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[cu1er]

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football & fc barcelona hombres ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ᡣ𐭩 neymar jr. + mens drabbles 🌨️ she / her 100% culé est. 2014 !

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[cu1er]

Oblivion — Neymar Jr.

(see pt. 2 here)

Summary: After winning the UWCL with Barcelona, you end up face-to-face with Neymar on the field amidst celebrations as he has an epiphany.

Warnings: Pining, angst-ish, Neymar and reader are in their early 20s (to fit the timeline), happy ending, not proofread because Tumblr wanted to delete my proofread version and make me rewrite it x

A/N: First story on here (& first time writing for a man), I hope the 2 remaining Neymar fans on this app enjoy 😕.

You had been a player for FC Barcelona since you were 15 years old. You spent many years at your grassroots club before working your way up through the academy once the offer arose, and that eventually led to you becoming a player for the senior women’s team. The most important thing to you out of your whole career was your best friend, Neymar.

One thing about Neymar was that he loved fun, whether it was doing skill after skill on the pitch or dancing on a table as he sprayed champagne in the locker rooms. This playful nature of his made it natural for him to be a big partygoer.

He'd take any opportunity as an excuse to throw a party. On the weekends, after a big match, even before a big match, you name it; Neymar Junior was a party animal.

That made loving him even harder than it already was.

You'd walk into a room and see him buried underneath girls upon girls. Not even long after, he'd be up on his feet and dancing, his arm on another woman's waist as he smiled and enjoyed himself, allowing her to grind up on him. You pretended you didn't care, but it was easier said than done.

Some nights, you saw him take someone by their hand and lead them up the stairs as he smiled at them. It didn't take a genius to figure out what happened behind that locked door; the grunts and heavy breathing spoke for itself.

You liked him, and it hurt. Every party was agony for you as much as it was fun for him, but you stayed. You could never justify why.

It was good motivation on the pitch. The need to be the best elsewhere if you couldn't be the best for him was the only thing guiding you on the pitch as you put up numbers and slowly started to perform better than you ever had.

His parties didn't stop. The hookups never stopped. Over time, you became less aware of them, because you stopped showing up. It was all part of you accepting that he didn't like you the way you liked him and you'd never be one of the lucky women he takes up to his room for the night, no matter how hard you wished. Just best friends.

Since you had reinforced the idea of him being a best friend to you, passing him between training and at club events became easier. The recounts of his latest girl became less of a blow.

"Meu Deus, I am starving," he grumbled, suddenly appearing behind you as you loaded your plate with breakfast. He didn't hold back on piling his plate either. You two found a table and sat down beside each other.

"Did you not eat dinner or something?" You asked with an eyebrow raised as he ravaged his plate of food. He shook his head and looked at you with a smirk, "I had a different kind of dinner."

"Ets tan repugnant," you muttered, shaking your head. He laughed and nudged you. With what little knowledge of the Catalan language he had, he replied. "I'm kidding! I didn't have anyone over, it was just me. I'm done with all that."

You looked at him with disbelief until his eyes softened. "I'm serious. I want to settle." The genuine expression on his face made it hard to suspect him of lying, so you nodded.

"I've got training on the field. I'll see you later," you spoke, finishing off your breakfast and doing your dishes before leaving the cafeteria.

He watched you go; the reason for his decision. The scraps of his breakfast were left on his plate as he stood up and left the cafeteria in a hurry, hoping that he'd get to the gym or the pitch or even the locker rooms and see someone else.

That didn't happen. He was left with his own thoughts in the hollow and cold locker room. Every fling wasn't worth the 20 minutes of pleasure. It wasn't even his own pleasure. He didn't know why he kept chasing that feeling when, 5 fucks in, he never received it. He felt absent from his own body every time the door locked behind him and a body hit the mattress. Now it was obvious why that was happening.

When he finally left the locker room, he paused in front of the field. The women of the Barcelona women's team crowded the field, but his eyes restlessly searched for you. When he couldn't find you, he became hyper-aware of the time he had spent just standing there, and he practically sprinted off.

This didn't go unnoticed by you, and from behind Alexia's figure you could clearly see him disappearing into the facilities.

The Women's Champions League was the most talked about event within the club as it inched closer. That was one of the big things you loved about the club; no matter the gender, football was football. Both teams received the same support, as long as you played in the blaugrana. It was also being held in Bilbao, so basically next door, which meant more people from the club would be able to catch a flight and see the match.

The weeks following the final consisted of lots of nerves and what-ifs, but once you got on the team bus, it all disappeared somehow. You loved the bus rides with your team; even though it was such a simple activity, it was better than any real team bonding activity. You settled quickly beside Patri and behind Claudia and Ingrid.

As you listened to Patri's quiet snores beside you, you thought to yourself for a moment. You knew that the men didn't have any more matches scheduled for the rest of the month, and some of them would definitely be travelling to Bilbao to watch the final. Part of you hoped he would be part of the select few flying to Bilbao, going out of his way to come watch you and your team play.

You would've thought harder about it all, but your exhaustion caught up to you and you spent 3 and a half hours out of the long 6 hour drive sleeping. When you woke up, you spent a bit more time thinking, and the rest of the ride was spent engaging in conversations with your teammates before you drifted into a light sleep once again. When you woke up again, you had arrived in Bilbao.

Somehow, Fridolina's hoodie had been your pillow the whole time and one of your slides underneath the seat while the other was barely on your foot and you were sharing a fluffy blanket with Patri that was definitely not there earlier... it was a state for sure. Groggily, you all piled off the bus, your sweatpants rolled up to your knees in pantaloons as you walked off the bus.

The weather was nice and warm and despite the initial tiredness amongst the team, everyone was happy. You had a positive feeling about the final that awaited you, and you shared this thought with Alexia. You thanked the Lord for the absence of the media crew, because judging by your reflection in your phone screen, you looked horrific as you waddled into the hotel lobby.

Neymar had barely escaped your mind despite everything going on around you, but you didn't have time to think about him, not with Ale right beside you, her arm wrapped around you as she squeezed your shoulder. She was like a big sister to you in a sense, and for that you were grateful. It gave you relief, because you finally felt like you could open up to someone about your feelings for Neymar that were feeling like an eternal issue.

As you checked into your hotel room, something in your gut told you that your stay in Bilbao would be very special in ways that went beyond the Champions League. You could only wait for Saturday and see for yourself.