Don’t Change Your Dream. Change The World.

22 Questions (or 20)

Answer 22 questions, tag 22 people. Thank you so much @winksy8 for tagging me!

Nicknames: don’t have any

Height: 5’2 or 1.58m (I’m short)

Last movie I saw: I can’t even remember. Probably something recommended to me on Netflix but I have a terrible memory

Last thing I googled: ‘marxisim and stalin’ because I read a thing

Favourite musician: I don’t really have one tbh. I just like individual songs. Tom Odell maybe? I don’t know

Song stuck in my head: Congratulations that pewdiepie, roomie and boyinaband song don’t judge

Other blogs?: well I had about 6 originally but accidentally deleted the entire account so no

Following: 54

Followers: 63 (which is insane because I’ve had this blog for just a few days)

Amount of asks: that I get generally? I get a few a day about writing prompts but that aren’t that I’ve only ever had one. Currently I have 3

Lucky numbers: I don’t really believe in luck or anything so I don’t have one

What are you wearing?: leggings and a big t shirt

Dream job: theoretical physicist

Dream trip: not sure. I want to visit Israel. And then apart from that it’s less about the country and more about visiting places within it. I don’t really have a dream trip though

Favourite food: red grapes

Instruments: I can play the flute at grade 7. I can play the violin, clarinet and guitar badly. And the piano averagely

Languages: English. I have a gcse in french but can’t speak it. I want to learn Italian (I know some basics) and Hebrew (I know some basics). I like languages I’m just not committed enough to learn them

Favourite song: like with favourite musician, I don’t really have one. It changes. I tend to get obsessed with a song and listen to only that song for a week before getting sick of it and finding a new one

Random fact: mangoes originated in Southern Asia

Aesthetic: being a failure

I’d tag people but I’d feel annoying even though personally I love being tagged in things, so I tag everyone who wants to do it

Any ideas for a multi-chapter story?

john stones + bernardo silva

Hey babe do you write for footballers other than John ? I’m sorry i just followed you right now and didn’t go through your blog yet. If yes would you write some Sancho imagines ? Whatever you feel like writing. Love 💗

I write for basically everyone I’m requested provided I know of them and am comfortable doing the request! I have a few Jadon asks in my inbox so I’ll get around to them, though I don’t know him very well so I’ll probably watch some videos beforehand ❤️

Drunk Stonsey based on the videos you reblogged 🤗😏

So as we all know well, he’s a happy, carefree mess when he’s drunk and obviously he’s wanting you to join him in everything he does so he’s pulling you up with him to dance and you’re giggling and embarrassed but oh so in love that you don’t even care and you’re letting him dance around you whilst everyone films it, and you’re letting him wrap his arms around your waist constantly, and you’re letting him leave sloppy kisses on your cheek, and you’re letting him whisper nonsense in your ear because how could you not with that goofy grin he has.

John accidentally telling you he wants you to have his babies one day while laying around having a lazy Sunday

you’re lying on the sofa, a crap Netflix film on, hot mug in one hand and playing with your sock in the other. And he’s sat next to you, eyes vaguely staring at the screen but definitely not watching and it’s out of nowhere that he says it, just a quiet muttering of ‘I can’t wait until where doing this as a family’ and you’re taken aback, thinking you’ve misheard at first because he’s never expressed that want with you before. But by the way he’s staring at you - all warm and content - you can tell it’s sincere so you’re smiling back, sock being forgotten, reaching for his hand and giving it a squeeze - ‘I’d like that too’

more smutty stonesy please !! Your amazing love x

aww thank you anon, it’s a longer one x

Running around a football pitch for ninety minutes can be tiring, a fact you came to know because of the aftermath of John’s matches - him falling exhausted into bed the minute he got home, regardless of if you were there or not. So, as much as you loved watching your man run about for ninety minutes, goal line clearances left and right, you relished the games he was a sub or he didn’t play - you loved a riled up John wanting to blow of steam. So when he pulled you hurriedly to his car after the game, hair wet from his post-game shower and adrenaline coursing through his veins from the 20 minutes he played, you didn’t resist one bit, your own car left forgotten. And he drove hurdily through the streets, navigating his way back to his house and you squeezed your thighs together in anticipation, glancing over at John, who’s eyes were firmly fixed in the road. And then you decided to have some fun. It started off innocent. A small brush over his thigh, smirking to yourself at his tightening hands on the steering wheel. And you moved up and across, fingers skimming his bulge, hands on the steering wheel going white, smirk on your face growing as you pushed down his joggers, palming him through his underwear. His moan filled the quiet car and it was enough to get you to place your mouth around him in a state of passion, engulfing his entirety immediately, wanting to waste no time, and he squirmed beneath you, growling into the air, foot letting up on the gas pedal, as you gained rhythm. One white knuckle off the wheel, into your hair, pushing and pulling your head how he wants, and it was lustful and passionate and interrupted by the loud honking of a car horn behind you. And you jumped up in shock, John practically having stopped in the road, and you laughed to yourself as John hurriedly collected himself and drove on, definitely breaking the speed limit and both squirming at the thought of the rest of the night - and it’ll be a long one.

Playing football at st. Georges park with the three lions and they’re letting you win and you’re so bloody annoyed and del is like babying you and it just so cute xxxxxx

And your frustratedly hitting the grass as dele strolls over and sticks his hand out: ‘come on, love’ and you’re refusing his hand, standing up yourself and crossing your arms over your chest. ‘Del, stop letting me win’ and he’s stuttering out a ‘no idea what you’re talking about’ and Eric is yelling over at the two of you to hurry up, dele grabbing your hand and tugging you back. ‘Eric, tell Del to stop letting me win’ and Eric’s laughing at Dele’s indignation; ‘she’s not stupid dele, she knows she couldn’t win unless we let her’. Game on Dier

actually fuck off