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lucyandalexiafan · 2 months

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It’s Lucy | Lucy Bronze x reader

Summary: reader has a panic attack and Lucy tries to comfort her.

Warnings: angst; allusion to past violent/abusive relationship with family/partner.

Words: 1.9k

I sit against the radiator of the bathroom.

Same place where I sat as a child, when I cried hiding myself in the same type of room and behind that door.

That door that I was forced to close in silence so that no one would know I was inside, leaving only the small light on the cabinet.

I always ended up in the same position.

Back against the radiator.

Head on knees.

Arms holding the legs to the chest, the calves against the thighs.

It's the same position I have now.

And, like then, the chest twists on itself due to the sobs.

Tears running down my cheeks.

I bite my lip until it bleeds in an attempt to hold back the laments, the noises.

Like when I was a kid and didn't want to disturb anyone.

But now I'm alone, at home.

In another city.

In another country.

But that anxiety never goes away.

That fear of being heard.

That fear of being discovered.

That fear of making the situation worse.

Lucy isn't there.

She is at the Barcelona camp, somewhere around Portugal.

Jona had allowed me not to go.

He had seen how bad I was, how badly I was playing, and he had asserted that my mental health was more important.

He had insisted that I was supposed to stay in Barcelona, at home.

So why do I feel so guilty?

I had put my phone on not disturb mode and the only thing I have done during these days as an attempt to communicate was reply to his text every night.

I'm okay.

No more words, no less.

It didn't matter what he wrote to me.

It didn't matter what he was talking about.

It didn't matter what photo he sent me of the team.

I didn't answer anything other than I'm okay.

It didn't matter if it was a lie.

I hadn't checked the messages and calls from Lucy, from Alexia, from the team.

I was, and am, too scared to read them.

To confront the disappointment they feel about me not being with them.

For my having stayed at home.

For my not being enough.

The fear of finding out that Lucy is mad at me makes me nauseous every time.

So I can't look at them.

Read them.

Answer to the calls.

And also because I hadn't heard my voice since she left and it wouldn't surprise me to know that it's gone.

Since Lucy had left I had spent the days at home, alternating between the living room and the bedroom.

A sense of nausea, fear, discomfort pervaded my body since the first second that I was alone.

Preventing me from eating.

Preventing me from going out.

Preventing me from doing anything other than lying still.

Lucy had left, she was forced to leave, having no justification not to.

Mapi was injured, so she was in Barcelona.

She had tried to convince me to open the door of the house: she had camped out on the landing of the floor all the first night, until the next morning the old woman from the flat next to mine had threatened to call the police if she didn't leave.

Three days had passed.

I didn't expect her to come back.

I love her, we are friends, but I never thought I deserved that treatment, that attention, that try one more time.

And, in the end, she had only confirmed my idea, my feeling of not being enough.

My nails penetrate the flesh of my calves.

My hands crush the skin.

I feel dirty.

Useless.

How is it possible that I can't even do my job anymore?

The house lock clicks.

I gasp in fright.

I hold my body even tighter as if this could protect me.

I will not move.

I don't know who they are, but it's not important.

I'm not important.

I hear footsteps.

The sound of an object being thrown to the ground.

The sounds of some doors being opened.

Are they thieves?

It does not make sense, it's still evening.

Maybe it's Lucy.

But why didn't she call me?

I bite my lip.

Then I hear the bathroom door open.

“Amor”

I huddle in on myself.

I try to disappear, to merge with the radiator.

Is she angry?

Does she want to hurt me?

I close my eyes.

“Amor”

I whine.

The pain in the chest increases more and more.

I hear her sit on the floor.

“Don't hurt me, please”

I hear her holding her breath.

“Amor, look at me”

I shake my head.

“I'm sorry Lucy… I'm sorry, I really am - I moan, blood dripping down my calves - I swear… it wasn't enough, but I tried”

There is silence.

Why doesn't she scream?

Why doesn't she hit me?

I feel arms hugging me.

I squirm.

I try to move her away, to push her away.

I don't deserve this affection.

I can't even do my job.

Study.

Leave the house.

Why doesn't she hit me?

Her hair touches my nose.

My forehead against the crook of her neck.

She says something to me but I can't hear it.

The noise in my head is too loud.

The noise of the beats, of the tachycardia, invades the ears.

A dull, constant, fast sound.

I tell her that I can't hear, that I can't understand.

I hold her tight.

My nails dug into the sleeve of her arm.

My tears wet her shirt.

She asks me if she can medicate me.

The worried, sweet voice.

I don't answer, scared at the idea that it's an excuse to leave.

To hurt me.

She asks it again, telling me that she would like to treat my calves.

I swallow saliva.

I grip her forearm tightly.

Two of her fingers rest against my chin.

They force it upwards.

Her eyes fixed on mine.

“Everything will be fine, you just have to cooperate with me, okay?”

I look at her scared.

“Please… Please don't hurt me”

Her gaze softens even more.

She tells me that the only thing she will do to me is medicate me, that she won't hurt me.

She then walks away towards the medicine cabinet.

She opens it and takes out a first aid kit.

The one where there are gauzes, disinfectant, plasters and everything else.

She approaches again.

“Now, every time I do something I'll tell you, so you know what's going on and you can stop me if you need to, okay?”

Will she stop or is she lying?

I nod slightly, too weak to protest, to oppose her.

She opens the kit and I flinch at the sound of the zipper opening.

She soaks a piece of cotton with some disinfectant.

“Amor, can you stretch your legs a little? This will make it easier to disinfect the cuts"

I don't respond, I just execute.

She asks me to leave them slightly bent, so that they don't touch the ground.

I feel the sting of disinfectant on a cut.

I groan in pain, sucking air between my teeth.

Her other hand touches my knee, the thumb caressing the skin.

“I'm sorry, I swear - I whisper, scared, hesitating when her eyes look into mine - I didn't think... I'm so sorry”

“Amor, don't worry” she whispers before chastely kissing my knee.

Then she continues, wound by wound, to disinfect me.

Why does she disinfect them?

Why is she so caring?

I don't deserve it.

I know it, and I bet she knows it too.

If she wants to hurt me why does she medicate me?

“I think it's better to not cover them, so they'll dry quickly, okay?”

I nod.

I no longer look into her eyes.

I look at her hands.

They are stained with my blood.

They smell of disinfectant.

The air smells of disinfectant.

Is she angry?

Why is she so sweet?

So loving?

I bite my lip.

Her shirt is stained with disinfectant.

Or maybe it's blood?

The spot is dark, small.

“Can you get up? So we can go to bed."

I plant a hand against the floor, but as soon as I try to get up I feel my strength fail.

I shake my head moaning softly.

I curl up in fear that she will hit me.

That she will start screaming.

Will she hurt me for this?

I close my eyes in terror as she approaches me, her arms raised towards me.

“Can I pick you up so I can take you to bed?”

I watch her.

Eyes widening.

She-

That's why she is so caring.

Of course.

Why did I believe there was no ulterior motive?

How could I be so stupid?

How long was she at the camp?

A week?

Is that why she medicated me?

Because then we can go to bed and-

I push myself towards the radiator

The fear that it will happen again, that she will hurt me too, invades my body.

The memories that come back to mind.

My hands hold my legs, my back pressed against the radiator.

“Please… don't hurt me - she looks at me confused, her lips parted - We-we will do it, I swear - I gasp in terror - but not now, I beg you. I-I don't feel I can do it."

She looks at me.

The confusion in her eyes.

She hesitates, pulling her arms back against her body.

“I just want to make you lie down, you can't stay on the floor all evening” her voice worried.

Maybe scared of my reaction.

“We won't do anything, I promise - I look at her - I just wish you were in a more comfortable place”

I look at her trying to figure out if she's lying about herself.

Maybe she really just meant-

“You won't hurt me?” I ask hesitantly.

She shakes her head.

Her lips parted.

“I would never hurt you, amor”

A hint of urgency in her voice.

Can I trust her?

It's Lucy.

I can trust Lucy.

Right?

It's Lucy.

The sweet girl who gave me Lego flowers because she had seen them in a store and she had thought of me.

The loving girl who always hugs me because she knows that physical contact is the only thing that calms my anxiety.

The caring girl who always orders my favorite pizza when she understands that I'm having a bad day.

It's Lucy.

With her transparent glasses, nose piercing and freckles.

I bite my lip.

The tears welling up in my eyes.

Why do I always ruin everything?

She'll dump me after this.

She won't want to deal with me anymore.

I look at her again.

I know that if she tries to hurt me I won't stop her.

I will cry, but I won't fight her.

I don't have the force to do it.

Ever since I ran away from that house I promised myself I wouldn't let anyone hurt me or hit me, but the reality is that now it is so difficult to fight, to oppose, her.

I nod.

She's right, I can't spend all night on the floor.

In one way or another, we will end up in that bed together.

In one way or another, if she wants, she will find the opportunity to hurt me.

Her arms lift me up.

One under the crook of the knees, one under the middle of the back.

I instinctively push myself against her chest.

My hands clutching the fabric of her t-shirt.

The tears that wet it.

“I-I'm sorry Lucy”

She places me on the bed.

She kisses my forehead, then my nose.

“Don't think about it now, - she kisses my nose again - Whatever happened, it doesn't matter. I love you” she whispers, before lying down next to me, covering us with the blankets and hugging me.

It's Lucy.

I'm not sure that the way I wrote the allusions to Reader's past life is correct: in my native language they work, but I'm not familiar enough with English to know 100/100 if the way I wrote them is correct. If they are wrong please point it out to me, explain me what is the correct way and I will change them (so I can learn for the next time too). Thank you so much:)

#woso #woso fanfics #woso x reader #lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze imagine #lucy bronze fanfic #woso imagine

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scribblesofagoonerr · 4 months

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Family, not by blood but by choice instead | awfc x teen!reader

I previously posted on another account, however, I didn't realise a second blog wouldn't allow me to follow people, so I am reposting again on my new one.

Let me know what you all think!

You should have known, there was tell-tail signs all throughout the last several years and yet you were so blind about it all.

Your mother was a narcissist, she was manipulative and gaslighted you your whole life, you were always made out to the bad guy and she was the victim.

It was clear as day to anyone on the outside, but your nieve self just chose to always believe different about things.

Looking back on the several years of your childhood, you had always thought you upbringing wasn't completely terrible. It was just the 2 of you, only your mum and you ever since you could remember. Your parents ended up splitting up when you were really little but ever since that day, you had always been made out to be the reason for their seperation.

You had always wonderd how it could be your fault. You was only 3 when he walked out, so how could it really be like that?

"You were always too much to handle. He couldn't cope," Your mum would say, all of them long nights when you would wrap your tiny arms around her and sob your little heart out to her.

"I'm here, you've got me. You've only ever got me," Her words were embedded in your head from the day that you'd decided to try and have an open conversation about the possibility of finding your dad. "Why go and find him? Haven't I been good enough. I'm the one that's looked after you all of these years and this is the thanks that I get in return?" It was always something that like, always a guiltrip and it was something that she knew would work well.

The harsh statement of the most recent conversation with the older woman left a bitter taste in your mouth and make you question every single thing in life.

"Aren't you happy for me? I made it, mum!" You exclaimed, you were happy enough to want to share the news with your mum but you found so dumbfound by her response which left you feeling shame and judgement for even wanting to tell her.

"Yes you have made it Y/N but you know, you only have me to thank for that now, don't you?" Your mum once again found a way to make it about herself, regardless of the situation; It was always and only ever about her. "I'm sure that you can find some way to thank me though. All of those years and the amount I have spent on football boots for you. You'd be nowhere if it wasn't for me and I think you owe me now, don't you?" she told you.

You remember feeling stunned by her words, there was a lot of emotions that you had felt building up inside as you were ultimately confused how she'd somehow managed to twist this to make it all about herself but of course she was quick enough to make an excuse to end the call when she grew bored of talking to you.

You should have knew better, every phone call always ended up being the same way and it always left you with a feeling of guilt for making a life for yourself and that phone call that night wasn't any different. You had just been so excited to spill the news, however that excitment soon faded and was replaced by confused feelings of upset and anger once you'd told her, you fought to hold in your tears during the initial phone call but you were on the verge of breaking by the time she had hung up.

That phone call was the one you told her about making it into the national team, you had only been a part of Arsenal womens' first team for under a year and it felt like a massive achievement to be selected to represent your country and immediately you couldn't wait to share the news with your mum - You thought that she'd be pleased for you but you couldn't be further away from the truth.

Ever since that phone call, you had tried your hardest to distance yourself from your mum but it hurt to do that. The women was the only blood related family member that you had, it had only ever been the 2 of you, together through thick and thin.

Flash forward to now, the current time where you are sitting on the sofa, you had returned home after a long training session and you couldn't help but think about it that conversation on a constant loop in your head.

"You were quiet tonight kidda," Leah perched on the arm of sofa as looked at you in concern. "I'm about to start cookin' tea. How's chicken dippers and smiley faces sound, eh?" she suggested.

"Mhm. Sure that sounds good to me," You mumbled as you kept your eyes focused on nothing but the telly.

The truth was that the conversation was constantly replaying in your head; The conversation, the bitterness and manipulation, every time you thought about it it then made you think of every other time that something like this happened.

Maybe your childhood wasn't as great as you really thought?

"Okay then... Is there anything that you want to talk about?" The blonde questioned, hoping for a bit more of an insight on your mood; Returning from her own rehab session, the entire car ride had been quiet compared to normal and the older woman couldn't help but feel something wasn't right.

"Nope," You stood firm in your reply, shaking your head as you kept your eyes glued on the TV screen; You couldn't really say that you payed much attention to whatever it was, the noise was pretty much a blur that was playing in the background.

"Are you sure?" Leah questioned, frowning worriedly as she took note of the tears welling up in your eyes. "Kidda, what's the matter? You look like you're gonna cry." she stated.

"I... I'm fine," You mumbled, fighting hard to keep the tears at bay until you could escape to your bedroom and allow yourself to be vulnerable and alone. You'd always felt complete shame to show any sort of vunterability in front of anyone, let alone the blonde footballer who'd virtually taken you under her wing ever since you joined during the transfer break of 2022.

You'd always been told that crying showed weakness and you refused to be seen as weak.

"Okay," Leah was quick to drop the subject when she realised you weren't going to open and talk about things. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it but just remember that I'm always here to listen. Anytime that you want too, alright?" she told you.

Unfortunately you were stubborn to not give in and blurt everything out in the open. You were just trying to wrap your head around the idea of things and see things for how they really were.

"Uh huh," You mumbled a response as you got up from the sofa and trudged in the direction of your bedroom.

Leah exhaled a sigh as she shook her head, herself heading into the kitchen to make a start on dinner. The woman knew better than to try and get you to talk if you didn't want too.

She'd always been around to witness the moments like this and the backlash of it. Of course the blonde knew this was all stemmed down to one person causing you to be like this and she hated that you were left upset every single time.

Every single time you and your mum fought, you'd always ended up quiet and in a bad mood, often resulting in lashing out at people around you as a coping mechanism.

None of the girls ever took it to heart, they were old enough to realise that none of your anger was directly aimed at them and there was bigger issues to be dealt with.

The Arsenal women all had their own opinions on the teens' mother but they would never voice them out loud to you. It wouldn't be fair on the youngest in the squad even after the countless times they had seen the girl upset by her own mums actions.

Ever since the teen had moved in, there had been several nights where Leah would be the one to comfort the girl and pick up the peices, waking up in the middle of the night to hear the teen's heartbroken sobs and feeling her own heart shatter every single time, wanting nothing more than take away any sort of pain the girl was experiencing.

It was heartbreaking for all of the team to witness and always sought out to comfort the teen no matter the situation. They knew that no matter they say, they couldn't stop her contacting her and she would be able to make her own decision soon enough when she turned 18 and until then they'd be the ones' to pick up the broken pieces when the mum let her daughter down.

They were your family, not by blood but by choice. You'd probably be lost without them sometimes.

"I... I should have realised sooner," You thought to yourself as you lay crumpled up on your bed that following night, it was almost near 4 in the morning and you were still wide awake with things racing through your head.

You couldn't help but think about things, how you should have noticed the tell-tail signs of her gaslighting you were old enough to properly realise, that was your first mistake.

Your second being that you believed her manipulation, she would always twist things to make her seem like the victim in all different situations - back when you were a child and even now as an adult.

How long it had taken you finally realise it after all of these years. Why hadn't you realised it sooner?

Without realising, you were sobbing aloud as you clutched on to your pillow tightly - the pent up anger was replaced by complete sadness and loss. You only ever wanted the approval of your mum about things and you fought so hard for it.

The phone call, the hopeful seal of approval... Every time it always seemed to be the same type of emotions when you spoke to your mum - It was a vicious cycle of emotional abuse, or so you'd been told from other people and you never wanted to believe it.

Only problem was that you'd not been able to see it yourself, even if it was clear as day. Even if regardless of a psychological therapist telling you this, you refused to believe them words. Nor your team mates, who had realised it the first time they had the chance to meet her and even then you wouldn't listen or hear them out.

It was your mum, your flesh and blood so how could she be like that? You had never been able to wrap your head around it.

The sound of sobs were what woke Leah up, she was quick to pad out of her bedroom and down the hall to where your bedroom was. "Kidda?" The women pushed the door open and her heart cracked to see you looking so distraught and vulnerable.

The blonde was quick to move to be right beside you, she was always the one to comfort you and she wouldn't ever stop doing that as long as you needed her.

"Hey, kidda. Come here," The blonde scooped you up in her arms and rocked you all while she ran her slender fingers through your messy bedhead. "You're okay. I'm here," she reassured you.

Leah was always patient enough to wait for you to calm down before she gave you the chance to speak, she wouldn't ever push you to talk if you didn't want too.

"L... Le," You cried aloud as you clutched onto her. You breath became shaky as sobs wracked your body.

"I'm here, it's okay," Leah spoke calmly, continuing to try and comfort you the best way she knew but she already knew it was going to be a long night ahead of them - An emotional night that would leave you drained tomorrow.

A vicious cycle of on a loop.

"Ready to tell me what's going on inside that head of yours, huh?" The blonde tried to carefully ask.

There was another brief pause of silence, nothing but the quiet sobs coming from you as the blonde continued to comfort you and reassure you that she was here and not leaving you.

To Leah's surprise, you did open up this time around, even if you didn't mean too.

"I should have realised. I should have... I should have realised," You made the mistake to speak aloud rather than think it like you thought you had.

"You should have realised what, kidda?" Leah questioned, confused about what you meant.

You snap your head in the blondes' direction as you bit your bottom lip, debating whether to be open with your thoughts that you tried so hard to keep buried inside.

"About my mum... I should have realised," You repeated your words as you fought the tears from spilling. "She's so... She's so-- Why does everything I tell her, why does it always get turned back around so it's about her?" That was it. You blurted out your own feelings - There was no hiding how you felt anymore.

Leah smiled sympathetically and moved onto the sofa to sit closer to you, wrapping her free arm around your shoulder to comfort you, "I... I don't know kidda," she spoke honestly.

"So many people, so many people have told me-- They've warned me about her but I have... I never wanted to listen," You confessed, the tears openly rolled down your cheeks and you probably looked a right blubbering mess but you couldn't stop your emotions pouring out. "And now... Now I finally realise how it's always been. Why is she like that, Le?" You asked.

"I can't say I know the answer to that one kidda, I wish I knew," Leah replied, exhaling a sigh as she couldn't fathem herself how a mother could be like that with her own child, she felt so much for the girl and always wished she could make the situation better for her. "Listen, I know it's hard but you've got us. All of us girls here at Arsenal and you're so loved by all of us." she told you.

"I... I just want her to love me, and she just... she doesn't even care about my feelings!" You stated, roughly wiping at your tear stained cheeks angrily to the point that you made them red. "Why does she always throw everything back in my face? Everything that I have ever done, she's always made it about her... Always!" you cried.

"I know, I know it hurts... I know it does," You kept your head buried in the blondes' chest as you hiccuped from the sudden breakdown in the middle of the night. "And I am sorry that you have to go through this. It's not fair on you kidda." Leah added, biting her bottom lip.

All of emotion had led you feeling exhausted in the end, you fought it hard to keep your eyes open as you lay slumped against the blonde woman.

"Come on let's get you back into bed, yeah? I mean you're almost falling asleep on me here, kidda," Leah joked with you, hoping for you to even crack a small smile as she gently moved you back to your bed and tucked you in under the duvet. "I'm so sorry you have had to deal with the kidda but you know you have a family here with us. We may not be blood but we really love you kidda." You heard the faint words spoken to you as you felt your eye lids close, completely warn out.

Sure, the Arsenal women weren't family by blood but instead they were family by choice and that was more important. They were there for you whenever you needed them and you knew you felt safe with them around. You truly felt happy with your chosen family.

#arsenal x reader #leah williamson #woso #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #awfc x reader #light angst

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scribblesofagooner · 4 months

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Family, not by blood but by choice instead | awfc x reader

I messed up on this blog so I made a new one which is @scribblesofagoonerr so I’m gonna be posting over on there instead now.

You should have known, there was tell-tail signs all throughout the last several years and yet you were so blind about it all.

Your mother was a narcissist, she was manipulative and gaslighted you your whole life, you were always made out to the bad guy and she was the victim.

It was clear as day to anyone on the outside, but your niave self just chose to always believe different about things.