#THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SENDING UEFA HIGH ASKS I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!

[liverpool-enjoyer]

THE CHRISTIAN PULISIC ELECTION HEADCANON 😭😭😭 Do you have any more headcanons for the few American students?

in fact i do!!!

ok regarding the christian election headcanon. i cannot stress enough how fucking EXCITED this boy was to get his fellow students (underage, non-american students) registered to vote 😭😭 bless his heart

ok ive spent a lot of time considering why tf these random ass american kids are at uefa in the first place

so christians mom is actually the mayor of dc!! (a random fictional mayor. i have no fuckin clue who the actual mayor of dc is)

and she knows her public school system is utter dogshit (again idk if thats actually true ive never been to dc) so she pulled some strings to get her son into some cushy private school he technically has no business being at

as for the other american kiddos (weston, gio),,, basically theyre all one big friend group n theyre christians friends from elementary n middle school

and when christian was aboutta start at uefa he was sad that he was gonna leave all his friends behind

so he was like. mom 🥺 im gonna be lonely without my friends at my new school 🥺 can you please use your important person powers so i can take them with me 🥺

and she was like. fine 🙄. n now christian gets to go to school w his friends!!

youll notice i didnt mention tim weah before. thats cause hes a different story

hes also at uefa due to his parents pulling strings. yknow cause his dads the fucking PRESIDENT OF LIBERIA. a fact that makes me do a double take every time i hear it.

stop me if youve heard this one before: gio reynas parents actually blackmailed his fucking VOLUNTEER, SUNDAY LEAGUE SOCCER COACH to get their son more minutes.

in an ironic twist of fate, serigo uses this incredibly embarrassing information to make gios life miserable

the amerigang doesnt even like soccer that much tbh, but all the other uefa students play it n they wanted to feel included

they much prefer baseball, n can be found at nationals park most weekends

the place they most often hang out at is christians house in colonial village

gio and christian find weston and tims stories of the shenanigans of their class (mosty revolving around federico and dusan) wildly entertaining

several students have approached christian asking if he can talk to his mom abt getting sergio banned from the district

kenan likes to follow weston around, so he just,,, hangs out w the american kids sometimes. they fw him.

gio is a freshman, while christian tim n weston are sophomores

none of them are old enough to drive, which makes hanging out kind of a bitch

christian tries to hang out w the croatian kids sometimes bc hes, in his own words, "practically one of them"

yeah they do NOT fw him

[moonbeambucky]

The Price of Gold (Part 1)

Pairing: Lance Tucker x Reader Word Count: 2211 Warnings: sports talk, brief mention of real life gymnastics sex abuse scandal

Summary: As a sports journalist you’ve traveled the world interviewing famous athletes. You’ve loved your job up until you find out your next article is on the last person in the world you ever wanted to talk to, Lance Tucker.

A/N: This is my submission for @green-eyeddragonfanfiction Dragon’s 3k Follower Creative Content Challenge. Congrats!! My prompt was “I can’t be in love with you!” gif source (x)

THE PRICE OF GOLD MASTERLIST

Your eyes blinked a few times to disrupt the strain of staring at a computer screen for far too long. You had almost rubbed them with your fingers but thankfully remembered you were wearing makeup and looking like a raccoon is not something you wanted to do, especially not at work.

You were in the homestretch of making edits to your article In Depth, a monthly feature you were proud to be writing for over the last year. You had come a long way, writing for your high school’s newspaper to today working for ESPN in New York. Your determination to work in sports journalism led you to leave your home of sunny Florida for the bitter cold of Illinois for college. At Northwestern you honed your skills, covering the various athletic games of your school for their website which ultimately led to an internship at the Northwest Herald. After being hired you spent years working up the ranks until you were offered your position with ESPN. Life was good.

Stretching your arms out you yawned deeply, reaching for your nearly empty mug of coffee, but you were relieved to know that you finished ahead of schedule and sent it for review. The publishing date for your Cristiano Ronaldo article had moved up significantly since he became the first player to score 100 goals in the UEFA Champions League.

After a long needed stretch you walked to the office kitchen, pouring a fresh cup of coffee before returning to your desk. Sipping on the warm brew you checked emails, a smile stretching across your face as you replied to Neymar’s agent who was securing dates for your interview with the popular footballer; a trip to Paris on the company’s dime to do so is an added bonus.

This is what made the difference in your writing, the reason why your articles were so popular. You didn’t just interview the athlete, you spent time with them, observing the person they truly were outside of the court, field or wherever they had to be “on”, yet you had a natural way of relaxing them, allowing the person behind the athlete to shine through.

The ringing phone is a welcomed interruption from the computer screen. Alyssa, your editor’s assistant, is calling to ask you to come upstairs. Normally being called into your boss’s office would be panic inducing but you quickly learned that was just how Susan Treston was; she wanted to bring the best out in everyone and would often call people in to brainstorm ideas or give them praise.

The elevator doors opened and you made small talk with Alyssa before she ushered you inside the large office with floor to ceiling windows and a beautiful views of Central Park that always knocked you off your feet. Taking a seat in front of the desk you rubbed the chill off of your arms from the cool air conditioning. Glancing around you looked at Sue’s photos with different athletes, chuckling at the height difference of her and Shaquille O'Neal.

Susan walked in briskly, harshly clearing her throat from a gulp of coffee as she greeted you and sat down.

“Ahh Y/N. I just skimmed over the Ronaldo piece. Great stuff!”

“Thanks Sue,” you replied, beaming a smile of pride at her comment. “You’ll get the Brady article by tomorrow,” you said with confidence, knowing you were almost through with it, along with a few more that were close to finishing. Sue smiled back, appreciating all of the dedication you had to your work. “Oh and I think I’ll be packing my bags soon!” you nearly sang, excited at the prospect of going to France.

“Yes that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. You’re from Spring Hill, right?” she asked.

Your head tilted in slight confusion, wondering what your small Floridian hometown had to do with Neymar. “Um yeah,” you hesitantly replied, trying to hide the concern in your voice.

“Do you know Lance Tucker?”

Her question halts time, like a car that stopped short by slamming on the brakes, feeling as if your body bounced back against the seat in slow motion. Your heart began to beat a rapid rhythm as queasiness washed over you. Suddenly Sue’s office feels hot, unbearably humid much like the weather you grew up with. Beads of sweat begin to pool around your hairline and your jaw is so tense you feel as if your teeth will shatter. Your heels dig into the carpet as you mull over her question.

Who doesn’t know Lance Tucker? The gold and silver gymnastics medalist whose cocky face was plastered all over Wheaties boxes and magazines alike after his wins, and again in recent times after the controversies surrounding him. But you know what she’s asking, do you know him.

Lance grew up in Spring Hill too and despite wishing otherwise you knew him. At four years old your family moved across the street from him and you became fast friends. You hadn’t seen him since you were in high school and he was focused on training for the Olympics. You hadn’t spoken since though a small part of you wished the reason was because of the intense training or his newfound celebrity status after winning but no, your friendship ended before that.

Swallowing the lump in your throat you finally replied, “Yeah, of course I know him, he’s famous ‘specially for a small town but, uh, I don’t know him,” you lied.

“You went to Springstead High School, like him?” she questioned though it felt more like an interrogation.

Forcing a relaxed expression to help mask your lies you smiled before answering, “Yeah but I don’t think we were in the same grade. I might have seen him in the halls but I don’t really remember, it was so long ago, you know?”

Sue shrugged, seemingly accepting your answer. “Either way, I want you on this one.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Your next In Depth, with Lance Tucker.”

No. This can’t be happening. You repeat that over and over again as you find yourself stuck in a nightmare. Your trip to Paris has been rerouted to Hell, and truth be told you would rather interview the devil because at least you know his character unlike… You shudder at the thought of that man.

You began to explain and pathetically beg to her about how much work you’ve put in to making arrangements for the Neymar interview, even telling her about your latest inside tip on how he might be traded. “I can bang out a great story. We’ll be breaking major news Sue!” you tried desperately to sell your idea to her but she shook her head.

“I’ll have Josh break Neymar, I need you on this one.”

“Why?” you attempted to hide the anguish in your question. “Why me?” you practically whined.

“Tucker is opening a gymnastics facility in Spring Hill.”

Your head tilted in confusion. Lance had quickly abandoned his hometown after winning, moving to Los Angeles to continue his career and his “brand.” He endorsed everything from sneakers to chapstick, living it up in a cliffside mansion with a rotation of beautiful women before he eventually became a coach for USA Gymnastics Women’s Team until the scandals hit.

There was a sexual harassment claim and a former student accused him of fathering her child. He was cleared of all accusations and the paternity test backed that up but in light of the allegations against USAG’s team doctor Larry Nassar, Lance was dropped by the Olympics Committee, stating they wanted to bring in fresh talent when in reality they wanted to distance themselves from anyone with negative press attached to them.

Lance had stepped away from the spotlight over the last year, something that surprised you greatly considering that once Lance had the taste of fame he soaked it up like a sponge. He resurfaced briefly a few months ago when it was reported he was making an appeal against the committee's decision, requesting to be reinstated.

“Sue, I think I’m the wrong person for this. Heather has covered more gymnastics and I think she could…”

“You’re wrong Y/N,” she stopped you mid-sentence. “With the scandals behind him Tucker could still make it in L.A., I want to know the real reason he chose Spring Hill and you’re the best person to get that from him.”

You nod, pressing your lips together, feeling the uncomfortable tension that hung in the air. Your hometown connection is her ticket to getting the story and there was nothing you could do about it. You left her office with a forced smile, resting your forehead against the cool walls of the elevator as you rode it down to your floor.

Alyssa would be sending you Lance’s contact information. You have two months until print, knowing if any major news in his case broke sooner so too would your story. As the doors opened you wondered if you should press the button for Sue’s floor again, confess the truth about your connection with Lance and why you couldn’t do this article. Then again, maybe it would work against you. You prided yourself on your objective journalism, something rare in the media field today.

Your last words to Lance echoed in your head, “I never want to see you again!” You remember the conviction you felt, the fire in your veins, the anger that boiled your blood all masking the sorrow that burned beneath the surface.

“Hey, d’you wanna go to the Knicks game tonight? Chris bailed on me,” the cheery voice of your coworker Heather asked.

Exhaling a sigh you replied, “Wish I could but I have to get started on my next In Depth”. Your response prompted her to ask who the article would be on and swallowing harshly you said his name for the first time in years, “L-Lance Tucker.”

Heather’s eyes widened, her mouth dropped open in surprise growing into the largest smile you’ve ever seen on a human being. “Holy fuck Y/N! Are you shitting me?” she nearly shouted over the quiet office causing a few people to glare in your direction. “I’m so jealous of you right now!”

“You really shouldn’t be,” you grumbled.

“Are you kidding? He’s hot as fuck and you’ll be spending so much time with him. Remember when Twitter thought you were hooking up with Steph Curry?”

You laughed uncomfortably, “Um yeah that was not cool,” remembering how many times you apologized to his wife Ayesha on behalf of the internet and thankfully she understood. “I don’t want anything to do with Lance Tucker!”

“Why not?” Heather nearly scoffed, the typical reaction one might have considering they didn’t know him like you did.

Your emotions where starting to get the best of you, all this talk of Lance making it feel like the walls were closing in. “I… I just don’t like him... or gymnastics okay?!”

“Pffft, well that’s a lie,” she laughed. “We covered Rio together, we went crazy over Simone Biles’ wins!”

“Everyone knows women’s gymnastics are different,” you chuckled. “The truth is,” the truth in part at least you thought, “I’m giving up a huge article with Neymar for this. I even asked Sue if you could have this but no, she wants me ‘cause of the ‘hometown connection’”, you quoted with your fingers.

She gasped, turning a few more heads as she shouted, “You’re from his hometown?!”

“Well, yeah, but I don’t know him,” you firmly lied again.

As Heather rambled on about her crush on Lance Tucker your thoughts drifted you away like a cloud, one that was dark and heavy, ready to burst and rain down on the world below. Your history with Lance was in the past and if it wasn’t for this stupid assignment that’s where it would have stayed.

Heather left you to continue working and you stared at Alyssa’s email with Lance’s contact information for a solid five minutes before composing your own email.

It was past five and you had rewritten what you wanted to say at least fifty times, reviewing it now for the tenth time. You cringed while reading it; the email laced with lies and buffed up language to play to his ego.

Dear Mr. Tucker,

My name is Y/N Y/L/N and I’m a journalist at ESPN. I would be very interested in featuring you and your incredible athletic accomplishments for my feature “In Depth”. I would love to discuss your Olympic wins, the opening of your upcoming training center and of course get a firsthand account of the unjust actions taken against you by the US Olympics Committee. I would be honored to hear from you so we can arrange to meet in person.

Best,

Y/N

The mouse hovered over the send button and with a quick click it was gone. You felt queasy, knowing he was going to get that email. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize your name, you couldn’t be the only Y/N Y/L/N in the world. Yet a link to your biography on ESPN’s website was part of your email signature. If he didn’t recognize your name he would definitely recognize your photo. Even a pompous, cocky asshole like Lance Tucker could never forget his first love.

PART 2