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meazalykov · 1 month ago

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let me in

giulia gwinn x anxiety!reader

part one - part two

summary: you try to hide it, but she already knows

warnings: diagnosed anxiety, fear, zoloft mentions, angst

the moment your alarm goes off, your body tenses instinctively. the anxiety is immediate, crawling under your skin like tiny prickles, making it difficult to breathe properly. you turn over in bed and stare at the ceiling, trying to calm the racing thoughts.

another match day. champions league. arsenal. there’s a pressure weighing down on you, like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, and you haven’t even stepped onto the pitch yet.

you try to convince yourself that it’s just another game, that you’ve been through this before. however, today feels different. you can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. that today could be the day everything unravels.

giulia is beside you in the bed, sitting up peacefully while wiping her tired eyes. you lightly smile, knowing at least your girlfriend of five years has had a peaceful sleep for matchday.

once the both of you got into the dressing room at bayern campus– you slip into your bayern kit, hands trembling slightly as you button the collar of the UWCL shirt. the fabric feels heavy on your body, like a constant reminder of all the expectations weighing on you.

you’ve played through worse moments—disappointments, injuries, even the pain of last season’s champions league exit.

nothing hits quite as hard as the self-doubt that plagues you now.

last season was still raw in your memory. that error against PSG, the one you couldn’t shake. the one that spiraled out of control. it was your fault, and the team had to pay the price for it. tuva and georgia had been blamed by the media, and you couldn’t stop thinking about how they must have hated you for that mistake.

(throwback) the final whistle blows and the stadium erupts into a mix of celebration and disbelief. for bayern, it’s over. the champions league dream, shattered. eliminated from the group stage.

you stand there, frozen, staring at the scoreboard as the reality of what just happened hits you like a tidal wave.

we’re going home.

you can barely breathe, your chest tight and tight like it’s being constricted. every part of you aches—physically, emotionally. your stomach twists in knots. you barely register the roar of the crowd as PSG’s fans chant their victory, your focus entirely consumed by the players around you, especially georgia. she’s going to get so much hate.

it wasn’t just your mistake that led to this, but that error was the catalyst. the own goal, the one that was a collective mess of bad decisions, started with you. tuva’s tackle was rushed and you were a beat behind. and when it all fell apart, when georgia tried to clear it and it deflected off her, you saw it before anyone else—she’ll be the one blamed.

you wanted to scream. you wanted to cry. you had the tears in your throat, but they wouldn’t come. there was nothing, just a choking feeling that kept you from expressing it. all you could feel was this deep, gnawing pain in your chest. this horrible pain, like your whole body was trying to fight against the reality that had just unfolded.

you slowly turned toward giulia, who was standing there, quiet. you didn’t know if you could face her, but somehow, your feet carried you to her. she was looking down, hands on her hips, shoulders heavy. there was no anger in her face—nothing that showed she was disappointed in you—but you couldn't help but feel the weight of everything. was it my fault? am I the reason we lost?

you hugged her then, tightly, desperately, hoping to find some form of comfort in her arms. giulia let you, her arms wrapping around you in return. she didn’t say anything at first, and you didn’t know what to say either. it was as if the whole team was frozen in time, each player lost in their own thoughts. you wanted to break down, to cry into giulia’s chest, but the tears just wouldn’t come.

your chest ached. the physical pain of it was almost as bad as the emotional. it was a nightmare, one that you couldn’t wake up from. bayern is going home.

you thought giulia might say something, might offer some kind of words to reassure you, but all she did was rub your back, the gesture soft and comforting. she was tired too, worn out by the match, the loss, just like everyone else. but there was no disappointment in her. there’s no disappointment, you repeated to yourself, but you couldn’t shake the feeling.

you pulled away from giulia after a moment, but you didn’t look at her. you couldn’t. please don’t be mad at me. you thought, though you didn’t speak it. don’t blame me.

instead, your eyes flicked to georgia. she was slumped by the side of the pitch, her face pale, her hands on her head. she must hate me, you thought. I know she does.

it was her name that would be all over the munich papers, her face the one everyone would point to. it didn’t seem fair, but that’s how football was, wasn’t it? the public always needed someone to blame.

your throat tightened, but still, no tears came. you felt like there should have been. like it would somehow make things better if you could cry it out. but georgia… you thought, she’s the one who’ll carry this. it’s her fault in their eyes, not mine.

you stood there, with giulia beside you, and as much as you wanted to say something, to make it better somehow, you couldn’t. words felt useless. what could I say? how could I fix this?

you wished there was a way to take the blame from georgia, to make sure she didn’t have to carry that weight. but there was no way to do that—not here, not now.

you walked off the field slowly, your feet feeling heavier with each step. please don’t hate me, georgia, you thought one last time. and as you disappeared into the locker room, you felt like the world was closing in around you. I’ve failed.

then georgia—her calm, reassuring presence—had pulled you aside in the dressing room.

she’d told you that neither her or tuva hated you. that things would be better next season. she had been the first to reassure you, but the damage had already been done. you couldn’t stop the guilt, the weight of that mistake, and now, every game felt like the one where you would fall apart again.

you push that last season game aside in your mind, focusing on playing arsenal now for a brand new season. the familiar hum of excitement is going through your veins but the anxiety lingers, like an ever-present shadow that you can’t outrun.

the match begins, and the flood of adrenaline fills you. at first, you manage to push the fears to the back of your mind. you’re focused, playing as the defensive midfielder, eyes darting between the players, watching for any openings.

then it happens—the moment you dread. mariona steps in, intercepting your pass with ease, and suddenly, the ball is in the back of your net. you feel your body go cold, your heart dropping into your stomach. the weight of it crushes you in an instant.

your mind goes blank for a moment, the stadium blurring around you as the realization sinks in. you’ve messed up. again.

keep in mind, you’re a great defensive midfielder. the public highly rates you, the club loves you, and your ballon d’or nominations have proved that at one point. however, you were your biggest critic. you took every mistake of your own personally.

it’s a small mistake in the grand scheme of things, but in that moment, it feels like the end of the world. your chest tightens, your breath becomes shallow. you try to keep your head in the game, but your mind is racing with thoughts of failure. you wonder if the team is already judging you, if they’re whispering about you behind your back.

your hands are clammy, and you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. embarrassment. shame. fear. it all rushes to the surface in one suffocating wave.

you chase the ball, but it’s already too late. the game continues, and all you can think about is that moment, the mistake that will define the rest of the match. not knowing that bayern will pull off the win.

you feel the eyes of your teammates, even though you know they’re not focusing on you. you can’t help it—the anxiety makes everything feel magnified. every step feels like it’s being scrutinized.

you imagine their faces, the disappointment in their eyes.

then, glodis scores, and the atmosphere shifts slightly. it’s a small relief, but it’s not enough to quiet the storm in your head. you try to keep your focus, to keep playing, but the tension builds. your leg starts to bounce involuntarily, your knee jittering with nerves.

it’s a tick you’ve had since childhood, a sign that the anxiety is taking hold of you.

during halftime, georgia tries to rally the team. she speaks with such conviction, urging everyone to keep pushing. but you can’t focus on her words. your leg bounces uncontrollably, your jaw clenched in frustration.

sweat beads on your forehead, but it’s not from the game—it’s from the overwhelming anxiety clawing at you. you can feel giulia’s eyes on you, even though you try to keep it together. she knows you too well as her girlfriend of half-a-decade.

giulia’s gaze doesn’t leave you as you sit there, trying to steady your breathing. she notices the way your body is wound tight, the way your foot taps rapidly against the floor, the way your face is losing its glow despite the heat of the match. her brow furrows in concern, but she doesn’t say anything—not yet.

she waits, knowing that you’ll come to her when you’re ready. the panic is still bubbling up inside you. you know she’s worried, but you don’t want to burden her.

you don’t want to be seen as weak.

part two here

#giulia gwinn #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #barcelona femeni #fc barcelona #bayern frauen #gerwnt #georgia stanway #tuva hansen

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footballfanficwriter · 7 months ago

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The last dance

Summary:Kylian's last game for PSG

The stadium buzzed with anticipation as we settled into our seats, awaiting the final match of the season. The atmosphere was electric, but there was a bittersweet edge to it, knowing that this is the last time we are watching Kylian in his PSG jersey. Beside me, Raphael fidgeted with excitement, his eyes shining with anticipation.

"Mommy, do you think Daddy will play well today?" Raphael asked, his voice filled with hope.

I smiled down at him, ruffling his hair gently. "Of course, sweetheart. Your daddy always gives his best."

As the match unfolded, every play felt like a moment frozen in time. Kylian moved across the field with his trademark speed and skill, but the goal remained elusive. The tension in the stadium grew with each passing minute, and as the final whistle blew, there was a collective sense of disappointment.

Kylian was called for a post-match interview, his expression a mix of resignation and gratitude. The interviewer approached him, holding out the microphone.

"Kylian, a tough game today, and unfortunately, no goals for you. How are you feeling about your last match with PSG?" the interviewer asked.

Kylian sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's always tough when you don't get the result you want, especially in your last game with the club. But I'm grateful for the memories and the support of the fans."

The interviewer nodded sympathetically. "You've had an incredible career at PSG. What are some of your fondest memories from your time here?"

Kylian smiled, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. "There are so many moments that I'll cherish forever. Winning titles, playing alongside incredible teammates, and feeling the love of the fans. PSG will always hold a special place in my heart."

The interviewer leaned in, eager for more. "And what's next for you, Kylian? Any hints on where you might be headed?"

Kylian chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I'm keeping my options open for now. I want to make sure I make the best decision for myself and my family."

The interviewer nodded, scribbling notes on his notepad. "Understandable. And what message do you have for the fans who have supported you throughout your time at PSG?"

Kylian's expression softened, his gaze turning towards the camera. "I just want to say thank you. Thank you for your unwavering support, your passion, and your love. You've been with me through the highs and the lows, and I'll always be grateful for that."

As the interview ended, Kylian made his way towards us in the stands. His steps seemed heavier than usual, and I could see the sadness etched in his expression. When he reached us, he pulled Raphael into a tight hug, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I'm sorry, Raphael. Daddy couldn't score today," Kylian said, his voice choked with emotion.

Raphael hugged him back, his small arms wrapping around Kylian's neck. "It's okay, Daddy. You're still the best football player in the world."

Kylian smiled through his tears, his heart swelling with love for our son. "Thank you, Raphael. You always know how to make Daddy feel better."

Then, Kylian turned to me, his eyes searching mine. He reached out and pulled me into his arms, holding me close.

"I wish I could have done more on the pitch today, especially for you and Raphael," he whispered, his voice heavy with regret. "I'm sorry."

I hugged him back tightly, feeling the weight of his words. "It's okay, Kylian. We're proud of you, no matter what."

"I just feel like if I had done more it would've been better"

"All that matter is that you gave your best"

"Thank you" he says kissing me

"You're welcome"

As we stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, the noise of the crowd fading into the background, I felt a surge of love for this man who had given his all, both on and off the pitch. In that moment, surrounded by the echoes of the match and the warmth of Kylian's embrace, I knew that our bond was unbreakable.

We made our way out of the stadium, hand in hand, our love shining brighter than ever before. And as we looked towards the future, I knew that no matter where life took us next, our love would always be our greatest strength.

The next day, headlines and articles flooded the internet, highlighting Kylian's departure from PSG. Comments poured in from fans and pundits alike, praising his contributions to the club and speculating on his next move. But amidst the frenzy, there was one image that captured the hearts of fans around the world.

A photo of Kylian, Raphael, and me leaving the stadium together, hand in hand, appeared on social media. The image captured a moment of raw emotion and love, and people couldn't help but be moved by it.

Instagram comments poured in, expressing admiration for Kylian and our family. "A true legend on and off the pitch," one comment read. "Wishing you all the best in your next adventure," another said. The overwhelming outpouring of support was a testament to the impact Kylian had made, both as a footballer and as a person.

As we read through the comments together, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the love and support of fans around the world. And as we looked towards the future, I knew that no matter where life took us next, our love would always be our greatest strength.

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lewisvinga · 2 years ago

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fight in the stands | neymar jr x fem! reader

requested; yes !

request; Neymar and gf where maybe she gets harrassed in the stands because she’s you know famous

note; im so bad at titles lol , but my requests are closed, meaning i won’t take any rn😩😩guys😩😩 i have a lot rn n i wanna work on them before accepting anymore 😔😔🙏🙏

masterlist !

You regretted getting a normal seat at the stadium instead of taking Neymar’s offer of premium seatings. At first, everything seemed fine. You had a blast cheering for Neymar and PSG. They were winning 2-0. By the end of the first half, there were already arguments starting between the fans.

The arguments continued well into the second half. The other team managed to catch up as time passed. In the last 2 minutes, Neymar manages to score again, securing their win. At first, you were ecstatic for your boyfriend but that feeling ended when you hear more arguments.

You suddenly hear multiple people call your name. They recognized you. Of course they would, you’re a famous model and the girlfriend of Neymar. You knew that it was time to leave so you quickly collect your stuff. You tried to make your way out of your row but people kept blocking you. They seemed to be mad at you for Neymar scoring PSG’s winning goal.

You started to panic as you exited the row. You only had to make it up the stairs to get to the exit and all of it was over.

Neymar was watching from the field. He saw how worried you were and quickly makes his way to where you were, ignoring security calling for him.

“Fuck you and fuck Neymar!” Someone shouts. You felt someone tug on your hair and you tripped down on the stairs. Sharp pain shoots up through your arm. The pain was so unbearable that you couldn’t help but start to cry.

Neymar heard your cries of pain and ran even faster to you “Hey! Get away from her!” He shouted as he pushes people away. He quickly helps you stand up and holds you by your non injured arm. “Come on, meu amor, we have to get out of here.” He whispers to your ear. He holds you close to his chest as he leads you to the exit. Security helped escort the both of you to somewhere safe.

Neymar tried to comfort you, but you couldn’t pay attention due to how much your arm was hurting. He rushes to the hospital knowing that your arm was most likely broken.

You finally made it to the hospital and the doctors had checked up on your arm, confirming that it was indeed broken. They put a cast on it and left the room, leaving you and Neymar alone.

“What were you doing in those seats?” He asks, running a hand through his curls. “Meu amor, I told you that you should take premium seatings.”

You let out a deep sigh, keeping your eyes on the cast covering your arm. “Didn’t think a fight was gonna break out. It was so scary, Ney.” Tears filled your eyes as you remember the events that happened a few hours before.

Neymar quickly sits by your side. He gently grabs your chin, making you look at him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner, amor. Next time, you’ll get premium seatings. Don’t fight with me on this.” He chuckles as you pout and nod in reply. “I was scared something happened. I’m glad you’re safe now.”

He leans over and pulls you in close, giving you a loving kiss on your lips. “I’ll be there to protect you next time, but let’s hope there is no next time.”

You let out a small chuckle as you rest your forehead against his. “My protector.”

#football imagines #football scenarios #footballer x reader #neymar x reader #neymar headcanon #neymar x you #neymar one shot #neymar jr x you #neymar jr x reader #neymar jr imagine #neymar scenarios #football one shot

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sagesworld17 · 2 years ago

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since psg lost to lens, an imagine where kylian comes back all frustrated and angry from the game and his s/o tries to relive his stress? ;)

here you go(:

kylian mbappe x reader

!WARNING! smut

toop

When the match ended with the score being 3:1 I knew Kylian would come home a bit frustrated. I was sure they were going to win and so was he. I washed the dishes left from dinner and sat on the sofa, watching netflix and waited for him to come home.

He walked in about an hour later and threw his back in the corner of our living room. He didn’t even say hi. He went straight to the bedroom and I decided to go after him. “Y/N i am not in the mood for some motivational speeches right now. We lost and that’s it.” He was angrier than I expected. I didn’t know what to say so I just stood there, looking at him. He walked past me and back into the living room.

I wasn’t going to let his anger because of football ever effect me, but it was hard when he was mad at me for something didn’t do. I walked to the closet and grabbed a towel, new underwear and his shirt. I always slept in his shirts. I went to the bathroom and closed the door behind me. I turned on the water and started getting undressed. I turned the water on so it could warm up. I was left in my bra and underwear, when the door to the bathroom opened. I felt his arms on my shoulders as he turned me around to look at him. “I’m sorry ange, I’m just mad we lost and I let my anger out on you.”

“I know Ky. I’m trying not to take it to heart. And i hate seeing you stressed.” He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, cupping my face and kissing me sweetly. “There’s nothing you can do about it and it isn’t your fault.” he assured me. And I knew that but I still wanted to do something so he would be less stressed. “Yeah, but I can still help” I replied and pulled him in for a passionate kiss. He knew exactly what I had in mind when he pulled away to take his shirt off. His lips were on my again and his hands reached behind my back, unclasping my bra. He bit my lower lip and I let out a quiet moan. He started kissing my neck and his hands roamed down my back, his fingers hooking in my underwear. I lifted my hips up so he could take them off.

He stepped back and pulled his pants and boxers down. When he stepped back I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his shoulders. He picked me up and stepped in the shower. The hot water hit us and we both giggled. He kissed me again and I could feel him smiling against my lips. I unhooked my legs and slid off of him, pulling away from the kiss. He looked at me with confusion covered his expression. “You’re stressed, let me take care of that for you.” he nodded, not sure what I meant.

I placed my hands on his chest and moved them lower to his v-line, painfully slow. His head tipped back giving me more access to his neck. I left a trail oh kisses there before moving lower. My hand found his erection, pumping slowly. His breathing hitched and I heard a low grunt. I moved down to my knees and licked a slow stripe from the base of his dick to the head. I swirled my tongue around the head. He looked down at me and we kept eye contact as i took his head in my mouth. His hand found my hair, making a make shift ponytail. He pushed my head down making me take his whole length in my mouth. I gaged a little before continuing to move my head up and down. The bathroom was filled with sounds of water dripping and Kylians quiet moans. I kept my pace until i felt him twitching in my mouth. He pulled out of my mouth and stroked himself a few times. I opened my mouth and stuck my tongue out and he came all over my face. I collected as much cum on my mouth as I could and swallowed it all.

I stood up and looked up at the shower head, washing the rest of it off. “Come on, let me wash your hair.” he smiled and kissed me softly then turned me around. I leaned my head back to give him access and he started shampooing my hair.

When we got out of the shower we went straight to bed, his arms wrapped around my waist, my back to him. I couldn’t have felt more safe in that moment.

#smut #kylian mbappe x reader #mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe smut #kylian mbappe #football smut

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mcu-coworkers · 2 years ago

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Sick days

Summary: Nursing your sick boyfriend back to health.

Pairings: Kylian Mbappe x reader

Warnings: N/A

A/n: Not a request this one was just something small and short that came to mind! Thank you guys for all of the love and I hope you guys like this one!xx

You felt something was off when you woke up that morning and didn't have your usual text from Kylian before he left for his gym session.

He never missed a day, even when he traveled and was in a completely different time zone.

You were filled with more worry than anything else given he never forgets on purpose.

You’d texted him that morning instead but to no avail, there was no response.

After an hour with no response you decided to go check his home and make sure everything was okay.

As you were walking up to his door your phone began to ring.

“Ney” reading across the screen.

“Hey Ney, what’s up?” you said hoping he’d mention something Kylian did at practice and you worried for nothing.

“Hola bella, have you heard from Kylian? He was a no show in practice. The coach is looking for him. I just wanted to give him the heads up before he gets fined.” he chuckled, it wouldn't be the first time PSG fined him.

Sighing, you looked at the door once again.

“Nope, I was hoping he was at practice. I'm outside his house right now. Give me a sec I‘ll call you back yeah?” you said reaching for the key he’d given you.

“Sale, thank you!” He said before hanging up.

Quietly you opened the door, you felt sneaky opening his door without telling him you were coming.

You know he wouldn't mind but still, you always gave a heads up.

“Ky?” you called out from the hallway.

You walked through his home looking for any signs of him until you made it to his bedroom door.

Opening it you came face to face with your sleeping boyfriend.

Your sick, sleeping boyfriend surrounded by tissues.

“Oh my love.” you chuckled relieved he didn't go missing.

Cleaning up the tissues you went into his pantry to pull out the medicine he’d need and some ingredients for soup and tea.

Once you finished you put everything in a tray and walked back up to Kylians room.

After setting everything down on the nightstand you pondered waking him up or letting him sleep more but the decision was made for you when he began tossing and turning.

“Ky, baby it's me.” you whispered gently, rubbing his back.

“Mon amour what are you doing here? What time is it?” he said, realizing the sun was out.

“You’re sick Kylian lay back down.” you chuckled, pushing him down.

“But I have practice coach is gonna kill me.” he said looking for his phone.

“No he's not because Neymar told him you were sick in bed and that makes the penalty fine void.” you said matter of factly.

Looking at you he smiled and fell back into his mountain of pillows.

“Bless my lawyer girlfriend.” He said, smiling at you.

“Now here drink this please.” you said, handing him the tea.

You took the chance to open his windows and unstuff his room and hopefully his nose too.

Kylian took the tea and the soup eventually beginning to feel like himself again.

“Mon ange I could kiss you all day for this, I'm sorry you didn't wake up to a message from me.” he said reaching for you.

Pulling back you smiled at your sick boyfriend, “While I love you with all my heart I do not want to get whatever it is you have amor.” you said collecting the empty dishes.

“I'm gonna go get you some orange slices.” you said picking up the tray.

“Okay but when I‘m better I'm thanking you the right way.” he said, reaching over quickly to spank your butt.

Gasping you smiled, “Mbappé!” blush rising to your cheeks.

“Je t’aime mon bel ange!” he yelled from his room.

Yup, he was definitely feeling better alright.

#kylian mbappe #kylian imagines #kylian x reader #makes psg debut two days before brother kylian faces argentina in world cup final #psg #psg football #france

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