#angry players in football

[carebearcody]

vini doesn’t have to be mature about the racial abuse he faces. he doesn’t have to be strong about being a constant victim of racism. vinicius doesn’t owe shit to nobody when he’s being hurt and abused every single day. enough with the “vini has to-“ he doesn’t!

[misseyres]

God's strongest soldier (my sisters have overly simplistic takes on the new album)

[needvodkand1d]

I CAN’T FUCKING BELIEVE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WE’RE OUT OF THE U-20 WORLD CUP, THERE IS NOTHING MORE THAN ANGER IN ME

[cassmouse]

Football later... Prepare yourself mutuals

[rainbowvolt]

.

[nadvs]

sleeping with the enemy (one-shot)

pairing basketballplayer! rafe cameron x cheerleader! female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary after getting dumped by the captain of the basketball team you cheer for, you find revenge in the form of rafe cameron, your ex-boyfriend’s worst enemy.

» masterlist

» all blurbs in this au

“How bad is it that I want us to lose?” you mutter, fiddling with your pompoms as you stand courtside.

“Against them?” Your friend looks out at group of athletes in red warming up for the game. “Pretty bad.��

The rivalry between the Hawks and the Wolves is one of the most vicious in college basketball history. You proudly cheered for your team up until a couple of nights ago, when the Hawks power forward dumped you over text.

Your relationship with Max had been relatively new, lasting just over a month. Still, it pissed you off that he didn’t have the respect to break up face-to-face.

The worst part of it was that he was trying to convince you to sleep with him for the first time the night before he ended things. He got frustrated and left your dorm in a huff. Then, he texted you that he isn’t looking for a relationship.

You’re sure it was his plan to get you in bed then bail all along, but he gave up once he got too impatient.

You wanted to take things slow. You thought maybe you could have something real with him. What a waste of time.

Now, as you stand on the sidelines of your college’s basketball court, the tension is palpable as both teams warm up for another game against their worst enemies. The crowds’ conversations loudly blend into a dull murmur in the stands behind you.

“I don’t think it’s bad at all,” the cheerleader on your other side chimes in. “Max is a jerk. He deserves to lose.”

You scowl at your ex as he rushes through a running drill on the other side of the loud gym. You had told your close friends on the squad about what happened. They may hate him even more than you do.

You glance at the opposite side of the court where the visiting team is warming up. You spot player #10, Cameron sprawled over the back of his red jersey, as he runs warm-up passes with one of his teammates.

Max loathes him. And it’s not just because of the college’s long-standing rivalry. Your ex told you countless times what an asshole Rafe is and how much he trash-talks on the court.

Regardless, you could see it for yourself. Rafe taunts his opponents. He laughs in their faces when his team wins. He never shakes hands at the end of a game. He even shoved Max a few times, earning fouls.

You realize you’re staring at Rafe when his teammate misses a pass, sending the ball rolling towards you.

You’re so angry at Max that you almost want to wish Rafe luck when he comes near, picking up the ball off the glossy floor.

His gaze flashes at you as he straightens, and when you notice his blue eyes trail down your body, your skin pricks with heat. You’re sure you see a hint of a smirk on Rafe’s face before he turns around.

You probably shouldn’t be excited that your side of the rivalry’s most hated athlete is looking at you like that. But you’re not feeling particularly loyal to your team right now.

A loud whistle blows through the gym. The game is starting.

In Rafe’s mind, the only bad thing about basketball is that the sport has no tolerance for scrapping. Aggression is part of football. It’s encouraged in hockey. But the foul system in basketball is stupid. He never gave a fuck about sportsmanlike conduct.

He could have considered other sports, but he’s a natural at this. He has the height and agility and confidence for this sport. It’s what made him captain after his first year as a shooting guard.

Rafe paces to the center of the court for the coin toss, staring down at his opponent. Max Hammond’s always been easy to fuck with.

And honestly, it pisses Rafe off that lately, he’s seen the cheerleader on his rivals’ team that he’s been eyeing all season on Max’s arm. All the more reason to fuck with him.

“How’s that knee?” Rafe taunts. Their last game, he dunked over Max hard enough to send him hurling to the floor. Rafe laughed when he saw his opponent clutching his knee.

“Shut up,” Max mutters with a scowl. Rafe smiles pompously. Then, he wins the coin toss.

You halfheartedly chant through the cheers you’ve memorized when the game starts. The players rush up and down the court, shoes squeaking against the floor, sweat sheening their skin.

It feels weird keeping your gaze off of Max. You used to follow him with lovestruck eyes throughout every game. If only you knew what a douche he’d turn out to be.

So, for this game, you watch Rafe. You shouldn’t feel so satisfied every time he pushes past Max and earns a point for the rivals you’re supposed to be booing, but you do.

Shadows move with the edges of Rafe’s muscles under the bright gym lights. His lips are parted as he rushes down the court, feet moving quickly, hands controlling the ball with expert precision.

When the game ends with a loss for the Hawks, you’re not all that upset. Mainly because Max looks so devastated.

Afterwards, you decide to go out to a local bar with a few of your friends. You want to let loose. Maybe you’ll even find a meaningless hook-up. After the mess with Max, you want some fun, and you’re definitely not up for looking for any sort of emotional connection.

Both college campuses aren’t far apart, so the bars and clubs in town often see an overlap of students. Most people don’t care about the rivalry, especially when they’re off-campus.

But the athletes and cheerleaders never allow the tension to dissipate, especially after a game. The winners are always loud and celebratory, while the losers stare daggers at their enemies. Tonight’s no different.

The bar is dark and packed and loud and humid, your fingers wrapped around an emptied glass as you sit at a table with a couple of your friends.

When Max walks into the bar, unease rolls through you. You wonder how long it’ll take for you not to be so frustrated by his presence.

He finds seats across the bar with a few of the other Hawks players. One of your friends notices your discomfort and follows your eye-line.

“Do you want to leave?” she asks.

“No.” You’re determined not to let Max ruin your night. “I’m getting another drink.”

After making sure your friends don’t want a second drink just yet, which only serves as a reminder of how fast you downed yours, you drift over to the bar.

You find an open pocket in the crowd and you squeeze through, your hands resting on the hard edge of the bar top. You watch the bartender take orders, not yet aware of you.

You sigh to yourself, drumming your fingers, hoping you’re just one more drink away from feeling better.

Rafe watches the stranger beside him fidget impatiently. When he looks up from your tapping fingers, he realizes you’re not a stranger at all.

You’re the cheerleader he’s always checking out. The one who’s been on Max’s arm after games. But he usually sees you wearing a big smile, and there’s nothing happy about the way you look right now.

You can see from the corner of your eye that the person beside you is looking at you. You meet Rafe’s gaze, blinking a few times to make sure it’s really him.

You’re a bit embarrassed, considering you’d stared at him through tonight’s game. He’s in a dark t-shirt instead of the jersey you’re used to seeing him in. You can tell that is hair is just a bit damp, surely from the shower he took after the game.

You try not to think about him in the shower.

Rafe takes you in, the way your lips purse before you speak.

“You played well,” you say.

Rafe’s lids lower. You’re wearing a dress even shorter than the little cheerleading skirt he’s used to seeing you in.

“Me?” he drawls, his lips curling up in a surprised smirk.

You meet his eyes for longer this time, nodding at him with an indifferent expression.

“Aren’t you Hammond’s girl?” he says, clearly amused, a contrast from how angry you’ve heard him on the court.

You’re surprised that he knows you were dating Max. Maybe he noticed you more often than you thought.

“Nope,” you mutter. You tell him you have a name, then give him it.

Rafe’s eyes continue to travel over you, his pulse quickening as he takes you in. He knew you were hot, but he never got a chance to really look at you up close.

How the hell did Hammond fuck things up with you? He needs to know so he won’t make the same mistake.

“What happened?” he murmurs.

“With Max?” you ask. “He’s a dick.”

“Could’ve told you that.” You watch Rafe slightly tip his head back as he takes a drag of his beer.

“Really? I’ve heard the same about you,” you say. You realize you might be more tipsy that you thought once your brazen words spill out of your mouth.

“And what, you think it’s true?” Rafe asks with his eyes on your lips.

“I don’t know. You get fouled more than any player I’ve seen.”

Rafe huffs a breathy chuckle, obviously nowhere near offended by your words. He actually seems flattered.

Out of instinct, your eyes dart to the table you saw Max sitting at. His gaze is fixed on you. He’s likely shocked that you’re talking to someone you’re supposed to hate.

Rafe turns to see what you’re looking at. He smirks when he notices just how pissed off Max looks. He turns his attention back at you.

“Your boyfriend’s pissed,” Rafe says, a hint of mocking in his voice.

“I already told you that he’s not my boyfriend. And I couldn’t care less if he’s mad that I’m talking to you,” you answer, crossing your arms. Blue eyes dart down to your cleavage.

“So, you’re not using me to get back at him?” he teases.

“I didn’t even know you were here,” you say. “But it’s not a bad idea.”

Rafe cocks his head, his tongue jutting under his cheek. Getting to flirt with a hot girl and annoying someone he hates at the same time is a win-win situation.

“What can I get you?” you hear. You look over at the bartender and regain your composure to order your drink.

“Put it on my tab,” Rafe tells him. He watches your lashes flutter when you meet his eyes again.

“Thanks,” you say, lips lifting into a smile. You’ve been so deep in your anger that you haven’t realized that Rafe could be the meaningless hook-up you’re looking for tonight.

“That’s the first time you smiled since you came over here,” he notices.

“I’m in a pretty bad mood,” you admit.

“What’d he do?” Rafe asks, tilting his head back to Max.

“Probably something you do to girls all the time,” you say boldly. “He made me think he wanted a relationship, but turns out, he just wanted to get laid.”

Rafe’s eyes glint with something you haven’t seen in him under the muted bar lights. For a split second, his guard goes down.

“You think I do that?”

“Am I wrong?” you challenge. His laugh is dry and humorless. He leans closer to you, his cologne cool and sharp as he towers over you.

“You are,” he says.

The tension between you hardens. You stare up at him.

“Okay,” you say. At this point, you’re jaded and uninterested in dancing around the subject. “So, what do you do?”

You lift your glass to take a sip. Rafe watches the way your lips lock around the straw. He’s entranced by you, by how straightforward you are.

“I’m upfront that I’m not looking for a girlfriend,” he says. “I don’t have to play games.”

You know he’s being honest. Someone that looks as good as he does definitely doesn’t have to manipulate his way into sex.

“What are you looking for, then?” you ask.

“Fun,” Rafe replies. “And I think you need some fun, too.”

You feel your blood go hot. He’s right. This man and the no-strings-attached sex he’s proposing is exactly what you need right now.

You lock eyes with him as you swallow the last sip of your drink and put it on the bar with a clack.

“I do,” you answer.

When Rafe asks you if you want to go over to his place, you don’t need to even think about it.

You let your friends know you’re leaving and you follow Rafe out, his hand finding yours, callouses from his training hard over his palm.

It’s all such a thrill. The way Rafe looks at you. The promise of casual sex with him. The glare of your ex-boyfriend as you leave. And the fact that you completely forgot about how this started as revenge on Max because you’re so tangled up in the feeling Rafe is giving you.

When you step into Rafe’s single dorm, he crosses the small room to switch on the desk lamp, casting a dim glow over the space.

You notice a few toiletries scattered on top of his dresser, his jersey slung over the back of his chair. This is technically enemy territory, but you couldn’t care less.

It’s quite bare and not very lived in, but you didn’t expect him to be the type who cares to decorate.

“I’m guessing you’re not in here all that much,” you say, leaning against the door once it shuts behind you.

“You finally got something right about me,” Rafe replies, earning a giggle from you. He sits on the edge of his bed, staring at you. “Come here.”

His dominance, not just through his words but by the way he takes up space so confidently, makes arousal swirl in your stomach. You settle beside him, the mattress shifting with your weight.

“Are you always this bossy?” you ask.

Rafe takes in your pretty features. This might be one of the best nights he’s had. He played a great game, won against the team he hates most, and the girl he’s been eyeing all season is sitting on his bed.

“Right again,” he says. Now that you left the crowds and music back in the bar, his deep voice cutting through silence reverberates through you.

You breathe a quiet laugh. You first approached him feeling so bitter, but just like that, he turned your mood around.

His eyes trail the hemline of your dress. You watch as he places his hand over your thigh, moving slowly, his thumb stroking just below where the fabric of your dress ends.

Rafe’s skin is hot, his hand heavy, and your heart-rate quickens in a second.

“You know how distracting you are?” he rasps, recalling the countless times he saw you by the court as you danced around in your skimpy outfit.

“What?” you ask.

“It’s so fucking hard to focus on playing when you’re there.”

Your breath hitches as he leans in closer, his nose brushing against yours. You had no idea you’d caught his attention before tonight, but by the sound of it, this isn’t the first time he’s looked at you through lustful eyes.

When his lips capture yours, he squeezes your thigh, firm fingers sinking into your flesh. He kisses you again and again and again, every time deeper than the last, tongues meeting with heated ardency.

You let out a moan so soft when he bites your bottom lip that he takes your hand from where it’s resting to the bulge in his jeans, showing you how hard he is for you.

Your body flushes even hotter when you feel him, gently starting to stroke him over the denim.

Your phone buzzes loudly in your purse, vibrating in a rhythmic pattern you recognize as a call.

Rafe shifts back, his mouth an inch away from yours.

“You don’t have to get that, do you?” His tone signifies more of a statement than a question.

You pull out your phone, confused over who would call you now. You grimace when you see Max’s photo on your screen.

Rafe notices. You breathe out a quiet laugh of surprise when takes your phone, hitting “Message” and sending She’s busy, then declining the call.

You feel each other’s smiles under your kiss, this time moving even faster. Rafe drags his hand higher under your dress and inhales sharply once you instinctually spread your legs, allowing him to feel you.

The pressure of his fingers rubbing over your panties makes you ache.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” he rasps against your lips.

“Yeah,” you whisper. He pushes the fabric to the side, feeling how slick and soft you are.

“Goddamn, you’re so wet already,” Rafe groans, enjoying the ego trip from knowing he got you like this so quickly. His lips trail to your neck, kissing and sucking your skin as he glides between your folds, tracing circles.

He shifts, losing contact with you for a moment to pull your dress off. When he sees you in just your bra and underwear, he nearly grunts in frustration from not being inside you already.

His hold on your hips is so firm it hurts as he guides you onto your back. Hovering over you, Rafe pulls his t-shirt off with urgency. Your lips quirk into a smile at how impatient and hungry he is.

You find the button of his jeans, quickly pulling it through the loop. He does the rest, unzipping and throwing his pants onto the floor. He stands to find a condom in his nightstand, tossing it beside you.

You run your hands over the curve of his muscular back when he lowers to grind over you, his cock hard and twitching.

When Rafe feels your thighs squeeze around him, he tells himself to slow his breathing, almost worried he won’t last long. This doesn’t happen to him. Ever.

But then again, he’s never craved a girl this badly, for this long. Having you under him like this, bucking your hips because you want it just as bad, is unreal.

He roughly pulls the cup of your bra down, closing his wet mouth over your nipple, earning a shudder from you. As he flicks his tongue, he shifts to pull down his boxers.

You take off your panties beneath him, squirming out of them, watching him sit up and roll the condom over his length.

“You gonna show me how good you can take it?” he mumbles, leaning over you again. You meet heavy-lidded blue eyes as he holds himself up over you, biting your lip and nodding.

The world stops spinning when he pushes into you, filling you.

“Fuck,” he groans against your cheek as you squeeze him. “Even better than I thought.”

You tilt your head back and moan, taking all of him, stretching as he buries deeper and deeper, dazed at the fact that he feels so good, that he clearly fantasized about this before.

Rafe bottoms out and you dig your nails into his shoulder blades as he pulls back and thrusts into you harder, his breath hot on your skin.

You wrap your limbs around him as tight as you can as he starts to rock his hips at a faster pace. He puts his lips on yours again, your kisses wet and hungry.

The sounds of his skin slamming against yours and your disjointed, shallow breaths fill the room, making you squeeze your eyes shut in pleasure.

Your moans get louder as the coil in your stomach begins to tighten. Rafe starts pounding even faster and harder when he feels you fluttering around his cock.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he murmurs, shifting lower to put more of his weight on you, his fingers finding the roots of your hair. “You gonna come for me?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes.”

You tremble beneath him as you fall into your orgasm, holding your breath for a second before letting go. What finally sends him over the edge is when you moan his name.

Rafe comes with a low, drawn out groan, his thrusts quicker and sloppier, hips stuttering against yours. He stays inside you for a bit, his head buzzing as he comes back down from the high.

You sit up in his bed once he stands, your pulse still fast. You watch him pull his boxers back on, his skin shining with sweat.

You spot your underwear on his crumpled duvet and slide them on after fixing your bra.

You decide not to put your dress back on yet, shifting his pillow to sit back on the headboard, finding where he tossed your phone after he texted your ex for you.

You watch Rafe lean down to open the door of the mini-fridge on the floor. He pulls out a bottle and tilts his head back as he swallows down water.

The image of his tall, muscular, half-naked frame in the middle of his room, his jaw sharp as he tips his head back, his numbered jersey hanging off the back of his chair right next to him, is too nice not to capture.

You take a photo of the sight, the bottom half of your bare legs in the frame. Rafe hands you the cold bottle and as you take it in your hand, you show him your screen.

“Like it?” you say, still dazed.

He grins, dimples dipping into his cheeks, as he sinks onto the bed on his knees to sit beside you.

“You posting that?” he asks. You can tell he’s pleased by the idea, so you share it on your Snap story with the caption Post-workout.

Minutes later, the replies from your friends flood in.

IS THAT WHO I THINK IT IS

omfg this is WILD

actually diabolical lmaoooo

Max’s message is the most satisfying of the bunch: Are you serious right now?? Call me back.

You shift to grab your dress off the floor. You’re never calling him. He lost his chance.

“I guess I’ll see you around,” you say, standing to pull your dress on.

“You know how distracted on the court I’ll be now?” Rafe mumbles, earning a laugh from you. “Let me get your number.”

You enter your number into his phone and smooth down your hair in his mirror.

Casual, easy pleasure. This is just what you needed and you found it in Rafe Cameron of all people. You look back at him as you put your purse over your shoulder.

“We’ll do this again,” Rafe says, drinking you in. That was mind-blowing. It can’t be the only time he does this with you.

“Bossy,” you agree with a smile. You slip out of his room, your legs weak and wobbly.

You’ll be sore tomorrow. And the cheerleaders and athletes who take the rivalry seriously might even give you shit for what you did tonight. But it was all worth it. You’d do it all over again.

(continuation blurbs)

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[julietsbody]

it doesn’t take long for luke to have you face first into the couch as soon as the game ends, you had been sitting on his lap the whole time, besides when he carefully pushed you off so he could stand and stare in disbelief at the screen. football made luke so angry, which was like, a blessing for you, because he was so hot when he was mad!!! 

the way he would yell at the screen, then instantly be sweet to you when explaining to you what was happening. you were just a little doll for him to vent to!! dumbly nodding as he explains what a first down is, or a touchdown, or… okay you don’t remember it, really, but still!!! 

“can’t believe it,” he mumbles behind you, pounding into your sopping cunt, “players ‘re so fuckin’— gods — stupid, huh? ‘least i got this perfect pussy of yours, fuck, always so good for me.” 

and you’re just a blabbing mess, whimpering and whining as his tip bullies your cervix, bruising your delicate walls. “sorry, mm, luke.. ‘hurts!!” 

“you can take it, princess,” he mumbles, fingers gripping your waist, “just watchin’ for taylor swift, huh? fuck.. oh my god— don’t even know anythin’, had to explain it all to you.”

soon enough he’s emptying out inside of your overstimulated cunt, and moving off to carry you bridal style to the bathroom!! a bath to take care of you and to hear him explain how stupid every play was? your favorite!! 

[elpuppies]

Learning that thomas partey is accused of rape wasnt something i expected to see today

[33max]

my favourite max verstappen lore 📝

- he donated to a koala hospital during the widespread aussie bushfires in 2019 because "I saw all the images and I found it very sad to see something like that” & "It is of course so difficult to put out fires like that, and then you see those koalas burned alive. I thought perhaps I could help a little."

- max cried in front of the team (11:41*) and helmut marko when he couldn’t take part in qualifying for the monaco 2018 grand prix because of his accident in fp3

*they don’t explicitly say he was crying but it’s implied, especially with the addition of marko’s comments

- max watched a star is born on the plane to a race and was so angry and upset after watching the ending that he went to bed. he apparently would like a sequel where bradley cooper doesn’t die.

- he is scared of big hairy spiders, snakes and… zombies

- max drinks coconut water while racing in f1

- max paid to have the pride flag on his character in among us

- max doesn’t have any heroes, but he does speak about how meeting football player Johan Cruyff had a huge impact on him. He notes that his winning time in Barcelona 2016 — 1hr 41min 40sec — has 14 twice within it, and 14 was Cruyff’s number. he’s almost spiritual about this not being coincidental.

- max didn’t understand what victoria was trying to tell him when she announced she was pregnant! (someone help me source this?)

[leah-lover]

Behind her eyes.WNBA!reader x Alexia putellas.

Summary: Alexia and R's relationship is tested after what happened at one of r's basketball games

--------------------------------------------------

Your girlfriend’s eyes were the reason why you fell in love with her. They were the first thing that caught your attention when it came to her and they are the thing you looked for when you were lost, upset or angry.

You first noticed her hazel eyes when she sat court side at one of your games in barcelona. You had just joined the catalonian team after the end of the wnba season. It was your first time playing in the Spanish league. In fact, it was your first time playing overseas and you didn't acclimate very well. You didn't know anybody, you didn't speak the language, you were just lonely and homesick.

It all changed on one home game, alexia came with a bunch of her teammates to support your new team, she sat courtside and watched attentivly as your team played valencia. You weren't feeling like yourself in your new home yet so you hadn't put on your usual performance. It all changed when you got fouled and fell directly in front of her. Angry, you wanted to pick a fight with the player that fouled you but you got distracted by a perfect face or more less a pair of dreamy eyes. They took you back for a moment and you kept thinking about them for a couple plays. You even glanced at her direction when you weren't moving the ball. She lit a fire inside of you, one that you have been trying to ignite ever since you left the US. You had to do better, you had to impress this person and leave an impression on her.

After the break, in the 3rd quarter, you put your game face on and started to direct play on the floor. You shot 3s, layups, blocked shots, assisted your teammates and over all controlled play. By the end of the game, the crowd was loud , and your team was leading the game by 20 points, which is the most this team has ever led with . You were happy, and you were yourself again.

You were celebrating with your teammates and coach when the social media manager came to you and asked you to come take a picture with alexia and her teammates. You got nervous all of a sudden but you tried to keep your cool. You introduced yourself, took the photo and tried as much as you could to memorize her features.

“ Hey, your shooting ability is impressive.” she says, her spanish accent apparent in her english.

“ What we do here is easy compared to controlling a ball with your feet, and running on the giant field you guys play in for 90 minutes.” you reply.

“ I guess every sport has its ups and downs.” she added.

“ You want to take some shots?” you invited her while bouncing the ball on the floor. She hesitantly accepted and so you helped her by correcting her form allowing her to take shots.

“ Holy shit you might be coming for my job.” you complimented her.

“ I don't think so. I am pretty attached to football, or as you people say soccer.” she says sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“ don't count me in with those people calling it soccer and not football is pretty stupid.” you take another shot while holding eye contact with alexia. “ Besides, I am pretty damn good at my job.”

You two continue talking about the differences of your sports all the way down to the locker room where alexia’s teammates were waiting for her.

“ Come on, capi, we're gonna be late. “ says one of her teammates.

“ I came to one of your games, now it's your turn to come to mine.”

“ will do capi.” you joked before giving her a kiss goodbye.

Throughout the next couple of months you went to every game of hers you could and she did the same to you. You always stayed late talking, laughing, sometimes even practicing each other's sports after every game.

Talking after the game turned into dinners, then sex, and eventually you two started dating. You met her friends and family, and slept regularly at her house when you were in barcelona.

Your life seemed perfect, you were in your A game, you had a gorgeous girlfriend and you two loved the hell out of each other, you had friends in this strange new country who you would go out to brunch with on the weekend. You frankly were the happiest person in the world. Well, that only lasted for about 8 months.

It all happened at once in one second your perfect life came crashing down. During the playoffs, It was a regular 1v1 battle, you tried to turn around and make a shot but your knee thought otherwise and caused you to fall to the floor and scream out loud. The pain was inimaginable. Quickly, tears were streaming down your face, your teammates formed a huddle around you to shield you from the cameras, and the medic came rushing towards you.

“ hey do you hear me?” she asked. It was hard for you to focus. But all of a sudden it became clear, you didn't feel the pain anymore, and you stopped crying.

“ Non-contact injury, my knee, it's an ACL tear right?” you looked at the medic with a little hope in your eyes.

“ most likely. I am so sorry.” she said as she and her assistant tried to pull you up and help you hop to the locker room.

On the way there you look to your left and see a scared alexia. You looked at her eyes where you usually find solace and hope only to find sympathy and fear. She gave a reassuring smile but you looked at the ground immediately.

Once in the locker room, the medics began explaining the situation.

“ I know everything that’s gonna happen, I have been through this before. Its hard and it fucking sucks. I just want to go home now. I will be back tomorrow for scans.”

The medical team complies with your request and helps you go to the locker room to collect your things. Once you find yourself alone you smash one of your crutches on the ground multiple times, you bend the steel. You weren't proud of what alexia saw when she came in to check on you but you had to get the anger out of you. You would find out later that the crutch didn't get all of it.

Throughout the whole car ride flashes of the pain of rehab and hard work you put on only 3 years ago flooded your memory. You only got out of your head when you noticed the route that the car you were in was taking.

“ alexia i want to go home.” you say in a surprisingly harsh tone. She didn't look at you and continued driving.

“ alexia.” you repeat again.

“ You are not gonna scare me into pulling away from you.” she replied calmly.

“ Alexia, I just want to go home.” you say again not giving up your harsh tone.

“ we are going home amor. Home where I can be with you and take care of you.” .

“ I didn't ask you to. Just take me to my fucking house.”

What you said seemed to anger her so she pulled over. “ Let's get this out of the way now. First you are not going to drive me away, I love and I won't let you go. Second , you don't talk to me like that, not with that town and ot with those words. Third, call me Alexia again and you won't like what happens.” she shares eye contact with you again before putting her seat belt back on and driving home.

You didn't say a word through the rest of the car ride, you just dove into the sea of painful memories your brain prepared for you. When alexia notices your sudden change of demeanor, she puts her hand on your thigh only for you to flinch. You flinching at her touch meant that you were thinking about your past relationship and that's when alexia put two and two together.

You didn't realize that you two were home until Alexia opened your door and handed you your crutches.

“ alexia just take me to my house.”

“ We will talk about it upstairs, come one.”

You felt sick to your stomach, all you wanted to do was throw yourself in her arms and let her stroke your hair and scratch your back until you fell asleep.

Outside in the world and to the media your personality was larger than the world. You were loud, fun , playful, and funny. When you came you closed the door behind you and your girlfriend you craved to just lay on her and let her take care of you. However you were too proud to ever say anything out of fear she might not like the other side of the coin.

“Bébé talk to me please.”

You tried to keep your mouth shut. You tried so hard to swallow your words. But you could you couldn't keep it in anymore.

“ I am just so tired of pretending.” you whisper.

“ louder mi amor.”

“ This person I am about to become is grumpy, sad, angry and in pain. I am not gonna be the fun cocky person anymore. I have been through this before. It never fails to break me so please just take me home . I want to go home,and cry about my season at home that I lost. I want to cry about the fact that I will go through this miserable journey again. I want to cry about the fact that all I want is to be held by my girlfriend but I can't ask for that because I am afraid you will leave me. i just want to fucking cry.” by now you were hysterically crying and yelling. Alexia was holding you tight , her hands were becoming white.

“ I love you so much.” she just kept repeating that phrase over and over until you calmed down.

“ I will never leave you. I would love to hold you and take care of you and I don't pity you. You just had a fantastic season in a strange country and I am so proud of that and we will battle this together. “ she continued to rub your arms and whisper how much she loved you no matter what your mood was. You couldn't resist the temptation to drop your guard and be who you are anymore.

“ promise you will never leave me ale.” you plead.

“ I promise you that I will never leave. I am so sorry I didn't make you sure enough in my love for you. I promise you to do better.”

“ Can you help me take a bath and go to bed then. tomorrow is gonna be tough i need to sleep.

“ alright amor but first i want to hold you some more and stroke your hair.”

Somehow , She knew that that's what you ached for the most.

You turn your head and look into her eyes again to find love and admiration instead of the sympathy and fear that was there before so you relaxed and let her take care of you.

You knew since the moment you saw her that her eyes were your saving grace.

[luviwon]

POST-MATCH | s.jy

kinktober day 16! back to the masterlist here!

☆ football captain!jake x cheerleader!reader

; when it comes to football, you know that for jake a new victory means a following night out with the boys. this time, though, luck is not on their side and jake’s frustration needs to be buried somewhere else. maybe inside you would be just the great spot for that.

genre ; smut

taglist ; @blushbunini @moonpri @blackp1nkfan @mitmit01 @harukayoiiiiiiizzz @mlywon @lhspeachie @seraphira @kaykay11sworld @winuvs @yuniesluv @shhth @rizzki09 @mylettterstoyou @d-dilemma @aanniikkas @hooneyz-luver @laylasbunbunny @nyfwyeonjun @minniesverse @rikinatorr

“fuck,” jake shouted, slamming his helmet against the metal locker. the loud, making you flinch from where you stood by the doorway. his teammates were filtering out, giving him a wide berth as they passed, none of them daring to say anything. they knew better than to poke at him when he was like this, a storm barely holding itself together, and as much as you’d hoped tonight would end differently, you could see the fury simmering just beneath the surface.

you waited a moment, watching as he paced, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, jaw tight. you’d seen him angry before, but this was different, like he was barely holding himself back. the game had been brutal—a close loss, the kind that left every player on edge, but jake took it harder than anyone. for him, it wasn’t just a game; it was everything, and right now, it was slipping through his fingers.

“jake…” you started, but the word barely left your mouth before he was on you, moving so fast it took your breath away.

“don’t,” he growled, his eyes dark and intense as he closed the distance between you. “don’t tell me it’s gonna be okay. don’t try to make this better.” he was right in front of you now, so close you could feel the heat radiating off his skin, his breath coming in sharp, angry bursts.

you opened your mouth to say something, but before you could get a word out, his hands were on you, rough and desperate, grabbing your waist and pulling you against him. it wasn’t gentle; it was raw and urgent, like he needed to drown out everything else, and the next thing you knew, your back hit the wall with a hard thud, knocking the air out of your lungs.

“jake—” you gasped, but his mouth was on yours, cutting off whatever you were going to say. the kiss was fierce, almost bruising, his lips crashing against yours like he was trying to claim you, to stake out some piece of control when everything else had slipped away. his hands gripped your hips, hard enough to leave marks, and you could feel the tension in every inch of his body, the way he was holding on like he was afraid to let go.

you should have pushed back, told him to slow down, but there was something intoxicating about the way he was kissing you, the way his frustration and need tangled together, pouring into you like a storm. his lips moved against yours, rough and demanding, and when he pulled back, just for a second, you could see the fire still burning in his eyes.

“you’re mine,” he muttered, his voice low and dark, barely more than a growl. “i don’t care about the game. i don’t care about anything else right now. just… let me have this. let me have you.”

his words sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could even think of a response, his mouth was on your neck, teeth grazing your skin, hot and insistent. you could feel the frustration rolling off him in waves, each kiss, each touch, like he was trying to bury his anger, to lose himself in you.

your hands found their way to his shoulders, clinging to him as he pressed you harder against the wall, his body fitting against yours in a way that was almost possessive. “jake,” you whispered, but it came out breathless, almost like a plea, and you weren’t even sure what you were asking for—more, or for him to slow down, or to just stay like this forever.

he lifted his head, eyes locking onto yours, and there was something wild there, something that made your heart skip a beat. “say it,” he demanded, his voice rough, lips brushing against your ear. “tell me you’re mine.”

you didn’t hesitate. “i’m yours,” you said, and the moment the words left your lips, he kissed you again, harder this time, like he was sealing a promise. his hands slid up your sides, gripping your waist, and then one tangled in your hair, tilting your head back so he could kiss you deeper, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip.

every touch, every kiss felt like it was pulling you under, drowning out everything else, until there was nothing but him, his body pressing against yours, his mouth claiming you like he needed you more than air.

suddenly, jake turned you around and made you bend over, your cheerleader skirt barely hiding your ass anymore. jake licked his lips, hunger growing within them, and his finger dragged a line along your exposed panties, going from front to back, feeling the wetness of your cunt instantly. "you love this, don't you" he laughed, smacking your cheeks without any warning. you whined, but did not move an inch. you belonged to him and he could do whatever he wanted to you.

his property.

"come here, pretty", he urged you, as he sat down on the bench and lowered his pants along with his boxers. he was harder than usually, his cock standing up before you, then he grabbed your wrists together behind your back. jake held tight on them, keeping you from running away. with his free hand, he pushed your panties to the side. "spread your legs" he said dominantly, ready to take over your pussy. you did not object at all, but listen to him entirely and open your legs apart just a bit for his tip to go inside you. you couldn't take all of him yet, you needed to accommodate, but jake did not like the thought of that.

he wanted you now.

so he thrusted hard into you, causing you to moan aloud, probably every one on the hallway hearing the way you whined your boyfriend's name. jake smirked and kept his cock buried deep inside you, until you finally sat on his lap, your walls stretched out by his thickness. "ride me" he urged, your wrists still held behind. you swallowed and moved up and down on him, your skirt floating in the air when you'd go back to his lap. he felt so big inside you, your cunt clenching around him.

jake took one of his hand and wrapped it around your neck, pushing you down and whispering into your ear "faster, whore". his words awoken something inside you, something that maybe you shouldn't even feel, but which made you move faster, his hand still around your throat. you threw your head back, hearing his light moans inside your ear each time you went back down, and when you started to get tired, jake started to thrust into you again, making you feel drunk on him. "j-jake" you moaned, forgetting about where you were and what you were doing. you just wanted him to fuck you rough, to stretch you out carelessly.

"fucking stupid game" he groaned, his thrusts harder and faster, the grip around your throat tighter, almost feeling out of air. "but i get to win this pussy over, right?" he asked, more on an ironic tone, but you couldn't really think straight anymore, as you felt nothing but his cock hitting your G-spot. "answer me, whore" he said more urgently, getting up from the bench and turning you around, making you go on your knees. he let go of your wrists so you can have more stability and fucked you from behind, feeling your ass in his hands, smacking it every so often.

"you feel so good, shit" he groaned, pushing himself harder inside you, watching your skirt rolling over your back. "i'll cum inside you, pretty" he warned you, and you nodded in response, as the only possible sounds to be made were your whining only. you couldn't talk, it felt like he took that right from you and you kinda...liked that.

he did as he said, climaxing inside your cunt, his seed filling you up. but instead of pulling out, jake thrusted into you again, his hands grabbing your waist. "j-jake?" you asked, unsure of what he wanted to do, but then he shushed you, small bits of his cum dripping down your pussy as his cock went in and out, at a fast pace again. "didn't say one round will be enough, whore"

[wileys-russo]

Alexia, “are you crying.” “No-“ “shh it’s ok” “I’m not cry-.” “Shh it’s okay mi amor.” Kitchen

cursed II a.putellas

"ale? amor can you take the washing out of the machine please." you heard the chime of the washer and called out, eyes scanning the recipe book propped up in front of you.

but when you glanced up they rolled seeing your girlfriend still engrossed in the football match on the tv. "ale. alexia!" you called again, a flick of her hand and a hum all you recieved in return.

with an annoyed huff you picked up a lemon, throwing it at her and watching as the blonde let out a yelp and almost fell off the sofa in shock. "hey! why are you throwing things at me tonta?" your girlfriend scowled holding up the lemon which had only bounced off the cushion beside her.

"because i called your name and you didn't answer, tonta!" you mocked. "can you go put the washing in the dryer please?" you repeated yourself, turning back to the pan on the stove, giving the mushrooms you were frying off a toss.

glancing over your shoulder you were appeased to see alexia no longer there, assuming she was doing as you'd asked. however when a couple of minutes later you heard the washer chime again in reminder.

"alexia?" you yelled out with a sigh, hearing your own name echoed back from the bedroom. "qué estás haciendo?" you questioned as you appeared in the doorway, your girlfriend sat down on the corner of the bed, the same football match playing on the tv that was still going in the living room.

"washing." she mumbled, pointing to the wicker basket in the corner of your room, her dirty laundry half hanging around it, eyes locked on the tv screen where the barcelona men were playing.

"i asked you to take the washing out of the machine, not- well no actually i did ask you to organise your washing but i asked you that this morning!" you realised with a roll of your eyes, the footballer merely humming clearly not listening.

"ale. are you listening?" you asked, another hum. "i am dying my hair blue." another hum, this time with a nod. "i am pregnant." another slow nod. "we are having a baby!" a dismissive wave.

"i am going to start supporting real madrid." "no en esta casa."

"you are listening!" you huffed after her last response, grabbing a throw pillow and smacking her in the side of the head, not missing the tiny smirk flashed your way before her gaze returned to the tv.

"do the washing!" you poked at her as she hummed, a squeal leaving your mouth as she trapped your wrists in her hands and tugged you down onto the bed.

"half time." the catalan hummed, gently patting your cheek and trying to lay down with you in her arms as you grunted and wriggled away. "no. now! it will smell bad if you leave it in there wet." you ordered, dodging her foot which shot out to try and push you out of the way as you stood in front of the tv.

"now putellas." you warned seriously as the blonde threw her head back with a groan, resembling that of a told off toddler as she hauled herself up, stomping off to the laundry with grumbles and glares.

"treinta años mi culo." you muttered under your breath, returning to the kitchen and sighing in relief that nothing had burned, moving the mushrooms off the heat and looking up as a loud cheer started.

"oh hijo de puta!" your girlfriend swore, kicking at the lounge as she skidded into the living room, dragging her hands down her face and swearing at the tv, shaking her hands around like a mad woman and yelling at the players as if they could hear her.

"you!" you were pulled from your thoughts again, a flick of your eyes upward meeting the midfielders which burned with passion, eyebrows knotted together in an angry frown.

"villareal scored when i was not watching, esto es culpa nuestra!" alexia accused, pointed finger outstretched at you making you snicker. "sí mi amor i waited till you left and ran onto the pitch through the tv and scored against barcelona." you pouted mockingly.

"eres una mujer maldita!" alexia grunted, a squeak sounding as she dropped herself unhappily back onto the couch, arms crossed and a permanent scowl etched into her face which made you chuckle as you started to prep the rest of the vegetables.

it was a few moments later that alexia heard it, half time called and her previous unfair grievance toward you settled, a sniffle.

but not just any sniffle, your sniffle.

the blondes head whipped upward, phone dropping from her hand and though you tried to hide it she didn't miss the way you reached up and wiped a few tears, hand covered by the hoodie sleeve covering your fingers.

in the blink of an eye she was up and on her feet, charging toward you and rounding the corner in milliseconds flat.

you tensed up and almost sliced off the tip of your finger feeling her taller form collide with yours, arms squeezing your mid section tightly and the smell of her favorite perfume invading and engulfing all of your senses.

"ale que-" you tried to ask, words smothered by her turning you around, hand on the back of your head and your face smooshed into her shoulder.

"are you crying?" "no-" "sshh it is ok." "i'm not cry-" "sshhh it's okay mi amor." your girlfriend cooed, hand stroking up and down your back as your face remained awkwardly pressed against her shoulder, hand still cradling your head.

"i'm not cry-" "are you upset i said you were cursed? i did not mean it mi vida, not at all." "cari i'm not-" "sshhh it is okay, let me hold you." "alexia i am not crying! i am chopping onions for dinner tu imbécil!"

"...oh."

[cherrynflowergarden]

demon in my head||joão félix

an; hiiii pookies how are y'all joão is literally so husband coded urg it's unfair i hate pretty people sm❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 people are so crazy??? blaming a single man for the loss??? hello the last time i checked football is a team sport so how can you blame ONE PERSON???? honestly if anything it's on the team not on a single person tbh it's not even on the team shits happen there are days were everything goes against your wish im really disappointed by ppl who are hating félix rn like poor man is just 24!! he's a human!! he's allowed to be nervous and feel overwhelmed!! he's allowed to make mistakes!! cmon man even your goat couldn't score a goal in 120 mins then how come you're shitting on félix there's so much i want to say but im too angry for that now peak stupidity lowkey feel like it's 19 nov 2023 (portugal version) (my desi ppl will understand the trauma behind this date😀💔) but atleast we didn't troll our players and won the t20 wdc before the legends' retirement so there's that hehe 🎀🌷💌 F1!READER YAY ALSO THAT MAGUI (ew) DOESN'T EXIST IN THIS AU SO YAY JOÃO ISN'T TRAUMATIZED BY THAT THING!!!!! ALSO SINGLE JOÃO ERA BEFORE HE DATES BEAUTIFUL YN ERA 😇☝️

summary; yn yln is a formula 1 driver. and pretty famous one. but sometimes she forgets that.

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

liked by maxvestrappen1, logansargeant, joaofelix79 and 1,755,962 others

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𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

liked by maxvestrappen1, yourusername, and 982,829 others

redbullracing welcomes joaofelix79 to the redbull garage ✨

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liked by landonorris, honeymoon, lilymhe and 1,365,797 others

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𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

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tagged ynshusband

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liked by maxvestrappen1, joaofelix79, pablogavi and 1,984,893 others

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[p0orbaby]

No Earth Just Sky

summary: your worlds collide, and so does your head with a fist

warnings: injury, loss of consciousness

a/n: thank you for the request !

word count: 1.5k

-

The corner comes in like a missile, curving dangerously towards the cluster of players jostling for position in the box. You’ve been eyeing it since the moment it left the Mapi’s boot, every fiber of your being focused on that one moment when it’ll be yours.

It’s a Champions League night, the kind where legends are made, and you’ve decided, in a split second of pure adrenaline-fueled brilliance—or idiocy, depending on who you ask—that you’re going to be the hero. You’re going to be the one who gets on the end of that cross, who heads it into the back of the net, and who sends Barca to victory.

But football is a cruel sport, and tonight, it decides to teach you a lesson the hard way.

You charge forward, eyes locked on the ball, and leap into the air. Everything around you fades, the roar of the crowd, the shouts from your teammates, even the blood pounding in your ears. It’s just you, the ball, and the goal.

And then, out of nowhere, everything goes wrong.

There’s a flash of red and white, a blur of motion as Arsenal’s keeper barrels towards you, fists outstretched. You don’t even have time to react, to dodge, to protect yourself. The collision happens in a heartbeat, in a single, devastating instant.

Her fist connects with the side of your head with a force that feels like a sledgehammer. The world around you shatters into a million pieces. The sound is a sickening crack that reverberates through your skull, and then there’s nothing but pain—blinding, searing pain that explodes behind your eyes and radiates down your spine.

You’re out before you even hit the ground.

When you come to, it’s like trying to claw your way up from the bottom of a deep, dark pit. The pain is still there, a dull throb that pulses in time with your heartbeat, but it’s distant, like it’s happening to someone else. You can’t move, can’t speak, can’t do anything but lie there as the chaos unfolds around you.

You can hear voices, muffled and distorted, like you’re underwater. Someone is screaming—high-pitched, furious, and so full of raw emotion that it sends a shiver down your spine. It takes a moment to realise it’s Alexia.

You manage to open your eyes, just a sliver, just enough to see her, and it’s like looking at a completely different person. Her face is twisted in a mask of rage, her eyes blazing with a fire you’ve never seen before. She’s in the ref’s face, screaming in rapid-fire Spanish that you can’t make out, her hands shaking with the force of her fury.

Leah is there too, trying to hold her back, her arms around Alexia’s shoulders, but even Leah, strong, unflappable Leah, is struggling to contain her. Alexia is out of control, like a storm that’s broken loose and is tearing through everything in its path. And you realise, with a cold, sinking feeling, that she’s not just angry. She’s terrified.

The medics are on you now, hands probing gently at your head, voices whispering words meant to soothe, to reassure. You can’t focus on them, though, because everything hurts too much, and you’re still half-lost in the darkness that’s threatening to pull you under again.

You try to move, to sit up, to tell Alexia and Leah that you’re okay, that they don’t need to worry, but your body won’t cooperate. It’s like you’re made of lead, every limb too heavy to lift, every breath a struggle. And the pain—God, the pain—is overwhelming, a sharp, relentless agony that turns your vision red at the edges.

“Stay still,” one of the medics says, her voice firm but gentle. Like a mother telling their child they need to wash their hands before dinner. “We need to get you stabilised”

You want to argue, to tell them that you’re fine, that you can walk off the pitch like you always do, but you can’t. You can’t do anything but lie there, helpless, as the reality of what’s happened starts to sink in.

The game has stopped. The crowd is silent, a tense, expectant hush that feels like the entire world is holding its breath. You can see your teammates, their faces pale and worried, hovering at the edge of the scene like they’re too afraid to come closer.

But it’s Alexia that you keep coming back to. Alexia, who is still shouting, still fighting, who looks like she’s ready to tear the ref apart with her bare hands. Leah is pleading with her now, her voice urgent, her grip on Alexia tightening, but it’s like she’s not even there. All Alexia can see is red.

You’ve seen Alexia angry before. You’ve seen her fired up in matches, seen her argue with refs, seen her defend her teammates with a ferocity that borders on the terrifying. But this—this is different. This is personal.

And it’s because of you.

Finally, Leah manages to pull Alexia back, away from the ref, away from the Arsenal players who are now looking on in stunned silence. Alexia stumbles, her hands dropping to her sides, her chest heaving with the effort of trying to hold herself together. She looks over at you, and the rage melts away, replaced by something much worse—fear.

“Get her off the pitch,” Leah orders, her voice shaking. “Get her out of here”

The stretcher arrives, and they lift you onto it with the kind of care you’ve only ever seen in hospitals. You’re drifting in and out now, the pain ebbing and flowing like a tide, and it’s all you can do to keep your eyes open.

You catch one last glimpse of Alexia as they wheel you away, and the look on her face is one you’ll never forget. It’s broken, shattered, like the strongest person you know is crumbling right before your eyes.

“Alexia…” you try to say, but it comes out as a whisper, lost in the noise around you.

Leah is still holding her back, her eyes glistening with tears she’s trying desperately to hide. She’s saying something to Alexia, something you can’t hear, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing they say will change what’s happened. Nothing will make this okay.

As the tunnel swallows you up, the lights above blurring into streaks of white, the darkness comes rushing back, and this time, you can’t fight it. You let it take you, because what else can you do?

-

When you wake up, you’re in a hospital bed, the sterile smell of antiseptic filling your nose, the steady beep of a heart monitor the only sound in the room. Your head is wrapped in bandages, and every part of you feels like it’s been put through a meat grinder.

It takes a moment for you to remember where you are, to remember what happened. And when you do, the first thing you feel isn’t pain or fear. It’s guilt.

Guilt because you know Alexia’s probably blaming herself. Guilt because Leah’s probably worrying herself sick. Guilt because your team needed you, and you let them down.

You close your eyes, trying to push it all away, but it’s no use. The memory of that moment—the collision, the pain, the sound of Alexia’s screams—is burned into your mind, and you know it’ll be a long time before it fades.

The door to your room creaks open, and you hear soft footsteps approaching. You open your eyes, and there they are—Alexia and Leah, both looking like they haven’t slept in days. Alexia’s eyes are red-rimmed, her hair a mess, and Leah… Leah just looks lost.

They don’t say anything at first, just stand there, staring at you like they’re not sure you’re real.

“Hey,” you croak, your voice weak and raspy.

Alexia bursts into tears.

Leah rushes to her side, wrapping her arms around her, holding her as she sobs into her shoulder. It’s the most heart-wrenching thing you’ve ever seen, and all you can do is lie there, helpless, as the two people who mean the most to you fall apart.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, but they don’t hear you. They’re too wrapped up in their own pain, their own guilt.

You want to reach out, to comfort them, to tell them it’s not their fault, but you can’t. Your body won’t let you. So you just lie there, watching them, feeling like the worst kind of burden.

Eventually, Alexia pulls herself together enough to come to your side. She takes your hand, her grip gentle but firm, and looks at you with a mixture of relief and devastation.

“You scared us,” she says, her voice trembling.

“I scared myself,” you try to joke, but it falls flat. The pain in her eyes is too much to bear.

Leah comes to stand on your other side, her hand resting on your shoulder, her touch light as a feather. “You’re going to be okay,” she says, but it sounds like she’s trying to convince herself more than you.

You nod, but you don’t really believe it. Because you’re not sure if anything will be okay after this.

The game ended in a draw. Arsenal went through on away goals. Barca’s Champions League dream is over, and you’re lying in a hospital bed, feeling like the world’s biggest failure.

But for now, with Alexia and Leah by your side, maybe that doesn’t matter as much as it did before. Maybe all that matters is that you’re still here, still breathing, still fighting.

[queenpiranhadon]

"Oh god, what did ya do now?"

"Your sarcasm is the last thing I need right now, Ryo."

Though he wasn't being sarcastic in the slightest, Sukuna can tell you're in a bad mood.

And if your snappiness wasn't proof of that, it would definitely be the swollen lip and bloody knuckles.

"The fuck did you do, woman?" he stares, shocked. You weren't one for fights, or violence of any sort for that matter, so to see you like this was so... jarring.

Though you don't seem hurt angry just pissed off angry.

So when you plop down on your bed, Sukuna sits next to you, his hulking form basically dwarfing yours as you both sit on the bed in silence.

After a while, he breaks it.

"....Did ya least win?"

You roll your eyes and scoff. "Having a star football player for a boyfriend and losing a fight would be pathetic of me. Of course I did."

Sukuna grins, ruffling your hair proudly. "Attagirl."

Then he frowns, watching as you wince while gingerly flexing your hands.

"Wait here." he says gruffly, and you blink up at him in surprise, watching him retreat into the bathroom and come out with a first aid kit.

"Ryo...?"

"Just keep still and lemme help ya. Once I finish bandaging ya up, I'll getcha some ice for yer lip and we can email your professors that you can't do as much writin' or typin' for a while."

You stare at him dumbfounded, watching as he gently starts cleaning your bruised and bloodied hands, hissing at the alcohol stings, but Sukuna just kisses you all over your face as a distraction.

"Shh...almost done baby...see? Wasn't so bad." he murmurs, reaching over to grab the bandages and starts to wrap your hands gently, kissing your knuckles softly before moving over to the other one.

Once he finishes up, he brings you some ice for your lip as promised and emails all your professors for you.

With all of that out of the way, you cuddle up on your bed, watching some random movie you found on Netflix.

"Hey. Baby."

You hum, letting him know he has your attention.

"The fuck happened that gotcha so messed up in the first place?"

You let out a low breath at that and chuckle awkwardly, recounting the event in your head. "About that..."

"Fuckin' talk, woman." he groans, exasperated.

"Some random girls were slipping love letters in your locker." You sigh, looking away, embarrassed. "I just got a little annoyed is all."

Sukuna raises an eyebrow. "Seemed a little more than annoyed, babe."

You groan, hiding your face in his chest. "Okay, so I got a little mad. It's not like I immediately started punching her though!"

Sukuna grins teasingly, laughing as he wraps arm around you and flicks your forehead. "Looks like my girl's a little possessive, yeah?"

You glare at him and punch his chest with the side of your fist lightly, as to not injure your hand further.. "You're an asshole."

"Aw, don't be like that baby. It's cute."

"Fuck off!"

A/N: heheh we all need a little soft Sukuna in our lives.

[alotofpockets]

Opposites attract | Katie McCabe x Arsenal!Reader

Where Katie loses her temper during a match and you're on the receiving end of her punch

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.5k

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Arsenal was known for its family dynamic, but even within family’s there were links that didn’t work as well as others. Within Arsenal that was you and Katie, you both worked great with the team, just not always with each other.

The two of you were polar opposites. Katie was outspoken, and fierce. She was often described as an aggressive player, and had a tendency to let her emotions get the best of her on the pitch. You, on the other hand, were more reserved, practical, and strategic. You kept your cool even in the tensest moments. 

Your interactions with each other mostly consisted of professional exchanges, never really meeting outside of football. You of course had many team outings outside of football with the team, but either only one of you attended or you’d stay away from each other at it. The dynamic worked well enough for the team, so everyone just let it be what it was. 

After Katie got taken down for the fourth time against Tottenham, it was to no surprise to you that she got up and shoved the player that fouled her. You roll your eyes as you run over to aid Kim, who was trying to get in between Katie and Ashleigh Neville. The two of them are now yelling at each other and pointing angry fingers. Poor Kim you thought, as you arrived. 

Katie lifts her arm in a punching motion, and you’re quick to grab ahold of her arm and pull it back, “Katie, please calm down.” Katie in all her anger pulls her arm out of your hold only for her elbow to smash into your face. You stumble backwards and instantly reach for your face.

Somehow Katie immediately calms down when she realises that she hurt you. She left Asleigh Neville alone without a second thought and knelt to your side. “Shit, I'm sorry y/n. Are you alright?” You look up at her, “Just piss off, Katie.” She raises her hands and steps aside. The medical team comes to check you out since you were still clutching your face.

“Is it broken?” You ask them as you remove your hand to reveal a bloody nose. The medics get to work on checking it out. Katie steps forward to get to your side, but Steph holds her back “She told you to go away, mate, give her some space.” They worriedly look at your bloody face. “Since when do you care about y/n?” Beth asks when she joins the pair. 

With a furrowed brow Katie turns to Beth, “What are you talking about? I've always cared.” Beth snickers, “Well, maybe you should act on that, cause most people think that the two of you hate each other.”

“It's not broken,” You release a sigh of relief. “But your cheek has already started bruising a little, so I'm afraid you will get a black eye.” You look over to Katie and roll your eyes. All of this over a stupid tackle. You let the medical team help you up, and keep a cloth to your nose as they walk you off the field. 

Since there was already a bit of swelling in your cheek, they thought it was best to get you subbed off, as you hit the 60 minute mark anyways. You’re still annoyed though, cause you definitely could've played the full 90 minutes if Katie had just stayed calm. You watched the rest of the match on the sidelines with an ice pack held on your face. 

Beth’s words lingered on Katie’s mind. Did people really think you hated each other? Did you think she hated you? She was determined to take Beth’s advice and show that she did actually care about you.

You were confused when you heard a knock on your door the next morning, and your confusion grew even more when you realised who was at your door. “Katie, what are you doing here?” 

Katie’s focus was on your face, and the black eye that had fully made its way onto your face. “If you’re just going to keep staring, I’m closing the door.” Your words brought Katie back to reality. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. I am actually here to apologise for hurting you.” She holds up the small bouquet of flowers for you to take. “I know it’s not much, but I wanted to check in to see how you were doing, and tell you how terribly sorry I am for letting things get out of hand, and hurting you in the process.” 

You’re a little stunned by Katie’s apologies, never having expected her to do so, and definitely not in a home visit scenario. “Thank you, Katie. I appreciate it, really.” You take the flowers from her. Before you can say anything else, Katie reaches for something else. “I also got you some breakfast. Beth said you loved this place, but I didn’t know what you liked from their menu, so I got a bunch of stuff. I didn’t think just flowers would be enough.” 

The gigantic bag of food comes into your line of vision and your eyes widen. “That is food for a whole village.” You step to the side and watch Katie expectantly, “Are you not coming in to help me eat this massive bag of food?” 

Katie grins, maybe you didn’t hate her after all. “I’d love to.” She steps inside and follows you to the dinning table where she starts unpacking the various containers. You watch your table get fuller and fuller, “While I appreciate it, you know you didn’t have to do all of this right?” Katie looks up at you with sincere eyes, “I wanted to. I know we tend to have our differences, but I wanted to make sure that you didn’t think I hated you or something.” 

You shake your head instantly, “I never thought you did. We’re just polar opposites in our approaches to things, and sometimes those differences don’t click.” Katie sighs in relief before taking a seat. “That’s good to hear, and yeah we can have quite different approaches, but that doesn’t mean we can’t try to find a way to work better together.” In agreement you nod your head. “I’d like that.”

As you both start eating, the conversation flows more easily than you expected. You and Katie were usually not in a setting like this, but you had expected awkwardness or tension. Neither one was there, you felt comfortable sharing breakfast with the defender. 

Halfway through breakfast you catch Katie staring at your bruise again. “You know staring at it isn’t going to make it heal quicker, right?” Her face instantly turns serious. “I am really sorry about what happened yesterday. I lost my temper and you paid the price. I promise that it won’t happen again.” You smile appreciatively, “Apology accepted. I know you never meant to hurt me, but it did sting a little. Literally.” You eye Katie on the last word of the sentence and the both of you burst out laughing. 

Once you’ve calmed down, Katie turns to you. “Maybe you can teach me your ways of always staying calm out on the pitch?” You nod, “I can definitely do that, but only if you teach me how to stand up for myself more on the pitch. I think we could learn from each other and have more of a middle ground, what do you think?” Katie smiles and nobs, “I like that, it’s a deal.”

While your on pitch behaviours aren’t changed instantly, the team noticed an immediate difference in your and Katie’s relationship off the pitch. During training you actually worked together, and outside of football they saw the two of you in the same places for the first time in a long time. 

Since that apology breakfast, Katie had come over more often. At first it was just to ‘take care of you’ since she was the reason you were injured, though you kept insisting that you were totally fine. Once the bruise was fully healed, Katie couldn’t use the same excuse anymore, but you were also enjoying her presence so you didn’t need a reason.

It surprised you at first, how much you had in common with the defender, but once you set aside your differences, you and Katie grew closer together quickly. 

Then one day after practice Katie approached you. “I know we usually do breakfast, but there is this new restaurant that opened up near my place that I think you would really like. Could I take you there some time, maybe?” Your smile grows, “Are you asking me out on a date?”

Katie nervously looks up at you, “Yes, but it could be as just friends if you’d be more into that.” Your smile grows even bigger, “I never imagined I’d see the day when Katie McCabe would be nervous.” You chuckle lightly as a blush creeps up onto her cheeks. “I would love to go on a date with you.” You place a kiss on her cheek, and then turn and walk away. “Pick me up tonight at 6pm?” Katie smiles, “I’ll be there!”

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