#(like in men’s football I’ll die before I ever have a second club. but in women’s football? fair game. there’s like 1 team I support—

[paverics]

imagine being a brand new NWSL team trying to get everyone excited about your first ever signing but nobody cares because you’re not the utah royals finally returning

[pluto-fics]

Promise (M)

One Shot | GrungeGuitarist!Jimin x Reader 

(established relationship)

Genres: fluff, romance, smut

Rating: 18+ (M) for explicit sexual content

Word Count:  9,062 words

Warnings: tooth rotting sweet fluff, profanities, mild dirty talk, smut, light nipple play, dry humping, fingering:fem receiving, unprotected sex (stay safe), slight creampie, softdom!Jimin

A/N: This is a re-upload after I have taken down the original for editing purposes and strongly inspired by the 200414 MiniMoni VLive, because Jimin looked great and I’m weak for that man. You may need to see a dentist after reading this because this is pure teeth rotting fluff, my friends. Jimin is a true softie for (Y/N) here lol.

You still remember the first kiss you shared with him. That one night, when you met on the playground in your neighborhood, sitting beside eachother on the swings as Jimin told you about his big dream for the first time. He wants to succeed with his band. He dreams of a future as a well-known guitarist. And back then you had told him that you did not think of it as a silly wish. You believed in him back then when your teenage self agreed to stay by his side, and you still do to this day. This was also the moment in which he knew – he was madly in love with you.

Looking back on your last years of dating Jimin, you could not deny what a cliche rebel couple you were. Instead of asking you to prom, your boyfriend skipped the whole event with you and his bandmates to break into the football field of your school that night. But you did not regret it one bit. The memory of your friends chasing eachother on the field and lying in the grass to look up at the starry night sky was as vivid and precious to you as no other. That same night you saw the first shooting star of your life while holding Jimin’s hand and begging him to tell you what he had wished for. Yet, he never told you, to this day. Instead, he said “Let’s stay like this forever” and gave your hand a meaningful squeeze with the reflection of the stars above shining in his eyes. 

His words from this night turned into a promise you both made and kept.

You were there for each one of his band’s gigs in small bars and scene clubs. You were there for many of their band practices, too. And now you are there to witness their first big breakthrough as the opening act to an increasingly popular indie band.

Holding Taehyung’s bass guitar, you watch his attempt to fix his hair. He must have applied half a can of hairspray by now and you doubt that even a single strand would budge during the show. However, Taehyung wants to be safe. “This is our big deal! The most important performance we have ever had yet!” He wants to give it his all, just like the other members. 

You turn and look at Yoongi, who is sitting on the couch in the corner of the small dressing room while tapping his drumsticks onto his thighs in concentration. Having known him for as long as the other boys, you quickly realized that he is wearing his “lucky charm” – his signature worn out leather jacket. He wore it to their very first gig, wore it daily during finals week and he also wore it that fateful night you all skipped prom together. The memories place a nostalgic smile on your lips.

Meanwhile, Jeongguk keeps pacing around the room while mumbling the lyrics to their latest song. He may be the youngest of them all, but he is a real multi-talent. It's almost like magic, the way he is so damn good at everything if he just wants to succeed at it. Eyeing his guitar on its stand next to Jimin’s, you can't help but wonder where your boyfriend, the main guitarist of this band, has gone to. He had left the room about 20 minutes ago, saying he was going to the toilet real quick, but he has not returned since. “Thank you,” Taehyung smiles as he takes his bass from you. “Is Jimin still gone?” He then asks. Nodding, you already make your way to the door. “Yes, but I’ll go check up on him.

Striding through the cramped halls backstage, you make your way to the men’s toilets. And just when you raise your hand to knock on the door, it opens to reveal the man you have been looking for. 

“(Y/N)?” He was clearly startled. You sigh in relief. “It’s been over twenty minutes, just what in the world were you doing in there?” you ask, sensing that something was wrong. Seeing the deep red tint on his bottom lip, you can already guess what he was doing. Biting his lip when he got nervous was one of his habits. And judging by how red it was, he must have been gnawing on it like crazy. Since he does not respond, very aware of how easily you could read him and his body language, you decide to ask straight away. “How bad is it?”

You almost see the heavy weight on his shoulders as he says “Very bad… Baby, I can’t mess this up. Not this time. It would ruin everything we’ve worked so hard for.” A compassionate smile finds its way to your lips. “You’re always worrying so much. Jimin, you’ll do great. I am one-hundred percent sure of that, alright?” Noticing the doubtful glimmer in his eyes, you continue “You’ve worked so hard for this very moment. Don’t dread it, enjoy it. When you guys go up on that stage, I want you to relish that moment. Because this is going to be the first time of many more to come.”

His lips slowly curve upwards as he nods slowly, “Alright.” You smile and pull him into a hug, feeling the fast rhythm of his heartbeat as he too holds you close. “No matter what’s going to happen, I am and will always be your biggest fan” you say. Chuckling, he moves a hand to gently cup your cheek and look at your face. “I know. Thank you for being here, (Y/N).” A second passes in which you smile at eachother, before he leans in to kiss you. 

“Ugh, are you serious? We’ve only got ten minutes to go through the setlist before we go on stage, so move your ass back into the dressing room before it’s too late!” 

The two of you immediately part at the sound of Yoongi’s aggravated voice behind you. You know that he did not mean to be rude, yet the sharp sound to his words really shocked you for a second. Seems like Jimin was not the only one who was nervous to the bone. You see Jimin sending you an apologetic smile before rushing after his hyung. Shaking your head, you make your way to the stage already, not planning to interfere in this special moment your boyfriend and friends would share right before the show now. You could still wish each one of them good luck when they go up there, after all.

From your spot next to the stage you had a perfect view not just on the boys, but on the audience as well. And you could not feel any prouder of your friends. They had introduced themselves a little awkwardly, but as soon as the chorus to their first song started the audience was going completely crazy. They loved it. And you could tell how much joy the boys felt in that moment. 

As the songs got heavier, the movements of the crowd did the same. They even formed a small moshpit at some point and tried to shout along to repetitive phrases of the last song’s chorus.

It was clear that Jeongguk did not lie when he told the audience how much he loved them for being so welcoming and wild. And so did the rest of the boys, bright smiles painted on their sweat covered faces. 

You almost could not believe your eyes as you watched them on stage. They looked like absolute rockstars already, the sweet boys you have known for such a long time suddenly looking so grown up. Finally, your eyes lock on your boyfriend, cooly jumping onto a platform at the front of the stage to play his solo. As he throws his head back while playing the longest note of his solo, you can see the sweat running down his neck and strands of his once well-styled hair sticking to his skin. In this moment, he looks like the very definition of ‘sinful’, reviving memories of the last time you had seen him like this － in a wholly different context. But these thoughts have to wait. 

When they finally play the last tunes of their performance, the crowd cheers loudly – the sound of hundreds of people cheering for your friends and filling your heart with immense joy and pride. You too are cheering as they come down the stairs, sweat dripping from their brightly smiling faces. “That was incredible!” Taehyung exclaims with a voice of true ecstasy. Jeongguk nods, patting his friend’s shoulder as the two of them give you a high-five while passing you to get back to the dressing room. You greet Yoongi with a big grin and loud “You did amazing!”, happy to see him beaming one of his rarest gummy smiles back at you as he slings one arm around you in a rushed hug while thanking you before he follows the others. 

The main act is already approaching to go on stage as you almost tackle Jimin the second he gets off of the stairs. “You were unbelievable! I told you you’d do well!” you cheer as he laughs wholeheartedly at your enthusiasm. “I feel like I’m in heaven, did I die on stage?” he asks as he hugs you tight, his entire body still trembling due to the rush of adrenaline. 

You laugh and kiss his cheek, then his nose, honestly just aiming at random spots on his face as you do so. “I’m so proud of you, Jimin” you say as he’s grinning widely. 

After a few minutes of basically shouting praises and cheers at one another and then making fun of Jeongguk for suddenly crying tears of happiness, the boys watched the concert from beside the stage with you. They even were asked back onto the stage for a few songs during the encore, which the audience clearly enjoyed just as much as the performance prior to that. On your way to the hotel you guys would stay at for the night, you checked the boys’ band profiles online and could not have been any prouder when you saw the follower counts continuously rising on each one of them. 

The other band had invited your friends to an after party at the hotel’s bar and after an hour or so you decided to let them have this moment to themselves. Especially since you were already getting tired anyway. So you went to Jimin’s and your room instead. Honestly, you could not believe it yourself either. The four men you have been supporting for more than five years, basically since the day they decided to practice and start a band together, finally are so close to their goal. 

You take a quick shower and wrap yourself in the hotel’s bathrobe before drying your hair and starting your basic skincare ritual in front of the mirror above the sink. As usual, you get lost in your thoughts while massaging the cleanser into your skin and rinsing it off, thinking about how much has changed within the past couple of years. You first met Jimin in high school, both of you being friends with your classmate Jeongguk and naturally meeting eachother at his parties or during lunch breaks. That was how you made friends with Taehyung and Yoongi, too. Even though you did not share any classes with even one of them, you became friendly with them very quickly. 

This friendship held for many years. You graduated, went to college, shared many memories together – and here you are today.

While you were so lost in your thoughts and washing your face, you did not hear the door to your hotel room as someone entered. So when you come out of the bathroom, you nearly have a heart attack as you see someone rummaging through your boyfriend’s suitcase. Until you realize that it is Jimin himself. “Hey” you greet him casually, a little confused by why he is here and not with the others. Turning around, he beams a smile at you, greeting you back. “Did your after party end already?” you ask and take a seat on the edge of the bed as you watch him collect his sleepwear. “Not really” he says, “I just didn’t feel like staying much longer.”

You are about to ask if something had happened. But then Jimin already stands in front of you with a grin and kisses the top of your head, one of his hands dropping to your exposed thigh. His thumb is slowly rubbing circles into your skin as he looks you in the eyes. “And I thought we could celebrate in a different way tonight…”

There it is. That signature smirk on his lips as he awaits your reaction, just like the smirk he would send your way every now and then when he was on stage earlier. He knows that you like the attitude he holds on stage, that you watched him and his every move closely.

And quite frankly, this is not the first time you are feeling this way. After the boys’ very first gig you nearly jumped Jimin the second he came off stage. You would be embarrassed, but who could blame you? Whenever your sweet boyfriend steps on stage, it is as if he takes on a different persona. His cute eye smiles and giggles get replaced by a sinful smirk and bedroom eyes. Even the way he walks or pushes his hair back looks so different on stage in comparison to the man you know off stage. 

You mirror his smirk as you nod and cup his face to pull him in. “Sounds great” you say before kissing Jimin and feeling the upcurve of his lips against your own. His hand on your thigh glides down to the back of your knee as his other hand softly pushes you down by your shoulder. He leans down to capture you against the mattress with your leg on his hip as the kiss grows heated. 

Wearing only the flimsy bathrobe, you moan into the kiss when you feel his crotch moving into your own, the rough material of his ripped jeans eliciting a raw sensation against your exposed skin. Detaching his lips from yours, he moves on to your jaw and neck, following an imaginary trail as he leaves wet kisses on his way down. Your hands wind through his messy hair as the back of your raised thigh is being kneaded by his hand. 

“Seems like you planned for this to happen tonight” he accuses you with a smirk before untying your robe, wanting to see your body that’s hidden underneath. “Tell me, did you enjoy today’s show?” You nod and help him with the knot in your belt. “Use your words, baby” he then says, stopping your hands by engulfing them with his as he looks at your face expectantly. “Yes. I enjoyed it a lot” you say, not trusting your voice with the way his dark eyes lock with yours. 

He nods once, satisfied with your answer and places a kiss on your collarbone as he lets go of your hands and opens the robe. “Did you like my solo performance, too?” he asks, kissing down to the valley of your breasts and sinking his hips to yours again, pressing the prominent bulge in his jeans against your pulsing core. You sigh in pleasure as you whimper. “Yes. Very much.” Now kissing around your left nipple, he moves a hand to your other breast, stimulating your right bud by softly rubbing and twisting it between his fingers. Holding onto his shoulders and arching your back with a mewl, you press your chest to his lips and he sucks on your bud before licking around it. “What part of my performance did you like best, baby?” he asks, his voice nearly a whisper before he continues to work his magic on your sensitive chest. Moaning at the stimulation, you grind your hips against his and say “I liked it all… But your h-hip thrust during “Lie” nearly had me drooling.”

He chuckles and glances up at your face. “You mean this one?” He asks and pushes his clothed crotch into yours by re-enacting the skillful bodyroll he had shown on stage. You moan and nod, wishing for him to finally take off some of his clothes too. “Yes!”

Caressing your sides, he kisses down your stomach before sitting up and looking at your exposed body while licking his lips. "Just how much did you enjoy the show? Did you get wet?” His face does not look as playful as it did mere seconds ago. Instead, his gaze looked almost serious, yet filled with lust. Feeling your cheeks burn, you guess you must be bright red in the face as you avert your eyes and nod bashfully. “I couldn’t help it…” you admit quietly. 

When you hear a rustling noise above you, you see Jimin pulling his shirt over his head, the delicate silver necklace with the letters of your name dangling from it getting caught in the fabric for a second, dropping the shirt somewhere near the bed before he leans down once again. His face now just a hair’s width away from yours, he doesn’t give you the chance to fully admire his toned body when he smirks. “If that turned you on already… Then how wet are you right now?” he asks, sounding as if he expects you to answer when his hand slides down your stomach, over your pelvis to where you wanted it most. You whimper at the soft touch of his fingers, your core feeling so sensitive after the rough thrusts of his jeans clad crotch. 

“So wet. Just for you” you moan, remembering how much he likes to be reminded that he is the only one who ever makes you feel this way. Jimin likes to be in control during sex. He loves it when you're obedient, like you are his and his alone. Humming at your response, he slowly moves his fingers up and down your slit before drawing small but firm circles around your clit. Gasping for air at the sudden pleasure, you hold onto his arm. Nearly fearing that he might move it somewhere else if you don’t hold it in place. He knows your body like the back of his hand, as you do his. Both of you know every sensitive spot, every little mole and every trick on the other's body, understanding how to make the other feel good. “You’re such a good girl for me, huh? Only having eyes for me, getting this wet only for me…” His voice is deep and his fingers relentless as he stimulates your clit until your thighs begin to tremble. “Do you want me to make you cum like this, baby?” He asks you and inserts a finger into your dripping hole, his lips now next to your ear as he places a kiss on your temple. You moan louder, shaking your head. “No… I want more. Jimin, please!” 

He smirks and adds another finger, scissoring and curling them inside of you.  “More? How much more do you want?” He asks “More, like this?” and pumps them knuckles deep into your pulsing core before he adds a third finger, stretching you nicely and rubbing your walls to find the spot that has you seeing stars. 

The moan of his name that leaves your lips sounds like a beautiful melody to Jimin’s ears as he kisses your cheek. “Please, Jimin! I need you. Need you so bad” you beg, desperately wishing for him to just fill you up with his cock instead.

His fingers push into your most sensitive spot, rubbing it with every following thrust of his fingers as it has you arching your back off the mattress and mewling in delight and frustration all at once. “Please, Jimin!” you repeat, clumsily trying to unbuckle his belt. Chuckling, he pecks your lips and whispers an “Ok” before pulling his fingers from you and locking eyes with you as he moves them to his mouth, sucking them clean one after the other with a low hum. Your breathing picks up as you watch him and you pull him closer by his shoulders. The feeling of his lips on yours is what occupies your mind completely as you share a messy but passionate kiss. Opening his belt and jeans before pushing all of it down his thighs, along with his boxer briefs, Jimin doesn't let off of your lips until the very last second. 

You smile at your lovely boyfriend before following the trail of fading marks and bruises you had left on his neck two days ago down, only to swallow at the sight of his fully erect dick, the tip an angry red as it’s leaking pre-cum and the shaft a width that stretches you so deliciously every time. “Fuck” you groan as you drop your head back, craving the feeling of him inside you so bad, it’s ridiculous.

“Spread your legs for me, baby. I want to see you” you then hear Jimin say, as his hands already hold onto the back of your thighs to push them apart. You bite your lip in anticipation and open your legs wide, watching the way he takes in the sight. “Look at the mess you’ve made… And we’ve barely even gotten started …” he groans, watching you gush and clench around nothing in anticipation of what’s to come. He holds onto his shaft and moves it up and down your folds. A movement that has both of you sighing in pleasure. When he aligns his dick with your wet hole, he moves to hover above your face again and your arms wrap around his neck as he pushes into you slowly. Inch by inch, he stretches you further, the drawn-out moan leaving your throat and your clawing hands in his black hair a clear evidence of the blissful feeling it elicits. 

“Fuck, you’re always so tight for me, baby. Feels so good” Jimin growls through his teeth, eyes closed as his forehead rests on yours. He is holding back the urge to fuck into you right from the start, you can tell. He bottoms out, dropping his head into the crook of your neck and waiting a second or two for you to get used to his size. When you move your legs to wrap around his hips, he gets the sign and slides out until only the tip is left inside before thrusting all the way back in. You moan in unison as he keeps up a steady rhythm, repeating this motion over and over again. 

When his pace reaches a high, his hands move to your thighs, pushing them further up towards your chest to reach deeper into you. You release a broken moan of his name at that, feeling his dick deep inside you as he fills you with each of his thrusts. Sinfully wet sounds of skin hitting skin and your shared moans fill the room. “Shit, I’m getting close” he pants out inbetween lustful grunts and groans.

You nod, implying that you too are nearing the end, unable to use your words as the only sounds leaving your throat right now are euphoric moans and whimpers. Keeping up his fast rhythm, he moves a hand down inbetween you both to rub his thumb around your swollen clit in quick movements. “That’s it, cum for me (Y/N).” You almost shout out when you feel the coil in your lower belly snap as you come undone, your body shaking and your eyes rolling back to the point where all you see is white. 

Riding out your orgasm, you feel Jimin holding on your waist tightly and increasing the pace of his now erratic thrusts until he cums with a broken moan, buried deep inside of you as he fills you with several spurts of white. Resting his head on your chest, he pants in synch with you as you both try to recover from your climax. Your hand glides through his hair on the back of his head mindlessly, caressing and massaging his skull until he moves to pull out and fall down beside you on the bed. 

“Was this the kind of celebration you’ve been thinking of?” you ask, turning onto your side to cuddle into his bare chest. His arms instinctively wrap around you, holding you close and caressing your back. “No, this was better” he says with a cocky smile and kisses your forehead. “And so much better than any after party, too.”

You close your eyes as you listen to his heartbeat slowly going back to it’s normal pace. “I’m really proud of you, Jimin” you then mumble into his skin. He chuckles. “Did I fuck you that good?” Frowning and pinching his arm, you say “No!”, resulting in a genuine laugh from him. “I mean because you’re so close to fulfilling your biggest dream. You’ve come so far, baby.”

His amused smile becomes gentle as he nods and moves his hand to stroke your head, his hand smoothing down the nest that has formed on your head. “Do you remember the night on the football field?” he suddenly asks, his voice almost a whisper. Opening your eyes before you nod, you smile softly. “Of course…” Playing with a strand of your hair, he goes on. “That night, we saw a shooting star. And I wouldn’t tell you what I wished for.”

You grumble. “Yeah, I’m still curious.” Chuckling once again, Jimin says “Back then… I didn’t wish for our band to succeed. I didn’t wish for a chance as a musician. I didn’t wish for anything that I’d usually wish for.” Listening, you move your head to face Jimin. “All I asked for was for you to stay with me. All the way.”

Feeling the beating of your heart increasing in pace and your eyes starting to water, you were left speechless. “But then… We made that promise. I kept my wish from you, thinking it wouldn’t become true if I told you. That’s so ridiculous, isn’t it?” he says, smiling in shame when he realizes how superstitious this was. You shake your head, giggling quietly. “It is ridiculous, because you definitely wasted a chance for a wish there.” you say, looking him dead in the eye as he mocks offense. “I promised to stay with you forever. And I’m not one to break promises, ever.” Extending your pinky finger, you hold it up to your heads.

“Alright, same for me” Jimin smiles, now an amused curve to his lips rather than the bashful smile from before, and links his pinky with yours before refreshing the seal of your old promise with a kiss to your lips. 

"You know... This is the cheesiest thing you have ever said after sex." you suddenly deadpan, grinning at your embarrassed boyfriend's blushing cheeks as you both break out into quiet giggles a second later.

Thank you for reading this One Shot. Let me know how you liked it! 

Find more fics like this in my Masterlist and follow @pluto-fics​ to be updated about future uploads. Read you soon!

– Pluto 🌑

[special-agent-fiction]

White Knuckles and Deep Breaths

Pairing: I mean, it started off as a Modern AU for Athos and my OC (the fics are shit but I love them) but seeing as no names are actually mentioned I guess it could be anyone. Even a reader insert.

Summary: Two people meet, fall in love and then life happens.

Warnings: Death, Suicide, Drugs (I know these are biggies so I’ll put them in first), allusions to sex, smoking, drinking (mild alcoholism - remember I said this was supposed to be an Athos fic), swearing, etc

The flat was silent; totally and completely silent.

He found it ironic that this was the moment his body acclimatised to this damn city and he was finally able to block out the never-ending noise of cars shuttling forward on their 24-hour commute through the street their windows overlooked. He hated this city; hated the noise and the smells and how confined he felt despite every tourist brochure promising that the ancient streets with modern architecture would make you feel alive.

She still hadn’t said anything; hadn’t moved from her place at the sink where her knuckles were now slowly turning white as she gripped the counter-top and stared ahead at the tiled wall above their tap.

He wondered if she’d known it was coming; known what was going to leave his mouth before he’d had chance to say it. It was probably true. She was the only one who’d ever been able to read him clearly; everyone else had seen his family name first and made up their minds instantly but she’d powered on and actually gotten to know him and in return he’d been honoured to get to know her; her smile, her frown, her laugh and her sobs. They’d shared everything long before this tiny one-bed flat had been their home; they’d gotten to know each other in a place where he could actually breathe; a place where for the first time in his life he’d felt free.

Oxford was a lifetime ago now, even though the period of time since graduation could still probably be referred to in terms of months. Two years in this grey city had him suffocating again and the tense air between them in this moment was doing nothing to stop that itching sensation that crept over him whenever the silence became too deathly. He’d itched for years whenever he’d been rolling around that offensively big house all by himself and he thought that he’d never feel it again after the day he’d pulled the double doors of that place shut behind him, climbed into a car and set off to uni.

But the deathly silence was back, and he needed to leave again. He hoped she’d understand but judging by the fact that she was still yet to move, she was having a hard time processing it; processing what they’d become.

The days were quiet without her here and all he could hear was that damned traffic with engines growling impatiently at the traffic lights at the end of the street. Nothing could drown it out; not jazz, not football, not even the haze that so often clouded his mind after a few swigs of his favourite whiskey. He spent every day counting the hours until she’d step through the door whether it be with a smile or a frown as she blew a strand of rain-soaked hair from her face and collapsed onto the sofa beside him.

That probably was where the problems had started if he was honest; he was jealous that she got to leave here every morning and come back with stories to share and a love for the place that never died because she spent such little time here.

He’d realised too late that the booze wasn’t the problem he’d have to face if he was ever going to breathe again; it was her. He was irrevocably addicted to her and now it was poisoning him.

It hadn’t always been like this though, he reminded himself.

Once, not that long ago actually, things had been so different it was like they’d lived in a different world altogether. They had though, he supposed; that was the effect Oxford had on so many – it was everything and the world consisted of only those on campus. It was in that microcosm of society that they’d come together, and it was here; 90 minutes away from that heaven that it had all fallen apart.

Five Years Earlier

No one believed him when he said that it had nothing to do with honouring his family name; nothing to do with building the right connections for the future and nothing to do with his upper-class accent and ability to distinguish wine by a sniff.

He chose Oxford because it was the only place that simultaneously was the past and the future. Here, he could sit in the Bodleian Library surrounded by books dating back to the 17th century and still send an email to his professor. As stupid as it sounded; the place blew his mind.

And while he had chosen Oxford (truthfully his education could have taken him anywhere if simply getting away from home was the goal), it also felt like Oxford had chosen him. The corridors and rooms of his family estate were cavernous and provided more space than anyone could ever wish for, but here, with winding cobbled streets and small-ish rooms; he could finally breathe.

Here, no one knew that he was the last living member of his immediate family and was carrying the future of their good name on his shoulders. Or at least if they knew, they didn’t really care.

He’d heard all about the not-so-secret secret club made up of the elitist bloodlines only and had actively avoided the group of bawdy men in the dining hall. He had no intention of sitting at a long table in formal dress poking fun at people who took out loans to meet their tuition fees.

People like the girl sat right next to him.

He’d seen her a few times in the weeks since the term had started but this was the first time he’d actually had the opportunity to speak with her and it was all because his friend was trying to sleep with hers.

So far they’d been silent, both hesitantly sipping at their drinks while the pair opposite had a conversation of their own; their laughter pulling small smiles from him and her.

He blew out a light breath as the couple inched closer together; now fully lost in their own world, and decided to push every ounce of upper-class confidence into himself. “So, what are you studying?”

“Oh uhh, languages.” She told him, sliding her wine glass onto the table in front of them after a brief sip. “And history.”

“Sounds…fun?” He offered her a half-smile which she returned.

“Incredibly.” She agreed, playing with the glass’ stem. “But it sounds good, doesn’t it? Sounds impressive.”

“Very.”

“What about you?” She asked, angling herself in her chair to face him more. “What pretentious degree are you undertaking here?”

“Classics.”

“Now that is impressive.” She laughed. “So, what brings you to these hallowed halls?”

He’d let his hair grow out and was sporting not just a beard but a slight moustache too. He thought it made him look distinguished, despite the days old t-shirt he wore with an unidentifiable stain on it, and was a big fan of his ‘charming rouge of a pirate’ look – not his description, obviously.

His parents would throw a fit if they could see him now; not a trace of his Etonian schooling present as he fully embraced the lack of rules regarding how polished one had to be to venture out into the street, and tip-toed onto the sodden pavement barefoot with a bin bag between his fingers. God, he loved it here; the acceptance, the culture, Hell, he even enjoyed taking the bins out.

“Have you seen the notes I made yesterday?” She called out as her footsteps pounded across the ceiling above him.

“Not since last night.” Scooping up his abandoned glasses he slid them back onto his face and collected a steaming mug from the worktop as he made his way back to his half-written essay.

Living together had been a natural decision after a year of friendship spent avoiding their on-again off-again friends. Of course he was aware of the betting pool his mates had on them; was even tempted to put a few notes down himself, but honestly, just being her friend was enough for him. Because the thought of becoming more only for it end in a blaze of fire, was terrifying.

“You’re so helpful.” She sighed as she stomped down the stairs and appeared in the doorway of their kitchen.

“Have you checked your file?” He asked, not even glancing up from his own writing. “You know how obsessive you are about putting notes away in it.”

“I’ve already checked.” She told him, and he knew she was running a frustrated hand through her hair without even looking up. “Are you sure it’s not in here?”

“I just emptied the bin.” He nodded to the receptacle. “All that was on top was an empty wine bottle and a few teabags.”

“God we’re pathetic students.” She sighed, padding across the room to claim the seat opposite him at their small table. “A bottle of wine and some cups of tea; woohoo.”

He smirked at her comment, letting her pout a little longer over the whereabouts of her notes as he scratched away on the pad.

“Are you sure-”

He dropped the pen and took both of her hands in his, forcing her to look into his eyes. “I didn’t steal your notes.” He promised. “They aren’t in here.” He told her. “Go look in the living room.” He dropped her hands and retrieved his pen as she slid from the chair and left the room.

He wondered what she’d say if she ever found out about the betting pool. Wondered if she’d throw a fit and lock him out for not telling her or whether she’d laugh it off? Either way it would be the end of their friendship and he’d die if that happened.

He laughed softly as a victorious cheer sounded from the living room and glanced up from his sheet to catch a glimpse of her pressing a kiss to a handful of white sheets.

Besides, this whole living together thing would only get complicated if feelings suddenly got involved and he had no desire to start looking for a new roommate this far into their second year…despite how much he’d already fallen in love with her.

“Are we a cliché?” Her voice was soft in the small bedroom. “I mean…” She rolled onto her side; the raindrops sliding down the window behind her framing her face perfectly as he watched her. “…you’re my best friend and we live together and now…” She trailed off, falling off her elbow and back onto the pillow.

“It’s only a cliché if you regret it.” He told her, his eyes drifting from the window to her. “Do you?”

“Regret it?” She asked, meeting his eyes. “Of course not.” She blinked once. “Do you?”

“Well…” He sighed dramatically, turning his head on his own pillow to look away from her. “…I mean, there’s a part of me that feels a little taken advantage of but-” He cut himself off with a laugh as she half-heartedly slapped his chest. “But no…I don’t regret it.”

“Good.”

“Good?” He raised an eyebrow at her as she grinned up at him.

“Good.” She confirmed, laughing lightly as they laid side-by-side. “I wonder who collects the money?”

“Hmm?”

“The money.” She repeated. “From the betting pool. Don’t tell me you didn’t know about it?”

“Wait, you knew?” He asked with a frown.

“Of course I knew.” She laughed. “I’m me.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I know everything.”

He watched as she sat up on the bed and let the flimsy sheet that was only half-covering them fall into her lap as she turned to the window, her blonde hair falling in soft but slightly matted waves down her bare back. He lifted a finger and let it trace the harsh outline of her spine, smiling to himself when she shivered as he strayed to a sensitive spot he’d found months earlier during an impromptu wrestle over the remote.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

She turned her head, tendrils of her hair falling from her shoulder as she looked at him. “About what?” She asked. “The pool? I thought you’d be upset.” She told him. “I know how protective you can get, especially after everything that happened with your brother…so I figured we were just not going to talk about it; pretend it didn’t exist.”

He pushed himself up to sit beside her. “You’re a good person.” He told her, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“A good person? I’m a great person.” He chuckled softly before leaning forward slightly and capturing her lips in a soft kiss. “Why last night?” She asked, their lips brushing against each other’s. “After so long; why last night?”

“That fucking dress.” He told her, watching as her eyes flitted to the scrap of material lying on the floor. “I had to do something or I’d regret it forever.”

Her eyes returned to his as they both pictured the moment that had led them here: her swaying in her too-high heels and using his shoulder to pry them from her feet before simultaneously sighing in bliss at the relief and frowning at the realisation she was barefoot on a dirty cobbled street. He’d thought nothing of sweeping her into his arms and bidding their friends at the bar a goodbye with her arms around his neck and her shoes dangling from her fingers as she lay in his arms, laughing.

It had been a chore to fish their keys from his pocket whilst holding her but they’d managed and just as a light downpour began to fall from the sky above, he’d deposited her onto their soft hall carpet. And then time had seemed to stop; she was staring at him and he was staring at her and then her fingers were splayed against his scalp as he held her as close as possible and they tumbled inside; the door kicked shut behind them.

“Do you want to know a secret?” She asked, leaning back slightly to look at him properly. “I only wore it because the girl you partnered with on that presentation was going to be there.”

There was a beat of silence between them as she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth before he burst out into laughter. “Ninon?” He asked, his laugh intensifying as she scrunched her nose up at the pretentious name. “You’re jealous of Ninon?”

“Well if you’re going to be like that…” She huffed, pushing off him to place her feet on the floor. “I-”

He pulled her back to him, her legs moving to straddle his lap as their lips crushed together. “Don’t be jealous of her.” He murmured as she settled in his lap; their chests squashed together as he supported himself with one hand pressing behind him into the mattress and the other on the small of her back.

“Why not?” She asked, fingers playing with his hair as it brushed against his jaw. “She’s gorgeous.”

“She’s passable.” He corrected. “And boring and always critiquing things.” He said. “In short…” He let the arm holding them up buckle and they fell backwards with her squealing and him laughing. “…she’s not you.”

She smiled softly before letting her head rest atop his chest; her ear perfectly covering the spot where his heart thudded loudest as he toyed with the ends of her hair. “We’re such a cliché.” She sighed.

“I don’t care.”

He’s pretty sure that she’s never really understood where he comes from. When they met he thought she was being cute by not responding to his full name and it had made him open up to her more but now, all these years down the line, he’s realised that she didn’t react because she didn’t know the significance. At all.

So far, she’d simply laughed away any mention of his boarding school and family estate and he’d thought nothing of it; thought that she wasn’t talking about it because he so rarely mentioned it, but tonight had been when the penny dropped: she had no idea who the hell he was.

A charity mixer in honour of the work his deceased parents had done for orphaned children was not how he’d pictured his Friday night and when the invitation had dropped through their letterbox and onto the cheesy welcome mat he adored he’d had absolutely no intention of going to the party. The heavy cream envelope had been the first warning sign that this was something to be avoided and one glance at the loopy handwriting marking out his name and address had him tossing the entire thing onto the work surface without a second look. He was done with that life.

But then she’d picked it up and queried the ‘fanciness’ of it and he’d felt obliged to open it up and show her. She’d oohed and ahhed as he read out the pompous description of a charity gala for his parents’ favourite foundation and one look at the awe in her eyes at this peek into his world had found him caving and RSVP-ing yes.

And so there he was last night; watching her gaze around the room with wide-eyes as they occupied a small bar-height table in the opulent ballroom of Heythorp Park Resort.

“This is amazing.” She laughed again, her eyes returning to him as her fingers played with her champagne glass. “And they do this every year?”

“Every damn year.”

She laughed softly at his deepening frown before glancing back around the room. “I can’t believe you never told me about this I-”

“It’s so good to see you, My Lord.” The woman looked familiar to him, but he was struggling to place her as she suddenly appeared at their table. “After declining the invitation for so many years it was a pleasant surprise to receive your response.”

He recognised her now; recognised the way she held herself and the insincerity dripping from her words. Yes; she was one of his mother’s cronies. “I’ve been unforgivably busy.” He told her, hand tightening around his whiskey tumbler.

“And even more surprised to see your decision to invite a ‘plus one’.” She slid her glass onto the table and leaned closer – he remembered now why he hated these things so much; if they weren’t tripping over themselves to squeeze money out of you, they wanted to know if there was a chance their daughter could be married off. “Where is the lucky girl?”

He flashed her a tight smile despite the fact that she had knowingly ignored the woman he’d walked into this dammed place with an hour ago; the same woman who’d gained more than a few looks as she stepped in with his hand on her back.

“My girlfriend…” He told the woman as he gestured across the table and introduced the snobbish woman to the slightly uncomfortable one opposite him who was shooting him confused glances as she answered every question about her upbringing with unflinching honesty despite how much she was being judged for it.

A state comprehensive school to Oxford because of highly supportive parents who’d spent her entire childhood saving to ensure she had no limitations on her dreams, was not the average story told when a new girlfriend was introduced to this crowd. But she didn’t seem to care, didn’t care if they judged her, didn’t care that the gaggle of women now surrounding them frowned at the mention of them living together and merely smiled when an over-eager daughter was practically shoved into his face before introducing herself pleasantly.

In fact, the whole thing didn’t faze her at all, it was only when they got home that the night turned sour.

“Your tea, My Lord.” She teased as a steaming mug was pushed into his hands before she moved to sit beside him on their well-worn, bought on a student budget, sofa. “Can I get you a biscuit, my Lord?” He watched as she laughed to herself; tucking her legs under herself as her cocktail dress rose up her thighs.

“Why is that tickling you so much?” He asked.

“They were all so pretentious.” She laughed again before mimicking them: “It’s so good to see you, my Lord.’, ‘Your parents would be so proud, my Lord.’, ‘Have you been home lately, my Lord?’” She snorted taking a sip of her tea. “And the worst part was the look the waiter gave me when I said it to him.”

“You called the waiter ‘my Lord’?”

She frowned at his laugh. “I thought that was the theme?” She placed her mug on the floor and turned to face him. “Was it not like a 1920’s theme? I just figured because of all the jewels and the ballroom…” She trailed off. “Wait…if there wasn’t a theme…”

He too placed his mug on the carpet before holding out a hand to her. “The Right Honourable Earl of Beauchamp at your service.” The room was silent as he continued to hold his hand out to her, waiting for the penny to drop.

“The Right Honourable Earl of Beauchamp.” She repeated, her eyes on his outstretched hand. “Earl.” She lifted her gaze to his eyes. “You’re an Earl.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up in a half-smile. “You can call me ‘my Lord’ if it makes things easier.”

“You’re an Earl.” She breathed, one hand running through her hair. “I’m dating an Earl…a fucking Earl.” Her eyes flicked back to him as they began to harden. “You told me your parents were rich…you failed to mention they were nobility.”

“I assumed-”

“You assumed I knew who you were.” She finished for him with a humourless laugh. “Of course you did: you’re a fucking Earl, who wouldn’t know that from the off? Oh wait…” She pushed up from the sofa and stood glaring at him. “…I didn’t because I’m some poor comprehensive school girl who is only being kept around until you have to marry some princess to preserve the royal bloodline.”

“I-”

“How could I not have known?” She muttered to herself as she began to pace the room. “Everybody knew who you were but I just…God I don’t even know why I didn’t question it.” She stopped and focused on him again. “You’re an Earl.” Her arms fell to her sides. “And you didn’t tell me.”

He too pushed off from the sofa and moved to stand in front of her, taking her hands into his own. “I genuinely thought you knew.”

“How would I know? My family don’t subscribe to the newsletter alerting the nation to new title inheritances.” He laughed softly as she tore her hands from his with a huff. “God, what are you even doing here?”

He frowned. “Oxford? I’m getting a degree in-”

She sighed, cutting across him. “Not here as in Oxford; here as in this house…with me.”

“Where else would I be?”

“With one of those girls I was half-heartedly introduced to tonight?” Eyes downcast, she crossed her arms over her chest. “God, they were all titled and all gorgeous; no wonder the mothers kept giving me the evil eye. They must think I’m such a gold digger and-”

He’d never really thought of himself as the cheesy type; the romantic hero who finds himself in the middle of a situation where he just has to grab the girl eh loves and kiss her senseless. But he guessed he was. Chalk it up to his noble ancestry or his tidal wave of feelings crashing down around this woman but there was nothing in this world that would have seen him allowing her to continue to doubt her worth.

One hand on her jaw and the other on the small of her back, fist curled in the black material he found there, he tried to tell her everything; how sorry he was for apparently deceiving her, how gorgeous she was – not just tonight in her cocktail dress and heels but always, even in his old shirt with bed-head, how happy he was to have found her that night and how distraught he was at the thought of losing her.

Their lips parted softly and he rested his forehead against hers as her own fists continued to cling to his open shirt and loose bow-tie. “Stop doubting yourself.” He murmured, her eyes flicking to glance up at him. “They’re the gold-diggers…not you.”

“Is that even possible if they’re rich?”

His lips curled into a small smile. “Shut up.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and stepped back, turning to head upstairs to shed his tuxedo. “God, it’s like you don’t know how much I love you.”

Accentuating every vowel that left her lips, she softly let out a breath of; “Holy shit.” Her eyes remained fixed on what was being revealed as the Land Rover rolled further and further towards the approaching spectacle. “Is that a fucking moat?”

“It is.” He sighed, hands tightening on the wheel as he regretted ever mentioning Christmas at his family estate.

“Please tell me this bridge is really a drawbridge?”

Her enthusiasm managed to pull a small smile from him as she stuck her head out of the passenger window to glance down into the dark waters either side of the stone bridge. “Afraid not.” She pulled her head back in as the main entrance to the house approached. “If my father were at the wheel he’d be giving you a history lesson right now.”

He saw her turn to him as the car reached the stone archway. “Well, considering I know absolutely nothing about this place; feel free.”

He took a breath and met her eyes, feeling totally out of place as he tried to remember the way his father started this story every time someone new arrived. “It’s a house of many eras.” He said as they passed through the arch and into the main courtyard of the place. “Started as a hall in the 12th century and continued to grow until about the end of the 19th century.” He slowed the car to a stop. “Hence the contrast in styles.” He gestured out to the buildings around them and watched as her own eyes flittered from him to them.

Her seatbelt was unfastened and she was out of the car in a heartbeat. “Wow.” It was a simple sentiment and one that had been echoed a thousand times before as people laid eyes on Madresfield Court for the first time.

Sighing softly at the wonder in her eyes as she spun to take it all in, he too climbed from the car and stood on the ancient stone of the courtyard.

“It’s…” She trailed off, unable to find the right word for it all.

“Ostentatious? Exhausting? Headache inducing?”

She spun back to him, a small frown between her brows. “Beautiful.” She corrected. “Look at all of this.” She gestured around her. “This is literally history. These bricks have been here since when?”

“Mid-16th century.”

She laughed at his nonchalance. “And that’s not impressive to you?”

“You get used to it.”

“Impossible.”

He let her have her moment here; let her get as much of the awe out of her system before he took her inside because if a few red bricks and timber gabled windows impressed her, she’d never take a breath again inside.

“This place is stunning.”

It was the third time she’d said it since breakfast and that was a mere hour ago. But he understood; between the galleried courtyard where he’d found her tentatively touching the chocolate timbers and delicate tiles and the library where she’d insisted on not touching any of the pages of the tomes he brought out for her - this place could be a little overwhelming.

“Don’t you think so?” Her question shook him from his thoughts as he burrowed his hands deeper into his coat pockets. “Look at it.” She nodded to the house. “It’s magnificent.”

“Not if you grew up here.”

There was a beat of silence as they stood side-by-side at the edge of the moat. “Yeah.” She breathed softly. “I get that; it’s a museum.”

“And a mausoleum.” He felt her had on his arm as he continued to stare at the Court from their spot in the gardens. “This place holds very few happy memories for me.”

“Tell me.” She urged. “Talk to me about them; you’ve only ever said that you’re the last one left.”

He turned to her. “It’s a miserable story: hardly appropriate for the run-up to Christmas.”

“I don’t care.”

He nodded once and extended his elbow to her. “I don’t know where to start.” He told her as they turned to face the expanse of green belonging to the estate.

“Well…how big is this garden?”

“Sixty-nine acres.”

She barked a laugh at the stupidly high number before tightening her hold on his arm and forcing him a step forward. “Then we should have plenty of time; start at the beginning.”

He scoffed. “The beginning.” He let his breath mingle with the icy air around them for a moment before starting at what wasn’t the beginning of him but the beginning of how he became who he was now. “I went to prep school when I was three years old.” It seemed like a decent start. “It was twenty minutes down that road and I loved it there. My brother joined me a year later and continued to follow me until we left The Elms and boarded at Eton.” He flicked his eyes to her; watching as she nodded along slowly to his brief description of his schooling years. “My parents died when I was seventeen in a car crash on a bend ten miles that way.” He nodded to one of the rolling Malvern hills that surrounded them. “And I inherited everything…at seventeen I was suddenly in charge.”

“I’m so sor-”

“Don’t be.” He cut across her. “It’s hard to grieve for people you hardly knew; that’s the curse of boarding school.” They continued to wander through the perfectly manicured grass. “But grieving for my brother nearly killed me. I can still see him sometimes, when I close my eyes at night he’s there: eyes glassy and arm limp with a needle dangling from his fingertips.” He took a shuddering breath, realising that this was the first time he’d ever talked about it; ever felt safe enough to soften that stiff supper lip. “I still don’t know how he met the girl who introduced that poison into his life, or how long it had been rotting him before we were forced home for their funeral.”

“He died here?” She asked, voice almost lost in the December chill.

He nodded once. “In his bedroom: accidental overdose apparently.” Her hand once again tightened around his arm in a comforting squeeze. “The worst part of it all though?” He laughed sourly. “She turned up here on the morning of the funeral; the morning that had been pushed back a week so they could all be buried together. Said her name was Helen and she loved him.”

“What did you do?”

“Me? Nothing. I didn’t even know she was here.” He told her. “Andrew sent her away.”

“Andrew the butler?” She asked. “Wow.”

“He practically raised us; was more of a father than my own.” He smiled lightly at the mention of the aging man who had welcomed them yesterday. “Apparently he shut the door in her face.”

She laughed. “What a guy. I knew I liked him; anyone who greets me with a roaring fire and a hot chocolate is bound to be a good guy.” She nudged him lightly. “What happened after that?”

“I can’t remember the funeral.” He confessed. “I was black-out drunk and barely able to stand.”

“That’s understandable.”

“Is it?” He met her eyes and slowed them to a stop. “Because I’ve felt a crushing guilt over it ever since. I came home for two more years of mandatory holidays and then turned my back on this place as soon as I could because every room reminds me of him; of how he lived here and how he died and how I, his big brother, didn’t notice that he’d vanished a long time before that day in his room.”

She reached out to him and forced him to turn to him, her arm slipping from his. “You were a child.” She told him slowly. “And one who had lost everything in one fell swoop. I say you were more than entitled to leave here while your sanity was still intact.”

His hands came to rest on her waist. “You’ve seen me after the nightmares.” He reminded her. “How can you possibly think I’m sane?”

“I’ve also watched you frantically searching for your reading glasses when they were on top of your head the whole time.” She countered with a smile. “I’ve seen you test out at least four supermarket trolleys before finding one without a broken wheel because it irritates you.” She removed his hands from her waist and held them in her own. “And I’ve heard you tell me that you love me even when a million better options are presented.” She pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “If I can believe in your sanity after all of that…I think your childhood grief gets a pass.”

Christmas was a blur after that cold morning where he’d opened up and communicated everything he’d bottled up for six years. They’d walked back to the house in silence; the only sound being the crunching of frosted grass underfoot as he basked in the lightness now adorning his shoulders.

His eyes were never far from her after that; always watching her reaction to some new nook she discovered here or how the firelight cast a sheen over her skin as she reclined with a book between her hands; basking in the stories she’d loved for so long printed on antique pages.

Somehow the house managed to come alive in her presence. When he passed through the library now, he heard her squeal of excitement at finding a rare copy of some long forgotten romance novel that of course she somehow knew about, instead of the image of his father ordering five-year-old him out of they weren’t going to pay the antique collection the respect it deserved.

The garden wasn’t the place where his mother had once stood with tears in her eyes and only a scarf around her neck, it’s ends whipping around in the wind as his father packed for another business trip.

And most importantly, he didn’t feel like every path was one walked by ghosts when he took her by the hand and led her to his favourite places to hide as a child or the window that had the best view.

Somehow, he was reclaiming his home and he loved her for it with every fibre of his being.

“What’s the plan for today?” She asked, her cheek against his chest as they continued to absorb as much heat as possible on the coldest of the December mornings so far. “Are we getting out of bed? I feel like we should get out of bed.”

He hummed softly, his fingers happy playing with her hair.

“That’s not an answer.”

“We can do whatever we want.”

“You don’t have some village obligations to attend to? No church ceremony? No carol competition to judge?” He shook his head, a smile lingering on his lips as she propped herself up to meet his gaze. “Well period dramas have clearly been lying about the life of an Earl on Christmas morning then.”

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “What do you want to do?”

“Me?” She pondered the question once before a slow smile spread over her lips. “I want three things.”

“Only three?”

“One – I want my pyjamas.” He laughed at that one. “I’m being serious; I have no idea where they are and I’m not going anywhere in just your shirt from yesterday.” He mumbled a begrudging ‘fine’ into her forehead as he pressed a kiss there. “Two – I want to turn on the tree lights and let them make me feel warm and all that shit that only happens at Christmas.” He smiled at her. “And three – I want to call my parents.” She pouted. “I miss them.”

“I can’t believe you agreed to come here instead of spending Christmas with them.”

She huffed. “I can’t believe they sent me back to uni with a car full of presents for you.” He smirked as she rolled back onto the mattress and stared at the ceiling. “Apparently you need looking after and my mother is the one to do it.”

“And I’m very grateful for that.”

She laughed. “You won’t be when you see what she’s bought for you.”

“My mother had truckloads shipped up from London with a promise from a personal shopper that they contained everything two boys could ever wish for.” He told her. “I had empty Christmases that looked great in photographs but dismal in real life; my mother was in bed with a headache by three, my father drunk by four and my brother and I bored not soon after.” Her eyes met his. “Trust me when I say that a coat from your parents bought specifically because the Christmas before had seen me wholly unprepared for the temperature of snow, is one of the best things I’ve ever had.”

There was a beat of silence between them before she huffed again. “And that’s why they love you.”

“What?”

“You’re so damn charming.” She sighed. “I should never have brought you home first year; now I’ll never have a Christmas without my parents fawning all over you.”

“They could come here.” He offered. “We could all come here for Christmas so no one has to feel overburdened with work; Andrew lives for Christmas – he plans it all in February and spends the year just getting ready for it.”

She squinted at him as his words hung between them. “You do realise you just offered up this place for a huge family Christmas…every year…right?” She slid a leg over his to straddle his lap. “Because if you’re only just realising that then you are more than welcome to take it all back – I know how hard just being here with me has been for you.”

“I love you.” He told her, brushing back the hair that had fallen forward as she settled in his lap. “I love your parents and most importantly; I don’t think I can ever do Christmas here without you.” He paused. “I mean; Andrew would be devastated - I can’t drum the same level of enthusiasm as you for a string of lights.”

She laughed and pressed a kiss to his jaw as she mumbled. “I can’t believe you just promised to stick with me after graduation.”

“Stick with you?” He frowned at her. “You’d have to pry me away from you with a crowbar.”

Present

Turns out that sometimes time can be just as effective as a steel bar.

Graduation hit them like a freight train and then they were packing all they owned into a second-hand car and heading down the M40 to what they’d hoped would be a glittering future.

And for her, it had been. They’d moved to a tiny apartment on the outskirts of this sprawling city three days before she was scheduled to start her first graduate level job. Turns out that a Classics degree isn’t as applicable as Languages and History. She’d pretty much stepped straight into her translating role after a single interview and despite the bitterness in him now, he truly was proud of her.

They’d moved further into the heart of London fairly quickly with a promotion coming thick and fast to her and soon a two-hour commute on a series of broken down trains had been replaced with a quick cab ride. He was proud of her. achingly so. But he hated himself.

Hated how he spent his days in a window seat with a cigarette between his fingers and a glass in his hand. Hated how the noise was deafening even through their double-glazing. Hated how she was so damn independent and refused to let him pay more than half for anything.

Because when it came down to it, money was all he had; all he was.

So the Christmas presents got more extravagant and the weekend breaks further afield until she sat him down and asked if he was okay. Asked if there was something wrong. And that marked their first blowout row that ended with a slammed door echoing through the room.

It was while he was sat alone on their homely sofa that he realised the truth of it all; he was living through her and it was making them both miserable.

It wasn’t really a shock to him when the advert caught his eye: it was a path many people of his birth took, and he was beginning to understand why. Whether it was the promise of a camaraderie he hadn’t discovered even at uni or the fact that he knew he wouldn’t have time to let the darkness creep into his mind, he wasn’t sure, but he knew that this was the right path for him.

He just needed her to realise that.

He watched as her hands slowly uncurled from the cabinet edge and her head titled back slightly as a puff of a laugh escaped her lips.

“Say something.”

She laughed again, lightly this time as her head lowered. “What is there to say? You’ve clearly made your mind up.” She turned to him, one hand still on the cabinet top. “This is just courtesy right? You’re just letting me know so that I don’t come home one day and find all your stuff gone?”

“I-”

“Don’t.”

“I know-”

“I said; don’t.” She stepped away from the worksurface and ran both hands through her hair, bunching it all into her fists. “I know you hate it here but is this the only option?”

“I don’t hate it here.”

“No.” She agreed. “You hate it here.” She released her hair and walked to the strip of wooden floor that separated their kitchen from the living room rug. “You could have talked to me.”

“You love it here; love the city, love your job, love this place.” He gestured to the apartment around them as he watched her toe the edge of the rug as he continued to lean against his own counter-top in the small kitchen. “I could never ask you to leave.”

“So you’re going to go instead?”

“I have to.” He told her, and he watched as her shoulders slumped under the realisation that this was happening; that there was no stopping him. “Say something.”

“What’s there to say?” She turned her head to him, watching from just over her shoulder as she delivered the final truth of the situation. “You’ve joined the fucking army.”

[writtenwordsoffic]

Reggie x Reader- request - Okay Reginald

Reggie x Reader 

Word Count: 2,130

Masterlist

anonymous asked: Can i ask for a reggie x reader where reggie tries to ask her out but she plays hard to get? thanks :)

A/N: I hope this is what you were looking for in your request. Thanks for reading, this was fun to write.

Taglist: @sgarrett49

Your year had started out a little different than the last. With the arrival of Veronica Lodge, and her friendship - you soon found a new confidence in yourself. And while you may have had a little bit different interests than the typical girl in Riverdale, there seemed to be a new glow around you.

Within the last few days in english class, you began to feel someone’s eyes on you. And with the pop of your head you would turn around and see no one staring. You shrugged it off while going back to the paper in front of you. However, you swear you could hear the faintest sigh that day.

After class you headed to your locker. You glanced at the inside of it, pictures of your favorite things staring back at you. Some pictures of some poets as well as a small flyer for Star Wars: A New Hope at the drive in, some pictures of friends - Veronica included, as well as mixture print outs of your favorite comics. As far as a small town like Riverdale was concerned - your tastes were a little out of the realm for a typical 16 year old girl.

“Hey Y/N”, you peered over the locker door and there was rather a surprised look on your face.

“Um, hi Reggie”, you were a little confused at why he was talking to you as he never really did before.

“How’s it going?”, Reggie had a rather large smile on his face while his shoulder leaned into the wall of lockers.

“…fine”, your face still adorned a questionable look. He stared for a second and you interrupted the pause. “Did you want something Reggie?” Your eyes gave a motion of trying to figure out why he was there.

“Umm”, within the brief pause his body stood straight up as if he found confidence in his words. Something more typical of Reggie Mantle. “Yes actually. Would you like to go to Pop’s later?”

You stood there for a second in slight shock. When you peered over the side of Reggie’s shoulder you could see Veronica’s face in a similar state of your own, just with an arched eyebrow adorned.

You looked back to Reggie, and without thinking, “why?”, slipped out of your mouth.

He was a little taken a back. “Because I would like to take you out”.

You now gave an eyebrow towards him. While his reputation was nothing like Chuck’s, Reggie had seemed to go for a specific type of girl, something you definitely didn’t consider yourself to be. “…Becuase?”, your words were still blunt as you were still in a slight state of confusion.

“Well, I’ve noticed you more lately and you seem interesting and… I would like to take you out”. He flubbed some of his words, as this seemed out of character for him.

You thought for a second. “I don’t know Reggie…”, your eyes went to the floor. You were a little afraid that him asking you out might have been a cruel joke.

“Well, give me a reason why not?”, his confidence seemed to come back.

“Because we’re VERY different people, and typically your friends make fun of me?”, your words seemed to hit him a little like daggers.

“I’m not my friends and I’ve never made fun of you”, he seemed to get a little ticked off now.

“You’ve also never stood up for me, so no Reggie”, you closed your locker and started to walk away.

You looked back and saw Reggie look somewhat disappointed until he caught up to your step.

“Y/N, hold on”, he slightly tugged on your elbow.

You turned around and started to become annoyed, “Look Reggie, if this is supposed to be some kind of joke…”

He cut you off. “Look, I like you okay? You seem fascinating to me and you’re such a fresh air from all the girls around here. Please?”

Your face was close to his and you looked back down the hallway as you saw Moose and Chuck together. Somewhat pointing and laughing in your direction. You weren’t sure if they were making fun of you or of Reggie, but either way, you weren’t having it.

“Not a joke huh?”, you nodded your head towards Chuck and Moose while Reggie looked back and glared at them.

“Y/N…”, by the time he turned around you had already walked off.

You had been home from school for about an hour now and were watching tv when you became startled. You looked down and your phone vibrated with an alert for a new message.

Hey.

Y/N: Who is this?

Reggie. Veronica gave me your number.

You had to remind yourself to kill Veronica later. You paused as you decided not to text him back.

R: You aren’t a joke to me Y/N. I’m sorry for Chuck and Moose, they’re idiots.

You gave a slight sigh. 

Y/N: I agree with that assessment. 

R: I really meant what I said today. Will you please go out with me? 

Y/N: Reggie, you know nothing about me. 

R: Hence the date Y/N. 

You gave a small laugh. 

Y/N: How about this? My parents will be at work tomorrow. You can come over and we’ll watch something and get to know each other, as friends. 

R: I’ll happily take you up on that. 

Y/N: Okay Reginald. 

Friday night had come and gone and it was about noon the next day as you heard a knock at the door. You opened it rather nonchalantly. “Hey Reggie, you can…”, you paused at the sight of him. 

He had a few roses in hand and a rather large smile. He nodded, “Y/N”. 

“Uhh…Reggie…”, his words cut you off while you looked at the flowers. 

“Look, I know you said “as friends” but I’d really like this to be a date. Even if we don’t go anywhere…“, his face became a little flushed. 

You gave a slight sigh as you finally found yourself genuinely happy to see him. "Reggie. As much as I do like the sentiment”, you paused giving a gesture to the flowers, “I’m allergic to roses”. Before you could help it, the wind slightly picked up and you sneezed. 

“Well shit. Hold on”, you gave a chuckle while Reggie ran back to his car and put the flowers on a seat. He somewhat raced back to the door. You found yourself still laughing a bit as you motioned for him to come in. He slid off his shoes while looking a little around your house. "I like your place…”, he looked around still.

“Heh, well it’s not really my style”, you gave a glance around the living room that had a lot of flowered patterns around it. 

“What’s your style then?”, Reggie’s eyes looked back towards you. 

You gave a breath and motioned your head up the stairs. “Come on”. He seemed to have a smile come to his face while he followed you up. You made a slight left while you entered your room. “This is”, you gave a motion with your hands while you went to your bed to sit down. 

Reggie looked around the room. Your walls were pretty much covered in any way possible. Movie and tv posters surrounded him as he looked around it. Star Wars, Die Hard, Back to the Future, Doctor Who, Twin Peaks - just to name a few. He turned around and then saw a bookshelf. And while it definitely had books in it, there were two shelves completely devoted to comic books and volumes. He glanced at some of the titles before turning back to you. 

“Huh”, he reached the back of his hair and seemed somewhat confused.

“What?”, you gave a slight sigh with your question, figuring this would be the moment that Reggie would finally turn uninterested. 

“I have that poster”, he motioned to the Die Hard one. 

“Well it’s a great Christmas movie…”, you gave a shrug. 

He gave laugh, “I suppose it is. You really aren’t like most girls are you?" 

"Not like the one’s here no…”, you gave a slight drop to your eyes. You began to play with the hem of your shirt. 

“Well I like it”, he gave a nod as if a matter of fact. He gave you a smile and you returned it. “I actually used to read some X-Men”, he motioned towards the bookshelf. 

You sat up against your headboard while he sat on the other side of your bed. “Oh yeah? Favorite X-Men character?" 

"Wolverine. I mean hands down, he’s badass”, you gave a chuckle while he leaned back against the wall making himself comfortable. “You?" 

"Tie between Rogue and Nightcrawler. I mean Rogue has so much dimension to her character in a lot of different series. Whether you go Classic X-Men or something like Ultimate X-Men. And then Nightcrawler because honestly I’m envious of his power”, you gave a breath realizing you just rambled a bit. “Sorry…" 

He gave a small laugh and then turned his face to a smirk. "Don’t be sorry, I like it. I like that you aren’t typical. You actually have interests”. 

“Yeah well Veronica is trying to get out of my comfort zone a little…she wants to go to a club next weekend. Don’t know if I’m letting her just yet…”, your eyes shifted away from Reggie. 

You felt a slight pause between the two of you. “You coming to the game tonight?”, he was making an effort again. 

“Uh, I don’t know…”, you became a little flushed and you had started to realize why. 

“What, football not your thing?”, Reggie shrugged a little while plopping his letterman jacket on the floor before leaning back to the wall. 

“Honestly I’m a bit more into baseball”, you motioned towards a small coat rack that had a baseball cap on it. 

He looked behind him. “Red Sox huh?”. 

“Yep they’re my team. Although obviously the season is about to end…”, you resisted rambling again. There was another pause between the two of you. “Hey Reggie?" 

He was looking around your room with his eyes still until his attention came back to you. "Yeah?" 

"Why me?”, you gave a slight sigh. “I mean you could honestly have anyone in the school if you really wanted…” your words trailed as you became nervous. You found yourself enjoying his company and hoped your differences weren’t going to effect that now. 

He gave a smile while his face softened. He reached for your ankle that was slightly hanging over the bed. “I like that your different. You have a different point of view on things. We had to read our essays out loud a few weeks ago, and I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been enamored by someone’s words so much before”, he was rubbing your ankle now. 

 You gave a thought as you now remembered Reggie sat in the row next to you in the back of the room. “Reggie. Have you been staring at me in class?" 

He seemed to be a little embarrassed. His eyes went off of yours for a second and then came back. "Uh…yeah”. 

You gave a smirk with a small laugh, “Well why?" 

"Again, I find you fascinating…and well…I really wanted to…”, he lost his words.

“Wanted to what Reggie?”, you were curious by his words. You completed your question and within seconds you found Reggie’s body now hovering slightly over yours. You gave a small breath out of nervousness while he grasped a side of your face with his palm. He leaned in and began to kiss you. Your whole body had warmed while his lips were on yours. You were a little taken back by the taste of his lips but you leaned into his mouth the second you could. You put a hand on his shoulder bringing his mouth more entwined with yours. 

He parted your lips and gave you a smile while looking into your eyes. “Wanted to do that”, he smirked. “Would you come to the game? Please?” He seemed bashful again. 

You gave a slight thought. You tugged at the neck of his shirt bringing his body back to yours while you gave a him a deep kiss. You tugged slightly on the back of his hair and then parted his lips. 

You gave him one more small peck before you chose your words. “Depends. We going to Pop’s after?" 

A larger smile had now come across his face. He stared at your lips for a second and gave a breath as if he had to cool himself off. "I’d really love that”. 

You gave a nod. “Okay Reginald”, you returned a smile back and brought him in for another kiss.

[recentanimenews]

Manga the Week of 9/16/20

SEAN: Mid-September, and, for once, quite a light week. We do have some very impressive debuts, though.

J-Novel Club has two new digital light novels. The first, and more sensible one, is Mapping: The Trash-Tier Skill That Got Me Into a Top-Tier Party (Hazure Skill “Mapping” wo Te ni Shita Shounen wa Saikyou Party to Dungeon ni Idomu), a standard “my skill seems useless so everyone hates me but in reality it’s super overpowered” light novel. I’d planned on skipping this, but have been told it’s better than it sounds. We’ll see.

ASH: I mean, cartography is incredibly useful.

MELINDA: I kind of have a thing for maps, but I tend to NOT have a thing for light novels, so???

SEAN: The next one I am absolutely not skipping. This may be the most ridiculous license we’ve ever seen. WATARU!!! The Hot-Blooded Fighting Teen & His Epic Adventures After Stopping a Truck with His Bare Hands!! (Truck Uketome Isekai Tensei! Nekketsu Butouha Koukousei Wataru!!) is a massive parody of isekai works where the hero gets hit by a truck and dies. Wataru does not die, though, he’s JUST THAT TOUGH. I am hoping this is as silly as it sounds.

MICHELLE: I am amused by the phrase “the hot-blooded fighting teen.”

ANNA: I hope this is as silly as you are expecting!

ASH: I am amused by the premise, at least!

MELINDA: I, too, am amused. Probably not reading this, but still amused.

SEAN: We also get Deathbound Duke’s Daughter 2 and the 3rd and final volume of The Extraordinary, the Ordinary and SOAP!.

Kodansha has some print debuts, both of which have appeared before digitally. Sayonara Football is from the creator of Farewell, My Dear Cramer (in fact, it may be an noutright prequel), and came out digitally around the time the author’s other series Your Lie in April was doing well. Now it has a print release.

MICHELLE: Yep, Sayonara, Football came first, which is something I didn’t know when my first reaction to Farewell, My Dear Cramer was basically, “Why did the mangaka introduce these two girls and then quickly start focusing on someone else instead?”

MELINDA: That sounds frustrating.

SEAN: Sue & Tai-chan is, of course, the new cat manga from the author of Chi’s Sweet Home.

Also in print: Eden’s Zero 9 and Witch Hat Atelier 6.

MICHELLE: I still need to read Sue & Tai-chan and Witch Hat Atelier.

ANNA: I love Witch Hat Atelier, excited for the print volume. The art is so fantastic.

ASH: It is an astonishingly beautiful series, both art-wise and story-wise.

MELINDA: I’m behind on everything, but I like both cats and witch hats, so I feel like I should be on board for these.

SEAN: There’s two digital debuts, but one has print coming 2 weeks later. Whisper Me a Love Song (Sasayaku You ni Koi wo Utau) is from Comic Yuri Hime, and looks quite sweet.

Digital-only for now is Heroine for Hire (Heroine Hajimemashita), a Dessert series about a very strong girl who becomes bodyguard for her high school classmate, who says he will make her “the most important girl in the world!”. Any title that has the heroine suplexing people is always on my watch list.

MICHELLE: I will check out both of these. Kodansha has a couple more of these “girl with a service job” series coming out over the next couple of weeks, but this one looks the most promising.

ANNA: I enjoy this type of dynamic in shoujo, I might overcome my usual resistance to digital shoujo and check it out.

ASH: Likewise.

MELINDA: Same.

SEAN: Also: Dolly Kill Kill 6, GE: Good Ending 9, Kakushigoto 7, Men’s Life 4, Orient 6, and Saint Young Men 8. Also, Something’s Wrong with Us 3, which will also get print in 2 weeks.

MICHELLE: This is the final volume for Men’s Life, also. I never hear much about Orient.

SEAN: Seven Seas is taking a break, they have one print release, which we’ve discussed when it came out digitally: Sazan and Comet Girl.

ASH: Now that it’s out in print, I’ll likely be checking it out!

SEAN: Digitally they have the 3rd volume of light novel Magic User: Reborn in Another World as a Max Level Wizard.

Udon has Persona 4 12, meaning it is as strong as three Persona 4s.

MICHELLE: *snerk*

SEAN: Viz has the debut of one of the most beloved manga classics, now getting a re-release with all the bells and whistles. And digitally as well! Maison Ikkoku is the story of a guy who didn’t quite make it into college and his attempts to live at an apartment complex filled with eccentrics… and a gorgeous apartment manager! I have… very mixed feelings about this series, but cannot deny it’s super loved by everyone who isn’t me. Love to see it get this release.

MICHELLE: I’m not surprised that it inspires mixed feelings. There were definitely things I found kind of annoying, but on the whole I love it anyway. I’ve reviewed all of it before, but I will at least do briefs for the re-release.

ANNA: I’m glad it is getting a re-release too.

ASH: I had just finished putting together a complete set of the out-of-print volumes when the new edition was announced. Still, I’m glad it’ll be more readily available for others again!

MELINDA: This is THRILLING. I suppose I also have mixed feelings about aspects of this manga, but in most ways I adore it. I was never able to compile a complete set for myself, so here’s my chance!

SEAN: Ping Pong also comes to an end with its second and final omnibus, speaking of super beloved series.

MICHELLE: I decided to wait for the second volume and read it straight through. I’m looking forward to it!

ANNA: Haven’t read the first volume yet, but I have it!

ASH: I am absolutely thrilled we finally got this series in English.

MELINDA: Like Michelle, I’m behind, but I can’t pretend it was on purpose. I must catch up and read them both together!

SEAN: And we also get 20th Century Boys Perfect Edition 9, BEASTARS 8, Hell’s Paradise Jigokuraku 4, Levius/Est 6, No Guns Life 7, and The Way of the Househusband 4.

MICHELLE: I am steadily falling farther and farther behind on BEASTARS. Sigh.

ANNA: Always delighted by another Way of the Househusband volume.

ASH: Ditto and ditto! I’ve also been meaning to read more of Hell’s Paradise, too.

SEAN: Is your life being destroyed by Yotsuya-san? Or are you buying manga?

By: Sean Gaffney

[walkonwalkonwithhopeinyourheart]

Xabi Alonso on what Liverpool means for him: "I’m still a fan, first and foremost, and so is my son. It’s part of my life. ‘Once a Red, always a Red’ is more than a sentence – it’s something real. That spell is something huge in my life." via /r/LiverpoolFC

Xabi Alonso on what Liverpool means for him: "I’m still a fan, first and foremost, and so is my son. It’s part of my life. ‘Once a Red, always a Red’ is more than a sentence – it’s something real. That spell is something huge in my life."

The quote is from Xabi Alonso's interview with the magazine FourFourTwo in July 2017 issue.

I'm a subscriber of the magazine and given to that, I thought it'd be nice to share this with you guys.

Here's some pics & PDF from the mag about this Q&A session.

So this is it. After 18 years, more than 800 matches, 13 major trophies and a billion effortlessly tidy passes, it’s time for Xabi Alonso to hit the road.

“It was a decision I thought long and hard about for a while,” Alonso tells FFT from the Bayern Munich training ground he’s called home for the past three years. “I’d reached the point where it felt right. “You never know how you will feel after that last game, as football becomes your life. But I just feel happy with everything I’ve experienced, with all of the clubs I’ve played for, with every game I’ve played. Of course, there is a part of me that feels sad it’s all over, but everything must end one day and I’d rather fi nish at the top.”

He has certainly done that. In the days before FFT’s visit, Die Roten clinched their fourth Bundesliga title in as many years. The Spaniard was a key figure in the most recent three wins, which came hot on the heels of helping Real Madrid finally win ‘La Decima’ and, prior to that, scoring the crucial third goal in Liverpool’s famous comeback in Istanbul. And then there’s an international career that brought him one World Cup and two European Championship medals.

Perhaps his biggest achievement, however, is less tangible – near universal respect and popularity. His easy-on-the-eye playing style, combined with a humble, gentlemanly disposition have helped to make the 35-year-old a contemporary cult hero.

He’s hung up his boots for the final time alongside another icon and World Cup winner: Bayern team-mate Philipp Lahm. “It is an honour to finish by his side,” the Spaniard proudly says. “It was just meant to be – it’s like we’re the last rock stars.”

Now, if only there was something really cool he could do next…

What will you do on the fi rst morning following your retirement?

What a question! [Laughs] I don’t know if this is for the first morning, but I can’t wait to take my motorbike out for a spin – it’s written into most players’ contracts that you can’t ride them. I’ve got a motorbike but I’ve never been able to ride it! To be honest, I’m looking at doing things that become impossible in a footballer’s life. I’ve gone 18 years without having a proper weekend with my family where you try new things. Being a footballer is great, but you’re tied down to what you can and can’t do. We’ll go and relax in San Sebastian and Madrid.

You spent a few summers in Ireland in your teens, learning English and playing a bit of gaelic football. Any desire to go back one day?

[Laughs] Wow, it’s such a long time since I was there – I’ve probably forgotten how to play. I’ll definitely go back to Ireland, though. I love the country and all of the Irish people. Do I follow a team? No, I just played to enjoy myself with friends. But I will go back there one day.

When you used to play on the beach in San Sebastian with Mikel Arteta, did you ever think you would achieve so much?

No chance. We loved football, but we played every sport when we were kids. We’re still great friends. I’d never dreamed of becoming a footballer – that was something I saw as being so impossible that it wasn’t even a dream – so I consider myself very lucky.

Your father Periko played for Barcelona, won two La Liga titles with Real Sociedad and represented Spain at the 1982 World Cup, and your brother Mikel was also a pro with Sociedad. How much football is there within the Alonso household?

[Laughs] A lot! More than anything, since we were tiny, me and my brother had the figure of our father in our life. We played with him every week and went to as many of his training sessions as we could, just like my son Jontxu does with me now. It was a fundamental part of life.

You came through the youth ranks at Sociedad and then spent a season on loan with Eibar when you turned 18. Is it true that you first learned about the deal by reading it in a newspaper?

Yes, that’s absolutely true. I was only 18; I had made my first-team debut in the Copa del Rey, but I was still part of the reserves. I didn’t really know or understand the football world at that stage because I was so young, so my dad was sorting things out for me. He spoke with the club, thought it was a good option and went ahead.

I read about it in the paper and rang my dad straight away. He asked me, ‘What do you think?’ I replied, ‘I think it’s a great idea!’ Up until then, I had always shared a dressing room with people my age, but at Eibar there were 35-year-olds. It was a dressing room full of men, not boys. That helped me to learn a lot about what it meant to be a footballer.

You were recalled after only half a season by Sociedad’s new manager, John Toshack, who had replaced Javier Clemente. What impact did the former Liverpool striker have on your career?

He was fundamental. I was only 19 at the time, but he treated me as if I was a 28-year-old. When he came in, he took me to one side straight away and said: “Listen, I think you can become a very important player for this team, so I’m going to give you the responsibility to play your own game.” I took the opportunity and played well. I’ll never forget all of the early help that he gave me.

Did you feel any pressure in going back to play for Sociedad, who were really struggling at the time and trying to avoid the drop?

The team was certainly in a difficult moment, but I just tried to play my very best and help the team to get out of trouble. Thankfully, everything went well and we eventually finished 13th [in 2001-02].

Was it hard to leave for Liverpool in the summer of 2004, aged 22?

It was at the time, because Sociedad had been my home, but it was also the time to progress and try some new things. I’ve loved every stage of my career and it just felt the right time to take on a fresh challenge, in a new country and to fight for an historic football club.

Let’s talk about Istanbul and the 2005 Champions League Final...

[Smiles] Everything happened. At half-time it was the worst scenario. We had to score three goals against Alessandro Nesta, Paolo Maldini, Jaap Stam and Cafu! Some of the guys said, “We need to fight.” Others were saying, ‘How can we be so bad today?’ The rest is history, as we made the most incredible comeback. Miracles can happen in football.

What were you thinking before taking the penalty to make it 3-3?

I didn’t know what to think. It was my fi rst penalty as a professional! Seriously, I had never taken one before. I look at pictures of me about to take the penalty and all I can see is my face wracked with tension and responsibility. It’s so obvious! Were it not for that rebound, then my story at Liverpool might have been very different! [Laughs] It was pretty stressful.

Rafa [Benitez] told me before the final that if we won a penalty, I’d take it, as Steven Gerrard had missed one against Spurs. What did I say? Nothing. I had to take it! There wasn’t any other way.

How did you celebrate afterwards?

In every possible way you can imagine! [Laughs] There was a sense of euphoria, both at the hotel in Istanbul after the match and in Liverpool. It was crazy – the celebrations and the way we won it. Twelve years have now passed since that match, but it’s still very alive in the minds of anyone who was part of it. Winning the World Cup is the ultimate, but the Champions League is a close second.

Which was tougher to take: losing the 2007 Champions League final to Milan in Athens, or missing out on the 2008-09 Premier League title when Liverpool were pipped by Manchester United?

[Immediately] Oh, the Premier League title, without a doubt. We had won the Champions League against Milan two years earlier, and one of the biggest regrets in my career is that we didn’t manage to win the Premier League title with that Liverpool team. We were so close, but there were other great teams in the league as well.

We thought it was possible when we beat Fulham 1-0 with a late goal from Yossi Benayoun. But the next day, Manchester United came from behind to beat Aston Villa with that goal from Federico Macheda. Then at the end of April, we won 3-1 away at Hull and I scored. We got on the plane back home and Spurs were 2-0 up at United, but by the time we had landed, they had lost 5-2! It just wasn’t meant to be.

Pepe Reina, Jamie Carragher, Javier Mascherano, Xabi Alonso, Steven Gerrard, Fernando Torres: that’s some spine to a team…

Definitely – we had a great team, from back to front. It was a great spine. All of those players have unforgettable memories of the years we had together at Liverpool. The fans remember us – Stevie and Carra, obviously, but also us foreigners – which makes me so proud.

Would it be fair to say that you had your ups and downs with Rafael Benitez by the time you left to join Real Madrid?

Many things have been written about this [Benitez was supposedly annoyed that Alonso missed a Champions League game against Inter to attend the birth of his daughter] but there was no tension between us at that time, really. There was always respect between us. Look, he wanted to sell me and I accepted his decision. That’s it.

What does Liverpool mean to you?

I’m still a fan, first and foremost, and so is my son. It’s part of my life. ‘Once a Red, always a Red’ is more than a sentence – it’s something real. That spell is something huge in my life. The bond I have with the club is very strong: maybe not with the players, because Lucas is now the only player still there, but in terms of the feeling, that will never leave me. It’s the same with every club I’ve played for in my career.

You were close to joining Real Madrid when Liverpool bought you. Did it feel like destiny to play for Los Blancos?

I don’t know about destiny, but there had been interest in me from the club. It seemed like there had always been a chance of signing for Madrid in my career, you know? So when it came to leaving Liverpool, they were in for me again. To have Real Madrid interested in signing you is the greatest honour in football. I think it was the right move.

Describe Jose Mourinho in one word.

[Thinks long and hard] Motivator. He’s all emotion, all heart, but also a very intelligent man and coach. He needs intelligent players, too, to carry out his plans and interpret them on the pitch.

What did he change at Real Madrid, especially with regards to the rivalry with Barcelona and Pep Guardiola?

You’re always going to have that clash between Real Madrid and Barça. They are two giants who’ve always collided. At the time, Barcelona had Pep and we had Jose – two figures used to winning. Those years were intense for all of us, from players to fans. Every match was like a final. There was the Copa del Rey final, the Champions League semi-final and also the results that settled La Liga.

You’re one of a few who’ve played for both. How do they compare?

Pep is just as passionate, but analyses things and loves tactical detail. He’s emotional, too, but it’s a different emotion. The way they play football, and how they get their team to play, is also very different.

How did you feel when you were booked in the semi-final of the 2013-14 Champions League and knew that you’d miss the final?

I was gutted. I’d fought so much for La Decima during the season, so it was tough knowing I’d be banned. I told myself, ‘Xabi, tonight is your final.’ Winning 4-0 at the Allianz Arena was incredible. In the final itself it was hard, but I watched as a supporter. I suffered a lot that evening. It’s so much harder watching a game than it is to play.

In that case, do you see yourself becoming a coach in the future?

It’s different, because at least you have some control over what is happening. I don’t know what I’ll do, but I’m not ruling anything out. Is Carlo Ancelotti the perfect coach to oversee your fi nal season? In the world of football, Carlo is one of the best people I’ve come across. He has got a great heart and he knows how to win over his players. Throughout our time together he has never treated me with anything other than the utmost respect and care.

Who have you enjoyed playing alongside the most?

It’s impossible to decide. I’ve played with so many and have loved every second of it. Stevie G, Cristiano Ronaldo, Luka Modric, Arjen Robben, Philipp Lahm – they’re all greats.

Your final three seasons brought three Bundesliga titles...

It’s the perfect end. I came here to experience a different kind of football at a massive club like Bayern and it’s been glorious. It is hard to say no to Pep when he asks you to come and play for his team. There’s so much quality in Germany, and it’s hard to win any league. I am extremely proud to finish in this way.

Many teams tried to copy tiki-taka but few succeeded. Why’s that?

I don’t like the word ‘tiki-taka’. Look, that was the only way to bring together all of the best players that Spain had at the time. We were very competitive and we conceded very few goals. People talk about us playing 10,000 passes for the sake of it, but we had no other way to play. We didn’t have really quick players to run in behind, but we did have players with excellent technique who could pass the ball.

Nigel de Jong’s ‘tackle’ in the final: what did you think at the time?

I didn’t think anything, as I was on the floor with no idea what hadhappened – I had to watch a replay on the TV screen! All I felt was extreme pain in my chest. My body was shaking, but this was the World Cup final – there was no way I was going off. I played for as long as I could, but I couldn’t carry on into extra time. It felt like my body had been torn apart and then not put back together properly.

Did you break anything?

There were a couple of stud marks but nothing else, as the impact was right on my ribcage. After Andres [Iniesta] won it for us, people were spraying water everywhere and I had to make them stop, as even that was hurting me! I had to say, “Leave me with this pain!”

Which is more important for a footballer: feet or brain?

God, the brain, without a doubt. It’s all about what you do with your head. If you have the brain to understand the game, and know what to do in every moment and how to do it, then you’ve got it, and the rest will just follow.

Do you see yourself staying in the game after your retirement and passing that knowledge on, somehow?

I think so. First I need a little time away from the game, to disconnect. I’ve spent so long inside the football bubble – pretty much 20 years – that I fancy getting out for a bit. Once I’ve done that, I don’t know how or where, but I’ll be back.

Submitted June 12, 2017 at 03:54PM by Dalitis via reddit http://ift.tt/2rTzg9B