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polo-drone-055 · 23 days ago

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The Golden Army meets The Polo Drones: Part 1

Written at the command of and in collaboration with @hypnogold

Sitting in a coffee shop looking stressed is Richard the captain of the Golden Army Football Club.

Richard calls a close confidant. His stress getting the best of him Richard is speaking loudly.

“It was worse than you can imagine.”

“No! The Silver Collective didn’t win the match. We gave it to them on their own silver platter. We weren’t united. We lacked focus. Had no energy. What’s worse is that this was predictable. I should have acted sooner.”

"Yeah, I saw the red flags. The past few weeks I noticed the Bros off the field were eating rich foods at restaurants, smoking, attending all the festivals and going to late night movies."

"They were beginning to sleep in, miss workouts, and spend more time talking about their accomplishments on the pitch than actually focusing on their drills. I used our beach outing to try and bring back discipline, unity, and ambition. Obviously it didn’t work."

"Then there is our new wingback. Christian! #55."

"I have no idea what to do with that situation."

"If most of the team is losing focus he is overly ambitious. You saw how he stayed up too often, despite my instructions, allowed space out wide for Silver to fill letting them score and losing us the match."

"Now the media and fans are out for him. The headlines are nonstop: “Christian is worthless!” “Sack #55!" “This guy is crap!” The fans throw beer, food, drinks and all sorts of stuff at him. When out about the city he is constantly cursed at."

"He feels awful and has apologized repeatedly to the Bros."

"Christian is working extra hard to refine his skills but does not seem to be improving. No matter how much I and the Bros encourage him, work with him, and give him shoulders to lean on things are not changing."

"Bro, thanks for letting me get this off my chest. You’re the best."

"No, I’m not giving up. We will rise and conquer. We are Golden strong! Later Bro!"

As Richard finishes the call a man who had been standing at the counter behind him approaches saying “Excuse me, I could not help but hear your conversation.”

Startled by the interruption Richard looks up and is taken aback by the man wearing a black Fred Perry polo with distinctive yellow details including a laurel wreath embroidered on the chest with the top button fastened. The fabric had a glossy sheen to it, almost rubbery or latex-like.

Dazed, Richard responds “What?”

“I heard your conversation and can feel your frustration. I know you are trying your hardest.”

Staring at the polo and only half listening Richard mumbles “Yeah Bro”

“Your Golden Army Club is top of the league.”

Richard nods.

While speaking the man sits down and touches Richard whose golden spiral appears in his eyes.

“Everything will work out. It will be okay.”

As Richard’s arm and gold jersey brush against the polo a warmth and peace comes over him. His golden spiral which had been dim begins to brighten.

“We can help you be more focused, more intense, more synchronized. Your mates will once again work as a team, a unit. You will not be defeated again. Feel your confidence return.”

The man moves closer so that more of the smooth slick sheen of the polo is rubbing against Richard who can’t resist running his palms over it. The feel is tantalizing.

“Yes, feel it. Feel the intensity come over you. Do you like how it feels?"

"Yeah Bro," Richard says with more focus and intensity.

"I have another one you want it?" The man holds out the polo for Richard to see.

"Feel it. Feel the strength, confidence and conviction exuding from it. Imagine possessing all those traits yourself forever."

Without hesitation Richard viciously grabs the polo and puts it on. The immediate sensation of being tightly wrapped and constricted is immense. The smooth slick surface feels both isolating and sensual.

"Oh Bro!!!!" Richard exclaims running his hands all over his torso experiencing sensations as never before. “We will improve. We will grow” His voice becoming monotone and robotic as he speaks. “We will defeat. We will improve. We will grow. We will defeat.

With every repetition Richard’s strength, confidence and conviction deepens. The gold within accepts that to be on the top, to be the best it must be more focused, more intense, more synchronized. It must unite with polo.

Totally in sync with absolute confidence and conviction of their purpose the two leave the coffee shop heading for Club Pulse where Christian is waiting.

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theminecraftbee · 6 months ago

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actually, out of the tags and further explanation: so I actually REALLY LOVE that mcc is like, canonizing making predictions about game and event winners like this, as well as making stats more accessible and explicitly part of the game like this.

the thing is—okay so I know stats are blamed for a lot of what’s wrong with mcc fandom but stats are FUN. sports predictions are FUN. being kind of competitive about sports predictions is FUN. have you ever done an ncaa bracket with your family. or played fantasy baseball. or fantasy football. or hell, have you watched a jon bois video that’s actually some of his sports writing. FUN, RIGHT? and stats are a really common way for a sports/competition fan to engage with their hobby, so like, there is no avoiding “people will try to make mcc predictions” and “people will stat out the teams” and “people will be competitive about those predictions”, it’s one of the most common modes of the sports fan, it’s an accessible form of engagement even when the team you are personally a fan of isn’t in the game (because you can be temporarily a fan of the one you’ve decided to gamble on winning), and it’s not gonna go away.

(the actual stakes of gambling aren’t required and I actually do not recommend outside of like, you get a stupid gold plastic trophy from a friend, do not get involved in sports gambling it’s a predatory industry and there is basically no “safe” threshold there, I am talking more about the inherent fun of “getting competitive about your team winning”.)

the problem has in the past been that players see it and get placed under pressure/upset/etc about it, because unlike Sports, the mcc players have very direct lines of interaction with their fandom. it’s VERY EASY to take a prediction as an attack, especially when combined with competitiveness, which is why I think a lot of people suggest forbidding talking about stats or tiers, getting rid of stats, etc.

but the thing is that won’t work. for one, it’s removing one of the biggest sports fan modes of engagement and therefore removing your own fandom. but also people aren’t going to NOT do stats! like, even the players will probably start keeping track of stats if stats were removed! so the solution instead needs to be to make stats more individual, to remove some of the pressure of the stats, and to lean into the stuff about it that makes it FUN.

therefore: the kudos system and predictions. it’s not trying to get rid of the inevitable fandom interaction, it’s embracing it, but it’s doing it in a way that removes pressure from players.

for example, note that the kudos have a focus on personal bests! this encourages players to compete but means even “lower-tier” players will probably get them! at the same time, by globally sharing overall records, it continues to celebrate and encourage great performances! plus, by making some of the stats really stupid, it both gives statheads NEW things to focus on that aren’t coins—the punching statistic for example is gonna be so fun—removing some of the pure pressure to perform in score alone and the centralization of discussion around it—and also gives players silly records to aim for if they aren’t the kind of player who’d aim for a more “traditional” high score.

as for the predictions, they’re gonna do two things. first, it embraces “yeah the community loves doing predictions” by adding a competitive aspect to it—can you beat the odds and predict who will win everything? the wordle-like ability to copy/paste how you did at the end of the event is truly genius because it makes it SUPER EASY to share and discuss for even casual fans. it will increase engagement and discussion. it’ll ALSO help demonstrate to players, by showing the percentage of correct predictions on screen, how… inaccurate… predictions often are. sure, you can guess who the better players and teams will be, but as anyone who did sexyman knows, single-round games can have upsets. and it celebrates those upsets! it turns it from “no one believed in us” (sad) to “we were the underdogs hell yeah look at us go!”

anyway as someone who likes engaging with sports and competitions by being a little competitive and watching the stories the numbers tell: I adore these changes FANTASTIC changes they’re gonna be so fun day-of let’s go mcc,

#mcc #I DONT KNOW IF IM PHRASING THIS ALL WELL #BUT HONESTLY I ADORE THIS DIRECTION. EXCELLENT STUFF.

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meazalykov · 6 months ago

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she was the golden girl

uswnt x (romantic) aitana bonmatí x (platonic) fridolina rolfo x uswnt!reader

summary: what happened in a world where reader plays in the 2023 World Cup after winning the 2019 World Cup?

warnings: tiny bit of angst and sadness, google translated spanish.

part two (part one here)

I remembered when I stood on the french pitch, surrounded by the deafening cheers of the crowd, sometimes I can’t believe that it happened. Tears welled up in my eyes as I hugged my best friend Mallory, threatening to spill over as a whirlwind of emotions flooded my mind.

My hands trembled as I clutched the World Cup trophy tightly to my chest, feeling the weight of my team's triumph. The third goal in the world cup was scored by me, the youngest goalscorer in a Women’s World Cup final. The journey to this moment had been grueling, filled with sacrifices, sweat, and endless dedication. But looking back, all the pain and hardship were worth it.

Before the World Cup, the Champions League medal hung proudly around my neck, a testament to the skill and hard work I’ve displayed on the field. At the time, Lyon was the club of my life. I believed that I would’ve never left the french institution, extending my contract as much as I possibly could’ve. The memories of each game, each goal, each victory rushed back to me, overwhelming my senses.

And then there was the Ballon d'Or many months after both competitions, the ultimate recognition of my individual excellence. To be acknowledged as the best, only at the age of 19 years old, was a dream I had hardly dared to entertain. Yet there I was, being the second woman holding the prestigious award in my small hands, my name etched into football history forever as I stood beside Lionel Messi who received the men’s d’or.

Surrounded by my teammates, coaches, and supporters, I felt a surge of gratitude and humility. This moment wasn't just about me; it was about the collective effort of everyone who had believed in my skills along the way. I will never forget it.

Four years later, It's 2023. I am 23 years old and still impressing the fans around the World. However, the scars of my ACL injury were still fresh, a constant reminder of the hurdles I had overcome to be here after the harsh 2022 year.

Playing for Lyon had once been a dream come true. I’ll never forget that experience. When I signed to Lyon from Portland Thorns at the age of 18, I was overwhelmed in joy. I needed that new challenge, and that challenge earned me the best awards, collectively and individually. But, the fallout from my December 2021 injury had left a bitter taste in my mouth. The club I had once called home had felt more like a distant memory as I felt forced to make the difficult decision to part ways and start a new life in the sunny Spanish city.

Now, I wore the red and blue Barcelona jersey onto the pitch. The transfer left me heartbroken, at first, now I felt a renewed sense of purpose. The road to recovery after my ACL injury in France had been long and arduous, filled with doubts and setbacks. Sometimes, I believed that my prime occurred at the age of 19, instead of the predicted 24-30 years old. Yet here I am, defying the odds once again to represent my country on the world stage in two months.

Sometimes the memories of my victories with Lyon and the United States lingered in the back of my mind, serving as both motivation and a reminder of what was at stake. The Champions League trophy I had lifted with Lyon and the World Cup I had claimed with the United States were testaments to my talent and resilience. But now, I lifted the Champions League trophy with Barcelona.

After scoring the second goal of the final, with Patricia before me and Fridolina afterwards, the gold hung beautifully around my neck. It was my fourth time I've felt such a high amount of glory, but the happy tears still came as if it were the first.

A month later, I am on a fourteen hour flight from Los Angeles to Wellington, New Zealand. As The plane soared through the clouds and I sat in my business class seat, my hands gripping the armrests tightly and my heart pounded in my chest.

“Y/n?” I took out my airpods when I heard the faint sound of my name coming from outside of them. I turned to my right and saw my teammate and captain, Lindsey, looking at me with a confusing look.

“Hey.” I joked, pretending like my stress wasn’t visible for everyone to see.

“Are you okay?” Lindsey asked. In my head, I debated on if I wanted to lie and say yes, just so I didn’t have to burden her with my stress. However, she’s known me for many years, the woman would notice my lie from miles away.

“Not really. I’m just–a bit nervous.” I swallowed. The blonde girl nodded her head in understanding as she rested her arm beside mine.

“That's understandable. Is it the competition that's bothering you? I mean– we are defending champions so we have a lot to prove.” Lindsey asked. I took a deep breath as my mind shifted to a particular person from my Barcelona team.

“No– It's about–um.” I stopped speaking. I didn’t want her to cloud my head during the competition, as we both promised ourselves that we would play as rivals, not lovers.

“Aitana?” Lindsey questioned, but yet finished what I would’ve said. I noticed my head as my face was plastered with sadness.

“yeah.” I mumbled. The Lyon midfielder looked at me with a questionable look, wondering if there were problems between the Spanish girl and I.

“I mean– there's no problem between us. However we prioritize football first you know? we both agreed that during the competition, we wouldn’t talk much.. just so we can focus on this.” I ranted. I’m not stressed because of a possible match between Spain and the United States, I know that I’ll miss the shorter woman a lot. Also, what if we stop talking and a third factor might influence our relationship moving forward?

“That's good that you’re prioritizing us– You shouldn’t feel nervous about your relationship because this will give you time to miss each other– things will go back to normal once the world cup is over.” Lindsey patted my shoulder in sympathy, I smirked as my nervousness started to subside.

A month later, as I stepped up to the penalty spot, the weight of the world seemed to rest upon my shoulders. We finished the match against Sweden 0-0 and after extra time, we had to go into a penalty shootout. The stadium roared around me, a cacophony of cheers and chants from both sides echoing in my small ears. Nerves danced in my stomach, threatening to consume me with doubt and mistakes.

With a deep breath, My eyes focused on Zećira Mušović standing between me and the goal. She did great throughout the game and has the reflexes to stop my shot. Determination burned in my eyes, she saw it too.

As I approached the ball with speed, the tension in the air was palpable but I couldn’t care. Every step felt like an eternity as my foot sent the ball soaring towards the goal. Mušović dove in desperation, but my ball went directly to the middle as she dove left. The ball crashed into the back of the net, eliciting a deafening roar from the crowd and from my teammates.

My dimples on my cheeks showed as I am happy to make the penalty. Being substituted on the pitch after halftime, I tried my best to score but my shot on goal was overturned by VAR. Apparently, my body was offside.

Now, my arms wrapped the bodies of Sophia Smith and Megan Raphinoe as I looked ahead at Kelley O’hara. My heart raced as I stared at her white colored cleats. She needed to score this, or else Sweden had the opportunity to win the knockout.

She Missed. My heart dropped to my stomach as I looked at the Swedish players with rising confidence and opportunity. Hurtig took the shot and Alyssa blocked it over the line. This caused a debate among the crowd. Deep down, I knew Sweden made it. They’ve won. However, VAR was the only hope which would have proved me wrong.

Unfortunately, I was right. Sweden emerged victorious in the penalty shootout, their celebration serving as a bitter reminder of the heartbreak that awaited my teammates and I.

No, No, NO! I thought to myself as I felt the moisture in my eyes start to take place. Immediately, my mind did a flashback to the 2019 World Cup Final. Being 19 years old and happy as my small, yet muscular, arms held the heavy World Cup trophy.

With a heavy heart, I broke away from my teammates and looked among the Americans in the stands. My shaky hands clapped to the fans in the stands, my facade of strength crumbling with each step she took. Cameras could capture my weak struggle to stay strong as the Swedish crowd rightfully celebrated.

Turning around, walking back towards the Americans who were on the team, my knees collapsed on the grassy pitch, tears streamed down my tired face. This was the worst that the United States had completed in a World Cup. What went wrong?

I wanted to stand up so badly, but I didn’t. Shame and Defeat took over my body which laid in the grass. What is my family in the crowd thinking? What are the USWNT fans thinking? What are my fans thinking?... my tears cried out more when I wondered what Aitana was thinking.

After ten minutes of darkness in my eyes, covered by my hands. A comforting presence enveloped my body. I recognized the floral smell mixed with a tint of sweat. I looked up from my hands and saw Fridolina, my teammate from Barcelona and now my opponent who won the Round of 16.

“You did so good, Don’t beat yourself up over this!” Fridolina spoke to me first as her thumbs wiped over my teary eyes. I felt comfort but a small amount of envy was inside of me, I wanted to win so badly.

“Congratulations Frido.” The Swedish girl took her hands and helped me stand up as she gave me a tight hug. Aitana, Frido, and I are a trio back in Barcelona. In fact, she helped Aitana and I confess our feelings to each other.

“Thank you! Just know that I am proud of you, she is proud of you too. Even if you aren’t proud of yourself.” The 29 year old said as my eyes stained her yellow covered shoulders. I knew she meant Aitana when she said “she”. However, I didn’t know where the Spanish woman was at the moment and what she was thinking.

“Just go be-beat Japan. Okay?” I said through a crack in my voice. I found solace in the embrace of my friend. I might’ve lost but I am not a bitter person, now I want to see my club teammates have a good World Cup like I’ve once experienced.

As we exchanged jerseys, the voice in my head kept reassuring myself that I'll come back stronger than ever in 2027.

Just a week later, most of my American teammates left Australia and went back home. However, my teammate Kristie and I decided to stay back. Kristies had a girlfriend who played on a different international team like I did, so we wanted to support them as they’re advancing to the semi-finals.

Witnessing my Barcelona teammates play each other in the Spain vs Sweden match was intense. Standing beside Aitana’s parents, I wore a basic dark green t-shirt with 501 mid-thigh levi shorts. This is the first time I've met them as her girlfriend and they’re sweet people. We celebrated Spain’s win against Sweden and my heart would have exploded in happiness. My girlfriend will experience a World Cup final!

On August 20th, after an intense match and a lovely goal from Olga Carmona, Spain won the World Cup! The feeling was bittersweet for me. I am happy for my girlfriend but subconsciously, I knew I wanted it to be me with the United States. However, I brushed that feeling aside since I needed to be happy for my lover.

“Aitana ¡Estoy tan feliz por ti!” We both ran towards each other and hugged. I feel her lightly kiss the side of my head as I inhale her scent. Being able to feel her embrace after a month apart filled the small void in my heart.

“¡Esto es tan irreal, ahora sé cómo te sentiste hace tantos años!” (This is so unreal, now I know how you felt all those years ago!) Aitana smiled. The smile on my face struggled to stay as a small frown, which I tried hard to conceal, plastered on my face for a quick second. I don’t think she noticed.

“Lo siento por lo que ocurrió. En el fondo esperaba que fuéramos nosotros dos quienes nos enfrentaríamos en la final.” (I'm sorry for what happened. Deep down I hoped that it would be the two of us who would face each other in the final.) Aitana said as she understood my defeat in the Round of 16.

“Aquí también. Sólo debes saber que todavía estoy muy feliz por ti, a pesar de mi derrota.” (Here too. Just know that I am still very happy for you, despite my defeat.) I said as I admired the goal medal that sat perfectly on Aitana's chest. She gave me a sympathetic smile before hugging me again.

“¡Te amo!” Aitana whispered into my ear.

“Te quiero más” I smiled back as I relaxed into her arms.

#fc barcelona #uswnt imagine #woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #aitana bonmati #salma paralluelo #uswnt x reader #sophia smith #lindsey horan #uswnt players #fridolina rolfö #sweden #wwc 2023 #barcelona femeni

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allthebrazilianpolitics · 2 months ago

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How Brazil became a Paralympic power

As the Paris Paralympic Games come to a close, Brazil emerged stronger than ever, securing its best result in history and solidifying its position as a global leader in parasports.

With a haul of 25 golds, 26 silvers, and 38 bronzes, Brazil finished fifth in the medal standings, further building on its legacy of athletic excellence since breaking into the top 10 at the 2008 Beijing Games.

Brazil’s Paralympic performance could have been even stronger if the men’s blind football team had secured gold instead of settling for the bronze. A semifinal loss to Argentina kept Brazil out of the gold medal match for the first time ever — breaking a five-title streak and denying the country a chance to surpass the Netherlands for fourth place in the overall standings.

This year’s result cements Brazil’s reputation as a global powerhouse in Paralympic sports, particularly track and field and swimming. The Brazil Team put up a performance that almost surpassed the most optimistic projections of the Brazilian Paralympic Committee (CPB) ahead of Paris. The CPB believed the country would win between 70 and 90 medals, with some experts predicting a top 5 finish.

#brazil #politics #paralympics #sports #disability rights #brazilian politics #paralympics 2024 #image description in alt #mod nise da silveira

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thyandrawrites · 1 year ago

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I'm gonna talk about this panel again, actually

Yes, Nagi's obliviousness to how he hurt Reo's feelings is frustrating yadda yadda yadda

But from the pov of Nagi being secure about their relationship, Reo hurt Nagi's feelings as well, and I feel like this gets rarely acknowledged?

Imagine this. You're Nagi. You don't wanna be in blue lock. You don't even want to attend. The summon letter you received interested you so little, you only opened it cause Reo did. You tagged along because Reo, your best friend, cared about it.

Then you learn blue lock is a special training program that will pit all the competitors against each other in a fight with only one winner. You don't wanna be Reo's enemy, and you don't want him to be yours. You try to leave, reasoning you don't want to face the day you'll either have to win against him and crush his career, or get eliminated yourself and crush his dream. You try to explain this to him. He doesn't understand—doesn't even want to listen. You sigh and keep tagging along, for his sake. Your heart isn't in it, but Reo believes in you so much you want him to be happy. You tell him, "stay with me till the end", knowing that parting will be inevitable at some point, despite his delusions otherwise. He tells you, "it's a promise, Nagi", and you believe him cause Reo puts his entire heart into his promises.

You still don't care that much about football. You'd rather be at home, secure that Reo is where he belongs, in a place filled with likeminded and driven people like him, and nothing like you. But you persist. For his sake, cause he still believes you more than you ever believed in yourself, really. At some point, soccer starts to become kind of fun. You can see yourself finally getting invested, and you tell him "I want to try to make an effort". Isn't this what he's always been wishing for all this time? For you to try, on your own, without bribery? And you tell him, "You and I are going to be best in the world. That's a fact." You believe so much in him, just as much as he believes in you. His dream was never yours, but you want to see it happen anyway, not for Reo but to keep staying with him until the end. Cause you like being with him. It's comfortable. It's fun. So you tell him, "later, Reo. I'll be waiting for you," because you'll always find your way to him, no matter what. You swore your future to him, and he to you.

You part ways with him and immediately feel lonely. You've never been apart for long, but you think his dream might be starting to become yours too, a little bit, cause you keep thinking about it—about ways to make it happen, still. You were beaten once, and it was enough to make you fear you and Reo wouldn't make it, and you don't want that. Neither does Reo, you know this. So you part ways even if it hurts. Even if Reo wasn't happy about it. He promised you he'll stay with you till the end, and Reo keeps his promises, so why would he lie to you?

But then, just after two days apart, he tells you, "You and I are rivals now, Nagi," and you don't understand what he means. His eyes are so cold, dull, and he slaps your hand away. He never refused affection before. Reo always initiated it, but not anymore. And he tells you "I'm going to crush you," and you don't know why he would say such a thing. You'll win the world cup together. That's a fact. So you don't say anything back. It hurts, but you don't protest it. Reo believed in you first, it's your turn now to believe in him. You singlemindedly continue to believe in that dream, even if he doesn't seem to care about it anymore.

And then it happens. Just like you predicted on day one, you're up against each other, but you give it your all. You never wanted him to be your enemy, but that's how he feels, and you knew this day would come sooner or later.

So you put it to the back of your mind. You don't listen to the doubt in your chest, even if you think Reo might have forgotten, after all. But you haven't, and that's all that matters to you now.

Then you win, but it was a close match, so you know he'll keep advancing. That's just who Reo is. He's so talented, so driven. So you tell him you'll be waiting for him. Again. Trying so hard is a pain, but you're willing to do it however many times it takes to become strong enough to chase that dream again, with Reo at your side. You don't know what Reo is feeling, or why he doesn't want to be your friend anymore, but you think he'll understand this, at least. This all-consuming drive that fires you up from the inside, this excitement. Between the two of you, Reo was always the more passionate one. Except now he's not. He's slumped on the ground, and he doesn't get up. He tells you, "if you're gonna throw me away, then just do it," like that idea ever crossed your mind, like it's not utter nonsense to you. He looks at you with defeat written all over his face, waiting for you to offer him an excuse to give up on the world cup. To give up on you.

And you think, what happened to making you the best stiker in the world? To staying together till the end? What happened to your promises to each other?

Did that dream matter so little to him? Did you?

*head in hands*

Hhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Nagi's love is quieter but I promise you (ha!), if you look at it closely enough, it's wayyyyy more intense, holy shit. and Reo is as much to blame for his shit communication skills as Nagi is... Just cause Nagi didn't cry about it, it doesn't mean he wasn't upset too

#Nagireo #Reonagi #I'm just. Hhhhhhhhhhhhh. These two will be the death of me #We postponed the divorce to next month but my brain is still in anticipation mode 😔#Nagi seishirou #Mikage reo #Episode nagi #Bllk thoughts

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soccer-tips1x2 · 16 days ago

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#tomorrow sure win #soccer #tomorrow best odd #best football predictions #betting formula #football tips #football #best betting #betting strategies #betting

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nytb · 2 years ago

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One Of Your Kind

A hopeless romantic lost in a world where everything seems transactional. Talented, tenacious, temporary. That was the best description of Y/N, an upcoming actress.

Playing the main character in am exploding Netflix Original series came with it's benefits. Invitations to the most prestigious fashion shows, VIP tickets for concerts, but most importantly - special treatment when it came to visiting Arsenal when Y/N so wished.

Realising how much of a football fanatic Y/N was came as a sweet surprise. Childhood fotos wearing the Arsenal kit, following the whole women and men's squad on social media, interactions with the players, a true gunner.

Y/N was known to visit the Emirates Stadium, but she was a regular at Meadow Park, having a soft spot for the women's team.

Having been introduced to Alex Scott, an Arsenal legend, Y/N had great company for the home games. The players got used to her regular assistance, getting post game chats with the star. Every encounter, everybody would end up fangirling on whoever they ended up talking to, but when it came to Y/N and Leah, they always managed to keep the chats down to earth, interesting, flirty but playful.

Over months, Y/N would bring her co-stars, friends, rumoured romances to watch Arsenal. Y/N's sexuality being mostly a secret to the public eye, fans would end up shipping their star with everybody she came in contact with. Leah wasn't an exception. The difference : Leah's fanbase.

Both groups managed to gel like they were supposed to merge into one, both sides cheering for the possibility of their favourite power-couple.

On a home game, the fandom's wishes became true - or as true as rumoured relationships get to be.

Leah's injury made her watch the games from the stands, but this time she was sat next to Y/N. Talking all throughout the game, cheering, screaming, complaining and shouting their lugs out together. The both of them seemed to have a great time, so much so, that a post match dinner became a requirement. This occurrence soon became a tradition, posting their evening shennanigans to their social medias.

After Leah's return from injury, Arsenal went on a winning streak, getting on a title chase against Manchester United. The gunners were the favourites, but when it came to facing the Red Devils, they had to show why they were backed by so many to win the league. Tied at 28 points with them and Chelsea - it was the gunner's chance to capitalise.

The match in itself wasn't as exciting as most had predicted, at least result wise. Sure, both teams getting their chances in front of goal, missing sitters, giving away dumb fouls, but it all ended on a narrow win for Arsenal. Some would agree that it was an undeserved one.

Post match, Leah was called for media duties. Y/N not far behind, hearing the Arsenal's captain defend her girls to the press "It wasn't a great match, but in times like these, we have to regroup, correct our mistakes and grow as a team" she declared before saying her goodbyes to the press.

"Not happy about the game huh" Y/N stated, keeping her eyes to the ground, knowing that Leah wouldn't be in a great mood after her team's performance.

"We are better than that you know" Leah seamed angry, but kept her tone very calm around Y/N "I won't let that take anything away from tonight though" the midfielder added opening her car door for the actress.

"Quite the gentlewoman I got here" replied, giving Leah a kiss on the cheek before getting into the midfielders car "So, where are we off to tonight?" Y/N questioned the Arsenal skipper as she entered the drivers seat "I'm feeling sushi tonight" she answered "How about we go to your favourite sushi place?", a suggestion that came with implications.

"Are you sure?" Y/N asked "People have been narrowing in on us you know" It was true, at some point, so many outings together started to make less sense when both chucked it down to being just friends. Especially when most of these outings were of just the two of them. "What could go wrong?" Leah asked, a mischevious look in her face.

What about a whole lot - paparazzis flooding the restaurants entrance as the outing became public knowledge. Going out with famous people sure got thrilling, but leaving places out the back door to avoid paps wasn't as glamorous.

"Ok.. in hindsight" Leah grabbed onto Y/N's hands "it might have been a silly idea" she joked, trying to lighten the mood from a night that was clearly turning sour by the minute "Why are we hiding this" Y/N questioned, pointing to the both of them. Leah left speechless. Was there a reason? They surely knew what they were getting into after the first couple of dates... right?

"Now that you ask..." the midfielder rambled "we never really talked about what we are" she struggled to get words out. Y/N on the other hand had enough courage for the both of them "Well after the what... 20 dates?" Y/N guessed, having lost the count of the sleepless nights spent in Leah's apartment "I kinda guessed that we were well into dating" she finished, clearly not scared about the consequences this situationship would entail.

"So you would just.. tell them that? It's surely not that simple" the midfielder clearly had forgotten that like everyone else, Y/N was a person first. "You do know that I am one of your kind right?" Y/N joked getting herself ready to face the media "Let's get into trouble shall we"

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mycryptosuite · 1 year ago

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kingspredict12 · 2 years ago

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oh-saints · 2 years ago

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fight

rúben dias x you

part of the dad!rúben collection

word count: 1.6k

tw: endometriosis, health issues while pregnant, intrusive paparazis, implied violence

note: hello i'm back from the dead bcs i've absolutely GONE FERAL AT THE THOUGHT OF THIS ashsjklkkjkl but as usual, i happen to write things at dawn so this is certainly not proof-read yet.

similar to any other parents, the moment you and rúben found out you're pregnant sent you both to the moon. for you, it was definitely topping your list of "best moment of my life" by far. and for rúben, it was up there somewhere with the feeling of winning the premier league and the feeling when you walked down the aisle, looking regal in white only for him.

but probably more meaningful for you and rúben because in all honesty, you've been trying to have a baby for almost 2 years now.

your earlier issue with endometriosis didn't allow you to naturally conceive as easy as other wives and girlfriends of rúben's teammates, or as any other healthy women in general. you were actually at the brink of giving up and were actively discussing adoption with your husband, who is nothing more than supportive at the decision, bless him.

rúben being himself, though, had a way of predicting the future. that's your simplified explanation but in professional jargons, one of the reason pep bought him from benefica; his ability to read the game.

your husband suggested for another honeymoon, during the time he was injured, before he'd get swamped with matches again and you'd be busy with the whole adoption procedure. it was a weekend gateway to st barths, a place you both have never been, but the beauty took your breath away. but even more for rúben because goddamn, that man could speak words without actually using words. he's more expressive when his body takes control of the whole speaking thing, and you've never felt so loved and grateful to have found the meaning of love in rúben dias.

and to be loved by him, surely didn't lie. the 2 lines of the test kit stared back at you like they were meant to be taken seriously, like it was supposed to tell you to get a grip of your life instead of gaping so wide at it your mouth could've sucked it in. rúben had to knock on the door to make sure you were alright and didn't slip on anything because you tend to be clumsy—he’d made a habit to check up on you whenever you’re in a bathroom for more than 15 minutes because of your reckless nature.

after endless failed test, you truthfully didn’t know what to do. this kind of result never came to you. so you just opened the door, in hope he’d know what to do—he always does, usually. only to be met by your husband’s concerned face because you didn’t slip on anything but went back outside with an aghast face.

“what’s wrong, coração?”

you handed him the test kit wordlessly, with shaky hands at it.

rúben looked down to see what it was because he’d never actually seen the test kit. you’d always hide in a bathroom and come out shaking your head, and you never let him buy them on his own. why would you—

“what—”

rúben looked up to you and you were already brimming in tears, a silent confirmation he needed. “we’re going to the doctor. now.”

at first, he did it because he wanted to confirm it himself, that the test kit wasn’t lying. but on the second thought, should you be truly pregnant, the purpose of the trip to the hospital was to make sure your pregnancy needs are met and you’ll have a safe and sound journey until you bring the product of rúben’s love for you to the world.

but of course, life being life didn’t give you everything smoothly as expected.

if you want it, earn it kind of life had been rúben’s way of life so when the doctor told you both that you’ll face some dangers throughout the 9-month journey, rúben gained another purpose in life outside football. to flash a fuck you to world, for they can’t let you and rúben have a peaceful moment in life.

rúben made sure to get home early so he’d cook you dinner during your bedrest period on the first trimester, shocking everyone in the etihad perimeter because he always is the first one to come and the last one to leave. he arranges catering for your lunch on top of it all so you don’t have to cook when he’s not home. he flies your mum and his to be there with you on the days he has a match to go to. he keeps a book to track all your craving and blood pressure, as well as a sketchbook for the baby journey “so we can take a look at it again when they’re grown up.”

you and rúben agreed not to let anyone know beside your immediate family the moment you stepped out of the fragile period, as a precaution, having the taste of public eyes first hand. the moment you announce it to the world, your safe space would and should be compromised.

thus, your baggy apparels whenever you come to rúben’s home matches. it wasn’t often, only once a month or only when the big matches are around the corner. the fanbases and fan accounts still talk about your fashion, with coats and cute jackets and everything, and thankfully none of them has noticed your changing preference from high-waist jeans and wool skirts.

but rúben scores a fantastic header and you see no reason not to jump from your seat. you know he’s been working so hard on set pieces and his headers, only now does it pay off. ivan has to remind you to sit down and not overdo yourself because “rúben will kill me if anything happens to you.”

however, the camera catches your celebration and in less than 5 minutes, your phone rings like the world’s ending. well in a way, it is.

everyone called netizens immediately shoots out their fire, on the speculation you might be pregnant. some congratulate you already, some believe your pregnancy is the reason rúben’s scoring and his gigantic performances as of late, some criticizes you, some questions your decision to come to the match like you’re not carrying rúben’s world. your head aches not long after scrolling down the internet that ivan had to submit rúben upstairs to your box instead of you coming down to the tunnel like usual.

your husband crouches in front of you as soon as he sees your deflated figure, eyes closed in resignation. that’s when he knows the intensity level has reached emergency status because he knows you well and he knows you’re strong enough for both of you to make it through a catastrophe—it’s the reason he’s adamant to marry you anyway—so the word fucking hell escaped his mouth before he even realised it himself.

they didn’t say anything as he shared you his tightest hug, the kind you love the most after a tiring day at work. had she said one word about killing those people behind the screen, he would’ve done so in a heartbeat. only when you pull away, indicating you’re now good to go home, does rúben let go of you and the issue at hand.

he tells you to head to the car first because he needs to pick up his bag from the locker room. but that decision would hunt him down for life, as he watched you being swarmed and surrounded by reporters on the parking lot, camera shoved up on your face and flashes and clicks blinded your vision that you steps on your own feet and fall down.

the idiots don’t stop harassing her, though.

rúben’s feet had never run faster than that moment. pep might be calling him a deceit for never being able to break sprint records. and thank god he was a footballer, a centre back at that, so pushing and shoving people out of his way is within his job description.

rúben lifts his wife from the ground, and the shattering sound of his heart don’t escape him as he notices you’re in the position to protect their child even when you’re in danger herself from the ambush. he brings this to you, he brings this to you and his child, and rage takes over at the thought they both shouldn’t have suffered this side of rúben’s professional life.

if these brainless fuckers are suing him for collateral damages on the cameras he throw to the asphalt, rúben’s so ready to hire a hitman on each and every head count.

rúben doesn’t see anything else than red and only when he’s done strapping the seatbelt on you, you bring him back to life like natasha romanov brings back hulk to serenity. you hold him by his face, staring him down like he’s not capable of bloodbath until his breaths return to normalcy.

“enough, my love.”

and all the sudden, there was the calm, collected rúben you married 3 years ago. the one who loves you when you brush the strands escaping his perfectly styled hair after the match, so you do it and he rests his head on your palm when you’re done tucking the strands back in and hands now tracing his unshaved stubbles.

even when you’d just been tackled down, you’re the one who saves him. he’s not wrong at all about you being the stronger one for the 3 of you, strong enough for the family you both are building. and with the thought you have to still play death with god later during labour, he can’t help but fall in love with you all over again.

“te amo, meu amor,” he brings his head closer to yours to feel his world on his hands. “always and forever.”

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