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samkerrworshipper · 18 days

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have no fear

jordan nobbs x reader, leah williamson x reader, arsenal x reader

part 2 of beautiful girl series -> pt. 1 -> pt.3

warnings: drug addiction, drug use, angst, pain, mentions of sexual assault, little bit of fluff if you look really close

So with every last piece of strength that you had in your body, you pulled the door open.

“Hey chicky.”

You tried to smile at your ma, you did, but it was hard.

“Hey ma.”

You knew you had to look like a wreck, you hadn’t had time to look in a mirror on your way down, but you knew that you must look like a complete mess.

Jordan brought you into a hug before you could do anything about it her little arms squeezing your body as tightly as you thought she could manage.

She forced her way into the house before you could say anything about it, walking her way into the kitchen and leaving you close the door behind her.

“Le said you were out last night.”

You followed your ma into the kitchen, walking straight to the coffee pot.

“You want coffe?”

Jordan had always been the stricter of your two parents, probably because she saw you less, Leah was the one who had to do the hard yards, constantly fighting with you over the biggest and smallest things.

“Tea please, how late where you out till, who were you with?”

You turned the machine on, trying to hide your annoyance at the immediate interrogation.

“Did you come here to see me or question my choices?”

You pulled two mugs from the shelf, reaching for the kettle and pouring enough water in before reaching for a tea bag.

“I came here to see you chicky, and catch up with you, I want to hear about what’s been going on.”

You dropped the tea bag into the cup, reaching across the island to hand it to your ma.

“I was out with a few friends.”

You pulled your vape out of your pocket, hoping that it would help to soothe the insistent memory of the events of last night and push it from the forefront of your mind.

“What’s that?”

You looked up at Jordan curiously, one of your own eyebrows raising.

“What’s what?”

You looked back at the coffee machine, watching as your mug slowly began to fill up with the brown mixture.

“Since when do you vape?”

You pulled your mug out from the machine, setting down on the island so you were facing your ma.

“A couple of months, why?”

You reached for the sugar container, taking the spoon out of it and dropping two spoonfuls in.

“Does your mother know?”

The shock in Jordan’s voice was so obvious.

“Yup.”

It was all good and well for Jordan to judge Leah’s decisions with parenting you, but at the end of day she’d been the one to leave, refusing to take you with her, insisting that life in London was better for you and that passing you back and forth between Birmingham and London every week wouldn’t be fair, she left you.

“How’s football been?”

The pivot in conversation should have helped, but you knew that it wouldn’t as soon as the words had left her mouth.

“I stopped playing.”

Jordan frowned at you.

“Since when?”

You brought the coffee up to your lips, finding solace in the warm liquid.

“A while ago.”

You wished she’d drop the topic, she seemed to be becoming more disappointed by the minute.

“Why, you were great, you were one of the best a the academy.”

You were one of the best because Leah spent all of her afternoons coaching you, because she knew the coaches, because she knew what she had to do to make you better, not because you were naturally gifted or because it came easy to you.

“I didn’t want to.”

You ried to answer her with some finality, to make her drop it and move on.

“How about school, how are your gcse’s going?”

You wanted to lie to her and tell her it was good, that you were on track to get all A stars like you’d planned.

“I don’t think I’m going to do them, my attendance isn’t high enough.”

Jordan’s face plummeted, her jaw going slack as she looked at you.

“What? I thought you wanted to go to college, that you were planning on doing medicine or law or english lit.”

You hated that Jordan had this preconceived version of you in her head, from when she left, from when she used to travel every weekend to see you, when you were doing everything to try and be the perfect kid for the both of them.

“Plans change.”

You kept your eyes downcast, scared to look at her and absorb the disappointment.

“What do you plan to do, without an education and your football? Do you plan to just live with your mother forever? Do you plan to use her until she’s old and retired? You can’t just live your life like that chicky, you need a goal, a aspiration, something you want to do with your life.”

It was the same conversation Leah had tried to have with you, one you’d ignored.

“I know ma.”

Jordan looked at you with disapproval.

“It doesn’t seem like you do, what are your plans, what are you spending all of your time doing?”

Getting high, crying, regretting your existence.

“I don’t know Ma, look, you don’t get to come here for the first time in a month and try to act like you give a shit about what’s going on, Mom’s been through it and I’ve been trying to support her, I’ll figure it all out later.”

Jordan looked dismayed, to say the least, her finger twirling the teabag inside of her cup aimlessly.

“Lovey, your mom is in a lot of pain right now, she doesn’t deserve to be taken advantage of, I understand you might be going through your own pain but it’d be nice if you could try and be a bit better for her.”

You wanted to yell at jordan, tell her that you were hardly the fucking problem, but you couldn’t, not when everything that had happened in the last 24 hours was circulating non stop in your mind.

“Look, I understand that I’m not the kid you wanted, that I stopped playing football and I’m not doing what you wanted me to.”

Jordan stopped you before you could say much more.

“No it’s just that months ago you were fit, you were reading and writing and playing football, you were smiling and spending all of your spare time with your mom and now it’s like all of that’s changed and you’ve just become this person I don’t know anymore. Can you blame me for being surprised? This isn’t you, This isn’t my kid, this just isn’t you, chicky.”

You couldn’t look at Jordan, you just couldn’t.

“You have no fucking idea what’s going on, you’re never here, the only time you give a fuck about my life is when it’s convenient for you and when you get to judge it. I’m not your kid anymore, you don’t fucking love me, you haven’t wanted me for a long time.”

Jordan recoiled at your words.

“First of all, don’t swear at me, I hope you don’t talk to your mother that way. Secondly, that’s not true and not fair. I’m here as often as I can be. I love you chick, I just think you could be making better decisions. Where were you last night?”

You rolled your eyes, you felt frantic, you could feel your heart beating in your ear and the blood pumping through your veins.

“That’s such bullshit. Trips to Spain to see Lucy are more important then me, huh? Trips to Ibiza to hang out with Caitlin and Katie are more important than me? You criticise the decisions mom has made but you aren’t here, you don’t understand what it’s like.”

Your hands were shaking so badly you had to put your coffee down, the liquid having spilt slightly down onto the countertop.

“Where were you last night, lovey?”

The question made you feel like you needed to puke, and for a second you thought it was just a feeling, but then you felt the bile rising and you realised it wasn’t just a feeling, you were about to vomit.

You rushed from the kitchen as quickly as your weary body would allow, your legs shaking underneath you, threatening to give out, taunting you from below.

You made it to the toilet bowl just in time for your jaw to go slack and the bile that had been rising in your throat to splat against the porcelain. You didn’t look at it, you couldn’t, knowing that it was probably evidence of what had happened last night, the alcohol, him.

You didn’t need to see Jordan to know she was waiting at the door behind you. It was the last way you wanted to spend your couple of hours with her, but it didn’t really matter now you supposed.

You knew you were done when the pressure in your throat dissipated and you finally felt like you could breathe again. You pushed yourself up, flushing the toilet before turning around to look at Jordan.

Your Ma reached out for you first, her hand coming up to your face, gently pressing onto your cheek.

“It’s alright bubba, I’m here, you’re okay, I’m sorry.”

Jordan’s arms opened up and without hesitation you leaned in, seeking out comfort that you hadn’t felt in a long time. The hug didn’t provide the love you were yearning for, it didn’t soothe the part of you that was hurting, but it did patch a hole inside of you somewhere.

You were far taller than Jordan, but she somehow made you feel like a little kid again, your head coming to rest down on her shoulder.

“C’mon, let’s get you to the couch and we’ll talk, huh, one on one, no judgement.”

You felt eight again as Jordan lead you over to the same couch. You felt how you did when you were eight, when your moms sat you down and promised you that they would always be a safe space for you, that you could tell them anything about the past and they wouldn’t judge you and that they’d always be proud of you no matter what, you felt how you did at 12 when your moms sat you down to let you know that the academy had asked them if you wanted to play with them, you felt how you did at 14 when your moms sat you down to let you know that your teacher wanted to put you up a form at school. Except everything was different, it wasn’t your moms, there was nothing to be proud of, nothing for them to tell you you were doing good at.

Jordan sat you down, your head pressed to her shoulder.

“I’m sorry that I was rough on you, okay? I don’t know what’s going on, I’m not here as much as I should be. Can you tell me about last night, bubba, please?”

You didn’t get why she cared so much, your mom hardly cared what you did on your nights out as long as you were home by your curfew and stayed safe.

“I went to a party, okay? It’s no big deal.”

You heard Jordan exhale next to you.

“You didn’t do anything stupid?”

You wondered what Jordan would define as stupid.

“I drank a little, smoked a bit of pot, normal teenage shit.”

You wanted it to be the truth, desperately, but it wasn’t.

“That’s it?”

Jordan knew you were lying, she’d always been better at telling, Leah on the other hand wasn’t as practised in being able to detect when lies were falling freely from your lips.

“Yes, for fucks sakes.”

Jordan only tightened her embrace around you, bringing her as close to you as possible. Leah had stopped hugging you like this when she’d done her knee, it had become harder and she knew you were growing up, she didn’t think you needed her in that way anymore, she was so incredibly wrong.

“Okay, I’m sorry chicky, I’ll stop with the questions. Let’s just have a you and me day, huh? Like we used to. We can go to the cafe that you like and down to the beach, whatever you want, just a you and me day.”

You didn’t want any of that.

“Can’t we just stay on the couch.”

You heard jordan chuckle a little bit.

“How about we go and get breakfast and then we can have a movie day, or we can catch up on the episodes of Love Island, I haven’t gotten to watching the new season yet.”

You didn’t want to go anywhere, you wanted to stay in your safe space, up in your room on your windowsill.

“Do we have to.”

Jordan nodded from above you.

“Fresh air will be good for you. Plus, you want to get a mean hangover then that’s your own fault chicky, it’s best to learn the hard way. Head upstairs and get changed, I need to talk to your mom real quick.”

You wanted to stick around to hear what Jordan planned to tell your mom, but you didn’t want to wreck whatever you had going with her, so you just nodded your head and stood up, beginning the walk back up to your room.

You hated looking at yourself in the mirror.

Because you could act like you were fine, you could pretend you were put together and had your life together and fool yourself but as soon as you were forced to look at yourself it all was clear. There was truth in your eyes and the way they made your body look so vacant, so eerie, it was as if they were the sign that there was no life left inside of you.

You’d always felt out of place no matter where you were, like you never truly belonged. You’d always felt like you were one of those tragic people with no storyline, so you lived watching other people, living through them. To start with it had been your moms, watching how much they loved each other, how they looked at each other, how they spoe about each other, like you were a background character in their story. It worked for a long time, until it didn’t. Until they split up, until you were forced to heal all over again from the home that was breaking around you. All the things you’d been running from before them were back, and instead of feeling like you were safe you knew you weren’t, you knew that no matter how loved you’d felt for the longest time, you weren’;t anymore, you didn’t get to live vicariously through their love.

You scrubbed your face without any real care, scrubbing the makeup, mascara and tears from last night off of your face.

Once you were content that the were physically gone, even if it mentally didn’t feel that way, you stood up from the basin and dried your face, hoping the patting would somehow strip the pain that was painted across your skin, it didn’t.

You moved to your wardrobe next, picking out a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, as well as your thickest winter jacket. It was the same thing you wore every time your mom forced you out of the house to go on some stupid errand with her or some random appointment. You picked out a comfy enough pair of trainers before pushing your hair into a bun and walking back down the stairs.

Your Ma was talking hushedly into her phone, and put it down as soon as she spotted you descending the stairs.

“Ready to go?”

You nodded, one of your eyebrows up in questioning as you stared at your Ma’s phone.

“I was just checking in with your mom, she says they should be back around lunch time.”

Then Jordan would leave, like she always did.

“I’m not a chore, if you don’t want to hangout with me then you don’t have to be here, I can be left alone for a couple of hours.”

Jordan exhaled, deep enough for a few seconds to linger.

“That’s not fair, I’m here kiddo, I want to spend some time with you.”

You pulled your vape out of your pocket, Jordan could tell when you were lying and you could tell when she was.

“No, you have to spend time with me until mom is back, there is a difference.”

In the beginning, Jordan would come down every weekend, no matter where her game was, just to spend time with her little chicky, as the months and year had passed though, her time with you had become shorter and shorter until you’d only see her if she had a game in London.

“I don’t care, I get it, you’re busy with your new life, it’s whatever. Let’s just get this over and done with.”

Jordan looked like she wanted to say something, but the frown you sent her must have been enough of a silencer.

The two of you walked out the front door silent, down the street silent, all the way to the cafe, completely silent, the only sound to be heard was the cars going by, the sounds of your breathing and the repetitive puff of your lips as you pressed the vape to your lips. If you couldn’t have drugs then it was going to have to do.

When you got to the cafe you had enough courtesy to shove it in your pocket, focusing your attention on your Ma as much as you hated it.

She ordered you your normal, you were surprised she remembered.

“How’d the game go last night?”

You hadn’t tuned into either games, you’d had other things on your mind.

“We drew, it was a good game though.”

You nodded, it didn’t matter much in the scheme of things, Aston Villa weren’t in a title race, weren’t in contention for a trophy of any kind but also weren’t at any real risk of relegation, they were just mid.

“How about mom?”

Leah wasn’t playing, but a part of you still cared about how her team had gone.

“They won, 1-2 to man city.”

You nodded, that was something.

Your food arrived which was a good enough distraction, both you and Jordan focusing your attention on the meals in front of you. A couple of years ago, all of your sunday mornings had been spent here with your two moms, nowadays if you went, which was rare, it was by yourself.

The meal went on in awkward silence, the both of you clearly unsure how to deal with the pent up awkwardness that had been developing since you’d left the house.

The meal dragged on until the two of you couldn’t pretend any longer and called it done, the two of you standing up and leaving in the same silence you’d entered.

You didn’t mind the silence, it hurt, but not in the same way that it normally did, you were less alone than normal, you felt less out of place then normal.

You were silently praying that your mom got home earlier than expected, to give you the same normal, painful consistency that you were used to instead of this, instead of whatever it is that Jordan was pulling out of you.

The two of you walked back to the house in silence, once upon a time Blu would have been walking in front of you, her little legs patting across the concrete, nowadays though Blu stayed in Birmingham, with Jordan. Leah claimed she didn’t have time for a dog, it had always been Jordan’s thing though.

When you got back to the house, you collapsed down onto the sofa, flicking on a episode of love island before opening up your phone and starting to answer the multiple texts which you’d been leaving on delivered.

First, you replied to your friends, letting them know you were fine and just needed to be home before your curfew, then your mom, letting her know you were fine. Once you were finished updating all of your people, you moved onto aimlessly scrolling, flicking through different social media posts.

Jordan eventually joined you on the couch, her attention on the episode.

You didn’t miss the way her eyes would stray towards you every few seconds, darting away from the tv screen to look at you. It seemed like she was hesitating to say something, like there words on the tip of tongue that she was too scared to say. Jordan was always the silent one, even as you watched your moms relationship die out, she was always the quiet one, Leah on the other hand was always the loud one, always trying to fix problems that were unfixable.

You wanted to prompt her, ask her what her apparent problem was, but you stayed silent, muzzling yourself for the good of keeping whatever peace there was between the two of you.

PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SEND ME YOUR PART THREE IDEAS, KEEPING IN MIND THAT LEAH POTENTIALLY FINDS OUT ABOUT RS WEED USAGE AND CONFRONTS HER ABOUT IT BUT DOESN'T KNOW ABOUT THE DRUGS

#woso #woso community #sammykworshipper thoughts #leah williamson #arsenal wfc #leah williamson x reader #jordan nobbs x reader #jordan and leah #jordan nobbs #wobbs breakup #it’s painful #i’m crying so are u #trauma dumping #pain sweet pain #woso imagine

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beyondthegame · 9 months

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DEMO (coming soon...)

The referee brings the whistle to their lips, ready to kick off the game…

There’s no easy road to becoming an athlete. You of all people will know that. Now you’ve finally got your chance. From playing football in a muddy park during a rainy afternoon to signing the professional contract you’ve been dreaming of — the road to stardom is here. You can imagine it all now: being an athlete that jets across the world, having fans that wear your name on the back of their shirts; gaining sponsors and money, and… fame.

You’ve put pen to paper in London and now the ink has dried. It's official. You are an Inter City FC player. You’re starting your career as a professional footballer with a club that has objectives of their own. Winning the league. To the new club you’ve signed for, you’re the missing puzzle piece to their success.

But, the beautiful game is more than just a mere ball at your feet. It’s more than just your manager and teammates. It’s the media, the opposition, the rivals and everything in between.

There isn’t anything you want more than this. To make a name for yourself on and off the pitch. To press your lips to the shiny trophies you’ve worked so hard for. To hear fans chanting your name in the crowd. To have a club that feels like a family.

Nothing can get in the way, that’s been your motto since you first started playing. Surely the beautiful game won’t ruin you when you’ve given so much to it.

You just wonder whether it’ll be worthwhile.

Let the match commence…

This is an 18+ game due to explicit language, sexual themes, mention of sexual themes, mental health issues and more.

Customise and play as a male, female or non-binary; straight, gay, lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, graysexual, demisexual, asexual, footballer w/ the choice of your own pronouns.

Choose your footballer’s position: goalkeeper, defender, midfielder, or striker.

Pick your footballer’s public persona. Will the media adore you? Or will you keep them on their toes? Will they love or loathe you?

Did you make it due to hard-work or sheer talent?

Manager your social media presence.

Decide your footballer’s playing style and strengths: a player with flair? Or a no nonsense baller with physicality?

Play as a person of colour (this choice can have an effect on the story). Your gender can also have an effect in game.

Travel the world with your football club that will become a family.

Romance any of the five romantic options; four of which are gender-selectable; male, female and non-binary. The ROs are: the rival, the teammate, the best friend, the idol and the heir — these romances will get the rumours starting…

Develop meaningful friendships, relationship… or even hook-ups.

Take the sporting world by storm. Do you play football for the fame? Or for your love of the game?

THE RIVAL

It didn’t start off as a rivalry. But you and Nikita/Navarro/Nevada Tallon weren’t the best of friends either. The two of you started at the same football academy, and whilst you were signed for an extra year, they were rejected. That was their first loss. For a while, they lost their dream. Forever: they lost you. Now it’s different. They’re all grown up and they’ve found a football team to call their own — A.C. United — the football team that happens to be the rival to yours. Football is full of history, it’s full of emotion too — and you and N have plenty of that to give, both on and off the pitch. Their one goal is to win. The two of you are, once again, fighting for the same crown. To be the best footballer in the city. Maybe even the world.

Maybe things will be different this time around between you two. The stone-cold glares and the snide remarks could dissolve into something else. Into something real and something beyond hatred.

THE TEAMMATE

You’re the newcomer. You’re waltzing into a team that’s somewhat established already, so having a teammate like Léa/Lando/Lakelyn Santos (their gender matches your mc's) to ease you in is always welcome. They’re the captain of Inter City and they’re a bit of a media darling. Graceful on the pitch, and even more graceful to the press. They’re confident, assured, calm and collected. But, beneath all that lies something else. It’s been a while since someone’s seen the real them. They were burned in the past, all because of a well documented break-up that took a lot out of them. Since then, L has been sworn off of falling for another athlete again, and they're keeping everyone at an arm's length. Beyond football, it’s not easy to get close to them.

But if you did, what a powerful couple that would grace the footballing world.

THE BEST FRIEND

You know how hard it is to be an athlete. Milan St. Clair knows it too. Since becoming best friends in your late teens, you know you’ve both had the same goal. Whilst they are trying to conquer the tennis world and you’re making it in football, they’re the one constant that remains. The one who is familiar and comforting. Maybe the two of you could’ve been something more, or maybe your passionate personalities for your sports just got in the way. Milan’s rising through the tennis ranks now, they’re becoming more known. Their game continues to improve more than anyone ever expected. They have Grand Slams in their sights.

But you are right in front of them. You could both cross that line, take that next step and become more than friends…

THE IDOL

Cypress de Vera, known for their precise and thunderous tackles — Cypress is footballing royalty. Their potential was high, their talent was even higher — they’ve set records for the ages. But, their career came to an abrupt end after tragedy. Despite all that, football is still their life, they live and breathe the sport. They are always going to be idolised. You idolise them and so does the press. The media still want to know what the great Cy de Vera is going to do next — and now they’re at Inter City. Back at the club that gave them everything, to steer them to success, only this time it won’t be as a player.

Stern and hard to impress, Cypress de Vera only has a championship title on their mind. But sometimes you need to lose focus, let your guards down and just feel something more than a ball on the tip of your toes.

THE HEIR

Estelle/Evren/Everest Acevedo. They’ve been involved in football all their life, but not in the same way you have. Their father is your new manager. E has riches, fame, and a powerful last name — but take it from them, it’s not all its cracked up to be. They’re in a world that’s entirely their own, they model, sing and now their passion has shifted to wanting to write a bestselling novel. Their life has been a whirlwind, and honestly, if the world came with an off switch they’d hit it immediately. But they like to have their fun: their sharp tongue, constant media presence, and attraction to chaos means they ignore their father’s footballing legacy and will continue to make a name for themselves. E has been branded as trouble and it's a current name they quite like.

There’s more to E than meets the eye, and they’re desperate for someone to see it. Give them a chance, peel back the confident persona. You’ll be pleasantly surprised…

#beyond the game #interactive fiction #interactive novel #announcement post #if wip #upcoming if #slice of life if #twine game #twine if #sport if #note that I'm British so it's football not soccer

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pulisicsgirl · 1 year

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take the pain away - mason mount

summary: Y/N gets hurt, and Mason is immediately at her side, doing anything he can to take the pain away

pairing: Mason Mount x reader

word count: 3.1k

warning/tags: hurt/comfort, mentions of an injury, sickeningly sweet, tooth-rotting fluff, established relationships, also I wrote this in an airport and it all feels like a fever dream, so tbh I have no idea what any of this says... enjoy!

requested: yes!!

notes: here is another request! so sorry it took so long to get out - nursing school has been kicking my butt these last couple of weeks. thank you so so much for requesting! (and I'm already working on your other one :) )

It was a beautiful day at Cobham as you stood pitch-side, a rare warm March day in London. Your camera was raised to your face as you watched the Chelsea boys practice through its lens, snapping a few photos. Due to the nicer weather, both the men’s team and the Academy players were outside training in the afternoon, and you had jumped at the opportunity to get a few photos that could be used later on Chelsea’s Instagram.

These were your favorite days, when you got to spend time around the teams, watching them interact and doing your best to capture the chemistry between them with your camera. It surely beat the alternative: spending the day indoors, in a corner office, your time consumed by editing photos and sending various emails.

Plus, you would never turn down getting to watch your athletic boyfriend work his magic.

You panned your camera to the left, catching a few of the boys standing in line to wait their turn for a shooting drill that Potter was having them run. Your lens found Mason standing in the back of the line, and your heart fluttered as he looked straight at you, pulling a silly face to try to make you laugh.

You dropped the camera from your face, giggling slightly as you pressed a couple buttons to look at the pictures you had taken. Maybe you would keep those for yourself.

You looked back up at him, shaking your head slightly at his antics. Mason, with a satisfied grin on his face at succeeding to make you laugh, turned back to the line of boys in front of him, bouncing on his toes to prepare to run the drill.

After a few more minutes, Potter divided the boys into three groups, running a new drill with only a couple of the groups at a time. This left one of the groups to take a short rest, and Ben and Kai approached you, after grabbing their water bottles, to greet you.

One of the things that you loved about both working for Chelsea and dating Mason was that you had developed a close friendship with many of the players, having been able to hang out with them outside of work more and more as time went on.

Ben greeted you with a short pat on the back, refraining from hugging you so he didn’t get his sweat on you (which you greatly appreciated). Kai placed his hand on top of your head, ruffling your hair as he laughed mischievously. You scowled at him playfully, attempting to fix your hair as they began asking how you had been recently. You quickly got lost in conversation with them, raising the camera to your face intermittently to get a few photos of the boys still on the pitch.

Behind you, the Academy boys were practicing, running a scrimmage before they concluded for the afternoon. With your back to the group, you hadn’t seen the Academy player dropping to the ground in a slide in order to keep the ball in-bounds. You hadn’t seen the way that he misjudged his speed, sliding far beyond the ball and the sideline of the pitch, right toward where you were standing.

Ben and Kai saw it, though, as if it was happening in slow motion, but still too quickly for them to do anything about it. The only warning you had was a split second where the their eyes both went wide, reaching their arms up to try to pull you out of harm’s way. They tried to shout a warning to you, but it was too late.

The young boy slid into your ankles and you heard a sickening crunch as he knocked you to the grass.

Mason’s head whipped around quickly as he heard you cry out, a chill rushing down his spine as he immediately recognized it as your voice. He saw you on the ground, along with the Academy player as Ben and Kai rushed to your side.

You were confused—disoriented to say the least. Your back had hit the ground abruptly, knocking the wind out of you and leaving you gasping for air. You saw the boy getting up to his knees next to you, rushing out some apology you couldn’t focus on. You saw Ben drop to his knees at your side, and it felt like your head was spinning. You tried desperately to regain your breath, draping your arms over your face as you lay on the ground.

It was then that the brief rush of adrenaline wore off, and the pain set in quickly. A shooting pain tore through your right ankle, causing you to cry out again. In the frenzy of the whole thing, you could hear people trying to speak to you, but they seemed distant, and you couldn’t make out anything that they were saying. You grit your teeth, hating that there were so many people here to see your vulnerable state.

A pair of hands on your sides grounded you back to reality, and you moved your arm, squinting against the sunlight to see that Mason was at your side, kneeling next to your face. His eyes were wide with concern, and his voice started to pierce through the ringing in your ears.

“You’re okay, baby. You’re okay.”

You tried desperately to blink back the tears you could feel springing to your eyes. In most any circumstance you refused to let anyone see you cry, determined to maintain a tough exterior, but the throbbing in your ankle proved to be more than you could handle.

The Academy player that had tackled you was now on his feet, still desperately trying to apologize for his actions. Mason turned and shoved him away from you, shouting something about backing away from you. You saw Reece grab the boy by the shoulders and talking quietly to him, no doubt trying to defuse the situation while also reversing any damage done by Mason’s shouting. He was, after all, just a kid, and he hadn’t intended to hurt anyone.

“Mase, please.” You grabbed a fistful of his training shirt, bringing his attention away from the young player and back to you. He looked back at you, his eyes softening as he heard you whimpering in pain. He helped you sit up halfway, pulling you into his chest. You buried your face in his neck so that no one could see the tears that slid down your cheeks, still holding his shirt tightly in your fist.

Mason slowly stroked his fingers up and down your arm in an attempt to soothe you as Ben explained what had happened. Your leg was still throbbing, leaving you unable to focus on anything that was happening around you. Mason pressed a kiss to the top of your head, whispering soothing words in your ear. He desperately wanted to take the pain away from you, but he didn’t know how.

You felt Mason’s muscles tense up, as he suddenly felt that there were too many people crowding around you. “Everyone back up!” he shouted, startling you. “Back up! Give her some space!”

Several people took a couple steps back at his sudden outburst, but Kai rested a hand on Mason’s shoulder to calm him. “They’re the physios, mate. They’re trying to help.”

When Mason lifted his eyes, getting a better look at the two individuals who were now coming to your side, he realized that Kai was right, recognizing the physios from times that he had spent in recovery after being injured.

One of the physios, a middle-aged woman with a reassuring, gentle look in her eyes, told you she was going to take your shoe off and waited for your short nod before she began undoing the laces.

Mason’s heart clenched in his chest when you gazed up at him with red-rimmed eyes. He did his best to give you a comforting smile, despite the sickening feeling in his gut at seeing you in so much pain.

The physio did her best to removed your shoe without causing you any more pain, but the slight movement of your foot still caused you to whimper out in pain. You grasped Mason’s bicep, and he hissed slightly as your nails dug painfully into his arm, but he didn’t dare to let on that you had hurt him.

When your sock and shoe were both removed, Mason could see that your ankle had already become swollen, beginning to flush a deep shade of purple.

“We’ll need to bring her up to the facility and wrap this,” the physio spoke, more to Mason than to you. She placed a hand gently on your knee, trying to bring your attention to her. “Do you think you can try to walk on it? I don’t think it’s broken.”

You nodded, trying your best to be tough. You let go of Mason’s arms, and he untangled his arms from around you, moving to stand in front of where you were sitting. You took his hands, letting him pull you to your feet as you kept all of your weight on your left leg. The breeze chilled the thin layer of sweat that had formed on your neck.

Mason still held tightly to your arms, standing in front of you and intensely watching your eyes as you tried to settled your foot to the ground, putting some weight on it. Your face contorted in pain immediately as a shooting pain radiated from your ankle up your leg, and your knee gave out. Mason was quick to catch you before you fell. You shook your head vigorously, letting out a quite “I can’t”.

Mason swept you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style as he followed behind the physios and walking as gently as he could so he didn’t cause you any unnecessary pain. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you instinctively buried your face in his shoulder again, finding comfort there.

When you finally made it into the training facility, Mason followed the physios into the treatment room, setting you down on a cushioned table so they could wrap your foot. You noticed then that Ben had followed you all inside, carrying your shoe and camera, which had, remarkably, remained unharmed in the clash. You smiled at him in thanks, and he walked over to you on the side that Mason wasn’t standing to give you a short hug and a kiss on top of your head before he went back out to rejoin training.

The whole ordeal had drained you of any energy, and you let out a sigh as you dropped your head onto Mason’s shoulder. The pain had faded slightly, into a dull throbbing, and his fingers rubbing gentle circles into your back was helping to calm you.

“You doing okay?” he whispered, checking in. Your eyes slipped shut and you nodded into his neck, too tired to say anything in reply.

The physios looked over your ankle, deciding it wasn’t a break, but rather a very bad sprain. They gave you some pain medication, put your foot in a boot, and instructed you to take it easy for a couple of days before you returned to your normal routine.

Mason took you home, waiting hand and foot on you for the rest of the day. He even took the next day off of training to look after you, despite your insistence that he didn’t need to. Though the pain had been miserable, you couldn’t pretend you didn’t enjoy the extra attention that Mason gave you as a result of your injury. He was already a very touchy and affectionate person, but it had been dialed up to 10 ever since that day at Cobham.

That Friday, several days after your injury, Kai and Sophia were hosting a game night at their place. The boys didn’t have a game that weekend, and they wanted to use it as an opportunity to get together and just spend a chill night hanging out.

After reassuring Mason numerous times that you were still up for going, the two of you walked into the house, you wobbling slightly as you were still getting used to walking in the boot. The room erupted with noise as everyone shouted greetings as you entered. Several of the boys came over, patting you on the back or pulling you into a hug, saying how they had missed seeing you at Cobham since your injury. Your heart swelled with affection as you returned their hugs. Sophia came over, pulling you to the couch so that the two could catch up while the boys were talking to Mason.

The night went on, and you learned several new card games and board games. Being with everyone did wonders to lift your mood after a fairly dull week following your injury. Mason was still attentive, constantly touching you in some way at all times, whether than was an innocent hand on your thigh, or an arm wrapping securely around your shoulders and placing a kiss to your forehead every couple of minutes. But you could tell that he was glad to be out with his group of friends.

The rest of the group didn’t miss the extra protective air surrounding Mason as he kept an eye out for you the whole night. It was endearing to see how much he cared about you and the comfort that seemed to wash over him at being able to have you around with the rest of the team again. None of them had ever seen Mason be this way with any other girl—you all definitely had something special. But although they were happy for him, it didn’t stop the boys from poking fun at him periodically for it anyway.

The evening continued, and you began to grow more tired, but you refused to say anything to Mason because you truly didn’t want to leave.

Sophia brought out a new game as the time passed 11 pm, and the game night was showing no signs of slowing down. You opted to sit this game out, waving it off when Ben asked if you were alright.

Despite your best efforts to hide your exhaustion, Mason still noticed, ever the attentive boyfriend. He leaned back on the couch, wrapping his arm gently around your shoulders as Kai and Sophia set the game up on the table in front of you. You sighed in content, resting your head on his shoulder.

You closed your eyes as Mason pressed a kiss to your forehead and mumbled a short, “you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” you nodded, turning so you could look him in the eye.

“Are you sure? Do you want to go home?” you could still see the concern in his eyes as he searched your face.

“No, no, I’m okay, really,” you smiling to try and reassure him. “I promise.”

Mason searched your face for a moment more, seeming to finally accept your answer as you laid your head back on his chest. He turned and continued talking with Ben, and as you looked back toward the table, Sophia held your gaze with a knowing look. She grinned at you, and you felt the blush rushing into your cheeks. You hid your face in Mason’s chest and suppressed a giggle.

Despite having been in a relationship with Mason for several months, he never ceased to make you giggly and giddy with his affectionate gestures. Sophia was always the first one to tease you about how flustered he made you.

The game night resumed as soon as everyone understood the rules, and you untucked yourself from Mason’s side so he could lean forward to play the game. You sat quietly, content to watch as everyone else played and joked with one another. But the longer you watched, the more your eyes began to droop. Like there was a magnet pulling you, you felt drawn toward Mason as you began to slump over from exhaustion, and you laid your head on his shoulder blade. Without turning from the game, he reached behind him, pulling your arms so that they were wrapped around his waist.

You held to him tightly, soothed by his breathing and the sound of his soft laughter every now and then. Mason kept one hand on your arms, where they met in his lap, stroking his thumb softly over the back of one of your hands.

After several minutes of silence from you, he grew suspicious of the fact that he hadn’t felt you move in a while – not even a slight shift.

“You doing okay back there, Y/N?” he asked softly.

He was met with no answer. He furrowed his brow, turning his head to look at you, but he couldn’t move far enough to see your face without shifting you.

“Y/N?” he repeated.

“I think she’s asleep, mate,” Ben commented, sitting on your other side, where he had a clear view of your face. Your cheek was slightly squished from where it was pressed against Mason’s shoulders, lips parted as the muscles in your face relaxed completely.

Mason couldn’t help the warmth that flooded his face as he unwrapped your arms from his waist, pulling your legs so that they draped across his lap and he could hold you in his arms. He kissed the top of your head as you stirred before settling into his side.

“You lovebirds can’t keep your hands off of each other, can you?” Kai teased, grinning at the smitten look on his friend’s face.

“Oh, give it a couple years,” Ben chuckled from the other side of the couch, jumping at the opportunity to get under Mason’s skin. “They’ll be sick of each other soon enough.”

Some of the guys laughed at his remark, knowing he didn’t mean it at all. Mason just kept looking down at you as you laid on his chest, a loving look in his eyes.

“Nah, a couple years from now, I’m gonna marry her,” he replied matter-of-factly, not an ounce of hesitation in his voice. The rest of the group smiled, silently coming to the decision to let you all be and continue playing their game.

With your face tucked into Mason’s chest, he couldn’t see the smile that curled your lips as you heard his words just before you fell back to sleep.

#mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount imagines #mason mount fics #footballer fics #footballer imagine #footballer imagines #football imagine #football fics #mason mount fluff #mason mount fanfic #mason mount one shot #mason mount blurb #chelsea fc

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uwmspeccoll · 11 months

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Andrew Lang Fairy Stories

With this semester - and my internship - coming to a close, I wanted to hop back into my wheelhouse for the remainder of my time in Special Collections.

The Elf Maiden: And Other Stories is a collection of eleven tales edited by Scottish poet and novelist Andrew Lang (1844-1912) and illustrated by Henry J. Ford (1860-1941). The book was first published in London and New York by Longmans, Green, & Co. in 1906. The stories in this edition first appeared in three of Lang’s popular “Coloured" Fairy Books: The Yellow Fairy Book (1894), The Pink Fairy Book (1897), and the The Brown Fairy Book (1904). Lang’s Fairy Books were a series of 24 children’s fairy tales, the most popular being the 12 Coloured" Fairy Books, that Lang’s wife, Leonora Blanche Alleyne (1851-1933) helped collaborate and translate.

Lang was considered to be one of the most versatile writers of his time. While he was a poet, historian, journalist, and critic, he was best known for his publications on folklore, mythology, and religion. Lang took an interest in folklore at a young age; he read John Ferguson McLennan before going to Oxford and was heavily influenced by Edward Burnett Tylor.

Henry J. Ford was a prolific and successful English artist and illustrator. While he began exhibiting with historically-themed paintings and beautiful landscapes at the Royal Academy of Art in 1982, it was his contributions to illustrated books that raised him to fame. I was excited to find that he was most famous for the illustrations he provided for Lang’s popular Fairy Books, which captivated an entire generation of children in Britain; these books saw translations and republications during the 1880’s and 1890’s.

View more posts on books by Andrew Lang.

View more posts on fairy tales.

View more posts from our Historical Curriculum Collection.

-- Elizabeth V., Special Collections Undergraduate Writing Intern

#Fairy Tales #Andrew Lang #The Elf Maiden #Henry J. Ford #Longmans Green & Co.#Lang's Fairy Books #Andrew Lang's“Coloured" Fairy Books #folktales #children's books #Historical Curriculum Collection #Elizabeth V.

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ukbeautys-blog · 2 days

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Welcome to UK International London Beauty School, where passion meets expertise in the world of makeup education. Our school is dedicated to nurturing aspiring makeup professionals and empowering them with the skills and knowledge needed to thrive in the dynamic beauty industry. we are the best beauty school in Noida and provide the best courses with the best faculty and environment and join us to get a kick start in your beauty and makeup career join us fast and get the latest discount and join at a very minimal price

#beauty #cosmetology #professionalgrowth #hairstyle #makeup #best beauty school in noida #best beauty academy #nail art #london beauty acacdemy #london beauty school

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amainternational99 · 6 months

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Certificate Course in Bridal Makeup

This course has been designed to introduce you to different ethnicities and skin tones. This course will cover all bridal looks such as Classic bride, Contemporary bride, Traditional bride, and help them gain expertise in creating different bridal looks and introducing you to various cultures around the globe. Students will be awarded with Academy of Makeup Artistry’s certification after the successful completion of the course.

#beauty academy #academy beauty #beauty academy london #london beauty academy #beauty academy near me #academy makeup #beauty academy in noida #best makeup artist course #Course In Nail #makeup artist course

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londonbeautyacademy99 · 6 months

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Certificate Course In Nail

Your career in nail care

Course prepares students to learn the latest nail trends and designs. They are also provided with basic to advance techniques and processes in nail art and other nail processes. The students will be awarded with Academy of Makeup Artistry certificates after successfully doing the course.Students will be awarded with London Beauty Academy certification after the successful completion of the course.

#nail art certificate #Course In Nail #beauty courses near me #eyelash extension course #international makeup artist course #professional makeup courses fees in delhi #INTERNATIONAL LONDON MAKEUP ARTISTRY ACADEMY #beauty academy near me #london beauty academy #beauty academy #academy beauty #makeup academy near me

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carolmunson · 10 months

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eddie munson x fem!reader | steve harrington x fem!reader

COMING SOON TO THEATERS. A FANFICTION ADAPTION OF ACADEMY AWARD WINNING FILM 'TITANIC' WRITTEN BY:

@loveshotzz @newlips and @carolmunson

ORIGINAL SCREEN PLAY + FILM WRITTEN AND DIRECTED BY JAMES CAMERON. ALL OF THOSE ICONIC SCENES AND LINES ARE, OF COURSE, CREDITED TO WHOM CREDIT IS DUE: JAMES CAMERON

PREVIEW:

Wednesday, April 10th, 1912 Southampton, London

The blare of the fog horn is unmissable, rattling the conversations in a small pub off the White Star Dock. Even through the dusty windows she was clear as day, big as anything anyone had ever seen. Large black body met with a red base, multiple decks, and four large smoke stacks. The ship seemed to go on forever, her beauty unmatched to anyone who had seen it – a behemoth on the seas. A glory – a masterpiece.

The doors of the pub fluttered open and closed all morning as it edged closer and closer to noon. Pints poured by the dozens, the hundreds – half the country coming to the piers to see off the Ship of Dreams and its passengers. The bar was alight with chatter, mixing in with the roar of people from outside — hundreds of people halfway to boarding, waving and kissing goodbye. Beer glasses clinked and people cheered while they watched a long line of high end cars gleam in the spring sun as they rolled down the dock. Precious cargo full of Europe and America’s elite.

Reporters and bellhops alike flock to them like flies, pub patrons ogling through the dusty windows while they exit their buggies.

Among the commotion, the endless chatter and screeching of pub seats, sat four men oblivious to the spectacle. They’re sitting around a small table with sweat on their brows as the April sun pours golden over them. Eyes burning over their cards as cigarette smoke wafts over their heads — the players lost in the fog during an intense round of poker.

The pot was mostly meager — a few pounds and swaths of change, a pocket watch, a penknife. But in the center was the crown jewel, a prize that would change the winner’s life forever. Two pieces of pressed parchment reading:

The men leer over their hands, not a friendly face between them — the tickets were not the dealer’s, but two of the players who had bet the wrong guys. Guys who had been beyond the break and back again, meeting in Morocco, then Paris, and traveling together back to London — guys who had never lost a game of poker.

Eddie places his bet, pulling a small silver ring off of his right ring finger and tossing it in the center.

“Are you kidding?” Jeff asks from his left, “That’s everything we have.”

Eddie grins at him, taking a drag of his cigarette. The sun dances in his big brown eyes like he knows something the rest of them don’t, “When you got nothin’, you got nothin’ to lose.”

The two other players speak to each other heatedly in Swedish after one of them hits for a new card. The outburst makes it clear that things aren’t looking good for the Swedes — it makes Eddie’s heart leap. Maybe this is it, maybe he’s finally gonna get back to the states. “Sven?” he asks the man next to him. “Hit,” he replies, putting down a card and taking another. Eddie follows suit, furrowing his brow while his bangs meet his eyelashes. Sweat collects on the nape of his neck where his dark curls are twisted up in a graphite drawing pencil – a trick he picked up from women he met in France. He puffs the smoke from his mouth, eyes meeting the Swede across from him who looks like he couldn’t be having a worse day.

“Alright,” he says, putting his cigarette down on the ashtray between then, “Moment of truth. Somebody’s life’s about to change.”

He leans back in his chair and looks at his friend, sweat beading at the edge of his hairline and glinting off of his deep skin, “Jefferey?”

Jeff throws his cards down with a roll of his eyes. “Nothing,” Eddie nods.

“Nothing,” Jeff says curtly through a grit in his teeth. His heart pounds in his chest while he looks at the last of their money on the table – they can’t afford to lose.

“Olaf?” Eddie asks, the Swede throws down his cards in a huff, “Nothin’.”

“Sven?”

Sven puts down his cards and Eddie frowns, “Oh…two pair.”

His shoulders droop while he looks at his own cards, eyes lingering on the silver ring in the middle of the table, “I’m sorry, Jeff.”

“What do you mean ‘sorry’?” You idiot! You bet all of our bloody money! You imbecile, you–”

“I’m sorry, you’re not going to be able to visit your cousins in Paris again for a long time,” Eddie says with a serious edge. Jeff quirks his brow, triggering Eddie’s winning smile behind plush pink lips.

“‘Cause we’re goin’ to America!” he exclaims, slamming his cards down on the table, “FULL HOUSE, BOYS!”

Jeff leaps from his chair in the back of the pub, reaching for the tickets on the on the table, “WE’RE GOIN’ TO BACK TO AMERICA!”

“I’m goin’ home!” Ed exclaims while the boys hug tightly. The pub cheers for them, pints still flowing — men and women with red cheeks having no idea what they’re cheering for until a fight breaks out between the Swedes.

Eddie laughs, hoisting his bag up over his shoulder and Jeff does the same — their white shirts dirtied with the stains of the day before.

“I can’t believe it,” Jeff says, teeth shining in a grin across his face, “Goin’ back to America!”

“Titanic’s going back to America, boys,” the barkeep says, pointing at the clock, “In five minutes!”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #titanic au #stranger things au #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie x reader #steve x reader

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igotanidea · 3 days

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Motivation: Benedict Bridgerton x model!reader

requested by @jaysgirlx :Benedict x slightly nude model!reader

***

Stories like that doesn’t happen very often. The chances of recreating the history written by this French poet under the name of Charles Perrault and entitled “Cinderella” was close to none, and yet – Y/N Y/L/N was the fruit of just such an unlikely union.

Her mother was a woman that the ton was more than quick to judge and call the woman fell, just because of her profession. An actress. A word that hardly escaped the mouths of higher class ladies and nobles. It was one thing to enjoy the woman of said profession skills while social event, and the other to acknowledge her presence in the society.

In simple words – the doors were closed for her to ever step out of her social class.

However, life has its own twisted ways of defying and swiftly changing the reality. The flow of the world river is unstoppable and with the right amount of patience, and with the few drops of persistence, water can change the riverbed.

Y/N’s father-to-be, young lord Y/L/N, the firstborn, attended one of the play in the London’s theater, performed due to the Queen’s upcoming birthday celebrations. Instantly getting enamored with young Y/N’s mother-to-be skills and range of emotions. Her talent and beauty, connected with the fact that she was far from the leeches he learned ladies from the ton to be, shone so bright in his eyes, that defying all the laws and rules set ages prior, he forgot his destiny, upbringing and duties to family, started courting the young woman and in time took her as his wife.

Obviously, the fact never got accepted and yet, his lordship, lord Y/L/N got the leverage in the fact he has been the only son and an heir to the title.

Therefore, Y/N, was and simultaneously was not a lady.

Which made her upbringing and consequently her entire life rather complicated.

The young girl took after her mother in the terms of talent and beauty and after her father in terms of humor and boldness.

Which, as you, dearest gentle reader, might already expect, was the reason, that her existence was to get even more complicated.

***

One foot in one class, second in the other Y/N never felt like she belonged in either. Breaking societal rules just like her father.

Ever at the youngest age she came to a conclusion that her mere being in the world was rather unwelcomed reminder of the misalliance. No governess wanted to teach her. No young girls her age coming from good families wanted to be in her presence. Her own grandpapa and grandmamma never showed any interest in meeting her. Consequently, five year Y/N was practically being raised on the scene. Listening to her mamma’s stories about the wonders of theater, art, performing and becoming someone else to escape the reality that tended to be cruel, judgmental and unforgiving.

Especially the last part was to be remembered.

Especially when her mother felt ill and died before Y/N could reach adulthood. Followed suit by her father, lost in grief after losing the love of his life.

Leaving their daughter all alone, forced by the vicious circumstances to tend by herself.

At first, her noble and very elderly grandparents from father’s side wanted (forced) to take her under their wings, but Y/N quickly realized that they wished to raise her for a noble lady with every method possible. Corporal punishment included. Their simple reason behind the action was to not let a wild girl run around and slander their name.

She run away after less than a month putting on a different last name, an alias of sort.

And maybe those set of conditions, fueled by the need to keep her parents’ legacy was the reason that upon reaching the age that young ladies were presented to the queen and debuted in the ton, Y/N started her shameful profession as a model in London Art Academy as well as a part-time access.

***

No matter the world’s opinion on her, she was keeping her head high, being proud of who she was, never hiding and refusing to bow down to the nobles, included the one who believed that a model was just another term for courtesan with the clear intent on acting on those convictions.

While other professional girls were timid and working out of sheer necessity to support themselves, their living, and commonly, their children, Y/N refused to hide, making quite a comfortable life for herself, given all the misevents. And as shocking as it may have been in a XVIII century London – thriving without a husband.

Enjoying every second spent in the sacred temple dedicated to art and education of the future geniuses of the field, taking greatest pride in participating in the process. Sacrificing her heart, mind and soul to the muses.

***

Y/N’s favorite days were those, when she was dressing in fantasy dresses and costumes fulfilling her mother’s words about becoming someone else, taking a mask, a life of an imaginary character, a shell that was to be filled to her own liking. And with her late father’s sense of humor she loved the ability to create characters that somehow mocked the people she knew in real life.

An older lady, busy with everyone’s interest?

A respected matron, whose life’s greatest ambition was marrying her daughters into the noble family?

A royalty with indomitable character and imposing her will without any embarrassment?

All welcomed.

And yet – there were also those specific art lessons for high-born gentlemen that were focused on anatomy. And those never required any intricate outfits at all, except maybe a tiny, thin piece of fabric, reveling more skin than it was societally savory.

***

Y/N might not have had the tiniest waist or the prettiest hair or delicate, fragile figure.

And many student were unsatisfied with said fact (those were the mentioned ones connotating model with hetaira).

And those were also the ones making her smirk under her nose. As if she didn’t know those gentlemen tended to engage in a different kind of art, that has little to zero connection with painting on canvas. Besides, in some cases, if the gentlemen’s other skills were similar to those they showed in class …. poor wives.

However, there was one of them that seemed a little lost in the place. Not because he did not belong, since his talent was undeniable. It was rather because, unlike anyone else, he never said anything even mildly mean to her. Unlike anyone else he was treating her like a human being and not a chunk of flesh Unlike anyone else, she was a woman to him.

Well, maybe not in that sense of the word, but still a woman.

***

He was watching her with sparkles in his eyes that followed her own, no matter how much she was averting her gaze.

Beautiful.

Not like Daphne with her fair, smooth skin, rosy lips and silky hair.

No.

Y/N, as he learned her name was, was like a force of nature. Untamed. Powerful. With fire in her gaze and statuesque figure making her look like a goodness of war.

Athena.

And he was captivated by the internal strength and resilience that radiated through the whole room, reaching even the dimly lit corner of the classroom he found shelter in. Utterly unable to tear his eyes of her. Noticing the smallest details and blemishes on her skin, that only inflamed the fire of his interest.

Oh, to have a piece of her attention.

But she was a model. And he was a lord, even if only a second son, deprived of the title. And even if she didn’t know it, her obvious pride would never allow her to approach him. A man from a higher class she learned to be incomprehensible in their love for worldly pleasure, driven by lusciousness, believing themselves to be above anyone else.

She would be more then delighted to take said men down a notch, but regardless of her pride, fire and independent nature, merely one ungrateful word would cause her to loose the job she loved so much.

Nonetheless, Benedict was neither terrene either the one to give up once his mind was made.

And he made it his personal pursuit to meet her.

***

“Lady Y/N.”

She raised an eyebrow at the voice coming from above her head when she was picking up the utensils left everywhere by reckless and uncaring students, used to being served.

“Surely you are joking my lord?”

“And why would I be joking?”

“I am not a lady and you are aware of that considering the circumstances. And if your lady mother—”

“My lady mother is occupied by my brother’s wife searching quest.”

“Oh yes, your brother, the viscount Bridgerton.”

“Mh. So you know who I am, don’t you?” Benedict’s ego went a little higher in the sky.

“Oh my lord, shall you expect me to be deaf and blind to miss the news of the season?”

“I—” the ego crashed down on the ground

“I may surprise you further then, my lord. I am quite capable when it comes to reading. The skill I use for more than merely enjoying Lady whistledown’s brochures, however I do enjoy the style of writing she presents. Quite talented with the narrative.”

“So you are not only a model but also a writer, lady Y/N?”

“And in my free time I also serve as a charlady. A woman of many talents.” She pointed out to the dirty pencils and accessories in her hands

"Such a surprising thought that-"

"That a woman can in fact have some more ambition than marrying into a noble family?"

"You do sound like one of my sisters..."

“Your sister surely is a smart woman."

Benedict shook his head with a smile, gaze pinned to the floor to avoid laughing and somehow offending his companionship.

“Which one of those gentlemen influenced your opinion this heavily?” Benedict grinned

“Excuse me?”

“Just reveal his name to me and I shall demand satisfaction”

This sentence actually made her laugh a little and before they realized what was happening they were both chuckling in the middle of the empty art classroom as if they were from the same class without any social barriers in-between.

“You’re Benedict Bridgerton.”

“And you are Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Indeed, At your service” she bowed in a very funny and very untrained way. “you must have put yourself through a great deal of trouble to learn my deepest secret.”

“And how entertaining it was to do so.”

“Was it?” she titled her head narrowing eyes a little studying his face. “that makes me wonder the purpose of said action.”

“Will you let a man keep a bit of his own secrets?”

“I must refuse to do so.”

“And this is precisely what I have been expecting to hear from you.”

“Are you challenging me now, my lord?”

“Not for a duel if that’s what-“

“It’s not.” She cut him out with a smile “now, If you forgive me, Bridgerton, I have my duties to tend to.” She bowed and with hands full of remnants of the art class started walking away.

“I shall hope to see you in the next class?” he called after her

“I believe you said your family is occupied with your brother’s marriage …..? Shall you not be invested in those?”

“I—” dear lord, how was it possible that this woman was taking words out of his mouth this effectively? And he believed himself to be the witty one of the siblings.

“Life is full of mysteries my lord and trying to predict what may happen In a week seems like an exercise in futility.”

She send him the last smile and disappeared for good, leaving Benedict with the lingering sense of dissatisfaction.

And suddenly making him forget about the fact that he has been considering renouncing the academy membership Anthony have so generously provided him with.

Having gained additional motivation, he was more determined to persevere.

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