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dycefic · 2 years

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Tom Saves The World

Everyone knows that it’s super-heroes who save the world. They fight the aliens, or the monsters, or the bad guys. And mostly, that’s true.

But not always.

I’m a psychic. The thing is, my range isn’t that great. I don’t have much detail more than about 36 hours out, 48 for something really big. I’d had a nebulous sort of bad feeling for about a week before this one finally hit, and it was big. Something very tough and very supernatural was going to come up out of the harbor of Nova Roma, and the death-toll was going to be high. Crazy high.

I did all I could. I told the Unaligned Supers Job Placement Agency, and they put the word out to everyone on both sides of the Line. The Henchman’s Union don’t like natural disasters any more than anyone else, and they’re often quite helpful against eldritch horrors and stuff like that. Things that don’t hire henchmen and ruin the property values.

The trouble was, nobody big was around. The only really big team of heavy hitters on the West Coast were away dealing with some sort of doomsday cult - I never was clear on what that was about - and Guarde and Dog Fox were out of touch and even Mx Frantique was out of town at someone’s wedding. It was going to happen in less than two days and we couldn’t find anyone to help and I was seriously considering calling in some kind of bomb threat or something to get people away from the docks, at least.

And then, about eighteen hours out, it just… went away.

Which never, ever happens.

My powers might be short range, but they’re reliable. I don’t get stuff wrong, and I hadn’t been able to find any way to prevent what was going to happen, or even been able to identify anyone who could. But someone did. Someone had done something to stop the threat, something that happened literally while I was opening my car door. When I reached for the handle, thousands of people were going to die. By the time the door was open, there was no threat at all.

At first I thought it must have been a ranged thing. Like, whatever I’d been seeing (all those teeth, I saw them in nightmares for months after) had been distracted by something tasty on its way here and gotten off track, that it’d come up somewhere up or down the coast. My range isn’t that big, either. Anything outside about thirty miles might as well be on Mars for all I know about it. So we kept a watch out, and warned the chapters of the Union and the Agency in other cities.

But nothing happened. Nothing at all. I couldn’t explain it, and I was really unpopular for a while. Supers do NOT like people who cry wolf. There’s enough freaky shit we have to deal with without someone panicking everyone with a dire prophecy that fizzles out.

Thank all the gods that Tunny showed up. Nobody’s really sure what Tunny actually is - sentient fish creature, some kind of really mutated human, an alien, or what. She changes her story a lot. But she’s pretty friendly, especially for a twenty-foot-long horror-movie-mermaid-thing with four arms, so when she came into harbor to pick up some supplies a guy from the Agency went out to tell her what I’d seen. I’d gotten a wharf and dock number, so she went down to check.

I don’t think anyone had ever seen Tunny scared before. Her English wasn’t good enough to really explain what she’d found hibernating down there, but it was something very old and very powerful and very dangerous, and if it’d been woken up my vision would just have been the start of the crisis.

She rounded up a bunch of whales to help her move it, once she was sure it hadn’t been agitated and wasn’t likely to rouse if moved carefully. They towed it out before dawn, not wanting to scare the civilians, and when I saw the footage from the helicopter the Union sent up, when I saw how big the swell was, how many whales were pulling, I swear I nearly crapped myself. No wonder I’d been getting hints a week in advance. Somehow we dumbass humans had built a whole fucking city almost on top of some kind of Ancient Old… THING, and eroded the sea-bottom until it was exposed, and if someone hadn’t done whatever it was we’d all have been dead long before Tunny arrived. And not just all as in ‘all of Nova Roma’, it could have taken out half of the continent... or all of it.

It took me years to find out what happened. YEARS. It turned into a kind of hobby, tracking everything that might possibly have come into contact with Wharf 38 on that particular day.

And what I found, eventually, was a city employee named Thomas Briggs.

I’d found out early on that 38 wasn’t in good repair. Not that bad, but not great. It was old, things were getting a bit saggy in a few places, but there’d been no sign that anything was likely to fall off on the day. It had sat there for a couple of years after the crisis that never happened,, doing its job without problems then been rebuilt without any drama at all.

Entirely, completely, and totally because of Thomas Briggs.

The story, when I finally pieced it together, went like this.

There’d been some project or other to build some sort of high-budget science project over on the other side of the harbor, hanging it off’ve Pier 8, the furthest out on that side. Something about tracking sea-life or ships or something. My conversational English is near perfect, I’ve been here for years, but I don’t speak science nerd in ANY language. It’d all been approved, some university was covering most of the cost, it was all gonna be fine. And it was gonna be over on 8 because that side of the harbor is the shallow end. It’s where the sailboats go. All the big stuff that would block visual sensors and deafen the thing with engine noise was over in the thirties, in the real deep water.

They were almost ready to install the thing when a bunch of rich dudes suddenly got their panties in a bunch over having a big sciency tower thing ruining the view from their yachts, and tried to get it moved.

To, and I’m sure you guessed this, Wharf 38.

Which was completely insane. It wouldn’t be able to do its job over there, it’d be way more in the way, and (although they couldn’t have known it) the installation would definitely have woken up the Thing sleeping by the wharf and we all would have died. But rich dudes with yachts don’t care about that stuff. They’d bitched out and bribed up their friends on the city council, and those friends had done their thing, and the scientists had been left in the dark, and it’d almost gone through. They’d figured to install it right away, so that when the science guys found out it’d be too late and they’d either have to pay a lot to move it or just use it where it was.

Enter Thomas Briggs.

Mr Briggs, Tom to his friends, didn’t give a crap about the yachts or the science. He was a senior money guy for the commercial wharfs, the one who figured out things like how much money they’d take in in a quarter, and what the repair budget should be, stuff like that. He found out about this thing two days before the disaster would have happened, and sat down and did the math.

Then he sent out an email to the guys trying to push this through, and he ripped into them like they’d threatened to knife his mother. I got my hands on that email, and I didn’t understand a lot of it any more than the council guys would have. It was ALL numbers. But at the top he wrote it out in plain English. Pier 8 was new, and rated to handle the weight of the thingy. Wharf 38 was going to be scrapped in a few years, and it was NOT rated for that kind of structure. Pier 8 had plenty of room around it. Wharf 38 was already a tight fit for the big commercial ships, and adding a structure sticking out on one side would block off at least half of the wharf to those ships completely.

Bottom line, putting the thing on Wharf 38 would cost the city hundreds of thousands of dollars more per year than putting it on 8, AND the city would have to eat the cost if 38 collapsed under it which it could easily do, AND the city would have to pay to move it in a couple of years anyway when 38 was due to be rebuilt.

And he cc-ed every important person he had an email address for, including the mayor, the anti-corruption people, and several reporters.

He must have sent that email right when I was opening my car door.

The whole plan collapsed right there, and some people got fired. There was no news story because the whole plan got killed before the reporters even got to the right office. The installation was started on Wharf 8 a few weeks later and I never connected it to a commercial wharf on the other side of the harbor.

One email, and a man who I never could have located in time, a man who had no powers at all, a man who was just conscientiously doing his job looking after the city’s money saved the city, and the continent, and maybe even the world.

Who could have predicted that? Not me, that’s for damn sure.

I can’t deny that I went home and got drunk off my ass that night. Just thinking about how close that had been made my hands shake. One man. One honest man who’d done the math.

I put the word out, once the hangover wore off. What had happened. That Thomas Briggs was the reason we were all alive and everyone better make his life real nice from now on, because he’d done what none of us could do and nobody but the supers would ever even know it.

He’s got a lot of luck coming to him, I can tell you. We don’t forget debts like that.

And I knew that’d freak him out, because honest men don’t like it when people start doing them a lot of favors for no apparent reason, so I tracked him down at the little bar where he likes to have a quiet beer on Friday nights before he goes home. Hell, I was the one who’d gone through it all, back then. I should get to tell him.

I sat down beside him at the bar and looked at him. I saw a thin, small, balding man who looked like he worried too much and didn’t get enough sleep, with lines around his eyes. Yeah, he looked like a man who’d do the math. “Thomas Briggs?”

He blinked at me through his glasses. “Yes? Do I know you?”

“No, you don’t. My name’s Barkhado Omar, and I’ve been looking for you for a long time.” I offered him my hand and he shook it, still looking confused. Which was fair, ‘cause I doubt a lot of seven foot tall Somali women came up to him in bars even when he was young. He’s got to be close to retirement now.

He frowned. “Looking for me? Why?”

I smiled at him. “Tom, let me buy you a drink and tell you about the day you saved the world.”

It’s usually us who save the city, or the world. We have all the intel, all the advantages, all the powers.

But sometimes it’s not. Sometimes it’s someone like Tom Briggs, doing the right thing at the right time and never knowing that he changed the course of history.

Wild, huh?

This story is a direct result of me and my ex chatting about how different the entire Marvel Universe would have been if Jean’s first ‘resurrection’ - being found in a life pod under a wharf, IIRC - had happened at like... any other time. Earlier. Later. It would have changed SO MUCH.

And we speculated about how it could happen, how someone just puttering around in middle management might have unknowingly saved countless lives, prevented Madelyne’s corruption, the legacy virus, all of it, just by postponing that particular set of repairs a bit longer.... and I couldn’t resist writing a version of the story in which Tom does, in fact, save the world.

#short fiction #dyce's supers universe #comics inspired #sometimes something just goes right #horseshoe repair

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jasonsutekh · 2 years

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Roma citta aperta (Rome, Open City) (1945)

In occupied Italy the resistance is still fighting for freedom despite the Nazi net closing in on its leaders.

This is a film full of strong messages born from a time of oppression and great cruelty. While the dark elements are prominent, this only serves to highlight the moments in which the human spirit prevails. There are elements of faith and ethics used to reinforce the necessity of action in the face of suffering, even from those committed to peace.

It is very slow for a war film, even by the standard of the 40s but this is because the focus is more on espionage than any spy elements or suspense. This reduces the target audience to mainly film and war enthusiasts but doesn’t make it any less valuable historically. Even so the lack of action makes it a slow burn, mainly becoming engrossing in the final 20-30 minutes.

The production is in the neo-realist design so there are some scenes in which real news or documentary footage is cut into the story, securing the fictional events to an imposing reality. There are a number of moments where the cinematography is interesting to contrast the real with art and suggest more than the limited production would otherwise have been able to depict.

A drawback of making a war film at such a time is that there can’t be a soft conclusion since there can be no winners. To present any happy ending would be to undermine the devastation wreaked on the city and its population. The movie was produced in such turmoil that the raw material was inconsistently obtained, therefore the quality varies from shot to shot sometimes.

4/10 -It’s below average, but only just!-

-Considered by some to be part of a directorial trilogy, it’s successors being Paisan (1946) and Germany Year Zero (1948).

-The original negative was found in 2004 after being thought lost.

-When Don Pietro is arrested, the fear on the actors face is reportedly real, as they were filming the scene an armed bystander tried to prevent the staged arrest, believing it real.

#Film #Review #Roma citta aperta #Rome Open City #1945 #War Film #War #Neo-Realist #JasonSutekh

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skipper1331 · 6 months

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Loyalty and Love // Leah Williamson

warnings: dead family member

Leah was a gooner through and through, never been seen in a different club jersey than the arsenals as she was Arsenals biggest fan.

She went through all the youth team stages until she reached the senior team. Her body was full of loyalty to the club while your career path was very different - something Leah did not like about you.

Your career started at your hometown club near Bavaria, Germany, until FC Bayern München became aware of you. You were the only girl in the league and still scored the most goals. So to be fair, your actual club career started at the FC Bayern academy. You started there at the age of 10 and played there until the age of 16.

At 16 years old, you said good bye to Germany and played for Ajax in the Netherlands. You played two years for them and enjoyed every second with the Ajax family, yet after those two years, you transferred to AS Roma. You had many transfer offers, inside the league and outside of it but even though, you had transferred a few times already, you had one rule: never play in the same league with a different club. Roma sent you on loan to Olympique Lyon where you won the champions league and the league, each time as a key player of the team. OL offered you a real contract which you gladly signed - winning the treble. After three years in France, where you had learned a lot technical stuff but also had developed further as a person, it was time for a new challenge. A new club and country.

Spain was calling, FC Barcelona to be exact. After a teary good bye, you left for good - it was time to shine at Barcelona.

Your talent was magical, you could score from every angle, no matter the position and the fans loved you.

You had been nominated for numerous awards, won many of them yet still you were the kindest person. You always made time for the fans, signed jerseys, took photos and chatted with them. You were down-to-earth.

Of course you had haters, people not liking your volatility but you didn‘t care. You had a mission and would continue it, no matter if you had no fan at all or a the whole woso community behind you. So while your job was to score goals, you only had one goal in mind.

You loved the Spanish weather, you loved the City, you loved the girls. They made Barcelona your home and more than that. Playing alongside Alexia, Mapi, CGH, Aitana and literally every one on the squad was amazing. It was the way they played and the mentality they had that fascinated you.

The first season at Barcelona was the season you won the Ballon D‘or, while still being so young. The combination of the playing style that you learned in the individual clubs in each country also made you Fifas the best. You were the best.

On the pitch, every opponent was afraid of you while off pitch they adored you. It broke your heart to leave Barcelona, the City you adored. So why did you leave? It was the thing you had to do. The thing you promised yourself at the age of 16 when you left Bayern - Arsenal would be your last stop ever. The thing you promised someone. Your retirement club, you would stay there forever - as long as they offered you a contract.

While everybody had greeted you with open arms at your arrival, the skipper kept her distance, only talking to you when necessary. Leah was skeptical to say at least, some things bothered her about you. She didn‘t appreciate your transfers nor respected them. Every country? Really? Why Arsenal? Her childhood club? How long did you want to play here before you stab the team in the back? When another country became interesting? Maybe the US? Sweden?

And then the tape. The strip of tape on your shoulder, it didn‘t make any sense to her. It didn‘t seem like you had problems with your shoulder nor an injury in the last few years (which she had obviously checked) so why the tape? She - well actually everyone, never saw you without. When it slowly started to look rancid, the next second it looked like new again. When you changed, even in the shower after playing it was always there. Were you hiding something?

Leah didn‘t like you, it was clear as the day but (even if she would never admit it out loud) you were a fantastic footballer. Your feet could do magic with the ball, from assisting to scoring to defending, everything you did on the pitch was faboulous. That, she had to appreciate, maybe you would help Arsenal to win the league.

This season. who knows how long you‘ll stay.

After your first month with the gunners, you knew for sure, your heart and brain realized it for the first time: after years, you had finally fulfilled your promise.

You felt peace, nothing more. Maybe you could forgive yourself someday.

Over time, Leah‘s dislike towards you turned into much more - hate. When you were near the blonde, she would glare at you or leave the room,

the moments you tried to talk to her, to get to know her, she ignored you and

she would rudely comment on the things you said.

After months of trying, you just stopped. If she doesn‘t want to talk to you that‘s okay. You didn’t have to be friends - colleagues, that‘s it.

"When I visited Greece-" you started to tell Lia about the beauty of the country when her work wife cut you off, "wow, Y/L/N, a country you didn‘t play in, really respectable" Leah spat, rolling her eyes. Lia smacked the back of her head, her behavior unbelievable.

It was no secret that the defender felt some sort of dislike towards you - noticeable for your team mates and especially for the swiss as she knew Leah like the back of her hand.

"Ignore her" the midfielder stated, asking you to continue your story.

"It‘s fine" not in the mood to tell the end of your Greece-story, you left the two LW‘s joining Vic as she juggled with the ball.

"You really need to stop that" the swiss international grumbled, "she‘s actually really nice"

"And her loyalty sucks! I won’t let her ruin this club"

The brunette watched the blonde march away, arms crossed.

Leah‘s behavior continued like that, rude comments sent your way, cut off mid sentence and ignorance accompanied you every single day. But your mindset was clear: you couldn’t be bothered by her.

You understood that Leah was skeptical of you, you‘re new and played for several clubs but on the pitch you played your absolute best each game. You deserved at least some respect.

"Where‘s hopper?" Leah asked - you’re never late. Her new nickname for you showed her antipathy towards you yet hiding it well enough, so other people outside of the team wouldn’t get suspicious.

"She‘s on her way home for a few days" Lia replied calmly, not wanting the blonde to explode.

You had texted Lia about your plans earlier this morning - she was your friend after all. Just because she was great friends with Leah, didn‘t mean you couldn’t be friends with her too. Like I said, you were friends with the whole team, just not with Leah. Besides you enjoyed talking to Wally as it was in your mother tongue, conversation flowing with an ease.

"What the fuck?! She does know we‘re playing a derby this weekend!" The England captain growled, marching out of the changing room, already calling you. Who do you think you were?

Her calls went straight to voicemail which only angered and frustrated her more. why were you so infuriating?

The defender was quick to approach to Jonas - what was the thinking letting you leave? Did he even know about this?

"Why did you let her leave?!" the woman asked loudly and harshly. You made her blood boil. "Is she playing on Saturday? You should kick her out of the squad! This behavior is unacceptable" she scolded.

Even though Leah knew the team would need you, she was too caught up in her anger.

"Who are you talking about?" the coach asked rather confused. Was he missing something?

"Your new signing" she huffed out frustrated, how can he be this clueless?

"She‘s not here. Apparently at home in Germany, did you know about this?"

"Oh! Yes, I know about this. It‘s in her contract"

"What do you mean? In her contract?"

"She‘s allowed to leave, no matter what day, at-" he looked at his watch, checking the date, "at the 20th of March for three days. One day to get there, one day to stay, one day to leave" he explained.

"Why?"

"I can’t tell you that"

On game day, you arrived on time at the stadium, your favourite defender already impatiently waiting for you in the locker room. When you entered the room, she was about to stomp over, telling you how your behavior was unacceptable and jeopardizing the team but something told her not to. Your shoulders were sagged, your eyes red and puffy as you had bags under them ad well - it looked like you had been crying for awhile and not sleeping either. You looked small and sad, but not the sadness-sad, somehow it looked like grieving-sad or guilty-sad. Leah didn't know if her analysis was correct, after all, she didn't know you as you weren’t friends - not even close to that - and to the others it seemed like you were your usual self.

As you walked past her to get to your cubby, she grabbed your hand. "Are you okay?" she asked, genuinely concerned about your well-being. Her stone cold persona towards you was gone for the moment, eyes scanning your face - what was wrong? How can she help you?

"I‘m fine, Leah"

Her hand had a firm grip on yours yet it was so gentle and soft - it was almost like you could feel her 'caring' about you.

But you knew, she only cared about the team and not about you.

"Thank you for asking, though" you smiled a bit, before leaving her touch and walking over to your cubby.

You didn't want to be rude to her because it seemed like she was dead serious about her question. Besides, if you wanted to have at least a somewhat normal work-relationship with her, this might was a step in the right direction.

However, you had to admit, the feeling of her holding your hand was quite nice and made you hope for eventually being friends one day.

The game started with you on the bench as agreed with Jonas. It was his decision if he wanted to put you in or not and you respected either way. You were thankful enough that he had shown so much understanding about your family situation, so you wouldn’t be the one to complain about not playing.

Next to you on the bench sat the one and only Leah Williamson, who watched the game very carefully, attentively and critically - the same as you did. In your heads, the two of you analyzed what happened on the field, every bad pass, every unused space or loss of the ball was noted while you tried to come up with solutions. While Leah stated her analysis to everyone at half time, you talked to the relevant person what they should pay particular attention to - most opponents had the same playing style, even if the tactics were changed. Overall, it wasn't the played game in general that mattered, but rather the individual players on the field. If you watched them long enough, it wasn't too difficult to outplay them and their team - Leah and you knew that.

Both of you got subbed on in the 74th minute, the defender doing her job brilliantly while you ran down the wing. The game seemed like it had shifted as soon as the two of you took in your positions. Chances were created, space was used, passed connected perfectly - in all honestly, Tottenham didn‘t have any control over the match anymore, thanks to Leah and your critical eyes.

The score changed when Leah sent a ball flying towards you. With one quick motion, you dribbled around the defender, firing a shot on goal - Tottenhams goalkeeper stood no chance.

That evening a special chemistry was born between your favourite defender and her favourite hopper.

If you were hoping that the 'how are you' question meant something, you were wrong.

Her arrogant attitude got worse, as did her mean behavior towards you. You thought that maybe, just maybe, the link up on the pitch earned you enough respect that she at least refrains from commenting. Yet she questioned everything you did and not only that: you were regularly asked whether you would leave the club at the end of the season or whether you would leave one season after that. At this point you felt helpless, you didn’t know what her problem was with you - she seemed like a nice person towards everyone else.

"Come on, Leah, leave me alone" you grumbled as she stood next to you in the locker room with her arms crossed. Especially today she was getting on your last nerve. You hadn‘t slept well the last few days and the bickering was getting more and more exhausting.

"You weren‘t concentrated today" she stated, "this isn‘t acceptable at Arsenal."

"Leah-" Wally tried to stop her but there was no chance. She wouldn’t hold back.

"No, she has to know. She‘s played at enough clubs to know that she has to give 100%!"

"As if you haven‘t had a bad day before"

"I can keep things professional"

"No you can‘t! If you could, you would leave me the fuck alone. You are all judgy but never played somewhere else than Arsenal, so get a fucking grip. At least I have the experience of other leagues"

The whole changing room gasped, Katie smirking, happy that you stood your ground. Leah’s behavior was ridiculous. And this time she took it too far.

On an emotional level, your week had been absolutely shitty.

It‘s like a haunted house, only you‘re the ghost.

On an physical level, you were exhausted.

So, neither emotionally nor physically you could deal with her at the moment.

"Watch your mouth-" the defender started before you cut her off.

"No, you will watch yours" your pointer finger angrily poked her chest, "Listen to me closely, I will not repeat myself. You, Leah Williamson, will stay away from me. I‘m not your friend, I’m not your mate, I’m your colleague, so treat me with damn respect" with that you grabbed your stuff and left.

Leah was breathing heavily, your anger awfully attractive.

"Why are you being like this?" McCabe asked, the girls in the room waiting for an answer. This couldn’t be just because you played for several clubs and she was questioning your loyalty - there had to be more.

"Because she‘s hiding something! I won‘t let her ruin this club" she growled, sitting down in her cubby.

"What should she be hiding?" Steph questioned, you seemed like an honest and truthful person.

"She literally left for three days out of nowhere!"

"She did that when we played at Barca together too" Laia added. She had never thought about that before. But Leah was right, it was unusual to not show up at training when you weren‘t injured or sick, especially since it was in the middle of the season.

"See!"

"I still don’t see the problem" Steph shrugged her shoulders, "she‘s a lovely person and you would know that if you gave her the chance to show it" with that the Australian left. You were such a lovely girl, at least someone had to defend you. Partly, Steph could understand where Leah was coming from - that girl was bleeding Arsenal red.

After Steph had left, the other girls started to leave too, Leah and Kim the only ones left.

Leah was sorting through her bag, checking if she had everything she needed when Kim broke the silence, "Her brother died when she was 16. The 21st of March is the day of his death"

Leah stopped her movements, "what?" she turned around, the colour leaving her face.

"That’s all I know"

Kim grabbed her bag, walking past the blonde, about to leave, "I’m disappointed in you, Leah. We're a family here, and you didn't show her that. Have you ever thought about why she played in every league? You’re criticizing but not questioning. You doubt her loyalty, but she hasn't transferred within the league - doesn't that show her respect for the club she‘s played at?"

"Kim-"

"Have a nice evening"

Alone in the changing room, Leah tried to process the information, now it made sense that you were at home for a few days. It was his anniversary.

She had been a complete ass to you without knowing your story - she still didn't. However, for the first time she felt something like interest. She wanted to get to know you. She wanted to know your story. But most of all she wanted to apologize. You seemed like a sweet girl.

Of course, most of her questions were still unanswered: the tape? Why did you transfer so much? You‘re young.. but for the first time she didn't care. She fucked up and was determined to start over.

I‘m disappointed in you, Leah.

At home, the defender sat on her couch, eating some food while the tv was showing her favourite show. This wasn’t right. She couldn’t wait till tomorrow. She had to talk to. Now.

Leaving her food on the table, the blonde called Lia, asking where you lived. The Swiss was hesitant to tell her as she wanted to protect you but Leah sounded genuinely upset about her own behavior.

"Please.. I- I‘m in the wrong here, I know that now. I don‘t want her to go to bed angry or feeling like she‘s not a part of the Arsenal family."

After that, the Swiss texted your address, the England captain already on her way.

When she arrived at her destination, she felt nervous. She rang the bell, hoping you wouldn’t open. She wasn‘t prepared at all - she didn’t know what to say or how to make things up with you.

In that moment, she realized maybe it was a hasty decision to just show up in front of your door and apologize. It wouldn’t be deserved to accept the apology straightaway.

"Leah?" you said surprised.

"Hopper" it was almost inaudible as you had knocked the air out of her lungs. You looked breathtaking. No, it wasn‘t something fancy - you wore an oversized shirt and some shorts while your hair was down but you looked naturally beautiful.

"What are you doing here? I told you to leave me alone"

"I- um.. I came to apologize?"

"Are you asking me that?"

"I came to apologize"

"Go home, Leah-"

"Give me a chance-"

"No. Look, I don’t know why you are here or what your problem is but I don‘t want to play your sick games" you stepped back, closing the door, leaving the defender dumbfounded in front of your home.

"I know about you brother!" she called, helpless on what do to. But as soon as the word 'brother' left her mouth, she regretted it.

The door was thrown open, "what did you just say?!" you were angrier than ever. Your family had always been a sensitive subject.

"I know about your brother" the audacity Leah had to repeat her words was unbelievable.

She squeezed herself inside, looking around.

"I swear to god, if you don‘t leave-"

"I‘m really sorry" she turned around, you didn‘t know if she was talking about your brother or how she had treated you and neither did she. Either way, it made you furios, you were balling your hands into fists, trying to stay calm.

"Is that him?" she asked, walking to the picture frame on your shelf, "what‘s his name?"

It was a picture of the two of you as kids, both of you wearing Germany jerseys as you grinned in the camera - one of your favourite pictures.

And that made you explode. How dare she come to your home, implying to apologize which she wasn‘t and then act nosy.

You marched over, grabbing her at the collar of her shirt and pushing her against the wall, "leave me alone" you weren’t shouting but you voice was loud, clear and firm, almost intimidating.

Her breath hitched, "I can‘t" you were so close to her. She could see all tiny freckles, those which only appeared when you were in the sun. She was intrigued by you. Her eyes darted around your features, the wrinkle between your brows slowly disappearing.

You didn‘t know what came over you, but in less than a second, you smashed your lips against hers. Teeth were clashing, all anger and frustration purred in, hands gripping and pulling as both of your minds went blank. Neither of you could think about anything else but each other.

The day she stood in front of your apartment, wasn’t brought up again yet you had to admit something shifted in your dynamic that night.

The chemistry you had on the pitch only grew, Leah assisted while you scored countless of goals.

Her behavior wasn‘t as bad as before anymore, she started to greet you, say good bye or other acts of kindness yet every once in a while a snarky comments left her mouth.

After Arsenal had won the conti cup against Chelsea, the celebrations were on the rise when you entered the club. You saw some girls dancing around, some lingering at the bar and others sitting at the table.

You joined the girls at the table, sitting down next to Stina. Lost in conversation with the Swede you didn‘t notice a blonde defender standing right behind you with her arms crossed and a pout on her face, "you‘re sitting on my seat, hopper" she grumbled, the pout increasing.

"Sit somewhere else" you replied, not looking up as you continued your conversation which had been rudely cut off by the English woman.

"There is no seat left"

This time you turned around, looking up from your seat as the defender glared at you.

It was the first time, you had seen her tonight and she looked absolutely gorgeous with the outfit she was wearing.

"I think you‘re old enough to deal with that, aren‘t you?" you smiled sarcastically at her, once again turning to Stina.

"I am" she stated, a smug smile plastered on her face. With the alcohol in her system, she simply sat on your lap, one arm going around your shoulders while she started her own conversation. Weirdly confused but somehow not minding, you let her be, your arms going around her waist to support her. No one said anything about, most of them not realizing what was happening or simply not caring - as long as you weren‘t fighting everything seemed fine.

The night continued like that, chatting, dancing and enjoying the time.

"Could you let me get up, please? I‘d like to have another drink" you asked the defender who immediately got up, "can you bring one for me too?"

"Sure"

She smiled shyly before you left, sitting back down, Lia looking at her with a 'tell me right now what‘s going on' expression.

"What?"

"Seriously? What‘s going on between the two of you?" the Swiss asked, Leah‘s eyes already back on you as you stood at the bar, ordering.

"Nothing"

The defender’s brows furrowed when a man approached you, standing way too close to you, her jaw clenching.

She saw you taking a step to the side, intending to signal the man that you were not interested. In responds, he only stepped closer.

Angrily, the blonde stood up, marching over, "is everything alright here?" her hands settled on your waist, pulling you protectively towards her.

"Everything‘s alright, mate" the man slurred, stepping forward, "I’m just getting to know your friend."

Leah was quick to step in front of you, her hand holding onto you to know you‘re safe, "leave my girlfriend alone or I will break your nose" she threatened.

The man held his hands in surrender before he left.

In an instant, she turned around, cupping your cheeks, checking if you were alright.

"I‘m okay" you stated. What just happened? Girlfriend? Weird man? Break his nose? Girlfriend?

"Here‘s your drink"

She took her drink, resting her hand on the small of your back, guiding you back to the table.

What‘s just happened?

Lia was the only one left at the table while the others had joined the dancers. You were about to sit down on an empty chair when the blonde pulled you on her lap - roles reversed.

Raising an brow, "There are enough empty seats this time"

"I don’t care, hopper"

"I‘ll join the rest on the dancing floor" Wally said, winking at Leah whose cheeks turned red.

"You‘re so beautiful, you know" the England captain said, cheeks turning a deeper shade of red.

"How many drinks did you have?" you giggled, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns along the back of neck. "Not enough to punch that guy" she growled.

You laughed, "you‘re cute when you‘re jealous" not so sober yourself.

She squeezed your hips in responds, resting her head on your shoulder.

Both of you enjoyed the silence that came over you, also enjoying the closeness you shared in that moment. Leah wasn‘t forgiven and she knew that yet she couldn’t stay away from you. Somehow you were addicting.

For once, it was nice not to argue with the blonde but to enjoy her company. She was cute, you couldn’t lie.

"I‘m very sorry for my behavior" she whispered, "I’d like to start over again" you turned towards her, eyes locking, "I’m not asking for your forgiveness, just for a chance to show you that I’m not an awful person. You are a part of the Arsenal family and I’m sorry for treating you otherwise"

You let her words sink in. She was right, she couldn’t ask for your forgiveness because too much had happened already but starting over seemed like an opportunity for the both of you.

"I’m Y/N"

The next weeks, Leah was the sweetest person to you. Each morning, she greeted you with the widest smile and when she left the facility, she always made sure to tell you good bye. She treated you with respect and listened to everything you had to say. She was amazed by the stuff you had to say. She couldn’t care less if it was something as simple as your favourite colour or an opinion on something. Everything you said was important to her.

Soon the small talks turned into longer conversations until they were endless.

In matches, when somebody fouled you Leah was the first to stick up for you, arguing with the opponent before she argued with the ref (of course after she had made sure you were okay.)

Slowly but surely, Leah earned your trust and appreciation.

She wasn‘t just anybody - she was Leah Williamson and once she had set her mind, you couldn’t stop her from doing it.

She wasn‘t the Leah you had met at your arrival - she changed for good. She was much more. She was funny, loving and caring, attentive and respectful - she was actually an amazing woman and your friend.

Standing in the kitchen of Leah’s apartment, you made dinner for the both of you while she sat on the counter watching you and eating the ingredients.

The atmosphere was tranquil and relaxed as music filled the background.

Peace.

"His name‘s Sebastian" you turned around, grabbing another ingredient out of the fridge while you avoided Leah‘s eyes, painful stings in your heart. You wouldn‘t cry, not now. "He‘s three years older than me" you inhaled sharply, trying to compose yourself as you continued to cook. "You would have loved him, he was a big Arsenal fan, watched every match" you chuckled, "but was the worst player of all time. He never really was a sports guy anyway, he was rather the calm type of person. He loved to cook - that‘s actually one of his favourite recipes" you nodded your head towards the food splayed out on the counter.

The dish you were making had brought you so much comfort after his death. It felt familiar. Sometimes, you imagined him standing in the kitchen, so concentrated that his brows would furrow as he cut the vegetables or when he seasoned - never a drop too much. He was very particular when it came to cooking, but rightly so, because when he did it, it always tasted absolutely perfect.

"He used to be my best friend"

Your heart broke into pieces saying it out loud. He wasn‘t just anybody - he was your brother, the only man you ever loved and him more than anyone.

The two of you had a special bond, you basically owed him your entire career. Because it was him who kicked the ball around with you for hours,

because it was him who drove with you to training when your parents had to work,

because it was him who always watched your matches,

because it was him who always believed in you, even when you were on the verge of giving up.

He was your biggest supporter, the person who believed you could be the best footballer in the world one day and the one person who made sure that you had a life outside of football.

And even though you would have never shared your charger with him, you would have given him your lungs, so he could breathe.

"What happened to him?" Leah asked, her voice gentle, testing the waters if it was okay to ask or too much.

"When-" you closed your eyes, holding back the tears that were about to fall, "I was at a birthday party. At some point during the night I asked him to pick me up because I wasn't feeling well. He did it without hesitation. On the way home we- we got hit by a car and crashed into a tree. Both of us were conscious but he was coughing and bleeding very badly. It looked very bad. I prayed to every god I knew that they should take me and not him- they didn‘t listen" tears were streaming down your face as you aggressively cut the remaining vegetables, "his last words were 'make me proud' and i remember shouting at him but it was too late. I told him I loved him- he took his last breath with a smile on his face"

Silence filled the room, small sniffles the only thing being heard. You grabbed a tissue, blowing your nose and another one to dry your tears, "I am- was blaming myself for what happened, so I left home as soon as I could"

Leah was listening carefully, her heart aching seeing you in pain and the pain you had been through.

"I always complained about others leagues, because they seemed so easy and everything" you chuckled at the memory, "and he always was like 'you can‘t complain if you haven‘t played there'" mocking him, the most german accent in your voice, "so that’s what I did. I have played in several leagues but I always knew Arsenal would be my last stop"

Everything made sense now, Leah‘s heart broke even more, realizing what an absolute ass she was while you only had one goal in mind - to make him proud.

It was never your plan to ruin Arsenal, you wanted to stay there to fulfill the promise you had made in the night that changed your life.

Leah saw you with different eyes now, her heart was beating for you in more than one way. She admired you - for the way you play, how strong you are and how hard life had been for you yet still smiling throughout it.

She had to protect the ray of sunshine and the feisty beast you could be. You weren‘t just anybody - you were Y/N Y/L/N, the best footballer in the world.

The defender was a 100% sure, your brother would be more than proud of you and the woman you became.

But she also knew what she had to do. You deserved an apology, even more than that - you deserved every good thing in the world. And if she could she would take all your pain away.

It was in the middle of the night, all lights turned off besides in the kitchen of the blonde defender. She sat at the kitchen table, one sheet of paper and a fountain pen in front of her.

Dear Sebastian,

I’m Leah, Leah Williamson.

I've been playing for Arsenal my whole life. I've had my best and worst moments at the club. All of my best moments had to do with my team, my friends, my family, whereas my worst moments had something to do with my performance or injuries. Unfortunately, because of my loyalty and love for the club, I was blinded from seeing the important things - your sister. I never understood why she had transferred so often - it seemed like she was volatile and didn't understand loyalty and love. But she does - she does that more than anyone else.

Her loyalty was only ever dedicated to you.

She is an incredible person and I’m so sorry for the way i treated her at her arrival (I will tell her that, this time when I’m fully sober and explain everything). But I’m writing you to tell you that I like your sister, more than I ever thought I would. To be honest, that‘s the first time I’m admitting it to someone, I didn‘t even admit it fully to myself - but I do. I like her. And I guess, this is me asking for your blessing.

A blessing that I can treat her right if she lets me,

a blessing that I can always support her,

a blessing for one chance with her.

I know, there is much too make up for and my behavior will never be excused - no apology could be strong enough for what I have done - but I want you to know that I will regret it till the rest of my life.

So while you may be her biggest fan from paradise, I want to be her biggest fan from earth.

I promise to do everything in my power to be the best person she deserves.

Sincerely,

Leah Williamson

With a lighter in her pocket and the letter in her hand, she went outside on the balcony. The night was chill and quiet, the perfect atmosphere as the moon shone brightly. Her nerves were calming down and her mind seemed to find rest as she looked up in the sky, "one chance" she whispered, burning the letter. She watched the ink and paper slowly disappear, the smoke rising into the night sky. She knew it was unrealistic to expect any sign of positive responds but was it wrong to hope? When the letter was fully burned, she waited till the smoke was completely gone before she went back inside, turning off the kitchen light and making her way to bed.

When the blonde woke up the next day, she made her way to kitchen immediately, needing her morning tea. She frowned and froze.

"Hello?" she called.

No response.

She had turned off the light last night, didn‘t she?

She sure did!

Was this her sign? Was this the sign that the letter arrived?

It was his blessing.

"Hey" the blonde greeted you with a wide smile when you entered the changing room.

Matching her smile, "good morning" you walked to your cubby.

"What are you doing tonight?" she followed you, the smile not leaving her features. Someone woke up in a good mood, you thought.

"Going home, eating, then sleeping" you replied.

"Do you want to watch the Arsenals men game tonight? With me?"

"Are you nervous?" you asked, the defender fidgeting with her fingers as her cheeks were slowly turning red, "I’d love to watch the match with you."

And if you thought her smile couldn’t have gotten wider, you were wrong - the smile she sent you was from ear to ear.

"Perfect" with excitement in her body, she pressed a peck to your cheek before she happily skipped out of the room, the other girls watching the interaction that just happened closely.

"Are you blushing?" Katie laughed loudly as you embarrassingly turned to your bag, in fact blushing.

Half an hour before kick-off you rang Leah‘s doorbell, takeout in your hands. You weren‘t in the mood for cooking and Leah‘s cooking skill were eh, e for effort?, also you had been craving Chinese all day long, so that‘s what you got.

"I brought food with me!" you grinned, pushing yourself inside as soon as the blonde had opened the door.

"What did I do to deserve this?" she asked chuckling at your eagerness as you walked in her kitchen to get some plates and cutlery.

Cheekily, you replied "Nothing, I was just hungry"

Serving the food on the plates, you sat down at the table with Leah, comfortable silence filling the air while the two of you ate dinner.

Something was bothering Leah though, you could tell. Every now and then it seemed like she wanted to say something yet she closed her mouth quickly after.

"I‘m sorry for my behavior" she mumbled, "when you arrived at Arsenal, I mean" you looked up from your plate, meeting her eyes for a brief second, "I was skeptical about your loyalty and it got out of hand" carefully she laid her hand on yours, hoping you wouldn’t pull away.

You didn‘t - you wanted to hear what she had to say.

"I‘m really sorry and I know we started over, but I need you to know how sorry I am, this time without any drink in my system. You’re the most loyal person I know, I just didn‘t notice it"

"Leah" you said gently, "look at me, please"

The defender raised her head, looking at you with unsure eyes, rapidly tapping her foot under the table.

"Thank you for telling me. I guess I would have been skeptical too if I had played for the gunners my whole life" you told her, "I’m not excusing your behavior because it wasn‘t nice or appropriate but I don‘t have any bad blood against you either. In fact, I enjoy your company" you pulled her hand from hers, only to put it against her side profile, softly caressing the apple of her cheek.

Subconsciously, she leaned into your touch, "I‘m very sorry"

"I know"

The unspoken 'why' barrier was finally removed.

"Arsenal will win, I can feel it!" the defender stated, flopping down on the couch. With a bowl of popcorn in your hand, you sat down next to her, somehow your thighs touching even though the couch was big enough. "Liverpool is a tough opponent"

"Oh stop it! None of that"

Making herself comfortable on the couch, she turned on the tv, ready to see Arsenal win.

Getting comfortable yourself, you pulled your legs on the couch, leaning towards the armrest on the other side which earned you a glare, "what do think you‘re doing?"

"Oh, sorry" in an instant your feet were on the ground.

"No, what are you doing over there? Come here" she nodded to the space between her legs, signaling you to cuddle her.

With red cheeks and a racing heart, you crawled over, settling between her legs as your body melted into hers, head resting on her chest while her arms wrapped around you.

Leah was sure you could hear her racing heart and even though she desperately tried to concentrate on the match, she just couldn’t. With you in her arms, she wouldn’t ever want to think about anything else. You looked so precious in her arms, eyes fully focused on the tv.

"You are so beautiful" she admired, looking at you with heart eyes.

"What?"

You prompted yourself up, looking at the blonde who was smiling dazedly at you, "you are just so gorgeous" her fingers started to play with your hair as she got lost in your eyes, "let me take you on a date"

It was crazy how the mood had changed - from apologies at dinner to cuddling on the couch to asking you out.

"Okay" you smiled shyly, cheeks crimson red as your skin tingled.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah"

You stared at each other, eyes shining with adoration and passion, both of you slowly leaning in.

When your lips met, the world seemed to stop spinning, fireworks exploding as you melted into each other and Arsenal getting themselves on the scoreboard. She kissed you so gentle and tender - the complete opposite of the kiss you had shared before.

Everything was perfect.

After many many dates, the blonde asked you to be her girlfriend. None of your friends surprised at this point - you had always been obsessed with each other.

The two of you had been caught kissing several times, not even trying to hide it. Leah loved kissing you but she also loved physical touch in general, always holding your hand, having her arm around your midsection or her hand on your thigh while driving. She couldn’t get enough of you.

"Come to bed" the blonde whined, waiting for you to join her under the covers. Weirdly, neither of you could sleep good at night without being in each others embrace, so it became your routine - either Leah would sleep at your home or the other way around - this night you were at Leah‘s, and obviously you had stolen a shirt from her wardrobe as your pajamas - which she liked very much. You looked so cute in her clothes.

When you joined her, her arms were immediately wrapped around your body as she pulled you close, pressing a good night kiss on your temple.

The next morning, you woke up with hair in your face and a head resting on your chest, the blonde defender still peacefully asleep. You stayed like that for awhile, your hand gently rubbing her back before you slipped out of bed, ready to make some breakfast and your much needed coffee.

Since it was the weekend and your day off, you decided to surprise the England captain with some self made pancakes - you knew she loved them.

While Leah woke up due the feeling of your absence which turned out to be correct, something she didn‘t like. Sleeping without you was awful already but waking up without you? absolutely horrible.

Grumpily, she made her way out of the bedroom, the smell of pancakes hitting her nostrils, lightening her mood in an instant. Following the smell, she found you in the kitchen, only wearing a sports bra and some of her old Arsenal shorts - you looked cute - booping your head to the non existing music, no doubt that you were humming some song. Silently, the defender walked up behind you, her arms smacking around your stomach, "gosh, you scared me!"

"Sorry, baby" apologetic, she pressed multiple kisses on the side of your neck, fingers tracing along your sides.

You inhaled sharply when she traced along the stripe of tape on your shoulder, she had never brought it up before, respecting whatever story was behind it.

"You- you can take it off" you whispered breathlessly, anxiety and fear creeping through your body.

"Are you sure?" her lips kissed the other side of your shoulder, trying to calm you down and ease your mind.

"Yes, just- be careful, please"

and that’s exactly what she was. All of her moves were gentle and careful - you weren’t afraid that it would hurt pulling the tape off but the story behind it.

After the tape was ripped off a big scar was displayed on your shoulder, "it‘s from the car crash" you said, pain shooting through the healed wound. It wasn‘t an injury pain rather the type of phantom pain - suddenly you were back in the car.

"It‘s a constant reminder of what had happened - something that‘s my fault" you admitted, fighting the tears, "I started to cover it up but make up didn‘t work, so the physio at Ajax taped it. And since that day, I do it all the time"

Leah‘s heart broke at the vulnerability she was seeing, your posture seemingly weak and exposed.

"Is this okay?" Her pointer finger traced over the scar..

"Yeah"

..not in a way that made you uncomfortable but in a way that made you feel like you didn’t have to be ashamed of it.

"What about this?" for a moment you didn‘t feel her touch at all before she pressed featherlight kisses over your scar.

"yes"

Tears were streaming down your face, all of your walls broken down now, Leah made you feel perfect the way you are - because you are.

"I‘m proud of you"

Everything came crashing down, a sob escaped your throat and within a second, you were in your girlfriends arms, crying into her shoulder. The tears that you had not allowed to shed in previous years, fell all at once now.

The England captain hugged you through it all, letting you cry as long as you needed - she wouldn‘t go anywhere.

She had promised your brother to do everything in her power to be the best person you deserve and that‘s what she did, does and will do.

She kept her promise and you did too.

Arsenal was always half but never whole, Leah‘s begun to feel like home.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson x you #leah williamson imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #arsenal wfc #arsenal x reader #arsenal women #lionesses #engwnt #engwnt x reader #lionesses x reader #steph catley #katie mccabe #woso image x reader #woso imagine #lia wälti

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lucyandalexiafan · 7 months

Text

Winning against her | Jenni Hermoso x reader

Summary: Jenni had started to watch your instagram stories a few days before the Champions Barcelona - Roma match, liking the last one you posted. At the end of the game she makes it clear that she would like to pass the night with you, what happen if you go there?

Warnings: sex against glass wall, light chocking, light degradation, few spanks. Age gap: reader is 23, Jenni 30.

Words: 3,5k

Please, read the note at the end :)

“You have to beg me better than that if you want to have an orgasm after the match and this bratty behavior” Jenni whispers against your neck, before removing her fingers from you and resting them against your thigh, her satisfied smirk on her face reflected on the wall glass.

The story of how you ended up with your breasts against the glass wall of her apartment, completely naked, extremely horny but also extremely needy, with her behind you edging you, is a bit long.

Jenni had watched all your Instagram stories from three days before the Champions League game and liked the last one that you posted the day of the match. She had started watching them the day before you and your team were supposed to travel to Barcelona, where the first Champions League group stage match would take place, Barcelona against Roma. You had reposted a story posted by the Champions League profile: the fact that she looked at it seemed weird to you, of course, but you thought that she had simply looked at your profile after the Champions League profile story or was looking for the players of your team to have an idea of how you looked like. Furthermore, you tried not to think about it too much knowing that you too tended to look at your opponents' social profiles before matches.

The second time was a story of a photo of you and Linari the day of the travel, that you reposted from Linari's profile, but since Elena and Jenni had been teammates at Atletico, you thought that maybe she had seen it to try to understand if you were together; like gossip about former teammates.

The third time was the day before the match, when you had posted a photo of you and Haavi walking around the city, with Giacinti and Giugliano behind you, who were laughing. In this case, there was no connection between you and her that could have led her to your profile and, since she didn't follow you on Instagram, she must have searched for your profile. You had started to think about it too much, but you still hadn't said anything to anyone, not even Elena.

The fourth time, and the time of the like, was when you had, on purpose, posted a photo of yourself that Caesar took of you while you were in Parc Güell: you were wearing a tight-fitting crop top that highlighted your breasts, an open white shirt and pants that were baggy but tight at the waist; the pose highlighted your muscles, your flat abdomen, and, more generally, your shapes.

The notification of the like arrived while you, Giugliano and Linari were reviewing the match schemes in your room; you blushed so much that Manu had stolen the phone from your hands and laughed at the fact that a like gave you such a reaction. Elena, on the other hand, had winked at you revealing how Jenni, like many of her teammates, very often liked Instagram's stories with a not-so-innocent intent, when it came to people who weren't her friends.

You had dismissed the conversation, continuing to review the schemes with them, but something inside of you was always thinking of her.

Did she do it on purpose or had she pressed it by mistake?

It was just a like, okay, but she was Jenni Hermoso, the hot, tattooed, beautiful and charming midfielder of Barcelona and Spain National Team, one of your crushes for years.

When you entered the stadium that afternoon you were nervous, anxious. Certainly, the match was the main source of stress, but a part of you knew that you were feeling this way also because of the raven player.

What if she had just made a mistake?

You had worn the match kit, thanking the fact that it was still warm enough in Barcelona to not wear the thermal shirt under the t-shirt, and then you entered the field for the warm-up along with your teammates.

The Barcelona team was already on the field, Alexia was guiding the training with the athletic trainers, her teammates doing a pair exercise.

The fans were noisy, chanting songs and waving flags.

You looked around, accidentally detaching from the group, surprised by the number of people, the atmosphere, the colors. If it's true that the atmosphere of the Roma stadium was warm, compared to this it's nothing.

Then, as you turned around to look at all the sectors of the stadium, you had set your eyes on the opposing team and, a few moments later, on the raven.

She was looking at you, a smirk on her face, a posture that radiated confidence and a bit of arrogance.

She bit her lip, then tilted her head to the side.

You blushed in front of that gaze, lowering yours, but then Bartoli yelled at you to start the warm-up like everyone else, and the awkward moment ended.

Your horniness, no, you were so horny. This was the first time that you saw her in person, in real life, and even though you were on both sides of the field, she was so attractive.

The warm-up was amazing, the atmosphere and the fans singing kept making you more and more eager to play the match, but you tried in every way not to look at the other half of the field, not to look at her. Although, in reality, you tried not to look at their whole team: the idea of playing against players like Alexia Putellas, Caroline Graham or Marta Torrejon gave you too much performance anxiety, an anxiety not compatible with having been chosen as a starter.

Half an hour later you were inside the tunnel, in line with your teammates, with Barça to your right; you were the penultimate, in front of only the goalkeeper. Linari, that bitch, had greeted Jenni and had involved you in their brief conversation, a conversation that was possible because you were far enough from your captains, and at the end of the lines, to be seen talking.

"Jenni! Holaa – the Roma player had said – How are you?"

"Elena! It's been so long," she had said in return, embracing her. "All good with you? Ready to lose?" the Madrilena had winked.

"You're the one ready to lose, we have our ace up our sleeve," she had pointed at you, then put an arm around your shoulders. "Jenni, let me introduce the one who will score against you and make us win."

To say your cheeks were as red as Canada's jersey would be an understatement.

"I'm Jennifer, but you can call me Jenni," she had extended her hand to introduce herself. "It's a pleasure. You are a midfielder, aren't you?"

Your eyes had widened, surprised she knew your position. "Yes... I, yes."

Her hand was warm, it was big.

She had bitten her lip.

"Is this your first Champions League match? How old are you?" she had asked, her eyes locked on yours as if Elena wasn't next to you.

"Twenty-three, it's my first game, yes," you had whispered, embarrassed.

"Elena! Stop talking, focus!" Bartoli, the captain, then interrupted the small talk.

The line had then started to move towards the field, and you hadn't had the chance to talk to her again, even though you felt her eyes on you as you walked.

The match had been hell.

They ran as if their lives depended on it, they were physical and committed many fouls, protesting every time the referee blew the whistle, contributing to worsening your anxiety. The fans did not help to ease the tension either, continuing to sing, to yell.

Alexia had scored in the twenty-second minute, a beautiful shot into the top corner from a free kick.

Your team hadn't been particularly affected by the goal, but you had. The pressing they were applied was so stressful that your passes weren't as accurate as in Serie A and you won maybe half of the tackles; your anxiety was so much that you thanked the universe when the referee blew the whistle for halftime.

The coach's speech in the changing room had infused more confidence in you, and you had entered the field much more assertive; Haavi had told you to try long crosses to her or Viens whenever you could, to start counterattacks, the only chance to break their defense wall.

You had listened to the advice and, indeed, she was right: you had started to create attack actions more often, and Ona Batlle had gotten a yellow card for preventing one of your counterattacks. The more you attacked, the more the anxiety disappeared, the more you started to take risks in midfield. Some dribbling attempts, some sprints toward their pitch' part.

Then, in the seventieth minute, Linari had headed the ball, passed by you, into the net.

Goal, 1-1.

Elena had run towards you, her arms wide open.

You had jumped into her arms, your teammates' screams around you.

There was nothing else but you, that ball in the net, that 1-1 on the scoreboard, your cross.

From there on, it was a battle. The intensity of the match had grown, and you started to get tired. Haavi and Viens were too tired to continue those sprints and Barca's pressing was suffocating.

In the 93rd minute, they had a corner kick. You were all in the area, outside for you there was only Giacinti, and, for them, Mapi Leon and Ona Battle. Salma had kicked it, but Linari had intercepted it, passing it to Di Guglielmo on the side, who in turn passed it to Giacinti in the midfield.

At that point, you had sprinted, energy or no energy, you had started running towards the other side of the field. Giacinti had passed the ball to Giugliano, who seemed to understand your intentions, since she had passed it to you in Barça's backline. Your stop wasn't perfect, but somehow you had managed to dribble Mapi Leon and kick the ball from just outside the box.

The last shot of the match.

The last seconds of the match.

Time had almost stopped while that ball was spinning on itself in the direction of Cata Coll.

Then, as if all celestial bodies were aligned, the ball went into the net.

Cata Coll hadn't reached it.

The stadium had collapsed into a stunned silence for a moment, broken only by the scream of a tired Giacinti who had jumped on you to celebrate. But you were only staring at that ball, now still on the ground against the net.

You had scored.

The match had ended just as Barcelona had kicked the ball.

You had won.

Elena was squeezing you tightly when Jenni approached.

Her face was twisted in anger from the loss.

She was extending her hand to you and your teammate in a barely credible 'good game.'

Elena shook her hand, then moved away from you two to greet others.

Something inside you sparked; it was your only chance to speak to her.

"Jenni," you said as she was turning away, "would you mind if we swapped jerseys? I'd like to have yours."

She looked at you, confused, the trace of anger still evident in her eyes.

"Or maybe not, never mind, sorry," you whispered, giving her a chance to refuse.

"No, it's fine," she said, her voice low.

Then, in a moment, she took off her jersey in front of you, as if she wasn't stripping herself.

And, oh God, her body: her defined abs, her tattoos, a light sheen of sweat that stood out thanks to the light of the stadium, her chest that contracted according to the rhythm of her breathing, her breast tight inside the black Nike bra. She was not wearing a thermal shirt too, so her tattooed arms were free, and you could look at them too.

Fuck.

You probably stared a bit too long because she smiled at you and then asked, giggling, if you were planning to give her yours.

You nodded, embarrassed, then removed it, hand out the t-shirt to her; she took yours, giving hers to you.

Her eyes immediately landed on your body, she looked at you like no one ever had before.

The evening's chill hit you, and your nipples were visible through your white bra and, when you noticed it, you blushed and tried to put on her jersey; but Jenni said you, in a low voice, "Don't cover up, let me see your body"

You looked at her, your eyes slightly open.

What?

Her face was tilted slightly to the right, a smirk on her face as her eyes once again dropped to your body for a moment.

Was she flirting?

Maybe, maybe not; but you decided to try, so you pretended that your attempt to put on the jersey was actually a clumsy attempt to fold it, then deliberately tucked it inside your shorts, low enough to briefly reveal your right hip bone.

The smirk on her face grew, her eyes now gleaming with a different light.

"Do you have the night off?" she asked, her lips hidden behind your jersey.

You nodded.

She bit her lip.

"Find a justification, my car is the last Tesla on the right of the parking lot. I'll wait for you there in an hour."

And then, just as she had arrived, she was gone.

Of course, an hour later, you were in front of that Tesla.

Your coach congratulated you, celebrated with you, and then confirmed you had the evening free. You had gotten away from your teammates thanks to Elena, who had turned from a bitch into a saint, and Camelia, the goalkeeper, who had told the team you three were going to look for that churro stand in the city center; it may seem like a silly excuse, but since you landed in Barcelona, the three of you have eaten so many churros that the team couldn't even stand the smell of them anymore.

Shortly after, Jenni arrived.

You felt like a shy and scared novice. Casual sex wasn't your thing, probably unlike the Barcelona player, and you didn't quite know how to behave; moreover, shyness began to mix with the embarrassment of waiting for a woman in front of her car. Maybe it was the modesty you had been raised with, maybe it was the anxiety of not being good enough for someone like her.

"You're here," you jumped at the scare, then turned towards the direction of the voice. "I wasn't sure you'd come," she continued, then chuckled at the double entendre, stopping a couple of steps from you.

You blushed, lowering your gaze as an unconscious reaction, allowing you to observe her outfit.

She was... perfect. A pair of slim black jeans, a white shirt, and a black vest; the tattoos on her hands and wrists were visible thanks to the sleeves rolled up a couple of times.

"Is it okay if we go to my house? It's about twenty minutes from here,"

You looked into her eyes, returning to reality, and took too long to verbalize a response, as she added "If you're not comfortable with this, we could go to h-"

"No, it's fine, sorry I was distracted," you whispered in response, cutting her off.

She clenched her jaw, not appreciating the interruption.

"Your bag?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Elena"

She bit her lower lip, visibly annoyed by the answer.

"Are you in a relationship, you and Linari?"

"What?! No! Ele is–"

You couldn't finish the sentence because her lips collided with yours.

The fact she was taller made it even easier for her to dominate the pace of the kiss. Her lips were soft, but you didn't have much time to enjoy them given the passion of the kiss, the hunger.

Her hand had grabbed your hip, the other the back of your neck, forcefully pulling you towards her. Yours were shyly clinging to her vest, pulling it downwards as if asking her to bend more towards you or to come even closer.

After a brief moment, she pulled away, a smug smirk on her face.

"Well, that's a good start. Shall we go?"

She opened the car door for you, then headed to the driver's side; she started the car, and you were on your way to her house.

"No one will know about that kiss," she broke the silence. "The spot where my car was parked isn't visible from the outside, so it's improbable we were photographed."

You nodded, lost in your thoughts, watching her hands grip the steering wheel and gear shift.

You squeezed your thighs in reaction.

"If you don't want to talk, that's fine," she chuckled.

"What? No!" you looked at her, confused. "Sorry, it's better if we talk, it lessens the awkwardness."

She stopped at a red light, then turned to look at you, that arrogant smirk on her face. "Are you embarrassed?" You gasped under her mischievous gaze. "I should be the one embarrassed. I'm the one who lost the match because of your last-second goal."

You looked down, not knowing what to say.

"Actually, I'm more mad than embarrassed. Not at you, of course, but at myself - she sighed, then checked her window for cars from her right. - But sex is useful for venting this madness, right?"

You nodded. "Yes, I think so."

"You don't have sex to vent madness?"

In reality, you rarely had sex, too busy with university, with football, with being new in a big city, with the anxiety of making a change in your career.

You had a few partners when you lived in Milan, people older than you like Jenni, but never a relationship, and over time, casual sex almost didn't satisfy you anymore. It's funny to think about how you started feeling this way when your followers on social media and people flirting with you had skyrocketed.

But Jenni was Jenni. Beautiful, tattooed, athletic.

Dominant.

When she had liked that story, that desire for sex, for hard, rough and passionate sex, had burst; and, judging by how she behaved during the jersey swap and in the parking lot, you weren't wrong about her. Maybe you would have the night of sex you wanted, that you needed.

You shook your head, embarrassed. "Not much, actually," you quickly sought an excuse, which materialized into a pathetic, "I moved to Rome less than two months ago, I haven't had the chance yet."

She chuckled, probably not believing your dubious explanation.

"You can sleep over at my place if you want," she said as she turned the wheel. "If I'm not mistaken, your hotel is more than twenty minutes away by car from my house, and I don't think it's a smart decision to go there on foot, by public transport, or take an Uber at three in the morning."

"Thank you," you simply responded.

It may be stupid, but the regard she had shown, worrying about you walking down the street at three in the morning, had calmed you down; probably it was because a part of you was scared that, immediately after having sex, she would ask you to leave. And, if you were going to have the sex you both seemed to want, you knew you needed aftercare after the intercourse.

She opened the front door of her house with a smile, letting you in first.

Her house was beautiful. The door led to the living room, a huge room with a glass wall overlooking Barcelona.

"It's beautiful," you said, with the voice of a happy child at the zoo, as you headed towards the paintings hung on the walls to look at them.

This house had nothing to do with the small and cramped studio where you were living in Rome or the apartment where you had lived in Milan with three teammates.

Jenni chuckled and then put her bag down and headed towards the kitchen.

"Is that you as a child?" You asked, pointing at a photo of a little girl in the arms of an elderly woman.

"Yes, that's me with my grandmother on vacation at the beach. I think I was about four years old," the sound of the fridge opening prompted you to look for her in the room. "Do you want something to drink? I have wine, or tea, or Coca-Cola."

"The wine is perfect, thank you," you responded, heading towards the window.

Barcelona was breathtaking at night from the wall glass: the cars barely visible, the lights from the other buildings, the streetlamps.

It almost seemed like a dream.

“There we are” Jenni tells you, making you scared.

You grab the glass hesitantly, suddenly tense.

“What are we toasting to? – she asks you, but you shrug, not knowing what to say – Would I say, to a beautiful night?”

You blush at the allusion, but you make your glass collide with hers; you had brought it to her mouth looking into her eyes, her with hers against her chest.

Say that wine is delicious is reductive.

What wine was it? You've never had something so good.

"Do you like it? – you nod enthusiastically – I would even give you another glass, but I would like you to be sober” She giggles, teasing you.

You bite your lip and stare at her while she drinks her wine.

She is beautiful, charming, magnetic.

"Do you like Barcelona?" she asks nodding to the view.

“The view from your house is beautiful – you reply, the embarrassment replaced by enthusiasm – From here you can see so well that-“

You stop the moment she positions herself behind you, her lips suddenly on your neck.

"That?" she suggests when she realizes you're not willing to continue the conversation, too focused on how her lips kiss your skin, how her tongue licks it.

You moan almost without restraint when her hand tightens around your hip, squeezing your thighs together, then leaning completely against her body.

She towers over you, her height difference forcing her to lean towards you.

She sucks a piece of skin, then asks you to continue.

"That-"

Her hand trails under your shirt until it makes contact with your bra.

She squeezes your breast and the fabric in her hand.

“The view is so beautiful that?” She repeats, then blows against the saliva she leaves on your neck.

You close your thighs together, looking for friction, the horniness that makes your panties soaked in a few seconds.

She smiles against your neck.

Before you can feel it, her other hand, surprisingly hot, touches yours. “Leave me the glass.”

You do so, and she places it on the right, on a cabinet next to hers. When does she put it down?

Then, she is back to paying attention to you.

Her lips kiss your neck much more hungrily, her hand now under your bra with her fingers playing with the nipple, the other on your hip pushing you towards her body.

“Please,” you moan after too little time.

"What?" She responds, pretending not to know how needy you are.

"Please."

Her hand moves from your breast, making you wary of the lack of contact.

She makes you turn towards her, her hand under your chin, forcing you to look at her.

“Do you know what safewords are? – you nod, embarrassed - What are yours?” She questions, her lips now against your neck again.

“Green, yellow and red.”

"There is something that I can't do? - you shake your head - Spanking, orgasm denial, degradation, praise..."

"You... all of them-okay"

She bites your lip, licking it after.

You close your hands clinging to her vest.

“Can I undress you?”

You nod, your eyes on hers.

“Words, not gestures – her voice is calm, almost sweet – Every time I ask you a question I want you to answer me and give me verbal consent.”

You blush at her words.

She bites her lip waiting for you.

“Yes, please,” the voice is decidedly more desperate than you wanted.

Her sadistic grin suddenly returns.

Her fingers quickly end up against the edges of your sweater, grabbing your t-shirt as well; you raise your arms and she slips them off together, leaving you in your bra.

Her gaze lands on your chest, her eyes stained with horniness, and she bites her lip, assorted in her thoughts.

And, taken by a moment of confidence that you don't know where comes from, you unclasp your bra, then let it fall to the floor, leaving you topless in front of her.

Her eyes widen at your boldness, in complete contrast to your shyness and embarrassment of earlier.

Then, in a second, she is against you. Her hand on the back of your neck, her lips on yours.

A passionate kiss that at first you try to dominate, only to give up after a few moments, feeling her grin on your lips in front of your bland attempt to control it.

You grab her hand, bringing it against your breast, as if begging her to touch you.

She bites your lip and you sigh.

Then, almost simultaneously, she squeezes your nipple between her fingers. At that point, you moan in her mouth.

“Please,” you beg again.

Her hands end up on your hips, pressuring you to turn towards the window.

You blush at the idea that she's fucking you from behind against a wall glass, but you’re too excited to stop it, combined with the awareness that you’re too high to be seen by other people and that this is one of your favorite kinks.

She then places one of her hands against your back, pushing you towards the window. You take a step towards the glass wall, but she grabs your shoulder. “No – the voice is now dominant – bend forward with your torso until your breasts touch the window, but stay here.”

You do as she said, arching your back and pushing your butt against her hips, the breasts against the window and the nipples now turgid because of the cold.

“Good girl – she praises you – Open your legs a little”

You do it again, following the pats she gives to your ankles with her foot.

The extremely submissive position.

“So obedient – her lips on your back – Do you like me taking control?”

You gasp when her thigh touches between your legs.

Her hands play with your breasts.

“Please.”

“You have to tell me what you want” she whispers in your ear as she squeezes a nipple between her fingers.

You tilt your head back as you moan.

“Touch me, please.”

She bites your neck.

“I'm touching you,” she replies, her smirk on your skin.

“Take my pants off,” you suggest, panting, absorbed in the pleasure given by the insufficient stimulation of her nipples.

One of her hands leaves your breast, then slaps your ass.

You scream in surprise, but your horniness increases dramatically.

“Is this how you ask what you want?”

You shake your head. “Please, please Jenni – you try to push yourself towards her, raising your torso from the window – Touch me”

Her hand rests against your back again, pushing you towards the glass wall.

“So needy – her hand reaching down to your jeans – So good at begging”

You clench your hands into fists when she pulls down the waistband of your pants, along with your panties, and you close your eyes when you feel her bend over as she pushes them to the floor.

You hear her kneel on the floor.

You pant in anticipation.

A finger that touches where you need it most.

“So wet – she whispers, then bites her thigh – So wet just for me”

“Yes, just for you Jenni”

You hear her grin and then moan without restraint when she separates your cheeks and then licks your folds.

You lift your hands up, until they are clasped above your head.

Your legs shake while her tongue explores your hole.

You arch your back even more, in an attempt to get her to give more attention to your clit.

She palpates your ass with one hand, while the other touches your inner thigh, and then places two fingers on your clit.

She moves them slowly, with light pressure.

It's not enough for you to come, she knows that.

“Jenni – you push towards her – Please”

She grins.

She pulls away from you, causing you to groan in irritation.

Her fingers move from your clit to your entrance.

“Beg me to fuck you,” she tells you, her voice low, excited, but confident.

“Jenni please, please – the tip of a finger entering you – please fuck me, Jenni, I beg you... I need you to fuck me”

She bites your ass, then penetrates you with one finger to its last knuckle.

You gasp when she doesn't move it.

“Please Jenni, no more teasing”

She laughs sarcastically, her hand hits your ass with a harsh slap.

“I decide when to stop, not you. I'm in charge”

You close your eyes. “I'm sorry – you bite your lip – Please, please, I'm sorry”

“Soo good – the finger that starts moving – So desperate and needy to let me fuck you against a glass wall, completely naked, while I'm still dressed”

“Jenni please” you beg her for the umpteenth time, the voice desperate, trying to push her to give you an orgasm.

She smiles at you.

She stands up.

“No, no please”

She leans against you again, but this time her hand is against your neck, pushing you towards her, your back arched towards her front.

“Beg me to fuck you, persuade me”

Your hands move to her forearm, squeezing it.

“Safeword?”

“Green – you close your eyes when her fingers were back against your hole – Please Jenni, I'll be good. I swear. Please, I'll be good for you Jenni, please make me come"

She kisses your temple, then pushes again a finger inside you, up to her knuckle. “Can I add one more?”

You beg her to do it.

She adds one, leaving her fingers still inside you for a second. “So tight – she squeezes your neck between her fingers – How long has it been since anyone fucked you, mh?”

You gasp, not thinking she wants an answer, thinking it's a rhetorical question.

You were wrong, the hand that was around your neck left its place for one second, enough time to slap your ass with a second harsh slap. “Answer me”

You groan, your hands gripping her arm.

“I don't remember” you gasp, your head is empty if is not for the desire to be fucked by her, but her fingers are still.

You try to ride her fingers, to find relief from the painful knot in your abdomen, but her hand tightens around your neck for a few seconds, as a warning to stop.

You close your eyes and, in search of that pleasure, you move your hands towards your nipples, squeezing them.

She lets out an annoyed sound as soon as she notices.

“Are you so a needy slut that you stop being a good girl for me? Have I to edge you?”

You gasp, shaking your head. “No, no Jenni… please fuck me”

She grins, sucking the skin of your neck, leaving a mark.

You moan uncontrollably when you feel them move, too horny, too slave to that pleasure that she is finally giving you.

“Already closed?” She questions, knowing the answer given how your walls tighten around her fingers.

You nod. “Please Jenni, I beg you. Can I come?"

Hi! I don’t know how to say what I'm gonna say without sounding rude or arrogant, but I noticed that the reposts of my works have decreased a lot since I had put this phrase "Do not copy, translate or claim my works and fics as your own; if I find out I will report them and block you. Instead, write to me, my directs are always open, and ask me if you can publish your work/fic inspired by one of mine. However, you can reblog them " at the beginning of every post.

Since this was not the consequence I expected, I would like to explain what happened: about a month ago I found a work very similar to one of mine and I took it quite badly (maybe too much) and, because I didn’t want to start a fight with this writer, I put this phrase at the beginning of each post. When it didn’t happen anymore I took it off, but I noticed that the repost had decreased a lot.

I just wanted to tell to who stopped reblog my post that you can do it, that this was not the aim of my action and I apologize for this misunderstanding, I should have handled the situation better.

I’m sorry about this long note, but I didn’t know how to talk about this situation and I’m sorry if I seem arrogant or rude.

#woso #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso smut #jenni hermoso smut #jenni hermoso x reader #jenni hermoso #jenni hermoso fanfics #jenni hermoso imagine #barca femeni

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maluuustrawberry · 4 months

Text

Undesirable encounter

(Claude Frollo X Female reader)

Synopsis: You were the new seamstress in Paris and Frollo suspects that you were harboring Romani in your shop. It looks like your first start was more tense than you expected...

A/n: I confess that I am in love with the Hunchback of Notre-Dame and I especially love the book. I hope you readers like it, and if you want to give me tips I accept (you can correct me too) If you want other Disney characters, you can ask me💕.

(Guys, I don't know if you know, but the word "gypsy" is a slur and should not be used, the correct one is "Roma" Or "Romani people" I put "Gypsy" only in Frollo's lines since you know the type of person he is.)

It was just another ordinary day in Paris, you had arrived in the city a few months ago and worked as a dressmaker. You immediately became known for the beautiful dresses you produced for the girls and the beautiful clothes for the boys too. You had an excellent aesthetic sense.

But what you had in the way of talent, you also had in the way of kindness. When you heard about the persecution of the Romani people, you felt touched by the situation and decided to help them. It was very risky, but you weren't going to stand by and let it happen like the other citizens of Paris were doing, letting themselves be manipulated by Frollo and his hate speeches. There was a basement in your house that you used to store fabric and sewing materials. You took advantage of that room to help some Romani hide in case of emergency if they were being chased by the guards and if there was no time to run to the court of miracles.

And so it went on, you were extremely careful not to leave any traces, until one day or another these "rumors" ended up reaching the judge.

You were sewing up the sleeves of a client's dress, which had been placed in the moulage to make it easier for you to work, and your attention now turned to the bell that rang as soon as the door was opened. Immediately, the atmosphere of the place changed when you saw who had entered. You knew those clothes, the face worn by age and you couldn't forget that look of superiority and pride, because himself thought he was important and better than everyone because of his opposition and faith. Looking behind those glass windows, you could also see some of his men at the front of the store:

“Bonjour, madame.” Frollo said sternly, snapping you out of your thoughts. That thick, authoritative voice gave you the creeps. “I'd like to know who owns this establishment. Your husband is here?”

“A-Ah! Good morning...” You forced a smile and stuck the needle into the moulage so you wouldn't lose it. “Your Honor, I'm the owner, and no, I don't have a husband.”

As you said this, the judge looked you up and down with contempt. Of course, in the 16th century, a young woman like you not being married was a disgrace to society, and on top of that, being able to read and owning your own business was even worse. You weren't tense or nervous with him in your store, on the contrary, you were so calm... After all, you cleaned out the basement and removed any evidence as soon as a family of Romani's moved out recently:

“I've received information that you've been harboring gypsies in your house and I'm here to find out the facts, have you been harboring gypsies?” He got straight to the point.

“No, sir.” You pretended to be as honest as possible, fortunately you were good at lying.

“You know that if you lie, the sentence for insubordination is death...” He moved closer in an attempt to intimidate her.

“My conscience is clear. You have permission to investigate my store, since my words don't apply to you.”

“If I wasn't allowed to, seamstress, I'd still make a point of searching this place from top to bottom, whether you agree or not.”

The older man signaled for some of his men to enter the store before you could protest or complain. Since you were the only one who seemed to have enough courage to go against the judge's ideas when you were right. They went in and started rummaging around for clues, looking everywhere, even under the skirts of the dresses on the mannequins.

Frollo looked you up and down in an nothing unobtrusive way, you didn't notice the glances, but as soon as you did, it gave you the creeps and you avoided looking back at him. He had never noticed you in the city before and he noticed your accent, deducing that you might be a foreigner. The judge couldn't take his eyes off you, you were a very beautiful woman and seemed so delicate, and it seems that some feeling awakened in him when he saw that you were without gloves and your dress showed your shoulders. He came out of his thoughts when a guard approached:

"Sir, we've looked everywhere and found nothing..." Being a clever woman, an idea came to your mind: perhaps it would be better if they looked at everything to leave you alone.

"Have you looked in my basement, gentlemen?" you asked, kicking the rug that hid the small door in the wooden floor of your store.

Frollo was suspicious, but sent his men in to search every corner of the small cellar. Fortunately, they didn't find anything either, just sewing materials and expensive fabrics. After looking around in vain, the men left the store, leaving you and the judge alone:

“I apologize for this inconvenience.” He said as you went to the moulage to finish the dress.

“You shouldn't believe every rumor out there, Your Honor, not all of them can be true.” You said politely. “but apologies accepted, I know it was for the good of Paris and you care a lot about the city.”

Returning to work, you thought he would leave after all that had happened and notice you "busy" sewing, but no, he stayed in the store while walking slowly around analyzing his surroundings:

“This basement...” He pointed to the carpet above the small door. “Why was it hidden?”

“I don't see the need to show everyone that I have a basement here.” You replied nonchalantly. “and besides, I think that old door would spoil the pretty look of my store.”

Frollo didn't seem to believe in that very much, but you shrugged and continued sewing. There were a few seconds of silence, you could only hear his footsteps coming towards you and could feel that man's gaze on you all the time, causing you a certain nervousness or fear. What did he want anyway?

“Do you want anything else?” you asked in an attempt to break the silence and take your mind off the discomfort of feeling his gaze on you, stopping your sewing and looking at him now.

“I just want you to know.” He said, standing close and looking at her with disgust. “I'll keep an eye on you, I won't trust a literate, single woman so easily... I know women of your kind.”

“I don't think who I am or what I do has anything to do with helping... Ouch!” You interrupted yourself with pain when you felt the needle pierce your finger. It was normal for this to happen when were working with sewing, but it had never been this deep, Maybe it happened because of the anger you was feeling at that moment.

Immediately you dropped the needle out of sheer instinct, and in a quick and daring moment Frollo grabbed your hand with a certain amount of force, bringing it in front of his face, which had a small smile of satisfaction on it. The judge was a sadomasochist, he enjoyed seeing someone in pain, especially when it was someone he thought deserved such a punishment. You were shocked by his attitude, you weren't expecting it and didn't know how to react. What was he doing? Frollo continued to hold your hand, watching the small drop of blood ooze from your pricked finger, but his attention wasn't just there, it was on your fingers, your soft skin and the sensation it brought when you touched it with the contact of the warm hand and his, which was a little cold:

“What are you doing?” You asked, with a bit of hatred for such a vulgar and daring attitude, and he laughed a little.

“What would the church think of a woman exposing her bare hands in front of a high-ranking man like me?” You had no reaction for fear. Gradually his fingers entwined in yours and you saw that his eyes went to your small cleavage and your bare shoulders. “And it's not just your hands that are exposed...”

You quickly pulled your hand free and he looked at you incredulously:

“My hands are only exposed because I can't wear gloves when I sew, and you still don't have the right to do that. It's in the Bible; If your eye or your hand causes you to sin, throw it away!” A small smile came to Frollo's face when he heard that.

“So bold... It's typical of women like you to turn away from guilt in order to confuse men's minds with pagan thoughts, but that doesn't matter any more...”

He walked away, heading for the door to leave, but first his attention turned to you:

“It was a nice chat, seamstress... I want you to make me a cloak and sew me a pair of gloves, I'll be expecting you to deliver them tomorrow night.”

After saying that, he left, leaving you with no reaction to what had just happened. You were angry, but at the same time relieved that he hadn't found out. As soon as he left, you stared at your hand, which he touched and intertwined with his large, thin fingers. You'd have to be more careful now, he'd be stalking you and the reason wouldn't just be because he suspected you of helping the Romani people, it would be because of something else and you know exactly what it was and what his intentions were...

End...

#the hunchback of notre dame #disney #disney x reader #fanfiction #claude frollo #frollo x reader #judge frollo #claude frollo x reader #clopin trouillefou #judge claude frollo #thond #esmerelda #disney villains #disney villains x reader #captain phoebus

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museu-degrandes-novidades · 3 months

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Roma, Città Aperta (Roberto Rosselini - 1945)

#roma citta aperta #rome open city #roma cidade aberta #roberto rosselini #italian neorealism #neorrealismo italiano

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hotvintagepoll · 6 months

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Propaganda

Anna Magnani (Rome Open City, Mamma Roma, The Rose Tattoo)—don't take my word for it, here are some of the things she was called during her career: "la lupa (the wolf) of Italian cinema," "passionate, fearless, and exciting," "the volcanic earth mother of all Italian cinema," "one of the most impressive actresses since Garbo," "Whenever Magnani laughs or cries (which is often), it's as if you've never seen anyone laugh or cry before: has laughter ever been so burstingly joyful or tears so shatteringly sad?" and maybe best of all, from Tennessee Williams, who wrote multiple roles specifically for her: "She is simply a rare being who seems to have about her a little lightning-shot cloud all her own...In a crowded room, she can sit perfectly motionless and silent and still you feel the atmospheric tension of her presence, its quiver and hum in the air like a live wire exposed, and a mood of Anna's is like the presence of royalty."

Nutan (Bandini, Anari, Seema)— In an era where plump and petite women were considered the height of beauty, Nutan was thin and gangly. While her beauty is obvious today, she was considered somewhat unusual throughout her acting career, which contains over 70 films. Contrary to the belief that female actresses careers ended after marriage, Nutan won four of her five Filmfare Awards after her marriage and the birth of her son. Nutan was known for her gorgeous, emotive brown eyes and her incredible singing voice.

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Anna Magnani:

An icon of post-war neorealist italian cinema - an unbelievably good actress. Also, the first non-english speaking actress to win the Oscar for Best Actress (in 1956)!

realness!! amid the typical hollywood pristine glamour anna magnani stuck out as sexy in a really real, grounded way. so much so that even shallow 40s hollywood allowed her to come over from italy to be in some high profile movies. an icon

She smoked, she drank, she didn't give a f-. Her acting was described as explosive, with a lot of emotions and drama and they called her a she-wolf. Playwright Tennessee Williams became an admirer of her acting and wrote The Rose Tattoo (1955) specifically for her to star in, a role for which she received an Academy Award for Best Actress, becoming the first Italian – and first non-English speaking woman – to win an Oscar.

Nutan:

#nutan #anna magnani #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 3

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alder-saan · 1 year

Text

His sister .2

Larissa Weems x normie! reader

link part 1

NSFW, heavy smut, almost only smut, pwp, masturbation, fingering, cunnilingus, shapeshifting cock, dom! Larissa, sub! reader, mistress kink, reader being tied with Larissa's stockings, blind kink, breeding kink, usage of safe word, fluff towards the end, aftercare.

words count: 3.5k

A/N: I'm sorry it took me soooooo long to write, and also, I know I'm not the best at writing smut but I try, okay? (yes, writing some pwp wasn't the best idea but eh)

You had spent the afternoon thinking about her, without being able to touch her, without being able to look at her too much, since Philip was there. He had taken the afternoon off to show Larissa around the city. Your husband, his sister and you went to the museum, which he never took you to because he always told you to be on your own.

You spent the evening trying to be alone with Larissa.

Philip was faster than Larissa and you, which gave you time to try something. You couldn’t focus on the paintings anyway. While she was looking at one, you sat next to her, on the bench seat, your hand brushing hers. She did not take her eyes off the picture, and she did not move her hand, but a faint smile lit up her face. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach. She was so beautiful, her smile was so beautiful, and it was even more, knowing you were the one who caused it.

“Darling, you should at least pretend to look at the artworks…”

Lord, the pet name. She was driving you crazy.

“You are an artwork, Larissa,” you replied, fluttering your eyelashes.

She let out a slight chuckle and moved her hand to your thigh. You shivered when you felt her hand slowly finding a way under your skirt. Her fingers ran over your tights, and your skin tensed under the electrical touch.

“You little flirt, do I have to remind you that your husband is in the next room?”

She was still looking at Nero, looking at Roma burning in his golden frame, while playing with you, lingering her fingers closer and closer to your inner thigh, going back, drawing small circles on your knee, and then coming again on your inner thigh. You couldn’t help but hold your breath each time her fingers passed near your panties. Wet. Of course.

“I wish he wasn’t” you whispered, trying to hide the arousal in your voice.

“I do so, Love. I'm staying with you for the week, so please be patient.”

She removed her hand, and you clenched your legs together, trying to keep the feeling of her fingers on you. You watched her standing up, and bending down to your ear.

“Be a good girl and you’ll be rewarded.”

With that, she walked away, as if nothing just happened, leaving you as red as the Roman emperor’s toga on the painting.

That night, you tried to sleep, but every time you’d close your eyes, she was there, demanding you to be a good girl. You could still feel her hand on your thigh, and you wanted so much more. That was probably not what a good girl would do but… She would never know, would she? Your hands reached your breasts, and you massaged them, while an imaginary Larissa was kissing your neck, leaving imaginary red lips stains, and imaginary fingers were lingering on your thighs, drawing small circles closer and closer to your cunt. What if she left red marks on your thighs too? You opened your legs and imagined her in between, kissing them, licking them, slowly going up your shanks and thighs.

“Be a good girl for me, Darling,” she’d say.

“Yes, yes I’m a good girl” you whispered in your bed “Please, please fuck me.”

“So needy…”

Your hand went down your belly, and you circled your clit with your fingers, imagining Larissa's tongue doing this. Your other hand was still massaging your breast. You wanted to moan aloud, but your husband was right next to you, and you couldn’t risk waking him. So you continued, entering two fingers into your pussy. Your fingers moved inside you, almost automatically, as you knew what gave you pleasure. You wondered if she was thinking about you… Maybe she was touching herself like you were doing. Maybe she was moaning your name, in her room, legs spread, a hand between them.

Imagining her masturbating turned you even more on. You yearned to feel her soft pale skin under your hands, to grab her breast, to kiss her red lips, her neck, her belly. You wanted to be between those gorgeous legs, tasting her pussy while she’d bury her fingers into your hair, whining, moaning.

You desired to worship her divine body.

You woke up in the morning, much later than you usually did. The sun was not brushing the skin on your arm. The sunlight was already on the floor. You yawned and got up. A shirt put on, you went out of your room, only to notice Larissa was there, sitting on the couch in the living room. You blushed, remembering what you imagined last night, and realising you were entirely naked under your oversize shirt, while she was perfectly dressed and made up. But she hadn’t fixed her hair in her usual updo, and the silver locks were falling on her shoulders. It was… ethereal.

“Good morning, Larissa.”

“Good morning, Darling. Did you enjoy your night?”

Your face went even redder. Did she know? How?

“Uh…” you cleared your throat “Yes, I did, thank you, what about you? Did you sleep well?”

“Not really I’m afraid,” she said, grabbing the mug on the little table near the sofa.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Why did you have a bad night? Maybe I can help-”

“I never said I had a bad night, Dear. To be honest, it was pretty lovely, thinking about you.”

“Oh uh… ah!”

Had she… thought about you in THAT way? By the way, you had been thinking about her all night? You were bright red, remembering your night.

“Come on, sit with me.”

She put her hand on the couch, next to her.

“I’m- I get dressed and I-”

“No, you can stay in your shirt… I like the view.”

She wasn’t even trying to hide her look on your legs. You swallowed, seeing her blue eyes running up your legs. You tried to show her a confident smile and came to sit next to her. She put the mug back on the table and her hand came to your knee. It was warm. Your heart skipped a beat under her soft gaze.

“Philip told me he wouldn’t be there for lunch… that means we are alone all day.”

“Oh… uh, that’s cool”

You couldn’t focus on anything, her thumb brushing the skin on your thigh. Your whole body was warming, your heart was racing.

“Do you know what I was thinking about, tonight?”

Her hand travelled slowly to your inner thigh.

“Uh, no? I don’t?” You hated how shy you sounded.

“I was thinking about you, crying my name while I destroyed you.”

She moved her fingers closer and closer to your aching core. You let out a little whine and blushed, hearing it.

“Yes, quite like that, Darling.”

She caught your lips with hers, a hand on your chest to lay you on the couch. Her knee went between your legs, and her hands took your wrists.

Thumb, thumb, thumb, thumb, went your heart against your ribcage.

You couldn’t believe you were under her, while two seconds before you were still standing. Her sapphire eyes stared at you, her smooth knee coming closer and closer to your pussy, moving the shirt up your legs, your cheeks, tickled by Larissa’s silver hair, warmed, and you bet they were bright red. As she deepened the kiss, a moan escaped from your throat. Her tongue brushed yours, and you buried your fingers into her locks. She only broke the kiss because you were breathless.

“Darling, I’m gonna destroy you. If at one point you want me to stop, say ‘red’, and I’ll stop at that very second, okay?”

You nodded, feeling the heat getting to your lower belly. ‘Destroy’ on her lips sounded good to your ears, and the way she said it, so calm, so still the way she’d say ‘I like tea’, made it sound even better. It was a fact. She was going to destroy you. And you were going to enjoy it.

“I want to hear you, dear. Is that okay?”

“O-okay,” you whispered

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Okay!”

“Good girl,” she purred, “now strip.”

You unbuttoned your shirt one by one. She was watching you, her pupil growing larger. It seemed to be too slow to her taste because she pushed your hands away to do it herself, almost ripping the fabric off… Her lips crashed onto yours, her hands massaged your naked breasts. Your cunt was dripping against her knee, and you bucked your hips to make it stimulate your clit. She stopped touching you.

“Pet, here I’m in command. You are not allowed to do anything. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, mistress.”

“Good pet.”

She kissed your breasts, licking one of your nipples, sucking it. Her tongue on your skin was so soft. You whined in half pain, half pleasure when she nibbled your bosom. Your fingers dug into her back. She sucked your skin so hard you knew you would have dark red marks at these spots.

You wanted to touch her, as she touched you. You wanted to feel her soft skin, to taste it. Your hands went down her back and tried to slip under her skirt. Larissa sighed against your breasts.

“Don’t make me tie you, pet.”

“Was that supposed to be a threat?” you whispered while caressing her skin under the fabric.

She laughed, her lips against your skin, and her breath tickled you. She moved up your chest and neck, her lips brushing against you, ending near your ear and parting to murmur.

“Such a little slut who wants to be tied while I fuck her.”

“Yes, Mistress, I want to be tied while you fuck me, please!” you squealed

“A well-mannered slut, then.”

While sucking and licking your neck and your earlobe, she removed her skin tone stockings. Both of your hands were caught in her grasp and tied with one of her long socks. The other, she used it to fasten your wrists to the couch. You knew you could move, you could untie you. The stockings were elastic enough for you to go. But you didn’t want to. You wanted her to use you.

She directly spread your legs and put her head in between to kiss your thighs, making you shudder each time her lips met your skin. She gently nibbled it, and then her tongue drew a path to your cunt. She teased your folds with it, humming at the scent and taste of your arousal.

“You taste so good, pet”

You whined at the sound of her voice, and she chuckled.

“And you’re already so wet…”

She was right, she had barely touched you and you were already at the edge. She lapped your clit, and you whined at the sudden sensation. She smiled against your pussy, and you moaned at the waves of heat that went through your whole body. She grabbed your ass with her hands and teased your little bundle of nerves with her tongue. You let out sinful whines, much louder than you ever could imagine sounding. She hummed against your cunt and sucked your clit. You were squirming to try to feel as much pleasure as possible, to be in the best possible position. She tsked.

“Don’t move, pet.”

You immediately stopped, and she purred against your pussy,. Her tongue and lips tickled your clit again, and soon you knew you were about to come.

“M- Mistress I-”

“Wait, pet. I’ll tell you when you may come.”

She continued licking your clit, and you tried to hold. But it was almost hurting you, at this point.

“P- Please, ah, Mistress, please, let me…”

“Such a good girl, begging me like this… You may come, pet.”

And you came on your couch, Larissa’s head between your thighs. Your heart was hammering in your ears, and you slowly caught your breath. You began to move but she pinned you against the sofa.

“I’m not done with you, pet.”

You were still breathless, but your cunt didn’t care. It wanted Larissa again. You watched her unbutton her shirt.

“What’s that look for, pet?”

You closed your watering mouth.

“What look?”

“You look like you want to eat me up. Your turn will come, pet. But for now, let me take care of you.”

You stared at her chest, hidden by red _matching her lips_ and lace bras. She bent over you and placed her shirt on your face.

“Wha-”

“Relax, pet.”

She tied the sleeves behind your head. The texture of the fabric, the fabric you knew was on her skin just a moment before, was so soft on your cheeks. It now covered your eyes, you could only see a blue light passing through the blue shirt. You tried to guess where she was by watching the shadows passing on it. She was near, she was near your head, at the right of it. You felt her lips on your neck, once again. So she was right there. The fact you didn’t know exactly where she was scared you a little but also aroused you. Her hands wandering on your chest, her tongue lingering on your neck made you more and more needy for her. But what turned you on the most, was imagining she could do anything with you. You could never know what part of your body she was kissing next. Was it your breasts? No, your stomach. Then maybe your neck again? No, your lips.

She kissed your whole body like this, specifically avoiding the aching part between your legs. Then her fingers brushed against your belly. You gasped as her fingertips awoke in you hundreds of butterflies by simply touching your skin.

She parted your legs, by simply touching your ankles. She sat between them. One of her hands stayed on your ankle and passed under it. Now it slowly moved towards your calf and reached your popliteal fossa. She lifted it, high enough to place it on her shoulder. She lowered her hands lengthwise to your soft thigh and placed a kiss on your knee.

You sighed in pleasure as you understood she was going to fuck you again. Her fingertips teased your soaked folds, coating them with your arousal. She continued for a few seconds, and you whined.

"What's wrong, pet?" she innocently said.

"Please…"

"Please what? Pet, I can't guess what you want."

"I need you… inside me… Mistress, please."

She entered two fingers deep inside your drenched cunt and you squealed. She removed them and sank them, again and again, the rhythm clouding your mind. You moaned, covering the wet noises her fingers produced going in and out of your pussy.

"M…More," you whined, "Mistress, please."

Your walls fluttered around her phalanxes, and she crooked them inside you. You were so sensitive, she was already driving you near the edge. Her fingers twirled inside you, knowing exactly where your most sensitive spot was. She most definitely had had dozens and dozens of partners, she knew how to please a woman, and the idea of being one of these women turned you even more on. Your whole body was shaking, and you were sure the neighbour could hear your screams.

"Mistress I-"

She continued tickling you.

"Yes, pet?"

"I'm gonna… Please, let-let me come"

"Alright, pet, come on my fingers."

Something snapped inside you. The heat reached your whole body, and you let it out, moaning her name.

Her fingers left the place to an aching void in your cunt, and you heard a sucking noise, and then she hummed in delight. She was licking your arousal on her hand.

"I-I wish you had a strap-on right now," you panted out.

"Do you?" she asked, "do you want me to take you with my cock?"

"Yes…" you whispered.

She took your hand and led it to the soft skin of her stomach, and she lowered it. You first felt her lace panties _when did she have removed her skirt? You didn't know_ and then a lump between her legs.

"I don't need any strap-on, pet," she growled.

You let out a little cry of surprise.

"Want me to take you?"

"Y-yes, please."

"Mmmh, good pet," she purred.

You heard the sound of fabric slipping on skin, she was removing her panties. Then, you felt something hard and hot on your thigh, making you shudder. But she didn’t touch you more than that. You saw a shadow passing over you. She most likely was leaning over you, but you didn’t know why. Suddenly, your hands could move. They were still tied together, true, but they weren’t attached to the couch anymore. She placed her hands on your back and lifted it until you were sitting. Then her hands reached your waist, and she led you on her laps. You were still blinded by her shirt, you couldn’t see anything, but you felt her _hard_ dick against your inner thighs, and that you were coating it with your arousal. Your teeth sank into your lower lip at the touch of it. Your legs, on either side of her waist, tried to clench together, and you placed your still tied hands behind her head, your arms on either side of her neck. She approached your head, and her nipples brushed against the underside of your breasts. You rut your clit against her tip, stimulating you.

“Stop that, pet, I’m in command here,” She whispered in your ear.

"I'm sorry mistress," you squealed.

She growled and bit your neck licking your skin, sucking it. Her hardness against your inner thigh was unbearable at this point. You could feel the heat against your slit, and you wanted nothing but to feel it inside your slit.

“Please, take me.”

“So needy.”

She firmly grabbed your ass with one of her hands, and with the other, helped her cock enter in you. You hummed in delight, tilting your head back, exposing your neck to her, neck she willingly kissed and sucked as if it was nothing but a candy. You undulated against her, feeling her filling you. Her second hand took your ass, and she helped you engage the movement of rocking your hips against her.

“You feel so good around me, pet, so good…” she husked.

She buried her head in your breasts, her fingers dug into your hips. The slight pain you felt made you moan. She tightened her grip, and started pounding you on her laps. Your back arched even more _as if it was even possible_ making her hit the right spot each time.

“Fuck,” she moaned.

“Kiss me, aah, p-lease, k-kiss me,” you panted out.

She captured your lips with hers, they were wet. Your tongue brushed against hers, and you swallowed her moans as well as she swallowed your whines, that you released in the rhythm of your thighs clashing against her laps. Your arousal was dripping on her cock, that was filling every inch of you. The heat you felt in your lower belly seemed insatiable. You wanted it to go faster, so you accelerated the pounding, and she bit your lower lip.

“You like that, riding your husband’s sister’s dick, right?”

“Yes,” you almost cried, unashamed.

“I want to come inside you, pet”

Your legs were shaking. You wanted her to fill you with her cum, to make you hers. But it took a few seconds for your clouded mind to process things.

“Do it, please ”

She pressed you against her, your breasts crushed against her chest, her lips eating up your neck, she mumbled something you couldn’t understand, too busy moaning your own insanities and her name. She came inside you, and the feeling of her hot cum inside you brought you over the edge. You came too, a few seconds after her, crying.

You tried to catch your breath, and she kissed your shoulders.

“I-I can’t take it anymore,” you breathed out.

“Red?” she asked.

“Yes, red,” you replied.

She untied her shirt, and it fell before your eyes, revealing her head, her messy hair, her blown pupils. Your lips crashed on hers, and you removed your hands from the stockings that held them, breathing heavily.

“You did so good for me, darling,” she whispered against your lips, “now let’s clean you up.”

She helped you stand up, as your legs were weak.

“Do you want to… take a bath with me?” you asked.

“If you’re offering,” she kissed your nose.

You took her hand and walked to the bathroom, in which you filled the bathtub with hot water and a bit of this lemon perfume you liked. She entered the water and you laid against her, your head on her shoulder, your body between her legs. Her arms wrapped your waist, and you closed your eyes. She was so soft… She gently kissed your hair.

“Sorry, I couldn’t… continue.” you said.

“You have been perfect,” she replied, “It’s okay, and what you did is already a lot. Moreover, we have all week…”

____________________________________

I KNOW I TOOK SOOOOOOO MUCH TIME!

tag list: @dejavucatcher @yourfavoriteweirdo19 @thoroughly--confused @bobia13 @enchantressb @friedryes @dvrkhcld @weemssapphic @mountain-bikingwitch @philip-15 @tallwomenslaytheday @milfomaniac @larissaweemsgf

I'm sorry if I forgot to mention you <3

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems #principal larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader #principal weems

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