#maybe it’s signed by a famous football player
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coachbeards · 5 months ago
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how i feel knowing there’s a deleted scene out there of beard throwing an american football into the curse fire
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sports-on-sundays · 6 months ago
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Okay so 🤭 what if Y/N use to be with ( whatever Barca player you choose ) and they broke it off because they supposedly wanted to focus on their career and the reader was really heartbroken and omg to make it more better y/n is Carlos sister and then she sees or hear how they moved on already! And little by little she starts to be with lando and they announce their relationship when he wins in Miami!! Like full on hard launch. 😭🙌🏽
Also this got me motivated to think of more ideas ima write them down for the future 🤭
papaya girl / LN4
Summary: ex!Ferran x Sainz!baker!reader x Lando - After a devastating breakup with your footballing boyfriend, you think you'll never be able to date someone again.
Warnings: there's a golf scene and I don't golf so-!🤞, mention of sickness, foul language, sorry if some things are not accurate, headache, partying/dancing/drunkenness/clubbing, mention of getting so drunk you had no memory of what happened, implied getting drunk to dampen emotions, getting injured, vomiting, slight soulmate feel, a bit of suggestive talk, use of babe/baby/bae/baby girl/etc., I feel like every kiss I describe is exactly the same sooo- sorry about that! ✌
Requested?: YES! 😘
Author's Note: Do you ever write something so good that you wish you could make it into a movie? That's how I feel about this. I can imagine the scenes. Didn't plan it but I guess 24 is the magic number for this one. I made the request more dramatic because... I like doing that... 👉 👈 🥺 ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST. PERFECT MIX OF ANGST AND FLUFF. I LITERALLY LOVE YOU! If you do have any more ideas and you're up for it, let me know!
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When you met Ferran Torres, you were a Madridista with a passion for Ferrari. Being a Sainz, you've always been rooting for Real Madrid, but your favorite Formula 1 team isn't as consistent. Because before that, you were a McLaren fan. And before that, Red Bull. And everything else before that, too.
Wherever Carlos is, you're a fan of it.
You, quite literally, on the day you met Ferran, were wearing a Cristiano Ronaldo jersey and a backwards Ferrari cap.
And, well, he, a new arrival from Manchester City, liked that, apparently!
And it was beautiful. They way you slowly became closer and closer, growing to know each other more and more.
And then, maybe you just hit a point. Hit a point in your relationship where you wanted more, and Ferran realized that if any more was given by him, it would be too far for him.
And he cut it off. Said he was doing well in Barcelona. He had high hopes. You, a sold out Madrid fan, had been wearing his number on the back of a blaugrana jersey. And despite that blaugrana jersey, he ditched you.
He said his work, his career, his passions, his dreams, were more important than you.
But you can't complain, Y/n. That's fair. He was gentle in letting you know. He made it clear he didn't want any malice between you and him.
You roll over in bed, staring vacantly at your wall. There's a large Real Madrid flag hanging in the middle. A smaller Ferrari flag on one side. A few posters of bands and teams you like or events you've been to, signed by different celebrities. People who are more famous than 'Carlos Sainz Jr.'s sister' or 'Ferran Torres's ex-girlfriend.' On one side, it seems silly to have a poster signed by Max Verstappen, but you do. On the other side of the flag, you have a peeling old McLaren poster, showing the younger versions of Carlos and his former racing partner, Lando Norris, looking just seconds away from breaking into a loud, hysterical laughter.
And next to that, you have a Barcelona poster.
You smile sadly to yourself.
I must look like such a conflicted sports fan.
You stand up, walking over to the wall. After gently peeling the Barcelona poster off the wall, you slowly trace the badge with your fingers, any hint of a smile now gone as tears begin to fill your eyes, threatening to fall.
"This is stupid," you murmur scornfully, your voice cracking softly. "This isn't even my team! It's not my city...!" You toss the poster across the room, leaving it in a place where you don't intend to pick it up anytime soon.
Let it gather dust and crumple. That's what Ferran did. He threw away our relationship like it was nothing but a worthless piece of paper. And now I'm suffering the consequences.
You sigh. You're trying not to let yourself be bitter. You want to look back on everything you and Ferran had and be happy. Appreciate it. You still love Ferran. You don't want to be angry with him.
Someone said to you once, Hurt heals with time, as long as you let it.
You grab a bold, red Sharpie from your drawer and your notebook from a dresser. You scribble those words in all caps, rip out the page, grab some tape, and hang the piece of paper where the FC Barcelona poster used to be.
You sigh, but nod, before turning to get ready for your day.
You hate winter. You never hated winter before this winter, but now you hate it.
With the breakup, you've been avoiding anything La Liga like the plague, even if it doesn't involve Ferran Torres. It just reminds you too much.
And with Carlos on winter break, getting ready for the start of the season, he's not around much. Going on different trips, he's quite busy. Which you don't like. You and your brother have a strong bond.
It's not like you don't have anything to do. You just don't have anything interesting to do. You have a shop that you run, but you have enough staff hired to not have to be there all the time.
Yes, in a family of racing, you were never too into it. Your strong spot is in baking and business running, so that's why you opened up a bakery in Madrid.
And being a Sainz, of course it was a success.
Same type of thing as Charles Leclerc's 'LEC,' except you're not the racing driver Charles Leclerc, you're not doing ice cream, and you've always been doing this, for five years now.
You watch as a young, excited couple walks in, jabbering away in English. You can just tell they're tourists as they get in line to order. Once they get to the counter, the woman immediately leans over the counter in excitement, saying, "Is Carlos Sainz here?" in English.
You chuckle. Sounds American. "Which Carlos Sainz?" you tease.
They look blankly at you as if you're just about the dumbest individual to walk planet Earth. You chuckle and say, "Why don't you get to ordering? There's a line."
Towards the afternoon, as things begin to quiet down just a little bit, you look up at the doorbell jingles and freeze.
When he reaches the counter, you snap at Ferran, "Why are you in Madrid?"
"Am I not allowed to be? Either way, hello to you, too."
You sigh, licking your lips as you study the Valencian boy. "What can I get for you?"
He shrugs and orders, before seating himself down at one of the seats at the counter. "How have you been, Y/n?" he asks.
"Fine," you swallow, staring down. "And you?"
"I'm good." From there, he begins just talking, as if we're old friends or something, and not exes.
He seems so happy. So content.
To not be with you.
Suddenly, mid-way through one of his many sentences, you slip your hand over his, almost on impulse. He stops, staring to your hands, and then to you.
You breathe softly, "Why? Why did you come here to just talk to me? Aren't you moved on? Ferran, this is torture for me."
Lines crease into his face. You can see him swallow, looking at your smaller hand on his. "I'm... I'm sorry. I am moved on. I'm doing well. I just thought maybe we could be friends. I'd never want to date you again; I'm not in the place to date anyone. I'm happy single. But I just feel bad. I know you're hurt, and... I'd be happy to still be friends with you, is all?" He slips his hand out from underneath yours and takes his cup of coffee with it, taking a sip as he watches you intently.
You drag a hand over your face. Though you didn't want to admit it, seeing him come in to the bakery gave you hope. That maybe he wanted to try again. But those words that came out of his mouth? They cut deep.
"Listen, Ferran," you barely whisper. "I'm still trying to work through what happened. Everything. It's hard for me. But I appreciate it, and when I'm ready, if I'm ever ready, I'd love to be your friend. O- Okay?"
He nods slowly, staring down. "Alright... Fair enough."
"What's wrong?" your older brother, Carlos, asks. You watch outside the window as the world travels by.
You sigh. "Ferran."
"Him, again?"
"Carlos," you sigh. "Stop. It's nothing new. I'm just missing him. He wants to stay friends, but I said I needed time."
"Ah. Well, you know, I did tell you never to date-"
"-a Barcelona player. I know," you roll your eyes with a little smile.
He chuckles, shaking his head. "Hurt heals with time, as-"
"-long as you let it. I know," you comment, smiling a bit wider.
"Exactly. It'll come."
You sigh. "I hope so."
As Carlos pulls into the parking lot, you say, "So. Is that why you decided to take me golfing with your friends? Just wanted to check up on me, but you never have the time to sit down over dinner these days?"
Carlos smiles as he shuts off the car. "No. I could have made time. But I wanted your company golfing."
"You know I'm not big on g-"
"Shut up," he grins. "Yes you are."
"I suck."
"Not as bad as some people I know. In fact, you're actually pretty okay."
Soon, you meet up with a bunch of Carlos's friends. They're all chatting, and you're just kind of zoning off, looking out over the grassy hills, when suddenly you look up when Carlos says, "Ay! Lando!"
You blink in complete and utter shock. "Why is Lando Norris here?"
As Lando approaches, he eyes you, saying teasingly, "Well, thank you for the warm welcome, Y/n Sainz."
"Lando was just around, so he made the drive to meet us here," Carlos quickly fills in.
Soon, you're all off. After a round, as you're walking back to the cart to go get lunch, Carlos says, nudging Lando, "I think my baby sister is better than you."
Lando laughs. "You fucking muppet; what are you talking about?"
You grin, falling in step with Lando and Carlos. "I'm a better golfer."
"That is just wrong," Lando says, glancing at you. "Downright wrong."
"It's a Sainz thing," Carlos puts in. "There's no way for you to beat us, Lando. You can't. Winning runs in the family."
Lando rolls his eyes, reiterating, "Your baby sister is not better than me."
"You have no right to call me a baby," you put in indignantly. "I'm probably older than you."
Lando looks at you, his nose all scrunched up. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-four."
"Hah! Same age."
"That still doesn't mean you get to call me a baby!"
"Her birthday is in January; different year than Lando's. Lando, you can call her a baby; you're older," Carlos says.
"Carlos!" you snap. "Don't give him permission!"
Carlos grins and shakes his head as he breaks off to chat with some of his other friends and get on the cart with them.
Lando grins, giving a discreet pat on your lower back as he murmurs, "Sorry, baby."
And for some reason, that makes you feel things. You decide to blame it on the fact that Lando's just good-looking.
Once you're all seated down with your lunch, you comment, "So what's with the whole..." your hand goes to your chin, referring to his facial hair, as you look at Lando expectantly.
Lando slams down his fork, saying lightheartedly, "Sick of people asking me that!"
You smirk. "Makes you look like you're forty."
"Whatever, baby."
"You know, I have a picture on my wall of you and Carlos when you were just babies, too."
As soon as Lando raises an eyebrow with a smirk, you know it was a mistake to word it that way. "You have a picture of me and Carlos on your wall?" he asks, mock condescendingly.
"No, no. I mean, I do, but- It's just an old McLaren poster." You immediately look down.
"What, are you a fan of mine?" Lando teases further.
"No! I'm a fan of Carlos, and you just so happened to be his teammate at that time. The point is that you two look like pipsqueaks in that photo! Lando, you looked so awkward, with all your acne-"
"What, Lando, you think she's a McLaren fan? She's sold out for Ferrari," Carlos interrupts.
"Literally! I deck myself out in red every Sunday!"
"Today's Sunday," Lando starts like the stupid idiot he is, "And I don't see you wearing red."
You groan, leaning back, covering your face in your hands. "Carlos, how are you this guy's friend? He's so annoying! Why'd you invite him for? How do you put up with him?"
Carlos just smirks, patting your shoulder, and says, "I'm used to having to put up with irritable people, after having to grow up with you."
You roll your eyes, fighting off a smile as all the guys around you at the table laugh out loud.
On the car ride back, you're mostly silent, your thoughts swimming with one thing and one thing only.
Lando Norris.
And there's a soft smile on your face as you think about your morning with him.
But Carlos can tell you're deep in thought. Usually, you'd be yapping away right now. "Anything on your mind?" he asks carefully.
You sigh. "Not much."
"You're bad at lying. You're staring out the window dreamily. What's on your mind?"
You sigh. "It's stupid. You'll make fun of me."
"I'm not stupid, though. I can already guess what it is."
You gulp. "How?"
"For the whole day, the only person you talked to was Lando."
You feel your stomach drop. "It's nothing serious, Carlos. He's just funny."
"You said something like that to me about Ferran Torres right before you officially started dating."
That makes you feel a bit sick. "Carlos, I won't let that happen again."
"Don't. And don't be getting interested in anyone until you're over your ex. And we both know you're not. And please don't be getting interested in someone like Lando."
"Why?" You eyebrows scrunch together. "I thought you two were buddies."
Carlos grins teasingly. "If you somehow got yourself with him, there would always be two annoying people in one place."
"You're intolerable!" you snap, laughing.
"You are too, hermana."
It strikes Carlos as strange when the first thing Lando says to him the weekend of Bahrain, before even a hello, is: "Is your sister here?"
"Why do you want to know?"
Lando shrugs. "She's nice."
"No... She'll be coming to Australia, though..." Carlos can't help but feel suspicion fill his chest. He's always been somewhat protective of you, being his little sister and all.
"Perfect," Lando grins, and he's off.
In Australia, like any other race, you're decked out in your red. Ferrari hat, Ferrari jacket, red jeans. Ferrari earrings. Even your black shoes have a stripe of red on the sides.
Carlos always tells you it's dumb. But it's become a part of your whole thing, since you spend a huge amount of your life following Carlos around and going to Grand Prixs.
It's fun sometimes, being Carlos Sainz Jr.'s sister!
But when you see a shock of papaya in your red world called Ferrari's hospitality, you squint, slipping your sunglasses up on your hat, and say, "Who said you could walk in like that uninvited?"
"No one," Lando grins, "but I'm only here to see you."
Your eyebrows raise as you stand up. "Wha-"
"Come with me. I'm going to barf if I have to breathe Ferrari air any longer. Just your terrible get-up is making me nauseous. I guess I'll be free from seeing that stupid outfit next year when Carlos isn't in Ferrari-"
"Oh, shut it, you!" you snap, but follow him with a grin on your face.
"So you broke up with your Barcelona man?" Lando start, cutting straight to the chase.
"Uh-" you swallow. "He broke up with me."
"Yeah? Why's that?"
You're not sure why Lando wants to know, and he certainly doesn't have any reason to know, but still you say, "We had been dating for a while, you know? I wanted something more. You know, to go deeper. Someday, I'd love to even maybe get married. But, Ferran... well, he didn't want to go the step deeper. Said he wanted to focus on his career. He broke it off. We're on fine terms, though."
"Ah..." he nods slowly. "That sounds like a tough breakup."
"Yeah... Yeah, it was."
He continues nodding, and catches your eye before saying, "So I'm assuming you want to... you know, you won't be up for any more relationships any time soon? Lot to work through?"
You suddenly feel your face begin to heat up. "Uh, well- depends on who it is, I suppose," you blurt without thinking.
"Hm?" He raises an eyebrow. A little smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Well, considering the fact that your face is just about as red as that Ferrari hat on your head, I'm wondering what you think of me."
You swallow, feeling even more embarrassed. "Are you suggesting...?"
"If you're up for it, the night after the Grand Prix, you can meet me at my hotel room, and we'll go from there. Text me if you decide 'yes,' for the details."
"I don't have your numb-"
He gives a cute little smile and opens his hand to reveal a folded up piece of paper. "Now you do. See you later, Miss Sainz!"
You stand, dumbfounded, as he jogs off.
"Oh my God, Carlos! Well done! So well done! Oh my God!" you scream in the midst of your strings of excited swear words, in both Spanish and English. "Did you actually just win the Australian Grand Prix?!"
He grins as he kisses your cheek, patting your back and saying, "Yes, I actually just did."
You hug your older brother tight, resting your head on his shoulder. "Love you. You did amazing. After everything you've been through. You're going to be leaving Ferrari next season and with your surgery and everything and-"
He smiles a bit. "Want to let me go now? Can't squeeze me too tight, remember?"
"So you can drive a race car and win the race, but you're too fragile for me to hug you!" you laugh, but release him from the hug.
He laughs out loud. "Yes, pretty much."
Hours later, you stand in the lit, mostly empty hallway, knocking on the white-painted door. You've change out of your Ferrari red head-to-toe fit, and are now wearing a black t-shirt with the F1 logo in red on the left side, black sweatpants, and your hair held back by a headband.
Lando probably isn't here, you think as you wait. I look so stupid. He doesn't care as much as he acts like he does. He's probably out partying or something. He got a podium. Carlos won. There's no way he's just sitting around in his hotel room-
You look up in surprise as the door clicks and swings open to reveal Lando Norris standing before you.
You beam and say a bit too loud, "Lando!"
He laughs. "Hey..." He's dressed in a white button down, dark blue jeans, and his regular assortment of jewelry. "Want to come in for a bit?"
You nod. "Were you... just out?" you ask slowly.
He chuckles again, plopping down on the sofa. "If I were just out, I wouldn't be looking this neat."
"Oh... Oh?"
"Come on. Sit down next to me," he encourages with a wave of his hand. "Something funny- I've had my eyes on you for a while now."
You look up in somewhat shock. "That's why you're so confident about this?"
"That, and that I'm just the peak of all confidence," he jokes, clearly mocking cockiness.
You roll your eyes.
"But really. I've been flirting with you for a while."
This time your eyes widen. "No way."
"Just little. I knew you were dating that Torres-"
"How?"
He smiles. "Doesn't take much to find out. Anyway, I think you just blocked it out because you were dating someone else. Shows you're a loyal girl."
"Hm..." you nod slowly. "I... I suppose...?"
Suddenly, he takes your hand in his. "So, you like me?"
"I think I have for a while. Like you said- I blocked it out because I was dating someone else." You didn't even know that until now, hearing the words coming from your mouth.
He smirks. "Even better. So..."
"Yeah?" you ask, a little glimmer in your eyes.
"I'd like to know what the hell you're wearing."
Suddenly, your face falls. "Uh- I'm sorry- I- I thought we- Um-"
Lando laughs. "Y/n! I'm teasing!"
"O- Oh!" you laugh nervously.
"I was just thinking... Maybe you'd want to go out and celebrate with me?"
"Oh-" you nod. "Right."
"So, do you want to get changed? I'll text you where we'll meet in a half hour?"
You grin, standing up. "Sounds good."
"See you then."
"Holy fuck, man," are Lando's first words when he sees you. You're wearing sunglasses, a form-fitting sequin shirt, and flattering white jeans.
"What?" you ask anxiously. "Is it too much?"
"Too much? Y/n, you're gorgeous."
You sigh in relief. "Alright good... And- one thing."
"Hm?" Lando asks, an eyebrow raised.
"I don't know if we... could we say we're... that you're my..."
"Partner? Boyfriend?"
You swallow. "Sure. I think... I think I'm good with that. At least for tonight."
He nods.
"But let's not make it clear here. I don't want the way for everyone to find out about this being, you know, by nightclub pictures on the internet."
He smirks a bit, nodding. "Fair enough, then. Let's go."
"Rise and shine! Let's hit the grind, Y/n!" an unfamiliar voice wakes you up.
You roll over to see Lando's handsome face looking down at you. You're in his hotel room, in the one bed. He's all dressed and ready to go, and towering over you, looking like a giddy dog.
You sit up, rubbing your eyes. "I've got a killer headache. What happened last night." You feel disgusting, and wrinkle your nose as you get a whiff of the alcohol scent radiating off of you.
He grins. "I learned that you have no tolerance whatsoever."
You frown. "Unlike you, Norris, I'm not getting drunk all the time! Now, tell me what really happened!"
"Nothing much. Just a lot of fun," he sits down next to you, "and it's a shame that you can't remember any of it." He chuckles a bit, saying, "You got fucking wild. You were more fun though before you got absolutely drunk out of your wits."
"You didn't do anyth-"
"No, no!" he rolls his eyes. "Besides, Carlos was there. I wouldn't dare. You at least remember Carlos, right, being there?"
You roll your eyes. "Yes, of course I do."
"But you really did completely black out? You don't remember anything?"
You swallow nervously. "No... I don't really remember anything... I mean, I guess..." You close your eyes, thinking hard. "Just dancing... music was super loud, but... that's not anything specific. I don't feel well at all now, though..." You start to feel a bit dizzy at the energy you're putting into trying to remember.
You open your eyes and look at Lando.
He smiles. "Well, it was fun, nothing more. Want me to bring you back to your hotel now?"
"Yeah, I guess..." you nod, cradling your head in your hands. "That'd be great..." You see the wine stain on your jeans. You can feel an ache in your ankle. You just need to clean yourself up.
Lando helps you limp to the car, assuring you that you just tripped. Saying your ankle is fine; it'll feel better in a few days' time.
You're not so sure.
As Lando drives, he knows he should tell you the details, like Carlos said.
But it still feels like you'd be better off not knowing at all.
Nine hours before
Though every single one of Lando's molecules in his body told him not to, he had to keep pushing you off. He sat talking away with some other dudes, and you sat his side, drunkenly trying to wrap your arms around him.
You blubbered softly about all kinds of stuff, a strange mixture of being utterly devastated and overly romantic.
Lando knew. You didn't get drunk this often.
A part of him felt bad. A huge part of him. He didn't think he had pressured you into anything. Certainly not intentionally. And you were the one who kept drinking more. But maybe he did...
Maybe it was his fault you were the mess you were now.
"Lando..." you murmured, your hand gripping his bicep. You leaned closer. "You're so sexy in that shirt." You reached over to unbutton another button of his shirt.
He gently pushed you away for the millionth time. "Remember, Y/n? You don't want anyone to know you're into me this much," he whispered lowly to you, running a hand through his hair. "Remember that, baby."
You pouted. "Ferran broke up with me and made me sad. Can't you make me happy now."
"Not now. I won't be doing anything when you're this drunk."
"I'm not that drunk..."
Lando snorted. "Whatever you say, lovely."
All was going as fine as it could be going. But then Carlos showed up. "Hey, Y/n-" he had started.
But you had interrupted him by slapping your hand on Lando's shoulder, leaning into it, and giggling giddily, "Look at this pretty boy."
Immediately, Carlos's eyes flashed with shock. And then vague panic. And then anger.
"Lando, how drunk did you get her?!" he snapped, raising his voice even more than he already was. The flashing lights on the Spanish man's face helped Lando's anxiety no more.
"I didn't get her drunk at all! I tried to stop h-"
"Yeah, fucking right. Come with me Lando-"
"No!" you had snapped, standing up to grab Lando's sleeve before your older brother could drag him away.
You were clearly biting back tears. "Lan didn't do anything..." You stumbled drunkenly into the British man, who steadied you gently, before helping you sit down again.
Carlos's face remained hard and steadied on Lando, but he spoke no words, as if he was battling in his head what to do.
Lando sighed. "Listen, Carlos. She won't remember any of this tomorrow morning. Let's just not bring this up again, yeah? It was a mistake. Stuff happens. She got wild and had one too many. We've all had those nights."
But Lando genuinely didn't think Carlos had had one of those nights before.
Lando certainly had, though.
"She deserves to know."
"Maybe she shouldn't, though. She's gone through a lot with her ex breaking up with her and everything. And I'm sure your career up in the air isn't helping her cause much, either. She loves you more than the world. And think about how worrying it was for her to see you go into surgery like that, and race right afterwards? The good emotions just hit her, man. But it's probably a lot. She's just going through a lot. She doesn't need the guilt of getting too drunk and acting a little stupid, yeah?" Lando ranted, intently studying the older Spaniard's eyes.
Carlos's eyes slowly softened. "Alright... I won't tell her what's happening once she's sober. Only if I can make a deal with you."
Lando bit his lip, running a hand through his messed up hair. "What is it?"
"I won't say a word to her, as long as you promise to stay away from my sister. I know you're interested in her."
Lando's eyebrows creased together. "What does that men? Why?"
"Quit trying to get with my sister, and then it's a done deal."
Lando let out a shaky breath, slowly nodding. "Alright, then. Whatever. It's a done deal."
Of course Lando didn't intend on following through with his end of the deal.
But when Lando turned around to check on you on the couch, he froze when he saw you were gone. "Where'd Y/n go?" he immediately asked the other guys and girls sitting around.
"The hot Spanish girl?" one guy asked in a painfully slow Australian accent.
"Yes, her!" Lando demanded, his buzzed brain filling with irrational panic and overwhelming confusion.
He lazily gestured and responded, "Went to go dance, I reckon."
And before Carlos or anyone else could react any faster, Lando tore into the crowd, shoving people aside and squeezing through gaps that weren't there, in search of you.
She's drunk out of her mind! What the hell was she thinking!
That's right. She wasn't thinking.
And then, he spotted you, just for a moment. Moving your hips, stumbling about, thinking you were just about the sexiest thing in the room.
"Move out of my fucking way," was Lando's polite way of shoving two guys out of the way.
He could see the sweat glistening on your face. He could see the dumb smile on your face, your high giggles. He could see fresh wine spilled on your white jeans. He could see hands on you; he took no energy to see who they connected to as rage filled his entire being.
And he watched, almost in slow motion, as your ankle rolled on your black stiletto, and you stumbled to the floor with a brain rattling, painful cry.
Immediately, Lando shoved his way to your side, slipping his hands under your body. "My God, Y/n!" he nearly screamed over the music. "You idiot! You beautiful, fucking stupid, idiot! Tell me why I fell in love with you! You're going to be the death of me!"
"Hi Lando," you murmured through tears. "My ankle..."
"Yeah, yeah, I see. Let's get you out of here, yeah?"
You swallowed, nodding as Lando tucked your hair behind your ear. He lifted you to your feet and let you lean on him as he helped you limp out of the club.
"I'm sorry, Lando..." you had muttered hoarsely.
"Hey, don't worry," Lando had responded. "Never apologize for having nothing but a good time."
But he, Lando Norris, disagreed with the words coming out of his mouth. That was his motto, his excuse, all the time. But as soon as soon as he saw you, someone he genuinely really loved, really cared about, living like that?
It made him sick to his stomach.
Speaking of that, as soon as you were outside, you stumbled away from Lando. He steadied you with one hand and held your hair back with the other as you doubled over and vomited, your previously red face impossibly pale.
"Are you done?"
"Yeah..." you gasped after about a minute.
"Alright. Okay. Let's get to my hotel room now."
Lando could barely understand your slurred words as you responded, "As long as we're getting away from here."
Now
You were going to go to the Japanese Grand Prix. But you just wanted to stay home. With a sprained ankle that confines you to crutches and an illness you've picked up, there was no way you were going to fly across the world for a Grand Prix, especially with the potential jet lag.
You lay on your couch and text Lando. You've been thinking, and you let him know that though you really do want to go places with him, you want to go slower.
You still don't know what happened on that night in Melbourne. For some reason, you can't get anything of significance out of Carlos or Lando. But you know more than what they're saying must have happened that night.
You asked Charles, because he was there. He provided a bit more information, but not much. He said he wasn't really hanging around you that night, but that he did see you cuddling with Lando.
When you asked Lando about it, he said you were drunk, it was just you not thinking, and it only happened once. That you stopped after he pushed you off.
And social media shows no one caught it on camera, or anything that night, for that matter.
So at least there's no fans going crazy over anything.
Lando texts you back, saying that he thinks it's best to go slow. Just let yourselves ease into whatever your relationship is going to be.
It's a relief to see he agrees with you on that.
But then he sends another text, asking you to try to keep it a secret. Even from your family, including Carlos.
You ask why, and he responds saying he simply agrees it's good to be private, and he doesn't want Carlos judging.
Though you're not sure about it, since Carlos is not only your favorite (only) brother, but also your best friend, you still tentatively agree to it.
Lando probably has a good reason.
Right?
By the time the Chinese Grand Prix comes around, though your foot is still in a walking boot, you're over your illness, and decide you're going to go for it and make the trip halfway across the world. After all, you've never been to China!
It's true that your walking boot doesn't look the best with your shades, shining silver jewelry, and overalls, but oh well. The most annoying part is literally everyone who even half knows your name (the Sainz part) keeps asking you what the hell happened to your ankle.
And you have literally no response but, "I fell," because you have no more of an idea than them, and there's no way you're about to say, 'Hah I just got drunk with Lando and got so fucking crazy that I twisted my ankle and sprained it! Anyway!'
Yeah, no way.
So "I fell," is the best option you have.
But the most concerning thing to you is that you haven't even seen Lando yet, all weekend. Though you haven't seen each other in a while, you've been calling, texting, and face timing often, your relationship growing a lot.
You chew your lip as you limp towards the McLaren garage. You peek in, scanning for Lando, but only see Oscar.
You limp to him.
"Whoa- What happened to your-"
"I fell," you say, thoroughly exasperated with this. "Anyway, is Lando around?"
"Lando? Uhhh..." he looks around.
Dude, hurry up. I'm not supposed to be here, your thoughts practically scream.
But then he walks in himself, and you grin, waving, "Lando!" you call.
He walks over to you, smiling. "Aw. Look at my little injured girlfr- uh, uhm, mate. My injured mate." He glances nervously at Oscar.
But the Australian just smiles, "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."
Lando nods gratefully, before leading you to a more private place. "Hey," he says softly once you're alone, his hands resting on your waist. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm alright... Ankle's getting better, slowly but surely."
"Oh, good," he almost looks relieved. "That's so good to hear. I'm so glad you made the big trip to be here, Y/n."
You smile softly. "I was starting to miss you."
He grins. "I was missing you, too, baby... I think I could make some time for you this weekend, too. We could just get take out, hang out at my hotel room, you know. No more partying, even if I win, right?" he teases gently, gesturing to your foot.
You snort. "Yeah. Yeah, no more partying for now for me."
Later that night, you lay next to Lando in his hotel room. His arms are wrapped around you, his hand rubbing your back. "Look at me," he murmurs sleepily.
You look up to see his soft eyes looking at you, with so much, tenderness, so much...
love.
You feel a flutter in your stomach. "Lando, how did we get here?"
"What do you mean?"
"Two months ago, I would lie awake in bed, dreaming about and missing Ferran. I was so lonely. Now here I am. Two months, and I'm laying here, in your arms."
He grins a bit. "I bet it's because we're meant for each other."
"That's cliché."
"No, it's not. I really mean it. You know, I had a crush on you even back when Carlos was in McLaren, you were around a lot more, in papaya."
"No, you didn't-"
"Yes, I did!" he laughs softly. "I really did. The day I saw you in the paddock. The day Carlos pointed you out as his sister. The day you flipped your hair and looked at me with those warm brown eyes. And then looked away from me, because in my first season in McLaren, I was the farthest thing from attractive."
You giggle at this. "You're kidding."
"No, I'm not! That was the day that I knew- I knew- that someday, I was going to make you mine," he murmurs, his eye half-lidded as his hand gently caresses your cheek.
"Lando!" you squeak, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. "Don't you dare make me cry for no reason!" You wait a minute, before saying softly, "Well, maybe, just maybe, back then, though you were a pipsqueak, you were kind of cute... And I've always gotten butterflies from your jokes and teasing, even all those years ago, before I was even dating Ferran."
He laughs. "Awww... So you've always had a little bit of a crush on me, too!" You can see by his blushing cheeks and beaming eyes that just this fact is making him feel warm inside.
You roll your eyes, giggling. "I guess, maybe...."
He flicks your nose gently, playfully, holding you even closer. You lay there in more silence, before Lando says softer, even more tenderly, "Hey, Y/n... can I talk to you about something...?"
"Of course, Lando..." Your eyebrows knit together.
You watch as he swallows. Nods. Sighs. "Okay... Something has been bugging me..." He pauses. "I... I feel like I never should have brought you out that night in Australia... you know? Like, beyond the sprained ankle."
Your eyes flash. "What do you mean?"
"Well... You just got so drunk, and... I feel so bad... Like, somehow, it's my fault... I didn't mean for you to get hurt, or to drink that much... I just thought we'd have fun. Like I always do with my friends. And you're my girlfriend; supposed to be my closest friend..."
"Lando," you murmur shakily. "Did you try to get me that drunk? You didn't encourage it, did you?"
He looks nervous. "I genuinely don't think so, but I'm nervous I did... I tried to tell you enough was enough, but maybe I should have looked out for you more... Maybe I should have worked better at keeping you from getting that drunk... But we were having so much fun and I figured you would know your limit... I shouldn't have assumed."
"Lando! Don't blame yourself! It was my fault. I got too drunk, I fell and sprained my ankle. The sentiment of you wanting to look out for me is nice, but when push comes to shove, I'm in charge of myself, just like you're in charge of yourself, and it was my fault. My mistake. M'kay, Lando...?"
He nods slowly, still looking a bit unsure. "Well, Carlos isn't mad at you about it. He's mad at me..."
"Carlos is what?!"
"Ah, fuck. Forget I ever-"
"Lando Norris, explain."
"Whoa, that's sexy," he laughs.
"What?!" you exclaim in exasperation, yet you're still unable to keep your stomach fluttering by Lando's sudden spoken intrusive thought.
He grins, his eyebrows raised. "I don't know. Full name, in such a firm voice? Like, yes, mommy, order me around. I'll do whatever you want me to," he says in a low, goofy, teasing voice.
You can't stop your face from heating up. "Oh, shut it, you!" you snap, your voice cracking awkwardly as you flick him in the nose this time. And you flick his stupid nose harder than he flicked yours earlier.
He giggles evilly, rolling over. "Look at yourself! You liked that! You're a blushing mess!"
"No, I didn't. What a stupid way to flirt."
"Oh, well, I can show you even more stupid ways to flirt. Because, apparently, it doesn't quicken your heart rate at all."
You groan. "You are so annoying."
He leans over, giving you a peck on your lips. "I know. And you know you love me for it."
You forget to ask him again about Carlos.
"Baby, c'mere," Lando says, nodding for you to join him in his driver's room.
"Dude, watch what you call me when there's listening ears around."
Lando shrugs. "It's only Oscar in the other room."
"So? What makes you trust Oscar so much, anyway?"
He shrugs. "I don't know. He's a good guy. And he's not gossipy, like me."
You laugh. "You are, are you?"
"Oh, yeah. I'm a fucking gossip girl."
You laugh out loud at this as Lando shuts the door of his driver's room behind you.
Lando grins. "Anyways, Oscar is trustworthy because he's not the type of guy to have any desire not to keep a secret."
You frown, crossing your arms. "Alright. Whatever. Anyways, why'd you bring me in here?"
Lando shrugs, sitting down on the one chair in the room. "Sit down, babe."
You blink. "Where? On the fricking floor?"
"Uh, no," Lando rolls his eyes jokingly, as if this is the most obvious thing. "On my fricking lap, Y/n. Come on now. Duh."
You can't help but find yourself blush at that as you slip onto his lap. He wraps his hands around your waist, giving you a kiss on the cheek. You smile, leaning into him as you ask softly, "So why'd you bring me in here? Just for kicks?"
He grins. "I need my Y/n fix before the race. You know, it'll make me drive better."
"Oh? Is that how it works?" Suddenly, though, before Lando can respond, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You slip it out and sigh. "It's Carlos, asking me where I am. I feel like I'm under surveillance."
Lando blows a raspberry before saying, "Just ignore it, bae. You're a twenty-four year old woman; Carlos needs to get over it."
"Get over what?" you ask, an eyebrow raised.
"You not being his baby sister anymore. You're my baby now," he murmurs into your shoulder, pulling you closer to himself.
You laugh. "I still can't decide whether you're the worst flirt I've ever met or the smoothest. But right now, I'm thinking the worst."
"Oh, well!" he says, looking up at you with innocent eyes, batting his lashes. "Doesn't matter to me, because either way, you like it! Anyway, back to before Carlitos had to interrupt-"
You giggle as he begins kissing your face and say, "Carlitos? I'm not even allowed to call him that without him going psycho man on me-"
"Mmm... Can you talk less? It's cuter when you do that giggle thing," Lando murmurs between kisses.
This causes you to laugh out loud. "Sometimes, Lando, I think you're so weird." You realize, in a strange way, though, Lando is right. Because of the giddy feeling of literally having your boyfriend shower you with kisses and love, you're just kind of trying to find anything to talk about.
But maybe you should just take one moment to shut up.
You lean into the kisses, exhaling slowly. Contently, despite your pounding heart and sweating neck.
Finally, you feel as though your face is absolutely, completely covered in Lando's kisses. You sigh, contented, as Lando kisses the tip of your nose, and then pecks your lips.
You giggle, opening your eyes to gaze into his.
But his eyes flutter shut as he leans in, his hand slipping to the nape of your neck. And his lips meet yours again, this time in a real kiss. You shut your eyes, enjoying those lips on your own, sending tingles throughout your whole body, causing your breath to grow heavier and heavier. Desire pulses in every beat of your heart, causing the passion in the kiss to build and build. Your right hand falls into his chest as the other knits itself in his curly locks. You feel Lando's hand on your hip as his fingers snake under to grip your ass gently. You can feel his hot breath on you, in you, apart of you, as his other hand gently stroking your neck, giving you little twitches of longing for more. Your tongues find an art of lingering exploration, Lando's hunger seeming to never be satisfied as his tongue and lips tease your nerves, the emotional and physical connections between you seeming stronger than ever. His hand slides down your neck to your back, pulling you closer to him, so your chests are pressed into one another.
Suddenly, though, there's a pounding on the door of Lando's driver's room. Your eye cracks open. Lando's squeeze tighter shut, his eyebrows creasing together, as if he wishes so much that this never has to end.
Lando grunts, finally pulling away. Oscar's voice on the other side of the door saying Lando's name seems to be in another, insignificant world. You're both gasping as you study each other's eyes in a certain awe.
A soft, mischievous smirk appears on Lando's lips. Those lips that now you can't stop staring at. "Was your first kiss with Torres that hot?"
You let out a breathy laugh. "Definitely not."
There's a pause, of just softly smiling, gazing into each other's eyes, before Lando breathes, his eyes half-lidded, "My fucking God," He gently, slowly strokes your warm, pink cheek. "Did I ever tell you how head over heels I am for you?"
Before you can respond, Oscar's voice says again from outside, "Lando, if you don't respond, soon, I'm coming in."
Lando groans again, leaning his head back, "You can't! The door's locked!" He then adds under his breath, "Fucking Osc, interrupting as soon as I was going to take it to the next step."
At this, you blush even deeper. "You were-"
Lando waves his hand dismissively. "I would have checked with you first."
You nod, breathing deeply.
"Alright, baby," he sighs, running a hand through his hair, ruffling it up a bit. "Let's go see what the hell Oscar wants."
When the door swings open, Oscar can't help but chuckle how how much, in that moment, you two look like some snarky super villian duo, about to give him some cheesy monologue. You both stand, arms crossed, practically back to back. Lando wears a scornful grin and you display a glare as hard as stone. Even your clothes- Lando's racing clothes and your head-to-toe Ferrari red, finish off the silly look.
"What's so funny?" you demand upon seeing the Australian's laughter.
"Nothing, nothing. But I hope you guys know: These walls are not soundproof."
"What are you suggesting?" Lando snaps. "You couldn't have possibly heard anything, you idiot!"
"Whoa, whoa! I didn't! I'm just saying!" Oscar says, going on the defensive, putting both hands up. "Me and my girlfriend don't lock ourselves in my driver's room before the race, losing track of time and forcing you to go get us!"
"You and your girlfriend are probably going to buy a house with a white picket fence and have 2.5 children and a golden lab! Oscar and Lily is bad enough, but I'm surprised it's not John and Emily!"
"Whoa," Lando says, laughing as you walk out of the driver's room together and he shuts the door. "Shots fired. Calm down, Y/n; jeez."
But Oscar's laughing, too, so you know there's no need to apologize.
"Lan... You know I wasn't kidding earlier when I said I won't go out, right?" you say nervously as you walk into his hotel room, rolling your suitcase from your own hotel room.
"Yeah, I know you weren't. I wasn't kidding, either."
"So... What?" you ask, sitting down on the edge of his bed, crossing your arms. "You're planning on going alone? Then why did you bring me to your hotel room-"
"Y/n," he suddenly says, leaning down to gently grab your chin and look you directly in your eyes. "I'm not going anywhere tonight. I'm staying right here."
Your jaw actually drops. "I'm sorry, but who are you and what have you done with Lando Norris? Because that man would never miss an opportunity to party."
This makes Lando let go of you and break into a fit of laughter. "Y/n!" he breathes. "What the hell are you talking about? Before that, I would never miss an opportunity to spend time with you."
You stare. "Okay, actually. I'm being serious now. What did you do with Lando?"
You watch as your boyfriend chuckles, sitting down next to you. "Baby. I'm not going to go out clubbing while you sit in a hotel room alone. And there's no way I'm taking you out again; my guilty conscience can't take that, and neither can your sprained ankle. So why not celebrate P2 here, just you and I, hm?" he says in a low tone.
Immediately, at this suggestion, you blush. "Oh, uh, Lando... I, uh... I don't know if I'm ready for something... you know... for that... right now... Not yet... You know, it's too early for me in our relationsh-"
Lando suddenly breaks into laughter again. Oh, that sweet, silly sound. "Y/n! My God, what a dirty mind you have! I wasn't thinking that at all-!"
"You, Lando Norris, are saying I have a dirty mind?! I bet you really are his doppelganger!"
He crosses his arms. "Only reason why I wouldn't suggest that is because I know you're not ready. Which is more than one hundred percent fine with me. I wasn't even thinking about that, anyway."
"What were you thinking, then?"
He smiles with his eyes. "Well, let's both get ready for bed," he begins pulling his shirt off over his head as you absolutely bear your eyes into him, "And once we're both ready, I'll meet you back... here...?" His confused face slowly turns to one of teasing nature when he sees your eyes trained intently on his bare chest. His perfectly toned abs. His perfectly shaped pecs. His strong, straight, tan back. The little brown beauty marks sprinkled all over his torso. You would love to kiss every single one of them. "Why don't you take a picture?" he smirks stupidly. "That way, it'll last longer."
"Oh, shut up," you murmur, licking your lips as you tear your eyes away from his bare middle. "You can shower first," you murmur.
Once you're both all clean and ready, you snuggle up under the blankets, only to find your arm brushing against Lando's bare skin.
You feel your heart flutter as you murmur, "Are you not wearing a shirt just to bother me?"
"What, no," Lando says, overly innocently. "I never wear a shirt to bed. Just like I'm sure you never wear a bra...?"
If you were embarrassed before, now it's ten times worse. You specifically decided to wear a bra, to avoid... that. And now here Lando is, bringing it up like it's the weather.
"Uh..." you begin.
"Anyway!" Lando says, apparently seeing the vaguely panicked look in your eyes. "Wanna just watch a show or something?"
"Yeah," you nod. "That sounds good."
Lando turns some stupid show on his laptop, and as you snuggle and it gets later, you become more relaxed. You lean your head on Lando's shoulder as he plays with strands of your smooth, wet, dark hair. Your hands begin softly feeling his chest, just drawing circles and feeling the shapes of his abs.
Everyday, you seem to get to know Lando more and more- inside and out.
He sighs, contented, and murmurs sleepily, "That feels nice."
You smile, nuzzling into him.
"I saw Barcelona and Madrid played today," he comments as your fingers continue stroking the abs under Lando's soft skin.
"Yeah... El Clásico..."
"You don't sound as excited as I thought you would. I thought you were big on Madrid."
"Yeah, I am... Just having been keeping up with La Liga lately, I guess."
"Hm... Well, would you like it if I could find some way to watch the game...?"
You smile softly. "Hm. Yeah, maybe that wouldn't be so bad..."
Lando nods, and soon, you're cuddled up with your boyfriend, watching your favorite team play against FC Barcelona/your ex's team.
It feels weird, but you like it.
You decide your bra isn't very comfy and slip it off under your shirt before tossing it across the room.
"You're finally over being embarrassed with me?" Lando teases.
You smile softly, shutting your eyes. "At least for now. Too sleepy to care."
He smiles back. "You're cute when you're sleepy. Cuter."
Soon, though, Lando is gently shaking you, murmuring, "Look. Your ex was subbed on."
"Hmmm? What about Fer?" you murmur with a yawn. You must have dozed off for a bit.
"Fer?" Lando asks, his nose scrunching up. "Yeah, Ferran Torres."
Your eyes flutter open to see your ex-boyfriend running onto the pitch. You feel a sudden, unexpected pang in your chest. When you and Ferran were still together, you watched him do that so many time, with a sense of pride and excitement.
But now, you don't feel much at all. It's no different from anyone else going out there to play.
But, like a train, memories of the past begin to hit you.
Going for walks with him. Cheering him on at finals. Hanging out with his teammates. Working out with him. Bringing him to the Barcelona Grand Prix. Exchanging gifts on birthdays and holidays.
Just all the little things you used to do.
Like snuggling with each other on late nights after Barcelona won.
Not unlike what you and Lando are doing right now.
Suddenly Lando's arm around you tightens, and he says, "You okay?"
"I- yeah..."
Lando leans forward to see you face. You try to turn it away. Lando doesn't let you.
You stare into each other's eyes.
"You're crying," he states softly.
"I guess..." you trail off, averting your eyes.
There's a few beats of silence before Lando states again, "You still miss him."
"I guess..." you repeat. "But... I'm happy to be with you... it just all happened so quick... It's a lot for me... I'm mostly over it- over him- by now, but sometimes things just... make me start to think. Reminsce of what's not anymore."
Lando slowly nods, and begins rubbing your shoulder. "I- Alright..."
"But don't worry. I'm way more happy to be with you right now than sad to not be with Ferran any longer."
"You're sure?" the Brit asks tentatively.
You nod, leaning into him once more. "I'm sure. One hundred and one percent."
"Hey, Lando," you grin giddily before the Miami Grand Prix. "Just drive your best out there, okay? Good luck, baby." You give him a high-five. You can sense he wants to give you a hug, but painfully knows he can't because of the ever-watching cameras and eyes all around you.
But he leans in close, until you can practically feel his breath on your face, and says softly, in just about the most heart-wrenching-in-a-good-way low voice, "Oh, baby... I'm going to go out there and win that race. For you."
"Oh, stop being such a romantic. You're going to make me cry."
He leans in, about to kiss your cheek, but you gently push him off, saying, "You better get going, Lan! Race is going to start soon!"
"Right! Bye bye, bab-"
"BYE!" you scream to overpower his stupid 'baby girl.'
And before you can even blink twice, it seems-
It's lights out....
And away we go!
"LANDO! FUCKIN'! NORRIS!" you scream as soon as you see him, running to him as fast as you can. Your eyes threaten to fill over their brims with tears as you leap into Lando's arms, immediately forgetting about hiding your relationship.
Right now, that just seems too silly to care about. It doesn't matter enough.
Your boyfriend is a race winner.
The racer winner!
He leans back with the most joyful, most romantic, most adrenaline filled, most glorious look in his eyes as they search yours. His hand slowly strokes your cheeks as he purrs, "I told you I would win it for you, didn't I?"
"Lando-" you begin in excitement, but are interrupted by Lando's lips on yours, aggressively, passionately leaning into yours, flooding all his emotions into you, sharing his dream coming true with you.
For some reason, you begin to cry. Flows of tears, flooding down your cheeks as you kiss each other, and your heart pounds at a million kilometres an hour. His hands grip your waist tight, and the moment-
It all seems so perfect.
Right now, you don't care about the fact it was supposed to be secret. You don't care about what Carlos will think or say or do, or what fans on social media will post. None of it matters.
In this moment, the only two people that matter are you and Lando, in a symphony of amorousness, standing on the top of the world.
In this moment, you and Lando, both in sync, know this is the right time. Though it's been merely three months of being in a real, serious relationship, it feels like several lifetimes.
You don't care about the shock of other people, or the cameras flashing and clicking and filming.
All the sudden, you're proud of it.
You want everyone to know, no matter how they'll react, that you're Lando's, and Lando is yours.
When you finally break away from each other, Lando's smile remains as he gazes into your eyes.
"Are you crying too?" you giggle softly as you spot a glint in his eyes.
"What? Me, crying? No, I'm not crying! Of course I'm not crying!" he says teasingly, hastily wiping at his eye with his thumb. "You're the one crying! But anyway-" He slips the papaya McLaren cap off his head and plops it on yours, saying, "Won't be needing this for the top step. Besides," he smirks, leaning in closer. "Enough with all this Ferrari stuff. I think it's finally time for you to admit: Papaya looks best on you. Papaya's your color."
As you watch him jog off after that, stunned, you feel pleased.
Finally, for once, content.
That's right. My color isn't white, or blaugrana. It's not Ferrari's red, either.
I'm a papaya girl.
His papaya girl.
427 notes · View notes
maikissed · 19 days ago
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the day I saw your eyes, I stayed
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jude bellingham x reader
warnings: none, just a tad of sexual tension, yeah
note: there is going to be part 2! I planned to write the whole story in one shot but I gotta go to sleep now and was too excited about this rubbish (jk, I love it tbh). And he scored today, whoop sorry for any mistakes!!!!
Rose got herself a new boyfriend. The name brought up in presence of your girlfriends caused much of a fuss. It was a grand revelation and as much as it surprised you as well, you did not share the enthusiasm as every other girl in the room. Not because you felt envious, jealousy was never your thing, you rather grew worrisome. The excitation over the fact that Rose secured herself a football player of such range – famous, a hot topic, high quality player, one of the most valuable characters in the England national team, highly payed, and to add to that: uncommonly gorgeous - absolutely knocked your friends of their feet, but to you… To you it was a sign of massive trouble. People like him belonged to a world where individuals had their impeccable ways to draw from their fame, money and phenomenon as much as they could, despite the morality or ethics. Rose always mingled among various groups of people, there were musicians, actors, even politicians. She was a lovely girl, very pretty, her modelling career developed quickly, spectacularly. But she still haven’t made her name the way she aimed to. You suspected the boys she chose were always an occasion, a special addition to make her reach for more, to be seen, to feel special and unique. She was determined, regardless of the consequences, regardless of the fact how many times she has suffered and burned herself even almost to the point of absolute destruction. It felt awful to even reminisce it. But that’s how it’s been so far, it was the path she has chosen. Although this time this whole situation felt much different, there was a spark in her eyes that could tell you many things. But you would define it this way: she intended to hold onto him, she wanted to keep him. He seemed like the greatest prize. But who would have thought that the massive trouble you feared from the very start would be your burden to deal with?
Jude Bellingham.
Girls were over the moon when the time has come and Rose invited you all to join them in a private lounge in one of the most exclusive clubs in London. You scoffed when you heard the name of the place, you remembered the time when you and Lucia tried to sneak in there, but the bodyguard was too smart to fall for your theatrics. Only precisely selected people could party there. It was one of those grand and fancy places. So you found yourself invited, at last. Yet you weren’t very thrilled about the way you were about to spend your Saturday night. It turned out you would be the only single person there.
And him? The man, the hot topic himself? He was taller than you envisioned, maybe the hair added to that? His smile truly was bright, he was well built, broad shoulders, but not too muscular, well, he was an athlete. The Brummie dialect annoyed you at the start, but the itch seemed to cease as you payed attention to the tone of his voice, there was nothing particular about it, it was just right, good, not screechy, not too deep just… pleasant. He was an amiable guy, you thought to yourself, polite and friendly at the first contact. You realised you were a careful observer until he turned to you to greet. Now you were very much noticed, now you had to act as a part of the events, not a shadow and analyser. And situation very much changed. Time seemed to slow down so suddenly, you found yourself in the strangest state of unconsciousness, like a scene in a movie where the background blurs and any noise is muted, when the spectator is deprived of any other senses despite the sight to notice those specific details that are supposed to made him feel the sublimity of a given moment. And the source of it was in his eyes, you realised, and the way he smiled softly as he extended his hand to you. It was strange and disturbing, his eyes seemed to be the darkest ones you’ve ever seen, but you most definitely had seen eyes like his before, no doubt about it. You took a breath, blinked, fought to not fall into this depth that almost sucked you in. He was smiling, now something slightly impudent about it, and you realised he truly was stunningly gorgeous. Strangely, insanely attractive. Just a simple look into his eyes made you stumble into a realisation that there was something different about this man. And it frightened you.
You did say your name back, did you?
As the night went by you decided to stay in your attentive observer state. You felt safer there, although decency inquired you to engage in few conversations with your friends. Tonight you felt tense, carefully sipping the wine, you tried with all your might to relax and stop examining so intensely the boy seated opposite you. Few new conclusions you came into in the last hour was the fact that he was a great interlocutor, he listened as well, and his smile was one of the most pleasurable things you’ve experienced in your lifetime. You just couldn’t take your eyes off. And another conclusion was that him and Rose was nothing of exclusive. No lingering stares, no secret touches. After all, they met quite recently. She wondered if she bagged him already. And if so, would they all be there if she did? He did not seem like the kind to make such effort to get himself a girl he was not seriously interested in. Rose was not the type to act restrained and unavailable. She crawled into many beds the first night she met someone. You kept yourself far from casual hook-ups and one night stands, just a simple thought of it made you uncomfortable. But for her it was a common thing, if you could use such words. So, was he really interested?
After a while all of your friends decided to use the night to the fullest as the alcohol finally kicked in, rushing to the dancefloor and you truly couldn’t find the spur to join them. You were seriously thinking about taking a French leave. And you almost succeeded.
“You’re not enjoying yourself much, are you?” a well known voice reached you from behind and you turned your head in its direction.
Something in your gut jumped as you spotted Jude. He took a seat beside you. You smiled as his scent reached you, fresh, citrus with addition of something stronger and… alluring.
“I’ve had a long day. Tired, I guess” a safe and simple answer.
His full attention was on you, no one here to accompany you. It begun to feel overwhelming because you did not expected his gaze to be so intense.
“I know the feeling. Find myself in a constant state of weariness lately, cannot get rid of it” he played with his glass, the liquid looked like orange juice.
“Well, you live quite the fast and exciting life” you noted, observing as the corner of his mouth rose a little at your comment.
“Where are you from?” he asked, not continuing the subject you just raised.
“Here, London, born and raised” you smiled again before lowering your gaze, finding the glass of wine interesting “Became as gloomy and morose as this city”
“I wouldn’t describe you with such words” his voice was soft when he said it, something itched in you to ask what words would he use to describe you, but raising the glass of wine up to your lips saved you from that. You hoped you didn’t blush.
“My grandmother always says that I’m an old soul. Emphasizes it like it’s a virtue” you continued.
“That’s a very interesting thing to say about someone. Mine says that I’m a lovely companion although I use way too foul language and it’s scandalous” he frowned funnily and you laughed at the information, he quickly accompanied you.
“Well, I haven’t yet got the occasion to hear some of that tonight”
“I’m trying to be a gentleman” he murmured “It would be improper to throw fucks around in presence of a pretty girl” a lively glint in his eyes as he looked at you.
Now you definitely blushed.
The conversation flowed from there, and you realised you grew more comfortable with each passing minute. He truly was a great listener, and a good companion. He made you laugh many times and suddenly you stopped regretting leaving your apartment for this night out. He was not daft or arrogant as you might have presumed before you met him, being smothered by all this money he had and a name he’s gotten himself at such young age. The complexity of his persona could be spotted in his eyes as you payed closer attention, but it was his words and the way he picked on any subject you brought, that expressed his maturity and wide perception. You haven’t met a guy like him in a long time.
“What are you guys doing here? Come on down, join us!” it was Charlotte’s comment as she came to the longue after a while.
You haven’t even realised how much time has passed and how much alcohol you have already poured into yourself. You only picked on that as you stood up, dizziness hit you like lighting but you composed yourself, agreeing on Charlotte’s and then Jude’s proposition. As soon as you joined the dancefloor, Rose spotted you both, throwing her hands around Jude, guiding him deeper, keeping him closer. He kept his eyes on you as she did it and a strange feeling stroked you as you kept his gaze. Charlotte grabbed you by your hands, singing the words out loud, the song was energetic and lively, you laughed at your friend. Others from your pack nowhere to be seen. So you loosened up and tried to keep up with your drunk companion. The dancefloor became quite chaotic, people jumping around, your eyes landing on Jude from time to time and to your surprise he was looking your way as well. There was a lean and tall guy that jumped in front of Jude, almost stumbling over him and you laugh at that, seeing that Jude laughed as well, his attention still on you. You wanted to share this fun with him directly, but it was forbidden since the realest fact of this night was that he was not yours to have.
“I need to pee!” Rose shouted near you and you turned, watching as she grabbed Charlotte with her, leaving the dancefloor.
You stopped and decided to follow your friends but felt someone’s presence behind your back before you made any move.
“Now I can tell you’re enjoying your night!” Jude called next to your ear, this way you could hear him well despite the thumping music.
When you turned around you noticed how close he stood, you had to raise your head to look at his face, his big and dark eyes gazing down at you, full lips twisted into an amused smile. You returned the smile.
“You are a terrible dancer” you shouted back to him, your voice filled with laughter.
“That’s a fact” he nodded “But you’re quite good, show me more” he reached for your hips to draw you deeper into the dancefloor and you laughed out, throwing your head back as he lead you with him.
You have not payed much attention to the closeness of your bodies as long as the songs were quick and your movements kept rapidly changing with the rhythm. Still, you haven’t realised the sound slowing, a more sensuous song sounded from the loudspeaker, you knew this one. If the reason could break through the basses that reached your ears, you would finish your dance right this moment. But the fact was that it did not. So you continued, with your hands placed at his shoulders you begun to move your hips. Your eyes closed as you turned around, your back to him, he was not touching you, not directly. He took your hands in his and you started to raise it up in the air, you smiled when you felt his breath on your ear. Your joined hands stayed up longer, his on the other hand slowly trailed lower and lower, down your forearms, then your shoulders, then down your body. His touch sure yet lenient and soft at the same time electrified you. Carefully and attentively, making sure to not touch your breasts on the way, he rested them on your hips, feeling the rhythm you kept on. You were not sure if it was him that pressed on you or was it purely your movement, but your back met with his front fully, and a sharp intake of breath stuck in  your throat at the realisation. His hands still rested on your hips, making your body move with no pause. You were close, too close, you could already feel too much. But you found it difficult to part with him, to stop it and call it improper. Your eyes wide open but blind. You only focused on the sense of touch, feeling him moving with you. Your hands fell down to reach his head and then levelled on his nape and you kept them there. Feeling something growing inside of you, along with a rough shot of adrenaline that made your heart beat strongly against ribs. Once more his breath landed on your ear, close, closer. A strange sensation squeezed your throat and you realised you swallowed back a moan. It was like a rough strike, you turned around to face him, with intention to take a step back, but he held you closer, pressing his palm against your back. You sighed and met his eyes. Dark, darker. You wanted to run.
“Thank you for the dance” you said innocently and he watched the movement of your lips as you spoke.
A daring smirk appeared on his mouth and you shuddered. Were you trapped now?
You had to run. So you did.
174 notes · View notes
rebelliousneferut · 4 months ago
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love in the spotlight | kylian mbappe x model!reader
summary; you and kylian have been dating for a while and everything is going well until he signs for real madrid and everyone thinks you broke up
genre; fluff, smau
face claim; elisa maino
note; English is not my first language
masterlist!
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˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚
over a year of dating kylian mbappé feels surreal. it all started at a gala – a world you stepped into with your blossoming modeling career. a chance encounter, a meeting of eyes across the room, and suddenly, the world-famous footballer seemed like just another guy, shyly hoping to impress. he knew you were the one that night, and by the end of it, you were on a date with kylian mbappé.
the rollercoaster began. the highs were exhilarating – stolen kisses under the eiffel tower, surprise visits during fashion weeks, the thrill of cheering him on from the vip box at the parc des princes. the lows were like navigating a minefield – prying paparazzi, jealous whispers, fans who seemed to think they owned a piece of his heart. but through it all, you were a team. six months in, you took the plunge, moving to paris to be with him.
keeping your relationship a secret felt strange. but kylian, ever the strategist, knew the media frenzy that would erupt. so, you flew under the radar, your love a secret whispered between stolen moments. until, of course, the bombshell signing with real madrid. the world learned about kylian's move, and then, they learned about you. the spotlight found you, but you weren't afraid. you had him by your side, and together, you were ready to face anything.
everything was out in the open with kylian. from the start, fans adored their union. they were a social media darling couple, constantly cheering each other on and attending events together. kylian's move to real madrid, however, cast an unexpected shadow. public appearances dwindled, and whispers of a breakup swirled through the tabloids.
y/nl/nuser
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liked by kendalljenner, wolfiecindy, charles_leclerc and others
y/nl/nuser ✨🌼
username you're the prettiest!!!
username is she in madrid with kylian?
username i don't think so. she was attending an event in milan
username it's been a while since we last saw them together 😢
username where is kylian and why not in the likes?? 😭
username don't overreact. obviously he is busy with his move to madrid
username even so he always has been so supportive with her
username they don't owe us nothing girl. let them be private if they want
charles_leclerc beauty
❤️ liked by the author
username i'm getting crazy rn
you were scrolling through your instagram when a post popped up. it was a hilarious play on the whole "celebrity couple break up" trope, and you found yourself letting out a genuine laugh. a moment later, kylian's face filled your screen on a video call. his brow furrowed in concern.
"there you are," he said, relief washing over his features. "why did you like that post, y/n?"
"oh, kylian" you sighed, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "it was just... funny. sorry, mon amour, i just needed a laugh."
kylian's expression softened. he knew the pressure you were both under. "maybe we should do something to address the rumors," he suggested.
you nodded, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "let's give them something truly unexpected."
footballwags
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liked by y/nl/nuser, username, kmbappefans
footballwags possible breakup between the model y/n l/n and the soccer player kylian mbappé? it's been a while since they were last seen together publicly and they currently no longer react to his posts and there doesn't seem to be any contact between them. we assume that y/n is in milan at an event to which she was invited while kylian is in madrid. what do you think about this? we are sad to see one of our favorite couples distance themselves, in any case we wish them both many good things
kmbappefans as any other couple they deserve respect. please give them privacy and don't spread unfunded rumours
username 💀💀💀
username she is in the likes...
username i think that's enough confirmation
username @k.mbappe @y/nl/nuser please tell us something 😭😭
k.mbappe
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liked by vinijr, judebellingham, endrick and others
k.mbappe mi nueva casa 🏟️😍 #halamadrid
elisahums hala madrid baby
username and?
username who are you?????
kmbappefans 🤍🤍🤍
username she's not even here 💔
username i'm starting to believe the rumours...
realmadrid 🤍🤍🤍
judebellingham welcome mate 😆🤝
y/nl/nuser uploaded to their story;
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k.mbappe mine ❤️
y/nl/nuser
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liked by k.mbappe, wolfiecindy, kmbappefans, footballwags and others
y/nl/nuser from paris to madrid and to the end of the world, i love you my big boy ❤️
k.mbappe je t'aime mon amour, thank you for all your support ❤️
❤️ liked by the author
username I LOVE THEM SO MUCH THAT I'M CRYING
username i'm literally crying too 😭
username don't scare me like that again 😡
username you are my favourites
footballwags thanks god our favourite couple is still together and happy ❤️
k.mbappe uploaded to their story;
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[caption: my pretty girl]
264 notes · View notes
so-so-woso · 1 year ago
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i wanna be the one | part 1
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Edit: Changed title. Thanks to Dru for the suggestion. From the song "Things We Never Say" by the Bad Bad Hats. Great song, potentially relevant maybe who knows.
Summary: Reader is an English-American GK who joins the Arsenal squad and ends up in an interesting back and forth with Leah Williamson. This chapter is mainly set-up for the future. The vibes will probably be very different going forward lol
Warnings: Angst, swallowing self-doubt, and mentions of parental death in the first section.
Word Count: 3,284
London felt just like Seattle. You were expecting it to feel different, more European (whatever that meant), but when you stepped out of the airport and that familiar January rain hit your skin, it was a welcome feeling. It wasn’t quite Home – you hadn’t had one of those in a long time – but it was definitely welcoming, and nice enough that you didn’t bother with an umbrella. It would’ve been hard enough trying to carry one along with all your bags anyway, although by the look on your driver’s face he really wished you had at least tried. It was nice that the team had sent a car to meet you, especially since you didn’t really know anyone here that well, but you supposed they would do that for any new signing. The driver helped you get your bags into the car and then you were off to the club to dot some Is and cross some Ts to make everything truly official.
Wistful thoughts crept into the back of your mind as you were chauffeured through the streets of London, and you decided for the first time in a long time not to fight them. Not here, anyway – not now. Not after everything it took to get you here. Get you here again, technically. You were born in London after all, and raised in Sheffield where your mother had grown up. Your father was an American, from Dallas, who came to England for graduate school and stayed for the woman he fell in love with. He often teased her about “real (American) football” but she converted him to Sheffield United fan, though he would never admit it – at least not until you were born. Match days became a family event as soon as you could stand up on your own, even though you were still too young to really remember anything at that point, but by the time you could run you wanted nothing more than to play. You were always bigger than the other kids so they made you play with the boys, but you knew a lot of the women’s national team players had played on boys’ teams growing up, so you didn’t mind it. You were never upset about that, but you were upset when they made you move to the goalkeeper position when you were eight. It was the boring position and you never got to do anything, but you were the only kid on the team who didn’t seem scared of the ball when it came flying at you, so the job fell to you. Many years later, it would prove to be the right choice, but for a while you thought it felt like a punishment from the universe. Then you found out what that kind of punishment actually felt like.
You were only eleven when your parents died. It was a car accident; your mom was driving. She took the brunt of it and was gone by the time the ambulance arrived. Your dad was in the hospital for two days, but he never woke up. You had been in the back seat. Heavy bruising, a busted ribs, broken collarbone, and a big gash across the side of the head was it for you. You were in the hospital too, for a while. Your paternal grandmother came all the way from Austin to pick you up and take you to live with her. Your mom’s parents had been gone for a while now, and GiGi – what you had called your father’s mother – was all you had left. You had only met her a few times before, but you didn’t really have another option, so across the pond you went.
It would be a massive understatement to say that Texas was different from Sheffield. It was truly a whole different world, but kids are resilient enough. You were famous for a while, because of your accent, and then you were weird for a while, because of your accent, and then eventually you became just one of the kids. Your GiGi was supportive as well, more than you had expected her to be. You didn’t know much of the specifics as a kid, but you knew she and your father had had some sort of falling out and weren’t as close as they had been when he was younger. You always thought it had to do with him choosing to stay in England rather than come home to America. When you got older it seemed like maybe there was more to it than that, but GiGi wouldn’t talk about it. She did help you get into therapy, so that you could learn how to process what had happened and all the big changes that came with it. You didn’t like it at the time, but in hindsight it was probably the best thing she could’ve done. She even started trying to learn about football – soccer – too, because she knew you liked it, and she made sure to sign you up for the local league. You think maybe that time doesn’t heal wounds, but it sort of scabs them over enough that they only hurt when you pick at them, so eventually you learn to stop picking at them, and after that life became kind of normal.
You eventually played soccer in high school – goalkeeper, naturally – and were good enough to get recruited to the University of Texas. From there, the NWSL draft sent you to Seattle for the OL Reign. You spent a season as the third-string goalkeeper, then a season as the second-string, and then were presented with an opportunity you couldn’t dare turn down. It had been Kim Little’s idea, apparently. She had only played with you in Seattle for a month or so, and you never really hung out, but she knew you had grown up in England and that you had really wanted the chance to play football in Europe. She would tell you later that she was impressed with your resilience, something you had heard often growing up, and that you had a “dead brilliant reaction speed” which you guessed sounded good. So when Arsenal’s back-up goalkeeper transferred out and they were weighing their options, she suggested they give you a look. She had said it offhandedly, like it wasn’t a big deal, but you would wager she fought harder for you than she let on. You had only played a handful of games in two seasons, and while you were admittedly good, the offer from the English club still came as a massive surprise. They were up front and adamant about your status as a pure back-up to Zinsberger, and while you would’ve had a decent chance to win the starting spot in Seattle, you just couldn’t say no to European football, to England, to the Arsenal.
That’s how you ended up in the back of a dark car being driven through the streets of north London in the pouring rain. Your fingers fiddled absently at the chain around your neck and the two golden bands that hung from it while you considered everything that led you here, hoping that you made the right choice. Only time would tell, you thought, as the car squealed to a slow stop. You hesitated for a long moment before tucking the necklace under your shirt and moving to exit the vehicle. The driver met you at the car door, an umbrella extended overhead. You were taller than him, so you had to awkwardly bend your neck as he moved to close the door behind you.
“This shouldn’t take long,” he said, “Then we’ll get you home.” You thanked him and stuffed your fists in the pockets of your coat as you followed him up to the club, your stomach slowly rising higher and higher into your throat as the series of decisions you had recently made began to congeal rather quickly into a hard reality. It was some grotesque mix of nerves and excitement and fear that just fully slapped you in the face when you stepped inside the building. You hadn’t felt like this in Seattle, or on the plane, or in the car, but now that you were here, physically, it’s like everything else was physical too. It wasn’t some amorphous Choice floating in the metaphorical ether of your life; it was a foreboding Presence leering down at you, clawing at your shoulders from behind, and whispering ‘you don’t deserve this’ into your psyche. Nausea began to swell up, to the point you were just starting to feel dizzy. Out of instinct you reached forward and put your hand on the driver’s shoulder, who stopped walking to turn and see what you needed. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but was interrupted by a distinctly Scottish, “Oh ‘ey, Tex!” behind you.
You both turned to see Kim Little striding down the hallway, followed closely by Jonas and one of the other coaches. You swallowed hard, all the torturous feelings slowly fading away as you saw a familiar face. “Hey, Little Kim, “ you retorted. She scoffed and faked a jab towards your ribs before she reached up to hug you.
“Welcome to the party,” she said, stepping back to introduce the coaches, who shook your hands. They welcomed you as well and explained that the evening would be brief, they were sure you’d be tired from the flight, but just needed to finalize some things on the business side and then Kim would give a tour of the facilities. You thanked them, probably too many times, and went with them all to finish your paperwork and pick up your official training gear. Your kit wouldn’t be ready until tomorrow since they’d have to put your name on and weren’t sure what number you wanted (you picked 18 because it was available and made sense for a goalkeeper). Kim showed you around, asked about the flight, and made you feel as welcome as she thought she could. It was nice to talk to someone for a while. You weren’t exactly an extrovert, but you were Southern enough you enjoyed being around people, and being able to talk to Kim, even if it was more or less small talk, made you feel better, and by the time the tour was done all of the earlier feelings were forgotten. You started to think that maybe this whole thing was a good idea after all.
“So no rest for the weary – first training tomorrow, yeah? Text me your address and I’ll pick you up. Since you won’t have a car, Uber’s always an option, but until you get sorted, you can get rides with me,” Kim said.
“Sounds good. Thanks, I appreciate it.”
“Don’t thank me yet, I’m picking you up extra early tomorrow – the girls’ll want to meet you before kickin’ balls at your head.”
“Well, I guess that’s only polite.”
You both laughed and hugged goodbye before heading your separate ways, you pulling out your phone to look up your new address to send it to Kim. This was a good decision, you thought, this was a good decision.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Your apartment – or flat? – was nicer than you expected it to be. You had done a Zoom tour while you were still in Seattle and it looked fine, but you had tempered your expectations to be safe. Turns out, you didn’t need to. It was a two-bedroom and furnished with the basics, so there was plenty of space for you and plenty room to decorate as you saw fit. You had what was sometimes described as an eclectic taste by your friends, mainly because you liked to decorate with things that made you happy. That seems like an obvious thing to decorate with, but you were kind of – literally – a giant dork, which meant you had a lot of “nerd shit” as your friends would tease. You expected the Arsenal girls would do the same if they ever started coming over, but all of that would be a long time coming. Tonight, all you wanted to do was collapse into bed, which is exactly what you did.
Kim wasn’t lying when she said she’d pick you up early. At least she had the decency to bring you coffee, but she was completely taken aback when you admitted you didn’t really drink coffee and actually preferred tea. “Guess there is some English in you after all,” she had joked as she drove. She asked about your night and how you slept, and pointed out all the important-to-know shops and stops between your apartment and the training center. When you finally arrived, you asked her if she accepted tips for her tour knowledge – to which she responded with “only big bills”. You laughed as you retrieved your bag from the back of her car, and the two of you headed in.
The next few days were an absolute blur. You were introduced to everyone, and they all seemed pretty nice. McCabe kept talking about how tall you were, but from how everyone else acted that was normal. Manu was happy to have another goalkeeper in the squad despite the fact you would both technically be competing for the starting spot, even though you were explicitly hired as a back-up. At least it didn’t seem like there would be any weird hurt feelings or anything there, so you were glad for that. All your other time was spent trying to discern personality types and team dynamics, and also actually training. The coaches had told you they wouldn’t expect you to go full on for the first few days to give you time to acclimate to everything. You thanked them, of course, but that didn’t stop you from diving in head first.
By the time your official day three was over, you wished you had taken it a little easier. It felt like jet lag hit you late, on top of the normal physical tiredness of training. But that evening as the team as the team filtered out of the locker room, Katie McCabe slapped you on the back and said, “Drinks on you tonight, mate!” You turned to look at her, but before you could ask, Kim interrupted with a sharp “Katie–“
“Hold on, hold on! I don’t mean a big to-do, but we gotta welcome the newbie right, right?”
A couple of the other players voiced their agreement and Kim rolled her eyes. “Two drink maximum.”
“Four.”
“Two.”
“Three?”
“Two, McCabe.”
“Two and shots?”
“…”
“Two…and shots?”
“…one shot.”
“Fuck yes, best captain ever! You’re riding with us, Y/N!”
A mix of confusion and amusement spread across your face as you looked between the two of them, and Kim just shook her head and waved at you to go with Katie, so you let yourself be pulled away into whatever the night would bring.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Despite telling you that you were paying for drinks, Katie was nice enough to only make you buy the shots, and despite Kim’s hesitance at you all going out mid-week, it was a surprisingly calm evening. You ended up sitting at a table with just a handful of your new teammates. Most of them were joking around with each other, teasing and taunting. You sat quietly, unsure of how inserting yourself into the dynamic would come off. You thought of a few quips throughout the conversations, but made sure to hold your tongue, choosing to sip on your beer instead.
“You always this quiet?”
You glanced over in the direction of the voice, inadvertently locking eyes with Leah Williamson. You knew who she was, obviously – won the Euros and all. What you hadn’t known was that she was even more attractive in person. You didn’t even know that was possible, but it was certainly a pleasant surprise.
“Not usually,” you responded, drawing in a breath. “Just can’t get a word in edgewise with this one goin’ off.”
You gestured towards Katie, who didn’t even register the comment. It did get a chuckle out of Steph and Foord, though, which made you relax a bit. Looking back at Leah, she was still looking at you, but didn’t seem to react otherwise. You paused for a moment, chewing on the inside of your cheek, before deciding to just go for it.
“So in the summer do you ever get a weird tan on your forehead from frowning so much?”
That did draw Katie’s attention; you could tell from the way she practically guffawed.
“Oy, she’s got you dead to fuckin’ rights!” she said, leaning over to elbow at Leah. The Aussies had laughed as well, as did Kim. Leah didn’t look impressed at the remark, but from the twitch of her lips you would swear she was biting back a smile. She had nice lips. Were you staring at her lips? Your eyes flashed back up to hers and she was still looking at you. She would’ve been able to tell where you were staring. That’s…embarrassing. You swallowed hard, and quickly looked away, taking a long swig of your drink. If anyone else at the table noticed the interaction, they didn’t react. Katie started in on you immediately, dragging you into whatever she had been talking about before, and from there you spent the rest of the evening integrating yourself into the team.
The bar was really only starting to fill up when Kim decided it was time for you all to get a move on. There was some light-hearted grumbling, but everyone was professional enough to know how to behave. You had popped into the toilet before leaving, and when you came out of the stall, Leah was washing her hands. You hesitated for a brief moment before moving up to the sink next to her to wash your own hands, the little bit of alcohol you consumed tonight just enough to embolden you.
“Man, Williamson, what kind of a world is this where you’ve got those legs and no rhythm,” you teased, quickly busying yourself with the most thorough hand-wash you’ve ever done so you didn’t have to look over at her and see how poorly she took the remark.
“You spend a lot of time thinking about my legs?”
You froze. It would seem she didn’t take it too poorly at all. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you turned off the sink and turned to look at her. She was staring at you again. Seemed like maybe she did that a lot.
“Yeah, maybe,” you finally said. She hmmed a bit and cocked her head to the side. The glint in her eye was the only thing that kept you from worrying you were being too forward, and you silently prayed it wasn’t a trick of the fluorescent lighting overhead.
“You think you’re being all charming, with your little jokes?”
“No, not really,” you shrugged. “I think I have the personality of a 14-year-old boy and it’s the only way I know how to flirt with you.”
Leah changed at that. Her posture shifted. Her shoulders dropped slightly. The glint in her eye was gone. You fucked up, you thought. You’ve been here for four days and you already fucked up.
You moved to apologize at the same time Leah moved to respond, but both of you were interrupted by the door to the bathroom slamming open and a group of girls rushing in. You turned around and pushed yourself up against the edge of the sink to get out of the way, but Leah dipped her head down and shoved out past them, taking the opportunity to escape without you being able to stop her.
Yep. You fucked up.
461 notes · View notes
latay7 · 4 months ago
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YO NESSA BBG I GOT A REQUEST FOR U
Could you do a oneshot/headcanon of Karasu, Hiori, and Otoya with a mute girlfriend/crush, like maybe they go out of their way to learn sign language for her?
(If there are certain characters you don't write for in this request, don't feel pressured to write for them <3)
-Vee
u want it ? u got it.
sorry it took me so long , i know i haven't written in sooo long it was really tough to gather my thoughts.
i sincerely appologize if my headcannon are not realistic in terms of uhh you know , being mute ? and i'll try my best and thank you for your time and remember that whatever you think flaws you makes you special<3
(This has been in my drafts for 3 months omg although it's so short...)
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some blue lock boys w a mute reader
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characters : Karasu Tabito , Hiori Yo , Otoya eita
@sl-vega what is it with you and these 3?
Karasu Tabito :
im not really that deep into his character but i think he'd be quite interested in learning sign language to show his dedication to you.
of course , it takes time and patience. And he's willing to have that for your sake , and so he can help you communicate with others , and you feel really flattered by it. he's taking online classes , he's watching videos about it.
it starts appearing on his fyp constantly and you'd see him trying out the word/sentence it'd be so cute.
i believe that during the process of his learning he'd give you a small notebook so you write your answers during you convo (duh) and he'd help you up with any activitey that needs talking.
He'd encourage you to share your ideas , whether w sign language or writing because he wants to make sure you feel like a normal person who is able to express themselves normally.
trying to order some food ? he memorises your favourites , with detail. someone messed your order (let's imagine you just pointed at the option and that he wasn't there) i feel like he'd be ready to throw hands.
"Excuse me she asked for NO PICKLES"
I think it'd be really lovely to see him make an effort into becoming your personal translator to have an excuse to be at your side at all time❤️❤️
Side plate : i think you'd watch him sometimes when he practices and you clap for him from the sidelines , and it boosts his ego and melts his heart. And if you know how to play you'd have some frequent football sessions togsther 🫶🫶
Hyori Yo :
Alright let's see , the cutie patootie (looks are decieving this mf is a sadist ahem) is quite attentive to your situation.
First of all he does NOT hesitate to start learning sign language , he has too much time to spare so he spends it trying to learn how to communicate with you , no matter the way.
So im picturing this , videocalling you to have some convos as he tells you about his day and asks you tell him back and he tries to understand as a form of practice.
And at the same time he voices out his stuggles about his learning process and shows you what he learned so far.💙💙🤏
I believe sometime he'd invite you over so he introduces you to football if you're interesyed in learning , telling you the rules , showing you some famous matches and players and events..etc
Or if you already know or a footballer you'd have some conversations about diffeent opinions in football so you get to express youself comfortably about a topic you enjoy.
Again , would encourage you (if comfy) to voice out your opinions and thoughts in any way to make sure you always feel heard.
Otoya Eita :
Well....i would say , at first , when you're not really close i don't think he'd pay any attention to it and he would be slightly irritated when you try to say something in sign language or by gesture and he doesn't understand (sorry if ooc)
He'd treat you like any other side girl he had , but slowly and over time , he'd grow interested in you and how you talk. If you guys grow closer , he would probably get out of his way to try and learn sign language for your sake and try to understand you a little further.
And let me tell you , it's one hell of a slow burn
But eventually , if you're really important to him , if you're diffrent , he's willing to give it some extra effort so he can listen to you ramble with that adorable smile on your face.
I feel like i mischaractarized them so bad omg im so sorry everyone....
Anyway , thank you so much for reading and feel free to submit any request
But again , i appologise for taking so long to do requests :'( im trying my best with writer's block although im free pretty much all the time.
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magics-neptunes-things · 1 year ago
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Football and Snow
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Hi guys!
Thanks you for your reviews and your DM's, it's always a pleasure to read you :)
We are at the end of this serie for Christmas, maybe I'll do one more with Leila Ouahabi if you want to, after that I will restart my usual writing. I have some ideas for Ona and Alexia and I will start the big one with Leah :)
Please enjoy this one and have a wonderful Christmas!
TW : None, unless the cold bother you
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Being the girlfriend of a professional footballer has several advantages, but you have to admit that tonight you preferred Laia to do another sport. For example swimming, which would allow you to stay warm in a pool to watch her swim. Because tonight, you find yourself shivering at the edge of a football field.
This is the last game of the year, after that there is the famous Christmas break. You look forward to it, going back to your home country to celebrate with your loved ones. You didn’t hesitate for a second to follow Laia in Manchester when she signed with the club despite the various problems that can bring you to your professional life. But you quickly found a job, despite Laia’s allegations that she’s making enough money for both of you. But it allowed you to meet new people and make a some friends.
Some of them sometimes accompany you to watch Laia and the girls, but tonight it's too cold for that and you understand them widely. You even hesitated not to keep your promise to Laia to come and see her play all her games, you know that she wouldn't have be mad at you for a single second. But you’re a woman of your word and you can freeze your entire body for the beautiful eyes of your girlfriend.
You’re at your third hot tea when the end of the game is finally whistled. In addition to the cold, it started to snow after twenty minutes of playing time. If it brings an almost romantic touch to the decor, it's still really cold. You’re concerned that these conditions will make the risk of injury greater, but you’re happy to see that Laia still seems to be whole at the end of the game time.
Manchester City won their last game of the year and you can’t wait to go for a hot bath at home. For once, before going to greet her fans, Laia hurries to join you. The box reserved for families and friends is almost empty.
"Mi Amor, go inside get warm. I take some pictures and I’ll join you."
You just nod, thoughtfully wondering if your lips have frozen. As if she could read your mind, Laia leans over you to kiss you tenderly. Her lips are hot against yours and it makes you shiver.
"I’ll be quick, okay?"
"Okay" you just answer with a smile, lovingly stroking her cheek.
Laia smile at you before turning and running back to the crowd. You look at her for a few seconds before returning inside. The temperature difference makes you shiver again and you take the opportunity to go to the bathroom. After all, you drank three hot teas, anyone can understand the urgency.
You exchange a few words with relatives of Laia’s teammates to pass the time, especially those who speak Spanish, commenting on the match you just attended. You just took off your scarf, beanie and gloves, not fully warmed when Laia appears behind you. Her hand behind your back makes you turn mechanically in her direction and you address her a smile before putting a kiss on her cheek.
"It was a very great game" you congratulate her
"Thank you. I hope it will be less cold next time"
She smiles at you maliciously and you shrug. The english weather has been the hardest thing for you since you moved to England. Yet it’s not like it’s your first winter here. But after all these years of enjoying the Spanish heat, it’s still hard for you.
"Maybe I should find a girlfriend who plays in Spain… Could you introduce me to one of the Barca players?"
Laia snorts but takes you in her arms possessively, laying a kiss on your hair before answering you.
"Count on it mi Amor. You’re mine."
"Only yours" you confirm, answering her embrace by holding her tighter.
"Are you ready to go?"
You nod with a smile and follow Laia to greet her teammates and their loved ones around you. When you find yourself outside again, the biting cold hits you hard, making you shiver from foot to head.
"I’ll buy you a giant heating pad for Christmas" Laia laughs, putting an arm around your shoulders to hold you tight.
You willingly let her do it, sticking as much as possible to her, craving her warmness. The snow continues to fall, coloring everything around you with white.
"We’re so lucky" Laia mumble quietly.
You raise your eyes on her and you realize that she's looking at you, certainly doing the same thing for a few seconds already. On your side you were rather careful to check where you put your feet, trying not to fall. When your eyes meet you can't help but smile and respond positively.
Yes, you’re cold, but you’re lucky. The woman you love deeply loves you back, you’re together when you could be separated by thousands of miles. Laia is tender, loving, passionate and will remind you when you return to your apartment that she makes the best pancakes in the world. You couldn’t be luckier.
"I'm the luckiest."
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damiansgoodgirll · 1 year ago
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Kylian x lawyer reader where he hires a lawyer to help him sign for Real Madrid please🫶🏼
kylian in madrid i don’t know how it makes me feel haha, i wish him the best btw (my heart is in paris with him tho…), honestly i’m manifesting that he joins juventus LOL i’m delusional
also i’m a bit ignorant on how football contract deals work so don’t mind if this is not 100% accurate to reality!
kylian mbappe x lawyer reader
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real madrid?
you were shocked when you found out that you and your colleague got selected for helping a certain football player with his new contract deal. you thought that maybe it was his first time signing so probably he wasn’t an expert - not that you were too - but you were quite amused and shocked when you’ve been told that the football player that needed your help was the kylian mbappè.
his previous lawyer couldn’t help him because he had a very important case to take care of so he suggested your firm.
you were working for a very important firm in paris, so it was easy when people needed help because everyone knew you in paris. and everyone means everyone because that’s how kylian mbappè found you.
you’ve never worked on any football deal, nor your colleague did, so you were both a little nervous but you’ve been told about that the only thing you needed to do was reading and explaining the contract to kylian in case he couldn’t understand certain terms or words.
it sounded pretty easy.
expect no one told you that you had to be flying to madrid. your colleague couldn’t go as it was last minute and she had no idea how to manage her child if she was in madrid so she let you go all by yourself. saying that you were terrified was almost like a completely, no, you were shitting in your pants.
once you arrived in madrid you saw a private car waiting for you. that car got you to the hotel that kylian’s manager booked for you and the driver told you that he would be back in two hours to get you and to bring you to the offices where you would be meeting kylian.
you were not gonna lie, you were nervous to meet him. you always admired him, maybe you weren’t a football fan but you knew who he was, everyone knew who he was and you always had a soft spot for him. he always looked so nice and kind with the fans that made him seems like a completely normal person and not the famous football player the whole world knows.
you showered and got ready. opting for a very professional but at the same time very comfortable green dress, you finished to get ready and headed out where you saw the car waiting for you once again.
when you arrived to the structure you saw some people from kylian’s crew waiting for you. they all introduced himself and led you to the room where kylian was waiting his father and his procurator. you honestly had no idea who other else was in the room, you thought managers from real madrid since it was the team kylian was going to sign to but you had no idea and you didn’t ask.
the moment you entered the room and introduced yourself kylian’s eyes lightened up. he was waiting for the usual old and boring lawyer so he was surprised when he saw someone pretty and young as you.
“hello…” he waved at you, almost looking too shy.
“hi, i’m y/n, i’ll be the lawyer who will follow your deal today” you introduced yourself with a very bright smile.
kylian swore he fell in love. he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you and you felt his look on you.
when kylian’s procurator was reading the contract he pretended to not know some words - some very basic words - only because he wanted to hear your voice. even his father knew he was doing it on purpose just to have your attention.
“kylian, you know this word…” his father remarked.
“well i forgot” he said, looking back at his dad.
the man simply nodded, losing all the patience he had. you knew kylian was doing it on purpose and honestly you found it funny. usually this things are boring, long contracts only for a two second signs at the end.
when everything was done, kylian took al the pictures he had too but rushed away when he saw you were going back to the car. that was your job for the day and the next morning you would be flying back in paris when kylian was going to stay in madrid, so why did you feel nostalgic for a person you met a few hours ago?
“hey!” you heard his voice calling you.
“oh hi, is everything okay?” you asked him.
“yes, yes everything okay, i was wondering if you…well, if you aren’t busy if you would like to have lunch with me?” he asked a little embarrassed and that made you smile.
“sure, why not!”
he brought you to this little cute bar in madrid where you had probably one of the best dish you’ve ever eaten in your life. you began chatting about your lives, your hobbies, what you liked and what you didn’t and in reality you had a lot of things in common.
who would have thought that from a simple causal job you had took it could have started this amazing friendship between the two of you? or maybe something more than friendship…
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applejuicefruit · 2 years ago
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Can you write something with neymar where reader is from LA and is visiting ney. Then reader gets homesick and becomes a bit distant, but then ney realizes that she is homesick and comforsts reader.
I really loved your other writings so i had to request this one❤️❤️ 
Hii! Thank you for requesting this! I didn’t know if you wanted Neymar to be in Brazil or in Paris in this story 🥲 I hope you don’t mind reader’s visiting him Paris.
I really hope you like this ❤️
ps: i remember when i went to london all by myself when i was 16 and i stayed there for a month and i remember telling my friends i was missing home in italy and they just ignored me :) nostalgia is real people !!!
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City of Angels
Los Angeles. Your safe place. Your safe heaven. Your home.
You thought no place on Earth could ever compete with your hometown. You had the hills, the beaches, museums and millions of people visiting every year. It was your home.
You lived in a nice cozy apartment on the Hills. It was small but it was everything you ever dreamed of. Every morning you woke up with the beautiful Los Angeles sun coming through your window, the Hollywood sign in background. It was perfect. Your life was perfect.
Also because you were dating famous football player Neymar. Honestly you had no idea of who he was before you googled him. Being a Los Angeles Dodgers fan meant that you knew nothing about football or soccer as you call it to make Neymar mad.
You met in LA, that’s why you are so thankful for this city. You were both attending the same party and the moment your eyes met you knew it was game over. He introduced himself to you and waited for your surprised reaction that never came. It took you a whole week before finding out who he really was. He always loved this side of you. He dated so many people who wanted him only for fame and money, but with you things were different, you were so pure and kind and not affected by fame or popularity. Probably because that was the normality in LA.
You were getting ready for going to the airport, ready to leave the City of Angeles behind and spend the next two months in Paris with your boyfriend Neymar. You were so excited to see him again but honestly you couldn’t stop but feeling a little sad leaving this city behind. You let a few tears fall while watching the Hollywood sign from your bedroom. Then you closed all the suitcases and left for for the airport.
Almost 9 hours of flight after and you landed in Paris. Neymar couldn’t come and get you because he was practicing that day so he sent one of drivers to come and get you.
The moment you left the airport shock hit you. The sky was so grey you couldn’t even see the clouds, it was raining and it was freezing cold. You weren’t ready for this.
You smiled at his driver and got into the car while you were watching the view from your passenger side.
“Why everything seems so boring?” you asked yourself hoping Ney’s driver didn’t hear you. But he was too focused on the road to even pay attention to you.
Once you’ve arrived, the driver helped you into Ney’s apartment and then left. Neymar gave you his spare keys when he was in Los Angeles visiting you.
His apartment was huge.
Literally huge. It took you almost 20 minutes to visit every room. His apartment included an indoor pool and gym, five bedrooms and 5 bathrooms, a theatre room, a playroom, a large kitchen and a living room with the amazing view of the eiffel tower.
“Maybe it won’t be so bad” you hoped.
You were sitting on the couch watching some weird french movie that you couldn’t even understand when Neymar appeared in the living room.
“You already got yourself comfortable I see” he said coming behind you and kissing your head
“Ney!!” you jumped on his arms the moment you saw him
“Did you miss me angel?” he asked kissing you while he hold you by your ass
“Very much” you replied between kisses
“There are so many things I want to show you” he told you. And so it was. For he first two days he didn’t have practice so he showed you around Paris. It was nice actually. A bit cold but it was good. You loved the museums, the architecture, the churches.
But after the first week passed nostalgia hit you hard. You started missing the sun and the warm of your beautiful city.
One morning depression hit you really bad. You woke up and it was raining so much you couldn’t even go outside and get breakfast. So you stayed at home, sat on the couch with a fluffy blanked around your body watching the rain coming down from the window.
You couldn’t help but let a few tears fall. You’ve never been so nostalgic, but here you are.
You were so stressed that you didn’t even hear Neymar coming out from the bathroom, freshly showered. He was wearing a black t-shirt and some sport pants.
“Meu amor?” he gently approached you, slightly worried when he saw you crying “are you okay?”
“Yes…” you said wiping a few tears from your face
“Sure…” he sat next to you “care to tell me what’s going on?”
“It’s silly…”
“If you’re crying it’s not silly”
“I just-I miss home…” you said letting more tears fall
“What-what you mean?” he asked you a bit worried “you don’t like it here?”
“It’s not that…it’s just-it’s just that I miss Los Angeles so much…I’ve never been this nostalgic I don’t know what has gotten into me, I’m sorry”
“No baby, don’t be sorry, it’s completely normal” he said hugging you “you’ve never been away from home this much, it’s normal feeling a bit sad”
“I know I just wished I didn’t cry…”
“You can cry all you want with me” he said kissing your forehead
“Thank you babe…I really needed it”
“Of course meu amor…you know what? I don’t have any match next week…what if we go back to Los Angeles for a couple of days? Ah? You can show me that crazy fast food you can’t stop talking about!”
“You mean In N Out?” you asked while your eyes were completely shining
“Yes that one”
“Are you sure? I know you love Paris…and it’s your free week…”
“I’m happy as long as you are. And clearly you’re feeling a little bit distressed now…nothing would make me happy than to go back in Los Angeles with you amor”
“I love you so much Ney!” you said wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him while he held your hips
“I love you too baby, so fucking much…” he whispered while you kept kissing.
You couldn’t ask for more. In the end, your life was really perfect.
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obae-me · 1 year ago
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Upside Down- CH 12
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Warnings: Allusions to mental illness, mentions of death. As Always, Read Safely.
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Previous Chapter Next Chapter
Missing Pieces
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“Aaaaand…” The moment was drawn out, the slight suspense hovering over everyone’s heads as the gentleman with the devilish smirk flicked his wrist. The final card swirled over onto the pile in the middle of the table. “I win, suckers!” Mammon leaned back in his chair with a bright grin on his face as everyone else groaned. He tilted the chair back a bit, balancing the furniture on its back two legs as he kicked his own up onto the table. His body was quickly shoved off the tabletop, almost sending him to the floor as Levi huffed. They got into a little spat, Levi claiming Mammon was cheating. Their argument seemed to be so natural, Beel and Asmo treated it as simple background noise. You were starting to learn to do the same.
With a sigh, Asmo chucked the rest of his cards on the table and shrugged. Perfectly painted nails ran through the strands of his hair. Locks shimmered, and you could’ve sworn you noticed tiny sparkles of glitter here and there. “And with that, I’m out.” He stood from his seat and strutted off, turning his head over his shoulder towards you as he waggled his fingers a bit. “Bye,” his voice cooed a little. “It’s been fun.” But even with that not-so-subtle flirting, he left as if he was dying to get out of here. Your brief time spent with him was already over.
The sound of the door shutting seemed to bring Mammon and Levi out of it. Your first pact-mate was still riding the high of his victory, even if he didn’t seem to be winning anything from it. “Well, want to go again?”
“No,” Levi groaned, settling back in his seat with slumped shoulders, Envy radiating off of him. Still, he showed no signs of leaving at the moment, and leaned forward to take his drink in his hands. “We should play something else. You win any card game because you cheat.”
“I don’t cheat!”
The heat of the second fight was snuffed out by an almost amused hum as Beel spoke. “I don’t care what we do. But maybe Levi is right, we should switch it up a bit.” The youngest of the humans present continued to eat the spread on the table. Frankly, you agreed with the other two. All of the snacks were nearly gone by now. You had spent the better part of the evening playing this colored-card game. You were trash at it, even though the rules weren’t too complex. Blame it on your frazzled mind. The day up until now had been rough, and you still couldn’t shake the lingering feeling of anxiety that had clung to you ever since you saw that flash of the camera. Mammon had continued to try to convince you it was simply someone following after them, but that didn’t make you feel any better. If anything, it made you feel worse.
Apparently Lucifer wasn’t the only famous one out of the seven. They all had some fame in their own right. Part of you had to wonder if it was due to their enormous influence in the Devildom. Mammon, as he said before, was a model. Posted on websites and magazines, adorning some of the most expensive brands on the market. Levi was a streamer, more popular online than in public, but people still knew his face. Satan was quite the brilliant prodigy, famous for entering competitions he’d had no previous history being in just to wipe the floor with everyone else, reveling in their wrath. Asmo was another influencer. Vlogging, photo-shopping, graphic design, interior design, dipping his hands into the fashion and makeup industries, he dabbled in quite a few areas, his following garnering huge numbers. Beel apparently was a famous football player, but had recently quit and left his team. Probably due to Lilith. And Belphie… well, actually, you still didn’t know a lot about him. No one wanted to talk about him almost as much as they didn’t want to talk about Lilith. So, yes, at the end of the day, the picture could’ve been centered around any one of them. To the outside world, you were just a sudden random stranger hanging out with the Morningstars. You could imagine the rumors now, being painted as some sudden love-interest that would cause the drama and intrigue that humans couldn’t live without. The thought made you groan.
“We should play a video game!” Levi announced, suddenly brightening at the thought.
Mammon scoffed. “No, because you always win those.”
“We should go outside and—“
“No,” both Levi and Mammon buzzed, cutting poor Beel off before he could even get his thought out.
Gluttony looked downcast for just a second before shaking it off, his head raising to look towards you. “What do you feel like doing?”
“Hm?” You straightened your back a bit. “Me?” Beel nodded and you fell silent as you thought about it. “I’m not sure,” you said honestly. “I haven’t done anything like this in a long time.” That seemed to send all the other humans into their own thoughts. You could read the same expression on all their faces. They hadn’t done anything like this in a long time either.
“We should probably clean the dining room up before Lucifer comes home,” Beel finally announced, picking up empty boxes and bags and eating the last few bites of everything while piling the trash into his arms.
“Don’t think Lucifer’s comin’ home tonight,” Mammon stated, but hopped up to his feet, grabbing his drink and his own bags off the floor, leaving his spot cluttered. “If he’s not home at this time of night, he’s not comin’ home at all. So we don’t hafta worry about it. Besides, it’s not like he ever comes here anyway.” A swift kick was made under the table, Levi’s foot coming into contact with his brother’s ankle. That’s when you both caught a glimpse of the deep-rooted sorrow on Beel’s face. Mammon got the message.
“I hope he comes back home soon,” Beel muttered. The way he said it, it sounded as if this sort of thing happened often. Lucifer was gone a lot. The red-haired human took a breath as if he was going to say something, but then changed his mind, taking himself and some of the trash out of the room. Beel vanished out into the hallway without another word.
“Way to go, idiot,” Levi hissed.
“What?!” Mammon bared his teeth for a second. “I… I was just being honest, ya know? It’s not… I don’t like it either! I…” He gestured angrily towards the door Beel left from before letting his hand drop, his arm swinging limply back to his side and hitting his thigh. You turned your head a bit, the last threads of intense sadness fading from the room. That human… was not okay.
Levi finally stood up, his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pocket. “I’ll go check on him.” He walked away from the table and stopped for a second to look back at you. “I- uh- hope you like w-what I bought you. If you hate it, you can just throw it away!” After he was done shouting, he skittered away like a nervous lizard.
A frustrated hiss of air was pushed between Mammon’s teeth. The human muttered something about ‘unfair’ and ‘my gift was better’ and ‘I thought of that too, he just got to it first’. You rolled your eyes a little. “It’s not a competition.” While shopping, apparently Mammon and Levi both had the same grand idea to get you matching gifts. Mammon had so graciously gifted you a wallet. Apparently it was some popular brand, as if that meant anything to you, but it seemed to mean wonders to him. He claimed that he figured he’d might as well snag you one as a thank you, and as a means to finally have somewhere to place your money that Simeon gave you. Supposedly it was pretty dangerous to just have that piece of plastic just floating around in your room and pockets. Levi on the other hand, had bought you a phone case. When he finally noticed your device was ‘naked’ as he put it, he almost had a panic attack. So, he purchased you one. Stylish and functional, he claimed. Supposed to protect this little rectangle from cracking. Make it easier to hold. And he made sure it was one like his. It was rather amusing if you thought about it hard enough. Humans had the strangest ways of marking.
Greed couldn’t seem to find a proper reply. “Yeah…well…whatever.” Seemed like his mind was on other things.
“Is your brother going to be okay?” You curled your legs up, heels planted into the seat as you held your ankles. Every time you had met Beel so far, a simple phrase was all it took to send him away. Like it was painful to be around everyone. But a look in his eyes suggested that it was more painful to be without anyone. A dangerous double sword.
Mammon occupied his worried gaze by trying to admire some of his items in his many bags. “Beel? Yeah. Maybe… I dunno actually. He’s been having a real rough time ever since… You know.”
Lilith. “You’re worried about him.”
“Of course I am! You think I wouldn’t be?” His lips pursed a bit in thought, not noticing that you’d gotten to your feet. “We all suffered, but Beel… is taking it extra hard. Doesn’t help that Belphie… he’s not here right now. And they’re usually attached at the hip.”
You lowered your head a little to look straight into his eyes. It unsettled him, his pupils dilating as he flicked his sight away. “Mammon,” you coaxed, waiting until he eventually stared back at you. “I think it’s time you told me about Belphie.”
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The house had gone quiet. It surprised you a little. Typically with so many people in one home, you could hear at least one person staying up with the moon. Yet, tonight, it appeared as if everyone was getting decent sleep. Even Mammon and Levi were resting. They were still recovering it seemed. And while you had strict orders now to do the same, you figured you would start taking this… job of yours a little more seriously. Seven whole humans were under your care now, and yet there were several brothers you’d only really met once.
Cloaked in your power, feeling a bit better after the prince’s intervention, you stepped through the halls. You were only just now starting to get a feel for the home, for all its twists and turns. But other than Mammon’s, Levi’s, and your own room, you had no strong sense of which doors led where. You hadn’t particularly cared to map this place out before, but now… this all felt much more real. Every day away from the Devildom cemented it further into your head that this wasn’t a joke. You were meant to stay here. A full year. Watching over these humans as if they were treasures. And now you had a pact with two of them. Perhaps you even felt… okay with staying here. There were worse places to be.
Silently, you started opening doors. The room right across from Mammon’s opened easily and without any noise. Faint little glowing lights illuminated certain spots of the room. The scent of vanilla and rose wafted out into the hall. Flowers and fabrics and elegance. Asmo’s room. You moved on. The next door stood out to you a little. It seemed slightly different than the other doors, not quite matching the house. A replacement for an older door perhaps. Inside was a mess of books and random objects of curiosity. Whoever was sleeping inside was tossing and turning. Satan. You’d leave him to his restlessness. The next discoveries were pretty uneventful. A storage closet, the bathroom, a little entranceway into an attic. Down at the other end of the hall, you entered into a vast bedroom. A master bedroom if ever you saw one. Empty. No one was inside. The stale fading scent of coffee beans and rustic wine. Lucifer’s domain. Although, much like Mammon’s had been, the bedroom hadn’t been used much in recent days. It felt cold. Empty. Mostly there for presentation’s sake. Much like the man himself.
Turning out of the room, you headed towards the last door on the upper floor. Before even peeking inside, gentle snoring could be heard from out in the hallway. Inside had not just one, but two beds. Each side of the room mirrored each other in layout, but had opposite designs. One bed had a lump of a human inside, the other was completely vacant. Without making a noise, you walked inside. Stepping over to the empty bed, you stared at a picture frame hanging from the wall. It was the same photo Lucifer had in his office… The one with all of them together and the sibling you could only conclude was Lilith. Now that you had some more time on your hands, you took a closer look at the picture. Lucifer was standing tall behind everyone, looking at the camera like one would properly pose. His hands were on the brother in front of him- Levi- keeping him from dashing away. Mammon was by Lucifer’s side, and Asmo by Mammon’s. Both of those two were doing their best to make the other one look the least photogenic as possible. Beel had pulled two others into his arms. Lilith… and another one. A younger boy with darkened hair and a soft look in tired eyes. Belphie? And now that you were looking at it, you realized you had been mistaken. Each brother was not there. You had counted seven people and your mind had filled in the blanks. But one person was missing. Satan wasn’t here. You did remember saying that Satan had been brought into the family last… perhaps this was before he came to be a Morningstar.
This side of the room had no scent… other than the lingering smell you associated with Beel. Belphie had been gone for a long time… You turned your head away from the photo and sat on the bed. The mattress squeaked a little, causing Beel to turn in his spot, waking a little. “Belphie?…” He muttered, half-asleep. His eyes stared past you at Belphie’s empty bed. The human laid there quietly before turning back on his other side. The snoring didn’t kick back up.
“Hospital?” You had asked when Mammon finally gave you an answer. “Is he sick?”
Mammon had struggled finding the words to say. He had fiddled with his hands, walked around his room, touched nearly everything he owned in a form of distraction. “In a way… Guess his mind wasn’t doin’ so well after Lilith died. He had always…struggled, but it got worse. And then one day… he just wasn’t home. Lucifer told everyone he was bein’ looked after and he’d be back home soon, but… that was a whole year ago now. Although we’ve finally heard that he’s coming back. Prolly within’ the next month or so.”
And that was that. No more information. No way of being able to check on Belphie. Lucifer seemed to be the only one with that information. And there was no way in heaven or hell that the eldest would give you permission. Hadn’t even let Beel see his own twin. Mammon had said Lucifer explained that it would be ‘better for Belphie’s recovery’ that way. Forced isolation. There had to be some way to find Belphie. For all you knew, some demon was already getting their claws into him. But… that would not be a problem for tonight. For the rest of tonight… maybe you’d do what was asked of you and let your body recover. Standing up from Belphie’s old bed, you snuck carefully past Beel and left.
The guest room… your room, felt strangely… different than normal. It was a well furnished guest-room. A bed, a nightstand, a wardrobe, a small table and chairs, some shelves, a bookcase. More than one might need for a temporary guest, but perhaps it had been created in the event the Morningstars added another person to their family. However, even with these things, something wasn’t quite… right. It was empty. And… while you really didn’t particularly care for human things… a new sin inside you couldn’t help but compare your room to every one else's. Levi’s envy… a pesky thing. A constant nagging in the back of your mind, complimented by Mammon’s greed. You needed something. Something that would now mark this room as yours officially.
Mammon’s room was quiet. The only lights that were on were a few soft display lights positioned above the car in it’s special loft. The shine from the metal sent glittering silver rays streaking across his ceiling. Must be comforting to him to open his eyes and see his room shining. His room definitely seemed much more lived in than the first time you’d been in here. Not as…empty. Although most of that was due to Mammon’s recent spending fervor. Bags and open boxes lay clustered by his couch, covering a good portion of the floor. His spending spree from earlier was… self-indulgent to say the least.
Your pact-mate was fast asleep, sprawled out under his covers. The aroma of his cologne was especially prominent. You stared at him for a while, little flashes of Greed and Envy flowing through your veins. The jacket that he had worn earlier was still draped over the end of his bed, slowly sliding off the mattress every time Mammon moved his foot. You snagged his jacket and left.
There was still light coming from under Levi’s door, but you heard no sound. A quick twist of the doorknob and you looked inside. Envy was resting curled up in a little ball on his bed. Seemed to you like he’d fallen asleep over his covers playing a game on a handheld device. He’d passed out during it apparently. You rolled your eyes a bit, padding over to him to take the game from his hands and set it on his nightstand, taking a bunched up blanket settled in his computer chair and draping it over the sleeping human. Strange troublesome creatures. Didn’t temperature greatly affect them? What if he got cold and died in the middle of the night?
Levi had a great many things in his room to choose from. None of which really stood out to you. You didn’t care for the figurines or the posters or the novelty items. There was a cushion of sorts on the floor, one in front of the TV in the corner of his room. A controller was settled on it, specific bumps and indents that suggested he rested his arms on it while playing. You crouched over and put the game controller aside, picking the cushion up to look at it. It was a pastel blue, almost minty color, with some kind of design on it that you were sure had some significance to Levi, but one that was completely foreign to you. You tucked it under your arm and walked out.
It was only fair. You had made two pacts, both without asking anything from them. They owed you more than they could ever pay back. These little trinkets were fair game, and frankly you felt as if you deserved it. You took your newly purloined items back to your room and put them both on your bed. Now it felt… more right. Greed and Envy were satisfied in you for the moment. Annoying little sins… Good thing you wouldn’t have to deal with any more of them.
You settled yourself into bed, able to close your eyes without having to worry about anything tonight.
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A distant door shut.
The sound woke you instantly, every nerve in your body blaring. High alert. It took a moment for your memories to trickle back into your sleep-addled brain. But still. It was late. Well, for humans anyway. And for the Morningstars, it was well past Lucifer’s lockdown curfew. Unless it was the accursed man himself finally slinking home. But the codes… Maybe… was someone leaving? With a little groan, you got up to your feet to investigate.
The entrance hall was quiet. No new shoes were thrown near the front door. Someone must’ve left. You closed your eyes, reminding yourself that you wouldn’t overdo it. Nothing big enough to send Simeon snapping back at your heels. Just a little magic once more to make sure everything was alright. The skin across your body tingled as you went invisible, opening the front door and scanning the front yard.
A person was tapping away at a security lock on the inside of the gate, raising his head as the entrance to the property was opened. You jogged down the driveway and out of the grounds just before the gate shut behind you. Feet shuffled away. A glimpse of ginger-hair before a hood was pulled up over his head. Beel? Did he do jogs this early in the morning or something? His pace was steady though, rather slow. This wasn’t a mindless walk either. You had assumed for a moment that he had been antsy, perhaps walking off some anxiety, but every turn he made seemed intentional. Easy to keep up with at least. You tagged a few feet behind him, constantly turning your head, making sure no more eager demons could get the best of you.
Neighborhood homes eventually dwindled, approaching a more quiet side of town. There weren’t any towering buildings and crowded streets this way. You both passed a park, a little school, a pond. And then you approached a large gated off property. A tall mental fence curled up from the ground. Sharp metal arrows studded the top, a few bent in wrong directions from time and abuse. There was a large metal gate, two swinging doors frozen in place with a chain and lock. A pretty simplistic security system even for demonic standards. Even if you were from a different world, there were still universal signs and signals that you could pick up on. Do not enter. Not in the dead of night at least.
Beel turned, following the fence along it’s side, moving away from the gate. Curious… The both of you rounded the corner, at the back of the grounds now. Beel stepped off the sidewalk.
A stump sat near the pavement. Based from the size, it must’ve been a grand tree in it’s time. Now it waited for someone to finally pluck it from it’s eternal home in the ground. Although until then, it seemed to serve another purpose. Beel stepped up on it, looking over his shoulder. You pieced together what he was doing just as he gripped the top of the fence, his fingers snug between the spikes. Somehow, you kept yourself from hissing his name, remembering at the last moment that you were a shadow, nothing more. In a easy fluid motion, Beel hopped the fence. You were rather surprised to see how agile he was, even with his bigger frame. Either he was more skilled than you gave a human credit for, or he’d done this before. It was possible it was both. He landed on the other side with hardly a grunt, straightening his jacket before moving further across the lawn. You sighed softly to yourself. Even Beel, the one who you had assumed would be the least problematic… was trespassing… Could you have a single easy night? Was that too much to ask? Yes. Apparently it was.
Quickly following after him, you leapt, toes just barely touching the stump before you spryly hopped over the barrier without needing to use your hands. And while you scarcely made a sound, Beel still turned, stopping in his tracks, scanning the area. A few seconds passed before he continued on, looking rather relaxed for someone on forbidden grounds. You couldn’t help but seem to notice he knew where he was going too. Even with your stellar vision in the dark, you had almost tripped on several headstones while keeping the human steady in your sights. Meanwhile, Beel swiveled around graves in the dark, continuing towards his destination.
Eventually, Beel slowed. He stood in front of a pristine slab of stone, a name etched into it, a depiction of angelic wings cut into marble. He settled, sitting on the ground right in front of the headstone, crossing his legs under him. He adjusted the flowers that were there, noting with a crushed petal between his fingers that they needed to be replaced. You felt the lungs in your chest shrink a bit tighter. All you could do was watch. Yet, even as hellish as you were, invading his space and eavesdropping felt… too wrong. This was meant to be a private moment. So, instead, you’d simply make sure he was safe. A nearby tree suited surveillance purposes, just out of earshot of the human. Your claws dug into the bark before you pulled yourself up onto a branch, settling in with your back against the trunk, one leg dangling down as your tail served as proper support.
So this was where Lilith was…
Beel hunched himself over, his lips moving as he began to talk to the dearly departed. There was no smile on his face. There were things he needed to get off his chest, things he perhaps thought only the dead would listen to.
The fluttering of feathers caught your attention. A beautiful stark-white dove landed beside you, sharing your branch. Its head turned and twitched as it observed Beel in the distance, then turned its focus towards you despite your invisibility. It blinked innocently at you.
You couldn’t help but sigh loudly, a bit of your energy chipping away. “What are you doing here, angel?”
The dove cooed humorously before white swirled quickly in front of your vision, the creature revealing its true form. “Can’t I say hello outside of work?” Solomon grinned, trying still to bat his eyes at you in a wholesome manner. His casual body language as he curled his legs over the branch and the subtle shimmer around him suggested he was keeping himself from human view as well. To others, he probably still resembled a dove.
You scoffed a bit at him. “You’ve never bothered to reach out before.”
“Well, I’ve been busy!” He explained, pausing for a moment as if expecting a little bit of praise. When he wasn’t getting any, he moved on. The subject changed completely, successfully dodging the question you asked. “He comes here a lot, you know.” As his legs swung, he kicked one foot in Beel’s direction. “More frequently as of late…” Solomon’s personality thus far had been… some might say shady. Infuriating on some levels. Helpful in the ways that only seemed to benefit him at the same time, always taunting you with hints that suggested he held the keys to all your questions. Rather demonic, really. An angel with a dangerous smile working together with a demon with virtuous goals. What a match. That all aside, for once Solomon appeared sympathetic, almost… guilty. That couldn’t be right though, could it? Why would he be?…
“Does he break in like this often? If he keeps going like this, he’s going to get caught.” If Beel got dragged away for something like this, you didn’t want to imagine the next lecture Simeon would give you.
Solomon went back to smiling, that remorseful expression entirely gone. “Oh, he’s already been discovered.” A bubble of laughter drifted up to his lips. “It was on his first night jumping the fence too. Fell right in front of the security guard. She was about ready to drag him out by the ear and call the cops, but one look at his pleading face got her to rethink things. She allows him come by after close every so often. Brought him cookies last week. Her mom used to be a baker, so she says. He only does this on especially bad days.”
As you listened to the angel, you watched Beel talk to Lilith’s cold grave some more. The human swayed back and forth in his place, like he was trying to comfort himself. You raised an eyebrow at Solomon. “How… do you know all this?”
For once, the man gave you a rather straightforward answer. “I’ve always had my eye on them.” That only raised more questions.
“If that’s true, why didn’t Simeon make you stay with them?” Surely an angel who already knew them better than you did would make a better bodyguard.
One shoulder shrugged. “The prince has his reasons.” Sure he did. How annoying. "And, as you know, the Celestial Realm is real serious about interfering with mortals."
Right... you remembered something like that. It was brought up to you once before. A very long time ago... when you had asked an angel for a favor. “Still... I'm not blind. You both are keeping things from me. I don’t like it. Is Simeon lying to me? What are you both really after?”
A tut. “Come now. You don’t give away the twist of Act Three before its dramatic reveal.” His hand swirled in a performative gesture. “Simeon knows exactly what he wants. Meanwhile, I know how to get it there. And you, my darling friend, are the beating heart that keeps it moving forward. We are all required to do our part.”
Was he really your friend? You found that hard to believe. Allies don’t often keep things from each other. They weren’t supposed to keep each other at arms length for safety reasons. “I don’t like being moved around like a pawn.”
You waited for some half-hearted reassurance that you were not a pawn, but it never came. Instead, Solomon held out his palm and cast a sparkling spell. “Here.” He handed you a white box.
“What is it?”
“An olive branch.” The corners of his mouth lifted, a gentle smile on his face, but his eyes still glistened with a playful coyness. “Listen, everything will be laid out full in time. Just trust Simeon and I to do our proper work behind the scenes.” He judged the look on your face and chuckled. “He can get a little… you know… authoritarian when things don’t go quite like he expects it to, but he’s your ally. He wants what’s best for all of us. The Morningstars included.” You could’ve responded in a myriad of ways, but instead, you decided to leave things be. For now. An easy movement opened the lid of the box. Inside was a round cake, covered in uneven pink frosting. A yellow smiley face and several icing flowers decorated the top. Two plastic forks were settled inside. You shut the box again, raising your eyes to see Solomon suddenly beaming. Something about the cake had invoked the most genuine excitement from him yet. That made you nervous… “I made it myself.” You figured. This was nothing close to Luke’s. You’d have to give that little demon some kudos next time you saw him.
You nodded politely and settled the box in your lap despite something deep within you encouraging to throw the thing as far as you could. You wondered why… “Thank you.”
“You should go share it with him,” Solomon suggested. “It’ll probably make you both feel better.” With that said, his form flickered, a fog rolling over him till the little dove was back at your side. He chirped twice in a ‘goodbye’ and flew away as strangely as he came.
You looked down at the box in your lap before observing Beel again. Sparkling tears ran down his face. This was a bad idea… yet, something compelled you to do it anyway. Hopping down from the branch, you snuck behind the cover of the tree before becoming visible once more. You strutted out, making sure your footsteps made enough of a crunch to announce your presence. When you were close enough, Beel snapped his head back to look at you, quickly wiping away his tears. Fear crossed over his face, and then confusion. “MC?” He blinked, having to look at you several times before he had confirmed that it was you he was seeing. “What… are you doing here?”
“Ah… your brothers said I might find you here.” A terrible lie, but you had no other excuse. You lifted the box in the air and sat by his side. “In the mood for cake?”
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your-astro-mami · 2 years ago
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The Astrology Of: Football ⚽
My in-depth research of the most common placements, signs and aspects for football players.
Featuring: Pele, Diego Maradona, Lionel Messi, Cristiano Ronaldo, Kylian Mbappe, Ronaldinho, Neymar Jr and others.
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What are the most common aspects for popular football players?
Here is my research based on the charts of famous football players.
Ruler of the 10th House in the 3rd of the 5th House OR Ruler of the 3rd/5th in the 10th House
The first most common placement.
Example: Lionel Messi has Libra on the 10th House cusp. Libra is ruled by Venus. Venus is in his 5th house therefore the ruler of the 10th is in the 5th House.
Example #2: Pele has Gemini on the 10th House Cusp. Gemini is ruled by Mercury. Mercury is in his 3rd House.
This is the MAJOR indicator that someone is going to be known, have a career connected to sports. The 3rd house represents mobility, activity and the 5th house can represent sports, especially team sports. Both houses are always prominent in the charts of football players, especially the 3rd house as it is representative of physical abilities, activity, mobility. The ruler of the 10th in the 3rd house shows that one's career is going to involve sports and mobility. The ruler of the 10th in the 5th can be indicative that one's career will involve sports, group sports specifically. The ruler of the 3rd or 5th house in the 10th house can show that a person will have a career connected to mobility, sports, competitive sports, activity.
In the charts of: Neymar Jr. (ruler of the 10th house in the 3rd House), Pele (ruler of the 3rd in the 11th House), Lionel Messi (ruler of the 10th in the 5th), Cristiano Ronaldo (ruler of the 10th in the 3rd), Kylian Mbappe (Ruler of the 10th in the 3rd), Karim Benzema, Sergio Ramos (ruler of 3rd in the 10th, ruler of the 5th in the 11th house)
or ruler of the 1st house conjunct Mars.
This is a major placement for anyone who is very physically fit and active. It is an indication of a competitive nature, drive, aggression. It is a popular placement for atheletes of all kinds as well as models.
Personal planets (Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars) in the 3rd or 5th House OR ruler of the 3rd/5th House conjunct Personal Planets
This is the second most common.
Example: Benzema has Mars in the 3rd House. Johan Cruyff has ruler of the 3rd house conjunct his Mars. Franz Beckenbauer has Venus in the 3rd House.
Personal planets in the 3rd or 5th house, especially Venus or Mars can indicate a sporty nature, being blessed with energy, vitality, good mobility. Mars in 5th especially can point to a very competitive nature, usually a love for extreme sports as well (racing, maybe I can do a post on F1 as well).
The rulers of 3rd or the 5th house conjunct any personal planets, especially Venus or Jupiter can show a passionate and competitive nature when it comes to sports and activity. Sun in 3rd/5th or ruler of 3rd/5th House conjunct the Sun can show someone who may receive a lot of attention, feel confident in sports. Moon would show comfort through sports. Mercury can show good mobility, flexibility, quickness.
Jupiter is another BIG one as it can point to a person with a lot of energy, a bit ego in sports. Also could indicate someone blessed in sports, competitive sports, someone with good mobility.
A big PLUS is if the North Node is in the 3rd or the 5th House - path in life, personal mission could be connected to sports. Or if the ruler of the 3rd/5th is conjunct the North Node.
In the charts of: Neymar Jr (Ruler of 3rd conjunct Venus and Mars AND the North Node, ruler of the 5th conjunct Venus); Franz Beckenbauer (Jupiter in 5th, Venus-Pluto conjunction in the 3rd House); Johan Cruyff (ruler of the 3rd conjunct Mars); Zinedine Zidane (Mercury-Mars conjunction in the 3rd House, ruler of 5th conjunct Mars); Cristiano Ronaldo (Venus-Mars conjunction in the 3rd House; ruler of the 5th house conjunct Mars); Kylian Mbappe (Sun, Moon, Venus in the 3rd House); Ronaldinho (Ruler of the 5th House conjunct Jupiter); Maradona (Moon in the 5th House; Ruler of the 5th conjunct the Sun); Pele (Ruler of the 5th conjunct Jupiter, Mercury in the 3rd House); Lionel Messi (North Node in the 3rd House, Jupiter in the 3rd House, Moon-Venus conjunction in the 5th, Sun in the 5th house); Zlatan Ibrahimovic (North Node in the 3rd, Sun in the 5th, Jupiter in the 5th house); Lewandowski (North Node in the 5th);
Mars in 1st or Mars conjunct the Ascendant
or ruler of the 1st house conjunct Mars.
This is a major placement for anyone who is very physically fit and active. It is an indication of a competitive nature, drive, aggression. It is a popular placement for atheletes of all kinds as well as models.
In the charts of: Franz Beckenbauer, Pele (Mars conjunct North Node in 1st), Kylian Mbappe;
Venus or Jupiter in the 1st or conjunct the Ascendant
This blesses a person with energy and vitality. Venus in 1st is an indication that someone knows how to use their body (this is a common placement for dancers as well). Good health and overall wellbeing.
In the charts of: Pele (Venus in 1st, Venus conjunct Ascendant); Maradona (Venus in 1st);
Ruler of the 11th House in the 3rd or 5th House
Example: Kylian Mbappe has Leo on the 11th House Cusp. Leo is ruled by the Sun. His Sun is in the 3rd House.
While the 10th house represents career, the 11th house can represent fame, being known for something. The ruler of the 11th house in the 3rd or 5th can be a major indicator that someone will be known for sports, for their mobility and physical abilities.
In the charts of: Franz Beckenbauer, Kylian Mbappe, Lionel Messi;
Ruler of the 10th or the 11th House in the 1st House, conjunct Mars OR the Ascendant
Example: Johan Cruyff has Taurus on the 10th House Cusp. Taurus is ruled by Venus. His Venus is conjunct Mars.
Example #2: Franz Beckenbauer has Aquarius on the 10th House Cusp, Aquarius is ruled by Uranus, Uranus is conjunct his Ascendant.
Mars is the planet of action, energy, force and often sports. Ruler of the 10th house of career or the 11th house of fame conjunct Mars can be an indication that one is going to be known for their competitive qualities, for their physical abilities, also for sports. The Ascendant represents the physique, physical abilities of a person so the ruler of 10th or 11th in the 1st House or conjunct the Ascendant shows that a person will likely have a career connected to the body and their physical abilities.
In the charts of: Johan Cruyff, Franz Beckenbauer, Cristiano Ronaldo, Sergio Ramos, Ronaldinho, Diego Maradona;
Ruler of the 1st House in the 10th or 11th House or conjunct the Midheaven.
Example: Neymar Jr. has a Sagittarius Rising/1st House. Sagittarius is ruled by Jupiter. Jupiter is in his 10th House.
This is a good indicator for fame and being well known. Another major way it can be interpreted is being known for the physique, physical abilities, something physical you do, since the 1st house represents a person's body. Ruler of 1st in 10th/ruler of 1st conjunct Midheaven is being famous because of your career, ruler of 1st in the 11th can show being known on a greater scale (once again connected to professional achievements).
In the charts of: Neymar Jr., Johan Cruyff, Cristiano Ronaldo, Sergio Ramos, Ronaldinho, Diego Maradona, Lionel Messi.
Ruler of the 1st House in the 3rd or 5th House OR ruler of 3rd/5th House in the 1st House
This can indicate a sporty nature, passion for sports and competition. The ruler of 1st in the 3rd can point to a very fit person, good mobility, quickness. The ruler of the 1st in the 5th House can indicate a competitive nature, passion for physical activity, group sports.
The ruler of the 3rd house in the 1st is also a major indicator of fitness, speed, endurance. The ruler of 5th can show that the passions of a person can involve physical activity.
In the charts of: Cristiano Ronaldo (Ruler of the 3rd house conjunct Ascendant); Kylian Mbappe (Ruler of the 1st house in the 3rd House); Ronaldinho (Ruler of the 5th house in the 1st); Pele (Ruler of the 1st house in the 3rd);
A Prominent 6th House
The 6th House represents health, work, fitness. It is also quite common in the charts of football players with the following placements:
Zinedine Zidane has Moon in the 6th house (also a placement of Franz Beckenbauer), which points to a health-conscious nature, a hardworking nature. The ruler of his 10th house is also in the 6th which further shows hard work, precision, effort in his career. A career related to the body, fitness. His Saturn is in the 1st house which also shows a disciplined nature.
Cristiano Ronaldo has ruler of 6th in 1st - very health conscious, very hardworking when it comes to his fitness and body. Ruler of 6th conjunct Jupiter also shows a lot of energy, he is blessed with good health. Kylian Mbappe has Jupiter in 6th house - also an indication of energy, good overall health.
Messi has a Mercury-Mars conjunction in the 6th house which points to perfectionism, a hardworking nature, energy, mobility when it comes to work, good fitness. Mars in 6th is also quite competitive. Something interesting is that his ruler of the 5th house is in the 6th and the ruler of the 6th house is in the 5th. So the house of work is intertwined with the house of sport, competition, passion.
A player who has a prominent 6th House is Zlatan Ibrahimovic. Ruler of 1st in 6th, a Venus-Uranus conjunction in the 6th, Ruler of 10th and the Ruler of the 11th house in the 6th. All of this points to an extremely hardworking nature, great health, major focus on fitness and endurance. Possibly the strongest 6th house out of all of them. Lewandowki has Mars in 6th which also shows hard work, competitive nature, endurance, energy.
The general indicator for fame and professional success
In the chart of Neymar Jr. there is Jupiter in the 10th house and the ruler of the 11th conjunct the North Node, both of which show great success, fame, notoriety. Jupiter in 10th house is an indication for many professional opportunities. His Sagittarius Ascendant is also quite lucky. Ramos also has Jupiter in the 10th House, as well as North Node in the 11th.
Johan Cruyff has Moon in 11th and North Node in 10th. Node in 10th shows a prominent career, life mission connected to the career. Zinedine Zidane has North Node conjunct Midheaven, which similarly shows that the career is the life purpose of a person. Ronaldo has Ruler of the 11th house (fame, love of the people, fanbases) in the 10th house of career, which is an indicator that he has gained fame and love for his career. This is also a placement of Pele, who also has Pluto in 11 - leaving a large impact on big crowds, big audiences. Messi has Pluto in 10th which shows having a large impact in his career and professional life.
Kylian Mbappe has North Node in the 11th House - a big sign for fame, a purposeful life, popularity. This is also a placement of Diego Maradona. Ronaldinho has ruler of 11th conjunct the North Node, which points to great life success, love from the people, popularity which was meant for him. His Node is also conjunct Jupiter, which points to a lot of luck.
If you are interested in an analysis of your own chart, check out my pinned posts! For orders, DM me here or email me at [email protected] :)
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canirove · 2 years ago
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Best friends… forever? | Chapter 1
Introduction | Next chapter
Masterlist
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"So you've never like... Kissed or anything?"
"For the millionth time, Bruno. We haven't, no."
"Not even while drunk?"
"These two? Drunk?" Diogo snorts. "They've never tasted a single drop of alcohol. Not judging here tho, to each their own."
"Not even while drunk, no" Rúben says.
"And you aren't curious? Everyone keeps telling you that you are made for each other, so maybe they are right about it. Maybe there is something there."
"No, we aren't curious" Mila says.
"I don't believe you. I do not" Bruno insists, taking another sip of his drink. "You've known each other since forever. There must have been a point where you've thought, umm, my best friend is hot, what would happen if I kissed her?"
"Why does it have to be me?" Rúben complains. "Maybe she is the one who thinks she has a hot best friend."
"Let's be honest, Rúben" Diogo says. "She's always been hot. You, on the other hand..."
"Idiot" he replies, hitting him in the head.
"Careful there! Imagine that you injure me before the season starts and the media finds out it was you!"
"A United-City war would start" Mila laughs.
"Definitely" Diogo says.
"Is that a reason why you've never tried anything? Because you play for rival teams?" Bruno asks, not letting go of his favourite topic of conversation.
"We've been living together since we moved to Manchester, and by now everyone knows. That isn't an issue" Mila says.
"Yeah, but sharing your flat with the enemy, isn't the same as shagging your enemy on your flat."
"Bruno!" Mila says, hitting him on the arm.
"See? Another thing you have in common. Violence!"
"We aren't violent, we just have very annoying friends" Rúben says.
"I think Bernardo disagrees" Diogo chuckles.
"Whatever" Rúben says, rolling his eyes. "I'm gonna go get myself another drink. Do you guys want anything?"
"I'm fine" Mila says.
"All good" Bruno and Diogo reply.
As Mila watches Rúben walk towards the bar, she thinks again about what Bruno is constantly telling them. That they would make the perfect couple since they already are best friends and have known each other their whole lives. And quite literally.
Their families lived next to each other for years, and their mothers were pregnant with them at the same time, Rúben and Mila being born just a few months apart. And even though she ended up moving somewhere else, they still were going to the same school, spending the afternoons together at the other's house or at the park playing football. Which was another thing that made them become best friends. Football.
The other kids never wanted to let Mila play because she was a girl, and they always left her behind. But Rúben would tell them that if they wanted to pick him, they would have to pick her too, that they played together. And since he was the best among them, they didn’t have other choice, and that's what they would do. Play and defend together. She’s pretty sure they both ended up playing on that position because of all those games, having a similar character on the pitch probably too. Because they both are professional football players.
They played for Benfica, made it to the first team, and then left for the same city and on the same summer. Though while Mila signed for Manchester United, Rúben signed for Manchester City.
At first they thought that it would cause a lot of drama, especially because everyone knew they were best friends. Rúben even decided to hide when he went to watch her play, afraid someone would recognize him since he was more famous than her. But no one seemed to care, not even when the media somehow found out that they were living together despite being very careful with what they shared on social media.
Only a bunch of idiots online saw it as treason and were constantly insulting them, and then, of course, they had some shippers who made all type of crazy theories about their personal lives. Bruno loved reading them and sharing all the details with them.
"You say you've never thought about having something with Rúben, yet look at you. Staring at his butt as he walks away" Bruno says.
"I wasn't staring at his butt, I was just thinking."
"About his butt."
"About how I could murder you, hide the body, and get away with it."
"See? Violence!" Bruno says to Diogo.
"Let them be, bro. One day they'll realize that they've always been in love with each other, and you'll be able to finally tell them I told you."
"We aren't in love with each other" Mila says. She’s never felt anything for Rúben beyond the love you could have for a brother, never felt jealous of any of the girls he’s dated. Though she must admit that all the comments and dms he’s started to get this last season from girls (and some boys too) who seem to have discovered he exists, have started to bother her a bit.
"I just hope that day comes rather sooner than later. I'm tired of waiting" Bruno says.
"We, are the ones tired of constantly hearing you talking about the same" Rúben points out, sitting down again.
"Then let's make a deal" he says with a mischievous smile. "If you both win the League this year, you'll have to at least kiss and do it in front of us."
"If you want to see people kissing, watch a movie" Mila laughs.
"Oh, that's a great idea! Film it! That way we'll be able to show it to your children and grandchildren" Bruno suggests.
"We are not going to record ourselves kissing" Rúben says.
"I promise that after that, I will leave you alone. We will leave them alone, right, Diogo?"
"You are the annoying one, not me" he says.
"You both are" Mila replies. "Bruno is just louder."
"Whatever" Bruno says. "It'll be just a kiss, and only if you both win the League. What are the chances?"
"Thank you for the support" Mila says, rolling her eyes. "We all know he'll have it easier than I will."
"Then there is nothing to worry about, right?" Bruno smiles.
"I guess... What do you think, Rúben?" she asks him.
"If we do it, will you stop being an annoying little shit?" he asks Bruno.
"I will. I promise" he says, putting his hand on his heart.
"Then fine, ok. We have a deal" Rúben sighs.
━━━━━━❃━━━━━━ 
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hangmanbradshaw · 9 months ago
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Having just watched Jason Kelce retire, what age do you think the kids are when Jake retires? How many Super Bowls has he won? Does he go on to coach or help Bradley run the restaurant empire? Does he go into broadcasting?
I have this sooooo thought out. I just kinda answered part of this in another ask but! Here's more on retirement:
Jake retires relatively young for a QB, while he's still in good health and arguably at the top of his career. Around when he hits 39. It shocks everyone, but he knows he wants to quit while he's on top, not when his body is too destroyed to have a good life after. He wants to spend time with his husband and kids and be there for their lives. And one day he just looks at football and realizes he's done what he wanted to do, and he loves it, but he'd rather spend more time with his family. He has around 3 Super Bowl wins under his belt, another 1 or 2 he's lost, and he's content. So the kids are probably around 8 or 9 (the oldest) and the twins are maybe 6 or 7ish. He takes over the whole PTA/Carpool Drop Off/Sports Dad thing so Bradley can go back to work part time, cuz Bradley decides he misses work (he'd kinda semi retired to raise the kids and be a stay at home dad- his choice. Basically he'd let Callie and Reuben take most of the reins and he's just the owner, not full time day to day manager.) So Bradley opens a fancy restaurant in Manhattan as a passion project, right down the street from the apartment Jake lived in when they met on the Upper East Side, and he names it Hangman's Perch, after Jake. Anyways they still have SO much more time together, and Jake LOVES being a stay at home dad. He has way too much fun bringing the kids by to see Bradley at the restaurant or signing up to coach little league, and he loves being home every night with his husband and kids, and how they cook together without fail, and play games in the yard, and have movie nights, and sit together and help with homework.
THEN Bradley and Jake open up a family type sports bar in their little suburb out of the city together. It's Giants and Mets themed and everyone knows a bunch of famous ex Giants players hang out there, but it's normal. There's picnic tables outside and cornhole and they have watch parties for the games. Eventually he maybe does some broadcasting or correspondent work, after the kids are grown and off in college.
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thisisyourprincipalspeaking · 5 months ago
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I think some people just like to see that your blog doesn’t sit there leaning towards any one narrative but at the same time, you clearly understand that something about this whole situation is remiss.
Thinking logically, it’s actually pretty easy to pick one side. The side that takes things as they see it. “Real, because that’s what they said and we’re going to believe them.”
So I’ll be honest, sometimes I see those blogs give their points and it does make sense. It doesn’t make much sense to go through hoops and claim that what they’re doing is fake and manipulating a narrative, because again, why? What’s the endgame to do this?
But then you take a step back and you look at the situation again, and it’s very easy to pinpoint all the plot holes. And then you realize, perhaps looking at it logically doesn’t work here because it’s not supposed to make sense. This is Hollywood after all.
Why would a veteran actor who’s gotten Oscar’s for his films with his other veteran actor bff need to marry an actress singer diva after they already broke up and married other people? (IYKYK) Why would he need MORE publicity? Well…
Why would the renowned pop princess of this generation who’s famous for writing songs about her exes need to have a new bf that’s a famous football player and bring the NFL into this whole charade? Does she really need MORE attention? Or does he? (Did he sign with a top HW talent agency and is now venturing into the world of acting by chance or…)
I think for many people who leans towards the middle of things, they see your takes and responses and realize, yeah, you’re right. You’re not screaming PR everything’s fake like your life depends on it but you’re also not blindly accepting true love and that it’s been real the whole time and the fans who aren’t buying it are just delusional haters.
You’re providing a voice for those who just don’t feel something is right about all this and feel there is another shoe that’s waiting to drop. When? Who knows. But hindsight is always 20/20.
The only thing I’d like to mention here is that sincerely, I don’t believe he is attracted to his wife. And it’s weird of me to say this because they married so the logical response would be, of course he’s into her why else would he marry her? But the body language repeatedly seems otherwise. Repeatedly. And these are just the public instances.
So I don’t agree with the narrative that some have claimed he sought her out because he couldn’t date women around his own age anymore. I’ve never liked those accusations because even now, with this person as his alleged partner - if he truly was choosing her because he liked that she was younger and this is what he’s into…his casual body language alone when he’s in public with her shows like he’s been assigned to her for the night. Maybe he’s trying to hide his attraction to her because he’s self conscious about their age difference? But what would be the point of doing that if they’re already married? A little late atp? See what I mean by if you go too deep down a questioning rabbit hole it just raises more questions, which is why the Occam’s razor theory just works better for some. And that’s what I believe one side is doing. They don’t see the point in questioning what’s right in front of them and I don’t fault them for that. But I do think blindly accepting what HW and the media throws at you is why so many seem to lack critical thinking skills now. They believe what’s being fed to them and while marketing does its job right, it becomes so easy to manipulate people into believing what you want because they don’t think to question what’s being fed to them.
Also, she does not seem remotely interested in him either but that was less surprising for a variety of reasons. I just don’t see these two vibing at a Lana del ray concert together - and I don’t see him pretending for her sake.
Of course, they are free to prove me and anyone else wrong. I just don’t think that’s what’s happening here.
And your blog is a great place to have these outlier discussions.
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thank you, nonnie. all of this is why i say i do not care if they're genuinely together forever or if they never see one another unless it's time to smile for the cameras. it's about what's being shown, how it's being shown, and when it's being shown. there are patterns to all of it... so when it comes to their relationship either way, it's pr. and by definition not private.
what i feel like many of us in fandoms (and i could be very wrong in my assumption) tend to lose the concept that the only people noticing and paying attention to those details you've mentioned are fans. the rest of the population tends to forget celebrities exist until they see a headline about them and far too many people are only going to pay attention if that headline is dramatic.
it's a game where the points don't matter because the prize is your clicks and attention.
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justwannaflex · 1 year ago
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(—) ★ spotted!! KUDJO AMOABENG on the cover of this week’s most recent tabloid! many say that the 25 year old looks like JONATHAN DAVISS, but i don’t really see it. while the FOOTBALLER is known for being DARING my inside sources say that they have a tendency to be FICKLE i swear, every time i think of them, i hear the song FLEX BY TONY DARK EYES {he / cismale}
Headline
Twenty-two, I'm in Paris, baby. Got a stripper's tits in my face, uh-huh. Roll up in a Bentley. I want Christian, I want Fendi. I want Prada, ah, ah
Stats
name: kudjo amoabeng
age: 25
nicknames: tba
date of birth: 20 December 1998
place of birth: tba
nationality : british & american
gender identity: cis man (he/him)
sexuality: heterosexual
family : Afia (older sister) & Kwame (older brother), Akofa (mother)
occupation: footballer (he'll never call it soccer fyi)
career claim: kylian mbappé
net worth : 180 M€ (only in football and endorsements without his family's money)
spoken languages : english and ok-ish french
positive traits: daring, energetic, confident, generous, sociable, adventurous
negative traits: fickle, hedonistic, boyish, self-centred, petty, pretentious
characters/celebrities inspo: tba
zodiac sign : sagittarius
Bio
Born to Amoabeng family, he spent most of his life travelling around places. His father is a prominent and wealthy ghanaian-british businessman, while his mother is ghanaian-american tv and film actress, akofa asante. Although his parents travelled around the world quite often, they made sure to make time for family. As the youngest of the family, Kudjo benefited from more lenience from their parents then Kwame or Afia did. He was always the happy little trouble-making son who made everyone smile and laugh. And he charmed his way out of troubles.
In all the travelling, the only constants in his life were his family and football. His father introduced him to the sport at a very young age and it was a way for them to connect. Then when he was obvious that the boy was talented, it became a way to be seen. Kudjo was a prodigy and not only the son of an actress or a business man. It is important for him to be the centre of attention and to stand out in his star packed family. Not only his parents are famous. He has to compete with a F1 driver brother and a rising producer assistant sister.
Kudjo only knew relative stability once he was signed in AS Monaco in 2015. He lived with his brother at the time and that supervision prevented him from spiralling. Once Kudjo was signed in Paris, he lost control. Parties, strippers, scandals. As long as he kept performing on the field, his club and sponsors turned a blind eye. He was a yound player who enjoyed life. His player and bad boy persona also boosted sales. He only wanted to have fun and did not care that his parents were disappointed in him. He did not need their money anymore nor their approval. He had his own. He was rolling in cash. He had adoring fans. Women eager to sleep with him. A court surrounding him. He did not see why he would need to change his life.
Until one too many scandal. The sex tape affair as the media called it. Kudjo was not the one "performing" on the video but his name was all over the case. He was accused of being an accomplice to the people who tried to blackmail his teammate. Kudjo always claimed his innocence but the club decided to bench him until the scandal would pass. It was taking too much time for Kudjo so he accepted an offer to play in America.
Joining the Los Angeles Galaxy is not very exciting but it is better than not playing at all. It was that or the Emirates who offered more money. In the end, Kudjo was convinced to pick Los Angeles Galaxy to be with his family. His plan is to ride out the storm there and come back stronger in a year or so in European leagues. Maybe playing for an English club this time.
Despite needing to keep a low-ish profile, he does not intend to change his lifestyle.
Career
Kudjo is one of the best football player of the world. He started his professional career at Monaco in 2015 at sixteen years old. He became the youngest professional player of the club. He was then loaned to PSG (Paris Saint Germain) in 2017 before being signed. The €180 million fee made Kudjo the most expensive teenager ever and the second-most-expensive player ever, and broke the record for the largest transfer within a domestic league. He won all the was to win with club football back in Europe and is only missing national titles with England. He is still mad about winning nothing while wearing his English colours. He just arrived to LA as a PR damage control after one too many scandal. He is to be the shining diamond of the Los Angeles Galaxy.
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samuelwood · 23 days ago
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Hearts and Minds of Sport, Broken and Infected
Arguably the best ever football player in history, signing for Al Nassr. A momentous day for Saudi Arabia, with elegance and history gracing the Saudi Pro League. A king crowned, a scoring sovereign, a cultured prince turned sultan bringing millions of fans to spectate the Knight of Najd. What did it take? A murdered journalist?
Boxing brilliance, an underdog story and a thrilling rematch in the works. Fans worldwide anticipating the much-wanted sequel; will it happen in the UK, the famous York Hall, or Madison Square Gardens, two boxing venues cloaked in long standing chronicles. Or maybe the very ‘historic’ Diriyah Arena in Saudi Arabia, constructed in 2019 to host the rematch. What did it take? $6 billion spent on sports deals?
18th December 2022; the World Cup final, two Nations ingrained with success, battling to lift the most prestigious international competition in history. One side hoping to repeat a previous triumph; another led by one of the most decorated players in football, aspiring to discover the missing trophy in his cabinet, a hidden treasure buried in the sand. The potential to be the most-watched game ever. What did it take? A corruption scandal deep within FIFA and rigged awarding of hosting the World Cups?
Three major events that won the hearts of fans worldwide, and that is how soft power really catches you.
The Evolution of Soft Power - Deception in motion
Did you ever question the reasoning of Russia and Qatar being awarded the World Cups in 2018 and 2022? Or Saudi Arabia in 2034; another tournament that will pause seasons across the globe to accommodate the harsh and scorching weather in the Middle East? As football fans, we must accept these conditions to roister the beautiful game. Nonetheless, it’s not just football that decisions are made against the will of athletes and the fans. The 2022 Winter Olympics hosted by China, a nation with a horrible human rights record, hosting a worldwide mega event. Qatar hosting the 2022 World Cup will undoubtedly move eyes away from the 6500 migrant workers who died since the Middle Eastern nation were ‘awarded’ the competition. As Sohail Mamood declared, ‘Qatar’s Soft Power won the World Cup’. Expert Rothna Begum, the Senior Women's Rights Researcher at the Human Rights Watch, states 'look at the way in which the Kalafa system exists, it creates all sorts of abuses.' She further went on to say that 'from the very beginning, when migrant workers are recruited into the country, they are not supposed to be paying fees, but the vast majority of migrant workers were paying thousands of dollars to be able to come to Qatar for a job'.
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Let's delve deeper into the issue. What exactly is ‘Soft Power’? The term was coined and popularised by Joseph Nye in the late 1980s, and went on to define the post-Cold War era. Nye explains ‘Soft Power’ as the ability to shape the preferences for others, with countries resting primarily on three resources; its culture, its political values and its foreign policies. Whilst in contrast to hard power, a technique that would usually involve strategies including strong military force and economic sanctions, soft power appears a lot more positive. Soft power wants to use persuasion to achieve foreign policy objectives and communicate compelling narratives.
Despite the term only appearing in the last half century, Soft Power has been prevalent since before the Second World War. The 1936 Berlin Olympics was hosted by Nazi Germany, and it became a powerful propaganda tool for Nazi Germany as it tried to make its brutal treatment of Jews, political opponents and others seem benign. Hitler organised for six gymnasiums and other small arenas to be built, alongside a 100,000 seater track and field stadium, historically known as the ‘Olympistadion’; which recently hosted the 2024 Euros final between Spain and England. The 1936 Olympics was marred with Nazi imagery, with swastikas hung on buildings and Nazi salutes during medal ceremonies. As Andrew Nagorski wrote about in his book ‘Hitlerland’, the ‘Fuhrer uch Reichskanzler’ saw the 1936 Olympic games as an opportunity to promote his government and ideals of racial supremacy and anti-semitism. Germany topped the medal charts with a whopping 38 golds and 101 total medals, indicating how soft power and a sprinkle of corruption can make spectators believe how good you are perceived to be.
Just two years before the Berlin games, a similar event of Soft Power took place in Italy, as Mussolini’s Italy hosted the second ever World Cup. The 1930s was a decade of fascism in Europe, and Mussolini fired a huge propaganda campaign with the promotion of football as a patriotic symbol of their superiority. In addition to the fascist ideology communicated by Italy during the World Cup, Mussolini really wanted to flex Italy’s muscles as a powerful country by winning the final. Other big nations taking part boosted popularity, but a predictable Italy ‘win’ uplifted their reputation; despite certain rumours of corruption favouring the host nation, including on-field fights and illegible players…
So, soft power has been utilised for a long time. Over the course of around 100 years, you could imagine us as sports fans would catch on to the idea of soft power, and eliminate the operators. Has 21st century elite sports learnt anything about the dynamics of soft power? 
The awarding of the 2022 World Cup to Qatar blew up in the faces of FIFA as backlash was rife; especially in the media. FairSquare issued a statement to Gianni Infantino, informing him to take a ‘proactive’ stance on migrant workers’ rights in Qatar. If you try and search about the Qatar World Cup, the search results lead to many top publications criticising the hosting of the World Cup, all the controversies and FIFA. So how did Qatar achieve this event, and how did their soft power win in front of everyone's faces? 
Search results regarding the Qatar World Cup
Sportswashing - Wipe away the Corruption
After watching and enjoying the 2022 World Cup, what is the most memorable moment? That Mbappe final hat-trick, Messi winning his first ever World Cup, or, for us England fans, Harry Kane blasting a penalty over the bar to see us lose to France in the quarter-finals. This is what the Qatar World Cup will be remembered for, not the horrific abusive labour practices and human rights violations. Qatar, a nation with a very little football history, became the first Country to host and qualify for a World Cup without ever playing in one previously. As their team lined up on the 20th November 2022, Ecuador promptly washed them away with two first-half goals to eventually win 2-0. Qatar never wanted to do well at the World Cup. It's not about results on the pitch, it's about their reputation.
The original use of ‘sportswashing’ and who coined it has been hard to pin, yet it has been snowballing in popularity in the last two decades. Sportswashing - the act of aligning with with an athlete, sports team, or event in order to distract from unethical practises elsewhere - was first thought to be associated with Beijing hosting the 2008 Olympics, with China hoping to distract from their human right’s violations.
For the gulf nation, the rush to host a World Cup was to establish an image as a global powerhouse, and to fulfil the ideology of Sheikh Tamim bin Hamad al-thani, the emir of Qatar, by economically developing the country. However, the movement of money crashed against a wall of controversy. Being the smallest ever country to host a World Cup, Qatar had to invest heavily to ensure everyone would remember Qatar  as the Country who organised an amazing event, made even better by the exciting footballing moments. Forbes estimates Qatar splashed well over $200 billion on the World Cup, from new elite hotels, airport renovation, upgrades to public transport all over the country and eight new, grand spanking stadiums to watch corrupted football. Qatar’s reputation certainly skyrocketed with the World Cup, but for the wrong reasons. During the building of this luxury infrastructure, the Guardian reported that workers were forced into labour, a form of modern slavery. Workers were being forced to live in unsanitary and overcrowded accommodation, with some workers alleging they were not being paid and not allowed to return back home. The Supreme Committee, the organising body associated with the World Cup, announced they were ‘deeply concerned’ with the allegations, and an investigation was being conducted. However, we all know it was their plan in the first place.
The day Lionel Messi lifted the golden World Cup trophy, iconically wearing a black robe, a ‘bischt’ in Qatari culture, over 6500 migrant workers had been murdered for that moment. Of the over 1.5 billion spectators that watched the World Cup final between Argentina and France, I wonder how many were questioning the ethical nature of the competition. Sheikh Tamim bin Hamad al-thani handed Messi the bischt, with blood on his hands.
It wasn’t just the years leading up to the tournament, even at the beginning of the 2022 World Cup, there was controversy around the Middle Eastern’s law when it came to homosexuality. The ‘Islamic Sharia Law’ forbids same-sex relations and there were big questions about the safety of the LGBTQ+ community leading into this global event. How are you supposed to host a World Cup and omit an entire minority based on their sexuality? For FIFA, mega events like the World Cup can be seen as opportunities to move forward as a society, especially in regards to the safety given to members of the LGBTQ+ community. Josh Cavallo, an Australia U20 international, came out as gay in October 2021, becoming the first top flight footballer to do so. Cavallo stated he felt ‘excluded’ and ‘disappointed in FIFA’ for letting Qatar host the World Cup.
However, the worst was yet to come on this issue. Following numerous questions about the safety of gay people in Qatar, FIFA president Gianni Infantino came out with a humorous press conference protecting Qatar; in which he said ‘he felt gay’, trying to emulate the emotional feelings of gay people surrounding issues with the World Cup. To top it all off, Infantino said he felt ‘disabled’ and he felt like ‘a migrant worker’. 
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Despite all of the negativity around the World Cup, it will still be remembered as the tournament when Messi finally won. The minds of the public and fans are thinking about results, and not what happens behind the scenes. 
It's not just nations that are sportswashing. Companies are sports washing and it is appearing everywhere, especially in the Premier League. The pinnacle of English football is guilty, and in ways that you may not expect. Most recently, Newcastle United were taken over by a Saudi-led consortium in 2021, with the reigns being taken off Mike Ashley, who left St. James’ Park and took his Sports Direct advertising with him. When former Director of Newcastle, Amanda Stavely, was asked about Saudi Arabia’s human rights concerns, she stated they took the records ‘very seriously’, but reiterated the takeover was not a Saudi state, but a Public Investment Fund.
Human Rights expert Rothna Begum commented that 'It's incredibly concerning the way in which governments of regions that have terrible human rights records are buying up sports teams, and getting involved this way through sportswashing efforts.' She added 'its difficult for that sports team to talk about it (sportswashing), its difficult for those fans to condemn this government, when they are financing their favourite football team'.
The Premier League first denied the takeover due to the Saudi involvement, but in 2021, the Premier League released a statement in which they confirmed the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia will not control the club. Nevertheless, the Saudi state does not control Newcastle United, but since the takeover, they have been happy to splash the cash on transfers on players like Tonali, Isak and Gordon. This sportswashing act is even more hidden than others. After the years of hurt under Mike Ashley, the ‘Saudi’ private investment fund spent a load of money and hurled Newcastle into the Champions League. I wonder what the opinion of Newcastle fans will be over Saudi Arabia, as they walk away with an improved reputation and another successful sportswashing scheme. 
In the hearts and minds of Newcastle fans, they know it's wrong, however, they can’t help but love the success.
Greenwashing - The cost of being environmentally ethical
As sportswashing was on the rise, a different type of washing was always prevalent, but not always in the sporting world. ‘Greenwashing’ is when companies use PR tactics to appear environmentally friendly, without ever doing the hard work to reduce their environmental impact. The term was coined back in 1986 by environmentalist Jay Westerveld and features in sports more than you think. Major climate polluters have been accused of sportswashing, in numerous different sports. Manchester City released a ‘greener’ transport and travel way for fans to get to games in a ‘greener’ way. They included that ‘more bike racks have been added, and a city link walk through for fans. This is the standard for greenwashing, as the Citizens’ main sponsor is Etihad Airways, who release a heinous amount of carbon emissions every year. In 2023, Etihad Airways ‘sustainable aviation’ ads were banned in the UK; as a UK advertising watchdog judged that Etihad mislead consumers over the environmental impacts of flying. These greenwashing attempts are keeping Manchester City’s environmental reputation very positive, whilst their sponsors are indulging in heavy environmental damage every year. 
On the other side of Manchester, the Red Devils aren’t squeaky clean on their greenwashing record, as INEOS taking over Manchester United is a huge scheme to cover up the harm that Sir Jim Ratcliffe’s company actually does. Fossil Fuel companies worldwide have been revealed to invest over $4 billion in greenwashing acts, to divert attention away from their climate carelessness. INEOS faced backlash in Grangemouth, Scotland, as their biggest facility is responsible for emitting 3.2 million tonnes of carbon dioxide in 2019, and it has been argued if their carbon dioxide holding facilities are reliable at keeping in emissions and not releasing them into the atmosphere. In addition, INEOS’ sponsor of Team Sky in cycling has further pushed greenwashing claims as Ratcliffe’s company hides behind sporting organisations to turn eyes away.
Despite both of these, will United or City fans promote backlash against their clubs, or will hearts in elite sports let greenwashing and soft power take over. As a Manchester United fan myself, I feel almost powerless.
Will soft power and sportswashing/greenwashing ever stop? The biggest stakeholders in this current predicament are the fans. The fans have the power; they can protest against their club, protest against FIFA and protest for a better sporting world. The question really is if they will. Manchester City fans off the back of a treble will be as happy as Larry.
From the Premier League to the World Cup, to any sports in between, it seems that soft power and sportswashing is relevant and accelerating to rates that are unstoppable. Any nation or company can now use a sporting team as a shield for backlash and make themselves the light in the darkness for fans, whereas they are the dark in the light for the rest of the world.
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