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awfcspencer · 2 months

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Steal Your Heart || alessia russo x reader

prompt: Loosely based on this request

warnings: None!

Stepping on the Arsenal training pitch, you were greeted by the familiar sounds of football, shouts and laughter echoing across the field, and the thud of balls being kicked. You couldn’t help but feel a mixture of excitement and nerves, a sense of anticipation in the air. As Arsenal’s newest transfer during the January window, you were eager to prove yourself on the pitch and cement yourself as a vital piece to North London. Having recently arrived at the club after a particularly rough break up, you were determined to focus solely on your football career, swearing off love in the process.

Your attention was soon drifted away from your thoughts to a familiar figure of Alessia Russo, one of Arsenal’s beloved strikers and England’s star girl.

“Did she just trip over her own two feet?” You questioned to Leah, the blonde center back who was put in charge of showing you around the Arsenal facility before training. Pointing to the slightly taller blonde who seemingly tripped over thin air and fell roughly onto the pitch. She ungracefully pushed herself up off the ground, wiping her now pitch-stained knees, and shuffled around to act as if nothing happened.

“She probably did. That is Alessia, most of us call her Less though. She will most likely be the clumsiest person you will ever meet.” She explained to you as your mouth curved into a small smile. Her cheeks were rosy, most likely from embarrassment, but you found it adorable.

She then led you to a man in unusually larger puffer jacket and several of Arsenal staff members you had met earlier in the day.

“Welcome to the Arsenal. We are thrilled to have you here.” The Swedish man told you, reaching out to shake your hand. The weather in London was much colder than you were used to, but you didn’t suppose a sunny day like today warranted such a big jacket. You had to carefully stifle back your laugh and cover it up with a warm smile as you shook his hand. “Hope Leah was sufficient in her tour.”

“Yeah she was great! Showed me the important stuff and introduced me to Win.” A dimpled smile as you remember the chocolate lab who you gave several scratches on the head to, and then she rewarded you with a few licks to the face.

“Great! Girls get in partners, and we will begin training.” He yelled out.

Most of the girls already had their designated partners, quickly picking each other and heading towards the pitch, so you were left stumbling to find someone to partner up with. A tap on your shoulder and a slight swivel of your head you were met with the familiar figure of the blonde from before.

“Partners?”

“Sure…” She had yet to properly introduce herself directly.

“Alessia, but most people call me Less.” She responded quickly.

Kicking the ball back and forth warming up the legs, you and Alessia fell into a comfortable conversation. She had a particularly bubbly personality and seemed interested in the answers you had given to her questions. You couldn’t help but feel drawn to Alessia and her awkward charm.

“How are you liking North London?” She sent you a solid pass to your right foot as you kicked it back to her.

“I landed only a few days ago so I haven’t really had the time to explore yet.” Apartment hunting had taken a majority of your time, but you were dying to experience what this side of London had to offer.

Fortunately, your sister lived in London, and you were able to crash on her guest bed before you had the time to sort out an apartment for yourself. She was there for you over the phone to pick up the pieces of your broken heart when rumors of cheating flooded into social media after your ex was caught bringing another woman to your shared home when you were on national team duty. The Arsenal bid came a few days later and you gladly accepted, fleeing the city in which haunted your memories.

“I get that. There is a coffee shop right near training grounds that has coffee to die for. You have to give it a try sometime.” She suggested.

Weaving in between agility poles interlocked with your teammate’s hands was not initially how you thought today’s training was going to go, but the blonde’s angelic laugh behind you as you pulled her hand to follow in your trail was all worth it. Especially when she had been moving so fast to keep up with you that by the time she left the poles she stumbled out tripping over her own feet once again.

“Less you might be the clumsiest person I have ever met, and we just met. That is what, the second fall today?” Alessia’s infectious laughter filled the air.

The flush of her cheeks you assumed was from her second wipeout mixed with the sun beating down on her during training. Nonetheless, you found her little blush cute and as cliché as it sounded, small butterflies filled your stomach. Quickly you let those thoughts flee your mind, you were here at Arsenal to focus on football.

“Oh whatever.” She giggled, gently brushed your shoulder, pushing you forward on the pitch. Her touch was electric, sending little chills down your back.

Despite your initial nerves, training was well underway, and you felt confident.

“Nice pass!” Alessia exclaimed, a wide smile lighting up her face as she received the ball. She had a smile that you felt could light up even the gloomiest of days.

“Why thank you Miss Russo,” you replied, returning Alessia’s smile with one of your own.

As the two of you trained together, you couldn’t help but draw near the girl and be amazed at the way she moved on the pitch. Her movements were graceful on the ball but as soon as she wasn’t doing something football related, she immediately acted as if she had two left feet. She was captivating in a way you couldn’t explain.

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It was a few weeks later and you had fully set into your place at Arsenal, making solid connections with a majority of the girls and finding success on the pitch. One specific connection with a certain blonde striker who felt like a beautiful ray of sunshine who made you question several things. Alessia and you had solidified each other as designated partners for training. The two of you had formed a close bond, she was calming to talk to, and her puppy-like personality made her warm to be around.

“Team movie night at my house tonight, attendance is mandatory.” Leah yelled throughout the changing room after training. She used her fake stern voice that she typically used during pre-match huddles to let everyone know she was serious about the event.

Turning to look at Less, “Are you going to go?” Her cubby was to the left of yours which meant every day you would return home with her vanilla scent cemented in your nose.

Looking up from mindlessly scrolling on her phone, she met your eyes, “I’ll be there if you will.” Sending you a cheeky wink, returning the smile you had sent her.

Overhearing your conversation Leah yelled “You both better be there. No excuses.”

Mimicking her attitude and batting your eyes to Alessia which only caused the two of you to break out into laughter. It was a typical scene your teammates had come to realize. The two of you in your own little world, most of the time giggling at some sort of joke one of you had made. You and Alessia had become close very quickly and there were some lingering thoughts of a possible relationship with the striker, but each time you forced the thoughts out of your mind.

Your sister had thankfully drove you over to the England’s skippers’ home, you had stopped on the way at the store and grabbed a couple bags of chocolates to share with the team. Secretly, the chocolates you had picked out where a favorite of Alessia’s that she had mentioned one day during training.

Inside Leah’s home, a few team members had arrived before you and were grilling Alessia for not making a move on you yet. They watched the way the two of you interacted, and the way Alessia suddenly became a bundle of nerves around you.

“Come on Less, you’re in love with her. I’ve never seen you so nervous to just be around someone, and I’ve known you for years!” Lotte told Alessia, Leah, and Lia who were sat around the kitchen island.

“She just got out of a relationship and who knows even if she feels the same way?” Alessia had been secretly falling for you, but she had trouble figuring out if you had felt the same way. You confided in the girl about your last relationship and your solemn swear to focus on your professional career.

A knock at the door brought them out of the conversation as Leah opened the door and allowed you in.

Leah’s living room was transformed into a cozy area with blankets and pillows spread out wide and popcorn at the ready. It was a challenge to fit almost twenty women into a room, but the greatest challenge was trying to figure out a movie that everyone could collectively agree on.

You found yourself slotted next to Alessia on a plush cushion as you let the girls around you argue about what they wanted. Thankfully, Leah made an executive decision, declaring that since it was her house meant that she had final say, and turned on a rom-com. Every so often your shoulders would brush against the blondes in the dim light. Despite every intent you made to remain guarded and build a strong wall around your heart, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort in Alessia’s presence.

As the movie played on the screen, you learned against the blonde, her warm seeping into your skin with a small blanket over the two of you. A feeling of contentment washing over you as you watched the movie together. Even in the low light, you could see Alessia’s crimson red cheeks.

When the movie came to an end far too soon for your liking, Alessia and you had yet to move until your phone began pinging. Your sister had been called into work and was unable to pick you up. You first thought about taking an Uber home, not wanting to inconvenience anyone, but you decided to ask first.

“Hey, can anyone take me home?” you asked.

“I can, only if you want though. I’m sure anyone could,” she mumbled out, her voice was soft and gentle.

“I would love for you to be my chauffeur Less.” Quickly accepting the offer with a shy smile and a small flutter of excitement in your chest at the prospect of spending more time with her.

The streets of London were quiet as Alessia drove you home. You found yourself stationed in her passenger seat opening up to her in ways you hadn’t with anyone else. Sharing stories and dreams as if you had known each other for years. You both shared your hope and dreams, your fears and insecurities, and once again you couldn’t help but feel a sense of a deeper connection growing between the two of you. Your conversations flowed effortlessly, each word building a bridge between you two, it was something you usually found difficult, but with Less it was always easy.

Before you knew it, you had arrived home. Ushering the girl a handful of thank you’s and sealing it with a side hug. But before you could say goodbye and exit the car, Alessia grabbed your wrist.

“Hey, would you like me to drive you to training tomorrow morning? We can stop at the coffee shop I told you about? It is cool if not, no worries.” Alessia said softly, her voice was filled with nerves.

Your heart soared at the invitation and eagerly accepted the invitation, “That sounds lovely, see you tomorrow Less.” You were secretly counting down the hours until you could see Alessia again.

The next morning, Alessia arrived right on time and drove the two of you to the coffee shop. In the car, Alessia even let you play your music, something you knew was not allowed to many of your other teammates because everyone knew Alessia’s car was like her baby. Alessia’s eyes sparkled in the soft morning light as she drove.

Alessia ordered her drink and yours and you tried to hand the blonde your card to pay but she insisted she would pay.

“Less please let me pay, as a thank you for driving me yesterday and today,” shoving the card more in the striker’s face. She simply resisted, handing the barista her card as a loud huff left your mouth.

“You can pay for the next one.” She told you, sending you a wink.

“Who says I want to get coffee again?” Pretending to be upset, crossing your arms and turning towards the window.

She quickly became nervous, mumbling out words you couldn’t even begin to depict.

“Less. Less, I am just joking with you.” A fond smile tugged at your lips.

“Right. Yeah I knew that.” Her fake confidence only made you laugh. She handed you your drink as your fingers brush, its quick but it lights a familiar fire in your stomach. A feeling you were beginning to have around her often. As you arrived at the training ground, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were exactly where you needed to be- with Alessia by your side, making you laugh and smile like no one else could.

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The first game you would be playing in the Arsenal red was against Watford for the FA’s Women’s Cup. You had a clear prematch routine, one that always ended with braiding your hair. In the changing rooms, you were nearly finished with the last section of your hair when Alessia walked in.

“I like your hair.” She complimented. She carefully watched in a slight trance.

“I can braid yours like mine if you want?” You asked, a playful smile tugging at your lips. Alessia looked up at you, eyes widening at the offer.

She nodded eagerly, stationing herself bent in front of you, allowing you to gently gather her hair in your hands. You watched in the mirror as Alessia closed her eyes, relishing the feeling of your fingers weaving through her hair. You finished the braid relatively quickly as Alessia had shorter hair, securing the braid with a small hair tie.

“All done.” Admiring your handywork in the mirror. “You look beautiful Less.” You couldn’t help but admire her beauty as well. The way the sunlight caught her hair on the pitch, the curve of her jawline, or the softness of her lips.

Alessia looked at herself in the mirror, a smile spreading across her face, “Looks amazing, thank you.”

She sealed the deal with a quick peck to your cheek, and a hug that lasted a little longer than it should, leaving you a puddle as she left. You couldn’t help but feel the warmth that lingered in your chest, a feeling that perhaps there was something more than a friendship blossoming between you and the striker.

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Maybe you should have followed in Jona’s footstep in wearing a large puffer because several days later you found yourself sick. What made it worse is that you were supposed to be going out with the team to celebrate the next international window break. You had been looking forward to celebrating the evening but now found yourself bedridden and alone.

You quickly sent the group chat a message saying you would not be in attendance and found yourself cuddled up on the couch with piles high of blankets and reruns of Love Island on your television.

A knock on your door surprised you. You blinked in confusion, wondering who could possibly be visiting you. You dragged yourself from the couch and made your way to the door.

Alessia stood on your doorstep with a worried look on her face. In her hands, she held a steaming bowl of soup covered with a lid.

“Less what are you doing here? You should be out celebrating?” Your voice thick with surprise.

“I heard you were sick,” Alessia said softly, her voice filled with concern. “My mom used to always made me this soup when I would get sick. She says it’s her secret recipe for curing colds.”

There was a rush of gratitude that washed over you at Alessia’s thoughtfulness. Stepping aside to let Alessia in.

“Thank you Less,” your voice soft with emotion. “That is really sweet of you.”

“It is no problem really,” she said. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.

She followed you to the couch, settling back into the warm cushion as Alessia took a seat beside you. She placed the bowl of soup in your hands and encouraged you to try some. It was delicious and you could see how it always did the trick. For a while, you and Alessia sat in comfortable silence, the only sounds in the room were the television and the metal hitting the bowl each time you brought the spoon to the bowl.

“This was really sweet of you Less.” It was like a tidal wave of emotions, the surging thoughts you had desperately tried to keep at bay so long coming to the forefront. Sat on the couch as your hands with the striker interlocked, both of you kept silent at the action.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you were about to say. “Less,” your voice barely above a whisper. “There is something I should tell you.”

Alessia turned towards you, “What is it? Is the soup not good? It’s okay I can make a different one if you would like?” she asked, her voice laced with concern. She even made movements to leave the couch, but you grabbed her hand and ushered her back down.

“I can’t pretend anymore. You need to know that I have grown to care for you, deeply.” You explained to the blonde. “I know it is kind of crazy given we’ve only known each other for a short time but I can’t shake this feeling.”

Alessia’s eyes widen with shock, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly as she struggled to find the right words.

You felt a surge of panic rising in your chest. Had you made a mistake? Had you ruined the friendship with the reckless confession?

Alessia reached out and took both of your hands in hers, her touch was warm and reassuring. “It’s you. It’s always been you. Since the day you stepped on the pitch on your first day.”

There was a surge of joy welling in your heart, a feeling of pure joy. Without another word, you leaned in and pressed your lips to hers. Your heart soaring as you felt Alessia’s strong arms wrap around you.

#woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso blurbs #woso #alessia russo x y/n #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo #woso soccer #womens soccer

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reminiscingtonight · 2 months

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neighbor, drunk, puppy

Alexia Putellas

Just A Doorstep Away (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

[WOSO Masterlist]

Alexia wakes up to something wet.

Cringing, she jerks back. Only to let out a groan at the nausea that sets in at the sudden motion.

The blonde lifts two hands to rub at her face.

God, she’s hungover. A little too hungover. Guess that’s what she gets for going out with the team after winning another trophy.

After her 5th shot things started to get a bit hazy. All Alexia remembered was Ingrid shoving both her and Mapi into a taxi at some point, the Norwegian mumbling something about babysitting children.

Before Alexia can continue to piece together how her night ended, another wet dollop lands roughly against the back of her arm.

Grunting, Alexia slides one of her hands away so she can open an eye.

What she sees has Alexia letting out a frightened yelp, ignoring her nausea to scoot backwards on the bed.

There’s a dog, a very big dog, staring at her with big doe eyes next to the side of her bed.

Almost as if it’s just realized Alexia’s finally awake, the dog lets out a loud bark. It’s tongue hangs out afterwards, the dog looking happy to have some company.

Alexia can feel her heart beating at a thousand miles per hour.

Unless she made a purchase or dropped by a shelter sometime between going to the bar and waking up, there is no reason there should be a dog staring back at her like she’s a plate of meat.

Now, Alexia isn’t a dog hater. She had Nala for quite a long time, of course. But the fact lies therein that Nala was a small, lap dog. Her precious little ball of fur.

This dog? Well it’s at least five times larger than Nala was, definitely larger than any type of dog Alexia would ever be comfortable owning.

“Buen perrito,” she whispers nervously.

The dog simply cocks a head at her before letting out another happy bark.

What happens next Alexia can only describe it as a mini stare-off, the footballer not daring to move and her four-legged alarm clock seemingly more than happy to stare right back at her.

Eventually, when it seems clear that the pup wouldn’t get another reaction out of Alexia, it turns on its heels, slowly trotting out of the room.

Sighing out in relief, Alexia rolls back onto her back.

With her head pounding like a jackhammer, Alexia decides she’ll just have to deal with her uninvited guest at a later date. Forget giant, unexplainable dogs, Alexia’s got to go find some pain medicine and--

It isn’t until Alexia’s properly taking in her surroundings that she realizes that she is not in her bedroom like she originally thought.

“Oh no.”

When Alexia finally musters up the courage to leave the room she’s in, she’s met with the aroma of something stomach-grumbling inducing and a woman standing in front of the stove.

Without turning around, you hum out a greeting.

“Er… good morning?” Alexia hesitantly replies back.

When you finally turn around to greet her, Alexia can feel all of her breath leave her lungs.

Alexia’s a pretty simple woman who has eyes. And what she sees has her wishing she could remember more about how her night ended.

You gesture towards the counter and Alexia sits without a second thought. Mere seconds later you slide a plate towards her, filled with eggs, bacon, and toast.

The dog from earlier comes back around, headbutting Alexia’s leg as if to ask for some food.

“No es tuyo,” you scold, shooing away your dog. “Sorry, Maria begs for food from everyone.”

Alexia’s mouth twitches without meaning to. Mapi’s going to throw a fit when Alexia tells her about this hot stranger with a dog that shares her name later.

Speaking of explaining this to her friends later…

Alexia nervously scratches at her neck. “Thank you for the hospitality and breakfast but… did we do something last night? I think I drank too much.”

You snort. “I think that would be an understatement.”

Alexia can’t stop her hackles from rising defensively. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She shakes her head, ignoring the way her vision seems to shake at the motion. “Actually, sorry, do I even know you?”

“Nope. But I know you.” You seem to cringe the second the words come out of your mouth. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make that sound so creepy. I’m 4B.”

When Alexia gives you a blank look you roll your eyes.

“I live down the hall from you.”

This time Alexia frowns. Out of the scenarios she made up, neighbor was not one of them. “Not to be rude but why the hell did I wake up here if I live down the hall?”

You shrug, digging into your own plate of breakfast. Alexia pretends not to notice when you slip your dog a piece of bacon despite chastising her earlier.

“Drunk you seemed to think that my place was yours. I could barely get you into the guest room, let alone drag you back home.”

Alexia flushes at your words. She drops her face into her hands in embarrassment. “Sorry.”

You laugh, a light sound that has Alexia’s heart skipping a beat. “It’s fine. I’ve been meaning to introduce myself to you for weeks. You just helped me get over my nervous phase. It’s hard to find someone scary when you’ve seen them trip over their own feet.”

Alexia lets out another groan of embarrassment, but this time there’s an amused smile on her lips.

You might be neighbors, but she can find herself getting used to this.

And the way you brush fingers on her way out the door an hour later tells her that you might want that too.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #Ace writes #3wp

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lessi-lover · 5 months

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cleats and kisses II a.russo ~

23★ ~ a.russo

"any new love interests, y/n?" caitlin teased mercilessly, playfully knocking you out of your lunge position. "yeah, got your eye on any defenders?" steph chimed in, her mischievous grin a perfect compliment, following her australian teammates teasing.

katie, with an unimpressed scoff, threw her head back against her locker, rolling her eyes at her girlfriend’s foolish comments. "oh, absolutely. y/n's just so, so good at finding love." she retorted before you could respond, her voice laced with sarcasm, sending a pointed look your way from across the changing room.

katie’s sisterly overprotectiveness, always a source of amusement amongst your friends, even though it was extremely infuriating at times. an exasperated sigh fell from your lips, lifting your tired limbs off the floor and moving to sit with your sister, desperately trying to block out the girls’ relentless banter. resting your head on her shoulder, you let your eyelids gently fall, seeking comfort in your sister’s familiar presence.

across the room stood the english captain. leah who was always the most observant in a crowded room, who sensed your unease at the comments and shot you a comforting glance. she had known you for years, one of your closest friends from your early footballing days and instrumental in finally getting you signed to Arsenal. it was safe to say she could read you like an open book.

in your previous relationship, katie had managed to intimidate your then-girlfriend after finding you both having a nice early morning breakfast, in town before training. you could not understand at all why the incident had caused such a stir; you were fully clothed and what you were doing was completely innocent.

katie’s protectiveness, something she had picked up from your older siblings. it was as if she didn't want to see you grow up, reluctantly clinging to the image of her smaller, younger sister. yet, you knew the possessiveness stemmed from a place of only love.

"i think i'll turn in for the night, busy day tomorrow," you announced, referring to the game and press conference you had been warned about at this morning's meeting. offering a tired smile to your teammates and sister, you bid your farewell. "see you at breakfast, katie," you added before slipping quietly out of the door. “7 am sharp, don't be late," you heard your sister’s loud accent barrel through the door. you shook your head, making your way up the elevator and towards your room.

however, instead of heading to your room, shared with lia and her girlfriend, you found yourself walking down the corridor to somebody else's room, ‘better than third-wheeling’, you thought. you gently knocked a secret pattern on the wooden door, hoping not to reveal your location to roaming players and staff members. lord knows the amount of times you have almost been caught sneaking into the blonde's room when traveling.

the lock clicked noisily, and the door flowed open, revealing your exhausted looking girlfriend, still dressed in her training kit. "why haven't you showered missy?” you teased the blonde, stepping inside the doorway, making sure to quickly peck her soft lips. the blonde placed her hand behind your ear, desperately trying to deepen the kiss. her lips moved hungrily against your own.

you tapped her waist, finding it difficult to breathe, before pulling away completely. "i was waiting for you to show up, figured that with your smell you would need a second shower,” alessia teased, a cheeky grin adorning her soft face. "well aren't you a pleasure.” she chuckled back at your remark, tugging you close into her larger frame.

"are you feeling alright?" the blonde asked, noticing the unmissable tenseness on your face. you quickly nodded, making sure to look the girl in the eyes. "mhmm, the girls were just prying on my love life in the changing room."

she kissed into your shoulder comfortingly, placing open mouthed kisses wherever she could. letting go of your waist, she made her way to the bathroom. your lips turning upwards, as you watched her clumsily trip over a pair of loose football boots and turn to check if you had seen, cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

while she showered, you picked up a book on her bedside table, carefully placing your finger by the girl's last page. page 10. the book helped pass time until she returned, her short, damp hair falling onto her cream coloured robe, smelling of lavender and rosemary. "what are you up to, love?" she asked, putting an old ireland jersey she had stolen from you, catching you engrossed in the book she had abandoned a couple nights ago.

you looked up from your book and grinned, turning it so she could see. "trying to understand why on earth you thought you would enjoy this book," you replied. “trying to impress you with my reading skills”. she said, in a serious manner. “clearly.” you responded.

alessia chuckled, moving on top of you and tossing the book out of your hands. “i. love. you.” she admitted, each word accented with a short, but sweet kiss on your lips. you blushed, embarrassed at how 3 common words could make your stomach flip. “i love you too, less.” you responded, with a small yawn into her chest. you snuggled closer, burying your head into her neck. letting the world fade, as you drifted off to the blondes soft snores.

but the peace didn't last too long. the next morning, you were both jolted out of your peaceful rest by an alarming pounding on the hotel door. "open the door!" an angry shout from outside the hotel door. "fuck, its katie," you cursed, recognising an identical accent to your own, jumping out of the soft sheets, whilst alessia answered her clearly fuming teammate.

"katie?" alessia greeted your angry sister, her mind racing rapidly for some kind of excuse. "breakfast finished a long time ago. your alarm must’ve not gone off.” “my sister wasn't at breakfast either, and she isn't in her room. got somethin to do with it?" katie questioned, with an irritated look.

"no clue," alessia replied as soon as the girl finished, possibly a little too quick to be innocent. "sorry, katie. i'll be down in a minute, i don't know what happened, i must have forgotten to set my alarm.” alessia answered frantically, shutting the door in the irish girl’s face.

you both let out a sign of relief, looking at each other in disbelief at the narrow call. "that was close. you shouldn't have fallen asleep with me last night," alessia stated, concern etched in her features as she saw a moody katie conversing outside with a tired vic from the small doorhole.

"i know, i'm sorry, i should have been more careful," you confessed, the disappointment carved heavily in your voice. "i'll catch up with you before the interviews, less." with a quick hug you attempted to escape her room unnoticed.

however, your effort to slip away was foiled almost immediately. as you left alessia’s room, trying to blend in with the morning crowd, you encountered katie in the hallway, her gaze sharpening as she observed the room you had exited. "why the fuck are you coming out of alessia’s room?" she questioned, her tone a mix of confusion, anger and concern.

"katie, please let me explain," you pleaded, quickly moving to grab her before she could walk away. “you better start explaining, now!” she yelled, and if you thought katie couldn’t get angrier than a game against manchester city, you were certainly eating your words now.

“she’s my girlfriend”, a soft voice behind you spoke. turning around you were faced with the very blonde you had spent your night with. “oh really?” katie challenged. “yes, we’ve been together for 6 months.” alessia spoke timidly, barely above a whisper. “how could you two keep this a secret?” feeling the weight of the situation, you took a shaky breath, trying to find the right words to explain that you had been secretly dating her teammate.

"katie, i didn't mean for you to find out like this," you began, your voice cracking between words. "alessia and i, we met before i signed here. it was before we even started talking about a possible transfer. i never thought we would keep it a secret, but things got complicated, and i didn't know how to tell anyone."

katie's expression softened slightly, taking a short breath before she spoke. "but why keep it a secret from me?" she asked, her voice now more composed, eyes still glossy. "i was afraid," you admitted, looking into her soft eyes, hoping she could see the sincerity in yours. "i was afraid of losing you. i know it's not an excuse, and i should have been honest with you about alessia from the beginning. i've messed everything up, and i'm really sorry."

alessia stepped forward from behind you, her eyes pleading with katie to forgive you. "i'm sorry too," she said, her voice quivering. "between my transfer, australia and all the drama with me leaving united, i didn't give y/n the space to tell you about us." katie sighed, her anger slowly settling down, as she processed both your confessions.

after a brief silence, katie's expression softened, and a small grin tugged at the corners of her lips. "well," she said, her tone lighter now, "i can't say i expected you two to get together, but i’m glad it’s less and not somebody else. if you're happy together," she continued, her smile growing bigger, "then i'm happy for you." it was a moment of relief for both you and alessia.

“whoo!” “they finally broke it to katie!” voices could be heard celebrating. from around the corner in the hallway, steph, caitlin, leah, and lia appeared, cheekiness displayed on all their faces, giggling that they’d successfully stayed hidden whilst you revealed the truth to your older sister. “how long have you been standing there?” you questioned your friends.

“long enough to hear your beautiful love confession.” lia answered dramatically, throwing her hands in the air for emphasis. her blondie - leah shaking her head at her girlfriends usual antics. “at least we don’t have to go through the awkwardness of telling you all now”, alessia answered before you could. everyone muttered in agreement.

“i guess i can do this now then,” you walked up to the blonde, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and leaning in. you gently pressed your lips against her own, her arms coming to wrap around your waist, pulling you impossibly close. her lips lingered on yours, a warm feeling arising in your heart. alessia gently unwraps her arms and releases you from her tight hold, smiling down at you sweetly.

“gross, next time you're going to swap saliva with each other, give us heads up.” your sister fake gags. “i guess I can do this now, lessibaby!” said caitlin pulling in steph to mock you, imitating your earlier kiss with her aussie teammate. “hey! kisses are reserved for me only.” katie yells, pulling her playful girlfriend into a bruisingly passionate kiss.

“on the pitch please girls, simple field runs.” jonas interrupts the couple, looking down at the floor, face red, obviously embarrassed at the walk in. a couple “yes jonas’.” and “yes coach'." floated around the changing room, jonas nodding and leaving in a hurry. the girls quickly got ready and headed out to the pitch. your sister wraps an arm around your blonde, pulling her along.

“c'mon less, we have lots to talk about.” your sister says intimidatingly. your girlfriend sending you a ‘help me’ look as she was dragged out of the room.

you finished tying your laces, shaking your head, knowing katie was going to absolutely grill the girl until she gave up trying to scare her off. “let's go, cait.” you spoke, picking up your ‘basically’ sister off the floor, her mouth still wide open in shock, bewildered at the unexpected kiss from your sister. shaking her until she focussed you began to make your way out of the changing room, caitlin using your body as a walking stick.

suddenly your phone rang. ‘chatterbox’, your phone read. it was your youngest (and favourite) sister - lauryn. “hey, what's wrong, sweetheart, I'm in training?” you asked, picking up the call. “are you actually dating Alessia? i know you’ve been there for a couple months, but jeez.” she blurted out.

“katie alison mccabe, get your arse over here right now, or so help me i swear- ”.

#arsenal wfc #katie mccabe #alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo x y/n #steph catley #caitlin foord #arsenal women #lauryn mccabe

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hallietblr · 10 months

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Omg! I love your writing! You write Conrad so perfectly. Can I please request one with Conrad Fisher where the reader and Conrad are best friends but everyone knows that they love each other because they’re always touchy and affectionate with each other. They even have cute nicknames for each other and everyone else just wants them to get together already. Your blog is amazing ❤️✨

orange bikini, the marina, and ray bands | c.fisher x reader

a/n: thank you so much for the request love! i had a lot of fun writing it, i hope you enjoy <3

warnings: fluff

—

summers were always unforgettable. maybe because you got to spend every moment of it with your best friends. as a local in cousins, you watched different families come and go every summer — only a few of them being regular summer visitors. for example, the fisher and conklin families.

susannah fisher was such a bright light to the lives of the locals, bringing charity events to cousins every summer along with invested a lot of money into the country club. as for her sons, they were just like her. both conrad and jeremiah were bundles of sunshine, like a warm hug, or maybe a refreshing glass of lemonade on a hot summers day.

i had immediately bonded with conrad when i first met him when i was eight and he was ten. we met at the beach and instantly clicked. i soon was introduced to his younger brother, jeremiah, and two family friends, belly and steven. although i spent just as much time with the rest of them as i did with conrad, somehow him and i were always the closest.

despite the small age gap between us, we were like two peas in a pod.

i always looked forward to june since it indicated the start of summer, when my best friends return back to their summer home. i do have close friends here at cousins who are also locals, but the conklin and fisher siblings bring a new sort of fun to my life.

now that i’m sixteen, i stand at the marina dock, working alongside my friend cam. we both got internships with the marine biology department for the summer. i was laughing as cameron shook his brunette curls dry from water from the dive we just came back from. the droplets of water landing on me and my orange bikini.

“cameron!” i squeal, pushing him away, “i swear to god i’ll throw you off this deck if you continue to shower me”

he laughs as he steals my beach towel to dry himself, “you know you love it.”

i roll my eyes before they land on a very familiar red jeep wrangler that parks by the dock. i lift my ray bands off the bridge of my nose and place them on top of my head, i squint harder to see if it was who i thought it was. as the driver door opens, my favourite 6’2 dirty blonde boy steps out — conrad fisher.

he sees me staring at him while standing in just my bikini before a large smile paints across his face. i don’t even notice jeremiah stepping out from the passenger seat as i start running sprinting towards conrad.

he meets me halfway, where the dock began. “oh my god!” i exclaim as i jump into his muscular football player arms. my arms wrap around his neck and legs around his waist as i hug him tightly. he smells like sea salt, coconut sunscreen, and a hint of weed.

conrad has his arms holding my torso as he spins us in circles, “hey beautiful, did you miss me?”

“more than anything” i tell him, lifting my head from the crook of his neck, “you know, nine months is too long to be away from you”

“you say that every year, sunshine” he chuckles, carefully placing me back onto my birkenstock covered feet. his green eyes flicker from my sunkissed face to my chest for a split second.

i feel myself blush at it. he’s grown up a lot since i last saw him in august. his shoulders are broader, his biceps are larger, and his hair is longer. i smile sweetly at him, “because it never changes.”

“alright that’s enough from you two lovebirds. you look great in orange, y/n!” jeremiah compliments me as he pulls me into a squeeze hug, “how are you?”

i hug him tightly, “i’m doing great! cameron and i have been busy since school ended with this marine biology internship — but we get to be by the ocean all day so i’m not complaining!”

jeremiah grind his infamous smile, “sounds like fun! you know, steven and i are working at the country club this summer. time to make some bank!”

i giggle before pulling the brothers into a group hug, “ugh, i’m so happy you guys are finally back! when are belly and steven coming?”

“tomorrow afternoon,” conrad says as we all pull apart. i motion them to follow me down to the dock,

“i want you guys to meet one of my best friends,” i explain as cameron looks up at us and offers a smile, “this is cam, well, cameron. he just moved here last september and we’ve been hanging out since. you know, he’s just as interested in marine biology as i am!”

little did i know, cameron having his arm hanging around my neck ignited a small spark in conrad’s stomach at the sight. conrad gives a weak smile, meanwhile jeremiah daps cam up,

“what’s good, cam cameron! i’m jeremiah” he laughs, “you know, you’re making my brother conrad jealous right now. you have your hands on his future wife”

cam’s eyes go huge, “oh shit! are you two dating? y/n, you never told me you have a boyfriend! that’s my bad, bro.” he quickly apologizes and removes his arm from my shoulders.

“fuck off, jere” conrad says to his younger brother.

i smack jeremiah’s shoulder playfully, “i do not have a boyfriend, i don’t know why jere is making up bull”

“you mind as well be married at this point, considering the amount of hours you two spend texting each other.” jeremiah shrugs as he picks up my colourful printed backpack, “let’s head back to our place, cam you can come too”

cam thanks jeremiah but turns down the offer due to being needed back at his home. the two exchange instagrams so they can make plans later in the summer. with that, cameron runs off to his bike and waves us all goodbye.

conrad and my eyes meet and i can’t help but feel my heart rate pick up at the eye contact. i know i’ve always thought conrad was cute and was more drawn to him, but this felt a lot more different compared to the previous summers together.

i called shotgun as we all raced back to the wrangler, jeremiah pouting as he sits in the back seats. i plug my phone in for aux and start playing my new summer playlist that i just started making.

what once was by hers starts playing loudly from the car stereo as the windows are down and rooftop of the jeep was removed. the sweet summer breeze flowing through the car and our hairs as we all sing our hearts out. conrad has a hand on my knee, massaging it with his thumb while he drives. i try to surprise the butterflies and the heat rising to my cheeks at his actions.

as he parks the car at the familiar white summer home, we all jump out as conrad exclaims to race to the kitchen. he claims that whoever is last is getting thrown into the pool first.

the two fisher boys had an unfair advantage because of their longer legs, thus being able to take longer strides. we make it into the kitchen where susannah stands, smiling her golden smile,

“y/n! sweetheart, look at you!” she coos, pulling me into a warm embrace. she smells like roses and fresh laundry as i hold her tightly, she whispers into my ear, “so when are you and connie making it official? i know how you two feel about each other and he speaks of you so often at home.”

i flush at her comment but smile on response, “it’s so good to see you, susannah.”

she caresses my cheek, “i swear, you get more and more gorgeous every time i see you. plus, that orange bikini top looks absolutely fabulous on you.”

“i look just the same as last summer,” i laugh, “and the summers before that.”

she rolls her eyes playfully, “oh sweetie, don’t brush off my compliments. i mean it, you are glowing! don’t you think, connie?” she asks, looking over at her older son who already has a slight blush across his cheeks.

he smiles, “yeah, yeah you do.”

jeremiah grabs my wrist and pulls me away from his mom, “stop trying to avoid you fate, y/n! time to get thrown into the pool!” he grins, tugging me towards the sliding glass doors.

i squeal as the two both have grips on my arms as i try my best to free myself, “oh, come on! at least let me take off my shorts and ray bands!”

they surprisingly allow me to do so, before conrad grabs my wrists and jeremiah grabs my ankles.

“1…” they count together, starting to swing me back and forth by the edge of the pool.

“2…” i squeeze my eyes shut, preparing myself for the cold pool water.

“3!”

i scream as i’m thrown into the air before splashing into the chlorine water. i swim to the surface of the water with a cheeky idea in mind, i grab a hold of my left ankle and distort my facial feature in discomfort,

“shit!” i cry out, taking a breath from being under water for a moment too long.

conrad immediately straightens up at the sight, “baby, what happened? are you okay?” he panics.

“y/n, are you good?” jeremiah asks, the two having obvious concern laced in their facial expressions.

i shake my head and fake a sob, “i think i sprained my ankle at the bottom of the pool.”

in seconds, conrad removes his burgundy tee shirt in one swift movement before diving into the water. his strong arms lifting me and bringing my legs to wrap around his waist, “fuck, i’m so sorry, pretty girl.” he breathes out, planting two kisses on my forehead, “let me see it.”

he swims us over to the edge of the pool where jeremiah once stood before he left to grab towels and an ice pack. conrad lifts me up effortlessly onto the pool side, beginning to inspect my left ankle,

“wait,” he pauses, noticing no swelling nor bruising.

i couldn’t hold in for much longer before i broke into laughter, “i’m sorry! you should’ve seen the look on your pretty face!”

his worry drops before splashing me with water, “you’re so lucky that i love you.”

i stop laughing and wipe my face dry from water before looking at him, “w- what?”

conrad’s eyes widen at the accidentally confession, “i mean… as a friend of course!”

my heart feels a slight tug at the correction but i smile weakly. why would he love me in the way that i feel towards him? i awkwardly laugh before kicking water back at him, and jumping back into the pool.

“ok good, i got worried for a second” i lie, swimming towards him. his hands subconsciously hold onto the curves of my hips, his green eyes looking deep into mine.

i known him for what feels like forever and i can read him like an open book, well typically. but right now, his expression is unreadable. i’m distracted by him, his hands on me, the explosion of butterflies in my gut, and my heart beating loudly in my ears.

his hand cups my cheek, both of our eyes fluttering close as he pulls me closer to his face. i can feel the slight minty feeling of his breath on my lips before,

“i got the ice!” jeremiah yells, with a loud slam of the glass door which caused conrad and i to jump away from each other.

we almost kissed.

i cant even look at my best friend right now, embarrassed with the bright pink colour of my cheeks as i swim over to jeremiah, “thanks” i say quietly, pretending to ice my ankle.

i watch conrad get out of the pool and dismiss himself to his room,

“did something happen?” jeremiah asks, completely lost and confused of the situation.

#conrad x reader #tsitp x reader #jeremiah fisher x reader #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher fanfic #conrad fisher fluff #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher fanfiction #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fanfic #tsitp fanfic #tsitp imagine #jeremiah fisher fanfic #jeremiah fisher imagine

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anadiasmount · 3 months

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BFF so morning fluff with jude (waking up and stuff) nd you are in his hoodie wearing nothing underneath ... then you're in the kitchen making breakfast and he's behind you, running his hands inside his hoodie your wearing to find out you're still wearing nothing underneath and it turns him on (slight smut)

BESTIEEEE!!! "nothing but shorts skirts around the house" ** 🤭🤭 // here's my treat to you!! like always hope you enjoy! 🤍

the rain hitting and tapping the windows woke you abruptly, squinting your eyes and looking around the room, quiet and dark, beside the 6ft man who slept sound asleep next to you. jude had his arm wrapped around your naked body, his chin on top of your head snoring slightly. brows drew in as his lips pursed.

jude's hand twitched pulling you closer to him as if nothing happened. recalls of last night played in your head as you remembered how the long night was filled with shared love and lust. kisses, moans, reassurance, and giggles of 'i love you's". he never failed to make you feel special and wanted.

you scrolled on your phone for a bit, replying to messages and emails, and going through your shopping cart to see what needed to be bought and or returned. it had been a long and hectic 2 weeks for jude, playing football and training, so sleep was exactly what he deserved and needed.

you gently moved his secure arm from you, hearing him groan but then turned over to tuck himself on the other side, not once waking up. jude was a heavy sleeper, and when he slept, he slept. the thunderstorm from outside wouldn't even wake him, let alone if it got worse throughout the day.

after brushing your teeth, you slip into a black hoodie he wore once to a basketball game, no undergarments underneath since the hoodie fits you loose, and is bigger than a dress. it went almost touching your knees, and the sleeves had to be rolled up. you grabbed your phone and headed to the kitchen to brew some coffee.

you yawned, stretching your arms and legs, feeling the cold floor beneath you, as you turned on the kitchen lights. you checked the security cameras to ensure nothing had happened over the night, and made sure every door was locked because you never know. you attempted to blend the coffee quietly, quickly putting it into the filter and began to brew it.

it was still early, and jude had the day off with you. he promised he'd workout and then spend the rest of the day with you, either cuddled up or doing last-minute shopping, although the last time that felt impossible with everyone recognizing him. you laugh at the memory, pulling out the carton of eggs, some veggies to add, and fruit to cut up.

you quietly played music in the background, dicing the fruit first, taking two small bowls out for each of you. you hummed quietly, making sure you wouldn't cut yourself as you cut into the jalapenos, cherry tomatoes, and onions to add to the eggs. jude walked down still asleep and groggy, scratching the side of his head as he approached you.

he wore black plaided pj pants walking shirtless. "hi babe, good morning," you greeted leaning up to meet his kiss in a quick peck. jude groaned feeling you pull away and return back to what you were doing. "coffee just finished, and now I'm making some eggs," you say, feeling jude come behind you and tug you into his chest once again.

"my favorite way," jude cheers, looking at all the veggies spread out in the pan sizzling. "gosh I'm so tired, my legs are killing me from the game yesterday," jude complained, not letting go of you once even when he reached to get the two mugs.

he grabbed some scooby doo cookies, dipped them into the warm drink, and ate them. the two of you conversed about yesterday, and plans for today, agreeing if that the storm got worse you'd stay in and recover here.

you squirmed around your space, giggling, as you felt jude teasingly running up his larger hands on your thighs and sides. his fingertips drawing shapes and lines as he ran them under his hoodie, just to find out you wore nothing underneath. "jude?" you asked, feeling as he went quiet and stopped his movements.

"hmm?"

"are you okay?"

"you're not wearing anything under my hoodie, darling," jude points out, his left hand going all the way up to slightly grab your boob, fingering rolling around the bead feeling it get hard. "i know i just didn't want to waste clothes again since I was-s-s going to s-s-shower after," you stutter gulping the small moan you wanted to let out.

you felt soft and silky, and smelled like vanilla and cherry as jude placed wet kisses all over the nape of your neck, biting and sucking at times. "you're distracting me jude," you whined trying to pull away, "what did you expect? you're wearing my hoodie with nothing underneath angel..."

he grabbed a strawberry, placing it between his lips as you watched his every move. he turned you around, grabbing your face gently with one hand as the other one gripped your ass cheek. his eyes went hooded, observing the way your breathing rapidly changed as he traced the red juice of the sweet fruit all along your top and bottom lip.

jude took a bite placing the half un-eaten piece into your mouth, chewing it softly as he sucked his finger to wipe any extra juice. you looked so torn, licking your lips pondering whether to continue with breakfast or let him take you right then and there. his skin trailed with goosebumps as you dragged your hand all the way up to his throat, gliding it behind his neck.

"you're distracting me," you raised your brow playing with fire growing bold and confident. "and you're making me crazy," jude smugged as he leaned down once again to kiss your jaw, pulse point, and now corners of your lips. "you always drive crazy, whether it's you sitting down and doing work or you wearing my clothes in our home. tell me what did you expect?"

"nothing..." you joke watching him pull back with a "don't play with me" look, "but i do expect you to let me finish breakfast?" you said sweetly, an innocent smile playing at your lips. jude hears you giggling and pleads to put you down as he picks you up and takes you to the couch.

his fingers traced from your sides to between your legs, feeling you already wet as he stroked his fingers around your entrance and throbbing clit. he kissed you profusely, still being able to taste the strawberries on your lips and tongue as they danced together. he gently inserted his fingers into you, your back arching at the sensation. jude smirked, kissing your chin, before sinking his didgets deeper.

"i think i can have my breakfast and workout right now... all at the same time..."

#jude bellingham #judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham one shot #football fanfic #footballer #football x reader #football one shot #football x you

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mbari-blog · 3 months

Text

Ctenophore rainbow ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

Lampocteis cruentiventer

Aulacoctena sp.

Lobata sp.

Llyria sp.

Thalassocalyce inconstans

Ctenophores are mysterious ocean drifters. They are extremely diverse, living from the equator to the poles and from the ocean surface to more than 7,000 meters, or more than four miles, down. Colorful, translucent, and delicate, these predators glide through ocean waters capturing other animals, typically using their long, sticky tentacles.⁠

Scientists have described more than 200 ctenophore species. They come in an assortment of shapes, sizes, colors, and patterns. Some are small, while others can be quite large—growing larger than a football. All play an integral role in ocean ecosystems.

#ctenophore #comb jelly #ocean #deep ocean #marine biology #marine life #science #ocean science #mbari

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hoe4sports · 13 days

Text

Two blossoms on a single branch.

Ona Battle x reader

Triggers; Post partum anxiety. Angst.

Summary: After struggling with a crying baby for months and 100s of doctor appointments, you finally realise why the baby is crying.

Ona was always very clear on that she wanted to be a mom. She wanted kids, multiple of them. A family, a golden retriever, an suv: the whole shebang. The process from you getting pregnant through ivf wasn’t very long, you got lucky and it sticked on the first try. Or, she sticked. Your sweet daughter, Sofia was born on her duedate a bright sunny day in July. She was the most perfect newborn: she slept through the night fast and would only cry if she was hungry. She was all over just a very happy baby.

That lasted until she was 3 months, and let’s just say; hell broke loose. Your normally happy daughter had started crying at every chance she got. She would only be quiet if she was being rocked in her stroller or if she was being bounced back and forth. Sometimes, bouncing wasn’t even enough. You had spent hours upon hours each night trying to calm her so that Ona would get her sleep as her restitution was a part of her job. Being one of the best footballers in the world had its benefits.

You were pacing in the downstairs living room while walking back and forth between the couch and the kitchen in hopes that it would calm Sofia down. The now 1,5 year old was crying even after food, diaper, cuddlesand bathing. Nothing seemed to help. Her high pitched screaming was awful, and you knew that Ona had been developed postpartum anxiety that she was still working on. It was normal for partners, especially female partners to develope it as they naturally would fear that the baby wouldn’t connect. Ona hadn’t felt connected to the baby since the era of crying had begun. Every time Ona stepped into the room while she was crying, it would only get worse and you wouldn’t be able to calm her down. You were trying your best to support her, but sometimes you wished that you could have some support as you were running on 3 hours sleep every night for the last 9 months.

“Shh, baby, come here, you are okay. Mamma is here, princesa” You shushed as the high pitched screaming started just five minutes after you had put her down sleeping in her stroller. The stroller was where she usually slept best leaving you to have an inside stroller and an outside stroller. The little blonde was red from crying, her icy blue eyes full of tears as she grabbed your arm. You stood up and started rocking her again. Her crying was only escalating, and you were just hoping that Ona wouldn’t wake up. “Baby, mamma dosent know what’s wrong” You said as you tried to adjust her position to a more upright one. You had done everything we could; taken her to a bunch of doctors, chiropractors and therapists. Nothing was wrong with her, she was just fussy. You brushed her hair back from her face as it was drenched in tears. “Ai, mamma wishes she could understand you better, preciosa” you said as you walked towards the kitchen hoping that she was wanting her bottle. It was more of a comfort than a source of food as she was getting older, but she was still taking it. You pressed the baby brezza. The machine buzzed as the milk was mixed and warmed at the perfect temperature. You grabbed the bottle and tested it on your arm before taking it with you to the living room. You sat up in the big larger chair and supported your daughter on a pillow as you offered her the bottle. She thankfully accepted it as she kept drinking making the cutest whines you could ever imagine a baby making. Everytime she stopped crying, you were reminded of how sweet she was and how much you loved her.

The clock was now 6.30 and Ona entered the living room. You quickly gestured for her to not talk as Sofia had finally settled down. When Sofia would finally sleep, you wouldn’t dare to move. “Hi” you whispered as she shoot you an apologetic smile while slipping into the bathroom. You frowned. You missed your wife. You missed how she kissed you on your forehead, how she could hug you, how she would hold you and how she would cuddle you when you went to bed. Life hasn’t really allowed for any of that lately. Sofia wasn’t at a place where you could bring her to the trainings as she only cried. You loved being a football player, but you loved being Sofia’s mamma more so going back to work was paused.

After some time, Ona reappeared from the bathroom as she was fully dressed to go to work. “No breakfast, grabbing something at the arena” she said as she kissed your forehead and walked fast towards the door. “Baby?” You asked as she stopped with her back towards you holding tightly on to the door handle. “Mmm?” She responded, not turning around. Almost like a deer in the headlights. Sofia then woke up and turns her head towards her mami while blinking slowly. “Que, mi-» Ona started before she looked at Sofia in horror. “Ai, no-“ she said again as she was cut off by the familiar sound of Sofia fussing while she was looking at her mami. Her little lips forming into a pout as her feet was kicking and her hands were reaching towards Ona. Ona quickly walked out the door before saying “sorry” as she left. When the door closed, Sofia was once again screaming. “Ai, mi princesa, what’s wrong” you cooed as you tried to cradle her in your arms. It didn’t work as she only became more wiggly, and you were forced to put her down to give yourself a minute to breathe. She had been walking for a few months, so as soon as you, put her down she shot up while launching unsteadily towards the door only to fall on her butt when she tried to reach the doorknob. “Mama” she said as she started crying. You sighted and walked towards her to pick her up. “NO, Mama! Mama!” She screamed as she tried to throw herself backwards. “Baby, I’m here, mamma is here” You said as you catched her and leaned her body into you and she grabbed your sweater with all the might that her tiny fists could hold. “Mama” she cried as you stood confused while bouncing her back and forth in the living room. You stopped in front of the window to see Ona pull out of the parking lot in her Mercedes. You could hear Sofia fumbling with something behind your back as if she was playing with the shelf. “Baby, be caref-“ you said as you shifted her position to sit on your hip. Except she had something in her hands. A frame of you and Ona before Sofia was born. Ona holding your waist as you laughed together. Your absolute favourite picture of you together.

The little girl pointed to the picture as she sniffled. “Mama” she said as she pointed and hugged the frame into her body. You sat down with her in the couch and grabbed the picture as you held it up infront of her. “that’s Mamma” You said as you pointed towards you. “And that’s Mami” you said as you pointed towards Ona. Sofia sniffled as she wiped her nose with her hand before pointing towards Ona. “Mama” she said as you took a look at her and realised that she was trying to talk. “Mamma” you said as you pointed to yourself. “Mami” you said as you pointed towards Ona. “That’s mamma and Mami” You repeated as she sniffed. “Mami” she mumbled as you started at her in shock. “Yes Sofia! Mami, that’s right! Estas mami!” You said as you cheered, Sofia almost immediately clapping for herself. It was the first time that Sofia had been able to separate mamma from mami and you couldn’t be more proud as I wished that Ona would be here for it.

Later that day you tried to feed Sofia lunch after her midday nap. She wasn’t having it throwing the soft boiled paprika to the ground before the potatoes and the carrots followed. She cried, and cried, and cried and cried and cried. You let out a sight as you picked her up. “Preciousa, mamma knows that you are hungry” you said as you looked at her while she was crying. You closed your eyes and let out a sighed before taking a couple of deep breaths like the therapist had advised Ona to. “Okay preciousa, how about mamma make you some porridge, si?” You said as you reached over to the little girl and picked her up. She was still crying, but not as bad as before. It had probably something to do with the smell of the familiar porridge spreading around the house. It was one of the few things she liked, and it was the same porridge Ona had grown up with. The smell of milk, oats and cinnamon was wrapping your house in a feeling of bliss, comfort and familiarity. As the porridge was done, you buckled Sofia into her chair again before feeding it to her. She was luckily eating this time, but you could see that the exhaustion was taking its toll on her. You picked her up and got her all cleaned off as you headed towards the living room. Originally, you had wanted to keep her toys in her playroom but motherhood was rough and toys were now in every room. You sat Sofia down as she reached for her train. It was a blue train that Ona got her for her first birthday. She loved the train and would always bring it to bed when you tried putting her down for the first time at night. After a good 20 minutes of Sofia playing soundly on the floor giving you some well needed time to refresh your mind: the lock in the door clicked. Your eyes shot up as you immediately got scared. Ona was at practice and all of your family were busy. You grabbed Sofia terrified of whoever was behind the door. You held Sofia close as she looked up at you and was feeding off of your nervous energy. Your hand searched for your phone to be ready to dial for help as you gulped. The door-handle suddenly twisted and Sofia started her high pitched crying when she saw the face behind the door. It was Ona that had been told to go home early as she seemed exhausted. Sofia cried as she screamed and Ona looked like she was about to fall apart in the middle of the hallway. Sofia screamed as she reached her arms out and threw herself back in your arms trying to wiggle loose.

Then it hit you like a brick. Like a train. Like a trailer. As if the sky had just fallen down. Sofia wanted Ona. She wanted mami, not mamma. She was missing mami, and her little heart was longing for her mami’s warm touches. Sofia and Ona had a good relationship before the crying started, and you were just now able to put two pieces together. You sat down Sofia on the floor as you stood up and looked at Ona. Ona gulped as the toddler was stumbling towards her terrified of what would happen and her hand instinctively reached for the door. “Ona, stay.” You commanded as your daughter made her way towards Ona. She reached her front and stood at Ona’s legs trying to be picked up as she cried. Her little arms reaching up to Ona as she wanted to be close. “Mami,mami!” She yelled as Ona closed her eyes and took a breath while once again, looking like she was about to break down. She took a step a side causing your daughter to fall on her butt making her cry even louder. “She wants you” Ona said as she ushered towards the staircase and your master bedroom. You sighted as you picked up Sofia, and just as you were about to try and soothe her; you decided that it was time to try something new.

You walked after Ona with the screaming baby in your arms. Ona was sitting on the bed, her face in her hands while she was sobbing. Sofia stopped crying as she looked nervously at you. “Mami” she said as she pointed towards Ona. “Si princesa, estas mami, Mami is feeling sad. Maybe you wanna give her a cuddle, si?” You said as you slowly moved towards Ona scared that she was gonna leave again. You sat down next to her on the bed as your daughter sobbed. “Ona, what does Sofia call me?” You asked as Sofia sobbed in your arms. “Mamma” Ona responded still with her face hidden. “Si, and what is she saying?” You asked as you tried to console Ona. “Mamma” Ona said as she looked up at you, eyes red from crying. Just as you were about to continue your rambles, Sofia reached her arms for Ona and got out of your grip leaving her to bolt at Ona. “Mami, Mami” she cried as she grabbed the fabric of Ona’s sweater tightly, like she was scared that she would leave again. “She’s saying Mami” you said as you looked at Ona who wasn’t able to put the pieces of the puzzle together even thought you were basically giving her all the clues. “Mami” Sofia muttered as she frowned and sat down on her butt after not getting any attention. Ona’s eyes lit up as it finally clicked. She looked down at Sofia and instantly grabbed the little girl holding her close like she did when she was a baby. Sofia’s big blue eyes met Ona’s and a small smile formed on her face as she closed her eyes and relaxed. “Ona, she wants you. That’s why she’s crying. She wants her mami.” You said as you rubbed Ona’s back. You could see tears forming in Ona’s eyes as she studied the little girl suddenly seeing how eyes were icy blue, just the the most beautiful glacier she had ever seen. How her skin felt like the most expensive silk she had ever touched. Her finger traced her noce as she saw the little ski jump nose already making its mark on her face. The roses in her cheeks making her look so vulnerable. “Baby, mami’s here. Mami is so so sorry, but Mami is here now. Mami is never gonna disappoint you again, princesa. Mami is gonna get better, for you and for mamma.” She said as Sofia’s body finally relaxed and drifted off to sleep. You looked at Ona who looked like she had just discovered oil. She looked over at you as tears were forming in her eyes. “I’m sorry, mi amor. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m gonna take the week off, and we can have time together as a family. I haven’t been the best mami, but I’m gonna try to figure this out for you, for us. I’m sorry for diss-“ you cut her off with a kiss knowing this was finally it. Ona was finally ready to try to connect with her daughter again.

#ona batlle #ona batlle imagine #woso imagine #ona batlle x reader #woso x reader

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trulyhblue · 3 months

Text

Girl(friends)

Lauren Hemp x Aussie! Reader

Warnings: fluff, coarse language, awkward, OG Man City

A/N — I'm in a Hempo phase rn so be prepared. Short one today x

______________________

You dreaded the days when you weren't playing football.

It was the one thing you couldn't live without, your adoration for the sport was larger and more demeaning than anything else. The solidarity, solace, and peace you found in running up down the wing, the ball at your feet. The feeling of utter elation when the ball went into the goal, past a defender, through the goalkeeper's reach. The celebrations, the assists, and everything else in between.

You could talk forever about football.

Except on Media Days.

You hated the unknown of it. You had managed to excuse yourself beforehand from most of these shoots since you weren't among the best-known players of the club — save that for Keira, Gee, and Lucy. But on the rare occasion that you were chosen for the quick photoshoot or challenge with one or more of the girls, you remained relatively quiet, speaking when you must and laughing when you should. You had no trouble with any of the girls, it was just in front of the public's view, and you were squirmish.

You pulled yourself out of bed after hitting snooze thrice, hearing Alanna ramp on downstairs. You made sure to stay in bed for another ten minutes. You changed into your team's tracksuit and a random top, making your way downstairs, slouching into one of the stools by the kitchen counter.

"Oh, wow." Alanna chuckled, holding out a coffee towards you. "You look delighted. Excited for today, are we?"

You simply offered her a grimace, taking a large sip of your coffee, hoping the taste would clear your evident distaste for the day ahead.

Alanna was a social butterfly. She was used to feeding into the Media's hand whenever they came becking. Most of the City girls were the same, it was a very jovial team that trusted one another well enough to have fun in the security of their job.

All the girls had arrived by the time Alanna and you had trampled in, wearing matching blue kits. Hayley was laughing with Georgia in front of a couple of cameras, a ball at their feet as they struggled to keep the ball off the floor. Gee tried to kick at the Aussie's feet, by didn't catch the ball in time to get the point. Raso threw her hands up in triumph, the cameras panning to Gee rolling around on the floor.

On the other side of the indoor training field were Lucy and Keira, standing around a giant-sized game of Janga, talking to the PR Managers behind the camera as they posed questions to the two of them as they played. Alex, Lauren and Chloe were sitting by a desk, on their phones as they waited for their turn to be called up.

The gush of blood that rushed to your cheeks when Lauren smiled towards you sent Alex and Chloe into a fit of giggles. The duo were always around to tease the two of you with your beyond-obvious, mutual pining. You wouldn't call it embarrassing, but there were certainly times when one of you would go out of your way to gain the other’s attention.

When you first met, Lauren tried to give you a tour of the facilities, but she ended up getting both of you lost. She apologised over and over profusely, and she dreaded the awful, first impression she had left you with.

You and Alanna sat beside them, greeting them with conversation before falling into a satisfied silence. Your next game was the Manchester Derby against United. The team had been training non-stop this past week, today is the first day without strenuous drills and exercises. Nevertheless, it was still a day at work, and to be honest, you'd rather be sweating ten times over than talking to a camera.

The thought of doing a video alone daunted you as you watched Hayley and Gee from afar. On a regular day, Hayley would be your Media Partner; the two of you always did videos with one another. On the odd day that you didn't, it'd be Alanna. If not Alanna, it was with a group of you. Now that you thought about it, the two Aussie girls were the only ones you had done a video with one-on-one. The feeling of someone different was tormenting. As the five of you sat silent on your phones, you hoped and prayed all of you would be doing a video together.

While you kept to yourself for the most part, save for the Aussie girls, you would go out of your way to make sure Lauren was your partner in drills. You’d try your hardest when she was watching, and vice versa. The blonde would hit the ball as hard as she could into the back of the net, and you’d be that landed with the assist. In games, you had been quickly dubbed as a duo due to the chemistry you seemed to have in the game. Fans would swarm at any interaction you’d have with her.

But to their dismay — and apparently most of your teammates — you and Lauren had never been in a video together.

But, to your surprise, you spoke too soon.

"Alright, Ladies, are you ready?" One of the PR girls came up with an iPad, scrolling through whatever it was she was looking for, and glancing up. You noticed Lauren straightening up beside you, holding her arms over her chest, waiting for the woman to finish her sentence.

You found yourself catching sight of the slight furrow in the girl's eyebrows; the concern written all over her face. You knew she was worried, and you supposed you were too. "We've got Greenwood, Kelly, and Kennedy over there. You've got interviews."

You tried not to look too relieved at the news, hiding the smile in response to the girl's identical groans. No one liked Interviews. They were serious, solemn, and no fun whatsoever. It was always boring questions about your job as a Midfielder, or how you maintained a balanced life outside of football. It wasn't the fans' favourite video to watch at all, but it was more for the professional side of it than the Media. Everyone had to do it. You were just glad that today it wasn't you.

"Hempo and Y/l/n, we've got an auto-complete interview."

"That's not fair, those are so much better," Alanna whined at that, throwing her head back like a toddler. "Hempo, surely we swap."

Lauren pursed her lips together, cheeks going a bit red at all the eyes on her. Alex and Chloe waited for her response, a smirk aligned on each of their faces.

"Nah, leave her Lani." Alex sounded, prodding the blonde with her elbow.

Lauren's cheeks went a deeper red when Chloe laughed. "Hempo's been wanting to do this for ages."

"Shut up, Kelly." Lauren snapped in a mutter, turning away to march off towards the direction of the lone white background and chairs. You turned to see the two Brits giggling to themselves, dragging Alanna over to the back doors.

"Have fun, Y/n/n."

"Hope you're as excited as Hempo!"

You shrugged them off, sauntering over to the set-up. Lauren was already sitting on a stool, playing with the rings on her fingers, wearing a prominent scowl.

"Are you alright?" You asked, sitting on the spare chair, tensing when you accidentally knocked your knee with hers.

Her pale cheeks disappeared, replaced with the blush you saw from before. "Yes, they're just annoying. Very annoying."

"Having a laugh, I 'spose." You reasoned, though the blonde didn't come off as too convinced. "But you're right, they're silly."

The blonde simply hummed in response, the both of you listening to the man behind the camera.

"Okay, guys, this is really straightforward." He said, readjusting the camera as he spoke. "You just got to introduce yourselves before you start, then we'll give you a board full of questions and you've just got to answer them. All good?"

Everyone watched the two of you nod. No one could deny the definitive awkwardness between the two of you, and the obvious hesitance toward what you were about to do. It was safe to say neither of you was fit to talk on and on, especially under the scrutiny of viewers.

You didn't know the cameras were already recording, choosing to fiddle with your hands as you waited. You could tell by the definitive look on Hempo's face that she was just as reluctant as you were. The blonde glanced at you from the corner of her eye, shuffling in her chair before she muttered towards you.

"You have an eyelash."

You spun to face her. "What?"

Lauren's face reddened, her beady brown eyes widening at your sudden response.

Without thinking, she pulled her hand out from her pocket, reaching to pinch something off your face. She was gentle when pulling away, holding her finger up to reveal the eyelash she had picked. She watched as you blew it off, giggling meekly at the benevolent interaction.

"You ready?" One of the people asked behind the camera, making the two of you leave your intimate bubble. "When you're ready."

Lauren nodded towards you. "You can start."

You sighed, trying to hide the smile that crammed your lips. "Hello, my name is Y/N, and this is Lauren Hemp," You waited for the blonde to finish your sentence, but when you were met with silence, you took one look at her stupefaction and continued. "And today we're going to be doing a... what is it?"

Lauren lifted up one of the boards that balanced against the end of her chair. She picked it up, surveying it, reading out the bulk letters at the top. "An auto-complete interview."

"Right. That's what we're doing."

The two of you left the introduction at that, an empty silence vacating the set.

Thankfully, a voice sounded from behind the camera. "Who's starting?"

Lauren shrugged, filling the ungainly silence. "I can."

You both stared at the board in between you. "I think you peel them off." You spoke, motioning at the tape that covered half the sentences. Lauren took your advice, skinning the first sticker to reveal the question.

"Who is Lauren Hemp's team?" You read out, making both of you giggle. "Oo, that's a good question."

"I play for Manchester City." Lauren played with the tape in her hand as answered. "But I play for England in the National Team."

She peeled off the second one, waiting for you to read it. "Who is Lauren Hemp's favourite teammates?" You spoke, rubbing your head in deceitful confusion.

Lauren laughed, glimpsing at you with a beaming smile. "We haven't known each other for long."

"Yes, but I'm very charismatic." You shook your head, sighing. "But go on, who is it?"

"Well," She thought to herself for a second. "I'm close with all the girls but... I'd have to say Esme, of course. She's my best friend."

"No brainer, clearly." You made a point to roll your eyes, huffing about, but it was plain to see that you were only joking. "Alright, who is Lauren Hemp's... boyfriend?"

There was a bit of an awkward interlude, leaving everyone looking around the pitch. Lauren, however, fell into a cynical fit of laughter, with you following shortly after.

"No boyfriends for me."

You didn't know why, but your stomach recoiled at the thought of Lauren with someone. It was a great relief to hear that she wasn't. "None at all?" You couldn't help but ask.

Lauren was quick to reply. "No, no boys... or girls at all."

"Right." You replied, placing the board onto the floor, hoping no one was noticing the pink across your cheeks. "Who's next?"

The next board was displayed between the two of you like before, except this time, your name was typed across it. Lauren shuffled closer to you, pinning the board to her side. “Go on then.”

You peeled the first question off. “Who is Y/N Y/L/N’s favourite team?”

Lauren looked at you, laughing when you were silent. “Well, I'm not answering, you are.”

“Yeah, well, hold on, I'm thinking.” You scoffed, pretending to whack the girl playfully with your board. She swatted you away, grabbing the board from where it rested on your thigh and smiled.

“I'm gonna say the Matildas because why else,” You could hear the Blonde’s indistinguishable disapproval, clicking her tongue. You’d later find out when watching the clip that she rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest affectionately. “But yeah, my childhood club was Sydney FC, so I’ll stick with my roots.”

“But she plays for City,” Lauren added, both of you giggling at your ambiguity. You never liked these types of questions, especially when the media took them out of context. You love City with all your heart, but it was easy for people to twist things and make it out that you didn't mean what you said.

“But I play for City, yes, and I love it.” You repeated, proceeding in ripping off each of the stickers as the game went on.

Lauren was patient when it wasn’t her go, adding in her opinion and a subtle joke every so often, basking in your immediate reaction each time. You bounced off one another like wildfire, seemingly knowing what the other was going to say before it was said. You were intellectual in what you shared, favourite meals, celebrity crushes, words of advice — pretty much anything the questions asked. Without knowing, you and Lauren discovered more and more about each other without directly asking. Your relationship blossomed, even with the presence of the cameras, into something tangible, free, and warm.

When it got to the end, you were still holding the board, fiddling with its edges as Lauren wrapped up the last of her questions. Somehow, you felt a little upset that the video was coming to an end. You wanted these questions to keep on coming. You would spend hours listening to the girl talk about what she loved and who she was. But by the time the last question lingered, you feel into comfortable silence.

Ever so slowly, Lauren inched her hand closer to the board you were holding, brushing her pinky and ring finger across your thigh as she did so. You pretended to conceal your flustered state by smiling, giving her the board to chuck away.

You didn't know how you coped when you felt Lauren keep her hand on your thigh.

“Well, that's the end of the video,” She finished, looking towards the camera, then to you.

You smiled back at her. “We hope you enjoyed and if you what to see more—”

“Well there's no more videos of us.”

“But go check the channel anyway.”

“Bye!”

_________________

manchestercity

manchestercity — watch our fan-fav duo answer your questions on our youtube channel!!! 🩵🩵🩵

Coming out later today 💪🏻💪🏻

tagged: laurenhemp, yourusername

Comments:

alexgreenwood — I'm as excited as @ laurenhemp, right @ chloekelly???

^ chloekelly — the real ones know 😂

^ user19 — what r they talking about Lol???????

^ chloekelly — yeah, Hempo, what are we talking about?

^ laurenhemp — STOP

User1 — they are so cute omg

^ user2 — IKKKKK

user22 — Alex and Chloe’s comments?

^ user25 — they know something we don't

^ alexgreenwood 👀

^ user22 — HELP

yourusername — hope you all enjoy 🩵

^ manchestercity — 🩵

laurenhemp — thanks for having us!

^manchestercity — 🩵

^ user3 — the blue heart is just so 😍

User4 — “you've got an eyelash.” “what?” UGH THE SOFTNESS OMG

^ user5 — the way Y/N lets Hempo brush it off and blow it away 😭😭

^ user6 — they definitely had no idea they were recording.

user7 — OKAY ADMIN FINALLY FEEDING US WITH THE HEMPO x Y/N CONTENT

^ user8 — RIGHTTTTT LIKE IM HERE FOR IT

user10 — they will win us the league.

^ user11 — why didn't they work together sooner?

^ user10 — fr

laurenhemp (pretend its you, luv u keira)

laurenhemp — winner winners

tagged: yourusername

Comments are limited.

Yourusername — stargirl 🌟

^laurenhemp — 🫶🏼

alexgreenwood — yeah the girl(friends)

^ chloekelly — yeah the friends…

__________________________________

A/N — this was really rushed and cut up but there isn't enough Hempo fics out there. I rlly didn't do her justice tn 🫠

386 notes · View notes

midnightarsenal · 6 months

Text

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞

Summary: Some old tweets come out and it puts you between a rock and a hard place.

Warning: Internalized Homophobia

Word Count: 2.6k

Arsenal Training Centre, St. Albans

///

You could sense the tension in the air before you'd even stepped through the doors.

...

The past few days had made you a bit of a nervous wreck. The result of some Sam Kerr fan account on Instagram posting a collection of old tweets you'd made nine years ago, back when you were 13.

Old, profoundly homophobic tweets.

And while some fans, mostly those already partial to you, had taken that substantial amount of time and your youth into account, many others had not. Instead, they hurled abuse alongside calls for the club to drop you at the earliest possible opportunity. You'd even tried disabling comments on your most recent social media posts before quickly realizing that the comments would simply move to older ones. Despite how bad some of them had become, you still found yourself not quite willing to disable the comments on every post you had ever made.

It was your own fault anyway. You had been signed by Arsenal a few months ago, having spent the years before that going from one mediocre team to the next until your international performance in Australia had seemingly caught the attention of several larger clubs, the Gunners included. You'd been positively over the moon when your management agency had called to give you the good news. It should have been your big break, and for a period of time, it was, but a position in such a prestigious club came with a level of increased publicity that you hadn't been fully prepared for.

You knew that you should have purged your Twitter before the contract had even been made public, but you'd long forgotten about those posts, those awful comments, and bigoted 'jokes' that your massively insecure thirteen-year-old self had felt the need to put out into the world to try and convince everyone that you were certifiably straight. To convince yourself in some deluded way that you did not frequently lose sleep over the increasingly intrusive and borderline distressing thoughts that plagued you every time you were around some of your friends at school and the teammates at your youth football academy.

Those thoughts just hadn't been you, of course. Because you were straight.

Or, at least that's what thirteen-year-old you had wanted to think at the time.

In the teenage years that followed those tweets, you had eventually been able to come to terms with your sexuality. It had been a slow, long, and painfully drawn-out process, but while the influence of your conservative family had worked to reinforce the close-minded worldview you had been raised with, being around so many openly gay women in your football career had ultimately proven to be a much stronger force in your life. To see that contrary to what you had been told, these supposedly evil and degenerate people were in fact perfectly ordinary and typically far kinder than the 'just' and 'moral' types you had been surrounded by in your childhood.

But, while you had gradually been deprogrammed from the more outwardly hostile and bigoted elements of how you'd been brought up, you had never quite gotten around to being proud of who you were, to being able to let yourself embrace what you felt and to let yourself be happy. Even today, all these years later, you still struggled to imagine yourself feeling the warmth of another woman, a woman you could love as more than just a friend, and a woman who you could feel comfortable telling the world about.

So, you had simply tried to ignore your feelings. Even as you went from teenager to adult and semi-professional to professional, you resigned yourself to a world in which love was an impossibility, where every teasing question from a friend about your romantic endeavors was expertly deflected with a non-committal answer and a change of topic.

You had learned to be happy for the women in your life who were openly gay and celebrated their relationships sincerely like a good friend would, but you could never deny yourself the reality that every time a close friend announced their new partner, you would feel a twinge of remorse, pain that was sourced from fleeting, quickly suppressed thoughts of a life not lived, an opportunity not taken, and a romance denied its potential. It was a sad way to live, but as sad as it was, the thought of telling the world that you were gay was even worse. It had always been worse.

...

And so now, as the sliding doors of the training centre's lobby parted, you found it a difficult task to keep your nerves from becoming overwhelming.

Management had already spoken to you about the tweets and the response on social media to them. Fortunately, no proper news outlet had put out an article on the 'situation' yet, but the club's PR people had seemed pretty nervous that eventually, one of them would. You'd told them that you hadchanged since you were thirteen and that you'd be more than willing to put out an apology. But, ultimately, their advice had been for you to simply stay quiet and hope it all went away on its own. Something that you had been less than thrilled to hear, as if you were ever confronted by a scenario in which it didn't just go away on its own, and eventually you were told to put out an apology, it would likely be too late by the time that you did.

"Morning, Y/N." you were taken away from your thoughts by the young woman at the front desk, Catherine. She was smiling, but you could tell it was a bit of a sympathetic smile, like the woman was trying to show that she was on your side. You appreciated the sentiment, of course, but being treated differently at all because of this was only making your nerves worse.

"Heya." you tried to greet back casually with a smile of your own, and despite your best efforts, it came across as an 'I know' type of smile, a visual confirmation that you acknowledged what had been happening on the Internet these past few days, and her small attempt to make you feel better.

You had almost passed her, ready to head deeper into the large facility when you abruptly stopped and asked, "Any of the other girls here before me?" To which the shorter woman behind the desk nodded, her demeanour steady in its sympathy towards you, knowing why you would be asking. After all, you were on a team with two gay relationships within it, let alone the number of players who just swung that way in general. And aside from the occasional joke or tease (the latter of which often hurt you to an extent that none of your new friends could possibly know), you were pretty certain that none of them actually thought you were a part of that category.

None of the girls had messaged you in the past twenty-four hours, which, while a little uncommon, wasn't an immediate tell that you had been made a pariah. The last message you'd gotten had been from Steph asking if you were available for a coffee date on Saturday, and that had been just over a day ago. Late enough to have been after that stupid account had posted those screenshots, but early enough to have been before many people knew about it.

Fuck, this was really getting to you.

You continued your way down the corridors of the training centre, each heartbeat feeling a little heavier than the last as you drew closer to the locker room. Knowing that at least a few of the girls would be there this early in the morning, getting changed or having a shower or just socializing as they waited for others to arrive. You wondered if they were talking about you, and if they were, what they were saying. You were wondering if they had already agreed to shun you, or even speak to Jonas about getting rid of you. Fuck, this was fucking getting to you.

You gripped the handle of the bag slung over your shoulder a little tighter as you approached the locker room and took a breath before opening the door, a hundred different scenarios having crossed your mind from the time you'd left the lobby to now.

Stepping into the locker room, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to what you had braced yourself for. It was business as usual—some of the girls were chatting casually, others were prepping their gear. For a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself the hope that perhaps they hadn't seen those tweets or had chosen to ignore them.

But as you made your way to your locker, you could feel eyes on you. Some were quick glances, laced with uncertainty or curiosity, while others held longer, more contemplative stares. No one said anything directly, but the air was thick with unspoken questions and possible conclusions. It was hard to tell.

You kept your head down, focusing on getting ready. The sound of your locker door clanging shut seemed to echo louder than usual, and as you changed into your training gear, you pondered over your next steps. Ignoring the issue didn't feel right, but neither did addressing it without a plan.

"Hey," just then, your attention was taken by the sound of a voice that you quickly recognized as Katie's, her Dublin twang thick as always. The defender's expression was hard to read as she approached, and she sat down next to you, continuing after you replied, "Morning." Your voice was small, and your throat tightened a little, Katie was one of the closer friends you'd made in your somewhat limited time at the club, and her opinion mattered to you.

"Listen, I heard about the tweets," she started, and while you braced yourself for what might come next, you couldn't help but notice her tone being somewhat gentler than you'd expected, but still straightforward. "And, I wanted to say..." she continued, and you felt your heart beat a little bit faster. But, then she stopped, if only for a few seconds, and frowned slightly, though seemingly more to herself than to you. She looked like she was thinking about something, something about you, perhaps.

"Well, I don't know what I wanted to say exactly... but I'm here if you want to talk, or if you need anything, really."

Wait.

What?

You must have had a look on your face because the Irishwoman spoke up again. "Like, if you have anything you wanna get off your chest. I'm here for you, all of the girls are." She remained gentle, but you could tell that heart-to-hearts weren't exactly Katie's style (not that this surprised you) from the way she looked a little awkward, but her sincerity remained all the same.

Breathing just the slightest bit faster, it took you another second or two before you replied, "A lot of the girls?" One of your brows lifting curiously. Was... she implying what you were beginning to think she was implying?

Did Katie know think you were gay?

"Yeah. We care about ya, dummy. And unless you really are some horrible bigot, nothing you say is gonna change that." Katie smiled at that remark and you couldn't help but reflect her, shaking your head lightly in response. "I'm not," you confirmed, your eyes connecting with Katie's. "I was just... different then... I was—" You went to continue, but cut yourself off, your breath almost hitching as you caught yourself at the last moment from finishing that sentence.

I was afraid.

You could virtually see the defender's gaze softening on you in real time and you couldn't bear the sight of it anymore, glancing away and turning your attention to your shoes. The locker room around the pair of you was beginning to fade into the backdrop, although you got the feeling that it hadn't just been Katie's eyes on you. Even as you observed the details of your trainers, you could practically feel the woman next to you's gaze wandering off every few moments to the others in the room, maybe looking for assistance, or trying to convey her unspoken suspicion.

"You were what?" You heard, and this time it wasn't Katie who spoke. It was Beth, who was standing a short distance away by her own cubby. Immediately proving that your heart-to-heart with Arsenal's number 15 hadn't been quite so exclusive, and the locker room's sudden silence ironically brought it right back to the forefront of your attention. Everyone was listening, and many of them staring as well. Was this what they had been talking about before you'd shown up? Had they been in here putting together dots you hadn't known existed? A longing gaze you hadn't suppressed or one too many comments about the eyes or legs of another woman that you'd thought would simply slip under the radar as casual observation? Were those tweets the final confirmation they needed?

Was this the supposed 'gaydar' you had heard about?

"Nothing." you retorted swiftly, shaking your head again as you reached into your locker to resume getting dressed. You hadn't really paid attention to the fact you'd stopped when Katie had come over to talk to you, but the girls didn't seem intent on letting this moment slip away, and you could see Beth approach from your peripheral vision even as you tried to focus on getting changed. You were beginning to almost feel trapped, though you were certain that the culprit behind that particular feeling was more likely to be yourself than your teammates.

"Y/N, we're your friends." Beth said, kneeling down to eye level, while Katie still sat beside you, staring into the side of your head with an expression that was unusually gentle and almost unnervingly so. You still couldn't look at her without feeling your throat close up.

"Trust me... none of us are going to react like how that silly little brain of yours thinks we might." she continued softly and with a warm smile, and now you knew. You knew that they knew.

Your head tilted slightly up to look at Beth, who was now squatted a small distance from you, hands clasped together and blue eyes looking right into your own. You could still sense the looks of the other girls on you too, only now you didn't feel that they were judging, far from it actually. Your leg bounced up and down nervously, and you didn't even have it in you to try to stop it. You felt like you wanted to cry. Why was this so hard? Even now, when it was clear that everyone in the room knew. You just couldn't say it.

Your eyes started to glisten as the first tears threatened to push their way out, and you gave Beth a small, sad smile. Your throat began to hurt in the way that only a sob—or an imminent one—could provoke.

"I think you know already." you finally managed to get out, your voice as small as your presence in that room, and Beth only nodded. You could see some of the other girls nod too, but you were distracted by the feeling of Katie's hand taking your own and clutching it safely. A breath escaped you and it was shaky, uncertain, afraid.

"Yeah, I think we do, pet." the forward replied, closing the gap between you and pulling you in for a hug, her arms finding themselves at home wrapped around your torso. It was as if she'd given you permission to cry, the tears finally beginning to flow, as you buried your head into the other woman's shoulder, quietly sobbing into the fabric of her Arsenal jacket. Katie's hand tightened around your own, and you heard the sound of cleats and shoes closing in around you. You weren't sure how you were going to deal with this new reality moving forward, this world in which people other than yourself knew of your sexuality, but at least you wouldn't be alone.

///

End Notes: Hope you liked this one, guys! I promise not all of my fics will be angsty! I'm also in the process of writing an OC for a self-contained multi-part storyline. But, with how busy I've been with uni, who knows whether I'll actually finish it or not. Thanks for reading!

#woso #awfc #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #arsenal women #arsenal wfc #katie mccabe #beth mead #arsenal wfc x reader

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fcwoso · 6 months

Text

Coffee shop crush · Alexia Putellas

Summary: Alexia and reader finally meet each other in a coffee shop (fluffy)

MASTERLIST

This has been the fourth time in a row this week, seeing her in my local coffee shop. I walked in with my hands in the pockets of my coat, looking around hoping to find my usual seat by the window empty. But to my surprise it was taken. Taken by who, you might wonder. Taken by the pretty blonde who’s been staring at me since I’ve walked in.

I tried to keep my composure knowing that if I looked back and returned the glances, I might make a fool out of myself. She was holding a cup of coffee in one hand while holding a phone in the other, frowning at whatever she was watching on the screen in her hands and shaking her head every few seconds. I felt a frown creeping on my own face after realizing her attention had shifted to something else, something other than me. I continued my secretive glances hoping she wouldn’t notice how I’ve almost analyzed her entire existence.

‘'Miss? Would you still like to order?’’ I turned my head after hearing the barista in front of me trying to get my attention. ‘’Yes, sorry.’’ I began, internally swearing at myself for being so caught up in this stranger. I tried looking for another seat after making my order, a bit sad at the fact that I won’t be sitting in my favorite seat. I still hoped the blonde was enjoying the amazing view instead of me, but I doubted that. The frown on her face was still present, frustrated eyes replacing the sneaky ones she had when I walked in.

I saw someone getting up from their seat once I retrieved my coffee, right in the front next to the woman my eyes have been glued on for the past minutes. The empty seat was calling for my name. The blonde put her phone down once I walked past her to take place. A shy smile grew on her soft face, her hair was loose around her shoulders, and she was fidgeting with the gold rings she had on her fingers. I returned the smile and turned around. Did I just turn around?

‘'Joder (fuck)’’ I raised my eyebrows after hearing the blonde woman behind me curse softly. I haven’t been living that long in Barcelona, but I certaintly knew what that meant. I hesitated before turning around, not sure if it was my business to ask her if something was wrong. But I did. Her hazel eyes were wide open, and a playful smile replaced the shy one she had given me a few seconds ago. ‘’This is your seat, isn’t it?’’ She giggled.

I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me, even though her eyes were literally staring into mine, and looked around to make sure. ‘’I’m talking to you’’ She said, the smile on her face growing wider as her pearly whites were on full display. I shook my head while hoping the blush on my cheeks wasn’t that visible. ‘’I mean, it’s not my seat.’’ I replied. ‘’I’ve seen you around here a couple of times, I wanted to see what’s so special about it.’’ The blonde admitted while looking past me. The roaming streets of Barcelona were right in front of our eyes, the windows of the coffee shop separating us. Everyone had their own thing going on.

‘’I hope you’re enjoying it’’ I sincerely said while looking in her warm eyes, the lines around them made her so much more charming. She smiled down at her phone ‘’I must say I haven’t really been appreciating it.’’ She replied and turned her screen to show me. She was watching a football match from what I was able to see. Pretty random if you ask me, it was a Wednesday morning. I didn’t know they played matches this early.

‘’That looks nice as well?’’ I hesitantly said not really knowing if she indeed was having a good time. She let out a soft laugh, ‘’Nice’’ She murmured before she took a sip of her hot drink. The blonde extended her arm after putting the green cup down. I shook her hand, feeling her slightly larger hand engulf mine firmly for a second or two. ‘’My name is Alé.’’ I nodded and gave her a smile before giving her my name. We continued sipping on our coffee as we sat in the small coffee shop in the center of Barcelona.

‘’Feel free to take a seat’’ She proposed as she was pointing to the empty space next to her. ‘’I still feel bad for taking your place.’’ The mischievous look on her face was telling me she wasn’t that sorry about it. Her eyes were fixed on the almost empty cup of coffee while she was waiting for me to move. I of course did without a second thought, our knees brushing as I sat down. I felt her warmth radiating off of her making me instantly feel at ease. The nerves I had were completely gone now. I attentively listened to Alé as she was sharing stories about the place she grew up in, a place not so far from here. She said that she was visiting it later today and asked me to show her pictures of home, something she was really curious about. I guess my accent threw her off a bit.

The atmosphere between us shifted. The sneaky glances turned into shy, warm ones as the time went by. Her hand brushed my shoulder while she was laughing at a confession I made. ‘’Hey, I have a confession to make as well.’’ Her flushed face got closer to mine and I leaned in mimicking her. I felt her warm breath on my neck as she got closer and whispered in my ear. ‘’I knew this was your seat. I just didn’t know how to approach you.’’

I rolled my eyes at her distancing us to give her a little shove. She let out a small laugh and squeezed my hand that was resting on the table. ‘’So, you made me feel like a psychopath over nothing?’’ I asked, referring to my creepy staring. She shook her head and shrugged ‘’I mean, I was staring pretty hard as well wasn’t i?’’

#Alexia Putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso #woso x reader #alexia putellas imagine #woso community #alexia putellas one shot #woso imagine #barcelona femeni x reader

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abibliophobiaa · 6 months

Text

right where you left me;

chapter two: can i be close to you?

summary: steve harrington is unlucky when it comes to matters of the heart. for years he’s been in love with his best friend, but circumstances have made it impossible for him to make his feelings known. fate seems to have other plans, when you ask him to help you escape your wedding day, with nothing but his hand to hold and a car to drive off in. you suddenly find yourself headed back to hawkins, back to the place that feels so unfamiliar now — back to the place where you first fell in love.

warnings: 18+; smut in later chapters; alcohol mentions; class differences; financial insecurities; purposeful vignette-like/short scenes to cover a larger span of time in this mini-series (11k words).

steve harrington x f!inexperienced!reader || best friends to lovers, mutual pining, second chance romance with the town handyman who lives in a cabin in the woods.

masterlist | previous chapter

——

Those first few days pass in a blur.

You wake, often in Steve’s arms, your bodies coming together like moths to a flame. Like magnets. Neither of you says anything on the matter, merely brushing it off as the typical nature of your friendship.

He readies for the day, you watch him dress and go, and you take it upon yourself to clean up around the cabin in the woods. It’s odd, being that it’s the first time in a few years you have responsibilities like this. If you can call them that. Really, you only want to feel like you’re contributing something to the place you’re currently staying at.

Steve’s been kind enough to uproot his life for you, so it’s the least you can do. And when he comes home later in the evening, he cooks and you sit on the kitchen countertops, talking to him about his day. Soaking up the fact you can spend all this time with him now, without the societal pressures, parties, and social events to weigh you down.

About a week in you decide you want to contribute something. A fact which Steve laughs at, reminding you, “If you’ve forgotten, I want you here. Don’t feel like you need to do that.”

Both of you walk side by side on the sidewalk, him in a sweater and jeans, and you in a pair of newly purchased jeans and a dark knitted sweater. Wind prickles against your cheeks, the puffer vest you’re wearing doing very little to block out the cold. Leaves crunch as you walk, dancing along the streets as people pass on by, kicking them up as they go.

The Hideout comes into view, dim lighting highlighting the ‘Now Hiring’ posted hanging in one of the windows. “It’s like the universe is sending me a sign!” You giggle brightly, hand wrapping around Steve’s wrist like a bracelet, dragging him into the restaurant behind you.

It’s different than you remember. Still that darker interior — all wooden floors, wooden bar, wooden walls. Against the side wall is a sprawling bar top, with steel stools full of patrons sipping on drinks. There are some bent low in conversation, others looking like they’re on first dates, all blushing cheeks and bashful smiles. Others are cheering, wearing jerseys of whatever team they support, likely coming home from a football game.

The dining area is different than you remember too. Wooden chairs around wooden tables, beautiful lighting hanging from above, the room cast in an ethereal glow. From where you're standing you can see families and couples, friend groups and bachelorette celebrations occupying the spaces. Smiling servers and wait staff weave in and out of the aisles, before your gaze swivels to the hostess at the front booth, asking how many in your party.

“Two, please!” you say, leaning into Steve’s shoulder excitedly, giving his hand a squeeze as the woman leads you toward a table near the back of the restaurant, your mind still whirling a bit at how successful Eddie’s place has become. Once seated, you whisper, “This restaurant is insane. Can’t believe this is the same bar.”

Steve nods. “He really did a great job with the place —”

“Says the guy who put together a good chunk of the furniture here,” Eddie teases, placing menus on the table in front of you both. “Fancy seeing you two here. Thought you’d still be holed up in the love shack. Rob's going crazy.”

“I could only take off a few days for the wedding,” Steve reminds him, shoving the older man lightly. “We’re seeing her tomorrow, if you must know.”

“Good, because she’s been parked on my couch the past few nights and Abi and I haven’t had any alone time,” Eddie says with a grumble, but you know there’s no malice there. “Get whatever you want — it’s on the house. My ‘welcome back to Hawkins treat.’”

Eddie moves to leave, but you stop him with a hasty, “The door. It says you’re hiring.”

The man in question turns back around, arms crossing over his chest. His eyes travel up and down your form, a question burgeoning in his gaze, “Yeah, I’m in need of waitresses for the busy season. You keep your tips. Why? Do you need a job?”

You swallow. “I don’t want to mooch off of Steve the whole time I’m here. And I don’t really know what I want to do long term, but I figure I need money to do anything. So…yeah?”

“Then you’re hired.”

Steve grins, but you shake your head. “No, no. I don’t want you to just give me a job. I want an interview, just like anyone else.”

“Okay…” Eddie glances Steve’s way briefly. His best friend only shrugs. “Do you have any customer service experience?”

“I worked at a clothing store in Starcourt?” Before it burned down, obviously.

“How long was that for?” Eddie asks, pulling out a free chair and settling in front of you.

“Few months,” you tell him, and then blurt out, “I also babysat for the Sinclair’s for a bit!”

“You babysat the younger Sinclair?”

“Yeah,” you say, a little quieter this time, not quite sure what he’s getting at.

Erica had been nothing but lovely to you in all the time you babysat her; if not quite a bit sarcastic and oftentimes blunt, but given you’ve spent years in the company of Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson, it was never anything you couldn’t handle.

“And survived?” Eddie asks.

Steve nods rapidly. “She —”

“Quiet, she’s interviewing.” Eddie raises a hand to silence Steve.

“I…survived…” Your words are quiet, and Eddie leans backward against the frame of the chair, contemplative.

“Abi makes the schedule on Sunday usually.” Tomorrow, then. “I’ll ask her to put you on for Monday, and then we’ll go from there. How does that sound?”

You swallow, a little miffed, brows knit high on your forehead. “That’s…that’s great. Yeah. Monday is good.”

He claps you on the shoulder and ruffles Steve’s hair, grinning at a server that passes by as he shoves his chair back into place with a loud screech against wooden floors. And then he’s off, leaving you to stare across the table at Steve, trying to hide the smile that creeps along your lips at the realization of what just happened seconds ago.

“So…” Steve takes a sip of his drink, grinning ruefully, “that happened. How are you feeling? First job in a few years, yeah?”

“I…I have a job.” Steve bursts out laughing as you nearly topple over the table in pursuit of wrapping your arms around his next. “I have a job!”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he chuckles, sliding a hand over the small of your back, grinning into your cheek. “I'm so proud of you. Think we should order a bottle of wine and celebrate a bit?”

That’s exactly what you end up doing.

——

In the mornings, you and Steve share coffee and breakfast. You’ll take turns cooking. Some days he’ll wake you with coffee in bed, Garfield lounging across your thighs. Others, he’ll stumble into the kitchen, eyes bleary and in search of the coffee pot, while chocolate pancakes cook on the stove.

Those mornings are your favorites, because you’ll often hear him murmuring to himself how much he loves you — and you try to deflect that feeling that crawls up from deep within you, the part of you that craves for him to mean it in the sense that he’s in love with you.

Later, he parts for work and you ready yourself for shifts at Eddie’s restaurant. Which is a learning curve, to say the least. Abi, Eddie’s soon-to-be wife, only laughs as you drop another plate filled with water cups in the back, landing on your butt in the process. A huff pours out of you, just as some of the cooks grin your way, offering condolences for your likely bruised tailbone, and Eddie’s head pops into view, all the dark curls that resist staying put in an elastic spilling around his face. He’s grinning but you’re frustrated, on day seven of utterly making a mess of things.

“It’s really not that bad,” Abi reassures you later that afternoon, your apron draped over your shoulder, punched out for the day. There’s a glass of wine in front of you, but you haven’t really had any of it. “It takes time. You’ll get it.”

“It shouldn’t be this hard.”

And yet it is. For years you’ve lived a life of luxury, shuttered away from society. Work was some lofty idea, left behind after you fled Hawkins. You want to pick up on things, want to be good at them, to make Steve proud. Yet you still struggle, still find yourself doubting your capabilities, wondering what it is Eddie saw in you when he hired you.

That night, Steve and you sit around the coffee table in his living room. You’re wearing a pair of cozy sweatpants and an equally comfortable hoodie and he’s there in that yellow sweater of his you told him to never get rid of. The one that has some holes in it now around the edges, but looks great on him all the same. A puzzle rests on the table in front of you both, the pieces scattered all around the wooden surface. Garfield snoozes on Steve’s lap, curled up onto a tight ball, his purring mixing with the crackling of the burning fire mere feet away.

“I’m proud of you,” Steve says, sipping at the beer on a coaster in front of him. The label is long scratched off, condensation dribbling down in little rivulets against the glass. Confusion pricking, your head tips to the side. “Eddie says you’re doing well at the Hideout.”

“He’s lying to you,” you deadpan, pushing another edge piece into place. “I’m struggling. But Abi says it just takes time. It’s definitely not like working at my old clothing store over at Starcourt.”

An edge of darkness flitters across Steve’s features at the mere mention. It shudders and ripples in the spaces between the two of you. Neither really talks about it all that much, especially now that he and you both had been in extensive therapy for it. And even then, the remembrance stings a bit. The reminder of what that day meant for your friend group. Hadn't then at all really to your detriments, when everything happened as it had. Instead you’d both pushed it away and hopped into Steve’s car some days later, with nothing but a map and some money pooled between the two of you.

But it had been enough. It had been everything. The road. The warmth of summer. The escape. The boy.

Steve’s not a boy now. Hasn’t been for a while, you realize, sitting there and peering into those hazel eyes that almost look like molten honey when the fire dances within their swirling depths. Your fingers reach over and twine with his. Just as they have countless other times, just as they always do. Seeking him. Craving the nearness of him. Comforting him, but also yourself.

A cheek of his twitches. Curls a bit with the softest of smiles. Steve Harrington’s smiles are your favorite. Have always been. They’re the kind that a picture can’t capture, an artist can’t form the likeness of. The only way to contain them is to see them, to bottle them up, to store them away in your heart. Sometimes, when you were younger, you imagined they were special. Meant only for you.

Still do now, if you’re being honest with yourself.

“Nothing is quite like working at Starcourt,” he teases, diverting to humor. You wince a bit at it, fingers around his twitching lightly. “Not everyday someone gets possessed, and you get abducted by Russians, huh? Bet the Hideout will feel like a walk in the park soon in comparison.”

“I hope so,” you mutter, more to yourself than anyone else. “I just don’t want to sit around while I’m staying here. Maybe I’ll…start saving up for my own place? For the time being, at least.”

“Or you could just stay here,” Steve says evenly, free hand stroking over Garfield’s fuzzy head, “I did say you could stay as long as you like. I didn’t just say that to say it. I like having you here. It feels…normal. It feels good. Really good.”

There’s a little rasp to his voice. A brokenness that clings to the edges of his speech. Your fingers tighten further, crawling up onto your knees to settle down at his side, shoulder bumping his as you reach over to place another puzzle piece down in the proper position. He leans his head against your shoulder, forehead shaking back and forth against the fabric of your clothing, and you just know he’s smiling without even seeing his face.

“Okay, okay. But the moment you get sick of me I’m giving you permission to kick me out —”

“Won’t happen,” he assures you, chuckling a bit.

“How can you be so sure?”

“For one, I’ve known you for years already. You clean up after yourself. You’re crazy loud, but we match each other in that, so it’s fine. You’re not bad to share a bed with — although you go all starfish on me in your sleep —”

“I do not!” you exclaim shrilly, cheeks burning up at the notion.

“You do,” he laughs, dragging you closer to him with an arm around your shoulders, “woke up with your drool on my chest the other day.”

“Yeah, because you’re a human furnace!”

“Doesn’t seem like you mind, seeing as you end up on top of m —” He pauses, the puzzle piece you playfully threw at him bouncing off of his cheek and onto the floor with a clatter. Garfield scampers off to eat, likely rolling his eyes at your antics as he goes, the sound of his collar bell jingling drowning out the silence in the room. “You just threw a puzzle piece at me.”

“I did just throw a puzzle piece at you,” you repeat slowly, bursting out into loud, shrieking laughter as Steve rolls you over onto the blankets scattered beneath him on the floor, body caging yours in place.

His fingers twitch along your sides, your body writhing and rolling beneath him, a frantic jostle of your stomach that has his face crashing into your shoulder, his smile warm against the skin of your collarbone.

You’re children again, you think, as your fingers slip under his sweater and pinch at his sides, earning a loud howl from the man. “Geez, not the pinchy fingers.”

“Mercy?”

“Mercy,” he pleads, his fingers pinning your hands at your sides, chest rising and falling rapidly in a direct mirror to your own.

“You look different from this angle.”

As in, your blood heats with it. Heart clangs at the proximity of your hips in relation to his. The way your mind itches and races to know what he’d feel like if he lowered himself a bit, the cradle of your thighs a home to him. He’s breathing heavy, his laughter joyful on your ears, eyes dark as they clash with yours.

“Different how?”

“Not a bad ‘different.’”

Not at all. He looks older now — is older now. His clothes fit differently now. He’s always been fit from basketball and baseball throughout the years. But he fills out his shirts and sweaters differently now. His chest broader, the stitching on his sweater hugging his biceps as they ripple around you — as you’ve seen them in the days since you’ve come back to Hawkins. Working as a carpenter seems to have had its benefits, and you try to not dwell on the fact you’re reaping them now.

His hazel eyes slide over your form searchingly. His chest still rising and falling as your fingers pinch in the yellow sleeve of his sweater, pulling at a thread that spills free from a stitched seam. The sudden shift of your form has your back flaring, right in the middle of your shoulder blades, a wince crossing your features before you can mask it. Worriedly, Steve rolls over onto his side, asking, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

No. Never. “No. Just…not used to carrying as much as I have the past few days, it seems. Pretty sad, isn’t it?”

He rolls his eyes at your self-deprecating remark. Sits up against the couch so his back is against it and pats the ground between his thighs. “Come here.”

“What…?”

“Come here,” he repeats, a little impatiently.

You return his eye roll with one of your own, clambering up and off the ground and into the space between his thighs. There’s little time to worry about the proximity of your spine to the muscular wall of his chest before his fingers are pressing into the curves of your shoulders, rubbing at the tensely corded muscles there.

It’s easy to relax like this. Can’t really think of a time when you last felt so relaxed. Usually you’re under the judgemental stares of dozens of eyes. Those who think they know you, understand you, and yet don’t. Defined by a name you had no name of being born to. It was only by circumstance. But you’ve always felt like yourself around Steve. No need to put on airs, to hold yourself to a certain standard, to lift your head a certain way or say all the right things.

He’s only ever wanted the fullest version of yourself. Probably has been one of the only people to ever understand you in the way you wished others did as well. For years you wondered if people knew you, really knew you, they wouldn’t like what they saw. But sitting here, in this cabin, with this man? You realize you don’t even care. Throw away the rest of the world, and leave Steve behind, and you’d have everything you ever wanted.

“Does this hurt?” he asks, thumb swiping along the top of your spine, right at the dip below your skull, before swiping in an arch along each curve of your shoulders. “I’ll stop if it does.”

“N-no,” you sigh, languid against his frame. “Although, I’m feeling mildly jealous of all those who may have benefited from a massage by Steve Harrington.”

A chuckle rumbles against your back. “Only you, really. In case you forgot, Eddie got me a cat to keep me company.”

A part of you, a very selfish part, rejoices inwardly over his confession. A little victory dance, sending giddy sparks throughout your bloodstream. That giddiness burns molten as Steve pushes the neck of your oversized hoodie down a bit, fingers wrapping around the fullness of your shoulder, tips of them dipping below your collarbone.

It’s a not at all sensual touch — and yet it has heat pooling between your thighs, has you biting back a quiet moan that inches up your throat, reminding you of the mere fact that it’s been a couple of years since being with anyone sexually coupled with the fact you’ve spent the past few days pressed up against the only one you’ve ever been in love with at night.

That’s all it is. The only thing that has you melting further against him, humming pleasantly as elusive sleep tugs you closer and closer into its comforting embrace. After a while, you’re not sure how long really, Steve’s arms start to slide around your waist, his chin against your shoulder, the sound of his comforting breathing a welcoming metronome against your ear. Your fingers reach up and slide into the holes of his sweater, brushing along the dark hairs you know line his forearms, lulling you and him into further rest. To anyone else, you know what the scene looks like: two people, intimately knowing one another, cuddling. Broken away from the rest of the world and into one of their own. To you, you know it’s another normal afternoon with the man.

And yet, your eyes lock with the dying embers crackling in the fireplace, wondering if it could ever be different. If only one of you were brave enough to broach the conversation, to see if the feelings are reciprocated, if now is finally the time to take a chance. A leap. To dare to dream a little. A silly, childhood dream that seems so insurmountable. Still, you crave it more than anything else.

You breathe in deeply, Steve’s arms tightening around your waist. His heavy, rhythmic breathing lets you know he’s fallen asleep now. Your fingers stroke along his arm again, a comfort to him but also you, and you finally close your eyes.

You rest, that question in your mind dying with the firelight.

——

“Monster Mash” blares from a speaker somewhere in the distance. Drowns out the chatter of those downstairs as you put on the finishing touches of yours, El’s and Max’s Halloween costume.

“Wednesday Addams again?” Max muses, pointing to the costume you managed to put together in a couple of hours, not knowing until the last minute you were going to a party to begin with. You’d also been Wednesday the last time you’d been living in Hawkins for the holiday.

You’re presently smudging red lines near the bottom of her jaw, adding little droplets of blood when and where needed. El is beside her, looking very much like a mummy.

“Hey?” Steve appears in the doorway. The hottest Danny Zuko you’d ever seen. You’d never admit that, though. “I don’t mean to interrupt but, uh —”

“Just finishing up,” you tell him softly, smiling appreciatively at the way his eyes roam your form swathed in black, “we’ll be down in a minute.”

Steve smiles and jogs down the stairs, leaving you standing in the bathroom once more with the girls, chewing on your bottom lip and likely smudging the dark lipstick you’d slapped on.

“I guess some things never change,” Max adds, beaming mischievously when your fingers stutter over her jaw, “still pining over Harrington.”

“I do not pine!”

“You pine,” Max giggles, blue eyes sparkling in her mirth as they glances to El for support, “She pines, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah,” El mutters, a bit more shyly than her best friend, “you pine.”

“Well I didn’t take Max Mayfield and El Hopper to be gossips,” you snark, dabbing a little red lipstick on Max’s pouty lips, voice taking on a higher pitch.

“It’s been, what? Almost ten years of you pining after him?” Max wiggles her shoulders, smirking when you glare at her.

“You were practically an infant then,” you balk, cheeks burning along with your chest, “not even in Hawkins.”

“Yeah…but…” El begins, tucking a hair behind her ears, “it’s kind of…obvious?”

“You two are lucky you’re my favorites of the children.” Though now, with them graduating this year, it feels weird to call them that.

“He pines too,” Max adds. “Right?”

El grins. “Definitely.”

“Is that so…?” You grin, a little rueful, hope blooming in your chest. “Tell me m —”

“Well look at this little band of creepy folk,” Argyle drawls from the doorway, shiny hair falling down around him in a halo, his Michael Myers mask dangling from his hand. “Don’t wanna interrupt this little gathering, but you know…”

——

As the Halloween buzz dies down around work and town, the frigid streets become full of the changing seasons. Leaves fall everywhere you go. Bursts of orange, yellow, red and gold swirl around busy side streets, packed with those investigating local farmer’s markets and slipping in and out of family owned businesses to purchase gifts to get ahead of the holiday season.

The Hideout becomes busier in those weeks. Countless patrons fill your stations, back screaming and head spinning by the time you end your shifts. That day in particular, you stand behind the bar with Abi, chugging down a glass of water she poured you before stripping your apron from around your hips.

“Did well in tips, it looks like,” she points out, gesturing to the wad of cash you promptly stuff into the pocket of your jeans. “Told you you’d get better.”

It also helps that you had multiple larger parties that evening, all of which were more than happy to pay a little extra once they’d gotten a second and third round of beer in them. Though you didn’t really appreciate the way one in particular had slipped his phone number, writing ‘for a good time call.’ You’d chucked that into the garbage with a huff, making sure to toss a wide grin over your shoulder as they later slipped out of the restaurant and he waggled his fingers near his ear in the shape of a telephone, as though you were going to run home and reach out.

“I told Steve I was going to make us dinner since he’s working late on a job, so I’m going to head out.” You huff out a breath, staring up at the clock that reads seven. “Though I think I’m going to need to grab caffeine. I don’t think I sat down once today.”

“Get out of here!” Eddie shouts, sneaking over to loop an arm around Abi’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to her temple. Something like longing bubbles up in your stomach at the sight, the craving for what they have simmering with it. “Or else you’re fired. You’ve worked late every day this week. If you get sick, that’s on you.”

“Fine!” Your hands wave in front of you in defeat, waving to the two of them as you slip out the front doors of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk.

At this time of evening, those wandering the streets are quieter. Bags full of goodies from their excursions. You tug your jacket tighter to yourself as you slip on by, waving to those who have started to become normal faces once more over the weeks in Hawkins. They wave back, grinning like they used to. Greeting you like you hadn’t been gone for three years.

It's strange to think of being gone now.

Strange to think of leaving again.

You find you don’t want to leave again.

And fortunately, no one from home has tried to make an effort to bring you back to the city kicking and screaming. Part of that is by design — leaving no way for them to contact you in the first place. No one knows you’re staying with Steve. No one really even knows where Steve is these days, given he’s not been in contact with his family since they left in 1986 as it is.

You want to keep it that way.

Smiling to yourself, you slip in through the front door of Hawkin’s Brew, a little family run coffee shop that sits a few doors down from your job, smelling like cinnamon and spices, and the freshly brewed coffee you can see percolating over the countertop.

A new barista lifts her head up over the counter. All wavy blonde hair that reminds you of a mermaid and sparkling green eyes around a pair of thick lashes anyone would die for. Gorgeous, she’s absolutely gorgeous and you definitely would have remembered her face if she’d been there before.

“Hiya!” she greets, beaming widely, revealing a glowing set of white teeth that flash in your vision. “You look confused. My mom, Mary Jo, is usually here with my dad. But mom wasn’t feeling well, and I’d finished up at the preschool, so I’m here to help. I don’t think I’ve seen you around. I’m Lucy!”

You offer your name and a soft ‘hi,’ still a little startled by the exuberant greeting. “Nice to meet you, Lucy. Sorry to hear about Mary Jo. I hope she starts to feel better soon.”

Lucy leans her elbow against the counter, and you can’t help but admire the cream colored chunky knit sweater she’s wearing with a flowing skirt to finish off the look. It looks effortless on her.

“What can I get you today?”

“A hot coffee, cream two sugars please,” you tell her, and she gets to work behind the counter.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice Steve’s truck he uses for work, the back full of leftover lumber.

“Oh, Steve’s here?” Lucy says, sounding a little faraway. Contrast to the ball of excitement she’s been since you walked in. “You know, he’s a confusing one, that guy.”

“Is he?” You laugh, watching as he rummages around his front passenger seat.

“Ever since the earthquake, he’s been giving up so much of himself. Charity, taking up the basketball team at the high school, helping out around town. Did you know he helped my parents build a shed last summer? By hand?” Her voice trails off, and that smile of hers grows once more, like she’s stuck in a far off memory. “And he’s handsome. Single. Yet he doesn’t date. Not really. It’s so…strange? But whoever he marries — they’re gonna be a lucky one.”

“Yeah…” Your brows furrow at her words.

Steve, your Steve, is something of a hero to these people. He’s your hero too, but it twinges in your chest hearing it from someone else. For so long he’d been yours, but now, it seems, he’s needed around here. Admired. Loved. And you’ve missed so much of it in running away. Time you’ll never get back.

He’s changed. You just never realized how much. An ache builds in your heart, wondering if maybe you’re too different now from who you both were years ago.

The man in question hops out of the vehicle, fingers carding through his hair as he gazes into the coffee shop, immediately lighting up when he sees you.

“Do you know him?” Lucy asks, voice raising in pitch as she hands you your coffee and you toss your bills onto the counter.

“Yeah,” you say, sipping at the coffee, “he’s been my best friend for years. I’m staying with him for the time being, actually.”

“Oh!” Lucy perks up, chewing her bottom lip. “So you’re the one he’s so —”

As your mouth opens to ask what Lucy means, Steve walks in. He immediately commands the attention of the shop, both yours and Lucy’s stares drawn to him as he slides an arm around your waist and tugs you against his side, oblivious to what he’s interrupted.

“I was going to grab you some coffee,” he says, fingers squeezing a bit at your side. He notices Lucy then. “Hey, Luce.”

Luce.

Familiar.

Jealousy burns. You try to tamper it down, to pretend the unspoken words between them don’t matter to you. But there are a thousand new questions that burn in your mind, with no words or standing to ask them.

Lucy waves in greeting, those pretty green eyes of hers glimmering in the moonlight spilling in through the front windows of the shop. “Always good to see you, Steve.”

“You too,” he agrees, head lowering closer to yours as he then asks, “Ready to head out?”

He’s leading you to the door, and you spare a glance over your shoulder to the woman you’ve just met moments ago. There’s a look you can’t quite place on her features, a furrow of her brows, a slight downturn to her softly parted lips.

You wave your goodbye, and try to push all of whatever that might have been into the depths of your mind.

——

Steve tosses and turns behind you. A fitful rest that has you rolling over onto your side, fingers brushing along the clenched planes of his cheeks. You can practically hear his molars smashing against one another, can feel the rapid thump of his heart in his chest as your fingers splay against his sternum.

At the touch, his face softens in the slightest. A low moan pours from him, a whine of ‘no, don’t’ cleaving your heart right down the middle.

“Steve?” It’s a whisper. A plea for him to come back to you in the waking world. He reaches out in his sleep and clutches at your tee shirt, clutching the fabric tight. Another whine. A whimper of a cry. “Steve, I’m here. I’m here.”

Sweat pools along his skin, despite the chill in the air. The tips of your fingers press to his forehead, running along the wrinkles forming high up on the skin there. His name is a whisper over and over again on your lips, a soft beckoning into wherever his dreams have taken him — a tether for him to grip onto, if only so you can reel him back in.

You’re no stranger to nightmares. They plague you, too. Dark, weaving things that sneak into your mind at night, tendrils clinging to the innermost workings of your mind. That day at the mall, watching as that monster loomed, dark and imposing in a colorful explosion of light. Billy, being ripped into over and over again. The spray of black blood, the cries of Max. The moments that came after, where Steve practically demanded an EMT to look over your ribs, despite the fact there was nothing one could do if they were broken anyway. And then there had been those images on the news — of classmates fallen to Vecna. Memories of the splintered down, the gaping holes in the earth, the spaces where many had disappeared into. Endless faces of the lost, declared dead or missing.

So much turmoil. More than some kids and teenagers were ever meant to see in a lifetime.

“Let go!” Steve shouts into the night, rolling over again so his back faces you.

“Steve,” you whisper, running a hand along his spine, “it’s me. Come back to me. I’m here.”

He rolls over again and his eyes open, locking on your features. Broad palms come up to cup your face, forehead descending upon yours. He mutters your name a little brokenly, moving to press his head into the space beneath your chin, arms looping low around your waist.

“I’m here, Steve,” you remind him.

There for one another, as you’ve always been.

In a world where people come and go, where you can’t rely on anyone, he is your rock and you are his.

“Shhh.” Your fingers thread into his hair, smoothing the messiness left in the wake of his endless tossing and turning. His breathing tapers off. Slows. Starts to deepen. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

But you fear the day he may no longer need you.

——

Steve’s…liked by most. Sought after. Desired. He’s popular, in a way that you’ll never be. With his friends, with his teachers, with women. Though he was your first kiss, you’re not even delusional enough to believe he’s only saving his lips for you.

He doesn’t do relationships often. He goes on dates and you watch him from afar. Can see the glow of his bedroom window, the hurt that burns like a knife when he sneaks a girl in while his parents are gone. Your curtains always shut when they kiss, when things start to feel like a betrayal to the foolish unrequited feelings you harbor.

It becomes a thing. Wishing and wanting your best friend as he loves everyone else around you.

Luckily, they’re always short dalliances. Flings. Dates that lead nowhere. And even though it hurts, there’s some comfort in the fact these things never last long.

That is, until Nancy Wheeler steps in. And you make yourself scarce. She’s smart and lovely and beautiful. She’s everything you could ever want for Steve — and she’s not you.

Just like everyone else he sneaks into his bedroom.

Because why would Steve Harrington ever look your way like he does theirs?

And therein lies the problem.

——

A month. You’ve been in town nearly a month and things are more or less exactly as they’ve always been. Platonic and full of yearning. At least, on his part. He’s not quite sure what to make of your feelings lately — and he’s never been one to push the envelope with you.

He needs a sign. A sign from up above or something just to show him that all his efforts have not been in vain.

It comes that afternoon. Sweat pools along his chest and stomach. Along his back as it ripples with each swing of the ax, splitting piece of wood after piece of wood. The plaid shirt he wears is long unbuttoned, stomach fully on display as he pauses a moment to reach down and sip some of his water set on a wooden stool nearby.

Thwack.

He’s so caught up in the monotony of the task, the methodical way he swings down and splits the wood, that he fails to hear your arrival. Only notices your form out of the corner of his eye, hiding behind a tree.

Or, at least, it looks like you think you’re hidden.

He can see the way your chest rises and falls rapidly, your fingers covering your heart, like you’re terrified he’ll hear it. The boots on your feet are pinched tight together, likely having stopped abruptly once you noticed you could potentially be caught.

And there’s that bottom lip of yours, tucked between your teeth. Biting back any noises that might slip out.

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes trail along his abdomen. How they linger on the newer muscles there, hewn by countless hours spent working as a carpenter. You look downright guilty — like a child with their hand caught in the cookie jar.

He adores it.

“I don’t mind if I have an audience, you know?” He muses, grin growing wider as you stumble a bit in the leafy pile at your feet.

His amusement grows as you tilt your head up to the sky, as if searching for something. Unfortunately for you, it’s a cloudy day, and there is nothing to see up above other than an endless gray sea.

“Steve…” you warn, still not meeting his eyes.

You’ve always been endearing. Sweet, in a way he finds adorable. And this sudden shyness when you’re typically so sure? It reminds him of those moments when he first kissed you, all those years ago. Your heart was like a hummingbird’s wings against his chest that evening, fingers trembling against him, unsure of what to do with yourself.

“Here,” he chuckles, walking over to curl a hand around your wrist and putting you out of your misery. He walks you over to where he’s splitting wood, “wanna try?”

“I mean, sure. How hard could it be?” you tease, back stiffening as he slips in behind you, sweat-slicked skin pressing against the curve of your spine before relaxing into him.

He’s already placed a new log on the block, the rest of his split pieces lying on a rack near the side of his home. Wide palms come to wrap around your hands, sliding them into place on the handle of the ax. One near the top for grip, another near the bottom for powering through the stroke. “Grip it nice and tight. Both hands.”

“Okay, like this?” you ask, looking over your shoulder at him, and his breath immediately hitches. Throat cleaning, he gives your shoulder a quick squeeze and steps back a little.

“Spread your legs a little. Shoulder width apart. Yeah — just like that.”

You’re a little sheepish as he steps over to the side, trying to put enough distance between you and him to feel safe enough. A cold breath puffs out of his lungs, the cloud billowing in the air before him as you glance down at where your hands are firmly grasping the handle, deep breaths to center yourself echoing in the forest.

“Now you’re going to pick a point on the wood and focus on it, raise the ax and strike through, focusing on that spot.”

“Sounds easy enough,” you nervously murmur, doing exactly as he instructed, the ax rising above your head.

As you swing downward, the ax wedges into the wood, and you stumble to the ground, kicking up leaves as your bottom slams against the forest floor. Steve stumbles forward to check if you’re okay, but when your sides start trembling with uncontrollable laughter, his face breaks out into a grin.

He loves you, and he aches with it. More — now that you’re living with him.

“Guess you don’t want me helping you on any jobs, huh?”

A couple days later, however, you do exactly that.

Mr. Gerry Jones is an older man in town, and in desperate need of a new paint job for his living room before he tries to sell his home. Steve agreed to help weeks ago, and when his partner comes down with the flu, decides to ask you if you want to come along. He finds you laying on the couch that morning with a book, and he hardly expects you to say yes with the amount of hours you’ve been working at the Hideout, but you quickly jump to attention with a nearly shouted ‘yes.’

Now you sit beside him on the floor, admiring the freshly painted wall, taking a moment to breathe before starting the next one. You’re wearing a pair of overalls, a ratty old tee shirt tied up beneath, revealing the curve of your side, a patch of skin that Steve’s been trying to not stare at for the past few hours.

His heart clenches as your head tips over your shoulder, a little splatter of olive colored paint across your cheek. Reaching out, he cups your cheek and wipes it away, warming as you lean a bit into his touch.

Neither of you dares to acknowledge the tension burning in the room. The way it feels like time seems to slow to a halt when you’re there, shuffling up onto your feet, moving over to the next wall. Steve only talks. Begins prattling on about anything and everything, trying to keep himself distracted from the feeling swirling in his gut — the desire that has only grown every day to see what might happen if he just dared to try. To close the gap between your lips and put to bed all the questions.

But he doesn’t. Instead he gazes ahead, mouth dropping open when he asks about what your relationship with Clark was like — in what feels like an attempt to torture himself — and you utter that you’d never really done anything with him.

“Or anyone…for that matter,” you add slowly, your bottom lip pushing between your teeth, voice a little quiet.

“Like…?”

“I’m not a virgin, Steve,” you bark out, eyes rolling a bit in your skull. “But I’ve really only been with one guy. And it wasn’t even good or anything.”

“You’re joking.”

“Steve.”

“I’m not making fun. I’m just…”

“Shocked at how pathetic I am?” you drawl, taking a step backward. Away from him.

“No — I just —”

“It’s not like the movies either. All of the explosions and fireworks.” You frown, and Steve grimaces at your words. At the sadness lining your features. “I just — I don’t know. It wasn’t like how you’d always talked about it. We barely even kissed during it and I didn’t…”

“Honey…” he sighs, taking a step forward. “Clearly, he wasn’t the right guy. The right guy would have made it extra special, because you’re special, and definitely would have made sure you finished before he did. And I’m sorry but he didn’t deserve you, because you deserve all the explosions and fireworks.”

“Yeah?” You sound so hopeful, eyes a little narrowed, mouth parting softly.

“I mean…hypothetically…” he steps a little closer.

He catches your slow swallow. The way your chest heaves on a breath, eyes trailing his form. Heat burns in the atmosphere as your eyes narrow a bit, staring at him like you had in the woods. Appreciatively, and not at all like a friend. How long had he missed those looks? How long had he not noticed the slow simmering desire beneath the surface? Suddenly he’s back in that closet and a teenager again, only now instead of your jean shorts, his finger curls into the pocket of your overalls, chest brushing yours. Cornered, your back bumps against the presently dry wall behind you.

“If it were me —” He stops. Thinks better of it.

“N-no,” you splutter out, voice a rasp, breath puffing, “go on. Hypothetically, obviously.”

“Well, for starters, I’d start by getting down on my kne —”

“Hey, kids!” Mr. Jones calls into the room, and you both jump like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t be. “Could one of you help me sort through some boxes? I don’t want to be a bother, but my back just isn’t what it was, you know?”

You throw a hand up in the air. “I’ve got it.”

Steve inwardly groans, his jeans suddenly a little too tight at what he’d been imagining doing to you only moments before — what he’d been imagining doing to you for years, if he was being honest.

You glance away, rushing over to Gerry, embarrassment rolling off your form.

And you’re gone, following the older man from where he came.

Conversation…over.

——

The window next door glows with lamplight. It’s after the earthquake that you see it. The earthquake that has you hiding in the doorway, holding onto the frame as the earth shudders and groans beneath you, pictures of your family now shattered frames scattered into a million pieces on the ground.

You grab a few things. Bandages, clothes, some water bottles. You can’t really tell how many people are over there, so you grab a pack. And when you ring the doorbell and Robin answers, looking stricken and covered in an inch of dirt, your heart groans too, because the look on her face is grim.

Steve throws his arms around you when you enter his bedroom, a whisper of, “You’re safe,” against your head. Reverently. Like he can’t quite believe it, like he wasn’t sure what he would find when he came back.

Your hands slide up and along his back, his body jolting at the contact, your fingers coming back a little stained with what looks to be fresh blood. “Steve, you’re hurt. I brought bandages.”

“He’s worse,” Steve utters through gritted teeth, “take care of him first.”

And there on the bed is Eddie Munson, with Nancy Wheeler there to rest a cloth against his head, whispering to the man under her breath. Soothing him, soothing those wrinkles that line his forehead — deep set in his pain.

With Nancy’s help, you get to work. Trying to cut him out of his clothes, careful to not agitate the wounds any further, apologizing for every whimper. Every broken sob of the man who fought to save a town that would have killed him on their own had they been given the change.

And later, after you’ve scrubbed your arms raw to try and rid yourself of the remnants of Eddie’s blood, Steve slides in beside you in the bathroom. Curls a hand around your head and tugs you against him, kissing your temple. Whispering something against your skull that you can’t quite make out. Steve’s not religious, but you swear he thanks someone for keeping you safe.

“You’re next,” you mutter, wiggling out of his hold, peering up at the dirty face of the man you love. “Strip.”

“See, in a different context, those words coming from your lips —”

“I’m not joking,” you sing-song, tugging at the bloodied shirt he’s wearing. “Off with it.”

“I can’t,” he winces.

“You’re getting modest with me now? I’ve seen you half naked more times —”

“I think it’s a little stuck,” he groans, turning around and peeling off the outer jacket. It falls to the ground and you can see what he’s talking about. The injuries, freshly reopened, cling to the fabric like a second skin.

You whistle on an exhale, and he laughs darkly. “It’s not so bad. Just looks like one area got a little angry. If you get in the shower, I can run a little water on it to loosen it up.” You lift the edge of his shirt a bit, noting the swath of bandages around his waist. “Who did these? They look pretty good.”

“Nancy.”

“Good,” you say, a little softly, “now into the shower, Harrington.”

You’re trying. Trying to make light of a terrible night. But you can see the pain in his form that runs deeper than the scratches on the surface. Can see it in the tension on his form as he slips out of his jeans and climbs into the tub with nothing but a pair of boxers.

Neither of you speaks for a while. As you turn on the water and try to soak his shirt. As you eventually peel the shirt away and whisper you’re sorry over and over when he hisses and bites back against the pain. Nor as you run a damp towel over the wounds to clean them, careful to not agitate his mangled flesh further.

But then you hear it. The sniffle. The shudder of breath.

“Steve,” you whisper, threading your fingers in his hair, feeling him tremble against your touch, “what happened tonight?”

He cries. Folds his face into his hands and cries.

You toss the cloth aside and climb in to hold him, because you’ve known physical pain, but this pain hits differently. Twists in you like a knife. You can handle your own pain, but seeing Steve break, seeing your hero crumble, is a pain that cuts to your marrow. Shatters and scatters your heart into a million pieces.

But you have to stay strong.

For him. For all the times he’s done the same for you.

He clings to you, fingers fisted into your shirt, and you don’t let go.

——

You don’t talk about that moment in Mr. Jones’ home. Neither of you bring it up for days. And yet — it’s all you can think about. The way he looked your way, the timbre of his words, the way heat had crawled up your spine. How it also pooled low, throbbed in your core in a way that was unfamiliar to you.

Was this passion? Desire? Lust? All feelings that seem so foreign, and yet you don’t fear them. You just ponder the new questions that arise. The curiosity of what this might mean — if it could lead to more.

On that particular day, both of you were off of work. Decided with Thanksgiving swiftly approaching, it was about time you went pumpkin picking. Pumpkin picking turned into a whole day event, where you and Steve took turns arguing over which pumpkins were suitable for the front of his porch, and which were suitable for decoration for the potluck gathering with some friends that upcoming weekend.

And after spending half the day drinking warm apple cider, sharing donuts on a hayride while bundled up in comfortable clothing, and racing each other through a corn maze, you’d decided the last thing on your itinerary for the “full Hawkin’s experience” was to carve pumpkins.

“In case you didn’t know,” Steve jokes, his knife poking out a hole for an eye in his pumpkin, “Halloween was a few weeks ago.”

“So what? We were busy and didn’t get to do this sooner,” you bemoan, cutting open the top of yours and moving to stick your hand inside.

“You’re just going in like that — bare hand and all?”

“What’s a little guts, Steve?”

“It’s gross,” he says plainly, eyes narrowing, “and messy.”

“What’s wrong with a little bit of mess?” Your tongue pushes out between your lips as you get to work, pulling out handful after handful of pumpkin guts into the garbage pail you set up beside the table the two of you worked on.

“I happen to not mind a little mess,” he teases, coming to stand over your shoulder, the heat of his chest at your back. “What are you making?”

“A Garfield pumpkin,” you tell him, scooping more of the inside out into a trash can. “I happen to be quite fond of your kitten. Maybe more than you.”

“Really?” he asks playfully, stepping a little closer to hook his chin over your shoulder.

“Are you jealous?” you muse, circling around.

Like this, your chests nearly brush, his palms come up to rest beside your hips, caging you in against the table. Heat pools low again at the look on his face. The firm line of his lips, the curve of his jaw, the round depths of his hazel eyes. There’s a look in them you can’t quite place — a look you’ve never seen in Steve’s eyes, or anyone’s for that matter. But you know you like it, thighs bumping a bit off of the table as you crawl up onto it, legs swinging beneath you.

Fingers come up to curve along your cheek, Steve’s thumb brushing the line of your jaw with a pinky. Delicately, like you’re precious. Like you might break. “You got a little something on your face.”

“Oh,” you whisper out, swallowing as he leans in closer, as his hips slide into the space between yours. “Steve…”

He steps closer once more. Hips brushing against the cradle of yours. There’s a heat from him that seeps into you. Grows as his forehead rests against yours and you both breathe in the same space, neither of you speaking, because there’s nothing this moment requires other than a nearness. His nose glides down the side of yours, one hand of his coming to curl around your hip, squeezing the curve of it. Your mind screams at you he’s going to kiss you, and your heart leaps because you want it.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, and it’s a loaded question.

You’re thinking you want to erase the space between the two of you. You’re thinking there’s a chance this doesn’t quite mean to him what this means to you. You’re thinking that you’re scared to allow Steve to see inside the part of you that you’ve kept from him all these years. But you’re also thinking if you’re going to play with fire, there’s a knowing chance you may get burned.

“I’m thinking…” you exhale, chest pushing further into his as your back arches a bit, propping yourself up onto your hands. Only, as soon as you do so, pain flares in the center of your palm, gasping breath coming out with a, “Shit!”

Steve’s there in a flash, fingers curling around your offended wrist that you show him. Blood pools up from the wound, the bloodied knife skittering beside it onto the forest floor when he shoves it out of the way. You hadn’t even remembered it was there, too caught up in the moment.

“Honey…” he sighs, thumb brushing along the curve of your wrist, glancing down at the cut, “let’s get you inside. You might need stitches.”

“No hospital,” you tell him, pinching your bottom lip between your teeth, “you’ve patched enough people up. This should be a walk in the park, right?”

“Yeah but this is you,” he says, and before you can ask him what he means by that, he’s helping you off of the table and steadying you when you land on the leaves below.

The bathroom is dimly lit by this time of day, even with Steve flicking the light on as soon as you enter. The edge of the tub is cool against your leggings, chilling your skin even through the fabric, as Steve rummages around in his cabinets for a first aid kid. And then he gets to work, sitting across from you on the toilet seat, making sure to irrigate your wound before dressing it.

“Not deep,” he says finally, inspecting the shallow cut that slices the center of your palm, “gonna disinfect it.”

A hiss pours from you as he does, pain flaring in the wound. Your free hand whips out to clutch at his pant leg, pinching the denim tight in your fingertips until the burning ebbs into a throbbing sting that beats in tandem with your heart.

“What did you mean before?” you ask as he starts to dress the wound, winding a bandage around and around your palm. “The whole ‘but this is you.’”

Steve pulls out a piece of medical tape and presses it to the end of the wrapping around your palm, his thumb rubbing along the inside of your wrist. “I can handle my pain, but I could never handle yours.”

You swallow, because you understand. You know first hand what he means — have experienced it yourself. Watching the man you love throw himself into harm's way and injure himself in the process. Having to mend his wounds, to see him hurting without a way to stop it, when all you wanted was to ease the pain.

“There you go,” he whispers, fingertips teasing along yours, before letting your hand fall back against your thigh. “No more pumpkin carving for you.”

“Thank you.” Your lip twitches as you climb off the lip of the bathtub, following him down the stairs.

“Steve, back there, I…”

“Come on, let me cook us dinner.” He pauses, stopping himself once you both realize you speak at the same time. “Wait — what were you going to say?”

You swallow thickly, the nervousness choking your words and drying them in your throat where they live and die instantaneously.

Not the time.

“N-nothing.”

——

“Don’t think I didn’t see how the two of you walked in together.” Robin twirls her drink around in front of her, brows arching as a smirk creeps along her features.

You sip your red wine, smiling to yourself over the rim. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Although you do. You arrived at Jonathan and Nancy’s new home with a freshly baked apple pie in hand, and Steve’s hand against your lower back, keeping you close to him. Clearly it hadn’t gone unnoticed, the evidence apparent in the look Robin was sending your way.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice Lucy struggling to open a wine bottle in the kitchen, and excuse yourself from Robin’s side to greet the woman. She’s beautiful today, in a pair of black jeans, and a brick red sweater. Effortless again, with endless wavy hair and those glowing eyes of hers.

“Here — let me,” you offer, helping her to get the cork out of the bottle.

Once it’s open, you pour the two of you new glasses of wine and clink your glass with her’s, peering out over the kitchen island to take in the sights around you.

Nancy and Jonathan went all out. They lined up multiple tables around the kitchen, making room for friends and family alike. Their parents sit at one table, while Steve, Robin, Eddie, Abi and Argyle talk amongst themselves. Holiday music filters in through the radio, as Nancy and Jonathan carve into the giant turkey resting against the table covered in Thanksgiving themed plate wear.

It’s been a long time since you’ve had a holiday like this. This is warm and inviting. Back in the city your parents would rent out restaurants and have wait staff take care of your evening. You’d always resented the thought that, while you spent time in a cold environment under the guise of “Thanksgiving,” those employees missed out on time they could spend with their own loved ones.

And when Steve looks over, you almost feel like you could fit in here. Almost allow yourself to dream big — to imagine a world where when he lifted his hand and waved as he is now, it would be full of love, full of the newness of relationship.

“So you and Steve…?” you can’t help but to ask, turning so your back rests against the kitchen counter, offering Lucy a soft smile.

She returns it a little tightly. “We…dated for a bit.”

“Oh.”

You weren’t expecting that. Had witnessed a little something passing along their features when you’d bumped into her weeks ago, but never thought to chalk it up to them dating. On paper it makes sense. She’s a teacher, they work together, she’s gorgeous, vibrant, bubbly, interesting. She’s here. She’s been here. And she belongs here.

And you — you don’t know what you’re doing most days. You’re living with Steve, but for how long? You want to stay, or think you want to, but what does that entail? There’s also the lingering doubt. The fear that you don’t quite belong as you once did. Can see it in the looks from people as you pass. Those who haven’t seen you in years now regard you as a stranger.

“Yeah, we’d gone on a few dates. He was always such a gentleman…but it just…” she exhales, and you watch as her eyes trail his form, “he always seemed kind of…detached? He didn’t want to commit. Sometimes we’d be spending time together and he just…didn’t seem all there? But it all made sense when I saw you two at the coffee shop that one day.”

“What?” you splutter, red wine dribbling down your chin at the suddenness.

“He lit up when he saw you. I’d never seen him look at me that way,” she admits softly, sipping her own wine. “I kind of wanted to hate you for it, but you were so nice and he deserves to be happy.”

“Oh — we’re not — it’s not —”

“Not yet,” she teases, giving you a little eye roll. “He’s happy. And he’s present. Both are things that have changed within him since you’ve been here. I don’t think that’s mere coincidence.”

Her words settle within you as you later join Steve at the dinner table, leaning into his shoulder as he scoops your requested dinner options onto your plate. They linger even as the kids arrive for dessert and the group ends up playing endless card games, laughter lyrical and swirling around the room, growing louder as the drinks continue to pour into awaiting cups.

And later, as you sit on Steve’s couch in no more than a pair of leggings, a comfy hoodie, and knitted socks you ponder Lucy’s words again while a fire crackles in the fireplace.

“What’s on your mind?” Steve asks, fingers kneading into the arch of your foot, your head against the armrest, eyes closed in contentment.

“Lucy is really pretty…”

“She is,” Steve agrees, his fingers pushing in again, drawing a deep sigh from within you.

“She works with kids, she’s bubbly, she’s established. All things that you’d normally go for.”

“Okay…”

“I’m just…I’m — I guess I'm trying to figure out why you two didn’t work out then.”

Steve pauses in his ministrations, shifting a bit on the couch to look at you. “Honey…you know why.”

“No,” you retort, feeling anxiety bubble up within you, “I really don’t.”

“There’s always been someone else.”

“I’m not understanding…”

With a sigh, Steve scoots closer. Tugs you up and onto his lap to get you even closer, your knees thumping onto the couch cushion at each side of his hips. He grips your hips and stares up into your eyes. There’s an unspoken question. A whisper behind his stare. Begs for you to look deeper, to see him, to see his heart.

“No.” You shake your head, anger welling. Replacing that anxiety. “I’ve looked at you my whole life and you never noticed. Now? Now you decide you —”

“It’s always been.” His strangled voice breaks your heart.

“Then why didn’t you say anything? All this time, all these years —”

“I tried,” he interjects, fingers winding tighter around your hips.

“When?”

“First time I visited you after you moved away.” He sounds somber. Heartbroken in a way that’s foreign to you. “You’d gone inside and your dad and I had a drink out back. Remember?”

You nod, swallowing thickly, fingers running along the hair at his temple. He gives you a little squeeze, forehead resting against yours.

“He…I told him about my feelings for you. And he…well, he wasn’t supportive.” He exhales a wobbly breath. “He had his points. I had no money. He was right about that. I worked at a dead end job and was going nowhere. I had nothing to offer you. He…painted a picture of us in a few years from now. Asked me how I’d be able to keep you happy…keep our family happy. And I thought maybe he was right.”

“Bullshit. Everything he said to you is bullshit,” you snap, climbing off of his lap. “I never wanted any of that. If I had you, Steve, then I would have everything.”

“I know that,” he cries, jumping to his own feet, looping an arm around your hips. “I know that now. I’ve seen you here the past few weeks and you fit here. With me in my life. I want to stop wasting time pretending you’re just my best friend because that’s all I ever thought you could be. I want you here. I want you in my bed every morning and night, I want to touch you and, I don’t know, hold you while we cook dinner together. I want to kiss you just because I can. I want to hold your hand. I want all of that.”

He tugs you close, your chests thumping. His heart throbs against your sternum and you raise a palm to settle there, to push him back, but you find you can’t. He sucks the air out of the room when he’s that close — when his mouth is mere centimeters from yours, and all you want is to close the distance.

“I never felt good enough for you,” he breathes against your lips, his breath a shaky exhale. Lips graze against lips, your fingers slide up further, along his chest, over the curve of his neck, the slope of his jaw.

“You’ve always been good enough for me, Steve,” you whisper back, forehead nuzzling forehead. “I don't need all the money. I don’t want fancy dinners or cars, I don’t need the newest clothes, shoes, pocketbooks. I’ve only ever wanted you.”

He slides a palm up against your cheek. A thumb draws a soft line across the curve of your jaw. “And now? What do you want right now?”

“I want you to kiss me.”

——

sorry about the delay. i’ve basically been sick since july, and wasn’t planning on having so many of my ‘bad’ days the past couple of weeks. the next chapter will be long, and i mean long. can’t wait to hear about what you think about this one! likes, comments, reblogs — all of that is such an encouragement to creators and means the world, so please consider 🤍

#lunalovessteve #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve Harrington x reader smut #steve Harrington x reader fluff

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