#bayren

[4socer]

[buzzinrusso]

second chances?

Where ex lovers run into eachother.

Word count : 3k

The snow falls softly, dusting the cobblestone streets and clinging to rooftops like powdered sugar. Christmas lights twinkle above the market stalls, casting warm glows on the festive scene below. The air smells of pine, roasted chestnuts, and cinnamon, and everything feels like it’s straight out of a holiday movie—a perfect postcard moment.

But for you,it’s not perfect. Not anymore.

You pull your scarf tighter around your neck, the chill creeping into your bones. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t come here today, but something in you—something stubborn and nostalgic—had drawn you back. The market was always your favorite part of Christmas, and for a long time, it was something you shared with Lena. The two of you used to come every year, hand in hand, sipping mulled cider and picking out ornaments that you never really needed but bought anyway.

You shake your head, forcing yourself to focus on the present, to stop the memories from swallowing you whole.

It’s been months since Lena left.

Months since she walked away from you and everything you thought you had.

And now, standing in the middle of the busy market, you realize just how badly you’ve been pretending to be okay. You should’ve stayed home, away from this place, away from the past. But you didn’t. The weight of the memories is heavy on your chest, and you feel like you might break under its pressure.

And then you see her.

You freeze. For a moment, you’re sure it’s a trick of the light. But no—there she is, standing a few feet away, bundled in a dark coat and scarf, looking exactly the same and somehow completely different. Her hair peeks out from beneath the knitted hat, and her eyes meet yours before she blinks, like she’s not sure she’s seeing you either.

Your heart jumps in your chest. You want to walk away. You want to turn around and pretend this isn’t happening. But you can’t move.

Her gaze softens, and she steps forward hesitantly, like she’s testing the waters. Her eyes are wide, filled with something you can’t quite place.

“y/n?” she says, her voice thick with disbelief.

The way she says your name, it breaks something inside of you. You thought you were done. You thought you’d buried it all, that the past was something you could leave behind. But here she is, standing right in front of you, and everything inside you shifts. It’s as if time hasn’t passed at all. The ache in your chest feels as fresh as the moment she left.

“Lena.” The word slips from your lips before you can stop it.

You see her flinch, just for a second, and you hate how it makes you feel. It’s not supposed to matter anymore. She’s the one who left, after all. But still, you can’t help the rush of emotions that hit you all at once. Anger, sadness, relief, longing.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, trying to keep your voice steady, but it cracks. You hate how fragile it sounds.

“Just… looking,” Lena replies, her voice barely above a whisper.

“For what?” you ask, the words leaving your mouth sharper than you intended. You can’t seem to help it. You’re still angry, still so deeply hurt.

Lena looks down, rubbing her hands together, and the silence between you stretches. It’s thick and heavy, like you’re both too scared to say the wrong thing.

You almost turn away. Almost. But then, she looks up at you again, her eyes searching yours like she’s trying to find the right words.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here,” Lena says, her voice small.

“Me neither,” you mutter, shifting on your feet. You try to move away, but she steps closer, and something inside you tightens.

“I… I should go,” Lena says suddenly, stepping back like she’s afraid you’ll push her away.

And for a moment, you almost want to. But then something else rises up in you, something too tired to ignore. It’s been so long. You’ve spent so many nights missing her, hating her, hoping that she might come back. And here she is.

“Wait,” you say, before you can stop yourself.

She freezes, her hand hovering in midair. She’s looking at you again, searching for something in your eyes. The moment hangs between you, fragile and uncertain.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice faltering. “Just… wait.”

Lena hesitates, looking torn. You know you’ve hurt her—left her when she needed you most. But you can’t stop the words from spilling out, can’t stop the part of you that still wants her.

Finally, she nods, and you both walk to a nearby bench. It’s tucked away from the bustling market, quieter here, but it doesn’t feel peaceful. It feels like the calm before a storm. You sit beside her, close but not touching, like you’re both too afraid to cross the invisible line between you.

“So..."lena says softly, after a long silence. Her voice is shaky, unsure, and it kills you to hear it like that.

You swallow, trying to steady yourself. It’s not easy. You don’t know how to start, don’t know how to face the mess you’ve both made.

“I’m sorry,” Lena says, her voice breaking just slightly.

You blink, surprised. “That’s it?” you ask, your voice sharper than you intend.

She flinches, and your chest tightens at the sight. You didn’t mean to hurt her again. But you can’t help it. You’ve been carrying the weight of her leaving for so long that it feels like it might crush you if you don’t say something.

“No,” she says quickly. “No, it’s not. I just—” She runs a hand through her hair, like she’s trying to find the right words, but they’re tangled up in the same mess of emotions that you’re both holding onto. “I don’t know where to start.”

You nod, your lips pressing into a thin line. “Maybe start with why you left.”

Lena’s face falls. You see the flicker of pain in her eyes, and it cuts you deeper than you expect. She takes a deep breath, and for a moment, you think she might not say anything. But then, finally, her voice comes, quiet and broken.

“Because I was scared,” she admits, and it’s as though all the air leaves the space between you. “I was scared of losing you, of how much I loved you.”

You don’t know what to say to that. She wasn’t the only one who was scared. You were too. You still are.

“I thought I was going to ruin everything,” Lena continues, her voice thick with emotion. “And I couldn’t live with the idea of you waking up one day and realizing I wasn’t enough for you.” She pauses, her gaze dropping to the ground. “So I ran. I left before you could leave me.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of all the things that were left unsaid. You can feel the anger rising again, but it’s not just anger anymore. It’s hurt. It’s betrayal. It’s all the years of being afraid to love her because you weren’t sure if you could trust her.

You shake your head, your heart pounding in your chest. “But you didn’t have to run, Lena,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. “You could’ve stayed. You could’ve fought for us.”

“I know,” she replies, her voice tight. “And I hate myself for it. But I was so afraid. And now… now I can’t take it back.”

You stare at her, trying to make sense of what she’s saying. How do you go back after all of this? How do you forgive something like this, when the wound still feels so fresh?

“I know I hurt you,” Lena says softly. “And I know I don’t deserve forgiveness. But I need you to know that I never stopped loving you. Not for a second.” She looks up at you, and there’s something raw in her gaze. Something vulnerable that makes your heart ache.

You want to scream at her, to tell her that she doesn’t get to just show up and make everything better with a few words. But instead, you say nothing. You just sit there, letting her words sink in, letting the silence hang between you.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” Lena whispers. “But I’ll do anything. Anything to make it right.”

You close your eyes for a moment, letting the weight of her words wash over you. You’ve spent so many months in pain, convincing yourself that you’d be better off without her. But now she’s here, and all the walls you’ve built are starting to crumble.

“Why did you leave?” Lena asks, her voice quieter now. “Why didn’t you stay? Why didn’t you fight for us?” She’s reaching for something—some answer that you don’t know how to give her. And it makes you feel so small.

You want to tell her everything. The fear. The uncertainty. The way you never thought you could be enough for her. But how do you say those things when your heart is still tangled up in the wreckage she left behind?

You may not have left physically,but you certainly left mentally.

And then, with a deep breath, you say, “I was scared too.”

Lena doesn’t say anything. she just looks at you, her eyes wide with something you can’t name. And for the first time in a long time, you feel the possibility of something else—a chance, however fragile, that maybe, just maybe, you could find your way back to each other.

The silence stretches, heavy with the weight of your words. The words you’ve never said before, the truth that’s been buried beneath layers of pride and fear. It feels both freeing and terrifying to admit it out loud.

Lena’s gaze softens, her lips trembling like she’s fighting against something—tears, maybe, or just the overwhelming flood of emotion that’s been building for months. She opens her mouth to speak, but no sound comes out at first.

“I didn’t know,” she says finally, her voice cracking. “I didn’t know you were scared too.” She looks down at her hands, rubbing them together as if trying to ground herself, trying to make sense of everything that’s happened.

You nod slowly, your eyes tracing the patterns in the snow beneath your boots. "I think I was more scared of being left behind, of never being enough. I couldn’t let myself be that vulnerable with you." The admission feels raw, the truth cutting deeper than you expected.

Lena’s gaze is gentle as she watches you, her own pain evident in the way she’s holding herself. "I thought you’d never love me the way I loved you," she whispers, and there’s an edge to her voice now, one that carries the ache of regret. "I thought I had to leave before you realized I was too broken for you."

The cold bite of the winter air seems to grow more pronounced as you sit there, in the space between you two, the distance once again palpable. But this time, it's not about rejection—it's about understanding, raw and real, in a way you’ve never experienced.

"Do you ever think about what we could have had?" Lena asks softly, her voice quiet but steady.

It’s a question that leaves you still, leaves you breathless. Do you ever think about it? Of course you do. You think about it every day—about the Christmases you spent together, about the laughter you shared, the soft moments when it felt like you were a part of each other. It was the kind of love that seemed invincible, until it wasn’t.

"I think about it every day," you answer honestly, the words slipping past your lips without hesitation. "But I also think about how much it hurt when you left. How you didn’t even try to fight for us. How it felt like you gave up."

You can’t stop yourself now. You’ve held it in for so long, and now it all comes pouring out—your fears, your pain, your loneliness. "You left me, Lena. You didn’t even look back. And that hurt more than anything."

Her breath hitches, and for a moment, it looks like she’s about to break. But she doesn’t. Instead, she looks at you with such sincerity in her eyes that it almost knocks the wind out of you.

"I didn’t leave because I didn’t care about you," she says softly, her voice low and trembling. "I left because I loved you so much that I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. I thought leaving was the only way to protect us both."

The way she says it—so fragile, so raw—hits you harder than anything she’s said so far. You thought you were done with her, that you could move on. But as much as you want to stay angry, as much as you want to keep the distance between you, a part of you still feels the pull. That old connection, the one you buried beneath all the hurt, begins to resurface.

You take a shaky breath, the words threatening to tumble out before you can stop them. "I never wanted you to leave, Lena. I just… I didn’t know how to stay in something that felt so uncertain. I didn’t know how to fight for us when I was so afraid of losing myself."

Your withdrawal wasn’t out of a lack of love, but from fear—fear of vulnerability, fear of losing yourself, and fear of an uncertain future with Lena.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The snow falls gently around you, blanketing the world in silence. But it’s not the cold that’s suffocating—it’s the weight of everything unsaid between you, the things you’ve both been holding back, the memories that you’re not sure whether to cherish or curse.

Lena reaches out then, her hand trembling as she brushes a stray lock of hair behind your ear. It’s a simple gesture, one that used to feel so natural, so effortless. But now it feels like it carries a thousand unspoken words. The moment hangs there, charged with the quiet intensity of everything that has been left unresolved between you.

“I know I hurt you,” Lena says quietly, her voice thick with emotion. “And I don’t know if I can ever make it right. But I need you to know that I’ll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust. To prove to you that I’m not running this time.”

You feel the vulnerability in her words, the openness that she’s never shown before. And for the first time in months, something shifts inside you. Maybe it’s the way she looks at you, or maybe it’s the tenderness in her voice that pulls at something deep inside of you. But whatever it is, it cuts through the walls you’ve built.

You close your eyes, letting the feeling wash over you, a storm of emotion breaking over the dam you’ve tried so hard to keep in place. "I don’t know if I can trust you again," you whisper, your voice unsteady. "But I want to. I want to believe that we can fix this."

Lena’s eyes search yours, and she takes a deep breath, her gaze intense. "Then let me show you. Let me prove that I’m here to stay. I’ll do whatever it takes."

You nod slowly, your heart pounding in your chest, unsure of what comes next. But you can’t bring yourself to pull away. The old hurt is still there, lodged in the deepest parts of you, but the possibility of something new—something real—feels almost too tempting to resist.

For the first time in a long while, you allow yourself to feel something other than pain. You let yourself feel hope.

"Okay," you say softly, your voice barely a whisper. "But I’m not making promises. I need time."

Lena’s lips tremble, and you see the tears she’s been holding back, the weight of her regret and guilt, threatening to spill over. But she doesn’t cry. Instead, she smiles—a small, tentative thing, but it’s enough. It’s more than enough.

"I’ll wait," Lena says softly, and the sincerity in her voice makes your chest tighten. "I’ll wait as long as you need."

You don’t know what the future holds. You don’t know if this is the beginning of something new or if it’s just another false hope. But for the first time in a long time, you’re willing to take the risk. Maybe this time, things will be different. Maybe, just maybe, you can find your way back to each other.

And with that thought in mind, you take a deep breath, let it go, and step forward—into the unknown, into the second chance you’ve both been waiting for.

Christmas Day

The morning of Christmas is peaceful, quiet. The snow has stopped falling, and the world is wrapped in a blanket of white. You and Lena sit by the window, sipping your coffee, both of you lost in the moment.

It’s not perfect. It’s not how you imagined things would be. But it’s real. And right now, that’s enough.

Lena reaches for your hand, her fingers trembling slightly, but you don’t pull away. You let her hold you. You let her in.

And as the Christmas bells ring in the distance, you know that, for the first time in a long time, there’s hope for a future you once thought was lost.

-----

HELLOO!! Merry Christmas my loves <33 this is the first part of my Christmas trilogy 🤶 I will admit this is one of the longest fics I've written and it took me like 2 weeks and I kept having chat gpt spell check for mistakes...

[iluminad00]

Get ready for our Barbie’s to play!😝💞

Limited towards tags but y’all get it

[n0vazsq]

MY NO.1 INFINITE ANGEL CAKE POOKIE BEAR, MY LIFE AND LOVE ALEX <33

what im thinking …

jamal musialá SLOWBURN academic/football club rivals with like the whole: “anything you can do i can do better” x “watch and learn” TROPE

and it builds up to a point where they js can’t resist eachother and PLEAD for the others presence 25/8?!/

so bcus jamal plays for bayern, you could do dortmund x football!reader

OR

just academic rivals between sporting grades <3

EMPHASIS ON THE SLOWBURN SUGAR—i gotta see that heart wrenching and inevitable rivalry they have fuelling 🔥🔥

HAVE FUN /W IT BABYGIRL ILY SO MUCH !!KISSES & KISSES 👅👅

EVEEEE MY PRINCESS SWEETHEART ANGEL LITTLE SUNSHINE HONEY BUN BABY GIRL DARLING PRECIOUS CUPCAKE BUTTERCUP SUGAR !!!!!!

YES YES YES YES YES

bro when i tell you this KILLED ME. i DIED writing this.

idk how to write slowburn saur i hope i wrote this good!!

I MADE THEM FOOTBALL AND ACADEMIC RIVALS BC WHY NOT?!

i made SURE to make reader describes how much she hates jamal then realise how much she actually LOVES him

I HAD SO FUN WRITING THIS!!! TYSM FOR REQUESTING POOKS <33

ILYMMMM

MWAH MWAHH

[flemingsfreckles]

Be a Good Teammate

Jessie Fleming x USWNT!Reader

Words: 3.4k

Preview: After Jessie misses her penalty in the Gold Cup semi final, she’s found practicing kicks by her old friend and college teammate.

Warnings: some cursing, a little angst, but nothing else too crazy.

A/N: I haven’t written anything in maybe 4-5 years. Recently fallen back into reading and then watching the Canada/US game sparked some inspiration and here we are writing again.

You could hear her before you saw her. You had come out of the dressing room well after the rest of your teammates. They hardly showered just throwing on fresh clothes in a rush to begin their celebration for moving on to the finals of the Gold Cup. The stadium had fallen silent with the exception of a faint noise coming from the far end of the tunnel toward the pitch.

It was the repetitive sound of a ball being kicked followed shortly by the swish of the net. One after the next, boot on ball, swish of the net, boot on ball swish of the net. Working like a clock, a perfect machine, that was until the sound of the net was replaced by the ringing of the crossbar and the frustration of the kicker.

“Stupid fucking penalty” a frustrated voice rang out. The sound of the voice halted your steps, you knew that voice. Jessie. You quickly recognize the voice as your former best friend and UCLA teammate. Once you hear her, you quickly realized what was happening.

You’d seen her do this when you played together, anything from missed headers, missed passes, missed shots, and now with missed penalties. Jessie was known for being a hard worker, her focus and determination was admirable by her teammates and led her to earning the right to wear the captain's armband. She pushed herself to be better and while it was that mentality that turned her into one of Canada’s best, it also came with a whole other side.

She was hard on herself, more so than anyone else, and she took it to extremes. You had watched in college as she would spend hours watching film of her mistakes, tearing her performances apart, nitpicking every step she took. Criticizing every mistake to the point of obsession. One bad touch or one missed scoring opportunity would cloud her brain, unable to focus on anything else until she could fix that mistake, that mistake was all that would matter to Jessie.

“Be a good teammate to yourself Jessie.” Those were the words you told her constantly in college when you’d find her overworking herself. Running extra laps after an already grueling practice. Taking extra shots after a game, refusing to stop the repetitions until they were in her eyes, perfect. “Treat yourself how you treat all your other teammates, you support us, you provide positive corrections, you're kind. Talk to yourself the same way you talk with me or anyone else on this team, be a good teammate to yourself.”

And that’s how you knew exactly what Jessie was doing out on that field. She was retaking her penalty from earlier in the game, the one she had kicked into the arms of your team’s goalkeeper, letting you and your teammates erupt in celebration behind her as she walked with her head down to her team’s bench.

Now you are stuck with your brain telling you to let her be, she’s not going to want to see you, especially on a night like tonight. Just go celebrate with your teammates, you thought.

You and Jessie had been close in college, so close most of your teammates were convinced you two were secretly dating. And to be fair to them, you wish you’d made a move on Jessie but you didn’t. Too worried about losing your friend and still trying to figure out yourself in the process. Now your college days were years behind you and you both moved away after graduation to play professionally, her with Chelsea and now in Portland and you with Bayren Munich and more recently with Seattle.

Your communication with your former best friend had rapidly declined over the years, you both got caught up in your new lives, new clubs, and Jessie had gotten a girlfriend. It wasn’t public information at the time but you were close enough that she shared the news, gushing about the girl over one of your nightly phone call. You knew deep down that girl is what pushed you away. Even though you knew it was never going to work out between you and Jessie, it didn’t make hearing about her new girl any less painful.

So you pulled back, with going from long facetime calls, to short catch ups, to texts. It seemed mutual as Jessie followed suit reaching out less frequently. She figured you were busy and had forgotten about her, seeing you make new friends in your new teams. These days you were lucky if you saw a “nice game” “congrats on the win” or even “happy birthday” come across your phone from the Canadian.

No bad blood stood between you two that she was aware of, except for maybe right now as you stood wearing the crest of the team that had just ended her tournament hopes.

While your brain was telling you to head for the parking lot and leave, forgetting you heard her taking the shots, your heart refused to let your feet move in any direction but toward the pitch. As you turned the corner she came into view. The bright white 17 with FLEMING printed neatly across the back of her red jersey became visible as you watched her set up her next round of shots.

Now you were frozen again, standing just inside the edge of the pitch, only your eyes moving, watching as she placed a ball, moved backward, took a deep breath and took the shot. It sailed into the upper left of the net. You watched as Jessie once again stepped back to ready herself, having already placed the next ball while you were watching her first one go in the net. Again she took a breath and fired into the net. She continued just as you had heard her before, booting the ball into the net. Over and over and over.

The stadium that had previously been filled with fans shouting, coaches calling out, music, liveliness was now eerily silent, just the sound of Jessie methodical work taking place. You weren’t even sure how long you had been standing there watching her, you’d maybe seen her take 10 or 12 shots, all screaming into the back of the net. The systematic movement and sound had lulled you into zoning out, only snapped back into reality when you realized the noise had stopped.

Jessie was moving toward the goal, collecting all the balls she had kicked, only now you could hear her mumbling to herself. Unable to make out what she was saying, you watched as she continued moving all the balls back to start her drill once again. She had turned around, her face more visible to you, eyes still down looking at the balls she was kicking. You could see her cheeks were still bright red and her skin was shiny with sweat, or maybe it was rain. Her mumbling had turned into her regular voice, allowing you to make out every couple of words.

“idiot…if I just made it… don’t deserve this…” You watched her rip the captain's armband from her bicep, throwing it aside.

You felt your chest grow tight, seeing and hearing Jessie so angry at herself was painful. She was the kindest soul, she had been your first friend at school and one of the only ones who stuck around through all 4 years. the only thing she didn’t deserve is to feel this way about her performance.

Maybe i should leave, you thought, let her work through this, she’ll be okay with some time, how much can you really help at this point, it’s over, there’s no point in making her more upset and,

“FUCK” Jessie’s voice intrudes into your thoughts as she punts the last ball with such anger that instead of landing just outside the box like the rest, she sends it sailing, landing only a couple of feet from you. You look at the ball rolling toward your feet, being slowed greatly by the wet grass.

“Sorry,” Jessie hollers with a wave and a different, more polite tone in her voice. She begins jogging over to you, “I didn’t realize they were coming to do pitch maintenance already, I’ll pack up and go-“ she starts to ramble as you realize she hasn’t noticed that it’s you who is standing in front of her.

You move your eyes down at the grass, kicking some up unsure of what to do now while you wait for her to reach you and realize you’re in fact not the maintenance crew.

“What are you doing here?” Her accusatory tone returns and you look up to meet her eyes. Just as you’d seen from across the field her cheeks remained bright red, a layer of sweat making her whole face shine. Her lips are slightly parted and her breathing is quick. Her brown eyes that you used to stare at everyday are now puffy, as though she shed some tears following the game and you can’t help but stare for a second at her black eye. She cocks her head at you and you realize she’s waiting for an answer.

“Um, I just… I heard you. And I just wanted to check on you,” you realize you should’ve spent some of the time you were watching her kick thinking of what to say to her.

“I don’t need your pity party,” Jessie scoffs at you “don’t you have some celebrating to do?”

“I’m not here to pity you,” her change in tone makes you get defensive.

“Then what? You’re here to tell me it’s okay? That it’s fine it’s just a penalty, and maybe it feels that way to you,” she stabs her index finger into your chest, her touch surprises you. Both being midfielders you had contact during the game but that was different.

Before you were just the opponent in the same way she was yours, you were aware of her but in that moment she was just Jessie Fleming, a Canada’s midfielder who you needed to get the ball from. Now she was Jess, the girl you were roommates with, the girl whose shoulder you fell asleep on during a long travel day, the girl who you tutored in calculus while she in return tutored you in physics. Her whole face now just inches from yours. You share a similar height with the midfielder, leaving you eye to eye. You can feel her breath as she continues.

“You made your penalty, and you don’t have to wear the armband, you don’t have to sit with the expectation of never missing a penalty, but I do. And you didn’t let your whole team down, I did. So maybe it seems like not a big deal to you because you’re not the one going home!”

You feel like sinking into one of the puddles on the grass, this was a bad idea, you shouldn’t have bothered her. Before you can think of something to say Jessie starts again.

“Nothing? You have nothing to say to me? Then again, why did you come out here? To gloat? Because last time I checked, we’re not even friends anymore and that’s no fault of mine, that was all you, you ignored me, so why even bother? Just leave me alone, go away.”

Her words telling you that she doesn’t even consider you a friend anymore, sting. Sure it was nowhere near like it was before but you still would classify Jessie as a friend. You have every urge to tell her the truth, that you couldn’t stand seeing her with someone else and to protect yourself you took a step back. You wanted to tell her you never meant for it to silence your relationship, you just wanted to respect hers and that meant distancing yourself. Instead, you opted with the easy way out, “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” her brown eyes roll as she turns away from you.

“Jess, wait,” the short form of her name falling out of your mouth on accident. Hoping she’ll stay, you reach out grabbing her wrist preventing her from turning all the way away from you.

“I promise I didn’t come here to give you pity, honestly I’m not sure what I’m doing here.” You feel her shake your grasp from her wrist but instead of leaving she turns back facing you. “I just, I heard you and, I,” You try looking into her eyes but she’s staring at her hands that are fidgeting with the hem of her jersey.

“You already said that.” Jessie cuts you off

“I know, I know, I just,” you bring your hands up to cover your eyes rubbing your fingers along your forehead, hoping you’ll be able to squeeze the right words out of your brain. “I think I wanted to see you.” You admit finally, hoping it’s not too much at the moment.

“We just played 120 minutes against each other, you had plenty of chances to see me.” She throws back at you, her brown eyes still avoiding yours.

You begin to feel a tightness in your throat, a feeling all too familiar to you, making it harder to breathe, you start blinking away the tears that are trying to surface. You’re grateful she isn’t looking at your face. you recognize the same emotions that you felt when she had told you she was in a relationship.

Jessie had been so excited to tell you, and you tried your best to act excited for her, you really did. You had forced yourself to ask questions you really didn’t want to know the answers to. Asking about their first date, first kiss, other firsts, what Jessie liked about her, providing the typical best friend interrogation. What Jessie didn’t know was when she had hung up the phone, telling you she had to go as she was going to spend the night at her girlfriend’s, the tightness had taken over and you burst into tears.

In the moment it didn’t make sense to you, you summed it up to missing her and missing spending time with her. It took a couple months to realize your feelings were ones of jealousy. You wanted to be the girl she spent her nights with. You wanted Jessie to call up Janine and gush about you, not some other girl. And that’s when you started to pull away.

“That’s not the same, I, I just wanted to see you,” you let out a shaky breath, trying to relax before tears spill over, “I miss you.” The words come out as a whisper, almost quiet enough that you hope Jessie didn’t hear and you can move on.

A silence falls between the two of you, Jessie’s fingers are still playing with the hem of her shirt, her eyes glued to them. You look up, staring at what would be a starry night had it not been for the rain clouds covering the sky. It feels like time stops, neither of you moving, no one says anything. You stand there, looking up, while Jessie stands, looking down.

“Why now?” Jessie’s voice cracks, you can’t tell for a second if she’s looking for an answer but she continues on, “You could’ve called, or at least texted.”

“It takes you 3 to 5 business days to respond to a text.” A small laugh comes out as you say the sentence, hoping it’ll lighten the mood.

“I know, but for you,” she pauses slightly, “I would’ve answered in a heartbeat.”

Her words catch you off guard and you swing your head down. You unexpectedly meet Jessie's eyes. She’s got one hand running through her damp hair, the other resting by her side. Her stare feels intense, being under her watch gives you a feeling that sits somewhere between comfort and cowardice.

You’re lost for words, racking your brain for the right thing to say. Part of you says fuck it, tell her you love her, that you want her in every way, tell her you were jealous, you couldn’t stand seeing her with another girl, you want her to be yours and only yours.

The other and far more logical part of you says push it down, you don’t want to scare her off, you want your friend back, even if it means hearing about her girlfriend.

You’re saved from having to make a choice between the angel and devil that split your brain as your phone buzzed and a slew of texts from Lynn and Midge came in. You quickly grab your phone from your sweatpant pocket, turning the ringer off to silence the tone from going off again. You quickly skim the texts which consist of variations of ‘where are you’. You catch the time at the top of your screen realizing the game had ended nearly 2 hours ago. Sure, you had done some media, showered, and changed, but you hadn’t realized how late it was and just how long you had been standing around either watching or talking with Jessie.

“You should probably join them.” Jessie says, almost as if she could see your texts from your teammates asking when you were going to be at the bar.

“Yeah I probably should, I didn’t realize the time. The last thing I need is them sending a search party and finding me with the enemy.” You nudge her with your elbow. She gives you a quick tight lipped smile.

“I’ll uh, I’ll see you around?” You add in a raise in your voice in hopes she takes that as an invitation.

“I don’t know,” Jessie pauses, eyebrows creasing as she thinks of what to say next. “It’s just, I’m dealing with a lot right now, moving, captain responsibilities, some personal things. I just don’t know if I can add another thing on my plate right now. Maybe give me some time?” Her response isn’t the one you wanted, but you realize it’s better than a complete shutdown on her end. At least some small part of her was open to letting you back in.

“Of course, I understand the moving countries part, I mean. The rest of your stuff I don’t know about, I mean the personal stuff, and then the captain part.” You find yourself rambling at her. “But yeah that’s fine. I’ll be going.” You point your thumb in the direction of the tunnel.

She turns away, this time you let her walk away. You watch her for a moment before turning yourself and heading back to the tunnel toward your car. Just when you reach the start of the tunnel you hear it again. The sound of Jessie’s boot kicking the ball and the sound of the ball hitting the net. You turn around watching as she grabs another ball between her hands, rolls it around and then bends down to place it.

“Hey Fleming,” you call to her as she releases the ball on the ground and starts to map out her steps. You watch as she turns back over her shoulder locking eyes with you, raising her eyebrows nonverbally acknowledging your call, “Be a good teammate to yourself.”

You carry on to the parking lot, picking up your phone and calling Lynn to let her know you were leaving the stadium now. While you were too distracted on the phone, what you didn’t realize was the absence of the sound of Jessie kicking the ball.

Your words had caught her off guard, she hadn’t heard it in a few years, you last said it to her after she had a rough game at Chelsea. The simple phrase brought back feelings surrounding you that she had pushed down for a while now. She stood, staring at the ball she had just placed, taking a deep breath like she did before every penalty. Only this time, instead of stepping toward the ball with force, she simple walked toward it, picked it up and headed to grab the bag and clean up. She realized she had punished herself enough, the loss still hurt, but with your words and the smile on your face as you said it fresh in her mind, it hurt a little less.

[realmadridfamily]

No this is big lies Madrid don’t love him how about carlo ancelotti congrats and support vini (2ed) and Carvajal (4th ) but not Bellingham (3rd) exactly after the ballon D’or , never not even once supporting him for ballon D’or after the great solo carried his team for whole fucking hlaf of the season ( w vini out for 3m) to reach final stages and win the liga even after everything the president go on press conference mentioning every single player even the one left except Bellingham

Bellingham was shitty at bayren game and everyone sslander him on that , same with euros he was shity except for some moments and great great final game so its the right for england to be hard on him ( messi face it, every single player showed for his club face iit) it always national team priority for fans and media ( cause logically they will except you to be better for the national team not worse any less than good is disappointing)

But it look like bellingham loves and ok if madrid media take shit about him ( since last games and even at the season beginning) but not ok if England did that

Even his action bellingham want to be captain for england even that not even close now but he can’t pull these moves and attitude in madrid

I was talking about Madridistas, about fans. Don't accuse me of lying if you can't read with understanding :) He and Vinicius are the ones people are most crazy about. Carlo's congratulations were ironic. If someone didn't get the message, it's their problem. I've said it a few times already, Vinicius was supported the most when it turned out he had the best chances. The funny thing is Real Madrid are currently being criticized for instead of focusing on the Vinicius campaign they also focused on Dani and Jude. So you criticise Real Madrid for something they didn't do while now the club is being criticised for actually doing it O.o President? Florentino said: "My opinion is that this year the Ballon d'Or should have clearly gone to a Real Madrid player, regardless of the criteria. It could have been Vinícius, as most fans around the world were asking for. The majority of L'Équipe readers in the newspaper's poll chose Vinícius, with 41% of votes to 13% for the second player. It could have been our captain Dani Carvajal, if they had given extra weight to his European Championship win with Spain. It could have been Jude Bellingham, who reached the Euro final and had an extraordinary season. It's really hard to explain why a Real Madrid player didn't win." I don't see any favoritism here, just a statement of fact. His words are also a summary of the entire "campaign". How the media treated Jude is his feeling, not mine. If he felt a difference then there was a difference. The media in Spain (it also depends on which media we are talking about, Catalan or Madrid-based) are specific and can bite if they want to. It's obvious he will be criticized if there's a reason, but he hasn't been "attacked". Many legends could say something about this (Cristiano, Bale or Benzema). Recently there has been more explanation for him and demands that Carlo finally put him in his position. Anyway, it's not a comparison of who is better or worse, who can do what and who cannot. The media will always look for something sensational, but there are also limits of respect that may have been crossed. These are HIS feelings. If he keeps repeating with a big smile that he wants to stay here because he feels great, it means he feels loved.

[bayrennn]

Me and what this blog will prob be about

Hello :) I am Baran (Bayren) - I produce Jungle and Future Rave and I'll post that 'n just post some random shit from time to time I guess

[meademalove]

Vivs parents were at the arsenal bayren game yesterday. So i think they are still there, or they leave today. Don't know if viv was also at the game btw

How do we know this? Gooners!

I'm not surprised considering they didn't get to spend much time with Beth, so they'd stay back a few days to spend time with her as well...

[pinkmuttonchops]

More Bayren, my mc for The Arcana, he's so srunkle

[incitetube]

Soccer Matches Tonight

1. Bayren Vs Barcelona 2. Liverpool Vs RB Leipzig 3. Sparta Vs Man City 4. Lille Vs Atletico 5. Inter Milan Vs Young Boys 6. Celtic Vs Atalanta 7. Leverkusen Vs Brest 8. Feyenoord Vs Benfica 9. Dinamo Vs RB Salzburg

Watch the movies on Incitetube

[4socer]

[alexbkrieger13]

ok now bayren have to scoreeee

Yea Sydney's on now so hopefully that might help

[iluminad00]

How Manchester United has me lately…

(I knew Bayern was gonna win, but didn’t expect for Utd to score.)

[stargarland]

BAYREN MUNICH U WILL START COUGHING IN 3 DAYS

[kasgdaskpraca]

Kto wygrał Ligę Mistrzów w poprzednim sezonie?

🎰🎲✨ Darmowe 2,250 złotych i 200 darmowych spinów kliknij! ✨🎲🎰

Kto wygrał Ligę Mistrzów w poprzednim sezonie?

W poprzednim sezonie Liga Mistrzów UEFA by��a świadkiem pojedynków na najwyższym poziomie piłkarskim. Zwycięzcą tamtej edycji była drużyna, która potrafiła zaskoczyć swoją determinacją i umiejętnościami. Ich imponujące zwycięstwo w finale zapadło w pamięć wszystkim fanom piłki nożnej na całym świecie.

Drużyna ta pokazała niezwykłą siłę i charakter podczas całego turnieju, prezentując wysoki poziom taktyki i umiejętności indywidualnych każdego z zawodników. Ich determinacja i zaangażowanie sprawiły, że zasłużenie wywalczyli tytuł mistrzowski.

Zwycięstwo w Lidze Mistrzów jest niezwykle prestiżowe i buduje chwałę drużyny na arenie międzynarodowej. To osiągnięcie potwierdza, że są oni jednymi z najlepszych w Europie i potrafią konkurować z największymi potęgami piłkarskimi na świecie.

Dla kibiców tej drużyny to był czas niezapomnianych emocji i dumy z sukcesów swoich ulubieńców. W przyszłym sezonie wszyscy będą przeżywać kolejne zmagania swojej drużyny z jeszcze większym zapałem i nadzieją na równie spektakularne zwycięstwa.

Zwycięzca Ligi Mistrzów poprzedniego sezonu udowodnił, że marzenia można spełnić, jeśli się naprawdę w nie wierzy i ciężko na nie pracuje. Jego historia będzie zapisana na kartach historii futbolu na długo jako przykład determinacji i pasji, które prowadzą do sukcesu.

W finale Ligi Mistrzów sezonu 2021/2022 zmierzyły się ze sobą dwie potężne drużyny, zapełniając serca kibiców futbolem najwyższej jakości. Po emocjonującym starciu na Stadionie Olimpijskim w Monachium, Bayern Monachium i FC Barcelona rozstrzygnęli losy tego prestiżowego turnieju.

Mecz rozpoczął się z dużym napięciem, obie drużyny starały się kontrolować grę i szukać słabych punktów w obronie przeciwnika. W pierwszej połowie Bayern Monachium objął prowadzenie po golu z rzutu karnego, jednak FC Barcelona szybko odpowiedziała strzałem z dystansu wyrównując wynik. Druga połowa była równie zacięta, obie drużyny miały swoje okazje do zdobycia decydującej bramki, ale brakowało skuteczności w końcowym wykończeniu.

Ostatecznie po regulaminowym czasie gry, doszło do dogrywki, w której to zawodnicy Bayernu Monachium zdobyli bramkę dającą im zwycięstwo i tytuł Mistrza Ligi Mistrzów. Po emocjonującym starciu, kibice z całego świata mieli okazję podziwiać najlepszych piłkarzy na świecie walczących o najważniejsze trofeum klubowe w Europie.

Finał Ligi Mistrzów to zawsze wyjątkowe wydarzenie, pełne niespodzianek i niezapomnianych chwil, które sprawiają, że futbol to nie tylko gra, ale prawdziwe uczucia i pasja. Bayren Monachium i FC Barcelona dostarczyły nam niezapomnianego widowiska, godnego finału tej prestiżowej ligi. Czekamy z niecierpliwością na kolejne edycje i emocjonujące starcia o mistrzostwo Europy.

Drużyna zdobywająca Puchar Ligi Mistrzów w piłce nożnej odnosi największy sukces na europejskiej scenie klubowej. Jest to zaszczytne osiągnięcie dla każdej drużyny, która sięgnie po ten prestiżowy trofeum. Puchar Ligi Mistrzów jest rozgrywany co roku przez najlepsze kluby z całej Europy, a droga do finału jest długa i wymagająca.

Drużyna, która pragnie zdobyć Puchar Ligi Mistrzów, musi pokonać wiele silnych przeciwników na swojej drodze. Od grupowej fazy rozgrywek, poprzez emocjonujące mecze w pucharowej fazie, aż po decydujący mecz finałowy – zwycięstwo jest rezultatem ciężkiej pracy, determinacji i umiejętności.

Zdobywając Puchar Ligi Mistrzów, drużyna staje się bohaterem nie tylko w oczach swoich kibiców, ale również na całym kontynencie. To potwierdzenie dominacji i doskonałości na najwyższym poziomie piłki nożnej klubowej. Triumf w tej prestiżowej rozgrywce daje drużynie nieśmiertelną chwałę i miejsce w historii europejskiego futbolu.

Puchar Ligi Mistrzów jest marzeniem każdego zawodnika i trenera, symbolizuje najlepsze, co można osiągnąć w klubowej piłce nożnej. Dla każdego zwycięzcy to nie tylko trofeum, ale także dowód na wielkie poświęcenie, poświęcony czas i ciężką pracę. Drużyna zdobywająca Puchar Ligi Mistrzów na zawsze zostaje zapisana w legendzie futbolu i zyskuje uznanie na całym świecie.

Historia zdobywców Ligi Mistrzów

Liga Mistrzów to prestiżowe rozgrywki klubowe w piłce nożnej, które od lat przyciągają uwagę milionów kibiców z całego świata. Od samego początku istnienia turnieju w 1955 roku, wiele drużyn z całej Europy walczyło o miano najlepszego zespołu kontynentu. W ciągu ponad sześćdziesięcioletniej historii zdobywców Ligi Mistrzów mogliśmy śledzić wiele niezapomnianych momentów, emocjonujących spotkań i legendarnych piłkarzy.

Real Madryt jest rekordzistą pod względem liczby zwycięstw w Lidze Mistrzów, zdobywając trofeum aż 13 razy. Klub ten od dawna stanowił dominującą siłę w rozgrywkach i przyniósł wiele chwil chwały swoim kibicom. Inne wielkie europejskie zespoły, takie jak FC Barcelona, AC Milan, Bayern Monachium czy Liverpool, również mogą poszczycić się imponującym dorobkiem trofeów w tej elitarnej imprezie.

Herosi poszczególnych finałów Ligi Mistrzów, tacy jak Zinedine Zidane, Lionel Messi, Cristiano Ronaldo czy Paolo Maldini, stali się ikonami światowego futbolu dzięki swoim niesamowitym umiejętnościom i zasługom dla swoich drużyn. Emocjonujące rozstrzygnięcia, dramatyczne dogrywki i niezapomniane bramki sprawiają, że Liga Mistrzów pozostaje jednym z najbardziej cenionych turniejów sportowych na świecie.

W kolejnych edycjach turnieju z pewnością będziemy świadkami wielu wstrząsających momentów, które na zawsze zapiszą się w historii futbolu. Liga Mistrzów to nie tylko rywalizacja sportowa, ale również spektakl, który porusza emocje kibiców na całym globie.

Triumfator Ligi Mistrzów to drużyna piłkarska, która zwyciężyła w prestiżowym turnieju klubowym UEFA Champions League. Ta wyjątkowa drużyna odnosi wielki sukces, pokonując najlepsze kluby z całej Europy w emocjonujących meczach pełnych napięcia i rywalizacji.

Informacje o triumfatorze Ligi Mistrzów są niezwykle cenne dla fanów piłki nożnej oraz miłośników sportu. Wygrana w tym turnieju to ogromne osiągnięcie, które przynosi sławę i uznanie zarówno zawodnikom, jak i klubowi, który reprezentują. Triumfator jest określany mianem mistrza Europy, co dodatkowo podkreśla prestiżowy charakter tytułu.

Historia Ligi Mistrzów obfituje w niezapomniane chwile i legendarne zwycięstwa, które na zawsze pozostają w pamięci kibiców. Każdy triumfator pozostawia ślad w historii futbolu i staje się częścią legendy tego wyjątkowego turnieju.

Dla graczy i trenerów sięgających po zwycięstwo w Lidze Mistrzów, to moment chwały i potwierdzenie ich umiejętności oraz determinacji. Sukces ten wymaga ogromnego wysiłku, poświęcenia i zaangażowania, dlatego informacje o triumfatorze Ligi Mistrzów są zawsze doniosłe dla całej społeczności sportowej.

Podsumowując, wygrana w Lidze Mistrzów to marzenie każdej drużyny piłkarskiej i szczytowe osiągnięcie w karierze każdego zawodnika. Triumfatorzy są zasłużenie wielbieni za swoje wspaniałe zwycięstwa i to właśnie informacje o nich inspirują i motywują kolejne pokolenia do dążenia do sukcesu na europejskich boiskach.

[cosmixies]

bayren try not to beat up silva challenge