

goosebumps

lena oberdorf x reader

summary: your girlfriend is super touchy.

"you know how I get those goosebumps every time, yea?"

bayern munich vs wolfsburg, one of the most exciting days in the women's bundesliga.

moving to bayern munich from chelsea in 2022, you were adjusted into your new life.

this meant that you were prepared on going against wolfsburg-- and you were prepared of playing against your girlfriend of two years-- lena.

your mutual best friend-- lea-- put the two of you onto each other, lena and you had many similarities that didn't go unnoticed between your peers.

being silly, sweet, dedicated, and motivated were the top four personality traits in the both of you.

overly competitive is another.

during the rivalry game, you had the ball and were going to pass down to sydney. before your foot went to tap the ball, lena's body side tackled you-- which caused you to trip onto the ground.

you were not hurt, but you were concerned about wolfsburg aggressive approach this game.

staying on the ground, you clenched your teeth as you held your ankle.

lena stood up in horror, before she realized that you were trying to get her carded.

the german noticed how relaxed you looked, in comparison to times when you were injured. she looks over at popp and shakes her head before walking over to you.

you told the ref that you're fine to play and stood up to be checked into the game again. looking over at lena, she shakes her head with a smirk-- which caused you to give her one back.

a minute later, she was behind you when a corner kick was being taken for bayern-- conceded by wolfsburg.

"you know-- your acting might be believable to them, but not to me." lena whispered.

you rolled your eyes, playfully, before speaking--

"as longs the ref believes it, I'm calm." you say as you move forward to receive a possible header from your teammate.

suddenly, you felt a pair of hands holding onto your waist tightly-- and the familiar body of your girlfriend pressed against your back.

"your ass looks so good in those shorts, too bad its in the wrong color." lena whispers in german.

this time, you rolled your eyes seriously as you jump up to get the header. unfortunately, the ball was too high.

a wolfsburg defender conceded a corner kick again, so you were set to try and head the ball once again.

"do you think you're getting away from me?" lena asks, licking her lips but still paying attention to the game in hand.

"lena we are in a middle of a game." you scoff.

lena is very touchy, you are obsessed with it, but you were surprised that she would do it to distract you in a match.

"I am aware." lena blows on the back of your neck, goosebumps immediately appeared.

thirty minutes later at the end of the game, it was a draw between the red and green. 2-2.

by the locker rooms, in the privacy away from fans and cameras, you saw your girlfriend and gave her a wave.

you assumed that she was busy with her teammates so you didn't want to disrupt her.

however, lena waves her hand for you to come over to her.

your face showed a look of content and joy as lena wrapped your body with her strong arms-- her right arm holding your waist and her left arm around the back of your neck.

she kisses your temple a few times before moving down to kiss your lips.

you forced yourself to pull away and look at your german girlfriend with a smirk,

"well, neither of us won today." you comment in a low voice.

"yes but don't get too excited, we will crush bayern next time." lena's hands move up and down your waist softly as you scoff.

"what other methods are you going to use next time?" you ask, your arms going to smooth lena's freshly washed hair as her eyebrows knitted together.

"huh?"

"I thought your touches and comments on the pitch was a tactic to prevent me from getting a hat-trick after my second goal." you say as the taller girl is rubbing your back now, under your shirt.

luckily, everyone was in the locker rooms or already headed out to go home (or on the bus for the bayern girls).

"no not really, you're irresistible." lena smirks, leaning her head back on the wall as you gave her another kiss.

"same goes for you--i'm coming over tonight, so I'll see you later oberdorf." you smirk before exiting her arms, walking away as she watched you with desire.

<3

[pitchsidestories]

treat you better II Ingrid Engen x Mapi León x Reader

part 2 I masterlist I word count: 2451

a/n: hi, it's based off this request here, please enjoy. <3

warnings: toxic (ex-)partner, but with a happy ending.

You had been staring on your phone all evening, impatiently waiting to see your girlfriends number appear on the screen. But your phone stayed silent.

Subconsciously, you tapped on the photos icon on your home screen and started to scroll through pictures of you and her together.

Since you parted ways last summer when you moved to Barcelona and she joined Chelsea, you talked less and less. She said she was cool with it but you had the feeling that this lack of communication strained your relationship.

“Y/n?“, Ingrids voice disrupted your thoughts.

“Yes?“ You looked up, surprised about the fact that you were not the only one in the changing room after your late gym session.

The Norwegian sat down on the bench next to you: “Are you still waiting?“

You sighed and forced yourself to put your phone aside: “She promised to call me tonight…“

“You’ve been waiting for hours.“, Mapi reminded you from the other side of the room where she casually leaned against the lockers.

You remained silent. Somehow you felt very stupid in that situation.

Ingrid gently laid a hand on your knee. With slight concern in her voice, she asked: “Have you had dinner yet?“

“No…“, you admitted reluctantly.

With a smirk, Mapi folded her arms across her chest: “Let’s go get some then.“

“Wear something you love. We’ll pick you up later.“, Ingrid winked before taking her bag and leaving the changing room with her girlfriend.

You silently nodded to yourself. They really tricked you into having to go home instead of sitting on the hard bench for hours, waiting for that call.

You followed their instructions as soon as you returned to your apartment and slipped into lacy black top and your favourite suit. You were just in the process of doing your hair when the couple rang at your door.

“I’m ready.“, you called out to them while grabbing a black handbag and slipping on a pair of sneakers.

“Good, lets go.“, Mapi grinned as you joined them outside.

“You look stunning by the way.“, Ingrid complimented your outfit.

You beamed: “Thank you.“

“You both do.“, Mapi joined in, taking both you and Ingrid in.

“Ingrid and you always look so beautiful.“, you said. A lot of people on your team dressed well but you often found yourself in awe of what a gorgeous couple they were. And then you remembered something: “My girlfriend doesn’t like me in suits.“

Mapis smile turned immediately into a frown: “Why not?“

“She said it looks too gay.“, you relayed what your girlfriend had told you several times before.

You noticed Mapi and Ingrid sharing a concerned look.

“But…“, Ingrid began.

“What a weird thing to say!”, the Spanish defender commented outraged on both of their behalf’s.

Her Norwegian girlfriend nodded in silent agreement.

“It kind of is right?”, you bit your lip guiltily while you three took your seats at the table of the restaurant. It was way fancier than you expected. But just like the couple it had an elegant touch to it. The candlelight tinted your faces shine in a warm, soft glow.

“I only know that from people who don’t want other women to notice their girlfriends.”, Mapi admitted, sounding serious.

“Which is weird because no matter how you dress y/n, people will always notice you. You’re always gorgeous.”, the younger woman observed, looking deep into your eyes as she spoke.

These words coming from such a beautiful human herself made your cheeks turn pink. You were never happier for the dimly lit room, so it was hard to see the change of your face colour.

“Exactly, you’re our team Estrella for a reason.”, the heavily tattooed Spaniard reminded you of the nickname you had in your team.

A sad smile appeared on her lips, remembering how you changed since your girlfriend has stepped into your life. The Barcelona girls were all a bit worried as your spark has lessened over the time.

“Although you lost a bit of your light.”, Mapi sighed.

“I didn’t loose my light.”, you protested weakly. Unsure if you really trusted your own words in the situation.

“Y/n, you deserve better.”, Ingrid replied, taking your hand into hers to squeeze it empathetically.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine.”, you tried to assure them.

“Do you know what you want to order?”, the defender swiftly changed the topic to something more enjoyable.

When the meals arrived, you clapped excitedly into your hands:” This looks so delicious.”

“It’s the best, trust us.”, Mapi grinned.

“I do.”, you answered smiling. Everyone in your team knew that the two women didn’t only have great taste in clothes, but in food as well.

“As you should.”, the Scandinavian chirmed.

Looking around, soaking into the calm atmosphere of your surroundings, you declared:” This is really nice here.”

“It’s our favourite.”, the older woman confessed beaming.

“It’s perfect for dates..”, your heart sank once the sentence was out. Wishing your girlfriend was here in this moment even though you knew deep inside that it was almost more fun with your two teammates, less stressful for you. Their relaxedness rubbed a bit on to you and you felt a sense of calm.

“Yes, very romantic.”, Ingrid answered delighted.

“You two are so cute.”, you hummed.

Mapi exchanged a look with Ingrid before she leaned over the table and whispered: “Ingrid always is when she really likes someone…“

“She’s?“, you asked, not sure what the defender was hinting at.

“I guess thats true, yes.“, Ingrid admitted, slightly flustered. Her long fingers barely touching yours on the table.

You looked up at her: “Oh.“

“Wasn’t your girlfriend supposed to come tomorrow to spend your free weekend together? What did you plan for that?“, Mapi inquired suddenly. She studied your face for any change.

You shrugged nonchalantly as if you had not planned this for over a week now: “Oh, I thought I would show her Barcelona. And then we could have a little picnic down at the beach.“

“Oh my god. That’s so sweet.“, Ingrid squeed.

“I thought she would enjoy that. But she hasn’t confirmed yet that she would be able to make it.“ You tried to keep any disappointment out of your voice.

“If she can’t make it in time, we’d love to come and do it with you.“, Mapi smiled.

“You’d?“

Ingrid confirmed with a nod: “Yes, we would.“

You could feel your heart flutter in your chest. “That’s so nice of you.“

“It’ll be a pleasure, y/n.“, Mapi said, reaching for your hand.

You had such a lovely evening with your teammates that when the call came the next morning, it felt like a shock. You knew what she was about to say before she even greeted you.

“Sorry, y/n. I can’t come… Emma said we need to do extra training on the weekend.“

“Oh… that’s okay. Next time maybe.“, you replied almost automatically.

You knew you should feel sad or disappointed about her cancellation but there was also a part of you that felt nothing but relief in this moment.

You immediately took your phone and messaged Mapi and Ingrid to come down to the beach later today if they were still down for it.

Weirdly, you found yourself less anxious and more excitement for the picnic with the two of them while you started packing everything.

You met Mapi and Ingrid in the late evening. A blanket and a few pillows were already spread out on the fine sand when they arrived. Freshly baked bread, cheese and ham as well as olives and grapes were piled high on plates.

“This is literally perfect.“, Ingrid marvelled at the sight.

Mapi sat down: “I agree, this is so nice.“

“We’ll see the sunset too.“, you added, pointing towards the horizon.

Ingrid popped a piece of cheese into her mouth and laid her head into you lap: “I hope you don’t mind too much that you have to spend the evening with us.“

Absentmindedly, you started to stroke her dark hair: “I mean I’m a bit sad that she couldn’t come but your company definitely makes it better.“

“Don’t worry, we can make sure you have a good time too.”, the Spanish defender promised.

“You already do a great job at that.”, you assured the couple. With a melancholic glance at the sea you added:” I just miss her and being touched, does that sound weird?”

“No, that makes perfect sense.”, the Norwegian told you while simultaneously exchanging a knowing look between her and her girlfriend.

Afterwards a pleasant silence descended upon you three, the only sound came from the waves crashing on the shore, until Mapi raised her voice.

“We’d treat you better.”

“What?”, you looked at her in surprise.

“You’re unhappy with her. She’s been ignoring you, she always wants to have the upper hand.. and we saw that she likes to leave her marks when you saw each other.”, Ingrid listed the reasons why you should break up with your girlfriend on her long, elegant fingers.

“And you two think you can treat me better?”, you nervously licked your lips, too afraid to look directly into their eyes, so you chose to watch at the water instead.

“No. We know we can treat you better.”, the tattooed woman corrected you in a serious tone. Her girlfriend nodded in quiet agreement.

“Which isn’t hard because I’m pretty sure she’s seeing someone else behind your back.”, Mapi continued, there was anger towards your lover swinging in her voice.

“The whole team thinks so.”, the Scandinavian cleared her throat. Every teammate thought that you deserved better than that.

You were startled by your own words coming out of your mouth next:” I suspected it, because I asked Millie if they had training on the weekend, she said no.”

The one thing you were sure was that your England teammate and co-captain would never lie to you.  Remembering the short call made you tear up all over again. Nothing hurt more when knowing that everyone knew someone was betraying you behind your back.

“I’m sorry, amor. But we don’t want to see you suffer any longer.”, empathetically Mapi laid an arm around you:

“I feel so stupid, girls.”, you confessed, trying to swipe away the tears streaming down your cheek.

“You’re not stupid.”, Ingrid pressed a kiss on to your hand before raising up to hug you from the other side.

“We all have been here.”, the defender told you.

“Really?”

“Really.”, she replied.

Suddenly you knew what to do, you didn’t knew where the bravery came from, but you were grateful for it as you announced: “ I’ll tell her that I’m done with her games, the only game I’m interested in is football.”

“That sounds reasonable.”, the Norwegian beamed at you proudly.

“It’s for the best.“, you said quietly, not sure if you were talking to them or to yourself.

Mapi flashed you an encouraging smile: “Yes, but you’ll always have us.“

“Right, you can count on us.“, Ingrid agreed.

“Thank you, girls.“

“You’re welcome.“

You slowly stood up from the blanket, pulling your phone out of your pocket and took a deep breath: “Excuse me. I think I’ll have to make a call.“

Ingrid nodded: “Go on.“

“See you in a minute.“ You forced yourself to a smile.

There was something in the way, they looked at you that gave you the confidence to walk a few steps closer to the water and dial you girlfriends phone number.

“Hi, y/n.“, she greeted you. She never sounded happy when you called, only annoyed as if you were always calling at the wrong time.

“Hey, I need to talk to you about something…“, you came straight to the point. Your heart pounded in your chest.

“Sure, but I need to leave soon so you better make it quick.“

In this moment, you knew you made the right decision. There was no fear or doubt, the words just came to you: “I can make it very quick. I want to break up.“

There was a moment of silence on her end and you briefly wondered if she had even heard you. Her voice was high-pitched and she was yelling when she finally replied: “What?! Are you kidding me? I’m the best thing you’ve ever had!“

You remained calm and composed: “You’ve been avoiding me for some time now. I think I deserve better.“

She laughed: “Oh please, you’re so pathetic, y/n.“

“You’re with someone else. I know that. It was pathetic that I believed you.“

“You’ll never find someone as good as me!“, your now ex-girlfriend spat.

Subconsciously, your gaze drifted back to the picnic blanket. You realized that Mapi and Ingrid were no longer sitting there.

Gentle fingers took the phone out of your hand. You looked up to see Mapi speaking into the phone: “Oh, don’t worry. She’s got someone better now. Someone who actually appreciates her.“

Your ex-girlfriend went quiet. “Good luck with that, y/n.“, she said, her voice icy cold before hanging up.

Ingrid stood in front of you, studying your face. You were confused but also relieved. It was finally over.

“Hey, come here. You did so well.“, you felt Ingrids arms wrap around your torso. You held out one arm as an invitation for Mapi to join the hug.

The Spanish defender pressed a kiss to your temple: “You deserve this.“

There was so much you wanted to tell them but you had no words for it. So you just stood there for the moment, grateful and safe in their embrace.

Immediately after the breakup, Mapi and Ingrid started to take you out to more dates. A few months later, you were officially in a relationship with both of them.

You could have never imagined yourself in a polyamorous relationship before but the two of them made it easy. It was probably one of the healthiest relationships you had ever been in. In contrast to your previous relationship, there was no mistrust and no jealousy.

Seeing your girlfriend on the pitch in your Champions League matches agains Chelsea surprisingly did not bother you at all. Especially not, once you knocked them out of the UWCL.

As soon as the final whistle blew, Mapi jogged towards you and kissed you excitedly: “You’ve been amazing, amor!“

“My girls! We won!“, Ingrid joined the two of you.

You turned towards her to give her a celebratory kiss as well.

You could feel your exes angry stares at you but could not care less. You just booked the ticket to the UWCL final with your amazing and supportive girlfriends, there was no space in your life for her anymore.

a/n: we always appreciate comments, likes and reblogs. <3

[helen-with-an-a]

Short but Mighty

Hi. So this is a request I got and I absolutely loved writing it. It's a little on the long side but I really hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Also, just imagine no one is injured in either team and it’s Arsenal not Chelsea against Barca in the UWCL this year. Another side note is that I am 5’6/5’7 so I don’t really have much of a frame of reference for being short/shorter but I hope I’ve done it justice 🩷

Lucy Bronze x Reader

Description: R is short and a little angry

Word Count: 4.8k

“She’s so angry because her attitude has been compressed into that small body”

“Have you ever noticed that in every friend group, the shortest one is usually the craziest?”

“Short girls are mean because they are closer to hell”

“If you think she’s short, you should see her patience”

“The smaller the creature, the bolder its spirit”

“Like a chihuahua”

“And though she be but little, she is fierce”

You had heard it all. Even Shakespeare had commented on it. Every comment about short and angry people ever made – you had heard it all. But the thing was, you weren’t short. You were 5 foot 3 inches. 160cm. The average height for women in the UK – you would know; you googled it to make sure. But for some reason, every person on your team was a bloody giant – towering over you, making you look even shorter. Except for Aitana – she was the only one who truly understood your pain.

At first, it bothered you. Growing up, you were constantly being leant on by your friends or patted on the head; your coaches affectionately called you ‘short stuff’. It really, really pissed you off. You saw players on the field consider you a joke of an opponent as you stepped onto the field. So, you started to build muscle, lifting heavier, adjusting your diet, and altering your lifestyle as much as possible while remaining healthy. When you made your senior debut at just 17, you could lift well over 1.5 of your body weight. You also channelled that muscle into your speed, earning a reputation for being the fastest on the pitch. On paper, a defending midfielder of your height was laughable, but when the challengers on the pitch saw your name in the Starting XI, they would quake with fear.

Despite all the comments, they were right about your supposed anger. You don’t know whether it was you being unafraid to utilise your body on the pitch or something else entirely, but you were frequently topping the table with the number of yellow cards at the end of the season. Personally, you believed the refs had a vendetta against you; your reputation preceded you, so they felt it was necessary to uphold it – often giving you cards for something that would have been just a caution for anything else. You did pride yourself on never receiving a straight red (only double-yellows) – something that Lucy frequently reminded you; it wasn’t that impressive as many people didn’t receive straight reds. You weren’t an aggressive player by any means. As soon as that whistle went, you were the first to offer a helping hand. You had never injured anyone – ever. That was something else you were proud of. Whilst you often got yellows for the tackle, you never left any lasting marks. Were you physical? Yes. Were you aggressive? No.

It was the only thing people had spoken about in weeks. Arsenal vs. Barcelona in the Champions League semi-final. Walsh vs. Williamson; Russo, Lacasse and Blackstenius vs. Leon, Bronze and Batlle; Little vs. Putellas; Codina vs her old club; Paralluelo, Pina and Caldentey vs Wubben-Moy, Catley and Fox; Y/S/N vs. McCabe. That was the big one – two of the most carded players in their leagues battling it out for a chance to snatch the other’s chance of a Champions League title. Alexia had been pestering you since the draw was made about your behaviour. She wouldn’t hesitate to bench you if you were acting out. Her tactics were based on negative reinforcement. It hadn’t worked – all her threats, lectures, and pressures were rendered null because you knew how physical these matches would be. You knew Jona would put on the most physical players, at least to start with.

Lucy, on the other hand, relied on positive reinforcement. As your girlfriend, she was always in your corner, especially on the pitch when a card was lifted above your head. But she didn’t like how often you were suspended or how often your abilities were outshone by the number of yellows next to your name. Your technical prowess was often overlooked by commentators and fans because of the cards.

“You know,” Lucy started, her fingertips brushing your neck as she pulled your hair out of her way. You were standing at the kitchen counter, looking at a recipe on your phone as you planned out your tea.

“What do I know, gorgeous?” you teased, tilting your head up to look at her. Your hands came to rest on top of hers on your waist.

“I think we should set up a sticker chart system or something. What do you think?” She mused, starting an assault on your neck.

“N-no marks, my love,” you stuttered out automatically but leaning back into her body anyway.

“I know.” You could feel the grin against your skin. “But you didn’t answer my question, lovely.” She nipped at your earlobe gently.

“Stickers … what for?” You turned around in her arms, coming to look at her. She didn’t stop her attack, her strong hands coming to angle your head so she had more access to your jaw. You let your eyes slip closed, getting lost in the feeling of her mouth on you.

“As a way to … combat?... your little card problem.” That sobered you right up. You pushed her way and raised an unamused eyebrow at her.

“My card problem?” You snarked.

“Alexia has been on my arse about getting you to … calm down … during matches,” she explained, choosing her words carefully. She moved to put her hands back on your hips, but you stopped her with a hand on her chest.

“So, you went with a sticker chart?” you asked incredulously. “I’m not a child, Lucy.” You never called her Lucy unless you were angry at her; she was always ‘gorgeous’ or ‘my love’, just like you were always ‘lovely’ or ‘pretty girl’ to her.

“I know you’re not, pretty girl.” She cupped your face with her hand. “I think I phrased myself badly. I’m sorry.” Her thumb moved methodically against your cheek, an action that has always calmed you. “How about a little reward system?” She grinned cheekily at you as you narrowed your eyes. “For every match without a card, I’ll treat you?” She proposed.

“I don’t need a-” you started, still annoyed that your girlfriend and your captain felt it necessary to set up a system to manage your behaviour.

“Alexia has been on my arse about this for weeks. She’s serious about benching you, lovely.” She interrupted. You sighed. You were well aware of what Alexia considered unacceptable in the Barca team – and the number of yellow cards you received was one of them. “So, what do you think? I think it’s a win-win situation if you ask me. Alexia will finally back off and not be a minute away from a heart attack, and you get …” she paused, thinking of the right way to phrase it. “Whatever your heart desires.” You could see her reasoning. Judging by the vein in Alexia’s forehead, she wasn’t coping too well with the idea that you would face McCabe in a few weeks. And you get weekly treats if you avoid yellow cards.

“Whatever I want?” You double-checked. Lucy could see you were already agreeing to her idea.

“Whatever. You. Want. Pretty girl.” She punctuated each word with a kiss.

“So, if I wanted a fancy date night at that place in town?” Lucy wasn’t the biggest fan of dates where you had to dress up all fancy – she thought it wasn’t an accurate and complete representation of your relationship. She loved taking you to smaller, more casual restaurants where you could relax, order something to-go, or just cook a nicer meal at home. But Mapi had shown you a place she was planning to take Ingrid for their anniversary, and you had fallen in love – begging Lucy to go on a date there with you. What you didn’t know she was saving it for when she proposed – the ring hidden with her Euro medal buried in the depths of the cupboard in your spare room.

“Whatever you want.” She smiled at your shocked expression.

“Or if I wanted a spa day at home on our day off?” you asked, checking how far she would be willing to go. She would much rather do something on your day off to keep her body moving a little, whereas you would rather lounge on the couch, catching up on your show.

“Whatever you want.” She repeated, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth.

“Or…” you tried to think of something she would say no to. “If I asked you to put on my old United jersey? And take a photo in it? And post it on social media?” Your request was ridiculous, but you knew it was something she would never, ever say no to. You had played for United while she was at City, moving to Lyon together, where your relationship had budded into what it is now, before returning to your respective clubs. You were friends before Lyon, having played with each other on the England squad for years, but moving to the new city together had led to something magical. The rival was a constant joke between you, often tuning in to the Derby’s when your schedule allowed for it – her and Keira on one couch, you and Ona on the other – all clad in your particular colours and fighting for the right to brag.

“Whatever you want.” She sighed but loved the fact that it brought that big, wide grin of yours to your face.

“What about if I asked for control?” You wiggled your eyebrow and scanned her body appreciatively, indicating precisely what you hinted at. You could see her eyes flicker slightly, making you think you had found the thing she wouldn’t do as your reward. Lucy loved being in control, and you didn’t mind letting her do it. But occasionally, very, very occasionally, she handed over the ropes (figuratively and literally) to you.

“What. Ever. You. Want,” she said lowly, silencing any more of your questions with a passionate kiss.

This was it. The big day. The first leg of the Champions League semi-final. Arsenal vs. Barcelona. McCabe vs. Y/S/N. You had been good to your word – the reward system was working well. So far, Lucy had treated you to a day at the beach, a nice meal, a new set of lingerie, and a day trip with you to Tarragona on a day off. Four treats for your four matches without a yellow. It would have been more, but you picked up a yellow card during your match with Real Madrid. But this … this was your big test.

“Todas mantienen la cabeza,” Alexia said just before you all left the changing rooms. She said it to everyone, but you know it was aimed at you.

“What do you want your reward to be, pretty girl?” Lucy asked you as you performed your final pre-match ritual (a quick roll of deodorant, a pump of breath spray, and a spritz of perfume—you’re welcome, everyone on the field).

“Not sure, I’ve got an idea, but I might wait for the final for that one,” you winked cheekily at her, giving her an indication of what you were insinuating. She sighed, shaking her head at you.

“Later,” she promised as she guided you into the tunnel.

This match was not going to plan for you. Ona and Pina had already picked up yellows for dissent, and you were only 30 minutes into the match. You were on your best behaviour – even going so far as not to tackle Katie when you would usually have. You could see how much less stress Lucy was under with every game you played where you didn’t have your name on the card list. You weren’t behaving for yourself – you couldn’t care less if you were benched (slight exaggeration, but the sentiment remained). You were doing it for Lucy; her frown lines were easing somewhat; her muscles were less tense; she was sleeping much better. You hadn’t realised your actions added much to her plate.

And then Katie left a studs-up tackle on Lucy and didn’t get carded or even a foul. You were near her when it happened. Lucy was running down the wing with the ball at her feet, you were dropping back a little, allowing her the space to make a cross to an awaiting Patri and Aitana. Katie’s yellow boots appeared from nowhere and clipped her ankles – not even making an attempt to get the ball. It was an obvious card, yet the ref motioned to carry on whilst Lucy was on her knees, clutching at her ankle, her eyes scrunched shut at the pain.

Eventually, the whistle was blown when it was apparent that Lucy wasn’t standing up. You crouched at her side, a hand coming to rub at her back.

“Do you need the medics, my love?” You asked, the tone gentle in comparison to the fury you were filled with.

“Just … gimme a minute,” she gasped. You nodded even though she couldn’t see you, your hand resting on her lower back in silent support.

“Estás bien? Está ella bien? Necesitamos a los fisios?” Alexia gushed as she came to your side, a concerned Patri and Marta joining her.

“Ella esta bien,” you said, your words supported by Lucy’s actions as she moved to stand up. You briefly scanned her, nodding to yourself as you confirmed she was fine.

The switch in you was instant. McCabe needed to pay for that. And if the ref wasn’t going to do it, you would.

“Don’t,” Lucy said at the same time as Alexia uttered “no”. You just waved them off, smiling innocently at them as you set up for the corner kick.

The incident that got you the card was well deserved. You had only 2 minutes left of the half – not including injury time – and Katie was starting a last-minute Arsenal press. You were winning comfortably at 3 – 0, but you knew Arsenal would come out hard in the next half; they weren’t called ‘second halfsenal’ for nothing. Could you have gone for a clean tackle? Probably. Could you have just tackled her in general? Yes. But it wouldn’t have been nearly as satisfying as watching her fly to the ground. She ran full speed down the wing, not looking where her defenders were. You timed your run well, bracing your body as she slammed into you. You had bothered to stick out your leg to make it look like you were aiming for the ball, but everyone, on and off the pitch, knew you were going for revenge. She clattered to the ground in a pile of red and white, and a torrent of Irish-accented swears erupted from her.

You were immediately faced with an angry Aussie. Caitlin shoved your shoulders as she demanded retribution for you. You lifted your hands innocently.

“I was going for the ball,” you said, shrugging a little. You could see the referee approaching, Alexia looking furious at you, and Lucy shaking her head. Still, you could see her smiling – finding the situation at least somewhat amusing. “I was going for the ball,” you repeated to the ref, ignoring the shouts from the Arsenal girls. “See, she’s fine.” You gestured to a now-standing McCabe. It didn’t help your case; the yellow square was lifted above your head as you rolled your eyes.

“Fucking short-arse bitch” you heard McCabe mutter as you all walked away, ready to finish this half.

“And yet, I still put you on the ground,” you smirked at her, letting Lucy drag you away.

Halftime was full of Alexia's lecture. You looked to Jona to see if he would intervene, but he just shrugged. When he saw Lucy go down from a dodgy tackle, he expected nothing less from you.

“Prometiste que te portarías lo mejor posible.”

“She’s still walking, isn’t she?” You weren’t about to apologise for this. This was your style of play; she knew that when you joined the team; Barca knew it when they signed you.

“Qué dije de los amarillos? Te pedí que no los consiguieras. Y que haces?” She continued as if you hadn’t spoken. “Necesitas empezar a actuar de forma más adulta al respecto. No necesitas ser cardada por todo. Recibir tarjetas todo el tiempo es muy inmaduro. No tienes respeto”

“Enough, Alexia.” You interrupted. Yes, she had somewhat of a right to be angry at you, but calling you immature? Saying you had no respect? “I play my style of play. If the club didn’t like it, they wouldn’t have renewed my contract or signed me in the first place. If Jona has a problem with it, he would either speak to me or not play me. But they haven’t. I have renewed with Barca and Jona hasn’t even mentioned it in our one-to-ones. You are the only one who’s up my arse about this. And you’ve been pestering Lucy, too. Newsflash, she’s not my keeper, Alexia, and I am not a child; she’s my girlfriend.” You could see she was trying to interrupt you again, but you pushed through. “If you had maybe spoken to me in a way that suggested you valued me as a player and a person rather than lecturing me every chance you get, we could be in a different situation right now. But no, you have insulted me and the way I play my football, and now you have made me even more pissed off than I already was. So please, leave me alone at the moment.” You were seething. You hadn’t meant to explode at her like you did, but she had hurt your feelings one too many times about a bloody yellow card. You looked around the changing room, seeing the shocked expressions on people’s faces. No one spoke to their captain like that. You didn’t dare glance at Lucy, too afraid of what you might see. You would have seen the proud expression gracing her face if you had. She had been waiting for you to detonate at Alexia; she could see it in the way you grit your teeth during every lecture, the way you took longer showers after training to destress every time Alexia had called you away to talk about your behaviour, the way you were baking more and more as a method to try to quell your anger.

You pushed your way past, banging the door heavily as you stormed back out of the tunnel. You knew the Emirates well, so there were no chances of you getting lost. A few doors down, there was a seldom-used bathroom you could hide in, but you could still hear the chatter that told you the team was in the tunnel, ready to start the second half.

The changing room was silent. You could hear a mouse sneeze if you listened carefully enough.

“Bien entonces,” it was Mapi who spoke – breaking the tension-filled silence.

“Quién se cree que ella es? Todo lo que he estado tratando de hacer es ayudarla a limpiar su juego.” Alexia was incredulous. She believed you needed to clean up your act if you were going to go far at Barca. She didn’t consider the fact that you had numerous accolades to your name, coming second in the Ballon d’Or for the past 3 years and earning yourself a Sports Personality of the Year twice.

“No, Alexia. You are in the wrong.” Lucy snapped. She couldn’t allow this to go on any longer. Yes, she wanted you to stop getting yellow cards, but not at the expense of your style of play. She wanted the cards to stop being the only thing commentators spoke about when your name was mentioned. She wanted the world to see you as she did. “I know you meant well, but you basically asked her to stop playing in the way that makes her so unique. Imagine if someone did that to you, you’d be pretty pissed off too.” Alexia frowned. That wasn’t what she had meant – not at all. She wanted you to stop getting the yellow cards because she viewed something to be feared, not something that was just a part of playing football.

“Y ahora te has ido y la has hecho aún más enojada,” Patri laughed humourlessly. “No se sorprendan si hoy vemos un rojo, chicas,” she added as the team made their way back to the pitch.

You slipped silently out of the bathroom, joining the rest of the team as if you were just the last one to leave the changing room.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Lucy said, extending her hand to you as she lingered just out of sight of the cameras.

“Hey, gorgeous.” You squeezed her hand, letting her know you were ok.

“Please, try not to get a red,” she joked.

“If McCabe behaves, so will I,” you said seriously. She smirked at you – just the sort of thing she was expecting from you.

McCabe did not behave. It was remarkable how calm you had been, considering how riled you were during the half-time break. You had spent a lot of this second half on the floor, being a victim of harsh tackles from McCabe herself and a particular Aussie. You could see your English teammates wincing every time you went down. But you always gave as good as you got, leaving unforgiving shoves and exacting tackles just on the right side of nasty.

 It was in the 55th minute when the second incident occurred. You were genuinely going for the ball. You both jumped up for a header – you might have jumped more sideways than up, but that was neither here nor there. The slight knock you gave her made her lose her balance, landing hard on her hands and knees rather than her feet. It didn’t help that you landed perfectly upright, either. You knew how much running into you could hurt – particularly if you braced yourself (which you had been); she had been jogging backwards, unaware of your presence behind her.

“Oh, my god. I am so sorry. Are you ok?” You were genuine this time; both your national and club teammates could see it. This time, Leah was the first one to you, pulling you away by your shoulder.

“What the fuck, Y/N?” She asked, shocked by your display of aggression.

“I’m sorry, Lee. That was a complete accident.” You looked down at McCabe rolling around on the floor, gripping at her ankle. She just sighed in response. Lucy was the first of your Barca friends to reach you.

“I’m sorry,” you said dejectedly.

“I know you are, lovely” Lucy squeezed your elbow gently. “But you know you’re going to get a card, right?”

“Yeh, I know.” You turned to face the ref, shocked to see Alexia pleading with her and arguing for you. You were unsurprised when her protests were waved away, and you were presented with the yellow and red squares before being shown that you had to leave the pitch. You took it graciously and headed off the pitch.

You were escorted to the changing room by an official but were left to your own devices. You showered quickly before changing into your clothes, grateful you had packed some ‘street clothes’ – just jeans and one of Lucy’s hoodies. As you heard the Emirates erupt with cheers, the idea was planted in your head. This was a Champions League semi-final, no way in hell were you missing that. So, you slipped your accreditation around your neck and left the changing room. The crowd were still celebrating the Arsenal goal as you emerged from the tunnel. You saw Jonas spot you, his eyes widening as he gestured to the Fourth Official. You nodded once and waved at Jona and the other Barca coaches before hopping over the barricade. You spotted a woman with a young girl sitting on her lap with a free seat next to her.

“Do you mind?” You asked as you gestured to the seat. The woman shook her head and laughed a little as you made yourself comfortable next to her. The little girl was staring at you wide-eyed. She was wearing a little Barca jersey with her hair in two plaits, looking the epitome of cute.

“Hi, I’m Y/N.” You said, extending your hand to her. “What’s your name?” After a second of cajoling from her mother, she piped up.

“Lucie. But with an -ie not a -y.”

“Well, Lucie with an -ie not a -y, that is a very good name.” You smiled and turned back to the pitch, watching the game resume. You could tell the cameras were on you; you could see Ingrid shaking her head from the bench every time your face was displayed on the big screen.

The rest of the match was uneventful. Barca scored another two goals, bringing the final score to 5 – 1.

“So, Lucie with an -ie. Whose number’s on the back?” You nodded to her shirt.

“Lucy Bronze,” she cheered. “She’s my favourite. And we have the same name, but we spell it differently.” Lucie said with all the seriousness of a 6-year-old with something essential to tell you.

“Can I let you into a secret?” You leant down to whisper to her conspiratorially. She nodded enthusiastically. “She’s my favourite too.” Lucie looked up wide-eyed at you. “Do you want me to try and get you her shirt?” You asked. Her eyes grew even wider; you thought her head might pop off with how aggressively she was nodding. “Ok, wait here, ok. I’ll be right back.” You smiled as you hopped the barrier again, making your way onto the pitch and headed straight to Lucy. She was standing with Keira and Leah, clearly having a bit of a catch-up.

“Hello, trouble.” Keira teased as you appeared.

“Yeh, yeh.” You lightly shoved her head. “Can I have your shirt, my love?” You asked Lucy. She cocked her head at your request. “I think I might have found your biggest fan.” You smiled as you started to take your jumper off, grateful that you had put a shirt on underneath for once. Lucy laughed as she whipped off her top, thanking you as she slipped the hoodie on to keep her covered. You hugged Leah quickly before dragging Lucy away to find your new friend.

“Alexia wants to talk to you, pretty girl,” Lucy said as you pulled her back to the stands.

“Later,” you sighed, not really in the mood for anything Alexia had to say. “I want you to meet my new friend first.” You looked at her with a wide smile as you came to a stop in front of Lucie.

“Lucie with an -ie meet Lucy with a -y. Luce, this is my new friend, Lucie.” You did the unnecessary introductions.

“Hi,” Lucy grinned at the young girl. You handed the jersey off to her mum as you left them alone for a little bit, moving to interact with some of the other fans.

A little while later, familiar strong arms wrapped around your waist, distracting you from your conversation with Alessia and Lotte.

“Nosotras tenemos que ir, lovely” Lucy whispered, kissing your shoulder lightly.

“We get it; you speak Spanish.” Alessia teased, waving goodbye to you as you sent them both a kiss.

“Vamos,” you joked as you leant back into Lucy. Although your position made it a little awkward to walk, you were too comfortable to move.

“What reward do you want this week?” Lucy whispered in your ear as you entered the tunnel.

“Reward? But I got a card, two, in fact. Or did you miss the part where McCabe ran into me twice, and you went down a player?” You looked at her, confused.

“I know, but you were so, so sexy.” She squeezed you not-too-gently. “I’ve got to treat my pretty girl when she looks that good,” she teased, but you knew by the glint in her eyes that she was deadly serious. You hummed.

“I think I might have some ideas,” you mused as you leant back on her subtly, letting your head drop back on her shoulder.

“Good,” she whispered back, littering a series of kisses to your cheek. “My short, sexy defender.” She laughed.

“Oi,” you slapped her arm. “Enough with the short jokes.”

“Never, you get so riled up by them.” She laughed at your angry expression. “And you know exactly what that does to me,” she said lowly in your ear – a lasting promise of later left unspoken in the air.

I hope you enjoyed it <3<3<3<3