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mead-iocre · 2 months

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Football Scarves and Football Kits | Leah Williamson x Reader

Football Scarves: these are a popular accessory among many football fans. They are a subtle or not so subtle way of displaying your support for your football club by adorning yourself in your club’s colours, slogans or logo.

You glance down at the red and white scarf wrapped around your neck. It wouldn’t be difficult for the other passengers on the tube to guess which football match you were attending thanks to the glaring Arsenal Football Club logo that is printed on the bottom of your scarf. If that wasn’t enough, the new season’s classic red and white Arsenal home kit you are wearing underneath your jacket should be a good enough indicator.

The familiar rhythmic clickety-clack of the wheels as it rolls over the joints and tracks should be relaxing as a frequent commuter, but it does nothing to sooth the nerves in your stomach. The faster the train glides across the tracks, the closer you are to your destination. The destination being Emirates Stadium. You were attending your first ever football match– an Arsenal Women’s football match to be more precise. You weren’t necessarily a long-time supporter of the team or even a fan of the sport.

You were dating one of the players.

From what you knew of Leah Williamson at the time, she was a football player for Arsenal football club and the England national team. You knew she was a great player considering she is a regular starter for both club and country, but that was pretty much all you knew of the England captain. Everything that you knew about football comes from the few times you were forced to participate in the patriotic practice of cheering for your national football team during every major international tournament. You had watched the England mens team play– and consequently lose– during the last mens Euros, and you figured you might as well watch the women’s in the 2022 Women's Euros. Luckily, the results this time were favourable and you were lucky enough to witness the Lionesses parade the trophy at Wembley Stadium thanks to a friend who managed to secure you some tickets.

Once the post-Euros hype had quieted down a bit, and your friends got tired of using the ‘It finally came home!’ excuse to party, you carried on with your life. You were a currently a post-graduate student at university. Your days consisted of lectures, revision, eating, sleeping and repeat; so imagine your surprise when during one of your very very rare night out with friends, you were introduced to the same England captain who had lead her team to victory.

Apparently you and the defender had loosely connected social circles and found yourselves in the same party hosted by a friend of a friend. A few drinks later, and a conversation that was far more interesting than the textbooks waiting for you at home, you and the blonde had followed each other on social media and promised to stay in touch once in a while. However, it wasn’t long before the ‘once in a while’ instagram likes turned into daily texts and frequent FaceTime calls.

It wouldn’t be until a few months later that the blonde finally asked you out on a date, and the rest was history.

——————————————

You began to notice the growing number of Arsenal fans inside the train carriage. People with red and white scarves, beanies and caps dotted along the aisle of the train. Some fans sported kits from previous seasons that greatly contrast your usual view of men and women in black and grey business attire. This time there was a lot more colour and a lot more chatter, vastly different from the usual quiet bustling of a dull early morning commute. You would be lying if you didn’t admit that the excitement around you was doing a good job of quelling the initial nerves you were feeling.

Once the train stopped at Arsenal station, it was a flurry of fans donned in Arsenal gear everywhere. Stewards were present to direct people towards the exit, and it soon became a slow and sluggish walk towards the ticketing machines. You faintly heard the familiar names of the players being discussed by a group of giggling girls, and watched from the corner of your eye as a little boy animatedly told his mum about the goal that Beth Mead scored during the last match.

Once you were through the ticketing machines, you are greeted by a larger crowd of fans just outside of the station. The striking colours of red and white filled the streets at every corner that your eyes could see. You weren’t exactly sure where to go, but you figured following the crowd of Arsenal shirts was a good start.

It wasn’t too long before the aromas wafting from the many food stalls scattered along the pavement caught up to you. The air was a tantalising blend of savoury, spicy, and sweet notes, weaving together. The scent of sizzling smoky meats, mingling with the earthy fragrance of freshly chopped herbs and vegetables was almost hard to ignore. You recognise the faint aroma of caramelised onions, and the occasional whiff of freshly baked bread or frying dough. You mentally remind yourself to stop by the food stalls next time.

Expertly weaving through the clusters of people around you, you catch sight of a few other stalls. Some stalls were selling merchandise– from enamel pins and beanies to shirts and flags adorned in the Arsenal logo. Your eyes briefly caught sight of a scarf with ‘Williamson’ and your girlfriend’s face printed on it. You add the scarf to your mental wishlist of things to buy soon.

As you settled into your seat, surrounded by a sea of red and white, the anticipation was palpable. Leah had offered you a seat in the section exclusively reserved for the players’ friends and family but you informed her that you had already bought your own ticket. Initially, your girlfriend had argued against it, saying that she would love it if you sat with her family. However, you argued that you haven’t even officially met them yet and you would prefer to meet them at an occasion where the focus is not on a few women running and kicking a ball around on freshly cut grass.

“The friends and family section is lot less rowdy, baby. And you get food and stuff throughout the match”

“But I want to experience the craziness that you often yap about. You always brag that your fans have the coolest chants and that. I won’t be able to experience that if I was sat far away from it all, sweet”

So with a grumble, an eye roll, and a not-so-enthusiastic nod, the blonde had agreed.

Football chants: These are an integral part of the game, adding passion, energy, and a sense of camaraderie to the stadium atmosphere. These chants are often sung by supporters to show their allegiance to their team, mock their rivals, or simply to create an electric atmosphere during matches.

The stadium buzzed with excitement, the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass, and the opening instrumental of what you’ve now come to recognise as ‘North London Forever’ echos from every corner. It was clear that this was more than just a football match—it was an event, a spectacle, a communal gathering of fans united by their love for the team.

As the players took to the field, you felt a surge of pride course through you. Your girlfriend was amongst those players on the field. Whilst you had watched a few of her matches on telly, nothing compares to the real thing. Those BBC high-definition cameras would never be able to accurately capture an atmosphere this loud and proud.

Once the whistle blew, the clock started, and the match finally began. You was quickly swept away by the flow of the action. Every pass, every tackle, every attempted shot at goal sent a thrill coursing through your veins. The tension mounted with each passing minute. Every near miss, every save by the United keeper sent your heart racing with a mixture of anxiety and exhilaration. Now and then you caught sight of Leah on the pitch. Even from your place in the stands, you can tell she exuded athleticism and determination. Her movements were precise and calculated as she anticipated the opponent's every move. There were moments where you had to tear your eyes away from your girlfriend, reminding yourself that you had to watch the player with the ball, and not just the defender that has quickly become such an important person to you. You both hadn’t said the three-words yet, but lately they were threatening to spill out.

Then, in a flash of brilliance, it happened.

A perfectly executed play, a thunderous strike done by Cloe Lacasse, and the ball found the back of Mary Earps’ net with a resounding thud. The stadium erupted in cheers and applause, as fans all around you embraced each other in wild celebration. You basked in the atmosphere, clapping and shouting when you spotted Leah gesturing for the crowd to get even louder. The rest of the match was practically an Arsenal fan’s dream, with the team scoring two more goals to extend their lead.

As the referee's whistle pierces the air, the feeling that courses through your veins is a potent blend of euphoria, relief, and sheer joy. There's an eruption of cheers from the stands, echoing the celebrations on the pitch. Fans jumping, hugging, and waving scarves or flags. More than anything, you couldn’t wait to find your girlfriend and congratulate her on the win.

Victory Lap: Players may do a lap around the pitch after a significant victory, with fans clapping and cheering them on in celebration. Sometimes, players might do a lap to show appreciation for the support of the fans, especially at the end of a season or during special events.

You couldn’t see from where you were standing, but Leah’s eyes were currently roaming the stands for you. She lagged behind the rest of the team, wanting to survey the crowds of fans that, unfortunately for her, weren’t dispersing fast enough. As much as Leah adored the fans, the big crowd of bodies, waving arms, and the poster signs were making it very hard for her to spot the one person she was looking for. Her mind was already itching to run to the changing room and call you.

“Looking for someone?” Leah nearly curses when she is thrown forward by the force of someone jumping onto her back. Luckily, she managed to find her balance before she can fall face-first in front of a stadium filled with fans. She doesn’t need to turn her head to see who it was when the distinct Australian accent and the voice pretty much gives it away. “Get off, Kyra”

“No! Want a lift” The Australian tightens her arms around Leah’s neck, and giggles when the blonde pinches her on the leg. “Who are you looking for? Your missus?”

“Yes. She wouldn’t let me sit her in the friends and family section” Leah straightens up when the brunette finally jumps off her back. Her eyes trail back to the crowd, still scanning the bodies for you.

“Who wouldn’t?” Lotte slows down to let the two girls catch up with her. Leah groans when a heavy arm gets thrown over her shoulders. She certainly doesn’t need another teammate sticking her nose in her business. “Y/N?”

“Yeah.” Leah mutters. “Bloody stubborn woman she is”

The blonde recalls how much you insisted that you want to use your own bought ticket, profusely refusing her offer of a free seat. A small part of Leah loved that you had went out of your way to buy your own ticket. She remembers how you argued that by buying a ticket, you would be directly contributing to selling out the stadium. However, that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t have preferred you sitting in the section where she knows exactly where you were. It would’ve been easy for her to sneak glances at your direction throughout the match.

The mere memory of how adorably stubborn you were brought a smile to her face.

“Wipe that cheesy grin off your face, man” Lotte playfully nudges the blonde away with a push and laughs even harder when her fellow defender doesn’t even bother to deny it. “Do you know which section she’s at?”

“…No. Forgot to ask” Leah mumbles, trying to avoid her teammate’s look of disbelief. She’s been so focus on training for this match, wanting to put on a good performance because she knew you would be watching. Outside of training, the blonde spent the last couple of days rewatching footage of their past matches against Manchester United so she can study where she can improve on the pitch. She had completely forgotten to ask you where you would be sitting.

“How the fuck are ya s'posed to find her then?” Leah didn’t even realise the young Australian was still eavesdropping in on the conversation.

But before Leah could get to her, Lotte already has Kyra under her arm and in a headlock. “How ‘bout you watch your mouth, kid"

The defender turns away from them with a shake of her head and a small smile on her face. Her eyes continue to scan to crowd as she waves back at fans, still hoping to find a glimpse of you somewhere amongst them. She wasn’t exactly sure why she so desperately needed to see you when you both planned to meet at her place later on anyway.

Maybe a small part of her just wanted to see you surrounded by a sea of red and white, at her home stadium, with her own eyes.

As they were nearing the end of the lap around the pitch, Leah could see that some of her teammates had dispersed and were making their way towards the barriers where a crowd of fans were waiting. Whilst majority of the fans seated in the upper tiers of the stadium had already left, there were a few still loitering around, dancing to the music still blasting from the speakers.

If it were any other day, Leah would’ve gladly stayed around to spend some time with the fans. However today, all she wanted to do was find you. As much as she wanted to celebrate their win with the fans, she wanted to celebrate with you more.

After not spotting you anywhere, the blonde had become anxious. What if the crowd was too rowdy or too loud for you, what if the match was too boring, what if you realised that dating a professional football was too much? All these questions were racing in the blonde’s mind.

This was your first time stepping into her world, and she was going to make sure that it wouldn’t be the last.

Leah tapped Kim on the back and quickly informed her that she’ll be heading to the changing room. When the Arsenal captain quirked an eyebrow at this sudden and unsual revelation, knowing that the defender was usually one to stay behind and sign for fans, all she got was a quietly mumbled “gonna go look for my girl”

And before Kim could even reply, the blonde was already sprinting down the tunnel.

——————————————

All this time you were still at your seat, and had seen the entire thing play out. Your eyes hadn’t left your girlfriend the entire time the team did a lap around the pitch. You tried to stand on your tiptoes and wave your hand a few times just as they passed your section, but you were pretty hard to spot amongst a crowd. Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you smile at the text message from your girlfriend.

Hey, baby. Call me.

You turn to leave your row, excusing yourself as you side-step past the few people still waiting around. As you climb the stairs towards the exit, you press your phone to your ear and wait for your girlfriend to pick up. Not a moment too soon, you hear a familiar voice.

“Hiya”

“Hey, sweet. Good game–“

“Baby, the signal is shit–“

You frown and hurry your steps with your phone still pressed to your ear. You head straight towards the doors leading to the outside of the stadium, thanking the stewards on your way out.

“Can you hear me now?”

“Yeah. That’s better” You hear her breathing heavily through the phone. You could picture her pacing around, wherever she is, one hand either rubbing the back of her neck or brushing back her hair.

“Where are you?”

“Where are you?” You both say at the same time, smiling when you hear the blonde chucking on the other end. Part of you wonders if you are reaching the stage in a relationship where you begin to mirror or adapt your partner’s actions and behaviour.

The next words out of her mouth completely still you. In a softer tone, almost whispered, Leah asks “Where are you, baby? I was looking for you but I couldn’t find you…” The contrast between the confident defender you just saw out on the pitch and the palpable vulnerability that the woman on the other end of the phone was showing you was striking. You loved that you got to see this side of her.

“I was in my seat, Leah. Where I said I’d be” You teased, hearing her huff on the other end. You could bet £50 she was rolling her eyes at you.

Around you there was still a lingering sense of excitement. Chatter and laughter stalled in the air around you, and from the distance you could faintly hear a chant being sung. You would love to revel in the post-match atmosphere, but you wanted to be with your girlfriend more.

And as if she could read your mind, you hear her voice through the phone again “Tell me where you are and I can send a steward to you”

So you glance around at your surroundings and relay them to Leah. You note the massive poster of Arsenal Legends behind you and the small stall with the sign “Programmes” on the banner across from where you stood. Your girlfriend tells you to wait for the steward to come get you before she hangs up, but not before she mutters a quick “See you soon, baby”

Football programmes: programmes are printed publications that are sold at football matches and often available for purchase ahead of the match. They provide fans with a variety of information related to the match and the teams involved.

While you wait, you head towards the stall selling match day programmes. You had forgotten to buy one earlier, far too excited to head inside the stadium and find your seat. You smile and thank the steward who hands you one, and your smile only grows bigger when you see who is featured on the front cover– Leah. You place the programme in your bag, mentally reminding yourself to tease her about getting her to sign it.

It turns out you didn’t have to wait too long at all because soon enough you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn around, fully expecting to greet a steward, but you end up staring right into the prettiest shade of blue eyes.

“Found ya”

Familiar eyes that you know to belong to only one person– your girlfriend.

“Leah–“ You start but before you could say anything more, your girlfriend has a palm over your mouth, leaning close to shush you, and forcing you to walk backwards until you hit the wall behind you.

“Shush, baby. I’m being discreet here” With her hand still over your mouth Leah turns her head left and right, probably trying to see if anyone else got a glimpse of her. She resembled a meerkat just then. In the meantime, you take the opportunity to take her appearance in.

She wasn’t Leah Williamson, the Arsenal defender, that you had just watched command the pitch. Right now she was just Leah. Gone was the red and white kit, and in it’s place is a matching Nike black tracksuit with the hoodie pulled over her head and her favourite pair of white trainers.

When your girlfriend turns her attention back to you, she uncovers her palm from your mouth and flashes you a grin. Her hair was slightly wet and her cheeks were rosey meaning she probably took a quick post-match shower and then came straight to find you.

“Discreet, huh?” You tug at her black hoodie– the only thing disguising her. “This isn’t very discreet, sweet”

Leah chuckles, hugging you by the waist “Yeah well I somehow made it ‘round the stadium without being recognised, so I would say my disguise worked very very well, baby”

You indulge in the feeling of being in her arms again. You hadn’t seen each other for a few days, with the blonde busy with training and you with your studies. You both texted each other frequently and FaceTimed when you could, but nothing could compare to being with her in person.

All of a sudden you gasp loudly, exaggeratedly, and grab Leah by the arms before she could turn around to see what shocked you.

“What? Baby, what’s wrong?”

You cup your girlfriend’s face in your hands– rosy cheeks, messy hair and all. Her blues eyes wide and concerned.

“I think someone saw you. Quick. Kiss me”

Without waiting for her to reply, you crash your lips into hers. Your soft lips meet her parted ones with the hunger of a starved woman. Tingles wash down your back as she meets your tempo without skipping a beat– impulsively, maybe even instinctually. Her hands glide upwards from their hold on your waist, warm hands curling you further into her, until they’ve climbed up to rest on your back briefly. Her hands then move to cup the back of your neck, tilting your head slightly so she can kiss you deeper. Her tongue brushes against your bottom lip before you feel a sharp bite, making you gasp and groan against her lips. She is quick to sooth the sting away with a soft suck.

For someone so scared of being recognised by the few fans still loitering around the stadium, she seemed far too focused on kissing you to care. To outsiders, you probably looked like any other couple. Imagine their shock if they knew one of those strangers was Leah Williamson– a footballer constantly put under the spotlight but has remained so tight-lipped about her private life and you– the girl she was been starting her mornings with and ending her nights beside. The world would have a lot to say.

But for now, under the safety of Leah’s black hoodie and the lingering golden hour sunset, you and her were just two people in love.

When you both pull away your chests are heaving, breathless from the kiss just shared and the emotions that have been pilling up over the last couple of months. You up look at your girlfriend, who wasn’t quite as breathless as you thanks to her athletic stamina, but her cheeks were flushed and her lips were swollen and red.

Her gaze darkens, pupils dilated, the corners of her lips turn upwards at the sight of your slightly dazed expression. “Nobody was there, innit? You were just having a laugh”

You laugh at that. Loud and carefree. Head thrown back and full body giggles. Your girlfriend knew you too bloody well. “Got ya!”

“You know if you wanted to kiss me you could’ve just said so, baby”

She tugs you closer for one more wet kiss to your lips and you gladly accept it, smiling against her soft lips and winding your arms around her.

“But we should go before someone actually spots me” With that, the blonde tugs the drawstrings of her hoodie, tightening it so it covers most of her face. From the pocket of her joggers, she pulls out a pair of black sunglasses and places them over her eyes.

“Oh so that’s how you actually disguised yourself” You gasp mockingly, poking Leah in the waist and laughing when she playfully shoves you away from her. Not a moment later, she grabs your hand and intertwines her fingers with hers as you fall into step beside her. She leads you down a set of stairs, and stops by a glass door. She flashes a badge attached to a lanyard to the guard by the door, and he nods to let you both through.

She leads you up the escalator, your hand still snug in hers, and smiles at everyone that walks by. You are led down a long hallway, Arsenal photographs and memorabilia decorate the walls, and eventually stop by the entrance of a large conference room of sorts. You can see round tables scattered with plates and cutlery, a buffet table that spans the room, and a few recognisable faces. You spot some of Leah’s teammates, and wave a hand at them as they greet you. However, Leah doesn’t stop for anyone. Even when Beth practically races over to greet you with a hug, your girlfriend tugs on your arm essentially forcing you to keep walking along. You smile apologetically at the freckled-face Arsenal forward but she just waves you off with a grin, mouthing ‘talk later’

Eventually, you see exactly which table Leah is leading you towards. Nestled in the corner of the room, there is a table with only a few people sitting around it. Her family and closest friends. You hadn’t met Leah’s family yet. She had invited you to dinner at her mum’s house before but you were swamped with university work at the time. You knew that she had been wanting to try again, take you to her mum’s, and officially introduce you as her partner, and there was a small part of you that was waiting for that invitation. However, you didn’t feel exactly ready right now.

You hastily pull your hand out of Leah’s, forcing her to stop in her tracks. “You’re not introducing me to your family right now, are you?”

The blonde turns to you and notes the slight look of panic on your face. She takes a step back so she’s right beside you again and intertwines her fingers with yours.

“Didn’t realise we were already in that stage of our relationship, y/l/n” Leah jokes, using her thumb to sooth the small wrinkles that has appeared on your forehead. Admittedly, she was planning to introduce you to her family right then but she also knew how much you hate feeling unprepared. Leah knows that you probably wanted to dress up a little instead of the casual attire that you are currently wearing. She knows that you would’ve wanted to gift them something like a bouquet of flowers or a nice bottle of wine because you always tell her that ‘it’s necessary to bring a gift when you are visiting someone else’s home’.

“Soon though, yeah?” She squeezes your hand, and gives you a peck on the cheek when you nod in agreement.

So instead of stopping where her family is gathered, Leah expertly weaves through the chairs and only stops to briefly wave and coo at her cousin’s baby. You sneak a peek at the faces of her family members, and they’re all smiling at you. Suddenly, you didn’t feel as nervous to meet them when the time came.

There is one person who seems particularly interested in you though. Leah’s mum.

“Keep ya nose out of it, mum.” The Arsenal defender sassed when she catches her mum’s gaze. With the way her daughter is gripping your hand and resting the other on your lower back to guide you, she could probably guess what kind of relationship you have with her daughter. She probably also witnessed the kiss earlier. The thought makes your cheeks flush red. You give her a smile in passing, and she gladly returns one with a quick wave of her fingers.

“She is coming to dinner soon so prepare an extra plate, mum!” The blonde shouts as you both walk away from their table.

Your girlfriend ignores the wide-eyed look you are sending her, and continues to drag you by the hand towards the doors lead you to the outside of the private box. Outside, you are treated to a few rows of plush red leather seats and a panoramic view of the entire stadium and the pitch. It is now eerily different from the atmosphere a few hours ago.

Gone are the boisterous chants and the full-house stadium of fans, but remnants of the day’s activities still remain here. You see it in the Arsenal scarf that an unfortunate fan must have unknowingly left behind on the barrier, the rolled up flags which proudly display the club’s badge on the floor, and the goalpost still left on the pitch but now unassembled.

You also see it in the woman sitting beside you. In her messy hair, her tired eyes, and her genuine smile. You knew that she must be tired– having played the entire ninety plus minutes that the match went on for– but she was still here spending time with you and entertaining your little quips at her. She could’ve texted you to let you know that she’ll be meeting you tomorrow so she can rest and recover, or celebrate the big win with her teammates but instead she’s right here with you. She seems full set on integrating you into the football part of her life.

“Hey…” You turn to her and squeeze the hand that is still holding yours. You feel your heart still when those pretty blues meet yours. “Have I told you how well you played earlier?” At your words your girlfriend smiles, but it’s different from her usual smile. This one is sheepish– like she’s suddenly gone shy.

“You played really well today, Leah. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you”

Leah runs a hand down her face, like she’s trying to hide the blush that she can already feel coating her cheeks. She presses her lips together to smother the smile forming at your compliment, but her lips are already turned upwards at the corners. It was her first time playing in front of you as her girlfriend, and she wanted to make you proud. Hearing you compliment her and seeing how happy you are right now felt like a massive weight off her shoulders.

All of a sudden the blonde feels a rise of emotion clogging her throat, as if she wants to blurt something out. Hearing someone that she has started to care so deeply about enjoy this side of her– and to add to that a massive win for the team after a series of shortcomings– it was all starting to feel overwhelming for her.

She needed something to anchor her back down.

The Arsenal defender stands from her seat and pulls you up to do the same. She tugs you close and wraps both of her arms around your waist. Tucking her face into your neck, her heavy puffs of breath warm against the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. “Thank you, baby. That really means a lot”

Leah places a kiss on your neck and practically curls into you. You feel her take a deep shuddering breath, and her body slackens against yours, as if it is in your embrace that she can finally relax. You pull her tighter against you, wanting to envelope her in warmth and provide her solace. Hoping that your actions and your unspoken words are enough for now.

Football Kits: fans wearing football shirts with players’ names on their backs is a popular practice in the sport. It is common to walk around the stadium during match day and see people proudly showing off the last name of their favourite player on their backs. Wearing a shirt with a player's name is a way for fans to demonstrate their admiration and loyalty to their favourite player.

It seemed like it was only then that the Arsenal defender had noticed that you were wearing their home kit. You had slightly unzipped your puffer jacket, feeling a lot warmer now. The bright red kit you were sporting underneath was unmistakable. The smile that was already plastered on Leah’s face grew even wider, and there was almost a twinkle in her eyes as she took a moment to admire you being clad in the familiar red and white.

“Whose name have you got on your back?” Leah wouldn’t admit it right now, but she was hoping it was hers.

“No ones.” You reply curtly. You had thought about it, and considered it for a moment. You remember sitting on your bed a few nights ago, the Arsenal online shop pulled up on your laptop browser, and your cursor hovering over the ‘Williamson 6’ option.

Maybe if you had been braver you would’ve personalised your kit with her name, added it to your cart, and bought it. However you didn’t know how she would feel about that. Besides, you figured you could always ask to borrow one of hers in the near future

and it would be £126 cheaper

The blonde raises an eyebrow at your answer and glances down at your shirt once more. The plain red and white kit mocking her.

“You fancy having mine?”

“You proposing already, darling?”

“No, ya big goof” Leah lightly knocks on your forehead with her knuckles before she pulls you close by the waist and kisses the same spot. “I meant you can borrow one of my old match day shirts”

You look up at her. You weren’t that much shorter than the blonde, but those few inches difference in height still meant you had to tilt your head up sometimes, especially when she was standing so close. With her arms wrapped around your waist and yours around her neck, you were both practically intertwined.

Your eyes meet those pretty pretty blues.

“Didn’t realise we were already at that stage of our relationship, Williamson” You throw her own words earlier back at her with a cheeky grin.

You feel her tighten her arms around you before she leans down to your ear, a little secret only meant for the two of you, and murmurs

“We can be, my girl.”

This was a longgggg one so if you stuck through it till the end, you deserve a kiss!

It's been raining a lot these past few days here. Spare some sunshine from your side of the world?

– kisses, butter

#woso #woso fanfics #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso community #leah williamson imagine #a favourite of mine #my fic #wlw

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sucrosette · 5 months

Text

★— ⋆｡˚ [03. A Life in a Flower Shop]

For Day 20 of Carry on Countdown 23, Flowers. @carryon-countdown

Simon Snow gets a bouquet. His day is going great. (if you saw the wrong summary, no you didn’t)

Rated T for cussing and Idiots-to-Lovers-isms.

This is a series of snapshots of different Simon Snows and Baz Pitches in the greater multiverse. You can find the other "lives" here: [Day 3: Alternate Universe][Day 19: Sci-Fi]

⋆｡˚

“Oh~ that’s a lovely bouquet you’ve got there, Simon,” Penny hums as she saunters into the shop, tugging her lip ring between her teeth.

“Yeah,” Simon grumbles, “I know. It’s for the shop's first anniversary, I guess.”

Penny stops short, quirking her head at Simon’s tone. “Why are you being such a priss about a romantic bouquet? It’s lovely, you’re not taken, so you’ve got an admirer, who wouldn’t be happy to know they’ve got an admirer?”

That seems to perplex Simon, his brows furrowing and eyes darting obviously to the flower shop across the road.

“Oh, of bloody course it’s from the shopkeep across the way. Basil’s been trying to figure out how to confess for the past three months now. Suppose the anniversary’s as good a reason as any to make a move,” Penny shifts topic with eace, waving her hand dismissively. “Anyway, is that the face of a rejection I see happening? You’re going to break his little heart, Simon, go gently if you do reject the poor lad.”

“He’s a sodding arse,” Simon scowls harder as he says it, sending all kinds of angry energy across the road and directly at Baz where he was probably tending plants. Singing to them sweetly, watering their roots, maybe adjusting the plants that needed more sun so they’d flourish better. Simon knew too much about how Baz tended his plants.

“Well, yes,” Penny admits, “But it’s a very nice bouquet.”

“He told me it meant ‘fuck you’ in flower,” Simon groans out.

Penny doesn’t hold back her laugh at that. “And you believed him?”

Poor Simon gives a defeated nod and Penny has to temper her laugh for that.

“Oh, you poor sod,” Penny pats Simon gently on the back, “Baz Pitch really is a prick, isn’t he?”

Simon nods again, huffing his confusion. “He’s been trying to confess?”

“So far four times, and that’s just the one’s I’ve seen. I’m sure there’s been more that I haven’t,” Penny consoled, her hand running soothing circles between Simon’s shoulder blades.

“How did I miss them then?” Simon doesn’t quite wail, but there’s still an anguished little noise at the tail end of his words that could definitely qualify as something like a wail, “Why do I think he hates me?”

“Because he’s not just a prick, but an emotionally constipated prick to boot,” Penny sighs, “You want me to go through the flowers and tell you what they really mean?”

Simon leans his head on Penny’s shoulder, “You’d do that for me?”

“If neither of us have any appointments, I’ll do it right now. If we do, I’ll do it first break we get, alright?”

“Alright…” Simon takes the bouquet in hand and sits down on the chair at the front desk, “My first appointment is in an hour. I think you’re just potential walk ins today.”

“Well, it won’t take an hour to get through it,” Penny pats Simon’s shoulder gently, “I promise he likes you.”

“How did I miss it?”

“Probably because you both attempt to kill each other on sight,” Penny tuts, “Now let’s get into these flowers.”

Apparently, the three lilies that serve as the centerpiece to this bouquet apparently represent beauty, and their pink colour means admiration, or even infatuation, a far cry from a fuck you. The lilacs, soft purple stems bursting forth, apparently are a tender representation of a first love, which Simon finds a bit surprising. Baz is way too bloody handsome to have never had a proper first love before him. Would theirs even count? It was more fight than anything else.

Penny flicks his ear to bring his focus back to the flowers when his mind starts wandering down that path. “Focus on the flowers, Simon, not wherever your mind is going trying to figure things out. Figuring’s not your specialty.”

“Right, sure, of course,” Simon grumbles out, feeling particularly scolding.

Baby’s breath, apparently a common filler in bouquets, is also a choice pick for new beginnings, which is why it’s so often in wedding bouquets. He’s put in forget-me-nots too, and those can mean devotion and true love and Simon’s starting to think he’s in over his head. Penny just laughs at him for it. Even the sprigs of thyme represent something. Apparently strength and power and Simon’s not really sure why Basil thinks as much of him, and he says as much.

“Well, you started this shop from nothing. You made your own way and you’re not exactly shy about it,” Penny answers a little too matter-of-factly, “And bully for you, it’s a pretty strong confession, I’d say.”

“Does the greenery mean something too?” Simon sets the bouquet down in front of him, staring deeply at the filler leaves that make up the space between whites and purples and pinks.

Penny laughs again, a little louder, “Well, maybe, but not that I know about. Anyway, even if it does, it’s only going to keep being romantic, I’m sure.”

“Why did he say it meant ‘fuck you’ though?” Simon groans, slouching into his seat.

“I mean, if you think about it, in a way, he is saying ‘fuck you’ in flower. Just,” Penny wobbles her head and hand in unison, “Like fuck you, positively. Fuck you, literally. I’d like to fuck you, intimately, maybe. I don’t know his preferences, though, I shouldn’t make assumptions on them.”

“Okay, Pen, please, I bloody get it,” Simon groans.

“Alright, alright,” Penny shrugs, leaning back against the front desk, “So are you gonna do something about it?”

Simon scrunches up his nose, “Oh, bloody well yes I am. That absolute arse deserves what’s coming to him.”

“After your appointment,” Penny pops her lips as she says it, gesturing to the person who was just walking through the door, “Seems they’re a touch early.”

“After my appointment,” Simon agrees, if a little reluctantly. He was definitely not letting this one slide.

⋆｡˚

Baz, unprepared and going through the preparations to close shop up ten minutes before he would actually have to, was entirely unsuspecting to the thought that someone might have wisened Simon up to what his bouquet might actually mean. Might as well be ready, he’d always said, and it’s pretty well how he lives his life most of the time too.

Excepting, of course, in the case of Simon Snow.

Simon Snow makes him impulsive, makes him throw insults and fly off the handle, makes him stay up till midnight perfecting an impromptu arrangement he’d had to drive across town just to get two kinds of flower that he’d run out of stock for two days before this idea had struck him. Needless to say, Simon Snow made him a bit of an idiot.

The bell clangs to his door at five till the hour and Basil’s already starting his usual spiel, “We close in five, if you want to pick something premade and quick, the–” he looks up out of courtesy and instead of some customer he hadn’t been expecting, sees Simon panting his doorway, “Oh. It’s you.”

“Me,” Simon narrows his eyes at Baz, “You… ‘fuck you’ in flower right back.”

It takes Baz a moment. He’d basically completely forgotten that throwaway line over the course of the day, between filling orders and answering calls, he’d had other things to think about. Especially considering it had just been a sarcastic moment in his pre-caffeinated state. “Do you mean… like insultingly or literally?”

Simon marches right up to him, stomping the whole way, which is a rather wasteful expense of energy, Baz has mind to think, before he grabs Baz by the cheeks and tugs him down to kiss him hard.

It’s a hot mess of a kiss. Their teeth clang, Simon’s lips burn from leftover curry, –it must be what he’d had for lunch– and neither of them have any idea where to put their hands after Simon had grabbed Baz by the face. Eventually, it slows down, Baz’s hands finding at least a slightly less awkward perch at Simon’s hips, squeezing him gently. Simon’s hands slip down to hang over Baz’s shoulders and they stay like that for a long moment.

The door bell rings again.

“We’re closed. Come back tomorrow,” Basil announces without an ounce of shame and without looking up from Simon’s eyes. He hears the door close again, and maybe a muttered apology, but he can deal with it later if anything comes of it. “I’m taking that as a literal ‘fuck you,’ I hope you know.”

“You’re a sodding arse,” Simon scoles him, a fierce little pout on his lips.

“Yes, and you kissed me,” Baz laughs out loud as he says it, “You must have a thing for sodding arses.”

“Shove off,” Simon growls and forces him into another kiss, this one with slightly less teeth, taking the time to slot their lips together properly this time, “You owe me an explanation, Baz Pitch.”

“Alright, I’ll get you one over dinner,” Baz answers with a kiss to the point of Simon’s nose, “Seem fair?”

“It’s a start,” Simon huffs, “You know it’s not my fault your easy access to half-decent espresso shut down right? The building was already empty by the time I put my bid in!”

Basil snorts another laugh at that, louder, nipping the pout of Simon’s lips, wrapping his arms properly around Simon’s waist and pulling the shorter in close by the waist. “I’m glad it’s gone now, but I certainly wasn’t then.”

“You better be,” Simon purses his lips adorably, already half-caught in a bluster.

Basil shakes his head and squeezes Simon hard enough to pull his attention back to the kissing and not the fighting part of them. “Shut up, Simon Snow, and let me kiss you again.”

And Simon lets him. He does, and he does, and he does.

#Carry On Countdown #COC 2023 #baz pitch #simon snow #snowbaz #carry on fanfiction #my writing #flower shop & tattoo parlor #a classic #a favourite of mine #idiots to lovers #i'm not supposed to fall in love with these aus #it's not working #3/3 of these i want to continue after the count #so far #i have 3 more to write #head in hands #in other news: the streak continues!

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