#martin odegaard drabble

[oh-saints]

Hii 😊

i’m so glad you’re taking requests, your martin fics are my favs !!!! i feel this should have been out there from before: aftercare with martin. Where he is so gentle and takes the best care of you after you have sex..

Thank you 🤍

awww thank you my love <3 and i do agree with you, someone should've done this earlier THEREFORE may i present you...

aftercare

sex with martin is a guaranteed unparalleled time, but what happens after is even more wonderful…

martin odegaard x you

wc: 0.7k

tw: only filthy beginning and some suggestive words here and there, no biggie (?)

note: my brain's still fried from work so... request is still open & you can drop them here

“you look so good riding me like this, min kjæreste,”

and martin didn’t even have an ounce of lie in his words.

cowgirl was always his most favourite sex position because he could see your face and body in full coverage, not hidden beneath his body, as you rode him good. he could never get bored of taking in your facial features contorted in pleasures while your chest arched, giving him the most beautiful pair of boobs on display, and your hips went rotating in his lap, providing enough friction to drive you both to the edge.

“martin,” you gasped as your hands went from supporting your weight on his knees to reaching his shoulders, and it was pretty much his sign that your legs were giving up. “please… I’m so close.”

the boyfriend didn’t need another word before holding you by the waist, lifting you up and down. the slapping sound was so loud it drove you wild because you were this close yet so far, so you reached down your clit with a hand. the moment the pad of your middle finger caressed your bud—it felt so liberating as you crashed down on a free fall, but you knew you would always be safe because your boyfriend would always catch you.

and catch you, he did. he gathered you in his arms as you went pulsating from head to toe from your orgasm, despite the fact he was also reaching his own ends. you didn’t need to know more, other than the fact that you could feel his cum dripping down against your inner thighs, but it always amazed you how he would always put your well-being first even in this condition.

he gently rocked you back and forth, while stroking you from the top of your head down to the ends of your hair, until he could feel the vibrations stopped coming from you. you let out a huge sigh on the crook of his neck, where you took shelter while you were hugging him tight, and that would be his sign to let you go little by little.

“hi, vennen,” he whispered as you tried to meet his eyes, no matter how much the sleepiness starting to kick in. “you did absolutely amazing.”

while you knew he was bluffing, solely for the reason you’d never lasted long enough for your liking, you didn’t complain. the way he tucked your hair to the back of your ears ever so softly soothed your displeasure towards your stamina, so you smiled at him. “hello to you, too, my love. can we not move because I’m so tired?”

martin would always say yes to this, at least while you were awake. but as soon as sleep took over your body and soul, he lifted you up and around so you could lie back on the bed, not wanting you to wake up with an ached body and bad posture. it was only then he pulled himself out of you.

in all honesty, martin hated the sensation. he hated losing you; he loved being around you, which included but not limited to being inside of you. but he hated more to sleep before he could clean up himself, so he dragged his own feet to the bathroom to clean himself before he brought a basket full of aftercare products—something he had prepared for since a long time ago because he knew you’d pass out soon after your orgasm.

at this point of your relationship, martin had already had a routine of aftercare sequence. he started by cleaning the dirty streak of his cum in between your thighs, before moving to rub your favourite coconut oil on spots you’d mentioned previously would turn sore the next day. if you were wearing your hair tied that day, he’d pluck off the hairband and comb the strands until the knots were gone.

of course you’d squirm lightly while he was cleaning you up, but after everything was said and done, martin would kiss the crown of your head, the middle space between your eyebrows, and your lips. and despite knowing you couldn’t hear him, the Norwegian young captain would whisper good night, min kjæreste against your lips before sleep discovered him too.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

*min kjæreste means "my dearest" in norwegian

*vennen means "love" in norwegian

^^pls cmiiw if i get this wrong

[fallinforerling]

*ੈ✩‧₊ MARTIN’S MASTERLIST

: ̗̀➛ MARTIN'S TAGLIST

: ̗̀➛ MASTERLIST

stories including (*) has +18 content.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ONE SHOTS ੈ♡˳

ೃ⁀➷ CAPTAIN'S LUCKY CHARM -Despite any anxiety he might feel, he knows your presence calms him, and his team notices. You're his lucky charm.

[oh-saints]

sunshine becomes you (pt.1)

Despite his young age, Martin's the captain for the Arsenal for a reason. He's calm and collected most of the time and opponents rarely could ever entice any provoking display of emotion from him. But there's one person in London Colney that rubs him in all the wrong way...

Grumpy!Martin Ødegaard x Sunshine!OC

word count: 3.7k

tw: mentions of cheating (but not the MCs)

note: due to the popular demand (thank you whoever started this and @wingsofanillyrian for telling me to drop this down), here goes a Martin Ødegaard two-shot because he deserves this and we all deserve this. but as usual, i happen to write this at dawn A CENTURY AGO so this is ofc not proof-read. oh, and feedbacks are always welcome! hope you like them as much as i like writing them!

sunshine becomes you masterlist here

“Good morning, Granit! Good morning, Martin!”

While the Albanian-descendant reciprocated her greeting, the Norwegian only recognised her presence by throwing a nonchalant sideway look at her, followed by a deep sigh, before continuing his way to the interior part of London Colney.

No words exchanged, as usual.

“Don’t mind the lad, Eve,” Granit must’ve sensed her—daily, by now—disappointment. It had been more than a year since she first started this fantastic job at Arsenal, yet the creative midfielder hadn’t even spared her a full glance all this while, bar the first time he signed the contract. “It always takes a while for him to start his engine in the morning.”

“It’s just…” Eve sighed, unable to hold the pout from showing up on her lips. She only had good intentions; she loves the club and the players who played for the badge, greeting them was simply her way of expressing gratitude towards them. “I wonder what I’d done wrong…”

Granit threw her a sympathetic look as he signed some papers for his packages. “Oh, honey… don’t we all wonder the same?”

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

As soon as Martin stepped into London Colney building that one, particular morning, he immediately sensed something was off before he could put a finger on it.

At first, he thought he was only imagining things but later, as he saw Louisa running back and forth to every side of the building as if she’d catch fire on her arse if she didn’t, he realised something had gone terribly off the mark.

Tracking back, only then he noticed everything had gone wrong from the first moment his feet landed on his club’s training centre. No citrus scent poking its way to his nose and certainly no bright-as-fuck ‘good morning’ greeted him right after. No heels clicking throughout the hallway at this hour and was instead replaced by Louisa’s trainers screeching against the wooden floor as the junior receptionist ran, trying very hard to fill in her counterpart’s unusually immaculate pace on getting the delivery job done.

Not that he minded Eve’s absence—he actually longed for the day it came—but it had been a year or so and she never failed to greet everyone with her chirpy voice and a blazing smile the first thing everyone walked into the facility. It was only natural everyone thought that was naturally her friendly personality.

Well, except him, of course.

Martin simply thought she was impossible. How could someone be all sunshine blazing at full watt, not only every morning but throughout the day as well? One couldn’t be that happy at every moment in her life.

His take was it was either she wanted everyone in Colney to like her or it was her façade to hide her true personality. Either way, he didn’t like any kind of fake person and he’d appreciate it if one day he could prove his theory true.

“Ah, fuck me,” Suddenly a Scottish accent boomed throughout the gym, signaling the club’s resident DJ, Kieran Tierney, had graced the facility his presence. “Lou messed up my stuffs, mate.”

“Yeah, she did mine, too,” Martin always wondered how Kieran and Rob could compliment each other so well when one was always angry all the time and the other was super happy-go-lucky kind of guy. “No offense to Lou, but I swear I need Eve back asap.”

Kieran sighed at the reality as he played the opening song for the day.

Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

A week passed by and London Colney was still missing its beloved front desk. Louisa was visibly struggling more and more each day to complete a job that was supposed to be shared between two people, and the residents of the training centre were getting more and more anxious that Eve wasn’t coming back.

Initial rumours had it that Eve asked for an emergency leave last week, right before the home game against Leicester City, via text. It caused quite a stir amongst the front office staffs for—apparently—its anomaly:

1) Eve rarely texts people about work,

2) Eve finally used her leave for the first time since joining the club,

3) George, the Head of HR, approved of her block leave at this time of the year without further questioning.

Not that Martin was paying attention to the gossips, God no. But he could swear the women could definitely bite his ears off during lunch if they kept it this way. Martin silently prayed for Eve to comeback, genuinely this time around, for his ears’ sanity and more importantly, to avoid falling follicles of everyone’s heads due to Lou’s incompetence.

However, after full ten days, Martin knew straight away Eve was back as soon as Colney’s majestic doors went wide open at his approaching steps.

Albeit faint, the signature citrus scent from the air humidifier she turned on lingered in the air and Martin, to be very completely honest, had never felt more familiar with the grandiose training facility than at that moment. It was as if half of Colney’s soul was slowly brought back to life.

He was expecting the woman to throw him her overwhelmingly annoying good morning, Martin! that made his ears rung as he entered Colney but to his surprise, no sounds ever made it to his hearing organs. Martin prided his hearing ability just fine, so this should be recalled for its credibility this time.

Who would’ve thought the day Martin had been dreaming of come earlier than expected?

He was caught off guard, to say the least, that he had to spare the woman a glance to make sure this was reality. But there she was, behind her desk, back straight up ever so professional, eyes down as she scribbled on something—everything was as usual, except for the whole different exterior she was donning.

Eyes cold and lifeless, pale lips on a perfectly straight line.

Martin should be glad his hypothesis was becoming align with reality but instead, he felt more annoyed at the sight—so much more annoyed than when she blasted the ball fire of sun towards his direction.

If Eve tried so hard to change her demeanour, she should take a look at the mirror; going full-on cold city girl didn’t suit her at all. Nothing makes Martin more irritated than someone trying so hard to be intimidating so others can take them seriously.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“You’re resigning?”

Louisa tried so hard to maintain the decibel of her voice but it came out as a whispered screech instead.

But that wasn’t the reason why Martin stopped in his track, it was the sentence that escaped Louisa’s mouth. No one else other than those two front desk staffs, Louisa and Eve, was around, which meant Louisa was addressing the issue of Eve resigning.

Of all surprise Martin had been getting today, this was the most shocking one. Eve and the word ‘resign’ truthfully didn’t match well in one sentence. Everyone—including Martin to some extent, thanks to the talking walls of the building—knew how much Eve enjoyed her job, being a lifelong fan of Arsenal herself.

“I am,” Eve sounded firm and final from where Martin stood behind the wall. “I just submitted my resignation letter to George this morning.”

“Did you get an offering from somewhere else?” Lou asked, but Martin somehow knew the answer to that question before Eve even answered her partner. “I knew they’re not paying you well for the fantastic job you’ve been doing.”

“It’s not that, Lou,” Eve let out a very tired sigh. It was starting to feel like she wasn’t even trying to put up with the reserved persona today, she was as she sounded like; simply exhausted and resigned. “I don’t know why you haven’t heard anything yet when it’s literally what everyone’s been talking about. Bob cheated on me with my friend, Lou. He brought her along to the physio’s internal party last week, when I was mourning for my mother. Mourning, mind you!”

Yeah, Eve might put a foot on Martin’s nerves with no avail every morning since he signed for Arsenal but at that moment—God, fucking hell—Martin couldn’t decide which one irked him more:

a) there was a fellow human being that acted less humane than a pitted dog, or

b) it took another air-wasting scumbag to prove his own theory of Eve being capable to show emotion other than elation on her face.

“I can’t possibly face everyone here without being pitied by. I don’t want to let them pity me,” While her sentence induced a resolution, her strained voice gave away everything that was silently crumbling inside of her. “I’m not a charity case, for God’s sake.”

Nothing could fill in the seething anger and exasperation in the air.

“I can’t change your mind, can I?” Louisa asked, but the silence that followed pretty much answered everything.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“Hi, Eve. I’m coming to get something from home.”

Eve could confidently say she has the ability to match a voice to a name without looking at the speaker, but this time she had to look up. None of the Colney residents sounded like this man, complete with an acquired Cockney pronunciation but a slightly mixed accent she couldn’t put her finger on.

Oh, how much she regretted sourcing where the voice came from.

“Hello? Earth to Eve?”

She had to remind herself to take a huge, deep breath and close her gaping mouth. “Martin.”

“Yes, Eve. Now can you—” It seemed Martin pursed his lips to stop himself from saying something. “Can I get the packs my mom sent me here?”

Eve almost fell off her seat at the significant difference in the tone Martin used before and after putting his lips on a straight line. Now, it was pretty clear he was agitated at first before biting his own tongue and calmed himself down, switching to a gentler tone—of which was the world’s newest seven wonders, Eve presumed.

“I—” It was honestly too much for Eve to take on at once that she had to remind herself to collect herself. “Yes, of course. They came this morning, let me get them for you.”

“That’d be nice, thanks.”

Okay, this is officially weird, Eve thought as she walked into the mailing room behind the partiture. First, instead of tailgating someone else to fetch his packages or letters, Martin graced his presence to the front office, alone. Second, he speak nicely to her. Thirdly, he was able to say ‘thank you’?!

“Here’s the small one, Jordan can help with the big one when you clock out.”

“Oh, no need. I’ll just hail it over my shoulder before I clock out,” Eve could definitely tell Martin was in awkward place, shifting his weight from the right foot to the left. “Where do I sign for these?”

Did someone dare him to talk to me? Eve couldn’t help but be suspicious. None of these made sense. “Here and here. There are also some mails from the fans back there. I’ve sorted them out for you.”

“Ah, okay. Great,” Martin reached for the pen as fast as the lightning. “Thanks.”

Oh, how much Eve hated this kind of pregnant silence. There was a reason why she wanted people to warm up to her so she could talk anything and everything to fill in these dreadful moments, but it seemed like Martin forgot to pick up the notes she left on the locker room.

Heck—Eve couldn’t think of anything else but Martin walking past her notes without sparing a glance. He’d detested anything that could relate him to her.

“I heard you’re resigning.”

Okay, the Earth is definitely ending tomorrow. Martin Ødegaard making small talk to her?!

“I see the wailing wall has reached your ears,” Eve tried to laugh off how much he put her into the same awkward place as he was. How could he know...? Is that my heart skipping a beat? “But yeah, I’ll be gone after the upcoming Manchester City game.”

“So soon, huh?” With that, Martin signed off everything necessary. “Have you thought about the parting gift?”

“I’ll probably send you all a customized letter or something.”

Eve couldn’t believe her ears as Martin scoffed at her idea. She was only joking, sure, but it enticed another reaction from the Norwegian other than annoyance? What kind of sorcery is this?

“You don’t strike me as someone who writes,” Shoot me, how the fuck did he know? “I’d quit with one last bang if I were you.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Eve couldn’t believe she was actually considering Martin’s idea. Oh, how much she’d like to leave an imprint here, especially to that ex-boyfriend of hers. She’d pay to make him regret his decision until the day he died. “But only if I knew how.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Martin picked up his box, signaling he was departing. “You’re a bright woman.”

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“Morning, Eve.”

Even though Eve could now register his voice without seeing the handsome face, Eve swore to God she’d never get used to with Martin Ødegaard greeting her first. If he kept up with being this friendly—yes, at this point Eve considered Martin being friendly, despite their (still) lack of interaction—Eve might not survive the New Year.

“Oh! Hi, Martin!” She didn’t even bother covering up her surprise. “What can I get you today?”

“My mom sent me something again, she said.”

“Uh, I haven’t received any. I’ll let you know in theWhatsApp group if they’re here.”

“Alright, thanks,” and off he went.

Back again with two-word answers. Maybe Eve put the friendly label far too soon.

But it’s okay, she thought to herself. At least I resign from this place without any beef with anyone here.

“Why are you smiling to yourself?”

“Jesus, Martin!” Eve genuinely put her hands on her chest from the shock of Martin returning. She’d literally be dead before the New Year at this point. “I’m not smiling.”

“You are,” Eve wondered how Martin could say something meant to tease her with such a straight face. “I’m just going to take it as you’re planning the plan to leave this place with a bang.”

“Ah—yeah, about that,” Eve shifted her weight to the other feet nervously, remembering how she went to countless Tinder dates these past two weeks without any result as to whom she’d go to the party with. “I’m thinking of going to the Christmas party with someone but none of the dates I’ve met so far could go on par my standard.”

“And what is the standard?”

“Considering Bob’s ugly, I’d say someone younger than him but more good-looking than he’ll ever be,” Eve shrugged, masking off the disgust she once dated such guy. “But has to be way smarter than he is.”

“Okay, so in short,” Eve’s feet moved backwards on its own when Martin placed his crossed arms on the table, body leaning in towards her as if he was thinking hard. As if whatever Eve might say next interested him. “You need someone better in all aspects.”

“Exactly.”

“What if I know someone who might not be smarter but so much more popular than him?”

Martin’s helping her?! “Define more popular.”

“Verified account on Instagram.”

Martin’s helping her. When would this guy stop surprising her? “Awesome, when can I meet him? You know, to run through stuffs so he doesn’t blow—”

“Chill, Eve,” How could Martin sense she was getting excited but at the same time panicking because of hoshe badly wanted to blow Bob’s arse off the water? “He knows the deal.”

“He’s like, what? A professional con artist?” At her submission, Martin laughed. Like the genuine laugh she only saw when he was around others that was definitely not her. Like the one that lit up his entire face, cracking away that cold, Scandinavian features. “What are you, Martin Ødegaard? Why are you friends with such people?”

“As tempting as that idea sounds like, sadly I don’t have that kind of friends,” The smile remained etched on Martin’s face and Eve had to remind herself how to breathe properly. She was devastated he was the only person that wasn’t talking to her then, she was devastated he was the only person that could coax this bodily response out of her now. “What I mean is he knows about the whole Christmas party thing.”

“Is there another staff that’s single that I don’t know of?” Eve immediately recounted all of the single male staffs in the building that could potentially be her partner for a night in her mind. None that met her standard. “Who is it?”

“You’re looking at him.”

Image be damned, Eve must’ve contorted her face all in the wrong directions like she usually did when her friends dropped the bomb they were getting a gunshot wedding. Not that she was judgemental or anything, but it always came as a shock when they did, growing up together and all.

Who the fuck could contain their composure when Martin Ødegaard dropped the same kind of bomb? Nuclear might as well be more fitting in this context.

“What?” Martin’s face turned into something else, confidence was definitely not in the cards anymore. Eve immediately rectified her expression, not wanting the luxury of having Martin Ødegaard she’d seen minutes ago disappear into thin air. “Don’t I qualify?”

“No! I mean, yes—” Eve unconsciously reached for Martin’s arms when he started pulling himself away. “You do, you’re an excellent candidate—”

“But?”

“But you’re you,” Eve lifted her eyebrows in confusion, not knowing what else to say to emphasis he couldn’t possibly be her date for the Christmas party. “You’re Martin Ødegaard.”

“I don’t see anything that complicates your situation.”

Based on Martin’s expression, he truly didn’t see anything weird about it. About them coming from two whole different worlds. About them getting together meant it only happened in fairy tales. “You’re an Arsenal player. No one’s going to believe you’re going out with me.”

“Then we’ll make them believe.”

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“Martin!”

As soon as she called the Norwegian, Eve regretted her action with her whole being. She moved without thinking much, too eager to talk the concerns that had been plaguing her for the past fortnight with her soon-to-be partner-in-crime, that she didn’t realise she was already reaching for his hands, stopping the football player in his place.

However, not only the said player stopped his tracks, but the rest of the canteen went silent at their once-in-a-lifetime—as far as the public knew anyway—interaction.

“Ummm,” Under everyone’s scrutiny, Eve faltered, her hands falling to her sides. “Uh, I—”

“Have my packages arrived?”

That was certainly not why she looked for him but as she met his eyes, she sensed that he was merely helping her out of the awkward situation. How she knew the hidden meaning behind his words, it was a wonder she certainly would have to figure out.

But later, not now, not when her brain was melting under the spotlight. How could Martin play a sold-out match almost every week? “Yes! Yes! The mailman needs your signature.”

“Alright, I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Without further ado, Eve dashed out from the canteen without looking back.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course, everyone would look at them. Eve and calling the name ‘Martin’ didn’t belong in the same sentence—couldn’t, even. As far as everyone was concerned, there was an Atlantic Ocean between them.

Eve didn’t even realise she was restlessly pacing back and forth in her small space of working until Martin got a hold of her wrist, stopping her motion. She turned around to face him, unfazed with what had just happened.

“You’re panicking.”

Oh, how much she wanted to scream ‘you think?!’ at his face.

“Breathe,” Martin’s eyes told her it wasn’t a moot point, so she did. She still felt like she’d explode anytime soon. “You should stop doing that, it doesn’t suit you.”

“What?”

“Panicking,” he answered as easy as the breeze brushing her face. If she wasn't busy sending signals to her brain to not puke on him, she’d notice her breath was now turning more regularly due to the small circles Martin drew on the back of her hand he was holding.

“What does, then?”

“Talking to people, so talk to me. What’s up?”

Eve swore she’d warn Martin to stop whiplashing her reality left and right with his unpredictable answers after they wrapped up this whole fiasco. Like he knew everything about her. Like he wasn’t breathing fire down her way a week ago whenever she tried to talk to him.

Now, she had to confide him her biggest concern. “I don’t think I can do it.”

Martin didn’t show any reaction to her submission. Not a blink, not a muscle pulled—nada. And it scared her because she was used to seeing people’s reaction to what she said. She liked Martin more when she could read between his lines, like how he saved her from a trouble less than five minutes ago, and not this expressionless one.

“Why are you not saying anything?”

“I thought you have more to say,” Martin replied, as if it was the most obvious thing she should know. “I told you not to think, just walk me through whatever it is you’re feeling.”

“And I told you, I don’t think I can pull it off.”

“Why?”

“I heard he’s going to come.”

“Isn’t that the whole point?” Martin was still so calm and composed, it terrified her. While she liked when people used their brain for most parts, she should’ve come to someone else who could actually support her decision. “What are we going to do if he’s not there?”

“He knows I hate going to places like that, where I go against the company’s policy for internal dating,” Eve shook her head fervently, trying to make sense to Martin, albeit knowing how futile her attempt would be. Martin was the club’s captain for a reason. “He’s not going to believe this charade, Martin.”

“Good thing I’m technically not an employee here, then.”

Eve internally groaned—well, she thought she kept it to herself but it seemed like Martin caught on it.

“Look, Eve,”

What’s that sound? Right, that was the sound of her heart taking a deep plunge as Martin held her in place by the shoulders. It was amazing how light his grip was but it made her senses aware of nothing else but his hands on her shoulders.

“What he’s doing is basically parading a trophy girlfriend. You know how brilliant you are by refusing him? You showed him that you’re so much more than that,” There goes another beat of my heart. No one had spoken to Eve like that, especially with such confidence towards herself, not even her girlfriends that she usually sought advice for. “By coming with me, you’re basically giving him a big, fat fuck you in his face because it takes someone like me for you to break your own rules. You’re going to show him you know you’re worth and that he’s not worth your time from the beginning.”

A small part of Eve didn’t want to cede to Martin’s logic, proving to herself she was worrying over something so useless. “But what if that wench’s also there, Martin? I can’t stand the disrespect—”

“No one will disrespect you while I’m there, Eve. Not under my watch, they won’t,” Eve had heard so many men saying such lines with the same level of resolution in his voice, but never one with the same amount of determination that laced his words and plastered on his face.

It was Martin’s game face, meaning he didn’t intend to entertain child’s play.

“They’ll have to step over my dead body.”

[oh-saints]

sunshine becomes you (final)

Being a footballer means Martin possibly has every resources in his whim, and that includes obliterating the blurred lines between him and Eve.

Grumpy!Martin Ødegaard x Sunshine!OC

Word count: 3.7k

tw: 18+ for graphic sexual contents included inside (aka a sprinkle of smut); unprotected sex

Note: i know i've made you guys as frustrated as Martin in the gif above so i'm putting you out of misery (#spoiler) and i hope you guys forgive me lolol but as usual, i happen to write this around dawn so ofc not beta-read yet. oh, and i'm changing the term solstrålen into solskinn (including in the prev parts) bcs it turned out google search failed me, thanks @multifamdomfan12 for correcting me! &lt;3

Tags: my lovely loves @julianalvarez9 @formula1tina @okayline @mehrmonga @mrswhitethornbelikov @notleclerc @laurensficrecs @soccerwag9 <3<3

sunshine becomes you masterlist here

“I expect to see you again soon, dear Eve,” was the last words Martin’s mother muttered before she and the rest of the family boarded the car Martin had chartered to get them to the nearest tarmac.

With the glint on her eyes, Martin knew her mother meant what she said and he, frankly enough, didn’t think he’d be ready to face the day he had to break the news to her mother that Eve and him were no longer happening. Her mother seemed so delighted with Eve, utterly wishing deep down that Eve was already a part of their family by some sort of extension called marriage.

Doors were closed behind Eve, and suddenly Martin’s house was too humongous for the two of them. Instead of appreciating the big space, Eve hated the way the hollow silence that followed after. It was suffocating, to say the least, and Eve wanted to run away as soon as possible.

Martin noticed the uncomfortable shift Eve played between her right and left legs, indicating she was in an awkward situation, and Martin already hated the fact he needed to have a legit justification to have her in his arms without any fight.

To have her in his arms like they still had someone else to impress, but without having to put up the act.

But who was he to wish upon the stars when the object of all his desires repelled him the way mosquitoes repelled the hazardous substance men made to annihilate them?

Who was he to wish something too futile to happen?

“Let me get the car keys—”

“No need, Martin,” Eve wrapped her arms around herself as she looked around the living room in search for her totebag. “I can go home by myself.”

“Out of the question, Angel—”

“You should drop the pet name now,” Eve’s stern tone stopped Martin on his track. To say he was surprised was an understatement, and he wished he’d never seen the exasperated look in her eyes, for it was laced variously with emotions he’d rather not name. “No one’s around. No need to put up an act.”

“But…” At Eve’s outburst, Martin didn’t realise his arms fell helplessly on his sides. “That’s your name.”

“You know as well as I do that’s not what I’m talking about.”

For several, intense moments, neither of them did anything but to hold each other’s stare.

“Fine, Eve. Have it your way,” Martin finally conceded to the pressure because if there was one thing he couldn’t do well was holding grudges. Put Eve as the subject and Martin would be fucked twice over. “But you should let me explain something in return.”

An eye for an eye, Eve realised was what Martin’s modus operandi, so she nodded. Anything to get this agony done and over with, anything to free her of him. Her body and soul couldn’t take anymore of Martin she somehow fell in love with in the midst of this whole charade, knowing that version of Martin never existed in the first place.

“What is it?” She said as she looked up slowly to meet the oceanic blue eyes she had grown accustomed to, but she never expected those magical orbs to be right in front of her in a flash of a moment like a lightning struck.

Before she could register on anything, Eve felt the plush cushion of his lips closing down on hers, sealing her voice box from the world with a surge of desperation lingering in the upper and lower parts of his lips, and she was scared of what he asked of her behind the kiss.

She was afraid of what he asked of her, as he goaded her parted lips for a further access to the mouth he’d always loved for saying all the right and wrong things that made Eve as she was now. The smart, the funny, the witty Eve.

She was terrified of what he asked of her, as she lost herself in the mortifying pleasure of having him traced the inside of her cavern with his tongue while tracing the curves outside with his hands, and before she knew it herself, he’d pinned her into the nearest wall, his hands holding hers up in a lock on top of her head.

She was frightened that, despite her fastened hands, she felt liberated this time around—and maybe Martin had liberated them both with the kiss—because everything felt so right in this moment.

Because while she was now familiar with his lips on hers now, Martin had never poured his body and soul and everything of his existence into a kiss. This was new, and this was raw, and Eve was so overwhelmed by the sensation because only now did she realise this was Martin—all of him, bared to her, desperate to cling on whatever’s left of her that he’d come to love.

This was real.

“Ask me something I never do.”

Eve gasped as she felt the pad of Martin’s thumb wiped away a streak of tear running down her face. She really should tell Martin it was out of happiness now. “Martin—”

“Ask, Angel.”

Another trail of waterworks escaped Eve as Martin’s eyes stared down at her intently, yet somehow so… forlorn. She never wished any of this to happen to either of them, least Martin of all people—the one who’d brought back her dignity the night of Christmas Gala. “What’s something you never do, Martin?”

“I never pretend when I’m around you,” Martin whispered the words against the pair of lips he’d come to love so much, for both the taste and the sensation that came with it, and Eve could feel the desperation lingered in the small space of air between them; of not being able to kiss her, not before she understood his points of elaboration, not before she had all her questions answered. “I’ve always kissed you the way I want to, having audience or not. I don’t care if anyone else sees us or it’s only between us just like right now.”

“But you’re pretending to be my boyfriend at the—”

“You think I was pretending but I never say anything about me pretending from the beginning, Angel,” His eyes reflected immense anguish, yet his words resonated with truth and determination, and Eve’s head was spinning beyond belief. “So I never have. Everything I do whenever I’m with you is within my purest intention and everything I say to you is my outmost honesty.”

It took Eve a full 5 seconds to digest everything, thanks to Martin’s intoxicating scent that was able to short-circuit her brain. “So the gala wasn’t a sham.”

“It never was for me, at least.”

“But it’s your idea to do that.”

“It’s my one and only crazy idea so I can get closer to you,” Martin rested his forehead on hers gently, in hope she could see what he was trying to convey; that he was tired of this charade as much as she was, especially when they were fooling themselves by denying everything that could’ve been between them. “It’s the only way I know how.”

“You used my desperation to—”

“Yes, but I don’t regret a thing,” Now Martin was truly wearing his heart on his sleeve. Eve never said about not giving a fight to him, and he’d expected that. “I don’t regret anything I do with you, and I’m sure I never will. Call me selfish but I was desperate, too, at that time so you can see me.”

Still, it hurt Martin the same every time Eve’s head moved back inches more than the distance he’d managed to claimed before. “But if you never pretend around me, you must’ve absolutely despised to see me every day.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You never reply whenever I say good morning.”

“So ask, Angel,” Martin’s hands headed south and back to cradle her face like she was a fine china—and for him, it felt that way, for how precious she was to him—and his thumb caressed out the crumpled lines between her eyebrows ever so softly. “Ask me why I never reply your good morning.”

“What?”

“Ask me why I never reply your good morning, Angel,” The Norway’s youngest captain repeated, and Eve was relieved when he reached up to her forehead to place a featherlight kiss on the same spot where her crease of confusion appeared, for she couldn’t stand another second of Martin looking down on her as if his world would end the moment she said anything that implied no to him. “No matter how much I want to give in.”

“Why?” She didn’t want to have to end with her asking the one thing she’d been dying to know but the way Martin’s lips tickled her skin and the way he inhaled the scent lingering from the shampoo she donned earlier… she’d choose this over breaking the fragile bubble they were in. “Did you hate them?”

“I abhorred them, Angel,” And there he was—Martin was back gazing down at her, and gone was the gentle but miserable captain that was hanging his sanity on a thread. He’d returned with force under his arsenal yet this time, Eve wasn’t intimidated like the last time she’d encountered this side of Martin. “I hate them because it reminds me that you treat me like everyone else,”

And Eve couldn’t hold back her stupefied gasp.

“I thought I made it obvious on my first day that I’m so… enamoured by you,” It was tragic to Eve that Martin was spewing every of these meaningful words about reality he’d been living with a smile that was anything but, and it took away her joy from the fact that this was real and she wasn’t hallucinating that she thought this was real. That she wasn’t the only one who wanted this to be real. “But you certainly think I’m just being friendly to you when in reality, it’s not it, and I hate it so much,”

And Eve vowed, as well as shooting upon the stars, that she didn’t have to see that bitter, artificial smile ever again.

She didn’t waste another breath to pull Martin down to her, capturing his lips in a deep kiss—so deep she had to close her eyes in contentment, and a sigh escaped her lips. The huffed air was Martin’s sign to ask for entrance, and she granted him the entire access to her body and soul the way he’d bared his earlier, and the clash of tongue was a rather welcomed reaction, along with the messy movements of their hands finding each other’s available exposed skin.

“Please tell me I didn’t mess up my chances with you yet,” While one hand was resting on the nape of Eve’s neck, the other one was tucking away the strands of her hair to the back of her ear. His eyes were roaming from the hair, to her eyes, to her lips, and Martin had to close the gap between them once more because he couldn’t help himself. “I’m so afraid I’ll fuck up and I lose you again before I know it.”

“Just don’t put me through such thing again.”

Eve didn’t have to open her eyes to know Martin was hiding his smile behind the smouldering look he granted her—a slight movement of his lips against the rim of hers was all it took for her—before he closed the gap between them with nips on the corners of her lips, the cupid bow, her nose, and finally landed perfectly back on the middle of her lips, claiming the gate of his existence once more like he never left her bereft.

And to be graced by the silent proclaim was Eve’s honour, for she had never felt an abundance of emotion from deep within of one’s self unlike any other from Martin. Should anyone catch them in their current position, it would be palpable for anyone to see that Eve was close to liquefying herself into a shape only Martin could mould of her, in only ways Martin could forge. Her lips were beyond repairable from the nibbles left on the trail every time the blonde man changed his course to devour her to the very last taste, her garments were beyond salvaging from the harsh movements that reminded her of the captain’s passion on the pitch and yet she welcomed the crude touches full of desperation on her skin.

She was exposed for anyone nearby to see, being the most daring she’d ever been in presence of someone else and her mirror at home, yet she felt so secluded and secured in Martin’s arms, for his body engulfed hers in ways she knew he wouldn’t compromise her dignity—to anyone, even to him.

Her head was busy configuring as to how Martin could orchestrate everything she was feeling like it was second skin to him but she should’ve known better. The moment she lost herself into his touches and was only brought to Earth when his hands grazed her bosom and only teasingly passed by the core of her heat, just to settle one of her leg on his waist, that Martin Ødegaard was truly living up his moniker of the maestro.

No one could’ve played her frustrations down to being close to a string left like he could, no one would’ve played the sanity she was hanging by a thread the way Martin did, and managed to get away with it unscathed of wrath. Yet, Eve was nothing but a puddle of mess under his subtle dominant.

“Martin, please…”

Her moans, masked by broken gasps, were enough for Martin to take her away from the poor plastered wall. Not because he didn’t want to take her against the wall—partly because he wanted only the best for her, partly because there was another time for that—but because he knew if they’d become undone right here, right there, he wouldn’t have the energy to hold them together. He knew they’d be sensational together, conjoined in the hips and lower in an earth-shatteringly manner, and he wouldn’t last as long as he’d like, despite being an athlete.

And he knew, as he lied her against the white faux material of the rug he’d immaculately placed in front of the fire place in this wintry weather, with the faint yellow glow casted on her face and her refined, soft silks of hair strands behind her, that his decision was proven better than he thought it would be.

Eve had never looked so ethereal, and he couldn’t believe this goddess-like being was now captured under him, helpless against the arms locking her sides—his angel, his fallen angel.

“Hello there, my angel,” Martin peered down at her, nuzzling his nose against hers, and Martin Ødegaard was unequivocally enraptured by the bedazzling smile she granted him at the gentle gesture, and he hadn’t even begun the ministration of what he had in mind. “You fit perfectly in my arms,”

And he was truly a goner by the way she was giggling—how much he’d been missing that gleeful sound without the constraint of a mere fake couple play between them—as he settled his nose deeper to the crook of her neck, sniffing Eve’s signature parfum she liked to spray along the length of her neck, while his fingers ran down the outer sides of her arms. The ticklish feeling was what probably enticed the melodious sound of her carefree laugh, her true carefree laugh, not the one he was used to hearing paraded around the London Colney for mere courtesy.

But Martin was something else altogether when Eve let out unrestricted whines as his nose and lips pursued the track downwards, from the neck to the open space of her chest, against the space between her ample breast, on the small space under the mound, across her ribcage. So uncalled for, especially for the effects those sinful sounds imposed on his cock. So dirty, so disgusting, yet he yearned for more.

Thus, explaining his bold move further down south.

Just as he was peppering kisses against the inner parts of her thighs, Eve arched in the ways that could put half-moon to shame, with her agape mouth and breathless pants as her hands were practically flailing to find the most stable ground to help herself, only to end up with plucking the faux material with one hand and another one gripping his shirt for life.

She sat up at the sudden realisation Martin was yet discarded from his clothes, and he stopped his deliverance at her movement. “What’s wrong?”

Eve didn’t say anything verbally but her hands lifting up the colour that complimented his skin very well said it all. Martin halted her rushing hands effectively, like he did hers when they were pushed up against the wall a bazillion years ago. “Oh no, my love. Tonight’s about you.”

Eve couldn’t hide the shivers that ran down all over the body at both the newfound nickname—and she loved being called by nicknames Martin found suitable for her—and the intonation he used to cover his obvious intention.

Martin sat back up on his knees, and the sight of him shedding his shirt was certainly something that would haunt her for days and days after today, especially when he had to be away for his job. Realising Eve was ogling at him, Martin laughed unreservedly for the first time since the both of them scrapped off the last bits of their shitty acting withstanding.

“Oh, shut up, Martin,” and the man could certainly get used to being pulled down by the woman who’d never vanished from the back of his mind, no matter how hard he tried to erase her. She kissed the way she looked; sun-blazingly hot with passion and fierceness like she wouldn’t see the light of the day tomorrow, and he could feel the last restrain of himself melted away as her hands travelled down his chest, his ribs, his well-built abdomen.

“I like this,” Eve traced down the sixpack line stretched across his midriff, her movement so gentle yet it constricted the muscle tighter than the workout machines at the gym. “Don’t show it off to anyone else.”

“Say you’re mine and it’s all yours to see, Angel,” Eve looked up to the man towering her, covering her against the moon wanting to peek at the moment they’d been dying to have, and Martin almost came undone at how innocent she looked, face held in his hands, in contrast to how devious her fingers were at. “It’s always been you.”

Eve didn’t need further reassurance to pull him down to her, crashing their lips together in ways that reminded her of waves crashing against the solid rock on the edge of the ocean. His lips were showering her with cold water against the warmth of hers, and hers were pouring him calmness against the sun. Yin and yang found each other, at last, and they both moaned at the sensation the both of them had been liberated at best from whatever holding them down.

They were floating on the rough waters, so high in each other’s frustrated and desperate kisses to find solace in each other’s undone, but nothing could compare to the moment the lovers were fully, entirely intertwined with each other. Eve felt so full of Martin, and she wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

Martin had to control his breath, just as what his trainers told him to do on the pitch ironically enough, as he felt Eve welcoming him with the warmest hug he could ever receive from someone, both inside and out. He couldn’t help himself but pull her closer to him, flushed against him, every air making their way in between them was something he considered a disturbance.

“Oh, Martin,” Her breathing was ragged, so did Martin’s, and it pushed Martin to drive her closer to the edge. “You feel so good against me.”

At her words, he went the deepest he could plunge himself into the sweetest hellhole that was Eve, and her body went tighter, inside and out he could see veins almost bulging out against her temple. She was halfway there; he could see it in her gaze, in what he could make out of her extremely flushed cheeks. Who was he to grant delayed gratification to her?

“Say you’re mine, mitt solskinn,” One touch against the swollen, pretty clit of hers, and she slowly peaking her highs. She was so beautiful, chasing her release under his touch as he pounded himself into her relentlessly for his own end, despite the dirty, slick mess she was making against his hands. She panted his name like a prayer, and it delighted him to no end that he was the only one who could provoke such a sensuous siren. “No more denying between us, Angel.”

“I’m yours, Martin Ødegaard,” and he felt that down to the bones as he’d reached his high at her words, like the passcode to his own ending, and as the morning came lazily upon them, he’d never felt as whole as that moment. Although he’d had Eve in his arms countless times before, because he now knew that despite the stormy weather outside, he’d always have his sunshine shining brightly in his arms, beaming radiantly as she whispered, good morning, baby.

Martin didn’t have anything else to respond her but to give her the same blinding smile—the biggest he could muster, anyway, which was still pale in comparison to the force in his arms, settling well like a little spoon she was.

“You really lost against me.”

The once-wonderkid could only laugh at her comment. You could count on Eve for her smart mouth. “Well, if this is what losing feels like, I really don’t mind at all.”

“That’s it?” Eve had to pull her head back from the tight cocoon they were sharing, and she absolutely wouldn’t complain to wake up to those clear blue Nordic eyes every day. “Where does your whole athlete competitiveness go?”

“You feel like my biggest victory anyway.”

Because sunshine has become Eve.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊THE END＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

and that concludes my first ever (mini) series! wow, i didn't think this was possible in any way so thank you, to each and every single one of you, who's spared your time to read the entire series and even left comments on the posts. i hope i didn't disappoint you midway or in anyway. bcs really, if i could hug you guys rn, i would so i'm just gonna send loves to you guys ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ and see you on the next one!

[oh-saints]

sunshine becomes you (pt. 4)

Being a footballer means Martin possibly has every resources in his whim. Well, except the one thing he needs now is only available in the hands of his (ex) girlfriend.

Grumpy!Martin Ødegaard x Sunshine!OC

Word Count: 4.0k

Note: please, please, please don't hate me for this lolol but we're going for a rollercoaster, odegirlies, so brace yourself! but as usual, i happen to write this around dawn so ofc not beta-read yet. feedbacks are welcome tho!

Tags: my lovely loves @julianalvarez9 @formula1tina @okayline @mehrmonga @mrswhitethornbelikov @notleclerc <3<3 (lemme know if you want to be added!)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5

It seemed Martin couldn’t operate around her if there was no false pretense standing between him and Eve.

The moment the clock literally struck 12, lightning struck back Eve’s life and returned them to normalcy. So normal that everyone else but her barely noticed the apparent changes unravelling around London Colney; she was back to Eve the receptionist, and Martin was back to his constantly-grumpy state to no one but Eve.

No more was the beautiful-looking couple captivating the entire Christmas Gala with their explosive, fantastic chemistry that shunned even the longest relationship existing in the same room.

She’d like to think going back to square one was better, given their real circumstances, but Martin wasn’t giving her any edges. Worse, he’d gone barely seen, and that was saying a lot when Eve was known to be the ghost of the building, for her immaculate presence all over the facility.

Some said he snuck in when Eve was always busy running errands; some said he arrived before anyone else in the morning; some said he clocked out later than the security team.

Final straw came when everyone was gathering in the canteen to bid Eve farewell on her very last day of working in the amazing club. Every single person working at London Colney—including Bob, even—applauded her for the fantastic job she’d been doing for the club, despite the short time shared on the grounds. A certain Norwegian blonde, however, remained unidentifiable until the 15-minute town hall before lunch ended.

Much to the front liner’s dismay, most turned to Eve about it. After all, Eve and Martin were still an item in their eyes. Eve could only do so much as replying, “we just don’t want you guys to be sick of us,” whenever the question of Martin’s avoidance towards crowds was raised, while chucking in the tears that were threatening to slide down her cheeks because she knew better—she knew the truth.

It shouldn’t be breaking Eve’s heart, but the damage had been done.

Eve wanted to badly lie to herself that she was doing that out of spite, that pulling out that degree of stupid stunt was her futile, foolish attempt to get him running after her like those chick-flicks she stashed in her library.

But Eve knew better—reality didn’t fit into Cinderella’s pair of glass heels, especially for someone like her, who fought for proper living standard every day to make ends. Eve and Martin were raised in different circumstances, made from worlds apart, meant for different purposes in life. There was no way they were going to be together—not in this lifetime nor any other alternate universes—as this wasn’t some written fairy tales.

She couldn’t afford a heartbreak when she’d foreseen the fruitless future if she were to share one with him, just like she couldn’t afford the gown she’d returned in the same satin box he’d delivered to her door.

This is for the better, she hypnotised herself as she placed the soft, expensive box on Martin’s bench, trying to pale the ache slicing through her chest. You have a realistic life to live.

Fuck rom-coms. She was going to discard each and every one left in her library as soon as she enjoyed her two-week notice.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

Obviously, with that being said, Eve didn’t have the heart to throw away the only outlets for her to escape the harsh reality for someone who came from a working-class family and inherited the reality of working 9-to-5 like her. Especially when those fake-dating tropes—ironically—reminded her of all the wonderful time she spent with Martin, no matter how fleeting and fragile those moments were.

Weeks after the Christmas Gala, Eve could now proudly say she thought of them as something precious because when else were you indulged in the luxury of being in Martin Ødegaard’s arms, acting or not?

Her best friend bit her ears off for taking the whole thing “like a champ”, as if her heart was made of steel when she was legitimately allowed to swallow the bitter pill while crying her heart out. Eve actually considered doing them, specifically during the first week after the painful no-show of her last day, but she decided against in and focused on the positive notes.

Dwelling over negatives wouldn’t turn around the fact that someone as great as Martin Ødegaard was destined for someone his calibre, someone that was definitely not Eve.

So it didn’t make any sense when she found Martin, already leaning against his car with hands in his pocket—undoubtedly hiding them against the cold air of a very early morning—as she walked down the porch of her flat. From where she stood, frozen at the unprecedented event unfolding before her eyes, his side profile gave away nothing but pursed lips, like he was holding off his thoughts from spilling.

Oh, how much Eve wanted a penny for that beautiful mind of his.

But she couldn’t. Unlike the night of the Christmas gala, Martin revoked her access to them. What used to be something easy for Eve to read between the lines was now guarded by a fence so high it put Wall of China to shame.

“Martin,” At his name being called, the owner of the name stood up straight, and—god damn it—Eve’s heart raced at the movement, for it reminded her of what happened between them in front of that sketchy backdoor toilet. “What are you doing here?

Despite being missing on action for weeks, Eve hated how much Martin still affected her, body and soul. She wasn’t even nearby Martin, distance between them were about 100 metres but might as well have the Atlantic between them like they used to be.

But no matter the palpable distance between where they respectively stood, Martin, on the other hand, would always be able to pick up her signature breathy voice that went only slightly above a whisper. It was the very sound he didn’t know he could miss hearing.

Like she was breathless, like he’d taken her breath away. The same way she did his.

If only he could tell her that… But instead of mulling over endless possibilities that couldn’t happen—not when Eve herself didn’t give them a chance, something she’d blatantly said at the end of Christmas gala—Martin stuck to the one thing he excelled at; choosing reality.

“Angel,” Words flowed effortlessly from Martin’s mouth but his smile was rather tight on the corners, and Eve hated it already when she knew first hand how blinding his real, true smile could be. “I see you’re going to the flower market.”

Had Eve’s eyes not focused on taking in Martin’s appearance, she would’ve swooned at the fact Martin remembered her little peculiar antics of getting a fresh set of flowers every Sunday from the flower market.

But his dishevelled presentation, so striking to the well-kempt display he always had everywhere, stole away her attention. It wasn’t only the mess on top of his hair, of his blonde locks gone astray to every direction; it was also the garments he threw on without a care in the world, all in black, like he was mourning.

His blue eyes descended to the deepest pit of the ocean, no longer shining in the glint she loved the most, especially bright against low lights. Like those eyebags were swallowing them whole, like those eyebags were a blackhole instead of dark circles.

His cheeks sunken, no longer protruding as high as a skyscraper, so different to the image of a Viking everyone labelled the captain as. If Eve didn’t know any better, she would’ve guessed Martin had undergone those cosmetic surgery of buccal fat removal.

He looked so haggard, as if he’d lost weight; exhaustion personified. She could only wonder why—perhaps Arsenal’s losing strike took a toll on him—since asking his well-being was not on the cards anymore, not since they stopped pretending to be lovers, not since Martin didn’t give them a chance.

Martin took his open opportunity when they fell into a pregnant silent. “I’ll take you there.”

“Why are you here?”

“I said I’m taking you to the flower market,” He said, as easy as the wind breezed past them. “What kind of boyfriend am I to let my girlfriend to roam around such crowded places so early in the morning?”

The indifference he showed, both in words and action, caught her off-guard. He was back to display the whole no-shit-sherlock attitude around her, complete with the expressionless face, like she should know the most obvious fact, and Eve had to remind herself that this was the real Martin, not the one that fooled everyone attending the Christmas gala.

Including Eve herself.

“You’re not my boyfriend, Martin.”

“In the eyes of the public, I am,” Martin shrugged his shoulder so nonchalantly, as if it didn’t hurt Eve to know he was doing just fine barging into her life like it was the most natural thing to do for him. “My family included.”

Wait, what?

“I need your help,” He continued, his hands moved from the pockets of his jacket to the pockets of his jeans. It scared Eve when he said those massive, literally burdensome words with squared shoulders and calm demeanour and collected composure—she felt like she was his opponent on the pitch. “My family went to the game today, only to be ambushed by many congratulations that I’ve scored a wonderful, lovely match of a girlfriend. One that that they don’t know of because it’s one I never tell them—”

“Because she doesn’t exist.”

“She did during the gala, but that’s not the point,” Martin had to grind out his teeth from the inside, the perfect epitome how her words gnawed his heart from inside out because while they were nothing but facts, it didn’t make them any less hurtful to him—and to what could’ve been between them. “They want to have lunch with you today.”

Martin let out the last sentence with a heavy puff of breath. With the way his jaw ticked tightly, Eve could tell he hated saying that, like he’d take any other option but to ask her to pretend once more if he had the chance.

Maybe he’d told his family about us pretending but his family didn’t accept such a ridiculous pretense that they forced him to talk to her, and that the lunch was merely their effort to amend them. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was,” See, he even wished to have nothing to do with me anymore. Did he hate me so much? “You should know by now that being honest with you is something I wish to uphold.”

 “Even when our relationship is a farce?”

Martin didn’t have the heart to answer it, and Eve didn’t have the heart to acknowledge the pregnant silence.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“You had a game today, you’re supposed to be resting.”

Boyfriend or not, Martin really intended to come along by Eve’s side to the flower market, despite her initial protests and complaints. No one in the right mind went to the flower market alone at 2 in the morning, without a proper transportation on top of that.

Taxi and Uber certainly didn’t count as a safety mode of transportation for Martin. You never know what can possibly happen in that small space of four-wheeler—we’ve seen too much of real-life cases that happens to women.

I’ve been doing this for ages, but she failed to realise that just because something never happened to her, it wasn’t going to happen. In Martin’s defence, he had a sister himself and he didn’t want anything bad happen to Eve the way he didn’t want them to happen to his sister.

I am used to this, Martin, but she didn’t have to get used to those things. She didn’t have to get used to all these dangerous things she downplayed as normalcy because he knew that she had the options, she’d definitely want to take the tube or buses. She could be having what her heart desires—she should be.

No matter what went down between them at the end of the day, Martin would certainly give her a flak if she settled with someone less than what she deserved.

And no, that lucky bastard didn’t have to be Martin.

It wasn’t going to be Martin anyway, Eve made it clear at the very end of their contractual relationship once a long while ago.

“Can’t sleep well lately, anyway.”

Martin’s phlegmatic manner was now in sync—his actions were now as schooled as his facial features. His hands ran down the flower petals thoughtlessly, not giving anything of his mind away, just like his hardened expressions. Aloof, and Eve took it as a sign to reduce her small talks.

“You should see Doc about it.”

“You think I haven’t done that?” Eve’s hearts plummeted along with the way he sputtered the words, as if she should be smarter about the whole ordeal, and this time Eve was the one who had to school her expression so Martin couldn’t see her disappointment towards his attitude—he must not see them. The last time she gave away too much of her, she ended up doing rom-coms marathon with a tube of Ben n Jerry’s. “Doc’s prescribed me something but it’s no use,”

It might be the stress talking…, Eve tried to reason with herself.

“I don’t see the point of meds, to be honest,” Martin let out another heavy sigh as his hand ran through his hairs, messing them in frustrations. “Not when I’ve been restless since you’re gone.”

How could she possibly have a proper response to that?

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“There they are!”

Martin didn’t even have the chance to open Eve’s door completely before his mother ran down the porch towards his car to engulf Eve in the warmest hug Eve had ever gotten from a woman. Funny—despite never meeting his mother before, Eve had the most familiar feeling around her, like they were old friends reunited, and she didn’t know what to feel.

Partly because she didn’t share the same sentiment with her own mother, partly because she felt guilty that his mother had already welcomed her in this house like she was truly Martin’s girlfriend when, in fact, she wasn’t even close to what the word meant.

It didn’t even take his mother a minute to lead her towards the house, like she owned the residential instead of a visiting his son’s abode, asking if Eve had any food allergy that she should be aware of. That was amongst the things she questioned; others were trivial questions in order to get to know his son’s girlfriend.

With the swift pace his mother was speaking, though, Eve had to look beyond his mother’s shoulder to throw a help-me look to Martin because there was no way she could survive this on her own.

Eve couldn’t bring to hate herself for always seeking Martin’s aid this time around, no matter how much she wanted to be free of him. Like she promised herself internally just before she plopped down beside Martin on the passenger seat.

“That’s enough, mamma,” Martin strode his way towards the two of them, one hand reached for his mother’s that was grippling the life of Eve to set Eve free, before both hands clenched her shoulder gently. “She hasn’t even taken off her coat, but she’s allergic to shrimp and other soft-shell seafood.”

“Oh no, I’ve made crayfish—”

“It’s okay, she can have your venison,” Eve didn’t have time to discern anything because everything happened at the same time she didn’t even have time to breathe, not even the fact that Martin had gained information on her allergies, so she was lucky Martin took over the conversation. She shed her coat when Martin wordlessly tugged the wool piece, both of their eyes still set on the powerhouse that was his mother, and at that interaction, the matron smiled wider. “By the way, my mother makes the best venison, solskinn. Glad you can finally try them.”

“Ah, the infamous roasted venison you love? What’s that called again?”

“Dyresteg,” His mother answered for her, before Martin could have the chance. At the speed of lightning his mother unknowingly possessed—at least, one that he got to know of until today, in front of Eve, more over—Martin forced himself to look up from the set of eyes that reminded him of the deer but belonged to Eve. “I see that Martin’s told you about his soulfood.”

“He can’t shut up about it,” Eve elbowed Martin teasingly and the man replied by faking pain at it, which resulted in them both laughing without constraint. Without an underlying justification called fake dating between them. “Maybe I should learn one thing or two while the master is here so I can cook them for you.”

“That’s—” Eve’s response, however, startled both Martin and his mother. While Martin was rather taken aback at the genuine tone Eve used—because now he really couldn’t draw the line which one was the real Eve, unlike the night of the Christmas gala—his mother was caught off guard because she couldn’t recall the last time someone had ever offered to do such thing for Martin. Living in a different country meant she couldn’t cook her son’s favourite dish whenever she wanted to, and so far the girlfriends her son managed to take home didn’t care about anything beyond the luxury he could give them. “That’s very lovely of you. I hope you bring your notes.”

But to say she liked Eve already would be an understatement. Eve didn’t make it difficult to take her into everyone’s good side, as well, and as a mother, Eve had nailed in the moment she typed down every instruction she was giving Eve to make the perfect dyresteg. And maybe also little moments where Martin stole little pecks on her cheeks from behind whenever he was getting his brothers and sisters something from the fridge—because she knew her son only did that out of gratitude, the same way he used to do it to his mother whenever she was cooking this particular favourite dish of his.

At one point of cooking, everyone was flocking the kitchen and before they knew it, Martin’s brothers and sisters were already drilling the Norwegian captain’s embarrassing stories during childhood.

“Do you remember the time where he got lost because he followed someone he thought was mamma?”

“No way!” Eve’s eyes bulged out in pure surprise that Martin couldn’t help but laugh, instead of stopping his older brother’s beginning of Martin’s most embarrassing anecdote. “What happened?”

Martin’s mother noticed Eve’s focus was slowly shifting from dyresteg to the tale Christoph was giving so she dismissed the younger woman, only for Eve to realise there was no seat left on the kitchen island.

Martin didn’t think twice to pull her by the waist towards him, “Come here.”

“This feels oddly familiar,” Eve laughed under her breath, not wanting to disrupt Christoph’s flow in retelling his story, but enough only for Martin to hear, as she settled in the room between his legs. “Don’t tell me to sit on your lap again this time, we have your youngest sister watching.”

“Yes, mother,” Their position, her back on his front, eased up Martin’s way to reply her in a whisper, and they fell back to the smooth flow they had constructed during the Christmas gala. “I will behave.”

And behave he did. Without further words, Martin gave up his seat for Eve while he stood by behind her. His mother didn’t miss the way Martin never let go of Eve, always having an arm around the woman’s waist at least.

She also didn’t miss the way they’d look at each other when laughing, the way her hand covered the one Martin was placing around her hips, or the way he’d kissed the small spot on the temple above her ears while she stroke his square jawline back and forth. At one point, Eve laughed so hard at Christoph’s story that Martin had to envelope her into a back hug and hid himself in the crook of her neck so naturally it almost felt like watching water moulding into a medium’s shape.

She wanted to be jealous, as a mother, but she realised that her son was slowly building a life—his own life—here with someone he truly loved, and as a mother, she couldn’t be happier than knowing someone had taken care of her son very well, especially when he was living too far from her for a mother’s liking.

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“Let me help you with that.”

Eve almost dropped the plate on her hands at Martin’s voice creeping from behind. She insisted on washing the dishes—or putting them to the dishwasher, depends on your standard—not because she wanted to play the good girlfriend card, but because she was raised that way; if someone else cooks, dishes are on her shoulder.

She was used to be misunderstood by other about it but before she could explain herself, Martin stepped in and said, “Let her be, Mom. She’s always like that and I can never win.”

Creepy would be an understatement of how well Martin knew things she never had disclosed to anyone.

“You should’ve told me you have such a big family,” Eve tried to break the ice that stood between them, so thin it was barely there, but present nonetheless, especially with the way they stood so close with one another. Shoulder to shoulder, Martin reached for utensils and ceramics Eve finished cleaning. “I would’ve come more prepared in facing your brothers and sisters.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Martin said, and although Eve didn’t see them, she could sense a small smile blossomed in his face. “I hope they don’t overwhelm you.”

“Not at all,” But Eve had to chuckle because come to think of it, Martin’s brothers and sisters could be overwhelming. Maybe they’d got under her skin if she was not pretending to be Martin’s girlfriend. “They’re all so fun to be around with. I wish I have siblings to banter with like yours.”

Martin laughed at Eve’s teasing jab. He could never live down the stupid anecdotes his siblings shared when he was just a kid, could he now?

“So grateful you don’t work at Arsenal anymore,” He crouched down to insert all of the cleaned dishes to the dishwasher. “What a disaster if you spill them to everyone at Colney.”

It wasn’t supposed to rub Eve in all the wrong way but it somehow did. Was he that truly glad to be rid of her?

“Please don’t let me stop that.”

Eve looked up to Martin, who was now standing towering over her, eyes zeroed down on her with a look she couldn’t decipher. And maybe she didn’t want to figure out what lied beneath them, for she was terrified the answer would only hurt her. It was something she found out just now that Martin was rather good at it.

She gave him a small smile to hide what she was thinking, grounding herself to not give any piece of her away and reminding herself the last time she did give herself away, and Martin already hated them. Eve and coerced smile didn’t belong in the same sentence. “Stop what?”

“You smiling. I’ve missed that a lot.”

*solskinn means sunshine in norwegian.

[oh-saints]

sunshine becomes you (pt. 3)

Martin truly lives up to the expectation, like a dream come true, except this is reality.

Grumpy!Martin Ødegaard x Sunshine!OC

Word Count: 4.0k

Note: as promised (re: post them as soon as i'm feeling better)! the gifs are actually a clue LOL but please please please don't hate me after this :( but as usual, i happen to write this at dawn so this is ofc not proof-read. feedbacks are also always welcome! hope you like them as much as i like writing them!

tw: some suggestive languages

tags: @julianalvarez9 @formula1tina @okayline @mrswhitethornbelikov (lemme know if you want to be added too!)

sunshine becomes you masterlist here

However, after an hour playing the dutiful, supportive girlfriend—both towards her beloved boyfriend and the cause of the gala itself—around the charade full of everyone deemed important for the club, Eve decided she needed a bathroom break.

So much for answering the endless probing, especially from the women, on how long they’d been dating—to which Martin would save her by saying, “only recently, Ma’am. We decided to take it slow after what happened to Eve.”—or how they’d ended up together—“it was snowing heavily that day so he offered me a lift home, and the rest is history,” Eve would tell them while stealing a pre-planned glance to Martin.

If only the women were easier on her like the men.

Martin had it rather easy and smooth when they clapped back on him for “finally sucked his balls and tell Eve how you feel.” The captain laughed along the joke, and she did too to make their story believable in the eyes of the public.

Yet, it seemed that even bathroom wasn’t a safe place to take a breather.

As Eve sat on one of the loo, she heard a bunch of ladies walking in while laughing. They were grumbling at first, muffled by the background music of the ballroom that was slowly turned into a dance floor. But once it became clearer, she wished to take back her hearing ability.

Do you see how much Eve is so out of place in Martin’s arms?

It’s like she forced herself onto him, no?

She doesn’t even deserve to be here! Look at her cheap dress!

Hush! It can be expensive, you know? It only falls on the wrong person.

Or maybe Martin really bought her that dress so she could look the part? I mean, she’s given her pussy for all we know!

That was it. That was the final straw for Eve.

She and Martin had slapped Bob in the face, played their lovey-dovey part tonight. She was more than ready to smack these girls before calling it a night.

She burst the flimsy excuse of a plastic they called a door, electrocuting the fucking mean girls to the point their jaws dropped on the floor. It felt good to give them what they sow in the first place—and don’t get Eve talk about one of these pathetic bitches was Bob’s wench.

Despite her initial rejection to the exquisite evening gown, it was what Martin had chosen for her. Martin had outmost confidence on her pulling all the stunts from the beginning and—boyfriend or not—she wasn’t going to let it goes to waste.

By wearing that, too, she’d promised the man a favour, and she intended to keep it the way he kept his. She’d wear them with squared shoulders and immense proudness, as had Martin been doing to her and for her.

“Better pick up your jaws, ladies,” Eve reapplied her lipstick without a flying fuck to the girls, albeit seeing them with stunned faces from the corner of her eyes did the trick. “You don’t want to look like a bunch of pathetic, jealous bitches.”

She’d like to pardon her French but why not utilise the fact she was resigning by next week?

Although, if the girls had taken a closer look at her fingers as Eve passed them by, they’d find the digits shaking from the acute adrenaline rush.

However, as soon as she opened the door, it was Eve’s turn to be surprised. Martin was leaning his body against the wall, both hands kept inside the pockets, a leg was crossed over the other—had Eve not controlled her expression, the Norsk wouldn’t miss the way she swooned, especially with his black tie and all. Eve could swear she was one of the girls at that moment and she cursed at Mikel for building a team surrounded by models.

But Martin caught on the bad words muttered under her breath. How he did it when everyone and everything was practically too loud in this part of the building was certainly a question for another day.

“That’s my girl,” He stood up straight at her meek voice, with a cheerful voice that truly sounded like he welcomed her, like he was truly waiting for her proudly, and her chest eloped in ways she didn’t want to think of because with the way he looked so damn good it should be a sin. “I was worried about you. You’re taking too long for my liking…”

“Aw, you’re getting lonelier without me?”

She was actually teasing him, as they’d discovered the kind of fun they let to dictate how far their impromptu scenario could take place. So many touches—hidden or not, subtle or not—and glances between them passed by and they now fell into their own rhythm of bantering this evening.

But Martin took the glint gleaming in her eyes as something else. He didn’t know whether he could describe them in words.

So he didn’t, and chose violence instead.

He pulled out his hands in a flash that could put ninja to shame, cupping the side of Eve’s face that felt so small under his fingers, and brought her lips to his. It was gentle, compared to the fireworks show earlier that must’ve been relocated down to between him and Eve. Like alpha and omega blending into one in the sky beautifully.

It was gentle, very much in contrast to the rough and patchy hallway like those you see on Americans shows, which made this all supposedly a wrong thing to do. In the wrong place, in the wrong setting. It was everything but what Eve deserved to have. It should be wrong… but why was something so wrong felt so right?

“What was that?”

Martin himself found it funny how her little whisper tickled his ears in all the right way, as if they were meant only for Martin to pick up the sounds, like it tingled his spidey senses even against the blaring music that was starting to take over the bar down hall. Yet, he knew he’d choose her melodic tune over any other music in this world.

And there was the smile she’d come to love. The one she knew only reserved for her—because there was only 3 instances when it happened and every single one of them occurred around Eve—with the edges tipped slightly slanted in all the right ways as it deepened the dimples that rarely existed anywhere else.

“I promised you I won’t let anybody disrespect you, didn’t I?”

It all fell down on her like a fucking nuclear bomb.

He’d heard those horrible ladies. He’d heard, and he’d come to the rescue. He kept his end of the promise he first gave her.

He fulfilled the promise she herself even forget.

Nobody had ever done that to her. Perhaps, none to all what Martin had been doing tonight. Frankly, Eve didn’t think she’d find somebody else that could do what Martin just did.

As much as the green monster lurking on the back of her head for the possibility of him kissing her only for the show, the gratefulness that blossomed from the very bottom of her heart succeeded in taking over. And before she could swallow the bitter pill of reality that they were only faking it till they make it, Martin kissed the top of her head, the side of her head, the shell of her ears.

“Let’s go,” He whispered against the soft bone, and she swore the shivers didn’t come from the cold winter air that seeped in through the open backdoor. “There’s still the real party we’ve got to attend.”

No matter she liked the feeling of his fingers sliding down her arms until they were finally clasped together with hers, Eve tugged Martin’s to a halt. “Can we go home instead?”

Eve really wished it wasn’t the constant flow of champagne she chugged to ease her nerves that resulted her vision seeing Martin confused and… hurt. “Why? Did you not enjoy yourself?”

The disgraceful bunch of ladies earlier slipped past behind Martin’s back and Eve felt like throwing up again, all adrenaline from earlier washed away by now. Martin, however, being alert as he always was on the pitch, noticed how her hands freeze slightly in his grasp as soon as he sniffed the reeking smell of cheap perfume.

“Angel, baby, look at me,” Martin stepped closer, hindering her eyes from direct exposure of fluorescent lights coming from the dance floor behind him so he could meet her eyes. “You’ve gotten so far, beyond what everyone expects of you, so brilliantly at that and I’m so proud of you,”

Martin giving her pep talk was the last thing in Eve’s mind. The first one was how his clear blue orbs were searing into her soul, as if begging her to stay with him instead, and she had to ask herself silently if her vision was seeing right with the help of her contact lens. If not, then she’d surely have to buy a pair of new ones.

“For that alone, we should celebrate you.”

“You mean, us.”

“That can be arranged,” and there was the playful Martin again. This one she could handle easily by now—trust me, spending almost 4 hours around him did wonders to you. “So do me one last favour, Eve.”

She snickered at his response. “You seem to like this whole favouring thing a bit too much.”

“Only for you, solskinn,” Martin tucked away the unkempt strands that went astray from her bun that exposed her flawless neck. The man swore he had to remind himself not to run his fingers against the length of her neck right here, right then, for he was a gentleman and he was raised better than to treat her in public less than what she deserved. “Enjoy the rest of the night like you’re not pretending, will you?”

But in all honesty, how could she deny him when he made her crave his touch like that?

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So enjoy yourself was what all Eve did for the rest of the evening. She’d danced, she’d laughed, she’d drunk, she’d laughed some more.

True to his words, like the gentleman he was since the beginning of the night, Martin never strayed too far from Eve. He’d be lurking somewhere while watching Eve having fun for those who knew her—Louisa, especially, for it’d be the last time attending this kind of event with you!—and Eve knew his eyes lingered on her because he made it hard for her to miss it.

There was always a burning feeling on the back of Eve’s head or back, surely unmissable whenever she looked for the source of the warmth, it always directed back to Martin. No matter what he was doing or whom he was speaking with, his eyes always managed to meet hers from across the room without missing a beat. Like he knew she’d be searching for him, for the stolen glances he’d always snuck on between flowing conversations with his teammates and staffs and other guests alike.

Maybe because he intended it to be, so she could find him anywhere, everywhere. If she was to encounter another nasty bunch of women, if she was to be graced by Bob’s disgusting breath, if she was to be disturbed by a stranger she didn’t wish to be around with…

Wherever she wanted him, he’d be there.

He’d asked her to enjoy the night, and he’d also promised her that no one would disrespect her while he was around. But with the way she swayed her hips left and right in tune with the blaring music, Martin started to question his initial noble motive.

It was straining him to be honest, down to the particular parts of his pants, to see her enjoying the night so free, her hair dangling loosely down her spine left and right in opposite direction to her hips, hands in the air with a smile so widely stretched unconstrained, like she didn’t go through the worst period of her life just weeks ago.

To see her so unrestricted, after weeks of toning down her chirpiness in the training ground, was like watching a caterpillar transforming into a beautiful butterfly, ready to fly away from the cocoon that was protecting her all this while.

The metaphor surmised what Martin was actually feeling, ironically.

Martin couldn’t—and didn’t—want to acknowledge she was leaving the premises he’d call home these days but he had to. It was a decision she made before he was involved in her life, and it was a decision he had to respect. At least, it gave him an insane amount of proud to see her leaving a huge footprint in the facility before she left, just the way she wanted it and just the way she deserved.

At least, Martin would like to proudly think he’d given her back the life that was identical to the facility just before their sunshine left. Just before Eve left.

And proud was becoming something he’d like to wear on his exterior, he found out tonight, especially whenever Eve was striding towards him with a full-watt smile that was directed to none other than him. She might be smiling to everyone but he discovered that those smiles strained the edges of her eyes a little too forceful for his liking, while this—no matter how cute her eyes turned into crescent moons as she grinned, every contour of her face was relaxed and clearly glowing.

And proud was becoming something he’d like to wear on his arms as well, as he scooped Eve by the waist before the woman could even reach his sides. He was proud of the woman she’d become tonight—acting or not, after her earlier stint in the bathroom—and he was proud of the woman every men and women alike would like to get hands on her.

No can do was something Martin didn’t know could be so exhilarating when saying. Or maybe in his case, showing, as his hand settled well on top of her hip while his lips nestled well on the back of her ears or somewhere between her hairs. The action startled his conversation opponents, for they’d never seen Martin so openly affectionate and possessive, but that was the last thing on his mind as he felt Eve sinking back against his front, her hands covering his own in their respective places.

Eve didn’t let the guests continue to be fluster, though. Being an excellent conversationalist, she steered the chat between them seamlessly like nothing happened. Not even when Martin joining Eve in moving his body left and right slightly, following the music in the background.

Granit, somewhere at the other end of the ballroom, was shaking his head with a smile on his face as he noticed the young captain only smiled whenever Eve was around him. Every time someone interrupted his time with Eve, Martin’s smile would vanish into thin air as fast as Eve could strike them back in seconds. Well, he’d call the dibs from the start, to be honest.

“I’m thirsty,” She turned her head slightly to reach up Martin’s ears and he swore he had to hold back an audible gasp when her lips grazed his jawline. “I’m getting something, you coming?”

Like an insolent pair of teenagers, Martin had to quickly disengaged themselves from the conversation before her tug on his hands got stronger. Before her hands slipped of his. Before he couldn’t get a hold of her anymore.

And Martin thanked God he was following her. He could definitely pull off a head from its place if he’d caught the stare thrown by the bartender a second too late to Eve’s lowering cleavage, a result from dancing too many hours too count. Involuntarily, he stepped in between Eve and the oakwood bar, hands already reaching for her waist before he could help himself. And as soon as the drinks were served, he navigated the both of them to their table, although only to find the chairs were all occupied.

“I want to sit,” and Martin didn’t hesitate to pull a chair from the table beside theirs before sitting down himself. Eve was left bewildered at Martin’s action, so much for being a gentleman. “Can we switch places?”

“Sit,” Martin tapped his thighs, and Eve had to blink out the alcohol that was slowly coming down her system. “Come here, Angel.”

She didn’t see anything wrong, of course, for Martin had been sporting that challenging look with him since he told her to have the fun of her life earlier. But maybe that subtle smirk was something else… is that another challenge?

Bring it on.

The crystal glass on Martin’s hands almost slipped off his grip when Eve welcomed his daring challenge, sitting sideways across his lap and slithering her arms on the back of his neck. They’d been bantering each other, verbally and physically, throughout the night but still, Martin didn’t think Eve would answer this one so brutally like this.

He wasn’t complaining, though.

How could he if it meant him getting access to nuzzle his nose right on the crook of her neck, like two pieces of puzzle meeting each other as a match? How could he if it meant he could wrap his arms around her so easily, like a kid with their favourite bolster? How could he if it meant he could whisper all these things to her ear that lit up her entire features, like the electricity to a light bulb?

She might be drunk in alcohol but Martin might be drunk in life, for he didn’t want this to end.

Sue him.

Sue him for stealing her away from the crowd for the rest of the night, until the dance floor was being cleaned away slowly but surely. They didn’t do anything more than cradling one another in each other’s embrace and talking each other’s ears off—and somewhere in the back of the room, Rob Holding could be heard bawling his eyes out for losing the bet to his best friend.

But Martin couldn’t care less. He was picking up all sorts of endearing little anecdotes of Eve, one he’d never gotten to know of and one she’d never revealed to anyone in the building, for how precious it was for her. Like the fact she likes it so much to go to the flower market for a fresh bouquet on the weekends, no matter how tired she was or how early the clock might be striking.

Martin was proven right once more of his own hypotheses; Eve was more than the bright persona she let on.

So sue him when he refused to let her go from his clutch when she stood up, agreeing to join the rest of the staffs one last time for one last dance. It was his one last time, too, in a way. Put some regards to his name.

“Then dance with me.”

How could he deny her when she made him crave her touch like that?

The rest of the staffs didn’t expect Martin, the club’s current captain, to graze his presence to the dance floor. The staffs usually had fun amongst themselves, not even the physios or doctors joining them, more over the players. What started as murmurs between the staffs that Martin and Eve weren’t possible was starting to become true in their eyes.

They couldn’t refute whatever it was displayed in front of them, as Eve jumped to the music in Martin’s arms, both laughing at God-knows-what as her arms circled the back of his neck, so comfortably like they’d done this on a daily basis and not like someone who’d been hating each other’s guts until today.

The way they kissed each other certainly didn’t give anything away, not even the slightest clue, that they weren’t an exclusive item initially. Martin’s gentle brush over her lips and the little pecks she gave in return, just to capture Martin’s lips between hers and teased them in the way she only could—in the way Martin definitely would never get tired of getting kissed, the smile stretched over his face was an absolute giveaway to what he was feeling inside.

“Stop laughing, Martin.”

Eve was another level of irresistible when she pouted deeply like a child not granted sweets, and Martin had to succumb to the temptation. He kissed her deeply this time and he could feel her melting underneath his skin that was supporting her exposed back as he tilted her head to gain a full access to the cavern of her mouth that tasted exactly like how he imagined her to be. Sweet, sour, fun, and addicting.

Once, twice, thrice—they could go on to the fourth if Eve didn’t catch the glimpses of reality happening around them. Nobody was remaining on the dance floor and everyone was already deserting the venue. It was the two of them now, and it dawned on her that this was it.

She was dreading the moment the bell pounded its 12th ring.

But it never came. Instead, Martin landed another well-placed smack on her lips, like nothing bothered him at all. Maybe he didn’t, being used to playing a full stadium every week and out.

But it bothered Eve, so much. Was the last kiss one last show to the cleaners and everyone that was waiting for their transportation modes? Was the last kiss meant to be for them, now that they were alone?

“What’s wrong?”

“Martin,” By the way her lips quivered against his, letting out a huff of breath as shaky as her lips, and eyes not meeting his, the Norwegian immediately wished to not hear anything else she had to say. Because he knew—he knew—that it wasn’t going to be something he liked to hear. “Martin, I—what are we?”

It was the question he didn’t even dare to ask himself, let alone imposing her with such heavy baggage. Yet it was the question they had been dancing around tonight, as it was impossible to deny the shift in their chemistry. Somewhere along the night, the lines between reality and acting had blurred.

Living up to her reputation, Eve made time and space, a well-known complicated concept, shrink into something as magical as a tinkerbell dust. Before long, Martin was trapped into something he didn’t want to return to. Something he didn’t want to grow up on and smell the fucking coffee.

Yet, if this was a reality, they’d skipped out the conventional way of getting to know each other that it threw them off the axis. If there was something Martin was sure of at that moment, it was that he was as confused as Eve was.

“I—” Martin was rendered speechless and helpless against the blinking of Eve’s beautiful eyes sparkling under the chandelier. The soft yellow hue suited her entire being, and he knew, despite starting on the wrong foot with Eve, the moniker he’d given her was nothing close to a mistake. “I don’t know.”

But he had to face it.

They had to face it.

The least he could do to her was to talk the truth, and only the truth. In the midst of this chaotic, Cinderella-like parade, Martin didn’t want Eve to have anything less than what she deserved. Even if it costed him the heart he was wearing on the sleeve as he watched her withering in his arms after hearing his answer, and shrinking Eve didn’t fit anywhere in this world.

For God’s sake, she was solskinn—sunshine; his sunshine—and yet she wasn’t shining anymore in his arms. As if he was the moon only bound to eclipse her into something unseen, insignificant. A force like her shouldn’t be hidden, and certainly shouldn’t stray away from the centre of his universe.

“Do me one last favour, Martin.”

But now it was too late, wasn’t it? She was slowly setting down and Martin already didn’t know what to do if he didn’t see sunrise anymore.

You said you want to see her having any other emotion? Well, congratulations, asshole, his inner-self emerged in anger. You did it, just like Bob did to her.

And Martin had never hated himself more than now, for doing the one thing he promised not to do.

“Angel, you know I’ll do anything—”

“Don’t kiss me again if you don’t mean it.”

*solskinn means "sunshine" in norwegian.

[oh-saints]

sunshine becomes you (pt. 2)

Despite his young age, Martin's the captain for the Arsenal for a reason. He's calm and collected most of the time and opponents rarely could ever entice any provoking display of emotion from him. But there's one person in London Colney that rubs him in all the wrong way... yet he wants to help her?

Grumpy!Martin Ødegaard x Sunshine!OC

Word count: 3.5k

Note: turns out i can't put the words into 2-part stories so here we go, it's turning into a mini series! (is this a good news for you, odegirlies?) but it won't be longer than 5-part, though, as i'm working on the ending as we speak. oh and beware of the dialogues that's spiking in number than in pt. 1. but as usual, i happen to write this at dawn so this is ofc not proof-read. feedbacks are also always welcome! hope you like them as much as i like writing them!

sunshine becomes you masterlist here

Tags: @julianalvarez9 @notleclerc <3 (lemme know if you want to be included!)

“Eve,”

The owner of the name jumped in her seat. “Martin.”

You must’ve thought Martin officially helping Eve would melt the ice as big as the Antarctica between them? No, not a chance.

No matter how many times Martin had graced the front desk with his presence—of which the the amount had increased significantly by a grand total of two times since their first ever conversation a while ago—Eve couldn’t shake off the feeling of being surprised.

Probably because she was, considering Martin always dropped by in times she least expected him to. And considering the fact they didn’t share any other interaction during the same length of time between their monumental event—as she liked to call the first time Martin had spoken to her—and present.

Yes, unfortunately Martin had resorted back to his old habit of shrugging off her morning greetings, and she didn’t know what and how else to engage him without revealing their secret plan.

Maybe she’d hoped for the stars. But in all honesty, she didn’t expect Martin to go full on bright replying her like Bukayo always did—a small smile would be more than enough, considering where and how far Martin and Eve had come from.

Maybe he was sticking true to his part of this plan of theirs. They did agree that their first—and last—appearance at the Christmas party would be a surprise nobody could’ve seen coming. If he did concede to Eve’s signature good morning in front of Louisa, the building would’ve sniffed the bloody smell in less than 15 minutes.

“I’ve got another package.”

“Ah, yeah, just in time,” At this point, Eve was already a master in hiding her disappointed expression that Martin still considered her as nothing more than mailbox. “Another one for Martin Odellson. Quite a creative name, by the way.”

“Glad you think my way of evading stalker’s creative,” Martin didn’t smile much, especially around her, but maybe it was for the best. The small tug on the corner of his lips became so much valuable than it was. “Where’s Louisa?”

“She’s off early today, sick and all,” Eve handed him the form to sign and his package beside them. “Why’d you ask?”

No, nope. She swore to God she’d asked purely out of curiosity, not because she’d wondered what she hadn’t done that earned Louisa of Martin’s acknowledgement before Eve ever did, despite being half a year being Louisa’s senior.

“Good riddance, then,” Eve couldn’t believe her ears of Martin’s words. That’d got to be the vilest sentence that came out from the good captain’s mouth, bar the things he spitted to express his exasperation on the pitch. “How’s the dress I sent you? It fits you fine, I take it?”

Right, the evening gown that shocks me to the very last of particles. “Yeah, about that…”

Martin hummed, encouraging her to continue, as his hands moved to curve his signature on the form.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you that.”

The Norwegian finished off the last cursive as he pointed her another blank look. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because I don’t know how to get a hold of you without being suspected by everyone in this building and their mothers?” Oh, it felt so good to throw back Martin’s Mr-Know-It-All look for once. “Have you ever thought of it that way?”

But Martin didn’t slip on his feet. The captain threw the same amount of isn’t-obvious look to her. “You have my phone number.”

“Wait, I can text you?”

Eve was meaning to throw him some sarcastic reply but Martin genuinely didn’t think much of it. “Why do you think you can’t?”

“You don’t exactly give off the vibe that I can,” How dare he rolls his eyes at me now?! “About the gown, though. I’m afraid I’ll have to return them to you.”

“Why, it doesn’t fit you or something?” He shifted his weight away from his left leg, his head leaning to the same direction in confusion. “Do I get your size wrong?”

Eve really couldn’t fathom that look, that very look of pure confusion plastered all over his face. As if she was acting strange, as if it didn’t concern him for once that he’d get hold of her size without asking Eve herself.

The last one, though—she promised herself to ask him next time. “No, but it’s Oscar de La Renta.”

“And?”

“And? And?” Martin had to steer his head away five inches back, due to the outburst. “That gown costs my entire arm!”

“But I’m sure you look beautiful in it.”

No will look, no going to. As if it was the present, the long withstanding fact.

Eve had to give it to Martin if this was the game he always plays with whomever he’s romantically involved in. He played his cards with the minds of Mikel Arteta and the face of a poker player. “Well, that’s—”

“You don’t deny it so I must be right,” Eve could sigh in resignation. She didn’t know Martin could be stone-headed, but then her knowledge of him was rather limited. “I don’t see the reason to return them to me, then.”

“But it makes me feel cheap, okay?” Eve let out another deep breath because while the sentence carried out a heavy weight, somehow talking to Martin—as much as she hated spelling it out for his clueless self—made it better. “Like you pay me for acting well.”

Martin let out a breath that was borderline scoffing, and Eve decided she didn’t like it one bit. “You know that is never my intention, Eve. Never, you hear me? You think of it too much,”

And before the gaping mouth of hers could produce another sound, Martin shut her down. “You feel like that because you let yourself think that way. Me, on the other hand, is helping you gather whatever’s dignity stolen from you because I want to,”

Eve had to hold back an audible gasp when Martin’s eyes zeroed back at her, and she—for a stupid, split moment—thought how his opponents didn’t cower under his stare. It felt so intense, so… intimate, too, in their case. As if one word from her would shatter the thin bubble they were in.

“If it’s any help, no one deserves to be treated the way Bob did to you. I can’t stand that, regardless who they are,” But the smile etched in his face didn’t fade at all, resembling him to the Joker on a mission. “You just happen to be someone I’m well-acquainted of.”

And there it was.

Well-acquainted of.

As if he didn’t just make her feel beautiful before the word came crashing down on her.

“If it makes you feel better about it, you can always pay it back.”

Martin really didn’t get the memo to leave her alone for a minute, did he?

“It’d take me a thousand years to pay you back,” Eve couldn’t help but to roll her eyes this time around. “Not everyone earns a hundred thousand pounds a week, Martin.”

“Then do me a favour, since I’ve done one,” The eagerness in his eyes didn’t dim for a second, hands now placed on the desk between them. The determination Eve could notice as he leaned in was actually a sight to be held—if he grazed the grass a bit here—and she could understand why the rest of the team was willing to fight alongside him and Mikel. “Let someone take care of you for a night,”

Eve didn’t bother to let the gasp escape her lips.

“Let me do that for you, at least, as my parting gift.”

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

Eve so officially hated Martin Ødegaard.

Martin had texted her a couple of hours just before he was supposed to pick her up, that he couldn’t do the first part of the charade a.k.a the red carpet, because he had to do all the media duties for Christmas week and pre-party stuffs. Eve knew it was his obligation as a well-loved player but good God, they were supposed to come to the party together, not just being seen together. Why didn’t he finish those things before tonight, anyway?

Well, the good old Norsk insisted it was going to look better on her because they would swoop everyone more speechless than they intended before hanging up on her.

How was she supposed to tell him that a big part of her confidence, especially when wearing this overpriced peace of clothing, came from having him near her?

Everyone had been complimenting how good she looked with the gown or how fantastic the colour complimented her complexion, but Eve couldn’t help but still feel like a fraud. She might be thanking them in honesty but when Martin joined her later, nothing that came out of her mouth would be genuine, nothing more than a set of practiced lies she and Martin had planned beforehand. She wasn’t good at lying at the first place, adding the reason why she so badly needed her partner-in-crime to be here with her.

Relax, Eve. No one knows you’re here with Martin yet, which means you’re still not lying to anyone yet, she said to herself. She sounded more like she hypnotised herself at this point but she didn’t care anymore. She wanted to take a revenge on her heartbreak without feeling too much guilt eating her from inside out.

“I don’t recall you being invited here,” Oh, speaking of the devil, complete in flesh and blood. “Who’s your link?”

“I don’t recall they can let in a piece of jerk inside,” Don’t look at him, Eve. You’re much stronger than that. “Who’s your link?”

“You don’t answer my question.”

She still didn’t spare him a look, no matter how much her eyes caught on his movements. “It’s a question that doesn’t deserve an answer.”

Bob scoffed, the very one that he gave when he felt oh so superior. Eve realised now that he used to give her the same kind so much when they were dating. “You know we’ll find out soon enough, don’t you?”

“Certainly not from me,” Eve was so ready to puke at the sight of him, she’d never hated Martin more than now for not blocking her direct view of this scumbag. “You know how much I hate giving attention to any attention seeker.”

Before Bob could retaliate Eve’s attack, a familiar warmth stepped in beside her. “I’m sorry I’m late, Angel.”

On any other circumstances, Martin’s hand slithering its way on Eve’s back and his lips touching the side of her head would definitely give her a stroke. This time, knowing she’d have him on her side for the rest of the night, was turning to warm all over her body with a familiar sense of security. Probably an abundance of comfort, too—not that she’d tell him that now.

But at least, she let him know how relieved she was that he was now here with her as they shared looks when he continued, “Media duties, you know?”

Martin welcomed the underlying gratefulness from Eve and smiled at the tiniest form of communication only two of them understood. Oh, so much had changed the past weeks between them—she took a mental note to treat him something of his liking with her severance pay for understanding her without words.

Eve shot him back a smile, this time her eyes followed by a teasing glint and he somehow knew she was in to kill the man bothering her. “Oh, how would I know, really? I mean, this is my first rodeo having a footballer boyfriend.”

Martin’s smile widened at her unprecedented choice of words to jab the frozen ex-boyfriend they both unanimously and silently decided to ignore. “Then I shall show you what you’ve been missing on, baby.”

“Fancy seeing you here, Martin.”

If it wasn’t because of the music, her ex-boyfriend would certainly not miss the deep growl Martin unconsciously let out overlaying the deep sigh.

“Ah, yes, Bob. I see you haven’t lost your inner arsehole,” Martin smiling when he didn’t mean it was the scariest kind of Martin, Eve had come to realise. “Was he bothering you at all, Angel?”

Eve knew they were only spitting their rehearsed line but she could see Martin’s eyes were blazing with real fire burning, even though he didn’t spare her a glance—heck, he was busy sizzling Bob down. She could only hope she wouldn’t be at the other end of that stare, ever.

“Angel?”

Martin didn’t need to look back at Eve to know the answer to that; her head shaking lightly against his suit was enough of an answer. Which relieved him because he hated going to the media duties, knowing he’d leave her exposed for anyone to see at the party.

“Good,” As a result of his dangerous thought, he pulled Eve closer by the waist, hating more at the possible number of men trying to talk her out of here before he came. “I’d hate to break some legs on this beautiful night.”

“I didn’t know you’re together.”

“I don’t see the reason to tell the whole world I’m dating someone else,” Eve had been waiting all week for Martin to throw any punchline—he’d spoilt her with his discreet desire to verbally punch him since physical brawl isn’t allowed—at Bob for bringing his mistress to the physio internal party. “You see, that’s the difference between being truly famous and trying to be popular with the crowd. We’d like to keep most of our matters private.”

Sweet mama. Eve was starting to not regret having Martin as her date. No one else delivered those lines with such precision without having to literally look Bob from head to toe in disgust—his own fame and achievement had already done it for him.

“But I thought you—”

“Why are you surprised anyway? Are you starting to regret dumping her now she’s with me?”

Their script didn’t go as far as this phase, should they encounter Bob confronting Eve. But damn, Eve couldn’t stop marvelling how Martin sounded protective of her. Like they were real.

Which was a very dangerous thought, she had to add in bold.

“Don’t you ought to say thank you to me for dumping her?”

Martin might not show it in his face but he was seething with anger at merely the sight of this guy. Now he had the nerve to say that? If it wasn’t because of Eve’s hand traveling on his back, bringing him down to Earth where Eve was there with him and the last thing he’d like to do was to embarrass her, he would’ve definitely started a brawl. Consequences be damned. “You should be the one thanking me for not pursuing her from the very first day I came to the club. Now, will you excuse us because I’d like my girlfriend to meet people I care about.”

Eve’s heart took another deep plunge to the trench for reasons she was confused herself. Was it because how proud she was of Martin showing who was the boss or for was it because how natural the word ‘girlfriend’ rolled out of his tongue?

Eve took another mental note to tell Martin slow down with the whole couple thing or she might fall into the same deception everyone else received from their acts tonight.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

The outcome of the altercation between Martin and Eve’s ex-boyfriend, despite the captain trying to handle it low and classy, was that the entire room was reduced to silence.

Some were astounded at how Martin could lose control over his temper outside the pitch. Some others were more astonished at the sight of Martin coming to Eve’s aid—with a side kiss, mind you!—when the entire Emirates Stadium at this point that Martin had never brushed shoulder with the woman during his stint in Arsenal’s shirt so far.

Eve could feel herself slowly shrinking under everyone’s prying eyes because it was totally overwhelming for someone who had always been a fan of Arsenal, not the other way around. Unlike Martin, whom everyone and their mothers idolised.

“Breathe, Angel,” Eve even jumped at Martin’s whisper, as he led her towards their table with a gentle nudge feathering across her open back, because none of this was what she signed up for. She only agreed to steal the thunder from Bob and the wench, not to direct the spotlight to her. “You’re doing great.”

She hissed under her breath, “How on Earth could you play in a full-packed stadium?!”

“Let them be,” Martin maneuverer her from his left to his right, hands still placed firmly on her hips, bar the subtle movement of back and forth towards her belly to slightly ease her nerves. “I have the prettiest gem of all, after all.”

Martin must be talking about someone else.

“Don’t blame me if I puke on your expensive shoes.”

The free, unfiltered laughter from Martin left Eve in a further bewildered state it left her breathless. For his entire facial features lit up in the way the lighting above was only able to pronounce them more beautifully than usual. “Then talk to me, what are you thinking now?”

“Angel?” Now that they were seated for the formal charity gala that was about to start, along with the rest of the leadership team, Eve could finally confront the one thing that had been bothering her so far into the night. “Really, Martin?”

Martin slid his arm behind her, perching comfortably on top of the chair, as if he’d done it a thousand times before. Like everything in this setting was his habitat, and Eve tried to tone down the shudder than ran on her back at the thought Martin was cunning as the con-artist Eve had expected to save her arse the first time he’d offered his help.

But at that precise point, Eve could care less about the remaining of their table. She couldn’t look away at the crease he made due to his movement of leaning in too close to her, the shirt hugging his body deliciously perfectly. The music in the background could swallow their conversation anyway.

“Your name’s Evangeline, no?”

Martin’s tone wasn’t challenging but the glint on his eyes teasingly said the otherwise. I’d like to see you try, those Nordic Ocean blue eyes said, and she had no other choice but to fall deep down the abyss. “It is—”

 “Then why fight me?”

“Because nobody calls me like that.”

“Exactly why I’m calling you that,” Martin loved getting a reaction out of a flustered Eve, so he did just that. He leaned in, so much closer to her she could sniff his perfume, and my God was it more intoxicating than the expensive champagne rolled in every minute. “What kind of boyfriend am I to call you like everyone else? Where’s the speciality card for the boyfriend?”

Eve stiffened at his charge; her mind went white all of the sudden. “How do you know my full name, by the way?”

Martin couldn’t help but smirk at her futile attempt to hide her nervousness. “I know a lot more about you than you think I do.”

There went Eve’s existence, dissolved into the air at Martin’s words. She should really gather herself before she went down the drain that Martin had—rather on false pretense, on top of that—been leading her. Think, Eve! Think of something! You cannot succumb to the pressure! “Ugh, how can beat that nickname? It can’t get more original than yours.”

Martin actually laughed from her futile attempt to hide her flustered self. “I’d like to see you try, solskinn.”

*solskinn means “sunshine” in norwegian. but cmiiw.

[oh-saints]

Hello!! Love how you write angst, could you maybe write a one shot for either mason mount or martin ødegaard, where you have been dating for a couple of years and suddenly he starts being nervous around reader and she thinks that he is going to ask her to move in but he breaks up with her because he starts thinking that she should be with someone that can give her all their time and not being in the spotlight and then idk ajajajaj

Maybe they call them when they are drunk or they get hurt in a match and they call her or something where they hace to face each other or something

Omg this is long ajajajajaj hope you like my idea and it inspires you to write something, I know anything we got from you will be nice :)

hi nonny!! sorry it's only now i can write this request of yours. i hope i'm not too late? ;-)

but since i'm writing an angst-y series for mason, here may i present you something for our favourite young captain that i've been working on the past week...

ghost

it’s true what people say when they tell you to wrap up your unfinished business first. you’re just too blind to see the big, fat ass flag that’s waving as red as your boyfriend’s kit.

martin ødegaard x you tw: insecurity + cheating wc: 3.3k note: this is just a fiction ok i'm just in the mood to make devil out of everyone lolol this actually hits a bit too close to home but I need to let it out, so here we are. I don’t support cheating whatsoever btw, so remember to break it up good first things first 😉but as usual, I happen to write at dawn so it’s not beta-read yet. songs: almost is never enough - nathan sykes, ariana grande & midnight rain - taylor swift

“are you engaged or something that I don’t know of?”

it wasn’t often your best friend paid you a call, considering her florist business was thriving and all and they were now rather short-staffed. so when her name flashed over the screen of your phone, you didn’t think twice to excuse yourself out of your office to pick up her call.

but you didn’t think she’d fire you that question. sure, you’d been dating your boyfriend since the early days of his arrival to the north side of london and things had been going stable between you two. sure, you’d talked about the more serious part of your relationship, such as what if you both get married and all. but that was it—none of you discussed more than that, what ifs.

you wouldn’t turn down the opportunity if given, though.

“uh, no? why are you asking?”

“shit,” your friend muttered under her breath. “promise me, first. don’t tell him it comes from me, okay?”

the more your friend gave you disclaimer like that, the more your heart’s palpitation grew rapid. “as if I’d throw my best friend under the bus.”

she laughed at your lame attempt to hide your nervousness. your voice tended to reach an octave higher when you did so. “martin ordered so many peonies for the weekend.”

peony is your favourite flower, you’d told martin that a long while ago—to which martin utilised the information for every of your anniversary bouquet, along with every time your birthday came up. but he never orders for peony on ordinary days because he thinks it defeats the purpose of presenting you everything special on particular days.

and this weekend was the last game of the season, a mark to officially begin your summer break, which is always the time you both look forward to because in between martin’s constant flying schedules and your 9-5 hectic schedule, it’s always nice to have one or two week(s) secluding yourself from the entire world, spending day and night only with your boyfriend.

you had to take a deep breath to slow down your pounding heart. can it be?

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

see you on the weekend, baby.

martin wasn’t supposed to be smiling this wide. he wasn’t even supposed to smile at all. because despite the sweet moniker, the sender wasn’t his own girlfriend of a little more than two years. worse, the sender had even been deprived of every right to call him by endearments since that painful moment she broke up with him, right when he informed her that there was a better opportunity for him in london.

logically, he was supposed to hate her with all his might—how could he stand someone who didn’t support his growth and development as a young football player? how could he stand someone who only crawled back to him when he was now an up-and-coming name in the football world?

logically, he was supposed to come back home straight from the training ground instead of ordering a bunch of flowers for the next time he met her. why did he feel obliged to bring her a handful of flowers? where did this feeling come from?

martin wasn’t one to understand flowers, anyway. he only bought flowers for special occasions, and that was also because he’d gotten the information yourself about your favourite flower. so why was he purchasing something he didn’t possess the knowledge of, to begin with?

but logic seemed to have escaped the most level-headed person under mikel arteta’s team since the ghost of his past decided to appear before him last week.

“martin, you should know that I’m very sorry for what I’ve done,” she started explaining, and the moment she reached for martin’s hands over the table was the moment his resolve crumbled apart. “I wasn’t thinking straight and I was too foolish to want you all for myself. but I’ve grown up, for you, so that I can be someone you need by your side.”

martin should naturally ask for an evidence, or anything to convince him that she had indeed become better for him, had turned into someone she believed he needed. martin should ask what she had become—could she be like you, the one who put shattered pieces of him together and glued him back to his old self?

martin should prove it himself if this very lady in front of him, who’d inflicted more pain than logically accepted, was a better fit to be his other half than you. hell, martin should’ve even proved it himself that she was no better than you, period. so why did his hand now get tangled with hers, reciprocating the light squeeze she gave him over the table?

why did he think she deserve at least a chance to explain herself?

ironic, really, when his gaffer picked martin to be the captain of his team himself solely for martin’s extraordinary football iq.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

landed! can’t wait to see you! xx where are you?

“martin, baby,” martin jumped in his place, his phone almost fell off his hands, as the sultry voice he loved—and he discovered that he still loves it all the same—tried to lure him back to bed. “what are you doing? come back here,”

the pristine white sheet of the hotel slid down her chest as she sat up, beautiful in between the mess he made of her—her now-tangled hair, purple spots down her neck and chest, red marks down her arms and thighs—and martin’s heart broke into two. one at the revelation at how much he’d missed this sight of her, the other at the fact he needed to leave this behind because he still had you to come back to.

you, who’d been waiting for him at the airport for two hours now, because he forgot about picking you up from your business trip. something he never did during the time you both spent together.

you, who would be waiting for him in his house later, ready to spill everything you went through during your business trip, because you know martin was a good listener and never a judgemental one. because you know martin would always have your back.

you, who had loved him before his name, who have loved him through the calm and the storm of a football season, who always love him no matter wins or loses, and who promises to always love him through thins and thicks.

something came up at the training ground. I’m sorry I can’t pick you up myself.

martin’s heart plopped down the plush carpet as he pressed send, for reasons he didn’t want to acknowledge right now. not when a pair of arms managed to snake its way to his waist, eliminating the distance between martin and her in no time and they were now skin to skin, and good lord, was it not satisfying to have no barrier between them.

martin’s heart plopped down to the deepest part of hell, perhaps, when he felt his phone vibrated in his hand—the one that wasn’t busy moulding his body to fit the vixen in his arms—and saw the immediate response you replied him with.

alright, good luck with that. see you at home! xx

you, whose love martin had betrayed. consciously so.

“do you still love her?” was the question the woman martin believed as siren incarnated, fired off as soon as she saw him dressing up, ready to leave her behind in this luxury confinement they called five-star hotel.

brave, martin got to give her that. it was the very question martin kept asking himself as he laid awake last night, facing the ceiling while listening to the sound of her gentle breathing, tickling against the skin just an inch from his pecks. her flimsy finger was ghosting yet so palpable, just like your existence—resting there waiting to be acknowledged, like the elephant in the room.

funny how it was his favourite position of yours since the first night you slept together, for it reminded him of her touch, the very touch he’d lost because she was a selfish human being.

yet, martin was currently the one selfish beyond possible combination of words.

but somehow, martin was even braver for responding her when he himself wasn’t sure he could answer his own question.

“I’d be lying if I say I don’t, søta,” he donned his jacket before he leaned down, claiming her lips once more—for what, he didn’t know. to satisfy himself? to soothe the impending thirst that’d been building up unknowingly since she left him? to boost his confidence and justify himself that he was about to do the right thing? “and probably a part of me always will.”

the woman frowned in the way martin was supposed to hate her—she was the reason he’d grown to hate frowny, clingy women—but instead, he shot down a well-placed kiss that she reciprocated in the same fervour, obvious to tell him that she didn’t like sharing. her hands pulled him down further the bed, trying to lull him back to her arms, just like siren personified, and martin laughed in between their heated exchange.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“what if you never come back?” the woman refused to let go of him, hugging him tightly like a koala to his tree. “what if you suddenly realise you love her more?”

“it’s clear to see I don’t love her that much anymore, no?” martin swept the brown locks that reminded him of milky chocolate fondue. sweet, silky, smelt as nice as it looked, as he plucked off one of the peony petals he’d showered her with. “not enough to make me stay with her, anyway.”

martin even surprised himself by saying such words. he didn’t know he was capable of that, he didn’t know how he could have it in him. but if he thought that was surprising, he certainly wouldn’t hold a candle against himself for the things he did—or maybe, had done—to you.

you, whose entire world martin shattered. consciously so, since the moment you parted yourself from the embrace you enveloped him with but whose warmth wasn’t returned.

“what’s wrong?”

he knew it wasn’t easy. it was never easy to be with you since the very beginning anyway—you gathering his broken pieces, you swiping off all of his insecurities and assuring him that you’d wait for him till he wiped off all traces of her, you hiding off your identity so you wouldn’t drag him down in any way possible—but martin didn’t expect them to be very difficult, disclosing all his sins and admitting his faults.

admitting she wasn’t the only one in his heart.

worse, admitting she was never the only one since the start.

“was the emergency that bad at work?”

martin wanted to scream at her, telling her off that she wasn’t supposed to think the better of him, not after everything he’d done to her and their relationship. martin wanted to scream at her, telling her to be the bad guy for once for putting herself first. martin wanted to scream at her, telling her to live happily without him because she didn’t deserve him.

“don’t look at me like that, martin,” your eyes were as clear as always, and martin’s heart broke once more for you and every of the emotions displayed in your eyes. you were scared of him, of how cold he was being around you, and martin’s heart broke because you had been nothing but warm to him. “what’s wrong?”

you didn’t look any different to him at that moment, still lovable and looked very much like his, in every sense of the word. yet he was no longer yours, in every sense of the word. that was what went wrong.

“nothing,” martin acted the way the word implied. martin acted like nothing was wrong, as he kissed the top of your head and slid his hand into yours. “how was your trip?”

“I just wish you were there,” other days, your words would warm him up—the way your presence always succeeded to—but today, as you didn’t grasp back his hand, you meant every single word that escaped your mouth. “too bad, you know?”

too bad, indeed, my love. what if you stayed? what if she wasn’t here? martin thought inwardly as he poured the risotto he was making.

too bad, indeed, my love. because you’re gone already the moment you come home. you thought inwardly as you received the only dish he’d serve you by far because cooking had always been your thing.

too bad, indeed, as the risotto started turning as cold as the long withstanding iceberg in the form of white marble countertop separating you two. too bad, indeed, as the risotto was beyond salvageable even if you tried resurrecting it with every kind of heat earth could produce.

but neither of you moved, so different to the silent dance you both had been doing around the room. yet everything around you two was as loud as obnoxious bunch of drunkards watching the netflix show playing in your living room.

“you know I love you, right?”

the deep breath he let out indicated everything but, and you had never felt so alone in a room full of him. you were left alone, behind a four-wall full of him—his scent, his words, his voice—with nothing but abundance of confusion in your hands. it was, more often than not, your job to declare you love to him, instead of the other way around like this, so what changed?

“I love you,” yet martin couldn’t look straight into your eyes. “but I’m sorry.”

the confusion in your eyes were still evident and martin’s heart broke for you once more because he knew you didn’t deserve any of this. of him, of what he did, of how he’d been treating you. a small doubt crept in for a millisecond—what if he could fix this?—but he buried them down once more because you deserved this from him, an ending as respectable as you are.

“I love you too.”

no, no, you don’t get to say that. you’re not supposed to say that. you were supposed to throw him a thousand questions why he said sorry to you, contradicting his rather fake declaration of love for you.

“I forgive you.”

martin’s head had never snapped that fast, this time it was him that couldn’t hide his bewilderment. of all scenarios he had in his head, what you just did was never in his card. “you don’t know what I did.”

“I don’t care,” you squared your shoulders, and martin knew you meant your words then. you were so full of love and compassion, and it was why martin decided to forget her to be with you, but now martin wanted to run away for how hard life had come to bite his ass. “I love you. I forgive you.”

“I slept with another person,” and he noticed the slight tremble on those strong shoulders that overcame you. there, he needed that. he needed you to know, to feel, to see reality. “I cheated on you. I want to say that I’m sorry every time and every chance I can but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

you had gone through the worst obstacles there was on this earth—tower of terror, skydiving at palm jumeirah, being struck by lightning. you had gone through even worse obstacles—you’d seen your parents divorced before your eyes, you’d seen your friend took his life in front of you. yet nothing was as painful as the joke martin just threw in your face. you could even brave yourself for a guillotine if given the chance.

anything but the lemon your boyfriend just handed over your open wound. clean-cut and straight to the point.

“you said you love me.”

“I do,” martin replied immediately, as if he was sure of it. as if he was sure that loving you was the right thing to do when he’d just committed the wrong thing to do. “that’s why I’m sorry I did what I did.”

“with who?”

“you don’t want to know who.”

but with martin’s answer, it didn’t take you another second to figure out the woman in question. and you regretted asking immediately because you knew it’d be better if you didn’t know. you could even truly forgive him for what he did, as long as it wasn’t her. knowing who the partypooper was always a better option, because not being able to place a face to a name was always better.

but now you knew about it, and you didn’t have time to save your fragile heart from a heavy rain of sharp knives, endlessly stabbing your open wound to enlarge it even more, giving space for another knife to launch itself to a bleeding heart. you didn’t have time to hide your pain, as tears slowly escaped your eyes.

“why?” you gathered every of your remaining energy to sound brave as you faced your losing battle. “what did I do wrong?”

you needed to know because you’d been doing only the right thing. nothing less than perfect for your boyfriend.

martin wanted to know too because you’d been nothing short of what he needed.

“I’m sorry,” you stopped yourself when martin didn’t give you a response, then you gathered yourself again as you reciprocated his strong gaze. as best as you could anyway. “I’m sorry if I wasn’t enough—”

“no, no—”

“tell me what I can do to fix this, martin,” you pursed your lips, holding back the tears left unshed. “we can still fix this. just… please don’t leave me.”

“please don’t do this…” martin sighed because while he knew you’d always fight for what you believe in, he didn’t know it would bring him a big boomerang instead. “I’ve hurt you. staying with me will hurt you more and that’s the last thing I want for you.”

but that was the last straw for you, the look on his face. he spared you a look of sympathy, an emotion you rather detested because you weren’t a charity case. so you cried, this time not because of the lost cause in your relationship. you cried for yourself, because while you were displaying your desperate frustrations to amend the broken bridges, you addressed such wave of emotion to the wrong person.

“what did I do wrong?”

“it’s not you,” martin wanted to hug you—he still hated seeing you cry—but he knew it wasn’t his place anymore to comfort you. he’d deprived himself of the exclusive right in lieu of another set of different luxurious rights. “it’s never your fault.”

but martin never said it was his, either.