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skipper1331 · 6 months

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For the better // Esme Morgan

a/n: based off this request. Hope you like it.

Esme was the love of your life.

She was sweet, loving and the most caring person you knew. She supported and loved you unconditionally - or so you thought.

The last few weeks, Esme‘s love felt distant, she kept her distance.

She did cuddle you at night and she did kiss you every time she could but each time it felt like it would be the last time you would feel her lips against your own. There was a certain sadness in the air, but you didn’t know why nor did you push her to talk to you. She would talk to you when she’s ready.

You sat in the living room, watching some random tv show as you heard the door open. Shortly after, the tall blonde entered the door you were sat in, "hi" you smiled, puckering your lips.

Something was wrong. Esme‘s eyes were red and puffy, did she cry?

"Hey, what‘s wrong?" you asked, leaving your seat from the couch as you took the few steps towards the defender. Your hands cupped her cheeks, thumbs caressing it softly, "you can talk to me" you whispered. She inhaled sharply, eyes closing as she leaned down, her hands gripping your waist, pulling you close.

She kissed you like you were her forever.

She kissed you like you were the love of her life.

She kissed you good bye.

Tears streamed down her face as she tried to contain herself, it‘s for the better. I‘m doing this for you.

You felt it, this wasn‘t a kiss because she was sad. She was about to do something, wasn‘t she?

"Esme…" you whispered as you took a step back, eyes wide.

You felt your heart break even though she didn‘t say anything yet, you could tell what was about to come - you‘d watched enough of romance-sad movies.

"I‘m so sorry" she apologized, "I want to break up" her own heart broke into thousand of pieces while saying those horrible words.

Shock was written over your face as hurt flashed through your whole body, "why?" you rasped, eyes getting blurry, tears about to fall.

She avoided eye contact, staring at the ground as her head hung low - in shame.

After a few broken seconds of silence, she spoke again, "I should go"

It only made you angrier, storming over, you grabbed her wrist, "look me in the eyes and tell me you don‘t love me anymore"

Both of your faces held so much emotions but one was the same: the world had just crashed down on you.

Never in a million years, you would‘ve thought that Esme would break up with you - not after 5 years.

Never in a million years, Esme would‘ve thought that she would break up with you.

You loved her.

She loved you.

Easy - yet she couldn‘t be with you anymore. It‘s for the better.

"I can‘t" she stated firmly. Your shoulders sagged, you had lost hope. If that‘s what she really wanted, you would support her - even if it broke your heart. If it‘s for the better.

Taking your chin between her thumb and index finger, she pressed one final kiss to your forehead.

I am sorry.

And I do love you.

Your once shared flat felt no longer like home. It felt weird to lay in bed without Esme, to know that she wouldn‘t come back - that she wouldn‘t join you. You were wide awake, wondering what the was blonde was doing at the moment. If she missed you the way you missed her? You had no energy to cry as you already cried the whole evening. What did you do wrong?

With dark circles under the eyes you went to training, your eyes looked swollen, noticeable for everyone. It was clear that something had happened because Esme looked the same. Both of you looked tired and exhausted, like neither of you had a minute of sleep which was the case.

So while Esme stayed at Hempo’s and Chloe’s side, you never left the Aussies sides, Mary and Alanna cheering you up. Well, at least they tried to.

At the end of training, you had lost all your patience, motivation and passion.

City did no longer feel like home. Manchester did no longer feel like home.

Esme was your home.

"Tommy?" you whispered into the phone, your manager answering with "yeah?"

The past week was horrible. To see Esme every day broke your heart in more and more pieces. You stopped leaving of your flat if not necessary, you ditched plans with friends - most of the time you sat in the living room crying while you ate ice cream and watched Glee. You didn‘t know what Esme was up to or where she lived, all you knew was that you didn‘t want to be in Manchester anymore, let alone the same country.

"I’ll do it" you told him, not much thought behind it.

You wanted to leave and you did.

As the season came to an end and the transfer window opened, you were the first to sign somewhere you always wanted to sign.

FC Barcelona.

It took you one week to get to leave Manchester.

You didn‘t say good bye to your friends and team mates, you just left the City and country.

It was your way of escaping the pain, your heartbreak.

It‘s for the better.

Barcelona as the club and as the City was amazing. Your new team mates greeted you with open arms and made you feel more than welcome. You settled in quite well, you stuck to your national team mates, Keira and Lucy, though. They helped you to furnish your new flat - not a picture with Esme anywhere.

It was Lucy who brought her up one day as the two of you sat in a little café. The og lioness had always been like a sister to you, she had taken you under wig the moment you joined City and the senior lionesses squad. She knew something was off, Keira had noticed it too, the way your smile never reached the top, your eyes not shining the way they used to. The sparkle was missing - the sparkle Esme was responsible for.

"So you alright, kid?" the defender asked as she sat across from you, sipping her coffee.

"No" you answered straightforward, munching on your panini.

"Esme?-"

"Broke up with me" you took a large sip of your drink, avoiding eye contact at every cost. If you looked at Lucy, you would’ve broke down in the middle of the day. Which did already happen a lot more often than you would‘ve liked, you just couldn‘t help it. Everything remind you of Esme: sometimes it was a song, the pictures on your phone or you just missed in her in general. It didn‘t make any sense. Why did she break up with you? It was the question that kept you awake at night.

"Did she tell you why?"

"No, she said fucking nothing" you spat, getting angrier by each second that went by. "I left the second I could. I couldn‘t stand seeing her" you admitted in a low voice, some tears streaming down your face, "It‘s like I can’t breathe anymore and I don‘t know what do to"

Wordlessly, the lioness stood up and took the a seat next to you, her arms going around your shoulders as she pulled you close.

"I‘m sorry"

Nothing more was said as she held you, tears wetting her shirt.

Being in the starting line up made you nervous - debut time.

With the Barca crest on your chest you felt so much pride. You did it. You made your childhood dream come true.

The game went amazing, you played phenomenal, the way you could link up with the girls, create chances and even score a debut goal was pure class. You celebrated like you usually would, a celebration Esme requested ages ago for you to do one time - you did it every time since then.

And maybe it was wrong to do so, she wasn‘t your girlfriend anymore, she wasn‘t even a friend, she was- well, nobody. Somebody you used to know.

Fuck that.

She was everything.

She was still the love of your life.

She would forever be the girl of your dreams.

She was fucking everything.

Unknown to you, the tall blonde stood in the stands of the stadium. She watched you shine while she wore your lionesses jersey. Everything you did, she watched with heart eyes, a proud smile displayed on her face as she cheered for you proudly. You did it. She couldn’t be prouder.

Barcelona made you glow and grow.

It was indeed for the better.

International break.

Something you hadn‘t thought about. When Sarina called, you didn’t say no. Of course not. You loved to represent England and the lionesses were a big family - your family.

As the days went the by and camp got closer, your heart went crazy. Your thoughts were consumed by Esme. Like always.

Esme.

You would lie, if you said you didn’t look at old pictures of the two of you.

You would lie, if you said you didn‘t cry yourself to sleep.

You would lie, if you said you didn‘t love her.

She used to be your best friend, soulmate and girlfriend, you were miserable without her.

Don‘t get me wrong, you went out with the Barca girls, they were a bunch of goofballs which you loved but your other half was missing. There was no one you could tell about your day, whether it was good, bad or just boring.

The thoughts just stayed inside of you.

Your bubbly side was missing. The transfer was a great decision for your career, you became the best version of yourself as a football player but as a human, you were the worst version of yourself. In no way, you were rude or mean towards anyone - it was just, the sparkle that was missing.

Lucy could sense your shut down. The way you gripped the seat in the plane, your eyes drained on the seat in front of you, burning holes into it as your jaw was clenched, veins popping up.

Esme.

Arriving at St. George’s Park was interesting. Lucy was engaging you in a conversation, talking about Barcelona as you stepped into the facility. What you failed to notice, thanks to Lucy, was that just minutes earlier the City girls had arrived. Esme was standing next to the much smaller Lauren Hemp as they turned around.

The tall blondes breath hitched, you looked breathtaking. Everything Chloe said fell to deaf ears, her only remaining focus: you.

Feeling eyes on you, you turned your head away from Lucy to see the City girl.

"Esme" you breathed out, suitcase dropping out of your hand as it clattered to the ground. Inaudible, you gulped, breathing quickening. She looked beautiful. Mixed feelings rushed through your body: relief, anger and anxiety.

You felt relieved to see her after what felt like ages - finally able to breathe again.

It made you angry to see her, standing there like that and looking pretty.

And then you felt anxious. Should you say hello? No, right? She broke up with you - not the other way around. The City girls, did they hate you? You left without another word, they were your friends too. Nobody knew you left, not until City announced your leaving and Barcelona announced your signing.

You wanted to cry, to be honest. Your whole world crashed down again. She was only a few meters away from you and yet it felt like she was on the other side of the world.

From strangers to friends, friends in to lovers and strangers again.

Lucy cleared her throat to bring you out of your trance, the blonde still having you wrapped around her finger even without doing anything. But what did you expect? You loved her and some months were definitely not enough to get over her, nor would be a year. It was Esme, your sweet girl.

Caught off guard, you grabbed your suitcase, mumbling something before you walked away. The facility, a place you knew well enough.

"Wait up" Lucy called, pulling her suitcase with her as she jogged in your direction.

"Do you still think it was for the better?" Lauren asked, "she looks so heartbroken."

Esme ignored her as she fought against her own tears.

You weren‘t the only one who had to deal with a heartbreak. Just because Esme was the person who actually ended it didn‘t mean she enjoyed it. She loved you. She loved you the same as before and she‘ll forever do so.

She did for you. It‘s for the better.

You didn‘t interact much with Esme and if you did, only on the pitch. It already hurt enough knowing she was there, but not yours.

She was your colleague now.

It seemed like Sarina hated you, pairing you up with Esme all the time. Of course that wasn‘t the case, the blonde defender and you had just so much chemistry on the pitch. You work together like an oiled machine which you hated.

You hated that you were still the same old duo.

You hated that she crossed passes to you like nobody else could.

You hated that you still loved her.

Though, both of you stayed silent while doing the drills.

colleague nothing more.

Back in your room, you fell on the bed, your roommate somewhere in facility. You felt physically and mentally exhausted.

As a soft knock was heard, you sat up, did she forget her key card?

Opening the door, you were met with a sight you didn‘t expect, "hi…" the tall girl said.

Anger floated through your body as you wanted to slam the door. You didn‘t. Instead you asked monotonously, "what do you want?"

She winced at your tone, so foreign.

"I‘m sorry- I didn‘t know why I came" she muttered, turning on her heels.

"You broke up with me" you stated, stepping in the hall. The defender stopped, "I did" she answered.

"Why?"

"Because it‘s for the better. Have a good night, y/n" with that she left, yourself feeling angrier than before.

It’s for the better, really? What kind of answer was that?!

You did not cry that night, your clenched jaw prevented it - your anger prevented it.

As soon as you woke up the next day, your anger was back and higher than before. You just wanted one reason why she broke up with you, so you could start healing.

It angered you to see her at breakfast - smiling.

It angered you to see her on the pitch - on the same team as you.

Everything she did angered you.

And suddenly you snapped.

It was just the two of you left in the changing room, the other girls already heading to dinner. As Esme was about to walk out, you marched over, blocking the door.

"No"

The blonde looked confused, what was going on? "No. Tell me why you broke up with me" your index finger poked her chest angrily as you took some steps forwards, the defender walking backwards. "After 5 years, Esme" a tear rolled out of your eye as she wanted so desperately to wipe it away. "You threw me away like I was nothing, like we were nothing."

"Don‘t say that" she whispered, closing her eyes to hold back the tears.

"But you did!" you shouted, angrily wiping away the tears that streamed down your face. Grabbing your wrists gently, she pulled your hands away, "you‘ll hurt yourself" and it broke you.

In the middle of the changing room, you started crying like you did the nights before you left Manchester and like you did the nights in Barcelona.

"Don‘t fucking touch me" immediately she dropped your hands, mumbling an apology.

Taking a deep breath, "I heard you talking" she said while sitting down at a random cubby.

"with whom?"

"Tommy"

Tommy and you sat at the dinner table, notes splayed across the table as his laptop was there as well.

"These are the offers" he told you as he leafed through the folder, "and that‘s the best" opening something on his screen, your eyes stopped at the club logo.

Barcelona.

"They want you"

Your eyes went wide, Barcelona wow. They‘re amazing, big fan ever since you‘re little. "They want you now"

He started talking about the contract, your salary, game appearances and more.

He simply talked you through every stage of the contract, their thoughts about signing you, every detail they stated in their document.

Two hours later, he leaned back in his chair, "it‘s now up to you if you want to do it"

"It would be amazing, wouldn‘t it?" you mumbled, biting on your lower lip. That‘s what you always wanted.

Barcelona. The best.

But that was before you met Esme, the girl of your dreams. "It would be perfect for your career"

"Do I have time to think about it?"

"They want an answer at the end of next week. Do you have doubts?" he asked kindly.

Over the years, Tommy became much more than just being a manager - a friend.

"I don‘t know. I‘d love to play there but City is my home. Esme is my home" you told him, fingers massaging your temples.

"You’d give up this of an opportunity for her?"

You looked at him - answering without hesitation, "yes"

"Okay" nothing more was said, he respected your answer and he understood that you had to think about such a decision, "call me when you have an answer."

"You would‘ve said no" she told you, her hand wiping over her face, "and I couldn’t let that happen"

"so you broke up with me because- " you connected the dots, realization hitting you like a truck.

"Well, I thought if I broke up with you, you would sign that contract. The thing you always wanted" she shrugged her shoulders, her only ever intention was for you to follow your dream - the dream you had since you were a little girl. Who was she to stop you from living it?

"You’re an asshole!" you yelled, marching the locker room up and down, "do you know what you put me through?!"

The defender stood up, your rapid movement stressing her out and her own anger slowly bubbling up, "i did what was the best for you!"

"Fuck you" you spat.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you would‘ve said yes"

you couldn’t.

"Thought so"

"You had no right to break my heart like that!"

"I had no other choice! I didn‘t want to be the reason you didn‘t fulfill your dream!"

Grumbling, you stood up with new anger, hurt and confusion.

"I did it because I love you! I love you more than anything and to think that you would miss the opportunity to- to play alongside Alexia Putellas, Aitana Bonmatí and so on, for me, frustrated me. You have to think about yourself first-"

"You love me?" you cut her off, heart feeling so many emotions as your body felt so confused and mind was spinning.

"I never stopped"

"Esme…"

"You don‘t need to say it back- well, um actually, it would be okay if you don‘t love me anymore. I get it-"

You couldn’t stand it anymore - to think that you didn’t love her. After everything, there wasn‘t a day where you didn‘t love her. Your body, soul and mind was consumed by Esme. She was the love of your life. So you just kissed her. Your lips pressed desperately against the blondes, hands cupping her cheeks as her hands found your waist. She gasped into your mouth, caught off guard. There was nothing sweet about this kiss - Esme and you mostly shared the most sweetest kisses but not now. Not after everything. The kiss was rough, anger and frustration purred into one another, yet the both of you happy to feel each others touch again.

"I love you, you idiot" you muttered between more kisses.

With the need of oxygen, she pulled away, resting her forehead against your own, "do you?" big wide eyes looked at you, so much hope behind the orbs - the orbs you hadn‘t seen in so long.

"I do" you purred, playing with her baby hair, "you hurt me though"

She nodded slowly, her hands still around your waist, afraid you would disappear, "I need time"

She hummed, mumbling apology after apology. She never meant to hurt you, she just wanted you to be happy.

"I love you so much" Esme mumbled, pressing featherlight kisses along your jaw, stopping an inch above your lips, "you‘re so beautiful" gently, interlocking your lips, she kissed you good morning, the Spanish sun shining in your bedroom.

The last two weeks of the off-season Esme was in Spain visiting you and before that, the both of you visited Greece as you enjoyed your holidays together.

After a year, things were thankfully back normal. Neither of you could stay away from each other and after the day in the changing room, many conversations followed and your trust was slowly built up again.

This was Esme we were talking about, the sweetest girl in the world who no bad cell in her body and was always thinking about you.

Like before your break up, she took you out on dates - it didn‘t matter that she was in Manchester and you in Barcelona, she called you every day to ask how your day was and when she visited you or the other way around, you spent the day in the best ways possible: going out, playing mini-golf and so on. Esme had many cute little date ideas.

And after that year, where trust was earned back, love got stronger and missed kisses were shared, she asked you to be her girlfriend. To which you obviously answered with yes.

You loved Esme.

Esme loved you.

The way she handled things was wrong but you understood her - she wanted you to be happy and to be honest, she was right: it was for the better.

Your prime time was, is and will be at Barca, till the end of the line.

You would‘ve regretted it if you had said no.

So maybe your break up wasn‘t the worst thing. For sure, you never felt that much pain in the time of your break up ever before and you never want to experience something like that again but after all, Esme tried to push you in the right direction - to help you. She had no bad thought in mind, just what was the best for you.

And back strong again, one day not your surname will be at the back of your Barca jersey but Morgan.

It was indeed for the better.

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#esme morgan #esme morgan x reader #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #engwnt #engwnt x reader #lionesses x reader #lionesses #lucy bronze #lauren hemp #chloe kelly #manchester city x reader #man city x reader #man city women #manchester city women

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helen-with-an-a · 1 month

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The Object that stood in the way of a World Cup pt. 5

Hi. So here is the last part of the official story, but I do want to do another part of some cute moments and things like that. Also thanks to @lyak12 for the big sister moments with Lucy ahaha. <3

Ona Batlle x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Epilogue

Flashbacks are in italics

TW: Suggestiveness

Description: R returns to playing football

Word Count: 3.7k

You didn’t have to send the letter. But you did. Sort of. You left in her cubby for her to see after practice. It was the last day before your first match back. It was the last match of the domestic league and you had been promised at least the final 10 minutes. Was it the best timing for something of that magnitude? Probably not. But you needed her to know how you felt before the summer breaks began, and she went off the Olympics.

You hadn’t been ignoring Ona like you were at the beginning of the season, but you weren’t friends either. You still remained in your separate friend groups, but you didn’t avoid her like the plague, and she had gradually left her little corner of the gym during sessions. You were still in love with her. That much was definite – you often stared at her during matches, allowing yourself to reminisce over your memories. But you wanted to do it properly, with full communication and honest answers. You decided that the letter was an olive branch; she could do with it as she pleased.

She could ignore it. That would hurt, but you would endure it.

She could acknowledge but reject you. That would be painful but survivable.

She could accept it. That thought made your heart happy.

Since That Day with Lucy and the time away to repair yourself, everyone could see how much better you were doing. You were laughing again, smiling brightly as Patri joked around, giggling at Pina for tripping over the cones, chatting softly to Esmee or chasing after Mapi as Ingrid shook her head. Lucy was happy that the bubbly girl she considered a little sister was returning.

That Day, she had taken you to her house and laid you in bed. You were exhausted – mentally, emotionally, physically – and so fragile. She couldn’t remember a time when she had seen you so small. She had called Keira; she was frightened by your outburst, disturbed by what you had told her and saddened to think you thought you couldn’t talk to her. Keira had done an excellent job in calming her - promising it wasn’t her fault and that she was there for you now, and that’s all that mattered. The pair had set up the guest bedroom for you to stay in as you got ready to go back to England. They had given the heads up to the Lionesses that you would be coming home for a while – Leah got the full story, but everyone was told that you weren’t doing ok and needed more support than they could give you at Barcelona.

Ona was also taking the months to heal. She was talking to a therapist that helped her regulate her emotions, particularly when she was scared. You could see the change. It was nothing drastic, nothing too noticeable, but you knew. She was working on herself, and that was all that you wanted. You still watched all of her games for Spain. You had promised her you would always support her, and you always would. You hadn’t watched the matches in person, but they were always on your TV – sometimes favouring watching her matches over the Lionesses.

“Ugh, I don’t want to go,” Ona complained as you packed her suitcase for her. She was lying on your bed with just a big T-shirt on. It was one of your old England training tops.

“Because of what happened last time?” You knew bringing it up was a risk, but you couldn’t help yourself. You wanted to protect her from everything bad in the world.

“I mean, yes, there’s that, but …” She looked a little embarrassed as she turned her head away from you. You reached over and gently grabbed her chin, forcing her to look you in the eye.

“But?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Te voy a extrañar.” You heart softened at her confession.

“Oni,” you cooed as you flopped on top of her. I’m going to miss you too—so much. But I will still be supporting you. I promise.” You littered kisses over her face, ignoring her squeals and laughter telling you to get off

“You’re playing on the 7th, right?” You breathed into her ear as you gently bit her earlobe

“Sí” She all but moaned out.

“Well, my match is on the 6th,” you drifted over to the other side of her neck. “So, I will be watching your game; I’ll always watch your games. Forever and ever.” You drifted down her body, pushing her t-shirt up as you went.

“Si us plau, fot-me,” she begged.

“I don’t speak Catalan, Oni.” You reminded her as you tugged off her shirt.

80 minutes into the last game of the season, your number flashed green on the screen held up by the 4th Official. This was it. All your hard work had finally paid off. Marta ran over to you and smacked your awaiting hands, using them to pull you into a brief hug. “Vamos, chica,” She whispered in your ear. You ran onto the pitch as the crowd clapped and cheered for you. You looked to where you knew some of the Lionesses sat; they had made the trip over to Spain to watch your debut. You knew it was in your mind, but you would swear on your life that their cheers were the loudest. This was your happy place, finally back on the pitch. You felt the final pieces of tension melt away. You were finally home. All the emotions of the past 18 months were forgotten. The heartbreak, heartache, anger, fear, and frustration were all gone in a moment as the ball fell to your feet. You always felt the most at peace on the pitch.

“Ok, listen up.” It was media day for United, something you had mixed feelings over. You always liked the video side of media day, but you hated the photos – you always felt so awkward doing them. “On videos, we have Toone and Russo, and Blundell and Galton. On photos, we have Ladd, Zelem, and Parris. On interviews, we have Turner and Williams, Batlle and Y/S/N …” You stopped listening. Thank god you didn’t have to do photos straight away. And you were with Oni – sure, it would fuel the flame about whatever you were for the fans. But you were with Oni.

“Vamos, amor. We’ve got an interview to do.” Ona tangled her fingers with yours and pulled you over to the interview station.

“It’s pretty simple, introduce yourself, then just read the cards and answer them. We’re already rolling, so just start whenever you’re ready.” A man said from behind the camera. You looked at Ona for confirmation before introducing yourself. It was simple. The questions were nothing you hadn’t seen or answered before.

“Ok, amor, what is your happy place?” Ona read from the card.

“Hmm … lemme think ... um, is it cliché to say the football pitch?” You laughed, looking at Ona as she rested her head on your shoulder, groaning at your answer. “What? It is. It’s always been the place that calms me down. I don’t really get nervous on the pitch either, even for important games. Beforehand, I’ll be absolutely bricking it, but on the pitch … cool as a cucumber.”

“Bricking … it?” Your phrasing confused her. You always forget that she was speaking her non-native language; she was so fluent in English now.

“Oh, um … nervous, I guess? Oni, you know how I get before games, especially the big ones, but I'm absolutely fine once that whistle goes.”

“I do know how nervous you get. Do you remember our game at the Arnold Clark Cup? You were so nervous. Leah had to come get me before the match.” She smiled teasingly at you.

“Stop,” you whined. You said you’d take that to the grave.” You didn’t like people knowing how panicky you could get. You also didn't particularly want to spill how Ona had gotten you to calm down —she had kissed you—long and hard and deep. It had calmed you down instantly.

They say that history repeats itself, and you think they might be onto something. Your team was finishing the domestic season in typical Barca fashion. You were 8-0 up with 10 minutes still to play. You set a pass to Lucy as you began to push forward. It was a perfect cross back from Ona as you entered the penalty area. You controlled it with your chest to the ground. You swung your leg back. This time, there was no clash of studs. No horrific pain. No blood. This time, you released the ball into the back of the net.

You didn’t care what you looked like as you ran around like a headless chicken. You may have looked silly celebrating this hard for the ninth goal of the game, but you didn’t care. You were back. You leapt onto Ona, legs wrapping around her waist as her arms came to support you under your thighs.

“Estás de Vuelta, amor,” she shouted. With that response alone, you knew she had read the letter.

“I’m back, Oni,” you laughed as she put you down and straight into the arms of Lucy and the rest of the team.

The match ended 9-0. The match had been won long before that, but everyone assured you you got the winner. Medals were handed out as you cheered with the rest of the squad, music blasted, and shouts were heard from all around. You didn’t bother looking for your parents; you knew they weren’t there. But you did see the smiling faces of Alessia, Ella and Leah, with Mary and Georgia on Facetime. After promises to find them later you found a relatively quiet corner in the tunnel and allowed yourself to fully process your feelings. Elation. Happiness. Love. Everything was so different compared to this time last year.

Someone cleared their throat, drawing your attention to them. It was Ona. “Um … can we talk?”

“Yeh, yeh. Do you want to sit?” You gestured to the floor against the wall. You both got comfortable and sat for a few heartbeats.

“Felicidades … your goal, it was beautiful.” She was clearly a little awkward.

“Oni, the letter –” you started

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry for what I did to you. I was looking for a fight. I was terrified you’d leave me behind. And I was jealous Barca wanted you. There will never be a day where I don’t regret what I did to you, and I hate myself for it. For hurting you so badly. You didn’t deserve any of what happened. I was a raging bitch, and I was so awful to you, and -” She gushed out.

“Oni, stop,” you said gently. "It’s ok. I forgive you. You need to start forgiving yourself, too.” You rested your head on her shoulder. You did forgive her. She had done a horrible thing, but she wasn’t a horrible person. She leaned her head on top of yours, enjoying the closeness she had craved for so long.

“Did you mean it?” she said after a long pause. Her voice was fearful that you might reject her—which was perfectly within your rights, she reminded herself. “That you’re still in love with me?”

“Yes. I am still absolutely head-over-heels in love with you. I never stopped," you answered honestly. "But if we are to try again, we’re going to need to be friends first. So, I’m reintroducing myself to you.” You stuck out your hand. “Hola, I’m Y/N," you repeated the words you said to her so long ago back in Manchester when you first met.

“Hola, soy Ona.” She laughed as she shook your hand, letting it linger for longer than she should have. Her hand was warm, rough, soft, and perfect.

"Got any nicknames?" Her lips split into that beautiful wide grin. Your smile matched hers.

“Um, hola.” You said as you stood in front of her cubby.

“Hola?” She was sceptical of you. Not many people had made an effort to talk to her, let alone talk to her in Spanish. It was the end of her third day at United, and she was homesick and terrified about whether she had done the right thing.

“So, I overheard you in the lunchroom earlier about Spanish food being so different from English food, and I was going to make paella for my tea tonight anyways, so I was wondering if you wanted to come round? I can’t promise it will be any good; the recipe I’m supposed to be following says it's ‘Spanish Rice’, not even paella, but … yeh.” God, you were so awkward; you hadn’t even let her answer the question. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. You probably have plans. So … anyways … I’m gonna now,” you went to turn around before her fingers caught your wrist.

“You didn’t let me answer” She smiled. Your heart fluttered in a strange way. Were you having a heart attack because a pretty girl smiled at you?

“What is tea? I thought it was a drink.” She asked. Oh, god – that voice. You thought you had died and gone to heaven.

“Tea? … oh, yeh. Sorry, I forgot I’m northern,” you laughed. “It’s how you say dinner if you’re northern. Um, I think it’s ‘cena’ in Spanish?”

“Ah, sí, sí. Yes, I shall come for tea.” She giggled. You knew you had just fallen in love right then and there.

Ona was slightly nervous as she knocked on your flat door. A pretty girl had asked her to come round. She wasn’t used to this; she was usually confident, always knowing who and what she wanted. But you had surprised her with your gentle smile, quick ramblings, and soft laugh; you had stolen her heart and didn’t even know it.

“Hey, sorry to leave you hanging.” You said as you answered the door. Your expression confused her, but she ignored it as you ushered her into your flat. It was exactly how she expected, a perfect physical representation of you. She never wanted to leave.

“Ok, so I’ve already cooked it, so it’s ready when you are, really. I don’t particularly like seafood, so it’s chicken and chorizo. I know that Barcelona is famous for its seafood. And there are peppers and peas in there, too. I hope that’s okay,” you said as you gestured for her to sit at the table.

“Sounds deliciosa,” she commented, looking around. Your flat was clean, neat, and tidy, but not to the point that it looked like no one lived there. You had a lot of pictures of friends dotted around, but it didn’t seem like many of your family. You clearly took pride in your home. Ona could respect that. She always thought that you could tell a lot about someone based on how they decorate and treat a space.

“Here you go,” you said as you handed her a bowl of steaming rice. “So … this might come across as rude or something, and I really don’t want that, but … um, how do I ask this? How, um … howdoyousayyourname?” You said it so quickly it was a blur. Ona clearly didn’t understand you.

“Qué?”

“Um … how do you say your last name?” You asked sheepishly. “I want to get it right. It’s important to me that I say people’s names right,” you explained. Her heart melted at your kind gesture.

“Oh, um, it’s like bat-jyay.”

“Batlle,” you said slowly. “Batlle,” you said quicker, reassurance in her accompanying smile.

“Cool … now that that’s out of the way, do you have any nicknames or anything?” It was clear to Ona that you were trying to get her to feel more comfortable around you.

“Um … not really. It’s common in Spain to add 'ita' at the end of words, so sometimes Onita? Or Oni, I guess?”

“Oni, I like it.” The nickname rolled off your tongue so effortlessly that Ona swooned.

“What about you, any nicknames?”

“Oh, no, not really. I mean beyond the standard English love, or darling, or pet, or duck or anything really,” you laughed.

“Well, I won’t call you love. But I will call your amor, sí?” Your heart was doing backflips as you looked down at the table, hiding your blush.

The summer that followed was unforgettable. You hadn’t had a summer off since … you couldn’t remember when. You and Ona had used the few weeks before she left for camp to reacquaint yourself. There were lots of laughs shared over coffees and slightly too-long hugs. It was easy to fall back in love with her and rediscover your dynamic.

You didn’t go to Paris, no matter how much you wanted to see her. You watched every game, though, sending her a steady stream of your consciousness through text. You knew she couldn’t see them when she was playing, but you wanted her to know you supported her like you had promised to do all those years ago. Ona adored the fact that she would look at her phone after the match to hundreds of messages, reading every one as she chuckled at your play-by-play.

She didn’t attend preseason, but you did, obviously. You used the time to add the final touches to your new style of play. You were ready to prove to the world that you were back and better than ever. You had seen some comments on social media speculating about your return. But you knew you were ready. When Ona returned, you lingered behind the group who swarmed the Olympians. She had quickly extricated herself and came to join you. “Congratulations, Oni. I’m very proud of you,” You said as you hugged her tightly, dropping a series of light kisses on her head.

The final Friday before the season officially started was full of drinks and laughter. You had one final blowout before settling in for the next season, and naturally, you ended up at Manuela’s.

“You did good, kid,” Lucy said as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You were at the bar, sipping on a fruity drink.

“Thanks, Luce. For everything. I know I didn’t exactly make it easy on you, but …”

“Hey, no, don’t do that. You were in a bad place. I didn’t do it because I needed to; I did it because I wanted to. You’re like my little sister. I love you more than I love my actual little sister.” She promised you.

“I know, but still. Thank you. I appreciate you, truly.” You rested your head against her shoulder as she squeezed you gently.

“Y/N,” Someone called for your attention. It was an incredibly drunk Patri. “Ven a bailar, chica.” You made your way over to the group; almost everyone was incredibly drunk; even Alexia had the tell-tale flush on her cheeks, but that could have been more to do with Olga dancing in front of her than the alcohol. The only people that you think weren’t drunk were you and Ona.

“You’re not drinking?” You asked as she came to stand next to you.

“Not really, don’t want to be hungover tomorrow,” she answered. “What about you?”

“Same. This is probably the only drink I’ll have.” Your therapist had advised you to stay away from drinking as much as possible, telling you that it could affect you in negative ways. You didn’t really mind; you liked being able to remember everyone’s drunk antics. It was useful for blackmail purposes, and at least one other person remained sober during nights out anyway.

You spent the night splitting yourself between the dancefloor with Patri and Pina, the booth with Ingrid and Mapi, or the table Marta and Caroline had claimed. It was fun, but you forgot how hot Barcelona nights out could be, even in the late summer, when the temperature rarely dipped below mid-teens. It was hot and loud, and sweaty. To escape, you pushed your way outside, taking deep breaths of the fresh night air.

“Esta todo bien, amor?” It was Ona.

“Always so concerned, Oni.” You laughed.

“Lo siento. It’s just, I saw you leave … and I wanted to check on you and …” She was starting to panic, thinking she was overstepping a boundary.

“Hey, Oni. It’s ok. I like that you're so concerned about me.” You reached for her hand, holding it tightly to reassure her. “I keep forgetting how hot Barcelona can be,” you explained. "I’m still not used to it.” She laughed lightly.

“You’ll have to get used to it. I don’t want you to leave Barcelona” she trailed off, “because of the weather” she added quickly.

“I don’t want to leave Barcelona either … especially because of the weather,” you teased.

“Callate,” She groaned as you tugged her closer, arm going around her shoulder as hers came around your waist. “I like your outfit.” She murmured as she played with the lace on the bottom of your bralette. “It’s the same one you wore in Manchester the first time we…” she whispered, trailing off again. You knew exactly what she was referring to.

“Do you want to go dance?” You asked after a few minutes of soaking up her closeness.

“Sí, vamos.” She led you back to the dancefloor, her back coming against your front as you held her close. It felt like the most normal thing to press your body closer. It felt right as she turned around to face you, her arms looping around your neck. It felt normal as your eyes flicked from hers to her lips and back again. The way your heart pounded felt nice when she stepped even closer, somehow managing to pull herself even more against you. Like always, the way the world slid sideways as your lips pressed against hers. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“Vull això. ens vull. Si us plau, porta'm a casa.”

“I still don’t speak Catalan, Oni.”

Yeh, so that's the end of the proper story, but I want to do an epilogue/final chapter thing about cute moments between R and Ona and stuff. So, yeh. I hope you enjoyed it.

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #ona batlle #ona batlle x reader #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso soccer #woso oneshot #barca femeni #barca femeni x reader #fc barcelona #manchester united #man utd #man utd women #lucy bronze #lionesses #lionesses x reader #woso fanfics

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evilhorse · 17 days

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Burn it down!

(1st Issue Special #2)

#1st issue special #the green team #Batman #Bruce Wayne #Superman #clark kent #kal el #spider-man #burn it down #angry #joe simon #jerry grandenetti #dc comics #comics #70s comics #bronze age comics

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life-imitates-art-far-more · 3 months

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Charles Cordier (1827-1905) "Bust of a Moor"

#sculpture #sculptures #art #artwork #male portrait #charles cordier #bronze #marble #fine art #french artist #drapery #portrait of a man #orientalism #moor #muslim #1800s #19th century

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pelova4president · 4 months

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The extrovert to my introvert

Maya Le Tissier x Reader

summary~ You met Maya when you were twelve and playing in a boys only team, she too was the only girl in her team. A year later you meet again, only now she’s your teammate at England.

You’ve always loved Maya Le Tissier.

Growing up, playing in an all boys team was tough. At first they were soft with you but that changed when you started to tackle them, hard. They challenged you more and harder, they didn’t want to lose to a girl. ‘Girls can’t play football’ is the phrase you heard most growing up.

When you had a game against another team, your teammates did stick up for you. The boys from the other team would yell insults when you walked past them. Their parents were even worse, the dads yelled at their kids whenever you nutmegged them and the moms told your parents that they should take you off football.

The game almost always got a whole lot more physical after the first half. The opponent didn’t want to lose to a girl. They tried to take you out with bad tackles and tugged at your shirt until you fell down. But your teammates stood up for you. Your captain pushed the boy that took you down and even the parents of your teammates would yell at the boy and his coach for being so reckless.

You’d never played in a girls team or against a girl, really. Although it was hard playing against boys, you wouldn’t trade it for a thing. The boys were tough on you but whenever you needed them, they got your back. It had always been like this, it kept you on your toes and you preformed better because of it.

It wasn’t until you turned twelve that you played against a girl. The only girl on an all boys team, just like you.

You stared at her from the sideline, where your team was doing their warming-up. “Y/n, what’re you looking at?” your captain yelled. He took you out of your trance and you turned you head towards the warming-up again.

“You know the girl?” you asked one of your teammates that was stood next to you, stretching. He shrugged and answered, “Not really, all i know is that her name’s Maya.”.

Maya was a defender, you were a striker, you were destined to meet on the field.

Your team starts slow, and the other team scores an early goal. But you need to make an impression. As the game goes on, you notice the girl defending you, she had so much skill and isn't afraid to make a tackle. She makes it beyond hard for you to get past her.

At halftime, your team is 2-0 down, but you can't lose, not to her. In the second half, you come back stronger and harder. With fast footwork, you create opportunities. The girl is right there, trying to block your every move, but you're not giving up.

In the final minutes, it finally happens. The parents watching spur you on as you maneuver past defenders, including the girl who you've been eyeing all game. You score a goal and you run towards your teammates, but not before looking at Maya. The girl smiles, impressed by your work.

But you're not done yet. You're still one goal down, you need atleast one other goal. As the game continues, you find yourself in the perfect position.

With a well-timed shot, you score another goal, tying the game.

The match ends in a draw, but for you it felt like a little victory.

You shook the hands of your opponents, leaving one for last. The brunette walked over to you. “You played good.” she complimented. With red cheeks you responded, “Thanks, you too, you made it really tough to score.”. She laughed and walked away.

One year later you met again, at the Under 15’s for England. Maya had already made friends but you didn’t. It had always been harder for you to make friends, especially girl friends.

You were sat on a tree trunk outside. It was wasn’t really cold outside since it was still summer but it wasn’t warm either, the evening breeze making the hairs on your forearms stand up.

There you were, feeling homesick and kicking some rocks away like they were footballs.

Maya saw you sitting from inside the training center and decided to go talk to you. “Mind if i sit here?” she asked you but was already sitting next to you before you could answer. You already knew who it was. Maya started kicking rocks too, “This is kinda boring, why won’t you come inside?”. Again, you didn’t really answer and just shrugged. You didn’t move to go inside so she stayed there too, the whole evening.

She did all the talking. “I’ve never been to an England camp before, i hope we get to keep our game kits.” she rambled. She even made you laugh when she told you about the one time she ‘accidentally’ broke the nose of an opponent. Maya could talk for the both of you and you just listened.

When the England staff called the both of you inside because you needed to go to your room you said something for the first time that evening. “You’re fun, Maya.” you told her looking at your feet that were still kicking little rocks away.

“Thank you. I think you’re way better company than the other girls here, y/n.” she complimented, looking at your face that had gotten red at her compliment. She knew you weren’t much of a talker but that didn’t bother her, you’ll eventually open up.

You did open up. The two of you were polar opposites, Maya’s extroverted who loved to talk while you were an introvert who rarely talks. But even though you were so different you were inseparable from that first camp day on.

A year later, you realised that you didn’t just think of Maya as your bestfriend. She might’ve been your whole world at this point. When you weren’t at camp together you’d text or call eachother whenever you could.

You had Maya as your screensaver and laptop backgroup, a photo of the two of you next to your bed. Her Le Tissier England shirt was hung up on your wall. She made you a friendship bracelet with her intials and number on it, a red and white ‘MLT4’ rested on your wrist. You’d made her one too but messed the colours up, she still wore it though.

You laid down on your bed and looked up at the ceiling, where ofcourse was another photo of the brunette and you, at the first camp England camp.

It was at the Under-17 Euros that you confessed your crush on her. You’d just been eliminated. You had to go home. You had to go home, text or call Maya everyday pretending you were fine with just being friends and after six weeks you got to see eachother again and you’d do it all over again.

It was silent on the way back to the hotel. You didn’t say anything, she didn’t say anything. The team got out of the bus and most of the girls headed to their room.

You didn’t. You walked towards a wooden bench outside and sat down. The bench made a little sound when you sat down. The sun had long gone down and you could only think about what you could’ve done better. You could’ve passed to one of your teammates and maybe they would’ve scored.

You heard the bench make that same sound again when Maya sat down beside you. Frowning you looked up at her. The defender looked you in your eyes and sighed.

“I know it’s not the end of the world but it certainly feels like it. I mean how did we let them score that first one? I had to do better-“ she rambled like she always did. Normally you’d let her but not today. “Maya, i could’ve scored. Don’t go and blame yourself. Just like you said, it’s not the end of the world, we’re gonna be alright.” you cut her off.

She looked at you again placed her and on top of yours. “Also.. i like you Maya. Not as teammates or friends. I kind of love you, you know.” you blurted out without thinking.

Maya had to stiffle her laughter and bit her cheek. You looked up again, confused by the silence. “Why aren’t you saying anything, please say something.” you said, sounding a bit stressed.

“Y/n, that’s the most you’ve ever said to me in one time.” she laughed. You looked away with a red face. “Y/n i love you as a teammate and a friend but i’d love you even more as my girlfriend.” she said taking you by surprise.

Maya took your chin in her hands and turned your head towards hers. “I’d like to kiss you now.” she whispered softly, leaning in you kissed her. It was soft, passionate and sweet, just like her.

The two of you were girlfriends by the time the Under-19 World Cup was happening. Now that you’d both got scouted by the red side of Manchester you started living together. It wasn’t a big appartement since your parents money was still the biggest part of your income.

Maya’s dad drove you and your lover to the airport since you had to fly to Spain where the tournament was held.

mayaletissier posted on their story

The tournament went well. Maya asked you to give the girls another chance and you’d do anything for Maya so ofcourse you did. You liked Maya’s company better but this was fine too. Some of the girls were quite funny.

When you were eating dinner with some of the girls you got the best idea. Biking around for a bit in the dark and maybe even swimming in some lake would be fun. You proposed the idea to a few of the girl and they were in. But something was in the way of this brilliant plan. The staff probably wouldn’t let you go so you needed to do it in secret.

You asked the girls to meet you by the bikes at 8.

You were waiting with Maya when some of the girls joined you. The sun was going down but it was still warm since it was June and you were in Spain.

jesspark_16

After the World Cup, where England got second, The Netherlands winning, Maya took you camping. Maya had told you all about her camping adventures with her family.

Camping in France had been a tradition in your lovers family. Every year they’d go and camp for atleast one week. Maya loved her family so she was beyond excited to take you camping with them.

mayaletissier posted on their story

Even after the World Cup, when you both got into the Senior England team you loved to travel together. Maya got to make her debut while you still had to wait. It was okay because you knew she deserved it.

At Manchester United the both of you were regular starters. When you got a professional contract for the senior team you bought your lover and yourself your own (tiny) house. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t big. You got your own space, a little home for the both of you.

When the big home Euros arrived, Maya was called up. You weren’t. Ofcourse you were heartbroken but that only made you work harder, wanting to get where your lover got.

Every England game you were sat in the stands, watching your girl play for her country.

mayaletissier

liked by alessiarusso99 and 53.197 others

Proud to have made my Euros debut.

comments

y/n_y/l/n so so proud of my my MLT23

ellatoone shining ✨

keirawalsh ⭐️girl

woso4evr she’s the future of england

maya_y/nfann so sad y/n wasn’t selected

When Maya won the Euros you screamed your lungs out. The usual quiet introvert left your body and you went crazy. Your Maya had brought it home.

When it had all sank in you got on your plane to your planned vacation. It was perfect. It was sunny and sandy and there were restaurants and little shops everywhere.

mayaletissier

liked by lucybronze and 114.719 others

love love love

comments

y/n_y/l/n are your parents bakers, because you’re a cutie pie

↳ mayaletissier disgustingly cheesy

↳ y/l/n_y/l/n you know you like it

alessiarusso99 cute!!

missybokearns girlfriends that play together stay together 😍

letissier4fan they’re so good together

y/n_y/l/n

liked by missybokearns and 79.728 others

the extrovert to my introvert

comments

jesspark_16 🧀🧀yyyy

↳ y/n_y/l/n go find a gf jessie

1maryearps already so grown up

mayaletissier do you have a sunburn or are you always this hot??

↳ y/n_y/l/n maya..

leahwilliamsonn why does your vacation look better than mine

↳ y/n_y/l/n cuz i’ve got my planner gf

li0n3sses45 i don’t know who’d i rather be, maya or y/n

footballtooney11 i want what they have

#maya le tissier x reader #maya le tissier #lionness #lionesses #lionesses x reader #jess park #missy bo kearns #lucy bronze #engwnt #woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #woso #manchester united women #man utd women #mary earps

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chernobog13 · 1 year

Photo

A Doc Savage painting by Dan Brereton. I regret to say I do not know who the young lady is, but if someone does please let me know.

#Doc Savage #Clark Savage Jr.#Man of Bronze #Street & Smith #Dan Brereton

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gayforbronze · 6 days

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someone’s feeling horny on main today🤨

#want it ninety minutes long like a match at man u???#lucy bronze #ona batlle #im sorry what is this about #this is feral teenager behaviour lucy i love it #barça femeni #woso community #woso

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disease · 7 months

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"BELLE MAIN (LES MAINS LIBRE)" MAN RAY // 1971 [bronze | 2 3/5 × 5 7/10 × 5 7/10"]

#man ray #sculpture #surrealism #dadaism #surreal #bronze #hands #modern art #70s #american #art #u

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moongothic · 2 months

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Something about Luffy's insistence on getting a bronze statue on the Going Merry vs the golden bananawani statue on top of Rain Dinners

#Moon posting #OP Meta #Crocodad #Like Father like Son. Just deeply gaudy #Crocodile's branding is so *comically* on-point #Like good on him he knows what the fuck he's about. But lmao #But man. There is an alternative timeline where Thousand Sunny had a giant bronze monkey statue/headpiece on it #Like I remember seeing someone post about how Crocodile refusing to get a proper prosthetic from Vegapunk/the WG and keeping his hook #Is like a very Luffy-esque thing to do #And like realistically I think Crocodile just wouldn't trust anyone to mess with his body/give him a prosthetic hand #But you know. They DO both have horrible taste in everything. They are both in fact extremely fucking gaudy. So sure #(While I'm at it: It's so cute how pre-timeskip Luffy loved wearing his vests... Just like how Croc likes his vests... Adorable)

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leahsgirl · 27 days

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⋆⭒˚.⋆ current wips ⋆⭒˚.⋆ last updated: 2/4/24

just to let you guys know i didn’t die but writers block has killed me off. 🥰

leah williamson

⭑ take care of you

⭑ are we really pretending?

⭑ home

⭑ reunited

⭑ secret admirer

⭑ the other woman

⭑ love makes you do the dumbest things (or just makes you dumb)

⭑ never let me go

⭑ well this is new

lucy bronze

⭑ possessive

⭑ pride on the pitch

⭑ back to you

alessia russo

⭑ the aussie effect

ella toone

⭑ secrets out

⭑ dramatic much

stina blackstenius

⭑ hopelessly oblivious

niamh charles

⭑ baby bump

untitled fics for:

⭑ leah williamson, ella toone, lucy bronze, stina blackstenius, georgia stanway, grace clinton, alessia russo, alex greenwood, katie mccabe, niamh charles, kyra cooney-cross, victoria pelova, chloe kelly and many more!!

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skipper1331 · 9 months

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A Bronze // Esme Morgan

Being Lucy Bronzes younger sister was fantastic yet hard at times.

Lucy was a loving, caring and proctective (!!) sister - she would do anything for you. You loved her with your whole heart and playing football at a professional level together has always been a dream of yours.

When you got your first call up, she was the first person you called. Same thing with your call up for the euros and same thing now with the world cup.

You were beyond excited. There was only one problem.

With Lucy being in Barcelona and you being in Manchester you haven‘t had the chance to tell her that you were in a relationship. It wouldn‘t feel right telling her through the phone - your excuse. At some point there was a (high) chance that she would jump into a plane and fly straight to you.

To be honest you haven‘t told her yet because you‘re scared. Scared of her reaction or rather of her behavior towards Esme. She would rip her head off. And you really-really liked Esme. Nobody besides a few of your City teammates knew about you.

"Not kissing you all day long will kill me" Esme whined as she pulled at the hem of your shirt. Your arms looped around her neck "Don‘t be so dramatic" you chuckled. Esme fake gasped while clutching her heart, making you laugh. Her favorite sound.

Arriving in camp was a relief. You and Lucy were glued to the hips, updating on your lives. It was nice to see and talk to her in person again. Until now you never realized how much you missed her.

The first few training sessions went smooth. Esme and you kept things professional - acting like friends. Yet sometimes you caught yourselves staring a moment to long at each other. You would sneak lingering touches when nobody was watching or kiss in empty rooms. You couldn‘t help it you were just so in love with one another.

"What would you think about if we told Lucy?" you asked as you sat down at the table. The table was still empty only Esme and you already sitting there with plates in front of you. "Tell Lucy what?" Said person asked. Esme chocked on her water. She didn‘t mind telling her yet she feared Lucy kind off. "Luce! Hey" you smiled through your nervousness. "Tell Lucy what?" her tone was rough. She hated when she didn’t know things- especially when they involved you, her little baby. "Oh nothing! No worries" smiling, you tried to convince the defender. Of course with no luck. "Y/n" she grumbled. "I‘m dating your sister" Esme blurted out. The whole dining room went silent. "Does she have death wishes?" someone gasped. Jordan was standing behind Lucy who was about to explode. "Come again?"

"I am dating Y/n" she took your hand to emphasize her words.

Something clicked inside Lucys mind. You dating someone? No absolutely not. "Do not touch her!" aggressivly, she parted your hands. "Y/n? Is this true?"

"Yes" you looked down, not because you were ashamed but because you felt horrible. You knew Lucys eyes would tell you that she‘s hurt because you didn‘t tell her. And you also knew that her eyes would be full of fury. "Lucy I-" abruptly, lucy shoved her plate to Jordan and grabbed Esme by the collar of her shirt. Even though the blonde was tall enough to have her feet on the ground it was still intimidating as hell. "Lucy!" you yelped. "You better leave my sister alone or you will have some real trouble. Understood?!" your attempt to break them apart was as successful as a shark trying to climb up a tree. pretty much impossible. "I'm not afraid of you" the audacity to talk only made Lucy angrier and made you smile bright. Nobody ever tried to fight your sister for you.

"That‘s enough!" Millie and Rachel grabbed Lucy and shoved her the other way. Lunch was over for her. "Fuck. Are you okay?" Worry laced your voice as Esme was free. Her hand rubbed her neck while the other one was shaking. "Ye-yeah" you pulled her down to sit. "Jordy, could you - you know?" Jordan gave you a nod before your attention was back on Esme.

Lucy was sitting in the gym trying to calm herself down. It was hard. You‘re her little girl how could she not be mad. She was hurt that you didn‘t tell her. She was mad at the fact you were dating someone. not because of a relationship but of the risk of you getting hurt. The worst pain for her isn‘t any physical, seeing you cry/hurt that‘s the worst pain.

One of your first matches for the senior team ended with you being hospitalized due a head injury. The cry of pain which left your mouth was horrific. It haunted Lucy for months. "Hey" a calm voice said. Jordan. "Here‘s your food" carefully, she sat the plate down. "Thanks"

While they ate in silence Lucy appreciated Jordan being there. "I‘ll tell you that because i'm your friend", the villa player started as they finished their meals, "that was such a shit move" which ended with a smack to the head for the Barcelona player. "It’s your sisters girlfriend"

"She‘s too young for a relationship" Jordan looked at her with her 'seriously?' expression. "Esme is not good enough" again, Jordan looked at Lucy with the same expression. "Well. Let‘s look at it from this perspective: would you rather have a total stranger to be with y/n?" No reply. "That‘s what I thought."

"Doesn't mean I approve it"

"You don't have to approve it, at least for now but for starters you can respect them."

Only a grumble was heard.

"For what it’s worth, I think they‘re good for each other"

"I don't"

The next few days Lucy didn‘t talk to either one of you yet she watched from afar. It stung. After not seeing each other for months she was now ignoring you for who knows how long. It made you sad and angry.

"You look hot" you said to Esme as there was a water break. "Than-" she started, her cheeks turning crimson. you didn‘t mean that kind of hot in the moment. Yes, Esme was hot in your eyes but - "Let me help you" with a quick squeeze of your bottle you splashed her face with water. "Hopefully, you don‘t become a mermaid" you laughed referring to H2O, a series you love. A loud gasp escaped the blonde who was chasing you by now. "Arghh come here" the defender smacked her arms around your hips, turning you around so you could face her "that wasn‘t nice, baby" she tried to have a stern face but was failing miserably. "ooopsie" catching her off guard as you pressed a kiss to her cheek, you entangled your body from her arms and ran away again.

Beach day with the team; while some of your friends were walking to the ocean others were talking or playing in the sand (tooney and lessi) whereas Esme and you sat in the sand enjoying the sun. The blonde was hugging you from behind as you laid your back on her chest. Under the sun rays she looked like a goddess. You fell in love with her all over again. "You should stare at the ocean not at me" your girlfriend whispered so she wouldn‘t ruin the vibe "you‘re way more beautiful" was your only reply. As she locked eyes with you you saw the way they lit up after your confession.

Even though you were with Esme and/or the team most of the time your heart was still broken. You missed your best friend. And your girlfriend could tell. She saw the way you would look at Lucy - she would never look back at you. She saw the way your mind was spinning, thinking about If you should approach Lucy. When Chloe (your roommate) told Esme that she heard you crying in the night the defender decided to take the problem into her own hands. It was hurting you - so it was hurting her.

"Lucy! Wait" the blonde pleaded as she saw Lucy alone. "What?" her voice wasn‘t angry or rough, it was normal yet her facial expression was stone cold. "Look, If you don‘t like me that’s fine but ignoring y/n isn‘t. It‘s her first world cup.. you should support her." Lucy didn't want a lecture so she turned around, ready to walk away. "Do you know she requested number 12 on her jersey because of you?" That statement made her stop in her track. "It was your number at the World Cup 2015. She admires you and it hurts her that you don‘t talk to her." Deep breaths, Esme, you can do it. What Esme was about to say took a lot of courage to say out loud but she knew she had to tell Lucy. "I love her, okay? I really do. She- she doesn't know that I do but I do. And I want to make her happy but she‘ll never be fully happy If you aren‘t in her life. So please.. just talk to her."

Lucy thought about Esmes words and how true they were (If someone asked her, she would never admit it). As well she talked to Jordan about them who agreed with Esme (like everybody would) and as the night went on Lucy was determined to work things out with you.

After training was finished the next day you found yourself sitting on the pitch, staring into nothing. You were exhausted. Physically and mentally.

As soon as you felt a presence beside you, you knew who it was. It was the one person you desperately wanted to talk to you. There was a silence for a few minutes. Lucy had to sort her thoughts before she could start her apology.

Esme was standing with Hempo, Chloe and Alex. Even though she knew that Alex was talking, she couldn‘t listen. She tried but her gaze kept glanzing to you. "Are they gonna make up?" Lauren asked as she saw Esme looking towards you. "I hope they do."

"I‘m so proud of you." the Barcelona player started "and i‘m sorry" she wasn‘t looking at you and you weren‘t either. You both stared straight forward. "You were a bitch" you stated. "All- all I wanted was your support" tears started to build up but you didn‘t dare to let them leave your eyes. "I know and i‘m truly sorry but you have to understand-"

"What?! What do I have to understand?! You should love me unconditionally! Not matter what," your voice started to get louder with each word.

"Stop right there! I won‘t be accused of not doing so. I was there when you had your first football match. I spent hours playing with you. I was there at every important game of yours." by now her voice was also loud. "It was me who was there every step of the way. It was me!" Well, the tears you tried not to spill were running down your cheeks faster than you liked. "Then what do I have to understand?" your voice was back quiet. Small. "I am your big sister. I need to protect you" her voice level back to normal. "Esme won‘t hurt me" you laid your head on Lucys shoulder while her arm went around your back. "I know. She‘s a good one" your gaze wandered to your love who was already looking at you with a smile on her face. "She is"

Maybe things weren‘t fully solved yet, but for the beginning it was a step in the right direction. And with the Bronze sisters back as a team and a World Cup ahead it could only get better.

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#esme morgan x reader #esme morgan #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #man city women #lucy bronze #woso imagine #engwnt #lionesses #engwnt x reader #lionesses x reader

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