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writingjourney · 1 year

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soft, sleepy sex with the papas

summary: Four short-ish scenarios, one for each Papa, in which you get to do some crossword-solving with Primo, come home after a night-out with Secondo, wake up with Terzo or watch a movie with Copia.

content: 4.8k words in total (each is 1k-1.4k words), f!readers, sort of established relationships, dom/sub undertones if you squint, obviously these contain smut, more detailed warnings in each part, 18+ MDNI

Masterlist – Ao3 link

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Primo

content: p in v because peepaw can still get it

Half-asleep on Primo’s bare chest, you draw lazy patterns into the fuzzy hair on his left pec, your palm resting just above his steady heartbeat. He keeps one arm wrapped around your shoulder, holding a weathered little book that is open on a half-done crossword puzzle, while his other hand slowly fills in the empty squares. It’s Italian, so you gave up trying to help him a while ago, dozing to the sound of graphite scratching on paper.

But you know you won’t sleep yet. There is a gentle but very persistent simmer in the pit of your stomach. You’ve wanted your Papa all day but when he got home earlier, tired and irritable after an argument with Sister, you hadn’t wanted to bring it up. Now, after a light dinner and some restful time with you curled up against him, he seems a lot calmer.

Inhaling his slightly herbal scent, you decide to at least try – he’s going to let you know if he’s not up for it. A kiss to his wrinkly neck and your fingers start trailing from his chest down to his belly. Slow circles with your index and middle finger, caressing the saggy skin with as much affection as you can pour into such a delicate touch.

You feel him stir, so you move your hand further down, stroking his abdomen. A soft hum deep inside his chest. His hand sinks, the pencil slipping from his fingers. It’s your cue to keep going, so you toy with the hem of his pajama pants. When you let your hand slip beneath the elastic, you’re excited to find him half-hard, curved against the left side of his pelvis.

He’d been struggling with intimacy as of late – his age, all the hard work and general worries catching up with him, a sort of vicious cycle that led to some changes in your shared bedroom. He takes care of you in other ways, very generously, but tonight, for once, he seems truly relaxed, and you feel him slowly harden against your palm.

“Do you feel good?” you whisper. “Should I keep going?”

“Mhm.”

You stamp wet kisses down his neck, sucking on the spot that always makes him shudder. You continue to slowly stroke him, a leisurely pace, until he’s fully hard and leaking onto your fingers.

“I thought you are tired,” he murmurs.

You smile. “I am, but I just miss you so much.”

“I’m right here, la mia rosa. Every night.”

More kisses. You softly suck on the spot below his jaw, and his hips buck up into your touch. “You know what I mean, Papa.”

Primo draws a sharp breath, the arm he had wrapped around you slowly uncurling as he throws the book across the bed. His hand moves to your ass, a tight squeeze and he urges you to move closer. You crawl on top of him, hot, liquid excitement flowing through your veins at the prospect of finally having him inside of you again.

With one hand, you prop yourself up on his chest while you move your sleeping shorts out of the way with the other. You settle on his cock, rubbing your wet folds over his length and slicking it with your arousal. You grind on him a few times and you both gasp at the feeling. His hands fly to your hips, sharp fingernails digging deeper into your flesh when you finally place him at your entrance. He slips inside, the stretch immensely rewarding after going without it for so long, and despite the sleepiness still clinging to you, you try your best to move on him. Limited energy has you resting your upper body on his, chest against chest, only separated by your shirt. You lean in for a kiss as you slowly roll your hips. The pace you’re setting with your mouth as well as your body is slow, almost sluggish, but even so you can feel the ripples of pleasure all over your body.

“Amore?” Primo whispers against your lips and you hum into his mouth. “I missed you, too.”

And then he’s suddenly thrusting up into you. You moan against his tongue and he does it again, chuckling as you keen and cling to the headboard. A shudder tears through your whole body and your mouth slips from his, your face slotting against his neck instead when he gives another thrust.

Primo wraps his arms around you in a hug. “You’re tired, let me do the rest.”

You want to protest, remind him of his back issues and the pain he’d felt in his hip joint all week, but he’s already rolling you over. He knows you wouldn’t have been able to cum from your slow movements alone and he also knows you wouldn’t have minded, but he always tells you that making you cum is the highest form of worship for him. And Primo loves to worship.

As soon as he’s on top of you he shifts into position, propped up on his elbows on either side of you pushing back into your dripping entrance very slowly. You hold him steady, arms wrapped around his shoulder to try and keep him for overexerting himself. His rhythm isn’t much faster than yours, but his movements are more deliberate – precise thrusts hitting you exactly where you need him. Already you clench around him, moaning as more pleasure pools into your lower belly.

Primo is breathing heavily and the frequency of his pants tells you he’s close.

“Touch yourself for your Papa, amore,” he whispers.

You move your hands between your bodies and start to rub your clit. It doesn’t take much until you completely let go. You come almost simultaneously, moaning into each others skin as your bodies tremble with pleasure. You can feel his hot seed dripping out of you when he shifts, a sharp hiss as you eventually untangle your limbs.

Primo slowly, carefully, rolls off of you, sinking back into his pillow with a low, pained hmpf. You lean over and open your mouth to ask if he’s okay but he’s already waving his hand to stop you, a delighted sigh leaving his lips as his body relaxes. You snuggle back into him, kissing the hot, sweaty skin on his cheek. This has exhausted him but the blissful expression on his usually so grim face tells you he won’t regret it no matter how much his joints are going to hurt tomorrow.

“I love you, la mia rosa,” he mumbles into your hair. “Thank you for reminding your Papa that you still desire him so.”

“Hm, I love you, too,” you mumble, already drifting off.

The last thing you hear is his chuckle and the click of the switch as he turns off the light.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Secondo

content: biting, praise, v fingering, p in v sex, dom/sub undertones if you squint

The smell of smoke, sweat and liquor still lingers in your nose, now accompanied by the sweet and woody scent of Secondo’s sandalwood shower gel. The club had been packed, despite it’s exclusivity, and after a night of dancing and being pushed around by other bodies, you’re ready to fall asleep with his heavy arms draped around you. After all of the noise and the heavy, blasting music, you welcome the soft quiet of his bedroom, the dull buzzing of his toothbrush and your own even breathing the only sounds in your ears.

When Secondo exits the bathroom, the open door casts a narrow ray of fluorescent light onto your half-sleeping form. He quickly flips the switch and closes the door as quietly as he can. In the near-dark, he observes the silhouette of your body, all the curves and lines and edges he’s grown to love so much. You haven’t been sleeping in this bed for very long – it’s only been a few weeks since he decided he won’t let you leave again. Now, as he sheds his bathrobe and crawls under the silky sheets to join you, he thinks that it was probably the best decision of his life.

You can feel his naked body settling against your back, the warmth of his soft skin drawing a sigh from your lips. His strong arm wraps around you, pushing under your armpit to press flat against your front, pulling you even closer. As his hand moves to gently cup your breast, you can feel a tired exhale against your neck.

“As much as I love going out with you,” he murmurs. “This is my favorite.”

His lips softly press to the velvet skin below your ear. A few slow but needy kisses leave a wet trail all over your neck, his hand squeezing your breast in tandem with each one.

“You looked so beautiful tonight, amore.” Another kiss, this time to the back of your neck, and a shiver rolls down your spine. “Everyone in the club envied me.”

You chuckle softly, tilting your head to the side to grant him more space. “I’m pretty sure they were staring at you, my love.”

“Ah, che sciocchezza!” His lips attach to your skin, sucking gently at first, then with more force. You indulge him, the stinging sensation barely registering with your exhaustion as he bites into your flesh. He keeps busy there until you whimper at the burning sensation.

But Secondo knows he is right and it’s the reason why you have this big purple bruise blossoming on your neck right now. He is nothing but attentive, observant, and it gives him great confidence to watch other people admire you, then flinch away when they notice that you’re with him. He loves to subtly show you off – until someone actually tries to chat you up like today. It’s always the same, a sudden surge of need to show everyone that you’re his and he’s all over you, the public setting quickly forgotten. Secondo almost fucked you right there on the dance floor, not unprecedented, but after someone repeatedly rammed their elbow into his side he decided that it was too busy tonight.

But it’s okay because by now the high wore off, leaving him only mildly horny and mostly sleepy just like you. He thinks he wants to be gentle now, slowly fuck you both to sleep.

His lips come off your neck with a wet pop. He pushes his other arm underneath you, fingers searching the heat between your legs, but when he lets his hand slide down your middle, he’s met with the fabric of your panties.

“Ah.” He tsks softly into your ear, pulling them down slightly. “Since when do we wear clothes to bed, eh?”

You groan tiredly but don’t object, lifting your leg to help him remove the piece of fabric. Soft fingers slide between your legs now, pressing against your mound. He’s tentative, sensual, wet lips running over your neck and up to your ear.

“Will you let me have you, amore?” he whispers. “You know your Papa wanted you all night.”

You wake up your voice with a soft hum. “Yes, Papa.”

“You’re so good for me, always so good.”

More kisses, this time to the shell of your ear, your earlobe, your cheek. You smell his minty toothpaste and turn your head for a proper kiss. His free hand moves to cradle your jaw, thumb pressing into your neck to adjust the angle. The kiss is languid just like his fingers working on your clit now. A soft whine escapes you and his tongue sweeps inside to meet yours in a gentle greeting. Your mind gets hazy with his taste, the soft ripples of pleasure in your core, his now hard cock pressing into your back. You want him, need him, and so you wriggle, pushing your ass into his groin. He accommodates you by sliding two fingers into your wet entrance, increasing the pressure.

“Secondo, please,” you whimper.

“Ah.” He stops altogether, pulling back to look at you with intense mismatched eyes. “Being tired is no excuse for misbehaving.”

“I’m sorry, Papa. Please.”

“Mhm.” His movements resume. “Brava ragazza. So tired and still you beg for your Papa’s cock.”

Your head falls back into the pillows as Secondo shifts, removing his hands to adjust your hips, slotting them together. His cock slips between your legs then and you moan softly when you feel it slide right against your folds. He slowly pushes in, using his free hand on your belly to keep you pressed tightly to his chest, the other one lifting your leg up just enough so he can move inside of you. The stretch is beautifully slow, his mouth back on your ear now, and you reach over to scratch the back of his neck.

He hums at your loving caress, a low rumble that gives you butterflies, and then he pulls back, pushing back in deeper. You close your eyes and revel in the gentle rhythm he sets. For a while, all you hear are your soft gasps, his low moans right by your ear and the sound of his skin meeting yours. Your orgasm builds slowly but you can both feel it approaching, Secondo spreading out his fingers on your abdomen until he can reach your clit again. He speeds up just slightly, squelching noises filling your ears whenever his cock slides in to hit that sensitive spot deep inside of you. His own breaths are ragged now but he’s holding back until he gets you there first, always.

“Come for your Papa,” he whispers against your ear with surprising softness. “Be good for me and come on Papa’s cock.”

You do, clenching around him as his words send you over the edge with a voiceless cry. He joins you, growling, hips stuttering into yours a few more times as he draws out both of your highs. Your exhausted body goes limp, only shuddering again when he eventually pulls out.

A soft exhale as he wraps you up in his arms, his sweaty chest warm against your back. You vaguely feel his thumb caressing your arm, the gentle pattern lulling you to sleep. Neither of you is going to move again before the sun rises and the birdsong inevitably wakes you.

“Sleep well, amore,” Secondo whispers, kissing the purple bruise on your neck one more time.

You sigh deeply, weaving your fingers through his, and slowly drift off.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Terzo

content: cunnilingus, v fingering, mentions of mental health issues

A tickle at your neck. You stir and scrunch up your face, shifting onto your side to get away. It’s adorable, Terzo thinks, so he does it again, a featherlight kiss just below your ear. You twitch slightly once more, the duvet slipping from your shoulder and revealing your bare upper body to him. Half-hovering above you, it’s easy to press yet another kiss to your neck and watch your irritated pout, eyebrows pulled tightly together. Your hand flexes then, and he’s almost sure you’re going to swat him away like a fly but your fingers uncurl after a second, smoothing out on the mattress.

Waking up with you in his bed makes him unnecessarily giddy, weightless in a way he hasn’t felt in years. And after looking at your peaceful form for a moment longer he decides that he needs your attention more than you need your sleep. So the next kiss is harder. He finds an almost faded hickey right below your jaw, licking over the skin he traps between his lips and sucking with more fervour.

You give a soft groan that vibrates against his mouth. “Terzo, ’m still sleeping.”

He breaks away with a loud smacking sound, then boops your shoulder with his nose. “No, you’re not.”

“But I’m still tired,” you whine, burying your face deeper into the pillow.

“Aww,” he cooes. “Too tired for your Papa?”

You hum sleepily, your brain not yet fully awake. Terzo won’t let you off the hook. He wraps an arm around your middle, pulling you into his warm body. Looking down with your blurry gaze, you notice a tendon in his arm twitching as he slots his pelvis against yours. You can feel him rock hard against your ass now, poking into the supple flesh of your butt cheek. So this is why he woke you up early on a Sunday morning and not to get you croissants and coffee.

“I am shocked,” he says. “Offended. Mortally wounded.”

“Mhm, Terzo…”

“You know, you’ve been wriggling against me in your sleep,” he interrupts your complaint. “I bet I’d find you already wet for me, dolce. Tell me, did you dream about your Papa?”

Shifting your legs, you realise that he’s right. You wouldn’t be surprised if you’d really been dreaming about him just before he woke you. For the past month, he’s been occupying your every thought, every fading dream, every waking moment. What you thought would be a one time thing turned into a two and three and many more times thing, late night McDonald’s runs, hour-long phone conversations when he can’t sleep after his anxiety attacks, countless lunch dates just to have one extra daily hour in each other’s company… and now actually sleeping together, staying the night. This is uncharted territory but as your mind slowly regains its grasp on reality, you’re more than ready to explore what it means.

“I must have,” you admit. “I often do.”

“Oh, really?” His lips trail from your shoulder back to your neck, his voice a low whisper against your ear. “Well, I dream about you too, my little dormiglione, every night.”

You feel your circulation coming to live, heat rushing into your cheeks and between your legs. “Really?”

“Mhm. Do you want to know what my favorite dream is?”

You fight the urge to rub your crusty eyes. “Yes.”

His grasp on you loosens and he turns you onto your back, gently cradling your face. You don’t feel self-conscious about your sleepy, unkempt state for more than a second because there is nothing but pure affection in his mismatched gaze.

“I will show you, amore,” he promises. “A little demonstration is just what we need to wake you up, sì?”

His words register only after he’s kissing down your neck. With an insistent mouth, he latches onto your breast, sighing when he feels the soft flesh against his face. You bury your fingers in his raven hair, gently scratching his scalp, and he moans lowly against your skin. The vibration has you arching into his touch and his eyes snap up at you. They never leave yours as he scoots further down the bed, leaving a wet trail of kisses all over your belly.

Terzo settles between your legs, spreading them just enough to nuzzle one of your inner thighs. Unshaved, his cheeks feel scratchy against your skin and he rubs them against you a few more times with an almost boyish smile. He’s beautiful, even more so in his unkempt state, stubbly jaw, messy hair, eyes still a little puffy. For once he is not tense, not on guard, and you can’t help but reach out and brush a stray piece of hair out of his face. You look at each other in shared vulnerability and for a moment, he leans into your touch, a tender, loving expression softening his features. But then his eyes glint with mischief as he grins and stuffs his face right into your pussy.

You keen, arching your back. His nose is pressed against your clit, tongue pushing into your entrance, and your hips buck involuntarily. You can’t help but moan – loudly, desperately – and he pulls away with a chuckle.

“Ahhh, there you are. Good morning, sunshine. Not so tired anymore now, eh?” All you can do is whimper at the loss of his touch and his lips curl into a satisfied grin. “Per favore, will you let your Papa have his breakfast now? You know I have a sweet tooth.”

You nod, teeth digging into your bottom lip in anticipation. His face is glistening with your arousal and his eyes narrow just slightly.

“Words, dolce.”

“Yes,” you croak, throat still scratchy. “Please, Papa.”

He chuckles again, moving his hands up your thighs to open them wider before he brings one to your abdomen, the other slowly spreading your folds for him. “So wet, dolce. Your dreams must be even more exciting than mine.”

Words have long since escaped you. Just watching him so readily offer you pleasure is enough to make you light-headed. He licks a broad stripe up from your entrance to your clit where he stays, sucking gingerly at first before he hungrily starts to devour you.

Your eyes flutter close again but not from sleepiness this time.

“Eyes on me,” he demands immediately. “We don’t want you falling back asleep, yes?”

There is no danger of that, your body is burning, muscles clenching with the little energy you have, but you still follow his order. His eyes are on yours as he breaks away, creating space to push one and then two fingers into your waiting hole. You tighten around him with a moan, your whole lower body pulsating with need. A wicked grin and he rubs his fingers against your inner wall, looking for the spot that makes your toes curls. By now, he’s practiced, so in tune with your body that the firm, constant pressure brings you close very fast. When he sees your shudder, his mouth is back on your clit, sucking, licking, humming until you clench around his digits, hips bucking into his face as you ride out your climax.

You only notice how tightly you’ve been gripping the sheets when Terzo crawls back up to you, gently taking your hand in his. He kisses each of your aching knuckles before he uses your hand as an extension to his, cleaning up his messy face and sucking your fingers into his mouth with such tender care that it makes you smile, your heart almost bursting with love for him.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he says.

“Terzo, I haven’t brushed my–”

His mouth collides with yours, tongue dipping into your mouth hungrily. You taste yourself on him but there is barely any time to take it in, your brain still hazy and clouded from your high. When he breaks away, he gives you a pointed look. “Do I look like I care?”

You softly shake your head and wrap your arms around his back, keeping him close. Fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck, your breathing slowly evens.

“I love waking up with you,” you mumble with a smile. “Not just because of this. If you let me, I want you to be the first thing I see every day for the rest of my life.”

“If I let you?” His eyes soften and he gives an almost pained smile, struggling to accept the truth behind your words. But then he huffs out an exhale, pushing his hip back against you. “Amore, do you honestly think I will ever allow you to leave this bed again?”

With his painfully hard and leaking cock pressed against your thigh, the answer to his question is quite clear. You mentally say goodbye to breakfast. There are far more inviting things to sustain you than food.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Copia

content: soft!dom copia just bc I can, praise kink, thigh riding, v fingering, gloves

A murmur right by your ear. “I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.” A short pause. “Chianti.”

You’re about to fall asleep on Copia’s tiny bed, dim candlelight and his warmth surrounding you. The Silence of the Lambs is running in the background on a grainy VHS tape, Copia mumbling most of the dialogue to himself, practically lulling you to sleep. You’re half on top of him, legs intertwined, a mess of tangled red limbs in matching sweatpants. He knows you aren’t paying any attention to the movie with the way your nose evenly exhales against his windpipe, but after the long day you had that’s no surprise.

His arms automatically close around you, squeezing your tired body closer to his. The shift pushes his knee further between your legs and you feel a slight pressure against your clit. Copia continues to mumble but your focus shifts to the burning sensation in your core. His thigh is firm against your pussy and you tentatively move your hips a little. It’s innocent enough at first, a wriggle to get more comfortable. Copia presses a kiss to your hair, a searching hand finding your waist for a comforting squeeze.

It only serves to make you more restless. You roll your hips, desperate for more friction. He catches on by the third time you do it, the hand on your side sliding down, fingers spreading over your hip as he pulls you in closer. You continue to grind on his thigh, slow but steady, soft moans tumbling from your lips. After a few seconds he starts to massage you through the fabric of your sweatpants, pulling you forward so you slide over his leg even harder. You keen and grab at his t-shirt right above his chest, scrunching up the fabric. The pressure feels too good, shivers running down your spine and into your core.

“So needy,” Copia whispers on his next exhale, tickling the skin just below your ear. “Your Papa loves it when you use him to get off, tesoro. When you make a mess all over his thigh.”

You whimper again, louder, higher, too exhausted to move as fast as you’d need to find some actual relief. His hand slides under the elastic of your pants, warm black leather against soft, delicate skin, and he gives an encouraging squeeze.

“Do you want me to help you, topolina?” he asks, voice low and deep.

“Mhm.”

“You have to ask, my baby,” he reminds you. “I want to hear it.”

“Please, Papa, help me.”

“Tell me what you need from me.”

“I n-need your fingers, Papa. Please.”

Soft lips brush your temple. “Hm, so good for me. But you sound tired, amore, are you sure you can take it?”

Your voice comes out in a strangled whine. “Yes, Papa. Please.”

He stops your movements, and you wail in disappointment as he pulls his leg away from you, a dark red patch staining the red cotton. But his hands quickly find your hip again, rubbing soothing circles into your skin as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Don’t worry, amore,” he says, pushing the hem down to your knees. “Your Papa is going to take care of you.”

His fingertips dance up your thigh and move straight between your legs, probing at your entrance. Rubbing along your folds, he spreads out your arousal all over the black leather. Copia hums when he feels how ready you are for him, pushing two fingers inside of you with ease. You moan at the stretch, clenching around his digits as he curls them inside of you.

“Hm, you like that, amore?”

You hum, pressing your hot forehead against his neck. He slowly starts to move, an almost languid pace but his thrusts are deliberate, hitting you right every time. Rippling waves of pleasure run all over your body and leave a trail of goosebumps. You’re getting close, shifting, wriggling. The wet noises of his hand moving against you drown out the sounds of the movie. With your last remaining effort, you move your hips, joining his rhythm.

Copia hums in approval. “Hmm, yes, use my hand, make yourself come, topolina.”

You cry out as you clench tightly around his fingers, the sound muffled by his sweaty skin against your lips. He can feel you shuddering against him, and you slowly turn into a panting, whimpering mess in his arms. With a few last curls of his fingers, he carries you through your orgasm, smiling at every little tremor he can coax out of you.

“Hmmm, so good for your Papa.” More wet kisses to your face. “You did so well, amore.”

You come to, smiling softly at his praise as the room around you becomes clearer. You notice the lights of the tv flickering off the walls. Buffalo Bill probably just murdered someone, but Copia must have turned down the sound because all you can hear is his slightly increased heartbeat when you settle on his chest. He pulls up your sweatpants and continues to hold you against him, kissing your hair so softly you can barely even feel it. Your body starts to feel heavier, drowsiness taking over now that you’re sated. You close your eyes and let the lingering feeling of bliss carry you into a peaceful slumber.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

if anyone skipped over primo I am going to find you and haunt you forever.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. Any sort of interaction or feedback is as always much appreciated ♡

Masterlist – My Ao3

1K notes · View notes

russos-ventitre · 6 months

Text

alessia russo x reader | lezioni di italiano IV 🧸

✘ summary: it was the first national game against alessia after the two of you finally established your relationship

✘ warnings/tags: hurt/comfort, injury, head injury, brief mentions of blood, reader is mid-20s, ItalyWNT!reader, ItalyCaptain!reader, established relationship

✘ words: 2826

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎→ part i ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎→ part ii

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎→ part iii

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎→ part iv

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎→ part v

a/n: translations provided as always! sorry for the big time jump :')

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ quattro

Months later...

It was England v Italy, the first time you and your girlfriend were going to play against each other, both of you having previous discussions about this very game. Knowing months in advance that it was coming, both of you agreeing that you wouldn’t hurt each other, no matter what. You both deeply cared about football but your love for each other outweighed that and you'd both rather end up with teammates biting your head off than a broken girlfriend. A loss of a game outweighing the fear of an injured Alessia, or worse.. a dreaded ACL..

"In bocca al lupo, amorina." [Good luck, little love.] You whispered as your two teams lined up in the tunnel together.

"Crepi il lupo, tesoro." [Thanks, darling.] She mumbled back, feeling your hand graze past hers as you both filed outside, splitting into your two teams.

It was an away game for Italy, so your team sang first, being completely overshadowed by the England team once it was their turn. You could hear the words to 'God save the King' clear as day as it echoed throughout the stadium and you couldn't help yourself but clap at the audience's commitment, even if you were shot a few dirty looks from your team.

When the crowd settled down you walked over to the referees with your banner, shaking hands with all three women before turning to face England's Captain, Millie Bright, who was in place of Leah Williamson.

"Good luck out there!" The defender shouted, shooting you a friendly smile as you took her hand in yours.

"You as well! You replied, now swapping banners and taking to your positions.

The first half of the game went pretty smoothly, a few England players slipping through your defense but it was quickly recovered. Your team's main goal for the first 45 minutes or more being purely defense and goal-scoring if the opportunity made itself available. You knew how football worked, you had been playing it for nearly two decades now to know that whatever team scored early on in the first half pretty much has the advantage the rest of the game, regardless of conceding.

Halftime...

All the players file into the tunnel at half-time, you finding a seat at your cubby as you awaited the instructions your coach was about to provide. You sat there, chugging some of your water and zoning in and out, hearing bits and pieces of whatever your coach was talking about. You swore you heard your coach mention something along the lines of ‘play dirty', 'if they get near you, fall', and 'get fouled’ ring through your ears. It wasn’t the first time your team was instructed to play like that and it definitely pissed you off every time you were told to do it. As Captain, it was your job to lead and this, this was something you just couldn’t stand by. You finally had enough, standing up and chucking your towel to the ground, everyone's attention now on you.

“Siamo migliori di così! Questo non è la squadra che ho captinato per anni! La mia squadra è migliori di così.” [We’re better than that! This is not the team I’ve captained for years. My team is better than that.] You charged out of the room, making your way to the pitch for halftime warmups, spotting Alessia on the sidelines getting some water.

“Stella..” [Star..] You muttered, bending down and pretending to retie your laces.

“Hmm?” The blonde’s head turned towards yours, looking in your general direction as she drank more water, not wanting to raise any questions to her fans.

“My team.. stanno andando a giocare sporco. Please stay safe.. tell your team, amore..” [They’re going to play dirty.]

You walked away from her before she could respond, hoping no one noticed how long you were next to the striker. Alessia tossed her bottle to the side, running over to her teammates and warning them, hoping that people in the crowds wouldn’t notice the slight worry washing over her features. Your team eventually filed out, joining your subs in some warmups.

After a bit, the referee blew the whistle signalling that halftime was over and that both teams needed to return to their positions. You took your position in midfield, adjusting your socks and shin pads, waiting for the game to start. You looked across the field, finding your blonde readjusting her ponytail before the first touch was made, the girl sending you a soft smile, you returning one back to her.

The first 15 minutes of the second half consisted of a lot of back and forth passes, England coming close to the goal but either losing possession or having their shots saved. Around the 72nd minute England made some subs, swapping Hemp for Kelly and Coombs for Zelem.

Play resumed, the ball being in your section of the field. You chased after Stanway, trying to block her through pass, but missed by a hair. You then chased after Toone, who was currently in possession, hot on her tail and ready to snatch the ball from her feet before you misstepped and accidentally clipped her heel, sending the brunette and yourself, tumbling to the floor. Barely a second after the two of you fell, the midfielder stood up, brushing herself off and stomping towards you. A familiar blonde running over and stepping between the two of you, pushing her in the opposite direction.

“Calm down, Toones.” You heard a familiar voice call, lifting your head up from the ground as you dusted yourself off.

“Spiacente..” [Sorry..] You mumbled quietly, feeling awful for taking out your girlfriend’s best mate. At least you started to feel better knowing that it was England’s free-kick and not your own. You didn’t deserve it if the referee were to give it to you and you were certainly going to argue with her if she did. The game continued after the free kick, more minutes counting down as both teams were at a standstill of nil-nil.

Finally, someone broke through, Stanway pushed passed your midfield, sprinting down the pitch as she lobbed the ball over to Toone. Toone did her best to dodge your team's defense, having to make a through pass at the last minute to Russo who was completely unmarked in the penalty box, taking the opportunity to score a goal. Winding her leg back, she strikes the ball with her dominant foot, sending the ball soaring into the top corner of the net. The fans going absolutely wild as Alessia's teammates jumped on her back, Tooney being wrapped up in her arms, kissing the blonde's head. You loved what those two had, and didn't feel at all threatened by Tooney being affectionate like that with her, you know she had Alessia's heart first, you knew your place and you were happy there. You never wanted to be the cause of any discourse between the two of them and you were more than happy to share Alessia with the brunette who practically knew her since birth. You view Ella as a sister in that respect.

Cheers died down, both teams walking back to their starting positions. You slowed down your walking so the striker could catch up with you.

"Bel colpo, amore mio." [Nice one, my love.] You patted her on the back before you swiftly walked away from her before your fans could question you on why you were secretly congratulating the enemy. The last thing you need is your home country thinking you've betrayed them, especially your teammates, and that you were now England's 12th player, although the thought did secretly intrigue you and you knew that if you mentioned it to Alessia you'd never hear the end of it. Especially after you politely refused to wear her England jerseys on multiple occasions. Claiming that you'd become 'a disgrace to your homeland', knowing full well she didn't buy it when she saw your lips curl at the ends slightly.

The game resumed, the ball hurdling in your direction, with Zelem not too far in front of you. Both of you jumped in the air, hoping to hit it off your heads and direct it towards your teammates. Unfortunately, the complete opposite happened actually. You and Zelem were mid-air and seconds before the ball reached the two of you, her elbow came crashing into the side of your skull. You immediately screamed out in pain, clutching your face as you fell to the ground with a loud thud. The referee blowing her whistle, ending the play immediately the second she saw your body collapse to the ground.

Alessia had watched the play unfold in front of her own eyes, seeing how the brunette’s elbow smacked into your temple, causing you to bleed. Her focus on the game immediately shifting to you, seeing your limp body on the pitch. Everything after that moment becoming slow-motion for the blonde. She sprinted after you, pushing past your Italian teammates that surrounded you, falling to her knees by your side.

“You alright, love?” Zelem asked, also closeby to you, making sure you were okay. She looked over to Alessia, whose hands were delicately placed on your body.

“I’ll take it from here Zel.” She smiled awkwardly, trying to hide the fact the tears that were threatening to escape her eyes. The older woman walked away, leaving Alessia at your side, alongside a few Italian players and the referee.

The blonde leaned down towards your ear. “Sono qui, amore.” [I’m here, love.] Rubbing her hand down your side, hoping to soothe you somehow.

It wasn’t long until the medics arrived, crouching down beside your girlfriend and asking what happened. “Che è successo?” [What happened?]

“È stata colpita in faccia.” [She got hit in the face.] The striker replied, her hands never leaving your side, in fact, one of her hands was now laced with yours, her thumb soothing the back of your hand.

The medics moved closer to you, trying to observe the section of your head that collided with Zelem’s arm. Alessia carefully helped you sit up, crouching behind you as her hands soothed down your back. You could barely keep your eyes open, your head throbbing, and everything around you fuzzy. Noise echoing through your ears but you couldn’t make out any of it, only barely able to recognise the sound of Alessia’s voice and her adorable Maidenstone accent, just the muffled sounds of her speaking to someone. The medic gently grabbed your face, tilting it to the side seeing blood trailing down to your cheek, pulling out a cloth to clean you up, the blonde taking liberty in holding it there on your wound afterward. After you were cleaned up the medic looked into your eyes, noticing that they were very dilated. She looked up to the referee who was stood nearby.

“She might have a concussion, she needs to be taken off to be examined.” The referee nodded, signalling the sidelines that a sub is needed.

Your girlfriend took notice of your lack of response, shifting herself so she was facing your side and carefully cradling you in her arms. Standing up slowly so your head didn’t explode, she carried you off the pitch in her arms, earning both of you applause that roared throughout the stadium. You hid your face in the blonde’s neck, trying to block out the blinding stadium lights and cringing at the noise of the fans, being hypersensitive to pretty much everything since you hit the floor.

You weren’t really sure what happened next, just feeling your limp body being carried, by who you assumed was still your girlfriend, and laid down on the examination table to rest. The room was left dark and in silence as you felt your body sink into the padding of the table.

The final whistle was blown, announcing that England had won 2-0 against Italy, the entire stadium of Wembley erupting into celebrations. But all Alessia could think of was you, absolutely booking it to the Italy locker room to find you. She ran throughout the building searching for you, finally seeing you through the small window on the door that separated the two of you. The blonde quietly entered the room, a hand coming to delicately stroke your back, as she walked around the table until she reached your face.

“Amore..” Her soft hand came to caress your face. “..amore abbiamo vinto.” [..love we won.]

You nuzzle your face against the blonde’s hand, finding comfort in her touch. “Mmm.. s’good..” You slurred, your brain feeling like jelly as you laid there miserable.

The striker quietly pulled a chair over, now able to rest her arms and chin on the examination table to be closer to you, your noses mere inches away from each other. Her hand resumed it’s original position, cupping your face delicately as you lay in pain.

“I scored a screamer for you, baby..” She whispered, seeing a faint smile curl at your lips.

“La mia ragazza stella..” [My star girl..] You hummed back, your eyes just barely open enough to look back at her, seeing her cheeks turn pink.

“Tesoro..” [Darling..] You hand reached for the blonde, finding purchase on her soft cheek, soothing your thumb over her beautiful skin.

Alessia leaned in closer, your foreheads nearly touching as she laid her head down beside you. “Hmm?”

“Don’t you want to celebrate with your team..?” You mumbled, your brain feeling worse the more you had to think proper thoughts.

"No.. I want to be here with you, amore mio." [my love.] She edged her face closer to yours, placing a delicate kiss to your nose, blush slowly filled your cheeks.

"Come on.. let's get you home." She cooed, grabbing your kitbag that was on the side, holding her hands out to help you sit up.

You sat up slowly, feeling the throbbing pain resume once you were upright, a hand coming to clutch at your face as you winced in pain. The blonde walked towards you, slotting her body between your legs, taking them in her hands and wrapping them around her torso, then finally pulling you close to her chest and wrapping your arms around her neck. She carefully slid you off the table and carried you out of the room.

"Keep your eyes closed, love." She mumbled, rubbing soothing patterns at the base of your neck as she navigated her way out of the building to her team bus.

The striker carried you all the way to her team bus, seeing Sarina waiting outside for her players, the coach's brows knitting together as she tried to figure out why one of her players was carrying an Italian player.

"Hey.." She whispered to the older woman. "..could you do me a favour and ask the girls to dial it down before I walk in there. [y/n].. my love.. she has a concussion and I don't want her to be alone in her team hotel room suffering. I'm gonna take her home." The blonde admitted, her face bright red as she had never really admitted that out loud before, only really to her closest friends.

"Sure." Sarina nodded, walking into the coach to make the announcement.

When she finished she walked back out, helping escort Alessia onto the coach without falling. The striker carried you down the aisle, you feeling sympathetic pats on your back as she walked past her teammates, one of them being Ella and the other being Zelem. She took you to the back of the bus, a place where no one was occupying carefully helping you lay down in her lap as the coach began to move.

You tucked your face away in your girlfriend's lower stomach, gently pressing your forehead against it as you hoped that the coach lights above your head would stop beaming through your eyelids that for whatever reason today seem to be as thin as paper, practically begging internally for the ache to leave you alone or knock you out. You honestly didn't care which one came first, you were just hoping to be spared soon because it was unbearable.

Her soft hand came to caress your face, your body melting into the woman's touch and instantly feeling more relaxed the longer she kept her hand there. Your hands searched for the blonde's shirt, finding the end of it and pulling it over your face to hide from the brightness of the light.

Alessia looked down at you bright-eyed, slowly becoming a bit flustered at your choice of face placement. Your nose and eyelashes accidentally brushing against her abs every now and then, causing the girl to fidget underneath you. You whined every time that she did, her movements causing more pain to your head until she eventually was able to control herself. You placed a kiss to her abs before settling yourself, everything afterward going dark.

‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎← part iii ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏part v →

#alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #woso #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso community #woso imagines #engwnt x reader #england women #arsenal wfc #arsenal x reader #arsenal women #awfc x reader #awfc

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charminglyantiquated · 3 months

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The City Loves You 🌹♥️

transcriptions/translations below cut

Florence I

What is the urban prophecy? / Tomorrow could be worse / love is in the air... / Life needs color. / Just kiss him.

Rome I

fear is a liar/ fall in love/ be good in life / remember me / in love with Rome / ... / Wish you were here.

Portland, Maine I

Rules to success: / You can't sleep over / Be kind to someone tonight / Love yourself better than anyone else! / Act as if you are one step ahead of the Devil himself / For all the ones who've left there are a few who stayed / I love you!

Breakup letter from Sevilla

You ruined my life / hoe <3

Prague I

Be brave and go see the world. / See art in all you see / till Shiva stops dancing. / I will be sad to leave, it's been a privilege. / Still go.

Florence II

Love is in the air... no wonder we have / smog / I'm dying

Rome II

Ciao fragolina! / Di chi ti ricordi per sorridere? Di te mi ricordo! /Non esiste al mondo un’altra donna che ti può sostituire. / Ogni giorno di piu ti amo. / Forse sei tu la volta che non sbaglio più. [Hi little strawberry! / Who do you remember to make you smile? I remember you! / There’s no other woman in the world who can replace you. / I love you more every day. / Maybe you’re the one time I’m not wrong.]

Rome III

Pensa poetico / ti amo / ti amo / ti amo [Think poetic / I love you / I love you / I love you]

Rome IV

Voglio torna / Aprite tutte le porte con puro amor / ovunque io sarò raggiungerò i tuoi passi / ancora / sempre. [I want to come back / Open the doors with pure love / wherever I will be I will rejoin your footsteps / again / forever]

Rome V

Non mi salverai / ma io voglio te / Non tornerò / ma io voglio ancora te [You won’t save me / but I want you / I won’t come back / but I still want you]

Florence III

Oh what we could be if we stopped carrying the remains of who we were / Who are you without your accomplishments? / Nothing / Look inside us; we are empty / 9am alone butt [sic] happy / In the dust we trust

Florence V

Ciao!! / Sai cosa voglio? Voglio scappare con te e andare dove vuoi, perche a me basti tu per essere felice / Sei il filo di Arianna nel labirinto della mia vita / la musica in testa / Ti amo [Hi!! / You know what I want? I want to run away with you and go wherever you want, because you are all I need to be happy / You are Ariadne’s thread in the labyrinth of my life / music in the head / I love you]

#sentimental about street art again. and constantly.#some of my favorite tclys #the city loves you #tcly

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pwlanier · 30 days

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Vincenzo de Stefani

(Verona 1859–1937 Venice)

“La gioia della casa. Questa è la mia Felicità”, verso titled, signed, dated V. DE’ STEFANI 1926, oil on canvas

Dorotheum

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daegorth · 2 months

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LEOOOOOOO

Leo Leo Leo Leo Leo I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

WHAT A FUCKING PLAY MESSI TO ALBA TO MESSI TO ALBA TO MESSI!!

God he always always makes me cry from joy

#I LOVE HIM HE'S THE BEST HE'S THE GOAT I FUCKING LOVE HIM #leo messi #inter miami #la v mia

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focacciato · 6 months

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Sono state le 24 ore più pazze della mia vita. Sono passato da collaborare con Sasà a dover disdire perché V è stata chiamata per una supplenza annuale nel paesino in cui desideriamo vivere da un po'. Tutto nel giro di 24 ore ho dovuto disdire le utenze, il contratto di casa, le visite mediche, gli appuntamenti per il passaporto. Ho dovuto fare un trasloco e ritrovarmi per qualche giorno di nuovo a casa con i miei. Accolto dalle lacrime di mia madre e dagli occhi malinconici di mio padre. Un passo grande per la nostra vita nel luogo che volevamo. Ci siamo abbracciati tutta la notte e hai sommerso il mio cuscino di lacrime di gioia e malinconia. Sarà dura? Probabilmente. Ma ne varrà la pena, senza ombra di dubbio. Insieme ne vale sempre la pena.

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angelap3 · 4 days

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Il naso e la voce più belli del mondo.

“Volevo fare l’attrice. Diventai una cantante perché non riuscivo a trovare lavoro come attrice. Ero famosa a Brooklyn da quando ero piccola per la mia voce. Ero famosa per avere una bella voce e non avere un padre. Ero unica. Quando hai un vuoto nella vita e un’infanzia strana, diciamo, ti senti invisibile e disorientata. Volevo essere felice, volevo essere il massimo di ciò che potevo essere”.

È stata una bambina con un’infanzia complicata. Orfana di padre (morto giovane per un attacco epilettico), ha dovuto vivere prima dai nonni e poi con la madre e il secondo marito, “senza amore”.

È stata una giovane donna consapevole di avere una voce strepitosa, e subito dopo il liceo ottiene una borsa di studio di recitazione in cambio della cura dei figli della proprietaria di quella scuola.

È già una donna quando, rifiutata a Broadway, guadagna cantando nei bar del Greenwich Village.

Poi il successo planetario.

10 Grammy (tra cui un Lifetime Achievement Award e un Grammy Legend Award). 34 album pubblicati in studio. 145 milioni di dischi venduti in tutto il mondo. E poi il cinema: con Funny girl ha vinto l’Oscar come miglior attrice protagonista. La seconda statuetta arriva con astarisborn.

Nel 1983, con Yentl, Barbra Streisand è la prima donna a scrivere, produrre, dirigere e interpretare un film in un grande studio. Per la stessa pellicola, è stata la prima donna a ricevere un Golden globe come miglior regista.

Oggi compie 82 anni.

E accipicchia Barbra, che vita!

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=a8DE5U6npkQ&pp=ygUyYmFyYmFyYSBzdHJlaXNhbmQgLSB3b21hbiBpbiBsb3ZlIHRyYWR1cyBpbiByb21hbmE%3D

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i-who-has-never-had-a-name · 2 months

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Films the Crows would like:

Kaz: Trainspotting, Kill Bill, The Killing of a Sacred Deer (even though I think it's bad), Gone Girl, Parasite, Snowpiercer, A clockwork orange, Citizen Kane, Sin City, The Dark Knight, Tarantino films, the Godfather, Come and See, V for Vendetta, Prisoners, Silence of tbe Lambs, No country for old men, City of God, Shawshank Redemption, Kubrick's and Hitchcock's work (except lolita bc that's gross), Hunger Games Trilogy, All of Aronofsky's work (Black Swan, Requiem for a dream etc.), Memories of Murder, Donnie Darko, Fight Club, Taxi Driver, Oldboy, Blade Runner 2049,

As for series he would like Breaking Bad, Death Note, Aot and Vinland Saga, Berserk maybe, Prison Break but like only the first two seasons and The Walking Dead.

Inej: Ladybird, Little Women, Anna Karenina, The Virgin Suicides, Marie Antoinette, Lost in Translation, Girl, Interrupted, Everything Everywhere all at once, Nomadland, The Florida Project, Alice in Wonderland (the Tim burton one), Hard Candy, In the Corner of this World, portrait of a lady on fire and Princess Mononoke. I can't really think of other ones to be honest.

I'm not really sure what series she would like. Maybe Ai Yazawa's animes? I'm not sure.

Jesper: Star Wars (the original trilogy and the prequels), Indiana Jones, Life of Brian, Ferris Bueller's Day off, American Pie, MIB, Terminator, Ghostbusters, Scream, Back to the future etc. He definitely likes fun adventure movies. Also a lot of animated movies like The Lego Movie and Lego Batman (masterpieces) and Pixar and Dreamwork's Movies (his favorites being Toy story and Shrek). Also Disney classics like treasure planet and Atlantis. Probably also western movies and he'd idolize Clint Eastwood.

Favorite Series are The Office, Cowboy Bebop, Samurai Champloo etc.

Wylan: Perks of being a wallflower, Ladybird, Howl's moving castle, Billy Elliot, Your Name, Dead Poet's society, Stardust, Narnia, La La Land, Lotr trilogy (his comfort movies), Call me by your name and all of Wes Anderson's movies. I think he'd be secretly a huge filmnerd who also loves A24 movies, David Fincher, arthouse movies etc. But I think he would be a bit embarrassed by it.

His favorite series are Doctor Who (David Tennant Version because that's the best one), Fargo and Good Omens.

Nina: A sucker for romance and chick flicks, especially romantic comedies. The Notebook, Mamma Mia!, When Harry met Sally, Mean Girls, She's the Man, badly written Netflix romantic comedies,

She likes reality TV and desperate housewives, sex and the city, friends and modern family.

Matthias: 1917, Saving Private Ryan, All quiet on the western front, Hacksaw Ridge, The Notebook, Dunkirk, John Wick movies and other action movies. My taste is completely different so it's very difficult for me to think of other movies he would like.

I don't think he would watch a lot of series because it takes up a lot of time. Not the guy to concern himself with entertainment and media really but does enjoy a good story.

Feel free to criticize me or suggest other media. Maybe I should also make a list about the music they'd like?

#kaz brekker would definitely be a film bro but he'd have a great taste so it's okay #I feel kind of embarassed about my headcannons idk why #do other people also experience shame when they have hc?#six of crows #crooked kingdom #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #nina zenik #matthias helvar

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leggerezza-dell-essere · 8 months

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Non bussate alla mia porta per portarmi ipocrisia, non mi serve e non mi inganna; non bussate al mio cuore, non provateci nemmeno son talmente pochi quelli che v’ hanno accesso; non sprecate parole che porterà via il vento, i vostri occhi raccontano ben altro che la sincerità delle parole stesse… se cercate i riflettori li troverete altrove, qui in casa mia vive la "sincerità”… e son sicuro che vi annienterà sin dalla vostra prima intenzione.

Vincenzo Monfregola, Per tutti i ladri di anime.

_____Antonio Palmerini

#Vincenzo Monfregola #Citazioni #libri #quote #Per tutti i ladri d'anima #Antonio Palmerini #photography #art #Photo #Me for apollinares #apollinares 2.0

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kon-igi · 10 months

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QUEL POST CON CUI EMPATIZZERANNO IN TRE (ME COMPRESO) Parte 1

Non è una storia triste, non ci sono plot twist né morali strazianti per cui togliete pure il secchio da sotto la sedia ché i testicoli rimarranno al loro posto (figura retorica gender-inclusiva).

L’altro giorno @der-papero ha rebloggato un mio post in cui c’era l’immagine di una mazza ferrata per ‘resettare’ un pc dicendo ‘Non fare male ai computer che sono stati i miei unici amici per tanti anni! (o qualcosa del genere) ed è a quel punto che io ho pensato la stessa cosa, anche se in modo più specifico e meno informatico del suo.

Dal 1979 a oggi ci sono stati degli ‘amici’ che sono diventati una sorta di pietra miliare temporale a cui posso tornare con la memoria in modo microscopico e con una precisione quasi eidetica, al punto che li posso usare come una personalissima radiodatazione al carbonio per conoscere gli eventi contestuali occorsi in un dato periodo.

Quando ero piccolo ho sempre creduto che tutti giocassero ai videogames, sia con la propria console a casa che nei bar o nelle sale giochi e invece ho lentamente scoperto che non solo quasi nessuno aveva un console per videogames a casa ma che anche i cabinati che erano nelle sale giochi o nei bar per molti non erano affatto un’attrattiva.

Beh... per il sottoscritto le cose andavano in modo molto differente.

Alle console che ho posseduto dedicherò la seconda parte di questo post ma ora vi dico che sul viale pedonale principale di Viareggio (quello del carnevale, per intenderci) c’erano due sale giochi ENORMI (posso confermarlo a distanza di anni che non era solo lo sguardo di bimbo) e mio nonno paterno lavorava li vicino, ragion per cui mi bastava mendicargli mille o duemila lire, cambiare tutto in monete da 200 lire (i gettoni dovevano ancora arrivare) e giocare come se non ci fosse un domani.

Io non so se la seguente descrizione possa avere un senso per la maggior parte di voi ma dovete considerare quanto fosse ENORME il trip sinestesico nell’entrare in uno di quei luoghi: prima di tutto passavi dalla luce del sole a una penombra che assomigliava molto a un buio luminoso, poi le tue orecchie venivano sopraffatte da parecchi decibel di musichette a 8 bit che si mescolavano a formare un meraviglioso cachinno eustordente e infine l’odore di sigaretta che permeava ogni centimetro cubo dell’ambiente con una coltre di fumo in cui lampeggiavano gli schermi dei cabinati come finestre su altri mondi.

(in effetti a posteriori posso capire perché la mia passione non fosse così condivisa)

Ho parlato del 1979 perché quello fu l’anno in cui da flipper, biliardini e altri giochi analogici (che io schifavo) si passò al primo videogame completamente elettronico a grafica vettoriale: ASTEROIDS.

Ora, siccome sono ben consapevole che la maggior parte di voi non ha la minima idea di cosa io stia parlando, sappiate che quando parlavo di finestre su altri mondi era proprio quella la sensazione che allora si provava: dalla visione passiva di un programma televisivo su tubo catodico passavi a poter FARE COSE SULLO SCHERMO, un qualcosa che pochi fra voi possono capire quanto fosse pazzesco.

E quello per me segnò un altro modo di considerare lo scorrere del tempo.

Per esempio, nell’Agosto del 1983 giocai per quindici giorni a Moon Patrol nel piccolo bar dell’Isola del Giglio dove andai in vacanza coi miei genitori

mentre al Bar Sombrero del mio quartiere nell’inverno del 1984 a Mag Max e Kung Fu Master, quest’ultimo a scrocco perché avevo imparato come accedere al sensore che veniva toccato dalla monetina e dava 1 credito

la stessa estate, nella sala giochi in pineta, scoprii e finii Bubble Bobble (l’intro musicale mi dà ancora i brividi) mentre il Juke Box mandava in loop una canzone che dopo ho scoperto essere Sweet Dreams degli Eurythmics.

Trojan nel bar Moreno sotto a una tenda minuscola, R Type al chiosco sul viale dei tigli, Tiger Road al bagno Aretusa, Circus Charlie nel bar della stazione vecchia vicino al biliardo dal panno verde consumato e segnato dalle sigarette, Knuckle Joe in un hotel in Val d’Aosta per la gita di terza media, Wiz nel bar vicino casa di mia nonna materna, Bomb Jack al maneggio dove Diego con 200 lire giocava tutto il giorno e regalava crediti, Bank Panic al bar del cinema all’aperto e New Zeland Story in quello del palazzetto dello sport mentre mangiavo un Paciugo all’amarena, prima Green Beret e poi Iron Horse nella pasticceria sotto casa di mia nonna paterna con l’odore di sfoglie alla crema, Robocop e Xain’d Sleena al bar del liceo, finiti entrambi a memoria prima che suonasse la campanella, i tornei di Dark Stalker con i miei amici al bar della stazione nuova e poi ancora X-Men e Avengers.

Centinaia di giochi che meriterebbero decine di post perché con mille lire potevo andare in un mondo dove non ero più il ciccione sfigato che non sapeva giocare a pallone... ero quello che poteva sconfiggere i nemici e alla fine vincere, sempre.

L’ultimo arcade cabinato a cui giocai - e poi dopo quella data praticamente scomparvero per essere sostituiti dalle Slot Machine - fu Metal Slug, in data 1997, dopo aver lasciato Figlia Grande all’asilo nido nel piccolo ritaglio di tempo prima di andare nello studio medico dove avevo appena cominciato a lavorare.

Naturalmente lo finii ma finì anche col chiudersi quella parentesi durata appena vent’anni ma lunga una vita intera.

Chi di voi è abbastanza vecchio da capirmi?

@axeman72? @renatoram? @ilnonnodiinternet?

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redfoxwritesstuff · 2 months

Text

Sunflower: Book 1, Chapter 9

Tom Hiddleston x OFC Series rated: M Chapter warnings: Tom sticks his foot in his mouth some? AN: Chicks have survived! We ordered 4, got 5 and they all hatched on V day and have Vday themed names. Chapter 8, Masterlist, Chapter 10 ~~~~~<3 “Let me be clear- I am committed for at least a year or until death. We’re married. I do not take that lightly.” It drove him mad that he had to keep saying it. When would she believe that it was more than just a whim?

“Tom-”

“Part of being married is the sharing of resources and caring for each other. I care for you and I care for her. You don’t have to care about me- it would be nice but that may come in time.”

“What if you change your mind? What then?”

Mia felt like screaming. She felt like running. She felt like crying. She felt like reaching out to him for comfort. Instead she sat stone still and board straight.

“What if I let you find us some magical Las Vegas apartment, get us moved and three months from now you get tired of your secret American family and stop paying the rent?”

“I-” It was her turn to cut him off.

“You’re right- I can’t afford anything better. I can’t afford food until Monday. If I let you in, let you change our lives and then you change your mind? We end up homeless. Hell, I can only afford this damn apartment because we’ve been there so long.”

“I wouldn’t-”

“How do I know that? How can I trust that?” Mia’s frustration grew when her vision waved as her eyes grew teary. “You think I don’t want to give you a chance because you’re ugly or cruel or something. Any woman would die for this chance but I can’t. I’ve got a little girl who relies on me.”

She harshly wiped away a tear that had the nerve to slip from her eye.

“If I take a gamble and it’s a bust, she gets hurt. She ends up homeless. She ends up in state custody. She gets her heart broken too.”

“I didn’t think of it that way.”

She scoffed at him and he bristled at that, opening his mouth to try and defend himself. She started again before he had a chance to say anything though.

“It’s my job to think of that. How can I trust a stranger, even a stranger I married on a whim, to not let some little girl who he’s known for even less time become homeless. How can I trust that you’re not going to suck her into your charm, make her see you as a father then walk away?”

“I don’t want to push her to see me as a father.” That was the easiest point to focus on first. “If that happens, it happens naturally. I’m not going to pretend that we don’t have a lot of things to decide on, to plan and work out but that will take time.”

Creeping fingers slid a few inches more. He wiggled his finger tips against hers, lacing them together. She didn’t pull away and he took that as a good sign.

“Tom,”

“If I find an apartment- something modest but without gaps in the doors or maintenance crews that help themselves to tenant’s groceries, if I were to pay the lease up front for the year, would you consider it?”

“This is my life-” People would say she was using him, she knew that as much as she knew her name.

“No, Mia- not any more.” His voice was soft, devoid of the harshness that had crept in. “It’s our life now. We get to decide what that looks like. We will go over what bills we’ll have, we’ll work together and come up with a plan that makes you feel safe and lets me feel assured that the two of you are safe.”

“I don’t want to use you.” She wanted to accept.

Glancing at Sally, she knew for her daughter this sort of chance at financial security may never come again. If she allowed Tom to take care of them, even if things didn’t work out she could save her checks.

“If I’m offering, insisting and fighting you to allow it, is that using me?”

“I’ll think about it, alright?” Mia ran her hand through her hair, scarping her nails along her scalp. “It’s just- It’s a lot, really fast.”

“I know.”

~~~~~<3

She stood in the kitchen crying. There were boxes scattered in the living room to be taken to the trash later. Tom was upstairs reading who knows how many bedtime stories to Sally.

It felt weird to not be the one putting her to sleep. It felt good to have someone to help with simple tasks like bedtime.

If she wasn’t careful, she could get used to this.

Realizing the refrigerator and freezer both had been standing open while she cried, for how long was anyone’s guess, she closed it. It was overwhelming, seeing the full shelves. Tom had kept his word, stocking the kitchen in a way she had never been able to do before.

There were drinks and snacks. Brand new pest proof bins held rice, flour, sugar and dried pastas. A electric kettle sat on her counter and a variety of teas were stacked next to her coffee pot.

Things for him. Things for her husband.

“Are you alright?” Tom asked softly from the foot of the stairs. “She’s asleep.”

Mia couldn’t do anything but nod at first.

“It’s just a lot.” She said weakly. Everything was hitting her now. Regardless of if she wanted to or not, she was going to have herself a good cry right now.

“Is it?” Tom wasn’t sure what to say as he approached.

“No one’s ever- I’ve never. We’ve never had this much before.”

Tom moved slow, giving her chance after chance to tell him to back up, to stop, to give her space or go away. Large hands rested on her shoulders as he looked down to her.

“Does he not provide for his daughter?” That was a question that had been rattling around in his brain since he saw the picture.

“He’s supposed to pay child support but he hasn’t in over a year. It’s just been me and when Ashley can, she’ll help.”

Slowly, Tom pulled her to his chest. “It’s okay.” He soothed.

It felt good to be held by him. The moment stretched on as she tried to keep her tears to a minimum. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked as she pulled herself away from him.

There were things to do and crying in his arms wasn’t something on her schedule.

~~~~~<3

They sat, cups of tea on the small table in front of them. Tom flipped through apartment listings only to have every single option turned down. Frustration built in him with each apartment, nice and basic, turned down. “Why? They’re all nicer than this place.”

She sat in silence as he took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t her intention but she was being difficult.

“I’m sorry.” And she was, to a degree. “It’s just so much.’

“I’m just going to pick some and we’ll look.” Tom decided, locking his phone and setting it facedown on the table in front of them. “There’s still a lot to decide. We can put the utilities on auto pay so you don’t-”

“I don’t want you to pay for everything.” It would be better to just shut up and let him pay everything, she knew that. It would allow her to save more for when this inevitably falls apart but she just couldn’t make herself feel okay doing it. “Let me at least keep the electric and internet- the electric will vary during the year and the internet isn’t a necessity.”

“I can send money for groceries-”

“If I’m not paying rent, groceries shouldn’t be a problem.”

For the first time in their marriage, they sat and talked into the night. The topics were not fun ones. They talked of financial histories, debts, education and potential future earnings. They talked about the cost of managing their individual households.

Tom wasn’t rich in the realm of his career but compared to her, he was far more financially secure. And unlike her, his career was ramping up and reaching for the sky. Tom swore to her, regardless of what direction his career took, if their attempt at a marriage did not work he would not leave her financially hurt but she struggled still to put faith in him.

~~~~~<3

Midnight quickly approached and Mia’s yawns were coming more and more frequently. They were so different in backgrounds that simply learning about each other’s past ate up more of the night.

“You should go to bed.” Tom’s hand reached out for hers. “It’s been a long day.”

“You’ve been up just as long as me.” Mia countered though she still stood up, slipping her hand out from under his.

“I need to be up a bit longer yet.” He wanted nothing more than to go up to bed though. “I’ve got to make some calls back home. Face the music and take my licks.”

“Are you in trouble with someone?”

“No, not really.” Tom thought twice about his answer after he said it. “Probably but hopefully he’s cooled off by now. My publicist wasn’t so happy with me. I blocked him after breakfast yesterday.”

“He knows about-?” She waved her hand to try and encompass the whole situation.

“Yeah, at least some of it.”

“I didn’t know you told anyone yet.” It was weird. They had built their relationship, small as it was, in a bubble where in a lot of ways he was just a normal man who was caught up in a Las Vegas situation fit for a Lifetime movie.

“I didn’t.”

Tom knew he needed to face reality head on. Luke would tell him how important it was to get ahead of the story and now it’s been two days.

“There are pictures of us at a bar and of me with you in your gown. I don’t know how much the world knows but I did tell Luke about our marriage.”

“It would be better for you if we didn’t do this.” Mia felt the earth tilting under her feet as what he was inched in again.

“Maybe, but that’s not something I want to change.”

Mia had so many questions but she didn’t know how to voice any of them. “Marriage records here are public,” was all she could think to say.

“That’s not a problem- I was planning on telling the truth. Or at least a version of it.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I like to keep my private life private. We’ll probably present us as something recent but not same day recent.”

“Should I stay up too?” Mia didn’t know what her role in this would be.

Tom stood and walked over to where she lingered by the stairs. He was touched at how she had opened up to him, slight though it was. It was there, he could feel it- the little buds that could maybe grow into the roots of a real marriage.

Reaching out, he took her hand in his. These small acts of affection were easier to accept each time they happened but it was clear they still left her uncomfortable. It still very much felt like pretend to her. Mia struggled to believe he felt anything but duty in them.

“Go on up to bed. I’ll be up as soon as I get done.”

~~~~~<3

Stand still.

Stand straight.

Write slow and careful.

Be neat.

Breathe.

Mia checked and double checked her spelling on the form. She sucked on a breath mint, feeling like she was a teenager again trying not to get caught. If they didn’t pull this part off, the cards would come crashing down.

When she was sure, through the muddy sludge of her alcohol steeped mind, she handed the form to Tom. He filled his portion out just as methodically. Every time he would glance up at her, his concentration was broke by a wide grin.

He was an old hand at filling out forms. Muscle memory took care of what Mia had spent ages overthinking.

She followed his lead as they returned to the counter. Identification was handed over and then it was time to wait. They stood stoic and still. Every bone in their body wanted to dance, to move and to be in the moment.

Toms fingers wove through hers. He placed a chaste kiss on the back of her hand. Softly, he told her things that went in one ear and out the other, lost in the sound of blood rushing.

“Here’s your packet. Identification is inside it.” The woman behind the counter sounded like she was reading from the dictionary to Mia.

But not how Tom would sound reading from one. Tom would somehow sound breathtaking reading a dictionary.

“Congratulations on your upcoming wedding.”

“Thank you,” Tom said before leaning down and kissing Mia on her cheek.

They had pulled it off. The woman either didn’t notice or simply didn’t care that the two standing in front of her were not just intoxicated but very intoxicated. This was the one test they had to pass and they did.

“We’re going to get married.” Mia leaned into Tom’s arm as they walked out of the building and into the magical night lights.

“Let’s go make you Mrs. Hiddleston.” Tom whispered, grin wide was he wrapped his arm around her waist.

“Let’s go get married.” She smiled up at him, trusting him to guide her safely.

Tom couldn’t help but glance down at the woman tucked into his side. The flashing lights reflected off her warm brown hair and danced in her eyes.

He felt something he had never felt before when he looked at her, when she smiled up at him. It could just be the alcohol but he didn’t think so. In his heart, he knew what he felt was a love pure and simple. It was a love he had been chasing and seeking since he had become a man.

It was a love he needed logic and fear to step aside for him to see clearly.

Love was waiting for him, he had to just be willing to see it.

~~~~~<3

Tag List: @winterisakiller, @alexakeyloveloki, @jennyggggrrrr, @dangertoozmanykids101, @tilltheendwilliwrite @tinchentitri @wizardcherryblossom @buttercupcookies-blog @violethaze @kats72 @soulpiercing

Ps: Sorry not sorry for the blog getting flooded in the next few weeks with baby chicken pictures, occasional dog videos and personal nonsense. Simply put, my pets are fucking cute and need to be seen. But also spring is coming and planting season is quickly approaching.

#tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x oc #tom hiddleston x original character #tom hiddleston x original female character #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #Tom hiddleston rpf #tom hiddleston x you #Single!mother

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