#my pretty little penalty kicking midfielder

[tartt9]

something something roy knew jamie could score from all the way back there because roy did research on jamie something something

[yeeterthek33per]

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

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

Also, sorry it took so long, y'all. 😅

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

Caitlin's been acting weird lately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well.

That is until the game against Chelsea.

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

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

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

It was getting on your last nerve.

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

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

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

Football is a physical game. You knew that.

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

Which brings you to now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Nothing, what's your problem?"

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

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

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

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

"But she-"

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

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

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

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

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

The blonde chuckles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A nudge from you makes her chuckle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But she wasn't jealous.

No.

Why would she be jealous?

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

"What's up with you, grumpy?"

Steph's shiteating grin makes her roll her eyes.

"Nothing."

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

She scoffs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steph chuckles softly.

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

Beth snorts.

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

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

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

Steph shrugs.

"Maybe. You know why?"

You shrug as well.

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

The bus ride back is even more confusing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was acting fine up until-

Oh.

Oh.

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

Your hands force her to look up at you.

"Baby, were you jealous?"

She scoffs, stumbling slightly over her words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I was not-"

She huffs at the growing smile on your face.

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

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

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

"Babe."

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

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

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

"Oh." Her cheeks flush.

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

Her cheeks go a little redder.

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

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

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

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

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

Caitlin rolls her eyes affectionately.

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

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

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

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

"Shut up."

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

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

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

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

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

"I did not!"

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

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

Beth pokes the girl with her shoe.

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

Laughter rings out across the table.

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

Caitlin rolls her eyes at the swede.

"I didn't say that either."

You scoff playfully, turning to the chelsea defender.

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

"Sweeping girls off their feet since age ten."

Caitlin shakes her head.

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

The dane shrugs.

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

You scoff.

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

"It did work."

"What part of a draw means you won?"

"I just said it worked."

"Clearly." You cock a brow at her.

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

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

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

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

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

"Bitch!"

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

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

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

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

[simpfortetsu]

haikyuu boys as soccer players

featuring: kuroo tetsurō, tsukishima kei, tendō satori, suna rintaro, miya osamu, miya atsumu, oikawa tooru, and goshiki tsutomu

genre & wc: soccer au! & .55k

a note: this is 100% based off a conversation that @sourstars and i had like 2 months ago. and i haven’t stopped thinking about it since

taglist: @sourstars @tsukkismoonlight @jupitersmiles @kawaii-angelanne @kenmalov3r join my taglist here!

the cocky as f goalies: kuroo, tsukishima, tendō, and suna

each one of them is so cocky during games it’s ridiculous

both tsukki and tendō taunt the strikers and midfielders throughout the entire game. especially during penalty kicks

kuroo typically gets cocky pretty quickly after the other team scores a couple points. this leads to him showing off after he saves the rest of the attempts during a game

tsukishima is the kind of goalie that is very vocal about what he needs from his defense and midfielders about his needs and what he sees on the field to make sure they don’t get scored on

queue the yelling at both hinata and kageyama to race back to defend even if they aren’t even defenders

the unstoppable team: miya a. and miya o.

not a whole team but just the twins

when both of them are on the field they literally cannot be stopped

they are the most unpredictable players in the court at all times and they pride themselves in that (mostly atsumu but osamu claims to be the brains behind their operation)

their favorite thing to do is operation catapult

with osamu in the striker position and atsumu in the mid field position they look at each other for a split second and then osamu is already across the field

atsumu proceeds to launch the ball basically to the other goal where osamu should be

this would work 9/10 times if only there was a little more bore twin telepathy that was happening. so it’s more like a 7/10 times

the pretty boy: oikawa

yes this is oikawa. but it is 100% accurate and you cannot convince me otherwise

first of all he is the best on his team and on the field at footwork

he can go through a whole team, because he has both speed and accuracy with the ball at all times

catch him doing spins and breaking ankles

if someone does manage to catch him, and even be a bit physical (because that’s how soccer is)

he flops. everytime. without fail

he’s on the ground so fast and so dramatically and most of the time it works

he is definitely the kind of player that has a good eye for the game. it’s like everything is happening in slow motion, which makes him a really good midfielder so that he’s able to run the offense and defense if need be

he also is the kind of player that lifts their shirts to wipe their sweat so you can see their abs

and then winks at the stands because he’s cocky too

the protégé: goshiki

he is always always always or acting his trick shots, so that if the opportunity presents itself in a game he’s ready

it initially started because tendō told him that he needed to have a signature move (while also dropping the hint that ushijima didn’t have one)

just the fact that ushijima didn’t have one made goshiki want one even more. so he could be the best

so he chose bicycle kicks and is amazing at them

the coaches have to tell him to pay more attention during practice because he’s playing out the scenarios of how his trick shots will look in game

[itsmaddienotmaddy]

Okay I was just fucking stressed out of my mind for a full ninety. Idk if I have a lot to say. Let’s SEE.

US V SWEDEN

Alyssa Angel Naeher - maaaaaybe should not have come out on that corner kick. And since she did, unsure why no defender chose to cover the line. They weren’t covering that tall ass Swedish player, so... they were free to. (Not like they would have guaranteed to save it, but there could have been an attempt.) I wouldn’t place the blame of that goal on Alyssa’s shoulder though. Especially because we would have been down by a lot more if not for her incredible saves.

Becky - got the captains armband back too late. She connects better when she’s left-central. It’s been like that most times Tierna slots in. Not much to say beyond that though. Like, she did the defense. As she does.

Tierna - a big test for her. Her clearances were good. She held people wide very well. I didn’t find myself yelling about her a lot, idk if she just wasn’t as involved or what. Either way. Love me some Baby T.

Crystal - held it down defensively. That’s never a surprise. The lack of connection between her Lindsey and Christen, the connection that WAS THRIVING before. Wasn’t there. Like. When Crystal was making the run, she wasn’t getting passes. And then the passes would come and she wasn’t making the run. But nice to see her get some minutes up top too!! Would have liked to see her be able to get some moves going.

Kelley - well Alexi Lalas kept saying how poor she did. She wasn’t balls to the wall amazing but it’s not like she was sucking out there. She was definitely committing too hard, biting at moves she shouldn’t have. The lunges had her a step behind, she needed to play some stand up defense. I’ve said time and time again, her and Lynn do not connect well and the offense on the right was non existent all first half unless Rose decided to carry the ball up the field. Kelley DID have some decent crosses, as per usual. And let’s be real. We all know it was slightly outside the box, but Kelley earned the foul. So, g’bless that little sock puppet peach. Driving the box and getting that penalty saved our score line.

Rosemary - I mean. She was DOING THINGS. Thank goodness. Her speed was on point today. She was running the ball down the field, breaking through lines, and she had that cracker of a shot. It’s a bummer that she came off since she was such a bright spot. But with the physicality of the game, you needed bodies to take up space and bulldoze and that’s exactly what a midfield of JJ, Lindsey, and Sam is good for.

Julie - a lot of defensive work for her this game, a few times there was a lack of communication with her and Kelley, but still pretty solid. Certainly lacking offensively, but got a couple good crosses off, won some good balls out of the air.

Lindsey - her and Aslani duking it out with each other was cute, ex-teammate fun. Certainly had bright spots throughout the game. Had really good spells of controlling the midfield, but her weighted balls and the angles of her passes through were off today. And she wasn’t given the opportunity to win offensive headers in the box. Like hello. Big giant scoring target. Would have been a good plan. Still had some silky moves, switched the side of play as to not overload, was always open for an outlet pass. Would have liked to see a bigger motivation to get a shot off. And to reiterate. Again. Her Christen and Crystal need to get back on their vibes.

Samantha - I don’t know if it would have made a difference if we had her in from the start, but it sure was a relief seeing her come onto the field. I think I was getting food during her one attempt on goal, so missed that. But never fully settled into the game. So that’s no fun. She’s been in spectacular form and I wish we could have utilized her sooner. How? Idk. Maybe a 4 person midfield? Coulda shoulda woulda.

Kristie - what position did she even come in as??? I was so confused. Not enough time to say much. But it really speaks to the US offensive productivity that Kristie got two shots on goal in her minimal time. Would have been rad AF if one of those chances had gone in.

Carli - 300 caps is cool. Credit where credit is due. But I just about lost my mind. Shots to the moon. Falling every time she got touched. Offsides. Heavy, heavy touches and lost possessions. This was not a game to celebrate for her and that’s too bad. Leaving her in that long was rough. AND the one time she should have been selfish and shot the ball, THAT WAS WHEN SHE PASSED. I could not deal.

Lynn - Gosh I want good things for Lynn. But today was not her day. She was lost out there and her decision making on when to turn on the wheels and when to make cuts and crosses, it wasn’t there. She wasn’t stretching the field either. She drifted central and it made an already congested middle, even more crowded. There was definitely a play where she was extremely IN THE WAY and thwarted a potential goal attempt. She did work back defensively and was successful in that. But. Another shot to the moon and not much else to speak on. I don’t know what she she needs to get a spark, but she needs one, bad.

Christen - I hate not being able to gush about Press. I always want her to be phenomenal. But her touches were heavy. Her moves weren’t as sharp. And Sweden was able to anticipate and cut off the angles of her passes. Maybe it was just an off day. Maybe it’s the knock she’s dealing with. But there was no zoom and typical Pressy cuts and it wasn’t fun. And for the last time. Her Lindsey and Crystal need to be on the same page again. Tooooo many miscommunications. You know what she did well though? DEFENSE. So, positive there.

Pinoe - was sooooo fucking happy when she came in. She really does provide a spark and a change of pace and play. There were definitely more opportunities once she came on. She connects well with Lindsey through the midfield so that was nice. AND EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU PINOE FOR BEING A FREAK OF NATURE AND BEING CLUTCH AT PKS.

And Alex - very happy to see the mother of Charles in the game. She’s going to need more minutes to get back to her peak game. She provided a new challenge for the Swedish defense and definitely was more dangerous than Carli, but never truly got all the way into the game. She did get some decent goal opportunities but... oh my god... that one PERFECT cross when literally NO ONE was there?? I screamed. That sucked. That would have been a sick assist.

Is that everyone? I think so. God. Overall, touches were too heavy and connections were off. We are lucky lucky lucky duckies to tie it up with a PK. But like everyone is saying. It’ll be a benefit in the long run to get the kinks out now. Have the shaky, not so good games, NOW. It’s the kick in the pants we need to peak during the Olympics.

Lol. I guess I did have a lot to say. No one should be surprised.

[pinkydec]

girl enjoy the game and make a write up for us afterwards (if you want to).... tumblr can wait 😂

are yall ready for this shshsh,

So I lost my shit when I first saw dec and a) squealed rather loudly which Nina got on video and b) punched the shit out of Nina’s arm (soz Nina)

They physically couldn’t stay away from each other walking through the tunnel, all the other players were spread apart behind one another and then you get mase and dec who physically were attached at the hip

The national anthems were so funny bcs you had most of the players singing it calmly and then you got dec signing it extremely passionately shshs

They walked to their starting positions together as well and it was so cute I swear

Both dec and mase are so so so so fucking pretty I legit died

Also dec in rl has this almost aura of maturity and responsibility to him and I won’t lie it’s v attractive

Side note we were sat so close to the subs I could let see chilly and Tammy and I tell you they looked d e v I n e

Not to mention I kept losing my shit when the subs warmed up to the point I kept forgetting to watch the match because I was watching the subs shshs

(Hendo is a dilf, there I said it)

Match wise? The game was shocking. we missed kalv and Harry maguire so much, our midfield was so exposed at times like there was just huge gaps over one side and it looked so stupid

Dec didn’t have the worse game in the world but it defo wasn’t his best, mase wasn’t the best either tbh

We played so many slow balls as well and it nearly shot us in the foot so many times I swear

John stones is stupidly hot and was easily our best player last night, Kyle Walker was definitely not

Phil didn’t play the best at all but did some very sexy little flicks

Kyle decided to strip in front of us and I will tell you that man has a very attractive back

I SAW DECS ABS AND DIED

decs hair w/o gel looks even nicer in person

Pickers has a v v v nice ass

The whole penalty was so weird like we didn’t have a clue what was going on bcs we all thought it was a free kick and then it was like no it’s a penalty wtf

The ref was bloody shit at times but it was a correct call after watching the replays tbh, but the Hungary player rolling around was v v exaggerated

Johns goal was a very nice feeling tbh, everyone erupted and it was just very nice

Dec was very pissed after the match and a number of the boys didn’t hesitate to get off the pitch asap tbh

Buk is so cute I cried I love one man

Sidenote the chills that went through my body when the fans made so much noise and it echoed was such an amazing feeling

We were sat intront of the two most annoying kids I legit wanted to scream tho

[the-necessary-unnecessary]

My top 7 Arsenal wfc players, aka the whole team because they're all my children and you can't chose between children

(And they're not many more than seven anyways)

Beth Mead: a wizard on the wong and the original crot queen. She may not have had the best season this year but shes still managed to play an important part in the team and has conquered many hearts in the process. If she has to retire early because of all the hits she receives during matches then she's got a bright future ahead of her as a cringey tiktok star or, if that fails, a career as a HSM impersonator on cruise ships

Cailtin Foord: there were mixed opinions when she was first announced as a new signing, but she almost immediately became one more member of the arsenal family amongst players and supporters alike. Before Covid struck shes already stamped her mark on the club with her skill and made her way onto the scoresheet, and now shes also made her way into Lia's house and infected the squad with the chaotic tiktok bug

Dan Carter: literally a gooner through and through having played for arsenal for practically all her life and pulling through in the big moments. Heartbreak and injury have been her middle names for over the past year having sustained two ACL injuries in 14 months. Even if she hasnt had as much of an impact on the pitch shes still been a large part of injury fc, with her and her diary always being a source of sarcasm and banter through it all.

Danielle Van De Donk: she probably described herself best when she said she was a feisty puppy who wants to ball. A woman who takes no prisoners during matches, opponents refs and the back of nets all fear her. Off the pitch though shes a real softie who radiates chaotic energy and yet has developed over the years into quite the leader (even if she still follows beth around on her tiktok adventures)

Jennifer Beattie: a friendly giant who quietly puts in all the work at the back, being an absolute unit as a last line of defense which was sorely missed during her injury. She came back from City because arsenal is home and that's beautiful. Talking about beautiful, her and Chloe. That's it, nothing more needs to be elaborated on. Pretty underrated although shes been getting more attention lately, she makes Kim company as the quiet Scottish duo who are lethal on the pitch

Jill Roord: despite her love hate relationship with goal posts, shes still made her mark at arsenal this year especially thanks to the fact that she has remained injury free this year (dont worry I touched wood when I typed that) and hopefully next year when shes settled in even more to the team and the league then she'll be able to show what she's truly made of. That is, if she lasts that long before the team kick her out for being too annoying. A woman who likes the two extremes, Frozen and Olaf as well as blonde tattooed players and famous thirst traps, she epitomises this soft yet hard personality dichotomy too

Jordan Nobbs: calm, composed, skillful, professional, dynamic and with the capacity of being able to astutely read the game, she's the personification of arsenal in a player. Having been at the club for a whole decade now she's practically lived it all and yet she continues on hungry for better and more. With the way she acts on the pitch you would never guess her forgetful, dorky, awkward nature off it. The woman with both the longest nando's order ever and the shortest attention span.

Katie McCabe: the Irish devil, the arsenal player founder of the tucked in shirt, member of the love to hate her girlfriend club. Her almost permanent move to left back this season has reaped bountiful benefits for her, a flexible player who always finds freedom on the wing shes proved herself as lethal as both a defender and a finisher. In Jordan's words, she talks about her biceps all the time, but so would I if I was that stacked. That being said, Ruesha always finds a way to beat her which is probably payback for her scoring against West Ham in the cup

Katrine Veje: another player lost to injury this season, although lockdown has treated her well (that makes one of us) and she's apparently fully fit again. Shes been sorely missed as a fullback for most of her season, her explosiveness and crosses in particular. As it is shes used her time to get in some spectacular photoshoots and just be and just be a source of clownery as a veteran at injury fc

Kim Little: as silent as Kim and as deadly as Kim should be new british sayings at this point. Quick on her feet with nerves of steel shes an impressive player to watch and is sometimes the glue in the midfield that keeps arsenal together. Her professionalism both on and off the pitch is as big as her dislike of cameras

Leah Williamson: the face of arsenal and not because of her looks, rather because of her insane talent and her embodiment of all things arsenal. From the moment she was born arsenal was pumping through her veins. One of the best up and coming CBs with long range passes for days she has been a crucial part of the arsenal squad for so long you forget she's just 23. What she lacks in some of her fashion choices she makes up in her bright and nerdy personality and her never ending stream of insults directed at Jordan

Leonie Maier: she recently said that she has never regretted the decision to move to arsenal and that has been because shes been able to shine in defense mainly alongside Leah, each playing off each other's strengths and developing herself as a player in a new league which is never an easy transition. Dont let her banana bread making trick you into thinking shes the mum in the group, shes proved herself to be as chaotic as the rest of them.

Lia Walti: arguably the best thing to come out of Switzerland since toblerone (much better than swiss cheese though). Like a lot of arsenal players, it sometimes seems like she would be better off playing in bubble wrap so she wouldnt sustain as many injuries. She's an intelligent player, one of the best qualities to have as a midfielder, with skill coming out of her ears and unfulfilled potential still to come. Her sunshine-like looks can be deceiving though because she leaves her brain cells in the changing room, as is becoming an arsenal tradition.

Lisa Evans: another alround players who, as a winger-cum-fullback, has thrived in her position this year. Her defensive position yet forward thinking mentality has proved deadly and when shes been given space to roam the wing too shes provided goals and assists a plenty. Her unpredictability on the pitch translates into her chaotic tendencies off it and a love for the arsenal anthem “we've got McCabe, Katie McCabe”. Sometimes she likes to pretend that she's a seal (exhibit A attached below)

Louise Quinn: it would be stereotypical to say that it's natural that shes so good at headers due to her height, but stereotypes exist for a reason and her tower-like build makes her a match for any Millie Bright in the heading department. She's a consistent, sturdy player who is great at starting up play from the back in many cases providing that vital first past (sometimes with her head because she's tall). Her pastimes include drinking a lot of coffee, understandable that she needs to refuel considering her height, and making fun on her teammates so that they dont make fun of her accent and her 183 cm length. Have I mentioned that she's tall?

Manuela Zinsberger: an extremely talented goalkeeper although sometimes people can excusably confuse her with being arsenal's eleventh outfield player. Another bayern recruit she's been key this season making some great saves and causing a few heart attacks in the process (west ham's penalty box free kick anyone?). She may look tough but she's just as much a clown as the rest of them

Pauline Peyraud-Magnin: the second proud member of the goalkeepers union. Shes not called the Hulk for no reason, racking up some great saves and skills with her feet even as Joe's second choice. What she lacks in command of the english language she makes up in utter chaos including hand gestures, shouting and eratic dancing, well as staging photoshoots at arsenal's gym.

Viki Schnaderbeck: shes been able to mostly avoid injury fc this season after a long stint there last year and her hardwork has paid off to establish her as a mainstay here as a skilled defensive player. Shes been loud and proud recently on social media and I am loudly and proudly here to support it

Vivianne Miedema: in Katie's own words “the goat”. Absolutely lethal as a center-forward, calm collected and composed in front of the goal, and also crucial in providing build up play and assists. She can both hold off opponents and reach an unmatched maximum speed with surprising ambidexterity and complete nonchalantness. The only player who is actively lazy and is able to get away with it. She puts up with a lot of chaos but is not unknown to add to it too, mainly providing subtle humor and sarcastic wit. Not a personality for the faint hearted.

[aeon-wolf]

Two Idiots & A Closet - Julie Ertz x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k+ Pairing: Julie Ertz x fem!Reader

A generic “two idiots have feelings for each other and it takes their friends to “convince” them to actually woman up and admit it” fic. Ft. Alex, Kelley, and Allie as the friends. And an athletic closet.

You heard a knock at your hotel room door. You groaned, not wanting to get up from your spot on your bed, but the knock didn’t stop, in fact becoming more insistent the more you tried to ignore it. So you pulled yourself to your feet, pulling on a shirt that was lying on your bed and opened the door. The moment you cracked open the door, Kelley pushed her way into your room, Alex, and Allie on her heels. “Hello to you too.” You said, a little grumpily at being woken up from your nap. 

“This is an intervention!” Kelley demanded as you shut the door, Alex, and Allie also looking at you expectantly. You frowned, rubbing the remnants of sleep out of your eyes. 

“What are you talking about O’Hara?” 

“Your pining after JJ.” She said. That jolted you awake. 

“I don’t… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You replied, a bit nervously. You thought you had been hiding it so well. Your slightly larger than normal crush on the defensive midfielder. 

“Bullshit.” Alex chimed in, Kelley and Allie nodding in agreement. “We’ve put up with your heart eyes for long enough.” You just roll your eyes at your friends. 

“Yeah, we all saw the way you were making eyes at her after she scored against Chile,” Allie added. You blushed a little, not disputing that fact. You were so proud of Julie getting her first career World Cup goal that you had hung around the huddle hug a bit longer than everyone else. 

“I don’t have a thing for her. I was happy that my best friend scored her first World Cup goal!” You tried, but Kelley wasn’t having any of it. 

“Oh c’ mon. Almost the entire team knows you have the hots for her.” She insisted. “I think the only one who doesn’t know how you feel is JJ herself.” You cringed a bit.

“I don’t know what you expect me to do.” You relent. 

“Ask her out for fuck’s sake, (Y/N),” Alex said like it was the simplest thing in the world, but you shook your head fiercely in the negative.

“No way. She doesn’t even feel the same way. And even if she did, I’m not screwing up our friendship for that.” You said, a little dejectedly. “It’s just a little crush. I’ll get over it.” You defended, but all three of your fellow national team players just looked at you skeptically. “What?”  

Kelley just laughed. “Girl, you’ve had it bad ever since you met her. It’s been 3 years, if you’re not ‘over it’ by now, you’re sure as hell not going to be.” She said. You just blinked. 

You had actually met Julie for the first time at training camp when you had been called up at the age of 20. You had known of her for a while, given she had captained her own U20 team to a U20 World Cup win in 2012 and also from playing against the Chicago Red Stars. But you didn’t get the opportunity to actually talk to her until you were both at camp. Being the new center back called up, Julie seemed to take you under her wing, helping you improve in her old position. 

From there, you two became thick as thieves. Almost inseparable. And you developed your crush on your best friend. You thought you had been hiding it well, but considering Kelley, Alex and Allie all seemed to know about it, maybe you weren’t as sneaky as you thought. 

“If you don’t grow some, I’m going to go over and knock on her door right now and…” Alex threatened but you threw a pillow at her. 

“Don’t you dare, Morgan.” You grouched. “You’re not going to do a single thing.” She looked at you innocently. 

“What? I was just going to say I’ll go over there and tell her that we’ve got to be at training at 9 in the morning.” You just rolled your eyes. 

“She knows what time practice is.” You retorted. Alex shrugged. 

“Seriously (Y/N), what’s the issue? You’ve got a thing for her. Pretty sure she’s got a thing for you. And you’d make a great couple. I don’t really see the downside here.” Kelley said. You just huffed. 

“JJ is my best friend guys.” You said. Kelley feigned devastation but you just shoved her. “Feelings or not, I can’t lose that.” You continue. Alex sat up a bit straighter. 

“Jules wouldn’t end your friendship just because you have feelings for her, you know that right?” She said. You nod. 

“Of course I know that. But it will still make things awkward. I don’t want that.” 

“But if we’re right and she does have a thing for you, you two would make the perfect couple. You two already act like one except all the fun stuff.” Allie chimed in. You glared at her and she just raised her hands in surrender. You were about to reply but there was another knock at your door. You looked at the three women sitting on the other bed in the room which belonged to you roommate, Lindsey Horan, but they all just shrugged. You got up and padded over to the door. Opening it to find Julie on the other side. 

“Hey JJ.” You greet. You can hear Alex, Allie and Kelley all giggling and murmuring to themselves. 

“Hey (Y/N). Want to go grab dinner?” She asked. You looked down at your state of dress, which was just black sweatpants and the white t-shirt you had thrown on. You were sure you looked like a hot mess. She seemed to notice and just laughed. “You have time to get changed.” She assured you. You shrugged, nodding in acceptance of her invitation, opening the door for her. 

“Sure, want to come in while I change?” You asked. She nodded, stepping into your room. You wandered back to your stuff and teammates. “You three, out.” You said. Alex, Allie, and Kelley got up off Lindsey’s bed, shuffling out of the room. You went to see them out when Kelley grabbed your wrist. 

“This is your chance.” She whispered to you. You just flipped her off and shoved her out into the hallway. You went back to your luggage, looking for a pair of jeans as Julie made herself at home on your bed. 

“What were they here for?” She asked curiously. You just rolled your eyes. 

“To bother me.” You said, not wanting to elaborate. She seemed to accept your answer as you pulled off your sweats and changed into jeans. It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t seen each other in your underwear thousands of times over the last three years. You grabbed a clean shirt that was hanging in the closet before heading into the bathroom to fix your hair and makeup. 

“Ready for semis?” She called to you. 

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” You replied, putting your hair into a messy bun on top of your head. “You?” You asked as you applied a bit of makeup quickly. Julie came into view as she leaned against the doorframe to your bathroom, watching you. 

“Hoping it’ll go better than last time.” She joked. You chuckled, recalling she accidentally caused Germany to be given a penalty kick the last time. “Hope really saved my ass on that one.” She said. 

“You know that wasn’t really your fault. It’s football, those things happen.” You said, putting your eyeliner back in your bag. 

“Yeah, but if we had lost because of that penalty I would have never forgiven myself.” She said. You look away from the mirror, moving closer to your friend, putting your hands on her shoulders. 

“But you didn’t. You won and went on to win the World Cup. Just like we’re going to do this year.” You reassure her. She nods, wrapping her arms around your waist, giving you a hug. It was moments like this that made it really hard for you to not pull back and kiss her, but as you had told Kelley, Alex and Allie, you weren’t going to jeopardize your friendship with Julie just because of a crush. 

----

You sprinted onto the field as the final whistle blew, signifying your win over England and advancement to the World Cup finals. You made a beeline for Julie, jumping into her arms. The blonde laughed, catching you and hooking her hands under your thighs. “You did it!” You exclaimed excitedly, your arms around her neck. 

“You weren’t an insignificant part of that either.” She reminded you. You had started the game, but Jill had subbed you out for Abby at halftime. You were good enough to start but still were relatively new to the squad. So you had watched Julie play the rest of the game from the bench, Allie nudging you every so often when you got a bit too engrossed in watching her play. You snuggled your nose into her neck as she held you up, gripping your thighs a bit tighter. 

“We’re into the finals.” You said. If your mouth hadn’t been close to her ear, she probably wouldn’t have heard you, but she nodded. 

“We sure are. Ready to go party about it?” She asked. You drew yourself back, nodding as she put you down. The two of you went and shook hands with a couple of the English players, Ellen White and Lucy Bronze if you recalled correctly before heading back to the tunnel and into the locker room. You rolled down your socks, taking your shin guards off and tossing them into your sports bag as Julie pulled the pre-wrap headband off, her hair still sticky with sweat from playing the full game. She turned to her locker to change out of her uniform as Kelley slid into the seat next to you. 

“So, she doesn’t have a thing for you, huh?” Kelley whispered. You shoved her in an attempt to get her to shut up given Julie was only a few feet away from you. 

“No. Now go away O’Hara.” You hissed. She just waggled her eyebrows and went over to Allie, the two of them gossiping in the corner, you were sure about you and Julie. They glanced your way every so often but you ignored them. You pulled your cleats off, putting them with your shin guards in your sports bag and changed into your sweats. When you finished, Julie was nowhere to be seen. But you weren’t particularly concerned, you were sure you’d meet up at the hotel and go out for drinks after. 

“Hey (Y/N).” You looked up to see Alex jogging towards you. 

“Alex.” You greeted, standing up. 

“Jill wants to talk to you.” She said. You frowned, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for Jill to want to talk to individual players after a game, but you couldn’t think of anything that could warrant it. But you just shrugged, following Alex to a different part of the locker room. The two of you stopped outside what looked like an athletic closet of sorts, a bang coming from the other side of the door. You frowned, looking at Alex. But before you had an opportunity to ask what was going on, Alex opened the door and another pair of hands shoved you in. 

“What the fuck guys?” You ask as the door shut and clicked behind you. You tried to handle but found it locked. 

“We’re not letting you out until you woman up.” You heard Kelley say from the other side. You pounded on the door. 

“If you don’t let me out right now O’Hara, so help me.” You say but a hand grabbed your wrist to stop your fist from hitting the door again.

“I don’t think swearing at them is going to help.” A familiar voice said. You turned to see Julie locked in the same closet with you. 

“What is going on?” You asked, she just shrugged. 

“No idea. One moment Allie says Jill needs to talk to me, the next Kelley shoves me in this closet. And then she shoved you in here too.” You roll your eyes at your friend’s antics in trying to get you and Julie together. But you were going to be stubborn. You weren’t going to admit shit under duress like this. 

“I’m going to make it my personal mission to make the rest of your life hell O’Hara if you don’t let us out.” You yell. You just heard a scoff. 

“I’ll let you out right now after you admit it.” She replied. You growl. 

“You’re so dead Kelley!” You were about to pound a fist on the door again, but Julie stopped you. 

“What is she talking about?” She asks you. 

“Nothing. She’s being a shit friend.” You reply, brushing off the question. But Julie grabbed your arm, spinning you to face her. 

“Is there something going on?” She asked. You shake your head quickly. 

“Nothing.” You say, maybe a bit too fast because Julie looks at your skeptically. “It’s nothing.” You clarify, a little defeated, the fight drained out of you as her blue eyes stare at you. You always had a weakness for Julie, rarely ever being able to deny her anything. You avert your gaze, the back of your neck heating up a little. 

“Hey.” She said, lifting your chin to look at her. “You know you can tell me anything right?” You nod once but say nothing. She just sighs. “You’re my best friend, whatever it is, I promise it won’t change that.” She tries to reassure you, though the term best friend makes your heart clench a little. 

“It will though.” You say quietly in response. She gripped your shoulders tightly. 

“You’ll never know if it will unless you tell me.” She presses. You close your eyes, shaking your head, too terrified to actually voice the words out loud. There was a bang from the outside of the closet. 

“I don’t hear any confessing in there!” Kelley yelled. You groaned.

“Seriously, whatever it is, I can take it,” Julie said. 

“I like you, okay!” You explode, the stress coming both from Julie and Kelley too much for you to ignore anymore. Being trapped in a relatively small closet with your crush didn’t help either. “I’ve had feelings for you since we met, I’m just too chicken to admit it to you because I knew you didn’t like me like that and I didn’t want to mess up our friendship. Okay? Happy?” You said grumpily, arms folded in front of your chest, leaning up against the door. 

There was silence from both sides of the door. You suspected that Kelley didn’t think you’d actually admit it. And despite your crippling fear of your best friend’s reaction, your chest did feel a bit lighter after admitting your feelings. “You... “ You looked up, Julie’s hands still on your shoulders, seemingly trying to work out what you just said. You just shrug, not willing to say anything more that would make the situation worse. 

You felt Julie’s lips against yours before you really processed what was happening. You made a sputtering noise at the sudden invasion of personal space, and it took you a moment to fully comprehend what was happening. But once you did, you reciprocated, unfolding your arms and pulling Julie’s hips closer you to. Her hands left your shoulder, wrapping her arms around your neck. You pulled back after air became an issue, resting your head against the door breathlessly. “Wow.” You said. Julie grinned, pressing her forehead against yours at a little bit of a downward angle as she was a couple inches taller than you. 

“I told you I could handle it.” She said quietly. You snort. 

“How was I to know that?” You asked cheekily. She just rolled her eyes before kissing you again. “So, will you go on a date with me?’ You ask after you broke apart again. Julie’s eyes lit up a bit, nodding. 

“I’d love to.” She said. 

“I told you!” You hear from the other side of the door. 

“Fuck you, Kelley.” You yell back, but to be honest, you were quite pleased with the outcome and maybe you’d spare Kelley’s life after she let the two of you out of the closet. 

A/N: Okay, I enjoy this. Still not 100% on board with shipping real life people, but doing it with player x reader makes it a bit easier. And I still can’t help my thought of what if JJ was gay. She’d be too powerful for all of us so maybe it’s for the best. Might be a part 2, idk if anyone wants that. 

[theweirdqueerwriter]

Seeing Red - A Kelley O’Hara imagine

It had been months since you received the call that would ultimately change your life. You had made the national team, after trying so hard for years, you dream had finally been made reality.

After weeks of training, today was your first game against none other than Canada. You were on the starting eleven, which many fans and reporters complained about, since they’d never seen you play before.

“Hum... hello? (Y/N) are you still with me?” Kelley asks from the other side of your shared room.

“Sorry, what?” You replied, suddenly being brought back to reality.

“Alright, that is enough, what’s going on?” Kelley asks, crossing her arms and sitting on the bed in front of you.

“What do you mean?” You reply, trying to act tough, knowing it’s not working at all on Kelley who, for the last months, you had grown really close to.

“Don’t even try this with me (Y/N), what’s wrong,” she asks and without really knowing why, a tear falls down your cheek, followed by a few more and the next second you are full on crying.

At the sight of that, Kelley gets up and comes to sit on your bed, taking you into her arms, trying to help you calm down with a reassuring hand on your back.

“Hey, it’s okay, whatever it is you can tell me, please talk to me. I’m right here.” Kelley says, now caressing your back, with your face in the crook of her neck and her chin on your head.

This whole thing had affected you way more than you would have liked and thought it would. Slowly but surely, the tears stop flowing and you pull away from her.

“Have you seen the articles? What the fans are saying?” You ask, eyes red and puffy, sniffling a bit.

“(Y/N), please don’t tell me you did this to yourself. Why would you look at those things? Especially before a big game like this,” Kelley asks, now understanding where all of this was coming from.

You look at her, guiltily, unable to answer. You look down, unable to hold her gaze.

“Look, I get it okay, but some people can be really harsh on social media and some fans don’t love when things change a lot and rapidly, so some comments might have been really rude, but you know what?” Kelley asks, looking at you and putting a hand on you chin to rise you face so she can see your eyes.

“What?” You reply, looking into her eyes.

“Now you prove them wrong,” she says, whipping away the tear on your left cheek and placing a piece of loose hair behind your ear.

A bit of a smile forms on you lips. You are feeling better already and Kelley can see it.

“Come over here, weirdo,” Kelley says, pulling you into a tight bone crushing hug.

*cut to game*

The crowd is already on fire and the game hasn’t even started yet. As you walk onto the field and get ready for the national anthems to start playing, you remember the tweets you read right before leaving the locker room. Only tweets from your teammates, encouraging you for your first game. You feel the love from them all over again. You also remember the not so nice tweets you had read that morning from fans of the team and the pain they had brought you, but also the desire to prove them wrong.

The anthems now over, each player takes place onto the field for the game to begin. The hype is real, this game is important, for you and for the team, so you can’t mess this up. The whistle blows and the ball lifts off.

Being on right midfield had pretty much always been your position on the field and that was exactly where you were at the moment.

The ball reaches your feet and you move forward, creating a way through Canadian players and eventually you pass forward to Tobin, who cuts through the defenders and shoots on goal. Labbe, however, catches it. Your first assist will have to wait. Tobin turns and gives you a thumbs up, she liked that pass and wants more.

You can feel the electricity in the stands. Fans from both sides cheering their favorite players on. You move backwards when Janine Beckie moves forward, towards goal, with purpose. You attempt a slide tackle, which you succeed at and steel the ball right from under her feet, passing it back to Kelley who sends it to Sauerbrunn. The crowd cheers louder after that play, which feels like a compliment.

The ball goes back and forth between the two teams for some time, no one really able to finish it and put it at the back of the net on either side of the pitch. It’s at the 43rd minute that your team gets a corner, the first of the match. The whole team lines up and so do you. Rapinoe gets ready to hit the ball. A hand up from Megan tells you the ball is coming and when she hits it, the confusion in front of the goal gives you an opportunity to slip between players and connect with the ball with your head and score an amazing goal. The team goes crazy and so do the fans. Alex jumps into your arms, amazed that you just scored you first goal with the squad on your first game. Megan gives you a big hug and you thank her for the opportunity. You feel someone jumping on your back and just know who it is.

“Yes! That’s what I’m talking about!” Kelley says, holding you from behind. You turn around to face her and see her smile from ear to ear. She takes your face into her hands and kisses your forehead, where you connected with the ball. Tobin hands you the ball with which you just scored your big goal.

“You’re gonna want to keep this one,” she says with a wink.

You thank her and take the ball from her hands hesitantly. You look at it and feel pride in yourself. You look at the crowd and raise the ball up. The crowd cheers louder and as you kiss the ball, they start cheering even louder. You run to the sidelines quickly to give to ball to someone who’ll put it with your stuff and get congratulations from the team on the bench.

The game continues and shortly after, first half is over.

The team regroups in the locker room and Jill gives a speech of motivation to the team and explains the new strategy, without forgetting to mention your first goal.

After, you head back to the field. Kelley is beaming beside you.

“I’m so proud of you (Y/N). That goal was amazing and put us in advance,” she says, still amazed by what you did.

“Thanks Kel, means a lot from you,” You reply, a huge smile on your face.

Kelley looks at you with amazement and shakes her head, rolling her eyes and putting an arms around your shoulders as you walk back out on the field.

You start warming up again before the second half starts. Eventually, you are back in midfield, with the ball at your feet. The second half is a lot trickier. Canada came in with a totally different attitude. They wanted to win and they would do anything for it. That meant being more ferocious and physical. Alex had been fouled twice in the first ten minutes of the second half and the ref didn’t seem to care at all.

Looking up for a second, you see an opening and start running, but get cut off by Chapman, coming full force towards you and placing a foot in front of the ball. your foot gets caught in it, which results in you falling and losing the ball. Kelley protests right away for a foul, but the ball stays in play.

It hurts, but you get back up just as Kelley regains possession of the ball. She passes it midfield to Ertz, who in an attempt to pass forward, gives it back to the opposing team.

Their attack comes quickly, with short passes in the defense line and a great finish by Sinclair which equalizes the game. Within the next ten minutes, Canada managed to foul seven players, obtain only one yellow card, and score a second goal. With now 20 minutes left to go, the team knows they have to act, fast.

After a great pass by Kelley, the ball falls back at your feet and pressing forward, you feel the pressure from the Canadian side. An opening allows you to slip the ball to Alex who finishes on her left foot. She comes running towards you and lifts you up into her arms. The rest of the team comes crashing into the two of you and you feel all the love from you teammates.

The ball goes back into play and with now only a few minutes left, you don’t want this game to end on an equalizer. The clocks starts ticking by as some opportunities come and go. You run up field and receive a great ball from Mewis. In the box now and about to shoot your shot when the ground is taken from under you. You hit the ground, hard, and your ankle feels like its been torn. You hold it, crying, wanting to scream in pain but no sound comes out. The players are still playing and the ball reaches Kelley, who had already been running upfield to come to you aid. She immediately shoots it outside and runs to you.

“(Y/N) are you okay?” She asks, clearly worried and bending down to talk to you.

“God my ankle” is the only thing you can form and she immediately signals for the medical staff to come and help.

She gets up and the ref, who had been standing right beside you signals that a penalty kick was to be taken. Kelley asks for a card to be given and as she says it the ref pulls out a card, aimed at Chapman, who slide tackled you moments prior. It’s a red card, no less. Chapman protests and Kelley thanks the ref for doing something right for once in this game.

The medical team are assessing your injury when Kelley kneels back down next to you.

“It’s gonna be okay (Y/N), you’ll be fine I promise” she says, trying to reassure herself more than you.

“We need to switch you out, you aren’t finishing this game” one of the medics say, to which you try protesting, but seeing the state of you ankle, you agree to being subbed out. They roll you out on a stretcher, a little stream of tears on your face from frustration and pain. The crowd cheers as you leave the field, and Kelley can’t help being worried and scared at the state of your ankle, herself having had ankle injuries.

Alex scores on the PK, and the final whistle blows, the US have won.

While everyone on the field starts cheering and congratulating each other, Kelley can’t find it in herself to be happy in the moment, she’s too worried about you and can’t wait to leave the field and see if you’re alright.

Alex, seeing the worry on Kelley’s face runs up to her and reassures her that you will be alright, but words just aren’t enough at the moment. She needs to see you.

Eventually she leaves the field and when she reaches the locker rooms, you aren’t there.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” She asks Jill, a little bit harsher than she intended.

“She’s getting treatment, she’ll meet us back at the hotel when she’s done” Jill replies.

“Thanks” Kelley replies, already starting to think the worst.

Right now she wishes she could hit Chapman, but she knows nothing like that would help the situation, it wouldn’t even make her feel better.

The bus ride back to the hotel is filled with chants from the team and overall happiness, except from Kelley, who prefers to stay quiet and look out the window. Her thoughts are going wild and Alex notices. She slips through the people and sits down next to Kelley.

“The bus isn’t going to the hotel right away” Alex says, anticipating Kelley’s reaction.

As expected, Kelley turns her focus to Alex with wide eyes.

“What? Why? Where are we going ?” She says, a slight anger in her voice.

“The team wanted to go out for drinks, it’s on Jill and the bus is just dropping us off there” Alex explains, “but before you say anything, I called you an Uber, it’ll pick you up at the bar when we get there” Alex adds, and sees a slight relief on Kelley’s face.

“Thank you Alex,but why did you-“ Kelley starts, but is cut off by Alex.

“Oh please Kel, like I wouldn’t notice how you feel about this girl” Alex starts “I’ve never seen you act that way about a player getting hurt ever before.” Alex states and Kelley’s eyes widen.

“Is it that obvious?” She asks, her cheeks heating up a bit and a slight redness appearing.

“I mean, you’re my best friend so of course I’d notice, not sure if anyone else noticed” Alex replies, a grin on her face.

“God... I just hope she’s okay... I can’t imagine her not being able to play for the World Cup. She would be devastated” Kelley states, looking back out the window.

To that, Alex simply leans on her shoulder, resting her head on it, reassuringly.

*cut to Kelley getting off the Uber*

Kelley heads for the doors of the hotel after her Uber ride and makes a mental note to thank Alex once again for calling one from the bus.

Walking the halls, Kelley can’t help but feel some type of ache in her stomach, as nervousness settles in. She finally reaches the door to your shared room and opens it quietly.

Once she’s in, she can see the lamp on your bedside table still lit and you on the bed, quietly sobbing with your ankle all taped up. She cautiously approaches you and rounds your bed so she is sitting on hers, looking at you.

You hadn’t realized she had came in and jumped when you opened your eyes.

“God Kelley, didn’t know you were back” you say, turning so you’re laying on your back, quickly whipping your face, attempting to hide the fact that you were just crying.

“Sorry, I didn’t wanna scare you” Kelley replies, a soft but worried expression on her face.

You both sit there, in the comfortable silence for a few seconds.

“Are you okay?” Kelley tries, carefully.

“They said I won’t be able to play for a few weeks, but I should recover” You reply, earning a confused look from the brunette.

Another silence.

“Did we win?” You ask, your voice cracking a bit and it dawns on Kelley why you had been crying.

“Hey, you don’t have to be disappointed by your performance today (Y/N), you did amazing and what happened was in no way your fault” Kelley says, coming over and sitting on your bed and you sit up. She take you hand in hers, providing comfort.

“We did win today, Alex scored on the PK” Kelley says, and you breathe in relief, a tear falling down your cheek.

Kelley’s face changes. In the moment, she looks really worried.

“God I was so worried” she says, hugging you. You rested you face in the crook of her neck and she lets out a breath of relief.

The hug is comfortable and holds so much meaning. You feel your heart rate picking up. You would stay like this forever if you could. Kelley pulls always, slowly, but staying close, looking into your eyes. She leans in, carefully, and places a kiss on your forehead. Her lips linger and your heart goes crazy at the contact. It no longer feels like comfort. It feels like so much more than that. She pulls away, but you don’t let much time pass before pulling her in for a kiss. It surprises you, the newfound confidence that you seem to have around her. It surprises her too, because she didn’t think her feelings were reciprocated. The kiss is sweet and meaningful, and you let yourself melt into it, into her. Her soft hands on you face, yours on her hips. After a few minutes, you both pull away. One of her hands is still caressing your cheek.

She’s about to say something, but you cut her off before she has a chance too.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow. It’s late and I’m tired and I think the meds are kicking in, I’m starting to feel fuzzy” You say and she lets go of your face.

“Okay” she says before standing up.

“Wait” you say, taking her arm in you hand “can you just lay with me?” You ask and her face softens even more. You didn’t even know that was possible.

“Sure” she says and rounds the bed before climbing behind you. She’s careful, not wanting to hurt your foot while getting in. She hugs you from behind, putting her head in your necks and you turn off the light by your side.

Kelley exhales in you ear, sending shivers down your spine. You feel safe in her arms. Before drifting off to sleep, you her her muffled voice in your ear say “don’t ever scare me like that again, weirdo”.

[justlightthefirstspark]

United vs Chelsea - Conti Cup Semi Final - 29/01/2020

So the line up and bench for this one was interesting. Aimee Palmer was cup tied for this one, having already lined out for Sheffield United earlier in the season, Ella Toone is currently serving a 3 game suspension following a (questionable) red card vs Spurs, and both Kirsty Hanson and Leah Galton are out injured, which led to a very sparse bench, and pretty much the same XI as vs City. Lauren James started in place of Jane Ross, which was very clearly a good idea.

First half:

This game was a little cagey to start with, but ultimately a lot better than Saturday’s showing vs City. LJ had a decent shot around 6 mins, after some great build work from Groenen.

Abbie’s constant back passes to Earps returned, as did my anxiety. To be honest, Earps never looks completely comfortable to be on the receiving end of back passes so I don’t understand why the majority of that back 4 insist on playing that way so often?

Aside from those back passes, I though Abbie had a really good game. At least until she was forced off injured deep into the second half. She played an absolute stormer from the first whistle, and she was literally everywhere. Had a decent chance to get the first goal too around the 25 minute mark, very unfortunate to have that header go straight at Telford. She really, really redeemed herself after that performance vs City at the weekend.

‘27 - some Wales on Wales crime. Sophie Ingle booked for an almighty challenge on Hayley Ladd. Fair enough, the way Hayley fired herself into Ingle may have made it look more than it was. Entertaining tho. I’m also gonna take this opportunity to confess that I may be a little bit (a lot) in love with Hayley Ladd. I gotta be honest, I didn’t really know much about her before she signed in the summer, but she’s really, really great. I feel like she’s kinda underrated a little bit? Anyway, I genuinely don’t think this girl feels any pressure, like at all. A little bit like LJ I guess. She just gets her head down and does her job - calm and cool 100% of the time. I would very much like her to stay forever. I’m definitely gonna have to start watching more of this Wales team aren’t I?

‘34 - Earps with a cracking save. I feel like she’s more of a shot stopper than anything else, her distribution can be a little off sometimes, but she did really well to deny Chelsea there.

I think James and Arnot linked up quite well last night, especially around the 40 minute mark, unfortunately Lizzie was called just offside. She’s really impressed me (whenever she gets a shot) this season tbh, I hope she manages to get herself in the XI more often from now on.

‘42 - Jess Sigsworth pulling double shifts again. She’s constantly down around that back four, helping out and sometimes doing other people’s jobs for them and I’m kinda terrified that she’s gonna run herself into a brick wall at some stage? Like I think it’s fairly clear that we need to reinforce and add depth and quality defensively but I also think it’s pretty clear that Jess isn’t the answer to that particular problem, as impressive as her drive and her work rate is.

‘43 - United should have been clear and away on the counter there. There was an earlier challenge from Ladd (I’m pretty sure) that the ref took an age to make up her mind on, and by the time she decided to call it back, Groenen (again, I’d have to rewatch to be 100% certain) was up and over the halfway line on the break. Annoying af.

Halftime:

Tbh I thought United did really well to not have conceded and to still be in the game at the half. The first half as a whole was pretty decent, Chelsea ultimately had the better chances and were the slightly stronger team. I just wish we could have taken the few chances we had in the first half and made something from them, Telford isn’t the world’s best keeper and I feel like we could have tested her more and I was kinda disappointed we didn’t.

Second half:

‘47 - a fairly decent (surprisingly. It’s no secret we’re pretty piss poor at set pieces) from Zelem resulted in Amy heading just over, which hurt my soul. (I wanted her to score so bad youse have no idea)

‘52 - Arnot had a decent chance, and was 100% in cause Telford came about 82739 miles off her line, but unfortunately it was cleared away. (Sidenote: I HATE when keepers come off their line and out of their box like that, even opposition keepers. It just really shits me out. Anyway)

‘53 - a decent Chelsea opportunity goes wide. I saw somewhere (twitter probably) that it took a deflection, but I’d have to rewatch to be certain. FA Player get your shit together and upload the game so I can double check challenge 🙄

The game really started to come to life around the 50 minute mark. Both teams had decent chances within about a minute of each other, and United’s intensity really stepped up - they came out guns blazing in the second. Both teams pressing and passing really cleaned up around this time too.

‘61 - decent chance for Sigsworth. Angle was just too tight, but I think the build up was massively overworked. She passed it off the Zelem who held it for a little too long imo, before sending it back to Jess who lashed it into the side netting. Think Jess could have made something of it first time but hey, what’s done is done now.

Game started to get a little scrappy heading into the last 20 mins - back to the rushed and mismatched and intercepted passes of the first half.

‘70 - Chelsea free kick saved well by Earps.

‘71 - Goal - Chelsea. Really tight angle, just about squeezed home. Really good work from Mjelde in hindsight but I feel like Earps could have saved that one. I hate to blame her entirely but she really should have done better with closing that one down.

‘72 - almost an instant response from United. LJ had a fantastic chance to equalise but unfortunately scorched it over the bar. I’m not gonna lie, I expected a little better from her there, but I understand the urgency.

‘73 - pretty soft yellow for Sigsworth

‘74 - Ross 🔁 Arnot.

Seemed like all the wind was sucked out of United after that goal, approaching the 80 minute mark. Most of that intensity and urgency was still kinda there and evident in small bursts, but was mostly lacking.

‘80 - United forced into a change. Harris (don’t talk to me) 🔁 McManus. Abbie took a bit of a blow around 20 minutes in, committing a challenge she was ultimately booked for. Fair play to her, she played through it, but she was definitely struggling for a while there. Apparently she was on crutches after the game, so I hope it’s nothing too serious. Also interested to see what Casey does with that back 4 if she’s out for a while. Amy obviously goes back in and CB but it would appear Martha is higher than Ökvist in the pecking order, which is annoying. I get that Casey is more defensive minded and might not want to play two more attacking FB’s at once (Ökvist & Smith) but Martha... 🤐

‘84 - James had a great ball in that forced a corner that - you guessed it - nothing came of

‘85 - Earps had a great block to deny Chelsea a second (and really and truly kill me off)

‘88 - Harris decides to try her luck from a little way out. It was a decent shot to be fair, given the circumstances, just couldn’t get the dip it needed and never really troubled Telford on it’s way over the bar.

4 minutes at the end of the 90 but United couldn’t get anything to stick, which was massively unfortunate.

Two semi final defeats in a row is absolutely gut wrenching, and very hard to take, but last night taught me a lot about this team. I personally thought that this game was miles better and such an improvement on Arsenal away last season. They were much better all round, in every position than last weekend vs City. To come so close against the 3 best teams in the league 5 times now and walk away with nothing is hard, and I feel so bad for those girls. They give their all everytime they step out on that pitch, and they deserved more. This week in particular. Seeing them all in literal bits at the final whistle nearly broke me tbh.

But it’s becoming more glaringly apparent as the season goes on that we are in desperate need of a more clinical, stone blood killer up top. I’d also be open to giving Mikalen a run in goal to prove herself - I think Earps has been a bit off lately.

Galton and Hanson were massively missed last night, and I think we could have done with Toone as well, but oh well.

I had my issues with the ref as well last night, I have to say. I thought she handled the knocks and (most of) the bookings correctly, as well as the penalty shout (which was not a penalty, sorry Jess) but she missed a clear foul on Jackie (59 mins) as well as a clear tug on Arnot (64 mins) in the second half. I also thought LJ was very lucky to get away with just a yellow for her foul on Ingle at the end of the first half, looked a little more like a red to me 😬

Hopefully Galton will be back for Sunday - she absolutely tore Reading to shreds the last time out and I would very much like to see more of that 🔥, but I’m kinda worried about that midfield trio too. The last thing we need is three defeats on the bounce, but they must be dyinggg cause they literally never, ever stop.

I know this one is a little later than usual and the format is slightly different too, but I was watching the men (for some reason) as well, and it was kinda hard to keep track of two games at once lol. Plus I just wasn’t really in the mood to try and to this last night. Also - if anyone has critiques or corrections or questions about my opinions or anything else pls don’t hesitate to drop them in my ask and I’ll edit things and answer whatever as best as I can ✌🏽

[fossadeileonixv]

Milan 1 Atalanta 1: Player Ratings

This guy man...

COACH

Pioli (7.0): Nailed it. Like, completely. Holding the best team in Serie A to a 1-1 draw without three of your best players using a makeshift defense? How can I critique? Milan were noticeably more conservative than we’ve become accustomed to, which considering the pressure that could have brought upon that back-line, could have been disastrous. But for the most part Pioli’s boys were cool-headed when pressed and economic in moving possession. Sounds easy, but no small feat considering the circumstances. And while I was a bit puzzled with the first set of subs, they paid off in dividends. Definitely looked like a coach that deserved an extension tonight.

STARTERS

Donnarumma (6.5): I guess all those prayers Mike requested worked because Teflon Don wasn’t tested nearly as often as many expected. Guessed right on Malinovskiy’s penalty helping secure the point.

Calabria (6.0): Did well to contain Papu & Co. on the right flank and the complaints about his positioning should be quelled for at least today as he hardly gave up an inch of space to La Dea’s attack. Could’ve done a bit better on Zapata’s equalizer, but all in all a really solid performance.

Kjaer (7.5) (Man of the Match): Absolutely pocketed Zapata who is by my estimation, Serie A’s best number 9, and that is all that really needs to be said. World class from the Dane.

Gabbia (6.0): This was as good as you could realistically expect from Gabbia. Got caught a couple times early on but settled in as the game went on and matched Kjaer’s composure when Atalanta pushed ahead late. Nice work!

Laxalt (6.0): Much like Gabbia, was significantly better than expected with very little coming from his side. Couldn’t get ahead as much as Theo would but when he did, he made it count, nearly scoring in the first half and delivering a couple crosses in front of net.

Biglia (4.5): At fault for the penalty with a really reckless challenge and was a step behind play for much of the game. Assumed the more reserved role in the pivot and still allowed far too much space for Atalanta’s attack to try their chances outside the box.

Kessie (6.5): Typical Post-Covid Franck stuff. Even with a different battery mate and looking admittedly a little fatigued, he marshaled the midfield from box to box, prividing stability on both sides of possession.

Saelemaekers (6.0): His work-rate was off the charts, helping Calabria with a daunting attack on the right. Had a few ‘Goddamn, kid’ moments in the final third, but a respectable showing nonetheless.

Calhanoglu (6.5): I don’t think I’ve been more wrong about a Milan player in my life.

Rebic (6.0): Looked lethal early on, but faded rather quickly around half-time. Was a bit of a crapshoot when he did get into the final third, but it paid off at least once as he earned the foul that led to Cal’s free kick.

Zlatan (6.5): Did exactly what we needed. Bullied Caldara all game, held up play, and found all the right outlets. Wasn’t given much of a chance for chances, but that’s how it goes.

SUBSTITUTIONS

Leao (6.0): Came on and immediately almost fed Saelemaekers our second goal. Injected energy and quality into an attack that was low on battery. Another superb performance off the bench.

Bonaventura (5.5): Hit the post and much like Leao, added a bit of punch when we needed it.

Krunic (5.5): Pretty good.

Samu (5.5): First game back.

That’s it y’all. Two games left so keep it locked and hope for Roma to trip up over the next two.

[brauthaalandfc]

Manchester City Player Ratings 2018/19

I got bored and decided to write a lil review of Manchester City players this season. Hope you enjoy and feel free to discuss.

Warning: may be biased

Ederson: 9/10  Keeping this one short and simple, just like Eddie’s passes from the back. What more do you want from a keeper? He can give you assists, great saves, and is willing to run half way up the pitch to defend his teammates. Took one point off him because he didn’t score. Maybe next season. 

Kyle Walker: 7.5/10 The English idiot definitely got tired around christmas time with a few dodgy games which I guess is understandable given the fact the he hadn’t really stopped playing for over a year with the World Cup and so on and he might have been the England crackhead but overall I think Kyle did well. Especially during the last few games, I thought that he played really well. I think it was Crystal Palace away that he probably had one of his best games. I hope he rests well over summer and can continue that form next season. 

Danilo: 7/10 When Kyle was too busy snorting coke (just kidding, don’t kill me), Danilo played really well in his place. Although he isn’t as quick or as direct as Kyle, he provided a composure and control that sometimes Kyle lacks. He didn’t really make any big mistakes when playing, and I would have given him a higher score if he played a little more. There has been rumours of him leaving and I hope these are not true because he is a pretty solid back up at right back and is Bernardo’s favourite person to annoy.

Oleksandr Zinchenko: 8/10 Am I crazy giving him a higher rating than Kyle? Probably. But I love to spread appreciation for my unproblematic little blonde ukrainian! Last summer he was linked heavily to Wolves- it looked highly probable that that was were he was going to end up this season. However, he decided to stay and fight for his place at Manchester City and I am so bloody glad that he did! When Ben got injured and Delph was...you know... being Delph, Zinnie stepped up and performed at left back (not his natural position!!) and played at a higher standard than any of us would have thought! I really admire his determination and confidence in himself to stay and fight to get into the first team. You can tell he works hard always and really loves and appreciates all his teammates. I have loved watching the little shy KDB lookalike grow and blossom into a more confident young man. Hopefully there is much more to come from this bundle of joy. We could all learn from Oleksandr Zinchenko!

Fabian Delph: 3/10 I might be a bit harsh here but literally, when did he forget the basics of football? Man preached it in All or Nothing but couldn’t practice it irl. Deplhy was a breakthrough last season and played well when Mendy got injured (yes, again). But this season... I don’t know what he was up to. Most games he played, we lost. I honestly have no clue what made him snap like that vs Leicester but bitch... calm down!! Is it harsh to say I don’t think he played well once this season? Well, I am saying it. Don’t get me wrong, I will be sad if he leaves this summer. He most definitely has passion, and whilst sometimes that leads to him perhaps being too emotional on the pitch, I appreciate it and is a popular character in the dressing room that will be missed. He has given a lot for the club in recent years but I’m afraid I see no future for him here. No more Delph every weekend :( 

Benjamin Mendy: 5/10 I have a soft spot for Mendy, can you tell? You’re probably thinking 5 is too high but I will tell you why. He played 10 games this season and got 5 assists during that time. That’s an assist every second game (if I have done my maths right). In the early stages of the season, there was no doubt that he was one of our most effective players. I was at the home game vs Huddersfield in August and I thought he played so well that game, bombing up the wing every time. He got an assist too, if I remember correctly? His crosses are insane and watching him live was a (rare) blessing! This makes it hurt even more knowing he got injured. It is obvious that Ben has so much potential and has bags of talent however, injuries seem to haunt him. Along with his occasion lax judgement and lack of concentration, he finds himself in difficult situations. It breaks my heart of the stories leaking from the training ground of him breaking down in tears. I cannot be easy for a young footballer to go through so many injuries when they are at a club that is constantly winning and breaking records, where you can watch your teammates win things and have fun with each other whilst you are stuck inside with your leg in a cast. My heart breaks for him and I hope that next season, these injuries no longer take over him and he can have a season to finally show why he is one of the best left backs in the world.

Aymeric Laporte: 9/10 There has been a lot of hype around Van Dijk this season (and rightly so) however, Aymeric hasn’t received as much attention and I think that is slightly unfair. Laporte, in my opinion, is not that far behind Van Dijk and is nowhere near his peak quite yet. I think that Aymeric has been one of our best and most important players this season. He is always reliable in defence and has probably been our first choice CB this season. Not to mention, he scored that header against Brighton that put us back in front and on the way to the title. I believe that Aymeric is an amazingly talented CB that will only improve over these next few seasons, and who knows, he might one day become the best CB in the league. 

Nicolas Otamendi: 6.5/10 Nico was so so good for us last year and offers us more physicality at CB in comparison to Stones and Laporte, however he hasn’t really stood out this season. Despite this, I don’t think he has done much wrong? He has been largely reliable when called upon to help out the team and I really can’t fault him for that. Like Danilo, he was been linked with a move elsewhere but I hope that he doesn’t move. Like I said, he is more physical than Stones and Laporte and sometimes I feel like we need that, and with Vinnie leaving I don’t think it is wise to let another CB go when I don’t feel academy players like Garcia are ready for that jump up yet. Oh and he has a good beard so I bumped him up from an initial 6. 

John Stones: 7.5/10 It has been a bit of a weird season for Stonsey, hasn’t it? At the beginning of the season, he was playing loads and was dead good. However, after THAT moment vs Liverpool he seemed to fade away a little and it looked like Pep prefered to play Vinnie and Laporte over him nearing the end of the season when it was tense. He still played a little though. sometimes coming on to play as a defensive midfielder kind of position and didn’t really make any mistakes there which I guess shows him maturing as an all round player and reveals just how much Pep trusts him and sees potential in him. I expect him to play a lot more next season and continue to grow as a central... sorry centre back.

Vincent Kompany: 8/10 I was considering giving him a 10/10 just for that goal vs Leicester but I am keeping that score for someone else ;) What can I say about this man that hasn’t already been said? He is a Manchester City and Premier League legend. He captained this team to a domestic treble, an achievement never done in Men’s English football. Pep trusted him at the most important part of the season and it turned out to be the correct decision with that thunderbolt against Leicester (honestly, I cried). His season was kinda the opposite to Stonsey’s, he didn’t play much in the beginning of the season but played a lot in the second half. I’m so glad he got a run of games without injuries and got to play a pivotal role in the season’s outcome. He went out on a high and I wish him all the best in his new role at Anderlecht, as long as he comes back sometime soon. Captain. Leader. Legend.

Fernandinho: 8.5/10 I think it says a lot about the importance of Fernandinho to this Manchester City team that when we lost two games back to back in December, Fernandinho was missing. He is crucial to the way in which we play, and he plays his role so effectively and in a composed and sophisticated manner. He is like the unsung hero of the team. So why didn’t I give him a 9 or a 10? Whilst he has been reliable for large parts of the season, sometimes I feel like the game gets to him a little. The best example of that was vs Newcastle where he gave away the penalty that could have cost us the league. Luckily it didn’t but usually he does not make them mistakes but sometimes when we are under pressure, he can let out his frustrations. Regardless of that, I think he has done an immense job yet again this season. Despite getting a few injuries and frustration clouding his better judgement, he is still one of our best players. 

Ilkay Gundogan: 8.5/10 I was soooo gutted when we signed him in 2016 and he then proceeded to have that season ended prematurely due to injuries because I was so excited to see him play for Manchester City. However, I feel like we got to see the best of Ilkay Gundogan this season. Whilst sometimes I scream at him for continuously passing backwards some games, his reading and intelligence of the game is probably one of the best in the squad. When Dinho picked up a few injuries near the end of the season, I thought that was our title dreams over, however Ilkay decided to prove me wrong and deliver amazing performances when we needed him most. Sometimes City fans on Twitter give him stick but I genuinely believe that he is a massive talent for us and is fully capable of playing that Dinho role if we need him to.

David Silva: 7/10 There is a case to be made that David Silva is best ever player to put on a City shirt however, this season wasn’t his best. He started off well, and that free kick against Huddersfield was amazing! But gradually, he became slower and less like the el mago that we all know and love to watch. He would give the ball away cheaply and occasionally pick the wrong pass or just slow down play altogether. Even I was getting a little bit tired of Pep playing him ahead of a faster and more direct Leroy Sane. But at the Manchester Derby at Old Trafford, he did what David Silva usually does, and made the game his own. He was so so good that night and helped to keep the calm and control that game, even when we were looking a little bit shaky. Despite this, he did look tired most of the season. I really hope that was just Pep overplaying him because of Kev’s injury and that he isn’t losing his legs because I’m not ready to let go of him yet.

Phil Foden: 7/10 Now, me saying that Phil and David were both 7′s this season, does not mean that I think that they were at the same level this season. Of course, David played at a higher level than Phil. It just means that Phil’s standards are understandably lower than David’s. However, Phil did amazingly this season despite his situation. He is in a team, competing for a place with players like David Silva, Ilkay Gundogan, Kevin De Bruyne and Bernardo Silva. So I think we were all surprised when the team news came out for the Spurs game and he was there. No, not on the bench but in the starting eleven. An eighteen year old boyhood fan starting a game for Manchester City! Against a top 4 team! In a tight title race! Not only that but he scored and played maturely for his age. I am incredibly proud of my lil baby Phil (even though he has a baby now). He started and played in more games than I would have anticipated. All of his time spent patiently waiting for his chance and training alongside his hero, has paid off! I hope he will get even more game time next season, showing us all why he has the nickname Stockport Iniesta!

Kevin De Bruyne: 7.5/10 This is a difficult one. Kevin has had a difficult season. It seemed that whenever he would finally hit form, he would get injured again. I cannot imagine how difficult that would have been for him. It was saddening as a fan who loves to watch him play that we never really got to see the best of Kevin De Bruyne, We saw glinces of it in the FA Cup final but it was a little too late. There is no doubt that Kevin is a world class player, but unfortunately we haven’t been able to witness that this season. Despite this, when he did play he definitely had an impact. We are a better team with Kevin De Bruyne in it. No arguments about that. I hope next season he is back to his normal self, assisting and scoring when we need him most.

Bernardo Silva: 10/10 Ah, here we go. Brace yourselves, this could be a long one. I LOVE BERNARDO SILVA. In my opinion, he has been the best player in the Premier League this season AND should be in top 3 for Ballon d’Or. Am I being incredibly biased and over reactionary? Probably, yes. But am I wrong? No. Bernardo Silva has everything. He runs 12-14km a game. He never stops. He can dribble like Messi. Yes, like Messi. He dribbles like Messi. He can cross balls into the box. He can run halfway across the pitch just to tackle someone off the ball. He took on Virgil Van Dijk. 5′6 Bernardo Silva decided to get in a battle with 6′3 Virgil Van Dijk. Can we just take a moment to appreciate him in that game against Liverpool? He ran and ran and ran until he covered every single inch of the pitch that night. He wanted to win more than anyone and it showed. And let’s talk about his passion.  He celebrates every Manchester City goal like a madman, running across to the goalscorer and pulling the craziest of faces. And his goal celebration at Old Trafford? ICONIC. He did a knee-slide at Old Trafford in front of the City fans. Twenty years ago, and he would be considered a City legend for that alone. But he is on his way to becoming one of Manchester City’s all time best. I mean, his chant is already one of the best! I cannot fault any part of his season. Maybe he could have scored and assisted more? Meh I don’t care, his work rate earns him something more than just goals: the fans hearts. He has the potential to become one of the best in the world and I am so glad he is at Manchester City and has committed his future to us. 

Raheem Sterling: 9/10 Raheem has matured so much this season. Not just on the pitch, but off the pitch too. He has become a great influence and inspiration for those who have to suffer through racial discrimination and horrid racist attitudes. Whilst he has always been this person, it has taken the media this long to recognise this and praise him for it. I am happy that finally he is getting the positive recognition that he deserves. And he has deserved it this season. Each season he seems to grow more and more confident in himself, scoring and assisting more often. I can only see him growing from here and becoming even better. Only thing that is missing is his goal at Anfield, winning our first game there since 2003 ;)

Riyad Mahrez: 6.5/10 I think that it was always going to be difficult for Riyad this season. Our wingers: Raz, Leroy and Bernardo are all well suited to Pep’s style and the players around them. He needed time to adapt and learn. Overall, I feel like he dealt with it quite well. Yes, he missed that penalty at Anfield but he won us points at games where we were struggling slightly like Bournemouth. He did end up missing a lot of game time due to just how good Raz and Bernardo have been this season, he couldn’t really get a look into the team. And how many other players would to be honest? Although, I do feel he could have done better for a first season in a team like this, he has coped well and integrated into the team nicely. Hopefully he can have a breakthrough like Bernardo next season!

Leroy Sane: 6.5/10 I feel like Leroy would get a far greater rating if Pep played him a little bit more but I guess Pep had his reasons and that is understandable. Leroy, for me, is one of the best young players in the world. He has so much talent and potential. He offers something different from the other wingers in the team and can cause defences to have nightmares. And on top of that, this season we discovered that he is dangerous from free kicks too. But as I said, Pep didn’t play him as much as he could have. I guess Pep and Sane have their own problems and I hope it can be solved because Leroy is one to keep here at City. He has a huge future ahead of him and I would be massively disappointed if we lost him. 

Gabriel Jesus: 6/10 Gabi is the the same kind of situation as Riyad and Leroy. I think he has so much potential at this club however, his game time is limited due to the fact that he has to compete with Sergio Aguero, possibly one of the best strikers to play in the Premier League. It is a massive ask for Gabriel at his age. However, I think he has shown enough this season and seasons prior that he is a talented player who fits in this team perfectly. His workrate is perfect and I can see him becoming an important player for us in the future.

Sergio Aguero: 9.5/10 If you ever need a goal, Sergio is the player to go to. This man got back to back Premier League hat tricks against Arsenal and Chelsea IN THE SAME WEEK. Unfortunately, he just missed out on the Golden Boot, however he scored incredibly important goals for us this season. The goal vs Burnley, the one vs Liverpool and the one vs Brighton are just three examples. He is always there when we need him. And that is why I put him as the second highest rated. (sorry Raz I still love you xx)

[inkovert]

Relief, for your ask game thingy :)

Oooo ok ok! So just a little background for this scene: Cami is at her brother Jeremy’s soccer game. In the middle of the game Jeremy gets injured and Cami rushes onto the side of the field to see if he’s okay. Eli is Jeremy’s best friend and also the captain of the team. Hope that clarifies things ~

“You’re not really going to let him back out there, are you?” My question was directed to no one in particular. 

“Cami.” Eli pulled me back by the arm, taking me aside to speak in private. 

“How can you put him back on the field? Did you not see what those guys did to him?” 

“They took a look at him and they found nothing wrong. Jeremy said he’s fine, too. There’s no reason to bench him.” 

“I think what I saw on the field is a good enough reason.” 

“Sometimes things look worse than they actually are,” Eli reasoned. Gripping my shoulder, he lowered his voice. “Look, he’s our best chance at winning this game. If it really called for it, of course I’d pull him out. But if he says he’s good, I’m going to believe him.” 

“Cause far be it from him to lie and put his health on the line for his love of the game, right?” I snapped. 

The muscles in his face tensed. “At the end of the day, it’s not my call. Coach gets final say.” 

Coach Meyers scratched his balding head and licked his lips. “Alright, boy, if you can walk to there and back without whining like a newborn, you have my okay to get back on the field.” 

Everyone looked on as Jeremy inched his way from the bench to the edge of the bleachers. On his way back to us, his back was straighter and his steps were more decisive. 

“Well, that’s that, then.” Coach nodded. “Now get back in there and finish this.” 

I pursed my lips, sharing a look with Eli before he walked off with Jeremy.

The game restarted and my nerves were at an all time high. Mira locked her arms with mine.

Despite Westwood’s dirty tactics, our team managed to steal back one goal, and pretty soon both teams were tied 2-2. 

“We’re down to the last minute of the game, both teams are grappling for possession of the ball in a dash for the winning goal. This is unbelievably rapid turnover, ladies and gentlemen, neither side is going down without a fight…”

By some stroke of luck, Eli kicked the ball away from an opposing player and began sprinting upfield. Confronted by another midfielder, he feinted left and created an opening to pass to Jeremy who was in line of the goal. The tips of my fingers tingled with anticipation, the audience going wild behind me. Then, one of Westwood’s defenders dove in from nowhere and tackled Jeremy to the ground. A collective gasp swept through the crowd. 

“Foul! Lakewood awarded a penalty kick.” 

“Oh my god.” Mira shook my arm. “If Jeremy makes this, we win the game.” I tightened my grip on her. 

Jeremy stood behind the ball, rolling his shoulders and shaking out his wrists to get ready. Stuffing a hand in his pocket, he pulled something out. I had to squint to see it. A golden whistle dangled from a short chain between his fingers.

My shoulders eased up, my eyes softening as I regarded him. Dad. 

Shoving it back in his pocket, he composed himself for the kick.  A palpable tension gripped the air. In one clean swipe, he sliced the ball with his foot and sent it soaring toward the goal. The goalkeeper leapt for it, his fingers barely scraping the ball before it landed in the net. 

The crowd was in an uproar. I released a breath of air that had been trapped in my lungs and watched as the whole team rushed forward, whooping and hollering while they piled on top of Jeremy. 

Mira scooped me up into a hug. “Holy shit, he did it!” 

“He really did.” I laughed, unable to wrestle down the wide grin cracking my face. 

A lot of scenes showing some sibling love! I absolutely love Cami and Jeremy’s relationship, they care for each other so fiercely and it’s just great. Thank you for the ask!

Send me an adjective or an emotion and I will post an excerpt from my wip that fits that feeling/word.

[itsawhumpthing-blog]

Bad Things Happen Bingo #2: Sports Injury

(What a great prompt and a perfect excuse to bring an old universe out of mothballs! This is an alternate reality in which Canada is good at soccer and has its own, pretty decent professional league; Kathy Fox is the first woman ever to sign for a Canadian professional men’s team, and Patrick Hatley is her childhood friend and rival)

(There should be a picture of my bingo card here, but tumblr won’t let me do that right now, so I’ll have to add it in later)

"You all right, Fox? You're walking kinda funny."

Nothing brings Katherine Fox down to earth quicker than having someone worry about her. She straightens her back and nods, adjusting her gait. "I'm fine. I think I slept funny." Her teammate gives her a dubious look.

"You slept funny on your ankle? Are you a flamingo?"

Laughter ripples through the Royal Windsor side of the tunnel- on the opposite side, the Quebec City players remain studiously silent, all but Patrick Hatley, who snickers. "It's called nerves, Fox!" he calls across the gap.

He looks just as relaxed as always, grinning that same dumb grin with his canine teeth sticking out, rocking on the balls of his feet with his hands on his hips like he's king of the world.

"Whatever helps you feel better about yourself, Hatley," she replies blandly, and he smiles and nods like that was exactly his intention. Not nerves, that much she's sure of. Kathy Fox doesn't get nerves. Her left ankle may be hurting, and it may have been hurting ever since she woke up this morning, but it's definitely got nothing to do with nerves.

After all, she's been looking forward to this game for months.

The atmosphere is already hot as they walk out onto the field. The chants are in French, of course, and therefore unintelligible to Kathy, but the venom behind the words is a universal language. Forty-eight thousand people (the attendance hasn't been announced yet, but this game could never be anything but a sellout) bounce in unison, rattling the old stadium's metal bones right down to the field. The away support is impossible to miss, sequestered as they are in the north corner with three rows of empty seats between them and the home fans, and they're doing their best to be heard above the chaos. 

The perfect atmosphere, in other words, for a late-season battle for first place. Kathy soaks it in, smiling, as the rituals get underway. She shakes hands with Quebec City's captain, calls the coin toss, and kicks off under a hail of boos.

"We're gonna psyche them out," Coach Leo had said in the locker room. "Start strong and fast. If we can dominate possession for a spell, keep them on the back foot, the crowd will get antsy. Score first, and they might just turn on their own team."

This was a well-documented phenomenon with Quebec City's supporters.

"We are not playing for a draw here. A draw will be the same as a loss, got that? They'll still be ahead of us, and their run-in is easier than ours. We're attacking."

Kathy doesn't mind that he was looking right at her for most of that speech. She's the captain, after all.

And she gets Coach's gameplan off to a good start less than five minutes in, sending number seven down the wing with a daring through ball. The crowd goes nearly silent until he blasts into the side netting, then express their relief with a shower of sarcastic applause.

Then suddenly they're cheering again, louder than ever, as a series of impressive one-time passes split the Windsor midfield all the way to Kathy. Her sore ankle almost lets her down, but she puts on a burst of speed to dispossess her Quebec counterpart.

He looks surprised, as they so often do. Sometimes it's nice to be a woman in a man's world.

"Don't wear out your stumpy little legs, Fox," says Hatley as he positions himself for the throw-in. He'd had a good run on goal, but he doesn't look too fazed by the lost chance.

"Don't waste your breath, Hatley," she replies.

He runs for the ball when it's thrown in and bounces a pass off his number ten. Dragging the ball through a wall of defenders isn't exactly his strong suit, so Kathy is somewhat taken aback to see him dodge past three of her teammates and suddenly find himself one-on-one with the keeper. The roar of the crowd builds to a peak; he goes for the bottom right.

It's a brilliant dive, and it just barely deflects the shot around the post.

The roar diminishes only a little.

"That was sloppy," she admonishes the defenders as they arrange themselves for the corner. They're all young, and the youngest is only nineteen- Akela Donovan from Toronto. He looks sheepish.

"Forgot he was fast."

"Don't forget again."

He nods earnestly.

The corner comes in high, with a dramatic curve. Patrick "Hat Trick" Hatley jumps for it, Windsor's goalie leaps to catch it, and three bodies collide in midair. The ball trickles away from the goal line, and Kathy lunges for it, clearing it away downfield.

"Fucker! That was a foul!"

Not Hatley's voice; he was never the type.

"Penalty!"

She backs away, not wanting to be associated in any way with the knot of Quebec players crowding into the referee or the knot of Windsor players trying to drag them away. Instead she glances towards the jumbotron, trying to get a sense for what just happened. Did Windsor's number four drag Hatley down? Was it the goalie? There's no good view, and the ref is unimpressed.

Play resumes. The crowd is livid; the curses thrown by the spectators in the fieldside seats can easily be made out through the roar. Hard to say if the gameplan is working yet; they're definitely provoking a reaction, at the very least.

The pain in her ankle is getting worse- now it's a deep, biting ache, and it's getting distracting, which is dangerous. One absolutely egregious pass to no one makes her suddenly wonder whether she should ask to be subbed off.

*Give it five minutes*, she decides, gritting her teeth.

It's an end-to-end game, much more so than Coach Leo wanted- he's getting red-faced on the touchline, and Kathy knows that at the next stoppage he's going to ask her what the hell is going on.

Hatley, on the other hand, is having one of his best games of the season, splitting their defense open with ease, and the frustration on her teammates' faces is starting to get to Kathy as well. It just figures, that he's playing like this while she's flailing.

She should really see it coming, what's about to happen. But she doesn't.

It's the thirty-sixth minute, four minutes into the five she's allowed herself. Her ankle doesn't want to bear her weight; she forces it to, exploding forward to beat her Quebec counterpart to a high ball, and makes what must be her best pass of the night to her number six. But his touch is poor, and the ball is gone from in front of him before he has a chance to recover.

Everything happens very quickly. Windsor's right fullback is backing up, trying to anticipate the Quebec winger's run, but the opposition player suddenly stops in his tracks and delivers a superb cross.

To fucking Patrick Hatley.

With a clear run at goal.

Akela Donovan is the only one near. "Go! Go!" Kathy screams, uselessly, sprinting after them. The crowd is on its feet- the stadium is vibrating- Donovan is three feet behind, he's not gonna make it, and Hatley is turning for the shot.

Donovan lunges in with both feet. Patrick goes down like a sack of potatoes, all six feet five inches of him, and Kathy stumbles in her tracks. The pain in her ankle is gone.

Her heart drops. She runs.

In the silence that's descended over the stadium, two sounds can suddenly be heard with terrible clarity. One of them is Akela Donovan, babbling in incoherent horror, and the other is Patrick Hatley, screaming.

She gets there first, falling to her knees beside him. "Patrick!"

"Hh... Kath..." His body is twisted, his fingers digging into the grass, but he opens his eyes to look at her. His gaze flicks downward.

"No, don't look at it," she gasps, grabbing his hand. "Look at me."

It's hard enough for her to see it, to see that brilliant right foot twisted to the side, looking so defiled, so wrong. And the blood... it's a testament to the amount of pain he's in that he obeys her immediately. She holds his gaze, and his hand, which clutches hers in a vise grip.

There are people all around them now. A voice is yelling for a stretcher. Kathy tries to smile. She wants to punch someone. "It's fine. It's not that bad. You... you should be ashamed of yourself, diving like that."

He tries to smile back. "You're... the one who... fell for it," he manages between breaths.

For a second she can almost believe that he'd fake this just to mess with her. Then the physios are there, and she's pushed aside, and Patrick just barely manages not to scream again as they lift him onto the stretcher.

The sound that comes out instead is almost as bad.

There's no faking that.

It takes Kathy a moment after she stands up to realize that Akela Donovan is already gone. She wonders if anyone spoke to him. She wonders if she can trust herself to do it.

All the spirit has been sucked out of the stadium; the game finishes dismally, with a 0-0 draw. As bitter a point as any Kathy's had in her career. She goes through the motions of sportsmanship afterwards, feeling aimlessly angry and very much like she shouldn't talk to Akela Donovan.

But there's no getting around it; he approaches her in the locker room once everyone else has left.

"Fuck, Fox, I'm sorry," he says, and the misery in his voice and on his face seems genuine. "I fucked everything up. I-"

"Don't apologize to me, Donovan. I'm not the one whose career might be over."

His face goes gray. "Over...?"

"Yeah. Or shortened. Missing a large chunk, at the very least. You-" She can hear the venom starting to seep into her words, and she cuts them off, waving her hand. "Now's not a good time to be talking to me. I know you didn't do it on purpose. Go on, get moving."

He does, quickly, and she follows.

The verdict comes through only a day later; Akela Donovan is suspended the rest of the season. Four games. They'll miss him, but Quebec will miss Hatley more.

She calls Patrick in the morning.

"Apparently it's pretty gnarly," he tells her with forced nonchalance. "The bone went right through the skin. Just popped right... ugh, fuck."

"You can't even describe it," she teases, grinning.

"Take off."

"How are you, though?" This is the loudest that she'll ever voice her concern. Patrick clears his throat.

"Well, uh, it hurts." He pauses, as if to let this sink in, before continuing. "I'm just trying not to think about it too much, because I won't know if I'm out for six months or forever until after the surgery. So until then, why worry?"

It's clear from his voice that he is worrying. "Shit."

"It's the fucking worst."

A commiserative silence fills the air for a few moments.

"I'll come and visit tomorrow," Kathy says.

"While the rest of your team flies home to Windsor? Don't be stupid, you'll miss training. You're the captain."

"We've got a bye week anyway. I'll get another hotel."

"Well, okay," he concedes quickly. She almost laughs, but it occurs to her that he might not even be aware of what just happened. She lets it go.

"I'm gonna eat breakfast now. I'll see you soon."

"Yeah, see you soon, Kathy."

No more than a minute after she ends the call, her phone is ringing again. Donovan, says the call display. She has to admire the kid's guts, at least.

She answers it. "Donovan. What's going on?"

"I'm doing what you told me to."

"Oh yeah?" She can't remember what she told him to do. Fuck off, maybe?

"Yeah. I'm going to apologize. I just thought you would want to know." There's a note of uncertainty in his voice; this is definitely new territory for him. She almost feels sorry for the kid.

"That's good. Good luck." It's tempting to tell him not to expect too much, but she knows he's not stupid; he must have come to that conclusion already.

However, she does take one precaution; once he has hung up, she texts Patrick.

F: Expect a possibly unwelcome visitor at some point today

H: What, you're arriving early?

F: Donovan wants to come say sorry

H: Oh

H: All right

She sighs as she puts the phone down. She's scared- on her childhood friend's behalf, and in general, a sort of all-encompassing dread. Was it wrong for her to put on a cheerful face, to banter with him like nothing was wrong, when she's this afraid? And if she's this afraid, what must he be feeling?

She slips the phone into her pocket and reaches for her shoes.

[eirabach]

Coming Home [1/1]

This is 7000 words of love letter to the England football team, and specifically their manager, thinly disguised as CS fic. Gorgeous aesthetic by the incredible @katie-dub who joins me as an inaugural member of the Inappropriate Gareth Southgate Crush fan club.

No matter what happens tomorrow, lads. No matter what.

They’d all laughed when they’d given him the job.

 Years of the finest tacticians the continent could offer - though admittedly there’d been a few turkeys along the way - and the British press had torn each of them to shreds. Failure after failure dropped at their feet, their careers blighted by the inevitable English Curse while their players sold razor blades and fucked pop stars and pocketed their millions and all the time being watched by a nation of children who grew into adults, grew into old men and women who’d never seen an English success story.

 No one wanted to sip from that poisoned chalice. No one dared face the fury of a nation denied again and again and again.

 Luckily, Killian Jones was used to it.

 The Sun, The Mirror, the broadsheets. They’d all sneered at his appointment in their own indomitable ways.

 England Expects… Second Time Lucky For Jones?

 FA Appoint Jones: England’s Sacrificial Lamb

 The Curse Continues for England’s Lost Boys

 Need a Hand There Mate?

 This last accompanied by a pap’s photo of him struggling into training one morning, hair askew, prosthetic unattached.

 (It had been Milah’s birthday the night before, his dreams full of fire and fuelled by rum, and Will had sent him up to the boardroom twenty minutes in when he’d threatened to have the bickering midfield strung up by their ankles and used for penalty practice.)

 He knows there’s no point complaining, nonetheless. It’s not the worst headline they’ve run about England’s manager.

 It’s certainly not the worst headline they’ve run about him.

There is one difference in his appointment to this supposedly sainted position:

 They all agree. Left wing, right wing. Man in the street and professional pundit.

 He’s doomed.

 “You’re doomed, little brother,,” Liam tells him cheerfully as he eats his breakfast propped up against the quartz worktop that Killian knows the Navy didn’t pay for. “Sorry.”

 “Your confidence astounds me.”

 “Your idiocy astounds me! What was the matter with punditry? I thought you enjoyed it! It paid the bills -“

 “I don’t care about the bills.”

 “Spoken like a man who doesn’t worry about next months nursery fees - Killian listen -“ Liam puts down his bowl and leans forward, pleading. “they’ll tear you apart. Don’t - I don’t want to watch that again.”

 “I won’t do any more pizza adverts if that’s what you’re worried about,” Killian grumbles, snatching the bowl and rinsing it immediately.

 “Have you forgotten what it was like?” Liam asks, aghast. “They crucified you, little brother, the shame -“

 “You don’t need to tell me about shame,” Killian snaps. “As for forgetting - I’ve spent twenty years -“

 “Pretending! Pretending that you’re a drunk and a womaniser and that you didn’t - don’t - care but Killian -“

 “Get out.” The words are ice, the warm kitchen physically cooling in their wake. Liam looks briefly shocked.

 “Pardon?”

 “You heard me,” Killian grits out. “I’ve enough to deal with from the press I don’t need my own brother -“

 “I’m trying to protect you!”

 Oh, he knows. He’s always known.

 Six years old, newly motherless and utterly rudderless, ferried to practice on the cross bar of Liam’s bike.

 Eighteen and capped for his country, hyperventilating in a public toilet while Liam guarded the door.

 Twenty and certain, oh so certain, standing at the spot and Liam watching from the touchline.

 Oh so certain and oh so wrong.

 And he knows, but he has to because this - this is his chance. His last, only chance.

 He has to lay the ghosts to rest. He has to.

 And he can’t let anything, not even Liam, not even his own inability to believe - to dream - stop him.

 “I don’t need your protection!” Killian spits. “I’m done, Liam! I’m not that little kid you scolded for risky tackling anymore! I’ve lived under this shadow half my life! I need to move on. I need -“

 I need to believe. I need you to believe in me.

 “You need a better team,” Liam says, “tell me you’ve that, at least.”

 “Oh aye.” Killian calms, smug satisfaction slipping into his voice. “That, I can promise you.”

 —-

 Qualifying, and judging by Liam’s expletive strewn text when the teamsheet is announced he’s starting as the tabloids expect.

 Badly.

 I know several promising four year olds, brother, should I send them over?

 Mills?! He’s a fetus, Killian.

 A fetus who can play.

 You’d better hope so, brother. The whole bloody country hopes so.

 Mills might be the youngest player on the pitch - 18 and a pale but determined figure in the goal mouth - but the whole team is Killian’s own creation.

 Gone are the men who’d bickered and sneered at each other. Gone are those who saw playing for their country as a chore - one they’d rather avoid when the off season is full of better financial offers - and those too exhausted by failure to dare to dream of success.

 Killian has been one of them, once. Late at night, the back pages spread out around him in his empty house and the rum bottle far too close by, he thinks he still might be. But then he sees the gleam in the eyes of a player like Mills and he thinks enough.

 Enough.

 It’s time.

 Shame no one told the opposition. Or the ref.

 It’s another high tackle, studs up as England make a break for goal, and once again the ref waves it off with an indirect free kick.

 The crowd bellow their displeasure but they’ve nothing on Will, whose furious gesticulating at the touchline makes him look like some sort of tracksuit clad dervish.

 “That’s a red!” he bellows. “A RED!”

 Except it isn’t. It’s a free kick that the opposition defence clear from danger a little too easily. Again.

 A nasty, creeping sense of foreboding tickles at the back of Killian’s neck as the cameras focus on his face and the hacks start writing.

 He doesn’t believe in curses.

 He doesn’t.

 “Sit down, Will. You’ll rupture and the Sun will have your innards. Literally.”

 “You’re not serious, gaffer? Didn’t you see -“

 Killian grits his teeth.

 “Sit down. They’re watching.”

 Will stamps back to his seat, face creased in fury.

 “They’re always bloody watching, gaffer. That’s their bloody job. Ref need to do his.”

 “Don’t you worry about the ref’s job,” Killian says grimly, eyes on the way midfield can’t quite connect their passes, mind already on the talk he’ll have to give at half time.

 Calm. Collected. Everything he hasn’t been for longer than he likes to think.

 (Once he had been. Before the penalty spot. Before Milah and the drink and the accident. Once. He’s sure he was.)

 “Worry about ours.”

 —-

 They’d all laughed when they’d given her the job.

 Laughed and crowed and cat called their way through her first press conference that absolutely had to be held because she’s the first and she’s important.

 She’d always imagined it would feel better than this.

 David sits on the end of her futon, half a pizza balanced precariously on his knee as he bounces his leg. A nervous tick he’s had since childhood, and he’s never more nervous than when he risks Emma’s wrath.

 “I’m just not sure this is a good idea, Emma.”

 “Really? Money is a bad idea now?” Emma chews on her own piece of pizza and shrugs. “Could have fooled me.”

 “It’s not about the money. You know what soccer fans are like!”

 “Well I should,” Emma agrees, “I’ve been one all my life.”

 “Yeah, and look at the grief you got even then! And Russia. It’s a different world, Emma.”

 “I’m pretty sure it isn't. And I can handle myself. I’ve done it long enough.”

 David’s face falls and she regrets the sharpness almost immediately, but she can’t quite bring herself to apologise, or to admit the truth.

 Frankly, she’s terrified.

 Emma is used to being on her own, abandoned at birth and bounced around the foster system until she’d finally ended up with David and his mother and had to learn how to function as part of a family.

 It’d been hard, even now she’s sure she isn’t as good a sister - as good a person - as she ought to be, but soccer had helped.

 Soccer had always helped. Soccer was all she’d had.

 Playing, supporting, being a part of something, no matter how small and shitty the team or how little time she spent there it had taught her how to work with others, relate to them, when the temptation had been to run away and rely on her own wits.

 Not that there hadn’t been moments, bad homes and tempting offers from worse boys, but soccer had kept her feet on the ground.

 Now her playing days are over - the disadvantage of her permanent home had been that the women’s game was not wildly popular in Podunk Storybrooke, Maine - and yet.

 And yet.

 She’d taken her refereeing qualifications to keep her eye in, starting with the kids matches and then moving up, up to college level, up to the leagues.

 Up to the World Cup.

 The first woman referee in the history of the competition.

 The American papers hadn’t taken too much notice, the USA had failed to qualify and the country as a whole preferred their football to contain more brute force than finesse, but Europe -

 She wishes David hadn’t read the comments.

 She wishes she hadn’t read the comments.

 But he did and she has and still. She’s going. She has to.

 “I have to,” she tells him, trying for reassuring and catching his pizza slice as it makes a bid for freedom. “You know I have to.”

 David smiles.

 “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I know. But don’t let them mess you about. You’re the best. Don’t forget that.”

 Emma smiles. Small and a little sly.

 “Oh I promise. They won’t know what hit them.”

 —-

 They’re through by the skin of their teeth, paparazzi nipping at their heels as they arrive in Russia in neatly tailored suits that don’t show the sweat stains. Mills’ suit trousers are two inches too short and the team surround him as they scurry through the airport to the waiting team bus like so many elephants protecting the baby of the herd from the gathering hyenas.

 Which, Killian supposed, they more or less were.

 Qualifying hadn’t made the press back off. Qualifying had made the press hungry.

 “Jones! Jones! How are you feeling?”

 “Any regrets?”

 “Is this England’s year?”

 “Are you worried about penalties?”

 “What about the curse?”

 Killian lifts his chin, marching onward to the bus without giving the press anything but the small, polite wave that he knows is obligatory and keeping his glare for the moment their out of sight.

 “Bunch of tossers,” says Will cheerfully, his arm slung over Mills’ shoulder. “Better keep ‘em sweet eh lads?”

 The lads cheer, and Will guffaws in approval, but Killian is miles away. Decades away.

 Wearing his own suit and the weight of expectation hanging round his neck and -

 It’s coming home, it’s coming…

 “Gaffer?”

 They’re at the bus and Will is looking at him through too shrewd eyes. There’s a reason Killian picked him as his number two, after all. Liam worries and the papers speculate, but Will? Will knows.

 “All right?”

 “Ask me in a month,” Killian mutters grimly, then boards the bus with a studied grin and a bellow of “Here we go, lads! Here we go!”

 —-

 Here we go, Emma thinks, handing in her credentials to an incredulous Russian official. Here we goddamn go.

 The official calls over a couple of his pals who all mutter uncertainly amongst themselves, before finally stamping card and handing over her ID with a suspicious glare and minimal manners.

 That the officials are confused by her presence is surprising in that they invited her - and it isn’t like Emma Swan is a particularly gender neutral name - but the teams, well.

 Confusion would be a blessing.

 Her language skills are pretty basic - she barely scraped her GED and most of her high school Spanish lessons were spent searching the dictionaries for words to keep an amorous temporary sibling at bay - but she doesn’t need google translate to get the jist of their opinions.

 And they do seem to have a lot of them. And none of them are good.

 “I just don’t see what you being a woman has to do with…” Mary Margaret gesticulates weakly to the pocket of Emma’s uniform when she returns to the hotel room “that.”

 “When I pull a card, it’s touched my boob,” Emma says, eyes already scanning the fixture list she’s been given. “Apparently that excites them.”

 “But they have to respect you, surely?” Mary Margaret is wide eyed on the bed, and Emma feels a rush of affection for her sweet natured sister in law. Affection, and a touch of pity. “You’re the referee!”

 “Because soccer players are so famous for their respect for the laws of the game? Didn’t you see Neymar in qualifying? He spent so much of the match on the floor Gaston went to make a cup of coffee before resuming play.”

 “You know I don’t understand anything you just said, right?” Mary Margaret leans forward and squeezes Emma’s leg. “But I have faith. You’re brilliant, Emma. I believe in you.”

 “Thanks.” Emma smiles at her. “But it’s fine. They’ll get used to me I guess.”

 Mary Margaret raises her eyebrows.

 “You’re a trailblazer Emma, you know that? I’m so proud of you.”

 Emma shrugs, picking at the edge of her shirt. It’s too big, but that’s not unusual. At least she hasn’t had to fashion a belt from her whistle strap this time.

 “It’s just a job, Mary Margaret.”

 “Is it?”

 Emma bites her lip.

 “All right,” she admits. “It’s a big deal. The biggest. What if I fuck up? Make the wrong call? I could fuck the whole thing over - the cup, myself, fucking feminism, the lot - I-“

 “Who’s fucking what up now?”

 David sticks his head around the door, eyes narrowed and full cop-face on display. Emma licks her suddenly dry lips and shrugs again. Mary Margaret sighs.

 “Emma’s having a crisis of confidence.”

 “Am not.”

 “Emma -“

 “Hey.” He pulls her into his arms, cradling her head in his hand and she burrows her chin into his shoulder without even meaning to. “It’s ok to be nervous. If you weren’t nervous you wouldn’t care. And you care so much Emma. You love this game. You were made for this.”

 “Tell the papers that.”

 “Oh screw the papers!” David snaps, “what the fuck do they know!”

 Mary Margaret gasps. “David!”

 David pulls back from the hug and grips Emma’s shoulders.

 “They’ll write whatever they want,” he says fiercely. “You should see the shit they write about their own countries! Forget them. You can do this. You’re good - no, you’re the best. They’ll be clammering to have you in charge of their games you’ll see.”

 “That’s not really how it works.”

 “That’s not really my point.”

 Emma laughs, a little softly but genuinely enough, and shakes her head.

 “Do you give these pep talks to everyone or?”

 David grins.

 “Just my favourites.”

 —-

 Watching the competition might be necessary, but Killian’s never found it very relaxing.

 It’s a constant stream of analysis, of tactics, of how do we and what if they, and it’s exhausting. Especially scrappy, messy games like this where the players seem to spend more time arguing than concentrating on the play.

 Both sides are particularly keen to share their sob stories with the ref, arms flailing and spittle flying, and that’s not usual, nor at all, but the ref -

 The ref is.

 He’d known she was here, of course. Even in avoiding the press as much as he tries to, things like the first woman to referee a World Cup game do tend to sneak through, and he can’t help but feel a frisson of pride when he sees her step up to call the coin toss. A sense that the game that he’s dedicated his life to might - just might - be beginning to move towards something better and brighter.

 “At least we’re group favourites,” mumbles Will as Portugal create a chance from nothing (how do you defend nothing? Where do you even begin?) “Or second favourites.”

 Killian rolls his eyes. He’s long since stopped relying on betting shops for his predictions.

 “We went out last time to a dentist and a guy who runs a doggy day care, or did you forget?”

 Will winces. “That was different.”

 “That was the Euros. This is bigger.”

 Will gives him a sideways look.

 “All right, spill,” he asks. “What’s got your goat? You’re a miserable fuck right enough but you’re even worse than usual.”

 Killian doesn’t even look at him. “And you’re charming as ever.”

 “Jones.”

 “Scarlet.”

 “I've got a feeling,” Will says, and Killian closes his eyes briefly. Scarlet once he gets going is like a dog with a bone, and it’s useful in training certainly but rather less helpful when directed at Killian personally.

 “Just the one?”

 “Oi. Listen.” The sideways look becomes a full on glare. “Have you been on twitter again?”

 Killian shakes his head.

 “I don’t -“

 “Because Liam says -“

 Liam says a lot of things. Says them on phones calls and on WhatsApp and in Killian’s head at the side of the training pitch and in the dead of night.

 None of which he wants to think about when he’s watching Ronaldo systematically destroy a defence.

 “Oh you’ve been gossiping about me with my brother? Very loyal of you Scarlet. I’ll remember that next time I find you with your head in the toilet.”

 “No we was just -“

 There’s a roar from the crowd, a huddle of players surrounding the ref who’s barely even visible among the sea of waving arms gesturing in her direction.

 “Christ! Look at that!”

 It happens in less time than it takes Will to point, one moment the referee is standing in the centre of what’s become a mob, the next she’s on the ground, struggling to her feet.

 A flash of red and there’s a man off and a spreading mark on the side of the ref’s face.

 “He’s banned,” Will states grimly. “Won’t see him again this year. Stupid mistake.”

 “Mistake?” Killian scowls. “Bringing the game into disrepute!”

 “Yeah, well.” The ref blows her whistle. Play resumes with several players looking rather shamefaced. “Let’s see how that works out for them.”

 —-

 It doesn’t.

 The final whistle sees the ten men traipse miserably from the field while their opponents celebrate with a lap of honour.

 The ref follows them off. The mark on her face has faded but even from where Killian sits in the box he can see the set of her shoulders, the anger in her gait.

 He’s walked off like that. Worse than that. He’d had Liam and Rob - poor long suffering Rob who’d held this job longer than any other man had managed - but the ref…

 He hopes she has someone waiting for her in the tunnel.

 He hopes.

 He gets to his feet.

 Hope isn’t enough. It never is.

 “Where are you going?!” Will calls after him as he heads for the staircase. “You promised me a drink!”

 “I need to go check on something.”

 Will laughs, wagging his finger after Killian as though he’s a naughty schoolboy.

 “Something. Sure. Have fun with something. Don’t get us disqualified, yeah?”

 Killian doesn’t turn back.

 “Don’t be crass, Scarlet.”

 “Don’t be changing the habits of a lifetime, Jones,” Will trills. “Tell her she made the right call on that penalty, yeah?”

 “Yeah yeah,” Killian mutters. No point in denial. “I will.”

 —-

 He means to.

 But then he finds her at the end of the tunnel, leaning against the wall next to what appear to be a storage cupboard with a poorly scrawled female figure sellotaped to it. Her fists are clenched and her breathing laboured, and for the first time in his whole life he can’t quite bring himself to talk about football.

 She’s beautiful. He really tries not to notice, but he’s not blind. Furious green eyes and a wild halo of blonde hair from where it’s escaped from it’s ponytail, a sharp chin that juts in his direction as she snaps, “What?”

 His heart jumps in a way it hasn’t for decades - not since his playing days, not since Milah - and it’s stupid because he’s forty and he has a reputation but his tongue feels too big for his mouth, his legs unsteady in the face of her flushed cheeks and steely glare.

 He came to say something, didn’t he? He’s sure he was meant to say something.

 “You ok pal?” She pushes back from the wall, hands on her hips. “You lost?”

 Something like that, he thinks. Something very like that.

 “He shouldn’t have done that,” he manages. “It was disrespectful.”

 She scoffs. “What, cause I’m a woman?”

 “No. Because you’re the ref.”

 “Don’t condone dissent huh?” She narrows her eyes. “You’re Jones.”

 “I see you’ve heard of me.” He grins, and it pulls a little at the corner of his mouth as though it’s wider than usual. “You can look up my discipline record if you like, I was a fairly good boy.”

 She lifts one eyebrow and scoffs again, but there’s a smile threatening at the edge of her mouth.

 “On the pitch maybe.”

 “Maybe.” Mostly. But he knows what she’s referring to. There’d been a lot of rum, after. A lot of regrets. He’s never regretted them quite as much as he does now though. “Are you quite all right, though? Truly?”

 “I’m fine.” She shrugs. “I mean - I’ve had worse.”

 He bets she has. The thought doesn’t comfort him any more than he expects it comforts her.

 “Not quite what I asked, Swan.”

 “How do you know my name?”

 Smooth, Jones. Very smooth. Follow a woman into a dark corridor and then act like a stalker.

 “I read,” he says in an attempt at justification. “There aren’t many refs who go by “Emma””

 “Not here there aren’t. I uh -“ she waves in the direction of the cupboard. “Ought to get to my locker room.”

 It’s his turn to scoff now.

 He loves this game, he does, but by god does it have a long way to go.

 “A generous term, but as it’s yours I’ll allow it. See you around, Swan.”

 “Belgium,” she says, and her expression turns surprised as though the word has escaped without her permission.

 “Pardon?”

 “I’m assisting. At the Belgium game. So I’ll see you there. At Belgium.”

 Oh yes. Football. The most important thing in his life. The only thing.

 She smiles, and something in his chest roars to life.

 Belgium. He’ll see her at Belgium.

 “I look forward to it.”

 —-

 The canteen is a riot of colour and languages, hundreds of people swarming through with plates of food Emma couldn’t name with a gun to her head and jostling for space at long tables.

 The three of them pause in the doorway, all looking for a spot where they can sit together. Emma sees it first.

 “Dibs!” she calls. “Mary Margaret?”

 “On it!” She calls in return, heading for the snaking line at the food counters as Emma and David bolt for the free seats.

 It’s only when she gets closer that Emma realises who’s sitting opposite, handsome profile partially obscured by a tactical notebook.

 David’s eyes narrow then grow large and round as saucers.

 “Isn’t that..?”

 “Swan!” Killian Jones beams at her and her traitorous heart skips a beat. “Excellent job in the Croatia game last night!”

 “Thanks,” she mumbles, and god if she’s blushing David will never let her live it down. “It was a good game.”

 “The best,” Killian agrees, then his eyes flick from hers to David and the megawatt smile dims ever so slightly. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

 “Oh!” Emma gestures between them. “This is my brother, David. This is -“

 “Killian Jones,” David says, and Emma does a double take at the breathiness of his tone. “I know who you are.”

 “My reputation precedes me,” says Killian. “I’d ask if it were all good but, alas -“

 “You were the best left winger of your generation! Your pace! There was nothing you couldn’t outrun!”

 Emma watches with interest as Killian’s cheeks flush pink.

 “Nothing but time and bad choices, at least.”

 David shuffles on the spot, “I guess, but -“

 “Meatballs!” Mary Margaret drops the tray in the table with a cheerful smile. “Everyone loves meatballs, right?”

 “Works for me,” says Emma. “Killian?”

 “Metabolism isn’t up to it these days,” he says, patting the leather waistcoat that’s his calling card in the technical area.

 Emma shrugs. “Suit yourself. Doesn’t look like there’s much wrong with you to me.”

 The words are out before she can stop them, fucking so smooth, Emma, Jesus, but Killian Jones just looks a little bit sad.

 She’d expected an innuendo.

 She’d have preferred an innuendo.

 “I assure you, there’s nothing at all wrong with me. Well.” He lifts his left hand and smiles wearily.  “Apart from the obvious.”

 “Oh dear!” Mary Margaret leans over the table and rests her hand over the metal contraption at the end of his wrist. “I’m so sorry.”

 “Don’t be,” says Killian, but there’s a furtive look in his eyes that Emma is familiar with. She gets the same look in hers when someone asks about her family. The look that means you’re preparing a lie. “An old wound.”

 And doesn’t she know how they never quite heal.

 “David,” she says, a little too sharply, “Have you sorted the flights to Sochi yet?”

 “No I was going to -“

 “The agent is holding a meeting this afternoon - if you get there early enough maybe they can get you priority seats?”

 “But -“

 Mary Margaret is looking between Emma and Killian with a look of gradually dawning comprehension.

 “Good idea,” she says, “come on David.”

 “But -“

 “We can get a doggy bag, I don’t want to risk missing the flight -“

 She grins at Emma over David’s shoulder as she leads him away, two plates of meatballs balanced in her arms, and wriggles her eyebrows.

 Subtle, thinks Emma. But then Killian Jones is sitting opposite her at the canteen table, lips curled into a smile and eyes fixed on hers, and she thinks.

 Maybe subtlety is overrated.

 —-

 He appreciates that Emma is not staring at his left hand, in fact she barely seems to have acknowledged it, but then it is common knowledge.

 Greatest player of his generation fails spectacularly on the world stage. Goes utterly off the rails. Loses his form. Loses his hand.

 It’s hardly a secret.

 He doesn’t know why he has the urge to tell her about the few things that are.

 “It was an accident.” He taps his prosthetic on the table. “I was -“

 Emma lifts an eyebrow. “I know. Everyone knows. You don’t need to tell me.”

 “Most people want the gory details.”

 “You’re good.” Emma waves her fork over the meatballs. “Must have been hard, losing your career like that.”

 “It wasn’t the worst thing I lost,” says Killian. “Not by far.”

 “I’m sorry,” she says, and she sounds like she actually means it, a little furrow firming between her eyes. “I didn’t mean… I’m sorry. About your wife.”

 There had been a time not so very long ago when even the word had been enough to send him into a spiral of furious misery. Wife. Always said in that same odd tone of pity with a frisson of thrill, as though their genuine sympathy for his loss is merely a veneer to disguise their prying.

 It doesn’t sound like that when Emma says it.

 It sounds like she means it.

 He isn’t sure quite what to make of that.

 “You have done your research. There are laws against stalking you know.”

 She smiles, and her whole face lights up and he’s screwed.

 “Says you.”

 “Fair point.”

 So screwed.

 “So,” she leans forward, eyes flicking left and right. “Tell me. Is it true?”

 God. What a question. Which part? The drink? The drugs? The women and the days that he can’t remember.

 The years he can’t remember.

 “What?”

 “You know.” Her smile turns conspiratorial. “About the team.”

 “What?” he says again, dumbly.

 “I heard a rumour. Something about blow up unicorns on the swimming pool roof?”

 Killian releases a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

 “Tell me,” he says, leaning in himself until their noses are only inches apart. “What do you know about Will Scarlet?”

 —-

 They’re losing. Losing to the flies, to the heat, to a Belgian team that - deep in his heart of hearts - he knows have a much more substantial chance of carrying the trophy home than they do.

 He ought to care, and he does, he does, but it’s difficult to give the pitch his full attention when Swan is four feet away, her own laser focus on the game putting him to shame.

 They’re through anyway, he tells himself to assuage his guilt. They’re through anyway, and he’s only human after all.

 He spends half time buoying up the boys as best he can. They, at least, are gutted by the scoreline. Young Mills is grey-faced in his neon green shirt, muttering apologies for a goal that Killian knows, knows, the Sun will lay the blame for at his inexperienced feet.

 “There’s no need, lad,” he tells him after the fifth I’m so sorry. “You show me a keeper who says kept a clean sheet in every game and I’ll show you a liar. What’s done is done. It’s over. The next forty five minutes. The next game. That’s what I want you to concentrate on. That’s what matters. You can beat yourself up, or you can beat the rest, which is it?”

 Mills nods, hands clenching and unclenching as he works out the nervous cramps, and the whole tea return to the field with a determination that hadn’t been there before the break.

 “Nice speech,” mutters Will. “Taking your own advice?”

 Kilian quirks an eyebrow and waits for the television cameras to sweep over them before he answers.

 “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 “If you don’t know what I mean, why’d you wait for the tv to bugger off?”

 “I had to make sure they got my best side.”

 “Sure you -”

 The crowd roars, a chance for England, and Killian’s half to his feet before the whistle goes. Emma’s flag is up. Offside.

 He hopes that’s not a metaphor.

 “Least she’s being careful not to play favourites,” Will grumbles.

 Killian glares at him. “She’s doing her job.”

 “Aye, and I’m doing mine.”

 Will and Killian lock eyes.

 “I’m not sure I like what you’re insinuating, Scarlett.”

 “And I ain’t sure I like this scoreline. But hey.” Will smiles, and shows a few too many teeth. “Could be worse. Let’s avoid Brazil, yeah?”

 “Yeah,” Killian mutters.

 There’s another English miss that they really should have buried and the crowd jeer and hoot their disapproval.

 “Could be worse.”

 —-

 Emma leaves the pitch sweaty and with at least half a dozen midges having met their end on her face, but she doesn’t head straight to the showers. Killian Jones is on the pitch surrounded by tv cameras and well made-up journalists, and she can’t help but watch, fascinated, from the edge of the now empty stands as they round on him like a pack of smiling hyenas.

 “Is this the end for England’s run, Killian?”

 “Do you regret the choice to bring Mills?”

 “What went wrong out there today, Killian?”

 You’d think they’d gone out, such were the accusations, the sharp disapproval in their faces, but they haven’t. Emma has carefully filled in the wallchart David has hung up in their hotel room. She knows this is the better side of the draw. The luckier side.

 She wants to tell Killian, even though it’s ridiculous because he knows, he knows, but he’s standing under the floodlights, dark brows furrowed as he tries to answer the questions that are barked at him, and somehow it seems very important that she makes sure.

 It’s an age until he leaves. Her uniform is sticking to her, her hair is standing on end. She needs a shower, desperately.

 But his expression is still dark and yeah. Yeah.

 This is a guy who knows what desperation really looks like.

 “You played well.”

 She follows him into the tunnel, checking briefly over her shoulder for paps as she does so. He doesn’t look at her, but he slows his pace so that she can catch up.

 It’s a start.

 “I’m afraid you much have me confused with someone half my age, Swan. I sat on my arse.”

 “You know what I mean.”

 He sighs. “Do I?”

 “Hey!” She grabs his elbow, forcing him to turn and look at her. “You’re not angry at them, are you?”

 Killian gapes at her. “Angry at them? Christ, no. I’m angry at myself.”

 “Why? You’re not responsible for what the press - “

 “Oh aren’t I? Aren’t I? If I’d scored -“

 He’s moved closer, and it’s her turn to stare at him blankly. Her hand is still on his elbow, fingers wound tight into the fabric of his shirt, and it suddenly feels very important that she not let go.

 “Wait, what?”

 He closes his eyes.

 “We were so close, Swan!”

 It takes her a moment. Of course it does, she was just a kid back then, 15 and with a family for the first time in her life. A family and her beloved soccer, and hadn’t that been the best summer of her life? So yeah, it takes her a moment to remember it must have seemed like the worst of his.

 “This is about that penalty?” She releases her death grip on his shirt and runs her hand up his arm. “Killian it’s been twenty years -“

 He shrugs off her attempt at comfort, jabbing his finger bitterly towards where the press had gathered.

 “And every year that passes they get worse. I know what they’ll be saying about Henry Mills tonight, and I’m sick of it. Sick of it.”

 “Killian! Killian -“

 There’s movement at the entrance to the tunnel and they shrink back into the shadows as one.

 “Don’t let them get to you like this,” Emma hisses. “They can’t play. They can’t do what you do.”

 “Any idiot can do what I do and several do. Ask the German press.”

 “I don’t believe that.” Emma folds her arms and looks at him critically: “you’ve stood on this stage before. You know how it feels. The love. The fear. That matters you know. You know how to be part of something.”

 He shakes his head.

 “All I know is how to fail at the last hurdle.”

 “If you say so, but I read, Jones. I know what you’ve overcome to get here.” She looks him up and down, gaze lingering for just a second on his prosthetic before flicking to his face. His mouth. She swallows.  “Doesn’t look like failure to me.”

——

 The lads are ready, or at least they think they are, but Killian has been here before (albeit only on the European stage), and he knows nothing - nothing - can prepare you for the moment you walk out into a pitch for a game like this.

 The quarter finals. The knockout stages of a World Cup.

 Not that there’s any pressure of course. The English are infamously restrained when it comes to sporting success, and if Killian is having to grit his teeth every time someone asks him if it’s coming home then at least it’s better than being asked when their flight is. He’s hidden himself away in the corridor between the boxes and the dressing room staircase,trying to take a moment to breath in between greeting passing dignitaries.

 Amazingly he’s managed not to be sick, but the night is young yet.

 “Hey.”

 Her voice is so soft he first thinks he’s hallucinating from nervous exhaustion, but she’s there, scuffing the toe of her sneaker along the concrete floor and wringing her fingers together.

 “I wanted to see if you were ok.”

 Killian stares at her. No, he isn’t. He’s not at all okay and yet…

 “Of course, Swan. All the better for seeing you.”

 Emma rolls her eyes, but she smiles all the same.

 “Yeah, well.” She looks him up and down. “Didn’t want you freaking out. Again.”

 “I don’t freak out, Swan.”

 “If you say so.”

 She steps a little closer then hesitates, checking the corridor for eavesdroppers before admitting, “I shouldn’t really be here.”

 “No I suppose not. I didn’t think you were allowed to play favourites?”

 “Please. Who says I’m supporting you?”

 He lifts an eyebrow.

 “Did I insinuate such a thing?”

 “Hmm.” She tilts her head to one side and considers him. “You didn’t have to.”

 “Dangerous ground that, Swan. Very dangerous.”

 They stare at each other for a moment, and Killian feels himself swaying toward her unintentionally, captivated by the glint in her eye and the way she worries her lip between her teeth.

 This is dangerous ground, all right.

 “It doesn’t matter, anyway,” she says, “I can support you now. That is if I want to, which I’m not saying I do.”

 “What?”

 She gestures to her outfit and he realises belatedly she’s not in her kit. “My matches are done. I should be flying home today.”

 “Forgive me but you’re a long way from the airport.”

 “Yeah well,” she grins, then points into the crowd. “Somebody insisted on staying a little while longer.”

 She holds out her phone to show him a picture.

 David is standing, draped in red and white, his arms outstretched as he bellows along to a song. Beside him Mary Margaret is engrossed in a programme.

 “I think he’s become quite the fan,” Emma says with a wink. “He’s started drinking lager.”

 “Heaven forfend,”says Killian. “And what about you, can I count on you for a little flag waving? Since you’re free of your obligations?”

 Emma snorts.

 “That might be pushing it. David’s far more partisan than me.”

 Speaking of pushing it. He can hear people approaching from the far end of the corridor and his ears are burning from the dressing down Will is bound to give him if he’s late to the dressing room and he shouldn’t and yet -

 “Then how will I know you’re on my side?”

 She looks at him. Wide, shrewd, knowing green eyes, and takes another step closer.

 “Guess you won’t. But just in case -“

 Will’s going to kill him, the press will have his guts, but Emma Swan’s lips are warm and a little bit chapped, and the whistle can wait.

 —-

 The equalise against the run of play with thirty seconds left on the clock.

 He can’t believe it. No one can believe it. It’s been a hideous, scrappy game full of gamesmanship and frustrated revenge, and they don;t deserve to lose lie this, They don’t.

 In football, as in life, you so rarely get what you deserve.

 The team spend the first fifteen minutes of extra time in a fog of disbelief, the second in a haze of desperation, but it’s no good.

 Penalties.

 Bloody hell, penalties.

 They’ve practiced, they’ve all practiced, hour after hour on the training pitch, their tactics and takers agreed weeks in advance, but nothing can prepare them for the reality.

 Nothing could have prepared him for the reality.

 (I’ll take it, Rob. I’ll do it.

 Are you sure?

 Certain.)

 He’s never been less certain than he is now, but there’s no time for worrying about his nerves.

 “Gaffer?”

 Mills is pale but determined, water bottle clutched tight in his hand.

 “You’ll be okay, lad,” Killian assures him. “Just as we’ve practiced, aye?”

 “Yeah, of course,” Mills nods as though he’s never considered any other possibility. “I’m fine - are you okay?”

 He almost brushes it off, but his spine is still tingling from Emma’s kiss, his knees still unsteady after twenty years of regret, and Mills is so sincere, so brave, so very, very young.

“Shitting myself, mate.” Will slaps them both on the shoulders, and the moment is gone. “Let’s do it.”

 “Yeah,” Mills lets out a deep breath.

 Killian may never breathe again. “Lets.”

 ---

 The only sounds worse than the ball thudding off the crossbar are the squealing of tyres and the crunch of bone. He knows this, knows it intimately, but he winces all the same, his heart shrivelling in his chest.

 We'll go on getting bad results… getting bad results….

 That fucking song. That fucking song.

 Mills is up again and Killian can see the pressure hanging over him, hanging over the rest of the team as they gather in a huddle at the halfway line, can feel it like a physical barrier as he toes at the edge of the area.

 The ball is on the spot. In the air.

 In Mill’s hands.

 There’s a high pitched squealing sound as though someone is letting down an enormous balloon, and Killian just catches sight of Will falling to his knees as England step back up to the spot.

 And win.

 And win.

 ---

 He eats grass while lying flat on his face beneath a mound of grown men who’ve suddenly become puppies. He mops up the tears of the devastated lad who missed because that sort of pain, that hurt, transcends all boundaries of time and language. He applauds and dances in front of a stand of sobbing fans who scrub their faces with their flags and sing that song, that fucking song, until his ears are ringing.

 And then it’s dark, and quiet. And he’s alone in a stadium that reaches up to a cloudless, star-filled sky.

 Well, almost alone.

 Emma curls her fingers around his as she gazes up at the heavens and he in turn studies her profile, the curve of her cheek standing out against the distant chalk white of the goalposts.

 And for the first time in twenty years, he dares to believe.

[girls-love-girls1200]

36. Rosé x Reader •Winning•

Fingers numb from the harsh January cold, you attempted to tie your bright yellow shoelaces, huffing as your extremities didn’t seem to be cooperating in the sub zero temperature.

A delicate chuckle from above distracted you from the impossible task, you smiled at your teammate, a red beanie on her head, the varsity jacket zipped up to her chin, cheeks bright red.

“Are you making fun of me Rosé?”

Her smile spread even wider after hearing your voice, she kneeled in front of you, chocolate eyes leveling with your own.

“Not at all Speedy, in fact I was actually planning on helping you.”

Her gloved hands patted your shaky ones out of the way before tying your laces in a swift motion, your heart thumping hard at the small distance between your faces.

“Y/SN should I get you a godamn babysitter while we’re at it?”

Coach’s incredibly loud voice made your bones tremble as you pulled away from Rosé and jumped to your feat in a millisecond.

“No Sir that will not be necessary!”

The older girl chuckled at your antiques as she moved to her center midfielder position, fixing the captain band on her arm, she winked at you with a soft smile that made your stomach twist.

The whistle blew and Rosé whizzed passed you as practice begun.

Your legs felt like bricks as you walked out into the empty parking lot, it was dark already, the only illumination coming from the busy street next to the field.

Putting one headphone in your ear and fixing the sports bag your brother had gotten you for your last birthday, you started the thirty minute walk home.

Your soul left your body as a strong hand suddenly grabbed your shoulder, a high pitched scream tumbling out of your mouth.

You turned around to be met with your captain’s familiar smirk,

“What the fuck is your problem Chaeyoung!?”

Her smile was wiped off her face as you roughly pushed her away, hands connecting with her chest,

“That was not fucking funny.”

Your voice came out shaky from the sudden fear induced adrenaline rush. This girl was trying to kill you,

“I’m sorry Y/N I didn’t think you would freak out so much, I’m an idiot, forgive me?”

Her sad puppy dog eyes felt like a stab wound to your chest and you had already forgiven her for scaring the living shit out of you.

“I just wanted to force you in my car and give you a ride home, I hate the thought of you walking alone around here in the dark.”

Your body tingled at her words and her mischievous smile as you let her grab your freezing hand, squeezing it in between hers, trying to warm you up.

“Let me take you home please Speedy.”

A small smile on her face, she pulled you closer, strong arms wrapping around you, her light fragrance filling your senses.

“Just this once Chipmunk.”

“So, are you nervous about tomorrow?”

The lifts home after practice had now become a routine, everytime you walked into practice and didn’t see the older girl joking around with the team a strange sadness bloomed in the pit of your stomach, you couldn’t deny the feelings that had slowly developed into a huge stinking crush.

“Yes, I mean there’s gonna be so many scouts in the crowd and the only chance I have to get out of this town is if they offer me a scholarship.”

Rosé’s stare kept switching between the road and your face, eyes falling to your lips, hands tightening around the steering wheel in a failed attempt to keep her racing heart at bay.

“Honestly Speedy, you’re the best forward our school has ever seen, you do things on the pitch that I can’t even describe.”

Her hand reached over the gearshift and gently grasped your thigh, “All you have to do is keep your grades up and I am sure the sponsors and scouts are gonna come knocking at your door.”

You felt your heart in your throat as she kept her hand in place, muscles tensing under her soft touch.

The street lights illuminated her delicate lineaments, her eyes twinkling,

“Thanks Chaeyoung, that means a lot to me.”

You mean a lot to me.

The moment lasted shorter than ever as the car came to a stop in front of your house.

You sat in silence a few seconds longer, not wanting to leave just yet.

“Are your parents coming to the game tomorrow?”

No.

“Yeah, I think so.”

She could tell you were lying, but Rosé had to remind herself she was just your team captain, not your girlfriend so it was really none of her business, yet she wanted to help you so bad.

She bit down on her tongue as you bid your goodbyes and left the car.

Her stare fixated on your form until you were behind the door of the big empty house, and as she drove off your fragrance remained in the speeding vehicle, thoughts of you filling her mind.

“Listen up team!”

The rowdy changing room quieted down as soon as coaches’ voice filled the space, you took a long sip out of your energy drink as your gaze fixated on the floor, unaware of another pair of eyes on your back.

“We’re drawing 1-1 girls, but I know we can do better than the shit your showing me out there.”

I could be playing so much better.

“I need you to forget about whatever is on your mind during the second half okay?

Be the team I know you can be and kick their damn asses!”

The warning whistle brought you out of your trance as you jumped to your feet, chucking the empty bottle to the other side of the room, adrenaline running through your veins.

Coach stopped you right before entering the field,

“Hey Y/N, show me what you got alright? I know I’m a little harsh on you but it’s because I know you can be pure excellence.”

His deep voice drilled into your head, honest eyes calming you down significantly, “I’m proud of you kiddo, now go score me a goal Champ.”

His strong hand patted your back a little to hard before roughly pushing you onto the field.

Oxygen flowed into your nose, down your windpipe, straight to your lungs before coming out again from your mouth.

That was the only thing you focused on as you ran across the mid field line, caressing the ball with your feet, your eyes seeing a pattern form in front of you.

Lifting your head you made a swift pass to your dear captain before sprinting even faster towards the penalty area, Rosé understood perfectly as she sent the ball flying towards you.

It was a perfect pass, although your chances were looking pretty bad due to the two well built girls running towards you at full speed.

Breathe.

You lifted your head as you were inches away from one of the girls, faking a left you managed to tap the ball between her legs, sprinting past her you recovered it and smoothly dribbled past the second girl.

With the perfect opening you shot the ball straight into the left top corner, the goalie didn’t even have a chance as it soared to the back of the net.

Your eyes widened at the sight, joy overtaking your senses, but something felt out of place as a strong stinging feeling spread through your ankle, you were swept off your feet, the night sky being the only thing you saw as your back hit the ground at full force, oxygen leaving your lungs harshly.

Your ears were ringing, all you could hear were screams, your ankle was burning like the deepest pit in hell, you shut your eyes tight trying to control your breathing.

Rosé had witnessed the whole thing, the ball was already in the net when the second mountain you had dribbled past came sliding directly towards your ankle, a smirk on her face when she got up on her feet perfectly fine while you were on the ground, not moving.

Rage flowed through her veins, ready to knock the stupid girl to the ground but another teammate beat her to it shoving her in the chest with force.

The crowd was going insane, the referee struggled to keep the girls from beating each other up as more kept joining in the mess.

Rosé snapped out of it as she saw the emergency services running onto the field, coach was already by your side, panic in his eyes.

In a second she was kneeling next to you, her hands holding yours tightly,

“Hey, hey I’m here Y/N, open your eyes hun please.”

Rosé eyes filled with tears as a strangled sob left your mouth,

“I can’t breathe, I can’t...”

Her hands didn’t leave yours as you were being lifted onto the gourney, “You’re going to be okay Speedy, I promise.”

Her voice came out shaky, she couldn’t take in your current state,

“I... I have to, to finish...”

Coach showed up in your line of view, worry etched on his face, “The only thing you have to do is get to the damn hospital Y/N, we’ll finish this game up and come by straight after it.”

He grabbed Rosé, separating her from you as you got carried away, her eyes fixed on you until you were out of sight.

The fighting had died down after the girl that caused this mess was sent off and a few yellow cards were given.

She rested her hands on her knees, head dipping as she tried to calm her breathing.

You were gonna be okay.

The whistle blew and the game started from where it left off with a worried Rosé leading her team.

“It’s not broken is it?”

Your feet dangling off the hospital bed, you stared at your doctor with hopeful eyes.

“No Y/N it’s not broken, just try not to put too much wait on it for the next three to four weeks.”

His stern voice reminded of your dad, who still had to show up to sign you out.

“So that means no soccer?”

A small smile broke out on his face, “That means no soccer for three weeks.”

A light knock interrupted your conversation, the older man opening the door to reveal a disheveled looking Rosé on the other side, a huge smile spread on your lips as you saw her.

“Chipmunk, did we win?”

Something seemed to click inside of Rosé’s chest as she saw you there, sitting on the clean bed, a huge smile on your lips and a bandaged ankle.

She marched towards you, not even giving you time to react as her soft lips pressed against yours, the surprise soon being replaced by this warm feeling in your belly as you moved your lips against hers.

You both pulled away, with short breath, foreheads pressed together, eyes closed. “We won Speedy, we won.”

[recentanimenews]

The Ultimate All-Anime 2018 World Cup Team

The world's greatest sporting event, the World Cup, kicks off today as Russia takes on Saudi Arabia. While the Japanese national team doesn't play its first match until next week against Columbia, that doesn't mean we can't start thinking about Japan and soccer! While the sport isn't the country's #1, it's still quite popular – and, of course, has made an appearance in many different anime and manga. In fact, a few prominent players at this year's World Cup have shared about their experiences with anime and manga – including Spain's Andrés Iniesta, who loves Captain Tsubasa, and Argentina's Sergio Aguero, whose nickname comes from an anime he watched as a kid.

  And so, as the self-appointed coach of the Anime National Team, I'm proud to present you with my selections for the 2018 all-anime World Cup team!

    A quick word about the criteria for the squad: With so many anime characters having crazy magical and sci-fi powers, I struggled to decide whether to allow in characters who could literally light the pitch on fire or move the ball with their minds. On the other hand I've not seen enough soccer anime to make selections only from those, and limiting my choices to those characters would be pretty boring anyways. So, I've decided to allow in only those characters whose powers are mostly physical in nature and tried to avoid those who are so overpowered they'd just break the game. We'll be using a 3-4-3 formation because I like offensive soccer.

  With that, let's get to it!

  Goalkeeper

  In goal for the Anime National Team is... Luffy D. Monkey from One Piece! All things considered, it was an easy choice to select Luffy over his competition, as his Devil Fruit-granted powers and natural reflexes make him a perfect fit in goal. Although Luffy is actually fairly short (around 5 feet, 7 inches according to the Anime Football Federation), he more than makes up for his lack of height with his amazing jumping and ability to stretch his arms to reach pretty much any corner of the goal with ease. His talents don't make him invincible, especially against strikers who can put a lot of power behind their shots like Medaka Kurokami from Medaka Box, but even guessing wrong on a penalty kick won't necessarily stop him from making the save!

  Defense

  At core of the team's defense is Shizuo Heiwajima from Durarara!! Although the 3-4-3 formation is a little light on defense due to only having three fullbacks, this team gets away with it because Shizuo is the enforcer every team wishes they had – one who's not afraid to get a little chippy when needed. His physical strength is second to none, and his height (6'1" according to the Anime Football Federation) means he's able to control aerial battles just as easily as those on the ground. On either side of Shizuo are Nagisa Misumi aka Cure Black from Pretty Cure and Maka Albarn from Soul Eater. In her transformed magical girl state, Cure Black holds down the right side of the field with both speed and power. And while it could be argued that Soul Eater's Black Star, as the more natural athlete, should have been given the nod over Maka, Maka makes up for her lesser physical abilities with phenomenal intelligence and discipline. She's never caught out of position on the left and has enough pace to keep up even with the quickest strikers.

  Midfield

  With only three players on defense, the midfield in the 3-4-3 must have both the stamina and willingness to track back to support the defenders. As such, the two central midfielders I've selected are both consummate athletes with both speed and the ability to get up and down the field for a full 90 minutes: Suruga Kanbaru from Bakemonogatari and Birdy Cephon Altera from Birdy the Mighty: Decode. Of course, in the Monogatari series Kanbaru is shown to be a basketball star, but before she played basketball she was on the track team, and her overall fitness level is a cut above that of anyone else in the series. For her part, as a member of Space Federation Police, Birdy has great pace and strength, as well as a fine strategic understanding that allows her to pick out passes to the other members of her team just as easily as smashing in shots.

  On the wings are two shonen stars, Tenya Iida from My Hero Academia and Killua Zoldyck from Hunter x Hunter. Although each of them is still young, their individual talents allow them to serve well in their given roles. Iida's speedy Quirk makes him an obvious choice on the right side, although he's being coached to avoid using his Reciproburst skill at all costs, since it leaves him incapacitated afterwards. On the left, Killua's harsh assassin training has granted him endurance that's better than that of anyone else on the team. He can use either foot equally well when he has possession of the ball, which allows him to play in crosses or dribble into the center of the field at will.

  Forwards

  And, at last, it's time for what you've all been waiting for – the strikers! In center of the attack is the Messi of the Anime National Team, Kabaneri of the Iron Fortress's Mumei. If this comparison between a zombie-killing anime girl and the world's greatest soccer player seems odd, consider the similarities. Both Messei and Mumei are known by two-syllable names that start with "M" and end with "I," both possess a diminutive stature but excel at making quick movements in small spaces, and both are extremely moe. Because Mumei doesn't have the power to be the focal point of the team's attack, I've deployed her as a false 9, using her incredible coordination to control the center of the pitch and her great instincts developed in battle to pick out passes to the team's main goal scoring threats.

  Those first of those two strikers is Suzaku Kururugi from Code Geass, Mr. Spinzaku, the master of the spin kick himself. Shown to be one of the most fit characters in his show, Suzaku plays on the right, where he can use his incredible kicking powers to their full potential. He's probably the most potent goal-scoring threat on the team, but is backed up on the left by Bell Cranel from Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon? The team's youngest player and earning his first cap for the Anime National Team, Bell's inexperienced, but grows in leaps and bounds with every match. By the end of the World Cup, after honing his talents on the best players in the world, he's liable to be in the running for the title of best player on the team! Oh, and his celebrations after he scores are the most wholesome thing you will ever see.

    And that's the official line-up for anime's 2018 World Cup representatives! Although we had to leave out a few stellar players, like defender Satsuki Kiryuin from Kill la Kill, Bell's fellow striker and clubmate Aiz Wallenstein, and athletic phenom midfielder Cinque Izumi from Dog Days, we're feeling confident about our chances. The team's chemistry has come together splendidly in the weeks leading up to the competition, and, as their coach, I'm excited about what they can do. Thanks for following along, and please support the Anime National Team in our quest to win the World Cup!

  Now, it's your turn! Which anime characters are going to be starting on your World Cup squad? Leave us a comment below letting us know your picks!

---

Isaac is an art student, semi-retired anime blogger, sometimes podcaster, and Associate Features Editor for Crunchyroll. You can read more of his work on his blog, Mage in a Barrel, and follow him on Twitter @iblessall.

By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com