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sinceileftyoublog · 1 year

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The Pines of Rome Interview: Sounding the Alarm

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Some reunions happen off the cuff, a band simply finding themselves in the same room again, missing what they had and immediately deciding to get back together. Others, like that of Rhode Island slowcore band The Pines of Rome, seem to happen over a number of years, a result of shifts in modes of thought. Yes, the pandemic caused guitarist/vocalist Matthew Derby to finally reach out to guitarist John Kolodij, but events in his circles both close and broad was what lit the spark.

20 years ago, The Pines of Rome played what was then supposed to be their final show. While they were never a political band, Derby was always involved in the local arts community in Providence, a scene that’s long been uniquely closely intertwined with political organizing through organizations like AS220. Over time, though, not playing music, Derby became less and less involved, ultimately feeling “detached,” as he told me over the phone earlier this year. A day after Donald Trump was inaugurated, one of the stalwarts of the local arts community, writer and activist Mark Baumer, was killed by an SUV while walking barefoot across America to raise awareness of climate change. Though Derby mourned Baumer’s death, he took the time to self-reflect and started to become involved again in the local arts community. And when he started writing songs again, he knew he had to write one about Baumer, which turned into “I am a road”, the first track on what would be come the first The Pines of Rome album in 20 years, The Unstruck Bell (Solid Brass).

After Derby and Kolodij started jamming, they contacted the band’s drummer Rick Prior and recruited a new member, bassist Steven Kimura. They entered the studio with prolific producer Seth Manchester, knowing they had something, not necessarily an album, but a collection of songs that at least continued on the post-rock journey they paused decades prior. “The By & By” featured an interplay among exploding distortion, mammoth snares, and gentle harmonics. “Slick Enhancer” was deliberate, too, featuring guitars that were at once rounded and raw. The comparatively twangy “White Ships” chugged along, but used silence and space like you’d expect from a band inspired by the slowcore acts of the early 90′s. Eventually, though, they decided to shake things up a little bit. “REDACTED” spotlighted shuffling electronic tape loops. “Siren” and “I am a road” featured acoustic, finger-picked guitar. With a little bit of reigning in from Manchester during times they wanted to go too over-the-top with instrumentation (Derby recalls the band wanting to put a harmonium on “I am a road” simply because it was there in the studio, Manchester standing firm and saying no), it turned out The Pines of Rome did, in fact, have an album. The Unstruck Bell was released in May.

The Pines of Rome also have returned to the stage, playing with contemporary kindred spirits like Cloakroom and an album release show at the Columbus Theatre in Providence last month. But before Derby even practiced for those shows, he started writing new material. The band plans to go back in studio with Manchester later in the year. He’ll probably have to be honest with them about their loopiest instrumental ideas. In the meantime, though, they were able to do what they wanted live, and yes, their sets purportedly included a full-band version of “I am a road”.

Read my interview with Derby, edited for length and clarity, below. He speaks about how it feels to be back, the state of post-rock, political music, and being inspired by new bands.

Since I Left You: Despite the presence of your new band member, does it feel like you never left? Or are you starting anew?

Matthew Derby: There is an element of that kind of cliché. There’s just something about the way John and I write. There’s some alchemy happening with our two guitar parts I’m never able to replicate on my own. When I try to write my own stuff, it ends up sounding like the worst kind of Journey ballad, which is dignifying them too much. Neither of us were able to achieve on our own what we got out of playing together. When John and I started playing again, we picked up right where we left off, and it was a tremendous relief. I didn’t know what I was missing. It felt really powerful to be able to have that articulation or musical language that really only works when we’re collaborating.

SILY: Do you feel like you had any newfound inspirations or influences this time around, whether instrumental, thematic, and/or lyrical?

MD: That’s a really good question. Definitely, in terms of influences, in our first incarnation, the combination was largely the Saddle Creek-style folk stuff that was happening in the late 90′s, and post-rock, which we were really heavily influenced by, bands like Rex, June of 44, and Bedhead. We were trying to combine those two influences. In the 90s, [I thought] that post-rock bands [were] going to stay around and keep making music forever, and [the] new form [would] become folk or jazz or whatnot. Five years later, it was gone completely. All of those bands disappeared. In a way, we started [The Pines of Rome] again because we were missing that. I personally wanted more of that kind of music in the world. At the same time, our tastes have changed over the course of 20 years. The genre striation that was around in the 90s has given way to a much more permissive musical culture, where genre distinctions are quaint and old fashioned. One of the bands we look to as a model stylistically and lyrically and musically is Big Thief. They’ve merged so many genres into this new Americana that’s hard to pin down and describe but feels very much like their creation.

SILY: Post-rock can go two ways, as does slowcore. The Bedheads of the world get the Numero Group treatment, while the cleaner, atmospheric bands like Explosions in the Sky or Mogwai soundtrack commercials. And sometimes you can get more metal or jazzy with it. Do you feel like that’s true to the spirit of the original post-rock, this genre-less style of music?

MD: I don’t know that I would have articulated it that way, but it’s a good summary. There’s more to explore in that space, and we felt compelled to push it in new directions but also retain whatever unique spin on it we could provide to add our voice to the chorus of people still trying to explore that stylistic train.

SILY: The bands that endure or endured, like Low, Yo La Tengo, and Lambchop, are unafraid to embrace things once looked at as cheating, like AutoTune and drum machines, and put it in their music in a tasteful way. It speaks to that lack of purity you refer to.

MD: Invoking genres [in general], there’s a way in which, like AutoTune, you’re bringing in a stylistic quality that’s been celebrated and maligned. Once the hype and the backlash has died down, it’s another way bands can express themselves. When John and I started playing again, one of our rules was, “If it feels good, keep doing it.” It seems like the most obvious aesthetic you could possibly make, but the initial hesitation of, “Are we just going to sound like Bedhead?” or any band popular 20 years ago that sound really dated, was replaced by, “Let’s just pursue this to our logical conclusion.” Run through our filter, it might not sound like anything we’re afraid of imitating.

SILY: Is there a song on the album where the rule of, “If it feels good, keep going,” led to something unexpected?

MD: The first few songs that we wrote were the last song, “Slick Enhancer”, and “White Ships”, which are slow tempo, open and spacious, with this culmination in big, crashing tsunami waves. To us, that was where we naturally go. We started, and thought, “Let’s go with it. This is what we do.” We play these slow, deliberate songs where we carve out negative space and fill it in at dramatic points in the song. Then, we thought, “Uh oh, we’re on the verge of writing a fourth song that does that same thing.” At that point, we deliberately changed course. There definitely is a point where you have to break your own rule because you don’t want to make every song on the album sound the same. We started to challenge ourselves. We said, “Let’s try to write a song in a completely different style.” Someone said, “Let’s write a krautrock song!” John started to come up with a riff that eventually turned into “Redacted”, which is not something anyone would listen to and say, “This sounds like Neu!” Its genesis, though, came from our desire to not want the album to be one note and to explore a different sonic terrain. We took a left turn, and what came out is not at all what we tried to put in, which was a lesson to us. We can try to deliberately rip off anyone we want, but it will always come out the other end sounding like what we do. We loosened up, and have been doing a lot more of it since the album was recorded.

SILY: In hindsight, that shuffling at the beginning of “Redacted” reminded me a little of maybe not Neu!, but Tortoise. It does chug along.

MD: Yeah. The initial impulse was the song “Hallogallo” from the first Neu! album. We originally played it where we all had volume pedals and tried to manually ramp up the volume. It was originally 8 minutes long and...started with the drums barely playing. [When] we brought it into Machines with Magnets, Seth Manchester said, “Guys...I don’t think this is the spirit of the song. Let’s find another way in.”

SILY: It’s an effective second single, though, because if the first taste of the new music was “Slick Enhancer”, which sounds like you never left, this one is a bit more unexpected.

MD: That was what we were hoping. I’m glad that came across.

SILY: What’s the inspiration behind the lyrics of “I am a road”?

MD: There was a poet and activist in Rhode Island who used to teach at Brown, Mark Baumer. He was a really influential creative person in the Providence arts community in the early 2000s. He was in the MFA Program at Brown and taught poetry. He was rigorously experimental and did all kinds of weird things. One day, he showed up to his poetry class in his coveralls and just cowered in the corner and pretended to be scared of the class, and that was his poetry class. He was also really involved in organizing. He was part of this group called The FANG Collective, an abolitionist group. They were originally protesting the [Iraq War] and [War in Afghanistan], and he actually chained himself with a bike lock to the door of the headquarters of Textron, a company in Rhode Island building cluster bombs causing horrendous collateral deaths in Afghanistan. He was arrested for that.

He was a really influential figure. I knew him and was always kind of intimidated by him. We’d go to readings together, and I’d say a few words to him. He had this practice of walking across America barefoot to bring awareness to climate collapse. He went around the country once and raised a bunch of money. In 2016, around the time of Trump’s election, he went out again, and on the day Trump was inaugurated, he was hit by a car and killed. To me, it really felt like he was the first casualty of the Trump administration. The whole Providence arts community was totally heartbroken. It was the beginning of my realization that I had given up a lot. We had stopped playing in the band, and I had drifted away from the Providence arts community. I had become detached. It was a wake up call. I became more active in local organizing and the Providence arts community. The song came out of that.

[Mark] was also an early vlogger. He has hundreds of videos of himself going across America. There is this last video of him on the day he was killed. Because that was the start of a change in me, I used that as the material for that song.

SILY: Are you still involved in AS220?

MD: Not really. Friends of mine are. They’ve gone through a bunch of radical changes over the past 10 years. They’re doing amazing work.

SILY: What sorts of changes?

MD: They’ve always been about supporting the arts community, but once Trump got elected, [they started to ask questions like,] “Whose community are you representing here?” They’ve taken huge strides in becoming inclusive and representing and inviting a greater and more accurate version of what the Providence arts community looks like, demographically and politically. Those things weren’t on the table prior to this recent spade of changes.

SILY: What’s the inspiration behind the record title?

MD: It’s related in a way to “I am a road” and the influence that Mark had on me. We were thinking about the idea of this alarm that hasn’t yet sounded. The potential that a bell holds. It’s a little pretentious, but the bell has all of the potential in it to sound the alarm, but someone needs to strike the bell in order for the alarm to sound. It was a gesture at this moment. John doesn’t want me to reference the pandemic, for good reason. This isn’t a “pandemic record.” The effect the pandemic had in something is undeniable, and we felt like we were experiencing in real time this climate crisis, and it’s possible that we’re already living in a climate apocalypse and we just don’t know it. That’s where that concept of the unstruck bell came from.

SILY: I don’t know whether this album is your attempt to sound the alarm, but, at the risk of sounding reductive, it’s interesting that this style of music could sound an alarm, this slow music. Do you think about that?

MD: Yeah. It’s something I struggle with a great deal. I do recoil at music that is overtly political or tries to push an agenda. My aesthetic sensibility tells me to stay on the John Prine end of the spectrum of making a song that might plant a seed in someone’s mind that would motivate them to take some kind of action, but not urging them to do so. Slowcore and post-rock aren’t traditionally the vehicles--you’re not going to go to a protest and start singing songs from Spiderland. It’s not really attuned to that. But as I’m getting older, the ways in which all of these systems are interconnected, I’m interested in that place where we can create something aesthetically interesting and new [that] tries to take genre tropes in a new direction. Part of that new direction asks, for instance, “Can we just write a simple love song in the time we’re living without it spilling over into all of the other things going on in the world?” It’s something I think about a lot, and I don’t know that we’ve carefully delineated the Venn diagram of talking about and raising awareness of an issue and songcraft, trying to make a song that people want to sing around a campfire. I don’t know where we fall in that.

SILY: If one of the main purposes of art is to create empathy, which I think is inherently political, the observational, humanistic, earthbound songwriting of John Prine falls into that. At the same time, music that’s slower in pace that requires patience to listen to deeply, there’s an inherent humility in that act, too. That’s where I see the Venn diagram.

MD: I really love what you said about patience and listening. Trying to slow things down is an act alone that triggers a different way of thinking. That’s really beautiful.

SILY: It can exist at the same time as the urgency. It has to.

MD: Totally.

SILY: What’s the story behind the cover art of the record?

MD: John is friends with Will Schaff, the artist. We’d been an admirer of his work. He did the [art for the] Godspeed You! Black Emperor record, [Lift Your Skinny Fists Like Antennas To Heaven]. He did a [Songs: Ohia] record. He also started to embroider during the pandemic and would post these works he’d been doing on Instagram. I grew up in a Catholic family, and my mom was really involved in the church, and she did a lot of banners and tapestries for the church. The embroidery kind of recalled some of that work. We didn’t really think it through that much, and we gave Will the album title. I think John gave him the songs in their raw state and asked him to make an interpretation. That’s what he came up with. It was a collaboration without constraints. I really love how it came out.

SILY: Do you know what shape your new songs will take?

MD: This might end up being super pretentious and we might back away from it, but our goal is still to split the record sonically between one side all acoustic and the other all electric, as an organizing principle. That’s helped us shape the songs. We found that there were certain things we could get away with stylistically in an acoustic setting we weren’t able to do with a full electric setup. We may continue down that path, but [it could be] a cool idea that has no substance. We do plan to record a bunch more acoustic songs this time around. We’re trying to push out on both ends of the spectrum. We have songs that are a bit more aggressive, like the big middle third of “Slick Enhancer”, and much quieter songs. We’ve really been into the band caroline, and the way they’re able to play this one riff for 7 minutes and make this hypnotic hymn out of it with different movements. I don’t know how they do it, but we’re experimenting with songs closer to that feel.

SILY: What else is next for you?

MD: We’re trying to figure out whether we can get out on the road. Solid Brass, the label that put the album out, are awesome. They’re good friends of ours from a long way back. They’re also just starting up, figuring out how to work a label. We’re trying to figure out to what extent we’ll end up able to get on the road. Honestly, to me, when we re-joined, my single ambition was just to play with the band again and start writing and recording songs. We didn’t have any aspirations of putting a record out, even when we first recorded with Seth. We love working with him and just booked time for the pure enjoyment. We’re trying to keep that same spirit for the next record, keeping expectations of where it will go out of the equation. Once I start thinking about that stuff, it makes it harder to write the songs we want to record and that we’ll have fun playing and figuring out.

SILY: Anything else you’ve been listening to, reading, or watching you’ve enjoyed?

MD: We’ve been super into the band Wednesday. It was one of these moments where they’ve found a way to perfectly merge shoegaze and country music that felt surprising and cool. The lyrics are the best kind of David Berman, incredible plays on words, clever and funny while totally heartfelt and devastating. It’s a lot of what I aspire to and am still working toward.

SILY: A quintessentially Southern voice.

MD: Yes! And not a cliched one. Crystal clear in terms of the poetry and lyricism of it.

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heylosers06 · 2 months

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Roller Derby Steph!!!!

Lots and lots of purple (I got lazy on the second one 🤭)

What other types of sports or physical activities would the others participate in? Besides the obvious for some.

And the little mark on her leg is a reference to spoiling clue masters schemes 🤭 I was afraid it would look a bit like riddler but oh well.

@14pinkpaperclips here we go! Thank you for being so interested 🥰💕

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biglisbonnews · 2 years

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Watch a compilation of 17 car crashes over the years in this dangerous Seattle freeway exit Why are so many cars crashing when they emerge from this freeway exit? @ass_beaters says, "Interstate speeds going around a blind turn into an intersection and people don't pay attention to the signs posted warning them." remind me never to take this exit in Seattle pic.twitter.com/som3MJKBtR — Read the rest https://boingboing.net/2023/02/24/watch-a-compilation-of-17-car-crashes-over-the-years-in-this-dangerous-seattle-freeway-exit.html

#Post #unintentional demolition derby #Mark Frauenfelder #Boing Boing

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barcaatthemoon · 26 days

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shut me up || katie mccabe x reader ||

katie shuts you up.

minors dni, 18+, smut ahead.

"london bleeds blue!" you shouted in triumph. you were standing in front of a group of chelsea fans as a hero. a hat trick from you had equalized arsenal and then promptly stolen their chances for a win. the arsenal girls were still on the pitch, talking to some of their fans in their home arena. most of them weren't paying attention to you, but katie was.

katie was always paying attention to you. normally, there was a protectiveness over her stares, but today it was just annoyance. you weren't ireland teammates, you were bitter rivals locked in battle for london. arsenal had nearly gotten the better of your team, but you pulled through in the second half for them. slowly but surely, you were proving to everybody that your injury had been left in the previous season.

"why the long face katie? that was a really cute goal you scored. almost had us with that one," you teased. truthfully, you had been proud when katie scored. that feeling would always be there whenever katie did something, even when you were on rival teams.

"shut up," katie grumbled as she shoulder checked you. taking the hint, you followed her all the way to the tunnels. most of her teammates left katie alone, especially once they saw you following. to most of them, your fights after a derby were a staple of the game by now. any time that the two of you faced each other, there was usually some sort of shouting match in private before you ultimately ended up leaving together.

"no yellows today, i see you're starting to learn some discipline," you continued to tease. with the door shut behind you, katie backed you up against it as she moved to lock the door.

"i thought i told you to shut up," katie growled. you smirked and leaned forward to press a kiss to the tip of her nose.

"make me," you challenged. after that, all bets were off between you and katie. she roughly kissed you, hands clawing at your kit. she managed to easily drop your shorts around your ankles as her hand slotted in between your legs.

"awfully quiet now," katie teased. she pushed the palm of her hand against you, the friction eliciting a quiet moan out of you. katie was smirking against your skin, muttering all sorts of things to you knowing that you wouldn't say anything back. you could talk shit all day on the pitch, but the moment you and katie were truly alone, it was a different story.

"katie, please," you whined. katie knew exactly what you wanted from her, but she wasn't finished playing with you yet.

"tell me what you want," katie instructed.

"i want to cum," you answered.

"do you want to cum on my mouth or fingers?" katie asked you. you didn't even have to think about it. all week you had been eagerly awaiting the game so that you could end up in katie's bed with her head in between your legs all night.

"your mouth." you looked hopeful as katie took a step back. you thought she'd get on her knees, but instead she just turned you around so that your ass was pressed against her.

"well, you shouldn't have run yours then." katie's laugh was nothing short of sadistic as she pushed your underwear to the side. she had one hand in between your legs and the other covering your mouth. katie knew exactly how loud you could be, and the last thing she wanted was for the two of you to get caught fucking after the game.

muffled moans and curses were kept behind katie's hand as she fucked you. she could feel when your knees began to buckle. katie moved towards you a bit, just enough to keep you upright against the door. there would be marks from the knob pressing against your arm, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. not when katie's fingers were moving at just the right speed to make you cum.

"what do you say?" katie asked as she turned you around again. you were absolutely spent, panting heavily as you leaned against the door. your chest was heaving worse than when you had finished playing.

"thank you katie," you mumbled. katie gave you a quick peck on the lips before she dropped to her knees in front of your. this time, it was to pull your shorts up and fix your kit. outside of the door, you could hear the footsteps begin to die down as everybody got where they needed to go. "your place or mine after this?"

"call me when you're done celebrating. i know you'll need a lift back to your place," katie said. you were a bit sad that katie didn't want to go out with you, but you knew that she'd take care of you whenever you ended up calling her later in the night.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso smut #minors do not interact #minors dni #katie mccabe smut #katie mccabe imagine #katie mccabe x reader

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leah-lover · 6 months

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Built-up frustration. Mary earps × reader.

Smut 18+

Mary frustrated after a derby loss and she takes it out on reader.

Saying Mary is disappointed would be an understatement. After yet another Manchester derby loss, the whole team was disappointed. The team knew that Mary was always hard on herself and was gonna blame all the 3 goals that were scored on herself. So they weren't surprised when she directly went to the changing room after the final whistle blew. I on the other hand was more tired and numb than angry. Football had become a nightmare rather than a joy. Mark had been so very hard on us as of late. We were running ourselves through the ground trying to make up for losses, not disappointing our fans and ourselves. It was all too much, too much responsibility, too much to make up for, I just wanted to shut it all off. However, I had a team that counted on me. I was the captain, I had to be strong for all of them.

After shaking hands with our rivals and doing media duties, I headed to the changing room, showered, and got dressed. Since Mary got there before me she changed, and was waiting for me to finish.

We said our goodbyes to the girls and headed to our car.

We managed to stay silent throughout the whole car ride. Since our house was far away from the stadium, I put my head on Mary’s shoulder while she was driving. However, her hand didn't find its usual place on my thigh, it was placed on the center console. I didn't give it much attention deciding that she just needed her space for now.

When we arrived home, we went by our usual routine. Mary put our stuff away while I heated our dinner. Lost in my own mind, I didn't pay attention to the fact that Mary and I haven't spoken since before the game. I only realized that while eating my dinner that he had not touched any of .

“ Baby, talk to me.” I started while reaching out for her hand.

“There isn't much to say, “ she responded.

Her response shocked me. Yes, she was hard on herself but I have never seen her like this.

“ Honey, please don't do this. I love you. You need to talk to me, you need to get these feelings out of your chest. You have been a prisoner to them for far too long.” I said, a small smile on my face.

“ What do you want me to say? I am shit, a disappointment, I don't deserve you, I don't want to do this. Please just don't make me talk. Please.” She pleaded.

I then quickly got up, put her hand in mine and led her up to our bad room.

Once we got there, I let go of her hand and sat on our shared bed.

“ You always say that I am your good girl. Let me help you Mary.” I say as I undress myself starting from my shirt.

“ I love you. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. You are the best that I have ever seen. You need to get this out of your system so that you can love the game again.” I said as I sat completely naked.

With a helpless look on her face she said” I don't want to hurt you.”

“ I am your good girl. I will take whatever you give me.” I responded.

And with that she launched me back on our bed.

We quickly started kissing. The kiss was hungry, messy, and almost violent. We proceeded to make out for a while while her hand rubbed my side and traced all over my body.

“ Mary please, I need you so bad.” I pleaded.

She then ,while still making out with me, reached for the drore wear she kept her strap.

After undressing herself, she wore the harness. She unusually took the biggest strap she had which she rarely used. After the harness was secured she said with the raspiest voice. “ Now you are gonna be a good girl and show me how much you need me.”

That was my que, I left the bed, got on my knees, and started to suck on her strap. It was too big for my mouth so I was stroking it slowly. Mary, not happy with my pace, grabbed the back of my head and started to thrust in my mouth roughly. Lost in her own thoughts, she continued to thrust even harder and deeper. I was about to tap out when she said “that’s a good girl, taking what I give her without any complaint, you deserve a reward my darling.”

She then got out of my mouth, and helped me up the bed.

Without warning she spread my legs and slid the tip of her strap in me. The feeling was supring and painful. However my arousal helped it fit right inside me.

Mary was on top of me thrusting harder and harder with each second. It's like she was fucking all her pain, shame and insecurity out of me.

“ I need to come Mary please let me come.” I pleaded.

“ Hold on for me baby girl.” She replied while still thrusting harder.

After a little bit I couldn't hold on any more.

“ Baby please let me come please.” I pleaded with tears in my eyes.

“Okay, come for me darling.” She said,

I quickly held on to her shoulders as I came.

Mary’s consciousness seemingly came back to her, she got out of me, took off the harness, and held me.

" I am so sorry darling, I was hard on you. The strap was too big and I was too rough. I am so sorry.” She said as she held close to her chest.

“ It’s okay darling. I love you. Please never shut me off again.” I replied.

“ I am gonna go prepare a bath. I will be quick.” she said before leaving only to come back a few minutes later to carry me to the bath.

“ I will do anything for you baby.” I said as I nuzzled my head in her head.

“ That’s why you are my good girl. the girl that I love.” She replied.

#mary earps #woso #woso fanfics #ona batlle #niamh charles #alessia russo #woso imagine #espwnt #mapi leon #woso community #woso x reader #manchester united #woso smut

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delfiore · 1 year

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—MY DEAREST FRIEND AND ENEMY. (1/5)

pairing: ona batlle x fem!reader

synopsis: you were ona’s biggest headache at man united, until you both move to barcelona.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: i’ve been watching the men’s game for years but i’ve finally sobered FINAL TODAY LET’S GO ENGLAND LET’S GO SPAIN (MOSTLY SPAIN)

PART II, PART III, PART IV, PART V

It started four years ago when Ona first signed for United. She didn’t notice at first the way you were always gunning for her, she was just doing her job.

But now, you were here in Barcelona with her. As she looked up at you, a soft smile on your face, everything she had buried in the past year all came rushing back.

Everyone was aware of the new signing from the States for her rival club just a couple of weeks before, a dragged-out saga of whether you were going to choose City or United. Unfortunately for her, you chose the Sky Blues.

If things had been different, maybe she wouldn’t have despised you as much as she did.

The first Manchester derby you played, she thought marking you would be easy until you dribbled past her several times to register a goal and assist. She must have been glowering at you when she walked back to the midfield line, because you shrugged before grinning at her, saying: “All in a day’s work.”

“Could I just ask what put Man City above all the other contenders for your signature?” “Well, I mean, it’s a great club with a great history, amazing players too. I’ve spoken at length with the new manager and he gave me a rough plan for next year’s project. So I’m really excited and confident that it’ll be a great destination for me.” “What do you say to the people who think you’ve chosen City for the money?” “People can think whatever they want to think. I’ll just play my game, and they can judge me all they want. It’s all anyone’s good for.” “You’ve just transferred from Portland, you’ve got an enormous price tag for the women’s game, tons of big clubs in Europe wanted you. There’s a mounting pressure on you, it seems. Do you think you’ll be up for the challenge of the Women’s Super League?” “It’s no fun if it’s not a challenge.”

Ona Batlle was what people considered a modern full-back, dangerous in attack just as she was solid in defense. But when playing against Man City, she usually has to stay back to avoid a dangerous winger finding their way into the box; you. It wasn’t her way of playing, and it frustrated her that that was what her role was while her team was struggling to create chances, especially when she knew she could help.

“I want you to stay back and mark Y/L/N. Whatever you do, do not let her out of your sight,” Casey had told her.

She hated you for caging her in, and the worst part was she wasn’t sure if she can stop you sometimes.

The night before her next game against you, she watched how you played the previous match, studied your movement carefully, and took notes. She liked that she had found a pattern. You liked to use your speed, but you also liked to taunt your defenders; a pace of prime Thierry Henry’s, and showboating tendencies like that of Neymar. It’s why you were so entertaining to watch, because every defender you faced ended up a sort of decoration to your parlor tricks, her included.

Ona never liked being second best to anybody, and certainly not to you.

And so when she was on the pitch, zeroing on you like a hawk, there was nothing stopping her from getting away from you. She didn’t need to resort to any risky challenges, she just needed to stick with you, keep you at arm’s length, and stay between you and the goal at all costs.

You may be a skilled player for your age, but controlling your temper is something you haven’t been able to achieve. She heard you cursing a few times, eventually earning you a yellow card when your insults were directed at the referee.

The ball had only left the City’s goalkeeper, Roebuck, yet she already felt you pushing back against her.

The game ended 3-1 for United, but she was secretly much happier that she had managed to piss you off so much, that you didn’t bother shaking hands with her afterwards.

“Congratulations, Ona. A huge victory for United. What do you think went well today?” “I think that our plans worked because we practiced and showed what we’re able to do. We didn’t have a lot of possession, but we focused on the counterattacks, and I think that definitely was a very effective tactic today.” “I have to ask you about Y/N Y/L/N. She’s been a formidable player in the league until now, and notoriously difficult to defend against, but she was practically silenced today on the left-hand side. Do you think you had something to do with that?” “I think what I’ve prepared in defense has worked out, for sure. I’ve also got my teammates to thank for covering the grounds for me. Y/L/N is a good player, and it’s always a joy to play against her.”

Her rivalry with you continued, and soon even the press was picking up on it. Manchester derbies now included Y/L/N v. Batlle, and everyone was predicting what crazy thing would happen next. It wasn’t common for defenders to make waves in the paper compared to superstar strikers or even midfielders unless they were linked with a big move. But soon Ona was reading about herself in the news, how she has defended Manchester United’s left wing with an iron grip, how they started calling her la matadora, for her ability to hold off forwards and tame them like bullfighters do.

One bull remained to be tamed though, and her conundrum continued into her second season at United.

Unlike her, you seemed to take the new breath of fame easily enough. Day in and day out, there were news of you scoring goals and bringing Man City to the top of the table by November.

You were born to be a star.

But Ona knew from shooting stars in the game that burned out too quickly; if you let what’s outside the pitch get to you, you might as well just leave it altogether. You might have been a good player, on your way to becoming a great one even, but you did have a flare for the dramatics which riled up the press quite a bit. If she was lucky, maybe the pressure would take you out of the game before she does.

International breaks were times she always look forward to, being able to represent her country. Even if they were friendly matches, she knew Spain was always being watched, as a team’s form was important on the world stage. The team would play two friendly matches, the first one being against Brazil and the other against the United States. Some friendly fixtures . . .

Brazil was a breeze, mainly because she wouldn’t have to face her biggest adversary. Naturally, you were called up to your national team, and the back-and-forth game persisted.

She had played against you many times at club level, but the way you played for your country was something else. There was more passion to the way you weave your way through defenders, more flare to your shots. It could also be the adrenaline of being called up for the first time, and wanting to prove yourself—she knew that feeling well.

It didn’t come as a surprise, then, that when a long ball was played over the defense line and Marta Cardona was on her way towards goal, you’d be there to strike her down right at the edge of the box. Her teammates appealed, and the referee paused the game, but all Ona saw was red. With a speed she didn’t know she had in her, she sprinted to you and shoved you away as you were bending down in a show of checking on Marta.

“What was that?! You could have broken her ankle, cabrona!”

“Watch it.”

You had never seen her so angry before—her jaw locked as she continued to hurl insults at you. If she wasn’t your mortal enemy maybe you could have found it attractive. So you pushed back, and soon both your teammates and hers crowded around you, trying to separate you. Kelley put her arm around your neck and walked away, telling you to “keep your cool, this is only a friendly”.

Never, you thought. Never while I’m playing against her.

You apologized to Marta eventually, and she was cool with it. “Heat of the moment”, she said, and you were grateful. You never meant to hurt anyone. Sometimes you just couldn’t control your adrenaline spike.

As expected, Ona didn’t even look at you after the match. So you went home with Marta.

The next morning at breakfast, Ona heard laughing from the girls surrounding Marta.

“How was your American late-night snack, Marta?” Leila laughed.

The girl only shook her head with a grin. “It was delicious, alright.”

Ona didn’t know what that twisted feeling in her gut was when she heard what Marta said, as she walked back to her hotel room after breakfast. She just knew that as long as she was alive, you were the most despicable person she knew.

ESPN: Y/L/N-Batlle Feud Continues, Bonmatí Controls Midfield in Spain-USWNT Clash “LOS ANGELES -- Thursday night saw a friendly match between Spain’s women's national team and the USWNT at the Snapdragon Stadium that ended in a 2-2 draw. Several debutants started for both teams, including Man City powerhouse Y/N Y/L/N. After a stunning cross into the box from the left for Mallory Pugh to tap in, a dangerous slide tackle on Marta Cardona ensured Y/L/N to be the heart of a confrontation between several players, including Ona Batlle. It seems their club rivalry persists as they were seen giving each other a very clear piece of their minds, and several clashes succeeded the Cardona tackle. It would have been a good performance for both if not for the slip of attitude. One thing is clear, though; the mentality is there, and it sure is entertaining to watch. […]”

The end of the season was fast approaching, and while you had become a thorn in her side, it came to a point in which she would not think about you until a week before a clash. This one in particular was crucial in the race for a Champions League spot that both Manchester clubs were vying for. She knew what it meant for the club to secure a UCL spot for the first time, and you were not about to ruin it for her.

Tooney and Millie invited her out for dinner the night before the derby, but she turned them down, opting for a quiet night in instead. After a few hours, however, she suddenly felt antsy, the anticipation before the game nipping at her. It was only 7pm when she checked and she decided to go for a run. She followed the familiar path she always takes to the nearby park, and she was glad she did because the sun was going down, leaving a glorious trail of orange in the sky. She loved these peaceful moments, away from adrenaline, away from the constant pressure, away from constantly having to push herself or she’d be called ‘lazy’.

A constant huffing sound appeared next to her, and when Ona looked down she saw an adorable corgi looking up at her while wagging its tail.

“Hello,” she bent down and pet the dog. Loving the attention, the little corgi jumped up in an attempt to lick her face, to which she let out a laugh.

“Bratwurst! Come back here!” She heard a voice call in the distance, which she assumed must have been the owner. “Sorry, he loves people.”

Ona looked up, and her face dropped. You did the same, standing frozen in front of her. Bratwurst was jumping up and down before you, probably excited that he received pets from someone else today.

She had never seen you in plain clothes before. You clearly knew how to dress yourself, because she might have admitted that you looked good if she didn’t hate you so much. But it was difficult to see you as anything else other than Y/N Y/L/N, Manchester City winger, and potentially Golden Boot winner this season by the looks of it.

And yet, she sat down on a nearby bench with you anyway, watching Bratwurst stick his butt in the air, attempting to catch a squirrel.

“I named him Bratwurst ‘cause he’s . . . long, you know?” You chuckled. ”Short form is Brat too, that’s kinda funny.”

In a sea of northern Englishmen, she never got to hear your American accent properly as she’d only heard you speak no more than two words to her, and most of the time they weren’t pleasant.

“How do you have time to own a dog?” She asked.

“He’s a foster. I just got him a couple of weeks ago.” You looked down at your fingers. “It’s nice to have him to come home to.”

The conversation died down, and suddenly Ona felt like this was a mistake. Maybe she should just leave, and continue her run. But she saw a different side to you—a gentler, quieter side unlike the boastful player she knew you as—and she wasn’t sure whether it was a good thing or not.

“Are you planning on adopting him permanently?”

“Maybe. I just want to make sure that I’m settled before making him move.”

You leaned back, placed your arm on the bench, and closed your eyes.

“You don’t want to stay in Manchester?”

“I don’t know yet. Why, would you be happy if I did?” You smirked, and she saw a glimpse of that player again.

Yes. “Your presence doesn’t bother me. It doesn’t bring me any joy either.”

“Just face it, Batlle.” You turned your body to her. “I get under your skin, don’t I?”

Ona blinked, her jaw clenching. “You don’t intimidate me, Y/L/N. You might be used to people bowing at your feet, but I won’t let you walk all over me. We will win tomorrow, and you might think to show some respect for others in the game.”

“Sorry, Batlle, can’t let you win. We’re playing Champions League next season.” You really enjoyed taunting her.

Ona huffed and stood up. As she walked away, she heard you call out to her. “See you on the pitch tomorrow, la matadora!”

There was nothing you could ever do to make yourself less hateful in her eyes.

It was matchday, kick-off time. Ona saw you on the other side of the midfield line. “Remember what you came here to do, and finish the job,” Marc had told them in the dressing room. He was right. She had a job to do, and she wasn’t about to let you ruin that for her.

They were to play with a high line today, which required Ona to stay near the midfield line and run back, should a forward slip through. About halfway through the first half, she had a startling realization; you were dropping back too, playing a number-10 role. It meant that she couldn’t do what she did last time you met, because there would be a gaping hole where she covers.

United was leading 1-0 by halftime, and while they had the advantage, the fight was far from over.

“Okay, ladies. Have a drink and take a seat,” Marc stood at the front of the dressing room. “We’re doing good, we’re holding them off. Keep up the pressure.”

Ona sat back to catch her breath. You were much more versatile than she thought, and maybe that was her mistake for underestimating you. It seemed too easy that you were giving her exactly what she wanted, playing high at the flank like she always does. There was more to it, but she needed to adapt.

Ona held your gaze for a moment across the field. You weren’t giving up. It seemed you were confident enough in whatever wicked plan you still had up your sleeve, that you sent her a smirk back.

It was the 70th minute of the game and they were so close to achieving it. Katie was looking for a pass, so Ona made herself available.

There was empty space near the side of the box, and she wanted to utilize it but it meant having to get past a couple of defenders.

“Vilde! 1, 2!” She called, passed the ball to her teammate, and started running. Her momentum was halted when Vilde’s ball was cut off and instantly launched forward.

The counterattack came so quickly, it must have been what you practiced. 1-1.

Suddenly, the tides have shifted. The momentum was with City. Time was running out, and the sudden goal disoriented her team. It took about five minutes for everyone to get their head back into the game, but Ona could tell City were used to having possession by then.

And then, in the 88th minute, you were given the ball from the left. Everyone except Alessia had dropped back to defend a series of dangerous balls up until now. You didn’t have anyone to pass to without getting intercepted, and you were outside of the box. So you took the shot. She watched helplessly as the ball flew past Mary into the top right corner.

1-2.

Ona’s body ran cold as she watched you celebrate with your teammates.

When the final whistle came shortly after, she collapsed on her knees.

Some of her teammates were there to console her, but she let their comfort pass through her. She needed to break something.

She needed to get away from everyone and found a spot near the bathrooms where she could catch her breath. Her boots were dangling from her hand by the laces. She slumped against a wall and began to cry, the boots clattering next to her on the floor.

It wasn’t that she was sad to have lost—she blamed herself for letting you get to her head. The interaction of the day before got her thinking what ifs. What if we didn’t meet under these circumstances? What if I could have just gotten to know you without wanting to rip your head off every time I see you?

You heard quiet sobs down the hallway and knew it was her. You had quickly gone into the tunnel when you didn’t see her anywhere on the pitch, but you certainly weren’t expecting to see her cry.

“Batlle?” You called.

She didn’t seem to notice you, sitting against the wall and wiping her face with her shirt.

“Hey, it’s okay.” That was a stupid thing to say considering you just beat her out of a Champions League spot, of course it’s not okay.

“I’m really not in the mood,” she said, looking away.

“You did good out there,” you said, watching her anxiously.

“Don’t act like you care,” she sniffled. “You got what you wanted.”

“I’m not as heartless as you think, Ona.” You quipped back. “I’m not sorry that we won, but I am sorry that you’re hurt.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” She sobbed and glared at you. It sent a chill down your bones. “I wish we had never met.”

How do you tell her that you never meant for things to go this way? That every word you had ever said to her didn’t stem from malice but from fear? You had wished to push her away so that you don’t collide with her head-on. How do you tell her that no matter how hard you tried, you still gravitated toward her?

“I’m sorry.” You repeated, like a fool.

She was hurting because of you.

You snuck a glance at the form of the girl in front of you, like you would be penalized if you were caught looking at her. You took a step back to go, but she held onto your arm and pulled your body against her.

You had been fantasizing about having your mouth against her for months, usually in absurd circumstances, like you two making out in a bed of roses or you giving her a kiss after she, a masked superhero, saved you from danger. Never like this, muscles aching, sweat coating your foreheads, wearing your respective uniforms—being so you doing this.

You wanted to enjoy it. Her lips were soft and salty, and she might have secured you by the waist against her. Your knees trembled as you sighed into her lips, pushing her against the wall gently. Your hesitancy soon turned into hunger, as you pressed your body into hers, desperate to feel her.

Murmurs in the distance snapped you out of it. “Where’s Ona?” You made out one of the voices saying.

You looked back at her, your faces just inches away. You never noticed, but she had so many beautiful freckles adorning her face.

“Ona—“ You said, but she quickly picked up her boots and left towards the voices.

Chest heaving and head spinning, you slumped against the wall with a small grin, bringing your fingers up to touch your lips where she had been.

“Where have you been?” Keira asked in the dressing room, but you just shook your head.

“Just to the bathroom.”

Sky Sports: Man City’s Talisman Y/N Y/L/N Nets Stunning Late Goal Against Man United To Secure UWCL Spot […]

a/n: this gif is so y/n and ona coded

#ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagine #ona batlle imagines #ona batlle #woso #woso x reader #woso imagines #wwc23 #spain wnt #man united women

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yeeterthek33per · 1 year

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Jealousy's a B**** (Steph Catley x Reader x Caitlin Foord)

A/n So this is officially my fifth attempt at this, I've accidentally managed to post it twice, way too early, and I'm honestly still not happy with it.

Also, sorry it took so long, y'all. 😅

But yeah, Caitley Fluff. (Caitley? Staitlin? Stetlin? Coord? Catoord? Fortley? Footley?)

Caitlin's been acting weird lately.

She's more clingy than usual, hands finding some part of you whenever you're just feet from each other.

You're sure Steph's noticed it too, but she hasn't said anything either. Just that she has a knowing look on her face whenever Caitlin latches onto you for the fifth time in an hour.

Normally, you wouldn't have minded, but when she does it at training... it gets a little distracting.

Particularly when practising marking for corners. It feels like she uses every opportunity to be pressed against you. She goes out of her way to mark you, to be the first to mark you despite not even sharing positions.

Her hands find your waist, gripping you tightly, and you have to smack them away with red cheeks so that you avoid being both held in place and also teased by the others.

She doesn't do it with Steph as much, but it's still prominent when you aren't a part of the drill.

Usually, you're pretty observant of anything going on with your girlfriends, but this has you completely befuddled.

Well.

That is until the game against Chelsea.

It'd been rough from the start, both teams eager to get the london derby underway from the start of the season, eager to see who could test the other the most in the coming days.

With Arsenal out of the Champions league, this was the most important game for your team to win. Arsenal needed to set itself up for precendence early.

With that came physicality. And fast. Every opportunity for a header was met with being held down by the waist. Every time you had the ball, it was met with a slide tackle. Every run was met with being held back by the arm or your shirt.

It was getting on your last nerve.

You knew the captain and her partner well. You loved them both like family, having spent years growing up with Magda and others playing on the same team as Pernille. Playing at Arsenal was the only time either of you had been separated.

Unfortunately, that fondness didn't translate onto the pitch.

Magda was the first one to take your feet out from under you, and Pernille was constantly on you, both of them knowing how well you linked up through the midfield and that you were a constant danger at any time on the ball.

Football is a physical game. You knew that.

But it was getting a little out of hand at this point.

Which brings you to now.

There's a foul just outside the penalty area winning Arsenal a free kick, which converts into a corner after the ball ricochets off Cuthbert.

Stood in line waiting for the in, you shift, ready to leap up for the header. As soon as the ball is lofted into the box, hands grip your waist, preventing you from making the header.

You shake it off the first time. And the second time.

The third time, Magda completely takes you off your feet, and you hit the turf with a groan of frustration. How was the ref not catching any of this?

The fourth and fifth times, you brush it off, but you can see Caitlin practically death glaring Magda as the swede pulls you up again.

What you didn't see was the constant hole Caitlin was boring into the Chelsea Captain's head when she even so much as stood near you. It got particularly bad when Magdalena dropped you on your butt.

The last time it happens that half, Caitlin spins around to yell to the umpire. The sideline ref spots it too, Magda is warned but nothing more.

Caitlin growls but returns to position with a look from you.

Half time can't come quick enough for you. The lockeroom is alight with various chatter as they all fire off strategies and mid game plays that need to be fixed. Your girlfriends sit either side of you, Caitlin's hand tightly gripping your leg, a beset half glare on her face.

"I need you all to just keep pressuring. My strikers, you're doing good, but it's just getting in for those shots where you need to be. Try to shake your defenders."

With a nod from all of you, you all make your way back to the pitch in a hopeful search of goals.

It's just minutes into the next half when it happens, you fight the hold, but in the end, you hit the pitch again. This time, it sets off the firey striker.

She sees you get pulled down and sees red, she gets right up in the captains face with almost no hesitation.

"What the hell is your problem?" She shoves the swede away from you, followed by the piercing screech of whistle behind her.

"Nothing, what's your problem?"

Magda shoves back a little, which leads to the others quickly pulling her away.

"Keep your hands off her. It's that simple Eriksson."

Realising your partner is about two seconds away from a yellow, you jump between them, too, quickly grabbing her by the shoulders to walk her away from the situation.

"Alright, that's enough outta both of you. Caitlin, you need to cool it. Do not get booted for this. It's not worth it."

"But she-"

"Caitlin! It's not worth it. Let it go."

She grunts but walks away, accepting the yellow card pointed in her direction.

The rest of the game goes as smoothly as it can. Occasionally, you catch Caitlin getting a little pushy with Pernille, too. But it's nothing major in the end, and the whistle blows in a nil all draw.

Exhausted but still in an okay mood given the results, you walk around to shake hands with the chelsea players and specifically go find Magda as well.

"Hey Magda, sorry about earlier, you know how feisty she gets. I'd say she's sorry as well, but-"

The blonde chuckles.

"Probably not, given the glare I'm receiving right now. Speaking of, how are your lover girls?"

You smile softly, a small flush creeping up your neck.

"Loving, sweet, caring as usual. Normally well behaved, I swear." She laughs at that.

"It's fine. What happens in the game stays in the game. Sorry about dropping you on your butt a lot there."

She winces slightly. You just jab poke her in the ribs and wrap an arm around her shoulders.

"Nah, that's nothing. It's not the worst thing you've done to me." It's a soft prod and she huffs at you.

"Excuse me. I thought we let that go already. Just because we used to torture each other as kids."

"We? You mean you used to do it. I was a total angel as a child."

"Oh, I'm sure you were, I heard all about your innocent professions from Magda's mum."

Pernille wraps her arm around your other side, hand ruffling your hair.

"Yeah, just like you weren't getting pushy either today." You look up at her, being unfortunately shorter than the platinum blonde.

"I have no idea what you're talking about søde."

A nudge from you makes her chuckle.

You chatter away with them in your second language, having learnt Swedish whilst living with the captain in sweden from the age of 10.

Your parents were travelling business people (Magda would call them deadbeats, but that's another story) having moved to Sweden when you were just five, growing up next to Magda for five years before your parents wanted to move back to Australia.

However, given that you'd become so close with the Eriksson family, they quickly agreed to let you stay with them, the travelling lifestyle rather cumbersome on a child your age.

You loved your parents, but they were more deadbeat than they liked to admit, and so Magda's mother became like your own, and Magda, a sister to you after accepting adoption by the swedish family.

As you banter away with them, Caitlin watches on from her position by the bench, a small scowl on her face.

They were clearly way too touchy with you. Pernille kissing your cheek occasionally, Magdalena's arm wrapped tightly around your waist, occasionally brushing away your hair as you talk animatedly, a small blush on your cheeks at one particular moment makes the heat rise in her chest.

But she wasn't jealous.

No.

Why would she be jealous?

A small poke to her side brings her out of her thoughts.

"What's up with you, grumpy?"

Steph's shiteating grin makes her roll her eyes.

"Nothing."

"Uhuh, right, like I'm sure Eriksson and Harder haven't felt the holes you're glaring in the side of their heads either."

She scoffs.

"I am not." Her cheeks turn red at the incredulous look she receives in return.

"Babe, you do know they're not flirting, right? Magda definitely isn't into her, and as far as I can tell, those are loving sibling noogies our girl is receiving from Pernille."

Caitlin turns back to you. Steph's right. Still, she doesn't like the way they're holding you.

At some point, you must feel her staring because you look over with a soft but mildly concerned smile, raising a brow in her direction.

She shakes her head and turns away, arms still folded across her chest as she moves to go into the locker room.

"What's up with your girl, Stephy?"

Steph chuckles softly.

"Oh, nothing. Just our girl getting attention from her adoptive sister, apparently. I don't think she knows."

Beth snorts.

"No, I don't think she does either."

They watch as the pair continue to rib you, eventually hugging them goodbye and promising to meet up at some point in the next week or so. Wandering back over to Steph, theres a mildly confused look on your face.

"What happened with Cait? Is she still upset over Magda taking me down?"

Steph shrugs.

"Maybe. You know why?"

You shrug as well.

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

The bus ride back is even more confusing.

She ends up planted in the spot next to you but far too quiet. Normally, she's sat next to Katie, where the two would be either bickering, playing card games, or giving each other shit over small plays during the game.

None of that, though, and it stays that way until you've returned home.

"Okay, what's going on with you? You've been quietly sulking since we got back."

The forward shrugs in response, having been pretty silent for the whole ride home, save for occasional hums as you and Steph chat about team drama and the girls' post game antics as well.

You exchange a look with Steph, who looks like she knows more than she's letting on with the small smirk that pulls at her lips.

Confused by the action, you turn back to your other girlfriend, whose eyes are locked on the ceiling now, avoiding your meeting your own.

You can't think of any reason she'd be upset. The game hadn't been majorly eventful aside from that one yellow card. Magda certainly wasn't malicious in her tackles, so there's no way she'd be holding a grudge over that. You'd basically gone straight home after the game, too.

She was acting fine up until-

Oh.

A mischievous grin crawls across your lips, and you move to sit in the striker's lap, surprising her mildly.

Your hands force her to look up at you.

"Baby, were you jealous?"

She scoffs, stumbling slightly over her words.

"Wha- no, I have no idea what you're talking about."

You sit back slightly, hand on your chin in faux confusion.

"Hm, I could've sworn you were glaring at Magda and P earlier. You saw that, right, Steph?"

You turn to the brunette, who is watching on clearly amused if anything.

"Oh, I sure did, I mean, if looks could kill."

You chuckle at the pout that makes its way onto Caitlin's face.

"I was not-"

She huffs at the growing smile on your face.

"It's really cute that you think they were flirting, baby. But no, there's no reason for you to be jealous, baby."

"But I wasn't jealous. They were just far too touchy, and-" the raised brow you give her makes her sigh softly.

"Okay, maybe a little bit, but still, they were all kissy, and it was getting way too touchy."

"Babe."

"But honestly they kept hugging you and after the game where they kept holding you and tackling you and-"

Cutting off her rambling, your finger sits on her lips and you hush her.

"Cait. I grew up with Magda. She's my adoptive sister. And Pernille definitely was not flirting. She's far too taken with Magda. Plus, she treats me like a little sister, too."

"Oh." Her cheeks flush.

"Honestly, baby, I thought you knew this already?"

Her cheeks go a little redder.

"No, why would I know? You've never told me about that."

"I'm out with them every other week. I usually tell you both, too."

"When? The only time you go out with friends, all we get from you is 'Hey, you two, I'm going to lunch with my sister and her girlfriend-' oh."

Both you and Steph lose it at that, Steph face palming as she falls back onto the couch, chest shaking with laughter.

You bury your face into her shoulder, shoulders jumping as you try to hide your giggles.

Caitlin rolls her eyes affectionately.

"Yeah, yeah, very funny, you two."

It takes you a minute to catch your breath again, hands moving to cup her cheeks, eyes alight with mirth.

"You're adorable. God, I love you. Also, wanna talk to us about why you've been extra touchy lately, too?"

She shakes her head and pulls you down to kiss her fully.

"Shut up."

You chuckle but comply, letting her have her way for now.

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

Caitlin didn't think she'd end up getting the third degree on her day off, but here she is, being teased mercilessly, stuck between you and Steph while you all rib her about last weeks game and the hickies you turned up to training with.

Between Steph, Beth, and occasionally Magda and Pernille, it really wasn't ending.

"Honestly, I don't know how you two didn't see it, really. She looked ready to implode after you kissed her cheek."

"I did not!"

"Baby, please, you were so red in the face."

"I'd just played 90 minutes. What do you expect?"

Beth pokes the girl with her shoe.

"Please, there was steam coming out of those ears."

Laughter rings out across the table.

"Tell me again why you thought I was flirting during the game by tackling her?"

Caitlin rolls her eyes at the swede.

"I didn't say that either."

You scoff playfully, turning to the chelsea defender.

"Ah yes, the swedish charm never fails you, huh Mags?"

"Sweeping girls off their feet since age ten."

Caitlin shakes her head.

"Okay, but like, what about the handsyness during the game? Harder, you were the worst of it."

The dane shrugs.

"It annoys her. That's literally it. Frustrate your opponents, and you have an easier time winning."

You scoff.

"Excuse me, don't say it like it actually worked."

"It did work."

"What part of a draw means you won?"

"I just said it worked."

"Clearly." You cock a brow at her.

The blonde flips you off, taking a sip of her coffee.

You poke your tongue out at her. Pernille chuckles, turning to her girlfriend.

"Childish. See babe, what did I tell you?"

"That I'm clearly the more mature and better looking sibling? See Caitlin? You have nothing to be jealous over. There's no way my girl would leave me for this thing."

Beth snorts and Steph has to cover a laugh when you take a swipe at the blonde.

"Bitch!"

While the other's watch on amused as you both bicker, Caitlin simply smiles, realising she definitely has nothing to worry about and reminds herself how much you show her love constantly.

Her clinginess had come from nowhere, so she'd blown it off.

Steph, however, knew well where it came from. Caitlin just got jealous easily, regardless of her protests to calling it that. Jealousy really is a bitch.

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