#you cheer on team green you cheer on misogyny

[torchwood-99]

House Green's arguments are founded so much on "Team Black is wrong because misogyny and anti-bastard prejudice says so!"

In a book that explores and criticises prejudice and misogyny to such an extent, does it occur to these guys that prejudice is an evil to be defeated? That the moments where the characters defy laws founded on prejudice are the moments we should respect them the most? Regardless of motive, anything that takes away power from these evil systems is something to be encouraged?

[zepskies]

Series Masterlist - Break Me Down

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

AN: For those of you who enjoyed “Checkerboard,” here’s the requested prequel series! It’s gonna be a long road to get to that version of Soldier Boy. Technically this is an AU set post-season 3.

Series Tags/Warnings: **Rated M. (18+ only.) Enemies to frenemies to lovers. Angsty, messy, moral quandaries galore. This is a romance, but it’s a dark world with morally gray and dark characters, including Soldier Boy, of course. **Smut, language, misogyny, violence, and other chapter-specific tags.

🎵 Listen While You Read:

BMD YouTube Playlist || BMD Spotify Playlist

Chapters:

Prologue

Part 1 - The Game Begins

Part 2 - You Move Me, Baby

Part 3 - Somewhere Down Below

Part 4 - On the Inside Out

Part 5 - Morning, Night & Day

Part 6 - A Hot Meal

Part 7 - Until Midnight

Part 8 - Something in the Way

Part 9 - Breach

Part 10 - Caught in the Balance

Part 11 - The Lion's Den

Part 12 - All Your Wicked Ways

Part 13 - A Generous Deal

Part 14 - Safe House

Part 15 - The Tower

Part 16 - Soldier Boy

Part 17 - More Than Words Can Say

Epilogue - All My Living Time

Series Complete!

Did you like this series? If you'd like to keep supporting me as I continue the BMD-verse, you can:

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Become a Patreon Member 🌟

Not done reading this version of Soldier Boy x Reader? Well, there's more to their story.

(**Notes 18+ only and/or smut)

One-Shots:

In the Dark You and Ben have tackled the insurmountable together, but no one said the recovery would be easy.

Checkerboard** You’re not a supe. You’re breakable. Soldier Boy sometimes forgets that.

Wanderlust** Your wandering hands are keeping Ben up at night.

Love Actually** Ben gets in late on Christmas Eve with a Grinch-like attitude, but you’re determined to force some holiday cheer into his system.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 - Complete

Wake Me Up** [MINI SERIES] A few weeks after you and Ben celebrate your first Christmas together, he is returning from another mission with the Supe Affairs team. When he discovers that you’ve been taken, he’ll do whatever it takes to find you. And then, to help you heal.

Series Complete!

Strong As Blood** After you accidentally break through a solid wood table, you know there’s something wrong with you. You begin to have your suspicions, but can you keep it from Ben long enough to find out? 

(In other words: This is the story of how you and Ben discover that you’re pregnant.)

Part 1 || Part 2 - Complete

Until Morning A quiet moment between you, Ben, and your newborn daughter.

This One's For You Late one night, finding no other recourse, Ben sings to his infant daughter to help her sleep.

Lesson Learned** There’s only so much teasing Ben is willing to take. He has no choice but to punish you. (Sequel to This One's For You)

Green** Ben spends the day alone with his daughter, to varying degrees of success. When you get home, it prompts a serious conversation.

Calculated Risks You and Ben argue about your commitment to being a working mom. When a rogue supe gets loose at Supe Affairs, mayhem ensues, putting not only your life at risk, but your daughter’s as well.

Imagines:

Getting jealous.** 💚 Ben needs new clothes, but the shop girls think your boyfriend is fair game.

Ben’s reaction to his girlfriend on her period.❣️ How he takes care of you.

Ben loses you. 💔 Includes a “twist” ending…

Talk to Me 💞 In the wake of his vivid nightmare, you confront Ben about his fears and get him to open up. [Sequel to “Ben loses you.”]

Headcanons

Inspiration behind the Part 17 plot twist. It has to do with my love of Smallville. (Spoilers for BMD Part 17.)

How many kids would you and Ben have? The answer is...

Ben's reaction to his daughter Lila's first crush (vs. his son's). The double standard here is ridiculous!

How Ben would react when Lila gets a boyfriend (or girlfriend). Dad!Ben is pretty much what you'd expect...

How Ben reacts when his daughter (Lila) is dating an asshole. He sees an unfortunately "kindred" spirit.

What if Lila caught Ben on a bad day? Featuring reactions from young!Lila and teen!Lila.

Moodboard below created by @chernayawidow:

BMD Playlist Posters:

"But you move me, baby. All my livin time..."

And Side B:

"A fight for love and glory, a case of do or die..."

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[irishrosescottishlass]

I'm sorry but some of the mental gymnastics I see on here in regards to House of the Dragon is wild, especially those on "Team Green", which, by the way, is the not the color of House Hightower. Can we please stop infantilizing Alicent and making her out to be this huge victim of misogny while calling Rhaenyra spoiled and greedy, as if she too was not forced into a marriage? No, Alicent was not scrubbing herself because she was ashamed of fucking Cole; she scrubbed herself raw because she has realized she is at the mercy of Larys, with whom she allied herself with last season to further her agenda and Otto, who has been manipulating her from the very beginning. She is the Queen Mother and an adult; she made the choice to be a hypocrite and fuck a Kingsguard. "But she deserves a lover after all the she's been through!!" Okay, but Rhaenyra should have suffered too? Let's not forget that it has been hinted at the Alicent and Cole have been "lovers" for many years, even when Visery's was alive. Alicent wants to talk about duty and sacrifice but only when it applies to shitting on Rhaenyra.

Listen, I think both women are super complex individuals who made their choices to the best of their ability while being held down by the men around them. However, "Team Green" wants to complain about misogyny in regards to Alicent but see no problem calling Rhaenyra spoiled, greedy, etc, etc. Be so real. Alicent placed her son on the throne, intentionally usurped Rhaenyra and oh yeah, her son Aemond killed Lucerys. (And no, I'm not cheering about Blood & Cheese but this is war. Game of Thrones should have taught you that no one is off limits, especially children.) Both sides have and will continue to make some really, really poor decisions that lead to the downfall of House Targaryen but man am I tired of all these "ou ,ou, poor Alicent, Aemond, Aegon, Heleana posts." Let's remember that Aegon is a rapist, and Aemond murdered a child with his dragon. Let's also remember Daemon is unhinged and always has been. No side is entirely "good" and the lack of nuance on so many of these posts is disappointing.

[la-pheacienne]

The problem with thinking that Team Black is the “feminist” side and Team Green is the “patriarchal” side, is that it ignores the fact that Rhaenyra is no feminist. She doesn’t care about the rights of any other women, she’s just fighting for the right to sit on the throne herself. The Greens are patriarchal but so is Rhaenyra, she just sees herself as the exception to patriarchal rules.

Therefore, both sides are bad because they ultimately wage war over the throne which causes the suffering of many smallfolk. The Greens may have started it but the Blacks certainly responded, and violently. So yes, I do see this story as “pick your favorite war criminal and enjoy the show.” Rhaenyra and Aegon both suck as human beings and as rulers, and the Targaryen monarchy as a whole shouldn’t exist in the first place. The iron throne is a symbol of oppression.

So I hope this gives you a better understanding for why some of us are Team Green. It’s not because we think women shouldn’t rule, we just happen to like the Green characters more and think Rhaenyra isn’t any better than Aegon. Aegon is a piece of shit but so is Rhaenyra. We aren’t here to claim our side is the most moral one, we just cheer for the Greens because we like them most not because we think they are the good guys.

The fandom would be so much less toxic if Team Black could do the same instead of trying to claim some moral high ground. We do admit that the show has being framing the Blacks as the “heroes” and the Greens as the “villains” but you guys have been able to identify other bad writing in the show before, surely you can identify that as bad writing as well.

"The problem with thinking that Team Black is the “feminist” side and Team Green is the “patriarchal” side, is that it ignores the fact that Rhaenyra is no feminist"

Stop right there. The entire basis of your argument is wrong, because nobody said that we like Rhaenyra cause she's feminist, nor that the Black side is the "feminist" side. Nobody even talked about feminism actually. We just talked about misogyny, because while feminism as a political ideology doesn't exist in universe, misogyny does. There are those who fight against it, for themselves, and those who weaponize it, for themselves again. You chose your side.

The fandom would be "much less toxic" nonnie if green stans and/or Targ antis like yourself never even existed because you're not supposed to exist.

Also let me do the math here : you think both are bad, "Rhaenyra isn't any better than Aegon" but you're team Green nonetheless? How did we get from A to B? Because "you like the Greens better", you mean because you find Olivia and Ewan hot. That's what you mean. Ok.

Also, just to clear things out, you claim you are not misogynist but you literally said, in that ask, that a woman whose biggest sins are that she had sex out of wedlock, and bastards, and became violent and bitter in the end, "isn't any better" than.......... a man who sexually harasses women, in canon, like, in the book. And you go further and say that you're team Green, which means, you literally want said man to take her place.

Ok.

I'm only posting this so that my followers admire yet again the inconceivable damage this shitshow has done to the legacy of this poor book.

[bohemian-nights]

Omg yes about the Laena stuff!Likr have these writers read the books at all? Dying by fire us one of the most awful deaths a person can be given like hello at R being eaten by Sunfyre and traumatising young Aegon for life. It’s not supposed to be “empowering”or a”dragon rider’s death”(whatever that even means).And D also seems pretty traumatised by her death yet by next ep he’s laughing at her funeral,not giving a damn about his kids and hooking up with R! Seriously WTF?! Even the Green kids get more complex characterisation than D who just stands around smirking and doing “badass”stuff. It’s frustrating because he’s been stripped from every important relationship he has(Mysaria,Laena,his kids)ok contrast to R who’s allowed to love Harwin and interact with her children and still have some sort of relationship with Alicent. The worst thing is that supposed D stans were cheering over the fact that he treated all the other women except R(in their eyes)like trash so when he chocked her they went into mealtdown mode accusing the writing of being misogynistic when D lashing out in violence at something he has no control over/feels angry about has been pretty in character for him through the season. The gaslighting in this fandom is awful and It really doesn’t help that HOTD attracted the worst of what was in the GOT one. Most of the people I’ve seen in twitter especially those who’re team Black actually buys into the Targ supremacy BS so ofc a character like Netty who challenges that belief both in universe and out is threatening to them so they try everything to make her as important as possible. None of this happened when Laena died and R got with D at her funeral and married him soon after even now stans are searching for ways to validate their mediocre ship with bad chemistry(because actors emoting and lightning up badly shot scenes is chemistry!😒)but when a WOC is involved in a romance she’s held to impossible standards and constantly judged. Right?And thing with Daemyra is that it’s not like N is the one coming between them their entire relationship has been rooted in grooming and physical violence aster ep.10 so the fact that they excuse all those very serious issues yet hate on the black girl is very telling and super problematic. Ultimately no one will be forcing D to be with N. If he doesn’t want to be with her he wouldn’t be. Period. So hating on and victim blaming the low born girl whose had an awful life before claiming a dragon is reeking of both misogyny and racism.

I don’t know if the writers read the books. I’m sure a couple did, but even if they did they probably were like I can make it better. Lol. Yeah I have to wonder if they are going to have Rhaenyra die in the same way as in the books cause why kill Laena like that then turn around and do a version of the same thing with Rhaenyra.

Daemon has no characterization other than being an a**hole. Characterization is actually all over the place for all the characters(including Rhaenyra but she’s shown in a more nuanced light), but Daemon is suffering a lot from them stripping away all the good parts of his narrative. Lol the meltdowns when he choked out the love of his life were epic.

I even saw some Daemyra stans try to say that Rhaenyra liked being choked in that scene. Like it was some kinky foreplay 🫠when in reality Daemon was pissed off to learn that his big bro never considered him to be his true heir. Daemon took his anger out at the nearest target(it doesn’t take much to goad him and bring out his violent streak, divorce rock anyone 🪨?) lol Again you can’t make this ish up.

Daemon and Rhaenyra seem like a business transaction to me. Daemon has 0 chemistry with adult Rhaenyra. As you stated they don’t like Nettles cause when she pops up there house of cards will come tumbling down. They are literally scared of book canon being played out on the small screen.

Daemon murdering his first wife(not book canon), then treating his second wife like an unloved puppy(not book canon) is fine, but him “cheating”(they had an arrangement at that point in their marriage, but then again these stans are allergic to reading🙃) on Rhaenyra with Nettles is where they draw the line?

Daemon could not possibly be in love/sleeping with a “common” (black) witch over our Targaryen self insert Queen Rhaenyra 👸🏼 He saw her as his daughter. The four accounts(plus the lore from a GOT special) that say otherwise are lies and anti-Rhaenyra/anti Targaryen propaganda and can not be taken as the truth.

Those bath’s where they bathed butt a** naked was father daughter bonding time 🫠 They were only trying to save water 🙃

I won’t mention Daemon and Nettles last night together/how they and their dragons parted, but you get my drift.

Like you said, Daemon was in the position of power here. If he didn’t want to be with Nettles he wouldn’t have been with her. He obviously saw something in her that he liked(I mean who wouldn’t she’s awesome).

Nettles is held to a higher standard/pushed to the side cause she’s Black and they can not or at least will not relate to a Black woman. It is misogynistic and racist, but they’ll plug their ears and deny all day long. If they could get over their hate they’d see that Nettles is one of the most interesting characters in F&B and ASOIF as a whole, but haters gonna hate 🤷🏽‍♀️

[angelicvixenn]

It’s interesting that people are saying that the war started because of Alicent assuming the king meant Aegon instead of Rhaenyra. You guys are making this team green vs team black. Do any of you not realize that even if Alicent didn’t marry her best friends father ( some of y’all need to pick up a book they were not friends ) the war would have stated regardless! Why? Rhaenyra is a woman! Why do you think The queen who never was is the queen who never was? She’s a woman. The realm was going to go to war regardless. So now we have Alicents son, obviously not the first born but because he’s a man the Greens are pushing for him because ah yes the stability of the world always depends on the men. The people cheering for team green for their wrongs but then talk about how horrible team black is for doing the same and vice versa. There are no good people on either side. So annoyed with hear “ Rhaenyra is a spoiled brat who just started a war “ her birthright was always going to be challenged because she is a woman. Targaryen men are always favored over the women. Alicent took that deep breath and closed her eyes probably thanking the gods and Rhaenys for not killing her because if roles were reversed who knows what she would have done because hey anything to have the male heir on the throne! Including stealing the birthright of the first born. Then reading the complaints about the show being too much about the Targaryens, no shit it’s based on fire and blood. You hate them so much? Then quit with the fan behavior. But hey we know how the story ends anyway, who ends up on the throne, unlike GOT the story is actually finished. Unfortunately we get to see the misogyny and hypocrisy the Targaryen women have ALWAYS faced.

[gamergirl929]

I Think I Love You (Christen Press x Reader)

Heiress Y/N Y/L/N just inherited Y/L/N Enterprise a company known for its misogyny, can she mend the bridges her father burned with the USWNT, AND possibly find love along the way?

I mean, who doesn’t love the Enemies to Lovers trope? 

I really owe @wonder-kid-pugh​ for this one, for giving me ideas and letting me bounce them off of her, thank you so much, love! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

You drummed your fingers on your father’s old desk, your eyes darting around the sparse, dimly lit office.  

With your father’s passing, it was up to you to carry on the family name, and that meant, taking on the family business, a business with not the greatest reputation, especially when it came to women.  

Under you, that was going to change, and you would make sure of it.  

                                                          ***

“Did you see our biggest fan died?” Kelley asks the team with an eye roll, the defender holding up her phone.  

Millionaire found dead in home after suffering heart attack.  

Megan swipes Kelley’s phone.  

“Isn’t this the guy who said he wasn’t going to sponsor re-inc because women can’t run a successful business?” Megan holds the phone out to Christen who nods.  

“That’s him.”  

Kelley snorts.  

“Well, he probably wouldn’t be ecstatic about who took over the family business then.”  

Christen turns to the defender with an arched brow.  

“Who?” She asks and Kelley smirks.  

“His daughter.”  

                                                          ***

You shake your head as you storm through the building towards your office, leaving the conference room full of ignorant men, who expected the business to in no way change, behind.  

You give the tie around your neck a tug.  

How could a group of men be so utterly ignorant?

You run a hand down your face, turning towards your ringing phone, a phone that hadn’t stopped ringing since you became head of the company.  

You take a deep breath, tapping one of the red flashing buttons on your phone before bringing the receiver to your ear.  

“This is Y/N.” You say, your eyes darting around the room.  

You tune out when your eyes dart to a nearby newspaper, a newspaper announcing the transfer of Christen Press to Angel City.  

A small smile stretches across your face before it shifts into a frown, the memory of your father ranting and raving about the USWNT and their fight for equal pay, and how the company ran by Megan Rapinoe, Megan Klingenberg, Tobin Heath and Christen Press had the audacity to ask him to sponsor them.  

You take a deep breath before you find yourself again smiling.

You had an idea.  

“Ms. Y/L/N?” You hear a voice say through the receiver and you cringe, having heard nothing the person on the other side of the line had said.  

“I’m going to need to call you back.”  

                                                          ***

You didn’t expect your presence to be well received by the team, especially when your father had told the media that you thought their fight for Equal Pay was, and he quoted, ‘bullshit’, but of course, he’d taken it out of context, purposely of course to fit his narrative.

The second you’re spotted by Tobin Heath, each and every player on the USWNT sends you a glare, the hairs on your arms standing up under their cold gazes.  

You take a deep breath.  

You didn’t expect reaching out to the team to be easy, especially after what your father had said that you’d said.  

You rub the back of your neck nervously, catching Christen’s green orbs on you, her eyes narrowed.  

“Oh boy.”

                                                          ***

As to be expected, your picture was plastered all over social media the second you were noticed.

No one expected the CEO of Y/L/N Enterprises to show her face at a USWNT game, especially after the comments that came to light, comments that you hadn’t even made.  

You cross your arms across your chest, quickly realizing that more eyes were on you than on the game.  

You didn’t mind, you wanted the exposure, you wanted to prove that you were nothing like your father.  

You knew it would take time, but you were dead-set on the world realizing that Y/N Y/L/N was more than just her father’s daughter.  

You’re pulled from your thoughts by the fan’s cheers, the ball smacking the back of the net, slipping right passed the English goal keeper.  

You clap, whooping loudly, those closest to you looking your way in confusion.  

Christen picks her head up, her brows arching when she sees you celebrating her goal.  

She gives her head a shake, her nostrils flaring.  

You weren’t about to put a show on for the cameras, not at the expense of her, or her team.

                                                          ***

You release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding after the final whistle blows, the score 3-2, with the USWNT coming out on top.  

You rub your palms together, your hands running down the front of your white-pressed button up.  

You were incredibly nervous, how could you not be when you were about to approach a team who was convinced you hated them and who, by the glares they were shooting your way, hated you?

You glance around at the many fans looking your way.  

In reality you hadn’t really thought out how you would meet the team, let alone what you were going to say to them.  

“Perhaps a more private setting is in order.” You mumble to yourself, turning on your heels an ascending the bleachers, the glares thrown your way burning holes in your back.

                                                          ***

It took a lot longer than you expected for the USWNT to get to the hotel they were staying at, but over a half hour later they come filing into the lobby.  

You wet your lips before making your way towards them, the entire team zeroing in on you, a number of them scowling.  

“Uhh, h-hi, I’d like to introduce myself, I’m-

“We know who you are.” Kelley bites and your eyes widen, your cheeks reddening under her glare.  

“I just wanted to say congrats on the win and, uhhhh...”

“Look, you don’t have to pretend to be nice to us, we ALL know how you really feel.” Christen steps towards you, and your mouth drops open.  

“I’m not pretending.” You frown, and she scoffs, stepping even closer to you, the two of you now nose to nose.  

“I’m not about to let you put on a show at the expense of me and my teammates.” She growls and you swallow hard.  

“I’m-

“Save it, and stay away from us.” She growls before turning on her heels and stomping off, her teammates following close behind.  

Your gaze falls to your shoes, a massive frown on your face.

You pick your head up, watching as the team disappears from the lobby and out of sight.  

You give your head a shake, a smirk stretching across your face.  

You weren’t the type to give up that easily, and you didn’t plan on doing that now.

                                                          ***

After that you made your presence known at the remainder of the friendlies, standing amongst the crowd, refusing to instead stand up in a secluded box away from the fans, you WERE a fan after all.  

You presence was not only at USWNT, but at Angel City games as well.  

Christen takes a deep breath, her eyes narrowing when she spots you in the stands, donned in an Angel City Jersey.  

She had no idea why you were being so persistent, it was obvious to her that you were only focused on improving your own image by extending a mock olive branch out to not only her, but the USWNT as well.  

Her brows furrow when a little girl makes her way towards you, taking your hand and giving it a tug.  

The wrinkle between her brows only grows when you make your way towards a section full of kids, all wearing Angel City Jerseys, quite a few of them wearing her number.  

You ruffle the hair of the little girl sitting beside you and Christen’s brows arch, a light smile tugging the corners of her mouth upwards.  

That smile is wiped away when you turn towards her, a small smile stretching across your own face.  

She gives her head a shake.  

She knew what this was, again another attempt to maintain your image, and she wasn’t about to fall for it.  

                                                          ***

The more Angel City games you attended, the angrier Christen Press became, she was so angry in fact that she found herself storming into your office one day.

She storms past your receptionist, the woman jumping to her feet as she chases after the angry brunette.  

“You can’t be in there-  

She steps through your office door and your eyes widen.

“I’m so sorry Y/N. I tried to stop her.”

You hold a hand up, silencing your receptionist.  

“Don’t worry, she’s fine, close the door on your way out.”  

You glance out the window before taking a seat behind your desk, your eyes locking with angry green orbs.  

“To what do I-

“It was bad enough that you used BOTH of my teams to maintain your image, but then you drag children into it? That’s low, even for you.” She snarls and your brows knit in confusion.  

You move to your feet, rounding your desk so you can stand in front of her.  

“Those kids are from a local team, a team I sponsor.” You frown, Christen’s eyes widening minutely.  

“I was taking them to see their favorite team, AND their favorite player.” You sigh as you lean back against your desk.  

“What’s it going to take for you to understand that I’m nothing like him?” You ask as you cross your arms across your chest.  

Christen falls silent, simply staring at you for a moment before she scoffs.  

“A whole hell of a lot more than you’re doing.”  

You take a deep breath, a small smirk stretching across your face as you watch the woman storm out of your office.  

At least she hadn’t said there was nothing you could do to change her mind.

                                                          ***

Tennis shoed feet thump against the pavement, music blasting in Christen’s ears as she stares intently at the road ahead.  

She hadn’t seen you in a number of weeks, which improved her mood drastically, unfortunately for her, she was about to see you again, but this time, she wasn’t in an arena or in your office.  

“Hey!”  

Christen stiffens, her eyes widening when she spots you out of the corner of her eye, though when she sees what you’re doing she skids to a halt.  

Much to her surprise, you’re incredibly dressed down, no longer wearing a suit, but a muscle tee and a pair of shorts, a trail of little giggling girls chasing after you as you dribble the ball down field.  

She watches with a small smile as you tap the ball into goal, the little girls all swarming on you before dogpiling on top of you.  

Christen’s smile widens when you poke your head up from the pile of girls, a number of them hanging off of you as you move to your feet.  

You ruffle their hair, lifting one of them up into your arms.  

A tiny gasp causes Christen to stiffen, your head turning in her direction when a number of the little girls around you squeal, running as fast as they can towards the USWNT and Angel City forward.  

You snort.  

“What about me?” You pout, smiling when one of the little girls wraps her arms around your leg.  

You hoist her up into the air, the little girl giggling wildly as she wraps her arms around your neck.  

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” You say as you make your way towards Christen, the children surrounding her in excitement.  

“I didn’t expect to find you here.” She shrugs, the typical bite in her voice completely gone.  

The little girl in your arms starts to wiggle and you smile.  

“Oh, so you’re going to leave me too?” You ask as you put her down, the little girl joining the crowd surrounding Christen.  

You give your head a small shake, making your way across the field to scoop up the soccer ball that had long since been forgotten.  

“Well, if you’re staying...” You say, tossing the ball in her direction, the woman catching it with ease.  

“Show us how it’s done, Press.”  

A smirk stretches across her face, her heart lightening in her chest.  

“Gladly.”  

Christen steps onto the practice field with a beaming grin, the one she almost always wears.  

You cross your arms across your chest, your heart skipping a beat when Christen purposely whiffs the ball, allowing it to be stolen by one of the little girls, a massive smile on her face as she allows her to score.  

Your eyes widen when your heart again skips a beat, the butterflies in your stomach brought to life.  

“Uh oh.” You mumble, your cheeks flushing when Christen’s green orbs lock with your Y/E/C’s.  

“Shit.” You grumble, the little girl standing beside you looking at you with an arched brow, her eyes narrowed.  

“Swear!” She yells and you hold your hands up in surrender.  

“Hey, I’m sorry.” You cringe and she holds a hand out.  

“2 dollars!” She demands and your eyes widen.  

“That’s a little steep kid.” Your eyes narrow, her eyes narrowing as well.  

“Careful or it’ll be 3.”  

You scoff, reaching into your back pocket to retrieve your wallet.

Christen watches the interaction with a giggle, watching as the little girl stuffs the money into her pocket.  

You glance up, finding the woman’s green orbs on you.  

You shrug, nodding in the little girl’s direction with an eye roll.  

Christen shakes her head, her gaze dropping to the child who’d just gave her hand a tug, the little girl missing her two front teeth.  

“You know, you’re Ms. Y/L/N’s favorite player.”

“Oh, really?” She asks as she squats down in front of her and she nods enthusiastically.  

“She says you’re the best.”  

Christen’s eyes dart to you, watching as you send the little girl who stiffed you a glare, one she returns, that is until you break, a smile stretching across your face.  

Christen gives her head a shake.  

She wasn’t ready to admit she was wrong, but you were making an incredibly strong case to her that you were in no way the person that your father was.

As the sun rises high in the sky, parents begin flocking to the practice field to pick up their children, the little girls giving Christen, and you the tightest of hugs they can muster before sprinting towards their parents, excited to tell them about their day of practice.  

You cross your arms across your chest, turning to Christen with a smile.  

“I really appreciated this.” You whisper, your tongue swiping at your dry lips.  

Christen turns your way with an arched brow.  

“I didn’t do it for you, I did it for them.”  

You huff, blowing a strand of hair out of your face.  

“I didn’t think you did.”  

Christen stares at you for a moment, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly.  

She glances down at her watch and you nod, knowing the woman needed to take her leave.  

“I’ll see you around Christen.” You smile as you make your way towards the field, retrieving the balls the children had been playing with.  

Christen simply watches you, a smile etched on her face as you try and dribble one of the balls, ultimately failing.  

She slaps a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle, though she doesn’t go unheard, your eyes narrowed as you send her a playful glare.  

She rolls her eyes, reluctantly turning on her heels and heading to her apartment, leaving you to watch her go with a toothy grin.  

                                                          ***

Unsurprisingly, the tabloids had got wind of your and Christen’s outing together, even though it was incredibly tame and there were children involved, they picked apart every interaction between the two of you, seeing things that weren’t necessarily there.  

It wasn’t long before the USWNT got wind of the excursion as well.  

“What’s going on between you and the suit?” Tobin nods to the stands where you’re, unsurprisingly standing, attending yet another friendly.  

She shrugs.  

“Nothing.”  

Kelley snorts from her place on the bench.  

“It didn’t LOOK like nothing.”  

Christen sighs.  

“I saw her practicing with the team she’s sponsoring while I was on my run and I joined them, that’s all.”  

Kelley pats her back.  

“You were all smiles Pressy.” She teases and Christen rolls her eyes, her cheeks lightly flushed.  

“Well, that had nothing to do with Y/N.” She mumbles, shooting a glare up the bleachers, though when her eyes meet yours, it falters.  

She abruptly turns away from you, just as the final whistle blows, signaling the end of the game and securing another win for the USWNT.

Christen moves to her feet, the woman immediately making her way onto field, but is stopped when someone taps her shoulder.  

“Would you mind if we got a word?” The man nods to the camera behind him and she nods, a bit confused as to why she was being interviewed.  

“Christen, how do you feel about your start today?” He asks, holding a mic out to her and she sighs.  

“I think I could’ve been better, I’m still a little rusty after my time off, but I’m sure I’ll-

“Perhaps taking time off for your ‘mental health’ wasn’t the best idea, especially now that your play is lacking.”

Christen’s eyes widen, her mouth agape.  

A cacophony of snarls sound from nearby, but before any of Christen’s teammates can say anything, you do.  

“That’s a highly inappropriate comment.” You growl, the man turning towards you with wide eyes.

“I apologize Ms. Y/L/N.”  

You shake your head.

“You should be apologizing to her, not me.” You bite, the man completely ignoring your statement.  

“While you’re here, would you like comment on why, after past statements you’ve said, you’ve been attending USWNT games?” He asks and you take a deep breath.  

“The ‘comments’ made were not MY comments, they were my father’s, something he’d taken completely out of context, I’m here because the sport, as well as the team means a lot to me, and I plan on sponsoring them.” You spit, the muscle in your jaw visibly jumping.  

Christen eyes widen slightly, her thoughts swirling.  

The thing she’d been so mad at you about, the comments she thought you’d made, they hadn’t even been made by you.  

“How do you feel after inheriting a company, known for its mistreatment of women?” He shoves the mic in your face and you take a deep breath.  

“Yes, that’s how my father’s company was run, but that’s not how I’ll be running my company. The misogyny in the company will be no more under me.” You state, your eyes aflame.  

“Do you really think you can rid yourself of the reputation? Are you fearful that maybe some will see you as nothing more than your father’s daughter?” He asks, and your nostrils flair.  

You take a step towards the man, towering over him, his eyes wide in fear.  

“Let me tell you something-

You stiffen when someone takes your hand, that someone being Christen Press.

“I think this interview is over.” She says, pulling you away from the man who watches you go, his throat bobbing.  

Christen releases your hand and you sigh, running your hands down the front of your suit jacket.  

“I’m sorry, I just get so tired of being asked questions like that, I HATE being compared to my father.” You growl, sending the interviewer a glare.  

Christen’s hand moves to rest on your forearm.  

“I-” She pauses, your brows arching in question.  

“I’m sorry.” She finishes and you shake your head.  

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” You sigh, running your fingers through your hair.

She frowns.  

“But I did.”  

You turn towards her, a brow arched.  

“I compared you to him.”  

You frown, shrugging.  

“Everyone does.”  

You glance down at your feet, shrugging.  

“Congrats on the win.” You give her a small, forced smile before turning on your heels and walking off, leaving the forward to watch you go with a frown.  

                                                          ***

You run a hand down your face, your elbows propped up on your desk.  

You’d never dealt with so many incompetent men at once, and the second your leadership was questioned, based on your gender, you fired the man on the spot, a warning to those in the conference room that you weren’t to be trifled with.  

Inheriting the business had taken its toll on you, but giving up was not something ingrained within you.  

A knock on your door makes you pick your head up.  

“Come in.” You say, smiling when your receptionist enters the room.  

“I know you said you didn’t want to be bothered, but there’s a Christen Press here to see you.” She smiles, a smile you return.  

“Send her in, thank you.”  

“You’re welcome.”  

You sigh as the woman closes the door behind her, at least you had one person at your job who made things bearable.  

The door cracks open and you smile as Christen pokes her head inside, the forwards green orbs locking with Y/E/C’s as she slips into the room, the door clicking shut behind her.  

“Please, take a seat.” You nod to the couch resting against the wall across from your desk and you smile.  

“Do you want anything? Water?” You ask and she shakes her head.  

“I came to apologize.” She says as she moves to her feet, crossing your office and standing in front of your desk.  

You move to your feet, shaking your head.  

“Christen it’s really-

You’re silenced when she places a hand on your forearm, goosebumps erupting across your arms, thankfully beneath the sleeves of your suit jacket.  

“No, it’s not. You don’t deserve that.”  

You swallow hard, clearing your throat as her hand leaves your arm.  

You make your way towards the large window overlooking LA, the city below teeming with life.  

“Unfortunately, it’s what everyone thinks.” You shrug and Christen shakes her head, rounding the desk to stand beside you.  

“It’s not fair to you.”  

You give her a small shrug.  

Christen steps closer, the brunette’s frown deepening.  

“What can I do to make it up to you?” She asks and your brows arch, a smirk stretching across your face.  

“Well, there IS one thing you could do.... If you want to.”

Christen’s brows arch.  

“I have a gala to go to in a couple of weeks, and I could really use a plus one.”  

                                                          ***

You weren’t sure WHY you were so nervous, but you were, adjusting your tailored suit in the mirror across from you.  

“What do you think?” The tailor asks and you nod.  

“It’s perfect.”  

You hum.  

“Have you sent the dress I had made?” You ask and she nods.  

“Should be there in an hour.”  

                                                          ***

A knock on her apartment door causes Christen to turn her attention away from the three-way Zoom call she was currently in with Tobin and Megan.  

“One sec.” She moves to her feet and heads for the door, her brows furrowed when she finds a man in a suit behind her door.  

“Are you Christen Press?” He asks and she nods, the man passing a lengthy box over the threshold.  

“Y/N Y/L/N sends her regards.” He nods before silently walking off.  

“WAS THAT A MAN IN BLACK!?” Megan yells from the computer and Christen snorts, pushing the door shut before she makes her way back towards the computer.  

“No-

“Like you’d tell us if it was.” Megan scoffs, rolling her eyes and Christen shakes her head.  

“It’s from Y/N.”  

“Ooooooo, your rich girlfriend.” Tobin teases and Christen rolls her eyes.  

“She’s not my girlfriend.”  

Megan snorts.  

“YET. Come on, show us what’s in the box Pressy!”  

Christen shakes her head, opening up the box to reveal a beautiful green dress.

“Holy shit, that looks expensive!” Megan yells and Christen’s eyes double in size as she looks at the sparkling green dress, obviously tailor made.  

“I’ll call you guys right back.”  

Megan snorts.  

“Sure, you will.”  

Christen hangs up with an eye roll, her focus entirely on the dress in her hands, that is until another knock sounds on her apartment door.  

Christen places the dress gently in its box before opening the door, her eyes widening when she sees who’s standing behind it this time.  

“Y/N?” She says and you smile, clearing your throat.  

“Did you get the dress?” You ask and she nods.  

“Come in.”  

You step inside with a smile, your eyes darting to the dress that’s resting on her desk.  

“What did you think?”  

She shakes her head as she picks the dress up.  

“I can’t accept this.”  

You frown, your hands slipping in your pockets.  

“Why not?” You ask, and she sighs.  

“This is way too expensive.” She shakes her head and you shrug, wandering around a little, smiling when you see a picture of her and her family, the woman a lot smaller and a lot younger than she currently was.  

“I couldn’t help myself, I saw the fabric and I just-

You fall silent, clearing your throat.  

“Y-You don’t have to wear it. I just-

Another knock sounds on the apartment door and you grin bashfully.  

“What?” She asks and you clear your throat.  

“I uhhh...”  

Christen pull open the door, smiling when she sees a woman holding a bouquet of roses.

“Christen Press?” She asks and she nods, taking the long-stemmed roses with a massive grin.

She turns towards you, a brow arched.  

You shrug, stuffing your hands in your pockets.  

“I didn’t ask you to the gala properly.”  

Christen smiles, her cheeks dusted pink as she buries her nose in the bouquet.  

You rub your hands together, motioning back to the dress.  

“I insist you keep it.”  

She shakes her head, about to argue but you simply shake your head.  

“Please, keep it.”  

Christen takes a deep breath, her eyes darting to the stunning dress in her hands.  

“I was right.” You mumble to yourself and Christen’s brows arch in question.

You take a step closer, your gaze focused intently on the dress before you pick your gaze up, your eyes locking with hers.  

“It matches your eyes, that’s why I had it made.” You shrug, and her eyes widen, cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red.  

You grin.  

“I’m sure whatever you decide to wear, you’ll look fantastic.”

You smile.  

“Still picking you up at 6 on Saturday?” You ask and she nods.  

“I’ll be ready.”  

                                                          ***

The night of the gala comes quickly and soon you’re standing out front of Christen’s apartment, the door to your Cadillac Escalade open as you stand beside it.  

Your mouth instantly dries when you see her, a grin stretching across your face when you realized, indeed, the dress you’d had tailored made matched her eyes.  

Your tongue swipes at your lips, your hands growing clammy as you move towards her, taking her hand and assisting her down the apartment steps.  

“You look stunning.” You smile, biting your bottom lip to stave off a wider grin.  

Christen gets to the bottom step, her hands on your shoulders as she dusts you off.  

“You don’t look too bad yourself.”  

You shake your head as you stand beside the passenger’s door, again, offering a helping hand to the forward as she climbs into the passenger’s seat.  

You push the door shut before rounding the car, taking a deep inhale before exhaling loudly.  

“Here we go.” You whisper to yourself before slipping into the driver’s seat, your clammy fingers wrapping around the steering wheel.  

“Ready?” She asks and you nod.  

“Ready.”

                                                          ***

Though the distance was short, you find it taking a much lengthier time to get to the venue considering traffic is at a standstill.

In all honesty, you didn’t mind, because you couldn’t take your eyes off the woman beside you.  

“Are you nervous?” She asks, breaking through the silence and you exhale loudly.  

“Yeah, I don’t really want to be surrounded by a group of my father’s misogynistic buddies, but at least I have you.”

Christen smiles, covering your hand that’s resting on the shifter.  

Your cheeks flush.

“And I figured, who better to take on the patriarchy with than you?”  

Christen giggles, the sound making your heart skip a beat.  

“Well, there’s no one I’d rather fight the patriarchy with than you.” She shrugs and you grin.  

Finally traffic begins to move and before you realize you’re parking in your reserved space at the venue.  

You take a deep breath, glancing Christen’s way before reluctantly leaving the driver’s seat.

You round the car, tugging the passenger’s side door open, a small, nervous smile on your face.

“Are you ready?” You ask and she frowns, her hand moving to your shoulder.  

“Are you?”  

You shrug.  

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”  

You hold your hand out, Christen’s hand sliding down your arm before her fingers tangle with yours.  

As she slips out, you push the car door shut behind her, taking a lengthy inhale as the two of you move towards the venue, only to stop at the doors leading inside.  

“This was a mistake.” You mumble, Christen’s expression faltering.  

“What? Why?” She asks and you shake your head, turning to her.  

“I shouldn’t have invited you.” You frown and Christen’s eyes narrow, her bottom lip jutted out in a minute pout.  

When you see the look on her face your eyes widen, and your face pales.

“N-No! That’s not what I meant!” You say, your arms flailing around.

“I meant, WE shouldn’t have come.” You glance away, unable to look her in the eye.  

You stiffen when her hands move to rest on your shoulders, her thumbs stroking your collarbone.  

The calming gesture has more of an effect on you than you care to confess, even to yourself.  

“You can do this Y/N, don’t let them run you off.” She whispers and you take a deep breath, your eyes darting to the entrance where you can see a number of your father’s old friends, a number of them shooting scowls your way.  

“I’m more worried about you.” You admit and Christen’s brows furrow.  

“What do you mean?” She asks and you sigh.  

“I don’t want them to target you. If you thought my father was bad, they’re ten times worse.” You frown and Christen shakes her head, her cheeks lightly dusted pink at the fact that you wanted to protect her.  

“Even if they do, I can handle myself. I had no problem handling your father.”

You let out an even lengthier sigh.  

“I know you didn’t, and I know you can, I just...” You trail off, shuffling nervously on your feet.  

Christen smiles, finding this nervous side of you endearing.  

Her hands leave your shoulders in favor of taking your tie in between her fingers.

“You’re the CEO of Y/L/N Enterprise, now go in there and show them that.” She smiles as she adjusts your tie, stroking the black silk.  

You take a deep breath, turning your head to look through the glass door, the men inside still looking your way, or more so scowling your way.  

You turn to Christen, inhaling deeply before you nod.  

“Let’s go.”  

                                                          ***

You stood on the venue’s balcony, the ice in your whiskey clinking against the sides of the glass.  

“Your father was right when he said you’d run his business into the ground.”

“Imagine how the business would be thriving if he had a son!”  

You swirl the contents of your glass as you lean over the balcony, the door behind you opening.  

“There you are.”  

You sigh in relief when you realize it’s Christen, a smile stretching across your face when you see she’s holding an entire bottle of whiskey, placing the bottle on the balcony’s thick railing.  

“I figured you could use this; they won’t miss it.”  

You smile, unscrewing the bottle’s lid before topping off your glass, and taking a swig from the bottle.  

You sigh.

“You know, they’re right?” You shrug, taking another swig.  

“Y/N-

You shake your head.  

“It’s what my father always told me, and he was constantly reminding me.”

Christen leans against the railing beside you, the woman frowning sadly.  

“No matter what I did, he was never proud of me, I was valedictorian, in high school you know? I graduated top of my class in college, and he still wasn’t proud of me.” You take a sip of your whiskey.  

Christen eyes your profile, the brunette’s heart breaking in her chest.  

Your head lolls to the side, your glassy eyes locking with Christen’s green orbs.  

“You know I used to play soccer?” You ask and she shakes her head, propping her elbows up on the balcony’s railing.  

“After my mom walked out, he forced me to stop, said it, ‘was just a waste of time.’”  

You down the rest of your glass before again topping it off with the bottle’s contents.  

“I was actually pretty good too, I wanted to play in college, but my father forced me to go into business, even though any idea I pitched was shot down before it could even go airborne.”  

Christen frowns, regretting the fact that she’d ever compared you to the man.  

“I’m sorry.” She whispers and your brows arch in question.  

“I’m sorry that I ever compared you to him.”  

You shrug, nodding in the direction of the packed venue.  

“Everyone does it, and apparently I don’t measure up.”  

Christen reaches for and takes your hand, giving it a squeeze.  

“In my book, you’re already way better than your father.”  

You chuckle, leaning towards the woman, your head resting on her shoulder.  

“No one has ever said that to me before.” You confess, the woman slipping her arm around your middle, her hand resting on your waist.  

“Well, I’ll remind you every day if I have to.”  

You smile, giving her a playful nudge.  

“It almost sounds like you like being around me Press.”  

Your cheeks flush when Christen rests her head against yours.  

“Maybe I do.”  

                                                          ***

After emptying the entire whiskey bottle together, the pair of you decide to walk to Christen’s apartment, your hands brushing the entire way.  

You come to a stop in front of the stairs leading to her apartment building and turn to her with a huff.  

“Even though tonight was a complete and total disaster, I’m glad I had you by my side.” You smile, taking a step closer to her and she grins.  

“I wouldn’t call it a disaster, we got to drink expensive whiskey.”  

You chuckle, slipping your hands in your pockets.  

“I suppose we did.”  

Your tongue swipes at your lips, the taste of whiskey on your tongue as you step even closer to the woman, her hands immediately moving to rest on your shoulders.  

“Uhh....” You swallow hard, your hands finding purchase on her waist.  

Christen’s glassy green orbs dart from your equally glassy Y/E/C orbs, to your lips and back.  

“I’m glad you chose me to be by your side.” She whispers and you smile.  

Slowly, nervously, the two of you lean in, your lips inches apart, the whiskey coursing through you giving you the courage to lean forward, that is until someone drives past, their horn blaring loudly, causing the two of you to spring apart, your lips never even grazing one another.  

You rub the back of your neck nervously, your cheeks blood red, mirroring the coat covering Christen’s own cheeks.  

“Th-Th-Thanks for coming with me tonight, Chris.” You stammer and she nods, her throat bobbing.  

“Anytime Y/N.” She whispers.  

Needless to say, you’re incredibly surprised when Christen’s lips press against your cheek, the tips of your ears burning as you turn to the woman, who is slowly ascending her apartment building’s staircase.  

“Goodnight, Y/N.” She whispers and you smile.  

“Goodnight Christen.”  

                                                          ***

The following morning you’re nursing, not only a hangover, but an incredible amount of embarrassment.  

You couldn’t believe you’d tried to kiss her, you couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid.  

And unfortunately for you, you weren’t the only one, besides Christen who’d seen the almost kiss, a picture of the two of you plastered on any and all tabloids, reading.  

Heiress and CEO of Y/L/N Enterprises spotted with USWNT star, Christen Press. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose.  

“Ms. Y/L/N, Christen Press is here to see you.”  

You swallow hard, your cheeks flushing.  

Unsurprisingly, Christen slips passed her and makes her way into the room, bypassing the couch and heading right for you.  

You swallow hard, your mouth opening and closing as your receptionist shuts the door behind her.  

“Y/N, about last night-

You rise to your feet, rather abruptly in fact, so abruptly that it makes the soccer player jump.  

“I’m so sorry Christen, I have an urgent meeting that I really must be getting to.”  

Christen frowns, the woman watching as you jump to your feet and practically sprint out of the office, leaving the forward behind.  

Christen frowns, her heart aching in her chest.  

She gazes around the office, spotting the picture on your laptop’s screen, her cheeks flushing.  

Before she even realizes she’s turning on her heels and walking out, only to be stopped by the receptionist.  

“Just give her some time.” She smiles, drawing Christen’s attention the brunette’s brows furrowed.  

“I’ve never seen her act the way she does when she’s around you, there’s something special there, she just has trouble expressing how she feels.”  

She leans forwards in her seat.  

“Just don’t give up on her.” She smiles and Christen nods, a smile stretching across her own face.  

“I won’t.”

                                                          ***

“What’s wrong?” Tobin asks, as she gives her best friend a nudge, the forward shrugging.  

“It’s nothing.”  

Megan knocks a ball in her direction, the Angel City player catching it on her foot with ease.  

“Does this have something to do with the gala you and your girlfriend went on?” She asks and Christen rolls her eyes.  

“She’s not my girlfriend.”  

“Not YET, I mean we ALL saw those pictures.” Megan quips and Christen rolls her eyes.  

“Seriously, I don’t think she’s interested.”  

“Are YOU interested?” Emily butts in and Christen’s cheeks betray her, flushing pink.  

“I’d take that as a yes.” Tobin smirks, her best friend’s bottom lip jutting out in a pout.  

Christen shrugs.  

“I feel guilty.”  

Kelley’s brows arch as she slides in, swiping the ball from the forward.  

“Why?”  

“For comparing her to her father.”  

Kelley stops, frowning.  

“We all did.”  

Megan shrugs.  

“How could we not, after her father said she made those comments??”  

Christen sighs, stopping the ball with her foot.  

“Still, she’s nothing like him, she’s funny, sweet, generous-

Christen pauses, her cheeks flushing.  

She clears her throat.  

“You should’ve heard how they talked to her, how many times they said they wished her father had a son instead of her.”  

Lindsey scowls.  

“That’s low.”  

“The worst part is, she believes them.”  

Kelley sighs.  

“Well, when you’re told something so many times, it’s hard not to start believing what the person says is true.”  

Christen frowns, turning her attention to the bustling stands, the brunette smiling when she spots you amongst the crowd.  

You give her a half-hearted wave, a small smile playing on your lips, something about the interaction makes Christen frown, your eyes widening when you see her saddened expression.  

You take a step down the bleachers, wanting more than anything to make your way to the sidelines, but you know you can’t.  

You slip your hands in your pockets as you sigh deeply.  

Running away this morning had been a mistake, but you weren’t even remotely ready to confront your feelings for the woman, feelings your yourself didn’t quite understand, but seeing the look on her face, and the pang that reverberated through your chest at the sight of it, made you realize you could longer deny what you were feeling.  

You were in love with Christen Press.  

                                                          ***

“Fuck.” Christen mumbled under her breath as a yellow card was held high in her direction, the forward throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation.  

You frown, sighing deeply as the whistle blows, signaling the end of the first half.

You glance towards the tunnel, wanting more than anything to go see the stressed USWNT player, but knowing there was no way you were about to get in the tunnel unless you snuck down there, and you weren’t great at sneaking.  

You briefly think about doing so, but when you catch sight of a nearby security guard, you decide against it.  

Maybe you could get her attention before the start of the second half?

                                                          ***

Christen kept her head down during tactic talks, garnering the attention of her teammates, who worriedly glance in her direction.  

Just as everyone is about to leave the locker room, Vlatko places a hand on her back.  

“Are you okay to play the second half?” He asks, concerned and Christen nods.  

“Yeah.” She answers, sure to keep her demeanor cheery as she usually did.  

Vlatko gives her a once over before nodding, the pair exiting the locker room together.  

Soon they’re back out on the field, walking the length of the sidelines.  

“CHRIS!”  

Christen’s brows arch, the woman picking her head up, her attention focused entirely on the bleachers.  

Green eyes catch Y/E/C and you smile.  

You cup your hands around your mouth, shouting.  

“YOU GOT THIS CHRIS!”  

A small smile stretches across her face before it splits, her pearly white teeth on display.  

The look on her face mirrors your own, a toothy grin that spreads across the whole of the bottom of your face.  

You give her a thumbs up, earning one in return, the forward with a little extra pep in her step as she makes her way towards the field.  

You nod to yourself, elated to see the happy smile back on Christen’s face, you could only hope that happiness would lead to a better second half for the woman.  

                                                          ***

Christen’s second half is a complete contrast to the first, the woman sinking two goals before the final whistle blows.

Wearing a massive grin, she turns to the stands, hopeful to see you, but those hopes are dashed when she finds the spot you were occupying empty.

“Looking for someone?”  

Christen turns, towards Tobin, her cheeks flushed.  

Silently, Tobin nods towards the tunnel, where you’re currently standing.

You shuffle nervously on your feet, your hands slipping in your dress pant's pockets as Christen makes her way towards you.

The second she gets to you, you blurt out.

“I’m sorry.”  

Christen’s lips part.

“I shouldn’t have left like I did this morning.”

“Y/N-

“It was incredibly rude of me.”

“Y/N-

“I was just scared, I wasn’t ready to-

You fall silent, your eyes as wide as saucers.  

Christen’s lips looked as they felt, incredibly soft, full, something you had the joy of knowing considering she was currently kissing you.  

Your lips move in tandem, your hands resting on her waist as she delicately cups your cheeks, her fingers tenderly stroking your jawline.  

You’d wanted this for so long, even before you’d eventually realized you wanted it that day on the soccer field.

Christen pulls back, much too soon for your liking resulting in your chasing her lips, the woman smiling into your second kiss.  

Wolf whistles break the two of you apart, your cheeks, as well as Christen’s flushing when you realize you have an audience.  

Your lips split in a grin as you rest your forehead against Christen’s, playfully bumping your nose against hers.  

You glance at her teammate’s out of the corner of your eye, your grin widening.  

Christen waves them off, unaware that you’re currently staring at her profile, your mind and heart racing wildly.  

She turns back to you, her green orbs widening when she sees the look on your face.  

“What’s wrong?” She asks, cupping your cheeks, a frown forming on her lips when she sees the glassy sheen of tears in your eyes.  

“Y/N-

“Chris...” You cut her off, your throat bobbing as you attempt to rid yourself of the lump in your throat.  

Your mouth opens and closes multiple times before you eventually find your voice.  

“I’ve never really known what love is, but when you’re around, my heart races in my chest, and the butterflies in my stomach go insane... You do things to me no one else ever has and I...”  

You pause.  

“I think-”  

You clear your throat.  

“I think I love you.”  

The frown immediately disappears from her face, her lips splitting into a megawatt smile.

She leans in, her lips pressing delicately against yours, the kiss much softer than your first, and second kisses, her lips feather light against your own.  

Reluctantly, she pulls back, but doesn’t go far, her forehead resting against yours.  

“I think I love you too.”  

[ursie]

You said that you liked Weiss and I’m curious about your thoughts on her/headcanons/reasons why you like her

Hmm ok I haven’t rewatched the middle seasons so this is just off of what I remember sgsfdgffff

Why I like her :

I think she’s very compelling and if I’m being honest the only one to get consistent character growth and development. Yang for all the obv changes hasn’t really evolved, Blake whilst I will say has grown I find a lot of inconsistencies with her story and arcs and frankly I think seasons 4-6 are the weakest and a lot of it is due to her shdfgdffffsd, Ruby..is not treated like a main character no growth no evolution she revolves around like Jaune and Oscar now whilst Weiss?? Queen of growth queen of learning queen of actually having good seasonal arcs.

Literally she was the saving grace of s4-6 and her family dynamics in s7 really went above and beyond.

Are there issues with her character? Yes but it’s at least growing because I’m sorry Yang and Blake but changing does not equate growth fdggdgggdffg.

Also her songs are bops

Gen thoughts : I kinda went off on why I like her but like actual thoughts and not hcs

I think if they push her with Jaune it’ll literally invent misogyny and whilst Neptune is like fine there’s a def sense of comphet I get with Weiss I think as much as we talk about Yang I think Weiss is equally easily interpreted as being gay.

I think her dynamics with Winter and shockingly her brother and mother are actually so interesting and written well??? I sincerely hope they continue to use that

There are def issues w her character the obvious Faunus biases she had comes to mind but tbh her character was 16?17? And like. Very clearly evolved from that mindset (also rwby undermined Weiss being wrong by like. Actually making the white fang evil and Adam that so it’s hard to discuss this one in good faith as one party was not written in it dfffgdfgg)

Her dynamics with the team are nice and frankly welcome and I wished we explored individual relationship dynamics more because I really enjoyed Yang and Weiss is s5?6? Dgdfffg i don’t even remember but the one season they talked to each other fsffgff. I think Weiss and Ruby are finally growing again and with Penny back and in the mix I can’t believe Ruby has two gfs. Blake and her need to talk more dggfffff

I actually think it’d be a good visual character growth to cut her hair as the side ponytail was her straying from her fathers path I think chopping it all together would be the final nail in the coffin

Her semblance is the coolest that’s just true and she’s by far the best fighter on team rwby Yang is just better at 1 on 1 and is a powerhouse that doesn’t equal to actual technical skill

She should be allowed to be more menphobic as a treat

Hcs :

Trans Ace Lesbian

She’s on the spectrum

Due to the effort it takes to summon and how often she does it now aside from the strain of her other glyphs she starts using a chair part time

She is one of those people who wear don’t talk to me before I had my coffee tees unironically

I think her and Ren would be good friends they’re just vibing together they’re obnoxious sleeve buddies

She has a green thumb and is very good at growing house plants (they cheer her up)

She cannot cook she cannot bake she will set fire to something team rwby is useless in the kitchen

She loves birds and is a not so secret birder

She’s actually into a lot of different music and definitely uses it as a means of expression

Would be very good at Minecraft

[gotatext]

claws my way out of the dirt like the goblin i am ..... hello thots, its nora, once again bringing you a revamped version of a muse i played yonks ago n some of u may have even written against... here is her pinterest.....

this is margaret greta, she’s a whole can of trauma spaghetti plastered over with a toothy grin and a lot of dad jokes. the only reason she’s in gifford really is bcos shes been put there as part of a witness protection program cos lots of police r monitoring livingstone so its deemed relatively safe.... haha... anyway she changes major all the time. she started off doing fine art but since then she’s done modules in architecture, film, bio-chemistry and is now dabbling in medicine. 

CIS-FEMALE — ever hear people say GRETA O’DRISCOLL looks a lot like DIANA SILVERS? I think SHE is about 21, so it doesn’t really work. The MEDICINE major is a SOPHOMORE that is from DEADWOOD, SOUTH DAKOTA. They can be +CHARMING, but they can also be -EVASIVE. I think GEE might be SHEEP. They are living in YATES. ( nora. 23. gmt. she/her )

this bitch is the most restless creature u ever seen. before she came to livingstone, she’d lived in 8 different cities in 3 years. 

was adopted as an infant. had two foster moms and two older sisters so always surrounded by women. lived in a boarding house, very much like the one in 20th century women, with lodgers coming in and out all the time, mostly artsy young women because her gay moms were both high school teachers trying to set up their own arts collective. one of her moms left when she was 4, n she doesn’t really remember her.

while living with entirely women made her super into catlin moran and the guilty feminist, as a teenager she often let boys walk all over her bc she just craved male attention jst bcos she’d never really experienced it. saw it as something aspirational, like sitting in the back of chad’s second-hand truck while he drove you to macdonalds and offered you and his five friends with identical haircuts weed was the height of being cool to greta, she wanted to be their dream girl, even if it meant compromising her beliefs

bubbly bitch but also massive snake. metaphorically and literally, always shedding her skin. loyal to few, ruled by none, out for herself, babey!! every place she goes, she becomes a new character, someone who’s a figment of her imagination, as if each city is repertory theatre and she’s a character actress, so as a result som ppl think she’s called rita, some ppl know her as margot, she just flicks through identities like nobodies business.

goes through phases of being intensely feminist and tweeting “men are trash i don’t need them” before flipping into being lonely and needy n wanting male attention again. tends to gravitate towards men who are just pieces of shit tbh like her friends are always like hun.... pick a nice boy..... but no.... she’ll go for the boxer with several arrest records for gbh or the small-town drug dealer just trying to hook her onto pills for a little extra cash, or the reformed sinner who thinks he’s being protective by reading all her texts and always knowing where she is..... n she always finds a way to spin it so that they Just Care About Her and aren’t a p.o.s 

left school at 18 n didn’t go to uni, moved in w her boyfriend of the time instead, but soon got bored, n then went backpacking around the states making money in the casinos by being a shot girl (yeehaw) and trying to make it as a mysterious 1920s widow with a smoky voice, a dark secret n a heart of gold, looking for love in the big city. all she found was producers and acting agents who’d promise her stardom n actually just fuck her in a motel n then ignore her calls.

TW domestic violence, TW gun, her watershed moment came when she met luke in sioux falls while she was playing bass for a country n blues band. he was a few years older and had a car, and they kind of went from seeing each other to being that super intense couple who are just necking all the time. 

they got engaged like 3 months after they met n rented a flat together, much to her family’s annoyance but she was 19 so there wasn’t much they could do. their relationship was super super intense though, often really heightened and when they fought it could become quite violent, but she’d pass it off as just him being really passionate. 

one of their fights got really heated and greta threatened him with the gun he kept in the glove box of his vauxhall corsa, but the safety was off and she accidentally shot him. she pleaded self defence in the trial n cos of the amount of times she’d been hospitalised for various concussions n things like ‘fallling down the stairs’ the police were like yea... pretty watertight evidence that he was a bastard who [chicago voice] had it coming..... also this happened in 2017, he was mixed race and greta is white so naturally the police totally took her side. she’s now under witness protection, rehoused in livingstone as a sports-scholarship student, due to the amount of police involvement in the area, it would mean should one of luke’s family members try to track her down, she’d be relatively safe

 massive sports fanatic. plays tennis. on the cheer team. was a track superstar in her high school. honestly just that sporty bitch, you’ll see her doing lines at a party at half four and then on your way to your 9am lecture you see her running across the park like a fresh fucking daisy who is this bitch

pretty easy to get along with (provided you don’t anger, provoke or question her too much) because she WANTS your character to be enthralled by her and will do whatever it takes to win them over. she wants everyone to love her

is That Girl who always knows where the parties are, and is always there, on the sofa, talking about institutionalised racism and trying to coerce you into a game of beer pong that she’ll definitely win. doesn’t really have one solid group of friends, just kind of on good terms with everyone and social butterflies about

has changed her major so many times. decision? who is she. currently studying medicine, but doesn’t rlly enjoy it. she’s very unmotivated and lazy and probably wouldn’t ahve bothered going to uni if she hadn’t been placed in one by a witness protection program. will probably change on to history or gender studies soon n just make up the extra credits by volunteering

 massive feminist. low key quite scared of powerful men bcos of her ex. wants to start a female only lesbian commune bc she misses her childhood in a south dakota boarding house and has endless support for women. honestly annoyed that she is attracted to men, would so be 100% gay if it was a choice. cuffs her jeans and can’t drive. is That bisexual. skateboards. wears backwards caps.  i hate her

plays bass guitar, has a teal green fender and it is her BABY. it’s covered in stickers about saving the planet and ending fracking and going vegan. she’s in an all-female punk band w agnes (n mayb jade i think) n they play gigs every now n then in grotty club basements full of druggy sweaty college kids

PERSONALITY: easy-going, sociable, observant, blunt, amiable, nihilistic, self-serving, laid back, independent, unmotivated, charming, lazy, impulsive, alluring. ESTP and a leo

LIKES: art, music, john wayne movies, black mirror, philosophy,  cowboy chic culture, DC comics, arcade games, candyfloss, deep red lipstick, marijuana, dogs, karaoke, Kate Moss, late-night strolls, zip-lining, chemistry, suspenders, cigarettes, herbal tea, gallows humour, cold coffee, long showers, brown eyes, tchaikovsky, dr. seuss, boiler house DJ sets, magnolias, decorative lamps, worn-out furniture, twangy electric guitars.

DISLIKES: bananas, coffee, Woody Allen, mental mathematics, children, Trump, institutionalised misogyny, the imaginary future, french literature, Wes Anderson films, spoken word poetry, the general mentality of cheerleading squads (despite being on one)

aesthetics:

a bubble of pink gum on chapped lips, mom jeans, a beaten up pair of adidas, denim jackets, strawberry laces, knee-highs, chapped lips, peeling sticky plasters, split knuckles, bruises you try to cover with concealer, stick and poke tattoos, hot coffee, sleep caught in your eyes on a lazy afternoon, kissing girls, cigarette smoke shrouding you like a veil, alien conspiracy theories and sci-fi paperbacks, doc martens with fraying laces, the red string of a thong peaking out purposely from jeans, leonine arch of your back and that stellar smile that says ‘you have no idea who you’re dealing with’, a rucksack permanently packed for the move, a streak of red across your lips, roller blades, cut knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, and piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your mom wouldn’t take you, kate moss posters lining the walls of a teenage bedroom, his name scrawled in rage across the pages of a diary, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, a tennis racket you punched through in a fit of temper, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes. 

wanted plots: since greta literally can’t differentiate between romantic and platonic love, she’s got off with so many of her mates, so i want awkward friendships where they nearly dated, or exes that have now just turned into weird friendships, and girls from the cheer team who she’s like, weirdly intimate with like the shower together but its not a Thing cos the other girls straight, and I want like, fellow medicine students who are like?? how is this bitch still passing?? i swear she goes out every night?? she works part time at a fast food restaurant, i want a mate that just goes and sits in there talking to her until her manager gets angry. ppl she did a few modules with before changing course and somehow sort of remaining in touch with, like she did a few art modules, a bit of film, n some architecture before switching to medicine, though she’ll probs switch course again soon. ppl who she runs track with. someone she’s trying to make a zine with. here’s a list of plots on her old blog if u want any of them w her.

would love plots of any type, throw them all at me please, i cnt wait to interact w all of u. like this if u want me to message you about connections / plots! xo

full biography if u can be bothered

trigger warnings: drugs, domestic abuse, gun.

you never meant for it to happen. you’d heard the stories, of girls who let their man walk all over them, and thought to yourself “i’ll never be one of those girls…” the kind that eat low-fat yoghurt and drink slim fast to shred a few extra pounds because he said she was getting round in the tummy, or the ones who spent their evenings tied to a kitchen sink drinking wine while him and the boys played poker, wishing god, if only I could get out of here. not you, not you raised by strong women, four bright shining beacons. single mother with her hard-as-nails attitude and her stony glares, elder sisters (twins) one ginger, one blonde, one doctor, one lawyer, both determined to take a bullet to the brain and a hammer to the patriarchy before they let a man touch them without asking. you were always so inferior, so insecure and small, like a bird (like a sparrow) with blonde plaits down your back sucking tropicana whilst your busom buds sucked dick, their lips permanently ripe with stories of their sexual exploits, fake tan and glittered nails whilst you sat in the unbroken egg of virginity wondering what it was like to be loved. one day you found out.

lily milligan’s parents gone and a free house for the night, bottles of ouzo and tequila swiped from your mother’s liquor cabinet thinking she wouldn’t know (she always knew) your legs, hardened from pep squad, slut dropping on a kitchen table because the boys thought it would be fun to get the quiet girl drunk. you’d never had a sip before that night. band t-shirts, denim shorts and the split soles of rotten converse that you refuse to let go of, you still clutched with both hands to your youth, but in a tube top now (borrowed from alice carmichael who had a sister in college) and a short tennis skirt, your feet not in trainers but in thigh-high boots. uncomfy as hell but lily said you needed to look sexy. you didn’t know if you wanted to be sexy. you didn’t know what kind of girl you were, if you were even a girl at all. but robbie looked at you like he knew exactly who you were, like he knew you better than you knew yourself, and his lips had the pink cupid’s bow of a movie star, and his hair was dark locks, curling like a mane. his hands were soft, and suddenly on your waist, and after three more shots his lips were on yours and his name was the only sound in your head and on your lips as you lost it in lily’s college sister’s bedroom beneath the glare of a T-Pain poster. you bled for what seemed like hours, his hand still in yours, kissing on the sofa as truth tellers and dare devils continued to spin a bottle of unprecedented youth. you thought it was love. robbie was the one. he loved you, you knew it, how else could someone be so soft? but soon he grew bored, scrunched up your paper heart and set it alight. then came the tears, the hatred, the ‘fuck robbie, in fact, fuck all boys.’ and that you did.

you were known for being easy. any boy could be yours for a night, as long as he promised to love you for those few short breaths and pants before you cried yourself to sleep. you felt poisoned, but poisonous as well, as if by ensnaring these young boys you were gaining power over them, and not the other way around. soon it started to work. they’d want more, but you’d deny them it, sick of sucking off silly schoolboys, they’d call you a tease, a vixen. maybe you were, but you couldn’t help but want older men. you got the history teacher first time, him bending you over his desk to sneak a hand up your tennis skirt as the after-school clubs carried on next door, unawares. love didn’t exist, not for you. it was nothing but a game for pretty young girls to play, bubble gum in their canines and a hand tugging at the hem of their cheer skirt.

there was so much anger inside of your small body, ‘beware of boys and their hook-like words’. hockey helped. there was something formidable about the feeling of a stick like a weapon in your hands and the thwack it made against thighs in the heat of a scrum - “slipped, sorry!” - you’d utter with a snakeskin smile, millicent quinn knowing that you’d hit her on purpose because she shagged robbie at that party last week. she couldn’t prove it, cobbled acne on her forehead turning green with disgust. ben came into your life like a car crash. two years your senior, with a baseball jacket and shoulders like a god. he became your personal hero. on the pitch, he was lethal. together, you could bring anyone to their ruin. each day after last period he’d be waiting in his car. you’d leap into his arms like a girl-half starved, love me, love me, love me, your heated kisses the envy of every junior girl. he was yours for three blissful years, utterly yours, and you were his, his star-spangled girl, and he was your knight - you were both the same, playing games, always difficult to predict. it was a shock to all when he proposed, high-school sweethearts find love in south dakota.

the engagement was a bittersweet affair; three months – you barely out of your gingham print skirts and into a graduation gown, him, a surly quarterback towering above your sisters, cigarette at his lips and a scowl like a fart in a lift. they hated him. so did you. but you were eighteen and in love, and he fitted the cookie cutter mould. everyone wanted him, and you had him. you had him and you were happy, happy, happy, and he loved you. he said he’d give you the world, anything you wanted hand-picked and given to you. instead, he gave you a jack russell terrier and a flat you couldn’t swing a cat in, wallpaper peeling like the rotten bits inside of you, the bits that only he knew. and you got tireder and tireder of the sad excuse of a life he’d picked out for you, him out doing god knows what to pay the bills, and you dancing on tables to pave your way to stardom, and this was love, this was real, until the shine wore off and your fresh-faced, dimple-cheeked cheerleader facade faded and the ugliness started to reveal itself, the whining, the petulance, the sharp-tempered cruelty, the mind games, the need to always win, win, win. he was dull, he was boring, he was nothing like the boy the girls had said he was and no chiselled six pack could hide his lack of anything remotely interesting, your patience wearing thin until it snapped like rubber, a rucksack on your back, running shoes on your feet and the joint bank account emptied into your eighth grade birthday wallet.

you built your small fortunes working the casinos of sioux falls, a crimson dress and an attitude to match. bookish archie with his little dipper freckles was fun for a month, before he became just as dull and dreary as the rest. a three hour bus and you were in minneapolis, bright eyed and bushy tailed, fresh meat ready for the pickings. a hostel here, a friendly co-worker’s sofa there as you made what you could by taking off your clothes and shaking your ass like you were back in pep squad, doing what you did best. you met your fair share of creeps, and soon it was back on the road to escape a wide-eyed stalker and a restless itch for more. milwaukee, chicago, you made the roads your own. log cabins and lodgings, and the occasional motel, a beaten up pick up truck purchased at a scrap merchants – you got a few miles out of it before it bit the dust, and when you finally set it alight after nights spent lounging across the driver’s seat, a parka tucked over you as a duvet, you were sad to see it go. you’re nomadic by fault, never attaching to place, people or things, creating a new personality in every place you go like a character actress; each town is a different repertory theatre, and you’re the star. a compulsive liar, you even fib about your own name, to some you’re ellen, nineteen, bookish, a law student who likes smoking and cosmos. to someone else you’re rita, you’re twenty five and look young for your age, like smoking, comics and fucking in public places.

in the bright lights of michigan, you found charlie, sweet charlie, too good for you, though you let him spoil you while he thought you were the small town girl of his dreams. next came abigail, who was fun until the jealously kicked in, and then luke, gorgeous luke, dangerous, exciting, who despite his temper, despite the fights, despite bruises down your spine and your teeth marks on his arms, loved you with the strength of a wild fire. there was destruction in your wishbones, a savageness from the field, from the pitch and now somehow in his arms, you were godly. he was cruel, he was careless, and he refused to fall at your feet like so many other boys had, which only you made you want him all the more. you were rage incarnate. you hated him so fiercely you thought you might kill him, so he played the only card you wouldn’t predict; proposed.

the house you shared was a backstreet flat in detroit, you making your name as a downtown singer while he footed the bill with pills. they had a drug for anything these days, to dull the senses, to pick them up, to drive you to insanity or pull you out of the madness hole. the two of you lived like criminals on the run (you never told him that you were, living out your days as the enigma he wanted you to be), you with your voice like caramel and fishnet legs. you were his and his alone until his hand was at your throat and the gun was in your hands screaming at him to stop, stop, stop, until a bullet stoppered his brain, crimson staining linoleum as you cast yourself out like lucifer. self defence was decreed the moment they saw your violet neck, black tears and headlight eyes and mind screaming red, red, red like the pom-poms you shook so willingly in school and the insides of his skull. you were gone, and “you” was born, renamed “greta”, boxed, shipped-out, and next-day delivered to livingstone where under witness protection you were a student, blank slate, fresh-faced in a place where no one knew your name, doing what you always did and starting again.