#football conspiracy theory

[friedrice15]

It’s conspiracy theory time.

We all saw this picture. We all wondered what it meant. We thought, “Why is sitting like that? Staring like that? Will he be getting a new contract?” And now, knowing what we know, I think he knew. He wouldn’t be coming back to Borussia Dortmund. It was his last match at the Yellow Wall.

Here’s my flimsy evidence: That photo was taken on May 18. Terzic and Mats had already been clashing for the entire year over tactics, and probably much more. BVB Central reported through Bild, that the relationship with Terzic was considered “cold” on March 6. Even though Bild is not entirely reliable, it was probably reliable on this.

Reports also came through of Terzic and Mats having a massive fight shortly before the UCL final, person consequences being threatened. This might have happened because of the brutally honest interview Mats gave three days before the final, which would have placed their fight around May 28 or 29, most likely completely destroying their relationship beyond repair.

Back to the day that photo was taken, May 18. By that point, according to reports, many of Dortmund’s players, including almost the entirety of the senior players, including Mats of course, would have been heavily against Terzic. If it is true that he essentially staged a coup, it would have been Terzic and the Board vs the players of Borussia Dortmund.

It was the last match of the year, we got fifth place, barely scraping champions league football, the first time we hadn’t gotten it since the disastrous 2014-2015 season. A vocal player like Mats would not have let that happen without complaint. Since Terzic was the manager, in charge of the tactics, he would have made sure he was unhappy with how the team performed all season along with the tactics given to them.

After the end of the match, we also got this photo:

Marco pushed Mats up to the front. Does that mean they knew he probably wouldn’t be getting an extension and wanted him to get a goodbye? Marco got an entire game dedicated to him, tifo and all, but Mats got nothing. He probably wouldn’t have minded too much, he knew it was Marco’s day, and he seem to be a pretty chill guy.

Marco might have done it anyway, but it would have made sense for Mats to get his standing ovation because there wouldn’t be another game for him to get one from.

That’s the end of my mindless rambling, Mats knew he wouldn’t have spent another year with the Dortmund because the contract extension was always off the table.

[rebekahgaveup]

Without a doubt the worst part of Taylor being at this level of popularity/fame again is all the people who want to be different and edgy and are claiming she's just an objectively evil man-hating eco-terrorist attention whore all while proudly proclaiming they also know nothing about her bc they don't like her

[sighonaraa]

Please feel free to share all the thoughts on the football babies au! ALL THE THOUGHTS 😂😂😂 I’m so invested

ALL THE THOUGHTS??? oh boy. welp. Since You've Given Me Permission............ jk jk. i won't subject you all to ALL of my thoughts i am not that cruel. but! i have been thinking Very Much about the kiddo dynamics of it all and now i'm going to detail those dynamics via alien conspiracy theories.

moe is, as we've established, the dirt-eating worm kid who is absolutely convinced the government is hiding aliens in arizona and constantly attempts to blackmail ted into taking him to the sonoran desert to find Proof.

colin and isaac are unimpressed because they are 9 years old and three quarters minus one month which means they are Too Mature to believe in aliens.

sam and jamie are. uncertain. as to what exactly aliens are, really. but they do some very Intensive Research on the topic (pester roy until roy is aggravated into a thorough explanation) and come to the conclusion that moe MUST be right, there MUST be aliens in arizona, and they MUST be lonely and in need of friends.

("the aliens are not your fucking friends," roy says, head in his hands. "this is how abductions happen. you think they're your friends and then they fucking beam you up into fucking space and you're never heard from again."

"but roy," says jamie, gravely, "we gots ice cream! the aliens'll be our friends 'cause everyone likes ice cream!")

and so ted and roy are caught in an endless game of This is Why Aliens Are Bad For You, Actually. colin and isaac are soooo over it. moe keeps hiding little knick-knacks around the park and then telling sam and jamie they're gifts from the benevolent alien overlords from above. eventually the alien discussions die down.

and then moe learns about the denver international airport.

[skullklutz]

there is NO WAY I JUST SAW A SCIENTOLOGY AD ON THE SUPER BOWL

[jarviskingston]

🏀⛹🏿⛹🏿‍♂️

[anytimebitchess]

What is my man wearing??? 😭

Did they convert a cheap robe into a suit or a coat (whatever it’s supposed to be)? Ngl it looks cheap. I think if he would’ve gone shirtless, it would’ve looked better. At least creating some distraction. It really looks like he put on his dad’s old suit and left the house. This looks like something you’d find ministers wear in the soviet states.

This not a criticism towards Kylian, but at Dior. They really let this man walk on a carpet without having the suit properly fitted on him...JAIL to the creative director and CEO of Dior. Christian is rolling in his grave. This is your ambassador for gods sake!

[millimononym]

homophobic dog meme except its a mute renowned football player/wanted criminal instead

the resemblance was actually completely unintentional im only realizing it now lol

[dailyunsolvedmysteries]

Ronaldo and the 1998 World Cup Final

On the day of the 1998 World Cup Final, Brazilian striker Ronaldo Luís Nazário de Lima suffered a convulsive fit. Ronaldo was initially removed from the starting line-up 72 minutes before the match, with the team sheet released to a stunned world media, before he was reinstated by the Brazil coach shortly before kick off. Ronaldo "sleepwalked" through the final, with France winning the game.

 The nature of the incident set off a trail of questions and allegations which persisted for years, with Alex Bellos writing in The Guardian, "When Ronaldo's health scare was revealed after the match, the situation's unique circumstances lent itself to fabulous conspiracy theories. Here was the world's most famous sportsman, about to take part in the most important match of his career, when he suddenly, inexplicably, fell ill. Was it stress, epilepsy, or had he been drugged?"

Questions also circulated into who made Ronaldo play the game. The Brazil coach insisted he had the final say, but much speculation focused on sportswear company Nike, Brazil's multimillion-dollar sponsor—whom many Brazilians thought had too much control—putting pressure on the striker to play against medical advice

[geezerwench]

Broflakes

[runerosen]

Conspiracy: The NFL is scripted

The NFL is sports, right?

Wrong. They are listed as “sports entertainment.” WWE is listed as sports entertainment and we know that it’s scripted. Now, I’m not saying EVERYTHING in the NFL is scripted, every injury and play and interception. But, I AM saying that some part is scripted.

So, this means that all your bets are for naught.

Thoughts?

[lydiardbell]

Soccer has never seemed cooler to me than it does at this moment

[theuntoldstorythatneedsawriter]

Online Meeting 🖥 pt.2

Alexia Putellas x Reader

warning : fluffy 💭💗

pt.1

summary :

Over the following weeks, fans begin piecing together clues about your relationship, culminating in paparazzi photos of you and Alexia kissing, confirming the rumors.

The days following the interview were… strange.

At first, the questions from Alexia’s fans had been mild curiosity. Comments under the interview video ranged from playful speculation to downright conspiracies. Fans were, after all, a dedicated bunch—especially when it came to someone as beloved as Alexia Putellas. But neither of you could have imagined how quickly the rumors would pick up.

It started with screenshots. Sharp-eyed viewers had gone back to the recording, capturing the exact moment Alexia's expression changed. Her fleeting smile, the sudden softness in her eyes—it all became fuel for countless fan theories. Some were harmless guesses, others more pointed, as people tried to dissect who could possibly cause the Alexia Putellas to break her professional façade.

Then came the tweets.

*Okay but can we talk about how Alexia got distracted during that interview? Who is she hiding??*

*#WhoWalkedIn ?! I'm convinced Alexia has a secret partner 👀*

*Alexia smiled like that for someone off-screen...what do we think, fam?*

Fan accounts began circulating theories. Old videos, subtle interactions, and even past social media posts were dug up and scrutinized. Someone even pointed out how Alexia had been using the word cariño more often in interviews, but only when talking to someone off-camera or when she was distracted.

You and Alexia didn’t talk about it at first. It was easy to brush off the initial stir as just the nature of her fame. People were bound to overanalyze every little thing. But as the weeks went on, it became harder to ignore.

The two of you were spotted at a small café one evening, trying to keep a low profile. You sat across from her, laughing at a story she told about one of her teammates, and it felt just like any other quiet moment. But as you left, a fan had caught sight of Alexia. Despite her hoodie and sunglasses, she was still recognizable to the most dedicated. She signed a quick autograph, and you both hurried off.

You thought nothing of it until the next morning.

Photos of Alexia at the café began circulating online, and while most fans focused on her casual outfit or her rare public outing, a few of the eagle-eyed ones noticed something else—you. The photos were grainy, taken from a distance, but they were enough. One fan even circled a reflection of your face caught in the window and posted it side by side with blurry images of you from other occasions, piecing together what looked like a shadow of the truth.

Pinterest : sadlittleheart

*Who is this girl with Alexia? She’s been spotted with her "before".*

It wasn’t just the café outing either. Someone found an old photo from months ago, where you and Alexia had been standing too close at a team dinner. The initial photo hadn’t caused any waves back then, but now, with the added context of the interview slip-up, people were connecting the dots.

And then, it happened. The moment neither of you had anticipated but also knew was inevitable.

You and Alexia were walking through a park late one night, trying to escape the bustle of the city. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silver glow over the quiet paths. It had become your ritual—those late-night walks where no one would bother you, where she could just be Alexia, not the icon or the footballer, but just your girlfriend.

But as you neared a secluded part of the park, Alexia pulled you into a brief kiss, her hand gently cradling your jaw. It wasn’t long, just a sweet, private moment that would have gone unnoticed—except it didn’t.

The next morning, headlines broke across sports and gossip sites alike.

Paparazzi Shots of Alexia Putellas and Mystery Woman Kissing!

The photos were splashed across every major platform, your faces blurred in some, clear as day in others. The intimate kiss, the way her hand lingered on your cheek—it was all out there now, the quiet truth of your relationship exposed.

Fan accounts exploded.

*GUYS IT'S HER. THE GIRL FROM THE INTERVIEW.*

*Alexia has a girlfriend?? She’s so cute with her omg!!*

*We knew it! The way she smiled during that interview—this makes so much sense.*

The shift in public perception was sudden. Where before it had been speculation and conspiracy theories, now it was a full-blown revelation. Fans flooded Alexia’s social media, some supportive, others surprised, but the general consensus was one of excitement. People loved that Alexia seemed happy, even if some had been taken aback by the suddenness of it all.

As the storm swirled around you, Alexia stayed calm. She always did. One morning, you woke up to find her scrolling through her phone, reading some of the more amusing comments with a soft smile.

“They’re really invested,” you muttered, peeking over her shoulder.

Alexia chuckled, leaning back into you. “They always are. But as long as you’re okay…” She turned to you, her eyes searching yours.

“I’m okay,” you assured her. “Are you?”

“I am,” she replied, pulling you closer. “Now that it’s out there… I think I like not having to hide anymore.”

You smiled, feeling the weight lift from your shoulders. The world might know now, but in this moment, none of that mattered. It was just you and her, and that was more than enough.

pt.3

[pers1st]

dancing with the devil - alexia putellas x reader

pairing: alexia x singer!reader

warnings: mentions of drugs and alcohol

Meeting Alexia hadn't been an accident. If anything, meeting anyone, for you, was an accident, because more often than not, people were screaming into your face, demanding pictures and autographs and spinning theories about your private life that you were pretty sure could be considered conspiracies.

You hadn't intended, however, to meet Alexia. And she hadn't intended to meet you. The first time you'd seen the Catalonian woman had been on Keira's instagram. Your lifelong best friend and childhood neighbor was the only reason you were interested in women's football - or sports in general. You'd never shared your father's passion, or joined the local team like your brother had. If it wasn't for Keira, you would have no ties to the sport whatsoever, and even this way, you grew annoyed every time the strawberry blonde and her insufferably confident girlfriend tried to explain the offside rules to you.

Still, you followed Keira's life everywhere she went, and although you hadn't been happy with her move to Barcelona, you had forgiven her the minute you'd spotted the Catalonian woman on the sidelines.

Keira had warned you, but really, she should've warned Alexia. You enjoyed the lifestyle that came with being a singer, relished in parties and one-night-stands and rebounds that Keira doomed forbidden. More often than not, she'd threatened to hang up on your FaceTime call when you'd phoned her from London to tell her about your latest hookup. But Keira, as different as the two of you were, was still your best friend, and so she listened to every word you said, or sung, and was your number one supporter. This wasn't missed by her new teammates, who started following your socials the second Keira had first shared the promo picture of your new album. That's when Alexia had followed you. Keira should've warned her then, but a few years down the line, you were glad she hadn't. Because what was supposed to be a bed for you to spend a night in when you next visited Keira and Lucy in Barcelona blossomed into your second home, and the woman who was supposed to be yet another hookup blossomed into your girlfriend.

You had spent the past year somewhere between London, New York and Barcelona, desperate to spend time with Alexia, Leah and your producers all at the same time. The fans had quickly taken notice of your and Alexia's relationship, although, to be honest, not one of you had tried to hide anything. Alexia was easy, Alexia was simple, and most importantly, Alexia was safe. She was the one to ground you whenever you struggled with your mental health, whenever you were overwhelmed with pressure, anxiety, or any emotion alike.

But a few months ago, with Alexia's return to the pitch, the World Cup and the crippling pressure to perform, at all time, that grasped your every cell, things had taken a turn for the worst.

You were on tour, and had witnessed the public abuse of Alexia and her teammates via FaceTime and instagram, trying your hardest to console the captain as best as you could from so many miles away. It hadn't been an easy task, and with the everlasting rehearsals, concerts and afterparties, you had neglected to take care of yourself.

Drinking was easy when you had the excuse of missing your girlfriend. Using was easy when you had the excuse of just living a little.

Nothing was easy now, as you stood in your girlfriend's flat in Barcelona, the woman halting across from you.

"I'm... home", she breathed, taking in her surroundings. There was no way to hide the bags packed behind you, the way you were still wearing your shoes despite the fact that Alexia had taken so much time to drill the habit of taking them off at the doorstep, the way you seemed to be ready to leave when you had just come home.

"What is going on?", she asked, dropping her bag with a soft thud. Alexia had expected you on the couch, with a mug of tea in your hands, in her sweatpants and fluffy socks, just the way you liked during the colder months. She had expected you to be nuzzled under a blanket, perhaps napping as she knew the jet lag robbed you of energy whenever you took the plane from the States to Spain.

"I'm leaving", you breathed, staring into her face blankly. You tried to remember. Tried to take in every dimple, every freckle, the color of her eyes and the baby hairs that were flying off her hairline. If you could have, you would have taken a picture. You had so many pictures of Alexia in your phone, ranging from ones to her sleeping, from her at training, from her during matches, from her at dates you took her on or standing in the crowd of your concerts. They were never going to be enough - realistically, you knew that. But, realistically, you could never forget Alexia either, no matter how much time you would spend away from her.

Alexia looked confused. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly as she opened her mouth and closed it again. Her lips looked like she had been picking them, the way she always did when she was stressed, but you wanted to kiss them anyways.

Her feet guided her into the kitchen, walking straight past you as she inspected the apartment. She noticed your favorite mug - one that she had given you for Christmas last year - wasn't where it usually stood next to her favorite mug. Why would you take your mug? You never took your mug when you went away from her, to concerts or recording sessions or award galas.

If she looked any closer, she might've noticed the broken handle of it laying next to the trash can. The dish had been sent to the floor when you had frantically grabbed at it, desperate to leave the flat before your girlfriend came home, and shattered into a million peace. Each one of it was tucked in a plastic bag in your suitcase, but you had forgotten the handle. Alexia didn't notice. Her eyes were back on you.

"What are you talking about?", she asked. In that moment, you were grateful more than ever that Alexia had taken the longer route to grab your favorite sushi from the one restaurant on the other side of the town, the only one you liked, because it had given you enough time to pack everything before she came home. You had almost been out the door - you had put your shoes and coat on already, leaving your favorite scarf, the pink one that she liked to wear, in the hallway.

"I'm so sorry." Your voice was barely above a whisper, and you had to tear your eyes away from her, down to your dirty sneakers, when you felt your lips wobble. If you took another glance at Alexia, you would cry.

The handle of your suitcase was cold as you gripped it tightly, bending down to pick up the bag still on the ground.

"I'm so sorry, Alexia."

It wasn't just another statement one said during a breakup without any meaning. You truly meant it. You truly were sorry. In the past months, both yours and Alexia's life had spiraled completely, and although you had been there for her as best as you could have, and lost yourself in the process. The shell of a person that was left of you was nowhere close to what Alexia deserved. You weren't sorry for leaving her, you were sorry for the person you had become, and you were sorry you couldn't be the person for Alexia anymore. You couldn't be her loving girlfriend anymore, the one that loved her endlessly, that made her laugh, that took her worries away with soft kisses and whispered nothings. You couldn't be the person to make her happy anymore. If Alexia took a closer look at you, maybe she would notice your blown pupils, the redrimmed eyes of yours, the bags beneath them. Maybe she would notice the amount of weight you lost, the leftovers of white powder beneath your nose, maybe she would've noticed how broken you were.

You didn't give her the chance, instead tearing your gaze away from her and shuffling towards the door with soft steps, desperate not to ruin her hardwood floor with the crunch of broken glass and splashes of alcohol on your dirty shoes.

You heard Alexia cry behind you, heard her pleas for you to stay, heard her questions, her yells, but you were out of the flat quicker than she could've pulled you back. The air of Barcelona hit you colder than it had before, and a part of you wished you would've worn the pink scarf, knowing it would've kept you warm and smelled of Alexia's perfume.

The black SUV was still parked right next to her driveway the way you had instructed Lois, your driver, to wait. He didn't ask a single question as you slammed the bags into the backseat, following in shortly after, tears streaming down your face. You needed to leave. You were doing the right thing. Alexia would realize it, at one point.

17th December, 2023:

Breaking news: British singer Y/N Y/L/N's summer tour cancelled after drug overdose.

notes:

there goes my first oneshot! please let me know what you think and also if you want a pt2 bc i have so much more in mind about thus story :)

[putellasawfc]

cata coll as a girlfriend is the type to …

-

gf!cata is the type to … keep you on facetime with her whilst she’s away from you, just to do your own things. you’ll be cleaning around the house and she’ll be watching television in her hotel room, you won’t talk to one and other, just enjoy each others silent company. at first you didn’t get why she wanted to call you if she wasn’t going to talk, but you soon understood the comfort that it brought to have the other person right there, if you couldn’t be together physically at least you had that.

gf!cata is the type to … talk to you about all sorts of conspiracy theories that she believed. ‘princess diana’s death was definitely not an accident mi amor’ ‘the moon landing never happened it was all staged’ ‘have you ever heard about the subliminal advertising conspiracy? .. oh my god listen to this!’ though you thought a lot of her information was a little far fetched, you did sometimes find yourself nodding along and getting invested in her ramblings (though you would never admit it to her).

gf!cata is the type to … force you into taking part in some goalkeeping practice with her, even though you weren’t a professional footballer or athlete, and didn’t know how to kick a ball like a proper player would, she’d still ask you to at least try so she could work on her saves.

gf!cata is the type to … leave you covered in hickeys after a makeout session. it was like she wasn’t satisfied unless you were covered in marks, all over your neck and some on your chest. you’d always scold her for it, reminding her that you had to be seen in public with them on show - but she didn’t care. she’d just shrug with a proud smirk on her face. “at least i won’t have to worry about anyone flirting with you in the stands again.”

gf!cata is the type to … whisk you away every chance she got to some extravagant vacation. she loved to spoil you, claiming you deserved it for keeping her going and taking care of her during difficult times. it was the least she could do to repay you for sticking by her.

gf!cata is the type to … buy you both matching rings. she’d only ever take hers off during football duties, other than that it didn’t leave her ring finger and yours only ever came off during messy actives (baking, painting, etc). you loved the cuteness of it, the way she presented you with them after six months together. ‘practice for when i propose’.

gf!cata is the type to … make you two the definition of private but not secret. you weren’t a public figure, so she knew what type of reception you could receive from certain ‘fans’ if she went crazy with her public admiration for you. she didn’t want you to receive any sort of negativity from anyone who thought they knew you from a few social media posts, so she kept it tame. she’d post you on her story on special occasions, and you’d feature in some photo dumps but not too many.

gf!cata is the type to … bring you back little souvenirs whenever she went abroad for work. sometimes a magnet, sometimes a keychain, sometimes a touristy shirt. once she managed to find you a snowglobe that now resides on your shared fireplace in your apartment. you always joke that you’re running out of places to put everything, but you love the ongoing tradition and always get excited to see what she’s brought back for you each time.

gf!cata is the type to … not be shy when it comes to pda. of course, when under the eyes of fans during games and such, she limits her public affection to just a hug and a hand hold. but when it’s just the both of you on an average day, maybe you’re shopping or you’ve both gone out somewhere for lunch, she can’t keep her hands off you. her arm stays wrapped around your waist or shoulder, she’s always peppering an array of kisses along your neck, she’ll even throw in a cheeky ass grab whenever she’s feeling a little bolder.

gf!cata is the type to … get a dog with you. your first child, she liked to call him. he was a little beagle and you both smothered him with too much affection, and were definitely too lenient when it came to punishing him. but one look with his little puppy dog eyes and you were both eager to forget his misdemeanours.

gf!cata is the type to … constantly drag you into photo booths at every possible opportunity. whenever you were at an event that had some sort of photo booth, whether it was a wedding or a birthday party, or a football event. if she saw a photo booth she was dragging you there and forcing you on her lap! the amount of photo booth strips you had tucked away in your bedside drawer was crazy. but, you couldn’t deny that it was cute to look back at them occasionally and reminisce on the events they were taken at.

gf!cata is the type to … challenge you to all sorts of games, just to get pouty if you beat her. your personal favourite was mario kart, because you believed you were top five best player in the world, and it was very rare cata actually managed to beat you. she’d always accuse you of cheating or targeting her everytime you won, making you roll your eyes and call her out for being a sore loser. if she did win (which would be a miracle), she’d shove it in your face with a smug grin and eager fist pump … completely overjoyed with herself for all of five minutes until you reminded her you’d beat her six times already tonight.

gf!cata is the type to … not let you out of bed if you had to be up before her. it wasn’t often, with her being an athlete she was up early most mornings if not for a gym session then for an early morning training session. but sometimes, it was you who had to be up early and she hated it. she’d wrap an arm around your waist and pull you back into her, whining into your neck. ‘nooo, stay in bed with me please mi amor. it’s so cold without you.’ sometimes it would work, and you’d succumb to her pathetic - but adorable - begging. other times you really weren’t able to stay, so you’d have to cope with her accusing you of no longer loving her as you got ready for the day, always so dramatic.

gf!cata is the type to … want to start a family with you one day. she knew being in a lesbian relationship it wasn’t as easy as a little late night loving to have a child, but she didn’t let that deter her from having her dream come true with you. she would love to have a little boy or girl, calling her mama and running around the house wearing her goalkeeper jersey, it’s what she dreamed about. and now she had you in her life she knew she wanted you to be the one she made that happen with. you had a lot of late night talks about it, and when the time was right you were more than happy to start a family with her.

gf!cata is the type to … come to you with all the gossip. she’s that person that swears they won’t tell anyone, and then the second she’s home with you she’s spilling everything. you know a lot more than you should, but cata just can’t help it. she loves filling you in on all the drama she’s aware of, the both of you will just sit around gossiping, laughing and judging people together.

[aropride]

ok picture it with me. the super bowl is on the 11th -> taylor swift sings her little songs and then flies on her jet to see her new boytoy -> lots of discourse sparked by this but the topic dies within the week -> she keeps posting teasers for different songs -> swifties are creating insane conspiracy theories as per usual -> her album comes out on april 19th -> the songs are all pretty good, one or two flops, one or two masterpieces, the usual -> guilty as sin is about the overuse of her private jet, in which she promises to Do Better -> people are shocked by the genuine lyricism and clear authenticity of the song -> she says she will start start carpooling (jetpooling?) with other artists to cut down on fossil fuels -> a week or so passes and again the topic fades into irrelevancy as trisha paytas gives birth a few weeks early and king charles the third dies of a heart attack on the same day -> the date is april 29, 2024 -> swifties take to tiktok, posting their videos to the lyric "do you really wanna know where i was april 29th?" en masse -> swift announces she's going to see travis from football on her private jet -> several hours pass -> no updates -> we haven't heard from swift or kelce at all -> night falls, the moon casts light over the quiet ground -> crickets sing softly as the world waits with open eyes for news of taylor's safe and heartwarming landing -> speculation runs rampant, twitter is ablaze, and as the night goes on, rumors only grow -> morning dawns and rumors fly through new skies -> someone leaks to the news that all contact has been lost with taylor swift's jet -> mass chaos erupts -> the us coast guard sends out a search party -> the world waits with baited breath -> a day passes, two, three -> a week. a month. -> the world moves on, for the most part. the news keeps churning out stories. trisha paytas is pregnant again. -> two months. it's late june. 24 eras tour concerts have been cancelled. fans are devastated. time keeps moving -> the day is july 9th when the news is announced. off the coast of northern europe they're found not her body, but three simple items: her custom bracelet from kelce, a chip of metal the size of your palm from the wing of her jet, and a single strand of blond hair.

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — MICHAEL KAISER x FEM READER

Kaiser’s always there for you after a failed date. Maybe this time he has something better than advice. 

wc — 800

tags — friends to lovers, confession

“It can’t be that bad.” 

“The man I’m dating is a flat earther.” 

Kaiser wordlessly pushes his drink towards you in a show of support. You down the glass, relishing the burn as it goes down. It’s wet and cold with condensation, and not an altogether terrible cure to alleviate your headache. 

“Any other conspiracy theories he believes in? Maybe tinfoil hats?”

“Kaiser - this is not helping.”

This is a weekly ritual that’s the only constant in your life. You switch jobs often. Shitty boyfriends come and go. But Kaiser and Lunar Love, your favorite local bar, are always the way you end your Friday nights. 

You don’t know when the tradition started, but it probably happened sometime between meeting Kaiser when you were working a low-level job for the JPN Football Association and crying into his rock hard shoulder after your sixth failed first date in a row. 

Bad things happen during the week. You dump them on Kaiser on Fridays. That’s just how it goes. 

You would feel bad, but Kaiser’s really, really terrible at comforting people anyway. Not only is he too muscular to be a good pillow - you still wince recalling how sore your neck had been the morning after you slept on his shoulder - but even his attempts at making you feel better with words sucks. 

Guy talked about his ex the whole time? 

“Ditch him and leave with the breadsticks.” 

It doesn’t matter if you tell him that’s bad advice. Kaiser doesn’t care about normal benchmarks for propriety and manners and social standards. He just does whatever he wants whenever he wants, and he expects you to follow suit. 

When your boyfriend of two months had ditched you to watch Kaiser’s football match with his friends, Kaiser had laughed himself silly while you complained to him on the phone later. 

“Quit football,” you tell him. 

“What, so your lame boyfriend will pay more attention to you? No way!” 

“I just don’t get what I’m doing wrong,” you groan.

“It’s not your fault the men you date are assholes - well no, it kind of is. Stop dating assholes, I guess.” 

“Don’t blame the victim!” 

But then there was the time the man you were meeting for a first date had tried to get you to join his cult. 

You had texted Kaiser an SOS under the table as the man and the two other cult recruiters he brought with him (who brings plus ones, much less plus twos to a date?) tried to convince you to give up the life of ‘sin’ you were leading. 

You should’ve known he was too hot to be true. That’s how they get you, you think ruefully. Now you’re stuck at this table trying to make excuses for living a life of debauchery when- 

“Excuse me,” Kaiser says. “What are you doing with my girlfriend?” 

Your head snaps up. 

“What are you doing?” You mouth at him. 

You look at the cultists. He’s making it worse. Oh, he’s definitely making it worse. One girl has her hand raised to her mouth in shock and horror. Another is actively praying for god to deliver you from evil. 

“Come on, honey,” he says, tugging you up from your seat. “It’s time to go home.” 

“Miss,” says the original cultist who asked you on the date. He really is cute, with a sweet and earnest face that makes you want to coo over him if he wasn’t actively trying to indoctrinate you. “If you leave now, your soul will never be saved.” 

Kaiser makes a face like he’s thinking about doing something very inappropriate for fun, and that’s when you rush out of there. Once you’re on the sidewalk, you slow down, walking hand in hand as you head towards his car. He swings your arm a little. 

“One day,” he sighs, “I’m not going to be around to rescue you.” 

“No you won’t,” you tell him with a grin. “You love me too much for that.” 

“Yeah,” he says with a rueful smile as he opens the passenger door for you. “I do.” 

That’s how you know Kaiser really does care about you. He cared enough to show up and rescue you. Maybe not the best way he could’ve done it, but still. 

That and the fact that he wouldn’t be paying for twenty dollar cocktails just to hear you whine about your love life if he didn’t care about you, but he’s just not great at showing that love. 

Case in point: “Just give up on your shitty dating life,” Kaiser says, rolling his eyes. 

“Excuse me?” You say, outraged. “It’s not like people are lining up to date me, mister!” 

“Why do you need a line?” He looks annoyed. “I’m right here. I’ve been here all along.” 

Bonus: Kaiser’s name in his contacts for you is “miss unlucky-in-love”. When you start dating, he changes it to “lucky” and forces you to change his to “good luck charm.”